He ceas'd: the deed and author all admire,
But Theseus most; whom anxious still to hear
More wondrous actions of the mighty gods,
The stream of Calydon, as on his arm
Reclin'd, he rested, in these words address'd:—
“There are, O, valiant youth! of those once chang'd,
“Still in the new-form'd figures who remain:
“Others there are whose power more wide extends
“To many shapes to alter.—Proteus, thou
“Art one; thou 'habitant of those wide waves
“Which earth begird: now thou a youth appear'st;
“And now a lion; then a furious boar;
“A serpent next we tremble to approach;
“And then with threatening horns thou seem'st a bull.
“Oft as a stone thou ly'st; oft stand'st a tree:
“Sometimes thy countenance veil'd in fluid streams,
“Thou flow'st a river; sometimes mount'st in flames.
“Nor less of power had Erisichthon's maid,
“Spouse of Autolycus. Her impious sire
“All the divinities of heaven despis'd,
“Nor on their slighted altars offerings burn'd.
“He too, 'tis said, the Cerealean grove
“With axe prophan'd: his violating steel
“The ancient trees attacking. 'Mid the rest,
“A huge-grown oak, in yearly strength robust,
“Itself a wood, uprose: garlands hung round,
“And wreaths, and grateful tablets, proofs of vows
“For prospering favors paid. The Dryad nymphs
“Oft in its shade their festal dances held;
“Oft would they, clasping hand in hand, surround
“The mighty trunk: its girth around to mete,
“Full thrice five cubits ask'd. To every tree
“Lofty it seem'd; as every tree appear'd
“Lofty, when measur'd with the plants below.
“Yet not for that, did Erisichthon hold
“The biting steel; but bade his servants fell
“The sacred oak; lingering he saw them stand,
“His orders unobey'd; impious he snatch'd
“From one his weapon, and in rage, exclaim'd;—
“What though it be the goddess' favorite care!
“Were it the goddess' self, down should it fall,
“And bow its leafy summit to the ground.
“He said;—and pois'd his axe, and aim'd oblique.
“Deep shudderings shook the Cerealian tree,
“And groans were utter'd; all the leaves grew pale,
“And pale the acorns; while the wide-spread boughs
“Cold sweats bedew'd. When in the solid trunk
“His blow ungodly pierc'd, blood flow'd in streams
“From out the shatter'd bark: not flows more full,
“From the deep wound in the divided throat,
“The gore, when at the sacred altar's foot
“A mighty bull, an offer'd victim drops.
“Dread seizes all; and one most bold attempts
“To check his horrid wickedness, and check
“The murderous weapon: him the villain saw,
“And,—take,—he cries,—the boon thy pious soul
“Merits so well.—And from the trunk the steel
“Turns on the man, and strikes his head away:
“Then with redoubled blows the tree assails.
“Deep from the oak, these words were heard to sound:—
“A nymph am I, within this trunk enclos'd,
“Most dear to Ceres; in my dying hours,
“Prophetic I foresee the keen revenge
“Which will thy deed pursue; and this solace
“Grants comfort ev'n in death.—He, undismay'd,
“His fierce design still follows: now the tree,
“Tottering with numerous blows, by straining cords,
“He drags to earth; and half the wood below,
“Crush'd by its weight, lies prostrate. All astound,
“Of her depriv'd, and at their own sad loss,
“The sister Dryads, clad in sable robes,
“To Ceres hasten; and for vengeance call,
“On Erisichthon. To their urgent prayers
“The beauteous goddess gave assent, and shook
“Her locks; the motion shook the yellow ears,
“Which fill'd the loaded fields; and straight conceiv'd
“A torture piteous, if for pity he
“For acts like these might look:—to tear his form
“By Famine's power pestiferous. There, herself
“Approach forbidden (fate long since had doom'd
“Ceres and Famine far remov'd should dwell)
“A mountain-nymph she calls, and thus directs;—
“A region stretches on th' extremest bounds
“Of icy Scythia; dreary seems the place;
“Sterile the soil; nor trees, nor fruits are seen;
“But sluggish cold, and pale affright, and fear:
“Still-craving Famine, there her dwelling holds.
