Ovid Book X Lines 60-85 (Caitlyn)

And now dying again there was no complaint against her husband
to be made (what could she complain of but that she was loved?)
and she said a last "goodbye," which almost did not reach his
ears, and fell back into the place she had come rom.
Not other than stunned was Orpheus at her double death,
like that frightened one who saw the three-headed dog
held by chains on the middle one, whose fear did not let go
until his former nature left and rock moved through his body,
or like Olenos who took crime upon him willingly
to seem guilty, or you, too proud of your beauty,
unhappy Lethaea, you, once two hearts joined
closely together, now stones, held by fertile Ida.
He spoke vainly to cross over on a second journey
but the keeper repelled him: then seven days he sat
on the shore in filthy clothes without any food;
care and pain of spirit and tears were his nourishment.
Saying that the gods of Erebus were cruel, to high
Rhodope and windblown Haemus he betook himself.
Thrice had the sun finished the year
and come to Pisces, and Orpheus had fled from all
love of womankind, whether because of his bad luck,
or because he had given his fidelity; still many felt passion
for the bard, and many suffered at being repulsed.
He gave the example to the Thracians by giving love
to tender boys and enjoying the brief spring
and first flower of their youth.

Ovid IV. 121-146 (Caitlyn's version)

As he lay stretched on the soil, his blood leapt high,
not other than when a pipe at a weak point
has broken and sends forth long spurting jets
of water and slices the air with its spray.
The fruit of the tree was sprinkled with blood
and changed to dark red, and the roots soaked in gore
tinged a purple colour the same hanging berries.
Look now as she comes in fear, not to fail her lover,
seeking for him with both her eyes and her spirit,
eager to explain how great danger she escaped;
while she knows the place and form of the familiar tree,
she is made uncertain by the fruit's colour; she doubts that it is.
While she pauses, she sees beating on the bloody ground
someone's limbs, and steps back, her face more pale
than boxwood, trembling like the sea ruffled by a breeze,
which shivers, brought up by the slightest of winds.
But after a time she recognizes her own lover,
and beats her pure limbs with blows of grief
and tears her hair and embraces the loved corpse,
filling his wounds with tears to mingle with his
blood and kisses his lips on his cold face,
"Pyramus," she shouts, "what chance has taken you from me?
Pyramus, respond! is it me your dearest Thisbe
calling you; listen and lift up your fallen head!"
To the name Thisbe his eyes now heavy with death
Pyramus opened and closed after seeing her face.

Ovid Book II 854-865 (Caitlyn)

His rounded muscles stood out, a dewlap hung down,
his horns were twisted, but so perfect as though
made by hand, cleaner and more gleaming that jewels.
There was fear neither in his brow nor his great eyes:
his face held peace. Agenor's daughter wondered at him,
who was so beautiful, who did not threaten;
but though he seemed gentle she first feared to touch him,
then held out flowers to his bright white lips.
This lover rejoiced and, then as a hope for coming pleasure,
kissed the hands she gave; hardly could he hold off longer;
and now he capers and exults on the green grass,
now lays out his snowy form on the yellow strand;

Heyo, I have taken my computer to a professional to get the system scanned. At the moment is won't let me on the internet, so I apologize for the lateness.

Just as the Gallic dog sees a hare in an empty ploughed field, the dog makes for the prey, the hare to safety; he seems to now clutch er, he hopes, and extending his jaws grazes the tracks (hare's feet), the other, uncertain of being caught, snatches herself from the bite. So the God and the virgin: he is of rash hope, and she of fear. He who followed, however, helped by the wings of love, is swifter and denies rest, flying quickly he threatens her back and breathes on the hair of her neck. She flees quickly, having been spent in strength, turns pale, defeated in effort and seeing the waves of Paneidas prays, "Bring might, father! If you have the divine will over the river, which very much pleases you, ruin my beauty!" With the prayer barely finished, numbness seized her limbs, bark surrounds the free feeble breast, in the hair foliage, from the arms come forth branches, just now the swift foot is then stuck by slow roots, the face holds the top: only beauty remained in her.

book 3, lines 175-185 (Amy) - 8/28

As soon as he entered the cave [which was] dripping from the fountain, as they were the naked nymphs, at the sight of a man, beat their breasts and filled all the forest with unexpected cries, and protected the body of Diana with their own; however, the goddess herself is higher than those, and head and neck overtop as far as all. The face of Diana, seen there, without clothes, was the color of the clouds stained by the hits of opposing sun or the dark red of dawn (Aurora).

III. 138-154

The first case of grief to you, Cadmus, among so many favorable things, was your grandson, and the strange horns attached to his forehead, and you, the dogs satiated with the blood of their master. But if you rightly inquire, you will discover the fault of fortune in him, not crime; for which crime had error?
The mountain was dyed with the slaughter of various wild beasts, and midday had already collected shadows of things and the sun was equally distant from both boundaries, and when the young Hyantius speaks to the companions of his work, wandering through the devious forest, with kind words: "The nets and iron are wet, friends, with the blood of beasts, and the day has had enough fortune; Aurora will restore another day with her golden wheels (chariot) having been ridden, and we shall recall our proposed work: now Phoebus is also equally distant from both boundaries, and divides the plowed lands with his heat. Stop your present and carry away the knotted rope." The men obey his commands and pause their work.

148 - 162 (Caitlyn)

"Both nets and spears drip, friends, with quarry's blood,
and the day has given us luck enough; again light
will return with the crimson chariot of Aurora,
and we will repeat the proposed work: now Phoebus partway
has come and breaks the fields themselves with his burning arrows.
Stop your work at once and carry home the well-formed nets!"
The men obeyed his order and paused their labor.
There was a vale grown dense with pine and sharp cypress,
named Gargaphie, the sacred haven of Diana,
where in the furthest part there was a shady recessed cave
formed by no art: but similar to art
was the genius of Nature herself; here from living rock
and light tufa she had created a natural arch;
a fountain sounded on the right holding sparkling waves,
on one side widening to a pool hemmed by grassy banks.