Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/297

Book 15. How bent they are! how desp'rate to destroy All that is left me of unhappy Troy! Am I alone by Fate ordain'd to know Uninterrupted Care, and endless Woe? Now from Tydides' Spear I feel the Wound: Now Ilium's Tow'rs the hostile Flames surround: Troy laid in Dust, my exil'd Son I mourn, Thro' angry Seas, and raging Billows born; O'er the wide Deep his wandring Course he bends; Now to the sullen Shades of Styx descends, With Turnus driv'n at last fierce Wars to wage, Or rather with unpitying Juno's Rage. But why record I now my antient Woes? Sense of past Ills in present Fears I lose; On me their Points the impious Daggers throw; Forbid it, Gods, repel the direful Blow: If by curs'd Weapons Numa's Priest expires, No longer shall ye burn, ye vestal Fires. While such Complainings Cypria's Grief disclose; In each celestial Breast Compassion rose: Not Gods can altar Fate's resistless Will; Yet they foretold by Signs th' approaching Ill. Dreadful were heard, among the Clouds, Alarms Of ecchoing Trumpets, and of clashing Arms; The Sun's pale Image gave so faint a Light, That the sad Earth was almost veil'd in Night; The Æther's Face with fiery Meteors glow'd: With Storms of Hail were mingled Drops of Blood; A dusky Hue the Morning Star o'erspread, And the Moon's Orb was stain'd with Spots of Red; In every Place portentous Shrieks were heard, The fatal Warnings of th' infernal Bird; In ev'ry Place the Marble melts to Tears; While in the Groves, rever'd thro' length of Years, Boding, and awful Sounds the Ear invade; And solemn Music warbles thro' the Shade; No