Long time the mighty thunderer's queen had known
Calistho's state; but curb'd her furious ire
Till ripe occasion suited: longer now
Delay were needless; now the nymph produc'd
Arcas; whom Juno more enrag'd beheld.
With savage mind, and furious look she ey'd
The boy, and spoke;—“Adulteress! this alone
“Was wanting! fruitful, harlot, hast thou prov'd?
“Must by this birth my wrongs in public glare?
“And what dishonor I from Jove receive
“Be palpable to sight. Expect not thou
“Impunity to find. Thy form I'll change,—
“To thee so pleasing, and so dear to Jove.”
She said; and on the flowing tresses seiz'd
Which o'er her forehead stream'd, and prostrate dragg'd
The nymph to earth. She rais'd her suppliant hands,—
With black hairs cover'd, rough her arms appear'd;
Bent were her hands, and, with her lengthen'd nails
To claws transform'd, press'd on the ground as feet;
Her mouth so beauteous, late of Jove admir'd,
Yawn'd wide deformity;—and lest soft prayers
And flowing words, might pity move, no power
To speak she left. Now through her hoarse throat sounds
An angry threatening voice that fear instills;
A bear becoming, though her sense the same:
Her sufferings proving by her constant groans.
Lifting to heaven such hands as lift she could,
Jove she ungrateful found, but Jove to call
Ungrateful, strove in vain. Alas! how oft
In woods and solitudes, to sleep afraid,
She roam'd around the house and fertile fields
Of late her own!—-Alas, how oft thence driven
By yelping hounds o'er craggy steeps she fled!
Thou dread'st the hunters though an huntress thou!
Oft was her form forgotten, and in fear
From beasts she crouch'd conceal'd: the shaggy bear
Shudder'd to see the bears upon the hills;
And at the wolves she trembled, though with wolves
Her sire Lycaön howl'd. Now Arcas comes;
Arcas, her son, unconscious of his race.
Near fifteen suns the youth had seen revolv'd;
And while the game he chases, while he seeks
Thickets best suited for his sports, and round
The Erymanthean woods his toils he sets,
He meets his mother:—at his sight she stay'd,
The well-known object viewing. Arcas fled
Trembling, unconscious why those eyes were fix'd
On him immoveably. His spear, prepar'd
To pierce his mother's breast, as near she draws
The youth protends. But Jove the deed prevents:
Both bears away, and stays the matricide.
Swept through the void of heaven by rapid whirl
They're borne, and neighbouring constellations made,
Loud Juno rag'd, to see the harlot shine,
Amid the stars; and 'neath the deep descends,
To hoary Tethys, and her ancient spouse;
Where reverence oft the host of heaven had shewn.
And thus to them, who anxious seek the cause,
Why there she journeys. “Wish ye then to know
“Why I the queen of heaven, my regal seat
“Now leave? Another fills my lofty throne!
“Nor false I speak,—for when gray night shall spread
“O'er all,—new constellations shall you see
“Me irking,—on the utmost bounds of heaven,
“Where the last shorten'd zone the axis binds.
“Now surely none, t' insult shall rashly dare
“The thunderer's spouse, but tremble at her frown;
“For she who most offends is honor'd most!
“Much has my power perform'd!—vast is my sway!
“Her human form I chang'd,—and lo! she shines
“A goddess;—thus the guilty feel my ire!
“Thus potent I. Why not her form restore,
“And change that beastly shape, as Iö once
“In Argolis, the same indulgence felt.
“Why drives he not his consort from his bed,
“Calistho placing there;—for sire-in-law
“The wolf Lycaön chusing? If to you
“Your foster-daughter's insults ought import,
“Forbid these stars to touch the blue profound:
“Repel those constellations, plac'd in heaven,
“Meed of adultery; lest the harlot dip
“In your pure waves.”—The gods their promise gave
And through the liquid air Saturnia flies,
Borne in her chariot by her peacocks bright;
Their coats gay studded from fall'n Argus' eyes.
Less beauteous was the change, loquacious crow,
Thy plumage suffer'd,—snowy white to black.
