The Metamorphoses of Publius Ovidus Naso in English blank verse Vols. I & II

by Ovid

Table of Contents

(Added by transcriber.)

[Volume I]
[The First Book]
[The Second Book]
[The Third Book]
[The Fourth Book]
[The Fifth Book]
[The Sixth Book]
[The Seventh Book]
[Volume II]
[The Eighth Book]
[The Ninth Book]
[The Tenth Book]
[The Eleventh Book]
[The Twelfth Book]
[The Thirteenth Book]
[The Fourteenth Book]
[The Fifteenth Book]

THE
First Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

From bodies various form'd, mutative shapes
My Muse would sing:—Celestial powers give aid!
From you those changes sprung,—inspire my pen;
Connect each period of my venturous song
Unsever'd, from old Chaös' rude misrule,
Till now the world beneath Augustus smiles.

While yet nor earth nor sea their place possest,
Nor that cerulean canopy which hangs
O'ershadowing all, each undistinguish'd lay,
And one dead form all Nature's features bore;
Unshapely, rude, and Chaos justly nam'd.
Together struggling laid, each element
Confusion strange begat:—Sol had not yet
Whirl'd through the blue expanse his burning car:
Nor Luna yet had lighted forth her lamp,
Nor fed her waning light with borrowed rays.
No globous earth pois'd inly by its weight,
Hung pendent in the circumambient sky:
The sky was not:—Nor Amphitrité had
Clasp'd round the land her wide-encircling arms.
Unfirm the earth, with water mix'd and air;
Opaque the air; unfluid were the waves.
Together clash'd the elements confus'd:
Cold strove with heat, and moisture drought oppos'd;
Light, heavy, hard, and soft, in combat join'd.

Uprose the world's great Lord,—the strife dissolv'd,
The firm earth from the blue sky plac'd apart;
Roll'd back the waves from off the land, and fixt
Where pure ethereal joins with foggy air.
Defin'd each element, and from the mass
Chaötic, rang'd select, in concord firm
He bound, and all agreed. On high upsprung
The fiery ether to the utmost heaven:
The atmospheric air, in lightness next,
Upfloated:—dense the solid earth dragg'd down
The heavier mass; and girt on every side
By waves circumfluent, seiz'd her place below.

This done, the mass this deity unknown
Divides;—each part dispos'd in order lays:
First earth he rounds, in form a sphere immense,
Equal on every side: then bids the seas,
Pent in by banks, spread their rude waves abroad,
By strong winds vext; and clasp within their arms
The tortuous shores: and marshes wide he adds,
Pure springs and lakes:—he bounds with shelving banks
The streams smooth gliding;—slowly creeping, some
The arid earth absorbs; furious some rush,
And in the watery plain their waves disgorge;
Their narrow bounds escap'd, to billows rise,
And lash the sandy shores. He bade the plains
Extend;—the vallies sink;—the groves to bloom;—
And rocky hills to lift their heads aloft.
And as two zones the northern heaven restrain,
The southern two, and one the hotter midst,
With five the Godhead girt th' inclosed earth,
And climates five upon its face imprest.
The midst from heat inhabitable: snows
Eternal cover two: 'twixt these extremes
Two temperate regions lie, where heat and cold
Meet in due mixture; 'bove the whole light air
Was hung:—as water floats above the land,
So fire 'bove air ascends. Here he bade lodge,
Thick clouds and vapors; thunders bellowing loud
Terrific to mankind, and winds; which mixt
Sharp cold beget. But these to range at large
The air throughout, his care forbade. E'en now
Their force is scarce withstood; but oft they threat
Wild ruin to the universe, though each
In separate regions rules his potent blasts.
Such is fraternal strife! Far to the east
Where Persian mountains greet the rising sun
Eurus withdrew. Where sinking Phœbus' rays
Glow on the western shores mild Zephyr fled.
Terrific Boreas frozen Scythia seiz'd,
Beneath the icy bear. On southern climes
From constant clouds the showery Auster rains.
The liquid ether high above he spread,
Light, calm, and undefil'd by dregs terrene.
Scarce were those bounds immutable arrang'd,
When upward sprung the stars so long press'd down
Beneath the heap chaötic, and along
The path of heaven their blazing courses ran.

Next that each separate element might hold
Appropriate habitants,—the vault of heaven,
Bright constellations and the gods receiv'd.
To glittering fish allotted were the waves:
To earth fierce brutes:—to agitated air,
Light-plumag'd birds. A being more divine,
Of soul exalted more, and form'd to rule
The rest was wanting. Then he finish'd MAN!
Or by the world's creator, power supreme,
Form'd from an heavenly seed; or new-shap'd earth
Late from celestial ether torn, and still
Congenial warmth retaining, moisten'd felt,
Prometheus' fire, and moulded took the form
Of him all-potent. Others earth behold
Pronely;—to man a face erect was given.
The heavens he bade him view, and raise his eyes
High to the stars. Thus earth of late so rude,
So shapeless, man, till now unknown, became.

First sprung the age of gold. Unforc'd by laws
Strict rectitude and faith, spontaneous then
Mankind inspir'd. No judge vindictive frown'd;
Unknown alike were punishment and fear:
No strict decrees on brazen plates were seen;
Nor suppliant crowd, with trembling limbs low bent,
Before their judges bow'd. Unknown was law,
Yet safe were all. Unhewn from native hills,
The pine-tree knew the seas not, nor had view'd
Regions unknown, for man not yet had search'd
Shores distant from his own. The towns ungirt
By trenches deep, laid open to the plain;
Nor brazen trump, nor bended horn were seen,
Helmet, nor sword; but conscious and secure,
Unaw'd by arms the nations tranquil slept.
The teeming earth by barrows yet unras'd,
By ploughs unwounded, plenteous pour'd her stores.
Content with food unforc'd, man pluck'd with ease
Young strawberries from the mountains; cornels red;
The thorny bramble's fruit; and acorns shook
From Jove's wide-spreading tree. Spring ever smil'd;
And placid Zephyr foster'd with his breeze
The flowers unsown, which everlasting bloom'd.
Untill'd the land its welcome produce gave,
And unmanur'd its hoary crop renew'd.
Here streams of milk, there streams of nectar flow'd;
And from the ilex, drop by drop distill'd,
The yellow honey fell. But, Saturn down
To dusky Tartarus banish'd, all the world
By Jove was govern'd. Then a silver age
Succeeded; by the golden far excell'd;—
Itself surpassing far the age of brass.
The ancient durance of perpetual spring
He shorten'd, and in seasons four the year
Divided:—Winter, summer, lessen'd spring,
And various temper'd autumn first were known.
Then first the air with parching fervor dry,
Glow'd hot;—then ice congeal'd by piercing winds
Hung pendent;—houses then first shelter'd man;
Houses by caverns form'd, with thick shrubs fenc'd,
And boughs entwin'd with osiers. Then the grain
Of Ceres first in lengthen'd furrows lay;
And oxen groan'd beneath the weighty yoke.
Third after these a brazen race succeeds,
More stern in soul, and more in furious war
Delighting;—still to wicked deeds averse.
The last from stubborn iron took its name;—
And now rush'd in upon the wretched race
All impious villainies: Truth, faith, and shame,
Fled far; while enter'd fraud, and force, and craft,
And plotting, with detested avarice.
To winds scarce known the seaman boldly loos'd
His sails, and ships which long on lofty hills
Had rested, bounded o'er the unsearch'd waves.
The cautious measurer now with spacious line
Mark'd out the land, in common once to all;
Free as the sun-beams, or the lucid air.
Nor would the fruits and aliments suffice,
The rich earth from her surface threw, but deep
Within her womb they digg'd, and thence display'd,
Riches, of crimes the prompter, hid far deep
Close by the Stygian shades. Now murderous steel,
And gold more murderous enter'd into day:
Weapon'd with each, war sallied forth and shook
With bloody grasp his loud-resounding arms.
Now man by rapine lives;—friend fears his host;
And sire-in-law his son;—e'en brethren's love
Is rarely seen: wives plot their husbands' death;
And husbands theirs design: step-mothers fierce
The lurid poisons mix: th' impatient son
Enquires the limits of his father's years:—
Piety lies neglected; and Astræa,
Last of celestial deities on earth,
Ascends, and leaves the sanguine-moisten'd land.

Nor high-rais'd heaven was more than earth secure.
Giants, 'tis said, with mad ambition strove
To seize the heavenly throne, and mountains pile
On mountains till the loftiest stars they touch'd.
But with his darted bolt all-powerful Jove,
Olympus shatter'd, and from Pelion's top
Dash'd Ossa. There with huge unwieldy bulk
Oppress'd, their dreadful corses lay, and soak'd
Their parent earth with blood; their parent earth
The warm blood vivify'd, and caus'd assume
An human form,—a monumental type
Of fierce progenitors. Heaven they despise,
Violent, of slaughter greedy; and their race

From blood deriv'd, betray.
	Saturnian Jove

Loud murmurs fill the skies—swift vengeance all
With eager voice demand. When impious hands
With Cæsar's blood th' immortal fame of Rome,
Rag'd to extinguish—all the world aghast,
With horror shook, and trembled through its frame.
Nor was thy subjects' loyalty to thee
More sweet, Augustus, than was theirs to Jove.
His hand and voice, to still their noise he rais'd:
Their clamors loud were hush'd, all silence kept;
When thus the thunderer ends his angry tale:
“Dismiss your care, his punishment is o'er;
“But hear his crimes, and hear his well-earn'd fate.
“Of human vice the fame had reach'd mine ear,
“With hop'd exaggeration; gliding down,
“From proud Olympus' brow, I veil'd the god,
“And rov'd the world in human form around.
“'Twere long to tell what turpitude I saw
“On every side, for rumor far fell short,
“Of what I witness'd. Through the dusky woods
“Of Mænalus I pass'd, where savage lurk
“Fierce monsters; o'er the cold Lycean hill,
“With pine-trees waving; and Cyllené's height.
“Thence to th' Arcadian monarch's roof I came,
“As dusky twilight drew on sable night.
“Gave signs a god approach'd. The people crowd
“In adoration: but Lycaön turns
“Their reverence and piety to scorn.
“Then said,—not hard the task to ascertain,
“If god or mortal, by unerring test:
“And plots to slay me when oppress'd with sleep.
“Such proof his soul well suited. Impious more,
“An hostage from Molossus sent he slew;
“His palpitating members part he boil'd,
“And o'er the glowing embers roasted part:
“These on the board he serves. My vengeful flames
“Consume his roof;—for his deserts, o'erwhelm
“His household gods. Lycaön trembling fled
“And gain'd the silent country; loud he howl'd,
“And strove in vain to speak; his ravenous mouth
“Still thirsts for slaughter; on the harmless flocks
“His fury rages, as it wont on man:
“Blood glads him still; his vest is shaggy hair;
“His arms sink down to legs; a wolf he stands.
“Yet former traits his visage still retains;
“Grey still his hair; and cruel still his look;
“His eyes still glisten; savage all his form.
“Thus one house perish'd, but not one alone
“The fate deserves. Wherever earth extends,
“The fierce Erinnys reigns; men seem conspir'd
“In impious bond to sin; and all shall feel
“The scourge they merit: fixt is my decree.”

Part loud applaud his words, and feed his rage;
The rest assent in silence; yet to all,
Man's loss seems grievous; anxious all enquire
What form shall earth of him depriv'd assume?
Who then shall incense to their altars bring?
And if those rich and fertile lands he means
A spoil for beasts ferocious? Their despair
He bade them banish, and in him confide
For what the future needed; held them forth
The promise of a race unlike the first;
Originating from a wonderous stock.

And now his lightenings were already shot,
And earth in flames, but that a fire so vast,
He fear'd might reach Olympus, and consume
The heavenly axis. Also call'd to mind
What fate had doom'd, that all in future times
By fire should perish, earth, and sea, and heaven;
And all th' unwieldy fabric of the world
Should waste to nought. The Cyclops' labor'd bolts
Aside he laid. A different vengeance now,
To drench with rains from every part of heaven,
And whelm mankind beneath the rising waves,
Pleas'd more th' immortal. Straightway close he pent
The dry north-east, and every blast to showers
Adverse, in caves Æolian, and unbarr'd
The cell of Notus. Notus rushes forth
On pinions dropping rain; his horrid face
A pitchy cloud conceals; pregnant with showers
His beard; and waters from his grey hairs flow:
Mists on his forehead sit; in dews dissolv'd
His arms and bosom, seem to melt away.
With broad hands seizing on the pendent clouds
He press'd them—with a mighty crash they burst,
And thick and constant floods from heaven pour down.
Iris meantime, in various robe array'd,
Collects the waters and supplies the clouds.
Prostrate the harvest lies, the tiller's hopes
Turn to despair. The labors of an year,
A long, long year, without their fruit are spent.
Nor Jove's own heaven his anger could suffice,
His brother brings him his auxiliar waves.
He calls the rivers,—at their monarch's call
His roof they enter, and in brief he speaks:
“Few words we need, pour each his utmost strength,
“The cause demands it; ope' your fountains wide,
“Sweep every mound before you, and let gush
“Your furious waters with unshorten'd reins.”
He bids—the watery gods retire,—break up
Their narrow springs, and furious tow'rd the main
Their waters roll: himself his trident rears
And smites the earth; earth trembles at the stroke,
Yawns wide her bosom, and upon the land
A flood disgorges. Wide outspread the streams
Rush o'er the open fields;—uproot the trees;
Sweep harvests, flocks, and men;—nor houses stood;
Nor household gods, asylums hereto safe.
Where strong-built edifice its walls oppos'd
Unlevell'd in the ruin, high above
Its roof the billows mounted, and its towers
Totter'd, beneath the watery gulf oppress'd.
Nor land nor sea their ancient bounds maintain'd,
For all around was sea, sea without shore.
This seeks a mountain's top, that gains a skiff,
And plies his oars where late he plough'd the plains.
O'er fields of corn one sails, or 'bove the roofs
Of towns immerg'd;—another in the elm
Seizes th' intangled fish. Perchance in meads
The anchor oft is thrown, and oft the keel
Tears the subjacent vine-tree. Where were wont
The nimble goats to crop the tender grass
Unwieldy sea-calves roll. The Nereid nymphs,
With wonder, groves, and palaces, and towns,
Beneath the waves behold. By dolphins now
The woods are tenanted, who furious smite
The boughs, and shake the strong oak by their blows.
Swims with the flock the wolf; and swept along,
Tigers and tawny lions strive in vain.
Now not his thundering strength avails the boar;
Nor, borne away, the fleet stag's slender limbs:
And land, long sought in vain, to rest her feet,
The wandering bird draws in her weary wings,
And drops into the waves, whose uncheck'd roll
The hills have drown'd; and with un'custom'd surge
Foam on the mountain tops. Of man the most
They swallow'd; whom their fierce irruption spar'd,
By hunger perish'd in their bleak retreat.

Between th' Aönian and Actæian lands
Lies Phocis; fruitful were the Phocian fields
While fields they were, but now o'erwhelm'd, they form
A region only of the wide-spread main.
Here stands Parnassus with his forked top,
Above the clouds high-towering to the stars.
To this Deucalion with his consort driven
O'er ridgy billows in his bark clung close;
For all was sea beside. There bend they down;
The nymphs, and mountain gods adore, and she
Predicting Themis, then oraculous deem'd.
No man more upright than himself had liv'd;
Than Pyrrha none more pious heaven had seen.

Now Jove beheld a mighty lake expand
Where late was earth, and from the swarming crowds
But one man sav'd—of woman only one:
Both guiltless,—pious both. He chas'd the clouds
And bade the dry north-east to drive the showers
Far distant, and display the earth to heaven,
And unto earth the skies. The ocean's rage
Remains no more. Mild Neptune lays aside
His three-fork'd weapon, and his surges smoothes;
Then calls blue Triton from the dark profound.
Above the waves the god his shoulders rears,
With inbred purple ting'd: He bids him sound
His shelly trump, and back the billows call;
And rivers to their banks again remand.
The trump he seizes,—broad above it wreath'd
From narrow base;—the trump whose piercing blast
From east to west resounds through every shore.
This to his mouth the watery-bearded god
Applies, and breathes within the stern command.
All hear the sound, or waves of earth or sea,
And all who hear obey. Sea finds a shore;
Floods flow within their channels; rivers sink;
Hills lift their heads; and as the waves decrease,
In numerous islets solid earth appears.
A tedious time elaps'd, and now the woods
Display'd their leafless summits, and their boughs
Heavy with mud. At length the world restor'd
Deucalion saw, but empty all and void;
Deep silence reigning through th' expansive waste:
Tears gush'd while thus his Pyrrha he address'd:
“O sister! wife! O woman sole preserv'd!—
“By nature, kindred, and the marriage-bed,
“To me most closely join'd. Now nearer still
“By mutual perils. We, of all the earth
“Beheld by Sol in his diurnal course,
“We two alone remain. The mighty deep
“Entombs the rest. Nor sure our safety yet;
“Still hang the clouds dark louring. Wretched wife,
“What if preserv'd alone? What hadst thou done
“Of me bereft? How singly borne the shock?
“Where found condolement in thy load of grief?
“For me,—and trust, my dearest wife, my words,—
“Hadst thou amidst the billows been ingulph'd,
“Me also had they swallow'd. Oh! for power
“To form mankind, as once my father did,
“And in the shapen earth true souls infuse!
“In us rests human race, so will the gods,
“A sample only of mankind we live.”
He spoke and Pyrrha's tears join'd his. To heaven
They raise their hands in prayer, and straight resolve
To ask through oracles divine its aid.
Nor long delay. Quick to Cephisus' streams
They hasten; muddy still Cephisus flows,
Yet not beyond its wonted boundaries swol'n.
Libations thence they lift, and o'er their heads
And garments cast the sprinklings;—then their steps
To Themis' temple bend. The roof they found
With filthy moss o'ergrown;—the altars cold.
Prone on the steps they fell, and trembling kiss'd
The gelid stones, and thus preferr'd their words:
“If righteous prayers can move the heavenly mind,
“And soften harsh resolves, and soothe the rage
“Of great immortals, say, O Themis, say,
“How to the world mankind shall be restor'd;
“And grant, most merciful, in our distress
“Thy potent aid.” The goddess heard their words,
And instant gave reply. “The temple leave,
“Ungird your garments, veil your heads, and throw
“Behind your backs your mighty mother's bones.”
Astonish'd long they stood! and Pyrrha first
The silence broke; the oracle's behest
Refusing to obey; and earnest pray'd,
With trembling tongue for pardon for her sin:
Her mother's shade to violate she dreads,
Her bones thus rudely flinging. But meantime
Deep in their minds, in dark mysterious veil
Obscurely hid, the sentence they revolve.
At length Deucalion sooths his wife with words
Of cheering import: “Right, if I divine,
“No impious deed the deity desires:
“Earth is our mighty mother, and her bones
“The stony rocks within her;—these behind
“Our backs to cast, the oracle commands.”
With joy th' auspicious augury she hears,
But joy with doubt commingled, both so much
The heavenly words distrust; yet still they hope
The essay cannot harm. The temple left,
Their heads they cover, and their vests unbind;
And o'er their heads as order'd heave the stones.
The stones—(incredible! unless the fact
Tradition sanction'd doubtless) straight began
To lose their rugged firmness,—and anon,
To soften,—and when soft a form assume.
Next as they grew in size, they felt infus'd
A nature mild,—their form resembled man!
But incorrectly: marble so appears,
Rough hewn to form a statue, ere the hand
Completes the shape. What liquid was, and moist,
With earthy atoms mixt, soft flesh became;
Parts solid and unbending chang'd to bone;
In name unalter'd, veins the same remain'd.
Thus by the gods' beneficent decree,
And brief the change, the stones Deucalion threw,
A manly shape assum'd; but females sprung
From those by Pyrrha cast behind; and hence
A patient, hard, laborious race we prove,
And shew the source, by actions, whence we sprung.

Beings all else the teeming earth produc'd
Spontaneous. Heated by the solar rays,
The stagnant water quicken'd;—marshy fens
Swell'd up their oozy loads to meet the beams:
And nourish'd by earth's vivifying soil,
The fruitful elements of life increas'd,
As in a mother's womb; and in a while
Assum'd a certain shape. So when the floods
Of seven-mouth'd Nile desert the moisten'd fields,
And to their ancient channels bring their streams,
The soft mud fries beneath the scorching sun;
And midst the fresh-turn'd earth unnumber'd forms
The tiller finds: some scarcely half conceiv'd;
Imperfect some, their bodies wanting limbs:
And oft he beings sees with parts alive,
The rest a clod of earth: for where with heat
Due moisture kindly mixes, life will spring:
From these in concord all things are produc'd.
Though fire with water strives; yet vapour warm,
Discordant mixture, gives a birth to all.

Thus when the earth, with filthy ooze bespread
From the late deluge, felt the blazing sun;
His burning heat productive caus'd spring forth
A countless race of beings. Part appear'd
In forms before well-known; the rest a group
Of monsters strange. Then, but unwilling, she
Produc'd terrific Python, serpent huge!
A mighty mountain with his bulk he hid;
A plague unknown, the new-born race to scare.
The quiver-shoulder'd god, unus'd before
His arms to launch, save on the flying deer,
Or roebuck fleet, the horrid monster slew:
A thousand arrows in his sides he fix'd,
His quiver's store exhausting; through the wounds
Gush'd the black poison. To contending games,
Hence instituted for the serpent slain,
The glorious action to preserve through times
Succeeding, he the name of Pythian gave.
And here the youth who bore the palm away
By wrestling, racing, or in chariot swift,
With beechen bough was crown'd. Nor yet was known
The laurel's leaf: Apollo's brows, with hair
Deck'd graceful, no peculiar branches bound.

Penæian Daphne first his bosom charm'd;
No casual flame but plann'd by Love's revenge.
Him, Phœbus flush'd with conquest late obtain'd,
His bow saw bend, and thus exclaim'd in taunt:
“Lascivious boy! How ill with thee assort
“Those warlike arms?—how much my shoulders more
“Beseem the load, whose arm can deadly wounds
“In furious beasts, and every foe infix!
“I who but now huge Python have o'erthrown;
“Swol'n with a thousand darts; his mighty bulk
“Whole acres covering with pestiferous weight?
“Content in vulgar hearts thy torch to flame,
“To me the bow's superior glory leave.”
Then Venus' son: “O Phœbus, nought thy dart
“Evades, nor thou canst 'scape the force of mine:
“To thee as others yield,—so much my fame
“Must ever thine transcend.” Thus spoke the boy,
And lightly mounting, cleaves the yielding air
With beating wings, and on Parnassus' top
Umbrageous rests. There from his quiver drew
Two darts of different power:—this chases love;
And that desire enkindles; form'd of gold
It glistens, ending in a point acute:
Blunt is the first, tipt with a leaden load;
Which Love in Daphne's tender breast infix'd.
The sharper through Apollo's heart he drove,
And through his nerves and bones;—instant he loves:
She flies of love the name. In shady woods,
And spoils of captive beasts alone she joys;
To copy Dian' emulous; her hair
In careless tresses form'd, a fillet bound.
By numbers sought,—averse alike to all;
Impatient of their suit, through forests wild,
And groves, in maiden ignorance she roams;
Nor cares for Cupid, nor hymeneal rites,
Nor soft connubial joys. Oft cry'd her sire;
“My Daphne, you should bring to me a son;
“From you, my child, I hope for grandsons too.”
But she detesting wedlock as a crime,
(Suffus'd her features with a bashful glow)
Around his aged neck, her beauteous arms,
Winds blandishing, and cries, “O sire, most dear!
“One favor grant,—perpetual to enjoy
“My virgin purity;—the mighty Jove
“The same indulgence has to Dian' given.”
Thy sire complies;—but that too beauteous face,
And lovely form, thy anxious wish oppose:
Apollo loves thee;—to thy bed aspires;—
And looks with anxious hopes, his wish to gain:
Futurity, by him for once unseen.
As the light stubble when the ears are shorn,
The flames consume: as hedges blaze on high
From torches by the traveller closely held,
Or heedless flung, when morning gilds the world:
So flaming burnt the god;—so blaz'd his breast,
And with fond hopes his vain desires he fed.
Her tresses careless flowing o'er her neck
He view'd, and, “Oh! how beauteous, deck'd with care,”
Exclaim'd: her eyes which shone like brilliant fire,
Or sparkling stars, he sees; and sees her lips;
Unsated with the sight, he burns to touch:
Admires her fingers, and her hands, her arms,
Half to the shoulder naked:—what he sees
Though beauteous, what is hid he deems more fair.
Fleet as the wind, her fearful flight she wings,
Nor stays his fond recalling words to hear:
“Daughter of Peneus, stay! no foe pursues,—
“Stay, beauteous nymph!—so flies the lamb the wolf;
“The stag the lion;—so on trembling wings
“The dove avoids the eagle:—these are foes,
“But love alone me urges to pursue.
“Ah me! then, shouldst thou fall,—or prickly thorns
“Wound thy fair legs,—and I the cause of pain!—
“Rough is the road thou runnest; slack, I pray,
“Thy speed;—I swear to follow not so fast.
“But hear who loves thee;—no rough mountain swain;
“No shepherd;—none in raiments rugged clad,
“Tending the lowing herds: rash thoughtless nymph,
“Thou fly'st thou know'st not whom, and therefore fly'st!
“O'er Delphos' lands, and Tenedos I sway,
“And Claros, and the Pataræan realms.—
“My sire is Jove. To me are all things known,
“Or present, past, or future. Taught by me
“Melodious sounds poetic numbers grace.—
“Sure is my dart, but one more sure I feel
“Lodg'd in this bosom; strange to love before.—
“Medicine me hails inventor; through the world
“My help is call'd for; unto me is known
“The powers of plants and herbs:—ah! hapless I,
“Nor plants, nor herbs, afford a cure for love;
“Nor arts which all relieve, relieve their lord.”
All this, and more:—but Daphne fearful fled,
And left his speech unfinish'd. Lovely then
She running seem'd;—her limbs the breezes bar'd;
Her flying raiment floated on the gale;
Her careless tresses to the light air stream'd;
Her flight increas'd her beauty. Now no more
The god to waste his courteous words endures,
But urg'd by love himself, with swifter pace
Her footsteps treads: the rapid greyhound so,
When in the open field the hare he spies,
Trusts to his legs for prey,—as she for flight;
And now he snaps, and now he thinks to hold,
And brushes with his outstretch'd nose her heels;—
She trembling, half in doubt, or caught or no,
Springs from his jaws, and mocks his touching mouth.
Thus fled the virgin and the god;—he fleet
Through hope, and she through fear,—but wing'd by love
More rapid flew Apollo;—spurning rest,
Approach'd her close behind, and panting breath'd
Upon her floating tresses. Pale with dread,
Her strength exhausted in the lengthen'd flight,
Old Peneus' streams she saw, and loud exclaim'd:—
“O sire, assist me, if within thy streams
“Divinity abides. Let earth this form,
“Too comely for my peace, quick swallow up;
“Or change those beauties to an harmless shape.”
Her prayer scarce ended, when her lovely limbs
A numbness felt; a tender rind enwraps
Her beauteous bosom; from her head shoots up
Her hair in leaves; in branches spread her arms;
Her feet but now so swift, cleave to the earth
With roots immoveable; her face at last
The summit forms; her bloom the same remains.
Still loves the god the tree, and on the trunk
His right hand placing, feels her breast yet throb,
Beneath the new-grown bark: around the boughs,
As yet her limbs, his clasping arms he throws;
And burning kisses on the wood imprints.
The wood his lips repels. Then thus the god:—
“O laurel, though to be my bride deny'd,
“Yet shalt thou be my tree; my temples bind;
“My lyre and quiver shalt thou still adorn:
“The brows of Latian conquerors shalt thou grace,
“When the glad people sing triumphant hymns,
“And the long pomp the capitol ascends.
“A faithful guard before Augustus' gates,
“On each side hung;—the sturdy oak between.
“And as perpetual youth adorns my head
“With locks unshorn, thou also still shalt bear
“Thy leafy honors in perpetual green.”
Apollo ended, and the laurel bow'd
Her verdant summit as her grateful head.

Within Æmonia lies a grove, inclos'd
By steep and lofty hills on every side:
'Tis Tempé call'd. From lowest Pindus pour'd
Here Peneus rolls his foaming waves along:
Thick clouds of smoke, and dark and vapoury mists
The violent falls produce, sprinkling the tops
Of proudest forests with the plenteous dew;
And distant parts astounding with the roar.
Here holds the watery deity his throne;—
Here his retreat most sacred;—seated here,
Within the rock-form'd cavern, to the streams
And stream-residing nymphs, his laws he gives.
Here flock the neighbouring river-gods, in doubt
Or to condole, or gratulate the sire.
Here Spercheus came, whose banks with poplars wave;
Rapid Enipeus; Apidanus slow;
Amphrysos gently flowing; Æäs mild;
And other streams which wind their various course,
Till in the sea their weary wanderings end,
By natural bent directed. Absent sole
Was Inachus;—deep in his gloomy cave
Dark hidden, with his tears he swells his floods.
He, wretched sire, his Iö's loss bewails;
Witless if living air she still enjoys,
Or with the shades she dwells; and no where found
He dreads the worst, and thinks her not to be.
The beauteous damsel from her father's banks
Jove saw returning, and, “O, maid!” exclaim'd,
“Worthy of Jove, whose charms will shortly bless
“Some youth desertless; come, and seek the shade,
“Yon lofty groves afford,”—and shew'd the groves,—
“While now Sol scorches from heaven's midmost height.
“Fear not the forests to explore alone,
“But in their deepest shades adventurous go;
“A god shall guard thee:—no plebeian god,
“But he whose mighty hand the sceptre grasps
“Of rule celestial, and the lightening flings.
“O fly me not”—for Iö fled, amaz'd.
Now Lerna's pastures, and Lyrcæa's lands
With trees thick-planted, far behind were left;
When with a sudden mist the god conceal'd
The wide-spread earth, and stopp'd her eager flight;
And in his arms the struggling maid compress'd.
Meantime did Juno cast her eyes below,
The floating clouds surpris'd to see produce
A night-like shade amidst so bright a day.
No common clouds, from streams exhal'd, she knew;
Nor misty vapours from the humid earth.
Suspicions rise; her sharpness oft had caught
Her amorous husband in his thefts of love.
She search'd around the sky, its lord explor'd,—
But not in heaven he sate;—then loud exclaim'd:
“Much must I err, or much my bed is wrong'd.”
Down sliding from the topmost heaven, on earth
She lights, and bids the cloudy mists recede.
Prepar'd already, Jove the nymph had chang'd,
And in a lovely heifer's form she stood.
A shape so beauteous fair,—though sore chagrin'd,
Unwilling Juno prais'd; and whence she came,
And who her owner asks; and of what herd?
Her prying art, as witless of the truth,
To baffle, from the earth he feigns her sprung;
And straight Saturnia begs the beauteous gift.
Embarrass'd now he stands,—the nymph to leave
Abandon'd, were too cruel;—to deny
His wife, suspicious: shame compliance urg'd;
Love strong dissuaded: love had vanquish'd shame,
Save that a paltry cow to her refus'd,
Associate of his race and bed, he fear'd
More than a cow the goddess would suspect.
Her rival now she holds; but anxious, still
She Jove distrusts, and fears her prize to lose;
Nor safe she deem'd her, till to Argus' care
Committed. Round the jailor's watchful head
An hundred eyes were set. Two clos'd in turn;
The rest with watchful care, kept cautious guard.
Howe'er he stands, on Iö still he looks;
His face averse, yet still his eyes behold.
By day she pastures, but beneath the earth
When Phœbus sinks, he drags her to the stall,
And binds with cords her undeserving neck.
Arbutus' leaves, and bitter herbs her food:
Her wretched bed is oft the cold damp earth;
A strawy couch deny'd:—the muddy stream
Her constant drink: when suppliant she would raise
Her arms to Argus, arms to raise were none.
To moan she tries; loud bellowings echo wide,—
She starts and trembles at her voice's roar.
Now to the banks she comes where oft she'd play'd,—
The banks of Inachus, and in his streams
Her new-form'd horns beheld;—in wild affright
From them she strove, and from herself to fly.
Her sister Naïads know her not, nor he
Griev'd Inachus, his long-lost daughter knows.
But she her sisters and her sire pursues;
Invites their touch, as wondering they caress.
Old Inachus the gather'd herbs presents;
She licks his hands, and presses with her lips
His dear paternal fingers. Tears flow quick,
And could words follow she would ask his aid;
And speak her name, and lamentable state.
Marks for her words she form'd, which in the dust
Trac'd by her hoof, disclos'd her mournful change.
“Ah wretch!” her sire exclaim'd, “unhappy wretch!”
And o'er the weeping heifer's snowy neck,
His arms he threw, and round her horns he hung
With sobs redoubled:—“Art thou then, my child,
“Through earth's extent so sought? Ah! less my grief,
“To find thee not, than thus transform'd to find!
“But dumb thou art, nor with responsive words,
“Me cheerest. From thy deep chest sighs alone
“Thou utterest, and loud lowings to my words:
“Thou canst no more. Unwitting I prepar'd
“Thy marriage torches, anxious to behold
“A son, and next a son of thine to see.
“Now from the herd a husband must thou seek,
“Now with the herd thy sons must wander forth.
“Nor death my woes can finish: curst the gift
“Of immortality. Eternal grief
“Must still corrode me; Lethé's gate is clos'd.”
Thus griev'd the god, when starry Argus tore
His charge away, and to a distant mead
Drove her to pasture;—he a lofty hill's
Commanding prospect chose, and seated there
View'd all around alike on every side.

But now heaven's ruler could no more contain,
To see the sorrows Iö felt:—he calls
His son, of brightest Pleiäd mother born,
And bids him quickly compass Argus' death.
Instant around his heels his wings he binds;
His rod somniferous grasps; nor leaves his cap.
Accoutred thus, from native heights he springs,
And lights on earth; removes his cap; his wings
Unlooses; and his wand alone retains:
Through devious paths with this, a shepherd now,
A flock he drives of goats, and tunes his pipe
Of reeds constructed. Argus hears the sound,
Junonian guard, and captivated cries,—
“Come, stranger, sit with me upon this mount:
“Nor for thy flock more fertile pasture grows,
“Than round this spot;—and here the shade thou seest
“To shepherds' ease inviting.”—Hermes sate,
And with his converse stay'd declining day.
Long he discours'd, and anxious strove to lull
With music sweet, the all-observant eyes;
But long he strove in vain: soft slumber's bonds
Argus opposes;—of his numerous lights,
Part sleep, but others jealous watch his charge.
And now he questions whence the pipe was form'd,
The pipe but new-discover'd to the world.

Then thus the god:—“A lovely Naiäd nymph,
“With bleak Arcadia's Hamadryads nurs'd,
“And on Nonacriné for beauty fam'd
“Was Syrinx. Oft the satyrs wild she fled;
“Nor these alone, but every god that roves
“In shady forests, or in fertile fields.
“Dian' she follows, and her virgin life.
“Like Dian' cinctur'd, she might Dian' seem,
“Save that a golden bow the goddess bears;
“The nymph a bow of horn: yet still to most
“Mistake was easy. From Lycæum's height,
“His head encompass'd with the pointed pine,
“Returning, her the lustful Pan espy'd,
“And cry'd:—Fair virgin grant a god's request,—
“A god who burns to wed thee. Here he stays.
“Through pathless forests flies the nymph, and scorns
“His warm intreaties, till the gravelly stream
“Of Ladon, smoothly winding, she beheld.
“The waves impede her flight. She earnest prays
“Her sister-nymphs her human form to change.
“Now thinks the sylvan god his clasping arms
“Inclose her, whilst he grasps but marshy reeds.—
“He mournful sighs; the light reeds catch his breath,
“And soft reverberate the plaintive sound.
“The dulcet movement charms th' enraptur'd god,
“Who,—thus forever shall we join,—exclaims!
“With wax combin'd th' unequal reeds he forms
“A pipe, which still the virgin's name retains.”
While thus the god, he every eye beheld
Weigh'd heavy, sink in sleep, and stopp'd his tale.
His magic rod o'er every lid he draws,
His sleep confirming, and with crooked blade
Severs his nodding head, and down the mount
The bloody ruin hurls,—the craggy rock
With gore besmearing. Low, thou Argus liest!
Extinct thy hundred lights; one night obscure
Eclipsing all. But Juno seiz'd the rays,
And on the plumage of her favor'd bird,
In gaudy pride, the starry gems she plac'd.

With furious ire she flam'd, and instant sent
The dread Erinnys to the Argive maid.
Before her eyes, within her breast she dwelt
A secret torment, and in terror drove
Her exil'd through the world. 'Twas thou, O Nile!
Her tedious wandering ended. On thy banks
Weary'd she kneel'd, and on her back, supine
Her neck she lean'd:—her sad face to the skies,
What could she more?—she lifted. Unto Jove
By groans, and tears, and mournful lows she plain'd,
And begg'd her woes might end. The mighty god
Around his consort's neck embracing hung.
And pray'd her wrath might finish. “Fear no more
“A rival love, in her,” he said, “to see;”
And bade the Stygian streams his words record.
Appeas'd the goddess, Iö straight resumes
Her wonted shape, as lovely as before.
The rough hair flies; the crooked horns are shed;
Her visual orbits narrow; and her mouth
In size contracts; her arms and hands return;
Parted in five small nails her hoofs are lost:
Nought of the lovely heifer now remains,
Save the bright splendor. On her feet erect
With two now only furnish'd, stands the maid.
To speak she fears, lest bellowing sounds should break,
And timid tries her long-forgotten words.
Of mighty fame a goddess now, she hears
Of nations linen-clad the pious prayers.

