She ceas'd: a silent interval, but short,
Ensu'd; and next Leuconoë thus address'd
Her listening sisters:—“Ev'n the sun himself,
“Whose heavenly light so universal shines,
“To love is subject: his amours I tell.
“This deity's keen sight the first espy'd—
“(For all things penetrating first he sees)
“The crime of Mars and Venus; sore chagrin'd,
“To Vulcan he th' adulterous theft display'd,
“And told him where they lay. Appall'd he heard,—
“And dropp'd the tools his dexterous hand contain'd;
“But soon recover'd. Slender chains of brass,
“And nets, and traps he form'd; so wonderous fine,
“They mock'd the power of sight: for far less fine,
“The smallest thread the distaff forms; or line,
“Spun by the spider, pendent from the roof.
“Curious he form'd it; at the lightest touch
“It yielded; each momentum, slight howe'er,
“Caus'd its recession: this he artful hung,
“The couch enfolding. When the faithless wife,
“And paramour upon the bed embrac'd,
“Both in the lewd conjunction were ensnar'd;
“Caught by the husband's skill, whose art the chains
“In novel form had fram'd. The Lemnian god
“Instant wide threw the ivory doors, and gave
“Admittance free to every curious eye:
“In shameful guise together bound they laid.
“But some light gods, not blaming much the sight,
“Would wish thus sham'd to lie: loud laugh'd the whole,
“And long in heaven the tale jocose was told.
“The well-remember'd deed, the Cyprian queen
“Retorting, made the god remember too:
“And him who her conceal'd amours disclos'd,
“In turn betray'd. What now, Hyperion's son,
“Avails thy beauty!—or thy radiant flames?
“For thou, whose fires warm all the wide-spread world,
“Burn'st with a new-felt heat! Thou, whose wide view,
“Should every object grasp, with partial ken
“Leucothoë only see'st! that nymph alone,
“Attracts those eyes, whose lustre all the world
“Expect to view. Oft in the eastern skies,
“More early rising, art thou seen; and oft
“More tardy 'neath the waves thou sinkest: long
“The wintry days thou stretchest, with delay
“Thy object lov'd to see. Meantime pale gloom
“O'ercasts thy orb; the dullness of thy mind
“Obstructs thy brightness; and thy rays obscure,
“Terror in mortal breasts inspire. Not pale
“Thou fadest, as, when nearer whirl'd to earth,
“Faint Luna's shadow o'er thy surface glooms:
“But love, and only love the paleness gives.
“Her only, now thy amorous soul pursues;
“Rhodos, nor Clymené, nor Persé fair,
“Of Colchian Circé mother, tempt thee now;
“Nor Clytié, whom thy cold neglect still spurns;
“Yet still she burns to clasp thee: deep she mourns,
“Stung more acutely by this fresh amour.
“Now in Leucothoë, every former love
“Is lost. Leucothoë, whom the beauteous nymph,
“Eurynomé, in odoriferous climes
“Of Araby brought forth. Full-grown, matur'd,
“Leucothoë's beauteous form no less surpass'd
“Her mother's, than her mother's all beside.
“Her sire, the royal Orchamus (who claim'd
“A seventh descent from ancient Belus) rul'd
“The Achæmenian towns. The rapid steeds
“Of Phœbus pasture 'neath the western sky;
“Not grass, ambrosia, eating; heavenly food,
“Which nerves their limbs, faint with diurnal toil,
“Restoring all their ardor. Whilst the steeds,
“This their celestial nourishment enjoy;
“And night, as 'custom'd, governs in her turn;
“The god the close apartments of his nymph
“Beloved, enters;—form'd to outward view,
“Eurynomé her mother. Her he saw
“The slender threads from spindle twirling fine,
“Illumin'd by the lamp; and circled round
“By twice six female helpers. Warm he gave
“As a lov'd daughter, his maternal kiss,
“And said;—our converse secrecy demands.—
“Th' attendant maids depart,—nor hinderance give,
“Loitering, a mother's secret words to hear.
