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

by Ovid

VOL. II.

The Eighth Book.

Nisus betrayed to Minos by his daughter Scylla; changed to a falcon, and Scylla to a lark. Return of Minos to Crete. The Minotaur and labyrinth. Flight of Dædalus and Icarus. Change of Perdix to a partridge. Chase and death of the Calydonian boar, by Meleager and Atalanta. Murder of Meleager's uncles. Vengeance of his mother. Death of Meleager, and transformation of his sisters to birds. Acheloüs. Nymphs transformed into the isles Echinades. Perimelè into an island. Story of Baucis and Philemon. Changes of Proteus. Story of Erisichthon, and transformations of his daughter.

Printed by G. Hayden,
Brydges Street, Covent Garden.

THE
Eighth Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

Now leading Phosphor' shining day disclos'd,
The darkness flying; and the eastern gales
Lull'd into calm, the vapoury clouds arose:
The placid south befriending, rapid borne,
The hero Cephalus, and aiding troops,
Ride unexpected in their wish'd-for port.

Minos, meanwhile, the Lelegeian coast
Lays waste, and on Alcathoë's town his power
Essays. Here Nisus rul'd, whose reverend locks
Of silvery brightness, in the midst contain'd
One with rich purple splendid, sacred pledge
Of fortune to his kingdom. Six times seen
Were Luna's horns arising fresh renew'd;
Still hover'd conquest doubtful o'er the war,
On wavering pinions, 'twixt opposing hosts.
A regal tower its vocal walls high-rear'd,
Where once Latona's son his golden lyre
Rested; the music still the stones retain'd.
Oft here the beauteous daughter of the king
Ascended, and the latent music drew
Forth to the ear, by smallest pebbles struck.
Thus she in peaceful times, and here she oft
When war was raging, ventur'd: hence she saw
The rough encounters of the furious field.
So long the tedious warfare, well she knew
The leaders' names, their arms, their prancing steeds:
And knew their garments, and their Cretan bows.
Far beyond all Europa's son she knew,
More than became her state: this Minos well
Could prove; whose head in crested helmet hid,
Most beauteous helm'd appear'd: whose arm, adorn'd
With brazen shield refulgent, well became
The brazen shield: whose hand the tough lance whirl'd,
And back withdrawn, the virgin wondering prais'd
Such strength and skill combin'd: to fit the dart
When to the spreading bow his strength he bent,
She vow'd that Phœbus in such posture stood
His arrows fitting: when, his brazen casque
Relinquish'd, all his features shone display'd,
As purple-rob'd his snow-white steed he press'd,
In painted housings gay, and curb'd his jaws
White foaming,—then the lost Nisean maid,
Scarcely herself, in frantic rapture spoke:—
Blest call'd the javelin, that his hands it touch'd;
Blest call'd the reins he curb'd. Arduous she burns,
(Could she) through hostile ranks her virgin steps
To bend: arduous she burns, from loftiest towers
To fling her body in the Cretan camp.
The brazen portals of the city's walls
Wide to the foe she'd ope: what could she not?
That Minos will'd? As resting here she view'd,
The white pavilion of the Gnossian king
Dubious, she cry'd;—“Or should I grieve or joy,
“This mournful war to witness? Grieve I must
“That Minos so belov'd should be my foe.
“But had the war not been, his lovely face
“Had ne'er to me been known. Now war may cease
“Should I become the hostage:—I retain'd,
“As Minos' comrade, and the pledge of peace.
“Fairest of forms! if she who brought thee forth
“Resembled thee, well might an amorous god
“Burn for her beauty. O! thrice blest were I,
“If borne through air on lightly-waving wings,
“The Cretan monarch's camp I might explore,
“And there, my rank and love disclos'd, demand
“What dowry he would ask to be my spouse.
“My country's towers alone, he should not seek.
“Perish the joys of his expected bed,
“Ere I through treason gain them! Yet full oft
“A moderate victor's clemency affords
“Great blessings to the vanquish'd. Doubtless, he
“Just warfare wages for his murder'd son.
“Strong in his cause, and in his armies strong,
“Which aid that cause, he must the conquest gain.
“Why, if this fate my country waits, should war,
“And not my love unbar to him the gates?
“So may he conquer; slaughter, toil, and blood,—
“His own dear blood, avoided. How I dread,
“Lest some rash hand might that lov'd bosom wound!
“None but the ignorant sure, the savage spear
“At him would hurl. The scheme delights my soul:
“Fixt my resolve; my country as my dower
“Will I deliver, finish so the war!
“But what are resolutions? Watchful guards
“The passes keep; of every gate, the keys
“My father careful holds. Hapless! I dread
“My father only; he alone withstands
“My wishes; would that so the gods had doom'd,
“I had no parent! But to each himself
“A god may surely be; and fortune spurns
“Lazy beseechers. With such love inflam'd,
“Another maid had long ere now destroy'd
“All barriers to her bliss; and why than I,
“Should any dare more boldly? Fearless, I
“Thro' swords and flames would pass, but swords and flames
“Oppose me not in this: my sole desire
“Compris'd in one small lock of Nisus' hair:
“Than gold that prize more dear. That purple lock
“Most blest would make me, and my sole desires
“Encompass.”—Speaking thus, the gloomy night,
Imperial nurse of cares, approach'd; more bold
Her daring project with the darkness grew.

Now primal slumbers rul'd o'er weary breasts,
Tir'd with their toil diurnal. Silent, she
Her father's chamber enters, and (O, dire!)
The daughter from her parent's head divides
The fateful lock! Her wicked prize possess'd,
Forth from the gate she issues; and the spoil,
So cursed, with her bears; as through the hosts,
(Such boldness gave the deed,) she seeks the king,
Whom thus, astonish'd and aghast, she hails:—
“To wicked deeds love sways; behold me here,
“Scylla, from royal Nisus sprung; to thee
“My household gods and country I betray:
“Thee, sole reward I seek. Pledge of my faith,
“This purple lock receive, and with this lock
“Receive my parent's head.”—Then in her hand
The impious gift presented. Minos spurn'd
The parricidal present; deeply shock'd
A deed so base to witness, and exclaim'd;—
“May all the gods, from every part of earth
“Thee banish, scandal of our age! may land
“And sea alike reject thee; such a soul
“So monstrous! ne'er with me shall touch the shores
“Of Crete, my land, and cradle of high Jove.”
He said, and on his captive foes impos'd
Most just his equal laws; his men bade loose
Their cables from the beach, and with their oars
His vessels bright with brass, urge on the deep.

Launch'd on the main, when Scylla sees the fleet,
Nor from its leader gain'd the hop'd reward,
Her wicked deed had sought, tir'd of her prayers,
In desperate rage she storms; wild throws her hair;
Stretches her hands, exclaiming;—“Where! O, where!
“Fly'st thou, the author of thy fortune left?
“O, priz'd above my country! 'bove my sire!
“O cruel, whither fly'st thou, whose success
“At once my merit, and my fault displays?
“Will not the gifted conquest move thy soul?
“Will not my love thee move? Will not the thought
“That all my hopes centre in thee alone?
“By thee deserted, whither shall I fly?
“Back to my natal town? Ruin'd it lies;
“Or if still standing, fast the gates are barr'd
“Against my treason. To my father's arms,
“Whom I betray'd? Each citizen me hates
“Deserv'dly; neighbours my example dread.
“Banish'd, an exile from each spot of earth,—
“Crete only open lies. Thence dost thou drive
“Me also? Ingrate! dost thou fly me so?
“Europa never bore thee, but some Syrt'
“Inhospitable; or some tigress fell
“Bred in Armenia; or Charybdis vext
“With tempests: Jove was ne'er thy sire, nor feign'd
“A bull's resemblance to delude her, false
“That fable of thy origin. A bull,
“Real and savage thee begot, whose love
“No heifer mov'd. O father Nisus! now
“Exact thy vengeance. Joy, O town! betray'd
“By my transgression; for the woes I feel
“Most merited I grant; guilty I die:
“Yet should the deadly blow be given by one
“My impious fault has injur'd; not by thee,
“Victor through crimes thou with avenging hate
“Now persecutest. This flagitious deed
“Against my country, and against my sire,
“Was all for thee. Th' adultress who beguil'd
“In wooden cavity the furious bull;
“Whose womb an ill-assorted birth produc'd;
“Well for a spouse befits thee. Do my words
“Reach to thine ears, or no? Do the brisk winds,
“Thou ingrate! waft my bootless plainings on,
“And waft thy vessels? Wondrous now no more,
“Pasiphaë, to thy embrace a bull
“Preferr'd; for more unpitying is thy soul.
“Joyful, ah! hapless me,—away thou fly'st;
“Thy cleaving oars dash on the sounding waves:
“Me, and my country far from thee recede.
“O wretch! forgetful of my favoring aid,
“Thou striv'st in vain to fly me. 'Gainst thy wish
“Thee will I follow; on thy crooked ship
“Hanging, embracing, dragg'd through drenching seas.'
Scarce ending, in the waves she furious leaped,
Vigorous by love, and gain'd the flying fleet;
And clasp'd, unwelcome guest, the Gnossian poop.
Here soon her father spy'd her (in the air
He wing'd his way, now cloth'd with yellow plumes
A falcon) and down darted; with his beak
So curv'd, to wound her as she clung. In dread
Her grasp she loos'd, and as she seem'd to fall,
The light air bore her from the waves below:
Plum'd she became, and form'd a feather'd bird,
Ciris they call'd her from the ravish'd lock.

To Jove now Minos all his vows performs,
An hecatomb of bulls; as from the fleet
He lands on Gnossus' shores: his royal hall
With all his spoils, on high uphung, adorn'd.

Meantime th' opprobrium of his bed increas'd:
The two-formed monster in a novel birth,
At length the mother's beastly crime proclaim'd.
Minos, the shameful witness from his couch,
Far to remove determines; in a dome
Intricate winding, he resolves to lodge,
From every eye conceal'd, the birth. Intrusts
The work to Dædalus, in cunning arts
Most fam'd, to build. He all the various marks,
Confuses, puzzles; bent on either side,
The various paths confound the searching eye.
So in the fields the soft Mæander plays,
Here refluent, flowing there with dubious course;
Meeting himself, his wandering stream he sees:
And urges now to whence he first arose;
Now to the open outlet of the main.
Thus Dædalus the numerous paths perplex'd
With puzzlings intricate, so much entwin'd,
Himself could scarce the outer threshold gain.
Here was the double monster, man and bull
Inclos'd; till by the third allotted tribe,
The ninth year, vanquish'd; with Athenian blood
Twice gorg'd before. Then was the secret gate,
So often sought in vain, found by the aid
A virgin lent to trace the winding clue.
Instant for Dias, Theseus loos'd his sails,
With Minos' ravish'd daughter: on that shore
Cruel! he left her. The deserted nymph
Wildly lamenting, Bacchus soon embrac'd,
And gave her needful aid; her fame to fix
Immortal in the skies, her sparkling crown,
Mov'd from her forehead, 'mid the stars he plac'd:
Through the thin air it flies, and as it mounts
To blazing stars, the glittering jewels change.
Still as a crown it shines, its station 'midst
Where stout Alcides Ophiuchus grasps.

Meantime long exile, and the land of Crete
Detesting; burning with a patriot's wish
His native soil to visit, Dædalus,
By sea escape prevented, thus exclaim'd;—
“Let earth and ocean both my flight obstruct,
“Still open lies the air; through air we'll go.
“Minos controlling all, controls not air.”—
He speaks, and bends to unknown arts his skill,
Improving Nature's gift. Quills fixt in rows
He places; small at first in length and size,
Gradual enlarg'd, as if a hill's steep side
Growing, produc'd them: So time past the pipe,
Of rustic origin, by small degrees
Increasing reeds compos'd. Firm fixt with thread
Their middle part he binds, and close with wax
Cements their bottom. All complete he bends
The composition in a gentle curve,
Resembling real wings. Young Icarus
Alone was present; ignorant that the work
Would his destruction cause; with playful tricks
He fingers now the feathers, now his hands
Soften the yellow wax. His sportive wiles
His father's wond'rous essay oft delay.

Now was the last completing stroke impos'd
Upon his undertaking: First the sire
On artificial wings his body pois'd,
And in the beaten air suspended hung:
Then his young offspring, Icarus, he taught.—
“This I my son advise, a middle course,
“To keep be cautious; low if thou should'st skim,
“Heavy with ocean's spray thy wings would droop:
“If high, the sun would scorch them. Steer thy course
“'Twixt each extreme. Nor would I wish thine eyes
“To view Boötes, or the northern bear;
“Nor yet Orion's naked sword. My track
“Cautious pursue.”—With anxious care he gives
Rules thus for flight; and to his shoulders fits
The new-form'd pinions. Tears his ancient cheeks
Bedew'd, as thus his admonitions flow'd:
And his paternal hands as thus employ'd,
Beneath the office trembled. Warm salutes
He gave the boy, nor knew he gave the last;
Then on his feathers borne, explores the way,
Timid for him who follows. So the bird,
Tempts from her lofty nest her new-fledg'd brood,
In the thin air. He bids him close pursue,
Tries in each shape to teach the fatal skill;
Shakes his own pinions, bending back to view
His son's. The angler as with quivering reed,
He drew his prey to land; the shepherd-swain,
As o'er his staff he lean'd; the ploughman-clown,
Their flight astonish'd saw, and deem'd them gods,
That so at will could cleave the liquid sky.

Now Samos, Juno's favor'd isle they pass'd,
Delos, and Paros, all to left;—to right
Labyrithos lay, and rich in honey'd sweets
Calymné: when the heedless boy o'erjoy'd
In his bold flight, the precepts of his guide
Contemning, soar'd to heaven a loftier range.
The neighbouring sun's fierce heat the fragrant wax
Which bound, his pinions, soften'd. Soon the wax
Dissolves; and now his naked arms he waves;
But destitute of power his course to steer,
No air his arms can gather; loud he calls
His father's name, as in the azure deep
He drops,—the deep which still his name retains.

The hapless parent, not a parent now,
Loud calls on Icarus;—“Where art thou, son?
“Where shall I seek thee, Icarus?”—He said,
And spy'd his feathers floating on the waves:
Then curs'd his hapless art, as in the earth,
He deep intomb'd him; all the land around
Bears from the youth intomb'd its present name.

The whirring partridge, from a branchy holm
Beheld him, as beneath the turf he plac'd
His son's lamented body, and with joy
Flutter'd his feathers; while his chirping song
Proclaim'd his gladness: then the only bird
Known of his kind, in elder days unseen;
But lately cloth'd with feathers, through the crime
Flagitious, Dædalus, of thee! To thee,
Thy sister, witless how his fate was doom'd,
Her son committed for instructing art,
When twice six annual suns the youth had seen;
His docile mind best fitted then to learn.
He well th' indented bones remark'd, which form
The fish's spiny back, and in like mode,
Sharp steel indenting, first the saw produc'd
For public service. Two steel arms he join'd
Fixt to one orb above; each widely stretch'd,
One steady rests, the other circling turns.
Him Dædalus with envy viewing, forc'd
Headlong, from sacred Pallas' lofty tower,
His death feign'd accidental: but the maid
Divine, to all ingenious minds a friend,
Receiv'd him in his fall; chang'd to a bird,
On pinions bore him through the middle air.
His vigorous powers in force remain the same,
But change their seat; rapid he flies, and quick
He races on the ground; his name remains
Unalter'd: still the cautious bird declines
To trust his weight aloft, nor forms his nest
On lofty boughs, or summits of high trees:
Nigh to the earth he skims; beneath the hedge
His shelly brood deposits; of his fall
Still mindful, towering heights he always shuns.

Now Dædalus, with lengthen'd flight fatigu'd,
Sicilia's realm receiv'd; whose king humane,
Great Cocalus, mov'd with his suppliant pray'r,
Arm'd to assist him. Now by Theseus freed,
Athens no more the mournful tribute paid.
With garlands every temple gay they hang,
Invoke the warlike maid, the mighty Jove,
And every deity: their altars all
With promis'd blood they honor; with rich gifts,
And fragrant incense. Now had wandering fame
Through all the Grecian towns, spread the renown
Of Theseus: and the rich Achaïa's tribes
His aid implor'd, when mighty perils press'd.
Ev'n Calydon, though Meleager brave
Possessing, sought his help with suppliant words.
The cause, a furious boar by Dian' sent,
Avenging instrument of slighted power.

Œneus, from plenteous harvests' full success
Rejoicing, primal fruits to Ceres gave;
To Bacchus pour'd libations of his wine;
To yellow-hair'd Minerva offer'd oil:
The rites invidious, from the rural gods
Commencing, all the bright celestials shar'd.
Latona's daughter only, in her fane,
Nor flames nor offerings on her altar saw.
Rage fires ev'n heavenly breasts.—“Not unreveng'd,”—
She cry'd,—shall this be suffer'd; honor'd not!
“Not unappeas'd by vengeance will I rest.”—
Then through th' Œneian fields the maid, despis'd,
Sends the fierce boar to ravage. Such his size,
The bulls that in Epirus' pastures graze
More huge appear not: in Sicilia's meads
Far less are seen. Red are his sparkling eyes,
Fire mixt with blood; high rears his fearful neck,
Thick clustering spears the threatening bristles seem:
Hoarse as he grunts, down his wide shoulders spreads
The boiling foam: his tusks the tusks outvie
Of India's hugest beast: the lightening's blast,
Driven from his mouth, burns all the verdant leaves.
Now o'er the corn, but yet in budding ears,
He tramples, immature he reaps the crop;
The loud-lamenting tiller's hopes destroy'd:
The harvest intercepting in the shoot.
In vain the barns, the granaries in vain,
Their promis'd loads expect. Prostrate alike
Are thrown the fruitful clusters of the vine,
With shooting tendrils; and the olive's fruit
With branches ever-blooming. On the flocks
He rages: these not shepherds, not their dogs
Could save; nor could the furious bull his herd.
Wide fled the people; safety none durst hope
Save in their cities' walls; till thirst of fame
Fir'd Meleager, with his chosen band
Of valiant youths. And first were seen the twins
Of Tyndarus, for wond'rous skill renown'd,
This at the cæstus, that to curb the steed:
Jason, whose art the primal ship design'd:
Theseus, in happy concord with his friend
Pirithous, join'd: Thestius' two valiant sons:
Lynceus, Aphareus' offspring: Idas swift:
Leucippus fierce: Acastus unexcell'd
To dart the javelin: Cæneus, now no more
Cloth'd in a female figure: Phœnix, sprung
From old Amyntor: Actor's equal sons:
Hippothoös: Dryas: and from Elis' town
Dispatch'd, came Phileus. Nor was absent there,
Brave Telamon, nor great Achilles' sire:
Nor stout Eurytion; with Pheretus' son:
Nor Hyantean Iölaüs brave:
Echion in speed unconquer'd: Nestor then
In primal youth: Lelex, Narycian born:
Panopeus: Hyleus: Hippasus the fierce:
Nor those whom Hippocoön sent in aid,
From old Amyclæ: nor Ulysses' sire:
Ancæus of Parrhasia: Mopsus sage:
Amphiareus, then by his false spouse's guile
Betray'd not. With them Atalanta came,
The grace and glory of Arcadia's woods.
A shining buckle from the ground confin'd
Her garment's border: simply bound, her hair
One knot confin'd: her ivory quiver, slung
O'er her left shoulder, sounded as she stepp'd:
Her hand sustain'd a bow: and thus array'd
Appear'd her form. Her lineaments disclos'd,
What scarce might feminine in boys appear;
Or hardly boyish in a virgin's face.
The chief of Calydon the maid beheld,—
Beheld, and lov'd: while heaven his love oppos'd.
The secret flames inhaling deep, he cry'd,—
“O, blessed youth! if youth to gain thy hand
“Worthy were deem'd!”—Nor bashful shame, nor time
Would more allow; a mightier deed now claim'd
Their utmost efforts for the furious war.

Darken'd with trees thick-growing, rose a wood;
From earliest ages there the biting axe
Had never sounded; in the plain it rear'd
Facing the sloping fields. The youths arriv'd;
Some spread the knotted toils; some loose the hounds;
Some strive the foot-prints of the boar to trace,
Their danger anxious seeking. Low beneath
A hollow vale extended, where the floods
Fresh showery torrents gather'd, lazy laid.
The flexile willow, and the waving reed;
The fenny bulrush, osier, and the cane
Diminutive, the stagnant depth conceal'd.
Arous'd from hence, the boar impetuous rush'd
Amidst his host of foes; so lightenings dart
When clouds concussive clash. His rapid force
Levels the grove, the crackling trees resound
Where'er he pushes: loud the joyful youth
Exclaim, each grasping with a nervous hand
His weapon brandish'd, while its broad head shakes.
Forward he darts, the dogs he scatters wide,
And each opposing power; his strokes oblique
Their baying drives to distance. Echion's arm
Hurl'd the first dart, but hurl'd the dart in vain;
Lightly a maple's trunk the weapon graz'd.
The next, but over-urg'd the force that sent,
Had pierc'd the rough back of the wish'd-for prey;
Jason's the steel,—it whizz'd beyond him far.
Then Mopsus pray'd,—“O Phœbus! if thy rites
“I e'er perform'd, if still I thee adore,
“Grant my sure weapon what I wish to touch.”
The god consented, what he could he gave,—
The boar was struck, but struck without a wound:
Diana from the flying weapon snatch'd
The steely head, and pointless fell the wood.
More chafes the beast, like lightening fierce he burns,
Fire from his eyeballs flashes, from his chest
Clouds of hot smoke through his wide nostrils roll.
Forc'd from the close-drawn string as flies a stone,
Hurl'd at embattl'd walls, or hostile towers
With foes thick crowded: so the deadly beast
Rush'd on the heroes with unerring shock.
Eupalamus and Pelagon, who stood
The right wing guarding, on the earth he threw:
Their fellows snatch'd them from impending fate.
Not so Onesimus, of Hippocoön
The offspring, 'scap'd the death-inflicting blow;
Torn through the ham, just as for flight he turn'd;
His slacken'd nerves could bear his weight no more.
Then Nestor too, long e'er the Trojan times,
Perchance had perish'd, but beside him stood
A tree, whose branches nimbly he attain'd;
A mighty effort, aided by his spear:
Safe in his seat, he view'd the foe he fled,
Beneath him. Fiercely threatening death below,
He whets his tushes on a stumpy oak,
And bold in sharpen'd arms, ranches the thigh,
With crooked fangs, of Othrys' mighty son.
Now the twin-brothers, ere in heaven display'd
Bright constellations, both fair dazzling shone,
Mounted on steeds, whose lily'd hue surpass'd
Th' unsully'd snow; both shook their brandish'd spears,
The trembling motion sounded high in air;
Deep both had pierc'd, but 'mid the darkening trees,
Their bristly foe sought refuge, where nor steed,
Nor dart could reach him. Telamon pursues;
Ardent, and heedless of his steps, a root
Checks his quick feet, and prone the hero falls.
While Peleus aids his brother chief to rise,
The beauteous Atalanta to the string
Fits the swift dart, and from the bended bow
Speeds it; the arrow, fixt beneath his ear,
Razes the monster's skin, and drops of blood
His bristly neck ensanguine. Joys the maid
To see the blow;—but Meleager far
In joy surpass'd her. He the first beheld
The trickling blood; he to his comrades first
The wound display'd, exclaiming,—“Yon fair nymph
“The honors so deserv'dly won shall bear.”—
The warriors blush with shame, and each exhorts
His fellow; shouts their souls more valiant swell;
In heaps confus'd their numerous javelins fly;
Clashing in crowds, each javelin fails to wound.
Lo! now Ancæus furious, to his fate
Blind rushing, rears his double axe, and cries,—
“Behold, O youths! how much a manly arm
“Outstrikes a female's, to my prowess yield
“The palm of conquest. Let Latona's maid
“With all her power protect him, yet my force,
“Spite of Diana, shall the monster slay.”—
Proud his big-boasting tongue thus speaks, then grasps
His two-edg'd weapon firmly in his hands,
And rais'd on tiptoe meditates the blow.
The watchful beast prevents him, through his groin,
To death sure passage, drives his double tusks:
Ancæus drops; his bowels gushing fall,
Roll on the earth, and soak the ground in gore.
Ixion's son, Pirithous, on the foe
Rush'd, in his nervous hand a powerful spear
Brandishing; Theseus loudly to his friend
Exclaim'd,—“O, dearer far than is myself,—
“Half of my soul, at distance wait; the brave
“At distance may engage; valor too rash
“Destroy'd Ancæus.”—As he spoke he hurl'd
His massive cornel spear; its brazen head
Well pois'd, its sender's anxious wish appear'd
Fair to accomplish, when a leafy arm
Branch'd from a beech, oppos'd it in its flight.
Next Æson's son, his javelin threw, but chance
Glanc'd from its mark the weapon, and transpierc'd
An undeserving hound; the dart was drove
Through all his belly, and deep fixt in earth.
But different fortune on the arms awaits
Of Meleager, javelins two he sent;
Deep in the ground the foremost pierc'd, the next
Firm in the monster's back quivering stood fixt.
Nor stays he, whilst he raging furious whirl'd
In giddy circles round, and pour'd his foam,
Mad with the new-felt torture, close at hand
The hero plies his work, provokes his foe
To fiercer ire, and in his furious breast
Buries the glittering spear. A second shout
Loudly proclaims his thronging comrades' joy;
Each to the victor crowding, hand in hand
Congratulating grasps him; each amaz'd
Views the dire savage, as his mighty bulk
O'erspreads a space of land. Scarce think they yet
Their safety sure, him touching; each his spear
Extends, and dips it in the flowing gore.
His foot upon the head destructive fixt,
The conquering youth thus speaks:—“Nonacria fair!
“Receive the spoil my fortune well might claim:
“Fresh glory shall I gain, with thee to share
“The honors of the day.”—Then gives the spoils;—
The chine with horrid bristles rising stiff,
And head, fierce threatening still with mighty tusks.
She takes the welcome gift, for much she joys
From him to take it. Envy seiz'd the rest,
And sullen murmurs through the comrades ran:
Above the rest, were Thestius' sons,—their arms
Out-stretching, clamor'd thus with a mighty noise;—
“Let not thy beauteous form thy mind deceive,
“When from thy eyes the donor of the spoil,
“Besotted with thy love, shall far be mov'd.
“Woman! restore the prize, nor hope to hold
“Our intercepted claims.”—Speaking they rob
Her of the gift, him of the right to give.
Nor passive stood the warlike youth, his teeth
He gnash'd with swelling rage, as fierce he cry'd;—
“Learn, ye base robbers of another's rights,
“What difference threats and valiant actions shew.—”
Then in Plexippus' unsuspecting breast
He plung'd his impious sword: nor suffer'd long
Toxeus to doubt, who hesitating stood,
Now vengeance brooding for his brother's fate,
Now dreading for himself a like swift blow;
Again he warms the weapon, reeking still
Hot from Plexippus' bosom, in his blood.

To every temple of the favoring gods
Althæa bore donations for her son,
Victorious: When the breathless bodies came
Of both her brethren, loud the sounding blows
Of grief were heard, and all the city rung
With lamentable cries: her golden robes
Were straight to sable chang'd. But when the hand
Which struck the blow was known, her every tear
Was dry'd, and vengeance only fill'd her soul.
A log there lay when Thestius' daughter groan'd
In child-bed pangs; which on the greedy flames
The triple sisters flung; and while their thumbs
Twirl'd round the fatal thread, this was their song;—
“O newly born! to thee and to this bough
“Like date of life we give.”—Then ceas'd their words,
And from her presence vanish'd: sudden snatch'd
The mother from the fire the burning brand,
And quench'd it instant in unsparing streams.
Long in most secret darkness had she hid
This fatal wood; and, thus preserv'd, her son
Had safely years mature attain'd; but now
Forth she produc'd it from its close recess.
Fragments of torches on the hearth she heap'd,
And blew the sparklings into deadly flames;
And thrice she rais'd her hands the branch to heave
On the fierce fire; and thrice her hands withdrew.
Sister and mother in one bosom fought,
To adverse acts impelling. Oft her face,
Dread of her meditated crime, bleach'd pale;
Oft to her eyes her furious rage supply'd
A fiery redness; now her countenance glow'd
With threatenings cruel; now her softening looks
To pity seemed to melt; and when fierce ire
Had fill'd her soul, and parch'd up every tear,
Fresh tears would gush. Thus rocks a vessel, driven
By winds and adverse currents, both their force
At once obeys, and can to neither yield.
Thus waver'd Thestius' daughter, dubious thus
Affection sway'd her; now her rage is calm,
Now her calm'd rage with fourfold fury burns.
At length the sister's o'er the parent's tie
The prevalence obtains; impiously good,
With blood her own, she soothes the brethren's shades.
Now, when the fires destructive fiercely glar'd,
She cry'd:—“Here, funeral pile, my bowels burn!—”
And as the fatal wood her direful hand
Held forth, the hapless mother, at the pyre
Sepulchral, stood, exclaiming;—“Furies three!
“Avenging sisters! hither turn your eyes;
“Behold the furious sacred rites I pay:
“For retribution I commit this crime.
“By death their death must be aveng'd; his fault
“By mine be punish'd; on their funeral biers
“His must be laid; one sinning house must fall,
“In woes accumulated. Blest shall still
“Œneus enjoy his proud victorious son,
“And Thestius childless mourn? Better that both
“Should weep in concert. Dear fraternal ghosts,
“Recent from upper air, my work behold!
“Take to th' infernal realms my offering bought
“So dear! the hapless pledge my womb produc'd.

“Ah! whither am I swept? Brothers forgive
“The parent. Lo! my faltering hands refuse
“To second my intents. Well he deserves
“To perish; yet by other hands than mine.
“Unpunish'd shall he 'scape then? Victor live,
“Proud of his high success, and rule the realm
“Of Calydon, while ye are prostrate thrown
“A trivial heap of ashes, and cold shades?
“Patience no more will bear. Perish the wretch!
“Perish his father's hopes! perish the realm!
“And all the country perish! Where? O, where?
“Is then the mother's soul, the pious prayers
“A parent should prefer? Where the strong pains
“Which twice five moons I bore? O, that the flames
“First kindled, had thy infant limbs consum'd!
“Would I had not then snatch'd thee from thy fate!
“Thy gift of life is mine; now that thou dy'st
“Thy own demerits ask: take the reward
“Thy deeds deserve: yield up thy twice-given life,
“First in thy birth, then by the brand I sav'd;
“Or lay me with my brethren in their tomb.
“I wish, yet what I would my hands refuse.
“What will my soul determine? Now mine eyes
“The mangled corses of my brethren fill:
“Now filial fondness, and a mother's name
“Distract my soul. O, wretched, wretched me!
“Brothers you gain the conquest, yet you gain
“Dearly for me; but on your shades I'll wait,
“Blest in what gives you once to me again.”
She said; with face averse and trembling hand,
The fateful brand amid the fires was dropt.
The brand a groan deep utter'd, or a groan
To utter seem'd: the flames half backward caught
At length their prey, which gradually consum'd.

Witless of this sad deed, and absent far,
Fierce Meleager, with the self-same fire
Burn'd inward; all his vitals felt the flame
Scorching conceal'd: th' excruciating pangs
Magnanimous he bore. Yet deep he mourn'd
By such a slothful bloodless fate to fall;
And happy call'd Ancæus in his wounds.
With deep-drawn groans he calls his aged sire,
His brother, sisters, and the nymph belov'd,
Who shar'd his nuptial couch; with final breath,
His mother too perchance. Now glows the fire,
And now the pains increase; now both are faint;
Now both together die. The soul flies forth,
And gently dissipates in empty air.

Low now lies lofty Calydon,—the youths,
And aged seniors weep; the vulgar crowd
And nobles mourn alike; the matrons rend
Their garments, beat their breasts, and tear their hair.
Stretch'd on the earth the wretched sire defiles
His hoary locks, and aged face with dust,
Cursing his lengthen'd years: the conscious hand
Which caus'd the direful end, the mother's fate
Accomplish'd; through her vitals pierc'd the steel.

Had heaven on me an hundred tongues bestow'd,
With sounding voice, and such capacious wit
As all might fill; and all the Muses' power,
Still should I fail the grieving sisters' woe
Justly to paint. Heedless of beauteous forms
They beat their bosoms livid; while the corse
Remains, they clasp and cherish in their arms
The senseless mass; the corse they kiss, and kiss
The couch on which it rests: to ashes burn'd,
Careful collected in the urn, they hug
Those ashes to their breasts; and prostrate thrown
His tomb they cover; on the graven stone
Embrace his name; and on the letters pour
Their tears in torrents. Dian' satiate now
The house of Œneus levell'd with the dust,
Rais'd them by wings in air, which sudden shot
From each their bodies. Gorgé sole, and she
The spouse of valiant Hercules, unchang'd
Were left. Long pinions for their arms were seen;
Their mouths to horny bills were turn'd; through air
Thus alter'd, ample range the goddess gives.

Theseus meantime, the toil confederate done,
Homeward to Pallas' towers his journey bent;
But Acheloüs, swol'n by showery floods,
Delay'd his progress. “Fam'd Cecropia's chief,”—
He cry'd,—“here shelter, enter 'neath my roof,
“Nor through the furious torrents trust thy steps.
“Whole forests oft they root, and whirl along
“Vast rocks with thundering sound. High stalls I've seen,
“Near to the banks erected, swept away:
“Nor aught avail'd the lusty bull's strong limbs,
“Nor aught the courser's speed: the torrents oft
“Of melted snows, which from the mountains rush,
“Whelm the strong youths beneath the whirling pool.
“To rest is safer, till their wonted banks
“Again the streams confine; the lessen'd waves
“Within their channels pent.”—Theseus complies,
And answers:—“Acheloüs, we approve
“Thy prudent counsel, and thy cave will use,”
The grot they enter; hollow pumice, mixt
With rugged tophus, form'd it; tender moss
The moist floor cover'd; fretwork on the roof
The purple murex and the scallop white
Alternate form'd. Now Phœbus' steeds had run
Two thirds their race, when Theseus on his couch
Reclin'd, the comrades of his toil close by;
Pirithous here, Trœzenian Lelex there,
Whose temples now some silvery hairs display'd.
With these were such as Acheloüs, joy'd
At such a noble guest, the honor deem'd
Worthy to share. The barefoot Naiäd nymphs
Heap'd on the board the banquet: food remov'd,
They brought the wine, in cups with jewels deck'd.

The mighty hero then, the distant main
Surveying, asks:—“What land is that I see?—”
And shews the spot,—“tell me what name denotes
“That isle? and yet methinks not one it seems.”
The river-god replies:—“What we behold
“A single isle is not, but five; the eye
“Is mock'd by distance. That Diana's wrath
“May less your wonder move, these once were nymphs.
“Ten bullocks had they sacrific'd, and call'd
“Each rural god to taste the sacred feast,
“And join the festal chorus, me alone,
“Forgetful, they invited not. Sore vext,
“I swell'd with rage, and as my anger rose,
“My flood increas'd; till at my greatest height,
“Woods I divorc'd from woods; from meadows tore
“The neighbouring meadows; and the Naiäds roll'd,
“Now well-remembering what my godhead claim'd,
“Down with their habitations to the main.
“My waves then, with the ocean's waters join'd,
“The land divided, and those isles you view,
“Echinades, amid the sea were form'd.

“More distant may your vision reach;—behold
“An isle beyond them to my soul most dear;
“By sailors nam'd Perimelé. I snatch'd
“Her virgin-treasure from the much-lov'd maid.
“Hippodamas her sire in fury rav'd;
“And, from a precipice, the pregnant nymph
“Plung'd in the deep. My waves receiv'd the load;
“And whilst I bore her floating, thus I said;—
“O, trident-bearer, thou whom lot decreed
“Lord, next to heaven, o'er all the wandering waves,
“Where all the sacred rivers end their course;
“To which all rivers tend, O, Neptune, aid!
“Propitious, hear my prayer! Much have I wrong'd
“The nymph I now support: if lenient he,
“And equitable, sure Hippodamas,
“Her sire, had pity granted, and myself
“Had pardon'd. Gracious Neptune, grant thy help
“To her a parent's fury from the earth
“Wide banishes. O, I beseech thee! grant
“A place to her, paternal rage would drown:
“Or to a place transform her, where my waves
“May clasp her still. The ocean-god consents,
“And all his waters shake as nods his head.
“Still floats th' affrighted nymph; and as she swims,
“I feel her heart with trepid motion beat:
“While pressing fond her bosom, all her form
“Rigidly firm becomes, and round her chest
“Rough earth heaps high; and, whilst I wondring speak,
“A new-form'd land her floating limbs enclasps:
“Her shape transform'd, a solid isle becomes.”

Thus far the watery deity, and ceas'd.
The wondrous tale all mov'd, save one, the son
Of bold Ixion; fierce of soul, he laugh'd
To scorn their minds so credulous, the gods
Impious contemning, as he thus exclaim'd;—
“What tales, O, Acheloüs, you relate!
“Too much of potence to the gods you grant,
“To give and change our figures.”—All struck dumb,
Discourage this bold speech, and Lelex first,
Mature in age, and in experience old
Beyond the rest, thus spoke:—“Celestial power,
“In range is infinite, in sway immense;
“What the gods will, completion instant finds.
“To clear your doubts, upon the Phrygian hills
“An ancient oak, and neighbouring linden stand,
“Girt by a low inclosure; I the spot
“Survey'd, when into Phrygia's realms dispatch'd
“By Pittheus, when those realms his father rul'd.
“Not far a lake extends, a space once fill'd
“With human 'habitants, whose waves now swarm
“With fenny coots, and cormorants alone.
“Here Jove in human shape, and with his sire,
“The son of Maiä, came; the last his rod
“Shorn of its wings, still bore. A thousand doors,
“Seeking repose, they knock'd at; every door
“Firm barr'd repuls'd them: one at length flew wide;
“A lowly cot, whose humble roof long reeds,
“And straw firm-matted, cover'd. Baucis there,
“A pious dame, and old Philemon match'd
“In age, had dwelt, since join'd in springtide youth;
“And there grew old together: Full content,
“Their poverty they hid not, and more light
“Their poverty on souls unmurmuring weigh'd.
“Here nor for lord, nor servant, was there need
“To seek; beneath the roof these only dwelt;
“Each order'd, each obey'd. The heaven-born guests
“The humble threshold crossing, lowly stoop'd,
“And entrance gain'd: the ancient host bade sit
“And rest their weary'd limbs: the bench was plac'd,
“Which Baucis anxious for their comfort, spread
“With home-made coverings: then with careful hand
“The scarce warm embers on the hearth upturn'd;
“And rous'd the sleeping fires of yestern's eve,
“With food of leaves and bark dry-parch'd, and fann'd
“To flame the fuel with her aged breath:
“Then threw the small-slit faggots, and the boughs
“Long-wither'd, on the top, divided small:
“And plac'd her brazen vase of scanty size,
“O'er all. Last stripp'd the coleworts' outer leaves,
“Cull'd by her husband from the water'd ground,
“Which serv'd as garden. He meantime reach'd down,
“With two-fork'd prong, where high on blacken'd beam
“It hung, a paltry portion of an hog,
“Long harden'd there; and from the back he slic'd
“A morsel thin, which soon he soften'd down
“In boiling steam. The intermediate hours
“With pleasing chat they cheat; the short delay
“To feel avoiding. On a nail high hung
“A beechen pail for bathing, by its hand
“Deep-curv'd: with tepid water this he fill'd,
“And plac'd before his guests their feet to lave.
“A couch there stood, whose feet and frame were form'd
“Of willow; tender reeds the centre fill'd,
“With coverings this they spread, coverings which saw
“The light not, but when festal days them claim'd:
“Yet coarse and old were these, and such as well
“With willow couch agreed. The gods laid down.
“The dame close-girt, with tremulous hand prepar'd
“The board; two feet were perfect, 'neath the third
“She thrust a broken sherd, and all stood firm.
“This sloping mended, all the surface clean
“With fragrant mint she rubb'd: and plac'd in heaps
“The double-teinted fruit of Pallas, maid
“Of unsoil'd purity; autumnal fruits,
“Cornels, in liquid lees of wine preserv'd;
“Endive, and radish, and the milky curd;
“With eggs turn'd lightly o'er a gentle heat:
“All serv'd in earthen dishes. After these
“A clay-carv'd jug was set, and beechen cups,
“Varnish'd all bright with yellow wax within.
“Short the delay, when from the ready fire
“The steaming dish is brought; and wine not long
“Press'd from the grape, again went round, again
“Gave place to see the third remove produc'd.
“Now comes the nut, the fig, the wrinkled date,
“The plumb, the fragrant apple, and the grape
“Pluck'd from the purple vine; all plac'd around
“In spreading baskets: snow-white honey fill'd
“The central space. The prime of all the feast,
“Was looks that hearty welcome gave, and prov'd
“No indigence nor poverty of soul.
“Meantime the empty'd bowls full oft they see
“Spontaneously replenish'd; still the wine
“Springs to the brim. Astonish'd, struck with dread,
“To view the novel scene, the timid pair
“Their hands upraise devoutly, and with prayers
“Excuses utter for their homely treat,
“At unawares requir'd. A lonely goose
“They own'd, the watchman of their puny farm;
“Him would the hosts, to their celestial guests
“A sacred offering make, but swift of wing,
“Their toiling chace with age retarded, long
“He mock'd; at length the gods themselves he seeks
“For sheltering care. The gods his death forbid,
“And speak:—Celestials are we both; a fate
“Well-earn'd, your impious neighbouring roofs shall feel.
“To you, and unto you alone is given
“Exemption from their lot. Your cottage leave
“And tread our footsteps, while of yonder mount
“We seek the loftiest summit. Each obeys;
“The gods precede them, while their tottering limbs
“A trusty staff supports; tardy from years,
“Slowly they labor up the long ascent.
“Now from the summit wanted they not more
“Than what an arrow, shot with strenuous arm,
“At once could gain; when back their view they bent:
“Their house alone they saw,—that singly stood:
“All else were buried in a wide-spread lake.
“Wondring at this, and weeping at the doom
“Their hapless neighbours suffer'd; lo! they see
“Their mouldering cot, e'en for the pair too small,
“Change to a temple; pillars rear on high,
“In place of crotchets; yellow turns the straw,
“The roof seems gilded; sculptur'd shine the gates;
“And marble pavement covers all the floor.
“Then Saturn's son, in these benignant words
“The pair address'd;—O, ancient man, most just!
“And thou, O woman! worthy of thy spouse,
“Declare your wishes.—Baucis spoke awhile
“With old Philemon; then their joint desire
“The latter to the deities declar'd.—
“To be your ministers, your sacred fane
“To keep we ask: and as our equal years
“In concord we have pass'd, let the same hour
“Remove us hence: may I her tomb not see,
“Nor be by her interr'd.—The gods comply;
“These guard the temple through succeeding life.
“Fill'd now with years, as on the temple's steps
“They stood, conversing on the wondrous change,
“Baucis beheld Philemon shoot in leaves,
“And leaves Philemon saw from Baucis sprout;
“And from their heads o'er either's face they grew.
“Still while they could with mutual words they spoke;
“At once exclaim'd,—O, dearest spouse, farewell!—
“At once the bark, their lips thus speaking, clos'd.
“Ev'n yet a Tyanæan shews two trees
“Of neighbouring growth, form'd from the alter'd pair.
“Nor dotard credulous, nor lying tongue
“The fact to me related. On the boughs
“Myself have seen the votive garlands hung;
“And whilst I offered fresher, have I said—
“Heaven guards the good with care; and those who give
“The gods due honors, honors claim themselves.”

