This is a digital copy of a book lhal w;ls preserved for general ions on library shelves before il was carefully scanned by Google as pari of a project
to make the world's books discoverable online.
Il has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one thai was never subject
to copy right or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books
are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often dillicull lo discover.
Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the
publisher lo a library and linally lo you.
Usage guidelines
Google is proud lo partner with libraries lo digili/e public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order lo keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to prevent abuse by commercial panics, including placing Icchnical restrictions on automated querying. We also ask that you:
+ Make n on -commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request thai you use these files for personal, non -commercial purposes.
+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort lo Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.
+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each lile is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it.
+ Keep it legal Whatever your use. remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other
countries. Whether a book is slill in copyright varies from country lo country, and we can'l offer guidance on whether any specific use of any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe.
About Google Book Search
Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through I lie lull lexl of 1 1 us book on I lie web al|_-.:. :.-.-:: / / books . qooqle . com/|
• .1
OVID'S
METAMORPHOSES
TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN,
â– Y
DR. GARTH, AND OTHERS.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
Printed at ttje dtmt&ope $re#,
BY WUITTINCHAM AND ROWLAND, GotwtU Street }
PUBLISHED BY SUTTABY, EVANCE, AND FOX, STATIONERS COURT, LUDGATE STREET; SHARPE AND HAILES, PICCA DILLY; AND TAYLOR AND HESSEY, FLEET STREET.
1812.
CONTENTS.
PftKFACE „ 5
BOOK I.
MR. DRYDEJtf.
'The Creation of the World „ „ 44
The Golden Age 46
The Silver Age 47
The Brazen Age , 48
The Iron Age i».
The Giants1 War 49
The Transformation of Daphne into a Laurel 61
The Transformation of 16 into a Heifer • 66
The Eyes of Argus transrorm'd into a Peacock's
Train ..,., 71
The Transformation of Syrinx into Reeds .... 72
BOOR II.
MR. ADDISON.
The Story of Phaeton 77
Phaeton's Sister transformed into Trees 88
The Transformation of Cycnus into a Swan.- 90
The Story of Calisto 92
The Story of Coronis, and Birth of jEsrulapius 97
Ocyrrhoe transformed to a Mare 101
The Transformation of Battns to a Touchstone 103 The Story of Aglanros, transformed into a
Statue t04
Europa's Rape 109
BOOK III.
MR. ADDISON.
The Story of Cadmus 112
The Transformation of Actseon into a Stag ... 118
M l*i
PREFACE.
Tq* method I propose in writing this Preface, it to take notice of some of the beauties of. the Metamorphoses, and also of the molts and parti- cular affectations. After which I shall proceed to bint at some rules for translation in. general; and shall give a short account of the following version.
. I shaU not pretend to impose my opinion o« others with the magisterial authority of a critic ; bat only take the liberty of discovering my own taste. I shall endeavour to show our poet's re* dundance of wit, justness of comparisons, ele- gance of descriptions, and peculiar delicacy in touching every circumstance relating to the pas- sions and affections ; and with the same impartia- lity and frankness, I shall confess the too frequent puerilities of his luxuriant fancy, and the too great negligence of his sometimes unlaboured versification.
I am not of an opinion, too common to trans- lators, to tlunk that one is under an obligation to extol every thing be finds in the author he under- takes : I am sure one is no more obliged to do to, than a painter, is to make every face, that sits. U> him, handsome. It is enough if he sets the
vol. I. b
6 PREFACE.
best features he finds in their full and most ad- vantageous light. But if the poet has private deformities, though good-breeding will not allow to expose him naked, yet surely there can be no reason to recommend him as the' most finished model of harmony and proportion.
Whoever has this nndistinguishing complai- sance, will not fail to vitiate the taste of the rea- ders ; and misguide many of them in their judg- ment, where to approve, and where to censure.
It must be granted, that where there appears an infinite variety of inimitable excellencies, it would be too harsh and disingenuous to be severe on such faults, as have escaped rather through want of leisure and opportunity to correct, than through the erroneous turn of a depraved judg- ment. How sensible Ovid himself was of the un- correctness of the Metamorphoses appears from these lines,- prefixed before some of the editions by the care of his commentators.
Orba parent* suo quicunque vohynina tang is f
His saltern vestra detur in urbt locus. Quoque magis foveas; rum sunt hoc edita ab IUo,
Sed quasi dt domunifunert rapta sui. Quicquid in his igitur vitii rude carmen habebit
Mmtndaturus, ri Ucuissct, erat. Trist. El. vi.
Since therefore the readers arc not solemnly invited to an entertainment, but come acciden- tally, they ought to be contented with what they find. And pray what have they to complain of, bnt too great variety? where, though some of the dishes be not served in the exactest order and politeness, bnt hashed up in haste, there are a
PREFACE. 7
t
great many accommodated to .every particnrar palate.