“Bid her within the inmost vitals hide
“Of this most daring, and most impious wretch.
“The proudest plenty shall not make her yield:
“For in the contest, all the power I boast
“To her shall stoop: nor let the lengthen'd way
“Appal thy mind; my car receive; receive
“My dragons; through the air their course direct
“By these long reins.—Speaking, the reins she gave.
“She, borne through ether in the granted car,
“To Scythia's realm is carried: on the ridge
“A rugged mountain offer'd, first she eas'd
“The dragons' necks; as Caucasus 'twas known.
“There she the sought-for Famine soon espy'd,
“Eagerly searching on the stony fields,
“At once with teeth and fangs, for thin-sown herbs.
“Rough matted were her locks; deep sunk her eyes;
“Pale bleach'd her face; her lips with whiten'd slime
“O'erspread; with furry crust her mouth was rough:
“Hard was her skin; and through it might be seen
“Her inwards: 'bove her hollow loins, upstood
“The arid bones: a belly's place supply'd
“A belly's form: her breasts to hang appear'd
“Held only by the chine: her fleshless shape
“Each joint in bulk increas'd: rigidly large
“The knees were swol'n, and each protruding part
“Immod'rately was big. Then as the nymph
“From far beheld her,—for a nigh approach
“She dreaded, what the goddess bade she told.
“Though brief her stay; though distant far she stood;
“Though instant there arriv'd; she felt the power
“Of Famine at the sight, and turning quick
“Her reins, she urg'd her dragons to their speed
“In retrogade direction; still on high,
“Till Thessaly they gain'd. Famine performs
“The wish of Ceres (though her anxious aim
“Is still to thwart her power) and borne on winds
“Swift through the air, the fated house she finds
“And instant enters, where the inmost walls
“The sacrilegious wretch inclose; in sleep
“Deep bury'd, for night reign'd; and with her wings
“Him clasping close, in all the man she breath'd
“Her inspiration: in his throat, his mouth,
“His chest, and in his unreplenish'd veins,
“Her hunger she infus'd. The bidden deed
“Complete, she vanish'd from those verdant fields,
“And turn'd her to the needy roofs again,
“And well-accustom'd caverns. Gentle sleep
“Fann'd Erisichthon still with soothing wings.
“Ev'n in his sleep imagin'd food he craves,
“And vainly moves his mouth; tires jaw on jaw
“With grinding; his deluded throat with stores
“Impalpable he crams; the empty air
“Greedy devouring, for more solid food.
“But soon his slumbers vanish'd, then fierce rag'd
“Insatiate hunger; ruling through his throat,
“And ever-craving stomach. Instant he
“Demands what produce, ocean, earth, and air
“Can furnish: still of hunger he complains,
“Before the full-spread tables: still he seeks
“Victuals to heap on victuals. What might serve
“A city's population, seems for him
“Too scant; whose stomach when it loads had gorg'd,
“For loads still crav'd. The ocean thus receives
“From all earth's regions every stream; all streams
“United, still requiring; greedy fire
“On every offer'd aliment thus feeds,
“Countless supplies of wood consuming;—more
“Nutrition craving, still the more it gains;
“More greedy growing from its large increase.
“So Erisichthon's jaws prophane, rich feasts
“At once devour, at once still more demand.
“All food but stimulates his gust for food
“In added heaps; and eating only seems
“To leave his maw more empty. Lessen'd now,
“In the deep abyss of his stomach huge,
“Were all the riches which his sire's bequest
“Had given: the direful torment still remain'd
“In undiminish'd strength; his belly's fire
“Implacable still rag'd. Exhausted now
“On the curst craving all his wealth was spent.
“One daughter sole remaining; of a sire
“Less impious, worthy: her the pauper sold.
“Her free-born soul, a master's sway disclaim'd.
“Her hands extending, to the neighbouring main,
“O thou!—she cry'd—who gain'd my virgin spoil
“Snatch me from bondage.—Neptune had the maid
“Previous enjoy'd: nor spurn'd her earnest prayer.
“She whom her master following close, had seen
“In her own shape but now, in manly guise
“Appears,—in garments such as fishers clothe.
