“Thee, mighty Theseus! Marathon admires,
“Stain'd by the vanquish'd Cretan bull's black gore.
“Thy aid the swains of Cromyon own; thou gav'st
“That now secure they till their fields. The land
“Of Epidaurus saw the club-arm'd son
“Of Vulcan slain by thee. By thee, beheld
“Cephisus' shores, the fierce Procrustes die,
“Ceres' Eleusis hail'd Cercyon's fall.
“Sinis thou slew'st, gifted with strength ill-us'd;
“His strength high trees could bend, and oft he dragg'd
“Close down to earth the loftiest tops of pines,
“Thus rent the bodies of his victims wide.
“Safe now extends the road to Lelex' walls,
“Scyron low laid: earth to the robber's limbs,
“Wide scatter'd, rest refuses; to his bones
“Ocean a tomb denies; long widely tost,
“Age hardens into rock his last remains;
“His name the rock still bears. Should we thy age
“And actions count, thy famous deeds by far
“Thy years outnumber. O, most brave of men!
“For thee the public vows ascend; to thee,
“In Bacchus' bowl we drink. The royal hall
“Resounds with all the grateful people's praise;
“Nor through the city glooms one sorrowing spot.”
And yet (so seldom pleasure comes unmix'd,
But still some cares with joy will intervene)
While Ægeus, gladden'd that his son secure
Arriv'd; Minos, for furious war prepares.
Strong though his troops, and though his navy strong
His utmost strength was in paternal rage;
And with just arms Androgeus' death t' avenge
He wars: yet first auxiliar strength he gains;
And powerful sweeps the seas with flying ships.
First Anaphe joins him, and Astypalæa; urg'd
By promise this, and that by threats constrain'd,
Low Myconé; Cymolus' chalky fields;
Bright Cythnos; Scyros; flat Seriphus' isle;
The marble Paros; and the fort betray'd
For gold, demanded by the impious nymph
Sithonian: still for gold she anxious seeks
Though chang'd a bird; on sable pinions borne,
With sable feet, she flutters as a daw.
But Oliaros, and Didymæ, unite;
And Gyaros, Andros, Tenos, all refuse,
With Peparethos, in bright olives rich,
To aid the Gnossian fleet. Thence to the left
Steering, Œnopia's regions Minos sought;
Œnopia call'd of old, Ægina now,
By Æäcus, his mother's honor'd name.
In crowds the people rush, and pant to view
So highly fam'd a prince: to meet him go
First Telamon, then Peleus next in age,
And Phocas third and last, Ev'n Æäcus
With years opprest, steps tardy forth, and asks
The visit's cause. The hundred-city'd king
Deep sighs, his grief paternal all renew'd,
And thus replies;—“My arms, O, king! assist
“Assum'd, just vengeance for a son to claim.
“Partake this pious war. Peace to his manes
“I seek.”—But Asopiades replies;—
“In vain you ask;—my city cannot aid:
“No lands by neighbouring scite more closely bound,
“Than ours and Athens'; hence our league.”—The king
Angry departs, exclaiming.—“Much your league
“May cost you!”—But to threaten war more safe
He deems, than wage it there, and waste his force.
Still from Œnopia's walls the fleet was seen,
Not distant far; when sped by swelling sail,
An Attic ship arriv'd; the friendly port
Enter'd. On board was Cephalus who bore
His country's message. Well the royal youths
The hero knew, though long time past beheld;
And gave the friendly hand, and welcome led
To their paternal dome. The graceful chief
Enters, retaining still evincing marks
Of pristine beauty; in his hand he bears
A branch of native olive: in the midst
Senior he stands; and younger on each side,
Clytus, and Butes, Pallas' sons. Complete
Their friendly salutations; next the words
Th' Athenians bade him, Cephalus reports:
Their aid demands; their ancient league recounts;
The oaths their fathers swore; and adds, all Greece
Might perish in their ruin. When their cause
With eloquence the messenger thus urg'd;
On his bright sceptre as his left hand lean'd,
“Take, O Athenians,”—Æäcus exclaim'd,—
“Not ask, our aid! Unhesitating draw
“What force this isle possesses, and with yours
“Employ it: with you shall my strongest power
“March forth: strength want we not; our numerous troops
“Abundant, for ourselves and friends suffice:
“Prais'd be the gods! such is our happy state
“Your wish defies evasion.”—“Still may grow,”
Said Cephalus,—“your prosperous city's state,
“And yours!—What transport seiz'd me as I walk'd,
“To see each youth so fair, so equal ag'd,
“Of all who met me. Yet in vain I look'd
“For many features, known when last your walls
“Receiv'd me.”—Æäcus, with deep-drawn sighs,
And sorrowing voice, thus answers.—“Better fate
“Completed, what a mournful sight began.