To like every thing, shows too little delicacy ; and to like nothing, too much difficulty. So great is the variety of this poem, that the reader who is never pleased, will appear as monstrous as he that is always so. Here are the- harries of battles for the hero, tender emotions of soul for the lover, a search and penetration into nature for the phi- losopher; fluency of numbers, and most expres- sive figures for the poet; morals for the serious, and pleasantries for admirers of points of wit
It is certain a poet is more to be suspected for saying too much than too little. To add is often hazardous; but to retrench, commonly judicious. If our author, instead of saying all he could, had only said all he should, Daphne had done well to fly from the god of wit, in order to crown his poet : thus Ovid bad been more honoured in his exile than Augustus in his triumphs.
I shall now attempt to give some instances of the happiness, and vast extent, of our author's imagination. I shall not proceed according to the order of the poem, but rather transcribe some lines here and there, as my reflection shall sug- gest.
Nee circuntfitso pendebat in acre ttllui Ponderibtu librata suis
Thus was the state of nature before the crea- tion : and here it is obvious, that Ovid bad a dis- cerning notion of the gravitation of bodies. It is now demonstrated, that every part of matter tends to every part of matter with a force, which
8 PREFACE.
is always in a direct simple proportion of the quantity of the matter, and an inverse duplicate proportion of the distance, which tendency or .gravitating is constant and universal. This power, whatever it be, acting always proportionally to the solid content of bodies, and never in any pro- portion to their superficies, cannot be explained by any material Impulse. For the Jaws of im- pulse are physically necessary: there can be no a,vri£va>or, or * arbitrary principle,' in mere mat- ter ; its parts cannot move, unless they be moved; and cannot do otherwise, when pressed on by other parts in motion ; and therefore it is evident from the following lines, that Ovid strictly ad- hered to the .opinion of the most discerning philo- sophers, who taught that all things were formed by a wise and intelligent mind.
Jusmt et extendi compos, tubridert valla, Fronde Ugi .sytoat>
The fiat of the Hebrew lawgiver is not more sublime than the jussit of the Latin poet, who goes on in the same elevated and philosophical style :
Hv ft4>cr impotuU liqtddum ct gravitate car entem JEthera
Here the author spreads a thin veil of ether over his infant creation ; and though his asserting the upper region to be void of gravitation may not, in a mathematical rigour, be true, yet it is .found from the natural inquiries made since, (and especially from the learned Dr. Halley's Discourse on the Barometer) that if, on the surface of the
PBSfrAC*. 9
earth, an nadi of quicksilver in the tube be equal to a cylinder of air of 300 foot, it will be at a mile's height equal to a cylinder of air of 2,700,000 ; and therefore the air at so great a distance from the earth must be rarified to so great a degree, that the space it fills must bear a very small pro- portion to that which is entirely void of matter.
I mink we may be confident from what already appears, as well as from what our author has writ on the $oman feasts, that he could not be totally ignorant of astronomy. Some of the critics would insinuate from the following lines, that he mistook the annual motion of the sun for the diurnal,
Sectut in dbtiqunm Met. B. ii.
Though the sun be always in one or other of the signs of the zodiac, and never goes by either motion more northward or southward than is here described, yet Phaeton, being designed to drive the chariot but one day, ought to have been di- rected in the equator, or a circle parallel to it, and not round the other oblique one of the eclip- tic : a degree of which, and mat by a motion con- trary to the diurnal, he was obliged to go in that length of time.
I am inclined to think, that Ovid had so great an attention to poetical embellishments, that be voluntarily declined a strict observance of any astronomical system. For though that science was far from being neglected' in former ages', yet the progress which was made in it by no means equalled that of our present time.
Lucretius, though in other things most pene-
10 PREFACE.
trating, describes the son scarce bigger than he appears to the eye :
Nee nimio soli* major rota, nee minor ardor Esse potest, nottris quam sensibus ease videtur.
And Homer, imagining the seats of the gods above the fixed stars, represents the falling of Vnlcan from thence to the isle of Lemnos, to con- tinue during a whole day :
K&rrftv iv Mfxr* II. Lib. i.
The Greek poet aims here to give a surprising idea of the height of the celestial mansions ; but if the computation of a modern astronomer be true, they are at so much a greater distance, that Vulcan would have been more years in falling than he was minntes.
But lest I should exceed the usual length of a preface, I shall now give some instances of the propriety of our author's similes and epithets, the perspicuity of his allegories, the instructive excellence of the morals, the peculiar happy turn of his fancy, and shall begin with the elegance of Ins descriptions :
Mtdidis Nbtu* evolat alia,
Terribiicm picca tectus caliginc vultum. Barba gravis nimbis,canis fit/it unda capillis, FronU aedent nebula, rorant peitvecque, sinusque.
8temuntur segetes, et dtplorata coloni VotajaccrU, longique labor perit irritus mud.
PREFACE. 11
These lines introduce those of the Deluge, which are also very poetical, and worthy to be compared with the next, concerning the golden age :
â– â– â– Sine militia usu' Mollia secure peragebant otia gfntea. Jpsa quoque immunia reuiroque intacta, nee ulRa Saucia vomeribua, per sedabat omnia teiius. . Contentique cibis, nullo cogente, creatis, Arbutemfatus, montanaquefraga Ugebant, Et que deciderant patula Jovit arbore glanda, Ver erat sternum, ptacidique tepentibw auria Mulcebant Zephyri natos sine aemint floret.
