Nor sated yet was Bacchus; all their fields
He quits; attended by a worthier troop.
To Tmolus' vineyards and Pactolus' stream
He hies: the stream not yet for gold was fam'd;
Not yet so precious were its envy'd sands.
Satyrs and Bacchant' nymphs, his 'custom'd choir
Attend him, but Silenus was not found.
Him drunken had the rustic Phrygians seiz'd,
Reeling with wine, and tottering 'neath his years;
With ivy crown'd; and fetter'd to their king,
The royal Midas, brought him. Midas once
The Thracian Orpheus Bacchus' orgies taught,
With sage Eumolpus; and at once he knew
His old associate in the sacred rites;
And joyful feasted with voluptuous fare,
For twice five days, and twice five nights his guest.
Th' eleventh time Phosphor' now the lofty host
Of stars had chas'd from heaven; the jovial king
Went forth to Lydia's fields, and there restor'd
Silenus to the youth his foster-child.
He, joy'd again his nursing sire to see,
On him bestow'd his anxious sought desire,
Though useless was the gift. Greedy he crav'd
What only harm'd him,—saying—“Grant, O, power!
“Whate'er I touch may straight to gold be chang'd”—
Bacchus consents to what he wishes;—gives
The hurtful gift; but grieves to see his mind
No better wish demand. Joyful departs
The Berecynthian monarch, with ill-fate
Delighted; and, each object touching, tries
The promis'd faith. Scarcely himself believ'd,
When from a growing ilex down he tore
A sprouting bough, straight gold the bough became:
A stone from earth he lifted, pale the stone
In gold appear'd: he touch'd a turfy clod,
The clod quick harden'd with the potent touch:
He pluck'd the ripen'd hoary ears of wheat,
And golden shone the grain: he from the tree
An apple snatch'd, the fam'd Hesperian fruit
He seem'd to hold: where'er his fingers touch'd
The lofty pillars, all the pillars shone:
Nay, where his hands he in the waters lav'd,
The waters flowing from his hands seem'd such
As Danaë might deceive. Scarce can his breast
His towering projects hold; all fancy'd gold.
Th' attendant slaves before their master, joy'd
At this great fortune, heap'd the table high
With dainties; nor was bread deficient there:
But when his hands the Cerealian boon
Had touch'd, the Cerealian boon grew hard:
And when the dainty food with greedy tooth
He strove to eat, the dainty food grew bright,
In glittering plates, where'er his teeth had touch'd.
He mixt pure water with his patron's wine,
And fluid gold adown his cheeks straight flow'd.
With panic seiz'd, the new-found plague to view,
Rich, yet most wretched; from his wealthy hoard
Fain would he fly; and from his soul detests
What late he anxious pray'd. The plenteous gold
Abates his hunger nought, and parching thirst
Burns in his throat. He well deserves the curse
Caus'd by now-hated gold. Lifting his hands
And splendid arms to heaven, he cries,—“O sire
“Lenæan! pardon my offence: my fault
“Is evident; but pity me, I pray,
“And from me move this fair deceitful curse.”
Bacchus, the gentlest of celestial powers,
Reliev'd him, as he thus his error own'd:
The compact first agreed dissolv'd, and void
The grant became:—“Lest still thou shouldst remain
“With gold”—he said,—“so madly wish'd, imbu'd,
“Haste to the stream by mighty Sardis' town
“Which flows; thy path along the mountain's ridge
“Explore, opposing still the gliding waves,
“Till thou the spring espy'st. Then deeply plunge
“Beneath the foaming gush thy head, where full
“It spouts its waters; and thy error cleanse,
“As clean thy limbs thou washest.”—To the stream
The king as bidden hastes. The golden charm
Tinges the river; from the monarch's limbs
It passes to the stream. And now the banks
Harden in veins of gold to sight disclos'd;
And the pale sands in glittering splendor shine.
Detesting riches, now in woods he lives,
And rural dales; with Pan, who still resorts
To mountain caverns. Still his soul remains
Stupidly dull; the folly of his breast
Was doom'd to harm its owner as before.
High Tmolus rears with steep ascent his head,
O'erlooking distant ocean; wide he spreads
His bounds abrupt; confin'd by Sardis here,
By small Hypæpé there. Upon his top,
While Pan in boastful strain the tender nymphs
Pleas'd with his notes, and on his wax-join'd reeds
A paltry ditty play'd; boldly he dar'd
To place his own above Apollo's song.
The god to try th' unequal strife descends;
Tmolus the umpire. On his mountain plac'd,
The ancient judge from his attentive ears
The branches clear'd; save that his azure head
With oak was crown'd, and acorns dangling down
His hollow temples grac'd. The shepherd's god
Beholding,—“no delay, your judge,”—he said—
“Shall cause,”—and straight Pan sounds the rural reeds.