“Would I in full could all the facts relate!
“Now unconnected must I speak, or tire
“Your ear with words superfluous. Whom you seek,
“Whom you remember, bones and ashes rest.
“But small their numbers:—Heavens! how small to those,
“My people, who have sunk in death beside.
“A dreadful plague, the angry Juno shed
“Unjust, upon the natives of the land,
“Detested, that her rival's name it bore.
“While human seem'd the scourge, the noxious cause
“Of slaughter yet conceal'd, with physic's skill
“We strove; in vain! death mock'd the power of art.
“At first thick darkness heavy press'd the earth;
“Pregnant with heat roll'd on the lazy clouds.
“Four times the full-orb'd moon had join'd her horns,
“Four times diminish'd, had she disappear'd;
“Still the hot south-wind blew his deadly blasts.
“Our lakes and fountains, from th' infected air
“Contagion suck'd; millions of vipers swarm'd
“In our uncultur'd fields, our running streams
“Tainting with poison. First the sudden plague
“Its power display'd, on sheep, on dogs, on fowls,
“Cattle, and forest beasts with deadly power.
“The hapless ploughman, wondering, at his work
“Sees his strong oxen in the furrow sink.
“The woolly flocks with sickly bleatings waste
“In body, while their wool spontaneous falls.
“The steed so fiery, on the dusty plain
“So fam'd, the palm contemns; and all despis'd
“His ancient honors, at his manger groans,
“Prey to disease inglorious. His fierce rage
“The boar forgets. The stag neglects his speed.
“Not rush the bears upon the stronger herds.
“A general languor reigns. In woods, in fields,
“In ways, the filthy carcases are seen;
“The stench pollutes the air: and, wonderous! dogs,
“Nor birds rapacious, nor the grizzly wolves,
“Touch the dead spoil. Rotting they melt away,
“Poisoning the gale; and spreading wide the pest.
“Now the disease, a heavier scourge, attacks
“The hapless swains, and in the lofty walls
“Of cities rules. First the scorch'd vitals burn;
“The hidden fire the blushing skin betrays,
“And breath laborious drawn; the furr'd tongue swells;
“The parch'd mouth widely gapes, th' infectious air
“Inhaling copious. On the couch none lie;
“None bear their covering robes; their bodies swol'n,
“On the bare earth they fling; nor coolness find
“Their bodies from the ground;—the ground from them
“Burns hot. Nor aids them now physicians' skill;
“E'en them the dire pest seizes, and their art
“Fails to assist themselves. Who boldly comes,
“With kindly hand his dying friend to aid,
“Sinks straight in death beside him. Fled all hope
“Of health, and in the grave alone an end
“Beheld of their disease,—some wild indulge
“Their fondest passions, void of every care;
“For every care is vain. Of modest shame
“Regardless, in promiscuous throngs they crowd
“To rivers, fountains, and capacious wells,
“Their hot thirst unextinguish'd, but with life.
“To rise unable, many in the stream
“Sink, and there perish: still their followers drink.
“So irksome to the wretched sufferers seem
“Their couches, thence they spring;—and some too weak
“To lift their limbs, roll desperate to the ground.
“Each quits his home,—to each his home appears,
“The fatal spot; and while obscure the cause,
“Each deems the house contagious. Oft were seen
“Beings half-dead, slow crawling o'er the ways,
“Till power to crawl was lost. Others with moans
“Stretch'd on the ground, rolling their half-clos'd eyes,
“In final motion: raising high their arms
“To heaven's o'erhanging stars, breathe out their last,
“Caught here by death, and there. Ah! me, what then
“My mind employ'd? What but to loathe my life,
“And pray with my dear countrymen to die?