“The master sees, and speaks:—O, thou! who rul'st
“The trembling reed; whose bending wire thy baits
“Conceal; so may thy wiles the water aid;
“So may the fish deceiv'd, beneath the waves,
“Thy hooks detect not, till too firmly fixt.
“Say thou but where she is, who stood but now
“Upon this beach, in humble robes array'd,
“With locks disorder'd; on this shore she stood;
“I saw her,—but no further mark her feet.—
“The aid of Neptune well the maid perceiv'd,
“And joys that of herself herself is sought,
“Thus his enquiries answering;—Whom thou art
“I know not; studious bent, the deep alone,
“And care to drag my prey, my eyes employ.
“More to remove thy doubts, so may the god
“Who rules the ocean, aid my toiling art,
“As here I swear, no man upon this shore,
“Nor female, I excepted, has appear'd.
“These words the owner credits, and the sand
“Treads with returning steps; deluded goes,
“And as he goes, her former shape returns.
“Soon as this changing power the sire perceiv'd,
“The damsel oft he sold. Now she escapes
“Beneath a mare's resemblance: now a bird,
“An heifer now, and now a deer she seem'd.
“Her greedy parent's maw with food ill-gain'd
“Supplying. When at last his forceful plague
“Had every aid consum'd, and every aid
“Fresh food afforded to his fierce disease,
“Then he commenc'd with furious fangs to tear
“For nurture his own limbs; life to support,
“By what his body and his life destroy'd.
“But why on others' transformations dwell?
“Myself, O youths! enjoy a power, my form
“To alter; not unlimited my range.
“Now in the shape at present I assume;
“Anon I writhe beneath a serpent's form;
“Or take the figure of a lordly bull,
“And wear my strength in horns, while horns I had:
“Disfigur'd now, my forehead's side laments
“One weapon ravish'd, as you well may see.”—
He spoke, and heavy sighs his words pursu'd.
The Ninth Book.
Combat of Acheloüs and Hercules for Dejanira. Death of Nessus. Torments and death of Hercules. His deification. Story of the change of Galanthis to a weasel. Of Dryopè to a Lotus-tree. Iölaüs restored to youth. Murmuring of the Gods. The incestuous love of Byblis. Her transformation to a fountain. Story of Iphis and Iänthe.
THE
Ninth Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.
The son of Ægeus begs the cause to know
Whence spring those groans, and whence that wounded front?
And thus the stream of Calydon replies;—
(His uncomb'd locks with marshy reeds entwin'd).
“A mournful task, O, warrior! you impose;—
“For who, when vanquish'd, joys to tell the fight
“Where he was worsted? yet will I relate
“In order all: vanquish'd, the shame was small;
“The honor great, for such a prize to strive:
“And such a conqueror more the mind relieves.
“Has e'er the beauteous Dejanira's name
“Reach'd to your ears? her charms the envy'd hope
“Of numerous wooers form'd; mine with the rest.
“As o'er the threshold of my wish'd-for sire
“I stepp'd, I hail'd him.—O, Parthaön's son,
“For thine accept me.—So Alcides spoke,
“And all the rest to our pretensions bow'd.
“Of Jove, his sire, he boasts; and all the fame
“His acts deserv'd; and stepdame's cruel laws
“Final completed. I (who shameful thought
“That gods should yield to mortals; then a god
“Alcides was not) thus his claim oppos'd:—
“A king of floods behold me; floods which roll
“With winding current through the land you sway;
“A son in me accept, no stranger sent
“From distant regions; of your country one,
“Part of your rule. Let it not hurt my claim,
“That Juno hates me not; that all the toil
“Of slavish orders I have ne'er perform'd.
“Alcmena was his mother, let him boast!
“Jove is a sire but feign'd, or if one true,
“Is criminally so. He claims a sire
“To prove his mother's infamy: then chuse—
“Say feign'd thy origin from Jove, or fruit
“Of intercourse adulterous, own thou art.—
“Me, speaking thus, with furious eyes he view'd,
“Nor rul'd his swelling rage, replying fierce;—
“More than my tongue I on my arm depend:
“Whilst I in fighting gain the palm, be thou
“Victor in talking.—Furious on he rush'd.
