Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/227

Book 13. Acis, and I were to his Sight betray'd; Where nought suspecting we securely play'd. From his wide Mouth a bellowing Cry he cast, I see, I see, but this shall be your last: A Roar so loud made Ætna to rebound: And all the Cyclops labour'd in the Sound. Affrighted with his monstrous Voice, I fled, And in the Neighb'ring Ocean plung'd my Head. Poor Acis turn'd his Back, and Help, he cry'd. Help, Galatea, help, my Parent Gods, And take me dying to your deep Abodes. The Cyclops follow'd; but he sent before A Rib, which from the living Rock he tore: Though but an Angle reach'd him of the Stone, The mighty Fragment was enough alone, To crush all Acis; 'twas too late to save, But what the Fates allow'd to give, I gave: That Acis to his Lineage should return; And rowl, among the River Gods, his Urn. Straight issu'd from the Stone a Stream of Blood; Which lost the Purple, mingling with the Flood. Then, like a troubled Torrent, it appear'd: The Torrent too, in little space, was clear'd. The Stone was cleft, and through the yawning Chink New Reeds arose, on the new River's Brink. The Rock, from out its hollow Womb, disclos'd A Sound like Water in its Course oppos'd. When, (wond'rous to behold) full in the Flood, Up starts a Youth, and Navel high he stood. Horns from his Temples rise; and either Horn Thick Wreaths of Reeds, (his Native Growth) adorn. Were not his Stature taller than before, His Bulk augmented, and his Beauty more, His Colour blue; for Acis he might pass: And Acis chang'd into a Stream he was. But