powers to aid.
Trembling she lies; so seems a shuddering lamb
Wounded, and from the hoary wolf's fierce jaws
Just 'scap'd, not sure his safety yet he deems:
So seems a dove, her plumes in blood deep-drench'd,
With fear still shivering; still the hungry claws
Dreading, that lately pierc'd her. Soon restor'd
Her mental powers, while scatter'd hung the locks
Rent in her anguish, high her arms she rais'd,
Livid with blows, as those that mourn the dead;
Exclaiming,--"O, barbarian! wretch supreme!
"In cruelty and vice; whom not the charge
"Parental, seal'd with pious tears could move;
"A sister's charge entrusted: not her state,
"Virgin defenceless; not the sacred vows,
"Conjugal plighted. In confusion all
"Commixt, by thee, adulteress here I lie,
"Against my sister. Thou a double spouse,
"To both. This scourge is sure to me not due.
"Why, villain, not my hated life destroy?
"Perfect in deeds atrocious; would my breath
"Before the horrid act supprest had been:
"Then had I guiltless sought the shades. But still
"If powers celestial view this act; if sway
"On earth they hold; if all not sinks with me,
"Thy fate hence-forward from me dread; myself
"Shall unabash'd, thy acts proclaim. If power
"Is granted, when in public walks I roam:
"If here in woods imprison'd, all the woods
"Shall with my plaints resound; the conscious rocks
"I'll move. May heaven me hear! and if in heaven
"A god abides, me hear!"--Rous'd by her words,
The fierce king's anger burns; no less his fear
Than anger moves him: strongly spurr'd by each,
His weapon from the pendent sheath he drew:
Dragg'd by the hair, her limbs he forc'd to yield
To fetters; twisting rough her arms behind.
Glad Philomel' to him her throat presents,
Death from the glittering sword expecting. Grasp'd
In pincers, fierce her tongue he tore away;
Griev'd, and indignant, as her father's name
She strove to utter: trembling still appear'd
The bloody root; trembling the tongue itself
Murmur'd as on the gore-stain'd earth it lay:
As leaps the serpent's sever'd tail, the tongue,
Quivering in death, still to her feet advanc'd.
This deed of horror done, 'tis said that oft
(Incredible the fact) repeated force
Upon her mangled form the wretch employ'd.

Now dares he, all those acts atrocious done,
Return to Procne. Eager as he comes,
For Philomel' she asks. False tears and groans