“So proudly boasting, to submit I scorn'd;
“But stript my sea-green robe, my arms oppos'd,
“And held my firm-clench'd hands before my breast;
“For stout resistance every limb prepar'd,
“To meet the fight. He in his hollow palms
“The dust collecting, sprinkled me all o'er,
“And then the yellow sand upon me threw.
“Now on my neck he seizes; now he grasps
“My slippery thighs: but only thinks to hold,
“In every part assailing. Still secure
“In bulk I stand, and he assails in vain.
“Thus stands a rock, which waves with thundering roar
“Surround; it stands unhurt in all its strength.
“A little we recede, then rush again
“To join the war: stoutly our ground we hold,
“Steady resolv'd to yield not. Foot to foot
“Fixt firm: I prone press with my ample breast,
“And hand with hand, with forehead forehead joins.
“So have I seen two mighty bulls contend,
“When each the fairest heifer of the grove
“Expects the arduous struggle to reward:
“The herds behold and tremble, witless which
“The powerful contest shall successful gain.
“Thrice while I clasp'd him close, Alcides strove
“To throw me from his breast, in vain,—the fourth
“He shook me from him, and my clasping arms
“Unloosing, instant turn'd me with his hand;
“(Truth must I speak,) and heavy on my back
“He hung. If credence may my words demand,
“Nor seek I fame through tales of false deceit,
“A mighty mountain on me seem'd to weigh:
“Scarce were my arms, with trickling sweat bedew'd,
“Loos'd from his grasp; scarce was my body freed
“From his hard gripe, when panting hard for breath,
“Ere I could strength regain, my throat he seiz'd.
“Then on the earth my knee was press'd; my mouth
“Then bit the sand. Inferior prov'd in strength,
“To arts I next betook me. Slipp'd his hands
“In form a long round serpent; while I roll'd
“In winding spires my body; while I shook
“My forked tongue with hisses dire, he laugh'd,
“And mock'd my arts; exclaiming,—snakes to kill
“I in my cradle knew; grant thou excel'st,
“O, Acheloüs! others far in size,
“What art thou mated with the Hydra's bulk?
“He fertile from his wounds, his hundred heads
“Ne'er felt diminish'd, for straightway his neck,
“With two successors, brav'd the stroke again:
“Yet him I vanquish'd with his branching heads
“From blood produc'd: from every loss more stout,
“Him prostrate I o'erthrew. What hope hast thou,
“In form fallacious, who with borrow'd arms
“Now threaten'st? whom a form precarious hides?
“He said, and fast about my throat he squeez'd
“His nervous fingers; choaking, hard I strove,
“As pincer-like he press'd me, to unloose
“From his tight grasp my neck. Conquer'd in this,
“Still a third shape, the furious bull remain'd:
“Chang'd to a bull, again I wag'd the war.
“Around my brawny neck his arms he threw
“To left, and spite of every effort try'd
“To 'scape, he dragg'd me down; the solid earth
“Deep with my horn he pierc'd, and stretch'd me prone
“On the wide sand. Unsated yet his rage,
“His fierce hand seiz'd my stubborn horn, and broke
“From my maim'd front the weapon. Naiäd nymphs
“This consecrated, fill'd with fruits, and flowers
“Of odorous fragrance, and the horn is priz'd
“By Plenty's goddess as her favorite care.”
He spoke, a nymph close-girt like Dian's train,
Her ample tresses o'er each shoulder spread,
Enter'd, supporting all of Autumn's fruit
In the rich horn, and mellowest apples came
The second course to grace. Now day appear'd:
The youths when light the loftiest summits touch'd
Of the high hills, departed; waiting not
Till the rough floods in peaceful channels flow'd;
The troubled currents smooth'd. Profound his head
Of rustic semblance, Acheloüs hides
'Reft of his horn, beneath his deepest waves.
His forehead's honor lost sore gall'd him: all
Save that was perfect. Ev'n his forehead's loss
With willow boughs and marshy reeds was hid.
Thou too, rash Nessus, through thy furious love,
Of the same virgin, thy destruction met;
Pierc'd through thy body with the feather'd dart!