With silvery brightness once his feathers shone;
Unspotted doves outvying; nor to those
Preserving birds the capital whose voice
So watchful sav'd;—nor to the stream-fond swans,
Inferior seem'd his covering: but his tongue,
His babbling tongue his ruin wrought; and chang'd
His hue from splendid white to gloomy black.
No fairer maid all Thessaly contain'd,
Than young Coronis,—to the Delphic god
Most dear while chaste, or while her fault unknown.
But Corvus, Phœbus' watchman, spy'd the deed
Adulterous;—and inexorably bent
To tell the secret crime, his flight directs
To seek his master. Him the daw pursues,
On plumes quick waving, curious all to learn.
His errand heard, she cries;—“Thy anxious task,
“A journey vain, pursue not: mark my words;—
“Learn what I have been;—see what now I am;
“And hear from whence my change: a fault you'll find
“Too much fidelity, which wrought my woe.
“Time was, when Pallas, Ericthonius took,
“Offspring created motherless, and close
“In basket twin'd with Attic twigs conceal'd.
“The charge to keep, three sister-maids she chose,
“Daughters of Cecrops double-form'd, but close,
“Conceal'd what lodg'd within; and strict forbade
“All prying, that her secret safe might rest.
“On a thick elm, behind light leaves conceal'd,
“I mark'd their actions. Two their sacred charge
“Hold faithful; Pandrosos, and Hersé they:
“Aglauros calls her sisters cowards weak;
“The twistings with bold hand unloosening, sees
“Within an infant, and a dragon stretch'd.
“The deed I tell to Pallas, and from her
“My service this remuneration finds:
“Driven from her presence, she my place supplies
“Of favorite with the gloomy bird of night.
“All other birds my fate severe may warn,
“To seek not danger by officious tales.
“Pallas, perhaps you think, but lightly lov'd
“One whom she thus so suddenly disgrac'd.
“But ask of Pallas;—she, though much enrag'd
“Will yet my truth confirm. A regal maid
“Was I,—of facts to all well-known I speak:
“Coroneus noble, of the Phocian lands
“As sire I claim. Me wealthy suitors sought—
“Contemn me not,—my beauty was my bane.
“While careless on the sandy shore I roam'd,
“With gentle pace as wont, the ocean's god
“Saw me and lov'd: persuasive words in vain
“Long trying, force prepar'd, and me pursu'd.
“I fled; the firm shore left, and tir'd my limbs
“Vainly, upon the light soft sinking sand.
“There to assist me men and gods I call'd;
“Deaf to the sound was every mortal ear:
“But by a virgin's cries a virgin mov'd,
“Assistance gave. Up to the skies my arms
“I stretch'd; and black my arms began to grow,
“With waving pinions. From my shoulders, back
“My robes I strove to fling,—my robes were plumes;
“Deep in my skin the quills were fix'd: I try'd
“On my bare bosom with my hands to beat;
“Nor hands nor naked bosom now were found:
“I ran; the sand no longer now retain'd
“My feet, but lightly o'er the ground I skimm'd;
“And soon on pinions through the air was borne;
“And Pallas' faultless favorite I became.
“What now avail to me my pure deserts?
“Nyctimené, whose horrid crime deserv'd
“Her transformation, to my place succeeds.
“The deed so wide through spacious Lesbos known,
“Ere this has reach'd thee;—how Nyctimené—
“Her father's bed defil'd,—a bird became.
“Conscious of guilt, she shuns the sight of man;
“Flies from the day, and in nocturnal shades
“Conceals her shame; by every bird assail'd
“And exil'd from the skies.” The crow in rage
To her still chattering, cry'd;—“May each delay
“Thy babbling causes, prove to thee a curse.
“I scorn thy foolish presages,”—and flew
His journey urging. When his master found,
He told him where Coronis he had seen
Claspt by a young Thessalian. Down he dropp'd
His laurel garland, when the crime he heard
Of her he lov'd;—his harp away he flung;
His countenance fell, and pale his visage grew.
