[80.] Mopsopian.]—Ver. 661. This very uneuphonious name is derived from Mopsopus, one of the ancient kings of Attica. It here means ‘Athenian.’
[81.] The greatest of us.]—Ver. 662. Namely, Calliope, who had commenced her song as the representative of the Muses, at line 341.
Supplementary Notes (added by transcriber)
[A.] ... the Pontic Epistles (Book i. Ep. 5, l. 79). In the Bell printing, the “l” of “l. 79” is damaged and can be misread as an “i”.
[B.] tunc denique raptam: Ovid V.471. The readings “tunc” and “tum” are both found, with no difference in meter or translation, but “raptum” for “raptam” is an error.
BOOK THE SIXTH.
[ FABLE I.]
Arachne, vain-glorious of her ingenuity, challenges Minerva to a contest of skill in her art. The Goddess accepts the challenge, and, being enraged to see herself outdone, strikes her rival with her shuttle; upon which, Arachne, in her distress, hangs herself. Minerva, touched with compassion, transforms her into a spider.
Tritonia had meanwhile lent an ear to such recitals as these, and she approved of the songs of the Aonian maids, and their just resentment. Then thus she says to herself: “To commend is but a trifling matter; let us, too, deserve commendation, and let us not permit our divine majesty to be slighted without due punishment.” And then she turns her mind to the fate of the Mæonian Arachne; who, as she had heard, did not yield to her in the praises of the art of working in wool. She was renowned not for the place of her birth, nor for the origin of her family, but for her skill alone. Idmon, of Colophon,[1] her father, used to dye the soaking wool in Phocæan[2] purple.[3] Her mother was dead; but she, too, was of the lower rank, and of the same condition with her husband. Yet Arachne, by her skill, had acquired a memorable name throughout the cities of Lydia; although, born of a humble family, she used to live in the little town of Hypæpæ.[4] Often VI. 14-41 did the Nymphs desert the VI. 15-45 vineyards of their own Tymolus, that they might look at her admirable workmanship; often did the Nymphs of the river Pactolus[5] forsake their streams. And not only did it give them pleasure to look at the garments when made, but even, too, while they were being made, so much grace was there in her working. Whether it was that she was rolling the rough wool into its first balls, or whether she was unravelling the work with her fingers, and was softening the fleeces worked over again with long drawings out, equalling the mists in their fineness; or whether she was moving the smooth round spindle with her nimble thumb, or was embroidering with the needle, you might perceive that she had been instructed by Pallas.