Jove's son returning to his natal soil,
Companion'd by his new-made bride, approach'd
Evenus' rapid flood. Swol'n was the stream
With wintry showers as wont, and raging whirls
Unfordable proclaim'd it; him, himself
Fearless, yet anxious for his spouse's care,
Nessus approach'd, in strength of limbs secure,
And knowledge of the fords, and thus he spoke;
“Her, O Alcides! will I safely bear
“To yonder bank; thou all thy efforts use
“In swimming.” Straight the Theban hero gives
The pallid Calydonian to his care,
Shivering with dread; no less the centaur frights
Than the rough flood. The mighty warrior, prest
With his large quiver, and the lion's hide,
For on the bank opposing had he flung
His club and curved bow, exclaim'd—“the stream
“My arms will vanquish, soon as I essay.”—
Nor dubious waits, but in the torrent leaps,
Not heeding where most tranquil flows the stream,
But stemming furious all its utmost rage.
Now had he reach'd the bank, now held again
The bow flung o'er, when loud his spouse's shrieks
Assail'd his ear. To Nessus, whom he saw
His trust about betraying, loud he cry'd;—
“What vain reliance on thy rapid speed
“Tempts thee to violence? O, double-shap'd!
“I speak, regard me,—to respect my rights,
“Should deference to me not move thee, think
“How whirls thy sire, and that thy rage may check
“For wishes unallow'd. Yet hope thou not
“With courser's speed to 'scape me: with my dart,
“Not feet, will I pursue thee.”—His last words
With deeds he guarantees, and through and through
The flying culprit felt the javelin driv'n;
Out through his breast the forked weapon stood:
Withdrawn, from either wound gush'd forth the gore,
Mixt with the venom of Lernæa's pest.
This be preserv'd.—“Nor will I unreveng'd
“Expire,”—he murmur'd faintly to himself;
And gave his raiment, in the warm blood dipt,
A present to the nymph whose spoil he sought;
To wake again her husband's dormant love.
Long was the intermediate time, the deeds,
Of great Alcides, and his step-dame's hate,
Fill'd all the world meanwhile. Victor return'd
From out Œchalia, when the promis'd rites,
To Jove Cænean, he prepar'd to pay,
Tattling report, who joys in falshood mixt
With circumstantial truth, and still the least
Swells with her lies, had in thine ears instill'd,
O Dejanira! that Alcmena's son,
With Iölé was smitten. Ardent love
Sway'd her belief, and terror-struck to hear
Of this new flame, she melted into tears;
With them her weeping grief first flow'd away:
But soon she bursted forth.—“Why weep I so?
“The harlot will but gladden in my tears!
“But ere she here arrives, it me behoves
“Each effort to employ, while time now serves,
“To hinder what he seeks; whilst yet my couch
“Another presses not. Shall I complain,
“Or rest in silence? Shall I Calydon
“Re-seek, or here remain? Shall I abscond
“His habitation, or, if nought else serves,
“Strenuous oppose him? Or if truly bent,
“O, Meleager! with a sister's pride,
“Thy wicked deeds t' outvie, a witness leave,
“The harlot's throat divided, what the rage
“Of woman may accomplish, when so wrong'd.”—
In whirls her agitated mind is toss'd;
Determining last to send to him the robe,
In Nessus' blood imbu'd, and so restore
His waning love. Witless of what she sends,
Herself to Lychas' unsuspecting hands
The cause of future grief delivers. Wretch
Most pitiable! she, with warm-coaxing words,
Instructs the boy to bear her spouse the gift.
Th' unwitting warrior takes it, and straight clothes
His shoulders with Echidna's poisonous gore.
Incense he sprinkles in the primal flames
He kindles,—with the flames his prayers ascend.
As from the goblet he the vintage pours
On marble altars; hapless by the heat
The poison more was quicken'd; by the flame
Melted, it grew more potent; wide diffus'd,
Through all the limbs of Hercules it spread.
Still while he could, his fortitude, as wont
His groans suppress'd; at last his patience spent,
Fierce from the altar flinging, Œté's mount
So woody, with his plaintive shrieks he fills,
And instant from his limbs the deadly robe
Essays to tear: that, where he strips, the skin,
Stript also, follows; dreadful to describe!
