Here you will find the Long Poem Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh of poet Ovid

Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh

THE Argonauts now stemm'd the foaming tide,
 And to Arcadia's shore their course apply'd;
 Where sightless Phineus spent his age in grief,
 But Boreas' sons engage in his relief;
 And those unwelcome guests, the odious race
 Of Harpyes, from the monarch's table chase.
 With Jason then they greater toils sustain,
 And Phasis' slimy banks at last they gain,
 Here boldly they demand the golden prize
 Of Scythia's king, who sternly thus replies:
 That mighty labours they must first o'ercome,
 Or sail their Argo thence unfreighted home.
 The Story of Meanwhile Medea, seiz'd with fierce desire,
 Medea and By reason strives to quench the raging fire;
 Jason But strives in vain!- Some God (she said)
 And reason's baffl'd council countermands.
 What unseen Pow'r does this disorder move?
 'Tis love,- at least 'tis like, what men call love.
 Else wherefore shou'd the king's commands appear
 To me too hard?- But so indeed they are.
 Why shou'd I for a stranger fear, lest he
 Shou'd perish, whom I did but lately see?
 His death, or safety, what are they to me?
 Wretch, from thy virgin-breast this flame expel,
 And soon- Oh cou'd I, all wou'd then be well!
 But love, resistless love, my soul invades;
 Discretion this, affection that perswades.
 I see the right, and I approve it too,
 Condemn the wrong- and yet the wrong pursue.
 Why, royal maid, shou'dst thou desire to wed
 A wanderer, and court a foreign bed?
 Thy native land, tho' barb'rous, can present
 A bridegroom worth a royal bride's content:
 And whether this advent'rer lives, or dies,
 In Fate, and Fortune's fickle pleasure lies.
 Yet may be live! for to the Pow'rs above,
 A virgin, led by no impulse of love,
 So just a suit may, for the guiltless, move.
 Whom wou'd not Jason's valour, youth and blood
 Invite? or cou'd these merits be withstood,
 At least his charming person must encline
 The hardest heart- I'm sure 'tis so with mine!
 Yet, if I help him not, the flaming breath
 Of bulls, and earth-born foes, must be his death.
 Or, should he through these dangers force his way,
 At last he must be made the dragon's prey.
 If no remorse for such distress I feel,
 I am a tigress, and my breast is steel.
 Why do I scruple then to see him slain,
 And with the tragick scene my eyes prophane?
 My magick's art employ, not to asswage
 The Salvages, but to enflame their rage?
 His earth-born foes to fiercer fury move,
 And accessary to his murder prove?
 The Gods forbid- But pray'rs are idle breath,
 When action only can prevent his death.
 Shall I betray my father, and the state,
 To intercept a rambling hero's fate;
 Who may sail off next hour, and sav'd from harms
 By my assistance, bless another's arms?
 Whilst I, not only of my hopes bereft,
 But to unpity'd punishment am left.
 If he is false, let the ingrateful bleed!
 But no such symptom in his looks I read.
 Nature wou'd ne'er have lavish'd so much grace
 Upon his person, if his soul were base.
 Besides, he first shall plight his faith, and swear
 By all the Gods; what therefore can'st thou fear?
 Medea haste, from danger set him free,
 Jason shall thy eternal debtor be.
 And thou, his queen, with sov'raign state
 By Graecian dames the Kind Preserver call'd.
 Hence idle dreams, by love-sick fancy bred!
 Wilt thou, Medea, by vain wishes led,
 To sister, brother, father bid adieu?
 Forsake thy country's Gods, and country too?
 My father's harsh, my brother but a child,
 My sister rivals me, my country's wild;
 And for its Gods, the greatest of 'em all
 Inspires my breast, and I obey his call.
 That great endearments I forsake, is true,
 But greater far the hopes that I pursue:
 The pride of having sav'd the youths of Greece
 (Each life more precious than our golden fleece);
 A nobler soil by me shall be possest,
 I shall see towns with arts and manners blest;
 And, what I prize above the world beside,
 Enjoy my Jason- and when once his bride,
 Be more than mortal, and to Gods ally'd.
 They talk of hazards I must first sustain,
 Of floating islands justling in the main;
 Our tender barque expos'd to dreadful shocks
 Of fierce Charybdis' gulf, and Scylla's rocks,
 Where breaking waves in whirling eddies rowl,
 And rav'nous dogs that in deep caverns howl:
 Amidst these terrors, while I lye possest
 Of him I love, and lean on Jason's breast,
 In tempests unconcern'd I will appear,
 Or, only for my husband's safety fear.
 Didst thou say husband?- canst thou so deceive
 Thy self, fond maid, and thy own cheat believe?
 In vain thou striv'st to varnish o'er thy shame,
 And grace thy guilt with wedlock's sacred name.
 Pull off the coz'ning masque, and oh! in time
 Discover and avoid t