Then bore she Epaphus, whose birth deriv'd
From mighty Jove, his temples through the land,
An equal worship with his mother's claim.
Him Phaëton, bright Phœbus' youthful son,
In years and spirit equall'd,—whose proud boasts,
To all his sire preferring, Iö's son
Thus check'd: “O simple! thee thy mother's arts
“To ought persuade. A feigned sire thou boast'st.”
Deep blush'd the youth, but shame his rage repress'd,
And each reproach to Clymené he bore.
“This too,” he says, “O mother, irks me more,
“That I so bold, so fierce, urg'd no defence:
“Which shame is greater? that they dare accuse,
“Or that accus'd, we cannot prove them false?
“Do thou my mother,—if from heaven indeed
“Descent I claim,—prove from what stock I spring.
“My race divine assert.” He said,—and flung
Around her neck his arms; and by his life,
The life of Merops, and his sisters' hopes
Of nuptial bliss, adjures her to obtain
Proofs of his birth celestial. Prayers like these
The mother doubtless mov'd;—and rage no less
To hear the defamation. Up to heaven
Her arms she raises, gazing on the sun,
And cries,—“My child! by yon bright rays I swear
“In brilliance glittering, which now hear and view,
“Our every word and action—thou art sprung
“From him, the sun thou see'st;—the sun who rules
“With tempering sway the seasons:—If untrue
“My words, let me his light no more behold!
“Nor long the toil to seek thy father's dome,
“His palace whence he rises borders close
“On our land's confines.—If thou dar'st the task,
“Go forth, and from himself thy birth enquire.”
Elate to hear her words, the youth departs
Instant, and all the sky in mind he grasps.
Through Æthiopia's regions swiftly went,
With India plac'd beneath the burning zone:
And quickly reach'd his own paternal east.

The Second Book.

Palace of the Sun. Phaëton's reception by his father. His request to drive the chariot. The Sun's useless arguments to dissuade him from the attempt. Description of the car. Cautions how to perform the journey. Terror of Phaëton, and his inability to rule the horses. Conflagration of the world. Petition of Earth to Jupiter, and death of Phaëton by thunder. Grief of Clymené, and of his sisters. Change of the latter to poplars, and their tears to amber. Transformation of Cycnus to a swan. Mourning of Phœbus. Jupiter's descent to earth; and amour with Calistho. Birth of Arcas, and transformation of Calistho to a bear; and afterwards with Arcas to a constellation. Story of Coronis. Tale of the daw to the raven. Change of the raven's color. Esculapius. Ocyrrhoë's prophecies, and transformation to a mare. Apollo's herds stolen by Mercury. Battus' double-dealing, and change to a touchstone. Mercury's love for Hersé. Envy. Aglauros changed to a statue. Rape of Europa.

THE
Second Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

By towering columns bright with burnish'd gold,
And fiery gems, which blaz'd their light around,
Upborne, the palace stood. The lofty roof
With ivory smooth incas'd. The folding doors,
Of silver shone, but much by sculpture grac'd,
For Vulcan there with curious hand had carv'd
The ocean girding in the land; the land;
And heaven o'ershadowing: here cerulean gods
Sport in the waves, grim Triton with his shell;
Proteus shape-changing; and Ægeon huge,—
His mighty arms upon the large broad backs
Of whales hard pressing: Doris and her nymphs:
Some sportive swimming; on a rocky seat
Some their green tresses drying; others borne
By fish swift-gliding: nor the same all seem'd,
Yet sister-like a close resembling look
Each face pervaded. Earth her natives bore,
Mankind;—and woods, and cities, there were seen;
Wild beasts, and streams, and nymphs, and rural gods.
'Bove all the bright display of heaven was hung—
Six signs celestial o'er each portal grav'd.

The daring youth, the steep ascent attain'd,
O'erstepp'd the threshold of his dubious sire,
And hasty rush'd to meet paternal eyes;
But sudden stay'd: so fierce a blaze of light
No nearer he sustain'd. In purple clad,
The god a regal emerald throne upheld;
Encircled round by hours which space the day;
By days themselves; and ages, months, and years.
Crown'd with a flowery garland Spring appear'd:
Chaplets of grain the swarthy brows adorn'd
Of naked Summer: smear'd with trodden grapes
Stood Autumn: icy Winter fill'd the groupe;—
Snow-white his shaggy locks. Sol from the midst
His eyes all-seeing glanc'd upon the youth,
Startled and trembling at the wonderous sight;
And cried:—“What brings my Phaëton, my son,
“Whose sire shall ne'er disclaim him? tell me now,
“What here thou seekest?” Thus the youth replies:—
“O father, Phœbus, universal light!
“If justly, I thy honor'd name may use,
“Nor proudly boasting Clymené conceals
“A crime by falshood; grant paternal signs,
“The world convincing that from thee I spring;
“Reproachful doubts erasing from my mind.”
He said;—the sire the glittering rays removes
That blaz'd around his head,—invites him nigh,
And thus embracing:—“Proud I own thee, son,
“For all is true by Clymené disclos'd.
“If still thou doubtest, name the gift thou lik'st,—
“That shalt thou have; for that will I bestow.
“Ye streams unseen, which hear celestial oaths
“My vows attest!” But scarce had Phœbus spoke,
When Phaëton, the fiery car demands,—
Demands his sway the winged-footed steeds
One day should suffer. Soon the solemn oath
Phœbus lamented: three times mournful shook
His glorious tresses and in sorrow cry'd—
“Would I could yet deny thee!—O my son!
“All else with gladness will I hear thee ask;—
“List to persuasion,—perseverance sure
“Will risk thy ruin. Phaëton, my child!
“The task thou seek'st is arduous; far unfit
“For those weak arms, and age so immature.
“Mortal,—thou would'st a seat immortal press.
“Ignorant of grasping more than all the gods
“Attempt to manage. Every power we grant
“Diverse excels; but I of all the gods,
“Have force in that igniferous car to stand.
“Ev'n Jove, the ruler of Olympus vast,
“Whose right hand terrible fierce lightenings hurls,
“This chariot never rul'd: and who than Jove,
“More mighty deem we? Steep the first ascent,
“The fresh steeds clamber up the height with pain:
“High in mid heaven arriv'd, to view beneath
“Ocean and earth, oft strikes even me with fear,
“And with dread palpitation shakes my breast.
“Prerupt the end, and asks a firm restraint;
“Tethys herself who nightly me receives,
“Beneath the waves, fears oft my headlong fall.
“Nor all;—the skies a constant whirling bears
“In rapid motion, and the heavenly orbs
“Sweep with them swift; I strive the adverse my;
“Nor can th' impetuous force which whirls the rest
“Bear with them me; I stem the rapid world
“With force superior. Grant, the car I yield,—
“Could'st thou the swift rotation of the poles
“Stem nervous, nor be borne with them along?
“Perchance imagination fills thy mind,
“With groves, and dwellings of celestial gods,
“And temples richly deck'd with offer'd gold,
“Where thou shall pass. Far else;—thy journey lies,
“Through ambushes, and savage monsters' forms.
“Ev'n shouldst thou lucky not erratic stray,
“Yet must thou pass the Bull's opposing horns;
“The bow Hæmonian, by the Centaur bent;
“The Lion's countenance grim; the Scorpion's claws
“Bent cruel in a circuit large; the Crab
“In lesser compass curving. Hard the task
“To rule the steeds with those fierce fires inflam'd,
“Within their breasts, which through their nostrils glow.
“Scarce bear they my control, when mad with heat
“Their high necks spurn the rein. But, oh! my son,
“Beware lest I a fatal gift bestow.
“Retract, while yet thou may'st, thy rash demand.
“Sure tokens thou requir'st to prove thee sprung
“From me,—the genuine offspring of my blood:
“My anxious trembling is a token true;
“Paternal terrors plainly prove the sire.
“Lo! on my features fix thine eyes; as well,
“I would thou could'st them place within my breast,
“And view the anguish of a father's cares.
“Last throw thy looks around; the riches view,
“Whatever earth contains, and some demand;
“Some of so many and such mighty gifts:
“In heaven, or earth, or sea, 'tis undeny'd.
“This only would I grant not, as its grant
“Is punishment, not favor. Phaëton
“Asks evil for a gift. Why, foolish boy,
“Hang on my neck thus coaxing with thine arms?
“Whate'er thou would'st, thou shalt. The Stygian streams
“Have heard me swear. But make a wiser wish.”
His admonition ceas'd, but all advice
Was bootless: still his resolution holds;
To guide the chariot still his bosom burns.
The sire, his every effort vain, at length
Forth to the lofty car, Vulcanian gift,
Brings the rash youth. Of gold the axle shone;
The pole of gold; by gold the rolling wheels
Were circled; every spoke with silver bright;
Upon the seat bright chrysolites display'd,
With various jewels shed a dazzling light,
From Sol reflected. All the high-soul'd youth
Admir'd, and while he curious view'd each part,
Behold Aurora from the purple east
Wide throws the ruddy portals, and displays
The halls with roses strewn: the starry host
Fly, driven by Lucifer,—himself the last
To quit his heavenly station. Sol beheld
The earth and sky grow red, and Luna's horns
Blunt, and prepar'd to vanish. Straight he bade
The flying hours to yoke the steeds: his words
The nimble goddesses obey, and lead
The steeds fire-breathing from their lofty stalls,
Ambrosia fed, and fix the sounding reins.
Then with a sacred ointment Phœbus smear'd
The face of Phaëton,—unscorch'd to bear
The fervid blaze; and on his head a crown
Of rays he fix'd. His smother'd sighs within
His anxious breast, sad presages of woe
Suppressing, thus he spoke:—“If now my words
“Though late, thou heedest, spare, O boy! the lash,
“But tightly grasp the reins: unbid they run,
“They fly; to check their flight thy labor asks.
“Not through the five bright zones thy journey lies:
“Obliquely winds the path, with spacious curve,
“Three girdles only touching; leaving far
“The pole Antarctic, and the northern Bear:
“Be this thy track; there plain thou may'st discern
“The marks my wheels have made. Since heaven and earth
“An equal portion of my influence claim;
“Press not the car too low, nor mount aloft
“Near topmost heaven: there would'st thou fire the roof
“Celestial;—here the earth thou would'st consume.
“For safety keep the midst. Let thy right wheel
“Approach the tortuous Snake not: nor thy left
“Press near the Altar:—hold the midmost course.
“Fortune the rest must rule; may she assist
“Thy undertaking; for thy safety act
“Better than thou. But more delay deny'd,
“Lo! whilst I speak the dewy night has touch'd
“The boundaries plac'd upon th' Hesperian shore.
“I'm call'd,—for, darkness fled, Aurora shines.
“Seize then, the reins, or if thy mind relents,
“My counsel rather than my chariot take.
“Now whilst thou can'st; whilst on a solid base
“Thou standest, ere thou yet unskilful mount'st
“The chariot ev'lly wish'd: give me to dart
“Those rays on earth which thou may'st safely view:”
Agile the youth bounds from his sire, and stands
Proud in the chariot; joyously he holds
Th' entrusted reigns, and from the seat glad thanks
Th' unwilling parent gives. Meantime neigh'd loud
In curling flames, the winged steeds of Sol,
Pyroeis, Æthon, Phlegon, Eous swift;
And with impatient hoofs the barrier beat;
Which Tethys, ignorant of her grandson's fate,
Drove back, and open laid the range of heaven.
Swiftly they hasten,—swiftly fly their heels,
Through the thin air, and through opposing clouds.
Pois'd by their wings the eastern gales they pass,
Which started with them: but their burthen light,
Small felt the pressure on the chariot seat:
Not what the steeds of Sol had felt before.
As ships unpois'd reel tottering through the waves,
Light and unsteady, rambling o'er the main;
So bounds the car, void of its 'custom'd weight,
High-toss'd as though unfill'd. This quick perceiv'd,
Fierce rush the four-yok'd steeds, and quit the path
Beaten before, and tread a road unknown.
Trembling the youth nor knows to pull the reins
Which side, nor knowing would the steeds obey.
Then first the frozen Triönes from Sol
Felt warm, and try'd, but try'd in vain, to dip
Beneath the sea. The frozen polar snake,
Sluggish with cold, and indolently mild,
Warm'd, and dire fierceness gather'd from the flames.
Thou too, Boötes, fled'st away disturb'd,
Though slow thy flight, retarded by thy teams.
And now the luckless Phaëton his eyes
Cast on the earth remote,—far distant spread
Beneath the lofty sky; pale grew his face
With sudden terror; trembled his weak knees;
O'ercome with light his eyes in darkness sunk:
Glad were he now, his father's steeds untouch'd:
Griev'd that his race he knows; griev'd his request
Was undeny'd: glad were he now if call'd
The son of Merops. Ev'n as Boreas sweeps
Furious the vessel, when the pilot leaves
The helm to heaven, and puts his trust in prayers
So was he hurry'd. What remains to do?
Vast space of heaven behind him lies;—much more
He forward views. Each distance in his mind
Compar'd he measures. Now he forward bends
To view the west, forbidden him to reach;
Now to the east he backward turns his eyes.
With terror stunn'd his trembling hands refuse
To hold the reins with vigor; yet he holds.
The coursers' names, affrighted he forgets:
Trembling he views the various monsters spread
Through every part above; and figures huge
Of beasts ferocious. Heaven a spot contains,
Where Scorpio bends in two wide bows his arms,
His tail, and doubly-stretching claws;—the space
Encompassing of two celestial signs.
Soon as the youth the monstrous beast beheld,
Black poison sweating, and with crooked sting
Threatening fierce wounds, he nerveless dropp'd the reins:
Pale dread o'ercame him. Quick the steeds perceiv'd
The loose thongs playing on their backs, and rush'd
Wide from the path, uncheck'd;—through regions strange,
Now here, now there, impetuous;—unrestrain'd,
Amidst the loftiest stars they dash, and drag
The car through pathless places: upward now
They labor;—headlong now they down descend,
Nearing the earth. With wonder Luna sees
Her brother's coursers run beneath her own;
And sees the burnt clouds smoking. Lofty points
Of earth, feel first the flames, and fissures wide,
Departing moisture prove. The forage green,
Whitens; trees crackle with their burning leaves;
And ripe corn adds its fuel to the blaze.
Why mourn we trifles? Mighty cities fall;
Their walls protect them not; their dwellers sink
To ashes with them. Woods on mountains flame;—
Athos, Cilician Taurus, Tmolus, burn;
Oeté, and Ide, her pleasant fountains dry;
With virgin Helicon, and Hæmus high,
Œagrius since. Now with redoubled flames
Fierce Etna blazes;—Eryx, Othrys too;
Cynthus, and fam'd Parnassus' double top,
And Rhodopé, at length of snow depriv'd:
Dindyma, Mimas, and the sacred hill
Cythæron nam'd, and lofty Mycalé:
Nor aid their snows the Scythians: Ossa burns,
Pindus, and Caucasus, and, loftier still,
The huge Olympus; with the towering Alps;
And cloud-capt Apennines. Now the youth,
Beholds earth flaming fierce from every part;—
The heat o'erpowers him; fiery air he breathes
As from a furnace; and the car he rides
Glows with the flame beneath him: sore annoy'd
On every side by cinders, and by smoke
Hot curling round him. Whither now he drives,
Or where he is, he knows not; in a cloud
Of pitchy night involv'd; swept as the steeds
Swift-flying will. The Æthiopians then,
'Tis said, their sable tincture first receiv'd;
Their purple blood the glowing heat call'd forth
To tinge their skins. Then dry'd the scorching fire
From arid Lybia all her fertile streams.
Now with dishevell'd locks the nymphs bewail'd
Their fountains and their lakes. Bœotia mourns
The loss of Dircé: Argos Amymoné:
Corinth laments Pirené. Nor yet safe
Were rivers bounded by far distant shores,
Tanais' midmost waves fume to the sky;
And ancient Peneus smokes: Ismenos swift;
Caïcus, Teuthrantean; and the flood
Of Phocis, Erymanthus: Xanthus too,
Doom'd to be fir'd again: Lycormas brown;
Mæander's sportive oft recircling waves;
Mygdonian Melas; and the Spartan flood,
Eurotas; with Euphrates burn: and burn,
Orontes; and the rapid Thermodoon;
Ganges; and Phasis; and the Ister swift.
Alpheus boils; the banks of Spercheus burn;
And Tagus' golden sands the flames dissolve.
Stream-loving swans, whose song melodious rung
Throughout Mæonian regions, feel the heat,
Caïster's streams amid. In terror Nile
Fled to the farthest earth, and sunk his head,
Yet undiscover'd!—void the seven-fold stream,
His mouth seven dry and dusty vales disclos'd.
Now Hebrus dries, and Strymon, Thracian floods:
And streams Hesperian, Rhine; and Rhone; and Po;
And Tiber, destin'd all the world to rule.
Asunder split the globe, and through the chinks
Darted the light to hell: the novel blaze,
Pluto and Proserpine with terror view'd.
The ocean shrinks;—a dry and scorching plain
Where late was sea appears. Hills lift their heads
Late by the deep waves hid, and countless seem
The scatter'd Cyclades. Deep crouch the fish;—
The crooked dolphins dare not leap aloft,
As, custom'd in the air; with breasts upturn'd
The gasping sea-calves float upon the waves:
Nereus, with Doris and her daughter-nymphs
Deep plung'd to seek their low, but tepid caves.
Thrice Neptune ventur'd to upraise his arms
Grim frowning,—thrice the flames too fierce he found,
And shrunk beneath the waters. Earth at length,
(By streams and founts encircled,—for her womb
Trembling they sought for refuge) rais'd on high
Her face omniferous, dry and parch'd with heat;
Her burning forehead shaded with her hand;
Shook all with tremor huge; then shrank for shade
Beneath, and gasping, thus to heaven she plain'd:

“Almighty lord! if such thy sovereign will,
“And I deserve it, why thy lightenings hold
“Thus idle? If by fire to perish doom'd,—
“Be it by thine,—an honorable fate!
“Scarce can my lips now utter forth my pains!—
Volumes of smoke oppress'd her—“See, my hair
“Sing'd with the flames! Behold my face,—my eyes,
“Scorch'd with hot embers! Is no better boon
“Due for the fruits I furnish? Such reward,
“Suits it my fertile crops? or cruel wounds
“Of harrow, rake, and plough, which through the year
“Enforc'd I suffer? For the herds I bring
“Green herbs and grass; bland aliments, ripe fruit
“For man; and incense for ye mighty gods:
“Faulty is this? But grant thy wrath deserv'd,
“How do the waves, thy brother's realm offend?
“Why does the main, to him by lot decreed,
“Shrink and retreat from heaven? Thy brother's weal,
“Say it concerns thee not, nor my distress;
“Care for thy own paternal heaven may move.
“Thine eyes cast round,—black smoke from either pole
“Mounts!—soon the greedy flames your halls will seize.
“Lo! Atlas labors;—scarcely he sustains
“The burning load. If earth and ocean flame,
“And heaven too perish, all to chaös turn'd,
“Confounded we shall sink. Snatch from the flames
“What yet, if ought, remains, and nature save.”
No more could Earth, for now thick vapors rose,
Her speech obstructing; down she shrunk her head,
And shelter'd 'midst the cool Tartarian shades.

Now Jove, the gods, all witness to the fact
Conven'd; ev'n Sol, the donor of the car,
That but for him the world in ruins soon
Would lie. The loftiest height of heaven he gains,
Whence clouds he wont upon the wide-spread earth
To shower;—from whence his thunders loud he hurl'd;
And quivering lightenings flung: but now nor clouds,
Nor showers to rain on earth the sovereign had.
He thunders;—from his right-ear pois'd, the bolt
Hurls on the charioteer. Life, and the car,
Phaëton quits at once;—his fatal fires,
By fires more fierce extinguish'd. Startled prance
The steeds confounded; free their fiery necks
From the torn reins: here lie the traces broke;
There the strong axle, sever'd from the seat;
Spokes of the shatter'd wheels are here display'd;
And scatter'd far and wide the car's remains.
Hurl'd headlong falls the youth, his golden locks,
Flame as he tumbles, swept through empty air,
A lengthen'd track he forms: so seems a star
In night serene, but only seems, to shoot.
Far from paternal home, the mighty Po
Receiv'd his burning corps, and quench'd the flames.

Due rites the nymphs Hesperian gave the limbs
From the fork'd lightening flaming. On his tomb
This epitaph they grav'd: “Here Phaëton
“Intombed rests; the charioteer so bold,
“Of Phœbus' car, which though he fail'd to rule,
“He perish'd greatly daring.” Griev'd his sire,
Veil'd his sad face; and, were tradition true,
One day saw not the sun; the embers blaz'd
Sufficient light: thus may misfortune aid.

When Clymené with all that sorrow could
To ease her woes give utterance, loud had wail'd
In wild lament; all spark of reason fled,
Her bosom tearing, through the world she roam'd.
And now his limbs inanimate she sought;
Then for his whiten'd bones: his bones she found,
On banks far distant from his home inhum'd.
Prone on his tomb her form she flung, and pour'd
Her tears in floods upon the graven lines:
And with her bosom bar'd, the cold stone warm'd.
His sisters' love their fruitless offerings bring,
Their griefs and briny droppings; cruel tear
Their beauteous bosoms; while they loudly call
Phaëton, deaf to all their mournful cries.
Stretch'd on his tomb, by night, by day they call'd.
Till Luna's circle four times fill'd was seen;
Their blows still given as 'custom'd, (use had made
Their forms of grief as nature). Sudden plain'd
Fair Phaëthusa, eldest of the three,
Of stiffen'd feet; as on the tomb she strove
To cast her body prone. Lampetie bright,
Rushing in hope to aid, a shooting root
Abruptly held. With lifted hands the third
Her locks to tear attempted; but green leaves
Tore off instead. Now this laments her legs,
Bound with thin bark; that mourns to see her arms
Shoot in long branches. While they wonder thus,
Th' increasing bark their bodies upward veils,
Their breasts, their arms, and hands, with gradual growth:
Their mouths alone remain; which loudly call
Their mother. What a mother could, she did:
What could she do? save, here and there to fly,
Where blind affection dragg'd her; and while yet,
'Twas given to join, join with them mouth to mouth.
Nor this contents; she strives to tear the rind,
Their limbs enwrapping; and the tender boughs
Pluck from their hands: but from the rended spot
The sanguine drops flow swift. Each suffering nymph
Cries,—“Spare me, mother!—spare your wounded child;
“I suffer in the tree.—farewell!—farewell!”—
For as they spoke the rind their mouths inclos'd.
From these new branches tears were dropp'd, and shap'd
By solar heat, bright amber straight compos'd.
Dropt in the lucid stream, the prize was borne
To Latium, and its gayest nymphs adorn'd.

This wonderous change Sthenelian Cycnus saw;
To thee, O Phaëton, by kindred join'd,
But by affection closer. He his realms,
(For o'er Liguria's large and populous towns
He reign'd) had then relinquish'd. With his plaints,
The Po's wide stream was fill'd; and fill'd the banks
With his lamentings; ev'n the woods, whose shade
The sister poplars thicken'd. Soon he feels
His utterance shrill and weak: his streaming locks
Soft snowy plumes displace: high from his chest,
His lengthen'd neck extends: a filmy web
Unites his ruddy toes: his sides are cloth'd
With quills and feathers: where his mouth was seen
Expanded, now a blunted beak obtains;
And Cycnus stands a bird;—but bird unknown
In days of yore. Mistrustful still of Jove,
His heaven he shuns; as mindful of the flames
From thence unjustly hurl'd. Wide lakes and ponds
He seeks to habit now;—indignant shuns
What favors fire, and joys in purling streams.

Meantime was Phœbus dull, his blaze obscur'd,
As when eclips'd his orb: his rays he hates;
Himself; and even the day. To grief his soul
He gives, and anger to his grief he joins;
Depriving earth of all its wonted light.
“Troubled my lot has been,” he cry'd, “since first
“Was publish'd my existence:—urg'd my toil
“Endless,—still unremitted, still unprais'd.
“Now let who will my furious chariot drive
“Flammiferous! If every god shall shrink
“Inadequate,—let Jove the task attempt:
“Then while my reins he tries, at least those flames,
“Which cause parental grief must peaceful rest.
“Then when the fiery flaming coursers strain
“His nervous arms, no more he'll judge the youth
“Of death deserving, who could less control.”
Sol, grieving thus, the deities surround,
And suppliant beg that earth may mourn no more,
By darkness 'whelm'd. Ev'n Jove concession gave,—
And why his fiery bolts were launch'd explain'd;
But threats and prayers majestically mix'd.
The steeds with terror trembling, Phœbus seiz'd,
Wild from their late affright, and rein'd their jaws;
Furious he wields his goad and lash, and fierce
He storms, and their impetuous fury blames
At every blow, as murderers of his son.

High heaven's huge walls the mighty sire explores,
With eye close searching, lest a weakening flaw,
Might hurl some part to ruin. All he found
Firm in its pristine strength;—then glanc'd his eye
Around the earth, and toils of man below.
'Bove all terrestrial lands, Arcadia felt—
His own Arcadia—his preserving care.
Her fountains he restores; her streams not yet
To murmur daring; to her fields he gives
Seed-corn; and foliage to her spreading boughs;
And her scorch'd forests bids again look green.
Through here as oft he journey'd, and return'd,
A virgin of Nonacriné he spy'd,
And instant inward fire the god consum'd.
No nymph was she whose skill the wool prepar'd;
Nor comb'd with art her tresses seem'd; full plain,
Her vest a button held; a fillet white
Careless her hair confin'd. Now pois'd her hand
A javelin light, and now a bow she bore:
In Dian's train she ran, nor nymph more dear
To her the mountain Mænalus e'er trode.
But brief the reign of favor! Sol had now
Beyond mid-heaven attain'd; Calistho sought
A grove where felling axe had never rung:
Here was her quiver from her shoulder thrown;
Her slender bow unstrung; and on the ground
With soft grass clad she rested: 'neath her neck
Was plac'd the painted quiver. Jove, the maid
Weary'd beheld, and from her wonted troop
Far distant. “Surely now, my wife,” he cries,
“This theft can ne'er discover. Should she know,
“What is her rage with such a prize compar'd?”
Then Dian's face and form the god conceal'd;
Loud calling,—“Where, O virgin, hast thou stray'd?
“What hills, my comrade, hast thou crost in chase?”
Light springing from the turf, the nymph reply'd,—
“Hail goddess, greater, if with me the palm,
“Than Jove himself, though Jove himself should hear.”
The feign'd Diana smil'd, and joy'd to hear
Him to himself preferr'd; then press'd her lips
With kisses, such as virgins never give
To virgins. Her, prepar'd to tell the woods
Where late she hunted, with a warm embrace
He hinder'd; and his crime the god disclos'd.
Hard strove the nymph,—and what could female more?
(O Juno, hadst thou seen her, less thy ire!)
Long she resists, but what can nymph attain,
Or any mortal, when to Jove oppos'd?
Victor the god ascends th' ethereal court.

The groves and forests, conscious of the deed,
Calistho hates; so swift she flies the spot,
Her quiver, and her darts, and slender bow
Suspended on the tree, through eager haste
Were nigh forgotten. Lo! Diana comes,
By clustering nymphs attended, o'er the hills
Of lofty Mænalus, from slaughter'd beasts,
Proudly triumphant. She Calistho sees,
And calls her;—as the goddess calls she flies,
Fearing another Jove disguis'd to meet.
But when th' attendant virgin-troop appear'd,
Fraud she no more suspected, but the train
Join'd fearless. Hard the countenance to form,
And not betray a perpetrated crime!
Scarce from the ground she dar'd her looks to raise;
Nor with her wonted ardor press'd before,
First of the throng, close to Diana's side.
Silent she moves; her blushes prove a wound
Her modesty had felt. E'en Dian' might,
(But that a virgin,) all the truth have known.
By numerous proofs and strong. Nay, fame reports
Her sister-nymphs had long her shame perceiv'd.
Nine times had Luna now her orb renew'd,
When Dian' from the chase retreating faint
By Phœbus' rays, had gain'd a forest cool,
Where flow'd a limpid stream with murmuring noise,
The shining sand upturning. Much the spot
The goddess tempted, and her feet she dipp'd
Light in the waves, as to the nymphs she cry'd:—
“Hence far each prying eye, we'll dare unrobe
“And lave beneath the stream.” Calistho blush'd;—
Quick while the other nymphs their bodies bare,
Protracting she undresses. From her limbs,
Suspicious they the garments rend, and view
Her body naked, and her fault is plain.
To her, confus'd, whose trembling hands essay'd
Her shame to hide, Diana spoke;—“Hence fly,—
“Far hence, nor more these sacred streams pollute.”
And drove her instant from her spotless train.

Long time the mighty thunderer's queen had known
Calistho's state; but curb'd her furious ire
Till ripe occasion suited: longer now
Delay were needless; now the nymph produc'd
Arcas; whom Juno more enrag'd beheld.
With savage mind, and furious look she ey'd
The boy, and spoke;—“Adulteress! this alone
“Was wanting! fruitful, harlot, hast thou prov'd?
“Must by this birth my wrongs in public glare?
“And what dishonor I from Jove receive
“Be palpable to sight. Expect not thou
“Impunity to find. Thy form I'll change,—
“To thee so pleasing, and so dear to Jove.”
She said; and on the flowing tresses seiz'd
Which o'er her forehead stream'd, and prostrate dragg'd
The nymph to earth. She rais'd her suppliant hands,—
With black hairs cover'd, rough her arms appear'd;
Bent were her hands, and, with her lengthen'd nails
To claws transform'd, press'd on the ground as feet;
Her mouth so beauteous, late of Jove admir'd,
Yawn'd wide deformity;—and lest soft prayers
And flowing words, might pity move, no power
To speak she left. Now through her hoarse throat sounds
An angry threatening voice that fear instills;
A bear becoming, though her sense the same:
Her sufferings proving by her constant groans.
Lifting to heaven such hands as lift she could,
Jove she ungrateful found, but Jove to call
Ungrateful, strove in vain. Alas! how oft
In woods and solitudes, to sleep afraid,
She roam'd around the house and fertile fields
Of late her own!—-Alas, how oft thence driven
By yelping hounds o'er craggy steeps she fled!
Thou dread'st the hunters though an huntress thou!
Oft was her form forgotten, and in fear
From beasts she crouch'd conceal'd: the shaggy bear
Shudder'd to see the bears upon the hills;
And at the wolves she trembled, though with wolves
Her sire Lycaön howl'd. Now Arcas comes;
Arcas, her son, unconscious of his race.
Near fifteen suns the youth had seen revolv'd;
And while the game he chases, while he seeks
Thickets best suited for his sports, and round
The Erymanthean woods his toils he sets,
He meets his mother:—at his sight she stay'd,
The well-known object viewing. Arcas fled
Trembling, unconscious why those eyes were fix'd
On him immoveably. His spear, prepar'd
To pierce his mother's breast, as near she draws
The youth protends. But Jove the deed prevents:
Both bears away, and stays the matricide.
Swept through the void of heaven by rapid whirl
They're borne, and neighbouring constellations made,
Loud Juno rag'd, to see the harlot shine,
Amid the stars; and 'neath the deep descends,
To hoary Tethys, and her ancient spouse;
Where reverence oft the host of heaven had shewn.
And thus to them, who anxious seek the cause,
Why there she journeys. “Wish ye then to know
“Why I the queen of heaven, my regal seat
“Now leave? Another fills my lofty throne!
“Nor false I speak,—for when gray night shall spread
“O'er all,—new constellations shall you see
“Me irking,—on the utmost bounds of heaven,
“Where the last shorten'd zone the axis binds.
“Now surely none, t' insult shall rashly dare
“The thunderer's spouse, but tremble at her frown;
“For she who most offends is honor'd most!
“Much has my power perform'd!—vast is my sway!
“Her human form I chang'd,—and lo! she shines
“A goddess;—thus the guilty feel my ire!
“Thus potent I. Why not her form restore,
“And change that beastly shape, as Iö once
“In Argolis, the same indulgence felt.
“Why drives he not his consort from his bed,
“Calistho placing there;—for sire-in-law
“The wolf Lycaön chusing? If to you
“Your foster-daughter's insults ought import,
“Forbid these stars to touch the blue profound:
“Repel those constellations, plac'd in heaven,
“Meed of adultery; lest the harlot dip
“In your pure waves.”—The gods their promise gave
And through the liquid air Saturnia flies,
Borne in her chariot by her peacocks bright;
Their coats gay studded from fall'n Argus' eyes.

Less beauteous was the change, loquacious crow,
Thy plumage suffer'd,—snowy white to black.
With silvery brightness once his feathers shone;
Unspotted doves outvying; nor to those
Preserving birds the capital whose voice
So watchful sav'd;—nor to the stream-fond swans,
Inferior seem'd his covering: but his tongue,
His babbling tongue his ruin wrought; and chang'd
His hue from splendid white to gloomy black.

No fairer maid all Thessaly contain'd,
Than young Coronis,—to the Delphic god
Most dear while chaste, or while her fault unknown.
But Corvus, Phœbus' watchman, spy'd the deed
Adulterous;—and inexorably bent
To tell the secret crime, his flight directs
To seek his master. Him the daw pursues,
On plumes quick waving, curious all to learn.
His errand heard, she cries;—“Thy anxious task,
“A journey vain, pursue not: mark my words;—
“Learn what I have been;—see what now I am;
“And hear from whence my change: a fault you'll find
“Too much fidelity, which wrought my woe.

“Time was, when Pallas, Ericthonius took,
“Offspring created motherless, and close
“In basket twin'd with Attic twigs conceal'd.
“The charge to keep, three sister-maids she chose,
“Daughters of Cecrops double-form'd, but close,
“Conceal'd what lodg'd within; and strict forbade
“All prying, that her secret safe might rest.
“On a thick elm, behind light leaves conceal'd,
“I mark'd their actions. Two their sacred charge
“Hold faithful; Pandrosos, and Hersé they:
“Aglauros calls her sisters cowards weak;
“The twistings with bold hand unloosening, sees
“Within an infant, and a dragon stretch'd.
“The deed I tell to Pallas, and from her
“My service this remuneration finds:
“Driven from her presence, she my place supplies
“Of favorite with the gloomy bird of night.
“All other birds my fate severe may warn,
“To seek not danger by officious tales.
“Pallas, perhaps you think, but lightly lov'd
“One whom she thus so suddenly disgrac'd.
“But ask of Pallas;—she, though much enrag'd
“Will yet my truth confirm. A regal maid
“Was I,—of facts to all well-known I speak:
“Coroneus noble, of the Phocian lands
“As sire I claim. Me wealthy suitors sought—
“Contemn me not,—my beauty was my bane.
“While careless on the sandy shore I roam'd,
“With gentle pace as wont, the ocean's god
“Saw me and lov'd: persuasive words in vain
“Long trying, force prepar'd, and me pursu'd.
“I fled; the firm shore left, and tir'd my limbs
“Vainly, upon the light soft sinking sand.
“There to assist me men and gods I call'd;
“Deaf to the sound was every mortal ear:
“But by a virgin's cries a virgin mov'd,
“Assistance gave. Up to the skies my arms
“I stretch'd; and black my arms began to grow,
“With waving pinions. From my shoulders, back
“My robes I strove to fling,—my robes were plumes;
“Deep in my skin the quills were fix'd: I try'd
“On my bare bosom with my hands to beat;
“Nor hands nor naked bosom now were found:
“I ran; the sand no longer now retain'd
“My feet, but lightly o'er the ground I skimm'd;
“And soon on pinions through the air was borne;
“And Pallas' faultless favorite I became.
“What now avail to me my pure deserts?
“Nyctimené, whose horrid crime deserv'd
“Her transformation, to my place succeeds.
“The deed so wide through spacious Lesbos known,
“Ere this has reach'd thee;—how Nyctimené—
“Her father's bed defil'd,—a bird became.
“Conscious of guilt, she shuns the sight of man;
“Flies from the day, and in nocturnal shades
“Conceals her shame; by every bird assail'd
“And exil'd from the skies.” The crow in rage
To her still chattering, cry'd;—“May each delay
“Thy babbling causes, prove to thee a curse.
“I scorn thy foolish presages,”—and flew
His journey urging. When his master found,
He told him where Coronis he had seen
Claspt by a young Thessalian. Down he dropp'd
His laurel garland, when the crime he heard
Of her he lov'd;—his harp away he flung;
His countenance fell, and pale his visage grew.
Now with fierce rage his swelling bosom fires;
His wonted arms he seizes; draws his bow,
Bent to the horns; and through that breast so oft
Embrac'd,—th' inevitable weapon drove.
Deep groan'd the wounded nymph, and tearing out
The arrow from her breast, a purple flood
Gush'd o'er her shining limbs. She sighing cry'd,—
“This fate, O Phœbus, I deserv'dly meet,
“Were but thy infant born;—two now in one
“Thy dart has slain!”—She spoke,—her vital blood
Fast flow'd, and stay'd her voice. A deadly chill
Seiz'd all her members, now of life bereft.
Too late, alas! her sorrowing lover mourns
His cruel vengeance; and himself he hates,
Too credulous listening, and too soon enflam'd:
The bird he hates, who first betray'd the deed
And caus'd him first to grieve: his bow he hates;
His bowstring; arm; and with his arm the dart,
Shot vengeful. Fond he clasps her fallen form;
And strives by skill, by skill too late apply'd
To conquer fate:—his healing arts he tries,—
All unavailing. Fruitless he beholds
His each attempt, and sees the pile prepar'd;
And final flames her limbs about to burn.
Then from his deepest bosom burst his groans;
(For tears on cheeks celestial ne'er are seen,)
Such groans are utter'd when the heifer sees,
The weighty mallet, from the right ear pois'd,
Crush down the forehead of her suckling calf.
And now his useless odors in her breast
He pour'd; embrac'd her; to her last rites gave
Solemnization due. The greedy fires
His offspring were not suffer'd to consume.
Snatch'd from the curling flames, and from the womb
Of his dead mother, he the infant bore
To double-body'd Chiron's secret cave.
But bade the self-applauding crow, fill'd big
With hopes of favor for his faithful tale,
With snowy-plumag'd birds no more to join.

