Thesauros Literature Epic Metamorphoses

Metamorphoses

Metamorphoses Ovid 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D

Book 10

 
By reason of the worthy store of suters which did woo 298
 
His daughter,) bringing all theyr names did will her for to show
 
On which of them shee had herself most fancie to bestow.
 
At first shee hild her peace a whyle, and looking wistly on
 
Her fathers face, did boyle within: and scalding teares anon
 
Ran downe her visage. Cyniras, (who thought them to proceede
 
Of tender harted shamefastnesse) did say there was no neede
 
Of teares, and dryed her cheekes, and kist her. Myrrha tooke of it
 
Exceeding pleasure in her selfe: and when that he did wit
 
What husband shee did wish to have, shee sayd: One like to yow.
 
He undertanding not hir thought, did well her woordes allow,
 
And sayd: In this thy godly mynd continew. At the name
 
Of godlynesse, shee cast mee downe her looke for very shame.
 
For why her giltie hart did knowe shee well deserved blame.
 
Hygh mydnight came, and sleepe bothe care and carkesses opprest.
 
But Myrrha lying brode awake could neyther sleepe nor rest.
 
Shee fryes in Cupids flames, and woorkes continewally uppon
 
Her furious love. One while shee sinkes in deepe despayre. Anon
 
Shee fully myndes to give attempt, but shame doth hold her in.
 
Shee wishes and shee wotes not what to doo, nor how to gin.
 
And like as when a mightye tree with axes heawed rownd,
 
Now redy with a strype or twaine to lye uppon the grownd,
 
Uncerteine is which way to fall and tottreth every way:
 
Even so her mynd with dowtfull wound effeebled then did stray
 
Now heere now there uncerteinely, and tooke of bothe encreace.
 
No measure of her love was found, no rest, nor yit releace,
 
Save only death. Death likes her best. Shee ryseth, full in mynd
 
To hang herself. About a post her girdle she doth bynd,
 
And sayd: Farewell deere Cinyras, and understand the cause
 
Of this my death. And with that woord about her necke shee drawes
 
The nooze. Her trustye nurce that in another Chamber lay
 
By fortune heard the whispring sound of theis her woordes (folk say).
 
The aged woman rysing up unboltes the doore. And whan
 
Shee saw her in that plyght of death, shee shreeking out began
 
To smyght her self, and scratcht her brest, and quickly to her ran
 
And rent the girdle from her necke. Then weeping bitterly
 
And holding her betweene her armes, shee askt the question why
 
Shee went about to hang her self so unadvisedly.
 
The Lady hilld her peace as dumb, and looking on the ground
 
Unmovably, was sorye in her hart for beeing found

nav.navigate

nav.identity

common.settings

common.language
TR EN
common.theme