“Whatever side mine eyes were bent, I saw
“My people strewn;—thick as the mellow fruit,
“Shook from the branches, or the acorns lie.
“Observe that temple, lofty where it towers;
“To Jove 'tis sacred. Who to that high fane
“Their useless incense brought not? There how oft
“Wife for her husband, parent for her child,
“Before th' inexorable altar, breath'd
“Their dying gasp, 'mid deprecating prayers;
“And half their incense unconsum'd remain'd.
“How oft the oxen to the temple dragg'd,
“While now the priest his voice address'd, and pour'd
“The goblet o'er their foreheads, have they dropp'd
“By stroke unlook'd for. When myself, to Jove
“Wish'd sacrifice to offer up; for me,
“My country, and my sons,—the victim loud
“Dire lowings utter'd, and without a blow
“Fell sudden,—scarce with blood the wounding knife
“Was stain'd. The morbid inwards mock'd our wish,
“To learn the truth, and pleasure of the gods:
“The deep-fixt plague had to the bowels pierc'd.
“Before the sacred portals have I seen,
“The corses spread; before the altars too,
“As death would come in his most hideous form.
“Some with the cord life's passage choke, and seek
“Death, lest they death should meet. Madly they rush
“And voluntary meet approaching fate.
“The bodies plung'd in death, funereal rites
“Custom'd, receiv'd not; nor the numerous dead
“Could all the gates receive: or un-inhum'd
“Above the earth they lie, or on the pyre
“Unhonor'd by due rites, the bodies flame.
“All sense of reverence lost, for piles they fight;
“And burn their dead in fires which others own.
“To mourn are none; unwept the shadows roam,
“Of young and old alike, of sons and sires.
“The ground for graves too small, for fires the woods.
“Aghast this whirlwind of distress to view,
“O, Jove!—I cry'd—if false they not report,
“That once you in Ægina's arms were clasp'd;—
“If not, O, mighty sire! asham'd to own
“Yourself my parent, give my people back,
“Or give me death with them. A rattling sign
“He gave, and prosperous thunders roll'd. I spoke;—
“These omens I accept; and pray these signs
“May indicate your happy will:—as pledge
“I take them.—Nigh by chance an oak there stood,
“Thick-set with spreading boughs, Jove's sacred tree,
“Sprung from Dodona's stock: here I beheld
“Grain-gathering ants, each burthen'd with his load,
“In his small mouth, as o'er the rugged bark
“In lengthen'd file they march'd. The numerous crowds
“Admiring;—Best of fathers, I exclaim'd,
“So many subjects grant me, to refill
“My desert walls.—Trembled the lofty oak,
“Of wind no breath, yet mov'd the sounding boughs;
“With terror shook my limbs, and upright rear'd
“My hair; then kisses to the ground I gave,
“And kiss'd the oak; scarce hope I dar'd to feel:
“Yet still I nourish'd hope within my soul.
“Night comes; my body worn with cares, to sleep
“Obedience yielded. Still before mine eyes
“The oak appear'd; branches the same it bore,
“And on its branches seem'd the swarms the same;
“So mov'd the boughs, and on the grass below,
“Shook the corn-carrying crowd. Sudden they grew;
“Large, and more large they seem'd, as from the ground
“Themselves they rais'd, and stood in form erect.
“Their slender make, their numerous feet, their hue
“Of sable, disappear'd, and all their limbs
“An human shape confess'd. Sleep fled mine eyes;
“And fled my vision:—As by heaven not mark'd,
“Complaining;—far without the hall I heard
“A murmuring loud, and human seem'd the sounds,—
“Though stranger to mine ears: musing if still
“I slept not,—Lo! quick, Telamon approach'd,
“Wide threw the doors; and cry'd,—O, sire! behold;
“What hope, what faith surpasses!—Forth I come;
“Such men as in my dream my fancy saw,
“I see;—I know them, man by man, again:
“They come, and king salute me: unto Jove
“My votive thanks I pay; my city share
“Amongst my subjects new; and all my lands,
“(Of those who till'd them, empty.) Myrmidons,
“From whence they sprung, I call them. You have seen
“Their bodies,—still their habits are the same:
“A frugal race as wont, patient of toil;
“On gain still bent; tenacious of that gain.