He ceas'd: the deed and author all admire,
But Theseus most; whom anxious still to hear
More wondrous actions of the mighty gods,
The stream of Calydon, as on his arm
Reclin'd, he rested, in these words address'd:—
“There are, O, valiant youth! of those once chang'd,
“Still in the new-form'd figures who remain:
“Others there are whose power more wide extends
“To many shapes to alter.—Proteus, thou
“Art one; thou 'habitant of those wide waves
“Which earth begird: now thou a youth appear'st;
“And now a lion; then a furious boar;
“A serpent next we tremble to approach;
“And then with threatening horns thou seem'st a bull.
“Oft as a stone thou ly'st; oft stand'st a tree:
“Sometimes thy countenance veil'd in fluid streams,
“Thou flow'st a river; sometimes mount'st in flames.
“Nor less of power had Erisichthon's maid,
“Spouse of Autolycus. Her impious sire
“All the divinities of heaven despis'd,
“Nor on their slighted altars offerings burn'd.
“He too, 'tis said, the Cerealean grove
“With axe prophan'd: his violating steel
“The ancient trees attacking. 'Mid the rest,
“A huge-grown oak, in yearly strength robust,
“Itself a wood, uprose: garlands hung round,
“And wreaths, and grateful tablets, proofs of vows
“For prospering favors paid. The Dryad nymphs
“Oft in its shade their festal dances held;
“Oft would they, clasping hand in hand, surround
“The mighty trunk: its girth around to mete,
“Full thrice five cubits ask'd. To every tree
“Lofty it seem'd; as every tree appear'd
“Lofty, when measur'd with the plants below.
“Yet not for that, did Erisichthon hold
“The biting steel; but bade his servants fell
“The sacred oak; lingering he saw them stand,
“His orders unobey'd; impious he snatch'd
“From one his weapon, and in rage, exclaim'd;—
“What though it be the goddess' favorite care!
“Were it the goddess' self, down should it fall,
“And bow its leafy summit to the ground.
“He said;—and pois'd his axe, and aim'd oblique.
“Deep shudderings shook the Cerealian tree,
“And groans were utter'd; all the leaves grew pale,
“And pale the acorns; while the wide-spread boughs
“Cold sweats bedew'd. When in the solid trunk
“His blow ungodly pierc'd, blood flow'd in streams
“From out the shatter'd bark: not flows more full,
“From the deep wound in the divided throat,
“The gore, when at the sacred altar's foot
“A mighty bull, an offer'd victim drops.
“Dread seizes all; and one most bold attempts
“To check his horrid wickedness, and check
“The murderous weapon: him the villain saw,
“And,—take,—he cries,—the boon thy pious soul
“Merits so well.—And from the trunk the steel
“Turns on the man, and strikes his head away:
“Then with redoubled blows the tree assails.
“Deep from the oak, these words were heard to sound:—
“A nymph am I, within this trunk enclos'd,
“Most dear to Ceres; in my dying hours,
“Prophetic I foresee the keen revenge
“Which will thy deed pursue; and this solace
“Grants comfort ev'n in death.—He, undismay'd,
“His fierce design still follows: now the tree,
“Tottering with numerous blows, by straining cords,
“He drags to earth; and half the wood below,
“Crush'd by its weight, lies prostrate. All astound,
“Of her depriv'd, and at their own sad loss,
“The sister Dryads, clad in sable robes,
“To Ceres hasten; and for vengeance call,
“On Erisichthon. To their urgent prayers
“The beauteous goddess gave assent, and shook
“Her locks; the motion shook the yellow ears,
“Which fill'd the loaded fields; and straight conceiv'd
“A torture piteous, if for pity he
“For acts like these might look:—to tear his form
“By Famine's power pestiferous. There, herself
“Approach forbidden (fate long since had doom'd
“Ceres and Famine far remov'd should dwell)
“A mountain-nymph she calls, and thus directs;—
“A region stretches on th' extremest bounds
“Of icy Scythia; dreary seems the place;
“Sterile the soil; nor trees, nor fruits are seen;
“But sluggish cold, and pale affright, and fear:
“Still-craving Famine, there her dwelling holds.
“Bid her within the inmost vitals hide
“Of this most daring, and most impious wretch.
“The proudest plenty shall not make her yield:
“For in the contest, all the power I boast
“To her shall stoop: nor let the lengthen'd way
“Appal thy mind; my car receive; receive
“My dragons; through the air their course direct
“By these long reins.—Speaking, the reins she gave.
“She, borne through ether in the granted car,
“To Scythia's realm is carried: on the ridge
“A rugged mountain offer'd, first she eas'd
“The dragons' necks; as Caucasus 'twas known.
“There she the sought-for Famine soon espy'd,
“Eagerly searching on the stony fields,
“At once with teeth and fangs, for thin-sown herbs.
“Rough matted were her locks; deep sunk her eyes;
“Pale bleach'd her face; her lips with whiten'd slime
“O'erspread; with furry crust her mouth was rough:
“Hard was her skin; and through it might be seen
“Her inwards: 'bove her hollow loins, upstood
“The arid bones: a belly's place supply'd
“A belly's form: her breasts to hang appear'd
“Held only by the chine: her fleshless shape
“Each joint in bulk increas'd: rigidly large
“The knees were swol'n, and each protruding part
“Immod'rately was big. Then as the nymph
“From far beheld her,—for a nigh approach
“She dreaded, what the goddess bade she told.
“Though brief her stay; though distant far she stood;
“Though instant there arriv'd; she felt the power
“Of Famine at the sight, and turning quick
“Her reins, she urg'd her dragons to their speed
“In retrogade direction; still on high,
“Till Thessaly they gain'd. Famine performs
“The wish of Ceres (though her anxious aim
“Is still to thwart her power) and borne on winds
“Swift through the air, the fated house she finds
“And instant enters, where the inmost walls
“The sacrilegious wretch inclose; in sleep
“Deep bury'd, for night reign'd; and with her wings
“Him clasping close, in all the man she breath'd
“Her inspiration: in his throat, his mouth,
“His chest, and in his unreplenish'd veins,
“Her hunger she infus'd. The bidden deed
“Complete, she vanish'd from those verdant fields,
“And turn'd her to the needy roofs again,
“And well-accustom'd caverns. Gentle sleep
“Fann'd Erisichthon still with soothing wings.
“Ev'n in his sleep imagin'd food he craves,
“And vainly moves his mouth; tires jaw on jaw
“With grinding; his deluded throat with stores
“Impalpable he crams; the empty air
“Greedy devouring, for more solid food.
“But soon his slumbers vanish'd, then fierce rag'd
“Insatiate hunger; ruling through his throat,
“And ever-craving stomach. Instant he
“Demands what produce, ocean, earth, and air
“Can furnish: still of hunger he complains,
“Before the full-spread tables: still he seeks
“Victuals to heap on victuals. What might serve
“A city's population, seems for him
“Too scant; whose stomach when it loads had gorg'd,
“For loads still crav'd. The ocean thus receives
“From all earth's regions every stream; all streams
“United, still requiring; greedy fire
“On every offer'd aliment thus feeds,
“Countless supplies of wood consuming;—more
“Nutrition craving, still the more it gains;
“More greedy growing from its large increase.
“So Erisichthon's jaws prophane, rich feasts
“At once devour, at once still more demand.
“All food but stimulates his gust for food
“In added heaps; and eating only seems
“To leave his maw more empty. Lessen'd now,
“In the deep abyss of his stomach huge,
“Were all the riches which his sire's bequest
“Had given: the direful torment still remain'd
“In undiminish'd strength; his belly's fire
“Implacable still rag'd. Exhausted now
“On the curst craving all his wealth was spent.
“One daughter sole remaining; of a sire
“Less impious, worthy: her the pauper sold.
“Her free-born soul, a master's sway disclaim'd.
“Her hands extending, to the neighbouring main,
“O thou!—she cry'd—who gain'd my virgin spoil
“Snatch me from bondage.—Neptune had the maid
“Previous enjoy'd: nor spurn'd her earnest prayer.
“She whom her master following close, had seen
“In her own shape but now, in manly guise
“Appears,—in garments such as fishers clothe.
“The master sees, and speaks:—O, thou! who rul'st
“The trembling reed; whose bending wire thy baits
“Conceal; so may thy wiles the water aid;
“So may the fish deceiv'd, beneath the waves,
“Thy hooks detect not, till too firmly fixt.
“Say thou but where she is, who stood but now
“Upon this beach, in humble robes array'd,
“With locks disorder'd; on this shore she stood;
“I saw her,—but no further mark her feet.—
“The aid of Neptune well the maid perceiv'd,
“And joys that of herself herself is sought,
“Thus his enquiries answering;—Whom thou art
“I know not; studious bent, the deep alone,
“And care to drag my prey, my eyes employ.
“More to remove thy doubts, so may the god
“Who rules the ocean, aid my toiling art,
“As here I swear, no man upon this shore,
“Nor female, I excepted, has appear'd.
“These words the owner credits, and the sand
“Treads with returning steps; deluded goes,
“And as he goes, her former shape returns.
“Soon as this changing power the sire perceiv'd,
“The damsel oft he sold. Now she escapes
“Beneath a mare's resemblance: now a bird,
“An heifer now, and now a deer she seem'd.
“Her greedy parent's maw with food ill-gain'd
“Supplying. When at last his forceful plague
“Had every aid consum'd, and every aid
“Fresh food afforded to his fierce disease,
“Then he commenc'd with furious fangs to tear
“For nurture his own limbs; life to support,
“By what his body and his life destroy'd.

“But why on others' transformations dwell?
“Myself, O youths! enjoy a power, my form
“To alter; not unlimited my range.
“Now in the shape at present I assume;
“Anon I writhe beneath a serpent's form;
“Or take the figure of a lordly bull,
“And wear my strength in horns, while horns I had:
“Disfigur'd now, my forehead's side laments
“One weapon ravish'd, as you well may see.”—
He spoke, and heavy sighs his words pursu'd.

The Ninth Book.

Combat of Acheloüs and Hercules for Dejanira. Death of Nessus. Torments and death of Hercules. His deification. Story of the change of Galanthis to a weasel. Of Dryopè to a Lotus-tree. Iölaüs restored to youth. Murmuring of the Gods. The incestuous love of Byblis. Her transformation to a fountain. Story of Iphis and Iänthe.

THE
Ninth Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

The son of Ægeus begs the cause to know
Whence spring those groans, and whence that wounded front?
And thus the stream of Calydon replies;—
(His uncomb'd locks with marshy reeds entwin'd).
“A mournful task, O, warrior! you impose;—
“For who, when vanquish'd, joys to tell the fight
“Where he was worsted? yet will I relate
“In order all: vanquish'd, the shame was small;
“The honor great, for such a prize to strive:
“And such a conqueror more the mind relieves.
“Has e'er the beauteous Dejanira's name
“Reach'd to your ears? her charms the envy'd hope
“Of numerous wooers form'd; mine with the rest.
“As o'er the threshold of my wish'd-for sire
“I stepp'd, I hail'd him.—O, Parthaön's son,
“For thine accept me.—So Alcides spoke,
“And all the rest to our pretensions bow'd.
“Of Jove, his sire, he boasts; and all the fame
“His acts deserv'd; and stepdame's cruel laws
“Final completed. I (who shameful thought
“That gods should yield to mortals; then a god
“Alcides was not) thus his claim oppos'd:—
“A king of floods behold me; floods which roll
“With winding current through the land you sway;
“A son in me accept, no stranger sent
“From distant regions; of your country one,
“Part of your rule. Let it not hurt my claim,
“That Juno hates me not; that all the toil
“Of slavish orders I have ne'er perform'd.
“Alcmena was his mother, let him boast!
“Jove is a sire but feign'd, or if one true,
“Is criminally so. He claims a sire
“To prove his mother's infamy: then chuse—
“Say feign'd thy origin from Jove, or fruit
“Of intercourse adulterous, own thou art.—
“Me, speaking thus, with furious eyes he view'd,
“Nor rul'd his swelling rage, replying fierce;—
“More than my tongue I on my arm depend:
“Whilst I in fighting gain the palm, be thou
“Victor in talking.—Furious on he rush'd.
“So proudly boasting, to submit I scorn'd;
“But stript my sea-green robe, my arms oppos'd,
“And held my firm-clench'd hands before my breast;
“For stout resistance every limb prepar'd,
“To meet the fight. He in his hollow palms
“The dust collecting, sprinkled me all o'er,
“And then the yellow sand upon me threw.
“Now on my neck he seizes; now he grasps
“My slippery thighs: but only thinks to hold,
“In every part assailing. Still secure
“In bulk I stand, and he assails in vain.
“Thus stands a rock, which waves with thundering roar
“Surround; it stands unhurt in all its strength.
“A little we recede, then rush again
“To join the war: stoutly our ground we hold,
“Steady resolv'd to yield not. Foot to foot
“Fixt firm: I prone press with my ample breast,
“And hand with hand, with forehead forehead joins.
“So have I seen two mighty bulls contend,
“When each the fairest heifer of the grove
“Expects the arduous struggle to reward:
“The herds behold and tremble, witless which
“The powerful contest shall successful gain.
“Thrice while I clasp'd him close, Alcides strove
“To throw me from his breast, in vain,—the fourth
“He shook me from him, and my clasping arms
“Unloosing, instant turn'd me with his hand;
“(Truth must I speak,) and heavy on my back
“He hung. If credence may my words demand,
“Nor seek I fame through tales of false deceit,
“A mighty mountain on me seem'd to weigh:
“Scarce were my arms, with trickling sweat bedew'd,
“Loos'd from his grasp; scarce was my body freed
“From his hard gripe, when panting hard for breath,
“Ere I could strength regain, my throat he seiz'd.
“Then on the earth my knee was press'd; my mouth
“Then bit the sand. Inferior prov'd in strength,
“To arts I next betook me. Slipp'd his hands
“In form a long round serpent; while I roll'd
“In winding spires my body; while I shook
“My forked tongue with hisses dire, he laugh'd,
“And mock'd my arts; exclaiming,—snakes to kill
“I in my cradle knew; grant thou excel'st,
“O, Acheloüs! others far in size,
“What art thou mated with the Hydra's bulk?
“He fertile from his wounds, his hundred heads
“Ne'er felt diminish'd, for straightway his neck,
“With two successors, brav'd the stroke again:
“Yet him I vanquish'd with his branching heads
“From blood produc'd: from every loss more stout,
“Him prostrate I o'erthrew. What hope hast thou,
“In form fallacious, who with borrow'd arms
“Now threaten'st? whom a form precarious hides?
“He said, and fast about my throat he squeez'd
“His nervous fingers; choaking, hard I strove,
“As pincer-like he press'd me, to unloose
“From his tight grasp my neck. Conquer'd in this,
“Still a third shape, the furious bull remain'd:
“Chang'd to a bull, again I wag'd the war.
“Around my brawny neck his arms he threw
“To left, and spite of every effort try'd
“To 'scape, he dragg'd me down; the solid earth
“Deep with my horn he pierc'd, and stretch'd me prone
“On the wide sand. Unsated yet his rage,
“His fierce hand seiz'd my stubborn horn, and broke
“From my maim'd front the weapon. Naiäd nymphs
“This consecrated, fill'd with fruits, and flowers
“Of odorous fragrance, and the horn is priz'd
“By Plenty's goddess as her favorite care.”

He spoke, a nymph close-girt like Dian's train,
Her ample tresses o'er each shoulder spread,
Enter'd, supporting all of Autumn's fruit
In the rich horn, and mellowest apples came
The second course to grace. Now day appear'd:
The youths when light the loftiest summits touch'd
Of the high hills, departed; waiting not
Till the rough floods in peaceful channels flow'd;
The troubled currents smooth'd. Profound his head
Of rustic semblance, Acheloüs hides
'Reft of his horn, beneath his deepest waves.
His forehead's honor lost sore gall'd him: all
Save that was perfect. Ev'n his forehead's loss
With willow boughs and marshy reeds was hid.

Thou too, rash Nessus, through thy furious love,
Of the same virgin, thy destruction met;
Pierc'd through thy body with the feather'd dart!
Jove's son returning to his natal soil,
Companion'd by his new-made bride, approach'd
Evenus' rapid flood. Swol'n was the stream
With wintry showers as wont, and raging whirls
Unfordable proclaim'd it; him, himself
Fearless, yet anxious for his spouse's care,
Nessus approach'd, in strength of limbs secure,
And knowledge of the fords, and thus he spoke;
“Her, O Alcides! will I safely bear
“To yonder bank; thou all thy efforts use
“In swimming.” Straight the Theban hero gives
The pallid Calydonian to his care,
Shivering with dread; no less the centaur frights
Than the rough flood. The mighty warrior, prest
With his large quiver, and the lion's hide,
For on the bank opposing had he flung
His club and curved bow, exclaim'd—“the stream
“My arms will vanquish, soon as I essay.”—
Nor dubious waits, but in the torrent leaps,
Not heeding where most tranquil flows the stream,
But stemming furious all its utmost rage.
Now had he reach'd the bank, now held again
The bow flung o'er, when loud his spouse's shrieks
Assail'd his ear. To Nessus, whom he saw
His trust about betraying, loud he cry'd;—
“What vain reliance on thy rapid speed
“Tempts thee to violence? O, double-shap'd!
“I speak, regard me,—to respect my rights,
“Should deference to me not move thee, think
“How whirls thy sire, and that thy rage may check
“For wishes unallow'd. Yet hope thou not
“With courser's speed to 'scape me: with my dart,
“Not feet, will I pursue thee.”—His last words
With deeds he guarantees, and through and through
The flying culprit felt the javelin driv'n;
Out through his breast the forked weapon stood:
Withdrawn, from either wound gush'd forth the gore,
Mixt with the venom of Lernæa's pest.
This be preserv'd.—“Nor will I unreveng'd
“Expire,”—he murmur'd faintly to himself;
And gave his raiment, in the warm blood dipt,
A present to the nymph whose spoil he sought;
To wake again her husband's dormant love.

Long was the intermediate time, the deeds,
Of great Alcides, and his step-dame's hate,
Fill'd all the world meanwhile. Victor return'd
From out Œchalia, when the promis'd rites,
To Jove Cænean, he prepar'd to pay,
Tattling report, who joys in falshood mixt
With circumstantial truth, and still the least
Swells with her lies, had in thine ears instill'd,
O Dejanira! that Alcmena's son,
With Iölé was smitten. Ardent love
Sway'd her belief, and terror-struck to hear
Of this new flame, she melted into tears;
With them her weeping grief first flow'd away:
But soon she bursted forth.—“Why weep I so?
“The harlot will but gladden in my tears!
“But ere she here arrives, it me behoves
“Each effort to employ, while time now serves,
“To hinder what he seeks; whilst yet my couch
“Another presses not. Shall I complain,
“Or rest in silence? Shall I Calydon
“Re-seek, or here remain? Shall I abscond
“His habitation, or, if nought else serves,
“Strenuous oppose him? Or if truly bent,
“O, Meleager! with a sister's pride,
“Thy wicked deeds t' outvie, a witness leave,
“The harlot's throat divided, what the rage
“Of woman may accomplish, when so wrong'd.”—
In whirls her agitated mind is toss'd;
Determining last to send to him the robe,
In Nessus' blood imbu'd, and so restore
His waning love. Witless of what she sends,
Herself to Lychas' unsuspecting hands
The cause of future grief delivers. Wretch
Most pitiable! she, with warm-coaxing words,
Instructs the boy to bear her spouse the gift.
Th' unwitting warrior takes it, and straight clothes
His shoulders with Echidna's poisonous gore.
Incense he sprinkles in the primal flames
He kindles,—with the flames his prayers ascend.
As from the goblet he the vintage pours
On marble altars; hapless by the heat
The poison more was quicken'd; by the flame
Melted, it grew more potent; wide diffus'd,
Through all the limbs of Hercules it spread.
Still while he could, his fortitude, as wont
His groans suppress'd; at last his patience spent,
Fierce from the altar flinging, Œté's mount
So woody, with his plaintive shrieks he fills,
And instant from his limbs the deadly robe
Essays to tear: that, where he strips, the skin,
Stript also, follows; dreadful to describe!
Or to his limbs, his utmost struggling vain,
It clings: or bare his lacerated joints
And huge bones stand. With hissing noise his blood
Burns, as when glowing iron in a pool
Is dipp'd, so boils it with the venom fierce.
Nor hope of help remain'd, the greedy fires,
His utmost vitals waste; and purple sweat
Bedews his every limb; his scorch'd nerves crack;
And whilst his marrow, with the latent pest,
Runs fluid, high tow'rd heaven his arms he holds,
Exclaiming;—“now Saturnia, feast thy soul
“With my destruction; joy, O savage!—view
“From lofty heaven my tortures; satiate now
“Thy rancorous soul:—but if a foe may move
“Commiseration, (for thy foe I am)
“Take hence this life, grievous, through direful pains:
“Hateful to thee, and destin'd first for toils.
“Death now would be a boon; and such a boon
“A step-dame might confer. Have I for this,
“Busiris slain, who drench'd the temples deep
“With travellers' blood? For this Antæus robb'd
“Of nutriment parental? Did thy bulk,
“Of triple-form, swain of Iberia, fright?
“Or thou, three-headed Cerberus, me move?
“Wrought I for this in Elis? at the lake
“Of Stymphalis? and in Parthenian woods?
“Did not my valor seize the golden belt
“Of Thermodon's brave queen? the apples gain,
“Ill-guarded by th' unsleeping dragon's care?
“Could the fierce Centaur me resist? or could
“The mighty boar that laid Arcadia waste?
“And what avail'd the Hydra, that he grew
“From every loss, in double strength reviv'd?
“How? Saw I not the Thracian coursers gorg'd
“With human gore! whose stalls with mangled limbs
“Crowded, I overthrew, and slew their lord
“On his slain coursers? Strangled by these hands
“Nemæa's monster lies. Heaven I upbore
“Upon these shoulders. The fierce wife of Jove
“Weary'd at length with bidding, I untir'd
“Still was of acting. But at length behold
“A new-found plague, which not the bravest soul,
“Nor arms, nor darts can aught resist. Fierce fire,
“Darts through my deepest inwards; all my limbs
“Greedy devouring. Yet Eurystheus lives!
“Still are there who the deities believe?”—
He said, and o'er high Œté tortur'd rov'd
Like a mad tiger, when the hunter's dart
Stands in his body, and the wounder flies.
Oft would you see him groaning; storming oft;
Oft straining from his limbs again to fling
The vest; trees rooting up; against the hills
Fierce railing; next up to his father's skies
His arms extending. Lo! he Lychas spies,
Where trembling in a hollow rock he hides!
Then, all his fury in its utmost strength,
Raging, he cry'd;—“Thou, Lychas, thou supply'd
“This deadly gift. Thou art the author then
“Of my destruction.”—Shuddering he, and pale,
In timid accents strove excuse to plead:
Speaking, and round his knees prepar'd to cling,
Alcides seiz'd him, with an engine's force
Whirl'd round and round, and hurl'd him in the waves,
Which by Eubæa roll. He, as he shot
Through air, was harden'd. As the falling showers
Concrete by freezing winds, whence snow is form'd:
As snows by rolling, their soft bodies join,
Conglomerating into solid hail:
So ancient times believ'd, the boy thus flung,
Through empty air, by strong Alcides' arm,
Bloodless through fear, and all his moisture drain'd,
Chang'd to a flinty rock. A rock e'en now
High in Eubæa's gulph exalts its head,
Which still of human form the marks retains.
Which, as though still of consciousness possess'd,
The sailors fear to tread, and Lychas call.

Thou, Jove's renowned offspring, fell'd the trees
Which lofty Œté bore, and built a pile:
Then bade the son of Pæan bear thy bow,
Thy mighty quiver, and thy darts, to view
Once more the realm of Troy; and through his aid
The flames were plac'd below, whose greedy spires
Seiz'd on the structure. On the woody top
Thou laid'st the hide Nemæan, and thy head,
Supported with thy club, with brow serene
As though with garlands circled, at a feast
Thou laid'st, 'mid goblets fill'd with sparkling wine.

Now the strong fires spread wide o'er every part,
Crackling, and seizing his regardless limbs,
Who them despis'd. The gods beheld with fear
The earth's avenger. Jove, who saw their care
With joyous countenance, thus the powers address'd:
“This fear, O deities! makes glad my heart;
“And lively pleasure swells in all my breast,
“That sire and sovereign o'er such grateful minds
“I hold my sway; since to my offspring too
“Your favoring care extends. No less, 'tis true,
“His deeds stupendous claim. Still I'm oblig'd.
“But from your anxious breasts banish vain fear;
“Despise those flames of Œté; he who all
“O'ercame, shall conquer even the flames you see:
“Nor shall the power of Vulcan ought consume,
“Save his maternal part: what he deriv'd
“From me, is ever-during; safe from death;
“And never vanquish'd by the force of fire.
“That we'll receive, his earthly race compleat,
“Amidst the heavenly host; and all I trust
“My actions gladly will approve. Should one
“Haply, with grief see Hercules a god,
“And grudge the high reward; ev'n he shall grant
“His great deserts demand it; and allow
“Unwilling approbation.” All assent;
Not even his royal spouse's forehead wore,
A frown at ought he said; his final words
Irk'd her at length, to be so plainly mark'd.
Vulcan meantime each corruptible part
Bore off in flames, nor could Alcides' form
Remaining, now be known; nought he retain'd
Of what his mother gave; Jove's share alone.
A serpent revels thus in glittering scales,
His age and former skin thrown off at once.
So when Tirynthius from his mortal limbs
Departed, in his better part he shone,
Increas'd in stature; and majestic grace
Augustly deck'd his venerable brow.
Veil'd in a hollow cloud, and borne along
By four swift steeds, in a high car, the sire
Him plac'd in glory 'mid the radiant stars.
Atlas perceiv'd his load increas'd. Nor yet
Eurystheus 'bated in his rancorous hate,
But cruel exercis'd his savage rage,
Against the offspring of the sire abhorr'd.

But now Alcmena, worn with constant cares,
In Argolis, to Iölé confides
Her aged plaints, to her the labors tells
Her son atchiev'd, o'er all the wide world known;
And her own griefs beside. Alcides' words
Caus'd Hyllus to his couch to take, and take
Iölé, cordial to his inmost heart:
And now with generous fruit, the nymph was large.
Alcmena, thus to her commenc'd her tale.—

“May thee, at least, the favoring gods indulge;
“And all delay diminish, when matur'd,
“Thou to Ilithyiä shalt have need to call,
“Who o'er travailing mothers bears the rule;
“Whom Juno's influence made so hard to me.
“Of Hercules toil-bearing, now the birth,
“Approach'd, and in the tenth sign rul'd the sun.
“A mighty bulk swell'd out my womb, so huge,
“Well might you know that Jove the load had caus'd:
“Nor could I longer bear my throes (my limbs
“Cold rigors seize, while now I speak; my pains
“Part ev'n in memory now I seem to feel)
“Through seven long nights, and seven long days with pangs
“Incessant was I rack'd: my arms to heaven
“Stretching, I call'd Lucina, and the powers,
“With outcries mighty. True Lucina came,
“But came by Juno prepossest, and bent
“My life to sacrifice to Juno's rage.
“Soon as my groans she hearken'd, down she sate
“Upon the altar, plac'd without the gates:
“'Neath her right ham, her left knee pressing; join'd
“Fingers with fingers cross'd upon her breast
“My labor stay'd; and spellful words she spoke
“In whispering tone; the spellful words delay'd
“Th' approaching birth. I strain, and madly rave
“With vain upbraidings to ungrateful Jove,
“And crave for death; in such expressions 'plain
“As hardest flints might move. The Theban dames
“Around me throng; assist me with their prayers;
“And me my trying pains exhort to bear.
“Galanthis, one who tended me, of race
“Plebeïan; yellow-hair'd; and sedulous
“What order'd to perform; and much esteem'd
“For courteous deeds;—she first suspected, (what,
“I know not) somewhat, form'd by Juno's pique:
“And while she constant pass'd; now to, now fro,
“She saw the goddess on the altar sit,
“Girding her arms, with close-knit fingers o'er
“Her knees, and said;—O dame, whoe'er thou art,
“Our mistress gratulate. Alcmena now
“Argolican, is lighten'd. Now the prayers
“Of the child-bearer meet her hopes.—The dame
“Who rules the womb, straight from her station leap'd,
“And all astounded, her clench'd fingers loos'd:
“I in that moment felt my bonds undone.
“Galanthis, they report, the goddess mock'd
“Thus cheated, by her laughter. Savage, she
“Dragg'd her so laughing, by the tresses seiz'd,
“And forc'd her down to earth, as up she strove
“Erect to rise; and to forefeet her arms
“Transform'd. The same agility remains;
“Her back its colour keeps; her form alone
“Is diverse. She, 'cause then her lying mouth
“My birth assisted, by her mouth still bears:
“And round my house she harbors as before.”—

She said, and by the memory mov'd, she mourn'd
For her lost servant, whom, lamenting, thus
Her child-in-law address'd.—“If then the form
“Alter'd, of one an alien to your blood,
“O mother! thus affects you, let me tell
“The wond'rous fortune which my sister met:
“Though grief and tears will frequent choke my words.

“Her mother, Dryopé alone could boast,
“(Me to my sire another bore) her charms
“Œthalia all confess'd; whom (rifled first
“Of virgin charms, when passively she felt
“His force, who Delphos, and who Delos rules)
“Andræmon took, and held a happy spouse.
“A lake expands with steep and shelving shores
“Encompass'd; myrtles crown the rising bank.
“Here Dryopé, of fate unconscious came,
“And what must more commiseration move,
“Came to weave chaplets for the Naïad nymphs;
“Her arms sustain'd her boy, a pleasing load,
“His first year scarce complete, as with warm milk
“She nourish'd him. The watery Lotus there,
“For promis'd fruit in Tyrian splendor bright,
“Grew flowering near. The flowers my sister cropp'd,
“And held them to delight her boy; and I,
“(For there I stood,) the same prepar'd to do;
“But from the flowers red flowing drops I saw,
“And all the boughs with tremulous shuddering shook.
“Doubtless it is, (but far too late we learn'd
“By the rough swains,) nymph Lotis, when she fled
“From Priapus obscene, her shape transform'd
“Into this tree which still retains her name.
“My sister witless of this change, in fright
“Would back retreat, and leave the nymphs ador'd,
“But roots her feet retain: these from the ground
“She strains to rend; but save her upper limbs
“Nought can she move; a tender bark grows o'er
“The lower parts, and her mid limbs invades.
“This seeing, and her locks to rend away
“Attempting; her rais'd hand with leaves was fill'd.
“Leaves cover'd all her head. Amphyssus found,
“(His grandsire had the child Amphyssus nam'd)
“His mother's breasts grow hard; nor when he suck'd
“Lacteal fluid gain'd he. I there stood,
“Of her sad fate spectator: loud I cry'd—
“But, O my sister! aid I could not bring;
“Yet what I could I urg'd; the growing trunk,
“And growing boughs, my close embraces staid:
“In the same bark I glad had been enclos'd.
“Lo! come her spouse Andræmon, and her sire
“So wretched; and for Dryopé they seek:
“A Lotus, as for Dryopé they ask,
“I shew them; to the yet warm wood salutes
“Ardent they give; and prostrate spread, the roots
“They clasp of their own tree. Now, sister dear!
“Nought save thy face but what a tree becomes.
“Thy tears, the leaves thy body form'd, bedew.
“And now, whilst able, while her mouth yet gives
“To words a passage, such like plaints as these
“She breathes;—If faith th' unhappy e'er can claim,
“I swear by all the deities, this deed
“I never merited: without a crime
“My punishment I suffer. Innocent
“My life has been. If I deceive, may drought
“Parch those new leaves; and, by the hatchet fell'd,
“May fire consume me. Yet this infant bear
“From those maternal branches; to a nurse
“Transfer him; but contrive that oft he comes
“And 'neath my boughs let him his milk imbibe;
“And 'neath my boughs sport playful. When with words
“Able to hail me, let him me salute,
“And sorrowing say;—Within that trunk lies hid
“My mother—But the lakes, O! let him dread,
“Nor dare from any tree to snatch a flower;
“But think each shrub he sees a god contains.
“Adieu! dear husband; sister dear, adieu!
“Father, farewel! if pious cares you feel,
“From the sharp axe defend my boughs, and from
“The browsing flocks. And now, as fate denies
“To lean my arms to yours,—your arms advance;
“Approach my lips, whilst you my lips may touch:
“And to them lift my infant boy. More words
“I may not;—now the tender bark my neck,
“So white, invades; my utmost summit hid.
“Move from my lids your fingers, for the bark,
“So rapid growing, will my dying eyes
“Without assistance close.—Her lips to speak
“Cease, and existence ceases: the fresh boughs
“Long in the alter'd body warm were felt.”

While Iölé the mournful fact relates;
And while Alcmena, from Eurytus' maid,
With ready fingers dry'd the tears; herself
Still weeping, lo! a novel deed assuag'd
Their grief—for Iölaüs, scarcely youth,
His cheeks with tender down just cover'd, stands
Within the porch; to early years restor'd.

Junonian Hebé, by her husband's prayers
O'ercome, to Iölaüs gave the boon.
Who, when to vow she went, that future times
Should none such gift enjoying, e'er perceive,
Was check'd by Themis. “Now all Thebes,”—she said,
“Discordant warfare moves. Through Jove alone
“Capaneus can be conquer'd. Mutual wounds
“Shall slay the brothers. In the yawning earth
“A living prophet his own tomb shall see.
“A son avenger of his parent's death
“Upon his parent: impious for the deed,
“At once, and pious: at the action stunn'd,
“Exil'd from home, and from his senses driv'n,
“The furies' faces, and his mother's shade
“Shall haunt him; till his wife the fatal gold
“Shall ask: and till the Phegian sword shall pierce
“Their kinsman's side. Callirhoë then, the nymph
“From Acheloüs sprung, suppliant shall seek
“From Jove, her infants years mature may gain.
“Mov'd by her prayers, Jove will from thee demand,
“Son's spouse, and daughter of his wife, the boon
“And unripe men thou'lt make the youths become.”

While Themis thus, with fate-foretelling lips,
This spoke; the gods in murmuring grudgings mourn'd,
Angry why others might not grant the gift.
Aurora mourn'd her husband's aged years:
Mild Ceres 'plain'd that Jason's hairs were white:
Vulcan, for Erichthonius pray'd an age
Renew'd. E'en Venus future cares employ'd,
Anxious for promise that Anchises' years
Replenishment might find: And every god
Had whom he lov'd; and dark sedition grew
From special favor; till the mighty sire
The silence broke.—“If reverence I may claim,
“Where rashly rush ye? Which of you the power,
“Fate to control, possesses? Fate it was
“Gave Iölaüs youth restor'd again:
“By Fate Callirhoë's sons ere long shall spring
“To manhood, prematurely; nor can arms
“Nor yet ambition gain this gift. With souls
“More tranquil bear this; since you see the fates
“Me also rule. Could I the fates once change,
“Old age should never bend Æäcus down;
“And Rhadamanthus had perpetual spring
“Of youth enjoy'd, with Minos, now despis'd
“Through load of bitter years, nor reigns as wont.”

Jove's words the deities all mov'd; not one
Longer complain'd, when heavy press'd with years
They Æäcus, and Rhadamanthus saw;
And Minos: who, when in his prime of age,
Made mightiest nations tremble at his name.
He, feeble then, at Deïoné's son
Miletus, trembled, who with youthful strength,
And Phœbus' origin proud swol'n, and known
About to rise against his rule:—yet him
He dar'd not from his household roof to drive.
But thou, Miletus, fled'st spontaneous, thou
Th' Ægean waves in thy swift ship didst pass,
And on the Asian land the walls didst found
Which bear the builder's name. Cyancë here,
Mæander's daughter, whose recurving banks
She often trode: (whose stream itself reseeks
So oft) in beauteous form, by thee was known,
And, claspt by thee, a double offspring came,
Byblis and Caunus, from the warm embrace.

Let Byblis warn, that nymphs should ne'er indulge
Illicit warmth. Her brother Byblis lov'd;
Not as she ought; not with a sister's soul.
No fires at first the maid suspected; nought
Of sin: the thought that oft her lips to his
She wish'd to join, and clasp her arms around
His neck fraternal, long herself deceiv'd,
Beneath the semblance of a duteous love.
Love gradual bends to him her soul; she comes
Fully adorn'd to see him, anxious pants
Beauteous to seem; if one more beauteous there
She sees, invidious she that face beholds.
Still to herself unconscious was her love:
No wish she form'd beneath that burning flame,
Yet all within was fire. She call'd him lord,
Now kindred's name detesting; anxious more,
Byblis, than sister he should call her still.
Yet waking, ne'er her soul durst entertain
Lascivious wishes. When relax'd in sleep,
Then the lov'd object oft her fancy saw;
Oft seem'd her bosom to his bosom join'd:
Yet blush'd she, tranc'd in sleep. Her slumbers fly,
She lies awhile in silence, and revolves
Her dream: and thus in doubting accents speaks;
“Ah, wretch! what means this dream of silent night,
“Which yet I oft would wish? Why have I known
“This vision? Envy's eyes must own him fair,
“And but his sister am I, all my love
“He might possess; worthy of all my love.
“A sister's claim then hurts me! O! at least
“(While tempted thus I wakeful nought commit)
“Let sleep oft visit with such luscious dreams:
“No witness sees my sleeping joys; my joys,
“Though sleeping, yet are sweet. O, Venus! O,
“Thou feather'd Cupid, with thy tender dame!
“What transports I enjoy'd! what true delight
“Me thrill'd! how lay I, all my soul dissolv'd!
“How joys it me to trace in mind again
“The pleasure though so brief: for flying night
“Invidious check'd enjoyment in the bud.
“O Caunus! that an alter'd name might join
“Us closely; that thy sire a sire-in-law
“To me might be: O, Caunus, how I'd joy
“Wert thou not son, but son-in-law to mine.
“Would that the gods had all in common given,
“Save parents only. Thou in lofty birth
“I would should me excel. O beauteous youth!
“A mother whom thou'lt make I know not; I
“Ne'er can thee know but with a sister's love:
“Parents the same as thine my hapless lot.
“All that I have, me only pains the more.
“What are to me my visions? Weight have dreams?
“How much more happy are th' immortal gods!
“The gods embrace their sisters. Saturn clasps
“Ops, join'd to him by blood; Ocean enjoys
“His sister Tethys; and Olympus' king
“His Juno. Gods peculiar laws possess.
“Why seek I then celestial rites to bring
“Diverse, with human ord'nance to compare?
“Forbidden love shall from my breast be driv'n,
“Or that impossible, may death me seize
“Instant, and cold upon my couch outstretch'd,
“My brother then may kiss me as I lie.
“Yet still my wish double consent requires.
“Grant I should yield, still might the deed to him
“Seem execrable. Yet th' Æolian youth
“A sister's nuptial couch ne'er dreaded. Why,
“O, why! on this so dwell? Why thus recal
“Examples to my view? Where am I borne?
“Hence, flames obscene! hence far! a sister's love,
“And that alone my brother shall enjoy.
“But had his soul first burn'd for me, perchance
“I had indulg'd his passion. Surely then
“I may demand, who would not, ask'd, refuse.
“What couldst thou speak? Couldst thou confess thy flame?
“Love forces, and I can. If shame my lips
“Close binds; yet secret letters may disclose
“The hidden flame.”—With this idea pleas'd,
These words her hesitating mind resolv'd,
Rais'd on her side, supported by her arm.—
“He shall”—she said—“now know it; all my love
“Preposterous confess'd. Alas! what depth
“Now rush I to? What fire has seiz'd my soul?”—
And then with tremulous hand the words compos'd.
Her right hand grasps the style, the left sustains
The waxen tablet smooth; and then begins.
She doubts; she writes; condemns what now she wrote;
Corrects; erases; alters; now dislikes;
And now approves. Now throws the tablet by,
Then seizes it again. Irres'lute what
She would; whate'er is done displeases, all.
Shame and audacious boldness in her face
Are mingled. Sister, once her hand had wrote,
But sister, soon as seen, her hand eras'd;
And her fair tablet bore such words as these.—
“To thee, a lover salutation sends,
“And health, which only thou to her canst give:
“Asham'd, she blushes to disclose her name.
“For should I press to gain my wish'd desire,
“Without my name, my cause I trust would find
“Successful aid. Let Byblis not be known
“Till certain hopes of bliss her mind shall cheer.
“Yet faded color, leanness, and pale face,
“With constant dripping eye, and rising sobs
“Shew my unhidden grief. Well might these prove
“To thee an index of a wounded heart.
“My constant clasping, numerous fond salutes,
“If e'er thou'st mark'd, thou well might have perceiv'd
“Not sister-like embracings. In my soul
“Though this deep wound I bear; though in my breast
“This fire consuming burns, yet strive I all,
“(Witness, ye gods! my truth) all to suppress,
“And act with wiser conduct: hapless war
“Long have I wag'd 'gainst Cupid's furious rule
“More pressure have I borne, than what a maid
“Could e'er be thought to bear. At length o'ercome,
“And forc'd to yield, thy help I must implore
“With trembling voice: thou only canst preserve,
“Thou only canst the loving nymph destroy.
“With thee the choice remains. No foe thus sues,
“But one by nearest ties to thee conjoin'd,
“Pants to be join'd more nearly; link'd to thee
“With closest bands. Let aged seniors learn
“Our laws, and seek what moral codes permit.
“What is permitted, and what is deny'd,
“Let them enquire, and closely search the laws:
“A bolder love more suits our growing years.
“As yet we know not what the laws allow;
“And judge for all things we free leave enjoy;
“Th' example following of the mighty gods.
“Nor parent stern, nor strict regard for fame,
“Nor timid thoughts should check us; absent all
“Should be each cause of fear. The dear sweet theft
“Beneath fraternal love may be conceal'd;
“With thee in secret converse I may speak,
“Embrace thee, kiss thee in the open crowd;
“How little then remains! Pity, forgive,
“The declaration of this love, ne'er told
“Had raging fire not urg'd it, nor allow
“Upon my tomb this cause of death to stand.—”

Here the fill'd tablet check'd her hand, in vain
Thus writing, at the utmost edge the lines,
But stay'd. Her crime straightway she firmly press'd,
With her carv'd gem, and moisten'd it with tears:
Her tears of utterance robb'd her. Bashful then
She call'd a page, and blandishing in fear
Exclaim'd.—“Thou faithful boy, this billet bear—”
And hesitated long ere more she said,
Ere—“to my brother, bear it.”—As she gave
The tablet, from her trembling hand it fell;
The omen deep disturb'd her. Yet she sent.

A chosen hour the servant sought, went forth
And gave the secret message. Sudden rage
me youth Mæandrian petrify'd; and down
The half-read lines upon the ground he flung.
His hand scarce holding from the trembling face
Of the pale messenger. “Quick, fly!” he cry'd,
“Thou wicked pander of forbidden lust!
“Fly while thou may'st; and know, had not thy fate
“Involv'd our modest name, death hadst thou found.—”
He terrify'd escapes, and backward bears,
To his young mistress all fierce Caunus spoke.

Pale, thou, O Byblis! heardst the rough repulse;
Thy breast with frigid chills beset. But soon
Her spirits rally, and her furious love
Returns: scarce to the trembling air her tongue
Can utterance give in these indignant words;—
“Deserv'dly mourn I, who so rashly gave
“Him of my wounds the conscious tale to learn.
“Why trust so soon to words, what still might hid
“Remain, on tablets hastily compos'd?
“Why were not first the wishes of my soul
“Try'd in ambiguous hints? First, sure I ought
“Whence the wind blew have mark'd; nor loos'd my sails,
“Him flying, to pursue, and the wide main
“In all directions plough: now bellies out
“My canvas; not a single course explor'd.
“Hence am I borne against the rocks; hence 'whelm'd
“In the wide depth of ocean; nor my sails
“Know I to tack returning. Did not heaven
“Check the indulgence of my love, by marks
“Obvious to all? when from my hand down dropp'd
“The tablet, which the boy was bade to bear.
“Mark'd that my falling hopes not? More deferr'd
“Thy wishes, or the day should sure have been;
“Surely the day. For heaven itself me warn'd,
“And certain signs me gave; but those my mind
“Stupid neglected. Personal my words
“Should I have urg'd, nor trusted to the wax.
“In person should my love have been display'd.
“Then had my tears been seen; then had he view'd
“My raptur'd countenance; then had I spoke
“Far more than power of letters can convey.
“My arms around his neck I then had thrown
“Howe'er unwilling; and, had he been coy,
“In dying posture I his feet had clasp'd;
“And stretch'd before him life demanding, all
“Had I achiev'd. Perchance though, by the boy,
“My messenger commission'd, I have fail'd:
“Aptly perhaps he enter'd not; perhaps,
“And much I fear, improper hours he chose;
“Nor sought a vacant time, when nought his mind
“Disturb'd. This has, alas! my hopes destroy'd:
“For from a tiger Caunus sprung not; round
“His heart not solid steel, nor rigid flint,
“Nor adamant is girt; nor has he suck'd
“The lioness's milk. He shall be bent,
“And gain'd his heart shall be; nor will I brook
“The smallest bar to what I undertake,
“While now this spirit holds. My primal wish
“(If it were given I might revoke my deeds)
“Is, I had ne'er commenc'd: my second now
“Is, that I persevere in what's begun.
“For should I now my wishes not pursue,
“Still must he of those daring wishes think;
“And should I now desist, well might he judge
“Form'd lightly my desires: or plann'd to try
“His virtue, and involve in snares his fame:
“Or, (dreadful!) think me not by love o'ercome,
“(Who burns and rages fiercely in my breast)
“But by hot lust. For now conceal'd no more
“My guilty act can be; I've written once,
“Once have I ask'd; corrupted all my soul.
“Should further no depravity ensue,
“Guilty I must be call'd. What more remains,
“In crime is little, but in hope immense.”—

She said, and such the wavering of her breast,
That, whilst the trial grieves her which she made,
Farther to try she wishes; every bound
O'erpassing; and, with luckless fate, her suit
Still meets repulsion. He, when endless seem'd
Her pressing, fled his country, and the crime;
And in a foreign region rais'd new walls.

Then, daughter of Miletus, they report,
Forsook thee all thy senses; then in truth
Thou rent thy garments from thy breast; thy breast
Thy furious hands hard smote. Now to the world
Madly she raves; now to the world displays
Her wish'd-for love, deny'd: all hope—despair!
She too forsook her country, and the roof
So hated; and the vagrant steps pursu'd
Her flying brother trode. As Thracia's dames
O, son of Semelé! thy Thyrsus shake
When celebrating thy triennial rites,
So did the Carian matrons, Byblis see
Fly o'er the wide-spread fields, with shrieks and howls:
These left behind, o'er Caria's plains she runs,
And through the warlike Leleges, and through
The Lycian realms. Now Cragos had she left,
And Lymiré, and Xanthus' waves behind;
With the high ridge Chimæra lifts, who burns
Central with flames; his breast and front fierce arm'd
A lion—tow'rd his tail a serpent form'd.
Now all the forests past; thou Byblis, faint
With long pursuit, fall'st flat; on the hard ground
Thy locks are spread; dumb now thou ly'st; thy face
Presses the fallen leaves. Oft in their arms
So delicate, the Lelegeïan nymphs
To raise thee up attempted. Oft they strove
To give advice that might thy love control,
And offer solace to thy deafen'd ear.
Still silent Byblis lies; and with her nails
Rends the green herbage; moistens all the grass
With rivulets of tears. And here, they say,
The Naiäd nymphs their bubbling art supply'd.
Ne'er drought to know: more to afford, their power
Sure could not. Straightway, as the pitchy drops
Flow from the fir's cleft bark; from solid earth
As stiff bitumen oozes; or as streams,
By cold congeal'd, thaw with the southern wind
And warming sun: Phœbean Byblis so
By her own tears exhausted, was transform'd,
A fount becoming; which still in that vale,
'Neath a dark ilex springing, keeps her name.

Now had the rumor of this wond'rous change
Spread rapid through the hundred towns of Crete,
But Crete had lately seen a wond'rous change
In her own clime, in Iphis' alter'd form.
There in the Phestian land, near Gnossus' realm
Was Lygdus born: a man of unknown fame,
But a plebeïan of unblemish'd worth:
Nor had he, more than noble stock, estate;
Yet unimpeach'd for honesty his life.
He thus the ears of his then pregnant spouse
Address'd, when near her bearing time approach'd:—
“Two things my wishes bound; first that thy pains
“May lightly press, next that a male thou bring'st:
“More burdensome are females; strength to them
“Nature denies. Then if by fate ordain'd
“To give a female birth, which I detest,
“Unwilling I command,—O piety!
“Excuse it,—let the babe to death be given.”—
He said, and tears profuse the cheeks bedew
Of him who bade, and her who heard his words.
Still Telethusa to the latest hour,
With vain petitions strives her spouse to move,
That thus he should not straighten so his hopes.
Firm to his purpose Lygdus stood. And now
Scarce could the heavy weight her womb sustain;
When in the silent space of night, in sleep
Entranc'd; or Isis stood before her bed,
Or seem'd to stand; surrounded by the pomp
To her belonging. On her forehead shone
The lunar horns, and yellow wheat them bound
In golden radiance, with a regal crown.
With her Anubis, barker came; and came
Bubastis holy; Apis various-mark'd;
He who the voice suppresses, and directs
To silence with his finger; timbrels loud;
Osiris never sought enough; and snakes
Of foreign lands full of somniferous gall.
To her the goddess thus, as rais'd from sleep
She seem'd, and manifest each object stood:—
“O vot'ry, Telethusa! fling aside
“Thy weighty cares; thy husband's mandates cheat;
“Nor waver, when Lucina helps thy pains:
“Save it whate'er it be. A goddess I,
“Assisting, still give aid when rightly claim'd:
“Nor will it e'er thee grieve to have ador'd
“An ingrate goddess.”—Thus as she advis'd,
She vanish'd from the bed. The Cretan dame
Rose from the couch o'erjoy'd; and raising high
To heaven her guiltless hands, pray'd that her dream
On truth was founded. Now her pains increas'd;
And now her burthen forc'd itself to air:
A daughter came, but to the sire unknown.
The mother bade them rear it as a boy,
And all a boy believ'd it; none the truth,
The nurse excepted, knew. Glad prayers the sire
Offers, and from its grandsire is it nam'd:
(Iphis, the grandsire's appellation.) Joy'd
The mother hears the name, which either sex
May claim; and none, in that at least, deceiv'd;
The lie lay hid beneath a pious fraud.
The robes were masculine, the face was such
As beauteous boy, or beauteous girl might own.