Now with fierce rage his swelling bosom fires;
His wonted arms he seizes; draws his bow,
Bent to the horns; and through that breast so oft
Embrac'd,—th' inevitable weapon drove.
Deep groan'd the wounded nymph, and tearing out
The arrow from her breast, a purple flood
Gush'd o'er her shining limbs. She sighing cry'd,—
“This fate, O Phœbus, I deserv'dly meet,
“Were but thy infant born;—two now in one
“Thy dart has slain!”—She spoke,—her vital blood
Fast flow'd, and stay'd her voice. A deadly chill
Seiz'd all her members, now of life bereft.
Too late, alas! her sorrowing lover mourns
His cruel vengeance; and himself he hates,
Too credulous listening, and too soon enflam'd:
The bird he hates, who first betray'd the deed
And caus'd him first to grieve: his bow he hates;
His bowstring; arm; and with his arm the dart,
Shot vengeful. Fond he clasps her fallen form;
And strives by skill, by skill too late apply'd
To conquer fate:—his healing arts he tries,—
All unavailing. Fruitless he beholds
His each attempt, and sees the pile prepar'd;
And final flames her limbs about to burn.
Then from his deepest bosom burst his groans;
(For tears on cheeks celestial ne'er are seen,)
Such groans are utter'd when the heifer sees,
The weighty mallet, from the right ear pois'd,
Crush down the forehead of her suckling calf.
And now his useless odors in her breast
He pour'd; embrac'd her; to her last rites gave
Solemnization due. The greedy fires
His offspring were not suffer'd to consume.
Snatch'd from the curling flames, and from the womb
Of his dead mother, he the infant bore
To double-body'd Chiron's secret cave.
But bade the self-applauding crow, fill'd big
With hopes of favor for his faithful tale,
With snowy-plumag'd birds no more to join.
Meantime while Chiron, human half, half beast,
Proud of his deity-descended charge,
Joy'd in the honor with the task bestow'd:—
Behold, her shoulders with her golden locks
Shaded, the daughter of the Centaur comes;
Whom fair Chariclo, on a river's brink
Swift-rolling, bore, and thence Ocyrrhoë nam'd.
She not content her father's arts to know,
The hidden secrets of the fates disclos'd.
Now was her soul with fate-foretelling sounds
Fill'd, and within her fiercely rag'd the god:
The infant viewing;—“Grow,” she said, “apace,
“Health-bearer through the world. To thee shall oft
“Expiring mortals owe returning life!
“To thee 'tis given to render souls again
“Back to their bodies! Once thou'lt dare the deed;—
“The angry god's forbidding flames, thy power
“Further preventing:—and a bloodless corps
“Heaven-born, thou ly'st;—-but what thy body form'd
“A god becomes,—resuscitated twice.
“Thou too, my dearest and immortal sire!
“To ages never-ending, born to live,
“Shalt wish for death in vain; when writhing sad
“From the dire serpent's venom in thy limbs,
“By wounds instill'd. The pitying gods will change
“Thy destin'd fate, and let immortal die:
“The triple sisters shall thy thread divide.
“More yet untold remains;”—Deep from her chest
The sighs burst forth, and starting tears stream down,
Laving her cheeks, while thus the maid pursues:
“The fates prevent me, and forbid to tell
“What more I would;—all power to speak deny.
“Those arts, alas! heaven's anger which have drawn,—
“What were they? Would I ne'er the future knew!
“Now seems my human shape to leave me. Now
“The verdant grass a pleasing food appears.
“Now am I urg'd along the plain to bound;
“Chang'd to a mare: unto my sire ally'd
“In form,—but why sole chang'd? my father bears
“A two-form'd body;”—Wailing thus, her words
Confus'd and indistinct at length are heard.
Next sounds are utter'd partly human, more
A mare's resembling:—then she neighs aloud;
Treading with alter'd arms the ground: fast join'd
Her fingers now become: a slender hoof
Her toes connecting with continuous horn.