“When he, the chamber free from spy or guard,
“Exclaims,—no female I! behold the god,
“The lengthen'd year who spaces! who beholds
“Each object earth contains! the world's great eye
“By which it all surveys. My tender words
“Believe, I dearly love thee. Pale she look'd,
“While thus he spoke;—started, and trembling dropp'd
“Her distaff, and her spindle from her hand
“Nerveless. But ev'n her terror seem'd to add
“Fresh beauty to her features. Longer he
“Delay'd not, but his wonted form assum'd;
“In heavenly splendor shining. Mild the maid,
“Won by his beauteous brightness, (though at first,
“His sudden shape surpriz'd her) sunk beneath
“The force he urg'd, with unresisting power.
“The jealous Clytié (who with amorous flame
“Burn'd for Apollo) urg'd by harlot's rage,
“Straight to the sire, Leucothoë's crime betray'd;
“Painting the nymph's misdeed with heighten'd glow.
“Fierce rag'd the father,—merciless inhum'd
“Her living body deep in earth! Outstretcht
“High to the sun her arms, and praying warm
“For mercy;—he by force, she cry'd, prevail'd!
“O'er her untimely grave a lofty mound
“Of sand, her sire uprear'd. Hyperion's son
“Through this an opening with his beams quick form'd,
“Full wide for her, her head intomb'd to lift,
“Once to the light again. Thy bury'd corse
“No more thou now couldst raise; the ponderous load
“Of earth prevents thee; and a bloodless mass,
“Exanimate, thou ly'st! Not deeper grief
“'Tis said, the ruler of the swift-wing'd steeds,
“Display'd, when o'er the earth the hapless flames
“By Phaëton were thrown. Arduous he strives,
“Her gelid limbs, with all his powerful rays
“To vivid heat recal: stern fate withstands
“His utmost urg'd endeavours: bathing then
“Her pallid corse, and all the earth around
“With odorous nectar, sorrowing sad he cries;—
“Yet, shalt thou reach the heavens! And soon began
“Her limbs, soft melting in celestial dew,
“With moistening drops of strong perfume to flow:
“Slowly a frankincense's rooted twigs
“Spread in the earth,—its top the hillock burst.
“Angry the god (though violent love the pain
“Of jealousy might well excuse,—the pain
“Of jealousy the tale) from Clytié now
“Abstains; no more in amorous mood they meet.
“Rash now the deed her burning love had caus'd,
“Too late she found;—she flies her sister-nymphs;
“And pining, on the cold bare turf she sits;
“By day,—by night,—sole shelter'd by the sky;
“Her dripping tresses matted round her brows:
“Food,—drink, abhorring. Nine long days she bore
“Sharp famine, bath'd with dew, bath'd with her tears;
“Still on the ground prone lying. Yet the god
“In circling motion still she ardent view'd;
“Turning her face to his. Tradition tells,
“Her limbs to earth grew fasten'd: ghastly pale
“Her color; chang'd to bloodless leaves she stood,
“Streak'd ruddy here and there;—a violet flower
“Her face o'erspreading. Still that face she turns,
“To meet the sun;—though binding roots retain
“Her feet, her love unalter'd still remains.”
She ended; all their listening ears, well pleas'd,
The wonderous story heard. Some hard of faith
Its truth, its probability deny.
To true divinities such power some grant;
And power to compass more;—to Bacchus none
Such potence own. The sisters, silent now,
Alcithoë beg to speak: she shooting swift
Her shuttle through th' extended threads, exclaims;—
“Of Daphnis' love, so known, on Ida's hill,
“His flocks who tended, whom his angry nymph,
“To stone transform'd (such fury fires the breast
“Of those who desperate love!) I shall not tell:
“Nor yet of Scython, of ambiguous form,
“Now male, now female; nature's wonted laws
“Inconstant proving: thee, O Celmis! too
“I pass; once faithful nurse to infant Jove,
“Now chang'd to adamant: Curetes! sprung
“From showery floods: Crocus, and Smilax, both
“To blooming flowers transform'd: unnotic'd these,
“My tale from novelty itself shall please:
“How Salmacis so infamous became,
“Then list; whose potent waves, the luckless limbs
“Enerve, of those they bathe. Conceal'd the cause;
“Yet far and wide the fountain's power is known.
“Deep in the sheltering caves of Ida's hill,
“The Naiäd nymphs a beauteous infant nurs'd;
“Whom Cyprus' goddess unto Hermes bore.
