OVID's METAMORPHOSES. BOOK III. Translated by Mr. Addison. The Story of Cadmus. HEN now Agenor had his Daughter lost, He sent his Son to search on every Coast; And sternly bid him to his Arms restore The Darling Maid, or see his Face no more, But live an Exile in a foreign Clime; Thus was the Father Pious to a Crime. The restless Youth search'd all the World around; But how can Jove in his Amours be found? When tir'd at length with unsuccessful Toil, To shun his angry Sire and Native Soil, He goes a Suppliant to the Delphick Dome; There asks the God what new-appointed Home Should end his Wandrings, and his Toils relieve, The Delphick Oracles this Answer give. "Behold among the Fields a lonely Cow, "Unworn with Yokes, unbroken to the Plow; "Mark well the Place where first she lays her down, "There measure out thy Walls, and build thy Town, "And from thy Guide Bæotia call the Land, "In which the destin'd Walls and Town shall stand. No sooner had he left the dark Abode, Big with the Promise of the Delphick God, When in the Fields the fatal Cow he view'd,       } {\displaystyle \scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}} Nor gall'd with Yokes, nor worn with Servitude: Her gently at a Distance he pursu'd; And, as he walk'd aloof, in Silence pray'd To the great Pow'r whose Counsels he obey'd. Her Way through flow'ry Canopè she took, And now Cephisus, cross'd thy Silver Brook; When to the Heav'ns her spacious Front she rais'd, And bellow'd thrice, then backward turning gaz'd On those behind, till on the destin'd Place She stoop'd, and couch'd amid the rising Grass. Cadmus salutes the Soil, and gladly hails The new-found Mountains, and the nameless Vales, And thanks the Gods, and turns about his Eye To see his new Dominions round him lye; Then sends his Servants to a neighb'ring Grove For living Streams, a Sacrifice to Jove. O'er the wide Plain there rose a shady Wood Of aged Trees; in its dark Bosom stood A bushy Thicket, pathless and unworn, O'er-run with Brambles, and perplex'd with Thorn: Amidst the Brake a hollow Den was found, With Rocks and shelving Arches vaulted round. Deep in the dreary Den, conceal'd from Day, Sacred to Mars, a mighty Dragon lay, Bloated with Poison to a monstrous Size; Fire broke in Flashes when he glanc'd his Eyes: His tow'ring Crest was glorious to behold, His Shoulders and his Sides were scal'd with Gold; Three Tongues he brandish'd when he charg'd his Foes; His Teeth stood jaggy in three dreadful Rowes. The Tyrians in the Den for Water sought, And with their Urns explor'd the hollow Vault: From Side to Side their empty Urns rebound, And rowse the sleeping Serpent with the Sound. Strait he bestirs him, and is seen to rise;       } {\displaystyle \scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}} And now with dreadful Hissings fills the Skies, And darts his forky Tongues, and rowles his glaring Eyes. The Tyrians drop their Vessels in the Fright, All pale and trembling at the hideous Sight. Spire above Spire uprear'd in Air he stood, And gazing round him, over-look'd the Wood: Then floating on the Ground in Circles rowl'd; Then leap'd upon them in a mighty Fold. Of such a Bulk, and such a monst'rous Size,       } {\displaystyle \scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}} The Serpent in the Polar Circle lyes, That stretches over half the Northern Skies.