Her head enlarges; and her neck expands;
Her spreading garment floats a beauteous tail:
Her scatter'd tresses o'er her shoulders flung,
Form a thick mane to clothe her spacious neck:
Her voice is alter'd with her alter'd shape:
And change of name the wonderous deed attends.
Deep Chiron mourn'd, O Phœbus, and thy aid
In vain invok'd; for bootless was thy power
Jove's mandate to resist; nor if thou could'st
Then wast thou nigh to help. In Elis far,
And fields Messenian then was thy abode.
Then was the time when shepherd-like a robe
Of skins enwrapp'd thee;—when thy left hand bore
A sylvan staff;—thy right a pipe retain'd,
Of seven unequal reeds. While love engag'd
Thy thoughts, and dulcet music sooth'd thy cares,
'Tis said, thy herds without their herdsman stray'd,
Far to the Pylian meadows. These the son
Of Atlantean Maiä espy'd;
And, slily driven away, within the woods
The cattle artful hid. None saw the deed,
Save one old hoary swain, well known around,
And Battus nam'd; whose post it was to guard
The groves, the grassy meads, and high-bred mares
Of wealthy Neleus. Him the robber fear'd;
Drew him aside, and coaxing thus address'd;—
“Whoe'er thou art, good friend, if here perchance,
“Someone should seek an herd,—say that thou here
“No herd hast seen;—thou shall not lack reward:
“Take this bright heifer:”—and the cow he gave.
The bribe receiv'd, the shepherd thus replies;
“Friend, thou art safe,—that stone shall sooner speak
“And tell thy deed than I:”—and shew'd the stone.
The son of Jove departs, or seems to go;
But soon with alter'd form and voice returns.
“Here, countryman,” he cries, “hast thou an herd
“This way observ'd to pass?—no secret keep,
“To aid the theft; an heifer with a bull
“Await thy information.” Doubly brib'd,
The hoary rogue betray'd his former trust.
“Beneath those hills,” he said, “the herd you'll find.”
Beneath the hills they were. Loud laugh'd the god
And cry'd,—“Thou treacherous villain, to myself
“Wouldst thou betray me? wouldst thou to myself
“My deeds betray?” And to a flinty stone
His perjur'd breast he chang'd, which still retains
The name of Touchstone;—on the harmless rock
His infamous demerits firmly fix'd.
Hermes from hence, on waving wings upborne
Darted, and in his flight beneath him saw
The Attic pastures,—the much-favor'd land
Of Pallas; and Lyceum's cultur'd groves.
It chanc'd that day, as wont, the virgins chaste,
Bore on their heads in canisters festoon'd,
Their offerings pure to Pallas' sacred fane.
Returning thence the winged god espy'd
The troop, and straight his onward flight restrain'd;
Wheeling in circles round. As sails the kite,
Swiftest of birds, when entrails seen from far
By holy augurs thick beset,—he fears
A near approach, but circling steers his flight
On beating wings, around his hopes and round.
So 'bove the Athenian towers the light-plum'd god
Swept round in circles on the self-same air.
As Phosphor far outshines the starry host;
As silver Cynthia Phosphor bright outshines;
So much did Hersé all the nymphs excel,
The bright procession's ornament; the pride
Of all th' accompanying nymphs. Her beauteous mien
Stagger'd Jove's son, who hovering in the air
Fierce burns with love. The Balearic sling,
Thus shoots a ball; quick through the air it flies,
Warms in its flight, and feels beneath the clouds
Flames hereto known not. Alter'd now his route
The skies he leaves, and holds a different flight:
Nor veils his figure,—such reliance gave
His beauteous form: and beauteous though that form,
Yet careful did the god his looks adorn;
He smoothes his tresses, and his robe adjusts
To hang in graceful folds, and fair display
The golden fringe; his round and slender wand,
Of sleep-procuring, sleep-repelling power,
His right hand bears; and on his comely feet
His plumed sandals shine. Within the house
Three separate chambers were secluded form'd,
With tortoise and with ivory rich adorn'd.
