"Now, at her lap arrived, the flattering boy
Salutes his parent with a smiling joy ;
About her neck his little arms are thrown,
When Procne, on revengeful mischief bent,
Home to his heart a piercing poniard sent.
Itys, with rueful cries, but all too late,
Holds out his hands, and deprecates his fate ;
Still at his mother's neck he fondly aims,
And strives to melt her with endearing names
Yet still the cruel mother perseveres,
Nor with concern his bitter anguish hears.
This might suffice ; but Philomela too
Across his throat a shining cutlass drew."
Or perhaps the reference is to the Homeric legend of Philomela, Odyssey, XIX. 518 : "As when the daughter of Pandarus; the swarthy nightingale, sings beautifully when the spring newly begins, sitting in the thick branches of trees, and she, frequently changing, pours forth her much-sounding voice, lamenting her dear Itylus, whom once she slew with the brass through ignorance."
"Mad with her anguish, impotent to bear
The mighty grief, she loathes the vital air.
She calls herself the cause of all this ill,
And owns the dire effects of her ungoverned
will ;
She raves against the gods, she beats her
breast,
She tears with both her hands her purple vest;
Then round a beam a running noose she tied,
And, fastened by the neck, obscenely died.
Soon as the fatal news by fame was blown,
And to her dames and to her daughters known,
The sad Lavinia rends her yellow hair
And rosy cheeks ; the rest her sorrow share ;
With shrieks the palace rings, and madness of despair."
"Even as the sun, that doth conceal himself
By too much light."
And Milton, Parad. Lost III. 380:--
"Dark with excessive bright thy skirts appear."
"In ira nasce e posa Accidia niquitosa."