GetPassage urn:cts:latinLit:phi0893.phi001.perseus-eng2:3.11.25-3.11.40 urn:cts:latinLit:phi0893.phi001.perseus-eng2:3.11.25-3.11.40

Let Lyde hear those maidens' guilt,Their famous doom, the ceaseless drainOf outpour'd water, ever spilt,And all the painReserved for sinners, e'en when dead:Those impious hands, (could crime do more?)Those impious hands had hearts to shedTheir bridegrooms' gore!One only, true to Hymen's flame,Was traitress to her sire forsworn:That splendid falsehood lights her nameThrough times unborn.“Wake!” to her youthful spouse she cried,“Wake! or you yet may sleep too well:Fly—from the father of your bride,Her sisters fell: