Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/291

Book 15. That since in Rome thy self forbids thy Stay, For thy Abode those Acres we convey The Plough-share can surround, the Labour of a Day. In Deathless Records thou shalt stand inroll'd, And Rome's rich Posts shall shine with Horns of Gold.

Melodious Maids of Pindus, who inspire The flowing Strains, and tune the vocal Lyre; Tradition's Secrets are unlock'd to you, Old Tales revive, and Ages past renew; You, who can hidden Causes best expound, Say, whence the Isle, which Tiber flows around, It's Altars with a heav'nly Stranger grac'd, And in our Shrines the God of Physic plac'd. A wasting Plague infected Latium's Skies; Pale, bloodless Looks were seen, with ghastly Eyes; The dire Disease's Marks each Visage wore, And the pure Blood was chang'd to putrid Gore: In vain were human Remedies apply'd; In vain the Pow'r of healing Herbs was try'd: Weary'd with Death, they seek Celestial Aid, And visit Phœbus in his Delphic Shade; In the World's Centre sacred Delphos stands, And gives its Oracles to distant Lands: Here they implore the God, with fervent Vows, His salutary Power to interpose, And end a great afflicted City's Woes. The holy Temple sudden Tremors prov'd; The Laurel-grove and all its Quivers mov'd; In hollow Sounds the Priestess, thus, began, And thro' each Bosom thrilling Horrors ran. 'Th'