Meantime while Chiron, human half, half beast,
Proud of his deity-descended charge,
Joy'd in the honor with the task bestow'd:—
Behold, her shoulders with her golden locks
Shaded, the daughter of the Centaur comes;
Whom fair Chariclo, on a river's brink
Swift-rolling, bore, and thence Ocyrrhoë nam'd.
She not content her father's arts to know,
The hidden secrets of the fates disclos'd.
Now was her soul with fate-foretelling sounds
Fill'd, and within her fiercely rag'd the god:
The infant viewing;—“Grow,” she said, “apace,
“Health-bearer through the world. To thee shall oft
“Expiring mortals owe returning life!
“To thee 'tis given to render souls again
“Back to their bodies! Once thou'lt dare the deed;—
“The angry god's forbidding flames, thy power
“Further preventing:—and a bloodless corps
“Heaven-born, thou ly'st;—-but what thy body form'd
“A god becomes,—resuscitated twice.
“Thou too, my dearest and immortal sire!
“To ages never-ending, born to live,
“Shalt wish for death in vain; when writhing sad
“From the dire serpent's venom in thy limbs,
“By wounds instill'd. The pitying gods will change
“Thy destin'd fate, and let immortal die:
“The triple sisters shall thy thread divide.
“More yet untold remains;”—Deep from her chest
The sighs burst forth, and starting tears stream down,
Laving her cheeks, while thus the maid pursues:
“The fates prevent me, and forbid to tell
“What more I would;—all power to speak deny.
“Those arts, alas! heaven's anger which have drawn,—
“What were they? Would I ne'er the future knew!
“Now seems my human shape to leave me. Now
“The verdant grass a pleasing food appears.
“Now am I urg'd along the plain to bound;
“Chang'd to a mare: unto my sire ally'd
“In form,—but why sole chang'd? my father bears
“A two-form'd body;”—Wailing thus, her words
Confus'd and indistinct at length are heard.
Next sounds are utter'd partly human, more
A mare's resembling:—then she neighs aloud;
Treading with alter'd arms the ground: fast join'd
Her fingers now become: a slender hoof
Her toes connecting with continuous horn.
Her head enlarges; and her neck expands;
Her spreading garment floats a beauteous tail:
Her scatter'd tresses o'er her shoulders flung,
Form a thick mane to clothe her spacious neck:
Her voice is alter'd with her alter'd shape:
And change of name the wonderous deed attends.

Deep Chiron mourn'd, O Phœbus, and thy aid
In vain invok'd; for bootless was thy power
Jove's mandate to resist; nor if thou could'st
Then wast thou nigh to help. In Elis far,
And fields Messenian then was thy abode.
Then was the time when shepherd-like a robe
Of skins enwrapp'd thee;—when thy left hand bore
A sylvan staff;—thy right a pipe retain'd,
Of seven unequal reeds. While love engag'd
Thy thoughts, and dulcet music sooth'd thy cares,
'Tis said, thy herds without their herdsman stray'd,
Far to the Pylian meadows. These the son
Of Atlantean Maiä espy'd;
And, slily driven away, within the woods
The cattle artful hid. None saw the deed,
Save one old hoary swain, well known around,
And Battus nam'd; whose post it was to guard
The groves, the grassy meads, and high-bred mares
Of wealthy Neleus. Him the robber fear'd;
Drew him aside, and coaxing thus address'd;—
“Whoe'er thou art, good friend, if here perchance,
“Someone should seek an herd,—say that thou here
“No herd hast seen;—thou shall not lack reward:
“Take this bright heifer:”—and the cow he gave.
The bribe receiv'd, the shepherd thus replies;
“Friend, thou art safe,—that stone shall sooner speak
“And tell thy deed than I:”—and shew'd the stone.
The son of Jove departs, or seems to go;
But soon with alter'd form and voice returns.
“Here, countryman,” he cries, “hast thou an herd
“This way observ'd to pass?—no secret keep,
“To aid the theft; an heifer with a bull
“Await thy information.” Doubly brib'd,
The hoary rogue betray'd his former trust.
“Beneath those hills,” he said, “the herd you'll find.”
Beneath the hills they were. Loud laugh'd the god
And cry'd,—“Thou treacherous villain, to myself
“Wouldst thou betray me? wouldst thou to myself
“My deeds betray?” And to a flinty stone
His perjur'd breast he chang'd, which still retains
The name of Touchstone;—on the harmless rock
His infamous demerits firmly fix'd.

Hermes from hence, on waving wings upborne
Darted, and in his flight beneath him saw
The Attic pastures,—the much-favor'd land
Of Pallas; and Lyceum's cultur'd groves.
It chanc'd that day, as wont, the virgins chaste,
Bore on their heads in canisters festoon'd,
Their offerings pure to Pallas' sacred fane.
Returning thence the winged god espy'd
The troop, and straight his onward flight restrain'd;
Wheeling in circles round. As sails the kite,
Swiftest of birds, when entrails seen from far
By holy augurs thick beset,—he fears
A near approach, but circling steers his flight
On beating wings, around his hopes and round.
So 'bove the Athenian towers the light-plum'd god
Swept round in circles on the self-same air.
As Phosphor far outshines the starry host;
As silver Cynthia Phosphor bright outshines;
So much did Hersé all the nymphs excel,
The bright procession's ornament; the pride
Of all th' accompanying nymphs. Her beauteous mien
Stagger'd Jove's son, who hovering in the air
Fierce burns with love. The Balearic sling,
Thus shoots a ball; quick through the air it flies,
Warms in its flight, and feels beneath the clouds
Flames hereto known not. Alter'd now his route
The skies he leaves, and holds a different flight:
Nor veils his figure,—such reliance gave
His beauteous form: and beauteous though that form,
Yet careful did the god his looks adorn;
He smoothes his tresses, and his robe adjusts
To hang in graceful folds, and fair display
The golden fringe; his round and slender wand,
Of sleep-procuring, sleep-repelling power,
His right hand bears; and on his comely feet
His plumed sandals shine. Within the house
Three separate chambers were secluded form'd,
With tortoise and with ivory rich adorn'd.
Thou, Pandrosos, within the right repos'd;
And on the left hand thou Aglauros, slept;
Fair Hersé in the midst. Aglauros first
The god's approach descry'd, and daring ask'd
Who he?—and what he sought?—To whom the god;
“Him you behold, who through the air conveys
“His sire's commands: Almighty Jove that sire.
“Nor will I feign my errand. So may'st thou
“True to thy sister prove, and soon be call'd
“My offspring's aunt. 'Tis Hersé draws me here.
“Help then a lover in his warm pursuit.”
Aglauros bends on Mercury those eyes,
Which yellow-hair'd Minerva's secret saw;
And ponderous sums for her assistance claims;
Driving the god meantime without the gates.
With angry glare the warlike goddess view'd
The mercenary nymph, and angry sighs,
Which shook her bosom heav'd; the Ægis shook,
On that strong bosom fix'd. Now calls to mind
Minerva how with hands prophane, the maid
Her strict behests despising, daring pry'd
To know her secrets; and the seed beheld
Of Vulcan, child without a mother form'd:
Now to her sister and the god unkind;
Rich with the gold her avarice had claim'd.
To Envy's gloomy cell, where clots of gore
The floor defil'd, enrag'd Minerva flew:
A darkened vale, deep sunk, the cavern held,
where vivid sun ne'er shone, nor freshening breeze
Health wafted: torpid melancholy rul'd,
And sluggish cold; and cheering light unknown,
Damp darkness ever gloom'd. The goddess here
In conflict dreaded came, but at the doors
Her footsteps staid, for entrance Fate forbade.
The gates she strikes—struck by her spear, the gates
Wide open fly, and dark within disclose,
On vipers gorging, (her accustom'd feast,)
The envious fiend: back from the hideous sight
Recoils the goddess, and averts her eyes.
Slow rising from the ground, her half chew'd food
She quits, advancing indolently forth:
The maid, in warlike brightness clad, she saw,
In form divine, and heavy sighs burst forth
Deep from her bosom's black recess: pale gloom.
Dwells on her forehead; lean her fleshless form;
Askaunce her eyes; encrusted black her teeth;
Green'd deep with gall her breasts; her hideous tongue
With poisons lurid; laughter knows her not,
Save woes and pangs unmerited she sees;
Sleep flies her couch, by cares unceasing wrung;
At men's success she sickens, pining sad;
But stung herself, while others feel her sting
Her torture closely grasps her.—Much the maid
The sight abhors; and thus in brief she speaks:—
“Deep in the breast of Cecrops' daughter fix
“Thy venom'd sting—Aglauros is the nymph.—
“More needs not.”—Speaking so Minerva fled,
Upbounding, earth she with her spear repell'd.
Glancing asquint the fury saw her rise,
And inly groan'd,—that she success should gain.
Her staff with prickly thorns enwreath'd she takes,
And forth she sallies, wrapp'd in gloomy clouds.
Where'er she flies she blasts the flowery fields;
Consumes the herbage; and the harvest blights.
Her breath pestiferous felt the cities round,
Houses and 'habitants where'er she flew.
At length the towers of Athens she beheld
With arts and riches flourishing, and blest
With holy peace. Scarce could she tears withhold,
No tearful eye throughout the place to see.
Straight to the room of Cecrops' daughter now
Her route she urges, and her task performs:
Her rusty hand upon the maiden's breast
She plants, and with sharp thorns that bosom fills;
Breathes noxious poison through her frame; imbues
With venom black her heart, and all her limbs.
Lest from her eyes escap'd, the maddening scene
Should cease to vex her, full in view she plac'd
Her sister, and her sister's nuptial rites;
And Hermes beauteous in the bridal pomp:
In beauty all, and splendor all increas'd.
Mad with the imag'd sight, the maid is gnawn
With secret pangs;—deep groans the lengthen'd night,
And deep the morning hears; she wastes away
Silently wretched, lingeringly slow.
As Sol's faint rays the summer ice dissolves:
So burns she to behold the envy'd lot
Of Hersé; not with furious flames,—as weeds
Blaze not when damp, but with slow heat consume.
Oft would she wish to die: and oft the deed
To hinder, thinks to tell her rigid sire
Her sister's fault. At length her seat she takes
Across the threshold, and th' approaching god
Repuls'd; and to his blandishments, and words
Beseeching fair, and soft-alluring prayers,
She cry'd,—“Desist,—from hence I ne'er will move
“Till thou art driven away.” Swift Hermes said.—
“Keep firmly that resolve.” And with his wand
The sculptur'd portals touching, wide they flew.
But when her limbs to raise, the virgin strove,
A weighty numbness o'er the members crept
Which bend in sitting, and their movement staid.
Strenuous she strives to raise her form erect,
But stiffen'd feels her knees; chill coldness spreads
Through all her toes; and, fled the purple stream,
Her veins turn pallid: cruel cancer thus,
Disease incurable, spreads far and wide,
Sound members adding to the parts diseas'd.
So gradual, o'er her breast the chilling frost
Crept deadly, and the gates of life shut close.
Complaint she try'd not; had she try'd, her voice
Had found no passage, for the stone had seiz'd
Her throat,—her mouth; to marble all was chang'd.
She sat a pallid statue;—all the stone
Her envy tainted with a livid hue.

His vengeance, when Jove's son complete had seen,
Due to her avarice, and her envious soul;
He left Minerva's land, and up the sky
On wafting pinions mounted. There his sire,
Him from th' assembly drew; nor yet disclos'd,
The object of his love:—“Son, quickly haste,—
“Thou faithful messenger of my commands,
“Urge rapid thy descending flight, and seek
“The realm whose northern bounds thy mother star
“O'erlooks,—the land by natives Sidon call'd.
“There wilt thou pasturing find the royal herd,
“'Neath hills not distant from the sea: turn down
“This herd to meadows bordering on the beach.”
He said;—the cattle tow'rd the sea shore move,
Where sported with her Tyrian maids as wont,
The monarch's daughter. Ill majestic state
And love agree; nor long combin'd remain.
The sire and ruler of the gods resigns
His weighty sceptre: he whose right hand bears
The three-fork'd fires; whose nod creation shakes,
Assumes a bull's appearance:—with the herd
Mingles; and strolling lets the tender shrubs
Brush his fair sides. Of snowy white his skin;
Such snow as rugged feet has never soil'd,
Nor southern showers dissolv'd: his brawny neck,
Strong from his shoulders stands: beneath extends
The dewlap pendulous: small are his horns;
But smooth as polish'd by the workman's hand;—
Pellucid as the brightest gems they shine:
No threatenings wear his brow; no fire his eyes
Flame fierce; but all his countenance peace proclaims.
Him much Agenor's royal maid admir'd;—
His form so beauteous, and his look so mild.
Yet peaceful as he seem'd, she fear'd at first
A close approach;—but nearer soon she drew,
And to his shining mouth the flowery food
Presented. Joy'd th' impatient lover stands,
Her fingers kissing; and with sore restraint
Defers his look'd for pleasures. Sportive now
He wantons, frisking in the grass; now rolls
His snowy sides upon the yellow sand.
Her apprehensions chas'd, by slow degrees,
The virgin's fingers playful stroke his breast;
Then bind with wreaths his horns: more daring now
Upon his back the royal maid ascends;—
Witless a god she presses. From the fields,
His steps deceitful gradual turn'd, he bends,
And seeks the shore; then playful in the waves
Just dips his feet;—thence plunging deep, he swims
Through midmost ocean with his ravish'd prize.
Trembling the nymph beholds the lessening shore;——
Firm grasps one hand his horn; upon his back,
Secure the other resting: to the wind,
Her fluttering garments floating as she sails.

The Third Book.

Unsuccessful search of Cadmus for his sister. Death of his companions by the dragon. Overthrow of the dragon, and production of armed men from his teeth. Thebes. Actæon devoured by his hounds. Semelé destroyed by lightening, and the birth of Bacchus. The prophet Tiresias. Echo: and the transformation of Narcissus. Impiety of Pentheus. Change of the Tyrrhenian sailors to dolphins. Massacre of Pentheus.

THE
Third Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

And now the god, his bestial form resign'd,
Shone in his form celestial as he gain'd
The Cretan shore. Meantime, the theft unknown,
Mourn'd her sad sire, and Cadmus sent to seek
The ravish'd maid; stern threatening as he went,
Perpetual exile if his searching fail'd:—
Parental love and cruelty combin'd!
All earth explor'd in vain, (for who shall find
The amorous thefts of Jove?) the exile shuns
His father's anger, and paternal soil.
A suppliant bends before Apollo's shrine,
To ask his aid;—what region he should chuse
To fix his habitation. Phœbus thus;—
“A cow, whose neck the yoke has never prest,
“Strange to the crooked plough, shall meet thy steps,
“Lone in the desert fields: the way she leads
“Chuse thou,—rand where upon the grass she rests,
“Erect thy walls;—Bœotia call the place.”
Scarce had the cave Castalian Cadmus left,
When he an heifer, gently pacing, spy'd
Untended; one whose neck no mark betray'd
Of galling service. Closely treads the youth,
Slow moving in her footsteps, and adores
In silence Phœbus, leader of his way.
Now had he pass'd the Cephisidian stream,
And meads of Panopé, when stay'd the beast;
Her broad front lifted to the sky; reverse
Her lofty horns reclining, shook the air
With lowings loud; back then her face she bent,
And saw the comrades following close behind:
Down low she couch'd, and press'd the yielding grass,
Glad thanks to Phœbus, Cadmus gave, and kiss'd
The foreign soil;—the unknown hills, and land
Saluted. Then a sacrifice to Jove
Preparing, sent his followers to explore
Streams flowing from the living fountain clear.

An ancient forest hallow'd from the axe,
Not far there stood; in whose dark bosom gloom'd
A cavern:—twigs and branches thick inwove
With rocky crags, a low arch'd entrance form'd;
Where pure and copious, gush'd transparent waves.
Deep hid within a monstrous serpent lay,
Sacred to Mars. Bright shone his crested head;
His eyeballs glow'd with fire; his body swell'd
Bloated with poison; o'er a threefold row
Of murderous teeth, three quivering tongues he shook.
This grove the Tyrians with ill-fated feet
Now enter'd; and now in the waters threw,
With noisy dash, their urns. Uprears his head,
The azure serpent from the cavern deep;
And breathes forth hisses dire: their urns they drop;
The blood forsakes their bodies; sudden fear
Chills their astonish'd limbs. He writhing quick,
Forms scaly circles; spiral twisting round,
Bends in an arch immense to leap, and rears
In the thin air erect, 'bove half his height;
All the wide grove o'erlooking. Such his size,
Could all be seen, than that vast snake no less,
Whose huge bulk lies the Arctic bears between.
The Tyrians quick he seizes; some their arms
Vain grasping,—flying some,—and some through fear
To fight or fly unable:—these his jaws
Crash murderous; those his writhing tail surrounds;
Others his breath, with poison loaded, kills.

Now loftiest Phœbus shorten'd shadows gave,
When Cadmus, wondering much why still his friends
Tarried so long, their parting footsteps trac'd.
His robe an hide torn from a lion's back;
A dart and spear of shining steel his arms;
With courage, arms surpassing. Now the grove
He enters, and their breathless limbs beholds;—
Their victor foe's huge bulk upon them stretch'd;
Licking with gory tongue their mournful wounds.
“My faithful friends,” he cry'd, “I will avenge
“Your fate,—or perish with you.” Straight a rock
His right hand rais'd, and with impetuous force,
Hurl'd it right on. A city's lofty walls
With all its towers, to feel the blow had shook!
Yet lay the beast unwounded; safely sheath'd
With scaly armour, and his harden'd hide:—
His skin alone the furious blow repell'd.
Not so that hardness mocks the javelin,—fixt
Firm in the bending of the pliant spine
His weapon stood,—and all the iron head
Deep in his entrails sunk. Mad with the pain,
Reverse he writhes his head;—beholds the wound;
Champs the fixt dart;—by many forceful tugs
Loosen'd at length, he tears the shaft away;
But deep the steel within his bones remains.
Now to his wonted fury fiercer flames
This torture adding, big with poison swells
His throat; and flowing, round his venom'd jaws,
White foam appears; deep harrow'd with his scales
Loud sounds the earth; and vapours black, breath'd out
His mouth infernal, taint with death the air.
Now roll'd in spires, he forms an orb immense:
Now stretch'd at length he seems a monstrous beam:
Now rushing forward with impetuous force,
As sweeps a torrent swell'd by rain, his breast
Bears down th' opposing forest. Cadmus back
A step recedes, and on his lion's hide
The shock sustains;—then with protended spear
Checks his approaching jaws. Furious he strives
To wound the harden'd steel;—on the sharp point
He grinds his teeth: now from his poisonous mouth,
Began the blood to flow, and sprinkling ting'd
The virid grass; but trivial still the hurt;
For shrinking from the blow, and twisting back
His wounded neck, the stroke he still prevents
Deeper to pierce, by yielding to its force.
But pushing arduous on, Agenor's son,
Fix'd in his throat the steel;—and the sharp point
Forc'd through his neck: an oak oppos'd behind;—
The tree and neck the spear at once transfix'd.
Dragg'd by the monster's weight low bends the tree,
And groans and cracks, as lashing blows, his tail
Immense, deals round. Now whilst the victor stands
And wondering views the conquer'd serpent's size,
Sudden a voice is heard, (from whence unknown,—
But plain the words he hears) “Why view'st thou thus,
“Agenor's son, the foe by thee destroy'd?
“Thou one day like this serpent shalt be seen.”
Aghast he stood,—the warm blood fled his cheeks;
His courage chang'd to terror; freezing fear
Rais'd his stiff locks erect. Lo! Pallas comes,
Pallas, the known protectress of the brave.
Smooth sliding from the higher clouds she comes;
Bids him remove the soil, and place beneath,
The serpent's fangs, a future offspring's pledge.
The prince obeys; and as with crooked share,
The ground he opens, in the furrows throws
The teeth directed. Thence, (beyond belief!)
The clods of earth at once began to move;
Then in the furrows glitter'd, first, the points
Of spears: anon fair painted crests arose,
Above bright helmets nodding: shoulders next;
And breasts; and arms, with javelins loaded came:
Thickening the harvest grew of shielded men.
Thus shews the glad theatric curtain; rais'd
The painted figures' faces first appear,
Gradual display'd; and more by slow degrees;
At length the whole stand forth, their feet all fix'd
Firm on the lower margin. Wondering, he
His new-made foe beheld; and grasp'd his arms.
But one whom earth had just produc'd, exclaim'd;—
“Arm not, nor meddle in our civil broils.”
He said,—an earth-born brother, hand to hand
With sword keen-edg'd attacking; but from far,
A javelin hurl'd, dispatch'd him. Short the boast
Of him who sent it;—his death wound infix'd,—
He breathes the air out he so late receiv'd.
So rage the rest, and in the furious war
The new-made brethren fall by mutual wounds:
And on their blood-stain'd mother, dash, the youths
To short existence born, their damp cold breasts.
Five only stand unhurt,—Echion one,—
Who threw, by Pallas prompted, down his arms
And peace propos'd: his brethren took his pledge.
These join the Tyrian prince, and social aid
His efforts, when th' appointed walls he builds;
Obedient to the Delphic god's commands.

The Theban walls now rais'd, thou, Cadmus seem'd
Blest in thy exile. Mars and Venus gave
Their daughter to thy wife. This spouse so fam'd,
Thee daughters brought, and sons,—a numerous tribe;
And grandsons, pledges dear of nuptial joys,
Already risen to manhood. But too true
That man should still his final day expect;
Nor blest be deem'd till flames his funeral pyre.
Thy grandson's fate, O, Cadmus! first with grief
Thy bosom wrung, amid thy prosperous state:
The alien horns which nodded o'er his brow;
And ye, voracious hounds, with blood full-gorg'd,
Your master's life-stream. Yet by close research,
We find unlucky chance, not vice, his crime.

What sin in error lies?
	The hills were drench'd

Near stood a vale, where pointed cypress form'd
With gloomy pines a grateful shade, and nam'd
Gargaphié;—sacred to the girded maid:
Its deep recess a shrubby cavern held,
By nature modell'd,—but by nature, art
Seem'd equall'd, or excell'd. A native arch
Of pumice light, and tophus dry, was form'd;
And from the right a stream transparent flow'd,
Of trivial size, which spread a pool below;
With grassy margin circled. Dian' here,
The woodland goddess, weary'd with the chace,
Had oft rejoic'd to bathe her virgin limbs.
As wont she comes;—her quiver, and her dart,
And unstrung bow, her armour-bearing nymph
In charge receives. Disrob'd, another's arms
Sustain her vest. Two from her feet unloose
Her sandals. Crocalé, Ismenian nymph,
Than others more expert, her tresses binds,
Loose o'er her shoulders floating, in a knot;
Her own wild flowing still. Five more the streams
In huge urns lifting; Hyalé, and Niphé,
Phialé, Rhanis, Psecas, lave her limbs.
Here while the goddess in the limpid wave
Washes as 'custom'd,—lo! Actæon comes;—
His sportive toil till morning dawn deferr'd:
And roving through the vale with random steps,
By hapless fate conducted, he arrives
Close to the sacred grove. Within the grot
Stream-pouring, when he stept, the naked nymphs,—
Then first by man beheld,—their bosoms beat;
Fill'd the deep grove with outcries loud; and round
Diana crowded, screening as they could
Her limbs with theirs. Yet high above them tower'd
The goddess, and her neck their heads o'erlook'd.
As blush the clouds by Phœbus' adverse rays
Deep ting'd;—or as Aurora in the morn;
So blush'd the virgin-goddess, seen unrob'd.
Sideway she stood, though closely hemm'd around
By clustering nymphs, and backward bent her face:
Then anxious praying she could reach her darts,
In vain,—she seiz'd the waters which she could,
And dash'd them o'er his features:—as his locks,
The vengeful drops besprinkled, thus in rage,
She cry'd,—“Now tell thou hast Diana seen
“Disrob'd;—go tell it, if thou canst,”—no more,
With threatenings storm'd, but on his sprinkled head,
The antlers of the long-liv'd stag are plac'd.
His neck is lengthen'd; with a sharpen'd point,
His upright ears are form'd; to feet his hands,—
To long and slender legs his arms are chang'd;
And round his body clings a dappled coat.
Fear in his bosom she instils: the youth,
The bold Actæon flies, and wondering feels
His bounding feet so rapid in the race.
But soon the waters shew'd his branching horns;
And,—“ah unhappy me!” he strove to cry:
His voice he found not; sighs and sobs were all;
And tears fast streaming down his alter'd face.
Still human sense remains. Where shall he turn?
His royal palace seek,—or in the woods
Secluded hide?—To tarry fear forbids,
And shame prevents returning. While he doubts
His hounds espy him. Quick-nos'd Tracer first,
And Blackfoot give the signal by their yell:
Tracer of Crete, and Blackfoot Spartan bred.
Swifter than air the noisy pack rush on;
Arcadian Quicksight; Glutton; Ranger, stout;
Strong Killbuck; Whirlwind, furious; Hunter, fierce;
Flyer, swift-footed; and quick-scented Snap:
Ringwood, late wounded by a furious bear;
And Forester, by savage wolf begot:
Flock-tending Shepherdess; with Ravener fierce,
And her two whelps; and Sicyonian Catch:
The thin flank'd greyhound, Racer; Yelper; Patch;
Tiger; Robust; Milkwhite, with snowy coat;
And coalblack Soot. First in the race, fleet Storm;
Courageous Spartan Swift; and rapid Wolf;
Join'd with his Cyprian brother, Snatch, well mark'd
With sable forehead on a coat of white:
Blackcoat: and thickhair'd Shag: Worrier; and Wild,—
Twins from a dam Laconian sprung, their sire
Dictæan: Babbler with his noisy throat:—
But all to name were endless. Urg'd by hope
Of prey they crowd; down precipices rush;
O'er rocks, and crags; through rugged paths, and ways
Unpass'd before. His hounds he flies, where oft
His hounds he had pursu'd. Poor wretch! he flies
His own domestics, striving hard to call,
“Actæon am I!—villains, know your lord.”
Words aid him not: loud rings the air with yells,
Howlings, and barkings:—Blackhair first, his teeth
Fix'd in his back; staunch Tamer fasten'd next;
And Rover seiz'd his shoulder: tardy these,
The rest far left behind, but o'er the hills
Athwart, the chase they shorten'd. Now the pack,
Join'd them their lord retaining; join'd their teeth
Their victim seizing:—now his body bleeds,
A wound continuous: deep he utters groans,
Not human, yet unlike a dying deer;
And fills the well-known mountains with his plaint.
Prone on his knees in suppliant form he bends;
And low beseeching waves his silent head,
As he would wave his hands. His witless friends,
The savage pack with joyous outcries urge;
Actæon anxious seeking: echoing loud
Eager his name as absent. At the name,
His head he turns. His absence irks them sore,
As lazy loitering, not the noble prey
Obtain'd, beholding. Joyful could he be,
At distance now,—but hapless is too near:
Glad would he see the furious dogs their fangs,
On other prey than his torn limbs infix.
On every side they crowd; their dying lord,
A well-seem'd deer, they rend; their ravenous teeth
Deep tear his members. With a thousand wounds,
(Dian's insatiate anger less despis'd)
The hapless hunter yielded forth his breath.

Report flies dubious; some the goddess blame
For disproportion'd vengeance; others warm
Applaud the deed as worthy one so pure;
And reasons weighty either party urge:
Jove's consort only silent: she nor blames
The action, nor approves; but inward joys,
Agenor's house should such misfortune feel.
The hatred nourish'd for the Tyrian maid,
Her brother's offspring visits. Now fresh cause
Of wrath succeeds; enrag'd the goddess learns
That Semelé, embrac'd by mighty Jove,
Is pregnant. Straight broke loose her angry tongue,
And loud she storm'd:—“Advantage much I gain
“By endless railing at unfaithful Jove!
“This harlot will I find,—and, if with truth
“They potent Juno stile me, she shall die.
“Destruction shall o'erwhelm her, if beseems
“My hand the sparkling sceptre of the sky:
“If queen I am to Jove;—if sister;—wife:—
“His sister doubtless am I, if no more.
“Content perchance is Semelé to joy
“In pleasures briefly tasted; and my wrongs
“Though deep, not lasting. No!—she must conceive
“Foul aggravation of her shameless deed!
“Her swelling womb unblushing proves her crime:
“By Jove she longs to be a mother hail'd;
“Which scarcely I can boast. Such faith her pride,
“In conscious beauty places. Trust me not,
“Or she mistaken proves. As I am child
“Of hoary Saturn, she shall sink o'erwhelm'd
“By her own Jove; and dip in Stygian waves.”

She said, and starting from her regal throne,
Wrapt in a dusky cloud descended; o'er
The threshold stepp'd of Semelé, nor chas'd
Her darkening veil, till like an ancient dame
She stood display'd. White hairs her temples strew'd;
Deep furrows plough'd her skin; her bending limbs
Quiver'd beneath her weight; her tremulous voice
Exhausted age betray'd: she stood to view
Old Beroë, from Epidaurus come,
The nurse of Semelé. With tedious tales
She garrulous amus'd:—when in her turn
Listening, the name of Jupiter she heard
She sigh'd, and said,—“May he be truly Jove!
“But age is still suspicious. Chastest beds
“Have been by these pretended gods defil'd:
“For if the deity supreme he be,
“Why comes he thus disguis'd? If true his love,
“Why prove it not? Urge thou an anxious wish
“To clasp him in his might, in such a sort,
“As lofty Juno he embraces;—round
“Begirt with all the ensigns of his power.”
Thus Juno artful, Semelé's desires
Apt moulded to her mind. From Jove she prays
A nameless boon: the ready god consents;—
“Chuse what thou wilt, nor least denial dread:
“To prove my faith, I call the Stygian streams
“To witness, terror of the god of gods.”
Joy'd at her fatal prayer's too large success;
And by her lover's prompt compliance, doom'd
To sure destruction;—“This,” said she, “I wish;—
“When with me next you love's delights enjoy,
“Appear as when Saturnia fills your arms.”
Fain would the god have stopp'd her mouth:—too soon
The hasty words found entrance to his ears.
Deep mourn'd he. Equal now the fates forbid,
The wish retracted, or the oath absolv'd.
Sorrowing he seeks the lofty heaven: his nod
Dark rolling clouds collects: here form black showers;
And hurricanes; and flashing lightenings mixt;
Thunders; and his inevitable bolt:
Anxious he strives with all his power to damp,
The fierceness of his flames: nor arm'd him now,
With those dread fires that to the earth dash'd down
The hundred-handed foe:—too powerful they.
He chose a milder thunder;—less of rage,
Of fire, and fury, had the Cyclops given
The mass when forg'd; a second-rated bolt.
Clad in mild glory thus, the dome he seeks
Of Semelé;—her mortal frame too weak,
To bear th' ethereal shock, fierce scorcht she sunk,
Beneath the nuptial grant. Th' imperfect babe,
Snatcht from his mother's smoking womb, was sew'd
(If faith the tale deserves) within his thigh;
There to complete the period of his growth.
Ino, his aunt maternal, then receiv'd
The boy; in private rear'd him, till the nymphs
Of Nysa's mountains, in their secret caves
Shelter'd, and fed with milk, th' entrusted charge.

While the rash promise caus'd on earth those deeds,
And twice-born Bacchus' cradle safe was hid;
'Tis said that Jove with heavenly nectar flush'd,
All serious cares dismiss'd. With sportive jests,
At ease conversing, he and Juno sate:
When he:—“The thrilling ecstasies of love,
“Are surely strongest on the female side.”
She differs,—and the question both agree
Tiresias, who each sex had prov'd, shall judge.
Two mighty snakes he spy'd upon the grass,
Twisted in Venus' wreaths; and with his staff
Hard smote them;—instant alter'd was his sex.
Wonderous! he woman of a man became,
Seven winters so he liv'd:—the eight, again
He spy'd the same; and cry'd,—“If such your power,
“That whoso strikes you must their gender change,
“Once more I'll try the spell.” Straight as the blow
The snakes receiv'd, his pristine form return'd:
Hence was he chosen, in the strife jocose,
As umpire; and the words of Jove confirm'd.

Much, say they, Juno rag'd; more than beseem'd
The trivial cause, or sentence justly given;
And veil'd the judge's eyes in endless night.
But Jove omnipotent, him gave to know,
(For fate forbids to cancel others' deeds)
What future times conceal; a light divine;
An honor'd gift to mitigate his pain.

Fam'd far and wide through all Bœotia's towns,
Unerring answers still the prophet gave,
To all who sought him. Blue Liriopé,
First prov'd his faith, and ne'er-deceiving words.
Her once Cephisus, in his winding stream
Entwin'd, and forceful in his waves enjoy'd.
The beauteous nymph's full womb, in time produc'd
A babe, whose features ev'n from birth inspir'd
Th' attendant nymphs with love; Narcissus nam'd.
For him enquiring, whether doom'd to see,
The peaceful period of maturest age,
The fate-foretelling prophet thus reply'd:—
“Yes,—if himself he never knows.” The words
Were long absurd esteem'd: but well th' event
Their justice prov'd; his strange unheard of death;
And love of object never lov'd before.

Now sixteen summers had Narcissus seen,
A boy in beauty, but in growth a man;
And crowds of youths his friendship sought, and crowds
Of damsels sought his love: but fiercely pride
Swell'd in his snowy bosom; and he spurn'd
His friends' advances, and the love-sick maids.
A chattering nymph, resounding Echo, saw
The youth, when in his toils the trembling deer
He drove;—a nymph who ne'er her words retain'd,
Nor dialogue commenc'd. But then she bore
A body palpable; and not, as now,
Merely a voice:—yet garrulous, she then
That voice, nor other us'd; 'twas all she could,
The closing words of speakers to repeat.
Juno had this ordain'd: for oft the dame
The frailer nymphs upon the hills had caught,
In trespass with her Jove; but Echo sly
With lengthen'd speech the goddess kept amus'd,
Till all by flight were sav'd. Soon Juno saw
The trick:—“The power of that delusive tongue,”—
She cry'd, “I'll lessen, and make brief thy words;”
Nor stay'd, but straight her threaten'd vengeance took.
Now she redoubles (all she can) the words
Which end another's speech; reporting back,

But only what she hears.
	Through pathless woods

Thus slighted he the nymph; nor her alone,
But numbers else who o'er the mountains rov'd;
Or sported in the waves. Nor less his pride,
When more mature: keen smarting from his scorn,
To heaven one rais'd her hands, and ardent pray'd;—
“Ordain that he may love, but love like me
“One ne'er to be enjoy'd!” Rhamnusia grants
To prayers so just, th' assenting nod. There stood,
A mudless pool, whose waters silvery bright,
The shepherds touch'd not,—nor the mountain goats,
Nor lowing herds: which birds, and fierce wild beasts,
Dabbling disturb'd not:—nor a wither'd branch,
Dropt from a tree o'erhanging. Round the brink,
Fed by the moisture, virid grass arose;
And trees impervious to the solar beam,
Screen'd the cool surface. Weary'd with the chase,
And faint with heat, here laid Narcissus down;
Charm'd with the place, and tempted by the pool.
Here as he seeks to quench his burning thirst,
He burns with other fires: and while he drinks,
Caught by the image of his beauteous face,
He loves th' unbody'd form: a substance thinks
The shadow:—loves enraptur'd,—loves himself!
Fixes with eager gaze upon the sight
As on a face in Parian marble wrought.
Stretcht on the ground, his own bright eyes he views,
Twin stars;—his fingers, such as Bacchus grace;
His tresses like Apollo's;—downy cheeks,
Unbearded yet; his neck as ivory white;
The roseate blooming fading into snow:
Each trait admiring which the hapless nymphs,
In him admir'd. Unwitting youth, himself
He wants;—at once beloving, and belov'd:
Himself desiring, by himself desir'd:
Burning with love, while by himself he burns.
Oft, stooping, were his fruitless kisses given:
Oft were his arms outstretch'd to clasp the neck
So plainly seen beneath the waters. No!—
Himself he could not clasp. Whom he beholds,
He knows not; but for whom he sees he burns.
The error that his eye deceives, provokes
His rage. O, foolish youth! why vainly grasp
A fleeting shadow? What thou seek'st is not:—
And what thou lov'st thou now destroy'st:—thou see'st
A semblance only;—a reflected shade—
Nought of itself: with thee it came;—with thee
It stays;—and with thee, if thou could'st, would go.
Not hunger's power has force to drag him thence;
Nor cares of sleep oppress him. Thrown along
The shaded grass, he bends insatiate eyes
Tow'rds the fallacious beauty;—by those eyes
He perishes. Now half-uprais'd, his arms
Outspread, to all the groves around he cry'd:—
“Ye woods, whose darken'd shades so oft have given
“Convenient privacies to lovers, say,
“Saw you e'er one so cruelly who lov'd?
“In ages heap'd on ages you have stood,
“Remember ye a youth who pin'd as I?
“Pleas'd with the object, I its form behold;
“But what I see, and what so pleases flies.
“I find it not: in such bewilder'd maze
“The lover stands. And what my grief augments,
“No mighty seas divide us; lengthen'd roads;
“Nor lofty hills; nor high embattled walls,
“With portals clos'd: asunder are we held
“By trivial drops of water. It no less
“Than I, would give th' embrace; for when I bend
“My lips to kiss it in the limpid stream;
“With rising lips to meet, it anxious strives:
“Then might you think we touch, so faint a line
“Sunders us lovers. Come! whate'er thou art,
“Come hither! why thus mock me, dearest form?
“Why fly my wooing thus? My beauty sure,
“Nor youth are such as should provoke thy flight:
“For numerous nymphs for me have burn'd. Some hope
“Thy kindly sympathizing face affords;
“And when my anxious arms I stretch,—thy arms
“Advance to clasp me:—when I smile, thou smil'st:
“And often have I noted, when the tears
“Stream'd down my cheeks, a rivulet on thine:
“I nod,—thou, answering, noddest: and those lips,
“Those beauteous lips, whose movements plain I see,
“Words utter sure to mine,—though I forbid,
“The sounds to hear. In thee am I!—no more
“My shadow me deceives: I see the whole;
“Love for myself consumes me:—flames self-rais'd,
“Myself torment. What hope? be woo'd,—or woo?
“Wooing, or being woo'd, where is my gain?
“Myself I wish, and plenty makes me poor.
“Would that my body from itself could part!
“Strange wish for lovers, what most dear they love,
“Absent to pray. Grief undermines my strength;
“Nor long my life can linger;—immature,
“In youth I perish: but in me no fears,
“Can death infuse, of all my woes the end;
“Might I but leave this lovely object, still
“Existing: now two images, alas!
“Sink with one soul in death.” Narcissus wails;
And raving turns to view the face again.
His tears the waters trouble; and the face
So beauteous, scarce is seen. Griev'd, he exclaims,
When disappearing,—“Whither fly'st thou? stay—
“Stay, I beseech thee; cruel, fly me not,—
“Thy lover: grant me still to view the form,
“To touch forbidden:—food, at least, afford
“To this unhappy flame.” Lamenting thus,
He from his shoulders tore his robe, and beat
With snow-white hands his bosom; at the blow
His bosom redden'd: so the cherry seems,
Here ruddy blushing, there as fair as snow:
Or grapes unripe, part purpling to the sun,
In vary'd clusters. This he soon espy'd,
Reflected in the placid pool; no more
He bore it, but as gentle fire dissolves
The yellow wax: as Phœbus' morning beams
Melt the light hoar;—so wasted he,—by love
Gradual consum'd, as by a secret fire.
No more the ruddy teints appear, with white
Soft blended. All his active strength decays;
And all that pleas'd so lately. Ev'n his form
So much by Echo lov'd, no more remains.

