Thesauros Literature Epic Metamorphoses

Metamorphoses

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

Book 9

 
Dispoynted, shee forsooke her land and hatefull house for shame, 630
 
And followed after flying Caune. And as the Froes of Thrace
 
In dooing of the three yeere rites of Bacchus: in lyke cace
 
The maryed wyves of Bubasie saw Byblis howling out
 
Through all theyr champion feeldes, the which shee leaving, ran about
 
In Caria to the Lelegs who are men in battell stout,
 
And so to Lycia. Shee had past Crag, Limyre, and the brooke
 
Of Xanthus, and the countrie where Chymaera that same pooke
 
Hath Goatish body, Lions head and brist, and Dragons tayle,
 
When woods did want: and Byblis now beginning for to quayle
 
Through weerynesse in following Caune, sank down and layd her hed
 
Ageinst the ground, and kist the leaves that wynd from trees had shed.
 
The Nymphes of Caria went about in tender armes to take
 
Her often up. They oftentymes perswaded her to slake
 
Her love. And woords of comfort to her deafe eard mynd they spake.
 
Shee still lay dumbe: and with her nayles the greenish herbes shee hild,
 
And moysted with a streame of teares the grasse upon the feeld.
 
The waternymphes (so folk report) put under her a spring,
 
Whych never myght be dryde: and could they give a greater thing?
 
Immediatly even like as when yee wound a pitchtree rynd,
 
The gum dooth issue out in droppes: or as the westerne wynd
 
With gentle blast toogither with the warmth of Sunne, unbynd
 
The yee: or as the clammy kynd of cement which they call
 
Bitumen issueth from the ground full fraughted therewithall:
 
So Phoebus neece, Dame Byblis, then consuming with her teares,
 
Was turned to a fountaine, which in those same vallyes beares
 
The tytle of the founder still, and gusheth freshly out
 
From underneath a Sugarchest as if it were a spowt.
 
The fame of this same wondrous thing perhappes had filled all 666
 
The hundred Townes of Candye had a greater not befall
 
More neerer home by Iphys meanes transformed late before.
 
For in the shyre of Phestos hard by Gnossus dwelt of yore
 
A yeoman of the meaner sort that Lyctus had to name.
 
His stocke was simple, and his welth according to the same.
 
Howbee't his lyfe so upryght was, as no man could it blame.
 
He came unto his wyfe then big and ready downe to lye,
 
And sayd: Two things I wish thee. T'one, that when thou out shalt crye,
 
Thou mayst dispatch with little payne: the other that thou have
 
A Boay. For Gyrles to bring them up a greater cost doo crave.
 
And I have no abilitie. And therefore if thou bring

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