And giving cheerfull woords, did bid I should not bee dismayd.
Among the other women there that to my labor came,
There was an honest yeomans wyfe, Galantis was her name.
Her heare was yellow as the gold, she was a jolly Dame.
And stoutly served mee, and I did love her for the same.
This wyfe (I know not how) did smell some packing gone about
On Junos part. And as she oft was passing in and out,
Shee spyde Lucina set uppon the altar holding fast
Her armes togither on her knees, and with her fingars cast
Within ech other on a knot, and sayd unto her thus:
I pray you who so ere you bee, rejoyce you now with us,
My Lady Alcmen hath her wish, and sauf is brought abed.
Lucina leaped up amazde at that that shee had sed,
And let her hands asunder slip. And I immediatly
With loosening of the knot, had sauf deliverance by and by.
They say that in deceyving Dame Lucina Galant laught.
And therfore by the yellow locks the Goddesse wroth hir caught,
And dragged her. And as she would have risen from the ground,
She kept her downe, and into legges her armes shee did confound.
Her former stoutnesse still remaynes: her backe dooth keepe the hew
That erst was in her heare: her shape is only altered new.
And for with lying mouth shee helpt a woman laboring, shee
Dooth kindle also at her mouth. And now she haunteth free
Our houses as shee did before, a Weasle as wee see.
With that shee syghes to think uppon her servants hap, and then
Her daughtrinlaw immediatly replied thus agen:
But mother, shee whose altred shape dooth move your hart so sore,
Was neyther kith nor kin to you. What will you say therefore,
If of myne owne deere suster I the woondrous fortune show,
Although my sorrow and the teares that from myne eyes doo flow,
Doo hinder mee, and stop my speeche? Her mother (you must know
My father by another wyfe had mee) bare never mo
But this same Ladie Dryopee, the fayrest Ladye tho
In all the land of Oechalye. Whom beeing then no mayd
(For why the God of Delos and of Delphos had her frayd)
Andraemon taketh to hys wyfe, and thinkes him well apayd.
There is a certaine leaning Lake whose bowing banks doo show
Page:Metamorphoses (Ovid, 1567).djvu/254
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