His barbarous music much the judgment pleas'd
Of Midas, who amidst the crowd approach'd.
Now venerable Tmolus on the face
Of Phœbus turn'd his eyes; and with him turn'd
Th' attentive woods. Parnassian laurel bound
His golden locks; deep dipt in Tyrian dye,
His garment swept the ground; his left hand held
The instrument with gems and ivory rich;
The other grasp'd the bow: his posture shew'd
The skilful master's art: lightly he touch'd
The chords with thumb experienc'd. Justly charm'd
With melody so sweet, Tmolus decreed
The pipe of Pan to Phœbus' lute should yield.
Much did the judgment of the sacred hill,
And much his sentence all delight, save one:
For Midas blames him, and unjust declares
The arbitration. Human shape no more
The god permits his foolish ears to wear;
But long extends them, and with hoary hairs
Fills them within; and grants them power to move,
From their foundation flexile. All beside
Was man, one part felt his revenge alone;
A slowly pacing asses ears he bears.
His head, weigh'd heavy with his load of shame,
He strove in purple turban to enfold;
Thus his disgrace to hide. But when as wont
His slave his hairs, unseemly lengthen'd, cropp'd,
He saw the change; the tale he fear'd to tell,
Of what he witness'd, though he anxious wish'd
In public to proclaim it: yet to hold
Sacred the trust surpass'd his power. He went
Forth, and digg'd up the earth; with whispering voice
There he imparted of his master's ears
What he had seen; and murmur'd to the sod:
But bury'd close the confidential words
Beneath the turf again: then, all fill'd up,
Silently he departed. From the spot
Began a thick-grown tuft of trembling reeds
To spring, which ripening with the year's full round,
Betray'd their planter. By the light south wind
When agitated, they the bury'd words
Disclos'd, betraying what the monarch's ears.
Latona's son, aveng'd, high Tmolus leaves,
And cleaving liquid air, lights in the realm
Laömedon commands: on the strait sea,
Nephelian Hellé names, an altar stands
Sacred to Panomphæan Jove, where seen
Lofty Rhætæum rises to the left,
Sigæum to the right. From thence he saw
Laömedon, as first he toil'd to build
The walls of infant Troy; with toil immense
The undertaking in progression grew,
And mighty sums he saw the work would ask.
A mortal shape he takes; a mortal shape
Clothes too the trident-bearing sire, who rules
The swelling deep. The Phrygian monarch's walls
They raise, a certain treasure for their toil
Agreed on first. The work is finished. Base,
The king disowns the compact, and his lies
Perfidious, backs with perjury.—“Boast not
“This treatment calmly borne,” the ocean's god
Exclaim'd; and o'er the sordid Trojan's shores
Pour'd all his flood of billows; and transform'd
The land to sheets of water; swept away
The tiller's treasure; bury'd all the meads.
Nor sated with this ruin, he demands
The monarch's daughter should be given a prey
To an huge monster of the main; whom, chain'd
To the hard rock, Alcides' arm set free,
And claim'd the boon his due; the promis'd steeds.
Refus'd the prize his valorous deed deserv'd,
He sack'd the walls of doubly-perjur'd Troy,
Nor thence did Telamon, whose powerful arm
The hero aided, unrewarded go;
Hesioné was by Alcides given.
Peleus was famous for his goddess-spouse:
Proud not more justly of his grandsire's fame,
Than of his consort's father; numbers more
Might boast them grandsons of imperial Jove;
To him alone a goddess-bride belong'd.
For aged Proteus had to Thetis said,—
“O, goddess of the waves, a child conceive!
“Thou shalt be mother of a youth, whose deeds
“Will far the bravest of his sire's transcend:
“And mightier than his sire's shall be his name.”
Hence, lest the world than Jove a mightier god
Should know, though Jove with amorous flames fierce burn'd,
He shunn'd th' embraces of the watery dame:
And bade his grandson Peleus to his hopes
Succeed, and clasp the virgin in his arms.
Hæmonia's coast a bay possesses, curv'd
Like a bent bow; whose arms enclosing stretch
Far in the sea; where if more deep the waves
An haven would be form'd: the waters spread
Just o'er the sand. Firm is the level shore;
Such as would ne'er the race retard, nor hold
The print of feet; no seaweed there was spread.