And now three annual suns the tenth had pass'd,
Thy father, Iphis, had to thee betroth'd
Iänthé, yellow-hair'd; nymph most admir'd
'Mongst all the Phestians, for her beauteous charms:
Telestes of Dictæa was her sire.
Equal in age, and equal in fair form;
The self-same masters taught the early arts,
Suiting their years. Their unsuspecting minds
Were both by love thus touch'd, in both was fix'd
An equal wound: but far unlike their hopes.
Iänthé, for a spouse impatient looks,
With nuptial torches. Whom a man she thinks,
That spouse she hopes will be. Iphis too loves,
Despairing what she loves e'er to enjoy:
This still the more her love augments, and burns
A virgin for a virgin. Scarce from tears
Refraining;—“What,”—she cries,—“for me remains?
“What will the issue be? What cure for this
“New love, unknown to all, who prodigies
“Possess in this desire? If the high gods
“Me wish to spare, straight should they me destroy.
“Yet would they me destroy, they should have given
“A curse more natural; a more usual fate.
“Love for an heifer ne'er an heifer moves;
“Nor burns the mare for mares: rams follow ewes;
“The stag pursues his female; birds thus join:
“Nor animal creation female shews
“With love of female seiz'd. Would none were I!
“But lest all monstrous loves Crete might not shew;
“Sol's daughter chose a bull; even that was male
“With female. Yet, if candidly I speak,
“My passion wilder far than hers appears.
“She hop'd-for love pursu'd; by fraud enjoy'd;
“Beneath an heifer's form, th' adulterous spark
“Deceiving. Be from every part of earth
“Assembled here the skill: let Dædalus
“Hither, on waxen wings rebend his flight,
“What could all aid? Could all their learned art
“Change me from maid to youth? or alter thee
“Iänthé? But why resolute, thy mind
“Not fix? Why Iphis thus thyself forget,
“These stupid wishes driving hence, and thoughts
“So unavailing? Lo! what thou wast born,
“(Save thou would'st also thine own breast deceive)
“What is allow'd behold, and as a maid
“May love, love only. Hope, first snatch'd by love,
“Love feeds on still. From thee all hope is borne.
“No guardians thee debar the dear embrace;
“Nor watchful husband's care; no sire severe;
“Nor she herself denies thy pressing prayers,
“Yet art thou still forbid, though all agree;
“To reap the bliss, though gods and men unite.
“Behold, too, all my votive prayers succeed:
“The favoring gods whate'er I pray'd have given.
“My sire and hers, and even herself comply,
“But nature far more strong denies, alone
“Me irking with refusal. Lo! arrives
“The wish'd-for hour; the matrimonial light
“Approaches; when Iänthé will be mine;
“And yet far from me. In the midst of waves
“For thirst I perish. Nuptial Juno, why
“Com'st thou, or Hymen to these rites; where none
“Leads to the altar, but where both are led?”—

Here staid her speech; nor less the other nymph
Burn'd; and O, Hymen, pray'd thy quick approach.
But what she wishes Telethusa dreads,
And searches for delays; feign'd sickness oft
Prolongs the time; oft omens dire, and dreams.
Now all her artful fictions are consum'd;
And now the long protracted period came,
For nuptial rites; and, but one day remain'd.
She from her own and daughter's head unbinds
The fillets; and with locks dishevell'd, clasps
The altar, crying;—“Isis, thou who dwell'st
“In Parætonium; Mareotis' fields;
“In Pharos; and the sev'nfold mouths of Nile.
“Help me I pray! relieve my trembling dread.
“Thee, goddess, once I saw; and with thee all
“Those images beheld; them all I know:
“Thy train, thy torches, and thy timbrels loud.
“And with a mindful soul thy words I mark'd.
“That she enjoys the light, that I myself,
“Not sinful suffer, to thy counsels, we,
“And admonitions owe. Pity us both;
“Grant us thy helping aid.”—Tears follow'd words.
Straight seem'd the goddess' altars all to shake;
(And shake they did) trembled the temple's doors;
The lunar horns blaz'd bright; the timbrels rung.

Forth goes the mother, of the omen glad,
Yet not in faith secure. Iphis pursues
His mother with a step more large than wont:
The snow-like whiteness quits his face; his strength
Increases; fiercer frowns his forehead wears:
Shorten'd his uncomb'd locks: more vigor now
Than as a nymph he felt. For thou, a boy
Now art—so late a female! Bear thy gifts
Straight to the temple; and in faith rejoice.
Straight to the temple they their offerings bore,
And on them this short poem was inscrib'd.—
“Iphis a boy, the offerings pays, which maid,
“Iphis had vow'd.”—The following sun illum'd
The wide world with his rays; when Venus came,
Juno, and Hymen, to the genial fires;
And the boy Iphis his Iänthé clasp'd.

The Tenth Book.

Marriage of Orpheus and Eurydicé. Her death. Descent of Orpheus to Hell, to recover her. Her second loss. His mournful music on mount Hæmus draws the trees, birds, and beasts around him. Change of Cyparissus to a cypress-tree. Song of Orpheus. Ganymede. Hyacinth changed to a flower. The Amanthians to oxen. The Propætides to flints. Pygmalion's statue to a woman. Myrrha's incestuous love, and transformation to a tree. Venus' love for Adonis. Story of Atalanta and Hippomenes. Adonis changed to an anemoné.

THE
Tenth Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

Thence Hymen, in his saffron vesture clad,
Through the vast air departs; and seeks the land
Ciconian; by the voice of Orpheus call'd
Vainly. He came indeed, but with him brought
No wonted gratulations, no glad face,
Nor happy omen. And the torch he bore
Crackled in hissing smoke; nor gather'd flame
From whirling motion. Still more dire th' event
Prov'd, than the presage. As the new-made bride,
Attended by a train of Naïad nymphs,
Rov'd through the grass, a serpent's fangs her heel
Pierc'd, and she instant dy'd. Her, when long-mourn'd
In upper air, the Rhodopeïan bard
Ventur'd to seek in shades, and dar'd descend
Through the Tænarian cave to Stygia's realms.
'Mid shadowy crowds, and bury'd ghosts he goes,
To Proserpine, and him who rules the shades
With sway ungrateful. There he strikes the strings
Responsive to his words, and this his song.—
“Gods of this subterraneous world, where all
“Of mortal origin must come, permit
“That I the truth declare; no tedious tales
“Of falshood will I tell. Here came I not
“Your dusky Hell to view: nor to o'ercome
“The triple-throated Medusæan beast
“Snake-hair'd;—my wife alone my journey caus'd,
“Whose heel a trampled serpent venom'd stung:
“Snatch'd in her bloom of years. Much did I wish,
“My loss to bear; nor ought forbore to strive;
“But love o'ercame. Well do the upper gods
“That deity confess. In doubt I stand
“If here too he is known; but here I judge
“His power is felt: the ancient rape, if true,
“Proves love ev'n you first join'd. You I implore,
“By all those regions fill'd with dread; by this
“Chaos immense; your ample realm, all fill'd
“With silence; once again the thread renew
“Eurydicé too hasty lost. To you
“We all belong; a little while we stay,
“Then soon or late to one repose we haste:
“All hither tend; this is our final home.
“You hold o'er human kind a lengthen'd reign.
“She too, when once her years mature are fill'd,
“To you again, must by just right belong.
“I then request her only as a loan:
“But should the fates this favor me refuse,
“Certain I'll ne'er return. Two deaths enjoy.”—
The bloodless shadows wept as thus he sung,
And struck the strings in concord with his words.
Nor Tantalus at flying waters caught;
Nor roll'd Ixion's wheel: the liver gnaw'd
The birds not: rested on their empty urns
The Belides: and Sisyphus, thou sat'st
Upon thy stone. Nay fame declares, then first,
Vanquish'd by song, the furies felt their cheeks
Wetted with tears. Nor could the royal spouse,
Nor he who rules deep darkness, him withstand
Thus praying; and Eurydicé is call'd.
Amid the recent dead she walk'd, and still
Halted with tardy steps from her late wound.
Her, when the bard of Thrace receiv'd, this law
Receiv'd he also: that his eyes reverse
He should not bend, till past Avernus' realms;
Else he'd the granted favor useless find.
In silence mute, through the steep path they climb
Dark, difficult, and thick with pitchy mist;
Nor far earth's surface wanted they to gain:
The lover here, in dread lest she should stray,
And anxious to behold, bent back his sight,
And instant back she sunk. As forth his arms
He stretch'd, to clasp expecting, and be clasp'd:
Unhappy! nought but fleeting air he held.
Twice dying, she can nought her spouse condemn;
For how blame him because too much he lov'd?
She gives her last farewel; which scarce his ears
Receive, then sinks again to shades below.

Orpheus, thus doubly of his spouse despoil'd,
All stunn'd appear'd: not less than he who saw
In wild affright the triple-headed dog,
Chain'd by the midmost: fear him never fled,
Till fled his former nature: sudden stone
On all his body seizing. Or than he,
Olenus, when the crime upon himself
He took, and guilty wish'd to seem; with thee
Hapless Lethæa, confident in charms.
Once breast to breast you join'd, now join as stones,
Which watery Ida bears. Beseeching vain,
And wishing once again the stream to pass,
The ferryman denies. Then on the bank
In squalid guise he sate, nor tasted food
For seven long days; his cares, and grieving soul,
And tears were all the sustenance he knew.
Cruel he call'd the gods of Erebus,
And to high Rhodopé himself betook,
And lofty Hæmus by the north-wind beat.

Thrice had the sun the year completed, each
By watery Pisces ended. Orpheus still
Fled every female's love: or his deep woe
Made him so cold; or faithful promise giv'n.
Yet crowds there were, who wish'd the bard's embrace:
And crowds with sorrow saw their love repuls'd.
A hill there rose, and on its summit spread
A wide extended plain, with herbage green:
Shade to the place was wanting; hither came
The heaven-born poet; seated him, and touch'd
His sounding strings, and straight a shade approach'd.
Nor wanted there Chaönian trees; nor groves
Of poplars; nor the acorn's spacious leaves:
The linden soft, the beech, the virgin bay,
The brittle hazle, and spear-forming ash;
The knotless fir; ilex with fruit low-bow'd;
The genial plane; the maple various stain'd;
Stream-loving willow; and the watery lote;
Box of perpetual green; slight tamarisk;
Two-teinted myrtle; and the laurustine
With purple berries. Thou too, ivy, cam'st
Hither with flexile feet: together flock'd
Grape-bearing vines; and elms with vines entwin'd:
Wild ash, and pitch tree; and arbutus, bent
With loads of ruddy fruit; the pliant palm,
Meed of the conqueror; the pine close bound
About its boughs, but at its summit shagg'd:
Dear to the mother of celestial powers,
Since Atys Cybeleïan was transform'd,
And in the trunk a rigid tree became.

In form pyramidal, amid the crowd,
The cypress came; now tree, but once a boy;
Dear to the god who rules the lyre's fine chords,
And rules the bowstring. Once was known a stag
Sacred to nymphs that own Carthæa's fields,
Who bore upon his head a lofty shade
From his wide-spreading horns; his horns bright shone
With gold; his collar, with bright gems bedeck'd,
Fell o'er his shoulders from his round neck hung;
A silver boss, by slender reins control'd
Mov'd o'er his brow; a brazen pair the same,
Shone o'er his temples hanging from his ears:
Devoid of fear, his nature's timid dread
Relinquish'd, oft the houses would he seek;
And oft would gently fondling stoop his neck,
Heedless who strok'd him. Cyparissus, thou
Beyond all others priz'd the sacred beast:
Thou, fairest far amongst the Cæan youths.
Thou to fresh pastures led'st the stag; to streams
Of cooling fountains: oft his horns entwin'd
With variegated garlands. Horseman-like
Now on his back thou pressest; and now here,
Now there, thou rul'st his soft jaws with the reins
Of purple tinge. 'Twas once in mid-day heat,
When burnt the bent claws of the sea-shore crab,
In Sol's fierce vapor; on the grassy earth
The weary stag repos'd his limbs, and drew
Cool breezes from the trees umbrageous shades.
Here the boy Cyparissus careless flung
His painted dart, and fix'd it in his side.
Who, when he from the cruel wound beheld
Him dying, instant bent his mind to die.
What consolation did not Phœbus speak?
Urging the loss far slighter grief deserv'd:
Yet mourn'd he still, and from the gods supreme
Begg'd this last gift, to latest times to mourn.
His blood in constant tears exhausted, now
His limbs a green hue take; his locks which late
Hung o'er his snowy forehead, rough become
In frightful bushiness; and hardening quick,
Shoot up to heaven in form a slender spire.
The mourning god, in grief exclaim'd—“By me
“Bemoan'd, thou shalt with others always grieve;
“And henceforth mourners shalt thou still attend.”—
Thus did the bard a wood collect around;
And in the midst he sate of thronging beasts,
And crowding birds. The chords he amply try'd
With his impulsive thumb, and vary'd much
In sound, he found their notes concordant still;
Then to this song rais'd his melodious voice.—

“O parent muse! from Jove derive my song:
“All yield to Jove's dominion. Oft my verse
“Before the mightiness of Jove has sung.
“I sung the giants, in a strain sublime,
“And vengeful thunders, o'er Phlegræa's plain
“Scatter'd; a tender theme now claims my lyre:
“I sing of youths by deities belov'd;
“And nymphs who with forbidden wishes burn'd,
“And met the doom their sensual lusts deserv'd.
“The king of gods made Phrygian Ganymede
“His favorite, but some other form possess'd.
“Jove must in shape be something else than Jove.
“He deems no form becomes him, save the bird
“That bears his thunder. Instant all is done;
“The Phrygian borne away: the air he beats
“With his feign'd wing. And now this youth the cup
“Of nectar hands, in Juno's spite, to Jove.

“Son of Amycla, thee had Phœbus plac'd
“Also the skies amidst, had fate allow'd
“For such position place; yet still thou hold'st
“Eternal, what fate grants: oft as the spring
“Winter repulses, and the ram succeeds
“The watery fishes, thou spring'st forth in flower
“'Mid the green sward. Beyond all else my sire
“Thee lov'd, and Delphos, plac'd in midmost earth,
“Wanted its ruling power, whilst now the god
“Eurotas lov'd, and Sparta un-intrench'd.
“Nor lyre, nor darts attention claim'd as wont;
“Of dignity unmindful, he not spurns
“To bear the nets; to curb the hounds; to climb
“With the full train the steepest mountain's ridge:
“And every toil augments his pleasure more.
“Now had the sun the midmost point near gain'd
“'Twixt flying night, and night approaching, each
“Distant in equal space; when from their limbs
“They flung their robes; with the fat olive's juice
“Their bodies shone; they enter'd in the lists
“Of the broad disk, which Phœbus first well pois'd,
“Then flung through lofty air; opposing clouds
“Flying it cleft; at length on solid earth
“It pitch'd, displaying skill with strength combin'd.
“Instant the rash Tænarian boy, impell'd
“By love of sport, sprung on to snatch the orb,
“But the hard ground repulsive in thy face,
“O, Hyacinth! it flung. Pale as the boy
“The god appear'd: he rais'd his fainting limbs,
“And in his arms now cherishes, now wipes
“The fatal wound, now stays his fleeting breath,
“With herbs apply'd; but all his arts are vain;
“Incurable the hurt. Just so, when broke,
“The violet, poppy, or the lily hang,
“Whose dark stems in a water'd garden spring;
“Flaccid they instant droop; the weighty head
“No longer upright rais'd, but bent to earth.
“So bent his dying face; his neck, bereft
“Of vigor, heavy on his shoulder laid.
“Phœbus exclaim'd;—Fall'st thou, Œbalian youth,
“Depriv'd of life in prime? and must I see
“Thy death my fault? thou art my grief, my crime;
“My hand the charge of thy destruction bears:
“I am the cause of thy untimely fate!
“But what my crime? unless with him to sport;
“Unless a fault it were too much to love.
“Would I could life for thee, or with thee quit;
“But fatal laws restrain me: yet shalt thou
“Be with me still; dwell ever on my lips;
“My hand shall sound thee on the lyre I touch;
“My songs of thee shall tell: a new-found flower
“Shall bear the letters which my griefs resound:
“And time shall come, when a most valiant chief
“Shall join him to thy flower; in the same leaf
“His name too shall be read.—As words like these
“The truth-predicting lips of Phœbus spoke,
“Behold! the blood which flow'd along the ground,
“And all the herbage ting'd, is blood no more;
“But springs a flower than Tyrian red more bright,
“A form assuming such as lilies wear:
“Like it, save purple this, that silvery white.
“Nor yet content was Phœbus; for from him
“The honor was deriv'd. Upon its leaves
“He trac'd his groans: ai, ai, on every flower
“In mournful characters is fair inscrib'd.
“Nor blush the Spartans, Hyacinth to own:
“His honors still the present age attend;
“And annual are the Hyacinthian feasts,
“In pomp surpassing aught of ancient days.

“Should you by chance of Amathus enquire,
“If williang the Propœtides it bore,
“Denying nods would equally disclaim
“Them, and the race whose foreheads once were rough
“With double horns; Cerastæ, hence their name.
“Jove's hospitable altar at their gates
“Of mournful wickedness was rear'd: who saw
“This stain'd with gore, if stranger, might conceive
“That sucking calves, or two-year's sheep there bled.
“There bled the guest! Mild Venus griev'd
“At these most impious rites, at first prepar'd
“To quit her cities, and her Cyprian fields:—
“But how,—she said,—can my beloved clime?
“How can my towns have given offence? what fault
“Abides in them? Rather the impious race,
“Shall vengeance feel in exile, or in death;
“Save death and exile medium may allow:
“How may that be, unless their shape is chang'd?—
“Then while she doubts what shape they shall assume,
“Their horns attract her eyes; struck by the hint,
“Their mighty horns she leaves them, and transforms
“To savage oxen all their lusty limbs.

“Still dar'd th' obscene Propœtides deny
“Venus a goddess' power; for which, fame says
“They first, so forc'd the deity's revenge,
“Their bodies prostituted, and their charms.
“As shame them left, the blood which ting'd their cheeks
“Harden'd, and soon they rigid stone became.

“These saw Pygmalion, and the age beheld
“With crimes o'er-run; the shameful vice abhorr'd
“Which lavish nature gave their female souls.
“Single, and spouseless liv'd he; long a mate
“Press'd not his couch. Meantime the ivory white
“With happy skill, and wond'rous art he carv'd;
“And form'd a beauteous figure; never maid
“So perfect yet was born, and his own work
“With love inspir'd him. Of a nymph her face
“Was such, you must believe the form to live,
“And move, if not by bashfulness restrain'd.
“Thus art his art conceal'd. Pygmalion stares
“In admiration; and his breast draws flames
“From the feign'd body: oft his hands his work
“Approach, if ivory or if flesh to judge;
“Nor ivory then will he confess the form.
“Kisses he gives, and thinks each kiss return'd:
“He speaks, he grasps her; where he grasps, he thinks
“His hands impression leave; and fears to see
“On the prest limbs some marks of livid blue.
“Now blandish'd words he uses; now he bears
“Those gifts so grateful to a girlish mind;
“Pearls, and smooth-polish'd gems, and smallest birds,
“With variegated flowers, and lilies fair,
“And painted figures, and the Heliads' tears,
“Dropt from the weeping tree: with garments gay
“Her limbs too he adorns, and jewels gives
“To deck her fingers; while a necklace large
“Hangs round her neck: her ears light pearls suspend;
“And a bright zone is circled round her waist.
“All well became her, yet most beauteous far
“She unattir'd appear'd. Her on a couch,
“Ting'd with the shell Sidonian, then he laid,
“And call'd her partner of his bed; and plac'd
“Her head reclin'd, as if with sense endu'd,
“On the soft pillow. Now the feast approach'd
“Of Venus, through all Cyprus' isle so fam'd,
“And snowy-chested heifers, whose bent horns
“With gold were gay, receiv'd the deadly blow;
“And incense burnt in clouds. Pygmalion stood
“Before the altar, with his offer'd gifts:
“Timid he spoke,—O ye all-potent gods!
“Give me a spouse just like my ivory nymph,—
“Give me my ivory nymph—he blush'd to say.
“Bright Venus then, as present at her feast,
“Perceiv'd the inmost wishes of his soul;
“And gave the omen of a friendly power.
“Thrice blaz'd the fire, and thrice the flame leap'd high.

“Returning, he the darling statue seeks
“Of his fair nymph; extends him on the couch;
“Kisses, and thinks he feels her lips grow warm:
“Applies his lips again, and with his hand
“Presses her bosom: prest the ivory yields,
“Softening beneath his fingers; nor remains
“Its rigid harshness. So Hymettus' wax
“Yields to the heat, when tempering thumbs it mould
“In various forms; and fit for future use.
“Astonish'd now he joys with trembling soul,
“But fears deception; then he loves again,
“And with his hands again his wishes proves:
“'Twas flesh, the prest pulse leap'd beneath his thumb.
“Then did the Cyprian youth, in words most full
“Of gratitude and love, to Venus pray.
“Then to her living lips his lips he join'd,
“And then the damsel felt his warm salute:
“Blushing she felt it, and her timid eyes
“Op'd to the light, and with the light beheld
“Her lover. Venus bless'd the match she made;
“And when nine times the moon's full orb was seen
“Sharpen'd to horns, the damsel Paphos bore;
“Whose appellation oft the isle receives.

“She Cinyras too bore; if childless he
“A place amongst the happiest might he claim.
“A direful song I sing! be distant far
“Ye daughters; distant far, O, parents be!
“Or if of pleasure to your minds my verse
“Aught gives, in this at least my truth suspect.
“Believe the deed not: if you must believe,
“Mark well the punishment the crime deserv'd.
“Since nature could such heinous deeds permit;
“The Thracian realms, my land, I 'gratulate;
“And joy this clime at such a distance lies,
“From that which could such monstrous acts produce.
“Let Araby be in amomum rich;
“And cinnamon, and zedoary produce;
“Incense which through the wood exudes; and flowers
“Of vary'd teints,—while Myrrha too it bears:
“Too great the price which this new tree procur'd.
“Cupid denies, O Myrrha! that his darts
“Thee wounded; vindicating from that crime
“His weapons. Thee, with Stygian torch most fierce,
“And viperous venom furies did enflame.
“Wicked to hate thy parent sure had been,
“But thus to love is worse than bitterest hate.
“The choicest nobles come from every part
“To gain thee; youths from all the East arrive,
“To struggle for thy hand. Chuse, Myrrha, chuse
“One from the crowd: one only in the world
“Whom chuse thou may'st not. She herself perceiv'd,
“And curb'd the baneful passion in her mind;
“Communing thus:—Ah! whither rove my thoughts?
“What meditate I? O, ye gods! I pray,
“O piety, O parents' sacred laws,
“Forbid this wicked act; oppose a deed
“So full of horrid guilt,—if guilt it be!
“But pious nature ne'er such love condemns.
“All animals in undistinguish'd form
“Cohabit: shame the heifer never feels
“Join'd with her sire; the steed his daughter takes
“As partner; with the female flock, who ow'd
“To him their being, couples oft the goat;
“And birds bring forth to birds who them produc'd.
“Blest those who thus enjoy; but human race
“Perversest laws invents: vexatious rules
“Forbid what nature grants. Yet am I told,
“Nations exist, where mother joins with son,
“And daughter with her sire; their pious love
“Increas'd more strongly by the double bond.
“Ah, me! unhappy, in such glorious climes
“Begotten not; I suffer but from place.
“But why on these ideas dwell? hence far
“Forbidden hopes. Well he deserves thy love,
“But as a father love him. Wert thou not
“Of mighty Cinyras the daughter, then
“Thou might'st the couch of Cinyras ascend.
“Now mine he is so much, he is not mine;
“Our very nearness is my greatest curse:
“More close, a perfect stranger had I been.
“Far hence I would depart; my country leave,
“This mischief flying; but curs'd love restrains.
“For, present, Cinyras I may behold;
“Touch, speak, my kisses to his face apply,
“If nought he'll grant beyond. How! impious maid,
“Dar'st thou hope ought beyond? perceiv'st thou not
“What laws, what names thou would'st confound? would'st thou
“The mother's rival be?—thy father's whore?
“Thy offspring's sister would'st thou then be call'd?
“Thy brother's parent? Fear'st thou not the three,
“Whose locks with sable serpents horrid curl?
“Who conscious bosoms pierce with searching eyes,
“And hurl their furious torches in the face?
“While yet thy body can resist, no more
“Cherish the heinous guilt thus in thy mind;
“Nor violate great Nature's sacred law
“With lust forbidden. Grant I should consent,
“The king would me deny: too pious he,
“Too dear to him the law. O, that in him
“Such furious passion rag'd as burns in me!—

“She ended; Cinyras, the worthy crowd
“Of suitors held in doubt; herself he ask'd,
“As name by name he counted, which as spouse
“She most would wish. Silent at first she stood,
“Then burning gaz'd on his paternal face,
“As the warm tears gush'd in her shining eyes.
“These, Cinyras effects of virgin fear
“Believing, chid her and forbade to weep.
“Drying her cheeks, he on them press'd a kiss;
“With too much pleasure she the kiss receiv'd:
“And when consulted what the spouse must be
“She would prefer, she answer'd,—one like you.—
“He witless of her meaning, prais'd her words,
“And said,—be such thy pious duty still—
“The sound of piety the virgin's eyes,
“With sense of guilt, cast conscious to the ground.

“'Twas now deep night when sleep sooth'd all the cares
“Of mortal breasts. But Myrrha wakeful laid
“Consum'd with raging fires; and rolling deep
“Her frantic wishes in her wandering mind.
“Despairing now, and now resolv'd to try;
“Now shame o'ercomes her, and anon desire:
“And undetermin'd how to act she rests.
“A mighty tree thus, wounded by the axe,
“Ere yet it feels the final blow, in doubt
“Seems where to fall; they fear on every side:
“Thus did her stagger'd mind from vary'd force
“Waver now here, now there; press'd hard by each,
“No ease for love, no rest but death appears.
“Death pleas'd. She rose, and round her throat prepar'd
“The cord to fasten; from the topmost beam
“She ty'd her girdle, and—farewel!—exclaim'd—
“Dear Cinyras! guess whence my fatal end.—
“Then drew the noose around her pallid neck.
“'Tis said, th' imperfect murmuring of her words,
“Reach'd to the faithful nurse's ears, who laid
“Before the threshold of her foster-child.
“The matron rose, threw wide the door, and saw
“Prepar'd the instrument of death. At once
“She scream'd aloud, her bosom tore, deep blows
“Gave her own limbs, and from the rescu'd neck
“Tore the tight noose. Then had she time to weep,
“Then to embrace, then to inquire the cause
“Of the dread cord. But dumb the virgin sate
“And motionless, her eyes to earth were fix'd;
“Griev'd that so check'd her efforts were for death.
“More the nurse presses, bares her silver'd hairs
“And wither'd bosom; by the cradle begs,
“And the first food she tasted, to confess
“To her the cause of sorrow. Myrrha sighs,
“But turns her eyes aside as thus she begs.
“Determin'd still to know, the nurse persists
“And not content her secrecy alone
“To promise, says—yet tell me, and my aid
“Allow me to afford thee. Not yet slow,
“Though aged. Is it love? with charms and plants
“I know thy love to cure. Have envious eyes
“Thee harm'd? with magic rites their charm I'll spoil.
“Are the gods angry? with appeasing rites
“Their anger we will soothe. What ill beside
“Can be conjectur'd? Lo! thy house secure,
“And safe thy fortune; both in prosperous train.
“Yet lives thy mother, and thy father lives.—
“Her father's name when Myrrha heard she drew
“Deep from her breast a mournful sigh; nor yet
“The nurse suspected guilt was in her soul:
“But saw that love disturb'd her. In her aim
“Inflexible; again she urg'd to know
“The grief whate'er it prov'd; and lull'd her head
“Upon her aged lap, and clasp'd her form
“In her own feeble arms, as thus she spoke;—
“I see thou lovest; banish far thy fear,
“My diligence in this shall aid thee; nay
“Not e'en thy father shall the secret know.—
“Madly she bounded from the lap, and cry'd,
“While press'd the couch her face,—I beg thee go!
“And spare my grievous shame.—More pressing still—
“Or go—she said—or ask not why I mourn:
“What thou so seek'st to know is shameful guilt.—
“With horror struck, the ancient dame holds forth
“Her hands, which equal shook with fear and age;
“Then suppliant at her foster-daughter's feet
“Fell. Now she coaxes; now she threatens loud;
“If not made privy, threatens to declare
“The cord's adventure, and half-finish'd death:
“And offers aid once more her love to gain.
“She rais'd her head, and fill'd her nurse's breast
“With sudden gushing tears. And oft she strove
“All to confess; as oft her tongue was mute;
“And in her garments hid her blushing face.—
“Then,—happy mother in thy spouse!—she said;
“No more, but groan'd. Through her cold limbs and bones,
“The ancient nurse a shivering tremor felt,
“And her white hairs all o'er her head, erect
“Like bristles stood; for all the truth she saw.
“Much did she urge the direful flame to drive
“Far from her soul, if that could be. The maid
“Knows all is just she argues, yet is fix'd
“For death, unless her lover is obtain'd.
“Then she;—O live, enjoy thy—silent there,
“Enjoy thy parent—she not dar'd to say:
“Yet by a sacred oath her promise bound.

“Now Ceres' annual feast, the pious dames
“All solemniz'd: in snowy robes enwrapt,
“They offer'd wheaten wreaths, and primal fruits.
“The rites of Venus, and the touch of man,
“For thrice three nights forbidden things they held.
“The monarch's spouse Cenchreïs, 'mid the crowd
“Forth went to celebrate the secret feast:
“And while the couch its legal partner lack'd,
“The ill-officious nurse the king espy'd
“Oppress'd with wine, and told the tale of love,
“Beneath a fictious name, and prais'd her charms.
“The virgin's years he asks.—Equal her age
“To Myrrha's—she replies.—Desir'd to bring
“The damsel, she returns:—Rejoice!—she cries,
“Rejoice! our point is gain'd.—The hapless nymph
“Felt not a general joy; presaging pangs
“Shot through her bosom; still she joy'd: her mind
“Such discord tore. Now was the silent hour;
“Boötes 'mid the Triönes had bent
“His wain with sloping pole; when Myrrha came
“To her flagitious crime. Bright Luna fled
“The skies; black clouds the lurking stars o'erspread;
“The night saw not its fires. Thou, Icarus,
“Thy face first hidst; and thou, Erigoné
“Hallow'd for thy parental love so pure.
“Thrice was she warn'd by stumbling feet, and thrice
“The owl funereal utter'd her death-note.
“Yet on she went; darkness and sable night
“Her shame diminish'd. Fast her left hand grasps
“Her nurse, the other waves t'explore the way.
“The threshold of the nuptial chamber now
“She touches; now she gently opes the door;
“Now enters. Then her trembling knees loose shook
“Beneath her bending hams; her color fled:
“Her blood flow'd back; and all her wishes sunk.
“The nearer was her crime approach'd, the more
“With horror she beheld it, and sore mourn'd
“Her daring; anxious to return unknown.
“The hoary dame, her, lingering thus, dragg'd on,
“And when presented at the lofty couch,
“Said—Cinyras receive her, she's thine own!—
“And the devoted bodies gave to join.
“The sire his proper bowels, on the bed
“Obscene, receiv'd; her virgin terrors calm'd,
“And sooth'd her trembling. Haply too, he said—
“My daughter,—from her age; and haply she—
“My sire,—lest names were wanting to their crime.
“Fill'd with her father from the bed she rose,
“Bearing in her dire womb the impious fruit;
“Carrying her crime conceiv'd. Th' ensuing night
“Her incest she repeats, nor ends she here.
“But Cinyras eager at length to know,
“After such frequent converse, who him lov'd;
“At once his daughter and his sin beheld,
“By lamps brought sudden. Grief repress'd all words;
“But from the sheath he snatch'd his glittering sword.
“Quick Myrrha fled; darkness and favoring night
“Sav'd her from death. O'er wide-spread fields she roam'd;
“Through Araby palm-bearing, and the lands
“Panchæa holds. Nine times returning light
“Had fill'd the horns of Luna, still she stray'd:
“Then weary rested in Sabæa's fields;
“While scarce she bore the burden of her womb.
“Then what to ask uncertain, 'twixt the fear
“Of death and weariness of hated life;
“In words like these she utter'd forth her prayers,—
“Ye powers, if those who guilt confess are heard,
“A punishment exemplar I deserve;
“I shrink not from it. Yet the living race
“Lest I contaminate, if left to live;
“Or lest I mix prophane with shades below,
“Drive me from either realm; from life and death
“Debar me, into some new shape transform'd.—
“The penitent some god propitious heard;
“Her final prayer at least success obtain'd:
“For as she spoke rose round her legs the earth;
“The lofty tree's foundation, crooked roots
“Shot from her spreading toes; hard wood her bones
“Became; the marrow in the midst remain'd
“As pith; as sappy juice still flow'd her blood:
“Her arms large boughs were spread; her fingers chang'd
“To slender twigs; rough bark her skin became.
“The growing tree press'd hard the gravid womb;
“Invested next her breast, and o'er her neck
“Threaten'd to spread. Impatient of delay
“She shrunk below to meet th' approaching wood,
“And hid beneath the rising bark her face.
“Human sensation with her change of shape
“She lost, yet still she weeps; and from the tree
“Warm drops yet fall, and much the tears are priz'd.
“The myrrh which oozes from the bark still holds
“Its mistress' name, well known in every age.

“Meantime the misbegotten infant grew
“Within the trunk, and press'd to find a way
“To push to light, and leave the parent womb.
“Within the tree the gravid womb swell'd large,
“Stretch'd was the mother with the load, but mute
“Were all her woes; nor in travailing voice
“Lucina could she call. Yet hard to strain
“She seem'd; thick groans oft gave the bending bole,
“And tears flow'd copious. Mild Lucina came,
“And stood before the groaning boughs, and gave
“Assisting help, and spoke the spellful words.
“Cleft is the tree, and through the fissur'd bark
“A living burthen comes: the infant cries,
“Who on soft grass plac'd. The Naïad nymphs
“Him bathe in tears maternal: such a face
“Ev'n Envy could not blame. As painters form
“The naked Cupid's beauty, such had he;
“And that their dress no help to guess may give,
“This the light quiver take, or that resign.
“Quick passing time unheeded glides along
“Deceiving: nought than years more quickly flies.
“The child, of sister and of grandsire born,
“Late in the tree confin'd, late thence reliev'd;
“Just seen most beauteous of the infant tribe,
“Now youth, now man appears, more beauteous still:
“Now Venus charm'd, his mother's pangs aveng'd.

“As kisses sweet the quiver-bearing boy
“Press'd on his mother's lips, he witless raz'd
“Slightly her bosom, with a dart that stood
“Protruding. Venus, wounded, angry push'd
“Her son far from her; light the wound appear'd;
“At first even her deceiving. With the blaze
“Of manly beauty caught, she now contemns
“The Cythereïan shores; nor Paphos seeks,
“Girt by profoundest seas; Cnidos, so fam'd
“For fish; nor Amathus with metals rich.
“Heaven too, she quits, to heaven she now prefers
“Adonis: him she follows, him attends;
“Whose sole employ was loitering in the shade,
“In anxious study to increase her charms.
“Bare to the knee, her robe, like Dian's train
“High-girt, o'er hills, through woods, and brambly rocks
“She roves: exhorts the dogs, and drives such game
“As threaten not with danger; fearful hares,
“High-antler'd stags, and rapid-flying deer.
“Fierce boars she shuns, and shuns the robber-wolf,
“Strong-talon'd bears, and lions slaughter-gorg'd.

“Thou too, Adonis, admonition heardst
“These to avoid, if admonition ought
“With thee could weigh:—Be brave,—the goddess said—
“To those who fly thee; courage 'gainst the bold
“To danger drags. Dear youth, thy heart is brave;
“Indulge not to my hazard, nor provoke
“Fierce beasts by nature arm'd, nor seek for fame.
“Nor youth nor beauty, such as Venus move,
“Will move the lion, or the bristly boar:
“Their eyes and breasts untouch'd by brightest charms.
“Thunder and lightning in his bended tusks
“The fierce boar carries; rapid is the force
“The tawny lion, (hated race!) exerts:
“My cause of hatred when to thee disclos'd,
“Will raise thy wonder at the monstrous crime,
“In days of yore committed. Now hard toil
“Unwonted tires me. Lo! the poplar's shade
“So opportune invites; and the green turf
“A couch presents. Upon the ground with thee
“I'll rest:—she spoke, and as she stretch'd along,
“She press'd the grass, and press'd the lovely youth:
“Smiling, her head upon his breast reclin'd,
“'Midst intermingling kisses, thus she spoke.—

“Perhaps thou'st heard of that renowned maid,
“Whose fleetness in the race the swiftest man's
“Surpass'd. Not fabulous the tale you heard:
“She vanquish'd all. And hard it was to say,
“If praise for swiftness, or for beauteous form,
“She most deserv'd. To her, who once enquir'd
“Of marriage, fate-predicting Phœbus said—
“A spouse would, Atalanta, be thy bane;
“Avoid an husband's couch. Yet wilt thou not
“An husband's couch avoid; but lose thyself,
“Thyself yet living.—Terror-struck to hear
“The sentence of the god, maiden she lives
“Amid the thickest woods; driving severe
“The throngs of pressing suitors from her far,
“By hard conditions.—Ne'er can I be gain'd—
“She said—till vanquish'd in the race. With me
“Your swiftness try: the conqueror in the strife,
“Shall gain me spouse, and gain a genial couch;
“But death must him who lags behind reward.
“Such be the laws of trial.—Pitiless
“The law appear'd; but (such is beauty's power)
“Crowds of rash lovers to the law agreed.
“There sat Hippomenes to view the race
“Unequal; and exclaim'd,—are there so mad,
“As seek a wife through peril so immense?—
“And the blind love of all the youths condemn'd.
“But when her face he saw, and saw her limbs
“Bar'd for the contest, (limbs like mine, or thine,
“Were thine of female mould,) amaz'd he look'd
“With uprais'd hands, and cry'd;—forgive my fault,
“Ye whom but now I blam'd; the great reward
“For which you labor, then to me unknown!—
“Thus praising, fire he feels, and hopes no youth
“More swift will run, and envious fears their speed—
“But why the fortune of this contest leave,
“Untry'd—he said,—myself? Heaven helps the bold.—
“While musing thus Hippomenes remarks
“The virgin's flying pace. Though not less swift
“Th' Aönian youth beheld her, than the dart
“Shot from the Scythian bow; her beauty more
“Ravish'd his eyes, and speed her charms increas'd.
“Th' opposing breeze, which met her rapid feet,
“Blew back the ribbons which her sandals bound;
“Her tresses floated down her ivory back;
“And loosely flow'd her garment o'er her knees,
“With painted border gay: a purple bloom
“With virgin whiteness mixt, her body shew'd;
“As when the snow-white hall a deepen'd tinge
“From purple curtains shews. While this the guest
“Intently notes, the utmost goal is pass'd:
“Victorious Atalanta with the wreath
“Is crown'd: the vanquish'd sigh, and meet the doom
“Agreed. He, by the youths' untimely fate
“Deterr'd not, forward stood, and on the nymph
“Fix'd full his eyes, and said;—Why seek you thus
“An easy conquest, vanquishing the weak?
“With me contend. So potent am I born
“You need not blush to such high rank to yield.
“Megareus was my sire, Onchestius his,
“Grandson to Neptune; thus the fourth I boast
“From Ocean's sovereign. Nor beneath my race
“Stoops aught my valor; should success me crown,
“A lofty and an everlasting fame,
“Hippomenes your conqueror, would you gain.—
“As thus he spoke, with softening eyes the maid
“Beheld him, doubtful which 'twere best to wish,
“To vanquish or be vanquish'd. While she thus
“Utter'd her thoughts—What god, an envious foe
“To beauty would destroy him: urg'd to seek
“My bed, by risking thus his own dear life?
“I cannot sure so great a prize be thought!
“His beauty melts me not; though yet I own
“Such beauty well might melt. But such a youth
“He seems, he moves me not but from his years.
“What courage in him reigns! his soul unaw'd
“By death. He springs the fourth from Ocean's king!
“Then how he loves! and prizes so my hand,
“That should hard fortune keep me from his arms,
“He'd perish. Stranger, while thou may'st, depart;
“Avoid the bloody nuptials. Marriage, I
“Too cruel make. No maid would thee refuse;
“And soon may'st thou a wiser nymph select.
“But why for him this care? from me who see
“So many die, whom he too has beheld?
“Then let him perish; since the numerous train
“Of slaughter'd lovers warns him not: he spurns
“An hated life. How! should he then be slain
“Because with me to live he wishes? Death
“Inglorious must he gain, reward of love?
“Hatred would such a conquest still attend.
“Still is not mine the fault. Do thou desist;
“Or if thy madness holds, O, that thy feet
“More swift may be! See in his youthful face
“What virgin beauties! Ah! Hippomenes,
“Would Atalanta thou had'st never seen.
“Well worthy thou of life. Were I more blest;
“Had rugged fate not me a spouse forbade,
“Thou, sole art he, by whom to Hymen's couch
“With joy I would be led.—Thus spoke the nymph,
“In fond simplicity, first touch'd by love,
“Unknowing what she felt: ardent she lov'd,
“Yet knew the passion not which rul'd her soul.

“Now loud the people, and the king demand,
“The wonted race. To me with anxious words
“Hippomenes, great Neptune's offspring pray'd—
“O Cytherea! I adjure thee, aid
“My bold attempt; from thee those flames I felt,
“Grant them thy succour.—Gales auspicious waft
“To me the tender prayers, my soul is mov'd:
“Nor long the aid so needful I delay.
“A tract there lies in Cyprus' richest lands,
“Nam'd Tamasene by those who dwell around,
“This ancient times made sacred unto me:
“And with this gift my temples were endow'd.
“'Midst of the field appears a shining tree;
“Yellow its leaves, its crackling branches gold.
“By chance there straying, from the boughs I pluck'd
“Three golden apples, bore them in my hand,
“And seen by none, except the favor'd youth,
“Approach'd Hippomenes, and taught their use.
“The trumpets gave the sign, each ready sprung—
“Shot from the barrier, and with rapid feet
“Skimm'd lightly o'er the sand. O'er the wide main
“With feet unwetted, they might seem to fly;
“Or sweep th' unbending ears of hoary grain.
“Loud shouts encouraging, and cheering words,
“On every side a stimulus afford,
“To urge the youth's exertions.—Now,—they cry,—
“Now, now, Hippomenes, the time to press!
“On, on! exert thy vigor—flag not now,—
“The race is thine.—The grateful sounds both heard,
“Megareus' son, and Schœneus' daughter; hard
“Which joy'd the most to judge. How oft her pace
“She slacken'd, when with ease she might have pass'd,
“And ceas'd unwilling on his face to gaze.
“Tir'd now, parch'd breathings from the mouth ascends
“Of Neptune's son, and far remote the goal.
“Then, as his last resource, he distant flung
“One of the tree's bright produce. In amaze
“The virgin saw it roll; and from the course
“Swerv'd, tempted to obtain the glittering fruit.
“Hippomenes o'ershoots her; all around
“Applauses ring. She soon corrects delay,
“And wasted moments, with more rapid speed,
“And leaves again the youth behind. Again,
“Delay'd to catch the second flying fruit,
“The youth is follow'd, and again o'erpass'd.
“Now near the goal they come,—O, goddess! now
“Who gave the boon assist; he said, and flung
“With youthful force obliquely o'er the plain,
“More to detain, the last bright glittering gold.
“In doubt the virgin saw it fly: I urg'd
“That she should follow; and fresh weight I gave
“The apple when obtain'd; thus by the load
“Her course impeding, and obtain'd delay.
“But lest my tale, in length surpass the race,
“The vanquish'd virgin was the victor's prize.

“Think'st thou Adonis, did I not deserve
“Most grateful thanks in smoking incense paid?
“Mindless, nor thanks, nor incense yielded he;
“And sudden anger in my bosom rag'd.
“Irk'd at the slight, I instantly provide
“That future times with less contempt behave:
“And 'gainst them both my raging bosom burns.
“Now pass'd they near a temple, long since rais'd
“By fam'd Echion, in a shady wood,
“To the great mother of the heavenly gods,
“When the long journey tempted to repose;
“And there, inspir'd by me, ill-tim'd desire
“Hippomenes excited. Near the fane
“A cave-like close recess dim-lighted stood,
“With native pumice roof'd, hallow'd of old;
“Where priests the numerous images had plac'd,
“Of ancient deities. They enter'd here,
“And with forbidden lust the place defil'd.
“The wooden images their eyes avert:
“The tower-crown'd goddess dubious stands to plunge,
“The guilty couple in the Stygian wave.
“Too light that sentence seems: straight yellow manes
“Cover their soft smooth necks; their fingers curve
“To mighty claws; their arms to fore-legs turn;
“And new-form'd tails sweep lightly o'er the sand:
“Angry their countenance glares; for speech they roar;
“They haunt the forests for their nuptial dome.
“Transform'd to lions, and by others fear'd,
“Their tam'd mouths champ the Cybeleïan reins.
“Do thou, O dearest boy! their rage avoid;
“Not theirs alone, but all the savage tribe,
“That stubborn meet with breasts the furious war;
“Not turn their backs for flight: lest bold too much,
“Thou and myself, have cause too much too mourn.—

“Thus she admonish'd; and by coupled swans
“Upborne, she cleft the air; but his brave soul
“Her cautious admonitions rash contemn'd.

“By chance his dogs the well-mark'd footprints trac'd,
“And from his lurking covert rous'd a boar;
“Whom with a stroke oblique, as from the brake
“To spring he went, the gallant youth transpierc'd.
“Instant, with crooked tusks, the gore-stain'd spear
“Wrench'd the fierce boar away, and at him rush'd,
“Trembling, and safety seeking: every fang
“Deep in his groin he plung'd, and on the sand
“Stretch'd him expiring. Cytherea, borne
“Through midmost ether in her chariot light,
“Had not at Cyprus with her swans arriv'd,
“When, known from far, she heard his dying groans;
“And thither turn'd her snowy birds. From high
“When lifeless she beheld him, in his blood
“Convulsive struggling, quick she darted down,
“She tore her garments, and she tore her hair;
“And with unpitying hands her breast she smote.
“Then, fate upbraiding first, she said;—Not all
“Shall bend to your decision; still shalt thou
“Remain, Adonis, monument of woe,
“Suffer'd by me! The image of thy death,
“Annual repeated, annual shall renew
“Remembrance of my mourning. But thy blood
“A flower shall form. Shalt thou, O Proserpine,
“A female body to a scented herb
“Transform; and I the Cinyreïan youth
“Forbidden be to change?—She said, and flung
“Nectar most odorous on the ebbing gore;
“Which instant swelling rose. So bubbles rise
“On the smooth stream when showery floods descend.
“Nor long the term, an hour's short space elaps'd,
“When the same teinted flower the blood produc'd:
“Such flowers the deep pomegranate bears, which hides
“Its purple grains beneath a flexile rind.
“But short its boast, for the same winds afford
“Its name, and shake them where they light adhere:
“Ripe for their fall in fragile beauty gay.”

