FROM THE NINTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.
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he said, and for her lost Galanthis sighs;When the fair consort of her son replies:'Since you a servant's ravish'd form bemoan,And kindly sigh for sorrows not your own,Let me (if tears and grief permit) relateA nearer woe, a sister's stranger fate.No nymph of all Oechalia could compareFor beauteous form with Dryope the fair,Her tender mother's only hope and pride,(Myself the offspring of a second bride). 10This nymph, compress'd by him who rules the day,Whom Delphi and the Delian isle obey,Andraemon loved; and, bless'd in all those charmsThat pleased a god, succeeded to her arms. 'A lake there was with shelving banks around,Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles crown'd.These shades, unknowing of the fates, she sought,And to the Naiads flowery garlands brought:Her smiling babe (a pleasing charge) she press'dWithin her arms, and nourish'd at her breast. 20Not distant far, a watery lotus grows;The spring was new, and all the verdant boughs,Adorn'd with blossoms, promised fruits that vieIn glowing colours with the Tyrian dye:Of these she cropp'd, to please her infant son,And I myself the same rash act had done:But, lo! I saw (as near her side I stood)The violated blossoms drop with blood;Upon the tree I cast a frightful look;The trembling tree with sudden horror shook. 30Lotis the nymph (if rural tales be true)As from Priapus' lawless lust she flew,Forsook her form, and, fixing here, becameA flowery plant, which still preserves her name. 'This change unknown, astonish'd at the sight,My trembling sister strove to urge her flight;And first the pardon of the nymphs implored,And those offended sylvan powers adored:But when she backward would have fled, she foundHer stiffening feet were rooted in the ground: 40In vain to free her fasten'd feet she strove,And as she struggles only moves above;She feels th' encroaching bark around her growBy quick degrees, and cover all below:Surprised at this, her trembling hand she heavesTo rend her hair; her hand is fill'd with leaves:Where late was hair, the shooting leaves are seenTo rise, and shade her with a sudden green.The child Amphissus, to her bosom press'd,Perceived a colder and a harder breast, 50And found the springs, that ne'er till then deniedTheir milky moisture, on a sudden dried.I saw, unhappy! what I now relate,And stood the helpless witness of thy fate;Embraced thy boughs, thy rising bark delay'd,There wish'd to grow, and mingle shade with shade. 'Behold Andraemon and th' unhappy sireAppear, and for their Dryope inquire:A springing tree for Dryope they find,And print warm kisses on the panting rind, 60Prostrate, with tears their kindred plant bedew,And close embrace as to the roots they grew.The face was all that now remain'd of thee,No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree;Thy branches hung with humid pearls appear,From every leaf distils a trickling tear;And straight a voice, while yet a voice remains,Thus through the trembling boughs in sighs complains: '"If to the wretched any faith be given,I swear by all th' unpitying powers of Heaven, 70No wilful crime this heavy vengeance bred;In mutual innocence our lives we led:If this be false, let these new greens decay,Let sounding axes lop my limbs away,And crackling flames on all my honours prey.But from my branching arms this infant bear,Let some kind nurse supply a mother's care:And to his mother let him oft be led,Sport in her shades, and in her shades be fed:Teach him, when first his infant voice shall frame 80Imperfect words, and lisp his mother's name,To hail this tree, and say, with weeping eyes,'Within this plant my hapless parent lies:'And when in youth he seeks the shady woods,Oh! let him fly the crystal lakes and floods,Nor touch the fatal flowers; but, warn'd by me,Believe a goddess shrined in every tree.My sire, my sister, and my spouse, farewell!If in your breasts or love or pity dwell,Protect your plant, nor let my branches feel 90The browsing cattle or the piercing steel.Farewell! and since I cannot bend to joinMy lips to yours, advance at least to mine.My son, thy mother's parting kiss receive,While yet thy mother has a kiss to give.I can no more; the creeping rind invadesMy closing lips, and hides my head in shades:Remove your hands, the bark shall soon sufficeWithout their aid to seal these dying eyes." 'She ceased at once to speak and ceased to be, 100And all the nymph was lost within the tree;Yet latent life through her new branches reign'd,And long the plant a human heat retain'd.' VERTUMNUS AND POMONA,
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