Thou, Pandrosos, within the right repos'd;
And on the left hand thou Aglauros, slept;
Fair Hersé in the midst. Aglauros first
The god's approach descry'd, and daring ask'd
Who he?—and what he sought?—To whom the god;
“Him you behold, who through the air conveys
“His sire's commands: Almighty Jove that sire.
“Nor will I feign my errand. So may'st thou
“True to thy sister prove, and soon be call'd
“My offspring's aunt. 'Tis Hersé draws me here.
“Help then a lover in his warm pursuit.”
Aglauros bends on Mercury those eyes,
Which yellow-hair'd Minerva's secret saw;
And ponderous sums for her assistance claims;
Driving the god meantime without the gates.
With angry glare the warlike goddess view'd
The mercenary nymph, and angry sighs,
Which shook her bosom heav'd; the Ægis shook,
On that strong bosom fix'd. Now calls to mind
Minerva how with hands prophane, the maid
Her strict behests despising, daring pry'd
To know her secrets; and the seed beheld
Of Vulcan, child without a mother form'd:
Now to her sister and the god unkind;
Rich with the gold her avarice had claim'd.
To Envy's gloomy cell, where clots of gore
The floor defil'd, enrag'd Minerva flew:
A darkened vale, deep sunk, the cavern held,
where vivid sun ne'er shone, nor freshening breeze
Health wafted: torpid melancholy rul'd,
And sluggish cold; and cheering light unknown,
Damp darkness ever gloom'd. The goddess here
In conflict dreaded came, but at the doors
Her footsteps staid, for entrance Fate forbade.
The gates she strikes—struck by her spear, the gates
Wide open fly, and dark within disclose,
On vipers gorging, (her accustom'd feast,)
The envious fiend: back from the hideous sight
Recoils the goddess, and averts her eyes.
Slow rising from the ground, her half chew'd food
She quits, advancing indolently forth:
The maid, in warlike brightness clad, she saw,
In form divine, and heavy sighs burst forth
Deep from her bosom's black recess: pale gloom.
Dwells on her forehead; lean her fleshless form;
Askaunce her eyes; encrusted black her teeth;
Green'd deep with gall her breasts; her hideous tongue
With poisons lurid; laughter knows her not,
Save woes and pangs unmerited she sees;
Sleep flies her couch, by cares unceasing wrung;
At men's success she sickens, pining sad;
But stung herself, while others feel her sting
Her torture closely grasps her.—Much the maid
The sight abhors; and thus in brief she speaks:—
“Deep in the breast of Cecrops' daughter fix
“Thy venom'd sting—Aglauros is the nymph.—
“More needs not.”—Speaking so Minerva fled,
Upbounding, earth she with her spear repell'd.
Glancing asquint the fury saw her rise,
And inly groan'd,—that she success should gain.
Her staff with prickly thorns enwreath'd she takes,
And forth she sallies, wrapp'd in gloomy clouds.
Where'er she flies she blasts the flowery fields;
Consumes the herbage; and the harvest blights.
Her breath pestiferous felt the cities round,
Houses and 'habitants where'er she flew.
At length the towers of Athens she beheld
With arts and riches flourishing, and blest
With holy peace. Scarce could she tears withhold,
No tearful eye throughout the place to see.
Straight to the room of Cecrops' daughter now
Her route she urges, and her task performs:
Her rusty hand upon the maiden's breast
She plants, and with sharp thorns that bosom fills;
Breathes noxious poison through her frame; imbues
With venom black her heart, and all her limbs.
Lest from her eyes escap'd, the maddening scene
Should cease to vex her, full in view she plac'd
Her sister, and her sister's nuptial rites;
And Hermes beauteous in the bridal pomp:
In beauty all, and splendor all increas'd.
Mad with the imag'd sight, the maid is gnawn
With secret pangs;—deep groans the lengthen'd night,
And deep the morning hears; she wastes away
Silently wretched, lingeringly slow.
As Sol's faint rays the summer ice dissolves:
So burns she to behold the envy'd lot
Of Hersé; not with furious flames,—as weeds
Blaze not when damp, but with slow heat consume.
