change of Galanthis to a weasel. Of Dryope to a Lotus-tree.
Ioelaues restored to youth. Murmuring of the Gods. The incestuous
love of Byblis. Her transformation to a fountain. Story of Iphis
and Iaenthe.

THE *Ninth Book* OF THE METAMORPHOSES OF OVID.

The son of AEgeus begs the cause to know
Whence spring those groans, and whence that wounded front?
And thus the stream of Calydon replies;--
(His uncomb'd locks with marshy reeds entwin'd).
"A mournful task, O, warrior! you impose;--
"For who, when vanquish'd, joys to tell the fight
"Where he was worsted? yet will I relate
"In order all: vanquish'd, the shame was small;
"The honor great, for such a prize to strive:
"And such a conqueror more the mind relieves.
"Has e'er the beauteous Dejanira's name
"Reach'd to your ears? her charms the envy'd hope
"Of numerous wooers form'd; mine with the rest.
"As o'er the threshold of my wish'd-for sire
"I stepp'd, I hail'd him.--O, Parthaoen's son,
"For thine accept me.--So Alcides spoke,
"And all the rest to our pretensions bow'd.
"Of Jove, his sire, he boasts; and all the fame
"His acts deserv'd; and stepdame's cruel laws
"Final completed. I (who shameful thought
"That gods should yield to mortals; then a god
"Alcides was not) thus his claim oppos'd:--
"A king of floods behold me; floods which roll
"With winding current through the land you sway;
"A son in me accept, no stranger sent
"From distant regions; of your country one,
"Part of your rule. Let it not hurt my claim,
"That Juno hates me not; that all the toil
"Of slavish orders I have ne'er perform'd.
"Alcmena was his mother, let him boast!
"Jove is a sire but feign'd, or if one true,
"Is criminally so. He claims a sire
"To prove his mother's infamy: then chuse--
"Say feign'd thy origin from Jove, or fruit
"Of intercourse adulterous, own thou art.--
"Me, speaking thus, with furious eyes he view'd,
"Nor rul'd his swelling rage, replying fierce;--
"More than my tongue I on my arm depend:
"Whilst I in fighting gain the palm, be thou
"Victor in talking.--Furious on he rush'd.
"So proudly boasting, to submit I scorn'd;
"But stript my sea-green robe, my arms oppos'd,
"And held my firm-clench'd hands before my breast;
"For stout resistance every limb prepar'd,
"To meet the fight. He in his hollow palms
"The dust collecting, sprinkled me all o'er,
"And