All Echo saw; and though of former slights
Still mindful, griev'd; and when the hapless youth
“Alas!” exclaim'd; responsive sigh'd, “Alas!”
When on his breast the blows resounded; blows
Loud answering his were heard. His final words,
Gazing still earnest on the wonted wave,
Were,—“dearest form, belov'd in vain!”—the words
Resounded from the grove: “farewel,” he cry'd,
And Echo cry'd, “farewel.” Weary'd he threw,
On the green turf his head. Night clos'd his eyes;
Their owner fond admiring. Now retir'd
To regions far beneath, the Stygian lake
Reflects his form. The Naiäd sisters wail,
Shorn of their tresses, which to him they throw:
The Dryads also mourn; their bosoms beat;
And Echo answers every tearful groan.
A pile they build; the high-tost torches bring;
And funeral bier; but, lo! the corpse is gone:
A saffron-teinted flower alone is found,
Rising encircled with its snowy leaves.

Th' adventure spread through all the Achaian towns,
And much repute th' unerring augur gain'd.
Great now his prophesying fame. Alone,
Pentheus despis'd him;—(he the gods despis'd)
And only he;—he mock'd each holy word
Sagely prophetic:—with his rayless eyes
Reproach'd him. Angrily, his temples hoar
With reverend locks, the prophet shook, and said;—
“Happy for thee, if thus of light bereft,
“The Bacchanalian orgies ne'er to see!
“The day approaches, nor far distant now;
“My sight prophetic tells,—when here will come
“Bacchus new-born, of Semelé the son,
“Whose rites, if thou with honor due, not tend'st
“In temples worthy,—scatter'd far and wide,
“Thy limbs dismember'd shall the ground bestrew:
“Thy blood the forests shall distain;—thy gore
“Thy aunts,—nay e'en thy mother, shall pollute:
“For thou such honors, as immortals claim,
“Shalt to the god deny; then wilt thou find
“Beneath this darkness I but see too well.”
Thus speaking, Echion's son the prophet push'd
Harshly away; but his too faithful words
Time prov'd;—the threaten'd deeds accomplish'd all.

Lo! Bacchus comes, and all the country rings
With joyous outcries; crowds on crowds thick swarm;—
Matrons, and wives new-wedded, mixt with men;
Nobles, and commons; all the impulse bears,
To join the stranger's rites. But Pentheus thus;—
“Offspring of Mars! O nation, serpent born!
“What madness fills your minds? Can piercing sounds
“Of brass from brass rebounding; winding horns,
“And magic cheatings, then possess such power?
“You whom the warlike sword, the trumpet's clang,
“And battle's edge, dread bristling close with arms,
“Appal not; yield ye thus to female howls;
“Wine's maddening fumes; a filthy shameless crowd;
“And empty cymbals? In amaze, I see,
“You venerable men who plough'd the seas,
“And here, a refuge for your exil'd gods,
“This second Tyre have built,—without a blow,
“Yield it a spoil! Ye too, robuster youths,
“Of hardier age, and years more near my own;—
“Whom warlike arms, than Thyrsi more become;
“And brows with helmets than with leaves comprest:
“Think whence you sprang, and let the thought inspire
“Your souls with all the dragon's fierceness: he
Singly slew hosts: he for his fountain fell;
You for your honor vanquish. He destroy'd
The valiant; you th' effeminate expel;
And all the glory of your sire regain.
“If fate to Thebes a speedy fall decrees,
“May heroes, O, ye gods! with battering force
“O'erturn her walls;—may the sword rage, and flames
“Crackling, devour her. Wretched though our lot;
“Not criminal: our fate, though much bemoan'd,
“Would need concealment not: tears then might flow,
“But not from shame. Now unresisting Thebes,
“Yields to a boy unarm'd; who never joys
“In armies, steeds, nor swords;—but more in locks
“With myrrh moist-dropping, garlands soft, and robes
“Of various teints, with gold and purple gay.
“Rest ye but tranquil, and without delay,
“Him will I force to own his boasted sire
“Untrue; and forg'd those new invented rites.
“Had not Acrisius bravery to despise
“The counterfeited deity, and close
“The gates of Argos on him? And must now
“This wanderer come, and Pentheus terrify,
“With all the power of Thebes! Haste, quickly haste,”—
He bade his servants,—“hither drag, firm chain'd,
“This leader. Quick, nor brook my words delay!”
His grandsire, Athamas, and all the crowd
Reprove;—while thus he rails, with fruitless toil
Labor to stop him. Obstinate he stands,
More raging at remonstrance; and his ire
Restrain'd, increases; goading more and more;
Restraint itself enkindling more his rage.
So may be seen a river rolling smooth,
With murmuring nearly silent, while unchecked;
But when by rocks, or bulky trees oppos'd,
Foaming and boiling furious, on it sweeps
Impetuous raging; fiercer, more withstood.

With blood besmear'd, his men return;—their lord
For Bacchus anxious asks;—but Bacchus they,
To find, arriv'd too late;—“but here,” they cry,—
“Here have we seiz'd his comrade;—one who joins
“His train, and joins his rites.” (The Tuscans once
The Bacchanalian orgies follow'd.) Bound
Behind, his hands, their prisoner they present.
Pentheus survey'd the stranger, while his eyes
Sparkled with rage terrific: with constraint
His torture so deferring, thus he spoke;—
“Wretch! ere thou sufferest,—ere thy death shall give
“A public warning,—tell thy name;—confess
“Thy sire; declare thy country; and the cause
“Those rites thou celebratest in a mode
“Diverse from others.” Fearless, he reply'd;—
“Acœtes is my name: my natal land,
“Tyrrhenia: from an humble stock I spring.
“Lands by strong oxen plough'd, or wool-clad flocks,
“Or lowing herds my father left me none:
“For poor was he;—his daily toil to catch
“With nets and lines the fish, and as they leap'd,
“Draw with his bending rod the prey to land:
“His skill his sole estate. When unto me
“This art he taught,—receive, said he, my wealth;
“Such wealth as I possess; heir to my toil,
“And to my toil successor: dying, he
“To me bequeath'd the waters;—nothing more:
“These only as paternal wealth I claim.
“But soon, disliking on the self-same rock
“To dwell, I learn'd the art to rule the track
“Plough'd by the keel, with skilful guiding hand;
“And learn'd th' Olenian sign, the showery goat;
“Taygeté; and the Hyädes; the Bear;
“The dwellings of the winds; and every port
“Where ships could shelter. Once for Delos bound,
“By chance, the shore of Chios' isle we near'd;
“And when our starboard oars the beach had touch'd,
“Lightly I leap'd, and rested on the land.
“Now, night expir'd, Aurora warmly glow'd,
“And rousing up from sleep, my men I bade
“Supplies of living waters bring; and shew'd
“What path the fountain led to. I meanwhile,
“A lofty hill ascending, careful mark'd
“The wish'd-for wind approaching;—loud I call'd
“My fellows, and with haste the vessel gain'd.
“Lo! cry'd Opheltes, chief of all my crew,—
“Lo! here we come;—and from the desart fields,
“(A prize obtain'd, he thought),—he dragg'd along
“A boy of virgin beauty tow'rd the sands:
“Staggering, the youth, with wine and sleep opprest,
“With difficulty follow'd. Closely I
“His dress, his countenance, and his gait remark;
“And all I see, displays no mortal man.
“Conscious, I speak my comrades thus:—Unknown
“To me, what deity before us stands,
“But sure I am, that form conceals a god.
“O thou! whoe'er thou art, assist us;—aid
“Our undertakings;—who have seiz'd thee, spare,
“Unknowing what they did. Bold Dictys cries,—
“Than whom none swifter gain'd the topmost yards,
“Nor on the cordage slid more agile down;—
“Prayers offer not for us. Him Lybis joins;
“And brown Melanthus, ruler of the helm;
“Alcimedon unites; Epopeus too,
“Who rul'd the rowers, and their restings mark'd;
“(Arduous they urg'd their sinews by his voice)—
“Nay all Opheltes join,—the lust of gain,
“So blinded all their judgments. Still I cry;—
“Ne'er will I yield my vessel to behold
“Burthen'd with such a sacrilegious load:
“Pre-eminent is here my right. I stand
“To those who strive to hoist him in, oppos'd.
“Bold and outrageous, far beyond the rest,
“Was Lycabas; from Tuscan shore exil'd
“For deeds of murderous violence: he grasp'd
“My throat with force athletic, as I stood,
“And in the waves had flung me; but sore stunn'd,
“A cable caught, and sav'd me. Loud the crew
“The impious deed applauded. Bacchus rose,
“(The boy was Bacchus!) with the tumult loud
“Rous'd from his sleep;—the fumes of wine dispell'd,
“His senses seem'd restor'd. What is't you do?
“What noise is this? he cry'd;—What brought me here?
“O, mariners! inform me;—tell me where
“You carry me! Fear not,—the pilot said,—
“Say but the port, where most thou'dst chuse to land;—
“Thither we straight will steer. The god reply'd;—
“To Naxos then your course direct; that isle
“My native soil I call:—to you that isle
“A friendly shore shall prove. False men, they swear,
“By ocean, and by all the sacred gods,
“This to perform; and order me to loose,
“The painted vessel's sails. Full on the right
“Stood Naxos. Loudly one to me exclaims;
“As tow'rd the right I trim the sails to steer;—
“What now, Acœtes? madman! fool! what now?
“Art thou distracted? to the left we sail.—
“Most nod significant their wishes: some
“Soft whisper in my ear. Astounded, I
“Let others guide!—exclaim,—and quit the helm;
“Guiltless of aiding in their treacherous guile.
“Loud murmurings sound from all; and loudly one,
“Ethalion, cries;—in thee alone is plac'd
“Our safety, doubtless!—forward steps himself;—
“My station seizes; and a different course
“Directs the vessel, Naxos left behind.
“The feigning god, as though but then, the fraud
“To him perceptible, the waves beholds
“From the curv'd poop, and tears pretending, cries;—
“Not this, O, seamen! is the promis'd shore:
“Not this the wish'd-for land! What deed of mine
“This cruel treatment merits? Where the fame
“Of men, a child deceiving; numbers leagu'd
“Misleading one? Fast flow'd my tears with his;
“Our tears the impious mob deride, and press
“The ocean with their strong-propelling oars.
“Now by the god himself, I swear, (and none
“To vows more ready listens) that the tale,
“Though in appearance credence far beyond,
“Is strictly true. Firm fixt amid the waves
“The vessel stands, as in a harbour laid
“Dry from the ocean! Wondering, they their oars,
“With strokes redoubled ply; loose to the wind
“More sails; and with this double aid essay
“Onward to urge. Their oars with ivy twin'd,
“Are clogg'd; the curving tendrils crooked spread;
“The sails with clustering berries loaded hang.
“His temples girded with a branchy crown,
“Whence grapes hang dangling, stands the god, and shakes
“A spear entwisted with the curling vine.
“Round seem to prowl the tiger, and the lynx,
“And savage forms of panthers, various mark'd.
“Up leap'd the men, by sudden madness mov'd;
“Or terror only: Medon first appear'd
“Blackening to grow, with shooting fins; his form
“Flatten'd; and in a curve was bent his spine.
“Him Lycabas address'd;—what wonderous shape
“Art thou receiving?—speaking, wide his jaws
“Expanded; flatten'd down, his nose appear'd;
“A scaly covering cloth'd his harden'd skin.
“Lybis to turn the firm fixt oars attempts,
“But while he tries, perceives his fingers shrink;
“And hands, now hands no longer, fins he sees.
“Another round the cordage strives his arms
“To clasp,—but arms he has not,—down he leaps
“Broad on his crooked back, and seeks the waves.
“Forkt is their new-made tail; like Luna's form
“Bent in the skies, ere half her orb is fill'd.
“Bounding all round they leap;—now down they dash,
“Besprinkling wide the foamy drops; now 'merge;
“And now re-diving, plunge in playful sport:
“As chorus regular they act, and move
“Their forms in shapes lascivious; spouting high,
“The briny waters through their nostrils wide.
“Of twenty now, (our ship so many bore)
“I only stand unchang'd; with trembling limbs,
“And petrify'd with fear. The god himself,
“Scarce courage in my mind inspires; when thus,—
“Pale terror from thy bosom drive, and seek
“The isle of Naxos.—Thither come, I tend
“On smoking altars, Bacchus' sacred rites.”

Him Pentheus angry stopp'd. “Thy tedious tale,
“Form'd to divert my rage, in vain is told.
“Here, men, swift drag him hence!—dispatch his soul,
“Driven from his body, down to Stygian night;
“By pangs excruciating.” Straight close pent,
In solid dungeon is Acœtes thrown,
While they the instruments of death prepare;
The cruel steel; the flames;—spontaneous fly
Wide ope the dungeon doors; spontaneous fall
The fetters from his arms, and freed he goes.
Stubborn, the son of Echion still persists;
But sends no messenger: himself proceeds,
To where Cythæron, for the sacred rites
Selected, rings with Bacchanalian songs,
And outcries shrill. As foams an high-bred steed,
When through the speaking brass the warlike trump,
Sounds the glad signal; and with ardor burns
For battle: so the air, with howlings loud
Re-echoing, Pentheus moves, and doubly flames
His rage, to hear the clangor. Clear'd from trees,
A plain extends, from every part fair seen,
And near the mountain's centre: round its skirt,
Thick groves grow shady. Here his mother saw
His eye unhallow'd view the sacred rites;
And first,—by frantic madness urg'd,—she first
Furious the Thyrsus at her Pentheus flung:
Exclaiming loud;—“Ho, sisters! hither haste!
“Here stands the furious boar that wastes our grounds:
“My hand has smote him.” Raging rush the crowd,
In one united body. All close join,
And all pursue the now pale trembling wretch.
No longer fierce he storms; but grieving blames
His rashness, and his obstinacy owns.
Wounded,—“dear aunt, Autonoë!”—he cries,
“Help me!—O, let your own Actæon's ghost
“Move you to pity!” She, Actæon's name
Nought heeding, tears his outstretcht arm away;
The other, Ino from his body drags!
And when his arms, unhappy wretch, he tries
To lift unto his mother, arms to lift
Were none;—but stretching forth his mangled trunk
Of limbs bereft;—“look, mother!”—he exclaims.
Loud howl'd Agavé at the sight; his neck
Fierce grasping,—toss'd on high his streaming locks,
Her bloody fingers twisted in his hair.
Then clamor'd loudly;—“joy, my comrades, joy!
“The victory is mine!” Not swifter sweep
The winds those leaves which early frosts have nipp'd,
And lightly to the boughs attach'd remain,
Than scatter'd flew his limbs by furious hands.

The Fourth Book.

Feast of Bacchus. Impiety and infidelity of Alcithoë and her sisters. Story of Pyramus and Thisbe. Amour of Mars and Venus. The lovers caught by Vulcan in a net. Sol's love for Leucothoë, and her change to a tree of frankincense. Clytié transformed to a sunflower. Tale of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus. Transformation of Alcithoë and her sisters to bats. Juno's fury. Madness of Athamas; and deification of Ino and Melicertes. Change of the Theban women to rocks and birds. Cadmus and Hermione changed to serpents. Perseus. Transformation of Atlas to a mountain. Andromeda saved from the sea monster. Story of Medusa.

THE
Fourth Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

Warn'd by the dreadful admonition, all
Of Thebes the new solemnities approve;
Bring incense, and to Bacchus' altars bend.
Alcithoë only, Minyäs' daughter, views
His orgies still with unbelieving eyes.
Boldly, herself and sisters, partners all
In impious guilt, refuse the god to own,
The progeny of Jove. The prophet bids
Each mistress with her maids, to join the feast:
(Sacred the day from toil). Their breasts to clothe
In skins; the fillets from their heads to loose;
With ivy wreathe their brows; and in their hands
The leafy Thyrsus grasp. Threatening, he spoke,
In words prophetic, how th' affronted god
Would wreak his ire. Matrons and virgins haste;
Throw by their baskets; quit the loom, and leave
Th' unfinish'd threads: sweet incense they supply
Invoking Bacchus by his various names.
Bromius! Lyæus! power in flames produc'd!—
Produc'd a second time! god doubly born!
Born of two mothers! Nyseus! they exclaim;
Long-hair'd Thyoneus!—and the planter fam'd
Of genial grapes! Lenæus! too, they sing;
Nyctelius! Elelcus! and aloud
Iäcchus! Evan! with the numerous names,
O Liber! in the Grecian land thou hold'st.
Unwaning youth is thine, eternal boy!
Most beauteous form in heaven! a virgin's face
Thou seem'st to bear, when seen without thy horns.
Stoops to thy arms the East, where Ganges bounds
The dusky India:—Deity rever'd!
Thou impious Pentheus sacrific'd; and thou,
The mad Lycurgus punish'd with his axe:
By thee the Tyrrhene traitors, in the main
Were flung: Adorn'd with painted reins, thou curb'st
The lynxes in thy chariot yok'd abreast:
Thy steps the Satyrs and Bacchantes tread;
And old Silenus; who with wine o'ercharg'd,
With a long staff his tottering steps sustains:
Or on a crooked ass, unsteady sits:
Where'er thou enterest shout the joyous youth,
Females and males immingled: loud the drums
Struck by their hands resound;—and loudly clash
The brazen cymbals: soft the boxen flutes

Deep and melodious sound!
	Now prays all Thebes

“Thisbe, the brightest of the eastern maids;
“And Pyramus, the pride of all the youths,
“Contiguous dwellings held, in that fam'd town,
“Where lofty walls of stone, we learn were rais'd,
“By bold Semiramis. Their neighbouring scite,
“Acquaintance first encourag'd,—primal step
“To further intimacy: love, in time,
“Grew from this chance connection; and they long'd
“To join by lawful rites: but harsh forbade,
“Their rigid sires the union fate had doom'd.
“With equal ardor both their minds inflam'd,
“Burnt fierce; and absent every watchful spy
“By nods and signs they spoke; for close their love
“Conceal'd they kept;—conceal'd it burn'd more fierce.
“The severing wall a narrow chink contain'd,
“Form'd when first rear'd;—what will not love espy?
“This chink, by all for ages past unseen,
“The lovers first espy'd.—This opening gave
“A passage for their voices; safely through,
“Their tender words were breath'd in whisperings soft.
“Oft punctual at their posts,—on this side she,
“And Pyramus on that;—each breathing sighs,—
“By turns inhaling, have they mutual cry'd;—
“Invidious wall! why lovers thus divide?
“Much were it, did thy parts more wide recede,
“And suffer us to join? were that too much
“A little opening more, and we might meet
“With lips at least. Yet grateful still we own
“Thy kind indulgence, which a passage gives,
“And amorous words conveys to loving ears.
“Thus they loquacious, though on sides diverse,
“Till night their converse stay'd;—then cry'd, adieu!
“And each imprinted kisses, which the stones
“Forbade to taste. Soon as Aurora's fires
“Remov'd the shades of night, and Phœbus' rays
“From the moist earth the dew exhal'd, they meet
“As 'custom'd at the wall: lamenting deep,
“As wont in murmuring whispers: bold they plan,
“Their guards evading in the silent night,
“To pass the outer gates. Then, when escap'd
“From home, to leave the city's dangerous shade;
“But lest, in wandering o'er the spacious plains
“They miss to meet, at Ninus' sacred tomb
“They fix their assignation,—hid conceal'd
“Beneath th' umbrageous leaves. There grew a tree,
“Close bordering on a cooling fountain's brink;
“A stately mulberry;—snow-white fruit hung thick
“On every branch. The plot pleas'd well the pair.

“And now slow seems the car of Sol to sink;
“Slow from the ocean seems the night to rise;
“Till Thisbe, cautious, by the darkness veil'd,
“Soft turns the hinges, and her guards beguiles.
“Her features veil'd, the tomb she reaches,—sits
“Beneath th' appointed tree: love makes her bold.
“Lo! comes a lioness,—her jaws besmear'd
“With gory foam, fresh from the slaughter'd herd,
“Deep in th' adjoining fount her thirst to slake.
“Far off the Babylonian maid beheld
“By Luna's rays the horrid foe,—quick fled
“With trembling feet, and gain'd a darksome cave:
“Flying, she dropp'd, and left her robe behind.

“Now had the savage beast her drought allay'd,
“And backward to the forest roaming, found
“The veiling robe;—its tender texture rent,
“And smear'd the spoil with bloody jaws. The youth
“(With later fortune his strict watch escap'd)
“Spy'd the plain footsteps of a monster huge
“Deep in the sand indented!—O'er his face
“Pale terror spread: but when the robe he saw,
“With blood besmear'd, and mangled; loud he cry'd,—
“One night shall close two lovers' eyes in death!
“She most deserving of a longer date.
“Mine is the fault alone. Dear luckless maid!
“I have destroy'd thee;—I, who bade thee keep
“Nocturnal meetings in this dangerous place,
“And came not first to shield thy steps from harm.
“Ye lions, wheresoe'er within those caves
“Ye lurk! haste hither,—tear me limb from limb!
“Fierce ravaging devour, and make my tomb
“Your horrid entrails. But for death to wish
“A coward's turn may serve. The robe he takes,
“Once Thisbe's, and beneath th' appointed tree
“Bearing it, bath'd in tears; with ardent lips
“Oft fondly kissing, thus he desperate cries;—
“Now with my blood be also bath'd!—drink deep!
“And in his body plung'd the sword, that round
“His loins hung ready girt: then as he dy'd,
“Hasty withdrew, hot reeking from the wound,
“The steel; and backwards falling, press'd the earth.
“High spouts the sanguine flood! thus forth a pipe,
“(The lead decay'd, or damag'd) sends a stream
“Contracted from the breach; upspringing high,
“And loudly hissing, as the air it breaks
“With jets repeated. Sprinkled with the blood,
“The tree's white fruit a purple tinge receiv'd;
“Deep soak'd with blood the roots convey the stain
“Inly, and tinge each bough with Tyrian dye.

“Now Thisbe comes, with terror trembling still,
“Fearful, she Pyramus expecting waits:
“Him seek her beating bosom, and her eyes;
“Anxious the peril she escap'd to tell.
“Well mark'd her eyes the place,—and well the tree;
“The berries chang'd in color, long she doubts
“The same or no. While hesitating thus,
“The panting members quivering she beholds,
“Upon the sanguin'd turf; and back recoils!
“Paler than box her features grow; her limbs
“More tremble than when ocean fretful sounds,
“Its surface briskly by the breezes swept.
“Nor long the pause, her lover soon is known;
“And now her harmless breast with furious blows
“She punishes; her tresses wild she rends;
“Clasps the lov'd body; and the gaping wound
“Fills with her tears,—their droppings with the blood
“Immingling. On his clay-cold face she press'd
“Her kisses, crying;—Pyramus! what chance
“Has torn thee from me thus? My Pyramus!
“Answer me,—'tis thy dearest Thisbe speaks!
“She calls thee,—hear me,—raise that dying face!
“At Thisbe's name, his lids, with death hard weigh'd,
“He rais'd—beheld her,—and forever clos'd.

“Him dying thus,—her lacerated veil;
“The ivory scabbard empty'd of its sword;
“She saw,—at once the truth upon her mind
“Flash'd quick. Alas! thy hand, by love impell'd,
“Has wrought thy ruin: but to me the hand,
“In this, at least, shall equal force display,
“For equal was my love; and love will grant
“Sufficient strength the deadly wound to give.
“In death I'll follow thee; with justice call'd
“Thy ruin's wretched cause,—but comrade too.
“Thou whom, but death seem'd capable to part
“From me, shalt find ev'n death too weak will prove.
“Ye wretched mourning parents, his and mine!
“The dying prayers respect of him,—of me:
“Grant that, entomb'd together, both may rest;
“A pair by faithful love conjoined,—by death
“United close. And thou fair tree which shad'st
“Of one the miserable corse; and two
“Soon with thy boughs wilt cover,—bear the mark
“Of the sad deed eternal;—ting'd thy fruit
“With mournful coloring: monumental type
“Of double slaughter. Speaking thus, she plac'd
“The steely point, while yet with blood it smok'd,
“Beneath her swelling breast; and forward fell.
“Her final prayer reach'd heaven; her parents reach'd:
“Purple the berries blush, when ripen'd full;
“And in one urn the lovers' ashes rest.”

She ceas'd: a silent interval, but short,
Ensu'd; and next Leuconoë thus address'd
Her listening sisters:—“Ev'n the sun himself,
“Whose heavenly light so universal shines,
“To love is subject: his amours I tell.
“This deity's keen sight the first espy'd—
“(For all things penetrating first he sees)
“The crime of Mars and Venus; sore chagrin'd,
“To Vulcan he th' adulterous theft display'd,
“And told him where they lay. Appall'd he heard,—
“And dropp'd the tools his dexterous hand contain'd;
“But soon recover'd. Slender chains of brass,
“And nets, and traps he form'd; so wonderous fine,
“They mock'd the power of sight: for far less fine,
“The smallest thread the distaff forms; or line,
“Spun by the spider, pendent from the roof.
“Curious he form'd it; at the lightest touch
“It yielded; each momentum, slight howe'er,
“Caus'd its recession: this he artful hung,
“The couch enfolding. When the faithless wife,
“And paramour upon the bed embrac'd,
“Both in the lewd conjunction were ensnar'd;
“Caught by the husband's skill, whose art the chains
“In novel form had fram'd. The Lemnian god
“Instant wide threw the ivory doors, and gave
“Admittance free to every curious eye:
“In shameful guise together bound they laid.
“But some light gods, not blaming much the sight,
“Would wish thus sham'd to lie: loud laugh'd the whole,
“And long in heaven the tale jocose was told.

“The well-remember'd deed, the Cyprian queen
“Retorting, made the god remember too:
“And him who her conceal'd amours disclos'd,
“In turn betray'd. What now, Hyperion's son,
“Avails thy beauty!—or thy radiant flames?
“For thou, whose fires warm all the wide-spread world,
“Burn'st with a new-felt heat! Thou, whose wide view,
“Should every object grasp, with partial ken
“Leucothoë only see'st! that nymph alone,
“Attracts those eyes, whose lustre all the world
“Expect to view. Oft in the eastern skies,
“More early rising, art thou seen; and oft
“More tardy 'neath the waves thou sinkest: long
“The wintry days thou stretchest, with delay
“Thy object lov'd to see. Meantime pale gloom
“O'ercasts thy orb; the dullness of thy mind
“Obstructs thy brightness; and thy rays obscure,
“Terror in mortal breasts inspire. Not pale
“Thou fadest, as, when nearer whirl'd to earth,
“Faint Luna's shadow o'er thy surface glooms:
“But love, and only love the paleness gives.
“Her only, now thy amorous soul pursues;
“Rhodos, nor Clymené, nor Persé fair,
“Of Colchian Circé mother, tempt thee now;
“Nor Clytié, whom thy cold neglect still spurns;
“Yet still she burns to clasp thee: deep she mourns,
“Stung more acutely by this fresh amour.
“Now in Leucothoë, every former love
“Is lost. Leucothoë, whom the beauteous nymph,
“Eurynomé, in odoriferous climes
“Of Araby brought forth. Full-grown, matur'd,
“Leucothoë's beauteous form no less surpass'd
“Her mother's, than her mother's all beside.
“Her sire, the royal Orchamus (who claim'd
“A seventh descent from ancient Belus) rul'd
“The Achæmenian towns. The rapid steeds
“Of Phœbus pasture 'neath the western sky;
“Not grass, ambrosia, eating; heavenly food,
“Which nerves their limbs, faint with diurnal toil,
“Restoring all their ardor. Whilst the steeds,
“This their celestial nourishment enjoy;
“And night, as 'custom'd, governs in her turn;
“The god the close apartments of his nymph
“Beloved, enters;—form'd to outward view,
“Eurynomé her mother. Her he saw
“The slender threads from spindle twirling fine,
“Illumin'd by the lamp; and circled round
“By twice six female helpers. Warm he gave
“As a lov'd daughter, his maternal kiss,
“And said;—our converse secrecy demands.—
“Th' attendant maids depart,—nor hinderance give,
“Loitering, a mother's secret words to hear.
“When he, the chamber free from spy or guard,
“Exclaims,—no female I! behold the god,
“The lengthen'd year who spaces! who beholds
“Each object earth contains! the world's great eye
“By which it all surveys. My tender words
“Believe, I dearly love thee. Pale she look'd,
“While thus he spoke;—started, and trembling dropp'd
“Her distaff, and her spindle from her hand
“Nerveless. But ev'n her terror seem'd to add
“Fresh beauty to her features. Longer he
“Delay'd not, but his wonted form assum'd;
“In heavenly splendor shining. Mild the maid,
“Won by his beauteous brightness, (though at first,
“His sudden shape surpriz'd her) sunk beneath
“The force he urg'd, with unresisting power.

“The jealous Clytié (who with amorous flame
“Burn'd for Apollo) urg'd by harlot's rage,
“Straight to the sire, Leucothoë's crime betray'd;
“Painting the nymph's misdeed with heighten'd glow.
“Fierce rag'd the father,—merciless inhum'd
“Her living body deep in earth! Outstretcht
“High to the sun her arms, and praying warm
“For mercy;—he by force, she cry'd, prevail'd!
“O'er her untimely grave a lofty mound
“Of sand, her sire uprear'd. Hyperion's son
“Through this an opening with his beams quick form'd,
“Full wide for her, her head intomb'd to lift,
“Once to the light again. Thy bury'd corse
“No more thou now couldst raise; the ponderous load
“Of earth prevents thee; and a bloodless mass,
“Exanimate, thou ly'st! Not deeper grief
“'Tis said, the ruler of the swift-wing'd steeds,
“Display'd, when o'er the earth the hapless flames
“By Phaëton were thrown. Arduous he strives,
“Her gelid limbs, with all his powerful rays
“To vivid heat recal: stern fate withstands
“His utmost urg'd endeavours: bathing then
“Her pallid corse, and all the earth around
“With odorous nectar, sorrowing sad he cries;—
“Yet, shalt thou reach the heavens! And soon began
“Her limbs, soft melting in celestial dew,
“With moistening drops of strong perfume to flow:
“Slowly a frankincense's rooted twigs
“Spread in the earth,—its top the hillock burst.

“Angry the god (though violent love the pain
“Of jealousy might well excuse,—the pain
“Of jealousy the tale) from Clytié now
“Abstains; no more in amorous mood they meet.
“Rash now the deed her burning love had caus'd,
“Too late she found;—she flies her sister-nymphs;
“And pining, on the cold bare turf she sits;
“By day,—by night,—sole shelter'd by the sky;
“Her dripping tresses matted round her brows:
“Food,—drink, abhorring. Nine long days she bore
“Sharp famine, bath'd with dew, bath'd with her tears;
“Still on the ground prone lying. Yet the god
“In circling motion still she ardent view'd;
“Turning her face to his. Tradition tells,
“Her limbs to earth grew fasten'd: ghastly pale
“Her color; chang'd to bloodless leaves she stood,
“Streak'd ruddy here and there;—a violet flower
“Her face o'erspreading. Still that face she turns,
“To meet the sun;—though binding roots retain
“Her feet, her love unalter'd still remains.”

She ended; all their listening ears, well pleas'd,
The wonderous story heard. Some hard of faith
Its truth, its probability deny.
To true divinities such power some grant;
And power to compass more;—to Bacchus none
Such potence own. The sisters, silent now,
Alcithoë beg to speak: she shooting swift
Her shuttle through th' extended threads, exclaims;—
“Of Daphnis' love, so known, on Ida's hill,
“His flocks who tended, whom his angry nymph,
“To stone transform'd (such fury fires the breast
“Of those who desperate love!) I shall not tell:
“Nor yet of Scython, of ambiguous form,
“Now male, now female; nature's wonted laws
“Inconstant proving: thee, O Celmis! too
“I pass; once faithful nurse to infant Jove,
“Now chang'd to adamant: Curetes! sprung
“From showery floods: Crocus, and Smilax, both
“To blooming flowers transform'd: unnotic'd these,
“My tale from novelty itself shall please:
“How Salmacis so infamous became,
“Then list; whose potent waves, the luckless limbs
“Enerve, of those they bathe. Conceal'd the cause;
“Yet far and wide the fountain's power is known.

“Deep in the sheltering caves of Ida's hill,
“The Naiäd nymphs a beauteous infant nurs'd;
“Whom Cyprus' goddess unto Hermes bore.
“His father's beauty, and his mother's, shone
“In every feature; in his name conjoin'd
“He bore their appellations. When matur'd
“By fifteen summers, from paternal hills
“Straying, he wander'd from his nursing Idé:
“In lands unknown he joy'd, and joy'd to see
“Strange rivers,—pleasure lessening every toil.
“Through Lycia's towns he stray'd; and further still,
“To bordering Caria, where a pool he spy'd,
“Whose lowest depth a gleam transparent shew'd:
“No marshy canes,—no filthy barren weeds,
“Nor pointed bulrush near the margin grew:
“Full on the eye the water shone, yet round
“Its brink a border smil'd of verdant turf,
“And plants forever green. Here dwelt a nymph,
“But one who never join'd the active chace;
“The bow who never bent; who never strove
“To conquer in the race: of all the nymphs,
“Alone no comrade of Diana fleet.
“Oft, as 'tis said, her sister-nymphs exclaim'd;—
“Come, Salmacis, thy painted quiver take;
“Or take thy javelin;—with soft pleasures mix
“Laborious sporting: but nor javelin she,
“Nor painted quiver took;—with sportive toil,
“Soft pleasures mingling: sole intent to bathe,
“Her beauteous limbs amidst her own clear waves;
“And through her flowing tresses oft to draw
“The boxen comb, while o'er the fountain bent,
“She studies all her graces: now, her form
“Clad in a robe transparent, stretcht she lies,
“Or on the yielding leaves, or bending grass;
“Now flowers she culls;—and so it chanc'd to fall,
“Flowers she was gathering, when she first beheld
“The charming youth; no sooner seen than lov'd.
“Not forth she rush'd at first, though strongly urg'd,
“Forward to spring, but all adjusted fair:
“Closely survey'd her robe; her features form'd;
“And every part in beauteous shape compos'd.
“Then thus address'd him;—O, most godlike youth!
“And if a god, the lovely Cupid sure!
“But if of mortal mould, blest is thy sire!
“Blest is thy brother! and thy sister blest!—
“If sister hast thou;—and the fostering breast
“Which fed thy infant growth: but far 'bove all
“In rapturous bliss, is she who calls thee spouse;
“Should nymph exist thou deem'st that bliss deserves!
“If wedded, grant a stol'n embrace to me;
“If not, let me thy nuptial couch ascend.
“The Naiäd ceas'd: a bashful glow suffus'd
“His face, for nought of love to him was known:
“Yet blushing seem'd he lovely: thus warm glows
“The apple, to the ripening sun expos'd;
“Or teinted ivory; or the redden'd moon,
“Whom brazen cymbals clash to help in vain.
“To her, warm praying for at least a kiss,
“A chaste, a sister's kiss,—her arms firm claspt
“Around his ivory neck;—desist! he cries,
“Desist! or sole to thee the place I'll leave.
“His flight she dreaded, and reply'd,—I go,
“Dear youth, and freely yield the spot to thee.
“And seems indeed, her steps from him to turn;
“But still in sight she kept him; lurking close
“Shelter'd by shadowy shrubs, on bended knees.
“Of spy unconscious, he in boyish play
“Frisks sportive here and there; dips first his feet,
“Then ancles deeper in the wantoning waves;
“Pleas'd with the temper of the lucid pool:
“Till hasty stript from off his tender limbs
“His garments soft he flings. More deeply struck
“Stood Salmacis; more fiercely flam'd her love,
“His naked beauty seen. Her gloating eyes
“Sparkled no less than seem bright Phœbus' rays,
“When shining splendid, midst a cloudless sky,
“A mirror's face reflecting gives them back.
“Delay ill brooking, hardly she contains
“Her swelling joy; frantic for his embrace,
“She pants, and hard from rushing forth refrains.
“His sides he claps, and agile in the steam
“Quick plunges, moving with alternate arms.
“Bright through the waves he shines; thus white appears
“The sculptur'd ivory, or the lily fair,
“Seen through a crystal veil. The Naiäd cries;—
“Lo! here I come;—he's mine,—the youth's my own!
“And instant far was every garment flung.
“Midst of the waves she leaps;—the struggling youth
“Clasps close; and on his cold reluctant lips,
“Forces her kisses; down she girds his arms;
“And close to hers hugs his unwilling breast:
“Final, around the youth who arduous strives
“In opposition, and escape essays,
“Her limbs she twines: so twines a serpent huge,
“Seiz'd by the bird of Jove, and borne on high,
“Twisting his head, the feet close-bracing holds;
“The wide-spread wings entangled with his tail:
“So twines the ivy round the lengthen'd bough:
“So numerous Polypus his foe confines,
“Seiz'd in the deep, with claws on every side
“Firm graspt. But Hermes' son persisting still,
“The Naiäd's wish denies; she presses close,
“And as she cleaves, their every limb close join'd
“Exclaims;—ungallant boy! but strive thy most,
“Thou shalt not fly me. Grant me, O ye gods!
“No time may ever sunder him from me,
“Or me from him.—Her prayer was granted straight;—
“For now, commingling, both their bodies join'd;
“And both their faces melted into one.
“So, when in growth we boughs ingrafted see,
“The bark inclosing both at once, they sprout.
“Thus were their limbs, in strong embrace comprest,
“Wrapp'd close; no longer two in form, yet two
“In feature; nor a nymph-like face remain'd,
“Nor yet a boy's: it both and neither seem'd.