Oft would she wish to die: and oft the deed
To hinder, thinks to tell her rigid sire
Her sister's fault. At length her seat she takes
Across the threshold, and th' approaching god
Repuls'd; and to his blandishments, and words
Beseeching fair, and soft-alluring prayers,
She cry'd,—“Desist,—from hence I ne'er will move
“Till thou art driven away.” Swift Hermes said.—
“Keep firmly that resolve.” And with his wand
The sculptur'd portals touching, wide they flew.
But when her limbs to raise, the virgin strove,
A weighty numbness o'er the members crept
Which bend in sitting, and their movement staid.
Strenuous she strives to raise her form erect,
But stiffen'd feels her knees; chill coldness spreads
Through all her toes; and, fled the purple stream,
Her veins turn pallid: cruel cancer thus,
Disease incurable, spreads far and wide,
Sound members adding to the parts diseas'd.
So gradual, o'er her breast the chilling frost
Crept deadly, and the gates of life shut close.
Complaint she try'd not; had she try'd, her voice
Had found no passage, for the stone had seiz'd
Her throat,—her mouth; to marble all was chang'd.
She sat a pallid statue;—all the stone
Her envy tainted with a livid hue.
His vengeance, when Jove's son complete had seen,
Due to her avarice, and her envious soul;
He left Minerva's land, and up the sky
On wafting pinions mounted. There his sire,
Him from th' assembly drew; nor yet disclos'd,
The object of his love:—“Son, quickly haste,—
“Thou faithful messenger of my commands,
“Urge rapid thy descending flight, and seek
“The realm whose northern bounds thy mother star
“O'erlooks,—the land by natives Sidon call'd.
“There wilt thou pasturing find the royal herd,
“'Neath hills not distant from the sea: turn down
“This herd to meadows bordering on the beach.”
He said;—the cattle tow'rd the sea shore move,
Where sported with her Tyrian maids as wont,
The monarch's daughter. Ill majestic state
And love agree; nor long combin'd remain.
The sire and ruler of the gods resigns
His weighty sceptre: he whose right hand bears
The three-fork'd fires; whose nod creation shakes,
Assumes a bull's appearance:—with the herd
Mingles; and strolling lets the tender shrubs
Brush his fair sides. Of snowy white his skin;
Such snow as rugged feet has never soil'd,
Nor southern showers dissolv'd: his brawny neck,
Strong from his shoulders stands: beneath extends
The dewlap pendulous: small are his horns;
But smooth as polish'd by the workman's hand;—
Pellucid as the brightest gems they shine:
No threatenings wear his brow; no fire his eyes
Flame fierce; but all his countenance peace proclaims.
Him much Agenor's royal maid admir'd;—
His form so beauteous, and his look so mild.
Yet peaceful as he seem'd, she fear'd at first
A close approach;—but nearer soon she drew,
And to his shining mouth the flowery food
Presented. Joy'd th' impatient lover stands,
Her fingers kissing; and with sore restraint
Defers his look'd for pleasures. Sportive now
He wantons, frisking in the grass; now rolls
His snowy sides upon the yellow sand.
Her apprehensions chas'd, by slow degrees,
The virgin's fingers playful stroke his breast;
Then bind with wreaths his horns: more daring now
Upon his back the royal maid ascends;—
Witless a god she presses. From the fields,
His steps deceitful gradual turn'd, he bends,
And seeks the shore; then playful in the waves
Just dips his feet;—thence plunging deep, he swims
Through midmost ocean with his ravish'd prize.
Trembling the nymph beholds the lessening shore;——
Firm grasps one hand his horn; upon his back,
Secure the other resting: to the wind,
Her fluttering garments floating as she sails.
The Third Book.
Unsuccessful search of Cadmus for his sister. Death of his companions by the dragon. Overthrow of the dragon, and production of armed men from his teeth. Thebes. Actæon devoured by his hounds. Semelé destroyed by lightening, and the birth of Bacchus. The prophet Tiresias. Echo: and the transformation of Narcissus. Impiety of Pentheus. Change of the Tyrrhenian sailors to dolphins. Massacre of Pentheus.