d her sister's face,
Sorrowing and blushing, to the light unveil'd;
Then ran to clasp her. She the sight not bore;
Her eyes she rais'd not; her dejected brows
Bent to the ground; thus by her sister seen,
Encroacher on her bed. Her hands still spoke,
When oaths she wish'd to utter, and to call
Th' attesting gods, her foul disgrace by force
To prove accomplish'd. Furious, Procne burns,
Nor curbs her ire; her sister's streaming tears
Reproving checks, and cries;--"no period now
"For tears, we ask the sword! But if than sword
"Vengeance more keen thou hop'st for, sister dear,
"Behold me for most horrid deeds prepar'd.
"Shall I with flaming torches blaze on high
"His hall imperial, and the villain king
"Heave in the conflagration? Shall I rend
"As thine his tongue? or from his sockets tear,
"His eye-balls? or what other member maim?
"Or this, or instant send his guilty soul
"Thro' thousand wounds to judgment? What thou speak'st
"Be mighty. I for mightiest acts prepare.
"To fix I hesitate." As Procne speaks,
Lo! infant Itys to his mother runs;
His sight her mind determines; cruel turn
Her eyes, exclaiming;--"See, how like his sire's
"Appear his features!"--More she spoke not, fixt
Was straight her dread resolve: now fiercer burn'd
Within her smother'd rage;--yet when the boy
Approach'd, and round her neck his infant arms
Threw, and his kisses printed on her lips,
With bland caresses mingled, even the soul
Of Procne melted. Mollify'd her rage,
Tears hard constrain'd flow'd from unwilling eyes.
Soon as the mother's feelings softening seem
To melt in extreme fondness; Procne quits
The sight, and to her sister's face reverts
Again her visage; then on each in turn
Full bent her view, she cries;--"Must one me melt
"With blandish'd soothings? Must the other mute,
"With tongue dismember'd stand? Must he exclaim
"O, mother!--she, O, sister! never more?
"To what a spouse, Pandion's daughter, see
"Art thou, degenerate wife, conjoin'd! Thy sin
"A spouse like Tereus to have us'd too well."
More she delays not, infant Itys drags,
Swift as the Indian tiger sweeps the fawn
Through shady forests. Then the lofty dome,
For rooms remote well search'd, in one arrives,
Where she the infant pierces; 'twixt the breast
And side the weapon enters, while his hands,
Suppliant, his fate foreseeing, he extends,
And,--"mother! O, my mother