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

by Ovid

THE
Seventh Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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