The Eleventh Book.

Rage of the Thracian women. Massacre of Orpheus. The women transformed to trees by Bacchus. Midas' foolish wish to change all things he touched into gold. Contest of skill between Pan and Apollo. The ears of Midas transformed to asses ears. Troy built by Apollo and Neptune. Laömedon's perfidy. Hesioné freed by Hercules, and married to Telamon. Peleus and Thetis. Birth of Achilles. Chioné ravished by Mercury, and by Apollo. Slain by Diana. Her sire Dædalion changed into an hawk. A wolf changed by Thetis to marble. Voyage of Ceÿx to Delphos. Lost in a storm. Grief of Alcyoné. Morpheus acquaints her with her husband's death. Change of both to kingfishers. Æsacus into a cormorant.

THE
Eleventh Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

While thus the Thracian bard the forests drew,
And rocks, and furious beasts with strains divine;—
Behold the Thracian dames! their madden'd breasts
Clad with the shaggy spoil of furious beasts,
Espy'd him from an hillock's rising swell,
As to his sounding strings he shap'd the song.
When one, her tresses in the ruffling air
Wild streaming, cry'd—“Lo! him who spurns our ties!”—
And full her dart 'gainst the harmonious mouth
Of Phœbus' son she flung: entwisted round
With leaves, a bruise without a wound appear'd.
A stone another for a weapon seiz'd;
The flying stone was even in air subdu'd
By harmony and song; and at his feet
Low fell, as suppliant for its daring fault.
But now the tumult swells more furious,—bounds
It knows not! mad Erinnys reigns around.
Yet all their weapons had his music's power
Soften'd; but clamor, Berecynthian horns,
Drums, clappings, bacchanalian shouts, and howls,
Drown'd the soft lyre. Then were the stones distain'd
With silenc'd Orpheus' blood. The Bacchæ first
Drove wide the crowding birds, the snakes, the beasts,
In throngs collected by his tuneful voice;
Glory of Orpheus' stage. From thence they turn'd
Their gory hands on Orpheus, and around
Cluster'd like fowls that in the day espy
The bird of darkness. Then as in the morn
The high-rais'd amphitheatre beholds
The stag a prey to hounds; so they the bard
Attack'd, and flung their Thyrsi twin'd with leaves;
For different use first form'd. Those hurl huge clods:
These branches torn from trees; and others stones.
Lest to their fury arms were wanting, lo!
A yoke of oxen with the ploughshare broke
The ground, not distant far; with sinews there
Of nervous strength, the husbandmen upturn'd
The stubborn soil; with sweat producing fruit.
These, when the troop they saw, affrighted fled,
Quitting their instruments of toil. Their rakes,
Their ponderous harrows, and their huge long spades,
Were scatter'd left on the deserted field.
These when their furious hands had seiz'd, and tore
From the strong oxen's heads the threatening horns,
Back they return'd to end the poet's fate;
And sacrilegious, as he stretch'd his hands,
They slaughter'd him! Then first in vain his words
Were utter'd; nought could then his speech avail.
Then, heavenly powers! his spirit was expell'd
And breath'd in air, even through that mouth whose sound
Hard rocks had heard, and wildest beasts had own'd.
For thee, O Orpheus! mourn'd the feather'd tribe,
And crowds of savage monsters; flinty rocks
Bewail'd thee; forests, which thy tempting song
So oft had caus'd to follow, wept; the trees,
Shorn of their pride, bewail'd with falling leaves.
Each stream, 'tis said, with flowing tears increas'd
Its current. Naïad nymphs and Dryads wore
Garments of sable tinge, with streaming hair.
Wide scatter'd lie his limbs. His head and lyre
Thou, Hebrus, dost receive; and while they glide,
Wond'rous occurrence! down the floating stream,
The lyre a mournful moan sends forth; the lips,
Now lifeless, murmur plaintive; and the bank
Echoes the lamentations. Borne along
To ocean, now his native stream they leave,
And reach Methymna on the Lesbian shore.

The head, expos'd thus on the foreign sand,
And locks still dropping with the watery wave,
A snake approach'd. But Phœbus gave his aid,
And check'd the greedy bite; with open jaws
The serpent rears in stone congeal'd, as then
Widely he gap'd. The ghost from earth descends,
And views the regions he had view'd before.
Exploring through th' Elysian fields he meets
His dear Eurydicé; with longing arms
He clasps her. Here they walk, now side by side,
With equal pace; now follows he, and now
A little space precedes her: Orpheus there
Back on Eurydicé in safety looks.

But Bacchus suffer'd not the heinous deed
Unpunish'd to remain; griev'd that the bard
Who sung his praises, thus was snatch'd away,
He bound the Thracian matrons, who the crime
Had perpetrated, fast by twisted roots
To earth as trees. He stretch'd their feet and toes,
Which follow'd him so swift, and struck their points
Deep in the solid earth: A bird ensnar'd
Thus finds his leg imprison'd by the wires
Hid by the crafty fowler, and his wings
Beats, while his fluttering draws more tight the noose.
So each, as firmly fixt to earth she stood,
Affrighted strove to fly, but strove in vain:
The flexile roots detain'd them; and fast ty'd,
Spite of their struggling bounds, while they explore
For toes and nails, and while they seek for feet,
They see the wood their taper legs conceal;
Their grieving hands to beat their thighs are rais'd;
Their hands strike solid wood: their shoulders, breasts,
Are also wood become. Their outstretch'd arms
Extended boughs appear'd, and boughs they were.

Nor sated yet was Bacchus; all their fields
He quits; attended by a worthier troop.
To Tmolus' vineyards and Pactolus' stream
He hies: the stream not yet for gold was fam'd;
Not yet so precious were its envy'd sands.
Satyrs and Bacchant' nymphs, his 'custom'd choir
Attend him, but Silenus was not found.
Him drunken had the rustic Phrygians seiz'd,
Reeling with wine, and tottering 'neath his years;
With ivy crown'd; and fetter'd to their king,
The royal Midas, brought him. Midas once
The Thracian Orpheus Bacchus' orgies taught,
With sage Eumolpus; and at once he knew
His old associate in the sacred rites;
And joyful feasted with voluptuous fare,
For twice five days, and twice five nights his guest.
Th' eleventh time Phosphor' now the lofty host
Of stars had chas'd from heaven; the jovial king
Went forth to Lydia's fields, and there restor'd
Silenus to the youth his foster-child.
He, joy'd again his nursing sire to see,
On him bestow'd his anxious sought desire,
Though useless was the gift. Greedy he crav'd
What only harm'd him,—saying—“Grant, O, power!
“Whate'er I touch may straight to gold be chang'd”—
Bacchus consents to what he wishes;—gives
The hurtful gift; but grieves to see his mind
No better wish demand. Joyful departs
The Berecynthian monarch, with ill-fate
Delighted; and, each object touching, tries
The promis'd faith. Scarcely himself believ'd,
When from a growing ilex down he tore
A sprouting bough, straight gold the bough became:
A stone from earth he lifted, pale the stone
In gold appear'd: he touch'd a turfy clod,
The clod quick harden'd with the potent touch:
He pluck'd the ripen'd hoary ears of wheat,
And golden shone the grain: he from the tree
An apple snatch'd, the fam'd Hesperian fruit
He seem'd to hold: where'er his fingers touch'd
The lofty pillars, all the pillars shone:
Nay, where his hands he in the waters lav'd,
The waters flowing from his hands seem'd such
As Danaë might deceive. Scarce can his breast
His towering projects hold; all fancy'd gold.
Th' attendant slaves before their master, joy'd
At this great fortune, heap'd the table high
With dainties; nor was bread deficient there:
But when his hands the Cerealian boon
Had touch'd, the Cerealian boon grew hard:
And when the dainty food with greedy tooth
He strove to eat, the dainty food grew bright,
In glittering plates, where'er his teeth had touch'd.
He mixt pure water with his patron's wine,
And fluid gold adown his cheeks straight flow'd.
With panic seiz'd, the new-found plague to view,
Rich, yet most wretched; from his wealthy hoard
Fain would he fly; and from his soul detests
What late he anxious pray'd. The plenteous gold
Abates his hunger nought, and parching thirst
Burns in his throat. He well deserves the curse
Caus'd by now-hated gold. Lifting his hands
And splendid arms to heaven, he cries,—“O sire
“Lenæan! pardon my offence: my fault
“Is evident; but pity me, I pray,
“And from me move this fair deceitful curse.”
Bacchus, the gentlest of celestial powers,
Reliev'd him, as he thus his error own'd:
The compact first agreed dissolv'd, and void
The grant became:—“Lest still thou shouldst remain
“With gold”—he said,—“so madly wish'd, imbu'd,
“Haste to the stream by mighty Sardis' town
“Which flows; thy path along the mountain's ridge
“Explore, opposing still the gliding waves,
“Till thou the spring espy'st. Then deeply plunge
“Beneath the foaming gush thy head, where full
“It spouts its waters; and thy error cleanse,
“As clean thy limbs thou washest.”—To the stream
The king as bidden hastes. The golden charm
Tinges the river; from the monarch's limbs
It passes to the stream. And now the banks
Harden in veins of gold to sight disclos'd;
And the pale sands in glittering splendor shine.

Detesting riches, now in woods he lives,
And rural dales; with Pan, who still resorts
To mountain caverns. Still his soul remains
Stupidly dull; the folly of his breast
Was doom'd to harm its owner as before.

High Tmolus rears with steep ascent his head,
O'erlooking distant ocean; wide he spreads
His bounds abrupt; confin'd by Sardis here,
By small Hypæpé there. Upon his top,
While Pan in boastful strain the tender nymphs
Pleas'd with his notes, and on his wax-join'd reeds
A paltry ditty play'd; boldly he dar'd
To place his own above Apollo's song.
The god to try th' unequal strife descends;
Tmolus the umpire. On his mountain plac'd,
The ancient judge from his attentive ears
The branches clear'd; save that his azure head
With oak was crown'd, and acorns dangling down
His hollow temples grac'd. The shepherd's god
Beholding,—“no delay, your judge,”—he said—
“Shall cause,”—and straight Pan sounds the rural reeds.
His barbarous music much the judgment pleas'd
Of Midas, who amidst the crowd approach'd.
Now venerable Tmolus on the face
Of Phœbus turn'd his eyes; and with him turn'd
Th' attentive woods. Parnassian laurel bound
His golden locks; deep dipt in Tyrian dye,
His garment swept the ground; his left hand held
The instrument with gems and ivory rich;
The other grasp'd the bow: his posture shew'd
The skilful master's art: lightly he touch'd
The chords with thumb experienc'd. Justly charm'd
With melody so sweet, Tmolus decreed
The pipe of Pan to Phœbus' lute should yield.

Much did the judgment of the sacred hill,
And much his sentence all delight, save one:
For Midas blames him, and unjust declares
The arbitration. Human shape no more
The god permits his foolish ears to wear;
But long extends them, and with hoary hairs
Fills them within; and grants them power to move,
From their foundation flexile. All beside
Was man, one part felt his revenge alone;
A slowly pacing asses ears he bears.
His head, weigh'd heavy with his load of shame,
He strove in purple turban to enfold;
Thus his disgrace to hide. But when as wont
His slave his hairs, unseemly lengthen'd, cropp'd,
He saw the change; the tale he fear'd to tell,
Of what he witness'd, though he anxious wish'd
In public to proclaim it: yet to hold
Sacred the trust surpass'd his power. He went
Forth, and digg'd up the earth; with whispering voice
There he imparted of his master's ears
What he had seen; and murmur'd to the sod:
But bury'd close the confidential words
Beneath the turf again: then, all fill'd up,
Silently he departed. From the spot
Began a thick-grown tuft of trembling reeds
To spring, which ripening with the year's full round,
Betray'd their planter. By the light south wind
When agitated, they the bury'd words
Disclos'd, betraying what the monarch's ears.
Latona's son, aveng'd, high Tmolus leaves,
And cleaving liquid air, lights in the realm
Laömedon commands: on the strait sea,
Nephelian Hellé names, an altar stands
Sacred to Panomphæan Jove, where seen
Lofty Rhætæum rises to the left,
Sigæum to the right. From thence he saw
Laömedon, as first he toil'd to build
The walls of infant Troy; with toil immense
The undertaking in progression grew,
And mighty sums he saw the work would ask.
A mortal shape he takes; a mortal shape
Clothes too the trident-bearing sire, who rules
The swelling deep. The Phrygian monarch's walls
They raise, a certain treasure for their toil
Agreed on first. The work is finished. Base,
The king disowns the compact, and his lies
Perfidious, backs with perjury.—“Boast not
“This treatment calmly borne,” the ocean's god
Exclaim'd; and o'er the sordid Trojan's shores
Pour'd all his flood of billows; and transform'd
The land to sheets of water; swept away
The tiller's treasure; bury'd all the meads.
Nor sated with this ruin, he demands
The monarch's daughter should be given a prey
To an huge monster of the main; whom, chain'd
To the hard rock, Alcides' arm set free,
And claim'd the boon his due; the promis'd steeds.
Refus'd the prize his valorous deed deserv'd,
He sack'd the walls of doubly-perjur'd Troy,
Nor thence did Telamon, whose powerful arm
The hero aided, unrewarded go;
Hesioné was by Alcides given.

Peleus was famous for his goddess-spouse:
Proud not more justly of his grandsire's fame,
Than of his consort's father; numbers more
Might boast them grandsons of imperial Jove;
To him alone a goddess-bride belong'd.
For aged Proteus had to Thetis said,—
“O, goddess of the waves, a child conceive!
“Thou shalt be mother of a youth, whose deeds
“Will far the bravest of his sire's transcend:
“And mightier than his sire's shall be his name.”
Hence, lest the world than Jove a mightier god
Should know, though Jove with amorous flames fierce burn'd,
He shunn'd th' embraces of the watery dame:
And bade his grandson Peleus to his hopes
Succeed, and clasp the virgin in his arms.

Hæmonia's coast a bay possesses, curv'd
Like a bent bow; whose arms enclosing stretch
Far in the sea; where if more deep the waves
An haven would be form'd: the waters spread
Just o'er the sand. Firm is the level shore;
Such as would ne'er the race retard, nor hold
The print of feet; no seaweed there was spread.
Nigh sprung a grove of myrtle, cover'd thick
With double-teinted berries: in the midst
A cave appear'd, by art or nature form'd;
But art most plain was seen. Here, Thetis! oft,
Plac'd unattir'd on thy rein'd dolphin's back,
Thou didst delight to come. There, as thou laid'st
In slumbers bound, did Peleus on thee seize.
And when his most endearing prayers were spurn'd,
Force he prepar'd; both arms around thy neck
Close clasp'd. And then to thy accustom'd arts,
Of often-varied-form, hadst thou not fled,
He might have prosper'd in his daring hope.
But now a bird thou wert; the bird he held:
Now an huge tree; Peleus the tree grasp'd firm:
A spotted tiger then thy third-chang'd shape;
Frighted at that, Æäcides his hold
Quit from her body. Then the ocean powers
He worshipp'd, pouring wine upon the waves,
And bleating victims slew, and incense burn'd:
Till from the gulf profound the prophet spoke
Of Carpathus. “O, Peleus! gain thou shalt
“The wish'd-for nuptials; only when she rests
“In the cool cavern sleeping, thou with cords
“And fetters strong her, unsuspecting, bind;
“Nor let an hundred shapes thy soul deceive;
“Still hold her fast whatever form she wears,
“Till in her pristine looks she shines again.”
This Proteus said, and plung'd his head beneath
The waves, while scarce his final words were heard.

Prone down the west was Titan speeding now;
And to th' Hesperian waves his car inclin'd,
When the fair Nereïd from the wide deep came,
And sought her 'custom'd couch. Scarce Peleus seiz'd
Her virgin limbs, when straight a thousand forms
She try'd, till fast she saw her members ty'd;
And her arms fetter'd close in every part:
Then sigh'd, and said; “thou conquerest by some god:”
And the fair form of Thetis was display'd.
The hero clasp'd her, and his wishes gain'd;
And great Achilles straight the nymph conceiv'd.

Now blest was Peleus in his son and bride;
And blest in all which can to man belong;
Save in the crime of murder'd Phocus. Driven
From his paternal home, of brother's blood
Guilty, Trachinia's soil receiv'd him first.
Here Ceÿx, Phosphor's offspring, who retain'd
His father's splendor on his forehead, rul'd
The land; which knew not bloodshed, knew not force.
At that time gloomy, sad, himself unlike,
He mourn'd a brother's loss. To him, fatigu'd
With travel, and with care worn out, the son
Of Æäcus arriv'd; and in the town
Enter'd with followers few: the flocks and herds
That journey'd with him, just without the walls,
In a dark vale were left. When the first grant
T'approach the monarch was obtain'd, he rais'd
The olive in his suppliant hand; then told
His name, and lineage, but his crime conceal'd.
His cause of flight dissembling, next he beg'd,
For him and his, some pastures and a town.
Then thus Trachinia's king with friendly brow:
“To all, the very meanest of mankind,
“Are our possessions free; nor do I rule
“A realm inhospitable: add to these
“Inducements strong, thine own illustrious name,
“And grandsire Jove. In praying lose not time.
“Whate'er thou wouldst, thou shalt receive; and all,
“Such as it is, with me most freely share;
“Would it were better.” Speaking thus, he wept:
His cause of grief to Peleus and his friends,
Anxious enquiring, then the monarch told.

“Perchance this bird, which by fierce rapine lives,
“Dread of the feather'd tribe, you think still wings
“Possess'd. Once man, he bore a noble soul;
“Though stern, and rough in war, and fond of blood.
“His name Dædalion: from the sire produc'd
“Who calls Aurora forth, and last of stars
“Relinquishes the sky. Peace my delight;
“Peace to preserve was still my care: my joys
“I shar'd in Hymen's bonds. Fierce wars alone,
“My brother pleas'd. His valor then o'erthrew
“Monarchs and nations, who, in alter'd form,
“Drives now Thisbæan pigeons through the air.
“His daughter Chioné, in beauty rich,
“For marriage ripe, now fourteen years had seen;
“And numerous suitors with her charms were fir'd.
“It chanc'd that Phœbus once, and Maiä's son,
“Returning from his favorite Delphos this,
“That from Cyllené's top, together saw
“The nymph,—together felt the amorous flame.
“Apollo his warm hopes till night defers;
“But Hermes brooks delay not: with his rod,
“Compelling sleep, he strokes the virgin's face;
“Beneath the potent touch she sinks, and yields
“Without resistance to his amorous force.
“Night spread o'er heaven the stars, when Phœbus took
“A matron's form, and seiz'd fore-tasted joys.
“When its full time the womb matur'd had seen,
“Autolycus was born; the crafty seed
“Of the wing'd-footed god; acute of thought
“To every shade of theft; from his sire's art
“Degenerate nought; white he was wont to make
“Appear as black; and black from white produce.
“Philammon, famous with the lyre and song,
“Was born to Phœbus (twins the nymph brought forth).
“But where the benefit that two she bears?
“Where that the favorite of two gods she boasts?
“What that a valiant sire she claims? and claims
“As ancestor the mighty thundering god?
“Is it that glory such as this still harms?
“Certain it hurtful prov'd to her, who dar'd
“Herself prefer to Dian', and despise
“The goddess' beauty; fierce in ire she cry'd,—
“At least I'll try to make my actions please.—
“Nor stay'd; the bow she bent, and from the cord
“Impell'd the dart; through her deserving tongue
“The reed was sent. Mute straight that tongue became;
“Nor sound, nor what she try'd to utter, heard:
“Striving to speak, life flow'd with flowing blood.
“What woe (O hapless piety!) oppress'd
“My heart! What solace to her tender sire
“I spoke; my solace just the same he heard,
“As rocks hear murmuring waves. But still he moan'd
“For his lost child; but when the flames he saw
“Ascending, four times 'mid the funeral fires
“He strove to plunge; four times from thence repuls'd,
“His rapid limbs address'd for flight, and rush'd
“Like a young bullock, when the hornet's sting
“Deep in his neck he bears, in pathless ways.
“Ev'n now more swift than man he seem'd to run:
“His feet seem'd wings to wear, for all behind
“He left far distant. Through desire of death,
“Rapid he gain'd Parnassus' loftiest ridge.
“Apollo, pitying, when Dædalion flung
“From the high rock his body, to a bird
“Transform'd him, and on sudden pinions bore
“Him floating: bended hooks he gave his claws,
“And gave a crooked beak; valor as wont;
“And strength more great than such a body shews.
“Now as an hawk, to every bird a foe,
“He wages war on all; and griev'd himself,
“He constant cause for others grief affords.”

While these miraculous deeds bright Phosphor's sob
Tells of his brother, Peleus' herdsman comes,
Phocian Anetor, flying, and, with speed
Breathless, “O Peleus! Peleus!” he exclaims,
“Of horrid slaughter messenger I come!”
Him Peleus bids, whate'er he brings, to speak;
Trachinia's monarch even with friendly dread
Trembles the news to hear. When thus the man:
“The weary cattle to the curving shore
“I'd driv'n, when Sol from loftiest heaven might view
“His journey half perform'd, while half remain'd.
“Part of the oxen on the yellow sand,
“On their knees bending view'd the spacious plain
“Of wide-spread waters; part with loitering pace
“Stray'd here, and thither; others swam and rear'd
“Their lofty necks above the waves. There stood
“Close to the sea a temple, where nor gold,
“Nor polish'd marble shone; but rear'd with trees
“Thick-pil'd, it gloom'd within an ancient grove.
“This, Nereus and the Nereïd nymphs possess.
“A fisherman, as on the shore he dry'd
“His nets, inform'd us these the temple own'd.
“A marsh joins near the fane, with willows thick
“Beset, which waves o'erflowing first has form'd.
“A wolf from thence, a beast of monstrous bulk,
“Thundering with mighty clash, with terror struck
“The neighbouring spots: then from the marshy woods
“Sprung out; his jaws terrific, smear'd with foam
“And clotted gore; his eyes with red flames glar'd.
“Mad though he rag'd with ire and famine both,
“Famine less strong appear'd; for his dire maw
“And craving hunger, he not car'd to fill
“With the slain oxen; wounding all the herd:
“All hostile overthrowing. Some of us,
“Ranch'd by his deadly tooth, to death were sent
“Defence attempting. The shore and marsh
“With bellowings echoing, and the ocean's edge
“Redden with blood. But ruinous, delay!
“For hesitation leisure is not now.
“While ought remains, let all together join;
“Arm! arm! and on him hurl united spears.”
The herdsman ceas'd, Peleus the loss not mov'd;
But conscious of his fault, infers the plague
Sent by the childless Nereïd to avenge
Her slaughter'd Phocus' loss. Yet Ceÿx bids
His warriors arm, and take their forceful darts;
With them prepar'd to issue: but his spouse
Alcyöné, rous'd by the tumult, sprung
Forth from her chamber; unadorn'd her locks,
Which scatter'd hung around her. Ceÿx' neck
Clasping, she begg'd with moving words and tears,
Aid he would send, but go not; thus preserve
Two lives in one. Then Peleus to the queen;
“Banish your laudable and duteous fears.
“For what the king intended, thanks are due.
“Arms 'gainst this novel plague I will not take:
“Prayers must the goddess of the deep appease.”

A lofty tower there stood, whose summit bore
A beacon; grateful object to the sight
Of weary mariners. Thither they mount,
And see with sighs the herd strew'd o'er the beach;
The monster ravaging with gory jaw,
And his long shaggy hairs in blood bedy'd.
Thence Peleus, stretching to the wide sea shore
His arms, to Psamathé cerulean pray'd,
To finish there her rage, and grant relief.
Unmov'd she heard Æäcides implore:
But Thetis, suppliant, from the goddess gain'd
The favor for her spouse. Uncheck'd, the wolf
The furious slaughter quits not, fierce the more
From the sweet taste of blood, till to a stone
Transform'd, as on a bull's torn neck he hung.
His form remains; and, save his color, all;
The color only shews him wolf no more:
And shews no terror he shall now inspire.

Still in this realm the angry fates deny'd
Peleus to stay; exil'd, he wander'd on,
And reach'd Magnesia: from Acastus there
Thessalian, expiation he receiv'd.

Ceÿx meantime, with anxious doubts disturb'd;
First with the prodigy, his brother's change,
Then those which follow'd; to the Clarian god
Prepar'd to go, the oracles to seek,
Which sweetly solace men's uneasy minds.
Delphos was inaccessible; the road
Phorbas prophane, with all his Phlegians barr'd.
Yet first Alcyöné, most faithful spouse!
He tells thee of his purpose. Instant seiz'd
A death-like coldness on her inmost heart:
A boxen paleness o'er her features spread;
And down her cheeks the tears in torrents roll'd.
Thrice she attempted words, but thrice her tears
Her words prevented; then her pious plaints,
Broken by interrupted sobs, she spoke.
“My dearest lord! what hapless fault of mine
“Thy soul has alter'd? Where that love for me
“Thou wont'st to shew? Canst thou now unconcern'd
“Depart, and leave Alcyöné behind?
“Glads thee this tedious journey? Am I lov'd
“Most dearly farthest absent? Yet by land
“Was all thy journey, then I should but grieve,
“Not tremble: sighs would then of fears take place.
“The sea, the dread appearance of the main,
“Me terrifies. But lately I beheld
“Torn planks bestrew the shore: and oft I've read
“On empty tombs, the names of dead inscrib'd.
“Let not fallacious confidence thy mind
“Mislead, that Æölus I call my sire;
“Who binds the furious winds in caves, and smoothes
“At will the ocean. No! when issu'd once,
“They sweep the main, no power of his can rule:
“And uncontroll'd they ravage all the land:
“Nor checks them aught on ocean. Clouds of heaven,
“They clash; and ruddy lightnings hurl along
“In fierce encounter. More their force I know,
“(For well I knew, and oft have mark'd their power,
“While yet an infant at my sire's abode,)
“The more I deem them such as should be fear'd.
“Yet dearest spouse, if thy firm-fixt resolve
“No prayers can change, and obstinate thou stand'st
“For sailing, let me also with thee go:
“Together then the buffeting we'll bear.
“Then shall I fear but what I suffer; then
“Whate'er we suffer we'll together feel:
“Together sailing o'er the boundless main.”

Her words and tears the star-born husband mov'd;
For less of love he felt not. Yet his scheme
To voyage o'er the deep he could not change;
Nor yet consent Alcyöné should share
His peril: and with soothing soft replies,
He try'd to calm her timid breast. Nor yet
Himself approv'd the arguments he try'd,
His consort to persuade consent to yield
To his departure. This at length he adds
As solace, which alone her bosom mov'd.
“All absence tedious seems; but by the fires
“My father bears, I swear, if fates permit,
“Returning, thou shalt see me, ere the moon
“Shall twice have fill'd her orb.” Hope in her breast
Thus rais'd by promise of a quick return,
Instant the vessel, from the dock drawn forth,
He bids them launch in ocean, and complete
In all her stores and tackling. This beheld
Alcyöné; and, presaging again
Woes of the future, trembled, and a flood
Of tears again gush'd forth; again she clasp'd
His neck; at length, as, wretched wife, she cry'd,—
“Farewell” she, swooning, lifeless sunk to earth.

The rowers now, while Ceÿx sought delays,
To their strong breasts the double-ranking oars
Drew back, and cleft with equal stroke the surge.
Her humid eyes she rais'd, and first beheld
Her husband standing on the crooked poop,
Waving his hand as signal; she his sign
Return'd. When farther from the land they shot,
Her straining eyes no more indulg'd to know
His features; still, while yet they could, her eyes
Pursu'd the flying vessel. This at length
Increasing distance her forbade to see;
Still she perceiv'd the floating sails, which spread
From the mast's loftiest summit. Sails at length
Were also lost in distance: then she sought
Anxious her widow'd chamber; and her limbs
Threw on the couch. The bed, the vacant space,
Renew'd her tears, reminding of her loss.

Now far from port they'd sail'd, when the strong ropes
The breeze began to strain; the rowers turn
Their oars, and lash them to the vessel's side;
Hoist to the mast's extremest height their yards;
And loose their sails to catch the coming breeze.
Scarce half, not more than half, the sea's extent
The vessel now had plough'd; and either land
Was distant far; when, as dim night approach'd,
The sea seem'd foaming white with rising waves;
And the strong East more furious 'gan to blow.
Long had the master cry'd,—“Lower down your yards,
“And close furl every sail!”—he bids; the storm
Adverse, impedes the sound; the roaring waves
Drown every voice in noise. Yet some, untold,
Haste to secure the oars; part bind the sails;
Part fortify the sides: this water laves,
Ejecting seas on seas; that lowers the yards.
While thus they toil unguided, rough the storm
Increases; from each quarter furious winds
Wage warfare, and with mounting billows join.
Trembles the ruler of the bark, and owns
His state; he knows not what he should command,
Nor what forbid; so swift the sudden storm;
So much more strong the tempest than his skill.
Men clamorous shout; cords rattle; mighty waves
Roar, on waves rushing; thunders roll through air;
In billows mounts the ocean, and appears
To meet the sky, and o'er the hanging clouds
Sprinkles its foam. Now from the lowest depths,
As yellow sands they turn, the billows shine;
Now blacker seem they than the Stygian waves;
Now flatten'd, all with spumy froth is spread.
The ship Trachinian too, each rapid change
In agitation heaves; now rais'd sublime
The deepen'd vale she views as from a ridge
So lofty: down to Acheron's low depths,
Now in the hollow of the wave she falls,
And views th' o'erhanging heaven from hell's deep gulf.
Oft bursting on her side with loud report
The billows sound; nor with less fury beat
Than the balista, or huge battering ram,
Driv'n on the tottering fort: or lions fierce,
Whose strength and rage increasing with their speed,
Rush on the armour'd breast and outstretch'd spear.
So rush'd the waves with wind-propelling power
High o'er the decks; and 'bove the rigging rose.

Now shook the wedges; open rents appear'd,
The pitchy covering gone, and wide-display'd,
A passage opens to the deadly flood.
Then from the breaking clouds fell torrent showers;
All heaven seem'd sweeping down to swell the main;
And the swol'n main, ascending to invade
Celestial regions, soak'd with floods each sail:
And ocean's briny waters mix'd with rain.
No light the firmament possess'd, and night
Frown'd blacker through the tempest. Lightning oft
Reft the thick gloom, and gave a brilliant blaze;
And while the lightnings flame the waters burn.

Now o'er the vessel's cover'd deck the waves
High tower; and as a soldier, braver far
Than all his fellows, urg'd by thirst of fame,
(The well-defended walls to scale oft try'd,)
At length his hope obtains, and singly keeps
His post, by foes on every side assail'd:
So when the furious billows raging beat
The lofty side, the tenth impetuous rears
Above the rest, and forceful rushes on;
The battery ceasing not on the spent bark,
Till o'er the wall, as of a captur'd town,
Downward it rushes. Part without invade,
And part are lodg'd within. In terror all
In trembling panic stand: not more the crowd
Which fill a city's walls, when foes without
Mine their foundations; while an entrance gain'd
Within, part rage already. Art no more
Can aid; all courage droops; as many deaths
Seem rapid rushing as the billows break.
This wails in tears his fate; that stupid stands;
This calls those blest whom funeral rites await:
One to his deity rich offerings vows,
And vainly stretching forth to heaven his arms,
The heaven he sees not, begs for aid: his friends,
Brethren and parents, fill of this the mind;
Of that his children, or whate'er he leaves.

Alcyöné, alone in Ceÿx' soul
Found place; and but Alcyöné, his lips
Nought utter'd. Her alone he wish'd to see;
Yet joy'd she far was absent. Much he long'd
To view once more his dear paternal shores;
And turn his last looks tow'rd his regal dome:
But where to turn he knows not; in a whirl
So boils the sea; and all the heaven is hid
In shade, by more than pitchy clouds produc'd:
Night doubly darken'd. Now the whirlwind's force
Shivers the mast, and tears the helm away:
And like a victor, proud to view his spoils,
Mounts an high wave, and scornfully beholds
The lower billows; thundering down it sweeps,
Impell'd by force that Athos might o'erturn,
Or Pindus, from their roots; and plunge in sea.
Down in the lowest depths, the weight and blow
Bury'd the vessel; with her most the crew
Sunk in the raging gulf: some met their fate,
Ne'er to return to air: some floated still;
To splinter'd fragments of the bark they clung.
Ceÿx himself, grasp'd only in that hand
A shatter'd plank, which once a sceptre held;
And Æölus and Phosphor' call'd in vain:
But chiefly from his lips was, as he swam,
Alcyöné resounded; that lov'd name
Remember'd constant, and repeated most.
He prays the billows may his body bear
To meet her eyes; and prays her friendly hands
His burial may perform. While thus he swims,
Alcyöné he names, whene'er the waves
To gasp for breath permit him; and beneath
The billows, tries Alcyöné to sound.
Lo! a black towering arch of waters broke
Midst of the surges; in the boiling foam
Involv'd, o'erwhelm'd he sunk. That mournful night
Was Phosphor' dark, impalpable to view:
And since stern fate to heaven his post fast bound,
He veil'd in densest clouds his grieving face.

Meantime Alcyöné her height of woe
Unknown, counts each sad night, and now with haste
The garments he should wear prepares; and now
Those to adorn herself when him she meets;
Cherishing emptiest hopes of his return.
Devoutest offerings to the heavenly powers
She bore; but incense far before the rest
On Juno's altar burn'd; and oft she pray'd
For him who was not. For his safety pray'd;
For his return; and that his love might still
Without a rival hers remain: the last
Of all her ardent prayers indulgence found.
But longer bore the goddess not to hear
Such vain petitions for the dead; these hands
Polluted, from her altars to remove,
To Iris thus she spoke:—“O, faithful maid!
“Most trusty messenger, with speed repair
“To Somnus' drowsy hall; him bid to send
“A vision form'd in lifeless Ceÿx' shape
“To tell Alcyöné her woes' extent.”
She ended: in her various-teinted robe
Attir'd, and spreading o'er the spacious heaven
Her sweeping arch, Iris the dwelling sought
The goddess order'd. Hid beneath a steep
Near the Cimmerians, in a deep dug cave,
Form'd in a hollow mountain, stands the hall
And secret dwelling of inactive sleep;
Where Phœbus rising, or in mid-day height,
Or setting-radiance, ne'er can dart his beams.
Clouds with dim darkness mingled, from the ground
Exhale, and twilight makes a doubtful day.
The watchful bird, with crested head, ne'er calls
Aurora with his song; no wakeful dog,
Nor goose more wakeful, e'er the silence breaks;
No savage beasts, no pastur'd flocks, no boughs
Shook by the breeze; no brawl of human voice
There sounds: but death-like silence reigns around.
Yet from the rock's foundation, gently flows
A stream of Lethe's water, whose dull waves
In gentle murmuring o'er the pebbles purl,
Tempting to slumber. At the cavern door
The fruitful poppy, and ten thousand plants,
From which moist night the drowsy juices drains,
Then scatters o'er the shady earth, grew thick.
Round all the house no gate was seen, which, turn'd
On the dry hinge should creak; no centry strict
The threshold to protect. But in the midst
The lofty bed of ebon form'd, was plac'd.
Black were the feathers; all the coverings black,
And stretch'd at length the god was seen; his limbs
With lassitude relax'd. Around him throng'd
In every part, vain dreams, in various forms,
In number more than what the harvest bears
Of bearded grains; the woods of verdant leaves;
Or shore of yellow sands. Here came the nymph;
Th' opposing dreams push'd sideways with her hands,
And through the sacred mansion from her robe
Scatter'd refulgent light. With pain the god,
His eyelids weigh'd with slothful torpor, rais'd;
But at each effort down they sunk again:
And on his breast his nodding chin still smote.
At length he rous'd him from his drowsy state;
And, on his elbow resting, ask'd the nymph,
For well he knew her, why she thither came.
Then she—“O Somnus! peaceful rest of all!
“Somnus! most placid of immortal powers;
“Calm of the soul; whom care for ever flies;
“Who soothest bosoms, with diurnal toil
“Fatigu'd; and renovat'st for toil again;
“Dispatch a vision to Trachinia's town,
“(By great Alcides founded,) in the form
“Its hapless monarch bore: let it display
“The lively image of her husband's wreck,
“To sad Alcyöné. This Juno bids.”—
Iris, her message thus deliver'd, turn'd:
For more the soporific mist, which rose
Around, she bore not; soon as sleep she felt
Stealing upon her limbs, abrupt she fled,
Mounting the bow by which she glided down.

The drowsy sire, from 'midst a thousand sons,
Calls Morpheus forth, an artful god, who well
All shapes can feign. None copies else so close
The bidden gait, the features, and the mode
Of converse; vesture too the same he wears,
And language such as most they wont to speak.
Mankind alone he imitates. To seem
Fierce beasts, and birds, and long-extended snakes
Another claims: this Icelos the gods
Have nam'd; by mortals as Photebor known.
A third is Phantasus of different skill;
His change is happiest when he earth becomes,
Or rocks, or waves, or trees, or substance aught
That animation lacks. These shew their forms
By night to mighty heroes and to kings;
The rest before th' ignobler crowd perform.
All these the ancient Somnus pass'd, and chose
Morpheus alone from all his brethren crowd,
The deed Thaumantian Iris bade, to do;
Then, weigh'd with slumber, dropp'd again his head,
And shrunk once more within the sable couch.

He flies through darkness on unrustling wings,
And short the space, ere in Trachinia's town
He lights; and from his shoulders lays aside
His pinions; when he Ceÿx' form assumes.
In Ceÿx' ghastly shape pallid he stood,
Despoil'd of garments, at the widow'd bed
Of the sad queen: soak'd was his beard, and streams
Seem'd from his heavy dripping locks to flow.
Then leaning o'er the couch, while gushing tears
O'erspread his cheeks, he thus his wife bespoke;—
“Know'st thou thy Ceÿx, wretched, wretched wife?
“Or are my features chang'd by death? Again
“View me, and here behold thy husband's shade,
“Instead of husband: all thy pious prayers
“For me, Alcyöné, were vain. I'm lost!
“No more false hopes encourage, me to see.
“The showery southwind, on th' Ægean main,
“Seiz'd on our vessel, and with mighty blast
“Shiver'd it wide in fragments; and the waves
“Rush'd in my throat as loud thy name I call'd;
“But call'd in vain. No doubtful author brings
“To thee these tidings; no vague rumor this,
“In person I relate it. Shipwreck'd I,
“My fate to thee detail. Rise, and assist!
“Pour forth thy tears; in sable garments clothe;
“Nor send my ghost to wander undeplor'd,
“In shady Tartarus.” Thus Morpheus spoke;
And in such accents, that the queen, deceiv'd,
Believ'd her husband spoke. Adown his cheeks
Seem'd real tears to flow; and even his hand
With Ceÿx' motion mov'd. Deeply she groan'd,
Ev'n in her sleep, and rais'd her longing arms
To clasp his body; empty air she clasp'd:
Exclaiming;—“stay; O whither dost thou fly?
“Together let us hence!”—Rous'd with the noise,
And spectre of her spouse; sleep fled her eyes,
And round she cast her gaze for that to seek
Which she but now beheld. Wak'd by her voice,
Her slaves approach'd with lights; but when in vain
She search'd for what she lack'd, her face she struck;
Rent from her breasts her garments; beat her breasts
Themselves: nor stay'd her twisted hair to loose,
But tore the bands away; then to her nurse
Anxious the subject of her grief to learn—
“Alcyöné,”—she cries—“is now no more!
“She with her Ceÿx in one moment fell.
“Hence with your soothing words; shipwreck'd he dy'd.
“I saw; I knew him; as he fled me, stretch'd
“My arms to hold the fugitive.—Ah! no!
“The shadow fled, 'twas but his ghost; but shade
“My husband mere resembling ne'er was form'd.
“Yet had he not his wonted looks, nor shone
“In former brightness his beloved face.
“I saw him, hapless stand with pallid cheek,
“Naked, with tresses dropping still. Lo! here
“Wretched he stood, just on the spot I point:”—
Then anxious try'd his footmarks there to trace.—
“This did my mind foreboding fear; I pray'd
“When me thou fled'st, the winds thou would'st not trust:
“But since to sure destruction forth thou went'st,
“Would that by me companion'd thou had'st gone.
“With thee my bliss had been;—with thee to go.
“Unwasted then one moment of the space
“For life allow'd; not ev'n in death disjoin'd.
“But now I perish, and upon the waves,
“Though absent, float; the main me overwhelms,
“Though from the main far distant. Mental storms
“To me more cruel were than ocean's waves,
“Should I but longer seek to spin out life,
“And combat such deep grief? I will not strive
“Nor wretched thee desert; but now, though late,
“Now will I join thee; and the funeral verse
“Shall us unite; not in the self-same urn,
“Yet in the self-same tomb; bones join'd with bones,
“Allow'd not, yet shall name with name be seen.”—
The rest by grief was chok'd, and sounding blows
Each sentence interrupted; while deep groans
Burst from her raving bosom. Morning shone,
And forth she issu'd to the shore, and sought
In grief the spot, where last his face she view'd
Departing. “Here,”—she said,—“as slow he went,
“As slow he loos'd his cables; on this beach
“The parting kiss he gave.” While her mind's eye
Retraces every circumstance, she looks,
And something sees far floating on the waves,
Not much unlike a man: dubious at first
What it may be, she views it: nearer now
The billows drive it; and though distant still,
Plain to the eye a body was descry'd.
Whose body, witless, still a shipwreck'd wretch
With boding omen mov'd her; and in tears
She wail'd him as a stranger in these plaints.—
“Unhappy wretch! whoe'er thou art; and she
“Thy wife, if wife thou had'st”—but now the surge
More near the body bore. The more she views
Nearer the corps; the more her senses fly.
And now close driven to shore it floats, and now
Well she discern'd it was, it was—her spouse!
“'Tis he!”—she loudly shriek'd, and tore her face,
Her hair, her garments. Then her trembling arms
To Ceÿx stretching; “Dearest husband!”—cry'd.
“Art thou restor'd thus to my wretched breast?”

High-rais'd by art, adjoining to the beach
A mole was form'd, which broke the primal strength
Of ocean's fury, and the fierce waves tir'd.
Hither she sprung, and, wond'rous that she could!
She flew; the light air winnowing with her wings
New-sprung; a mournful bird she skimm'd along
The water's surface. As she flies, her beak
Slender and small, a creaking noise sends forth,
Of mournful sound, and full of sad complaint.
Soon as the silent bloodless corse she reach'd,
Around his dear-lov'd limbs her wings she clasp'd,
And gave cold kisses with her horny bill.
If Ceÿx felt them, or his head was rais'd
To meet her by the waves, th' unlearned doubt.
But sure he felt them. Both at length, the gods
Commisserating, chang'd to feather'd birds.
The same their love remains, and subject still
To the same fates; and in the plumag'd pair
The nuptial bond is sacred; join'd in one
Parents they soon become; and Halcyon sits
Sev'n peaceful days 'mid winter's keenest rule
Upon her floating nest. Safe then the main:
For Æölus with watchful care the winds
Guards, and prevents their egress; and the seas
Smooths for the offspring, with a grandsire's care.

These, as they skimm'd the surface of the main,
An ancient sire beheld, and prais'd their love:
Constant in death: his neighbour or himself
Also repeats;—the bird which there you see,
Brushing the ocean with his slender legs,
(And shews a corm'rant with his spacious maw)
A monarch's offspring was; would you descend
Through the long series, 'till to him you reach;
Ilus; Assaracus; and Ganymede,
Borne up to heaven by Jove, supply'd the stock
From whence he sprung; Laömedon the old;
And Priam doom'd to end his days with Troy.
Hector his brother; but in spring of youth
He felt this strange adventure, he perchance
As Hector's might have left a towering name:
Though from old Dymas' daughter Hector sprung.
Fair Alixirrhoë, so fame reports,
Daughter of two-horn'd Granicus, brought forth,
By stealth, Æsacus 'neath thick Ida's shade.
Wall'd cities he detested; and remote
From glittering palaces, secluded hills
Inhabited, and unambitious plains;
And scarce at Troy's assemblies e'er was seen.
Yet had he not a clownish heart, nor breast
To love impregnable. By chance he saw
Cebrenus' daughter, fair Hesperië—oft
By him through every shady wood pursu'd—
As on her father's banks her tresses, spread
Adown her back, in Phœbus' rays she dry'd.
The nymph, discover'd, fled. So rapid flies
Th' affrighted stag to 'scape the tawny Wolf;
Or duck, stream-loving, from the hawk, when caught,
Far from her wonted lakes. The Trojan youth
Quick follows, swift through hope; she swift through fear.
Lo! in the herbage hid, her flying foot
With crooked fang a serpent bit, and pour'd
O'er all her limbs the poison: with her flight
Her life was stopp'd. Frantic, he clasps her form
Now lifeless, and exclaims—“how grieve I now,
“That e'er I thee pursu'd; not this I fear'd!
“How mean my conquest, bought at such a price!
“Both, hapless nymph! in thy destruction join'd:
“I gave the cause, the serpent but the wound.
“I guiltier far than he, unless my death
“Shall thine avenge.”—He said, and in the main,
From an high rock, by hoarsely-roaring waves
Deep-worn beneath, prepar'd to plunge. Receiv'd
By pitying Tethys softly in his fall,
She clothes him, as he swims the main, with wings;
And death, so much desir'd, denies him still.
The lover, furious at th' unwelcome gift
Of life upon him forc'd, and his pent soul,
Bent on escaping from its hated seat
Confin'd, soon as the new-shot plumes he felt
Spring from his shoulders, up he flew, and plunged
Again his body in the depths below:
His feathers broke his fall. Æsacus rav'd,
And deeply div'd; with headlong fury still,
And endless perseverance death he sought.
Love keeps him meagre still; from joint to joint
His legs still longer grow; his outstretch'd neck
Is long; and distant far his head is plac'd.
He loves the ocean, and the name he bears,
From constant diving, seems correctly giv'n.

The Twelfth Book.

Rape of Helen. Expedition of the Greeks against Troy. House of Fame. The Trojan war. Combat of Achilles and Cygnus. The latter slain and transformed to a swan. Story of Cæneus. Fight of the Lapithæ and Centaurs. Change of Cæneus to a bird. Contest of Hercules with Periclymenos. Death of Achilles. Dispute for his arms.