“When Hermes' son beheld the liquid stream,
“Where masculine he plung'd, the power possess
“To enervate his body, and his limbs
“Effeminately soften; high he rais'd
“His arms, and pray'd (but not with manly voice)
“O, sire! O, mother dear! indulge your son,
“Your double appellation bearing, this
“Sole-urg'd petition. Whoso in these waves
“In strong virility, like me, shall plunge,
“Hence let him go, like me enervate made;
“Spoilt by the stream his strength. Each parent god
“Nodding, confirm'd their alter'd son's request;
“And ting'd the fountain with the changing power.”

She ceas'd: the nymphs Minyeian still persist
Their toil to urge, despising still the god;
His festival prophaning. Sudden heard,
The rattling sounds of unseen timbrels burst
Full on their ears! the pipe; the crooked horn;
And brazen cymbals loudly clash; perfumes
Of myrrh and saffron blended smell:—but more,
And what belief surpasses, straight their looms
Virid to sprout begin; the pendent threads
Branch into shoots like ivy: part becomes
The vine: what now were threads, curl'd tendrils seem:
Shot from the folded web, the branches climb;
And the bright red in purpling grapes appears.

Now was the sun declining, and approach'd
The twilight season, when nor day it seems,
Nor night confirm'd; but a gray mixture forms;
Of each an indetermin'd compound. Deep
The roof appear'd to shade; the oily lamps,
Ardent to glow; the torches bright to burn,
With reddening flames; while round them seem'd to howl,
Figures of beast ferocious. Fill'd with smoke
The room,—th' affrighted maidens seek to hide;
And each in different corners tries to shun
The fires and flaming light. But while they seek
A lurking shelter, o'er their shorten'd limbs
A webby membrane spreading, binds their arms
In waving wings. The gloom conceal'd the mode,
Of transformation from their former shape.
Light plumage bears them not aloft,—yet rais'd
On wings transparent, through the air they skim,
To speak they strive, but utter forth a sound
Feeble and weak; then, screeching shrill, they plain:
Men's dwellings they frequent,—nor try the woods;
And, cheerful day avoiding, skim by night;
Their name from that untimely hour deriv'd.

Now were the deeds of heaven-born Bacchus fam'd
Through every part of Thebes; and all around,
His aunt proud boasts the new-made god's great power:
She, of the sisters all, from sorrow spar'd,
Save what to view her sisters' sorrowing gave.
Juno beheld her lofty thus, her breast
Elate to view her sons; her nuptial fruits
With Athamas; and her great foster child,
The mighty Bacchus. More the furious queen
Bore not, but thus exclaim'd;—“Has the whore's son
“Power to transform the Tyrrhene crew, and plunge
“Them headlong in the deep? Can he impel
“The mother's hands to seize her bleeding son
“And tear his entrails? Dares he then to clothe
“The Minyëid sisters with un'custom'd wings?
“And is Saturnia's utmost power confin'd
“Wrongs unreveng'd to weep? Suffices such
“For me? Is this a goddess' utmost might?
“But he instructs me;—wisdom may be taught
“Ev'n by a foe. The wretched Pentheus' fate,
“Shews all-sufficient, what may madness do.
“Why should not Ino, stung with frantic rage,
“The well-known track her sisters trode pursue?”

A path declivitous, with baleful yew
Dark shaded, leads, a dreary silent road,
Down to th' infernal regions: sluggish Styx
Dank mists exhales: here travel new-made ghosts,
With rites funereal blest: pale winter's gloom
Wide rules the squalid place: the stranger shades
Wander, unknowing which the path to tread,
Straight to the infernal city, where is held
Black Pluto's savage court. A thousand gates,
Wide ope, surround the town on every side.
As boundless ocean every stream receives,
From earth pour'd numerous,—so each wandering soul
Flocks to this city; whose capacious bounds
Full space for all affords; nor ever feels
Th' increasing crowd: of flesh depriv'd, and bones,
The bloodless shadows wander. Some frequent
The forum; some th' infernal monarch's court;
Some various arts employ, resembling much
Their former daily actions; numbers groan
In punishments severe. Here Juno came,
Braving the region's horrors, from her throne
Celestial,—so did ire and hatred goad
Her bosom with their stings! Sacred she press'd
The groaning threshold,—instant as she stepp'd,
Fierce Cerberus his triple head uprais'd,
And howl'd with triple throat. The goddess calls
The night-born sisters, fierce, implacable:
Before the close-barr'd adamantine gates
They sit; their tresses twisting round with snakes.
The queen through clouds of midnight gloom they see,
And instant rise. Here dwell the suffering damn'd.
Here Tityus, stretcht o'er nine wide acres, yields
His entrails to be torn. Thou, Tantalus,
Art seen, the stream forbid to taste;—the fruit
Thy lips o'erhanging, flies! Thou, Sisyphus,
Thy stone pursuing downwards; or its weight
Straining aloft, with oft exerted power!
Ixion whirling, too; with swift pursuit,
Thou follow'st, and art follow'd! Belides!
Your husband-cousins who in death dar'd steep,
And ceaseless draw the unavailing streams!
All Juno view'd with unrelenting brow;
But, view'd Ixion sterner far than all:
And when on Sisyphus again she cast
Her eyes, behind Ixion, angry cry'd;—
“What justice this?—of all the brethren he
“Sharp torture suffers! Shall proud Athamas
“A regal dwelling boast,—whose scornful taunts,
“And scornful spouse have still my power contemn'd?”
Then straight her hatred's cause disclos'd. They see
Her journey's object, and revenge's aim.
This her desire, that Cadmus' regal house
Perish'd should sink; and Athamas, fierce urg'd
By madness should some dreadful vengeance claim.
Commands, solicitations, prayers,—at once
The goddesses besiege: and as she speaks,
Angrily mov'd, Tisiphoné replies,—
(Shaking her hoary locks,—the twining snakes
Back from her mouth repelling) hasty thus;—
“A tedious tale we need not; what thou wilt
“Believe accomplish'd. Fly this hateful gloom;—
“Up to the wholesome breeze of heaven repair.”
Glad, Juno left the spot;—when near approach'd
Heaven's entrance, there Thaumantian Iris met,
And with her sprinklings purify'd the queen.

Quick now Tisiphoné, the savage fiend,
Seizes her torch, with gory droppings wet;
Flings round her limbs a garment, deeply dy'd
With streaming blood; a twisting snake supplies
A girdle:—thus array'd she sallies forth,
Follow'd by loud lament, by terror, fear,
And quivering-featur'd madness. When she press'd
The threshold, fame declares the pillars shook;
The maple doors, with terror mov'd, grew pale:
Back shrunk the sun! Ino, with trembling dread
Beheld these wonders;—Athamas beheld;
And both prepar'd the haunted place to fly.
Escape the fury hinders: fierce she stands,
Blocking the entrance: wide her arms she spreads,
With viperous twistings bound; and threatening shakes
Her tresses: loud the serpents noise, disturb'd;
Sprawl o'er her shoulders some; some, lower fall'n,
Twine hissing round her breasts, with brandish'd tongue,
Black poison vomiting. With furious gripe,
Two from her locks she tore;—her deadly hand
Hurl'd them straight on; the breasts of Athamas,
And Ino, hungry, with their fangs they seiz'd;
Fierce pains infixing, but external wounds
Their limbs betray'd not: mental was the blow,
So direly struck. Venoms most mortal, too,
From Tartarus she bore:—the foam high-churn'd
From jaws of Cerberus; the poisonous juice
Of Hydra; urgent wish for roaming wide;
Oblivion mental-blinded; wicked deeds;
Weeping; and furious fierceness, slaughter fond.
On these commingled, fresh-drawn gore she pour'd,
And warm'd them bubbling in a brazen vase;
Stirr'd by a sprouting hemlock. Trembling, they
Shudder, while in their breasts the poison fierce
She pours: both bosoms feel it deep instill'd;—
Their inmost vitals feel it. Then her torch,
Whirl'd flaming round and round, in triumph glares,
Fires from the circling gathering. Powerful thus;
Victorious in her aims, and deeds desir'd,
To mighty Pluto's shadowy realm she speeds;
And from her loins untwists the girding snakes.

Mad bounded Athamas amid the hall,
“Ho! friends,” exclaiming;—“here spread wide your toils,
“Here, in this thicket, where ev'n now I saw
“With young twin cubs, a lioness!”—and mad,
Pursu'd his consort for a savage beast;
Snatching Learchus, who with playful smile,
Outstretch'd his infant hands to meet him. Torne
Rough from his mother's bosom, round in air
And round, sling-like he whirl'd; then savage dash'd
Upon a rugged rock the tender bones.

Loud howls the frantic mother; frantic made
By grief, or by the scatter'd poison's power:
And, raving, with dishevell'd tresses spread
Wide o'er her shoulders, flies. Her naked arms
Young Melicertes bear; madly she shrieks;—
“Evoë, Bacchus!”—Loud at Bacchus' name
Revengeful Juno laugh'd, and said;—“Such boon
“Thy foster-son upon his nurse confers!”
A lofty rock the foaming waves o'erhangs,
Whose dashing force deep in its base have scoop'd
A cavern, safely sheltering from the showers:
The adamantine summit high extends,
And o'er the wide main stretches. Swift this height,
Active and strong with madness, Ino gain'd
And fearless, with the infant in her arms,
Sprung from the cliff, and sunk beneath the waves.

White foam'd the surge around her!
	Venus, griev'd,

The princess' anxious comrades trac'd her steps
With care; the last with arduous search they found,
Just on the giddy brink, nor dubious deem'd
Her fate a moment. Cadmus' house they wail;
With beating hands their tresses tear, and robes;
And highly Juno blame, as one unjust:
Too ireful for the hapless sister's fault.
Juno, fierce flaming, these reproaches stung;—
“Ye too,” she cry'd, “shall monuments become
“Of the fierce ire ye blame!” Deeds words pursu'd.
The nymph who most her hapless queen held dear,
Exclaim'd;—“deep in the roaring main I'll plunge,
“To join her fate,”—and sprung to take the leap;
But motionless she stood,—fixt to the rock!
Her wounding blows, upon her bosom one
Strives to renew, as wont; her striving arms
Stiffen'd to stone she sees. This tow'rd the waves
Her hands extends; a rocky mass she stands,
In the same waves far stretching. Lifted high,
The locks to rend, the fingers might be seen
Stiffen'd, and rigid with the hair become.
In posture whatsoever caught, each nymph,
In that same posture stands. Thus part are chang'd:
The rest, to birds transform'd, by wings upborne,
Skim o'er the surface of the neighbouring sea.

Cadmus, the wond'rous change which rais'd his child,
And his young grandson to the rank of gods,
Yet knew not. By his load of grief o'erwhelm'd;
A chain of woes; and supernatural scenes,
So numerous which he sees; the founder quits
His town, suspicious that the city's fate,
And not his own, misfortune on him showers.
Borne o'er the main, his lengthen'd wanderings end,
When with his exil'd consort, safe he gains
Illyria's shores. Opprest with grief and age,
The primal fortunes of their house, with care
They scan, and in their converse all their woes
Again recounting, Cadmus thus exclaims;—
“Was then that serpent, by my javelin pierc'd,
“When driven from Tyre; whose numerous teeth I sow'd,
“Sacred to some divinity?—If he
“Thus, vengeful for the deed, his anger pours,
“May I a serpent stretcht at length become.”
He said,—and serpent-like extended lies!
Scales he perceives, upon his harden'd skin;
And sees green spots on his black body form;
Prone on his breast he falls; together twin'd,
His legs commingling stretch, and gradual end
Lessen'd in rounded point; his arms remain
Still, and those arms remaining he extends;
While down his face yet human tears flow fast.
“O, hapless wife! approach,” he cries, “approach,
“And touch me now, while ought of me remains;
“Receive my hand, while yet a hand I bear;
“Ere to a serpent wholly turns my form.”—
More he prepar'd to utter, but his tongue,
Cleft sudden, to his wishes words refus'd:
And often when his sorrows sad he try'd
To wail anew, he hiss'd!—that sound alone,
Nature permitted. While her naked breast
With blows resounded, loud his wife exclaim'd;—
“Stay,—O, my Cadmus! hapless man, shake off
“This monstrous figure! Cadmus what is this?
“Where are thy feet,—and where thy arms and hands?
“Where are thy features,—thy complexion? Where,
“Whilst I bewail, art thou? Celestial powers!
“Why not this transformation work on me?”
She ended; he advancing, lick'd her face,
And creep'd, as custom'd, to her bosom dear,
And round her wonted neck embracing twin'd.
Now draw their servants nigh, and as they come
With terror start. The crested serpents play,
Smooth on their necks,—now two; and cordial slide,
In spires conjoin'd; then in the darksome shades
Th' adjoining woods afford them, close they hide.
Mankind they fly not, nor deep wounds inflict;
Harmless, their pristine form is ne'er forgot.

Still, though in alter'd shapes, the pair rejoic'd
Their grandson's fame to hear; whom vanquish'd Ind'
Low bending worshipp'd; Greece adoring prais'd,
In lofty temples. Sole Acrisius stands,
Like Bacchus sprung from Jove's celestial seed,
Opposing; and from Argos' gates propels
The god;—his birth deny'd, against him arms.
Nor Perseus would he own from heaven deriv'd;
Conceiv'd by Danaë, from a golden shower:
Yet soon,—so mighty is the force of truth,—
Acrisius grieves he e'er so rashly brav'd
The god; his grandson driving from his court,
Disown'd. Now one in heaven is glorious plac'd;
The other, laden with the well-known spoil
Of the fierce snaky monster, cleaves the air,
On sounding pinions. High the victor sails
O'er Lybia's desarts, and the gory drops
Fall from the gorgon's head; the Ground receives
The blood, and warms it into writhing snakes.
Hence does the country with the pest still swarm.

Thence borne by adverse winds, he sweeps along,
Through boundless ether driven; now here, now there,
As watery clouds are swept. From lofty skies,
The earth far distant viewing, round the globe
He skimm'd: three times he saw the Arctic pole
And thrice the warmer Crab. Oft to the west,
Th' adventurous youth was borne; back to the east,
As often. Now the day in darkness sank,
When he, nocturnal flight mistrusting, lights
In Atlas' kingdom 'neath th' Hesperian sky;
A short repose requests, till Phosphor' bright,
Should call Aurora forth;—she ushering in
The chariot of the day. Japetus' son
All men in huge corporeal bulk surpass'd.
He to th' extremest confines of the land,
And o'er the ocean sway'd, whose waves receive
Apollo's panting steeds, and weary'd car.
A thousand bleating flocks; a thousand herds,
Stray'd through the royal pastures. Neighbouring lords
Not near him plough'd their lands. Trees grew, whose leaves
With splendor glittering, threw a golden shade
O'er golden branches, and o'er fruit of gold.
Thus Perseus;—“Friendly host, if glorious birth
“Thee pleases, here one born of Jove behold.
“If deeds of merit more attraction move,
“Mine thy applause may claim. At present grant
“An hospitable shelter here, and rest.”
But Atlas, fearing these oraculous words,—
(Long since by Themis on Parnassus given)
“The time, O king! will come, thy golden tree
“Shall lose its fruit. The glory of the spoil
“A son of Jove shall boast:” and dreading sore;
Around his orchards massy walls he rears;
A dragon huge and fierce the guard maintains.
“Whatever strangers to his realm approach,
Far thence he drives; and thus to Perseus too;—
“Haste, quickly haste from hence, lest soon I prove
“Thy glorious deeds but feign'd,—feign'd as thy birth.”
Then force to threats he added,—strove to thrust
The hero forth; who struggling, efforts urg'd
Resisting, while he begg'd with softening words.
Proving in strength inferior (who in strength
Could vie with Atlas?) “Since my fame,” he cries,
“Such small desert obtains, a gift accept.”
And, back his face averting, holds display'd,
On his left side Medusa's ghastly head.
A mountain now the mighty Atlas stands!
His hair and beard as lofty forests wave;
His arms and hands high hilly summits rear;
O'er-topp'd above, by what was once his head:
His bones are rocks; then, so the gods decree,
Enlarg'd to size immense in every part,
The weight of heaven, and all the stars he bears.

His blustering vassals Æolus had pent,
In ever-during prisons. Phosphor' bright,
Most splendid 'midst the starry host of heaven;
Admonitor of labor, now was risen;
When Perseus bound again on either foot,
His winnowing wings; girt on his crooked sword;
And cleft the air, on waving pinions borne.
O'er numerous nations, far beneath him spread,
He sail'd, till Ethiopia's realms he saw;
Where Cepheus rul'd. There Ammon, power unjust,
Andromeda had sentenc'd,—guiltless maid,
To what her mother's boastful tongue deserv'd.
Her soon as Perseus spy'd, fast by the arms
Chain'd to the rugged rock;—where but her locks
Wav'd lightly to the breeze; and but her eyes
Trickled a tepid stream; she might be deem'd
A sculptur'd marble: him the unknown sight
Astonish'd, dazzled, and enflam'd with love.
His senses in the beauteous view sole wrapt,
Scarce he remembers on his wings to wave:—
Alights, exclaiming;—“O, whom chains like these
“Should never bind, nor other chains than such,
“As lovers intertwist! declare thy name;
“Thy country tell; and why thou bear'st those bonds.”
Silent awhile the virgin stood; abash'd,
Converse with man to hold: her blushing face,
Her hands, if free, had long before conceal'd.
Quick starting tears, 'twas all she could, her eyes
Veil'd swimming: then her name and country told;
And all the conscious pride her mother's charms
Inspir'd, in full acknowledg'd; lest for crimes
Her own, just suffering, Perseus might conceive.
All yet untold, when loud the billows roar'd;
Upheav'd the monster's bulk: far 'bove the waves
He stood uprear'd, and then right onward plung'd;
His ample bosom covering half the main.

Loud shrieks the virgin! Sad her father comes;
And sad her raving mother, wretched both,
The mother most deserv'dly. Help in vain
From them she seeks; with tears, and bosoms torn,
Her fetter'd limbs they clasp, they can no more.
Then Perseus thus;—“for tears and loud laments,
“Long may the time be: but effective aid
“To give, the time is short. Suppose the nymph
“I ask;—I, Perseus! sprung from mighty Jove,
“By her whose prison in a golden shower
“Fecundative, he enter'd. Perseus, who
“The Gorgon snaky-hair'd o'ercame; who bold
“On waving pinions winnows through the air.
“Him for a son in preference should ye chuse,
“Arduous he'll strive to these high claims to add,
“If heaven permits, some merits more his own.
“Agree she's mine, if by my arm preserv'd.”
The parents promise;—(who in such a case
Would waver) beg his help; and promise, more,
That all their kingdom shall her dower become.
Lo! as a vessel's sharpen'd prow quick cleaves
The waves, by strenuous sweating arms impell'd,
The monster comes! his mighty bosom wide
The waters sideway breasting; distant now,
Not more than what the Balearic sling
Could with the bullet gain, when high in air,
The sod repelling, upward springs the youth.
Soon as the main reflected Perseus' form,
The ocean-savage rag'd: as Jove's swift bird
When in the open fields a snake he spies
Basking, his livid back to Phœbus' rays
Expos'd, behind attacks him; plunges deep,
His hungry talons in his scaly neck,
To curb the twisting of his sanguine teeth.
With rapid flight, thus Perseus shooting cleaves
The empty air; lights on the monster's back;
Burying his weapon to the crooked hilt,
Full in the shoulder of the raging beast.
Mad with the deepen'd wound, now rears aloft
The savage high in air; now plunges low,
Beneath the waters; now he furious turns,
As turns the boar ferocious, when the crowd
Of barking dogs beset him fiercely round.
With rapid waft the venturous hero shuns
His greedy jaws: now on his back, thick-arm'd
With shells, he strikes where opening space he sees;
Now on his sides; now where his tapering tail
In fish-like form is finish'd, bites the steel.
High spouts the wounded monster from his mouth;
The waves with gore deep purpling: drench'd, the wings
Droop nagging; and no longer Perseus dares
To trust their dripping aid. A rock he spies
Whose summit o'er the peaceful waters rose,
But deep was hid when tempests mov'd the main.
Supported here, his left hand firmly grasps
The craggy edge; while through his sides, and through,
The dying savage feels the weapon drove.

Loud shouts and plaudits fill the shore, the noise
Resounding echoes to the heavenly thrones.
Cassiopé and Cepheus joyful greet
Their son, and grateful own him chief support,
And saviour. From her rugged fetters freed,
The virgin walks; the cause, the great reward
Of all his toil. His victor hands he laves
In the pure stream: then with soft leaves defends
A spot, to rest the serpent-bearing head,
Lest the bare sand should harm it. Twigs marine
He likewise strews, and rests Medusa there.
The fresh green twigs as though with life endow'd,
Felt the dire Gorgon's power; their spongy pith
Hard to the touch became, the stiffness spread
Through every twig and leaf. The Nereïd nymphs
More branches bring, and try the wonderous change
On all, and joy to see the change succeed:
Spreading the transformation from the seeds,
With them throughout the waves. This nature still
Retains the coral: hardness still assumes
From contact with the air; beneath the waves
A bending twig; an harden'd stone above.

Three turfy altars to three heavenly gods
He builds: to Hermes sacred stands the left;
The right to warlike Pallas; in the midst
The mighty Jove's is rear'd: (To Pallas bleeds
An heifer: to the plume-heel'd god a calf:
Almighty Jove accepts a lordly bull)
Then claims Andromeda, the rich reward,
without a dower, of all his valorous toil.

Now Love and Hymen wave their torches high,
Precursive of their joys: each hearth is heap'd
With odorous incense: every roof is hung
With flowery garlands: pipes, and harps, and lyres,
And songs which indicate their festive souls,
Resound aloud. Each portal open thrown,
Display'd appears the golden palace wide.
By every lord of Cepheus' court, array'd
In splendid pomp, the nuptial feast is grac'd.
The banquet ended, while the generous gift
Of Bacchus circles; and each soul dilates,
Perseus, the modes and customs of the land
Curious enquires. Lyncides full relates
The habits, laws, and manners of the clime.
His information ended;—“now,”—he cry'd,—
“Relate, O Perseus! boldest of mankind,—
“By what fierce courage, and what skilful arts,”
“The snaky locks in thy possession came.”
Then Perseus tells, how lies a lonely vale
Beneath cold Atlas; every side strong fenc'd
By lofty hills, whose only pass is held,
By Phorcus' twin-born daughters. Mutual they
One eye possess'd, in turns by either us'd.
His hand deceiving seiz'd it, as it pass'd
'Twixt them alternate; dexterous was the wile.
Through devious paths, and deep-sunk ways he went;
And craggy woods, dark-frowning, till he reach'd
The Gorgon's dwelling: passing then the fields,
And beaten roads, there forms of men he saw,
And shapes of savage beasts; but all to stone
By dire Medusa's petrifying face
Transform'd. He then the horrid countenance mark'd,
Bright from the brazen targe his left arm bore,
Reflected. While deep slumber safe weigh'd down,
The Gorgon and her serpents, he divorc'd
Her shoulders from her head. He adds how sprung,
Chrysaör, and wing'd Pegasus the swift,
From the prolific Gorgon's streaming gore.
Relates the perils of his lengthen'd flight;
What seas, what kingdoms from the lofty sky,
Beneath him he had view'd; what sparkling stars
His waving wings had brush'd;—thus ceas'd his tale:
All more desiring. Then uprose a peer,—
And why Medusa, of the sisters sole
The serpent-twisted tresses wore, enquir'd.
The youth:—“The story that you ask, full well
“Attention claims;—I what you seek recite.
“For matchless beauty fam'd, with envying hope
“Her, crowds of suitors follow'd: nought surpass'd
“'Mongst all her beauties, her bright lovely hair:
“Those who had seen her thus, have this averr'd.
“But in Minerva's temple Ocean's god
“The maid defil'd. The virgin goddess shock'd,
“Her eyes averted, and her forehead chaste
“Veil'd with the Ægis. Then with vengeful power
“Chang'd the Gorgonian locks to writhing snakes.
“The snakes, thus form'd, fixt on her shield she bears;
“The horrid sight her trembling foes appals.”

The Fifth Book.

Attack of Phineus and his friends on Perseus. Defeat of the former, and their change to statues. Atchievements of Perseus in Argos, and Seriphus. Minerva's visit to the Muses. Fate of Pyreneus. Song of the Pierides. Song of the Muses. Rape of Proserpine. Change of Cyané, to a fountain. Search of Ceres. Transformation of a boy to an eft. Of Ascalaphus to an owl. Change of the companions of Proserpine to Sirens. Story of Arethusa. Journey of Triptolemus. Transformation of Lyncus to a lynx. The Pierides transformed to magpies.

THE
Fifth Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

These wonders, while the son of Danaë tells,
Circled around by Cepheus' noble troop;
Sudden th' imperial hall with tumults loud
Resounds. Not clamor such as oft we hear,
The bridal feasts, in songs of joy attend:
But what stern war announces. Much the change,
(The peaceful feast to instant riot turn'd)
Seem'd like the placid main, when the fierce rage
Of sudden tempests lash its surges high.

First Phineus stepp'd, the leader of the crowd;
Soul of the riot; and his ashen spear,
Arm'd with a brazen point, he brandish'd high;—
“Lo, here!” he shouts, “lo, here I vengeful come
“On him who claims my spouse! Not thy swift wings;
“Nor cheating Jove, chang'd to a golden shower,
“Shall save thee from my arm,”—and pois'd to fling,
The dart was held, but Cepheus loud exclaim'd,—
“Brother! what dost thou? what dire madness sways
“To wicked acts thy soul? Is this the meed
“His gallant deeds deserve? Is this the dower,
“We for the valued life he sav'd bestow?
“List but to truth,—not Perseus of thy wife
“Bereft thee, but the angry Nereïd nymphs,—
“The horned Ammon,—and the monster huge!
“Prepar'd to glut his hunger with my child.
“Then was thy spouse snatch'd from thee, when remain'd
“Of help no hope; to all she lost appear'd.
“Thy savage heart perhaps had ev'n rejoic'd
“To see her perish, that our greater grief
“Might lighten part of thine. Couldst thou her see
“Fast chain'd before thee? uncle! spouse betroth'd!
“And yet no aid afford! And storm'st thou thus?
“She to another now her safety owes;
“And would'st thou snatch the prize? So high if seems
“To thee her precious value, thy bold arm
“Should on the rock where chain'd she lay, have sought
“And have deserv'd her. Now permit that he
“Who sought her there; through whom my failing age
“Is not now childless, grant that he enjoy
“Peaceful, what through his merits he no less,
“Than our firm compact claims: not him to thee,
“But him to certain loss I preference gave.”

Nought Phineus answer'd, but his furious eyes
Now Perseus, now the king alternate view;
Doubtful or this to pierce, or that: his pause
Was short; his powerful arm, by fury nerv'd,
At Perseus hurl'd the quivering spear,—in vain!
Fixt in the couch it stood. Quick bounded up
Th' indignant youth, and deep in Phineus' breast,
Had plung'd the point returning, but he shrunk
Behind an altar; which, O shame! preserv'd
The impious villain. Yet not harmless sped
The weapon;—full in Rhætus' front it stuck;
Who lifeless dropp'd; broke in the bone the steel;
He spurn'd, and sprinkled all the feast with gore.
Then rag'd with ire ungovern'd all the crowd,
And hurl'd in showers their weapons; some fierce cry'd,
Cepheus, no less than Perseus, death deserv'd.
But Cepheus left the hall, adjuring loud,
The hospitable gods; justice; and faith;
That he was guiltless of the sanguine fray.

Minerva comes; her sheltering Ægis shields
Her brother's body; in his breast she breathes
Redoubled valor. Atys, Indian bred,
Whom fair Limnaté, Ganges' daughter, bore,
'Tis told, amid the waters' crystal caves,
Scarce sixteen years had seen. His beauteous form,
In gorgeous dress more beauteous still appear'd.
A purple garment fring'd around with gold,
Enwrapp'd him; round his neck were golden beads;
And pins and combs of gold his lovely locks,
With myrrh sweet-smelling, held. Well skill'd the youth
To hurl the javelin to its distant mark;
But more to bend the bow. Him Perseus smote,
The flexile bow just bending, with a brand
Snatch'd flaming from the altar; crush'd, his face
A horrid mass of fractur'd bones appears.
His beauteous features Lycabas beheld
In blood convuls'd: his dearest comrade he,
And one who proud his ardent love display'd.
Griev'd to behold the last expiring breath,
Of Atys parting from the furious wound,
He seiz'd the bow the youth had bent, and cry'd;—
“The battle try with me!—not long thy boast
“Of conquest o'er a boy; a conquest more
“By hate than fame attended.” Railing thus,
The piercing weapon darted from the string.

Now Phineus, fearful hand to hand to meet
The foe, his javelin hurl'd, the point ill-aim'd
On Idas glanc'd, who vainly kept aloof
With neutral weapon. Phineus, stern he view'd,
“With threatening frown, exclaiming;—”though no share
“In this mad broil I took, now, Phineus, feel
“The power of him whom thou hast forc'd a foe;
“And take reciprocally wound for wound.”
Then from his side the weapon tore to hurl;
But fast the life-stream gush'd, he instant fell.
Here, by the sword of Clymenus was slain,
Odites, noblest lord in Cepheus' court;
Protenor fell by Hypseus; Hypseus sunk
Beneath Lyncides' arm. Amid the throng
Was old Emathion too, friend to the just,
And fearer of the gods; though ancient years
Forbade his wielding arms, what aid his words
Could give, he spar'd not: curs'd the impious war,
In loud upbraidings. As with trembling arms,
He grasp'd the altar, Chromis' gory sword
His neck divided; on the altar dropp'd
The head; and there the trembling, dying tongue,
Faint imprecations utter'd; 'midst the flames
He breath'd his spirit forth. By Phineus' hand,
Broteas and Ammon fell: the brother-twins
Unconquer'd in the fight, the cæstus shower'd;
Could but the cæstus make the falchion yield:
But Perseus felt it not,—its point hung fixt
Amidst his garments' folds. On him he turn'd,
The falchion, glutted with Medusa's gore,
And plung'd it in his breast. Dying, he looks
Around, with eyes rolling in endless night,
For Atys, and upon him drops: then pleas'd,
Thus join'd in death, he seeks the shades below.
Methion's son, Syenian Phorbas, now
And fierce Amphimedon, in Lybia born,
Rush in the fight to mingle; both fall prone,
The slippery earth wide spread with smoking blood.
The sword attacks them rising; in his throat
Phorbas receives it, and the other's side.
But Erythis, of Actor born, whd rear'd
An axe tremendous, not the waving sword
Of Perseus meets: a cup of massive bulk,
With both his hands high-heaving, fierce he hurls
Full on his foe: he vomits gory floods;
Falls back, and strikes with dying head the earth.
Then Polydæmon falls, sprung from the blood
Of queen Semiramis; Lycetes brave,
The son of Spercheus; Abaris, who dwelt
On frozen Caucasus; and Helicen
With unshorn tresses; Phlegias; Clitus too;
Those with the rest beneath his weapon fall;
And on the rising heaps of dead he stands.
And fell Ampycus; Ceres' sacred priest,
His temples with a snow-white fillet bound.
Thou, O, Japetides! whose string to sound
Such discord knew not; but whose harp still tun'd,
The works of peace, in concord with thy voice;
Wast bidden here to celebrate the feast:
And cheer the nuptial banquet with thy song!
Him, when at distance Pettalus beheld,
Handling his peaceful instrument, he cry'd
In mocking laughter;—“go, and end thy song,
“Amid the Stygian ghosts,”—and instant plung'd
Through his left temple, his too deadly sword.
Sinking, his dying fingers caught the strings,
And, chance-directed, gave a mournful sound.
Not long the fierce Lycormas saw his fall
Without revenge: a massy bar of oak
From the right gate he tore, and on the bones
Behind the neck, the furious blow was aim'd:
Prone on the earth, like a crush'd ox he fell.
Pelates of Cinypheus, strove to rend
A like strong fastening from th' opposing door;
The dart of Corythus his tugging hand
Transfix'd, and nail'd him to the wood confin'd:
Here Abas, with his spear, deep pierc'd his side:
Nor dying fell he;—by the hand retain'd,
Firm to the post he hung. Melaneus fell.
The arms of Perseus aiding; Dorilas,
The wealthiest lord in Nasamonia's land,
Fell too beside him: rich was he in fields;
In wide extent no lands with his could vie;
Nor equal his in hoarded heaps of grain.
Obliquely in his groin, the missive spear
Stuck deep,—a mortal spot: his Bactrian foe
His rolling eyes beheld, and dying breath
In sobs convulsive flitting, and exclaim'd;—
“This spot thou pressest, now of all thy lands,
“Possess,”—and turning left the lifeless corse.
Avenging Perseus hurls at him the spear,
Torn from the smoking wound; the point, receiv'd
Full in the nostrils, pierces through the neck:
Before, behind, expos'd the weapon stands.

Now fortune aids his blows, the brother pair,
Clanis, and Clytius fall, by different wounds.
Hurl'd by his nervous arm, the ashen spear
Transfix'd the thighs of Clytius: Clanis dy'd
Biting the steel that pierc'd his mouth. Now fell
Mendesian Celadon; and Astreus borne
By Hebrew mother, to a doubtful sire.
Now dy'd Ethion, once deep skill'd to see
The future fates; now by his skill deceiv'd.
Thoactes, who the monarch's armor bore;
And base Agyrtes, murderer of his sire.
Crowds though he conquers, thickening crowds remain;
For all united wage on him the war.
In every quarter fight the press, conspir'd
To aid a cause to worth and faith oppos'd.
The sire, with useless piety,—the queen,
And new-made bride, the hero's party take;
And fill the hall with screams. The clang of arms,
And groans of dying men their screamings drown.
The houshold deities, polluted once,
The fierce Bellona bathes with gore again;
With double fury lighting up the war.

Now Phineus, followed by a furious throng
Surrounds him single; thicker fly their darts
Than wintry hail, on every side; his sight
They cloud, and deafening, whiz his ears around.
By crowds opprest, retreating, Perseus leans
His shoulders 'gainst a massive pillar's height;
And, safe behind, dares all the furious fight.
Chaonian Molpeus rushes on his left;
Ethemon, Nabathæan, on his right:
Thus a fierce tiger, urg'd by famine, hears
Combin'd the lowings of two different herds,
Far distant in the vale; in doubt he stands,
On this, or that to rush; and furious burns
On both at once to thunder. Perseus so,
To left and right inclin'd at once to bear,
Plerc'd first the thigh of Molpeus,—straight he fled
Unfollow'd; for Ethemon fiercely press'd.
He, furious aiming at the hero's neck,
With ill-directed strength, his weapon broke
Against a column;—back the shiver'd point
Sprung, and his throat transfix'd: slight was the wound;
To doom to death unable. Perseus plung'd
His mortal falchion, as the trembling wretch
His helpless arms extended, in his breast.
But now his valor Perseus found oppress'd
By crowds unequal, and aloud exclaim'd;—
“Since thus you force me, from my very foe
“More aid I'll ask;—my friends avert your eyes!”
Then shew'd the Gorgon's head. “Go, elsewhere seek,”
Said Thescelus,—“for those such sights may move:”—
The deadly javelin poising in his hand,
In act to throw, a marble form he stands,
In the same posture. Near him Ampyx rear'd,
Against the brave Lyncides' breast his sword;
His uprais'd hand was harden'd; here, or there,
To wave unable. Nileus now display'd
Seven argent streams upon a shield of gold;
False boasting offspring from the seven-mouth'd Nile;
And cry'd;—“Lo! Perseus, whence my race deriv'd;
“Down to the silent shades this solace bear
“By such a hand to die.” The final words
Were lost; his sounding voice abrupt was stay'd;
His open'd mouth still seem'd the words to form,
Incapable to utter. Eryx storm'd
At these, exclaiming;—-“not the Gorgon's hairs
“Freeze ye, but your own trembling, dastard souls:
“Rush forth with me, and on the earth lay low,
“The youth who battles thus with magic arms.”
Fierce had he rush'd, but firmly fixt his feet
Held him to earth, a rigid, fasten'd stone;
A statue arm'd. These well their fate deserv'd,
But one, Aconteus, while in aid he fought
Of Perseus, sudden stood to stone congeal'd;
As star'd the Gorgon luckless in his face.
Him saw Astyages, but thought he liv'd;
And fierce attack'd him with a mighty sword.
Shrill tinkling sounds the blow: astonish'd stands
Astyages;—astonish'd seems the stone;
For while he stares, he too to marble turns.
Long were the tale, of each plebeïan death
To tell; two hundred still unhurt remain;
By Gorgon's head two hundred stiffen'd stand:
When Phineus seems the strife unjust to mourn.
But what to act remains? Around him crowd,
The forms of numerous friends: his friends he knows,
Their aid intreats, and calls on each by name:
Still doubting, seizes those his grasp can reach
And finds them stone! Averse he turns his eyes;
Raises his conscious arms and hands oblique,
And suppliant begs;—“go Perseus,—conqueror, go!
“Remove that dreadful monster,—bear away
“That stone-creating visage, Gorgon's head!
“Whate'er it be, I pray thee bear it hence.
“Nor hate, nor lust of empire, rais'd our arms
“Against thee;—for my wife alone we warr'd.
“Thy cause, by merit best; mine, but by time.
“Bravest of men, me much it grieves I e'er,
“Thy claim oppos'd: existence only give,
“All else be thine.” To him, as thus he begg'd,
Fearing his eyes, to whom he suppliant spoke
To turn;—“thou dastard, Phineus!” Perseus cry'd,—
“What I can grant, I will; and what I grant
“To souls like thine a mighty boon must seem.
“Dispel thy terror; rest from steel secure.
“Yet must a during monument remain,
“Still in the dwelling of my spouse's sire,
“Conspicuous. So my bride may daily see
“Her imag'd husband.” Speaking thus, he held
The Gorgon's head, where pallid, Phineus turn'd;
So turning stiffen'd stood the neck; so turn'd
Appear'd th' inverted eyes; the humid balls
To stone concreted. Still the timid look,
And suppliant face, and tame-petitioning arms,
And guilty awe-struck look, in stone remain'd.