Or to his limbs, his utmost struggling vain,
It clings: or bare his lacerated joints
And huge bones stand. With hissing noise his blood
Burns, as when glowing iron in a pool
Is dipp'd, so boils it with the venom fierce.
Nor hope of help remain'd, the greedy fires,
His utmost vitals waste; and purple sweat
Bedews his every limb; his scorch'd nerves crack;
And whilst his marrow, with the latent pest,
Runs fluid, high tow'rd heaven his arms he holds,
Exclaiming;—“now Saturnia, feast thy soul
“With my destruction; joy, O savage!—view
“From lofty heaven my tortures; satiate now
“Thy rancorous soul:—but if a foe may move
“Commiseration, (for thy foe I am)
“Take hence this life, grievous, through direful pains:
“Hateful to thee, and destin'd first for toils.
“Death now would be a boon; and such a boon
“A step-dame might confer. Have I for this,
“Busiris slain, who drench'd the temples deep
“With travellers' blood? For this Antæus robb'd
“Of nutriment parental? Did thy bulk,
“Of triple-form, swain of Iberia, fright?
“Or thou, three-headed Cerberus, me move?
“Wrought I for this in Elis? at the lake
“Of Stymphalis? and in Parthenian woods?
“Did not my valor seize the golden belt
“Of Thermodon's brave queen? the apples gain,
“Ill-guarded by th' unsleeping dragon's care?
“Could the fierce Centaur me resist? or could
“The mighty boar that laid Arcadia waste?
“And what avail'd the Hydra, that he grew
“From every loss, in double strength reviv'd?
“How? Saw I not the Thracian coursers gorg'd
“With human gore! whose stalls with mangled limbs
“Crowded, I overthrew, and slew their lord
“On his slain coursers? Strangled by these hands
“Nemæa's monster lies. Heaven I upbore
“Upon these shoulders. The fierce wife of Jove
“Weary'd at length with bidding, I untir'd
“Still was of acting. But at length behold
“A new-found plague, which not the bravest soul,
“Nor arms, nor darts can aught resist. Fierce fire,
“Darts through my deepest inwards; all my limbs
“Greedy devouring. Yet Eurystheus lives!
“Still are there who the deities believe?”—
He said, and o'er high Œté tortur'd rov'd
Like a mad tiger, when the hunter's dart
Stands in his body, and the wounder flies.
Oft would you see him groaning; storming oft;
Oft straining from his limbs again to fling
The vest; trees rooting up; against the hills
Fierce railing; next up to his father's skies
His arms extending. Lo! he Lychas spies,
Where trembling in a hollow rock he hides!
Then, all his fury in its utmost strength,
Raging, he cry'd;—“Thou, Lychas, thou supply'd
“This deadly gift. Thou art the author then
“Of my destruction.”—Shuddering he, and pale,
In timid accents strove excuse to plead:
Speaking, and round his knees prepar'd to cling,
Alcides seiz'd him, with an engine's force
Whirl'd round and round, and hurl'd him in the waves,
Which by Eubæa roll. He, as he shot
Through air, was harden'd. As the falling showers
Concrete by freezing winds, whence snow is form'd:
As snows by rolling, their soft bodies join,
Conglomerating into solid hail:
So ancient times believ'd, the boy thus flung,
Through empty air, by strong Alcides' arm,
Bloodless through fear, and all his moisture drain'd,
Chang'd to a flinty rock. A rock e'en now
High in Eubæa's gulph exalts its head,
Which still of human form the marks retains.
Which, as though still of consciousness possess'd,
The sailors fear to tread, and Lychas call.
Thou, Jove's renowned offspring, fell'd the trees
Which lofty Œté bore, and built a pile:
Then bade the son of Pæan bear thy bow,
Thy mighty quiver, and thy darts, to view
Once more the realm of Troy; and through his aid
The flames were plac'd below, whose greedy spires
Seiz'd on the structure. On the woody top
Thou laid'st the hide Nemæan, and thy head,
Supported with thy club, with brow serene
As though with garlands circled, at a feast
Thou laid'st, 'mid goblets fill'd with sparkling wine.