Nigh sprung a grove of myrtle, cover'd thick
With double-teinted berries: in the midst
A cave appear'd, by art or nature form'd;
But art most plain was seen. Here, Thetis! oft,
Plac'd unattir'd on thy rein'd dolphin's back,
Thou didst delight to come. There, as thou laid'st
In slumbers bound, did Peleus on thee seize.
And when his most endearing prayers were spurn'd,
Force he prepar'd; both arms around thy neck
Close clasp'd. And then to thy accustom'd arts,
Of often-varied-form, hadst thou not fled,
He might have prosper'd in his daring hope.
But now a bird thou wert; the bird he held:
Now an huge tree; Peleus the tree grasp'd firm:
A spotted tiger then thy third-chang'd shape;
Frighted at that, Æäcides his hold
Quit from her body. Then the ocean powers
He worshipp'd, pouring wine upon the waves,
And bleating victims slew, and incense burn'd:
Till from the gulf profound the prophet spoke
Of Carpathus. “O, Peleus! gain thou shalt
“The wish'd-for nuptials; only when she rests
“In the cool cavern sleeping, thou with cords
“And fetters strong her, unsuspecting, bind;
“Nor let an hundred shapes thy soul deceive;
“Still hold her fast whatever form she wears,
“Till in her pristine looks she shines again.”
This Proteus said, and plung'd his head beneath
The waves, while scarce his final words were heard.
Prone down the west was Titan speeding now;
And to th' Hesperian waves his car inclin'd,
When the fair Nereïd from the wide deep came,
And sought her 'custom'd couch. Scarce Peleus seiz'd
Her virgin limbs, when straight a thousand forms
She try'd, till fast she saw her members ty'd;
And her arms fetter'd close in every part:
Then sigh'd, and said; “thou conquerest by some god:”
And the fair form of Thetis was display'd.
The hero clasp'd her, and his wishes gain'd;
And great Achilles straight the nymph conceiv'd.
Now blest was Peleus in his son and bride;
And blest in all which can to man belong;
Save in the crime of murder'd Phocus. Driven
From his paternal home, of brother's blood
Guilty, Trachinia's soil receiv'd him first.
Here Ceÿx, Phosphor's offspring, who retain'd
His father's splendor on his forehead, rul'd
The land; which knew not bloodshed, knew not force.
At that time gloomy, sad, himself unlike,
He mourn'd a brother's loss. To him, fatigu'd
With travel, and with care worn out, the son
Of Æäcus arriv'd; and in the town
Enter'd with followers few: the flocks and herds
That journey'd with him, just without the walls,
In a dark vale were left. When the first grant
T'approach the monarch was obtain'd, he rais'd
The olive in his suppliant hand; then told
His name, and lineage, but his crime conceal'd.
His cause of flight dissembling, next he beg'd,
For him and his, some pastures and a town.
Then thus Trachinia's king with friendly brow:
“To all, the very meanest of mankind,
“Are our possessions free; nor do I rule
“A realm inhospitable: add to these
“Inducements strong, thine own illustrious name,
“And grandsire Jove. In praying lose not time.
“Whate'er thou wouldst, thou shalt receive; and all,
“Such as it is, with me most freely share;
“Would it were better.” Speaking thus, he wept:
His cause of grief to Peleus and his friends,
Anxious enquiring, then the monarch told.
“Perchance this bird, which by fierce rapine lives,
“Dread of the feather'd tribe, you think still wings
“Possess'd. Once man, he bore a noble soul;
“Though stern, and rough in war, and fond of blood.
“His name Dædalion: from the sire produc'd
“Who calls Aurora forth, and last of stars
“Relinquishes the sky. Peace my delight;
“Peace to preserve was still my care: my joys
“I shar'd in Hymen's bonds. Fierce wars alone,
“My brother pleas'd. His valor then o'erthrew
“Monarchs and nations, who, in alter'd form,
“Drives now Thisbæan pigeons through the air.
“His daughter Chioné, in beauty rich,
“For marriage ripe, now fourteen years had seen;
“And numerous suitors with her charms were fir'd.
“It chanc'd that Phœbus once, and Maiä's son,
“Returning from his favorite Delphos this,
“That from Cyllené's top, together saw
“The nymph,—together felt the amorous flame.
“Apollo his warm hopes till night defers;
“But Hermes brooks delay not: with his rod,
“Compelling sleep, he strokes the virgin's face;
“Beneath the potent touch she sinks, and yields
“Without resistance to his amorous force.
“Night spread o'er heaven the stars, when Phœbus took
“A matron's form, and seiz'd fore-tasted joys.
“When its full time the womb matur'd had seen,
“Autolycus was born; the crafty seed
“Of the wing'd-footed god; acute of thought
“To every shade of theft; from his sire's art
“Degenerate nought; white he was wont to make
“Appear as black; and black from white produce.