Now victor, Abantiades re-seeks
His soil paternal, with his well-earn'd bride:
And in his undeserving grandsire's aid,
Avenging war on Prœtus he declares.
Prœtus then all Acrisius' cities held;
From each possession forc'd, his brother fled.
But arms, and battled towns, like ill-possess'd,
The head snake-curl'd, oblig'd at once to stoop.
Yet not the youth's bold valor, amply prov'd,
By all his brave atchievements; nor his toils
Thee, Polydectes, mov'd; who rul'd the isle,
The paltry isle, Seriphus; stubborn still,
Inexorable hatred thou maintain'st:
Endless against him burns thy rage unjust.
Nay, from his true deserts, thou would'st detract;
And swear'st Medusa's death a fiction form'd.
Then Perseus;—“thus if true I speak, or no,
“Experience. Close, my friends, your eyes!”—as forth,
He held the Gorgon;—bloodless stood the face
Of Polydectes, turn'd a marble form.

Thus far, Minerva aided side by side,
Her brother golden-born; then swiftly flew,
Wrapt in a cloud opaque; and distant left
Seriphus. On she flies, to right she leaves
Cythnos, and Gyaros; and cross the main
The shortest route she hastens; speeds to Thebes,
And seeks the Heliconian nymphs, whose mount
Alighting feels her first: the learned nine,
Thus she bespeaks;—“fame tells, a new-made spring,
“Burst from a blow the swift-wing'd horse's hoof
“Inflicted; lo! the cause I hither come.
“That steed I saw spring from his mother's blood:
“Fain would I this new prodigy behold.”
Urania gave reply. “O, maid divine!
“What cause soe'er has with thy presence grac'd.
“Our dwelling, proves to us a grateful boon.
“Fame speaks not false. Our fountain surely sprung
“Sole from Pegasus.” Speaking thus, she leads
The virgin goddess to the sacred streams:
Who long the spring admir'd;—the spring produc'd
From the hoof's blow:—around surveying views
The groves of ancient trees, the grots, the plants
Of ever-vary'd tint; and happy calls
The learned nymphs, who such a spot possess'd.
Then thus a sister;—“O, divinest maid!
“Our choir to join most worthy, did not aims
“Of loftier import tempt thy warlike soul,
“Right hast thou spoke; our habitation well,
“And well our arts thy highest praises claim.
“Blest were our lot, if still from danger free:
“But nought a villain's daring power restrains,
“And terror soon our virgin minds appals.
“Ev'n now the dread Pyreneus to my eyes
“Stands present: to its wonted calm not yet
“Restor'd my mind. With furious Thracian bands
“Daulis he conquer'd, and the Phocian fields;
“And held the sway unjust. Parnassus' fane
“We sought; th' usurper there beheld us pass,
“And feigning reverence for our power divine
“Worshipp'd, and then address'd us, whom he knew.
“Here, O! ye Muses, rest, nor dubious stand
“But straight beneath my sheltering roof avoid
“The cloudy heaven, and rain (for fast it shower'd)
“Oft mighty deities have enter'd roofs
“Less pompous.—By his invitation urg'd,
“And by the tempest, we accede and step
“Within the hall. The pelting showers now ceas'd,
“Auster by Boreas vanquish'd; fled the clouds
“Black lowering, and the face of heaven left clear:
“Anxious we wish to go: Pyreneus fast
“His dwelling closes, and rough force prepares:
“Wings we assume, and from his force escape.
“He, standing on the loftiest turret's top,
“Like us his flight about to wing, exclaims—
“A path you lead, that path will I pursue.
“Then madly from the tower's most lofty wall,
“Dash'd on his face he fell, and dying strew'd
“His shatter'd bones upon the blood-stain'd ground.”

As spoke the muse thus, loud and strong was heard,
Of fluttering pinions in the air the sound;
And hailing voices from high branches came.
Jove's daughter then around enquiring look'd
(The sounds she hears, so like the human voice,
From human voice she deems them) birds the sound
Emitted: magpies were they;—magpies nine:
Their doom lamenting, on the boughs they sate,
Aping in voice their neighbours all around.
Then to the wondering goddess, thus the muse
Explain'd: “These vanquish'd in the arduous strife
“Of song, to us submitting, swell the crowd
“Of feather'd fliers. In Pellenian lands
“Most rich was Pierus their sire; to him
“Evippé of Pæonia bore the nymphs;
“Nine times invoking great Lucina's aid.
“Vain of their number, proud the sister-crew,
“In folly journey'd through Thessalia's towns,
“And through the towns of Greece; when here arriv'd
“Thus to the test of power their words provoke:—
“At length desist to cheat the senseless crowd
“With harmony pretended, Thespian maids!
“With us contend, if faith your talents give
“For such a trial. Ye in voice and skill
“Surpass us not,—our numbers are the same.
“If vanquish'd, yield the Medusæan fount,
“And Hyantean Aganippé,—we
“If conquer'd, all Emanthæa's regions cede,
“Far as Pæonia's snows. The nymphs around
“The contest shall decide. Deep shame we felt
“Thus to contend, but deeper shame appear'd
“To yield without contention to their boast.
“The nymphs elected to adjudge the prize
“Swear by the floods; and on the living rock
“Seated, await to hear the rival songs.

“Then one, impatient who should first commence,
“Or we, or they, arises;—sings the war
“Of gods and giants; to the rebels gives
“False praises; and the high celestials' power
“Much under-rating, tells how Typhon, rais'd.
“From earth's most deep recesses, struck with fear
“All heaven: each god betook him straight to flight
“Far distant, till th' Egyptian land receiv'd
“Each weary'd foot, where Nile's dissever'd stream
“Pours in seven mouths. How earth-born Typhon here,
“They tell, pursu'd them; and each god, conceal'd
“In feign'd resemblance, cheated there his power.
“Jove, (so she sung) a leading ram became;
“(Whence still the Lybians form their Ammon horn'd)
“The crow Apollo hid: a goat the son
“Of Semelé became: Diana skulk'd
“In shape a cat: a snow-white cow conceal'd
“The form of Juno: Venus seem'd a fish:
“And 'neath an Ibis Hermes safely crouch'd.

“Thus far she mov'd her vocal lips; thus far
“Her lyre her voice attended: then they call
“For our Aönian song. But that to hear,
“Perchance your leisure suits not; pressing deeds
“Unlike our songs must more your time demand.”
Pallas replies;—“be hesitation far,
“And all your song from first commence relate.”
So saying, in the forest's pleasing shade
She rested; while the Muse proceeding, spoke.

“To one the sole contending task we give,
“Calliopé;—she rises, neatly bound,
“Her flowing tresses with an ivy wreath.
“With dexterous thumb the trembling strings she tries,
“Then to their quivering sounds this song subjoins.
“Ceres at first with crooked plough upturn'd
“The glebe; she first mild fruits and milder corn
“Gave to the earth; and rules to tend them gave:
“All gifts from her proceed. To her the song
“I raise. Would that my best exerted power,
“A song to suit thy least deserts could form,
“O, goddess! worthy of our loftiest praise.

“The vast Sicilian isle, with pressure huge
“Thrown o'er them, deep the limbs gigantic weighs
“Of huge Typhœus, who the heavenly throne
“Had dar'd to hope for: struggling oft he tries,
“His efforts, daily bent to lift his load:
“But hard Pelorus on his right hand lies,
“Ausonia facing; while Pachyné rests
“Heavy to left: wide o'er his giant thighs
“Spreads Lilybœum: Etna presses down
“His head; beneath whose crater, laid supine,
“From his hot mouth he ashes sends, and flames.
“Thus with his body labouring to remove
“The ponderous load of earth;—whole towns o'erwhelm;
“And lofty hills o'erturn; trembles the ground;
“And Hell's dread monarch fears a chasm should gape:
“And through the opening wide his realm display:
“The trembling ghosts with light un'custom'd scar'd.
“The shock to meet expecting, starts the king
“Quick from his cloudy throne; and in his car
“Borne by his sable steeds, with care surveys
“Sicilia's deep foundations; wide around
“Exploring all; then with his toils content,
“No ruin'd part detected, flings aside
“Each apprehension. Strolling now at ease,
“Him Venus from the Erycinian hill
“Espy'd; and to her feather'd son, who lay
“Clasp'd in her arms, exclaim'd;—O, Cupid! son!
“My sole assistant! sole defence and aid!
“Seize now that weapon which o'er all has sway,
“That piercing dart,—and deep within the breast
“Of the dark god whose lot was given to rule
“The nether regions of the triple realm,
“Bury it. All the gods thy might confess;
“Ev'n Jove himself. The ocean powers allow
“Thy rule, and he whom Ocean's powers obey.
“Why then should Tartarus alone evade
“Thy thrall? Why not my empire and thine own
“With that complete? Of all the world's extent
“A third is stak'd. Nay more, our utmost power,
“Heaven our own seat contemns;—thy potent sway,
“And mine alike impair'd. Behold'st thou not
“Minerva, with the quiver-bearing maid
“Deserting me? Thus will the blooming child
“Of Ceres, if we grant it, still remain
“Inviolate a virgin;—thither tend
“Her anxious hopes. But thou, if dear thou hold'st
“Our mutual realm, the virgin goddess link
“In union with her uncle.—Venus spoke:
“His quiver he unlooses; from the heap
“Of darts, by her directed, one selects,
“Than which none bore a keener point; than which,
“None flew more certain,—trusty to the string.
“Bends to his knee the yielding horn, then sends
“Through Pluto's heart the bearded arrow sure.
“Not far from Enna's walls, a lake expands
“Profound in watery stores, Pergusa nam'd:
“Not ev'n Caïsters' murmuring stream e'er heard
“The songster-swans more frequent. Woods o'ertop
“The waters, rising round on every side;
“And veil from Phœbus' rays the surface cool.
“A shade the branches form; the moist earth round,
“Produces purple flowers: perpetual spring
“Here reigns. While straying sportive in this grove
“Here Proserpine the violet cropp'd, and here
“The lily fair; with childish ardor warm'd
“Her bosom filling, and her basket high:
“Proud to surpass her comrades all around
“In skilful culling, she herself was seen;
“Was chosen, and by Dis was snatch'd away.
“Love urg'd him to the deed. Th' affrighted maid,
“Loud on her mother, and her comrades call'd;
“But chief her mother, with lamenting shrieks.
“Then as her robe she rent, the well-cull'd flowers
“Slipp'd through the loosen'd folds: e'en this (so great
“Her girlish innocence) her tears increas'd.
“Swiftly the robber speeds his car along
“Urging his steeds' exertions each by name;
“'Bove their high manes and necks the rusty reins
“Rattling, as o'er the wide Palician lake,
“Where the cleft earth with sulphur boils, he whirls:
“And where the Bacchiads, from the double sea
“Of Corinth wandering, rais'd their lofty walls;
“'Twixt two unequal havens. Midst, the stream,
“Pisæan Arethusa, and the lake
“Of Cyané are seen, close round embrac'd
“By narrowing horns. This Cyané was once,
“Of all Sicilia's nymphs, the fairest deem'd;
“Who gave the lake her name. She to the waist
“Uprais'd, amidst the waters stood, and knew
“The god, and,—here thy speed must stay,—exclaim'd;
“Nor e'er of Ceres hope the son-in-law
“'Gainst her consent to be: beseechings bland,
“Not rugged rape, thy purpos'd hope might gain.
“If lofty things with low I durst compare,
“Anapis lov'd me; but the nuptial couch,
“I press'd, entreated,—not as thus in dread.
“She said;—her arms extended wide, and stopp'd
“His course. The angry son of Saturn flames
“Swelling with rage; exhorts his furious steeds;
“Throws with a forceful arm, and buries deep
“His regal sceptre in the lowest gulph:
“Wide gapes the stricken earth; an opening gives
“To hell, and headlong down, the car descends.

Now equal Cyané the goddess mourns,
“So forc'd; and her own sacred stream despis'd;
“A cureless wound her silent breast contains;
“And all in tears she wastes: lost in those waves,
“Where lately sovereign goddess she had rul'd.
“Soft grow her limbs, and flexile seem her bones;
“Her nails their hardness lose. The tenderest parts.
“Melt into water long before the rest:
“Her tresses green; her fingers, legs, and feet.
“Quickly this change the smaller limbs perceive,
“To cooling rills transform'd. Next after these,
“Her back, her shoulders, breasts, and sides dissolve,
“And vanish all in streams. A limpid flood
“Now fills the veins that once in purple flow'd;
“Nought of the nymph to fill the grasp remains.

“Meantime the trembling mother through the earth,
“And o'er the main, the goddess vainly sought.
“Aurora rising, with her locks of gold;
“Nor Hesper sinking, saw her labors cease.
“With either hand at Etna's flaming mouth,
“A torch she lighted, restless these she bore
“In dewy darkness. Then renew'd again
“Her labor, till fair day made blunt the stars;
“From Sol's first rising till his evening fall.
“Weary'd at length, and parch'd with thirst,—no stream
“Her lips to moisten nigh, by chance she spy'd
“A straw-thatch'd cot, and knock'd the humble door.
“An ancient dame thence stepp'd,—the goddess saw,
“And brought her, (who for water simply crav'd)
“A pleasing draught where roasted grain had boil'd.
“Swallowing the gift presented, rudely came
“A brazen-fronted boy, and facing stood:
“Then laughing mock'd to see her greedy drink.
“Angry grew Ceres, all the offer'd draught,
“Yet unconsum'd, she drench'd him as he jeer'd,
“With barley mixt with liquid: straight his face
“The spots imbib'd; and what but now as arms
“He bore, as legs he carries; to his limbs
“Thus chang'd, a tail is added; shrunk in size,
“Small is his power to harm; shorter he seems
“Than the small lizard. Swift away he fled
“(As, wondering, weeping, try'd the dame to clasp
“His changing form) and gain'd a sheltering hole.
“Well suits his star-like skin the name he bears.

“Long were the tale to tell, what tracts of land
“What tracts of sea, the wandering goddess pass'd.
“Earth now no spot unsearch'd affording, back
“To Sicily she turns; with close research
“Each part exploring, till at length she comes
“To Cyané; who all the tale had told
“If still unchang'd: much as she wish'd to speak
“Nor lips, nor tongue can aid her; nought remains
“Speech to afford. Yet plain a sign she gives,
“The zone of Proserpine upon her waves
“Light floating; in the sacred stream it fell;—
“Dropt as she pass'd the place. Well Ceres knew
“The sight, and then—as then her loss first known,
“Tore her dishevell'd tresses, beat her breast
“With blows on blows redoubled. Still unknown
“The spot that holds her, every part of earth
“Blaming, ungrateful, worthless of her fruits.
“But chief Trinacria, in whose isle was found
“The vestige of her loss. For this she breaks
“With furious hand the glebe up-turning plough:
“And angry, to an equal death she dooms,
“The tiller and his ox: forbids the fields
“Back to return th' entrusted grain; the seeds
“All rotting. Now that fertile land, renown'd
“Through the wide earth, lies useless; all the grain
“Dies in the earliest shoots: now scorching rays;
“Now floods of rain destroy it: noxious stars
“Now harm; now blighting winds: and hungry birds
“The scatter'd seed devour: the darnel springs,
“The thistle, and the knot-grass thick, which choke
“The sprouting wheat, and make the harvest void.

“Now Arethusa from th' Eleian waves
“Exalts her head; her dropping tresses flung
“Back from her forehead, parting shade her ears:
“And thus;—O goddess! mother of the maid,
“So sought through earth, mother of all earth's fruits!
“Cease now thy toilsome labor; cease thine ire,
“Against the land that prov'd to thee so true:
“Thine ire unmerited; unwilling she,
“Op'd for the spoil a passage. Hither I
“No suppliant for my native isle approach;
“An alien here sojourning. Pisa's land
“My country; there near Elis first I sprung:
“A stranger now in Sicily I dwell.
“This soil, more grateful far than is my own;
“This soil, where I my houshold gods have plac'd;
“I, Arethusa, and have fix'd my seat,
“Preserve, mild goddess! Why I chang'd my land,
“Why to Ortygia, through the wide waves borne,
“I came, a more appropriate hour will ask;
“When you, from care reliev'd, can grant your ear
“With brow unclouded. Through the opening earth
“I flow; and borne through subterraneous depths,
“Here lift again my head, again behold
“The long-lost stars. Hence was my lot to see,
“As pass'd my stream close by the Stygian gulph,
“Your Proserpine;—sad still her face appear'd,
“Nor fear had wholly left it. Yet she reigns
“A queen; the mightiest in the realm of shade,
“The powerful consort of th' infernal king.

“Like marble at the words the mother stands,
“Stupid with grief; and long astounded seems:
“Sorrow by heavier sorrow now surpass'd.
“Then in her chariot mounts th' ethereal sky,
“And stands indignant at th' imperial throne;
“Her locks wild flowing, and her face in clouds.
“Lo! here a suppliant, Jove,—she cry'd,—I come,
“To beg for her, my daughter and thine own;
“For if no favor may the mother find,
“The daughter's claim may move. Let not thy child
“Deserve thy care the less, as born of me.
“Lo! my lost maid, so long, so vainly sought
“At length is found; if finding we may call
“A surer loss; if finding we may call
“The knowledge where she is. Her ravish'd charms
“I'll pardon; let him but my child restore.
“What though a robber might my daughter wed,
“Thine sure is worthy of a different mate!
“Then Jove;—our daughter, our dear mutual pledge,
“As yours, so mine, demands our mutual care.
“But rightly still affairs if we design,
“What you lament will no injustice prove;
“Love only. Sure, a son-in-law like him,
“Can ne'er degrade, will you consent but yield.
“Grant nought beyond,—'tis no such trivial boast,
“Jove's brother to be call'd! How then, if more
“I claim pre-eminence from chance alone!
“Still, if so obstinate your wish remains
“For separation, go,—let Proserpine
“To heaven return, on this condition strict,
“Her lips no food have touch'd. So will the fates.
“He ceas'd.—Glad Ceres, certain to regain
“Her daughter, knew not what the fates forbade.
“Her fast was broken; thoughtless as she stray'd
“Around the garden, from a bending tree
“She pluck'd a fair pomegranate, and seven seeds
“From the pale rind she pick'd, and ate. None saw
“Save one, Ascalaphus, the luckless deed;
“Whom Orphné, fam'd Avernus' nymphs among,
“To Acheron, long since, 'tis said, produc'd
“Beneath a dusky cave. He, cruel, told;
“And his discovery stay'd the hop'd return.

“Much wept the queen of Pluto, but she chang'd
“The vile informer to an hideous shape:
“Sprinkled with streams of Phlegethon, his head
“Feather'd appears, with beak, and monstrous eyes;
“Spoil'd of his shape, with yellow feathers cloth'd:
“Large grows his head; bent are his lengthen'd nails;
“Scarcely he moves the pinions which are shot
“Light from his lazy arms. A filthy bird
“Becoming;—constant presager of woe;
“An owl inactive; omen dire to man.

“Well he by his informing tongue deserv'd,
“His doom, but Acheloïdes, from whence
“Your wings, and bird-like feet, whilst still you bear
“Your virgin features? Was it that you mix'd,
“When Proserpine the vernal flowers would cull,
“Amidst her numerous train? The nymph you sought
“Through earth's extent in vain; that ocean too
“Your anxious search might scape not, straight you pray'd
“For waving wings to winnow o'er the deep;
“And favouring gods you found. Of golden hue
“Quick-shooting wings your arms you saw bespread;
“But lest your inbred song, which every ear
“Had charm'd; and lest your highly-gifted voice,
“Your tongue should fail to use;—a virgin face,
“And speech yet human are indulg'd you still.

“Now Jove as umpire 'twixt the angry pair
“His mourning sister, and his brother, bids
“The year revolving either side oblige:
“Now will the goddess, mutual in each realm,
“Six months with Ceres dwell in heaven; and six
“Reign with her spouse in hell. Straight were perceiv'd
“The goddess' countenance, and demeanour chang'd.
“For now her forehead, which had still retain'd,
“(To Pluto even) a sad and sorrowing gloom,
“Gladden'd: so Phœbus long in cloudy shade
“Envelop'd, shines, their umbrous veil dispers'd.
“Now Ceres calm, her daughter safe regain'd,
“Enquires:—O Arethusa! say the cause,
“Which hither brought thee; why a sacred fount?
“Hush'd were the waves; and from the lowest depths
“The goddess rais'd her head; and as she told,
“The old amours the flood of Elis knew,
“Press'd out the water from her tresses green.

“Once with the nymphs, that on Achaïa's hills
“Rove, was I seen; none closer beat than I
“The thickets; none than I more skilful spread
“Th' ensnaring net. Yet though no fame I sought
“For beauty; though robust, I bore the name
“Of beauteous. Whilst the constant theme of praise,
“My features fair, to me no pleasure gave;
“What other nymphs inspire with joyful pride,
“Corporeal charms, did but my blushes raise.
“To please I thought a crime. Once tir'd with sport,
“The Stymphalidian forest I had left:
“Warm was the day; I with redoubled heat,
“Glow'd from my toil. A gliding stream I found
“By ripplings undisturb'd; silent and smooth
“It flow'd; so clear, that every stone was seen
“On the deep bottom; gently crept the waves;
“To creep scarce seeming; o'er the shelving banks
“The stream-fed poplar, and the willow hoar,
“A grateful shadow cast. The brink I reach'd
“Dipp'd first my feet, then waded to my knee;
“Not yet content, I loos'd my zone, and hung
“Upon a bending osier my soft robe:
“Then naked plung'd amid the stream; the waves
“Beating, and sporting in a thousand shapes;
“My arms around in every posture flung;
“A strange unusual murmur seem'd to sound,
“Deep from the bottom; terror-struck I gain'd
“The nearest brink;—when,—whither dost thou fly?
“O, Arethusa? whither dost thou fly?
“Alphæus, from his waters, hoarse exclaim'd!
“Vestless I fled, for on th' opposing bank
“My garment hung. Fiercer the god pursu'd;
“Fiercer he burn'd, all naked as I ran:
“Prepar'd more ready for his force I seem'd.
“Such was my flight, and such was his pursuit;
“As when on trembling wings, before the hawk
“Fly the mild doves: as when the hawk fierce drives
“The trembling doves before him. Long the chase
“I bore; Orchomenus, and Psophis soon
“I pass'd, and pass'd Cyllené, and the caves
“Of Mænalus, and Erymanthus' frosts,
“To Elis, ere his speed could cope with mine.
“In strength unequal, I sustain'd no more
“The toilsome race; he stouter flagg'd less soon.
“But still o'er plains I ran; o'er mountains thick
“With forests clad; o'er stones, and rugged rocks;
“And pathless spots. Behind me Phœbus shone.
“I saw, if fear deceiv'd me not, far spread
“His shade before me. What could less deceive,
“I heard his footsteps; and his breath full strong
“Blew on my banded tresses. Weary'd, faint
“With the long flight, I cry'd;—Dictynna, chaste!
“Lost am I,—help a quiver-bearing nymph,
“One who thy bow has oft entrusted borne;
“And oft thy quiver, loaded full with darts.
“Mov'd was the goddess; from the darkest clouds
“She one selected, and around me threw.
“The river-god, about the misty veil
“Pry'd anxious; and unwitting deeply grop'd
“Within the hollow cloud! Unconscious, twice
“The spot he compass'd, where Diana thought
“My safety surest; twice he then aloud
“Ho! Arethusa,—Arethusa! call'd:—
“What terror seiz'd my soul! not less the dread
“Of lambs, when round the sheltering fold they hear
“The wolves loud howling: or the trembling hare
“Close in a bramble hid, who sees approach
“The wide-mouth'd, hostile hounds, and fears to move.
“Further he pass'd not, for beyond the place
“No footsteps he discern'd, but guarding watch'd
“Around the mist. So closely thus besieg'd,
“My limbs a cold sweat seiz'd; cerulean drops
“Fell from my body; when my feet I mov'd,
“A pool remain'd; fast dropp'd my hair in dew;
“And speedier than the wonderous tale I tell,
“Chang'd to a stream I flow'd. But soon the god,
“Knew his lov'd waters; laid the man aside,
“And straight assum'd his proper watery form;
“With mine to mingle. Dian' cleft the ground;
“Sinking, through caverns dark I held my way;
“And reach'd Ortygia, from the goddess nam'd;
“There first ascending view'd the upper skies.

“Here Arethusa ceas'd. Then Ceres yokes
“The coupled dragons to her car, their mouths
“Curb'd by the reins; and through the air is borne,
“Midway 'twixt heaven and earth. At Pallas' town
“Arriv'd, Triptolemus the car ascends,
“By her commission'd;—bade to spread the seed
“Entrusted: part on ground untill'd before;
“And part on land which long had fallow laid.
“O'er Europe now, and Asia's lands, the youth
“Sublimely sails, and reaches Scythia's clime,
“Where Lyncus rul'd. Beneath the monarch's roof,
“Here enter'd; and to him, who curious sought
“How there he journey'd; what his journey's cause;
“His name, and country; thus the youth reply'd.—
“Athens the fam'd, my country; and my name
“Triptolemus: but neither o'er the main,
“Borne in a ship, nor travelling slow by land,
“I hither came; my path was through the air.
“I bring the gift of Ceres; scatter'd wide
“Through all your spacious fields, quickly restor'd
“In fruitful crops the wholesome food will spring.
“The barbarous monarch, envious he should bear
“So great a blessing, takes him for his guest,
“And when with sleep weigh'd down attacks him. Rais'd
“To pierce his bosom, was the sword;—just then
“The wretch, by Ceres, to a lynx was turn'd.
“Then mounts again the youth, and through the air
“Bids him once more the sacred dragons steer.

“Our chosen champion ended here her lays,
“And all the nymphs unanimous, exclaim'd;—
“The Heliconian goddesses have gain'd.
“Vanquish'd, the others rail'd. When she resum'd:—
“Is not your punishment enough deserv'd?
“Foil'd in the contest, must you swell your crime,
“With base revilings? Patient now no more,
“To punish we begin; what anger bids,
“We now perform.—Loud laugh'd the scornful maids,
“Our threatening words despis'd, and strove to speak,
“And clapp'd with outcries menacing, their hands.
“When from their fingers shooting plumes they spy;
“And feathers shade their arms; her sister's face,
“Each sees to harden in an horny beak;
“To beat their bosoms trying with rais'd arms,
“In air suspended, on those arms they move;
“The new-shap'd birds the sylvan tribes increase:
“Magpies, the scandal of the grove. Thus chang'd,
“Their former eloquence they still maintain,
“In hoarse garrulity, and empty noise.”

The Sixth Book.

Trial of skill betwixt Pallas and Arachné. Transformation of Arachné to a spider. Pride of Niobé. Her children slain by Apollo and Diana. Her change to marble. The Lycian peasants changed to frogs. Fate of Marsyas. Pelops. Story of Tereus, Procné, and Philomela. Their change to birds. Boreas and Orithyïa. Birth of Zethes and Calaïs.

THE
Sixth Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

Minerva pleas'd attention to the muse,
While thus she spoke afforded; prais'd the song,
And prais'd the just resentment of the maids.
Then to herself;—“the vengeance others take,
“Merely to praise were mean. I too should claim
“Like praise, for like revenge; nor longer bear
“My power contemn'd, by who unpunish'd live.”
And on Arachné, fair Mæönian maid,
She turns her vengeful mind; whose skill she heard
Rivall'd her own in labors of the loom.
No fame her natal town, no fame her sire
On her bestow'd; her skill conferr'd renown.
Idmon of Colophon, her humble sire
Soak'd in the Phocian dye the spongy wool.
Her mother, late deceas'd, from lowest stock,
Had sprung; and wedded with an equal mate.
Yet had she gain'd through all the Lydian towns
For skill a mighty fame. Though born so low,
Though small Hypæpe was her sole abode,
Oft would the nymphs the vine-clad Tmolus leave
To view her wonderous work. Oft would the nymphs
In admiration quit Pactolus' waves.
Nor pleasure only gave the finish'd robe,
When view'd; but while she work'd she gave delight;
Such comely grace in every turn appear'd.
Whether she rounded into balls the wool;
Or with her fingers mollify'd the fleece;
And comb'd it floating light in cloudy waves;
Or her smooth spindle twirl'd with agile thumb;
Or with her needle painted: plain was seen
Her skill from Pallas learnt. This to concede
Unwilling, she ev'n such a tutor scorn'd
Exclaiming:—“come let her the contest try;
“If vanquish'd, let her fix my well-earn'd fate.”

Pallas, an ancient matron's form conceals;
Grey hairs thin strew her temples, and a staff
Supports her tottering limbs; while thus she speaks:—
“Old age though little priz'd, much good attends;
“Experience always grows with lengthen'd years:
“Spurn not my admonition. Great thy fame,
“Midst mortals, for the wonders of the loom.
“Great may it be, but to immortals yield:
“Bold nymph retract, and pardon for thy words,
“With suppliant voice require; Pallas will grant.”
Sternly the damsel views her; quits the threads
Unfinish'd; scarce her hand from force restrains:
And rage in all her features flushing fierce,
Thus to the goddess, well-disguis'd, she speaks:—
“Weak dotard, spent with too great gift of years,
“Curst with too long existence, hence, begone!
“Such admonition to thy daughters give,
“If daughters hast thou; or thy sons have wives:
“Enough for me my inbred wisdom serves.
“Hope not, that ought thy vain advice has sway'd
“My purpose; still my challenge holds the same.
“Why comes your goddess not? why shuns she still
“The trying contest?” Then the goddess,—“Lo!
“She comes,”—and flung her aged form aside,
Minerva's form displaying. Every nymph,
And every dame Mygdonian, lowly bent
In veneration. While Arachné sole
Stood stedfast, unalarm'd; but yet she blush'd.
A sudden flush her angry face deep ting'd,
But sudden faded pale. A ruddy glow
Thus teints the early sky, when first the morn
Arises; quickly from the solar ray
Paling to brightness. On her purpos'd boast
Still stubborn bent, she obstinately courts
Her sure destruction, for the empty hope
Of conquest in the strife so madly urg'd.
No more Jove's maid refuses, gives no more
Her empty admonitions, nor delays
The contest: each her station straight assumes,
Tighten each web; each slender thread prepare.
Firm to the beam the cloth is fix'd; the reed
The warp divides, with pointed shuttle, swift
Gliding between; which quick their fingers throw,
Quick extricate, and with the toothy comb
Firm press'd between the warp, the threads unite.
Both hasten now; their garments round them girt,
Their skilful hands they ply: their toil forgot
In anxious wish for conquest. There appear'd,
The wool of Tyrian dye, and softening teints
Lost imperceptible. So seems the arch
Coloring a spacious portion of the sky;
Struck by the rays of Phœbus, when the showers
Recede, a thousand varying tinges shine;
The soft transition mocks the straining eye,
So like the shades which join, though far distinct
Their distant teints. In slender threads they twist
The pliant gold, and in the web display,
Each as she works, an ancient story fair.
Minerva paints the rock of Mars so fam'd
In Cecrops' city, and the well-known strife
To name the town. Twice six celestials sate
On their high thrones, great Jupiter around
In gravity majestic; every god
Bore his celestial features. Jove appear'd
In royal dignity. The Ocean power
Standing she pictur'd, with his trident huge
Smiting the rugged rock; from the cleft stone
Leap'd forth a steed; and thence the town to name
The privilege he claim'd. Herself she paints
Shielded, and arm'd with keenly-pointed spear.
Helm'd was her head; her breast the Ægis bore.
Struck by her spear, the earth a hoary tree
She shews producing, loaded thick with fruit.
The wondering gods the gift admire; the prize
To her awarded, ends the glorious work.

More, that the daring rival of her art,
Should learn experimental, what reward
Her mad attempt might hope, four parts she adds;
And every part a test of power presents:
Bright the small figures in her colors shine.
This angle Thracian Rhodopé contains,
With Hæmus; both their mortal bodies now,
To frozen mountains chang'd; whose lofty pride
Assum'd the titles of celestial powers.
Another corner held the wretched fate
Felt by Pygmæa's matron; Juno bade
Her vanquish'd rival soar aloft a crane;
And on her people wage continual war.
Antigoné, she paints;—audacious she
With Jove's imperial consort durst contend;
By Jove's imperial queen she flits a bird:
Nor aids her Ilium ought; nor aids her sire,
Laömedon;—upborne on snowy wings,
A stork she rises; loud with chattering bill
She noises. In the sole remaining part,
Was childless Cynaras, in close embrace,
Grasping the temple's steps, his daughters once;
And as he lies extended on the stone,
In marble seems to weep. Around the piece
She spreads the peaceful olive: all complete
Her work is ended with her favorite tree.

Arachné paints Europa, by a bull
Deceiv'd; the god a real bull appears;
And real seem the waves. She, backward turn'd,
Views the receding shore, and seems to shriek
Loud to her lost companions; seems to dread
The dashing waves, and timid shrinks her feet.
She draws Asteria, by the god o'er-power'd,
Cloth'd in an eagle. Leda, fair she lays
Beneath his wings, when he a swan appears.
She adds how Jove beneath a Satyr's shape
Conceal'd, the beauteous child of Nycteus fill'd,
With a twin-offspring. In Amphytrion's form
Alcmena, thou wert press'd. A golden shower
Danaë deceiv'd. A flame Ægina caught.
A shepherd's shape Mnemosyné beguil'd.
And fair Deöis trusts a speckled snake.
Thee, Neptune, too she painted, for the maid
Æolian, to a threatening bull transform'd.
Thou, as Enipeus, didst the Aloïd twins
Beget. Beneath the semblance of a ram,
Theophané was cheated. Ceres mild,
Of grain inventress, with her yellow locks,
In shape a courser felt thy ardent love.
Medusa, mother of the flying steed,
Nymph of the snaky tresses, in a bird
Conceal'd, you forc'd. Melantho in a fish.
To these the damsel, all well-suiting forms
Dispens'd, and all well-suiting scenes attend.
And there Apollo in a herdsman's guise
Wanders. And now he soars a plumy hawk:
Now stalks a lordly lion. As a swain
Macarean Isse, felt his amorous guile,
Erigoné to Bacchus' flame was dup'd
Beneath a well-seem'd grape. Saturn produc'd
The Centaur doubly-shap'd, in form a steed.
Her web's extremes a slender border girt,
Where flowery wreathes, and twining ivy blend.

Not Pallas,—not even envy's rankling soul
Could blame the work. The bright immortal griev'd
To view her rival's merit, angry tore
The picture glowing with celestial crimes.
A boxen shuttle, grasping in her hand,
Thrice on the forehead of th' Idmonian maid
She struck. No more Arachné, hapless bore,
But twisted round her neck with desperate pride
A cord. The deed Minerva pitying saw
And check'd her rash suspension.—“Impious wretch!
“Still live,” she cry'd, “but still suspended hang;
“Curs'd to futurity, for all thy race,
“Thy sons and grandsons, to the latest day
“Alike shall feel the sentence.” Speaking thus,
The juice of Hecat's baleful plant she throws:
Instant besprinkled by the noxious drops,
Her tresses fall; her nose and ears are lost;
Her body shrinks; her head is lessen'd more;
Her slender fingers root within her sides,
Serving as legs; her belly forms the rest;
From whence her thread she still derives and spins:
Her art pursuing in the spider's shape.

All Lydia rung; the wonderous rumor spread
Through every Phrygian town; the tale employ'd
The tongues of all mankind. The nymph was known,
Ere yet Amphion's nuptial bed she press'd,
To Niobé. She, when a virgin dwelt
In Lydian Sipylus. She still unmov'd,
Arachné's neighboring fate not heeded, still
Proudly refus'd before the gods to bend;
And spoke in haughty boasting. Much her pride
By favoring gifts was swol'n. Not the fine skill
Amphion practis'd; not the lofty birth
Each claim'd; not all their mighty kingdom's power,
So rais'd her soul (of all though justly proud)
As her bright offspring. Justly were she call'd
Most blest of mothers; but her bliss too great
Seem'd to herself, and caus'd a dread reverse.