THE
Twelfth Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

Priam the sire, much mourn'd, to him unknown
That still his son, on pinions borne, surviv'd:
While Hector and his brethren round the tomb,
A name alone possessing, empty rites
Perform'd. Save Paris, from the solemn scene
None absent were; he with the ravish'd wife
Brought to his shores a long protracted war.
Quick was he follow'd by confederate ships
Ten hundred, and the whole Pelasgian race.
Nor had their vengeance borne so long delay,
But adverse raging tempests made the main
Impassable; and on Bœotia's shores,
In Aulis' port th' impatient vessels bound.

Here, while the Greeks the rites of Jove prepare,
Their country's custom, as the altar blaz'd,
They saw an azure serpent writhe around
A plane, which near the altar rear'd its boughs.
Its lofty summit held a nest; within
Eight callow birds were lodg'd; on these he seiz'd,
And seiz'd the mother, who, with trembling wings,
Hover'd around her loss, all burying deep
Within his greedy maw. All stare with dread.
But Thestor's son, prophetic truths who still
Beheld, exclaim'd—“Rejoice! O Greeks, rejoice!
“Conquest is ours, and lofty Troy must fall.
“But great our toil, and tedious our delay.”
Then shew'd the birds a nine years' war foretold.
The snake, entwining 'mid the virid boughs,
Hard stone becomes, but keeps his serpent's form.

But still th' Aönian waves in violent swell
Were lash'd by Neptune, nor their vessels bore;
And many deem'd that Troy he wish'd to spare,
Whose walls his labor rais'd. Not so the son
Of Thestor thought: neither he knew hot so,
Nor what he knew conceal'd:—a victim dire
The virgin-goddess claim'd; a virgin's blood!
When o'er affection public weal prevail'd,
The king o'ercame the father; and before
The altar Iphigenia stood, prepar'd
Her spotless blood to shed, as tears gush'd forth
Even from the sacrificial 'tendants. Then
“Was Dian' mov'd, and threw before their sight
A cloud opaque, and (so tradition tells)
The maid Thycenian to an hind was chang'd,
Amid the priests, the pious crowd and all
Who deprecating heard her doom. This done,
Dian' by such a sacrifice appeas'd
As Dian' best became; and sooth'd her ire,
The angry aspect of the seas was smooth'd;
And all the thousand vessels felt the breeze
Abaft, and bore the long impatient crowd
To Phrygia's shores. A spot there lies, whose seat
Midst of created space, 'twixt earth, and sea,
And heavenly regions, on the confines rests
Of the three-sever'd world; whence are beheld
All objects and all actions though remote,
And every sound by tending ears is heard.
Here Fame resides; and in the loftiest towers
Her dwelling chuses; and some thousand ways,
And thousand portals to the dwelling makes:
No portal clos'd with gates. By day, by night,
Open they stand; of sounding brass all form'd;
All echoing sound; all back the voice rebound:
And all reit'rate every word they hear.
No rest within, no silence there is found,
Yet clamor is not, but a murmur low;
Such as the billows wont to make when heard
From far, or such as distant thunder sends,
When Jove the dark clouds rends and drives aloof.
Crowds fill the halls: the trifling vulgar come
And issue forth. Ten thousand rumors vague
With truth commingled to and fro are heard.
Words in confusion fly. Amid the throng
These preach their words to vacant air, and those
To others tales narrate; the measure still
Of every fiction in narration grows;
And every author adds to what he hears.
Here lives credulity; and here abides
Rash error; transports vain; astonied fear;
Sedition sudden; and, uncertain whence,
Dark whisperings. Fame herself sits high aloft,
And views what deeds in heaven, and earth, and sea
Are done, and searches all creation round.
The news she spreads, that now the Grecian barks
Approach with valiant force; nor did the foe
Unlook'd-for threat the realm. All Troy impedes
Their landing, and the shores defends. Thou first,
Protesilaüs! by great Hector's spear
Unluckily wast slain. The war begun,
Their valiant souls, ere yet they Hector knew,
Dear cost the Greeks. Nor small the blood which flow'd
From Phrygia's sons, by Grecia's valor spill'd.

Now blush'd Sigæum's shores with spouting blood,
Where Cygnus, Neptune's offspring, gave to death
Whole crowds. Achilles in his chariot stood,
And with his forceful Pelian spear o'erthrew
Thick ranks of Trojans; and as through the fights
Cygnus or Hector to engage he sought,
Cygnus he met: delay'd was Hector's fate
To the tenth year. Then to his white-neck'd steeds,
Press'd by the yoke, with cheering shouts he spoke;
And full against the foe his chariot drove.
His quivering lance well-pois'd he shook, and call'd,
“Whoe'er thou art, O youth! this comfort learn
“In death, that by Achilles' arm thou dy'st.”
Thus far Pelides; and his massive spear
Close follow'd on his words. With truth it fled;
Yet did the steely point, unerring hurl'd,
Fall harmless: with a deaden'd point his breast
Was struck. Then he;—“O goddess-born! (for fame
“Thy race to me has long before made known)
“Why wonder'st thou that I unwounded stand?”
(For wondering stood Pelides.) “Not this helm,
“Which thou behold'st, gay with the courser's mane.
“Nor the curv'd buckler by my arm sustain'd,
“For aid are worn. For comely grace alone
“They deck me. Thus is Mars himself adorn'd.
“Thrown every guard far from my limbs, my limbs
“Unwounded would remain. Sure I may boast!
“Sprung not from Nereus' daughter, but from him
“Who rules o'er Nereus; o'er his daughter rules;
“And all th' extent of ocean.” Cygnus spoke:
And at Pelides launch'd his spear to pierce
His orbed shield; its brazen front it pierc'd,
And nine bull-hides beneath; stay'd at the tenth,
The warrior shook it forth; with strenuous arm
The quivering weapon hostile back return'd:
Cygnus again unwounded felt the blow.
Nor felt his naked bosom, to the force
Of the third weapon vauntingly expos'd,
Aught harm'd. Less fiercely in the Circus wide
Rages the bull not, when the scarlet vests
To urge his fury fixt, with furious horn
To gore attempting, finds elusion still,
The unhurt limbs invading. Seeks he now
If fall'n the metal from his weapon's point:
Fast to the wood the metal still appears;
And cries he;—“Weak is then my hand? and spent
“On one, is all the strength I once could boast?
“For surely strength that arm could boast, which erst
“Lyrnessus' wall o'erthrew, and when with gore
“It Tenedos, and Thebes made stream; or when
“Caÿcus purple flow'd, stain'd with their blood
“Who on its banks had dwelt; and when twice prov'd
“By Telephus, the virtue of my spear.
“This nervous arm has here too shewn its force
“In hills of slain by me up-heap'd; these shores
“Attest it.” Speaking so, his spear he sent
Against Menœtes 'mid the Lycian crowd,
As doubting faintly deeds perform'd before:
And pierc'd at once his corslet and his breast.
From the hot smoking wound as forth he drew
The dart,—as with his dying head was struck
The solid ground, he spoke:—“This is the hand,
“And this the spear which conquest knew before:
“This will I 'gainst him use. May it, when sent,
“The same success attend.”—Ere ceas'd his words
Cygnus again with aim he sought, nor swerv'd
His ashen weapon whence he aim'd, but rung,
Unshrunk from, on the shoulder: thence repell'd,
As from a wall or rugged rock it fell:
Yet where the blow was felt, did Cygnus seem
With blood distain'd. Achilles' joy was vain,
For wound was not. Menœtes' blood was there.
Then furious from his lofty car he sprung,
And close at hand his braving foe assail'd
With glittering falchion; by the falchion broke,
The helm and shield he saw, but the keen edge
His stubborn body blunted. More the son
Of Peleus bore not, but the warrior's face
With furious buffets from his shield, unclaspt
First from his arm, he smote, and with his hilt
Heavy his temples; and with headstrong rage
Bore on him: nor to his astounded soul
Respite allow'd. Dread through his bosom spread;
Before his eyes swam darkness: when amidst
The plain, a stone his retrogressive feet
Oppos'd. Pelides, with his mightiest strength,
Struck Cygnus against it, and to earth
Hard forc'd him, thrown supine. Pent with his shield,
And nervous knees upon his bosom prest
Tight, he the lacing of the helmet drew,
Which 'neath his chin was ty'd; close press'd his throat,
His breathing passage and his life at once
Destroy'd he. When his conquer'd foe to spoil
Of all his arms he went, the arms he found
Vacant. The ocean-god had to a bird
Of snowy plumage chang'd his offspring's form:
A bird which still the name of Cygnus bears.

Here stay'd the toil, here did the battle gain
Of numerous days a respite, either power
Resting on arms unhostile. Then, while guards,
Watchful, the Trojan walls protective kept;
And sentries equal wakeful o'er the trench
Form'd by the Argives watch'd, a feast was held,
Where Cygnus' victor, stout Achilles, gave
An heifer ribbon-bound to Athen's maid.
The sever'd flesh was on the altar plac'd,
Whose smoking fragrance, grateful to the gods,
High to th' ethereal regions mounted. Part,
Their due, th' official sacrificers took;
To swell the feast the rest was given. Outstretch'd
On couches, laid the noble guests, and fill'd
With the drest meat their hunger; and with wine
At once their thirst and all their cares assuag'd.
No lyre them sooth'd; no sound of vocal song;
Nor long extended boxen pipe with holes
Multiferous pierc'd: but all night long, discourse
Protracted; valiant deeds alone the theme.
Alike the valiant acts their foes perform'd,
And those their own they speak. Much they enjoy
To tell by turns what hazards they o'ercame;
And what they oft successless try'd. What else
Could e'er Achilles' speech employ? What else
By great Achilles could with joy be heard?
Chief in the converse, was the conquest late
O'er Cygnus gain'd, the topic. Strange to all
Seem'd it; the youth, from every weapon safe
By wound unconquerable, and with skin
Blunting the keenest steel. Wonder the Greeks,
And wonders ev'n Pelides: when in words
Like these, old Nestor hail'd them. “Cygnus, proof
“'Gainst steel,—unpierceable by furious blows
“Your age alone has known. These eyes have seen
“Perrhæbian Cæneus bear ten thousand strokes
“Unhurt. He, fam'd for warlike actions, dwelt
“On Othrys, and more strange those warlike deeds,
“Since female was he born.” The wondering crowd,
Mov'd with the novel prodigy, beseech
(Their spokesman was Achilles) that the tale
Nestor would give them. “Eloquent old man!
“Of all our age most prudent, tell, for all
“The same desire prevails o'er, who was he,
“This Cæneus? why was chang'd his sex? what wars
“Of fierce encounter made him known to thee?
“And if by any conquer'd, tell the name.”

Then thus the senior: “Though decrepid age
“Weighs heavy on me, and the deeds beheld
“In prime of youth, in numbers 'scape my mind;
“Yet than those facts, 'mid all of peace and war,
“Nought on my bosom made a deeper print.
“Yet may extended age of all beheld
“Part of the numerous acts and objects seen
“Relate,—I twice one hundred years have pass'd;
“Now in the third I breathe. Cænis, a nymph
“Sprung from Elateus, fam'd was all around
“For brightest beauty; fairest of the maids
“Who Thessaly adorn; theme of vain hopes
“To crowds of wooers through the neighbouring towns;
“And ev'n through thine, Achilles; for the land
“Thou claim'st produc'd her. Nay, her nuptial couch,
“Peleus perchance had sought, save that the rites
“Already with thy mother were compleat,
“Or were in promise ready. Nuptial couch
“She never press'd, for on the lonely shore
“Strolling, so fame declares, the vigorous clasp
“Of Ocean's god she felt. The charms possest
“Of his new object, Neptune said—whate'er
“Thou wishest, chuse, secure of no repulse.—
“This too does fame report, that Cænis cry'd—
“Wrongs such as mine no trivial gift deserve,
“That ne'er such shame again I suffer, grant
“I woman be no longer; that will all
“Favors comprize.—Her closing words betray'd
“A graver sound; manly appear'd her voice:
“And masculine it was. Deep ocean's god
“Acceded to her wish, and granted, more,
“That wounds should never harm her, nor by steel
“Should she e'er fall. Joy'd at the gift, the god
“Atracia's hero leaves—employs his age
“In studies warlike; and among the fields,
“Where fertilizing Peneus wanders, roams.

“Now bold Ixion's son had gain'd the hand
“Of Hippodamia; and the fierce-soul'd crowd
“Cloud-born, had bidden to attend the boards,
“In order rang'd within a cavern's mouth,
“By trees thick-shaded. All the princes round
“Of Thessaly attended: I, myself
“Amongst them went. Loud rung the regal feast
“With the mixt concourse; all most joyful sung
“O Hymen! Iö Hymen! and each hall
“Blaz'd bright with fires. The virgin then approach'd
“Pre-excellent in fairness, with a band
“Of matrons and unwedded nymphs begirt.
“Most blest, we all exclaim'd, in such a spouse
“Must be Pirithoüs—but such boding hopes
“Well nigh deceiv'd us. For when drunken lust
“O'er thee, Eurytus! govern'd, of the blood
“Of savage Centaurs, far most savage, fir'd
“Whether by wine, or by the virgin's charms
“Thou saw'st, thy breast. Instant, the board o'erturn'd,
“Routed the guests convivial, and the bride
“Caught by her locks, was forceful dragg'd away.
“Eurytus Hippodamia seiz'd; the rest
“Grasp'd such as pleas'd them, or whoe'er they met.
“It show'd the image of a captur'd town.

“With female shrieks the place resounded; swift
“We start, and Theseus foremost thus exclaims:—
“What frenzy, O Eurytus! thee impels
“Pirithoüs thus to wrong me still in life!
“Ign'rant that two thou wound'st in one?—Nor vain
“The chief magnanimous his threat'nings spoke:
“Th' aggressors back repell'd; and, while they rag'd,
“The ravish'd bride recover'd. Nought he said,
“Nor could such acts defence by words allow;
“But with rude inconsiderate hands he press'd
“Full on her champion's face; his valiant breast
“Assaulting. Near by chance a cup there stood,
“Of mould antique, and rough with rising forms:
“Mighty it was, but Theseus, mightier still,
“Seiz'd it, and full against his hostile face
“It dash'd; he vomits forth, with clots of gore,
“His brains, and wine; these issuing from the wound;
“That from his mouth; and on the soaking sand
“Supine he sprawls. With rage the two-form'd race
“Burn for their brother's slaughter; all with voice
“United, eager call—to arms! to arms!
“Wine gave them courage, and the primal fight
“Was goblets, fragile casks, and hollow jars,
“Dash'd on: once instruments to feasts alone
“Pertaining; now for slaughter us'd and blood.

“First Amycus, of Ophion son, not fear'd
“To rob the sacred chambers of their spoils;
“And from its cord suspensive, tore away,
“As from the roof it hung, a glittering lamp;
“And hurl'd it, lofty-pois'd, full in the front
“Of Lapithæan Celadon. So falls
“On the white neck the victim bull presents,
“The sacrificial axe, and all his bones
“Were shatter'd left; one all confounded wound.
“His eyes sprang forth; his palate bones displac'd,
“His nose driv'n back within his palate falls.
“Him Belates Pellæan with a foot
“Torn from a maple table, on the ground
“Stretch'd prone; his chin forc'd downward on his breast;
“And sputtering teeth, with blackest gore commixt,
“Sent by a second blow to Stygia's shades.

“As next he stood, and with tremendous brow
“The flaming altar view'd, Gryneus exclaim'd—
“Why use we this not? and the ponderous load
“With all its fires he seiz'd, and 'mid the crowd
“Of Lapithæans flung: two low it press'd;
“Broteas and bold Orion. From her sphere
“Orion's mother Mycalé, by charms
“The moon to drag to earth has oft been known.

“Loud cry'd Exodius:—Were but weapons found
“That death impunity would boast not. Horns
“An ancient stag once brandish'd, on a pine
“Hung lofty, serv'd for arms; the forky branch
“Hurl'd in his face deep dug out either eye.
“Part to the horns adhere; part flowing down
“His beard, thence hang in ropes of clotted gore.
“Lo! Rhætus snatches from the altar's height
“A burning torch of size immense, and through
“Charaxus' dexter temple, with bright hair
“Shaded, he drives it. Like the arid corn
“Caught by the rapid flame, the tresses burn;
“And the scorch'd blood the wound sent forth, a sound
“Of horrid crackling gave. Oft whizzes steel
“So, drawn forth glowing from the fire, with tongs
“Bent, and in cooling waters frequent plung'd;
“And crackling sounds, immers'd in tepid waves.
“The wounded hero from his tresses shook
“The greedy flames, and in his arms upheav'd,
“Tom from the earth, a mighty threshold stone,
“A waggon's burthen; but the ponderous load
“Forbade his strength to hurl it on the foe:
“And on Cometes, who beside him stood,
“Dropp'd the huge bulk. Nor Rhætus then his joy
“Disguis'd, exclaiming:—Such may be the aid
“That all your friends receive!—Then with his brand
“Half burnt, his blows redoubling, burst the skull
“With the strong force; and on the pulpy brain
“By frequent strokes the bones beat down. From thence
“Victor, Evagrus, Corythus, he met
“And Dryas. Corythus o'erthrown, whose cheeks
“The first down shaded; loud Evagrus cry'd:—
“What glory thine, thus a weak boy to slay?—
“No more to utter Rhætus gave, but fierce
“Plung'd the red-flaming weapon in his mouth,
“Thus speaking; and deep forc'd it down his throat.
“Thee also, furious Dryas! with the brand,
“Whirl'd round and round his head, he next assails.
“But thee the same sad fortune not befel:
“Him, proud triumphing from increas'd success
“In blood, thou piercest with an harden'd stake,
“Where the neck meets the shoulder. Rhætus groan'd:
“And from the hard bone scarce the wood could draw;
“As drench'd in blood his own, by flight he scap'd.
“With him fled Lycabas; and Orneus fled;
“Thaumas; Pisenor; Medon, who was struck
“'Neath the right shoulder; Mermeros, who late
“In rapid race all else surpass'd, but now
“Mov'd halting with his wound; Abas, of boars
“The spoiler; Pholus, and Melaneus too;
“With Astylos the seer, who from the war
“Dissuaded, but in vain, his brethren crowd.
“Nay more, to Nessus, fearing wounds, he cry'd—
“Fly not!—thou'lt for Alcides' bow be sav'd.

“Euronymus, nor Lycidas, their fate,
“Areos, nor Imbreos fled; whom face to face
“Confronting, Dryas' hand smote down. Thou too,
“Crenæus! felt thy death in front, though turn'd
“For flight thy feet; for looking back thou caught'st
“Betwixt thine eyes the massy steel; where joins
“The nose's basement to the forehead bones.

“With endless draughts of stupefactive wine
“Aphidas lay, 'mid all the raging noise
“Unrous'd; and grasping in his languid hand
“A ready-mingled bowl: stretch'd was he seen,
“On a rough bear-skin, brought from Ossa's hill.
“Him from afar, as Phorbas saw, no arms
“Dreading, he fix'd his fingers in the thongs,
“And said—with Stygian waters mixt, thy wine
“Now drink;—and instant round his javelin twin'd
“The youth: for as supinely stietch'd he lay
“The ash-form'd javelin through his throat was driv'n.
“No sense of death he felt; his dark brown gore
“Flow'd in full stream upon the couch, and flow'd
“In his grasp'd goblet. I, Petræus saw,
“An acorn-loaded oak from earth to rend
“Endeavoring; which while compass'd with both arms
“He strains, now this way, now the other, shook
“Appear'd the tottering tree. Pirithous' dart
“Driv'n through the ribs, Petræus' straining breast
“Nail'd to the rigid wood. Pirithous' arm
“Lycus o'erthrew; and 'neath Pirithous' force
“Fell Chromis,—so they tell. But less of fame
“The conqueror gain'd from these, than from the death
“Of Helops, and of Dictys. Helops felt
“The dart through both his temples; swift it whizz'd
“His right ear enter'd, shewing at his left.
“But Dictys, from a dangerous mountain's brow
“As flying, trembling from Ixion's son
“Close following, he descended, headlong down
“He tumbled; with his ponderous fall he broke
“A mighty ash; within his riven side
“The stumps his bowels tore. Aphareus fierce,
“Came on for vengeance; and a massive rock,
“Torn from the hill, upheav'd to throw—to throw
“Attempted. Theseus with an oaken club
“Prevented, and his mighty elbow broke:
“Nor now his leisure suits, nor cares he now
“A foe disabled to dispatch to hell:
“But on Biamor's lofty back he springs,
“Unwont to bear, except himself, before:
“Press'd with his knees his ribs, and grasping firm,
“With his left hand his locks, he bruis'd his face,
“His frowning forehead, and his harden'd skull,
“With the rough club. With the same club he lays
“Nidymnus prostrate; and Lycotas, skill'd
“To fling the javelin; Hippasus, whose beard
“Immense, his breast o'ershaded; Ripheus sprung
“From lofty woods; and Tereus wont to drag
“Home furious bears still living, on the hills
“Thessalian, caught. Nor longer in the fight
“Raging with such success, Demoleon bore
“Theseus to see, but from a crowded wood,
“With giant efforts strove a pine to rend,
“Of ancient growth, up by the roots, but foil'd
“He flung the broken fragment 'mid the foe.
“Warn'd by Minerva, from the flying wood
“Theseus withdrew; so would he we believe.
“Yet harmless fell the tree not; from the breast
“And shoulder of great Crantor, was the neck
“Sever'd. The faithful follower of thy sire
“Was he, Achilles. Him, Amyntor, king
“Of all Dolopia, in the warlike strife
“O'ercome, as pledge of peace and faithful words
“Gave to Æäcides. Him mangled so
“With cruel wound, Peleus far distant saw;
“And thus exclaim'd,—O, Crantor! dearest youth!
“Thy funeral obsequies behold.—He said,
“And hurl'd his ashen spear with vigorous arm,
“And with a spirit not less vigorous, forth,
“Full on Demoleon: tearing through the fence
“Of his strong chest, it quiver'd in the bones.
“The pointless wood his hand dragg'd out; the wood
“With difficulty dragg'd he: in his lungs
“Deep was the steel retain'd. To his fierce soul
“Fresh vigor gave the smart. Hurt as he was
“He rear'd against the foe, and with his hoofs
“Trampled thy sire. He, with his helm and shield,
“Wards off the sounding blows; his shoulders guards;
“Holds his protended steel, and his foe's chest
“Full 'twixt the shoulders; one strong blow transpierc'd.
“Yet had he slain by distant darts before
“Both Hylis and Phlegræus; and in fight
“More close, had Clanis and Hipponous fall'n.
“To these must Dorilas be added, he
“A wolf skin round his forehead wore; and, bent,
“A double wound presenting, o'er his brows
“He bore the weapons of a savage bull;
“With streaming gore deep blushing. Loud I cry'd,
“While courage gave me strength—see how my steel
“Thy horns surpasses—and my dart I flung.
“My dart to 'scape unable, o'er his brow
“To ward the blow, his hand he held; his hand
“Was to his forehead nail'd. Loud shouts were heard,
“And Peleus at him, wounded thus, rush'd on,
“(He nearer stood) and with a furious blow
“Mid belly plac'd, dispatch'd him. High he sprung
“On earth his entrails dragging;—as they dragg'd
“Madly he trampled;—what he trampled tore:
“These round his legs entwining, down he falls;
“And with an empty'd body sinks to death.

“Nor could thy beauty, Cyllarus, avail
“Aught in the contest! if to forms like thine
“Beauty we grant. His beard to sprout began,
“His beard of golden hue; golden the locks
“That down his neck, and o'er his shoulders flow'd.
“Cheerful his face; his shoulders, neck, and arms,
“Approach'd the models which the artists praise.
“Thus all that man resembled. Nor fell short
“The horse's portion: beauteous for a beast.
“A neck and head supply'd, a steed were form'd,
“Of Castor worthy: so was for the seat
“Fitted his back; so full outstood his chest:
“His coat all blacker than the darkest pitch;
“Save his white legs, and ample flowing tail.
“Crowds of his race him lov'd; but one alone,
“Hylonomé, could charm him; fairest nymph
“Of all the two-form'd race that roam'd the groves.
“She sole enraptur'd Cyllarus, with words
“Of blandishment; beloved, and her love
“For him confessing. Grace in all her limbs
“And dress, for him was studied; smooth her hair
“For him was comb'd; with rosemary now bound;
“Now with the violet; with fresh roses now;
“And oft the snow-white lily wore she; twice
“Daily she bath'd her features in the stream,
“That from Pagasis' woody summit falls;
“Twice daily in the current lav'd her limbs.
“Nor cloth'd she e'er her shoulders, or her side,
“Save with the chosen spoils of beasts which best
“Her form became. Most equal was their love:
“As one they o'er the mountains stray'd; as one
“The caves they sought; and both together then
“The Lapithæan roof had enter'd; both
“Now wag'd the furious war. By whom unknown,
“From the left side a javelin came, and pierc'd
“Thee deep, O Cyllarus! 'neath where thy chest
“Joins to thy neck. Drawn from the small-form'd wound,
“The weapon,—with the mangled heart, the limbs
“Grew rigid all. Hylonomé supports
“His dying body, and her aiding hand
“Presses against the wound; leans face to face,
“And tries his fleeting life awhile to stay.
“When fled she saw it, with laments which noise
“Drown'd ere my ears they reach'd, full on the dart
“Which through him stuck she fell; and clasp'd in death
“Her dear-lov'd husband's form. Before my eyes
“Still stands Phæöcomes, whom, closely-join'd,
“Six lions' hides protected; man and horse
“Equal the covering shar'd. Phonoleus' son
“Fierce on the skull he smote, with stump immense,
“Huge as four oxen might with labor move.
“Crush'd was the rounding broadness of the head;
“And the soft brain gush'd forth at both his ears;
“His mouth, his hollow nostrils, and his eyes.
“So through the straining oaken twigs appears,
“Coagulated milk: so liquid flows
“Through the fine sieve, by supercumbent weights
“Prest down, the thick curd at the small-form'd holes.
“Deep in his lowest flank the foe I pierc'd,
“As from our fallen friend the arms to strip
“Prepar'd, he stoop'd. Thy father saw the deed.
“Chthonius too fell beneath my sword, and fell
“Teleboas. Chthonius bore a forky bough;
“A javelin arm'd the other; with its steel
“He pierc'd me. Lo! the mark the wound has left:—
“Still the old scar appears. Then was the time
“They should have sent me to the siege of Troy:
“Then had I power great Hector's arm to stay;
“To check, if not to conquer. Hector then
“Was born not, or a boy. Now age me robs
“Of all my force. Why should I say how fell
“Two-form'd Pyretus, by the strength o'erthrown
“Of Periphantes? Why of Amphyx tell,
“Who in Oëclus' hostile front deep sunk,
“(Oëclus centaur-born) a pointless spear?
“Macareus, Erigdupus, (near the hill
“Of Pelethronus born, against his chest
“Full-bearing,) prostrate laid. Nor should I pass,
“How I the spear beheld, by Nessus' hands
“Launch'd forth, and bury'd in Cymelus' groin.
“Nor think you Mopsus, Amphyx' son, excell'd
“Alone to teach the future. By the dart
“Of Mopsus, fell Odites double-form'd.
“To speak in vain he strove, for tongue to chin,
“And chin to throat were by the javelin nail'd.

“Cæneus ere this had five to death dispatch'd
“Bromius, Antimachus with hatchet arm'd;
“Pyracmon, Stiphelus, and Helimus.
“What wounds them slew I know not; well their names,
“And numbers I remember. Latreus big
“In body and in limbs, sprung forth adorn'd
“In the gay arms Halesus once had own'd;
“Halesus of Thessalia by him slain:
“'Twixt strong virility and age his years,
“Still strong virility his arm could boast;
“Gray hairs his temples sprinkled. Lofty seen
“In helm and shield, and Macedonian spear,
“Proudly between the adverse ranks he rode;
“And clash'd his arms, and circling scower'd along.
“These boasting words to the resounding air
“Brave issuing—Cænis, shall I bear thee so?
“Still will I think thee Cænis;—female still
“By me thou'lt be consider'd. 'Bates it nought
“Thy valor, when thy origin thy soul
“Reflects on? When thy mind allows to own
“What deed the grant obtained? What price was paid
“To gain the false resemblance of a man?
“What thou was born, remember: mark as well
“Who has embrac'd thee. Go, the distaff take,
“And carding basket. With thy fingers twirl
“The flax, and martial contests leave to men.
“The spear which Cæneus hurl'd, deep in his side
“Bare as he cours'd, expos'd the blow to meet,
“Pierc'd him when boasting thus, just where the man
“Join'd the four-footed form. With smart he rag'd,
“And to the Phyllian warrior's face his spear
“Presented. Back the spear rebounded: so
“Bound the hard hailstones from the roof; so leap
“The paltry pebbles on the hollow drum.
“Now hand to hand he rushes to engage,
“And in his harden'd sides attempts to plunge
“His weapon deep. Pervious his weapon finds
“No spot. Then cry'd he,—still thou shalt not 'scape:
“Though blunted is my point my edge shall slay;—
“And aim'd a blow oblique, to ope his side,
“While round his flank was grasp'd his forceful arm.
“Sounded the stroke as marble struck would sound;
“The shiver'd steel rebounding from his neck.
“His limbs unwounded, to the wondering foe
“Thus long expos'd, loud Cæneus call'd;—Now try
“Our arms thy limbs to pierce!—Up to the hilt
“His deadly weapon 'twixt his shoulders plung'd;
“Then thrust and dug with blows unseeing 'mid
“His entrails deep; thus forming wounds on wounds.

“Now all the furious crowd of double forms
“Rush raging round him; all their weapons hurl;
“And all assail with blows this single foe.
“Blunted their weapons fall, and Cæneus stands
“Unpierc'd, unbleeding, from ten thousand strokes:
“Astonish'd at the miracle they gaze;
“But Monychus exclaims;—What blasting shame
“A race o'erthrown by one; that one a man,
“But dubious. Grant him man, our coward deeds
“Prove us but what he has been. What avail
“Our giant limbs? What boots our double strength;
“Strength of created forms the mightiest two,
“In us conjoin'd? A goddess-mother we
“Assur'dly should not boast; nor boast for sire
“Ixion, whose great daring soul him mov'd
“To clasp the lofty Juno in his arms.
“Now vanquish'd by a foe half-male. Him whelm
“With trees, with rocks: whole mountains heap'd on high,
“Whole falling forests, let that stubborn soul
“Crush out. The woods upon his throat shall press,
“And weight for wounds shall serve.—The centaur spoke,
“Seizing a tree which lay by chance uptorn
“By raging Auster; on his valiant foe
“The bulk he hurl'd. All in like efforts join'd:
“And quickly Othrys of his woods was stript:
“Nor Pelion shade retain'd. Cæneus opprest
“Beneath the pile immense—the woody load,—
“Hot pants, and with his forceful shoulders bears,
“To heave th' unwieldy weight: but soon the heap
“Reaches his face, and then o'ertops his head:
“Nor breath is left his spirit can inhale.
“Now faint he sinks, and struggles now in vain
“To lift his head to air, and from him heave
“The heap'd-up forests: then the pile but shakes,
“As shakes the lofty Ida you behold,
“When by an earthquake stirr'd. Doubtful his end.
“His body, by the sylvan load down prest,
“Some thought that shadowy Tartarus receiv'd.
“But Mopsus this deny'd, who spy'd a bird
“From 'mid the pile ascend, and mount the skies
“On yellow pinions. I the bird beheld,
“Then first, then last. As wide on buoyant wing
“Our force surveying, Mopsus saw him fly,
“And rustling round with mighty noise, his eyes
“And soul close mark'd him, and he loud exclaim'd,—
“Hail, Cæneus! of the Lapithæan race
“The glory! once of men the first, and now
“Bird of thy kind unique!—The seer's belief
“Made credible the fact. Grief spurr'd our rage.
“Nor bore we calmly that a single youth
“By hosts of foes should fall. Nor ceas'd our swords
“In gore to rage 'till most to death were given:
“The rest by favoring darkness say'd in flight.”

While thus the Pylian sage, the wars narrates
Wag'd by the Lapithæan race, and foe
Centaurs half-human; his splenetic ire
Tlepolemus could hide not, when he found
Alcides' deeds past o'er; but angry spoke.—
“Old sire, astonish'd, I perceive the praise
“The deeds of Hercules demand, has 'scap'd
“Your mind. My father has been wont to tell
“Whom, he of cloud-begotten race o'erthrew:
“Oft have I heard him.” Nestor sad reply'd;
“Why force me thus my miseries to recal
“To recollection; freshening up the woes
“Long years have blunted; and confess the hate
“I bear thy sire for injuries receiv'd.
“He, (O, ye gods!) has deeds atchiev'd which far
“All faith surpass; and has the wide world fill'd
“With his high fame. Would I could this deny!
“For praise we e'er Deïphobus? or praise
“Give we Polydamas, or Hector's self?
“Who can a foe applaud? This sire of thine
“Messenia's walls laid prostrate, and destroy'd
“Elis and Pylos, unoffending towns;
“Rushing with fire and sword in our abode.
“To pass the rest who 'neath his fury fell,—
“Twice six of Neleus' sons were we beheld;
“Twice six save me beneath Alcides' arm,
“There dy'd. With ease were conquer'd all but one;
“Strange was of Periclymenos the death;
“Whom Neptune, founder of our line, had given,
“What form he will'd to take; that form thrown off.
“His own again resume. When vainly chang'd
“To multifarious shapes; he to the bird
“Most dear to heaven's high sovereign, whose curv'd claws
“The thunders bear, himself transform'd; the strength
“That bird possesses, using, with bow'd wings,
“His crooked beak and talons pounc'd his face.
“'Gainst him Tyrinthius his unerring bow
“Bent, and as high amid the clouds he tower'd,
“And poising hung, pierc'd where his side and wing
“Just met: nor deep the hurt; the sinew torn
“Still him disabled, and deny'd the power
“To move his wing, or strength to urge his flight.
“To earth he fell; his pinions unendow'd
“With power to gather air: and the light dart
“Fixt superficial in the wing, his fall
“Deep in his body pierc'd; out his left side,
“Close by his throat the pointed mischief stood.

“Now, valiant leader of the Rhodian fleet,
“Judge what from me the great Alcides' deeds
“Of blazonry can claim? Yet the revenge
“I give my brethren, is on his brave acts
“Silent to rest: to thee still firm ally'd
“In friendship.” Thus his eloquent discourse
The son of Neleus ended, and the gift
Of Bacchus, oft repeated, circled round
To the old senior's words; then from the board
They rose, and night's remainder gave to sleep.

But now the deity, whose trident rules
The ocean waters, with a father's grief
Mourns for his offspring to a bird transform'd.
Savage 'gainst fierce Achilles, he pursues
His well-remember'd ire with hostile rage.
And now the war near twice ten years had seen,
When long-hair'd Phœbus, thus the god address'd;
“O power! to me most dear, of all the sons
“My brother boasts! whose hands with mine uprear'd
“In vain the walls of Troy! griev'st thou not now
“Those towers beholding as they ruin'd fall?
“Griev'st thou not now such thousands to behold
“Slain, those high towers attempting to defend?
“Griev'st thou not (more I need not speak) to think
“Of Hector's body round his own Troy dragg'd,
“When still the fierce Achilles, ev'n than war
“More ruthless, of our works destroyer, lives?
“Would it to me were given—my trident's power,
“Well know I, he should prove; but since deny'd
“To rush, and hand to hand this foe engage,
“Slay him with unsuspected secret dart.”
The Delian god consented, and at once
His uncle's vengeance and his own indulg'd.
Veil'd in a cloud amid the Ilian host
He darts, and 'mid a slaughter'd crowd beholds
Where Paris, on plebeïan foes his shafts
Unerring hurls: to him confess'd, the god
Exclaims;—“Why wast'st thou in ignoble blood
“Thy weapons? If thy friends employ thy care,
“Turn on Pelides every dart, revenge
“Thy murder'd brothers.”—Phœbus spoke, and shew'd
Where with his steel Achilles ranks on ranks
Of Troy o'erthrew. On him the bow he turns;
To him he guides the sure, the deadly dart.

Now may old Priam joy for Hector slain;
For thou, Achilles, victor o'er such hosts,
Fall'st by the coward's hand, who stole from Greece
The ravish'd wife. O! if foredoom'd thy lot
By woman-warrior to be slain, to fall
By Amazonian weapon had'st thou chos'n.
Now burns Æäcides, the Phrygians' dread;
The pride, the guardian of the Grecian name;
The chief in war unconquer'd: and the god
Who arm'd him once, consumes him. Ashes now;
Nought of the great Pelides can be found,
Save what with ease a little urn contains.
But still his glory lives, and fills all earth:
Such bounds alone the hero suit; his fame
Equals himself, nor sinks he to the shades.

His shield itself, as conscious whose the shield,
Fomented wars; and quarrels for his arms
Arose. Tydides fear'd to urge his claim;
Ajax, Oïleus' son; Atrides' each,
Him youngest, and the monarch who surpass'd
In age and warlike skill; and all the crowd.
Laërtes' son, and Telamon's alone
Try'd the bold glorious contest. From himself
All blame invidious Agamemnon mov'd:
The Grecian chiefs amid the camp he plac'd,
And bade the host around the cause decide.

The Thirteenth Book.

Contest of Ajax and Ulysses for the arms of Achilles. Success of Ulysses and death of Ajax. Sack of Troy. Sacrifice of Polyxena to the ghost of Achilles. Lamentation of Hecuba. She tears out the eyes of Polymnestor, and is changed into a bitch. Birds arise from the funeral pile of Memnon, and kill each other. Escape of Æneas from Troy, and voyage to Delos. The daughters of Anius transformed to doves. Voyage to Crete and Italy. Story of Acis and Galatea. Love of Glaucus for Scylla.

THE
Thirteenth Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

The princes sate; the common troops in crowds
Circled them round; when Ajax in the midst,
Lord of the seven-fold shield, arose, with rage
Uncurb'd. Sigæum's shores he fiercely view'd;
And ship-clad beach, while with extended arms,
“O, Jupiter!” he cry'd, “before this fleet
“Must then our cause be try'd? With me contends
“Ulysses? He who yielded all a prey
“To Hector's fires; whom I alone repell'd?
“Fires which I from that fleet drove far? More safe
“'Tis sure with artful language to contend,
“Than battle hand to hand. Hard 'tis for me
“To speak; for him 'tis no less hard to fight.
“And much as I in keen-urg'd blows excel,
“And arduous contest, such in words is he.
“My deeds, O Grecians! to rehearse what need?
“Have you not seen them? Let Ulysses tell
“His actions, feats without a witness done;
“Night only privy. Mighty is the prize,
“I own; but Ajax' glory suffers much,
“Striving with such a rival. Granted, great
“Its value; where the boast to have obtain'd
“What this Ulysses hop'd for? He ev'n now
“Enjoys th' advantage of the contest. Foil'd,
“His pride will be to boast with me he strove.
“But I, if doubtful is my valor deem'd,
“Have claims most potent in my noble race:
“Sprung from great Telamon, who Troy's proud town,
“'Neath brave Alcides captur'd; and explor'd
“The shores of Colchis in th' Hæmonian bark.
“His sire was Æäcus, who equal law
“Dispenses 'mid the silent shades; where toils
“Æölian Sisyphus beneath his stone.
“Well mighty Jove knows Æäcus, and owns
“Him son. Thus Ajax ranks but third from Jove.
“Nor yet, O, Greeks! should this descent my cause
“Assist, save that Achilles claim'd the same.
“Of brothers born, a kinsman's right I ask.
“Why should one sprung of Sisyphæan blood,
“Like his progenitor in theft and fraud,
“Ingraft an alien name upon the stock
“Of Æäcus? Am I the arms refus'd
“That first I join'd the warriors? join'd your host
“Betray'd not by informers? Worthier he,
“That last his arms he took? with madness feign'd
“Shunning the warfare; till more crafty came
“Naupliades, though luckless for himself;—
“Who shew'd his coward soul's devices plain;
“And hither dragg'd him to the hated wars?
“Now let him arms most glorious take, who arms
“To wear refus'd. Let me unhonor'd go,
“Robb'd of my kindred right, who first arriv'd
“To face the perils. Would, ye gods! that true,
“Or thought so, his insanity had been.
“Then, counsellor of cruel deeds, he ne'er
“Had join'd our camp before the Phrygian walls.
“Then thou, O Pæän's son! had Lemnos ne'er
“Known—to our shame abandon'd on the shore.
“Thou now, so fame reports, in woody caves
“Shelter'd, ev'n rocks mov'st with thy rending groans;
“Pray'st that Laërtes' son his justest meeds
“May gain. Ye gods! ye gods! grant ye his prayers
“A favoring ear! Now he, by oath combin'd
“With us in war;—O, heavens! a leader too!
“Heir to employ Alcides' faithful darts,
“Sinks both by famine and disease opprest:
“By birds sustain'd, and cloth'd by birds, he spends
“Upon his feather'd prey, the darts design'd
“To end the fate of Troy. Yet still he lives:
“For here he never with Ulysses came.
“Content had hapless Palamedes been
“Deserted so. Life might he have enjoy'd
“Perchance; and blameless sure to death had sunk.
“He whom this wretch, too mindful of the time
“His counterfeited madness was expos'd,
“Feign'd had betray'd the Greeks; and prov'd the crime
“By forg'd assistance: shewing forth the gold
“First bury'd by himself. Thus he destroys
“The strength of Greece, by exile or by death.
“Thus fights Ulysses; thus must he be fear'd
“Who, though old faithful Nestor he surpass'd
“In eloquence, not all would e'er avail,
“To prove deserting Nestor was no shame:
“Who press'd with age, and with a wounded horse
“Delay'd, Ulysses' aid besought: behind
“His coward comrade left him. Well, this deed
“Tydides can declare, by me not feign'd,
“Who oft him reprimanded by his name,
“And curs'd the flying of his trembling friend.
“Gods with just eyes all mortal actions view.
“Lo! he who aid would give not, aid requires!
“Who Nestor left, deserted was himself:
“Himself prescrib'd the treatment which he found.
“Loud call'd he to his friends. I come, I see,
“Pale trembling, where he lies, with dread to view
“Impending death. My mighty shield I fling;
“Beneath it shade him, and his coward breast
“(My smallest claim to glory) I protect.
“If still persisting, thou the strife wilt urge,
“Thither again return. Recal the foe;
“Thy wound; thy wonted terror; and lie hid
“Beneath my shield. 'Neath that with me contend.
“Lo! him I snatch'd from death, whose wounds refus'd
“Ev'n power to stand; retarded not by wounds,
“In agile flight sped on. Now Hector comes,
“Whom in the fight the deities attend.
“Where'er he swept, not thou Ulysses sole
“Wast struck with dread; the bravest of our host
“Shrunk, such the terror which then fill'd the field.
“When hand to hand engag'd, him prone I laid,
“Proud of his slaughter, on th' ensanguin'd plain,
“With a huge stone. I singly him oppos'd,
“All single challeng'd; all the Greeks to me
“Pray'd for the lot: nor vain your prayers were found.
“Enquire ye, what the fortune of the fight?
“I stood, by him unconquer'd, when all Troy
“Rush'd on the fleet of Greece, with fire, with sword,
“And aiding Jove: Where was Ulysses then?
“The eloquent Ulysses? I alone,
“A thousand ships, the hopes of your return,
“Defended with my breast: this crowd of ships
“Deserves those arms. Nay, if with truth to speak
“You grant, those arms more glory gain from me
“Than I from them; our honor is conjoin'd.
“Ajax the arms demand, not Ajax arms.
“Let Ithacus compare his Rhæsus slain;
“And slain unwarlike Dolon; and trepann'd
“Helenus, Priam's son; and Pallas' form.
“In open day nought done, and nought perform'd,
“Save Diomed' assisted. Grant for once,
“Such paltry service could the armour claim;
“Divide the prize, and lo! the largest share
“Tydides must demand. But why this prize
“Seeks Ithacus? who all his deeds performs
“In private; traversing unarm'd; the foe,
“While unsuspecting, conquering by deceit.
“This helmet's radiance from the glittering gold
“Darting, would shew his plots, and open lay
“The latent spy. But his Dulichian head,
“Cas'd in Achilles' casque, the weight would 'whelm,
“And for his languid arms, the Pelian spear
“Too weighty would be found. That shield engrav'd,
“With all earth's various scenes, but ill would grace
“His arm, for stealthy deeds alone design'd.
“Presumptuous fool! to seek a prize, which gain'd
“Would only mar thy power. By erring votes
“Of Grecians giv'n to thee, cause would it be
“The foe would strip thee; not thy prowess fear.
“And flight, in which, O trembler! erst alone
“Thou all surpass'd, slow would'st thou then pursue;
“Such ponderous armor dragging. Those, thy shield
“Which bears so rare the brunt of battle, shines
“Yet whole: a new successor mine demands,
“Which gash'd by weapons, shews a thousand rents.
“To end, what need of words? let actions shew
“Each one's deserts. Amid the foe be thrown
“The valiant warrior's arms. Thence bid us bring
“The prize;—who brings it, let him wear the spoil.”