“Philammon, famous with the lyre and song,
“Was born to Phœbus (twins the nymph brought forth).
“But where the benefit that two she bears?
“Where that the favorite of two gods she boasts?
“What that a valiant sire she claims? and claims
“As ancestor the mighty thundering god?
“Is it that glory such as this still harms?
“Certain it hurtful prov'd to her, who dar'd
“Herself prefer to Dian', and despise
“The goddess' beauty; fierce in ire she cry'd,—
“At least I'll try to make my actions please.—
“Nor stay'd; the bow she bent, and from the cord
“Impell'd the dart; through her deserving tongue
“The reed was sent. Mute straight that tongue became;
“Nor sound, nor what she try'd to utter, heard:
“Striving to speak, life flow'd with flowing blood.
“What woe (O hapless piety!) oppress'd
“My heart! What solace to her tender sire
“I spoke; my solace just the same he heard,
“As rocks hear murmuring waves. But still he moan'd
“For his lost child; but when the flames he saw
“Ascending, four times 'mid the funeral fires
“He strove to plunge; four times from thence repuls'd,
“His rapid limbs address'd for flight, and rush'd
“Like a young bullock, when the hornet's sting
“Deep in his neck he bears, in pathless ways.
“Ev'n now more swift than man he seem'd to run:
“His feet seem'd wings to wear, for all behind
“He left far distant. Through desire of death,
“Rapid he gain'd Parnassus' loftiest ridge.
“Apollo, pitying, when Dædalion flung
“From the high rock his body, to a bird
“Transform'd him, and on sudden pinions bore
“Him floating: bended hooks he gave his claws,
“And gave a crooked beak; valor as wont;
“And strength more great than such a body shews.
“Now as an hawk, to every bird a foe,
“He wages war on all; and griev'd himself,
“He constant cause for others grief affords.”
While these miraculous deeds bright Phosphor's sob
Tells of his brother, Peleus' herdsman comes,
Phocian Anetor, flying, and, with speed
Breathless, “O Peleus! Peleus!” he exclaims,
“Of horrid slaughter messenger I come!”
Him Peleus bids, whate'er he brings, to speak;
Trachinia's monarch even with friendly dread
Trembles the news to hear. When thus the man:
“The weary cattle to the curving shore
“I'd driv'n, when Sol from loftiest heaven might view
“His journey half perform'd, while half remain'd.
“Part of the oxen on the yellow sand,
“On their knees bending view'd the spacious plain
“Of wide-spread waters; part with loitering pace
“Stray'd here, and thither; others swam and rear'd
“Their lofty necks above the waves. There stood
“Close to the sea a temple, where nor gold,
“Nor polish'd marble shone; but rear'd with trees
“Thick-pil'd, it gloom'd within an ancient grove.
“This, Nereus and the Nereïd nymphs possess.
“A fisherman, as on the shore he dry'd
“His nets, inform'd us these the temple own'd.
“A marsh joins near the fane, with willows thick
“Beset, which waves o'erflowing first has form'd.
“A wolf from thence, a beast of monstrous bulk,
“Thundering with mighty clash, with terror struck
“The neighbouring spots: then from the marshy woods
“Sprung out; his jaws terrific, smear'd with foam
“And clotted gore; his eyes with red flames glar'd.
“Mad though he rag'd with ire and famine both,
“Famine less strong appear'd; for his dire maw
“And craving hunger, he not car'd to fill
“With the slain oxen; wounding all the herd:
“All hostile overthrowing. Some of us,
“Ranch'd by his deadly tooth, to death were sent
“Defence attempting. The shore and marsh
“With bellowings echoing, and the ocean's edge
“Redden with blood. But ruinous, delay!
“For hesitation leisure is not now.
“While ought remains, let all together join;
“Arm! arm! and on him hurl united spears.”
The herdsman ceas'd, Peleus the loss not mov'd;
But conscious of his fault, infers the plague
Sent by the childless Nereïd to avenge
Her slaughter'd Phocus' loss. Yet Ceÿx bids
His warriors arm, and take their forceful darts;
With them prepar'd to issue: but his spouse
Alcyöné, rous'd by the tumult, sprung
Forth from her chamber; unadorn'd her locks,
Which scatter'd hung around her. Ceÿx' neck
Clasping, she begg'd with moving words and tears,
Aid he would send, but go not; thus preserve
Two lives in one. Then Peleus to the queen;
“Banish your laudable and duteous fears.
“For what the king intended, thanks are due.
“Arms 'gainst this novel plague I will not take:
“Prayers must the goddess of the deep appease.”