Now Manto, sprung from old Tiresias, skill'd
In future fate, impell'd by power divine,
In every street with wild prophetic tongue
Exclaim'd;—“Ye Theban matrons, haste in crowds,
“Your incense offer, and your pious prayers,
“To great Latona, and the heavenly twins,
“Latona's offspring; all your temples bound
“With laurel garlands. This the goddess bids;
“Through me commands it.” All of Thebes obey,
And gird their foreheads with the order'd leaves;
The incense burn, and with the sacred flames
Their pious prayers ascend. Lo! 'midst a crowd
Of nymphs attendant, far conspicuous seen;
Comes Niobé, in gorgeous Phrygian robe,
Inwrought with gold, attir'd. Beauteous her form,
Beauteous, as rage permitted. Angry shook
Her graceful head; and angry shook the locks
That o'er each shoulder wav'd. Proudly she tower'd.
Her haughty eyes, round from her lofty stand
Wide darting, cry'd;—“What madness this to place
“Reported gods above the gods you see!
“Why to Latona's altars bend ye low,
“Nor incense burn before my power divine?
“My sire, was Tantalus: of mortals sole,
“Celestial feasts he shar'd. A Pleiäd nymph
“Me bore. My grandsire is the mighty king,
“Whose shoulders all the load of heaven sustain.
“Jove is my father's parent: him I boast
“As sire-in-law too. All the Phrygian towns
“Bend to my sway. The hall of Cadmus owns
“Me sovereign mistress. Thebes' high towering walls,
“Rais'd by my consort's lute; and all the crowd
“Who dwell inclos'd, his rule and mine obey.
“Where'er within my palace turn mine eyes,
“Treasures immense I view. Brightness divine
“I boast: to all seven blooming daughters add,
“And seven fair sons; through whom I soon expect,
“If Hymen favors, seven more sons to see,
“And seven more daughters. Need ye further seek
“Whence I have cause for boasting. Dare ye still
“Latona, from Titanian Cæus sprung,—
“The unknown Cæus,—she to whom all earth
“In bearing pangs the smallest space deny'd:—
“This wretch to my divinity prefer?
“Not heaven your goddess would receive; not earth;
“Not ocean: exil'd from the world, she weep'd,
“Till Delos sorrowing,—wanderer like herself,
“Exclaim'd;—thou dreary wanderest o'er the earth,
“I, o'er the main;—and sympathizing thus,
“A resting spot afforded. There become
“Of two the mother, only—can she vie
“With one whose womb, has sevenfold hers surpass'd?
“Blest am I. Who can slightly e'er arraign
“To happiness my claim? Blest will I still
“Continue. Who my bliss can ever doubt?
“Abundance guards its surety. Far beyond
“The power of fortune is my lot uprais'd:
“Snatch them in numbers from me, crowds more great
“Must still remain. My happy state contemns
“Even now, the threats of danger. Grant the power
“Of fate this nation of my womb to thin,—
“Of part depriv'd, impossible I shrink
“To poor Latona's two. How scant remov'd
“From mothers childless! Quit your rites;—quick haste
“And tear those garlands from your flowing hair.”

Aside the garlands thrown, and incomplete,
The rites relinquish'd, what the Thebans could
They gave: their whispering prayers the matron dame
Address'd. With ire the angry goddess flam'd,
And thus on Cynthus' lofty top bespoke
Her double offspring:—“O, my children! see,
“Your parent, proud your parent to be call'd,—
“To no celestial yielding, save the queen
“Of Jove supreme. Lo! doubted is my claim
“To rites divine; and from the altars, burnt
“To me from endless ages, driven, I go;
“Save by my children succour'd. Nor this grief
“Alone me irks, for Niobé me mocks!—
“Her daring crime increasing, proud she sets
“Her offspring far 'bove you. Me too she spurns,—
“To her in number yielding; childless calls
“My bed, and proves the impious stock which gave
“Her tongue first utterance.” More Latona felt
Prepar'd to utter; more beseechings bland
For her young offspring, when Apollo, cry'd:
“Enough, desist to plain;—delay is long
“Till vengeance.” Dian' join'd him in his ire.
Swift gliding down the sky, and veil'd in clouds,
On Cadmus' roof they lighted. Wide was spread,
A level plain, by constant hoofs well beat,
The city's walls adjoining; crowding wheels,
And coursers' feet the rolling dust upturn'd.
Here of Amphion's offspring daily some
Mount their fleet steeds; their trappings gaily press
Of Tyrian dye: heavy with gold, the rens
They guide. 'Mid these Ismenos, primal born
Of Niobé, as round the circling course,
His well-train'd steed he sped, and strenuous curb'd
His foaming mouth,—loudly “Ah, me!” exclaim'd,
As through his bosom deep the dart was driv'n:
Dropp'd from his dying hands the slacken'd reins;
Slowly, and sidelong from his courser's back
He tumbled. Sipylus, gave uncheck'd scope
To his, when through the empty air he heard,
The rattling quiver sound: thus speeding clouds
Beheld, the guider of the ruling helm,
A threatening tempest fearing, looses wide
His every sail to catch the lightest breeze.
Loose flow'd his reins. Th' inevitable dart
The flowing reins quick follow'd. Quivering shook,
Fixt in his upper neck, the naked steel,
Far through his throat protruding. Prone he fell
O'er his high courser's head; his smoking gore,
The ground defiling. Hapless Phœdimas,
And Tantalus, his grandsire's name who bore,
Their 'custom'd sport laborious ended, strove
With youthful vigor in the wrestling toil.
Now breast to breast they strain'd with nervous grasp,
When the swift arrow from the bended horn,
Both bodies pierc'd, as close both bodies join'd;
At once they groan'd; at once their limbs they threw,
With agonies convuls'd, prone on the earth;
At once their rolling eyes the light forsook;
At once their souls were yielded forth to air.
Alphenor saw, and smote his grieving breast;
Flew to their pallid limbs, and as he rais'd,
Their bodies, in the pious office fell:
For Phœbus drove his fate-wing'd arrow deep
Through what his heart inclos'd. Sudden withdrawn,
On the barb'd head the mangled lungs were stuck;
And high in air his soul gush'd forth in blood.
But beardless Damasichthon, by a wound
Not single fell, as those; struck where the leg
To form begins, and where the nervous ham
A yielding joint supplies. The deadly dart
To draw essaying, in his throat, full driven,
Up to the feather'd head, another came:
The sanguine flood expell'd it, gushing high,
Cutting the distant air. With outstretcht arms
Ilioneus, the last, besought in vain;
Exclaiming,—“spare me, spare me, all ye gods!”
Witless that all not join'd to cause his woe.
The god was touch'd with pity, touch'd too late,—
Already shot th' irrevocable dart:
Yet light the blow was given, and mild the wound
That pierc'd his heart, and sent his soul aloft.

The rumor'd ill; the mourning people's groans;
The servant's tears, soon made the mother know,
The sudden ruin: wondering first she stands,
To see so great heaven's power, then angry flames
Indignant, that such power they dare to use.
The sire Amphion, in his bosom plung'd
His sword, and ended life at once, and woe.
Heavens! how remov'd this Niobé, from her
Who drove so lately from Latona's fane,
The pious crowds; who march'd in lofty state,
Through every street of Thebes, an envy'd sight!
Now to be wept by even her bitterest foes.
Prostrate upon their gelid limbs she lies;
Now this, now that, her trembling kisses press;
Her livid arms high-stretching unto heaven,
Exclaims,—“Enjoy Latona, cruel dame,
“My sorrows; feed on all my wretched woes;
“Glut with my load of grief thy savage soul;
“Feast thy fell heart with seven funereal scenes;
“Triumph, victorious foe! conqueror, exult!
“Victorious! said I?—How? To wretched me,
“Still more are left, than joyful thou canst boast:
“Superior I 'midst all this loss remain.”

She spoke;—the twanging bowstring sounded loud!
Terrific noise,—save Niobé, to all:
She stood audacious, callous in her crime.
In mourning vesture clad, with tresses loose,
Around the funeral couches of the slain,
The weeping sisters stood. One strives to pluck
The deep-stuck arrow from her bowels,—falls,
And fainting dies; her brother's clay-cold corse,
Prest with her lips. Another's soothing words
Her hapless parent strive to cheer,—struck dumb,
She bends beneath an unseen wound; her words
Reach not her parent, till her life is fled.
This, vainly flying, falls: that drops in death
Upon her sister's body. One to hide
Attempts: another pale and trembling dies.
Six now lie breathless, each by vary'd wounds;
One sole remaining, whom the mother shields,
Wrapt in her vest; her body o'er her flung,
Exclaiming,—“leave me this, my youngest,—last,
“Least of my mighty numbers,—one alone!”
But while she prays, the damsel pray'd for dies.

Of all depriv'd, the solitary dame,
Amid the lifeless bodies of her sons,
Her daughters, and her spouse, by sorrows steel'd,
Sits harden'd: no light gale her tresses moves;
No blood her redden'd cheeks contain; her eyes
Motionless glare upon her mournful face;
Life quits the statue: even her tongue congeals,
Within her stony palate; vital floods
Cease in her veins to flow; her neck to bow
Resists; her arms to move in graceful guise;
Her feet to step; and even to stone are turn'd
Her inmost bowels. Still to weep she seems.
Wrapt in a furious whirlwind, distant far
Her natal soil receives her. There fixt high
On a hill's utmost summit, still she melts;
Still does the rigid marble flow in tears.

Now every Theban, male and female, all,
Dread the fierce anger of the powers of heaven;
And with redoubled fervor lowly bend,
And own the twin-producing goddess' power.
Then, as oft seen, they ancient tales recount,
Reminded by events of recent date.
Thus one relates.—“Long since some clowns, who till'd
“The fertile fields of Lycia, felt the ire
“Of this high goddess, whom they durst despise.
“Obscure the fact itself, for low the race
“Who suffer'd; yet most wonderous was the deed.
“Myself have seen the marsh; the lake have seen
“Fam'd for the prodigy. My aged sire,
“To toil unable on the lengthen'd road,
“Me thither sent; an herd of choicest beeves
“Thence to conduct; to my unpractis'd steps
“A guiding native of the land he gave.
“While we the pastures travers'd, lo! we found
“An ancient altar, 'midst a spacious lake
“Erected; black with sacrificing dust;
“With waving reeds surrounded. Here my guide
“Halted, and softly whisper'd,—bless me, power!
“And I, like softly whispering,—bless me!—cry'd.
“Then ask'd, if nymph, or fawn, or native god
“The altar own'd?—when thus my guide reply'd.
“No mountain god, O, youth! this altar claims,
“But her whom once imperial Juno's rage,
“Stern interdicted from firm earth's extent:
“Whom scarce the wandering Delos would receive,
“Ardent beseeching, when the buoyant isle
“Light floated. There at length, Latona, laid
“Betwixt a palm, and bright Minerva's tree,
“Spite of their fierce opposing step-dame's power,
“Her twins produc'd. Even hence, in child-bed driven,
“She fled from Juno; in her bosom bore,
“'Tis said, the twin-celestials. Now the sun
“With fervid rays, had scorch'd the arid meads,
“When faint with lengthen'd toil, the goddess gain'd
“The edge of Lycia's monster-breeding clime;
“Parch'd and exhausted, from the solar heat,
“And infants milking her exhausted breast.
“By chance a lake, far distant she espy'd,
“Deep in a vale's recess, of waters pure.
“There clowns the bulrush gather'd; there they pluck'd
“The shrubby osier, and the marsh-fond grass.
“Approach'd the goddess; on her knees low bent,
“The earth she press'd, and forward lean'd to drink
“The cooling liquid. This the rustic mob
“Forbade. When she to those who thus oppos'd,—
“Water withhold? Water whose use is free?
“Nature to all unsparing gives to take,
“Of light, of air, and of the flowing stream.
“I claim but public gifts: yet suppliant beg
“Those public gifts to share. Not here I come,
“My weary'd arms and limbs within the waves
“To lave: my thirst alone I wish to slake.
“Even now my speaking lips their moisture want;
“Scarce my parch'd throat, a passage to my words
“Can yield. As nectar were the limpid draught.
“Life with the water give me; for to me,
“Water is life; with water life I seek.
“Let these too move you, who their tender hands
“Stretch to your bosoms,—for by chance the babes
“Their little hands held forth. The goddess' words,
“Thus bland-beseeching, who could e'er withstand?
“Yet these persisted;—obstinate refus'd
“To grant her wish, and with opprobrious speech
“And threats revil'd her, should she there remain.
“Nor rested thus,—the lake with hands and feet
“Muddy they trouble; with malicious leaps
“They agitate the pool, and upward stir
“From the deep bottom clouds of slimy ooze.
“Anger her thirst diverted. Rage deny'd
“More supplication from th' indignant dame.
“Their threatening words, no more the goddess brook'd;
“But raising high to heaven her hands, she cry'd,—
“Be this your home for ever!—Gracious heard,
“Her prayer was granted. Now they joy to plunge,
“Beneath the waters; now they deep immerge
“Their bodies in the hollow fen; now raise
“Their heads, and skim the surface of the pool,
“Often they rest upon the margin's brink,
“And oft light-springing, in the cool lake plunge.
“Now still their rude contentious tongues they use,
“Still squabbling, lost to shame beneath the waves:
“Beneath the waves they still abusings strive
“To utter. Hoarsely still their voice is heard,
“Through their wide-bloated throats. Their railing words,
“Their jaws more wide dilate. Depriv'd of neck,
“Their head and back in junction seem to meet;
“Green shine their backs; their bellies, hugely swol'n
“Are white; and frogs they plunge within the pool.”

Thus as the man, the fate destructive told
Of Lycia's clowns, to mind another call'd
The satyr's fate, who vanquish'd in the strife
Of skill, on Pallas' pipe, Latona's son
Severely punish'd.—“Wherefore thus,”—he cries,
“Rent from myself? O, penitent I bow.
“The pipe,” he shrieks, “should not such rage provoke.”
Exclaiming thus, o'er his extremest limbs
Stript was his skin; he one continuous wound!
Blood flow'd from every part; the naked nerves
Bare started; and the trembling veins full throbb'd,
By skin uncover'd. Every beating part
Inward, the breast's translucent fibres plain
Display'd to sight. Him every forest fawn;
Each brother satyr; and each sylvan god;
And every nymph, with fam'd Olympus wept:
And every swain, the woolly flock who fed;
Or on the mountain watch'd the horned herd.
Wash'd by their falling tears, the fertile earth
Is soak'd,—absorbs them in her inmost veins;
Then form'd to water, spouts them high in air.
Rapid 'twixt banks declivitous, they seek
The ocean. Marsya, is the river call'd;
The clearest stream through Phrygia's land which flows.

Thus far the crowd;—and then lamenting turn
To present griefs:—Amphion's race extinct,
Unanimous they wail; but hated still
Remains the mother's pride. For her alone
Weep'd Pelops;—rent his garments, bare expos'd
His breast and shoulders lay, and fair display'd
The ivory joint. This shoulder at his birth
In fleshy substance, and carnation tinge,
Equall'd the right. When by his sire his limbs
Disjointed lay, the gods, 'tis said, quick join'd
The sever'd members: every fragment found,
Save what combin'd the neck and upper arm;
The part destroy'd, with ivory they replace;
And Pelops perfect from the gift became.

The neighbouring lords assemble;—every town
Their kings intreat condolence to bestow,
And all to Thebes repair. First Argos sends;
Sparta; Mycené; Calydon, not yet
By stern Diana hated; Corinth, fam'd
For beauteous brass; Orchomenus the fierce;
Messené fertile; Patræ; Pylos, rul'd
By Neleus; Trœzen, yet unus'd to own
The sway of Pittheus; Cleona the low;
And all those towns the two-sea'd isthmus holds;
And all those towns the isthmus views without.
Athens, incredible! was absent sole.
War all her energy demanded. Borne
O'er ocean, fierce barbarian troops, the walls
Mopsopian threaten'd. Thracian Tereus, these
With arms auxiliar routed; bright his name
Shone from the conquest. Him in riches great,
Mighty in power, and from the god-like Mars,
His lineage tracing, Procné's nuptial hand
Close to Pandion bound. Their marriage bed
Nor Grace, nor Hymen, nor the nuptial queen
Attended. Furies held the torches, snatch'd
From biers funereal. Furies spread the couch:
And all night long an owl, ill-omen'd bird,
Perch'd on the roof that crown'd the marriage dome.
Join'd with such omens, with such omens bore
Procné a son to Tereus. Wide through Thrace
Congratulations sound: glad thanks to heaven
The parents give, and hail the happy day
Which gave Pandion's daughter to the king;
And gave the pair a son. So ignorant still
Mankind of real happiness remain!

Now through five autumns had the cheerful sun
The whirling year renew'd. When Procné, bland
Her spouse besought.—“If grace within thy sight
“Claim my deserts,—or suffer me to see
“In her own clime my sister, or to ours
“My sister bring: a quick return thou well
“Our sire may'st promise. This high boon obtain'd,
“My sister's presence,—to my sight thou'lt seem,
“A deity in goodness.”—On the main
He bids them launch the vessel; in the port
Cecropian enters, urg'd by oar and sail;
And treads Piræus' shore. Soon as he gain'd
His audience; soon as hand with hand was clasp'd,
His ill-presaging speech he open'd. First
The journey's cause narrating; fond desire
Of Procné; and the promis'd quick return
Of Philomela, should the sire comply.
Lo! Philomela enters, splendid robes
Attire her; still more splendid shine her charms:
Such they describe within the forests rove
Dryad, and Naiäd nymphs; such would they seem
Their shape like hers adorn'd, like hers attir'd.
Instant was Tereus at the sight inflam'd;
So instant would the hoary harvest burn,
The torch apply'd: so burn the wither'd leaves;
Or hoarded hay. Well might her charms inspire
Such love in any;—him his inbred lust
More goaded, more his country's warmth which burns
Intense; he flames from nature, and from clime.
First to corrupt th' attendants he designs,
And faithful nurse; and Philomel' to tempt
With gifts immense,—his kingdom's mighty price.
Or forceful snatch her, and the rape defend,
With all the powers of war. Nought but he dares.
Impell'd by love's unbridled power; his breast
The raging fire contains not. Irksome seems
Delay:—and eager to the anxious wish
Of Procné, turns his converse; her desires
His wishes aiding. Eloquent he spoke;
For love inspir'd him. Often as he press'd
More close than prudent, all his earnest speech,
Procné, he said, dictated. Heavens! how dark
The gloom that blinds the view of human souls.
Tereus for tenderest piety esteem'd,
More as for vice he labors: praise he gains,
for every crime. Now Philomela begs,
His prayer assisting; flings her winning arms
Around Pandion's neck, and suppliant sues
A sight of Procné; for her woe she begs,
But deems she begs delight. Her Tereus views;—
Anticipates his joys; her every kiss,
Her arms around her parent's neck entwin'd,
But goad his passion: fuel fresh they add;
Food for his flame. And when her sire she clasps,
He longs that sire to be. Parent, not more
His impious purpose would the wretch delay!
The king by both their warm beseechings won,
Consents;—she joyful to her father gives
Glad thanks;—and hapless, deems completely blest,
Herself and sister, both most deeply curst;

Now Phœbus' toil nigh spent, his coursers' feet
Sweep'd down the slope of heaven. The royal feast,
And golden goblets, fill'd with Bacchus' gift,
The board bespread. From hence in slumbers soft,
Each sought repose. All but the Thracian king,
Though far remov'd, still burning; all her face,
Her hands and gesture he recals, and paints
At pleasure all her beauties yet unseen:
Feeding his flame, and sleep repelling far.

'Twas morn;—Pandion, pressing warm the hand
Of Tereus, as they parted, while the tears
Gush'd sudden, thus bespeaks his friendly care.
“Dear son, to thee I give her, pious claims
“Compel me: suppliant let me thee adjure
“By faith, by kindred, and by all the gods,
“Thy care paternal, shall protect the maid;
“And the soft solace of my anxious years,
“Speedy restore, for each delay is long.
“Quick, Philomela, quick my child, rejoin
“Thy sire, if filial duty sways thee. Much
“Thy sister's absence pains me.”—Speaking thus
He press'd with kisses soft, the maiden's lips,
And dripping tears with each behest let fall.
Their hands he asks as pledge of faith, and joins
Their hands in his presented; tender begs
His salutations to his daughter dear;
And his young grandson. Scarce the last adieu,
Chok'd with deep sighs, he breathes: his boding mind

Foreseeing future woes.
	Now Philomel'

Now dares he, all those acts atrocious done,
Return to Procné. Eager as he comes,
For Philomel' she asks. False tears and groans
He gives: the hapless nymph he feigns deceas'd:
His tears convince. Now from her shoulders torn,
Her robes with gold bright-glittering, sable vests
Her limbs enfolded. High an empty tomb
She rais'd, and pious obsequies perform'd
To manes pretended: for her sister's fate
She mourn'd, whose fate such mourning ill deserv'd.

Through twice six signs had Phœbus journey'd on,
The year completing. What, alas! remains
For Philomela? Guards prevent her flight.
Of stone erected, high the massive walls
Circle her round. Her lips so mute, refuse
The deed to blazon. Keen the sense of grief
Sharpens the soul:—in misery the mind
Ingenious sparkles. Skillful she extends
The Thracian web, and on the snow-white threads,
In purple letters, weaves the dreadful tale.
Complete, a servant with expressive signs,
The present to the queen she bids to bear.
To Procné was it borne, witless the slave
Of what he carry'd. Savage Tereus' spouse
The web unfolded; read the mournful tale
Her hapless sister told, and wonderous! sate
In silence; grief her rising words repress'd:
Indignant, chok'd, her throat refus'd to breathe,
The angry accents to her plaining tongue.
To weep she waits not, in turmoil confus'd,
Justice and flagrance undistinguished lie;
Her mind sole bent for vengeance on her spouse.

Now was the time Sithonia's matrons wont,
The rites triennial of the jovial god
To tend. Those rites to conscious shade alone
Confided. Rhodopé, the brazen sound
Shrill tinkling, hears by night;—by night the queen
The palace quits, attir'd as Bacchus' rites
Demand; and weapon'd with the Bacchant arms.
A vine her forehead girds; the nimble deer
Clothes with his skin her sides; her shoulder bears
A slender spear. Thus maddening, Procné seeks
The woods in ire terrific, crowded round
By all her followers: rack'd by inward pangs,
The furious rant of Bacchus veils her woes.
The lonely stable seen at length, she howls
Aloud,—“Evoë, ho!”—and bursts the door;
Drags thence her sister;—her thence dragg'd, invests I
In Bacchanalian robes; her face inshrouds
In ivy foliage; and astonish'd leads
The trembling damsel o'er the palace steps.
The horrid dome when Philomela saw,
Perforce she enter'd; through her frame she shook;
The blood her face deserted. Procné sought
A spot retir'd, and from her features flung
The sacred trappings, and her sister's face,
Sorrowing and blushing, to the light unveil'd;
Then ran to clasp her. She the sight not bore;
Her eyes she rais'd not; her dejected brows
Bent to the ground; thus by her sister seen,
Encroacher on her bed. Her hands still spoke,
When oaths she wish'd to utter, and to call
Th' attesting gods, her foul disgrace by force
To prove accomplish'd. Furious, Procné burns,
Nor curbs her ire; her sister's streaming tears
Reproving checks, and cries;—“no period now
“For tears, we ask the sword! But if than sword
“Vengeance more keen thou hop'st for, sister dear,
“Behold me for most horrid deeds prepar'd.
“Shall I with flaming torches blaze on high
“His hall imperial, and the villain king
“Heave in the conflagration? Shall I rend
“As thine his tongue? or from his sockets tear,
“His eye-balls? or what other member maim?
“Or this, or instant send his guilty soul
“Thro' thousand wounds to judgment? What thou speak'st
“Be mighty. I for mightiest acts prepare.
“To fix I hesitate.” As Procné speaks,
Lo! infant Itys to his mother runs;
His sight her mind determines; cruel turn
Her eyes, exclaiming;—“See, how like his sire's
“Appear his features!”—More she spoke not, fixt
Was straight her dread resolve: now fiercer burn'd
Within her smother'd rage;—yet when the boy
Approach'd, and round her neck his infant arms
Threw, and his kisses printed on her lips,
With bland caresses mingled, even the soul
Of Procné melted. Mollify'd her rage,
Tears hard constrain'd flow'd from unwilling eyes.
Soon as the mother's feelings softening seem
To melt in extreme fondness; Procné quits
The sight, and to her sister's face reverts
Again her visage; then on each in turn
Full bent her view, she cries;—“Must one me melt
“With blandish'd soothings? Must the other mute,
“With tongue dismember'd stand? Must he exclaim
“O, mother!—she, O, sister! never more?
“To what a spouse, Pandion's daughter, see
“Art thou, degenerate wife, conjoin'd! Thy sin
“A spouse like Tereus to have us'd too well.”
More she delays not, infant Itys drags,
Swift as the Indian tiger sweeps the fawn
Through shady forests. Then the lofty dome,
For rooms remote well search'd, in one arrives,
Where she the infant pierces; 'twixt the breast
And side the weapon enters, while his hands,
Suppliant, his fate foreseeing, he extends,
And,—“mother! O, my mother!”—loudly cries.
Nor mov'd her countenance fell;—the single wound
Was deadly. Philomela, with her steel
The throat divided, and the quivering limbs
Dissever'd, whilst of animation still
Some glimmering sparks remain'd. Of these, they part
In brazen cauldrons boil: part on the spit
Crackling they turn: with gore the secret rooms
Offensive float. Her unsuspecting spouse
Procné to feast invites; delusive feigns
Her country's customs,—where 'twas given, but one
The husband should be nigh; all menial slaves
Far distant. On his ancestorial seat
High-lifted, Tereus sate, and feasted there:
And in his bowels deep he there entomb'd
Bowels his own. So blind are human souls,—
“Call Itys to the feast,”—he cries. No more
Could Procné veil her savage joy;—full bent
The slaughter to announce, she loud proclaim'd
“Thou seek'st who with thee rests!”—Around he looks.
Wondering where rests he. Philomela rush'd,
Her tresses sprinkled with the ireful blood,
As griev'd he, Itys calling loud, and flung,
With savage fury Itys' gory head
Full in his father's face; nor ever mourn'd
Lost speech so much; her well-earn'd joy to show,
More griev'd lost power. With outcry loud the king
O'er-turn'd the table; from the Stygian vale,
Invok'd the viper'd sisters: hard he strove
To tear his bosom, and from thence disgorge
The dire repast, the half-digested mass
Of Itys' limbs. Now weeping, wild he mourns,
Himself his offspring's tomb. Now fierce pursues
Pandion's daughters with his unsheath'd sword.
From him escaping, on light wings upborne
Th' Athenians seem'd; light wings their limbs upbore!
One sheltering in the woods: protecting roofs
The other seeking; still the murderous deed,
Mark'd on her breast remains; still on her plumes
The teint of blood is seen. Rapid in rage
And hope of vengeance, Tereus too is chang'd,
And flits a bird; a plumy crest he bears,
High on his head: the lengthen'd sword he bore,
A beak enormous grows. A lapwing now

With fierce-arm'd face he flies.
	Untimely sought

The Seventh Book.

Expedition of the Argonauts. Jason obtains the golden fleece, by the assistance of Medea. Æson restored to youth by her magic powers. Murder of Pelias by his daughters. Medea's flight to Corinth. Murder of her rival and infants. Marriage with Ægeus. Adventures of Theseus. War with Minos. Plague in Ægina. Change of ants into Myrmidons. Cephalus and Procris.

THE
Seventh Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

Now in the Pagasæan vessel borne,
Plough'd the wide sea the Argonauts, and saw
The fate of Phineus; whose old age the curse
Of hunger felt, and felt perpetual night.
The youths from Boreas sprung, quick sped to flight
The virgin-featur'd birds, his hapless face,
Far distant. 'Neath great Jason's rule much toil
They bore ere on the oozy banks they stay'd
Of rapid Phasis. Here the king they seek;
And here demand the golden fleece; and here
An answer big with fearful labors learn
The Grecian crew. Meantime the royal maid
Burns with fierce fires: with reason struggling long,
Still her hot flame to quench unable, cries
Aloud Medea;—“vainly I oppose!
“Some unknown god controls. Perhaps 'tis love!
“If love 'tis not, no sentiment more near
“To love can come. Why else my sire's commands
“So harsh appear? But harsh in truth they are.
“But why his failing dread? Why dread his death,
“But barely seen? What cause such fear can give?
“O, hapless maid! would from my virgin breast
“Those flames to fling were given. If mine the power
“More wisdom would I use. But me this force,
“Before unknown, unwilling drags; this love
“Persuades, oppos'd to reason: plain I see
“The better track,—approve it most, yet swerv'd,
“I tread the worse. Why, royal virgin, burn
“Thus for a stranger guest? Why long'st thou thus,
“A foreign partner in the marriage bed
“To clasp? Thy country well can thee supply
“What e'er thou lovest. In the gods' decree
“His death or safety rests. Yet may he live!
“Pray may'st thou for him sure,—love unconcern'd.
“But what has Jason done? Savage, indeed!
“Were those his youth, his birth, and brilliant deeds
“Not touch'd: how savage too the soul must be
“His beauty touch'd not, were there nought beside;
“My bosom sure it moves. But were my aid
“Deny'd, the furious bulls with flaming breath
“His fate would compass; or the foes that spring
“From earth, his harvest, slay him in the fight;
“Or last, he'd fall the ravenous dragon's prey.
“If this I suffer, from the tiger sprung
“Believe me; steel and marble in my breast,
“Deem me to wear. Why not his death behold?
“Why not mine eyes with the dread sight pollute!
“Why not the bulls, the earth-born foes incite,
“And sleepless dragon, with redoubled ire?
“Heaven wills it better. But let deeds, not prayers
“My time employ. How! shall I then betray
“My parent's realm? an unknown stranger aid
“With all my power? who by my power preserv'd,
“Loos'd to the wind his sails, another's spouse
“Becomes,—me left for punishment behind?
“If this to do,—another nymph to me
“Born to prefer, let him, ingrate! be slain.
“But no! his face denies it; his great soul,
“And graceful form forbid the fear of fraud;
“Or benefits forgot. Yet shall he plight
“His solemn faith first, call th' attesting gods
“To witness what he vows. What fear I more?
“All's safe. Medea, hasten, spurn delay,—
“Jason, remaining life to thee shall owe;
“Join'd to his state, the annual torch shall flame
“To thee, preserver! through the Grecian towns
“By crowds of mothers hail'd. Shall I for this
“My sister leave, my brother, and my sire;
“My gods, and natal land? Yes,—fierce my sire;
“My country barbarous; and my brother young:
“With all my wishes, warm my sister joins;
“And dwells within my breast the mightiest god.
“Much I relinquish not, but much I seek.
“The glorious title of the Grecian youth
“Deliverer! gain'd; the sight of lands and towns
“Whose fame even here has journey'd; manners mild,
“And cultur'd arts; and Jason for my spouse,
“For whom all earth's possessions were too small
“To change. His spouse become, supremely blest,
“Dear to the gods, the loftiest stars I'll reach.
“What are those rocks, they tell, which 'mid the waves
“Meet in encounter? Fell Charybdis what,—
“Hostile to ships, now sucking in the tide,
“Now fierce discharging? What the savage bounds,
“Which compass greedy Scylla 'mid the main
“Sicilian? O'er the wide-spread ocean borne,
“Him whom I love embracing; sheltering close
“In Jason's bosom; clasp'd by him, no fear
“My soul could harbor. Or if fear I felt,
“For him alone I'd tremble; for my spouse.
“Spouse, dost thou say, Medea? hid'st thou thus,
“With specious names thy crime? Behold the load
“Of guilt thou goest to bear! While power remains
“The sin avoid.”—She said, and duty, shame,
And rectitude, before her eyes appear'd;
And vanquish'd love address'd his wings to flight.
Now to an ancient altar Hecat' own'd,
By shady trees dark veil'd from day, she came:
Her flames abated, and her eager pulse
Subsided. Here Æsonides she saw,
And bright her love reblaz'd. Warm flush'd her cheeks,
Deep all her visage glow'd. The smallest spark
Thus low in embers hid, its vigor shews;
Help'd by the feeding blast, increasing burns,
And stirr'd in all its wonted fury glows.
Just so the languid passion which but now
All but extinct appear'd, the hero seen
Fresh at his beauteous presence flam'd. By chance
More beauteous Jason on that morn appear'd;
Well might a lover all her love excuse.
She looks, his countenance with her eyes devours
As then first seen; and madly fond, she deems
His features more than mortal: bashful turn'd
Her forehead not from his. But when her guest
Address'd her: when he gently took her hands;
And crav'd assistance in an humble tone,
The nuptial promise giving. Plenteous flow'd
Her tears, exclaiming;—“What I should perform
“Plainly I see: not ignorance me misleads
“But love. My gifts shall aid you, you but keep
“The promise pledg'd.”—Sacred the hero swears
By her, the tri-form'd goddess, whom that grove
Acknowledges divine; and by the god,
Whence sprung the sire-in-law he hopes to claim;
The god who all beholds; by all his deeds
Atchiev'd; and by his perils all he swears.
His words believ'd, immediate he receives
The magic plants, their use well taught, and seeks
The roof rejoicing. Now the morn had driven
The glimmering stars far distant, crowding press'd
The people in the sacred field of Mars,
The king himself amidst them, seated high,
In purple clad, with ivory sceptre grac'd.
Lo! come the brazen-footed bulls, who breathe
Through nostrils fenc'd with adamant hot flames:
Parch'd by their breath, the herbage blacken'd burns.
Loud as the blazing forge's chimney roars;
Or loud as lime in earthy furnace laid,
Bursts into heat by watery sprinklings touch'd:
So loud, within their flaming chests contain'd,
The struggling fires loud bellow'd. Scorch'd their throats
The sound transmitted. Boldly Æson's son
March'd onward; fiercely as the youth approach'd,
His foes dark lower'd, and bent their steel-tipt horns,
Paw'd with their clefted hoofs the dusty ground,
And fill'd with smoky bellowings all the air.
Pale grew each Grecian face; advancing on
The fiery blasts he feels not, such the power
The mighty charms possess, but boldly strokes
Their dewlaps pendulous, and to the yoke
Subjected, makes them drag the ponderous plough;
And with the iron cut th' uncustom'd soil.
The Colchians wondering gaze; the Grecians loud
Applaud, and with fresh courage fill his soul.
Then from his brazen helmet pluck'd, he sows
The serpent's teeth, deep in the furrow'd ground:
The ground, the teeth with powerful venom ting'd,
Soften'd and swell'd them, and a novel shape
Imparted. Thus within the parent's womb,
An human shape the infant mass receives,
Completed perfect in the dark recess;
Nor till mature, to air external given.
So when the manly forms were perfect made
Within earth's pregnant bowels, up they sprung
Thick in the fruitful field; more wonderous still
Their arms they clash'd when born. Then when the Greeks
Their keenly-pointed spears preparing saw
To hurl at Jason's head, low sunk their souls,
And pallid grew their cheeks; Medea ev'n,
Whose art insur'd his safety, trembling fear'd,
When single she the youth beheld assail'd
By foes in hosts; bloodless her face became,
And tremor seiz'd her limbs: then lest the herbs
Presented first, should fail in power, she sings
An helping magic song, and all her arts
Latent, calls forth. Amidst the hostile crowd
A mighty rock he flings; their martial rage
From him diverted, on each other turns.
By mutual wounds the earth-born brothers fall;
In civil discord perish. Joy'd again
The Grecians clasp the conqueror in their arms.
Thou too, Medea, wish'd thine arms to fill
With him victorious. (Shame at first repress'd
Thy open fondness, though thou wast embrac'd)
Now reputation awes thee, now prevents
That bliss. What honor gives,—silent to joy,
And pour glad thanks to all thy magic arts,
And gods their authors, those thou dar'st indulge.
Now sole remains by powerful herbs to lull
The wakeful dragon, whose high-crested head
A triple tongue contains, whose crooked fangs
Dreadful the golden fleece protecting guards.
Him when be sprinkled with the juices prest
From plants Lethean; and repeated thrice,
The words which placid sleep inspire; which still
The ruffled ocean; and arrest the course
Of rapid torrents; sleep before unknown
Stole o'er his eyelids, and th' Æsonian youth
Seiz'd on the golden prize. Proud with the spoil,
(A second spoil possessing) she who gave
The power to conquer, as his wife he bears,
And lands triumphant on Thessalia's shores.

