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P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding) 2 0 Browse Search
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P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding), Book 4, line 481 (search)
well. Then whisking often round about hir head hir balefull brand, She made it soone by gathering winde to kindle in hir hand. Thus as it were in triumph wise accomplishing hir hest, To Duskie Plutos emptie Realme shee gettes hir home to rest, And putteth off the snarled Snakes that girded in hir brest. Immediatly King Aeolus sonne starke madde comes crying out Through all the court: What meane yee Sirs? why go yee not about To pitch our toyles within this chace? I saw even nowe here ran A Lyon with hir two yong whelpes. And there withall he gan To chase his wyfe as if in deede shee had a Lyon beene And lyke a Bedlem boystouslie he snatcheth from betweene The mothers armes h's little babe Loearchus smyling on him And reaching foorth his preatie armes, and floong him fiercely from him A twice or thrice as from a slyng: and dasht his tender head Against a hard and rugged stone until he sawe him dead. The wretched mother (whither griefe did move hir thereunto Or that the poyson