“These equal all, in courage and in years,
“Shall follow you to battle; when the east
“Which blew you here so prosperous, (for the east
“Had brought him) to the southern gales shall yield.”
With these and such like speeches, all the day
They sit conversing; evening they devote
To banquets; and the night to soft repose.
Sol rais'd his golden head, but Eurus still
Prevail'd, and bound their sails. Now Pallas' sons
To Cephalus, their chief in years, repair,
And to the king with Pallas' sons he goes;
But still deep-wrapt in sleep the king was laid.
Phocus receiv'd them at the gates; employ'd
Were Telamon and Peleus, troops to chuse
For the new war. Th' Athenian chief he leads
Within the palace, to the fairest rooms.
When all were seated, Phocus mark'd the dart
The hero bore, shap'd from a wood unknown,
Pointed with gold; and said, with prefac'd words:
“To range the forests, and fierce beasts to slay
“Is all my joy; yet long in doubt I've stood
“What tree this dart has form'd; for ash too pale,
“Too smooth for cornel; though from whence it comes
“So ignorant, ne'er before mine eyes beheld
“A fairer weapon.”—Pallas' son address'd
The youth:—“The javelin's use you'll more admire
“Than beauty;—thrown where'er, its mark it gains,
“Unrul'd by erring chance, and bloody, back
“Instant returns.”—Then Phocus curious asks
More full its story, how, and whence it came,
And who the author of so priz'd a gift.
Him Cephalus informs, but shame denies
To tell the whole, and what the present's price.
Full to his mind his consort's loss recall'd,
Tears sudden gush'd:—“O, goddess-born!—he cries,
“This dart (improbable howe'er) my tears
“Has often caus'd,—and long will make them flow;—
“If fate long life should grant. My dear-lov'd spouse
“This dart destroy'd:—O, that this fatal gift
“Had still been unpossess'd! Procris, ally'd
“To stol'n Orithyiä (if Orithyiä's fame
“Your ears has reach'd) was as her sister fair:
“Nay, match'd in form and manners, she might more
“The robber tempt. Her sire Erechthens join'd
“To me the maid; us love more firmly bound:
“Blest was I call'd, and blest I was indeed,
“And still were blest, but heaven else will'd my fate.
“Now had the second month connubial joys
“Beheld; when chasing dusky darkness far,
“Aurora ruddy, saw me on the heights
“Hymettus flowery rears, as there my toils
“For antler'd stags I spread: and there by force
“She clasp'd me. Truth I wish to guide my tongue
“Nor yet displease the goddess, when I swear
“Though bright her roseate cheeks; though wide she sways
“Of night and day the confines; though she quaffs
“Nectarean liquid, still I Procris lov'd:
“Still in my bosom Procris reign'd, and still
“Procris, my tongue repeated. Oft I urg'd
“The sacred couch, the new-felt joys, the rites
“So recent, and the plighted faith just given,
“To her deserted: when the goddess flam'd,
“Exclaiming;—Ingrate! cease thy doleful plaints,
“Enjoy thy Procris,—if I right foresee
“Thou'lt rue that wish'd enjoyment:—Angry thus
“She fled me. Slow returning, much I mus'd,
“The goddess' words recalling: fear me thrill'd,
“Lest Procris had her nuptial oaths profaned.
“Her age, her beauty, much suspicion mov'd;
“Her virtue bade me chase my fears as vain.
“Yet was I absent, and from whence I came,
“Prov'd how adulterous females might indulge,
“Suspicious love fears all. Studious I seek,
“What found would rack with torture; and I burn
“To bribe with gifts, and try her modest faith.
“Aurora aids my fears, my shape transforms:
“(Conscious I felt it.) To Minerva's town,
“To all unknown, I hastened, and my house
“Enter'd: the house in faultless guise I found;
“Chaste all appear'd, and anxious all were seen
“For their lost master. By a thousand arts
“Erechtheus' daughter I at length beheld,
“And seen was stagger'd: near my purpos'd proof
“Relinquish'd of fidelity; most hard
“The cheat to tell not; to refrain most hard
“From conjugal salutes. Sad she appear'd.