So spake the Telamonian warrior; round
A murmur follow'd from the circling crowd.
Till up the chief of Ithaca arose;
His eyes (awhile cast down) rais'd from the earth;
The chiefs with anxious look'd-for sounds address'd:
Nor grace was wanting to persuasive words.
“O Grecians! had your prayers and mine been heard,
“Owner of what such cause of strife affords
“Were now not dubious: thou, Pelides, still
“These arms possessing, we possessing thee.
“But since unpitying fate, to you, to me,
“Denies him”—(here as weeping, o'er his eyes
His hand he draws)—“who with so just a right
“Can great Achilles now succeed, as he
“Who great Achilles brought the Greeks to join?
“Let it not aid his cause, that fool he seems,
“Or stupid is indeed; nor aught let harm
“The ingenuity I claim, to mine:
“Which, O, ye Argives! still has aided you.
“Let not my eloquence, if such I boast,
“And words, whose 'vantage often you have prov'd,
“Now for their author, move invidious thoughts:
“Nor what each claims his proper gift, refuse.
“Scarce can we call our ancestry, our race,
“Or deeds by them perform'd, merits our own:
“Yet since of grandsire Jove this Ajax boasts,
“I too, can boast him author of my line:
“Nor more degrees remov'd. My sire was nam'd
“Laërtes; his Arcesius; and from Jove
“Arcesius came direct: nor in this line,
“E'er any exil'd or condemn'd appear'd.
“Cyllenius too, his noble lineage adds
“Through my maternal stock. Each parent boasts
“A god-descended race. Yet claim I not
“The arms contested, merely that I spring
“Maternally more noble; nor them claim
“That from a brother's blood my sire is free:
“By merits solely you the cause adjudge.
“These only none to Ajax, that his sire,
“And Peleus brethren were, e'er grant. The prize
“Desert, and not propinquity of blood,
“Should gain. If kindred, then the hero's heir
“Demands it: Peleus still survives, his sire;
“And Pyrrhus is his son. Where Ajax' right?
“To Phthia, or to Scyros be it borne.
“Nor less is Teucer cousin than himself;
“Yet does he ask, or does he hope the arms?
“But since the obvious contest is by deeds
“Perform'd, though mine outnumber far what words
“Can easy compass; yet will I relate

“In order some:—
	“The Nereïd mother knew

“The wrongs of one through every Grecian breast
“Spread wide; a thousand ships th' Eubœan port
“Of Aulis fill'd. The long-expected gales
“Or came not, or blew adverse to the fleet.
“The rigid oracle Atrides bade
“His guiltless daughter sacrifice to calm
“Ruthless Diana. Stern the sire deny'd,
“And rag'd against the gods: the sovereign all
“Lost in the father. I with soothing words
“The parent's bosom mollify'd, and turn'd
“To thoughts of public good. Still, I confess,
“(And such confession will the king excuse;)
“An arduous cause I pleaded, where my judge
“Was by affection warp'd. The people's weal,
“His brother, and the lofty rank he held
“Mov'd him at length; and glory with his blood
“He bought. Then to the mother was I sent,
“Where reasoning had no force, but subtle craft.
“There had you sent the son of Telamon,
“Still had jour sails the needful breezes lack'd.
“Sent was I also to the Ilian towers,
“A daring envoy. Troy's fam'd court I saw;
“Troy's court I enter'd, then with heroes fill'd.
“There undismay'd, I pleaded all that Greece
“Bade for their common cause; Paris accus'd;
“Helen demanded, and the stolen spoil;
“And Priam and Antenor both convinc'd.
“But Paris, Paris' brethren, and the crowd
“Who aided in the rape, their impious hands
“Could scarce withhold. (Thou, Menelaüs, know'st,
“Who then with me the dawning of the war
“Didst prove in danger.) Long the tale, to speak
“Of all my deeds have done, the public cause
“To aid; since first the lengthen'd war began:
“By counsel or by valor. Wag'd the first
“Rough skirmish, long our foes within their walls
“Protected lay; no scope for open war:
“But in the tenth year now we fight again.
“In all that period what hast thou, who know'st
“But fighting, done? Where was thy service then?
“I, if my deeds thou seek'st, the foe betray'd
“By subtilty; girt us with trenches round;
“Inspirited our soldiers; made them bear,
“With mind unmurmuring, all the tedious war;
“Taught where to find the means to gain supplies
“Of food and arms; wherever need me call'd,
“There always was I sent. Lo! when the king,
“From Jove's deceptive dream, gave word to quit
“Th' unfinish'd war, he might the deed defend
“Through him who bade. But Ajax disapproves
“The flight; insists Troy shall in ruins lie,
“Asserts our power may do it! No! our troops
“Embarking, he not stay'd. Why seiz'd he not
“His arms? Why somewhat to the wavering crowd
“Said not, to fix? no weighty task to him
“Who ne'er harangues, except on mighty themes.
“Why? but that Ajax fled himself! I saw,
“But blush'd to see thee, when thy back thou turn'dst
“Hasting, thy coward sails to hoist; I spoke
“Instant—O fellow soldiers! whither now?
“What voice insane now urges you to leave
“Already-captur'd Troy? What will you bear
“Homeward, a lengthen'd ten years' shame besides?—
“With words like these back from the flying fleet
“I brought them; eloquence had sorrow's aid.

“Atrides call'd the council, all with dread
“Trembling were dumb; nor there dar'd Ajax gape:
“But there Thersites durst with galling words
“The king provoke; vengeance he met from me.
“I rose, our panic-stricken friends, once more
“Rous'd 'gainst the foe: I, by my words recall'd
“Departed valor. Hence, whoever boasts
“Since then of valiant deeds, those deeds are mine,
“Who back recall'd him, as he turn'd for flight.
“Last, tell me which of all the Greeks applauds,
“Or as a comrade seeks thee. All his acts
“With me Tydides shares, allows me praise:
“Ulysses still his confidential friend.
“Sure from such thousands of the Argive ranks
“By Diomed' selected, I may boast.
“Nor lot me bade to go, when void of fear,
“Through double danger of the foe and night,
“I went; and Phrygian Dolon slew, who dar'd
“On our adventure come; but slew him not
“Till made to utter all; the wiles betray
“Perfidious Troy intended. All I learnt;
“Nor ought for further search remain'd. Now I,
“The camp with fame sufficient might have gain'd;
“But not content, for Rhesus' tents I push;
“Him, and his guard surrounding, in his camp
“I slay. Victorious so, possess'd of all
“My hopes design'd, the car I mount, and proud
“A glad triumpher ride. Now me deny
“The arms of him, whose steeds the spy had hop'd
“Meed of his bold excursion. Ajax say
“More worthy. Why Sarpedon's Lycian troop
“Vanquish'd, should I with boastful tongue relate?
“I vanquish'd Ceranos, Iphitus' son;
“Alastor, Chromius, and Alcander stout;
“Halius, Noëmon, Prytanis, with crowds
“Slaughter'd beside. Thoön to hell I sent,
“Chersidamas, and Charops; and to fates
“Unpitying, Ennomus dispatch'd: with these
“Beneath yon' walls whole heaps of meaner rank
“This hand has slain. And, fellow soldiers, lo!
“My wounds are honorable all in place:
“Believe not empty words, yourselves behold.”—
Then stript his robe, exclaiming—“Here the breast
“Still for your good employ'd. No drop of blood
“Has Ajax shed since first our host he join'd:
“In all these years, his body still remains
“Unwounded. Yet on this why should I dwell,
“If he must boast, that for the Argive fleet
“He fought alone 'gainst Jupiter and Troy?
“He fought, I grant it; no malignant spite
“Shall move detraction from his valiant deeds.
“But let him not the common rites of more
“Monopolize; let him to each allow
“The honor which they claim. Patroclus, fear'd
“In great Pelides' semblance, backward drove
“All Troy and Troy's protector from the ships,
“Then burning. Next his vanity would boast
“He only in the field of Mars durst strive
“With Hector; of the king, the chiefs, and me
“Forgetful; in the list the ninth alone,
“Solely by lot preferr'd. Yet, warrior brave,
“What was the issue of this daring fight?
“Hector unwounded left you. Mournful theme!
“With what deep sorrow I the time recal,
“When, bulwark of the Greeks, Achilles fell!
“Nor tears, vain lamentations, nor pale fear
“Me check'd; the prostrate body from the ground
“I rais'd. Upon those shoulders—yes, I swear,
“These very shoulders, I Pelides bore,
“With all his arms. The arms I now require.
“Strength I must have to bear with such a load:
“As sure your votes will meet a grateful mind.
“Was it because the bright celestial gift
“Might clothe the limbs of one without a soul,
“Stupidly dull, that all her anxious care
“The green-hair'd mother on her son employ'd;
“Arms wrought with art so great? Knows he the least
“The shield's engravings? Ocean, or the land:
“The lofty sky; the planets; Pleiäds bright;
“Hyäds; the bear, ne'er plung'd beneath the main;
“Orion's glittering sword, or various towns?
“Arms he demands he cannot understand.
“But how asserts he I the toils of war
“Evaded; joining late the fighting host,
“Nor sees he scandalizes too the fame
“Of great Pelides? If indeed a crime
“Dissembling must be call'd,—dissembled both.
“If faulty all delay, the first I came.
“A tender wife me kept; a tender tie,
“A mother, kept Achilles. Our life's spring
“To them was given, the rest reserv'd for you.
“Nor should I fear, even were this crime, I share
“With such a man, of all defence deny'd.
“Yet his disguise Ulysses' cunning found:
“Ajax ne'er found Ulysses. Needs surprize
“To hear th' abusing of his booby tongue,
“When with like guilt he stigmatizes you?
“Shames most that I this Palamedes brought,
“Falsely accus'd your sentence to receive,
“Or that you doom'd him so accus'd to die?
“But Nauplius' son not ev'n defence could urge,
“So plain his crime appear'd; nor did you trust
“The accusation heard: obvious you saw
“The bribe for which you doom'd him. Nor of blame
“Deserve I ought, that Philoctetes stays
“In Vulcan's Lemnos. You the deed excuse:
“All to the deed assented. Yet my voice,
“Persuasive, will I not deny, I us'd;
“That spar'd from travel, and from war's fatigue,
“In rest he might his cruel pains assuage:
“He lik'd my words, and lives. My counsel here
“Not merely faithful (though our faith the whole
“Our promise can insure) but happy prov'd.
“His presence since the seers prophetic ask
“T' atchieve the fall of Troy, dispatch not me;
“Ajax will better go, will better soothe
“With eloquence of tongue, a man who burns
“With raging choler, and with smarting pains:
“Or with some stratagem him thence allure.
“But Simoïs' stream shall sooner backward flow;
“Ida unwooded stand: Achaïa aid
“The Trojan power, than Ajax' stupid soul
“Shall help the Greeks, when first my anxious mind
“Striving to aid you, has been found to fail.
“O, stubborn Philoctetes! though enrag'd
“Against thy comrades, 'gainst the king, and me;
“Though thou may'st curse me, and my head devote
“Through endless days; though in thy grief thou ask'st
“To meet me, and to glut thee with my blood,
“Still will I try thee, and if fortune smiles,
“So will I gain thy arrows, as I gain'd
“The Trojan prophet, whom I captive made;
“As I the oracles of heaven laid ope;
“And all the fate of Troy: as from its room
“Close-hidden, I the form of Pallas brought,
“The charm of Troy, through ranks of hostile foes.
“Mates Ajax here with me? Fate had deny'd
“Of Troy the capture till that prize obtain'd.
“Where then the mighty Ajax? Where the boasts
“Of this brave hero? Why this risk evade?
“Why dar'd Ulysses through the watchful guards
“Steal 'mid the darkling night? and find his way,
“Not merely past the Trojan walls, but high
“Through raging swords their loftiest turrets scale;
“Bear off the goddess from her sacred fane,
“And with the prize again repass the foe?
“This deed not done, Ajax had bore in vain
“On his huge arm the sevenfold oxen hide.
“From that night's deeds I Ilium's conquest share.
“Then Troy I conquer'd, when the fact was done,
“Which made Troy vincible. Cease thou to mark
“With looks and mutterings Diomed' my friend;
“His share in all was glorious. Nor wast thou
“Single, when with thy buckler thou didst guard
“The general fleet; crowds aided, I was one.
“He, but he knows too well that less esteem
“Valor demands than wisdom; that the prize,
“A mere unconquer'd arm not justly claims,
“Had also sought: thy milder namesake too;
“Or fierce Eurypilus; or Thoas, son
“Of bold Andræmon. Equal right to hope,
“Idomeneus, Meriones, might boast,
“Each Cretan born; and who the sovereign king
“His brother claims; but all their valorous breasts
“(Nor does their martial prowess stoop to thine)
“Yield to my wisdom. In the fight thy arm
“Is mighty; prudence boast I, which that arm
“Directs. To thee a force immense is given,
“Without a brain; foresight is given to me.
“Well, thou canst wage the war; the time that war
“To wage, Atrides oft with me resolves.
“Thou aidest with thy body, I with mind:
“And as the guider of the ship transcends
“Him who but plies the oar: as soars above
“The soldier, he who leads him, so must I
“Thee far surpass; for far the mental powers
“In me surpass the merits of my arm:
“In mind my vigor lies. Ye nobles, speak;
“Give to your watchful guardian this reward,
“For the long annual care with anxious mind
“He gave you. This reward at length bestow,
“To his deserts but due: his labor done.
“Th' obstructing destinies by me remov'd,
“High Troy by me is captur'd; since by me
“The means high Troy to overthrow are given.
“Now beg I by our hopes conjoin'd; the walls
“Of Troy already tottering; by the gods
“Gain'd from the foe so lately; by what more
“Through wisdom may be done, if aught remains;
“Or aught of boldness, which through peril sought,
“Wanting, you still may deem to fill Troy's fate.
“If mindful of my merits you would rest,
“The arms award to this, if not to me:”
And pointed to Minerva's fateful form.

Mov'd were the band of nobles. Plainly shewn
What eloquence could do:—persuasion gain'd
The valiant warrior's arms. Then he who stood
'Gainst steel, and fire, and the whole force of Jove,
So oft, his own vexation now o'ercame:
Grief conquer'd his unconquerable soul.
He seiz'd his sword,—“And surely this”—he cry'd—
“Still is my own! or claims Ulysses this?
“Against myself this steel must now be us'd:
“This stain'd so oft with Phrygian blood, be stain'd
“With his who owns it; lest another hand
“Than Ajax' own should Ajax overcome.”—
No more; but where his breast unguarded lay,
Pervious at length to wounds, his deadly blade
He plung'd, nor could his hand the blade withdraw;
The gushing blood expell'd it. Straight there sprung
Through the green turf, form'd by the blood-soak'd earth,
A purple flower, like that which sprung before
From Hyäcinthus' wound. Amid the leaves
Of each the self-same letters are inscrib'd;
The boy's complainings, and the hero's name.

Victorious Ithacus his sails unfurls,
To seek the land Hypsipylé once rul'd,
And Thoäs fam'd. An isle of old disgrac'd
By slaughter of its males, to bring the darts,
The weapons of Tyrinthius. These obtain'd
To Greece, and with their owner brought, at length
The furious war was finish'd. Priam falls
With Troy; and Priam's more unhappy spouse,
To crown her losses, loses human shape;
With new-heard barkings shaking foreign climes.
Where the long Hellespont's contracted bounds
Are seen, Troy blaz'd: nor yet the fires were quench'd.
The scanty drops of blood Jove's altar soak'd,
Which flow'd from aged Priam. By her locks
Dragg'd on, Apollo's priestess vainly stretch'd
To lofty heaven her arms. The victor Greeks
Tear off the Trojan mothers as they clasp
Their country's imag'd gods; and as they cling
To flaming temples—an invidious prey.
Astyänax is from those turrets flung,
Whence erst he wont to view his sire, whose arm
Him guarding, and his ancestorial realm
In fight, his mother shew'd. And Boreas now
Departure urg'd. Swol'n by a favoring breeze
The rattling canvas warn'd the sailor crew.
“O, Troy! farewel!”—The Trojan matrons cry—
“Hence are we borne.”—They kiss their natal soil;
And leave the smoking ruins of their domes.
Last—mournful object! Hecuba, descry'd
Amid her children's graves, the bark ascends.
Ulysses' hand her dragg'd, as close she grasp'd
Their tombs, and kiss'd their bones which still remain'd.
Yet snatch'd she hastily, and bore away
Of Hector's ashes some, and in her breast
Hugg'd them; and on the top of Hector's tomb
Left her grey hairs; her hairs, and flowing tears.
Oblation fruitless to his last remains.

Oppos'd to Phrygia, where Troy once was seen,
A country stands, where live Bistonia's race:
Where Polymnestor, wealthy monarch, rul'd,
To whom, O, Polydore! thy cautious sire
Thee sent; from Iliüm's battles far remov'd,
For safe protection. Wisdom sway'd the king;
Save that he sent him store of treasure too,
Reward of wickedness; and tempting much
His greedy soul. Soon as Troy's fortune sank,
Impious the Thracian monarch plung'd his sword
In his young charge's throat: as if his crime
And body from his sight at once 'twere given
To move, he flung him in the dashing main.

Now on the Thracian coast, Atrides moor'd
His fleet, till placid were the waves again,
And favoring more, the winds. Achilles here,
Out from the earth, by sudden rupture rent,
Appear'd in 'semblance of his living form:
Threatening his brow appear'd, as when so fierce
He Agamemnon with rebellious sword
Sought to assail.—“Depart ye then, O, Greeks!”
He cry'd—“of me unmindful? Is the fame
“Of all my yaliant acts with me interr'd?
“Treat me not thus. That honors due my tomb
“May want not, let Polyxena be given
“In sacrifice to soothe Achilles' ghost.”
He said; his fellows with the ruthless shade
Complying, from the mother's bosom tore
Her whom she sole had left to cherish. Brave
Than female more, the hapless maid was led
To the dire tomb in sacrificial pomp.
She, of her state still mindful, when before
The cruel altar brought; when all prepar'd
The savage-urg'd oblation of herself
She saw; and Neoptolemus beheld
There stand, the steel there grasping; on his face
Her eyes firm-fixing, spoke.—“My noble blood
“This instant spill. Delay not—plunge thy blade
“Or in my throat, or bosom;”—and her throat
And bosom, as she spoke she bar'd—“for ne'er
“Polyxena, a slavish life had borne.
“Yet grateful is this victim to no god!
“My only wish, that from my mother dear
“May be my death conceal'd: my mother clogs
“My final passage; damps the joys of death.
“Yet should she wail my death not, but my life.
“But distant stand ye all, that to the shades
“Inviolate I sink; if what I ask
“Be just, let every hand of man avoid
“A virgin's touch. Whoe'er your steel prepares
“To move propitiatory with my blood,
“A victim quite untainted best must please.
“And should the final accents that I speak,
“(King Priam's daughter, not a captive sues)
“My corse unransom'd to my mother give.
“Let her not buy the sad sepulchral rites
“With gold, but tears. Yet time has been, with gold
“I might have been redeem'd.”—The princess ceas'd,
And save her own no cheek unwet was seen.
And ev'n the priest reluctant, and in tears,
Op'd by a sudden plunge the offer'd breast.
She, to earth sinking, 'neath her tottering limbs,
Wore to the last a face unmov'd; ev'n then
Her final care was in her fall to veil
Limbs that a veil demanded, as she sank;
And decent pride of modesty preserve.

The Trojan dames receive her, and recount
The woes of Priam's house, the streams of blood
That single stock has spent. Thee too, O, maid!
They weep; and thee, a royal spouse so late,
And royal parent stil'd; pride of the realm
Of glorious Asia; now a mournful lot
Amid the spoil; whom Ithacus would scorn
To own, great Hector hadst thou not brought forth:
The name of Hector scarce a master finds,
To claim his mother. She, the lifeless trunk
Embracing, which had held a soul so brave,
Tears pour'd; tears often had she pour'd before,
For country, husband, children—now for her
Those tears gush'd in the wound; lips press'd to lips;
And beat that breast which oft with grievous blows
Was punish'd. Sweeping 'mid the clotted blood
Her silver'd tresses; all these plaints, and more
She utter'd, as she still her bosom rent.

“My child, thy mother's last afflicting grief
“(For who is spar'd me?) low, my child, thou ly'st;
“And in thy wound, I all my wounds behold.
“Yes, lest a single remnant of my race
“Unslaughter'd should expire, thou too must bleed.
“A female, thee, safe from the sword I thought:
“A female, thee the sword has stretch'd in death.
“The same Achilles, ruiner of Troy,
“Bereaver of my offspring, all destroy'd,—
“Yes, all thy brethren, he, now murders thee!
“Yet when by Paris' and Apollo's darts
“He fell,—now, surely,—said I,—now no more
“Pelides need be dreaded! Yet ev'n now,
“Dreadful to me he proves. Inurned, rage
“His ashes 'gainst our hapless race; we feel
“Ev'n in his grave the anger of this foe.
“I fruitful only for Pelides prov'd.
“Low lies proud Iliüm, and the public woe,
“The heavy ruin ends: if ended yet:
“For Troy to me still stands; my sufferings still
“Roll endless on. I, late in power so high,
“Great in my children, in my husband great,
“Am now dragg'd forth in poverty; exil'd
“From all my children's tombs; a gift to please
“Penelopé; who, while my daily task
“She gives to Ithaca's proud dames, will taunt,
“And cry;—of Hector, the fam'd mother see!
“Lo! Priam's spouse!—And thou who sole wast spar'd
“To soothe maternal pangs, so many lost,
“Now bleed'st, atonement to an hostile shade:
“And funeral victims has my womb produc'd
“T' appease a foe. Why holds this stubborn heart?
“Why still delay I? What to me avails
“This loath'd, this long-protracted life? Why spin,
“O, cruel deities! the lengthen'd thread
“Of an old wretch, save that she yet may see
“More deaths? Who e'er could Priam happy deem,
“Iliüm o'erthrown? Yet happy was his death,
“Thy sacrifice, my daughter! not to see;
“At once of life and realm bereft. Yet sure
“O, royal maid! funereal rites await
“Thy last remains; thy corse will be inhum'd
“In ancestorial sepulchres. Ah, no!
“Such fortune smiles not on our house; the tears
“A mother can bestow, are all thy gifts;
“Sprinkled with foreign dust. All have I lost.
“Of the whole stock I could as parent boast,
“To tempt me now still longer to sustain
“This life, my Polydore alone is left;
“Once least of all my manly sons, erst given
“To Thracia's monarch's care, upon these shores.
“But why delay to cleanse that ghastly wound
“With water, and that face, with spouting blood
“Besmear'd.”—She ceas'd, and bent her tottering steps,
With torn and scatter'd locks down to the shore.
And as the hapless wretch—“O, Trojans!”—cry'd,
“An urn supply to draw the liquid waves;”—
The corse of Polydore, flung on the beach
She saw, pierc'd deep with wounds of Thracian steel.
Loud shriek'd the Trojan matrons; she by grief
Dumb-stricken stood. Affliction keen suppress'd
Her rising moans, and ready-springing tears:
Stupid, and like a rigid stone she stood.
Now on the earth her eyes are fixt; and now
To heaven her furious countenance she lifts:
Now dwells she on his face, now on the wounds
Her son receiv'd, and on the wounds the most:
And now her bosom with collected rage
Furiously burning, all on vengeance fierce
Her soul is bent, as still in power a queen.
As storms a lioness robb'd of her cub,
The track pursuing of her flying foe,
Whom yet she sees not: rage and grief were mixt
Just so in Hecuba; of her old years
Regardless, mindful of her ire alone.
She Polymnestor seeks, of the dire deed
The perpetrator, and his ear demands—
That more of gold, intended for her boy,
Her wish was to disclose. The Thracian king
Heard credulous; lur'd by his wonted love
Of gain, with her withdrew, and wily thus;
With coaxing words;—“quick, Hecuba!”—exclaim'd,
“Give for thy son the treasure. By the gods!
“I swear, all shall be his; what more thou giv'st,
“And what thou gav'st before.”—Him, speaking so,
And falsely swearing, savagely she view'd,
And her fierce bosom swell'd with double rage.
Then instant on him, by the captive dames
Fast held, she flies; in his perfidious face
Digs deep; her fingers (rage all strength supply'd)
Tear from their orbs his eyes; bury'd her hands,
Streaming with blood, where once the eyes had been;
Widening the wounds, for eyes no more remain'd.

Fir'd at their monarch's fate the Thracian crowd
With stones and darts t'attack the queen began.
The queen with harsher voice, as they pursue,
Bites at th' assailing stones, and, trying words,
Barkings her jaws produce. The place remains
Nam'd from the change. She, of her ancient woes
Long mindful, grieving still, Sithonia's fields
With howlings fill'd. Her fate with pity mov'd
Her fellow Trojans; and the hostile Greeks;
Nay, all the gods above; and all deny,
(Ev'n she, the sister-wife of mighty Jove)
That Hecuba so harsh a lot deserv'd.

Nor leisure now Aurora had to mourn
(Though strong their cause she favor'd) the sad fall,
And mournful fate of Hecuba, and Troy.
A nearer case, a more domestic woe,
The loss of Memnon, wrung the goddess' breast:
Whom on the Phrygian plains the mother saw
Beneath the weapon of Achilles sink.
She saw—that color which the blushing morn
Displays, grew pale, and heaven with clouds was hid.
Still could the parent not support the sight,
Plac'd on the funeral pyre his limbs, but straight
With locks dishevell'd, not disdain'd to sue
Prostrate before the knees of mighty Jove.
These words her tears assisting.—“Meanest I,
“Of those the golden heaven supports; to me
“The fewest temples through earth's space are rais'd:
“Yet still a goddess sues. Not to demand
“Temples, nor festal days, nor altars warm'd
“With blazing fires; yet if you but behold
“What I, a female, for you all atchieve,
“Bounding night's confines with new-springing light,
“Such boons you might consider but my due.
“But these are not my care. Aurora's mind
“Not now e'en honors merited demands.
“I come, my Memnon lost, who bravely fought,
“But vainly, in his uncle Priam's cause:
“And in his prime of youth (so will'd your fates)
“Fell by the stout Achilles. Lord supreme!
“Of all the deities, grant, I beseech
“To him some honor, solace of his death;
“Allay the smarting of a mother's wounds.”

Jove nodded, round the lofty funeral pile
Of Memnon, rose th' aspiring flames; black clouds
Of smoke the day obscur'd. So streams exhale
The rising mists which Phœbus' rays conceal.
Mount the black ashes, and conglob'd in one
They thicken in a body, and a shape
That body takes, and heat and light receives
From the bright flames. Its lightness gave it wings:
Much like a bird at first, and soon indeed
A bird, its pinions sounded. And a crowd
Of sister birds, their pinions sounded too;
Their origin the same. Thrice they surround
The pile, and thrice with noisy clang the air
Resounds; the fourth time all the troop divide:
Then two and two, they furious wage the war
On either side; fierce with their crooked claws
And beaks, they pounce their adversary's breast,
And tire his wings. Each kindred body falls
An offering to the ashes of the dead,
And prove their offspring from a valiant man.
These birds of sudden origin receive
Their name, Memnonides, from him whose limbs
Produc'd them. Oft as Sol through all his signs
Has run, the battle they renew again,
To perish at their parent-warrior's tomb.
Thus, while all others Dymas' daughter weep
In howling shape, Aurora still on griefs
Her own sad brooding, her maternal tears
Sprinkles in dew o'er all th' extent of earth.

Yet fate doom'd not with Iliüm's towers the fall
Of Iliüm's hopes. The Cythereän prince
Bore off his gods; and on his shoulders bore
A no less sacred, venerable load,
His sire. Of all his riches these preferr'd.
The pious hero, with his youthful son
Ascanius, from Antandros, o'er the main
Borne in the flying fleet, leaves far the shore
Of savage Thrace, still moisten'd with the blood
Of Polydore, and enters Phœbus' port;
Aided by currents, and by gentle gales,
With all his social crew. Anius receives
The exile, in his temple,—in his dome;
Where o'er the land he monarch rul'd; and where,
As Phœbus' priest, he tended due his rites:
The city, and the votive temples shew'd,
And shew'd two trees, once by Latona grasp'd
In bearing throes. The incense in the flames
Distributed, wine o'er the incense thrown,
The entrails of the offer'd bulls consum'd
As wont; the regal roof approach they all;
And high on tapestry reclin'd, partake
Of Ceres' gift, and Bacchus' flowing boon.
Then good Anchises, thus—“O chosen priest
“Of Phœbus! was I then deceiv'd? methought,
“As far as memory aids me to recal,
“When first mine eyes these lofty walls beheld,
“That twice two daughters, and a son were thine.”
Old Anius shook his head, begirt around
With snowy fillets, as in grief, he said:—
“No, mighty hero! not deceiv'd art thou,
“Me hast thou seen of five the parent; now
“Thou well-nigh childless see'st me: (such to man
“The varying change of sublunary things)
“For, ah! what can an absent son bestow
“To aid me, who, in Andros' isle now dwells,
“Where for his sire the realm and state he holds?
“Delius on him prophetic art bestow'd;
“And Bacchus, to my female offspring, gave
“A boon beyond all credit, and their hopes.
“For all whate'er, which felt my daughters' touch
“To corn, and wine, and olives, was transformed:
“A mighty treasure in themselves they held.
“But Agamemnon, Troy's destroyer learn'd
“This gift (think not but that your overthrow
“In some respect we shar'd,) by ruthless force,
“Tore them unwilling from their parent's arms;
“And stern commanded that the heavenly gift
“Should feed the Grecian fleet. Each as she can
“Escapes. Eubœä two attain, and two
“Fraternal Andros seek. The troops pursue
“And threaten warfare, if withheld the maids.
“Fraternal love was vanquish'd in his breast
“By fear, (that thou this terror mayst excuse,
“Reflect, Æneäs was not there, nor there
“Was Hector, Andros to defend, whose arms
“To the tenth year made Iliüm stand.) And now
“Chains were prepar'd their captive arms to bind.
“While yet unchain'd, those arms to heaven they rais'd,
“O father Bacchus!—crying—grant thy aid.—
“And aid the author of the gift bestow'd:
“If them to lose by an unheard-of mode
“Be aid bestowing. Then could I not know,
“Nor now relate the order of the change
“Which lost their shapes; the summit of my grief
“I know; with plumage were they cloth'd; transform'd
“To snowy doves, thy spouse's favor'd bird.”

With these, and tales like these, the feast was clos'd:
The board remov'd, all sought repose. With day
Arising, all Apollo's shrine attend;
Who bids that they their ancient mother seek,
And kindred shores. The king attends them, gives
His presents as they go. Anchises holds
A sceptre, while a quiver and a robe
Ascanius boasts; Æneäs holds a cup,
Erst from BϚtia's shores to Anius sent,
By Theban Therses. Therses sent the gift;
Sicilian Alcon form'd it, and engrav'd
A copious tale around. A town was there,
And seven wide gates appear'd: for name were these,
What town it was displaying. All without
Its walls were funeral trains, and tombs beheld;
And fires; and piles; and matrons, whose bare breasts,
And locks dishevell'd, shew'd their mournful woe.
Weeping the nymphs appear'd, and seem'd to wail
Their arid streams; the leafless trees were hard;
The goats were browsing on the naked rocks:
And, lo! amid the Theban town was seen
Orion's daughters: this her naked throat
Offering, with more than female courage; that
On the sharp weapon's point forth leaning, dy'd,
To save the people: round the town are borne
Their pompous funerals, they in splendor burn.
Then, lest the race should perish, spring two youths
From out their virgin ashes; which by fame
Are call'd Coronæ, and the pomp attend,
When their maternal ashes are interr'd.

Thus far the images on ancient brass
Were grav'n; the bordering summit of the cup
In gold acanthus rough appear'd. Nor gave
The Trojans gifts less worthy than they took.
To hold his incense, they a vase present
The royal priest; a goblet, and a crown,
Shining with gold, and bright with sparkling gems.

Thence, mindful that the Trojan race first sprung
From Teucer's blood, tow'rd Crete their course they bend:
But long Jove's native clime they could not bear.
The hundred-city'd isle now left behind,
Ausonia's port they hope to gain. Rough swell
The wintry storms, and toss them on the main;
And in the port of faithless Strophades
Receiv'd, the wing'd Aëllo scares them far.
Now had they sail'd beyond Dulichium's bay;
Samos; and Ithaca, Neritus' soil;
The realms Ulysses, so perfidious, sway'd:
And saw Ambracia, for the strife of gods
Renown'd, and stone to which the judge was chang'd;
Now as Apollo's Actium far more fam'd:
And saw Dodona's land with vocal groves;
And deep Chaonia's bay, where vain-urg'd flames
Molossus' sons, on new-sprung pinions 'scap'd.
Phæäcia's neighbouring country, planted thick
With grateful apples, now they reach; from thence
Epirus and Buthrotus, by the seer
Of Iliüm govern'd, image true of Troy.
Thence of the future certain, full of faith,
In all that Helenus of fate them told,
Sicilia's isle they enter, which extends
Midst of the waves its promontories three.
Pachymos, tow'rd the showery south is plac'd;
And Zephyr soft on Lilybæum blows:
But 'gainst the Arctic bear that shuns the sea,
And Boreas' rugged storms, Pelorus looks.
By this the Trojans steer; urg'd by their oars,
And favoring tide, by night on Zanclé's beach
The fleet is moor'd. Here Scylla on the right;
Charybdis, restless, on the left alarms.
This sucks the destin'd ships beneath the waves,
And whirls them up again: fierce dogs surround
The other's sable belly, while she bears
A virgin's face; and, if what poets tell
Be feign'd not all, she had a virgin been.

Her many wooers sought; these all repuls'd,
She join'd the ocean nymphs; by ocean's nymphs
Much favor'd was the maid; and told the loves
Of all the baffled youths. Her, while she gave
Her locks to comb, thus Galatea fair,
Bespoke, but first suppress'd a rising sigh.
“'Tis true, O maid! a gentle race thee seeks,
“Whom safely, as thou dost, thou may'st deny:
“But I, whose sire is Nereus; who was born
“Of blue-hair'd Doris; who am potent too
“In crowds of sisters, refuge only found
“From the fierce Cyclops' love, in my own waves.”
Tears chok'd her utterance here; which when the maid
Had wip'd with marble fingers, and had sooth'd
The goddess.—“Dearest Galatea! speak;
“Nor from thy friend this cause of grief conceal:
“Faithful am I to thee.” The goddess yields,
And to Cratæis' daughter, thus replies.

“From Faunus and the nymph Symethis sprung
“Acis, his sire's delight, his mother's pride;
“But far to me more dear. For me the youth,
“And me alone, lov'd warmly; twice eight years
“Had o'er him pass'd; when on his tender cheek
“A doubtful down appear'd. Him I desir'd,
“As ceaseless as the Cyclops sought for me.
“Nor should you ask, if in my bosom dwelt
“For him most hate, or most for Acis love,
“Could I inform you: equal both in force.
“O, gentle Venus! with what mighty power
“Thou sway'st; lo! he, the merciless, the dread
“Of his own woods; whom hapless guest ne'er saw
“With safety; spurner of the power of Jove,
“And all the host of heaven, what love is, feels!
“Seiz'd with desire of me he flames, forgets
“His flocks, and caverns. All thy anxious care
“Thy beauty, Polyphemus! to improve,
“And all thy anxious care is now to please.
“And now with rakes thou comb'st thy rugged hair;
“Now with a scythe thou mow'st thy bushy beard:
“Thy features to behold in the clear brook,
“And calm their fire employs thee. All his love
“Of slaughter; all his fierceness; all his thirst
“Cruel of blood, him leaves; and on the coast,
“Ships safely moor, and safe again depart.
“Meantime at Etna Telemus arriv'd,
“Of Eurymus the son, whom never bird
“Deceiv'd; he to dread Polyphemus came,
“And spoke:—Thee, of the single light thou bear'st
“Mid front, Ulysses will deprive.—Loud laugh'd
“The monster, saying;—Stupidest of seers,
“How much thou err'st!—already is it gone.—
“So spurns the truth the prophet told in vain.
“Then moving on along the shore, he sinks
“The sand with heavy steps, or tir'd returns
“To his dark caves. Far stretching in the main
“A wedge-like promontory rears its ridge
“Aloft; on either side the surging waves
“Foam on it. To its loftiest height ascends
“The Cyclops fierce; his station in the midst
“Assumes; his woolly flocks his steps pursue
“Unshepherded. He when the pine immense,
“Which serv'd him for a staff, though fit to serve
“For sailyard, low beneath his feet had thrown;
“And grasp'd the pipe, an hundred 'pacted reeds
“Compos'd; the pastoral whistling all around
“The hills confess'd, and all the waters nigh.
“I, hid beneath a rock, my head reclin'd
“On my dear Acis' bosom, heard these words—,
“And still the words are noted in my breast.—

“O, Galatea! brighter than the leaves
“Of snow-white lilies; fresher than the meads;
“More lofty far than towering alder trees;
“Than chrystal clearer; than the wanton kid
“More gay; than shells, by ocean's constant waves
“Smooth polish'd, smoother; dearer than the shade
“In summer's heat; than winter's sun more dear;
“More than the apple bright; and fairer far
“Than lofty planetrees; clearer than the frost;
“More beauteous than the ripen'd grape; more soft
“Than the swan's plumage; or the new-prest milk:
“And, but thou fly'st, more than the garden fine
“With water'd streamlets. Yet the same art thou,
“Wild Galatea, than the untam'd steer
“More fierce; more stubborn than the ancient oak;
“Than water more deceitful; slippery more
“Than bending willows, or the greenest vines;
“More stubborn than these rocks; than seas more rough;
“Than the prais'd peacock prouder; sharper far
“Than fire; and piercing more than thistles keen.
“More savage than a nursing bear; more deaf
“Than raging billows; than the trodden snake
“More pitiless; and, what I more than all
“Would wish thou wast not, fleeter than the deer,
“Chas'd by shrill hunters; fleeter than wing'd air,
“Or winds. If well thou knew'st me, much thou'dst grieve
“That e'er thou fled'st; thou'dst blame thy dull delay,
“And sue and labor to retain my love.
“Caverns I have, scoop'd in the living rock
“Beneath the mountain's side, where never sun
“In mid-day heat, nor winter's cold can come.
“My apples bend the branches; grapes are mine
“On the long vine-trees clustering; some like gold;
“Some of a purple teint; and these and those
“Will I preserve for thee. Thy own fair hands
“Shall gather strawberries soft, beneath the shade;
“Autumnal cornels; and the purple plumb,
“Dark with its juice, and that still nobler kind
“Like new-made wax in hue. Nor shalt thou lack
“The chesnut; nor the red arbutus' fruit:
“Be but my spouse. All trees shall thee supply.
“Mine are these flocks, and thousands more besides
“Which roam the vallies; thousands like the woods;
“And thousands shelter in the shady caves:
“Nor could I, should'st thou ask, their numbers tell.
“Poor he who counts his store. Believe not me
“When these I praise; before thine eyes behold
“How scarce their legs the swelling udder bear.
“Mine are the tender lambs, in the warm fold
“Secure; and mine are kids of equal age
“In folds apart. The whitest milk have I;
“But still for drink shall serve, and thicken'd, part
“Shall harden into cheese. Nor wilt thou find
“But cheap delights, and common vulgar gifts:
“For deer, and hares, and goats, thou shalt possess;
“Pigeons in pairs, and nests from mountains gain'd.
“Upon the hills, a shaggy bear's twin cubs
“I found; so like, no difference could be seen,
“With thee to play I found them: these, I said,
“These will I force my mistress to obey.
“O Galatea! raise thy lovely head
“Above the azure deep; come! only come;
“Nor scorn my gifts. Right well myself I know:
“I view'd me lately in the liquid stream;
“And much my image satisfy'd my view.
“Behold, how vast my bulk! Jove, in his heaven,
“(For of some Jove ye oft are wont to tell
“Who rules there) towers not in a mightier size.
“Thick bushy locks o'er my stern forehead hang,
“And like a forest down my shoulders spread.
“Nor deem my body, with hard bristles rough,
“Unseemly; most unsightly is the tree,
“Without a leaf; unsightly is the steed,
“Save on his neck the flowing mane is spread:
“Plumes clothe the feather'd race; and their own wool
“Becomes the sheep; so beards become mankind,
“And bushy bristles, o'er their limbs bespread.
“True in my forehead but one light is plac'd;
“But huge that light, and like a mighty shield
“In size. Yet does not Sol from heaven's high round
“All view? and Sol possesses lights no more.
“Remember too, my father o'er your realm
“Rules sovereign; I in him a sire-in-law
“Would give thee. Only pity me, I pray,
“And hear my suppliant vows. To thee alone
“I bend: and while I scorn your mighty Jove,
“His heaven, and piercing thunder, thee, O nymph!
“I fear: than fiercest lightnings dreading more
“Thy anger. Far more patient should I rest
“With this contempt, all didst thou thus contemn.
“But how, the Cyclops first repuls'd, dar'st thou
“This Acis love? this Acis dare prefer
“To my embraces? Yet may he himself
“Delight; nay let him Galatea please,
“If so it must be, though what most I'd spurn:
“Let but the scope be given, soon should he prove
“My strength is equal to my mighty bulk.
“Living his entrails would I tear, and spread
“His mangled members o'er the fields, and o'er
“Thy waters: let him mingle with thee so.
“For oh! I burn; more fierce my injur'd love
“Now rages: in ray breast I seem to bear
“All Etna and its fires. But all my pains
“Can nought, O Galatea! thee affect.—

“Thus with vain 'plainings (for the whole I saw)
“He rises, raging like a furious bull
“Robb'd of his heifer; paces restless round,
“And bounds along the forests and the coasts.
“When me and Acis, heedless of such fate,
“And unsuspecting, he beheld, and roar'd:—
“I see ye! but the period of your love
“Will I accomplish.—Loud his threats were heard,
“As all the Cyclops' power of voice could raise.
“All Etna trembled at the sound. In fright
“I plung'd for safety in the neighbouring waves;
“While fair Symethis' son for flight prepar'd;
“And—help me, Galatea!—he exclaim'd—
“Help me, O help! and ye, my parents, aid;
“And, perishing, receive me in your realm.—
“Close at his heels the Cyclops comes, and hurls
“A mighty fragment from a mountain rent;
“A corner only of the mighty rock
“Him reach'd: that corner Acis all o'erwhelm'd.
“But I, what fate alone would grant, perform'd,
“That Acis still his ancestorial race
“Should join: his purple gore flow'd from the rock;
“And soon the redness pal'd; it seem'd a stream
“Disturb'd by drenching showers; and soon this stream
“Was clear'd to limpid purity. The rock
“Gap'd wide, and living reeds sprung up erect,
“On either brink. Loud roars the pressing flood
“In the rock's hollow womb, and (wond'rous sight!)
“A youth, his new-form'd horns with reeds begirt,
“Sudden appear'd, 'mid waist above the waves;
“Who but in stature larger, and his skin
“Of azure teint, might Acis well be deem'd.
“Acis indeed it was, Acis transform'd
“To a clear stream which still his name retains.”

Here Galatea ceas'd, the listening choir
Dividing, all depart. The Nereïd train
Swim o'er the placid waves. Scylla returns;
Fearful to venture 'mid the boundless main,
And vestless roams along the soaking sand;
Or weary'd; finding some sequester'd pool,
Cools in the shelter'd waters her fair limbs.
Lo! Glaucus, lately of the mighty deep
An 'habitant receiv'd, his shape transform'd
Upon BϚtia's shores, cleaves through the waves;
And feels desire as he the nymph beholds.
All he can urge to stay her flight he tries;
Yet still she flies him, swifter from her fear.
She gains a mountain's summit, which the shore
O'erhung. High to the main the lofty ridge
An undivided sbrubless top presents,
Down shelving to the sea. In safety here
She stood; and, dubious monster he, or god,
Admir'd his color, and the locks which spread
Adown his shoulders, and his back below:
And that a wreathing fish's form should end
His figure from his groin. He saw her gaze;
And on a neighbouring rock his elbow lean'd,
As thus he spoke.—“No monstrous thing am I,
“Fair virgin! nor a savage of the sea;
“A watery god I am; nor on the main
“Has Proteus; Triton; or Palæmon, son
“Of Athamas, more power. Yet time has been
“When I was mortal, yet even then attach'd
“To the deep water, on the ocean I,
“Still joy'd to labor. Now the following shoal
“Of fishes in my net I dragg'd; and now,
“Plac'd on a rock, I with my flexile rod
“Guided the line. Bordering a verdant mead
“A bank there lies, the waves its circuit bound
“In part; in part the virid grass surrounds;
“A mead which ne'er the horned herd had cropp'd:
“Where ne'er the placid flock, nor hairy goats
“Had brows'd; nor bees industrious cull'd the flowers
“For sweets: no genial chaplets there were pluck'd
“To grace the head; nor had the mower's arm
“E'er spoil'd the crop. The first of mortals, I
“On the turf rested. As my nets I dry'd;
“And as my captur'd scaly prey to count,
“Upon the grass I spread,—whatever the net
“Escape prevented, and the hook had snar'd
“Through their own folly. (Like a fiction sounds
“The fact, but what avails to me to feign?)
“Soon as the grass they touch, my captiv'd prey
“Begin to move, and on their sides to turn;
“And ply their fins on earth as in the main.
“Then, while with wonder struck I pause, all fly
“The shore in heaps, and their new master quit,
“Their native waves regaining. I, surpriz'd,
“Long doubtful stand to guess the wond'rous cause.
“Whether some god, or but the grasses' juice
“Accomplish'd this. What herb—at last, I said—
“Can power like this possess?—and with my hand
“Pluck'd up, and with my teeth the herbage chew'd.
“Scarce had my throat th' untasted juice first try'd,
“When all my entrails sudden tremblings shook,
“And with a love of something yet unknown
“My breast was mov'd; nor could I longer keep
“My place.—O earth! where I shall ne'er return—
“Farewel! I cry'd,—and plung'd below the waves.
“Worthy the ocean deities me deem'd
“To join their social troop, and anxious pray'd
“To Tethys, and old Ocean, Tethys' spouse,
“To purge whate'er of mortal I retain'd.
“By them lustrated, and the potent song
“Nine times repeated, earthly taints to cleanse,
“They bade me 'neath an hundred gushing streams
“To place my bosom. No delay I seek;
“The floods from numerous fountains pour'd, the main
“O'erwhelm'd my head. Thus far what deeds were done
“My memory helps me to relate; thus far
“Alone can I remember; all the rest
“Dark to my memory seems. My sense restor'd,
“I found my body chang'd in every part;
“Nor was my mind the same. Then first I saw
“This beard of dingy green, and these long locks
“Which through the seas I sweep; these shoulders huge;
“Those azure arms and thighs in fish-like form
“Furnish'd with fins. But what avails this shape?
“What that by all the deities marine
“I dear am held? a deity myself?
“If all these honors cannot touch thy breast.”
These words he spoke, and more to speak prepar'd,
When Scylla left the god. Repuls'd, he griev'd
And sought Titanian Circé's monstrous court.

The Fourteenth Book.

Scylla transformed to a monster by Circé through jealousy; and ultimately to a rock. Continuation of Æneas' voyage. Dido. Cercopians changed to apes. Descent of Æneas to hell. The Cumæan Sybil. Adventures of Achæmenides with Polyphemus: and of Macareus amongst the Lestrigonians. Enchantments of Circé. Story of the transformation of Picus to a woodpecker; and of the nymph Canens to air. The Latian wars. Misfortunes of Diomede. Agmon and others changed to herons. Appulus to a wild olive. The Trojan ships changed to sea-nymphs. The city Ardea to a bird. Deification of Æneas. Latin kings. Vertumnus and Pomona. Story of Iphis and Anaxareté. Wars with the Sabines. Apotheösis of Romulus; and of his wife Hersilia.

THE
Fourteenth Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

Now had Eubœan Glaucus, who could cleave
The surging sea, left Etna, o'er the breasts
Of giants thrown, and left the Cyclops' fields,
Unconscious of the plough's or harrow's use;
And unindebted to the oxen yok'd.
Zanclé he left, and its opposing shore
Where Rhegium's turrets tower; and the strait sea
For shipwreck fam'd, which by incroaching shores
Press'd narrow, forms the separating bound
Betwixt Ausonia's and Sicilia's land.
Thence glides he swift along the Tyrrhene coast,
By powerful arms impell'd, and gains the dome,
And herbag'd hills of Circé Phœbus sprung:
(The dome with forms of wildest beasts full cramm'd)
Whom, soon as greeting salutations pass'd,
He thus address'd:—“O powerful goddess! grant
“Thy pity to a god; and thou alone,
“If worth that aid thou deem'st me, canst afford
“Aid to my love. For, O Titanian maid!
“To none the power of plants is better known
“Than me, who by the power of plants was chang'd.
“But lest the object of my lore, to thee
“Unknown, be hid; I Scylla late beheld
“Upon th' Italian shore: Messenia's walls
“Opposing. Shame me hinders to relate
“What promises, what prayers, what coaxing words
“I us'd: my words all heard with proud contempt.
“Do thou with magic lips thy charms repeat,
“If power in charms abides: or if in herbs
“More force is found, then use the well-try'd strength
“Of herbs of power. I wish thee not to soothe
“My heart; I wish thee not these wounds to cure;
“Still may they last, let her such flames but feel.”