“His father's beauty, and his mother's, shone
“In every feature; in his name conjoin'd
“He bore their appellations. When matur'd
“By fifteen summers, from paternal hills
“Straying, he wander'd from his nursing Idé:
“In lands unknown he joy'd, and joy'd to see
“Strange rivers,—pleasure lessening every toil.
“Through Lycia's towns he stray'd; and further still,
“To bordering Caria, where a pool he spy'd,
“Whose lowest depth a gleam transparent shew'd:
“No marshy canes,—no filthy barren weeds,
“Nor pointed bulrush near the margin grew:
“Full on the eye the water shone, yet round
“Its brink a border smil'd of verdant turf,
“And plants forever green. Here dwelt a nymph,
“But one who never join'd the active chace;
“The bow who never bent; who never strove
“To conquer in the race: of all the nymphs,
“Alone no comrade of Diana fleet.
“Oft, as 'tis said, her sister-nymphs exclaim'd;—
“Come, Salmacis, thy painted quiver take;
“Or take thy javelin;—with soft pleasures mix
“Laborious sporting: but nor javelin she,
“Nor painted quiver took;—with sportive toil,
“Soft pleasures mingling: sole intent to bathe,
“Her beauteous limbs amidst her own clear waves;
“And through her flowing tresses oft to draw
“The boxen comb, while o'er the fountain bent,
“She studies all her graces: now, her form
“Clad in a robe transparent, stretcht she lies,
“Or on the yielding leaves, or bending grass;
“Now flowers she culls;—and so it chanc'd to fall,
“Flowers she was gathering, when she first beheld
“The charming youth; no sooner seen than lov'd.
“Not forth she rush'd at first, though strongly urg'd,
“Forward to spring, but all adjusted fair:
“Closely survey'd her robe; her features form'd;
“And every part in beauteous shape compos'd.
“Then thus address'd him;—O, most godlike youth!
“And if a god, the lovely Cupid sure!
“But if of mortal mould, blest is thy sire!
“Blest is thy brother! and thy sister blest!—
“If sister hast thou;—and the fostering breast
“Which fed thy infant growth: but far 'bove all
“In rapturous bliss, is she who calls thee spouse;
“Should nymph exist thou deem'st that bliss deserves!
“If wedded, grant a stol'n embrace to me;
“If not, let me thy nuptial couch ascend.
“The Naiäd ceas'd: a bashful glow suffus'd
“His face, for nought of love to him was known:
“Yet blushing seem'd he lovely: thus warm glows
“The apple, to the ripening sun expos'd;
“Or teinted ivory; or the redden'd moon,
“Whom brazen cymbals clash to help in vain.
“To her, warm praying for at least a kiss,
“A chaste, a sister's kiss,—her arms firm claspt
“Around his ivory neck;—desist! he cries,
“Desist! or sole to thee the place I'll leave.
“His flight she dreaded, and reply'd,—I go,
“Dear youth, and freely yield the spot to thee.
“And seems indeed, her steps from him to turn;
“But still in sight she kept him; lurking close
“Shelter'd by shadowy shrubs, on bended knees.
“Of spy unconscious, he in boyish play
“Frisks sportive here and there; dips first his feet,
“Then ancles deeper in the wantoning waves;
“Pleas'd with the temper of the lucid pool:
“Till hasty stript from off his tender limbs
“His garments soft he flings. More deeply struck
“Stood Salmacis; more fiercely flam'd her love,
“His naked beauty seen. Her gloating eyes
“Sparkled no less than seem bright Phœbus' rays,
“When shining splendid, midst a cloudless sky,
“A mirror's face reflecting gives them back.
“Delay ill brooking, hardly she contains
“Her swelling joy; frantic for his embrace,
“She pants, and hard from rushing forth refrains.
“His sides he claps, and agile in the steam
“Quick plunges, moving with alternate arms.
“Bright through the waves he shines; thus white appears
“The sculptur'd ivory, or the lily fair,
“Seen through a crystal veil. The Naiäd cries;—
“Lo! here I come;—he's mine,—the youth's my own!
“And instant far was every garment flung.