“But nought more lovely could in sadness seem:
“Burning in wishes for her absent spouse.
“Image, O, Phocus! what her beauteous face
“Could boast; a face that woe itself became.
“Why should I tell how oft her virtuous soul,
“Repuls'd my tempting offers? Why repeat
“How oft she cry'd;—For one myself I keep,
“For one, where'er he stays, my joys preserve.
“Whose mad suspicion would not this allay?
“This proof of faith? But I, not so content,
“Strive for my own confusion. Lavish gifts
“I proffer for the joys of one short night:
“More and more rich I heap them, till her breast
“Wavers, then loud exclaim,—Lo! here behold,
“Adulteress! one unluckily disguis'd,
“Unluckily betroth'd, thy lawful spouse!
“Perfidious! by those eyes convinc'd I stand.
“Nought she:—with silent shame o'ercome, she fled
“The house deceitful, and her hated spouse.
“With me offended, all the race of men
“Detesting, on the mountain tops she rov'd;
“Diana's sports close following. Fiercer love
“Flam'd in my bosom, thus deserted left.
“I su'd for pardon, and my fault I own'd;
“Swore that myself so tempted, so had err'd,
“By such high offers brib'd. Confessing thus,
“Her wounded modest pride grew more compos'd;
“And shortly I regain'd her. Long in peace
“We liv'd, and cordial spent the smiling years.
“Herself a gift she priz'd not: more she gave,
“An hound, she from Diana's hand receiv'd,
“Who said,—accept the fleetest of his race—
“And gave this javelin which you see me bear.
“If of the first the fate you seek to know,
“Attend, th' adventure will your wonder move.
“The son of Laïus had the words explain'd,
“Before his time to every mind obscure;
“And the dark prophetess, down headlong flung,
“Laid lifeless, all her riddling tales forgot.
“Her, fostering Themis saw, and unreveng'd
“To lie not suffer'd. Straight another plague
“On Thebes was loos'd; and all the country swains
“Fear'd by the savage beast their flocks to lose,
“And fear'd their own destruction. With the youths
“Adjacent, I assembled; round the fields
“Our toils we fix; the toils the rapid beast
“O'erleaps high-bounding; 'bove the loftiest ropes,
“Stretch'd o'er the nets, with active spring he flies.
“The hounds uncoupled, in the chace he mocks,
“And like an agile bird before them plays;
“With outcries loud, for Lælaps' aid they call.
“(My Procris' gift, so nam'd.) Long had he tugg'd,
“To extricate him from the chain; to free
“His captive neck: scarce was he loos'd, so swift
“He shot, in vain our eyes his progress mark'd:
“In the light dust his feet were printed, he,
“Rapt from the view, was vanish'd. Swifter flies
“The darted spear not: nor the leaden ball
“Hurl'd from the whirling sling;—nor reedy dart
“Shot from the Cretan bow. A central hill
“High-towering, all the subject plains o'erlooks;
“Thither I climb, and there behold the chase;
“A novel scene. Now seems the beast safe caught;
“Now from the grasp light-springing. Flight right on
“Crafty he shuns, and doubles round the field,
“Cheating his chaser's mouth; and circling turns
“His foe's quick speed eluding. Swift he flies,—
“With equal swiftness follow'd. Now to grasp
“His prey seems Lælaps,—in his grasp deceiv'd,
“His empty jaws seize air. Now to my aid
“I call my javelin,—poize it for the blow,
“And bend mine eyes the thongs to fix secure:
“Again I lift them to behold the chase,
“And see astonish'd in the spacious plain
“Two marble statues! this to fly appears,—
“That barking seems to follow. So decreed
“Doubtless the gods, that in the arduous course
“Unconquer'd, each his glory might retain.”
Thus far he spoke, then silent sate.—“What crime,”
Said Phocus—“has the javelin then perform'd?”—
And thus the javelin's fault the hero tells,
“Since joys supreme my sorrows first forewent,
“Let me, O, Phocus! first those joys recount.