Then Circé spoke, (and she a mind possess'd
Most apt to flame with love, or in her frame
The stimulus was plac'd; or Venus, irk'd
At what her sire discover'd, caus'd the heat.)
“O, better far the willing nymph pursue
“Who would in wishes meet thee; wh'o is seiz'd
“With equal love: well worthy of the maid
“Thou wast; nay shouldst have been the first besought;
“And if but hope thou wilt afford, believe
“My words, thou shalt spontaneously be lov'd.
“Fear not, but on thy beauteous form depend;
“Lo! I, a goddess! of the splendid sun
“A daughter, who with powerful spells so much
“And herbs can do, to be thy consort sue.
“Spurn her who spurns thee; her who thee desires
“Desiring meet; and both at once avenge.”
But to her tempting speeches Glaucus thus
Reply'd—“The trees shall sooner in the waves
“Spring up, and sea-weed on the mountain's top,
“Than I, while Scylla lives, my love transfer.”
The goddess swol'n with anger, since his form
To harm 'twas given her not, and love deny'd,
Turn'd on her happier rival all her rage.
Irk'd at her slighted passion, straight she grinds
Herbs infamous, to gain their horrid juice;
And mixes all with Hecatéan spells.
Then clothes her in a sable robe, and forth
Through crouds of fawning savage beasts she goes,
From her gay palace. Rhegium's coast she seeks
O'erlooking Zanclé's rocks; and on the waves
With fury boiling, steps; o'er them she walks
As on a solid shore, and skims along
The ridgy billows with unwetted feet.

A little pool, bent in a gentle curve,
With peaceful surface oft did Scylla tempt;
And often thither she herself betook
To 'scape from ocean's, and from Phœbus' heat,
When high in noon-tide fierceness short the shade
Was from the head describ'd. Before she came
The goddess poison'd all the pool; she pour'd
Her potent juice, of monster-breeding power,
Prest from pernicious roots, within the waves;
And mutter'd thrice nine times with magic lips,
In sounds scarce audible, her well-known spells.
Here Scylla came, and waded to the waist;
And straight, with barking monsters she espies
Her womb deform'd: at first, of her own limbs
Not dreaming they are part, she from them flies;
And chides them thence, and fears their savage mouths.
But what she flies she with her drags; she looks
To find her thighs, and find her legs, and feet;
But for those limbs Cerberean jaws are found.
Furious the dogs still howl; on their fierce backs
Her shorten'd groin, and swelling belly rest.

The amorous Glaucus griev'd, and spurn'd the love
Of Circé, who so rancorously had us'd
The power of plants. Her station Scylla kept;
And soon as scope for vengeance she perceiv'd,
In hate to Circé, of his comrade crew
Depriv'd Ulysses. Next the Trojan fleet
Had she o'erwhelm'd; but ere they pass'd, transform'd
To stone, she tower'd aloft a flinty rock,
And still do mariners that rock avoid.

The Phrygian ships that danger 'scap'd, and 'scap'd
Charybdis fell, by oars propell'd; but now
Ausonia's shore well nigh attain'd, were driv'n
By adverse tempests to the Libyan coast.
Æneäs then the queen Sidonian took
Most welcome to her bosom, and her dome;
Nor bore her Phrygian spouse's sudden flight,
With calm indifference: on a lofty pile
Rear'd for pretended sacred rites, she stood,
And on the sword's point fell; herself deceiv'd,
She all around outwitted. Flying far
The new-rais'd city of the sandy plains
To Eryx' country was he borne; where liv'd
Acestes faithful: here he sacrific'd,
And gave due honors to his father's tomb.
Then loos'd his ships for sea, well nigh in flames
By Juno's Iris: all th' Æoliän realm;
The islands blazing with sulphuric fire;
And rocks of Acheloüs' siren nymphs,
He left. The vessel now, of him who rul'd
The helm, bereft, along Ænaria's shore;
And Prochytas; and Pithecusa, plac'd
Upon a sterile hill, its name deriv'd
From those who dwelt there, coasted. Erst the sire
Of gods, detesting perjuries and fraud,
Which that deceitful race so much employ'd,
Chang'd to an animal deform'd their shapes;
Where still a likeness and unlikeness seems
To man. Their every limb contracted small;
Their turn'd-up noses flatten'd from the brow;
And ancient furrows plough'd adown their cheeks.
Then sent them, all their bodies cover'd o'er
With yellow hairs, this district to possess.
Yet sent them not till of the power of speech
Depriv'd; and tongue for direst falsehoods us'd:
But left their chattering jaws the power to 'plain.
These past, and left Parthenopé's high towers
To right; and musical Misenus' tomb,
And Cuma's shores to left; spots cover'd thick
With marshy reeds, he enters in the cave
Where dwelt the ancient Sybil; and in treats
That through Avernus' darkness he may pass,
His father's shade to seek. Then she, her eyes,
Long firmly fixt on earth, uprais'd; and next,
Fill'd with the god, in furious raving spoke.

“Much dost thou ask, O man of mighty deeds!
“Whose valor by the sword is amply prov'd,
“And piety through flames. Yet, Trojan chief,
“Fear not; thou shalt what thou desir'st attain:
“By me conducted, thou th' Elysian field,
“The lowest portion of the tri-form realm,
“And thy beloved parent's shade shalt see:
“No path to genuine virtue e'er is clos'd.”
She spoke, and pointed to th' Avernian grove,
Sacred to Proserpine; and shew'd a bough
With gold refulgent; this she bade him tear
From off its trunk. Æneäs her obeys,
And sees the treasures of hell's awful king;
His ancestors', and great Anchises' shades:
Is taught the laws and customs of the dead;
And what deep perils he in future wars
Must face. As then the backward path he trode
With weary'd step; the labor he beguil'd
By grateful speech with his Cumæan guide.
And, while through darkling twilight he pursu'd
His fearful way, he thus:—“Or, goddess, thou,
“Or of the gods high-favor'd, unto me
“Still shalt thou as a deity appear.
“My life I own thy gift, who hast me given
“To view the realms of death: who hast me brought,
“The realms of death beheld, to life again.
“For these high favors, when to air restor'd
“Statues to thee I'll raise, and incense burn.”
Backward the prophetess, to him her eyes
Directs, and heaves a sigh; as thus she speaks:
“No goddess I; deem not my mortal frame
“The sacred incense' honors can deserve:
“Err not through ignorance. Eternal youth
“Had I possess'd, if on Apollo's love
“My virgin purity had been bestow'd.
“This while he hop'd, and while he strove to tempt
“With gifts,—O, chuse—he said,—Cumæan maid!
“Whate'er thou would'st—whate'er thou would'st is thine.
“I, pointing to an heap of gather'd dust,
“With thoughtless mind, besought so many years
“I might exist, as grains of sand were there:
“Mindless to ask for years of constant youth.
“The years he granted, and had granted too
“Eternal youth, had I his passion quench'd.
“A virgin I remain; Apollo's gift
“Despis'd: but now the age of joy is fled;
“Decrepitude with trembling steps has come,
“Which long I must endure. Seven ages now
“I have existed; ere the number'd grains
“Are equall'd, thrice an hundred harvests I,
“And thrice an hundred vintages must see.
“The time will come, my body, shrunk with age,
“And wither'd limbs, shall to small substance waste;
“Nor shall it seem that e'er an amorous god
“With me was smitten. Phœbus then himself
“Or me will know not, or deny that e'er
“He sought my love. Till quite complete my change,
“To all invisible, by words alone
“I shall be known. Fate still my voice will leave.”

On the steep journey thus the Sybil spoke:
And from the Stygian shades Æneäs rose,
At Cuma's town; there sacrific'd as wont,
And to the shores proceeded, which as yet
His nurse's name not bore. Here rested too,
After long toil, Macareus, the constant friend
Of wise Ulysses: Achæmenides,
Erst left amid Etnæan rocks, he knows:
Astonish'd there, his former friend to find,
In life unhop'd, he cry'd; “What chance? What god
“O Achæmenides! has thee preserv'd?
“How does a Greek a foreign vessel bear?
“And to what shores is now this vessel bound?”

Then Achæmenides, not ragged now,
In robes with thorns united, but all free,
Thus answer'd his enquiries. “May I view
“Once more that Polyphemus, and those jaws
“With human gore o'erflowing; if I deem
“This ship to me than Ithaca less dear;
“And less Æneäs than my sire esteem.
“For how too grateful can I be to him,
“Though all to him I give? Can I e'er be
“Unthankful or forgetful? That I speak,
“And breathe, and view the heavens and glorious sun
“He gave: that in the Cyclops' jaws my life
“Was clos'd not; that when now the vital spark
“Me quits, I may be properly intomb'd,
“Not in the monster's entrails. Heavens! what thoughts
“Possess'd my mind, (unless by pallid dread
“Of sense and thought bereft) when, left behind,
“I saw you push to sea. Loud had I call'd,
“But fear'd my cries would guide to me the foe.
“Ulysses' clamor near your ship destroy'd.
“I saw the monster, when a mighty rock,
“Torn from a mountain's summit, in the waves
“He flung: I saw him when with giant arm
“Huge stones he hurl'd, with such impetuous force,
“As though an engine sent them. Fear'd I long,
“Lest or the stones or waves the bark would sink;
“Forgetful then that not on board was I.
“But when you 'scap'd from cruel death, by flight,
“Then did he madly rave indeed; and roam'd
“All Etna o'er; and grop'd amid the woods;
“Depriv'd of sight he stumbles on the rocks;
“And stretching to the sea his horrid arms,
“Blacken'd with gore, he execrates the Greeks;
“And thus exclaims;—O! would some lucky chance
“Restore Ulysses to me, or restore
“One of his comrades, who might glut my rage;
“Whose entrails I might gorge; whose living limbs
“My hand might rend; whose blood might sluice my throat;
“And mangled members tremble in my teeth.
“O! then how light, and next to none the curse
“Of sight bereft.—Raging, he this and more
“Fierce utter'd. I, with pallid dread o'ercome,
“Beheld his face still flowing down with blood;
“The orb of light depriv'd; his ruthless hands;
“His giant members; and his shaggy beard,
“Clotted with human gore. Death to my eyes
“Was obvious, yet was death my smallest dread.
“Now seiz'd I thought me; thought him now prepar'd
“T'inclose my mangled bowels in his own:
“And to my mind recurr'd the time I saw
“Two of my comrades' bodies furious dash'd
“Repeated on the earth: he, o'er them stretcht
“Prone, like a shaggy lion, in his maw
“Their flesh, their entrails, their yet-quivering limbs,
“Their marrow, and cranch'd bones, greedy ingulf'd.
“Horror me seiz'd. Bloodless and sad I stood,
“To see him champ, and from his mouth disgorge
“The bloody banquet; morsels mixt with wine
“Forth vomiting: and such a fate appear'd
“For wretched me prepar'd. Some tedious days
“Skulk'd I, and shudder'd at the smallest sound:
“Fearful of death, yet praying much to die;
“Repelling hunger by green herbs, and leaves,
“With acorns mixt; a solitary wretch,
“Poor, and to sufferings and to death decreed.
“Long was the time, ere I, not distant far,
“A ship beheld; I by my gestures shew'd
“My wish for flight, and hasten'd to the shore.
“Their hearts were mov'd, and thus a Trojan bark
“Receiv'd a Greek.—And now, my friend most dear,
“Tell thy adventures, and the chief's, and crew's,
“Who with thee launch'd upon th' extended main.”

He tells how Æölus his kingdom holds
On the deep Tuscan main, who curbs the winds
In cavern'd prisons; which, a noble boon!
Close pent within an ox's stubborn hide,
Dulichium's chief, from Æölus receiv'd.
How for nine days with prosperous breeze they sail'd;
And saw the long-sought land. How on the tenth,
Aurora rising bright, his comrades, urg'd
By envy, and by thirst of glittering spoil,
Gold deeming there inclos'd, the winds unloos'd.
How, driven by them, the ship was backward sped
Through the same waves she had so lately plough'd;
And reach'd the port of Æölus again.
“Thence,”—he continued—“to the ancient town
“Of Lestrygonian Lamus we arrive,
“Where rules Antiphates; to him dispatch'd
“I go, by two attended. I with one
“Scarce find in flight our safety: with his gore
“The hapless third, the Lestrigonians' jaws
“Besmears: our flying footsteps they pursue,
“While fierce Antiphates speeds on the crowd.
“Around they press, and unremitting hurl
“Huge rocks, and trunks of trees; our men o'erwhelm,
“And sink our fleet; one ship alone escapes,
“Which great Ulysses and myself contains.
“Most of our band thus lost, and angry much,
“Lamenting more, we floated to these isles,
“Which hence, though distant far, you may descry.
“Those isles, by me too near beheld, do thou
“At distance only view! O, goddess-born!
“Most righteous of all Troy, (for now no more,
“Æneäs, must thou enemy be stil'd
“To us, war ended) fly, I warn thee, fly
“The shore of Circé. We, our vessel moor'd
“Fast to that beach, not mindless of the deeds
“Antiphates perform'd, nor Cyclops, wretch
“Inhuman, now to tempt this unknown land
“Refuse. The choice by lot is fix'd. The lot
“Me sends, and with me sends Polites true;
“Eurylochus; and poor Elphenor, fond
“Too much of wine; with twice nine comrades mote,
“To seek the dome Circéan. Thither come;
“We at the entrance stand: a thousand wolves,
“And bears, and lionesses, with wolves mixt,
“Meet us, and terror in our bosoms strike.
“But ground for terror none: of all the crew
“None try our limbs to wound, but friendly wave
“Their arching tails, and fawningly attend
“Our steps; till by the menial train receiv'd,
“Through marbled halls to where their mistress sate,
“Our troop is led. She, in a bright recess,
“Upon a lofty throne of state, was plac'd,
“Cloth'd in a splendid robe; a golden veil
“Around her head, and o'er her shoulders thrown.
“Nereïds, and nymphs around (whose fingers quick
“The wool ne'er drew, nor form'd the following thread)
“Were plants arranging, and selecting flowers,
“And various teinted herbs, confus'dly mixt
“In baskets. She compleats the work they do;
“And well she knows the latent power each leaf
“Possesses; well their force combin'd she knows:
“And all the nice-weigh'd herbs inspects with care.
“When us she spy'd, and salutations pass'd
“Mutual; her forehead brighten'd, and she gave
“Our every wish. Nor waited more, but bade
“The beverage of the roasted grain be mix'd;
“And added honey, all the strength of wine,
“And curdy milk, and juices, which beneath
“Such powerful sweetness undetected lay.
“The cup from her accursed hand, I take,
“And, soon as thirsty I, with parch'd mouth drink,
“And the dire goddess with her wand had strok'd
“My head (I blush while I the rest relate)
“Roughen'd with bristles, I begin to grow;
“Nor now can speak; hoarse grunting comes for words;
“And all my face bends downwards to the ground;
“Callous I feel my mouth become, in form
“A crooked snout; and feel my brawny neck
“Swell o'er my chest; and what but now the cup
“Had grasp'd, that part does marks of feet imprint;
“With all my fellows treated thus, so great
“The medicine's potency, close was I shut
“Within a sty: there I, Eurylochus
“Alone unalter'd to a hog, beheld!
“He only had the offer'd cup refus'd.
“Which had he not avoided, he as one
“The bristly herd had join'd; nor had our chief,
“The great Ulysses, by his tale inform'd
“To Circé come, avenger of our woe.
“To him Cyllenius, messenger of peace
“A milk-white flower presented; by the gods
“Call'd Moly: from a sable root it-springs.
“Safe in the gift, and in th' advice of heaven,
“He enters Circé's dome; and her repels,
“Coaxing to taste th' invidious cup; his head
“To stroke attempting with her potent wand;
“And awes her trembling with his unsheath'd steel.
“Then, faith exchang'd, hands join'd, he to her bed
“Receiv'd, he makes the dowry of himself
“That all his comrades' bodies be restor'd.

“Now are we sprinkled with innocuous juice
“Of better herbs; with the inverted wand
“Our heads are touch'd; the charms, already spoke,
“Strong charms of import opposite destroy.
“The more she sings her incantations, we
“Rise more from earth erect; the bristles fall;
“And the wide fissure leaves our cloven feet;
“Our shoulders form again; and arms beneath
“Are shap'd. Him, weeping too, weeping we clasp,
“And round our leader's neck embracing hang.
“No words at first to utter have we power,
“But such as testify our grateful joy.

“A year's delay there kept us. There, mine eyes
“In that long period much beheld; mine ears
“Much heard. This with the rest, in private told
“To me, by one of four most-favor'd nymphs
“Who aided in her spells: while Circé toy'd
“In private with our leader, she me shew'd
“A youthful statue carv'd in whitest stone,
“Bearing a feather'd pecker upon his head;
“Plac'd in a sacred shrine, with numerous wreaths
“Encircled. Unto my enquiring words,
“And wish to know who this could be, and why
“There worshipp'd in the shrine, and why that bird
“He bore,—then, Macareus,—she said—receive
“Thy wish; and also learn what mighty power
“My mistress boasts; attentive hear my words.

“Saturnian Picus in Ausonia's climes
“Was king; delighted still was he to train
“Steeds for the fight. The beauty you behold
“As man was his. So strong the 'semblance strikes,
“His real form in the feign'd stone appears.
“His mind his beauty equall'd. Nor as yet,
“The games quinquennial Grecian Elis gives,
“Four times could he have seen. He, by his face
“The Dryad nymphs who on the Latian hills
“Were born, attracted. Naiäds, river-nymphs,
“Him sought, whom Albula, and Anio bear;
“Almo's short course; the rapid stream of Nar;
“And Numicus; and Farfar's lovely shades;
“With all that Scythian Dian's woody realm
“Traverse; and all who haunt the sedgy lakes.
“But he, all these despis'd, lov'd one fair nymph,
“Whom erst Venilia, fame reports, brought forth
“To Janus on Palatiura's mount. When reach'd
“The nuptial age, preferr'd before the rest,
“Laurentian Picus gain'd the lovely maid.
“Wond'rous was she for beauty, wond'rous more
“Her art in song, and hence was Canens nam'd.
“Wont was her voice forests and rocks to move;
“Soothe savage beasts; arrest the course of streams;
“And stay the flying birds. While warbling thus
“With voice mature her song, Picus went forth
“To pierce amid Laurentium's fields the boars,
“Their native dwelling; on a fiery steed
“He rode; two quivering spears his left hand bore;
“His purple vestment golden clasps confin'd.
“In the same woods Apollo's daughter came,
“And from the fertile hills as herbs she cull'd,
“She left the fields, from her Circæan nam'd.
“When, veil'd by twigs herself, the youth she saw,
“Amaz'd she stood. Down from her bosom dropp'd
“The gather'd plants, and quickly through her frame
“The fire was felt to shoot. Soon as her mind
“Collected strength to curb the furious flame,
“She would have told him instant what she wish'd,
“But his impetuous steed, and circling crowd
“Of followers, kept her far.—Yet shalt thou not,
“If I but know my power, me fly; not should
“The winds thee bear away; else is the force
“Of plants all vanished, and my spells deceive.
“She said; and form'd an incorporeal shape
“Like to a boar; and bade it glance across
“The monarch's sight; and seem itself to hide
“In the dense thicket, where the trees grew thick:
“A spot impervious to the courser's foot.
“'Tis done; unwitting Picus eager seeks
“His shadowy prey; leaps from his smoking steed;
“And, vain-hop'd spoil pursuing, wanders deep
“In the thick woods. She baneful words repeats,
“And cursing charms collects. With new-fram'd verse
“Invokes strange deities: verse which erst while
“Has dull'd the splendid circle of the moon;
“And hid with rain-charg'd clouds her father's face.
“This verse repeated, instant heaven grew dark,
“And mists from earth arose: his comrades roam
“Through the dark paths; the king without a guard
“Is left. This spot, and time so suiting gain'd,
“Thus Circé cry'd—O fairest thou of forms!
“By those bright eyes which me enslav'd, by all
“Thy beauteous charms which make a goddess sue,
“Indulge my flame; accept th' all-seeing sun,
“My sire, for thine; nor, rigidly austere,
“Titanian Circé spurn.—She ceas'd; he stern
“Repuls'd the goddess, and her praying suit;
“Exclaiming,—be thou whom thou may'st, yet thine
“I am not; captive me another holds;
“And fervently, I pray, to lengthen'd years
“She still may hold me. Never will I wrong
“The nuptial bond with stranger's lawless love,
“While Janus' daughter, my lov'd Canens lives.—
“Sol's daughter then (re-iterated prayers
“In vain oft try'd) exclaim'd:—Nor shalt thou boast
“Impunity; nor e'er returning see
“Thy Canens; but learn well what may be done
“By slighted, loving woman: Circé loves,
“Is woman, and is slighted.—To the west
“She turn'd her twice, and turn'd her twice to east;
“Thrice with her wand she struck the youth, and thrice
“Her charm-fraught song repeated. Swift he fled,
“And wondering that more swift he ran than wont,
“Plumes on his limbs beheld. Constrain'd to add
“A new-form'd 'habitant to Latium's groves,
“Angry he wounds the spreading boughs, and digs
“The stubborn oak-tree with his rigid beak.
“A purple tinge his feathers take, the hue
“His garment shew'd; the gold, a buckle once,
“Which clasp'd his robe, to feathers too is chang'd;
“The shining gold circles his neck around:
“Nor aught remains of Picus save the name.

“Meantime his comrades vainly Picus call,
“Through all the groves; but Picus no where find.
“Circé they meet, for now the air was clear'd,
“The clouds dispers'd, or by the winds or sun;
“Charge her with crimes committed, and demand
“Their king; force threaten, and prepare to lift
“Their savage spears. The goddess sprinkles round
“Her noxious poisons and envenom'd juice;
“Invokes old night, and the nocturnal gods,
“Chaos, and Erebus; and Hecat's help,
“With magic howlings, prays. Woods (wond'rous sight!)
“Leap from their seats; earth groans; the neighbouring trees
“Grow pale; the grass with sprinkled blood is wet;
“Stones hoarsely seem to roar, and dogs to howl;
“Earth with black serpents swarms; unmatter'd forms
“Of bodies long defunct, flit through the air.
“Tremble the crowd, struck with th' appalling scene:
“Appall'd, and trembling, on their heads she strikes
“Th' envenom'd rod. From the rod's potent touch,
“For men a various crowd of furious beasts
“Appear'd: his form no single youth retain'd.

“Descending Phœbus had Hesperia's shores
“Now touch'd; and Canens with her heart and looks
“Sought for her spouse in vain: her servants all,
“And all the people roam through every wood,
“Bearing bright torches. Not content the nymph
“To weep, to tear her tresses, and to beat
“Her bosom, though not one of these was spar'd,
“She sally'd forth herself; and frantic stray'd
“Through Latium's plains. Six times the night beheld,
“And six returning suns, her, wandering o'er
“The mountain tops, or through the vallies deep,
“As chance directed: foodless, sleepless, still.
“Tiber at length beheld her; with her toil,
“And woe, worn out, upon his chilling banks
“Her limbs extending. There her very griefs,
“Pour'd with her tears, still musically sound.
“Mourning, her words in a soft dying tone
“Are heard, as when of old th' expiring swan
“Sung his own elegy. Wasted at length
“Her finest marrow, fast she pin'd away;
“And vanish'd quite to unsubstantial air.
“Yet still tradition marks the spot, the muse
“Of ancient days, still Canens call'd the place,
“In honor of the nymph, and justly too.

“Many the tales like these I heard; and much
“Like this I saw in that long tedious year.
“Sluggish and indolent for lack of toil,
“Thence are we bid to plough the deep again;
“Again to hoist the sail. But Circé told
“So much of doubtful ways, of voyage vast,
“And all the perils of the raging deep
“We must encounter; that my soul I own
“Trembled. I gain'd this shore, and here remain'd.”

Here Macareus finish'd; to Æneäs' nurse
Inurn'd in marble, this short verse was given:
“Cajeta here, sav'd from the flames of Greece,
“Her foster-son, for piety renown'd,
“With fires more fitting burn'd.” Loos'd are the ropes
That bound them to the grassy beach, and far
They leave the dwelling of the guileful power;
And seek the groves, beneath whose cloudy shade
The yellow-sanded Tiber in the main
Fierce rushes. Here Æneäs gains the realm,
And daughter of Latinus, Faunus' son:
But not without a war. Battles ensue
With the fierce people. For his promis'd bride
Turnus loud rages. All the Tuscans join
With Latium, and with doubtful warfare long
Is sought the conquest. Either side augment
With foreign aid their strength. Rutilians crowds
Defend, and crowds the Trojan trenches guard.

Not bootless, suppliant to Evander's roof
Æneäs went; though Venulus in vain,
To exil'd Diomed's great town was sent.
A mighty city Diomed' had rear'd
Beneath Apulian Daunus, and possess'd
His lands by marriage dower. But when made known
By Venulus, the message Turnus sent,
Beseeching aid, th' Etolian hero aid
Deny'd. For neither was his wish to send
His father's troops to fight, nor of his own
Had he, which might the strenuous warfare wage.—
“Lest this but feign'd you think,” he said, “though grief
“The sad relation will once more renew,
“Yet will I now th'afflicting tale repeat.

“When lofty Ilium was consum'd,—the towers
“Of Pergamus a prey to Grecian flames,
“The Locrian Ajax, for the ravish'd maid,
“Drew vengeance on us all; which he alone
“Deserv'd from angry Pallas. Scatter'd wide,
“And swept by tempests through the foaming deep,
“The Grecians, thunders, rains, and darkness bore,
“All heaven's and ocean's rage; and all to crown,
“On the Capharean rocks the fleet was dash'd.
“But not to tire you with each mournful scene
“In order; Greece might then the tears have drawn
“Ev'n from old Priam. Yet Minerva's care
“Snatch'd me in safety from the surge. Again
“From Argos, my paternal land, I'm driven;
“Bright Venus bearing still in mind the wound
“Of former days. Upon th'expanded deep
“Such toils I bore excessive; on the land
“So in stern combat strove, that oft those seem'd
“To me most blest, who in the common wreck,
“Caphareus sunk beneath the boisterous waves;
“A fate I anxious wish'd I'd with them shar'd.
“Now all my comrades, of the toilsome main,
“And constant warfare weary; respite crav'd
“From their long wanderings. Not was Agmon so,
“Fierce still his bosom burn'd; and now he rag'd
“From his misfortunes fiercer, as he cry'd—
“What, fellows! can remain which now to bear
“Your patience should refuse? What, though she would,
“Possesses Cythereä to inflict?
“When worse is to be dreaded, is the time
“For prayers: but when our state the worst has seen
“Fear should be spurn'd at; in our depth of woe
“Secure. Let she herself hear all my words;
“And let her hate, as hate she does, each man
“Who follows Diomed'! Yet will we all
“Her hatred mock, and stand against her power
“So mighty, with a no less mighty breast.—
“With words like these Etolian Agmon goads
“Th' already raging goddess, and revives
“Her ancient hate. Few with his boldness pleas'd;
“Far most my friends his daring speech condemn.
“Aiming at words respondent, straight his voice
“And throat are narrow'd; into plumes his hair
“Is alter'd; plumes o'er his new neck are spread;
“And o'er his chest, and back; his arms receive
“Long pinions, bending into light-form'd wings;
“Most of his feet is cleft in claws; his mouth
“Hardens to horn, and in a sharp beak ends.
“Lycus, Rhetenor, Nycteus, Abas, stare
With wonder, and while wondering there they stand
“The same appearance take; and far the most
“Of all my troop on wings up fly: and round
“The ship the air resounds with clapping wings.
“If what new shape those birds so sudden form'd
“Distinguish'd, you would know: swans not to be,
“Nought could the snowy swan resemble more.
“Son now to Daunus, my diminish'd host
“Scarce guards this kingdom, and those barren fields.”

Thus far Diomedes; and Venulus
Th' Apulian kingdom left, Calabria's gulf
Pass'd, and Messapia's plains, where he beheld
Caverns with woods deep shaded, with light rills
Cool water'd: here the goatish Pan now dwelt;
Once tenanted by wood-nymphs. From the spot
Them, Appulus, a shepherd drove to flight;
Alarm'd at first by sudden dread, but soon,
Resum'd their courage, his pursuit despis'd,
They to the measur'd notes their agile feet
Mov'd in the dance. The clown insults them more,
Mimics their motions in his boorish steps,
To coarse abusing adding speech obscene:
Nor ceas'd his tongue 'till bury'd in a tree.
Well may his manner from the fruit be known;
For the wild olive marks his tongue's reproach,
In berries most austere: to them transferr'd
The rough ungrateful sharpness of his words.

Return'd the legates, and the message told,
Th' Etolians' aid deny'd; without their help
Wage the Rutilians now the ready war:
And streams of blood from either army flow.
Lo! Turnus comes, and greedy torches brings
To fire the cover'd ships; the flames they fear
Whom tempests spar'd. And now the fire consum'd
The pitch, the wax, with all that flame could feed;
Then, mounting up the lofty mast, assail'd
The canvas; and the rowers' benches smok'd.
This saw the sacred mother of the gods,
And mindful that from Ida's lofty top
The pines were hew'd, with clash of tinkling brass,
And sounds of hollow box, fill'd all the air.
Then borne through ether by her lions tam'd,
She said; “Those flames with sacrilegious hand
“Thou hurl'st in vain: I will them snatch away.
“Ne'er will I calmly view the greedy fire
“Aught of the forests, which are mine consume.”
Loud thunders rattled as the goddess spoke;
And showery floods with hard rebounding hail,
The thunder follow'd. In the troubled air
The blustering brethren rag'd, and swell'd the main:
The billows furious clash'd. The mother us'd
One blast's exerted force; the cables burst,
Which bound the Phrygian vessels to the shore;
Them swiftly swept along, and in the deep
Low plung'd them. Straight the rigid wood grows soft
The timber turns to flesh; the crooked prows
To heads are chang'd: the oars to floating legs,
And toes; while what were ribs, as ribs remain;
The keels, deep in the vessels sunk, become
The spinal bones; in soft long tresses flows
The cordage; into arms the sailyards change:
The hue of all cerulean as before.
And now the Naiäds of the ocean sport
With girlish play, amid those very waves
Ere while so dreaded: sprung from rugged hills
They love the gentle main; nor aught their birth
Their bosoms irks. Yet mindful still what risks
Themselves encounter'd on the raging main,
Oft with assisting hand the high-tost bark
They aid; save Greeks the hapless bark contains.
Mindful of Iliüm's fall, they still detest
The Argives; and with joyful looks behold
The shatter'd fragments of Ulysses' ship:
With joy behold the bark Alcinous gave
Harden to rock, stone growing from the wood.

'Twas hop'd, the fleet transform'd to nymphs marine,
The fierce Rutilians, struck with awe, might cease
The war; but stubborn either side persists.
Each have their gods, and each have godlike souls.
Nor seek they now, so much the kingdom dower,
Latinus' sceptre, or Lavinia! thee,
As conquest: waging war through shame to cease.
Venus at last beholds, brave Turnus slain,
Her son's victorious arms; and Ardea falls,
A mighty town when Turnus yet was safe:
It cruel flames destroy'd; and every roof
The smoking embers hid; up from the heap
Of ruins, sprung a bird unknown before,
And beat the ashes with its sounding wings:
Its voice, its leanness, pallid hue, and all,
Suit well a captur'd city; and the name
Retaining still, with beating wings it wails.

Now had Æneäs' virtues, all the gods,
Ev'n Juno, forc'd to cease their ancient hate.
The young Iülus' growing empire fixt
On firm foundations, ripe was then for heaven
The Cytheréan prince. Venus besought
That favor of the gods; round her sire's neck
Her arms she clasp'd—“O, father!”—she exclaim'd—
“Indulgent still, be more than ever kind:
“Grant that a deity, though e'er so low,
“Æneäs may become! who through my blood
“Claims thee as grandsire; something let him gain.
“Let it suffice, that he has once beheld
“The dreary realm; and once already past
“The Stygian stream.”—The deities consent:
Nor does the heavenly queen, her forehead stern
Retain, consenting with a cheerful mien.
Then spoke the sire. “Both, daughter, merit well
“The boon celestial: what thou ask'st receive,
“Since thou desir'st it, and since he deserves.”
He ceas'd. O'erjoy'd, she grateful thanks returns;
And by yok'd turtles borne through yielding air,
She seeks Laurentum's shore, where gently creep
Numicius' waters 'midst a reedy shade
Into the neighbouring main. She bids him cleanse
All of Æneäs that to death was given;
And bear him silent floating to the sea.
The horned god, what Venus bade perform'd:
All that Æneäs had of mortal mould
He purg'd away, and wash'd him with his waves.
His better part remain'd. Odours divine,
O'er his lustrated limbs, the mother pour'd;
And with ambrosia and sweet nectar touch'd
His lips, and perfect is the new-made god:
Whom Indiges, the Roman people call,
Worship with altars, and in temples place.

Alba, and Latium then beneath the rule
Of young Iülus, call'd Ascanius, came.
Him Sylvius follow'd. Then Latinus held
The ancient sceptre, with his grandsire's name.
Alba to fam'd Latinus was the next.
Then Epitus; Capetus; Capys reign'd:
Capys before Capetus. After these
The realm was sway'd by Tiberinus; sunk
Beneath the billows of the Tuscan stream,
The waters took his name. His sons were two,
Fierce Remulus, and Acrota; the first
Pre-eminent in years, the thunder mock'd;
And by the thunder dy'd. Of meeker mind
His brother, to brave Aventinus left
The throne; who bury'd 'neath the self-same hill
Where once he reign'd, gave to the hill a name;
And Procas now the Latian people rul'd.

Beneath this monarch fair Pomona liv'd,
Than whom amongst the Hamadryad train
None tended closer to her garden's care;
None o'er the trees' young fruit more anxious watch'd;
And thence her name. In rivers, she, and woods,
Delighted not, for fields were all her joy;
And branches bending with delicious loads.
Nor grasps her hand a javelin, but a hook,
With which she now luxurious boughs restrains,
And prunes the stragglers, when too wide they spread:
Now she divides the rind, and in the cleft
Inserts a scion, and supporting juice
Affords th' adopted stranger. Ne'er she bears
That drought they feel, but oft with flowing streams
Waters the crooked fibres of their roots:
This all her love, this all her care, for man
She heeded not. Yet of the lawless force
Of rustics fearful, she her orchard round
Well fenc'd, and every part from access barr'd,
And fled from all mankind. What was there left
Untry'd, by satyrs, by the wanton fawns,
Or pine-crown'd Pan; Sylvanus, ever youth;
Or him whose sickle frights nocturnal thieves
To gain her? These Vertumnus all excell'd
In passion; but not happier he than they.
How oft a basket of ripe grain he bore,
Clad like a hardy reaper, and in form
A real reaper seem'd! Oft with new hay
His temples bound, who turns the fresh cut grass
He might be thought. Oft in his horny hand
He bears a goad; then might you swear, that now
The weary oxen he had just unyok'd.
Arm'd with a pruning hook, he one appears
Who lops the vines. When he the ladder lifts,
Apples about to pluck he seems. His sword
Shews him a soldier; and his trembling reed
An angler. Thus a thousand shapes he tries,
T' enjoy the pleasure of her beauteous sight.
Now leaning on a staff, his temples clad
In painted bonnet, he an ancient dame,
With silver locks thin scatter'd o'er her head,
Would seem; and in the well-trimm'd orchard walks;
Admires the fruit—“But, O! how far beyond
“Are these;”—he said, and kiss'd the lips he prais'd:
No ancient dame such kisses e'er bestow'd.
Then rested on the swelling turf, and view'd
The branches bending with th' autumnal load.

An elm there stood right opposite, full spread
With swelling grapes, which, with its social vine,
He prais'd;—“Yet should that trunk there single stand”—
Said he,—“without its vine, nought but the leaves
“Desirable would seem. As well the vine
“Which rests now safe upon its wedded elm,
“If not so join'd, were prostrate on the ground.
“Yet does the tree's example move not thee.
“Thou fly'st from marriage; fly'st from nuptial joys;
“Would they could charm thy soul. Not Helen e'er
“Such crowds of wooers sought; not her who mov'd
“The Lapithæan war; nor the bright queen
“Of Ithacus, still 'gainst the coward brave,
“As would pursue thee. Now, though all thou fly'st,
“Thy suitors scorning, thousands seek thy hand,
“Both demi-gods and gods, whoever dwell
“Of deities on Alba's lofty hills.
“Yet wisely would'st thou act, and happy wed,
“Attend my aged counsel (thee I love
“More than all these, and more than thou'dst believe)
“Reject such vulgar offers, and select
“Vertumnus for the consort of thy bed:
“And for his worth accept of me as pledge.
“For to himself not better is he known
“Than me. No truant through the earth he roves;
“These spots he dwells in, and in these alone,
“Nor loves he, like thy wooer's greatest share,
“Instant whate'er he sees. Thou his first flame
“Shalt be, and be his last. He will devote
“His every year to thee, and thee alone.
“Add too his youth, and nature's bounteous gifts
“Which decorate him; and that changed with ease,
“He every form can take, and those the best
“That thou may'st like, for all thou may'st command.
“Are not your pleasures both the same? the fruits
“Thou gatherest first, are they not given to him?
“Who takes thy offerings with a grateful hand.
“But now he seeks not fruits pluck'd from thy trees,
“Nor herbs thy garden feeds with mellow juice,
“Nor aught, save thee. Have pity on his flame:
“Think 'tis himself that sues; think that he prays
“Through me. O fear the vengeance of the gods!
“Affronted Venus' unrelenting rage;
“And fear Rhamnusia's still vindictive mind.
“That these you more may dread, I will relate
“(For age has much to me made known) a fact
“Notorious through all Cyprus which may urge
“Your soul more quickly to relent and love.

“Iphis of humble origin beheld
“The noble Anaxareté—the blood
“Of ancient Teucer: he beheld, and felt
“Love burn through all his frame; he struggled long
“By reason to o'ercome the flame, in vain.
“He came a humble suppliant to her gate.
“To her old nurse, he now his hapless love
“Confess'd, and pray'd her by her nurseling's hopes,
“She would not be severe. Now he assails
“All her attendants with his flattering speech,
“And anxious begs of each to intercede.
“Oft, grav'n on tablets, were his amorous words
“Borne to her. Oft against her door he hung
“Garlands, wet dropping with the dew of tears.
“Plac'd on the threshold hard his tender side,
“Venting reproaches on the cruel bar.
“But she more deaf than surges which arise
“With setting stars; and harder than the steel
“Numician fires have temper'd; or the rock
“Still living in its bed, spurn'd him, and laugh'd:
“And cruel, added lofty words to deeds
“Unmerciful, and robb'd him ev'n of hope.
“Impatient Iphis, now no longer bore
“The pangs of endless grief, but at her gate
“Thus utter'd his last 'plaints—Thou hast o'ercome
“O Anaxareté! for never more
“Will I molest thy quiet. Now prepare
“Glad triumphs; Pæan call; and bind thy brows
“With laurel bright, for thou victorious art,
“And joyfully I die. O heart of steel!
“Enjoy thy bliss. Now will I force thy praise
“In something;—somehow find a way to please,
“And thee constrain to grant I have desert.
“Yet still remember, that my love for thee
“Leaves me not but with life! at once I lose
“A double light. But fame shall not announce
“To thee my death, for I myself will come.
“Lest thou should'st doubt, thou shalt thyself behold
“My death, and on my lifeless body glut
“Thy cruel eyes. But, O ye gods above!
“If mortal deeds ye view, remember me:
“No more my tongue can dare to ask, than this,
“That distant ages may my fortune know;
“Grant fame to him, whom ye of life deprive.—
“He spoke, and to the porch so oft adorn'd
“With flowing chaplets, rais'd his humid eyes,
“And stretch'd his pallid arms; then to the post,
“The cord with noose well-fitted, fastening, cry'd:—
“Nymph, pitiless and cruel! pleas'd the best
“With garlands such as these!—Then in the cord,
“His head inserted; tow'rd the maid still turn'd,
“As, hapless load! with strangled throat he hung.
“Struck by his dangling feet, the portals seem'd
“A sound to give, which mighty seem'd to mourn;
“And open thrown, the horrid deed display'd:
“Loudly the servants shriek, and vainly bear
“His breathless body to his mother's dome.
“(Defunct his sire) She clasp'd him to her breast,
“Embrac'd his clay-cold limbs; and all she said
“That wretched parents say; and all she did
“That hapless mothers do: then through the town
“The melancholy funeral pomp she led,
“The lurid members following, on a bier
“For burning. In the road the dwelling stood
“Through which the sad procession took its way,
“And sound of lamentation struck the ears
“Of Anaxareté, whom now the power
“Of vengeance follow'd. Mov'd, she now exclaim'd—
“I will this melancholy prospect view.—
“And to the open casement mounted high.
“Scarce had she Iphis on the bier beheld,
“When harden'd grew her eyes; a pallid hue
“O'erspread her body as the warm blood fled.
“Her feet to move for flight she try'd, her feet
“Stuck fast; her face she try'd to turn away;
“She could not turn it; and by small degrees
“The stony hardness of her breast was spread
“O'er all her limbs. Believe not that I feign,
“For Salamis the figure of the nymph
“Still keeps; and there a temple is high rear'd
“Where Venus, the beholder, they adore.
“Mindful of this, O dearest nymph! lay by
“That cold disdain, and join thee to a spouse.
“So may no vernal frosts thy budding fruits
“Destroy, nor sweeping storms despoil thy flowers.”
When this the god, to various shapes in vain
Transform'd, had utter'd; he assum'd again
The youth, and flung the garb of age aside:
And so appear'd, as seems the radiant sun,
Freed from opposing clouds, and darting bright
His glory round. Force he prepar'd, but force
He needed not. The nymph his beauty mov'd,
And straight her bosom felt a mutual flame.

Th' Ausonian realm Amulius' force unjust
Commanded next; and ancient Numitor
By his young grandsons the lost realm regain'd.
The city's walls on Pales' feast were laid.
Now Tatius and the Sabine sires wage war
Against it; and the fortress' gate unclos'd,
Tarpeïa, well-deserving of her fate,
Breathes out her soul beneath a pile of shields.
Thence Cures' sons, each sound of voice repress'd,
Silent as wolves, steal on them drown'd in sleep,
And gain the gates, which Ilia's son had clos'd
With massive bars. But Juno one threw ope,
Nor creak'd the portal on its turning hinge.
Venus alone the fastening of the gate
Withdrawn, perceiv'd, and had it clos'd again,
Save that the acts a deity performs,
No deity can e'er undo. A spot
Near Janus' temple, cool with flowing streams,
Ausonia's Naiäds own'd; and aid from these
She sought. Nor could the nymphs deny a boon
So just; and instant all their rills and floods
Burst forth. But still to Janus' open gate
The way was passable, nor could the waves
Oppose their way. They to the fruitful springs
Apply blue sulphur, and the hollow caves
Fire with bitumen; to the lowest depth
They forceful penetrate, both this, and that.
And streams that late might vie with Alpine cold,
To flames themselves, not now in heat would yield.
The porches of the deity two-fac'd
Smok'd with the fiery sprinkling; and the gate,
Op'd to the hardy Sabine troops in vain,
Was by the new-sprung fountain guarded, 'till
The sons of Mars had girt them in their arms.
Soon Romulus attack'd them, and Rome's soil
Was strew'd with Sabine bodies and her own:
And impious weapons mingled blood of sires
With blood of sons-in-law; yet so it pleas'd,
War settled into peace, nor rag'd the steel
To ultimate destruction; in the realm
Tatius as equal sovereign was receiv'd.

Tatius deceas'd, thou, Romulus, dispens'd,
To the joint nations, equitable laws.
When Mars, his helmet thrown aside, the sire
Of gods and men, in words like these, address'd.—
“O parent! (since the Roman realm has gain'd
“A strong and wide foundation, nor should look
“To one protector only) lo! the time
“To grant the favor, promis'd me so long,
“To thy deserving grandson. Snatch'd from earth
“Let him in heaven he plac'd. Time was, long since,
“In a full council of the gods thou said'st,
“Well I remember, well my mindful breast
“The tender words remark'd; a son of mine
“By thee should in the azure sky be plac'd:
“Now be the fulness of thy words complete.”
Th' Omnipotent consented; with black clouds
Darken'd the air; and frighten'd all the town
With flaming thunders. When the martial god
Perceiv'd this fiat of the promis'd change,
Propp'd on his spear he fearless mounts the steeds,
Press'd by the bloody yoke; loud sounds the lash,
And prone the air he cleaves, lights on the top
Of shady Palatine. There Ilia's son
Delivering regal laws to Romans round,
He saw, and swept him thence: his mortal limbs
Waste in the empty air, as balls of lead
Hurl'd from a sling, melt in the midmost sky:
More fair his face appears, and worthy more
Of the high shrines: such now appears the form
Of great Quirinus, clad in purple robe.

His spouse him wept as lost, when heaven's high queen
Bade Iris on her sweeping bow descend,
And thus her orders to Hersilia speak:—
“O matron! glory of the Latian land;
“Pride of the Sabine race; most worthy spouse
“Of such an hero once; spouse worthy now
“Of god Quirinus, cease thy tears: if wish
“To see thy husband warms thee, led by me,
“To yonder grove upon Quirinus' hill
“Which flourishes, and overshades the fane
“Of Rome's great monarch, haste.”—Iris obeys;
Upon her painted bow to earth slides down,
And hails Hersilia in the bidden words.
Her eyes scarce lifting, she with blushing face
Replies—“O goddess! whom thou art, to me
“Unknown; that thou a goddess art is plain.
“Lead me, O lead! shew me my spouse's face:
“Which if fate grant I may once more behold,
“Heaven I'll allow I've seen.” Nor waits she more,
But with Thaumantian Iris, to the hill
Of Romulus proceeds. There, shot from heaven,
A star tow'rd earth descended; from its rays
Bright flam'd Hersilia's hair, and with the star
Mounted aloft. Rome's founder's well-known arms
Receive her. Now her former name is chang'd,
As chang'd her body: known as Ora, now,
A goddess, with her great Quirinus join'd.

The Fifteenth Book.

Numa's journey to Crotona. The Pythagorean philosophy of transmigration of the soul, and relation of various transformations. Death of Numa, and grief of Egeria. Story of Hippolytus. Change of Egeria to a fountain. Cippus. Visit of Esculapius to Rome, in the form of a snake. Assassination and apotheösis of Julius Cæsar. Praise of Augustus. Prophetic conclusion.

