ἀζάνεται μὲν πρῶτον ἐπὶ χθονὶ δένδρεα καλά,
φλοιὸς δ’ ἀμφιπεριφθινύθει, πίπτουσι δ’ ἄπ’ ὄζοι,
τῶν δὲ θ’ ὁμοῦ ψυχὴ λείπει φαός ἠελίοιο.’[[499]]
The hamadryad’s life is bound to her tree, she is hurt when it is wounded, she cries when the axe threatens, she dies with the fallen trunk:—
‘Non sine hamadryadis fato cadit arborea trabs.’[[500]]
How personal a creature the tree-nymph was to the classic mind, is shown in legends like that of Paraibios, whose father, regardless of the hamadryad’s entreaties, cut down her ancient trunk, and in himself and in his offspring suffered her dire vengeance.[[501]] The ethnographic student finds a curious interest in transformation-myths like Ovid’s, keeping up as they do vestiges of philosophy of archaic type—Daphne turned into the laurel that Apollo honours for her sake, the sorrowing sisters of Phaethon changing into trees, yet still dropping blood and crying for mercy when their shoots are torn.[[502]] Such episodes mediæval poetry could still adapt, as in the pathless infernal forest whose knotted dusk-leaved trees revealed their human animation to the Florentine when he plucked a twig,
‘Allor porsi la mano un poco avante,
E colsi un ramoscel da un gran pruno:
E’ l tronco suo gridò: Perchè mi schiante?’[[503]]
or the myrtle to which Ruggiero tied his hippogriff, who tugged at the poor trunk till it murmured and oped its mouth, and with doleful voice told that it was Astolfo, enchanted by the wicked Alcina among her other lovers,