“O, youth! how it delights me to retrace
“Those happy moments, when supremely blest
“In her, the primal years were joyous spent.
“She, equal happy in her darling spouse;
“Each mind of mutual care a portion bore;
“And love's connubial joys each equal shar'd.
“Jove's proffer'd couch, with my embrace compar'd,
“Procris had spurn'd; nor could the loveliest nymph
“Me tempt, though Venus' self had deign'd to sue:
“In either breast an equal ardor flam'd.
“In youthful guise I wont the woods to scour,
“For sport betimes, ere yet the sun had ting'd
“With early beams the lofty mountains' tops:
“Nor took I servants, nor the courser fleet,
“Nor hounds sharp-scented, nor the knotted snares;
“This dart my sole dependence: when my arm
“With slaughtered spoil was satiate, tir'd I sought
“The cooling shade, and sought where Aura breath'd
“In frigid vales her breezes. 'Midst the heat
“Refreshing air I sought, and Aura call'd,
“My labour's recreation; thus I sung,
“I well the words remember;—Aura, come!
“Come, my delight,—within my bosom creep,
“Most grateful friend; come, and as wont remove
“My inward flames.—By chance more tender words
“(So sway'd my destiny) to these I join'd:
“And thus I spoke—O, thou! my greatest joy
“Refreshing, cherishing my strength and power!
“For thee, these woods and lonely spots I love:
“Here does my wishing mouth thy breath inhale.—
“These words ambiguous, busy ears receiv'd,
“And Aura! Aura! oft invok'd, they deem
“A favor'd nymph,—a nymph by me belov'd.
“The rash informer with the imag'd wrong,
“My Procris seeks his whispering tongue relates,
“The words o'erheard. Love credulous believes.
“O'erpress'd with grief, she sudden sunk, when heard
“The tale,—and long she unrecover'd laid.
“Then—hapless wife!—O, wayward fate! she cries:—
“My broken faith bewails, and with my crime
“Imagin'd, troubled, fears what not exists,—
“A name without a being: much she grieves,
“As real were her rival: yet full oft
“Stagger'd, she doubts, and hopes herself deceiv'd:
“Trusts not th' informer; and her husband's fault,
“Unless beheld, refuses to believe.
“When next Aurora bade the darkness fly
“I sally'd forth, and sought th' accustomed wood:
“Then tir'd with conquest, on the grass I stretch'd,
“And,—come, dear Aura, ease my pain,—I cry'd
“Sudden a mournful sigh betwixt my words
“I heard, but still proceeded,—dearest, come!—
“Again the falling leaves a rustling sound
“Causing, a savage beast I thought lay hid,
“And hurl'd my faithful dart. Procris was there!
“And as her tender breast the blow receiv'd
“Alas! she cry'd.—My faithful spouse's voice
“I knew, and with distracted speed I ran;
“Half-dead I found her, all her robes distain'd
“With flowing blood,—and dragging from the wound,
“Ah, me!—her fatal gift. My guilty arms,
“Her body, dearer far than mine, support;
“My vest I rend, the cruel gash to bind,
“And check the gushing blood; I fearful pray,
“She will not leave me guilty of her fate.
“She now, her strength fast wasting, dying fast,
“These words to utter try'd:—Suppliant I beg,
“By all the oaths that form'd our nuptial ties;
“By all the gods and goddesses above;
“By all my actions which have given you joy;
“By that strong love which thus my fate has caus'd,
“Which now in death my bosom still retains,
“Let not this Aura to my bed succeed.—
“She said,—too late I learn'd, too late I told
“The error of the name; for what avail'd!
“She sinks, her small remaining strength is fled,
“Her last blood flows. While ought she seems to view,
“On me she bends her eyes; her hapless soul
“My lips inhale, yet pleas'd her brow appears
“In death, more calm from what I just explain'd.”
Thus grieving, Cephalus concludes, and all
His audience with him weep. When, lo! appear
King Æäcus, his sons, and troops new-rais'd;
Whom Cephalus, in warlike strength, receives.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
Macdonald & Bailey, Printers, Harris's Place,
Oxford-Street.
THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
Publius Ovidius Naso
IN
English Blank Verse
Translated by J. J. Howard