Mothers of Thessaly, and aged sires
For sons restor'd, glad offerings bring: bright flames
The high-heap'd incense; votive victims deck'd
With gilded horns are slain: but Æson, far
The grateful crowd avoids, now near his fate,
Bent by a weight of years. Hence Jason spoke;—
“O, spouse! to thee my life and safety ow'd;
“To me, thou all hast given; the high swol'n sum
“Of all thy favors might belief surpass:
“This more attempt, if this thou can'st,—and what
“Thy magic power defies? My years curtail,
“And to my sire's existence add the term.”
Fast flow'd his tears while speaking;—while he spoke,
His pious duty mov'd Medea; quick
Her sire Æëta, so deserted, sprung
To thought, and shew'd the two contrasting souls.
But, veil'd her secret thoughts, she thus replies;—
“What impious accents hear I from thy tongue,
“O, spouse religious? Can I then transfer
“Of thy existence part? Not Hecat's power
“Fateful, would sanction this; nor stands thy wish
“In equity. Yet, Jason, will I try
“More than thou seek'st to give. With all my skill
“Thy sire's existence to prolong, thy years
“Unshorten'd; should the tri-form'd goddess aid
“Propitious my designs.”—Three nights were now
Deficient, ere the full-form'd horns could meet
The lunar orb to fill. Complete her round;
A solid sphere of light from earth beheld,
Medea wanders forth; loose all her robes;
Naked her feet; bare-headed; while her hair
Wild o'er her shoulders floats; and thus array'd,
Untended, while deep midnight silence reigns
She bends her devious way. Men, beasts, and birds,
In bonds of sleep were chain'd; the hedges still,
No murmur breath'd; nor wav'd the silent trees;
Hush'd was the humid sky; the stars alone
Twinkled: to them her arms extending, thrice
She turn'd around; thrice from the flowing stream
Her tresses sprinkled; thrice with yelling noise
The silence broke; then with her bended knee
The hard earth pressing, cry'd;—“O, night! thou friend
“Of secret deeds; ye glittering stars! whose rays
“With Luna's, Sol's diurnal light succeed;
“And thou, O, Hecat'! tripleform'd, who know'st
“My undertaking, and approaching aid'st
“With incantations, and with magic powers:
“And thou, O, earth! whose bosom witching plants
“Affords: ye winds; ye skies; ye mountains; lakes;
“And flowing streams: O, all ye gods! who dwell
“In shady woods; and all ye gods of night,
“Hither approach! by whose high power, at will,
“Rivers I cause between their wondering banks,
“Back to their springs to flow; the stormy deep
“Hush by my song, or lash it into rage;
“Clouds form, or clouds dispel; raise furious blasts,
“Or furious blasts allay; smite with my song
“The dragon's furious jaws: the living rocks
“I shake;—uproot the oak; the earth upturn;
“Move forests; bid the trembling mountains leap;
“Loud roar the ground; and from the tombs the ghosts
“Affrighted walk. Thee, Luna, too I draw
“From heaven, by all the threatening clash of brass
“Deterr'd not: pale the brighter car becomes,
“My spells once utterr'd: by my poisons charm'd,
“Pallid Aurora seems. You, plants! for me,
“Blunted the ardor of the flaming bulls;
“Press'd with the yoke, their necks impatient bent,
“And dragg'd the crooked plough. You bade the race
“Snake-born, upon themselves their warring rage
“To turn. In sleep the roaring dragon's eyes
“You steep'd; the guard eluded, sent the prize
“To glad the towns of Greece. Now have I need
“Of renovating herbs, to make old age
“Glow once again in all its youthful bloom.
“This will you grant, for sure those stars in vain
“Not sparkle; nor in vain the chariot comes
“Drawn by the dragons wing'd.” The chariot comes
Swift sweeping through the air. Active she mounts,
Strokes the rein'd dragons' manes, and shakes the thongs.
On high they soar:—Thessalian Tempé far
Beneath she views; then tow'rd the chalky land
Her snakes directs. On Ossa's top explores
For plants, and seeks what lofty Pelion bears;
Othrys, and Pindus, and Olympus huge.
What please her, part she with their root updrags;
Part with her crooked brazen sickle mows;
Apidanus; Amphrysos, on their banks
Many afforded: nor Enipeus scap'd.
Peneus, and Spercheus, and the rushy shores
Of Bæbé some contributed. She pluck'd
In Anthedon the living grass whose power,
Then Glaucus' form unchang'd, was yet unknown.

Now had nine days, now had nine nights elaps'd,
Borne on her dragon wings, and in her car
Wandering the fields among, ere back she turn'd:
Unfed her dragons, save by odorous smells;
Yet had they shed their scales, with youth renew'd.
Arriv'd, without the palace gate she stays,
And there sole shelter'd by the sky, all touch
Of man denying; altars two she rears
Of turf; sacred to Hecate stood the right,
To Youth the left: when these with vervain bound.
And forest boughs, here sacrifice she makes.
Hard by, two trenches scoops from out the ground;
Smites with her weapon in the sable throat,
A sheep presented; in the open ditch
Empties the blood; then bowls of wine she pours,
And bowls of smoking milk; with mystic words
Invokes the powers terrestrial; begs the king
Of shades, and begs his ravish'd spouse to aid,
Nor of his soul the aged king defraud.
These when with lengthen'd prayers, and murmurings long,
Appeas'd; she bids them tow'rd the altars bring
The feeble Æson; his exhausted limbs
Bound in deep slumber, by her magic power,
Corse-like, she lays extended on the grass.
Then Jason bids, and his attendant crew,
Far thence depart, nor with their view prophane
Her acts mysterious. As she bids they go.
Medea then the flaming altars round,
In Bacchanalian guise her flowing locks,
Circles; and in the ditch's blackening gore
Her splinter'd torches dips; with blood imbu'd,
Burns them upon her altars; thrice with fire,
With sulphur thrice, and thrice with flowing streams,
The sire she lustrates. Heated now in brass,
Her powerful medicines bubble, high and white
The swelling froth appears. There boils she all
The roots in vales Æmonian dug; and seeds,
And flowers, and juices dark: gems unto these,
Sought in the distant East, she adds; and adds
What on the sand the refluent ocean leaves:
More still, the night-long moon collected dew
She brings; the dismal screech-owl's flesh and wings;
The entrails of the wolf ambiguous, wont
His savage face in human guise to wear:
Nor wanted there, the scaly skin which clothes
Th' amphibious snake Cyniphian, long and small:
The beak and head a crow nine ages bore,
She adds. Now was the foreign dame prepar'd,
By help of these, and nameless thousands more,
The promis'd boon to give, the whole she stirs
Deep from the bottom, with a bough long rent,
From the mild olive. Lo! the wither'd branch,
The boiling caldron stirring, sudden shoots
In virid freshness! shortly leaves bud forth;
And soon it bends beneath a load of fruit!
Where'er the fire above the hollow brass,
The bubbling foam high-rais'd, and boiling drops
Sprinkled the ground,—the ground with verdure smil'd;
Flowers and soft herbage sprung. Medea sees,
And with her weapon ope's the senior's throat;
His aged blood exhausted sees, and pours
Her juices copious: part his mouth receives;
And part the wound. When Æson these had drank,
Their hoary whiteness lost, his beard and hair,
An ebon tinge receiv'd; his leanness fled;
His pallid ghastly face no more was seen;
His hollow veins with added blood were fill'd;
And all his limbs in lusty plumpness swell'd.
The wondering Æson, such himself beheld,
As the last forty years he ne'er had past.

Bacchus, from heaven survey'd the mighty change
Wonderous, and hence that power was given he found;
His nurses to restore to youthful years:
The boon from Tethys asking, he obtain'd.

Nor cease the frauds yet of the Phasian dame:
Fierce hatred 'gainst her by her spouse she feigns,
And flies to Pelias' court; a suppliant there,
His daughters hail her guest:—the sire bent down
With age. The crafty Colchian these beguiles
Soon, with her well-dissembled friendship's form.
Amid her mighty benefits, she tells
Æson's old age remov'd; relating all,
On this she chiefly dwells. Hope sudden springs
Within their virgin breasts: Pelias their sire,
Such art they trust may yet revivify.
That art they sue for,—highest claim'd reward
To her they promise: mute at first she stands,
And feigning doubt, in hesitation holds,
And anxious poise their eager minds. At last,
She says, when promising,—“That in the deed,
“More faith ye may confide, a leading ram,
“The oldest in your fleecy flocks, a lamb
“My medicine shall transform!”—Instant was dragg'd
The woolly beast, whose wreathing horns around
His hollow temples curl'd; whose wither'd throat
The steel Thessalian stabb'd; the scanty blood
The steel scarce spotting: then th' enchantress steeps
His mangled body in the caldron deep,
With juices powerful: smaller grow his limbs;
Shed are his horns; and vanish'd are his years;
And from the caldron tender bleatings sound:
Instant leaps forth to all the wondering crowd
The bleating lamb, which, frisking, flies and seeks
The swelling teats. With admiration struck,
Now Pelias' daughters faith unshaken give;
More urgent press their wish. Thrice had the sun,
'Merg'd in th' Iberian sea, unyok'd his steeds;
And the fourth night the glittering stars had shone;
When o'er the fire, pure water from the stream,
And powerless plants, the false Medea plac'd.

Now all in sleep relax'd, a death-like sleep,
The monarch's limbs were stretch'd; and with their king,
His guards lay dormant; so her magic words,
And magic tongue had doom'd. Medea leads
Across the steps the daughters; bidd'n by her,
His couch they compass.—“Why, O, feeble souls!
“Thus hesitate?”—she said,—“your swords unsheathe!
“Pour out his far-spent gore, that I may fill
“With youthful, vigorous blood his empty'd veins.
“Your father's life, and years, are in your hands:
“If sways you piety; if empty hopes
“Wavering deceive you not; then well deserve,
“By duty to your sire: quickly expel
“With weapons his old age: let issue forth
“His now congealing blood with brandish'd steel.”
Exhorted thus, most pious she who feels,
First impious acts;—a wicked deed performs,
Lest wicked she were call'd: yet on the blow
Not one would bend her sight; with eyes averse
Their savage hands the unseen wounds inflict.
Flowing with gore, he from the bed uprais'd
His limbs; and from his posture strove half-torn
To rise; and stretching forth his pallid arms
'Mid all their threatening swords;—“Daughters!”—he cries,
“What do ye? Why against your parent's life
“Thus arm ye?”—Sink their spirits! drop their hands!
His throat Medea severing, stay'd the words
He more had utter'd,—and the mangled corse,
Deep in the boiling brazen caldron flung.

She now,—but through the air on dragon wings
High borne,—their furious vengeance had not scap'd.
O'er shady Pelion high she flew, and o'er
The cave of Chiron; Othrys; and the spot
For old Cerambus' strange adventure known:
Upborne on wings by kindly-aiding nymphs,
Here, when the solid earth th' incroaching main
Wide delug'd, flying, safe Deucalion's flood
He 'scap'd. Æölian Pitané to left
She quits; and sees the dragon huge, to stone
An image turn'd. And Ida's grove where chang'd
By Bacchus' power, the steer a stag became,
To screen the theft. And where beneath the sand,
A little sand, Corythus' father lies;
And fields which Mæra's new-heard howlings fill.
Euripylus' fam'd town, where Coän dames,
What time the troops of Hercules them left,
With horns were crown'd: and Phœbus' favor'd Rhodes;
Jalysian Telchines, whose hateful eyes
All vitiating, Jove detesting 'whelm'd
Beneath his brother's waves. She passes next
Carthæïa' walls in ancient Cæä's isle,
Where wondering saw Alcidamas the sire,
A placid dove his daughter's body bear.
And Hyrié's lake she sees, and Tempé's pool
Cycneiän, which the swan so sudden form'd
Frequented: Phyllius there, a willing slave,
Birds and fierce beasts, to his capricious boy
Oft brought—e'en lions tam'd; a furious bull
He bade him bring, a furious bull he brought;
But now in choler at his craving soul,
The bull refus'd, though as the last gift claim'd:
Indignant, cry'd he,—“soon you'll wish him given!”—
And from the high rock plung'd: all thought he fell:
But form'd a swan, lightly he pois'd in air
On snowy wings. Hyrié, her son thus sav'd,
Knew not, by constant weeping soon dissolv'd;
The lake becoming that still bears her name.
Near this is Pleuron:—Ophian Combé, here
Wafted on wings, her murderous sons escap'd.
Thence she beholds Latona's favorite isle;
Calaurea, where to birds the royal pair
Were chang'd: Cyllené, on the right is plac'd
Where like the savage herd, Menephron sought
His mother's bed. Far hence she spies in tears
Cephisus, for his nephew's fate who mourn'd,
Chang'd by Apollo to a sea-calf huge;
And saw Eumelus' dome, who wept his child,
A bird become. At length on dragon wings,
Pirenian Corinth she regain'd; where tell
The ancient tales, in primal ages, men
From shower-fed mushrooms sprung. Here first was flam'd
In Colchian venoms fierce, the new-made bride;
Then either sea in blazing spires beheld
The royal dome; and with her children's gore
Her impious sword was stain'd. Thus on herself
Reveng'd; from royal Jason's wrath she fled.

Borne hence, her snakes Titanian reach the walls
Of Pallas' city, where most just of men
O, Phineus! thou, and Periphas the old,
With Polyphemon's niece, as birds are seen,
Soaring aloft in air on new-form'd wings.
Here Ægeus' roof receiv'd her, for this deed
Alone to blame: not satisfy'd as host,
In marriage bonds he makes her more his own.
Now Theseus comes, son to his sire unknown,
Whose brave atchievements, all the two-sea'd land
In peace had settled. For his death she mix'd
The baneful aconite, long since from shores
Of Scythia brought; which thus old tales relate,
From Cerberus' venom'd jaws was first produc'd,
Through a dark den, with gloomy opening, lies
A path steep shelving, where Alcides dragg'd
Fierce Cerberus to light, resisting strong,
Glancing askaunce his eyes from day, whose rays
Sparkled too bright, in adamantine chains.
With rabid anger swol'n, a triple yell
Fill'd all the air; he o'er the virid plain
Sprinkled white foam; increasing fast this shoots;
The fruitful soil fresh virulence imparts,
And ranker grows its power: from hardest rocks
It lively springs, and Aconite hence nam'd.
This did old Ægeus, by his crafty spouse
Deceiv'd, to Theseus, as a foe, present.
Unwitting Theseus, in his hand receiv'd
The cup presented; when the sire espy'd
Upon his ivory-hilted sword a mark,
Which prov'd his offspring; from his lips he dash'd
The poison. Wrapp'd in clouds by magic rais'd,
The sorceress from their furious vengeance fled.

The sire, though joy'd, his son in safety found,
Trembles astonish'd at the narrow 'scape;
And horrid crime premeditated: burns
On every altar fires;—to every god
Piles costly gifts: full on the brawny neck
Of oxen falls, their horns with garlands bound,
The sacrificing axe. Ne'er till that day
Had Athens' town, such joyous feasting seen;
Nobles and commons crowd around the board,
And thus, by wine inspir'd, sublime they sing.

“Thee, mighty Theseus! Marathon admires,
“Stain'd by the vanquish'd Cretan bull's black gore.
“Thy aid the swains of Cromyon own; thou gav'st
“That now secure they till their fields. The land
“Of Epidaurus saw the club-arm'd son
“Of Vulcan slain by thee. By thee, beheld
“Cephisus' shores, the fierce Procrustes die,
“Ceres' Eleusis hail'd Cercyon's fall.
“Sinis thou slew'st, gifted with strength ill-us'd;
“His strength high trees could bend, and oft he dragg'd
“Close down to earth the loftiest tops of pines,
“Thus rent the bodies of his victims wide.
“Safe now extends the road to Lelex' walls,
“Scyron low laid: earth to the robber's limbs,
“Wide scatter'd, rest refuses; to his bones
“Ocean a tomb denies; long widely tost,
“Age hardens into rock his last remains;
“His name the rock still bears. Should we thy age
“And actions count, thy famous deeds by far
“Thy years outnumber. O, most brave of men!
“For thee the public vows ascend; to thee,
“In Bacchus' bowl we drink. The royal hall
“Resounds with all the grateful people's praise;
“Nor through the city glooms one sorrowing spot.”

And yet (so seldom pleasure comes unmix'd,
But still some cares with joy will intervene)
While Ægeus, gladden'd that his son secure
Arriv'd; Minos, for furious war prepares.
Strong though his troops, and though his navy strong
His utmost strength was in paternal rage;
And with just arms Androgeus' death t' avenge
He wars: yet first auxiliar strength he gains;
And powerful sweeps the seas with flying ships.
First Anaphe joins him, and Astypalæa; urg'd
By promise this, and that by threats constrain'd,
Low Myconé; Cymolus' chalky fields;
Bright Cythnos; Scyros; flat Seriphus' isle;
The marble Paros; and the fort betray'd
For gold, demanded by the impious nymph
Sithonian: still for gold she anxious seeks
Though chang'd a bird; on sable pinions borne,
With sable feet, she flutters as a daw.

But Oliaros, and Didymæ, unite;
And Gyaros, Andros, Tenos, all refuse,
With Peparethos, in bright olives rich,
To aid the Gnossian fleet. Thence to the left
Steering, Œnopia's regions Minos sought;
Œnopia call'd of old, Ægina now,
By Æäcus, his mother's honor'd name.
In crowds the people rush, and pant to view
So highly fam'd a prince: to meet him go
First Telamon, then Peleus next in age,
And Phocas third and last, Ev'n Æäcus
With years opprest, steps tardy forth, and asks
The visit's cause. The hundred-city'd king
Deep sighs, his grief paternal all renew'd,
And thus replies;—“My arms, O, king! assist
“Assum'd, just vengeance for a son to claim.
“Partake this pious war. Peace to his manes
“I seek.”—But Asopiades replies;—
“In vain you ask;—my city cannot aid:
“No lands by neighbouring scite more closely bound,
“Than ours and Athens'; hence our league.”—The king
Angry departs, exclaiming.—“Much your league
“May cost you!”—But to threaten war more safe
He deems, than wage it there, and waste his force.
Still from Œnopia's walls the fleet was seen,
Not distant far; when sped by swelling sail,
An Attic ship arriv'd; the friendly port
Enter'd. On board was Cephalus who bore
His country's message. Well the royal youths
The hero knew, though long time past beheld;
And gave the friendly hand, and welcome led
To their paternal dome. The graceful chief
Enters, retaining still evincing marks
Of pristine beauty; in his hand he bears
A branch of native olive: in the midst
Senior he stands; and younger on each side,
Clytus, and Butes, Pallas' sons. Complete
Their friendly salutations; next the words
Th' Athenians bade him, Cephalus reports:
Their aid demands; their ancient league recounts;
The oaths their fathers swore; and adds, all Greece
Might perish in their ruin. When their cause
With eloquence the messenger thus urg'd;
On his bright sceptre as his left hand lean'd,
“Take, O Athenians,”—Æäcus exclaim'd,—
“Not ask, our aid! Unhesitating draw
“What force this isle possesses, and with yours
“Employ it: with you shall my strongest power
“March forth: strength want we not; our numerous troops
“Abundant, for ourselves and friends suffice:
“Prais'd be the gods! such is our happy state
“Your wish defies evasion.”—“Still may grow,”
Said Cephalus,—“your prosperous city's state,
“And yours!—What transport seiz'd me as I walk'd,
“To see each youth so fair, so equal ag'd,
“Of all who met me. Yet in vain I look'd
“For many features, known when last your walls
“Receiv'd me.”—Æäcus, with deep-drawn sighs,
And sorrowing voice, thus answers.—“Better fate
“Completed, what a mournful sight began.
“Would I in full could all the facts relate!
“Now unconnected must I speak, or tire
“Your ear with words superfluous. Whom you seek,
“Whom you remember, bones and ashes rest.
“But small their numbers:—Heavens! how small to those,
“My people, who have sunk in death beside.

“A dreadful plague, the angry Juno shed
“Unjust, upon the natives of the land,
“Detested, that her rival's name it bore.
“While human seem'd the scourge, the noxious cause
“Of slaughter yet conceal'd, with physic's skill
“We strove; in vain! death mock'd the power of art.
“At first thick darkness heavy press'd the earth;
“Pregnant with heat roll'd on the lazy clouds.
“Four times the full-orb'd moon had join'd her horns,
“Four times diminish'd, had she disappear'd;
“Still the hot south-wind blew his deadly blasts.
“Our lakes and fountains, from th' infected air
“Contagion suck'd; millions of vipers swarm'd
“In our uncultur'd fields, our running streams
“Tainting with poison. First the sudden plague
“Its power display'd, on sheep, on dogs, on fowls,
“Cattle, and forest beasts with deadly power.
“The hapless ploughman, wondering, at his work
“Sees his strong oxen in the furrow sink.
“The woolly flocks with sickly bleatings waste
“In body, while their wool spontaneous falls.
“The steed so fiery, on the dusty plain
“So fam'd, the palm contemns; and all despis'd
“His ancient honors, at his manger groans,
“Prey to disease inglorious. His fierce rage
“The boar forgets. The stag neglects his speed.
“Not rush the bears upon the stronger herds.
“A general languor reigns. In woods, in fields,
“In ways, the filthy carcases are seen;
“The stench pollutes the air: and, wonderous! dogs,
“Nor birds rapacious, nor the grizzly wolves,
“Touch the dead spoil. Rotting they melt away,
“Poisoning the gale; and spreading wide the pest.
“Now the disease, a heavier scourge, attacks
“The hapless swains, and in the lofty walls
“Of cities rules. First the scorch'd vitals burn;
“The hidden fire the blushing skin betrays,
“And breath laborious drawn; the furr'd tongue swells;
“The parch'd mouth widely gapes, th' infectious air
“Inhaling copious. On the couch none lie;
“None bear their covering robes; their bodies swol'n,
“On the bare earth they fling; nor coolness find
“Their bodies from the ground;—the ground from them
“Burns hot. Nor aids them now physicians' skill;
“E'en them the dire pest seizes, and their art
“Fails to assist themselves. Who boldly comes,
“With kindly hand his dying friend to aid,
“Sinks straight in death beside him. Fled all hope
“Of health, and in the grave alone an end
“Beheld of their disease,—some wild indulge
“Their fondest passions, void of every care;
“For every care is vain. Of modest shame
“Regardless, in promiscuous throngs they crowd
“To rivers, fountains, and capacious wells,
“Their hot thirst unextinguish'd, but with life.
“To rise unable, many in the stream
“Sink, and there perish: still their followers drink.
“So irksome to the wretched sufferers seem
“Their couches, thence they spring;—and some too weak
“To lift their limbs, roll desperate to the ground.
“Each quits his home,—to each his home appears,
“The fatal spot; and while obscure the cause,
“Each deems the house contagious. Oft were seen
“Beings half-dead, slow crawling o'er the ways,
“Till power to crawl was lost. Others with moans
“Stretch'd on the ground, rolling their half-clos'd eyes,
“In final motion: raising high their arms
“To heaven's o'erhanging stars, breathe out their last,
“Caught here by death, and there. Ah! me, what then
“My mind employ'd? What but to loathe my life,
“And pray with my dear countrymen to die?
“Whatever side mine eyes were bent, I saw
“My people strewn;—thick as the mellow fruit,
“Shook from the branches, or the acorns lie.
“Observe that temple, lofty where it towers;
“To Jove 'tis sacred. Who to that high fane
“Their useless incense brought not? There how oft
“Wife for her husband, parent for her child,
“Before th' inexorable altar, breath'd
“Their dying gasp, 'mid deprecating prayers;
“And half their incense unconsum'd remain'd.
“How oft the oxen to the temple dragg'd,
“While now the priest his voice address'd, and pour'd
“The goblet o'er their foreheads, have they dropp'd
“By stroke unlook'd for. When myself, to Jove
“Wish'd sacrifice to offer up; for me,
“My country, and my sons,—the victim loud
“Dire lowings utter'd, and without a blow
“Fell sudden,—scarce with blood the wounding knife
“Was stain'd. The morbid inwards mock'd our wish,
“To learn the truth, and pleasure of the gods:
“The deep-fixt plague had to the bowels pierc'd.
“Before the sacred portals have I seen,
“The corses spread; before the altars too,
“As death would come in his most hideous form.
“Some with the cord life's passage choke, and seek
“Death, lest they death should meet. Madly they rush
“And voluntary meet approaching fate.
“The bodies plung'd in death, funereal rites
“Custom'd, receiv'd not; nor the numerous dead
“Could all the gates receive: or un-inhum'd
“Above the earth they lie, or on the pyre
“Unhonor'd by due rites, the bodies flame.
“All sense of reverence lost, for piles they fight;
“And burn their dead in fires which others own.
“To mourn are none; unwept the shadows roam,
“Of young and old alike, of sons and sires.
“The ground for graves too small, for fires the woods.
“Aghast this whirlwind of distress to view,
“O, Jove!—I cry'd—if false they not report,
“That once you in Ægina's arms were clasp'd;—
“If not, O, mighty sire! asham'd to own
“Yourself my parent, give my people back,
“Or give me death with them. A rattling sign
“He gave, and prosperous thunders roll'd. I spoke;—
“These omens I accept; and pray these signs
“May indicate your happy will:—as pledge
“I take them.—Nigh by chance an oak there stood,
“Thick-set with spreading boughs, Jove's sacred tree,
“Sprung from Dodona's stock: here I beheld
“Grain-gathering ants, each burthen'd with his load,
“In his small mouth, as o'er the rugged bark
“In lengthen'd file they march'd. The numerous crowds
“Admiring;—Best of fathers, I exclaim'd,
“So many subjects grant me, to refill
“My desert walls.—Trembled the lofty oak,
“Of wind no breath, yet mov'd the sounding boughs;
“With terror shook my limbs, and upright rear'd
“My hair; then kisses to the ground I gave,
“And kiss'd the oak; scarce hope I dar'd to feel:
“Yet still I nourish'd hope within my soul.
“Night comes; my body worn with cares, to sleep
“Obedience yielded. Still before mine eyes
“The oak appear'd; branches the same it bore,
“And on its branches seem'd the swarms the same;
“So mov'd the boughs, and on the grass below,
“Shook the corn-carrying crowd. Sudden they grew;
“Large, and more large they seem'd, as from the ground
“Themselves they rais'd, and stood in form erect.
“Their slender make, their numerous feet, their hue
“Of sable, disappear'd, and all their limbs
“An human shape confess'd. Sleep fled mine eyes;
“And fled my vision:—As by heaven not mark'd,
“Complaining;—far without the hall I heard
“A murmuring loud, and human seem'd the sounds,—
“Though stranger to mine ears: musing if still
“I slept not,—Lo! quick, Telamon approach'd,
“Wide threw the doors; and cry'd,—O, sire! behold;
“What hope, what faith surpasses!—Forth I come;
“Such men as in my dream my fancy saw,
“I see;—I know them, man by man, again:
“They come, and king salute me: unto Jove
“My votive thanks I pay; my city share
“Amongst my subjects new; and all my lands,
“(Of those who till'd them, empty.) Myrmidons,
“From whence they sprung, I call them. You have seen
“Their bodies,—still their habits are the same:
“A frugal race as wont, patient of toil;
“On gain still bent; tenacious of that gain.
“These equal all, in courage and in years,
“Shall follow you to battle; when the east
“Which blew you here so prosperous, (for the east
“Had brought him) to the southern gales shall yield.”
With these and such like speeches, all the day
They sit conversing; evening they devote
To banquets; and the night to soft repose.
Sol rais'd his golden head, but Eurus still
Prevail'd, and bound their sails. Now Pallas' sons
To Cephalus, their chief in years, repair,
And to the king with Pallas' sons he goes;
But still deep-wrapt in sleep the king was laid.
Phocus receiv'd them at the gates; employ'd
Were Telamon and Peleus, troops to chuse
For the new war. Th' Athenian chief he leads
Within the palace, to the fairest rooms.
When all were seated, Phocus mark'd the dart
The hero bore, shap'd from a wood unknown,
Pointed with gold; and said, with prefac'd words:
“To range the forests, and fierce beasts to slay
“Is all my joy; yet long in doubt I've stood
“What tree this dart has form'd; for ash too pale,
“Too smooth for cornel; though from whence it comes
“So ignorant, ne'er before mine eyes beheld
“A fairer weapon.”—Pallas' son address'd
The youth:—“The javelin's use you'll more admire
“Than beauty;—thrown where'er, its mark it gains,
“Unrul'd by erring chance, and bloody, back
“Instant returns.”—Then Phocus curious asks
More full its story, how, and whence it came,
And who the author of so priz'd a gift.
Him Cephalus informs, but shame denies
To tell the whole, and what the present's price.
Full to his mind his consort's loss recall'd,
Tears sudden gush'd:—“O, goddess-born!—he cries,
“This dart (improbable howe'er) my tears
“Has often caus'd,—and long will make them flow;—
“If fate long life should grant. My dear-lov'd spouse
“This dart destroy'd:—O, that this fatal gift
“Had still been unpossess'd! Procris, ally'd
“To stol'n Orithyiä (if Orithyiä's fame
“Your ears has reach'd) was as her sister fair:
“Nay, match'd in form and manners, she might more
“The robber tempt. Her sire Erechthens join'd
“To me the maid; us love more firmly bound:
“Blest was I call'd, and blest I was indeed,
“And still were blest, but heaven else will'd my fate.
“Now had the second month connubial joys
“Beheld; when chasing dusky darkness far,
“Aurora ruddy, saw me on the heights
“Hymettus flowery rears, as there my toils
“For antler'd stags I spread: and there by force
“She clasp'd me. Truth I wish to guide my tongue
“Nor yet displease the goddess, when I swear
“Though bright her roseate cheeks; though wide she sways
“Of night and day the confines; though she quaffs
“Nectarean liquid, still I Procris lov'd:
“Still in my bosom Procris reign'd, and still
“Procris, my tongue repeated. Oft I urg'd
“The sacred couch, the new-felt joys, the rites
“So recent, and the plighted faith just given,
“To her deserted: when the goddess flam'd,
“Exclaiming;—Ingrate! cease thy doleful plaints,
“Enjoy thy Procris,—if I right foresee
“Thou'lt rue that wish'd enjoyment:—Angry thus
“She fled me. Slow returning, much I mus'd,
“The goddess' words recalling: fear me thrill'd,
“Lest Procris had her nuptial oaths profaned.
“Her age, her beauty, much suspicion mov'd;
“Her virtue bade me chase my fears as vain.
“Yet was I absent, and from whence I came,
“Prov'd how adulterous females might indulge,
“Suspicious love fears all. Studious I seek,
“What found would rack with torture; and I burn
“To bribe with gifts, and try her modest faith.
“Aurora aids my fears, my shape transforms:
“(Conscious I felt it.) To Minerva's town,
“To all unknown, I hastened, and my house
“Enter'd: the house in faultless guise I found;
“Chaste all appear'd, and anxious all were seen
“For their lost master. By a thousand arts
“Erechtheus' daughter I at length beheld,
“And seen was stagger'd: near my purpos'd proof
“Relinquish'd of fidelity; most hard
“The cheat to tell not; to refrain most hard
“From conjugal salutes. Sad she appear'd.
“But nought more lovely could in sadness seem:
“Burning in wishes for her absent spouse.
“Image, O, Phocus! what her beauteous face
“Could boast; a face that woe itself became.
“Why should I tell how oft her virtuous soul,
“Repuls'd my tempting offers? Why repeat
“How oft she cry'd;—For one myself I keep,
“For one, where'er he stays, my joys preserve.
“Whose mad suspicion would not this allay?
“This proof of faith? But I, not so content,
“Strive for my own confusion. Lavish gifts
“I proffer for the joys of one short night:
“More and more rich I heap them, till her breast
“Wavers, then loud exclaim,—Lo! here behold,
“Adulteress! one unluckily disguis'd,
“Unluckily betroth'd, thy lawful spouse!
“Perfidious! by those eyes convinc'd I stand.
“Nought she:—with silent shame o'ercome, she fled
“The house deceitful, and her hated spouse.
“With me offended, all the race of men
“Detesting, on the mountain tops she rov'd;
“Diana's sports close following. Fiercer love
“Flam'd in my bosom, thus deserted left.
“I su'd for pardon, and my fault I own'd;
“Swore that myself so tempted, so had err'd,
“By such high offers brib'd. Confessing thus,
“Her wounded modest pride grew more compos'd;
“And shortly I regain'd her. Long in peace
“We liv'd, and cordial spent the smiling years.
“Herself a gift she priz'd not: more she gave,
“An hound, she from Diana's hand receiv'd,
“Who said,—accept the fleetest of his race—
“And gave this javelin which you see me bear.
“If of the first the fate you seek to know,
“Attend, th' adventure will your wonder move.

“The son of Laïus had the words explain'd,
“Before his time to every mind obscure;
“And the dark prophetess, down headlong flung,
“Laid lifeless, all her riddling tales forgot.
“Her, fostering Themis saw, and unreveng'd
“To lie not suffer'd. Straight another plague
“On Thebes was loos'd; and all the country swains
“Fear'd by the savage beast their flocks to lose,
“And fear'd their own destruction. With the youths
“Adjacent, I assembled; round the fields
“Our toils we fix; the toils the rapid beast
“O'erleaps high-bounding; 'bove the loftiest ropes,
“Stretch'd o'er the nets, with active spring he flies.
“The hounds uncoupled, in the chace he mocks,
“And like an agile bird before them plays;
“With outcries loud, for Lælaps' aid they call.
“(My Procris' gift, so nam'd.) Long had he tugg'd,
“To extricate him from the chain; to free
“His captive neck: scarce was he loos'd, so swift
“He shot, in vain our eyes his progress mark'd:
“In the light dust his feet were printed, he,
“Rapt from the view, was vanish'd. Swifter flies
“The darted spear not: nor the leaden ball
“Hurl'd from the whirling sling;—nor reedy dart
“Shot from the Cretan bow. A central hill
“High-towering, all the subject plains o'erlooks;
“Thither I climb, and there behold the chase;
“A novel scene. Now seems the beast safe caught;
“Now from the grasp light-springing. Flight right on
“Crafty he shuns, and doubles round the field,
“Cheating his chaser's mouth; and circling turns
“His foe's quick speed eluding. Swift he flies,—
“With equal swiftness follow'd. Now to grasp
“His prey seems Lælaps,—in his grasp deceiv'd,
“His empty jaws seize air. Now to my aid
“I call my javelin,—poize it for the blow,
“And bend mine eyes the thongs to fix secure:
“Again I lift them to behold the chase,
“And see astonish'd in the spacious plain
“Two marble statues! this to fly appears,—
“That barking seems to follow. So decreed
“Doubtless the gods, that in the arduous course
“Unconquer'd, each his glory might retain.”

Thus far he spoke, then silent sate.—“What crime,”
Said Phocus—“has the javelin then perform'd?”—
And thus the javelin's fault the hero tells,
“Since joys supreme my sorrows first forewent,
“Let me, O, Phocus! first those joys recount.
“O, youth! how it delights me to retrace
“Those happy moments, when supremely blest
“In her, the primal years were joyous spent.
“She, equal happy in her darling spouse;
“Each mind of mutual care a portion bore;
“And love's connubial joys each equal shar'd.
“Jove's proffer'd couch, with my embrace compar'd,
“Procris had spurn'd; nor could the loveliest nymph
“Me tempt, though Venus' self had deign'd to sue:
“In either breast an equal ardor flam'd.
“In youthful guise I wont the woods to scour,
“For sport betimes, ere yet the sun had ting'd
“With early beams the lofty mountains' tops:
“Nor took I servants, nor the courser fleet,
“Nor hounds sharp-scented, nor the knotted snares;
“This dart my sole dependence: when my arm
“With slaughtered spoil was satiate, tir'd I sought
“The cooling shade, and sought where Aura breath'd
“In frigid vales her breezes. 'Midst the heat
“Refreshing air I sought, and Aura call'd,
“My labour's recreation; thus I sung,
“I well the words remember;—Aura, come!
“Come, my delight,—within my bosom creep,
“Most grateful friend; come, and as wont remove
“My inward flames.—By chance more tender words
“(So sway'd my destiny) to these I join'd:
“And thus I spoke—O, thou! my greatest joy
“Refreshing, cherishing my strength and power!
“For thee, these woods and lonely spots I love:
“Here does my wishing mouth thy breath inhale.—
“These words ambiguous, busy ears receiv'd,
“And Aura! Aura! oft invok'd, they deem
“A favor'd nymph,—a nymph by me belov'd.
“The rash informer with the imag'd wrong,
“My Procris seeks his whispering tongue relates,
“The words o'erheard. Love credulous believes.
“O'erpress'd with grief, she sudden sunk, when heard
“The tale,—and long she unrecover'd laid.
“Then—hapless wife!—O, wayward fate! she cries:—
“My broken faith bewails, and with my crime
“Imagin'd, troubled, fears what not exists,—
“A name without a being: much she grieves,
“As real were her rival: yet full oft
“Stagger'd, she doubts, and hopes herself deceiv'd:
“Trusts not th' informer; and her husband's fault,
“Unless beheld, refuses to believe.
“When next Aurora bade the darkness fly
“I sally'd forth, and sought th' accustomed wood:
“Then tir'd with conquest, on the grass I stretch'd,
“And,—come, dear Aura, ease my pain,—I cry'd
“Sudden a mournful sigh betwixt my words
“I heard, but still proceeded,—dearest, come!—
“Again the falling leaves a rustling sound
“Causing, a savage beast I thought lay hid,
“And hurl'd my faithful dart. Procris was there!
“And as her tender breast the blow receiv'd
“Alas! she cry'd.—My faithful spouse's voice
“I knew, and with distracted speed I ran;
“Half-dead I found her, all her robes distain'd
“With flowing blood,—and dragging from the wound,
“Ah, me!—her fatal gift. My guilty arms,
“Her body, dearer far than mine, support;
“My vest I rend, the cruel gash to bind,
“And check the gushing blood; I fearful pray,
“She will not leave me guilty of her fate.
“She now, her strength fast wasting, dying fast,
“These words to utter try'd:—Suppliant I beg,
“By all the oaths that form'd our nuptial ties;
“By all the gods and goddesses above;
“By all my actions which have given you joy;
“By that strong love which thus my fate has caus'd,
“Which now in death my bosom still retains,
“Let not this Aura to my bed succeed.—
“She said,—too late I learn'd, too late I told
“The error of the name; for what avail'd!
“She sinks, her small remaining strength is fled,
“Her last blood flows. While ought she seems to view,
“On me she bends her eyes; her hapless soul
“My lips inhale, yet pleas'd her brow appears
“In death, more calm from what I just explain'd.”
Thus grieving, Cephalus concludes, and all
His audience with him weep. When, lo! appear
King Æäcus, his sons, and troops new-rais'd;
Whom Cephalus, in warlike strength, receives.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

Macdonald & Bailey, Printers, Harris's Place,
Oxford-Street.

THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
Publius Ovidius Naso
IN
English Blank Verse

Translated by J. J. Howard