THE
Fifteenth Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

Meantime they seek who may the mighty load
Sustain; who may succeed so great a king.
Fame, harbinger of truth, the realm decreed
To noble Numa. Not content to know
The laws and customs of the Sabine race,
His mind capacious grasp'd a larger field.
He sought for nature's laws. Fir'd by this wish,
His country left, he journey'd to the town
Of him, who erst was great Alcides' host:
And as he sought to learn what founder first
These Grecian walls rear'd on Italia's shore,
Thus an old 'habitant, well vers'd in tales
Of yore, reply'd.—“Jove's son, rich in the herds
“Iberia bred, his prosperous journey bent
“By ocean unto fair Lacinia's shores:
“Enter'd himself the hospitable roof
“Of mighty Croto, while his cattle' stray'd
“Amid the tender grass; and his long toil
“Reliev'd by rest. Departing, thus he spoke—
“Here in thy grandson's age a town shall rise.—
“And true the promis'd words; for Myscelos,
“Argive Alemon's son, dear to the gods,
“Beyond all mortals of that time, now liv'd.
“The club-arm'd god, as press'd with heavy sleep,
“He lay, hung o'er him, and directed thus.—
“Haste leave thy native land;—where distant flows
“The rocky stream of Æsaris, go seek.—
“And threaten'd much if disobedient found:
“Then disappear'd the god and sleep at once.
“Alemon's son arose; with silent care
“Revolv'd the new-seen vision in his soul,
“And undetermin'd waver'd long his mind.
“The god commands,—the laws forbid to go:
“Death is the punishment to him decreed
“Who would his country quit. Now glorious Sol
“Had in the ocean hid his glittering face,
“And densest night shew'd her star-studded head;
“Again the god was seen to come; again
“Admonish, and with threats more stern demand
“Obedience. Terror-struck he now prepar'd
“His property and household gods to move
“To this new seat. Quick through the city flies
“The rumor; as a slighter of the laws
“Is he denounc'd. The trial ends at once;
“Th' acknowledg'd crime without a witness prov'd.
“The wretched culprit lifts his eyes and hands
“To heaven, exclaiming;—Thou whose toils twice six
“Have given thee claim to glory, lend thy aid;
“Thou art the cause that I offence have given.—
“Sentence in old, by stones of white and black
“Was shewn: by these th' accus'd was clear'd, by those
“Condemn'd. Thus is the heavy doom now pass'd,
“And in the fatal urn each flings a stone
“Of sable hue. Inverted then to count
“The pebbles, lo! their color all is chang'd
“From black to white; and thus, the doom revers'd,
“Alemon's son by Hercules is freed.
“Thanks to Alcmena's son, his kinsman, given,
“He o'er th' Ionian sea with favoring winds
“Sail'd, and Tarentum, Sparta's city, pass'd,
“And Sybaris, Neæthus Salentine,
“The gulph of Thurium, and Japygia's fields,
“With Temeses; which shores at distance seen
“By him, were scarcely pass'd, when he beheld
“The mouth of Æsaris, the destin'd flood:
“And thence not far a lofty heap of earth,
“Where Croto's hallow'd bones were safe inhum'd.
“There he as bidden rais'd the walls, which took
“From the high sepulchre their lasting name.
“Plain then the city's origin appears
“By fame, thus built upon Italia's shores.”

Here dwelt a sage whom Samos claim'd by birth,
But Samos and its masters he had fled;
A willing exile from tyrannic rule.
Though from celestial regions far remov'd
His mind to heaven could soar; with mental eyes
He things explor'd which to the human ken
Nature deny'd. When all with watchful care
Was learnt in secret, to the listening crowd
He public spoke. Told to their wondering ears
The primal origin of this great world;
The cause of things; what nature is; what god;
Whence snow; and whence tremendous thunder springs,—
From Jove, or from the rattling of rent clouds;
What shakes earth's pillars; by what law the stars
Wander; and what besides lies hid from man.
And first that animals should heap the board
For food, he strict forbade; and first in words
Thus eloquent, but unbeliev'd he spoke.

“Cease, mortals, cease your bodies to pollute
“With food unhallow'd: plentiful is grain;
“The apples bend the branches with their load;
“The vines bear swelling heaps of clustering grapes;
“Bland herbs you have; and such as heat require
“To mollify for use. Nor do you lack
“The milky fluid, or the honey sweet,
“Fragrant of thyme. The lavish earth supplies
“Mild aliments, her riches and affords
“Dainties, with nought of slaughter or of blood.
“Their hunger beasts alone with flesh allay,
“And beasts not all; the generous steed, the flock,
“The herd, on grass subsist. But lions grim,
“Armenian tigers, bears, and wolves, delight
“In bloody feasts. How impious to behold
“Bowels in bowels bury'd! greedy limbs
“Fatten on limbs digested, and prolong'd
“One's animation by another's death.
“In vain the earth, benignant mother, gives
“Her copious stores, if nought can thee delight,
“Save with a savage tooth this living food
“To chew, and Cyclopéan feasts renew.
“Can'st thou not cloy the appetite's keen rage,
“Deprav'd desire! unless another die?
“That early age, to which we give the name
“Of golden, happy was in mellow fruits,
“And plants, by earth produc'd; nor e'er did gore
“The mouth defile. In safety through the air
“Fowls way'd their feathers: fearless through the fields
“Wander'd the hare: nor, on the barb'd hook hung
“By his credulity, was snar'd the fish.
“Fraud was not, none suspicious of deceit;
“And all was fill'd with harmony and peace.
“But soon some wretch (whatever wretch was he)
“Such food disliking, in his greedy maw
“Bury'd what animation once possess'd.
“He led the way to wickedness. And first
“The weapon smok'd with blood of ravenous beasts:
“And there it should have stay'd. Just is the plea
“To take their lives that follow us for prey;
“But not devour them when destroy'd. From thence
“Wide spread the horrid practice, and the sow,
“Doom'd the first victim, is decreed to die,
“For digging up with crooked snout the seed;
“And blasting all the prospect of the year.
“The goat had gnaw'd the vine;—the culprit bled
“On Bacchus' altars to appease his ire.
“These two their fate deserv'd. But how, O sheep!
“Ye harmless flocks, have ye this merited,
“Form'd to receive protection from mankind?
“Who in your swelling dugs bland liquors bear,
“Who give your fleecy coverings, garments soft
“For us to form; and more in life than death
“Assist our wants. What has the ox deserved?
“A simple harmless beast, and born for toil,
“Of guile and fraud devoid? Forgetful man!
“And undeserving of the harvest's boon,
“Who could, the crooked joke just from his neck
“Remov'd, his faithful tiller sacrifice;
“Smite with the axe that neck with labor worn,
“With which so oft he had the soil renew'd;
“Which had so many crops on him bestow'd.
“Nor is this all, the savage deed perform'd,
“They implicate the heavenly gods themselves,
“Pretend th' almighty deities delight
“To see the slaughter of laborious steers.
“Spotless must be the victim; in his form
“Perfection: (fatal thus too much to please!)
“With gold and fillets gay, the beast is led
“Before the altar, hears the unknown prayers,
“And sees the meal, the product of his toil,
“Betwixt his horns full in his forehead flung:
“Then struck, he stains the weapon with his blood,
“The weapon in reflecting waves beneath
“Haply beheld before. Next they inspect
“His torn-out living entrails, and from thence
“Learn what the bosoms of the gods intend.
“Whence, man, such passion for forbidden food?
“How dar'st thou, mortal man! in flesh indulge?
“O! I conjure you, do it not; my words
“Deep in your minds revolve, when to your mouth
“The mangled members of the ox you raise,
“Know, and reflect, your laborer you devour.

“And now the god inspires my tongue, my tongue
“Shall follow what th' inspiring god directs,
“My truths I will disclose, display all heaven,
“And oracles of mind divine reveal.
“I sing of mighty things, by none before
“Investigated; what has long lain hid.
“It glads me through the lofty heavens to go;
“To sail amid the clouds, the sluggish earth
“Left far below; and on the shoulders mount
“Of mighty Atlas; thence from far look down,
“On wandering souls of reasoning aid depriv'd,
“Shivering and trembling at the thoughts of death.
“I thus exhort, and scenes of fate unfold.

“O race! whom terror of cold death affrights,
“Why fear ye Styx? why darkness? why vain names,
“The dreams of poets? why in fancy'd worlds
“Severe atonements? Whether slow disease,
“Or on the pile the body flames consume,
“Think not that any suffering it can feel.
“The soul from death is free, and one seat left,
“Another habitation finds and lives.
“Well I remember I was Pantheus' son,
“Euphorbus, in the fatal war of Troy,
“Whose breast the young Atrides' massive spear
“Transpierc'd in fight. I lately knew the shield
“My left arm bore, in Juno's temple hung,
“In Abantean Argos. All is chang'd,
“But nothing dies. The spirit roams about
“From that to this, from this to that again;
“And enters vacant bodies at its will.
“Now from a beast's to human frame it goes,
“Now from the man it passes to a beast;
“And never perishes. As yielding wax
“Is with new figures printed, nor remains
“Long in one form, nor holds its pristine shape;
“And yet is still the same: so do I teach,
“The soul the same, though vary'd are its seats.
“Hence, lest thy belly's keen desire o'ercome
“All piety, (and prophet-like I speak)
“Forbear by impious slaughter to disturb
“The souls of kindred friends; and let not blood
“With blood be fed. Now on the boundless sea
“Since I am borne, and to the breeze have loos'd
“My swelling sail, this more:—Nought that the world
“Contains, is in appearance still the same
“All moving alters; changeable is form'd
“Each image. And with constant motion flows
“Ev'n time itself, just like a passing stream;
“For nor the river, nor the flying hour
“Can be detain'd. As wave by wave impell'd,
“The foremost prest by that behind; itself
“Urging its predecessor; so time flies,
“And so is follow'd, ever seeming new.
“For what has been, is lost; what is, no more
“Shall be, and every moment is renew'd.
“You see the night emerge to glorious day,
“And the bright sun in shady darkness sink.
“Nor shews the sky one hue when nature all
“Worn out, in midnight quiet rests; and when
“Bright Lucifer dismounts his snowy steed:
“Varying again when fair Aurora comes
“Of light fore-runner, and the world, to Sol
“About to yield, dyes deep. The orbed god,
“When from earth's margin rising, in the morn
“Blushing appears, and blushing seems at eve
“Descending to the main, but at heaven's height
“Shines in white splendor; there th' ethereal air
“Is purest, earth's contagion distant far.
“Nor can nocturnal Phœbe always shew
“Her form the same, nor equal: less to-day,
“If waxing, than to-morrow she'll appear;
“If waning, greater. Note you not the year
“In four succeeding seasons passing on?
“A lively image of our mortal life.
“Tender and milky, like young infancy
“Is the new spring: then gaily shine the plants,
“Tumid with juice, but helpless; and delight
“With hope the planter: blooming all appears,
“And smiles in varied flowers the feeding earth;
“But delicate and pow'rless are the leaves.
“Robuster now the year, to spring succeeds
“The summer, and a sturdy youth becomes:
“No age is stronger, none more fertile yields
“Its stores, and none with heat more fervid glows.
“Next autumn follows, all the fire of youth
“Allay'd, mature in mildness, just between
“Old age and youth a medium temper holds;
“Some silvery tresses o'er his temples strew'd.
“Then aged winter, frightful object! comes
“With tottering step, and bald appears his head;
“Or snowy white the few remaining hairs.
“Our bodies too themselves submit to change
“Without remission. Nor what we have been,
“Nor what we are, to-morrow shall we be.
“The day has been when we were but as seed,
“And in his mother's womb the future man
“Dwelt. Nature with her aiding power appear'd,
“Bade that the embryo bury'd deep within
“The pregnant mother, should not rack her more:
“And from its dwelling to the free drawn air
“Produc'd it. To the day the infant brought,
“Lies sinewless; then quadruped he crawls
“In beast-like guise; then trembling, by degrees
“He stands erect, but with a leg unfirm,
“His knees assisting with some strong support.
“Now is he strong and swift, and youth's brisk stage
“Quick passes; then, the flower of years o'ergone,
“He slides down gradual to descending age:
“This undermines, demolishes the strength
“Of former years. And ancient Milo weeps,
“When he beholds those aged feeble arms
“Hang dangling by his side, once like the limbs
“Of Hercules; so muscular, so large.
“And Helen weeps when in her glass she views
“Her aged wrinkles, wondering to herself
“Why she was ravish'd twice. Consuming time!
“And envious age! all substance ye destroy;
“All things your teeth decay; and you consume
“By gradual progress, but by certain death.
“These also, which the elements we call,
“Their varying changes know: lo! I explain
“Their regular vicissitudes,—attend.

“Four elements th' eternal world contains;
“Two, earth and water, which their ponderous weight
“Sinks low; and two, the air and purer fire,
“Void of dense gravity, soar up on high,
“Free, unconfin'd. Though distant far in space,
“Yet from these four are all things form'd, and all
“To them resolve again. The earth dissolv'd
“Melts into liquid dew; more subtile grown
“It passes to the breezes and the air;
“And air again, when in its thinest form,
“Depriv'd of weight, springs to the fires on high.
“Thence retrogade they come, inverting all
“This order: fire is thicken'd to dense air;
“Air into water; water to hard earth;
“Nor aught retains its form. Nature, of things
“Renewer, figures from old figures makes.
“Nought that the world contains (doubt not my truth)
“E'er perishes, but changes; and receives
“An alter'd shape. What to be born we call,
“Is to begin in different guise to seem
“Than what we were; and what we call to die,
“Is but to cease to wear our wonted form.
“Though haply some part hither may be mov'd,
“Some thither, still the aggregate's the same.
“Nor can I think that aught can long endure
“Unalter'd. Soon the primal ages came
“From gold to iron. Quite transform'd is oft
“The state of places. I have seen what once
“Was earth most solid, chang'd to fluid waves.
“Land have I seen from ocean form'd; and shells
“Marine, lie scatter'd distant from all shore:
“Old anchors bury'd in the mountain tops.
“The rush of waters hollow vallies forms
“Where once were plains; and level lie the hills
“Beneath the deluge: dry the marshy ground
“With barren sand becomes; and what was parch'd
“Is soak'd, a marshy fen. Here nature opes
“New fountains; there she closes up the old.
“Rivers have bursted forth, when earthquakes shook
“The globe; some chok'd have disappear'd below.
“Thus Lycus, swallow'd by the yawning earth,
“Bursts far from thence again, another stream:
“The mighty Erasinus, now absorb'd,
“Now flows, to Argive fields again restor'd.
“And Myssus, they relate, who both his stream
“And banks disliking, as Caïcus now
“'Twixt others flows. With Amenane who rolls
“O'er sands Sicilian, flowing oft, and oft
“With clos'd-up fountains dry. Anigros, once
“Sweet to the thirsty, now his waters pours
“Untouch'd by lips, since (save we must deny
“To poets faith) the double-body'd race
“There bath'd the wounds Alcides' arrows gave.
“And is not Hypanis, the flood that springs
“From Scythia's hills, once sweet, with bitter salts
“Now tainted? By the waves begirt were once
“Antissa, Pharos, and Phœnician Tyre;
“And not a spot an island now remains.
“The ancient clowns, Leucadia to the land
“Saw join'd; now surges beat around its base;
“And Zanclé, they relate, was once conjoin'd
“To Italy, 'till ocean burst his bounds,
“And rent the land, and girt it with his waves.
“For Helicé or Buris should you seek,
“Achaïan towns, o'erwhelm'd beneath the waves
“You'll find them: boatmen oft are wont to shew
“The tottering cities, and their walls immers'd.
“Near Pitthean Trœzen is a lofty hill
“By trees unshaded; now indeed an hill
“But once a level plain. Wond'rous to tell
“The wind's resistless force, in caverns deep
“Inclos'd, for exit somewhere as it strain'd,
“And struggled long in vain, a freer range
“Of air to sweep; when all the prison round
“Was found no fissure pervious to the blast,
“It swell'd the high-rais'd ground: just so the breath
“Puffs out the bladder, or the horn'd goat's skin.
“The tumor still remains, and now appears,
“Grown hard by lapse of time, a lofty hill.
“Though numbers to my mind occur, or seen
“Or heard, but few beside I will relate.
“Do not streams too receive and lose new powers?
“Thy fountain, horned Ammon, at mid-day
“Is icy cold, but hot at morn and eve.
“The waters of Athamanis, are said,
“Sprinkled on wood, when Luna's lessening orb
“Shines in the heavens, to warm it into flame.
“A river have the Cicones, which turns
“To marble what it touches: whoso drinks
“Instant his inwards harden into stone.
“Cathis and Sybaris, which border near
“Our pastures, make the hair resemble gold.
“More wond'rous still, waters there are, with power
“The mind to change as well as change the limbs.
“Who has not heard of Salmacis obscene?
“And Ethiopa's lake, which whoso drinks
“Or furious raves, or sinks in sleep profound?
“Whoe'er his thirst at the Clitorian fount
“Quenches, he loathes all wine: abstemious, joys
“To drink pure water: whether power the waves
“Possess to thwart the heating vinous juice,
“Or, as the natives tell, with herbs and charms
“When the mad Prætides Melampus cur'd,
“He in the stream the mental medicine flung;
“And hate of wine the fountain still retains.
“Lyncestius' river flows with different power;
“Of this who swallows but the smallest draught
“Staggers, as charg'd with plenteous cups of wine.
“A dangerous place Arcadia holds (of yore
“Call'd Pheneos) for its waters' two-fold force:
“Dreaded by night: for drank by night they harm,
“But guiltless of all mischief drank by day.
“Thus lakes and rivers now these powers possess;
“Now those. Time was Ortygia on the waves
“Floated, now firm she rests. Argo, first ship
“Dreaded the isles Cyanean scatter'd round
“And clashing oft amid the roaring waves;
“Which rest unmov'd now, and the winds despise.
“Nor Etna whose sulphureous furnace flames
“Will always burn; time was it burn'd not yet:
“For let earth be an animated mass,
“Which lives, and breathing holes in various parts
“Exhaling flame, possesses, she may change,
“Each time she moves, those passages of air;
“These caverns close, and others open throw.
“Or whether wind, confin'd in those deep caves,
“Hurls rocks on rocks, and what the seeds of fire
“Contain; and flames from the concussion burst;
“The winds appeas'd, cold will the caves be left.
“Or if the flame be by bitumen caught,
“Or by pale sulphur, fiercely will it burn
“To the last particle; but when the earth
“Fuel and oily nutriment no more
“The flame shall give; a tedious length of years
“Its force exhausting, and its nutriment
“By nature's tooth consum'd, the famish'd flames
“Will this desert, deserted by their food.
“Fame says, the men who in Pallené live,
“A northern clime, when nine times in the lake
“Tritonian plung'd, in plumage light are clad.
“This scarce can I believe. They also tell
“That Scythia's females, sprinkling on their limbs
“Rank poisons, such like transformation gain.
“Yet when well-try'd experience us instructs,
“Faith may be given. Do we not bodies see
“Decaying slow with moisture and with heat,
“To animalcules chang'd? Nay, go, inter
“A chosen slaughter'd steer, (well known the fact,
“And much in use;) lo! from the putrid paunch
“Swarms of the flower-collecting bee will rise,
“Which rove the meadows as their parent rov'd:
“And urge their toil and labor still in hope.
“The warlike courser, prostrate on the ground,
“Becomes the source whence angry hornets rise.
“Cut from the sea-shore crab his crooked claws,
“And place the rest in earth, a scorpion thence,
“Will come, and threaten with his hooked tail.
“The meadow worms too, which with silky threads
“(Well noted is the fact,) are wont to weave
“The foliage, change the figures which they wear,
“Like the gay butterfly of funeral fame.
“The life-producing seeds of grass-green frogs
“Mud holds; and forms them first devoid of feet,
“Then gives them legs for swimming well contriv'd;
“And, apt that they for lengthen'd leaps may suit,
“Behind these far surpass the first in length.
“The cub the bear brings forth, at its first birth
“Is but a lump of barely living flesh:
“Licking, the mother forms the limbs, and gives
“As much of shape as she herself enjoys.
“See we the young not of the honey'd bee,
“Clos'd in the wax hexagonally shap'd,
“First form'd a body limbless, gaining late
“Their feet and wings? And who could e'er suppose,
“Except the fact he knew, that Juno's bird
“Which bears the starry tail; that Venus' doves;
“The thunder-bearer of almighty Jove;
“And all the race of birds, their being owe
“To a small egg's still smaller central part?
“There are, who think the human marrow chang'd,
“A snake becomes, when putrid turns the spine
“In a close sepulchre. These, each and all,
“Their origin from other things derive.
“One bird there is, which from herself alone
“Springs, and regenerates without foreign aid:
“Assyrians call her Phœnix. Not on grain,
“Nor herbs she lives, but on strong frankincense,
“And rich amomums' juice: when she has pass'd
“Five ages of her life, with her broad bill
“And talons, she upon the ilex' boughs,
“Or on the summit of the trembling palm,
“A nest constructs: on this she cassia strews,
“Spikes of sweet-smelling nard, the dark brown myrrh,
“And cinnamon well bruis'd: then lays herself
“Above, and on the odorous pile expires.
“Then, they report, an infant Phœnix springs
“From the parental corse, to which is given
“Five ages too, to live. When years afford
“Due strength to lift, and bear the ponderous load,
“She lightens of the weighty nest the boughs;
“With pious duty her own cradle takes,
“And parent's sepulchre; then, having gain'd
“Hyperion's city through the yielding air,
“Before the sacred portal lays it down.
“If of stupendous wonder aught ye find
“In this, hyænas must your wonder move;
“Alternate changing, females now they bear;
“And annual alter unto males again:
“That reptile too, which feeds on wind and air;
“And what it touches, straight its hue assumes.
“India by cluster-bearing Bacchus gain'd,
“Lynxes upon the conquering god bestow'd:
“And, (so they tell) whate'er their bladders void,
“Concretes to gems, and hardens in the air.
“Thus too, the coral hardens to a stone;
“A plant so flexible beneath the waves.
“Day would desert us; Phœbus' panting steeds
“Would in the mighty deep be plung'd, ere I
“Could finish, should I every substance tell
“Chang'd to new form. This we perceive, that time
“All turns. These nations mighty strength attain:
“Those sink in power. Thus Troy in wealth and strength
“Was mighty; and for ten long years could shed
“Her blood in torrents. Low she lies, and shews
“Her ancient ruins, and her numerous tombs
“For all her riches. Sparta once was great;
“And fam'd Mycené once in power was strong;
“With Athens; and the town Amphion rais'd.
“Now a mean spot is Sparta; low now lies
“Lofty Mycené; what of Thebes remains,
“The town of Œdipus, except his tale?
“What of Pandion's Athens, but the name?
“And now begins the fame of Dardan Rome
“To rise; the waves of Tiber from the hills
“Of Appenine descending, bathe her walls:
“Plac'd on a huge foundation shall she fix
“Her empire's base. By increase shall she change;
“And shall hereafter of the mighty world
“Be head. This prophets, they assert, have said,
“And fate-predicting oracles. Myself
“Remember Helenus, old Priam's son,
“Address'd Æneas, when the Trojan towers
“Were tottering, weeping,—and of future fate
“Doubtful, in words like these—O goddess born!
“If the prognostics of my soul I read
“Rightly, Troy ne'er, while thou art safe, will fall.
“Flames and the sword shall ope to thee a path
“Thou shalt depart, and with thyself convey
“An Iliüm, till a foreign land thou find'st;
“A land more friendly both to thee and Troy.
“Now, to the Phrygians' offspring due, I see
“A city rais'd; such former ages ne'er
“Beheld; such is not; such will never be.
“Thousands of worthies in a length of years,
“Its power shall spread; but lord of all the globe
“Shall he, descended of Iülus, reign;
“Who, when by earth awhile enjoy'd, shall gain—
“A seat celestial; and the heavens shall be
“The bound of his career.—Well does my mind
“Retain, that Helenus in such like words
“Address'd the chief who bore his country's gods.
“Joy'd I behold my kindred walls increase;
“And Grecia's conquest happy prove for Troy.
“But lest too wide I wander, and my steeds
“Forget the goal; know, heaven, and all beneath;
“Earth, and all earth's contents their shapes must change.
“Let us then, members of the world (not form'd
“Of body only, but with winged souls
“Which to the bodies of wild beasts may pass,
“Or dwell within the breasts of grazing herds)
“Permit those forms which may the souls contain
“Of parents, brethren, or of those once join'd
“To us by other bonds, certain of men,
“To rest secure and safe from savage wounds;
“Nor load our bowels at Thyestes' board.
“Soon, by ill custom warp'd, does he prepare
“To bathe his impious hands in human gore,
“Who severs with his knife the lowing throat
“Of the young calf, and turns a deafen'd ear
“To all its cries: or who the kid can slay,
“Moaning in plaintive tone like children's cries:
“Or who the fowl he fed before, can eat.
“What more is wanting, that may now complete
“The measure of iniquity? From thence
“Where the next step? Then let thine oxen plough,
“And let their death be due alone to age.
“Let from dread Boreas' piercing cold the sheep
“Defend thee with her wool. Let the full goat
“Present her udder to thy hand to press.
“Throw far thy nets, thy nooses, and thy snares,
“And all thy treacherous skill; nor with lim'd twig
“Deceive the bird; nor with strong toils the deer;
“Nor hide the barbed hook with treacherous bait.
“If animals annoy ye, them destroy:
“But slay them only. From the taste of flesh
“Free be your mouths, while food more fit ye eat.”

His breast with these, and such like doctrines fill'd,
Numa, 'tis said, back to his country came;
And held, unsought for, the supreme command
O'er Latium's realm. Blest with the nymph his spouse,
And by the muses guided, all the rites
Of sacrifice he taught: the people train'd,
Fond of fierce war, to arts of gentle peace.
When late he finish'd reign at once, and life,
The Latian females, nobles, commons, all
In streaming tears, bewail'd their Numa dead.
His consort Rome deserted, and lay hid
In the deep forests of Aricia's vale;
And with her wailings and her mournful sighs,
The rites impeded in Diana's fane.
How oft the nymphs who dwelt in lakes and groves,
Kind admonitions gave her not to mourn,
And sooth'd her with consolatory words!
How oft the son of Theseus weeping, said;
“Cease thus to grieve, nor think your fate alone
“Is hard. Look round awhile on others' woes;
“More mild your own you'll bear. Would that not mine
“Were such as might assuage your woe; but mine,
“When heard, to calm your grief may something yield.

“Haply report has sounded in your ears
“Of one Hippolytus the fate, destroy'd
“Through his most impious step-dame's treacherous fraud,
“And sire's credulity. With much surprize
“You'll hear,—nay scarcely will you trust my words,
“But he am I! Pasiphaë's daughter me
“Accus'd, that I with vain endeavour try'd
“To violate my parent's nuptial couch:
“Me feigning guilty of the crime she wish'd;
“On me th' offence retorting, or through fear
“I might accuse, or rage at her repulse.
“My sire, me guiltless from the city drove,
“And curs'd me going with most hostile prayers.
“To Pitthean Træzen I my exil'd flight
“Directed: and now drove along the shore
“Of Corinth's sea; when ocean sudden heav'd;
“A mighty heap of waters bent appear'd,
“Like an huge hill, and increase seem'd to gain;
“Then roaring loud was at its summit cleft.
“Thence, from the bursting waves a horned bull
“Rush'd forth, breast-high uprearing in the air;
“Spouting the waves through his capacious mouth
“And nostrils. Terror seiz'd my comrades' breasts:
“Fill'd with the thoughts of exile, mine alone
“Unmov'd remain'd. While my impatient steeds,
“Turn'd to the main their heads; with ears erect
“Affrighted stood; then by the beast appall'd,
“Rush'd rapid with the car o'er lofty rocks.
“With a vain hand I strive to gird the curb,
“Besmear'd with foaming whiteness; bending back
“With all my might I pull the pliant reins.
“Nor had my horses' furious madness mock'd
“My strength, save that the fast-revolving wheel
“A tree opposing struck, and shatter'd: wide
“The fragments flew. I from the car was thrown,
“Entangled in the harness: plain to view
“Were seen my living bowels dragg'd along;
“My sinews twisted round the stump; my limbs
“Part swept away, and part entangled left:
“Loud crash'd my fractur'd bones; my weary'd soul
“At length exhal'd; my body nought retain'd
“That could be known, one all-continued wound.
“Can you, O nymph! or dare you, now compare
“Your woe with mine? Since then I have beheld
“The realm of darkness, and my mangled limbs
“Bath'd in the waves of Phlegethon. Nor life
“Had been restor'd, but through the forceful help,
“Of medicine that Apollo's offspring gave.
“From him Pæonian aid when I had gain'd
“By plants of power, though much in Pluto's spite,
“Cynthia me cover'd with her densest clouds:
“And lest my sight their hatred should increase,
“That safe I might remain, and without risk
“Be seen, she gave to my appearance age,
“Nor left me features to be known again:
“And long deliberated, whether Crete
“Or Delos, for my dwelling she would chuse.
“But, Crete and Delos both abandon'd, here
“She plac'd me, and my name she bade renounce
“Which still reminded me of my wild steeds;
“Saying—O thou, Hippolytus who wast!
“Be Virbius now! Thenceforth within these groves
“I dwell,—a minor deity, I tend
“My heavenly mistress, and increase her train.”

But foreign griefs possess'd not power to chase
Egeria's woe; who at a mountain's foot
Thrown prostrate, melted in a flood of tears;
'Till Phœbus' sister by her sorrow mov'd,
Transform'd her body to a cooling fount;
And her limbs melted to still-during streams.

The miracle the wondering nymphs beheld;
Nor stood the son of Amazonia's queen
With less surprize than on the bosom seiz'd
Of the Tyrrhenian ploughman, when he view'd
The fate-foretelling clod, amidst the fields.
At first spontaneous and untouch'd it mov'd;
Then took a human figure; shook off earth,
And op'd its new-form'd prophesying mouth:
Tages the natives call'd him, who first taught
Th' Etruscan race the future to explain:
Or Romulus, when he his spear beheld
Stuck on Palatium's hill, and sudden sprout:
By a new root, not by its steely point,
Fixt fast: no more a weapon, but a tree,
With pliant branches, which afford a shade
Unlook'd for to the wondering people round:
Or Cippus, when he in the flowing stream
Beheld his new-form'd horns (for them he saw)
But thought th' appearance false; and what he view'd,
Oft rais'd his fingers to his head to touch:
No more his eyes distrusting, then he stood,
(As victor from a conquer'd foe he came,)
And raising up to heaven his hands and eyes,
“Ye gods!” he said, “whatever this portends,
“If happy, to my country, to the state,
“Be it;—if ominous of ill, to me.”
And then with odorous fires the gods ador'd,
On grassy altars of the green sward form'd;
And from the goblets pour'd the wine; and search'd,
The panting entrails of the slaughter'd sheep,
For what was meant. Th' Etruscan seer beheld
That mighty revolutions they foretold;
But yet obscurely: till his piercing eye
He from the entrails turn'd to Cippus' horns.
Then cry'd;—“Save thee, O king! for lo! the place
“For thee, O Cippus! and thy horns, the towers
“Of Latium will obey. Thou only haste;
“Delay not, but within the open gates
“Enter; so fate commands. In them receiv'd
“King wilt thou be; in safety wilt enjoy
“An ever-during kingdom.” Back he drew
His feet, and from the city's walls he turn'd
Sternly his looks; exclaiming; “far, ye gods!
“O, far avert these omens! Better I
“An exile roam for life, than monarch rule
“The Capitol.” Then he assembled straight
The reverend senate, and the people round:
But first with peaceful laurel veil'd his horns:
Then on a mound, there by the soldiers rais'd,
He stood; and pray'd in ancient mode to heaven.
“Lo! here,” he cry'd, “is one, whom save ye drive
“Far from your city, will your monarch be;
“By marks, but not by name I him describe:
“Two horns his forehead bears. He is the man,
“Once in the town receiv'd, the augur tells,
“With servile laws will rule ye. Nay, he might
“Your open gates have enter'd, but myself
“Oppos'd him; though more near to me is none.
“Expel him, Romans! from your city far;
“Or, if he merit them, with massive chains
“Load him: or rid yourself at once of fear
“By the proud tyrant's death.” Such murmurs sound
'Mid lofty pines, when Eurus whistles fierce;
Such is the roaring of the ocean waves
Rolling far distant, as the crowd sent forth:
Till from amidst the all-confounding noise
One spoke more loud, and—“which is he?” exclaim'd.
Then all the brows they search'd, the horns to find.
Cippus again address'd them. “What you seek
“Behold!” and from his head the garland tore,
Spite of their efforts, and his forehead shew'd,
With double horns distinguish'd. All their eyes
Depress'd, and sighs from every bosom burst:
Unwillingly, (incredible!) they view
That head so bright with merit. Then, no more
Bearing that honors due he should not gain,
They bind his temples with a festal crown.
Thee, Cippus! since within the walls forbid
To enter, now the senators present
A grateful gift; a tract of land so large
As with a plough, by two yok'd oxen drawn,
Thou canst from morn till close of day surround.
The horns, the type of this stupendous fact,
Long shall remain on brazen pillars grav'd.

Ye muses, patrons of the poet's song,
Explain (for all complete your knowledge, age
Most distant ne'er deceives you) why the isle
In Tiber's bosom, by his billows wash'd,
The rites of Esculapius introduc'd
Into the town of Romulus! A plague
Of direst form infected Latium's air,
And the pale bloodless bodies wasted thin
Squalid in poison. When the numerous deaths
Prov'd every effort of mankind was vain,
And vain the art of medicine, they beseech
Celestial aid, and unto Delphos go,
Apollo's oracle, 'mid place of earth;
Pray him to help their miserable state
With health-affording words; and end at once
The dreadful pest which scourg'd their mighty town.
The fane, the laurel, and the quiver, slung
Upon his shoulder, shook; and this reply
The tripod from its secret depth return'd;
Thrilling their fear-struck bosoms: “What you seek,
“O Romans! here, you should have nearer sought:
“And nearer now ev'n seek it. Phœbus' aid
“Your woe can lessen not; but Phœbus' son
“Can help ye: therefore with good omens go,
“And call my offspring to afford relief.”
Soon as the prudent senators receiv'd
The god's commands, with diligence they seek
What city's walls Apollo's son contain;
Depute a band, whom favoring breezes waft
To Epidaurus' shores. Soon as their keels
Touch'd on the strand, they to th' assembled crowd
Of Grecian elders haste; and earnest beg
To grant their deity, to check the rage
Of death amongst the hapless Latian race,
By his mere presence. So unerring fate
Had said. Divided is the council's voice:
Some would the aid besought, be granted; some,
And many, these oppose; refuse to send
To foreign lands their patron, and their god.
While dubious they deliberated, eve
Chas'd the remains of light, and the earth's shade
Threw darkness round; when, lo! the helping god
Appear'd in sleep before the Roman's bed
To stand, in form like what his temples grace.
His left hand bore a rugged staff; his right
Strok'd down the hairs of his expanded beard;
As thus with words of import mild he spoke;
“Fear not, for I will come; my temple leave.
“View but this snake which with his circling folds
“My staff entwines; remark him, that again
“You well may know him; chang'd to such a form
“Will I be; but more huge I will appear;
“Mighty in bulk as heavenly beings ought.”
The vision ceas'd, and vanish'd with the words:
And with the god fled sleep; and cheerful light
Follow'd the flight of Somnus. Now the morn
Had chas'd the starry fires; the Grecian chiefs,
Still dubious, in the splendid temple meet
Of the intreated deity, and pray
That some celestial sign he should display,
To prove which country for his seat he chose.
Scarce had they ended, when the shining god
Fore-running hisses sent; and as a snake
With lofty crest appear'd: at his approach
His statue, altars, portals, gilded roofs,
And marble pavement shook. He rear'd his chest
Sublime amid the temple; and around
Darted his eyes, which shone with living fire.
Trembled the fear-struck crowd. The sacred priest,
His hair encircled with a snowy band,
Straight knew him; and, “the God! the God!” exclaim'd:
“All present, him with hearts and tongues adore!
“O glorious deity! may thou, thus seen,
“Propitious be; thy worshippers protect,
“Who keep thy rites.” All present to the god
Adoring bend, and all his words repeat;
And Rome's embassadors with fervor join
In mind and voice. To these the god consents,
And his crest moving, certain signs affords:
Thrice hissing, thrice he shakes his forked tongue,
Then down the shining steps he glides, his head
Retorted; as he thence departs he views
His ancient altars, and a last salute,
His wonted seat, his long-own'd temple, gives.
Thence rolls he huge along the ground bestrew'd
With scatter'd flowers, in curving folds entwin'd;
And through the city's centre takes his way,
To where the bending mole the port defends.
Here rested he; and to dismiss appear'd
His followers, and the kind attending crowd,
With gracious looks; then in th' Ausonian ship
He plac'd his length. A deity's huge weight
The ship confess'd; the keel beneath the load
Bent. Glad Æneäs' offspring felt, and loos'd
(A bull first sacrific'd upon the shore,)
The cables which their crowded galley bound.
Light airs impell'd the vessel. High aloft
The god appear'd; upon the curving poop
Rested his neck, and view'd the azure waves.
By zephyrs wafted o'er th' Iönian sea,
They reach'd Italia when the sixth time rose
Aurora. Pass'd Scylacea, and the fane
Of Juno, on Lacinia's noted shore;
Japygia left, and shunn'd Amphissia's rocks
With larboard oars; and, coasting on the right,
Ceraunia, and Romechium pass'd, and pass'd
Narycia and Caulonia; they, (the risks
Of sea, and of Pelorus' narrow straits
Surmounted) pass th' Æolian monarch's isles;
Metallic Themesis; Leucasia's land;
And warm and rosy Pæstus. Thence they coast
Along Capræa; and Minerva's cape;
And pass Surrentum, rich in generous wine,
The town of Hercules; Parthenopé,
Built for soft ease; with Stabia; and from thence
Pass the Cumæan Sybil's sacred dome.
Hence by Linternum, with the mastich rich;
And boiling fountains are they borne; and past
Vulturnus sucking sand within the gulf;
And Sinuessa, fill'd with milk-white doves:
Marshy Minturnæ; with Cajeta, rais'd
By him she nurs'd; Antiphates' abode;
Trachas, by fens encompass'd; Circé's land;
And Antium's solid shore. Here when the crew
Had with toe flying vessel reach'd, (for now
Rough was the main) the god his folds untwines,
Glides on in frequent coils, and spires immense;
Entering a temple of his sire that stood
Close by the yellow beach. The ocean calm'd,
The Epidaurian god his father's fane
Now leaves; a deity to him close join'd
Thus hospitable found: the sandy shore
Ploughs in a furrow with his rattling scales:
Then, in the steersman confident, he rests
On the high poop his head, till they approach
Lavinium's city, and her sacred seat,
And Tiber's mouth. The people rush in heaps,
And crowds of matrons and of fathers rush,
Confus'dly hither; even the vestal maids
Who guard the sacred fire: and all salute
The god with joyful clamor. Then where'er
The rapid vessel cleaves th' opposing stream,
The incense crackles on the banks, and rais'd
Are lines of altars, thick on either shore;
The smoke perfumes the air; the victims bleed
In heaps, and warm the sacrificial knife.
The Roman city now, the world's great head,
They enter'd, up erect the serpent rose;
From the mast's loftiest summit tower'd his neck,
And round he look'd to chuse a fit abode.
The waves circumfluent in two equal streams
Divide; the isle has thence its name, the arms
On either side are stretch'd, land in the midst.
Hither the Æsculapian snake himself
Betook, departing from the Latian ship;
Resum'd his form celestial, and their griefs
Dispersing, came health-bearer to the land.

A foreign power he in our temples stands,
But Cæsar, in his native town a god
Is worshipp'd. In the forum, and the field
Fam'd equal: yet not his well-finish'd wars,
His triumphs, nor the deeds in peace perform'd
So justly chang'd him to an heavenly shape,
A blazing star, as did the son he left.
For no atchievement Cæsar e'er perform'd
Can with the boast to be Augustus' sire
Compare. Far greater this than to subdue
The sea-girt Britons:—his victorious fleets
To seven-mouth'd Nile to lead;—to bring the realms
Cinyphian Juba rul'd, 'neath Rome's control,
Rebel Numidia; and, puff'd high in pride
With Mithridates' glory, Pontus' land;
Rich triumphs to have gain'd, and triumphs more
To merit, as a man so great produce;
To whose presiding care, O bounteous gods!
Mankind ye gave, and them completely blest.
And lest he seem from mortal seed to spring
His sire must mount to heaven, in form a god.
This the bright mother of Æneäs saw,
And for the priest beheld a mournful fate
Prepar'd, and moving saw the arms conspir'd.
She trembled, and to every god she met
Address'd her: “Lo! what deep and potent plots
“Against me they prepare. See, with what art
“His life is sought, who sole to me is left
“Of my Iülus. Why must I alone
“Be harrass'd still with never-ceasing cares?
“Whom now Tydides' Calydonian spear
“Wounds; now the walls of ill-protected Troy
“Lie prostrate. Who my darling son behold
“Driv'n to long wanderings; on the ocean toss'd;
“Entering the silent mansions of the dead;
“Waging fierce war with Turnus; or, if truth
“I speak, with Juno rather. Yet why now
“Record I former sufferings in my sons?
“Terror prevents all memory of the past;
“See, where at me their impious swords they point!
“O, I conjure you! stay them; and prevent
“The horrid deed; lest, spilt the high-priest's blood,
“The fires of Vesta be for ever dark.”
With words like these did troubled Venus move
Each power of heaven, in vain; yet all were touch'd,
And, though the stern decrees of rigid fate
To break unable, tokens plain they gave,
That some immense calamity was nigh.
They tell, that clashing arms 'mid the black clouds,
And dreadful horns and trumpets in the heavens
Sounded, to warn us of the impious deed.
Full of solicitude the earth beheld
The pale wan image of sad Phœbus' face.
Torches were often seen 'mid heaven to glare;
And from the clouds oft gory drops were shed.
Blue Lucifer a dusky hue o'ercast;
And Luna's car was sprinkled o'er with blood.
Th' infernal owl in numerous places shriek'd,
A direful omen! In a thousand fanes
The ivory statues wept; the sacred groves
Re-echo'd all with songs and threatening sounds.
No victim seem'd appeasing; tumults vast
Approaching shew'd the entrails; and appear'd
The liver always with a wounded head.
Around the domes, and temples of the gods
Loud howl'd the midnight dogs; the silent shades
Flitted along; and tremblings shook the town.
Yet could not these forebodings of the heavens
Crush the conspiracy, or ward his fate;
And in the temple were the weapons drawn:
For, but the senate-house, no spot could please
The vile assassins for the bloody deed.
Then Cytherea smote her lovely breast
In anguish; and beneath an heavenly cloud
Sought to conceal him: such a cloud as once
From furious Menelaüs Paris sav'd;
And snatch'd Æneäs from Tydides' sword.
Then thus her sire: “O daughter! hast thou power
“Th' immutable decrees of fate to change?
“To thee 'tis granted to inspect the dome
“Of the three sisters; there thou wilt behold
“Th' eternal tablets of events engrav'd
“On steel and brass, a work of mighty toil.
“Safe, they nor fear the clashing of the sky,
“Nor rage of thunder, nor of ruin aught.
“There wilt thou written find thy offspring's fate
“On ever-during adamant. Myself
“Have read it, and record it in my mind;
“And lest thou should'st be to the future blind,
“I will relate it. He for whom thou toil'st,
“O Cytherea! has his time fulfill'd;
“The sum of years which to the earth he ow'd.
“That he a deity in heaven may rise,
“And be in temples worshipp'd is thy care,
“And his successor's; who his name will take,
“And on his shoulders bear the wide world's rule;
“On him impos'd. He, of his murder'd sire
“Valiant avenger, shall in all his wars
“Our favoring influence feel. Mutina's walls,
“By him besieg'd, in conquest shall confess
“His power, and sue for peace. Pharsalia, him
“Shall feel; and, drench'd in Macedonian blood
“Again, Philippi. On Sicilia's seas
“His mighty name shall conquer. Egypt's queen,
“Falsely relying on the nuptial bond
“With Rome's triumvir, falls: all vain her threats,
“That Tiber should subservient bend to Nile.
“Why should I speak to thee of barbarous hordes,
“Nations which dwell at either seas' extreme?
“Whatever habitable earth contains
“Will to his empire bend. Ocean will own
“His sway. Peace on th'extended earth bestow'd,
“To civil studies will his breast be turn'd;
“And laws most equitable will he frame.
“By his example curb licentious souls;
“And, stretching forward to a future age
“His anxious care, which their sons' sons may feel,
“His offspring, nurtur'd in a pious womb,
“At once his name and station will assume.
“Nor shall he touch th' ethereal seats, nor join
“His kindred stars till full like him in years.
“Meantime his soul, snatch'd from the mangled corse,
“Form to a brilliant star, a god divine:
“That Julius from his lofty seat may still
“Our forum, and our Capitol behold.”
Scarcely the sire had ceas'd, when Venus, bright,
But unperceiv'd by all, stood in the midst
Of Rome's assembled senate; from the breast
Of her lov'd Cæsar took the recent soul,
Nor let it waste in air. Up to the stars
She bore it. Rapid as she swept along,
She saw it shine with light, she saw it burn;
Then from her bosom spring above the moon:
Lofty it flies, it shines a glittering star,
Dragging a flaming tail's stupendous length.
Viewing the glorious actions of his son,
Candid he grants them mightier than his own,
And thus surpast rejoices. Let him frown,
If to his parent's deeds we his prefer;
Yet fame quite free will such commands despise,
Give him unwish'd-for precedence; and here,
And here alone he'll disobedience find.
So Atreus yielded to the mighty fame
Of Agamemnon; Theseus so surpass'd
Ægeus; and Achilles Peleus so.
Nay more, examples nearer to themselves
If I should use, Saturn submits to Jove.
Jove rules th' ethereal sky, the triform world;
And all the earth beneath Augustus lies:
Each is the sire and ruler of his realm.

O, I implore, ye gods! who did attend
Æneäs,—who made fire and sword retreat!
Ye native deities of Latium's soil!
Quirinus, founder of the walls of Rome!
Mars, of Quirinus never-conquer'd, sire!
Vesta, held sacred midst the Cæsars' gods!
Domestic Phœbus, with chaste Vesta plac'd!
And Jove, who guards the high Tarpeiän walls!
With all whom pious poets may invoke;
Slow may that day arrive, and older far
Than what our age may see, when to the clouds
His glorious head shall mount, quitting this globe
He rules so well, and our beseeching prayers
Bending with condescending ear to grant.

Now is my work complete, which not Jove's ire,
Nor flame, nor steel, nor gnawing tooth of age,
Shall e'er destroy. Come when it will, that day
Which nothing, save my mortal frame, can touch.
Which ends the being of a dubious life,
My better part unperishing shall mount
Above the loftiest stars. Eternal still
Shall be my name. Where'er Rome's power extends
O'er conquer'd earth, my verses shall be read;
And, if the presages by poets given
Be true, to endless years my fame shall live.

FINIS.

Hayden, Printer, Brydges Street, Covent Garden.