“Midst of the waves she leaps;—the struggling youth
“Clasps close; and on his cold reluctant lips,
“Forces her kisses; down she girds his arms;
“And close to hers hugs his unwilling breast:
“Final, around the youth who arduous strives
“In opposition, and escape essays,
“Her limbs she twines: so twines a serpent huge,
“Seiz'd by the bird of Jove, and borne on high,
“Twisting his head, the feet close-bracing holds;
“The wide-spread wings entangled with his tail:
“So twines the ivy round the lengthen'd bough:
“So numerous Polypus his foe confines,
“Seiz'd in the deep, with claws on every side
“Firm graspt. But Hermes' son persisting still,
“The Naiäd's wish denies; she presses close,
“And as she cleaves, their every limb close join'd
“Exclaims;—ungallant boy! but strive thy most,
“Thou shalt not fly me. Grant me, O ye gods!
“No time may ever sunder him from me,
“Or me from him.—Her prayer was granted straight;—
“For now, commingling, both their bodies join'd;
“And both their faces melted into one.
“So, when in growth we boughs ingrafted see,
“The bark inclosing both at once, they sprout.
“Thus were their limbs, in strong embrace comprest,
“Wrapp'd close; no longer two in form, yet two
“In feature; nor a nymph-like face remain'd,
“Nor yet a boy's: it both and neither seem'd.
“When Hermes' son beheld the liquid stream,
“Where masculine he plung'd, the power possess
“To enervate his body, and his limbs
“Effeminately soften; high he rais'd
“His arms, and pray'd (but not with manly voice)
“O, sire! O, mother dear! indulge your son,
“Your double appellation bearing, this
“Sole-urg'd petition. Whoso in these waves
“In strong virility, like me, shall plunge,
“Hence let him go, like me enervate made;
“Spoilt by the stream his strength. Each parent god
“Nodding, confirm'd their alter'd son's request;
“And ting'd the fountain with the changing power.”
She ceas'd: the nymphs Minyeian still persist
Their toil to urge, despising still the god;
His festival prophaning. Sudden heard,
The rattling sounds of unseen timbrels burst
Full on their ears! the pipe; the crooked horn;
And brazen cymbals loudly clash; perfumes
Of myrrh and saffron blended smell:—but more,
And what belief surpasses, straight their looms
Virid to sprout begin; the pendent threads
Branch into shoots like ivy: part becomes
The vine: what now were threads, curl'd tendrils seem:
Shot from the folded web, the branches climb;
And the bright red in purpling grapes appears.
Now was the sun declining, and approach'd
The twilight season, when nor day it seems,
Nor night confirm'd; but a gray mixture forms;
Of each an indetermin'd compound. Deep
The roof appear'd to shade; the oily lamps,
Ardent to glow; the torches bright to burn,
With reddening flames; while round them seem'd to howl,
Figures of beast ferocious. Fill'd with smoke
The room,—th' affrighted maidens seek to hide;
And each in different corners tries to shun
The fires and flaming light. But while they seek
A lurking shelter, o'er their shorten'd limbs
A webby membrane spreading, binds their arms
In waving wings. The gloom conceal'd the mode,
Of transformation from their former shape.
Light plumage bears them not aloft,—yet rais'd
On wings transparent, through the air they skim,
To speak they strive, but utter forth a sound
Feeble and weak; then, screeching shrill, they plain:
Men's dwellings they frequent,—nor try the woods;
And, cheerful day avoiding, skim by night;
Their name from that untimely hour deriv'd.
Now were the deeds of heaven-born Bacchus fam'd
Through every part of Thebes; and all around,
His aunt proud boasts the new-made god's great power:
She, of the sisters all, from sorrow spar'd,
Save what to view her sisters' sorrowing gave.
Juno beheld her lofty thus, her breast
Elate to view her sons; her nuptial fruits
With Athamas; and her great foster child,
The mighty Bacchus. More the furious queen
Bore not, but thus exclaim'd;—“Has the whore's son
“Power to transform the Tyrrhene crew, and plunge
“Them headlong in the deep? Can he impel
“The mother's hands to seize her bleeding son
“And tear his entrails? Dares he then to clothe
“The Minyëid sisters with un'custom'd wings?
“And is Saturnia's utmost power confin'd
“Wrongs unreveng'd to weep? Suffices such
“For me? Is this a goddess' utmost might?
“But he instructs me;—wisdom may be taught
“Ev'n by a foe. The wretched Pentheus' fate,
“Shews all-sufficient, what may madness do.
“Why should not Ino, stung with frantic rage,
“The well-known track her sisters trode pursue?”