Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/229

Book 13. This Glaucus soon perceiv'd; And, Oh! forbear (His Hand supporting on a Rock lay near) Forbear, he cry'd, fond Maid, this needless Fear. Nor Fish am I, nor Monster of the Main, But equal with the watry Gods I reign; Nor Proteus, nor Palæmon me excell, Nor he whose Breath inspires the sounding Shell. My Birth, 'tis true, I owe to mortal Race, And I my self but late a Mortal was: Ev'n then in Seas, and Seas alone, I joy'd; The Seas my Hours, and all my Cares employ'd. In Meshes now the twinkling Prey I drew; Now skilfully the slender Line I threw, And silent sat the moving Float to view. Not far from Shore, there lies a verdant Mead, With Herbage half, and half with Water spread: There, nor the horned Heifers browsing stray, Nor shaggy Kids, nor wanton Lambkins play; There, nor the sounding Bees their Nectar cull, Nor Rural Swains their genial Chaplets pull, Nor Flocks, nor Herds, nor Mowers haunt the Place, To crop the Flow'rs, or cut the bushy Grass: Thither, sure first of living Race came I, And sat by chance, my dropping Nets to dry. My scaly Prize, in Order all display'd, By Number on the Greensword there I lay'd, My Captives, whom or in my Nets I took, Or hung unwary on my wily Hook. Strange to behold! yet what avails a Lye? I saw 'em bite the Grass, as I sate by; Then sudden darting o'er the verdant Plain, They spread their Finns as in their native Main: I paus'd, with Wonder struck, while all my Prey Left their new Master, and regain'd the Sea. Amaz'd