Virgil has also touched upon the same subject in the end of the second Georgic :
Aureus hone vitam in tenia Soturnus agebat, Nee dum etiam audierttnt ivflari classica, nee dum ImpotUoe duria crepUare incudibus enses.
And again :
Primua ab atkereo venit Saturnus Olympo
Aurea, qua perhibent, iUo sub regefuerunt Smcula : sic placida popuios in pace regebat.
JEm. B. viii. 1. 319.
Some of the lines, a little foreign to the present subject, are omitted; but I shall make tbe most admirable author amends by transcribing at length his next description. It is of a stag, which gave, the first occasion to the war betwixt tbe Trojans and the Rutulians. . I choose this, because my de- sign is to have these two great poets seen toge- ther, where the subject happens to be almost the same, though the nature of the poems be very dif- ferent :
12 PREFACE.
Cervus erat forma prastanti, et cornibta ingots, Tyrrheid* pueri, quern matrix ab ubere raptum Nutribant, Tyrrheusque pater, cui rcgia parent Armenia, et late cuttodia credita campi. Amietum imperii* sorer omvi Sylvia cura MolUbui intexens ornabat cornua sertis : Pectebatquc ferum, puroque in f mitt tavabat. IUe manual patient, mensaquc asvuetus herili Errabat syMs — — JEa. B. vii. 1. 483.
The image which Ovid gives of the favourite stag, slain accidentally by Cyparissus, seems not of less dignity :
Jngens cervtts erat, lateque patentibus altos Ipso suo capiti prabebat comibus umbras; Cornua fulgebant auro, demissaque in armoi Pcndebant tereti gemmata monitia oollo. Bulla super /ronton parvis argcntca loris Vincta movebatur: pariUque ex are nUebant Auribut in geminis circum cava tempora bacca. Isque metu vacuus naturalique pavore DeposUo, celebrare domes, mulcendaque colla QuamUbet ignotis manibus prabere solebat, Gratus erat, Cyparisse, tibi. Tu pabula cervum Ad nova, tu liquidi ducebasjbntis ad undam.
Tu modo texebas varios per cornua fiores : Nunc, eques in tergo residens, hue latus et illuc Mollia purpurcisfrenabas ora capistris.
In the following lines, Ovid describes the watry court of the river Peneos, which the reader may compare with Virgil's subterranean grot of Cyrene the Naiad, mother to Aristsens :
Est nanus Hamonie, prmrupta quod undique claudU SUva; vocant Tanpc; per qua. Pentus ab imo EJfusus Pindo spumosU vohoVkur undis: Dejectuquc gravi tenues agUantiafumos
PREFACK. i$
Nubila conducit, summasque aspergine sutva* Jmpluit ; et sonitu plus quant vicina fatigat. Htec domus, fuec teda, hoc sunt penetralia magrd Amms : in hoc resident facto de cautious antra, Undisjura dabat, Nymphuque colentibus undas. Conveniunt iltuc popularia flumina primum; Nescia gratentur, consoUnturvc parentem, Popultfer Spercheos, et irrequietus Enipeus, Apidanusque senex, lenisque Amphryws, et Mas; Moxque amnes alii, qui, qua tulit impetus iUos, In mare deducuntfessas erroribus undas.
MetB.L
Tristii Aristaus Penei genitoris ad undam Stat lacrytnans
Jamque domum nnrans genetricis, ct humida regno, Spetuncisque locus clausos, htcosqut sonantes, lbat ; et ingenti motu stupef actus aquarum, Omnia sub magna labcntiaflumine terra Spectabat drversa locis, Phasimque, Lycumque, Et caput, xtnde alius primum se erumpit Enipeus, Vnde pater Tiberhnu, et unde Aniena fiuenta, Et gemma auratus taurino eornua xmltu Eridanus; quo non alius per pinguia culta In mare purpureum viclentior irtfiuit amnis.
Georg. B. hr.
The divine poet goes on in pomp of numbers, and easy magnificence of words, till he introduces the story of Orpheus and Eurydice ; in the narra- tion of which he is as much superior to Ovid, as the reeds of his own Mantuan shepherds are less musical than the lyre of Orpheus.
That I may not be too long on this article, I shall recommend to the reader, Ovid's admirable description of sleep :
Est prope Cimmerios — Met. B. si.
That of hunger :
Est Ucm extremis SeytM* B. rift.
14 PREFACE.
That of the plague :
Dira lues B. vli.
That of fame :
^— Orbe locus medio est B. xii.
Virgil has also touched on the two last ; in the one he had Lucretius in view; in the other Homer : and I think it will not be to the disadvantage of our author to appear at the same time.
There are many other descriptions scattered in the Metamorphoses, which for jnst expression of nature, and majestic modulation of words, are only inferior to those already transcribed, as they are shorter; which makes the objection, that his dic- tion is commonly loitering into prose, a great deal too severe.
The Metamorphoses most be considered (as is observed before) very uncorrect, and Virgil's works as finished ; though his own modesty would not allow the JEneids to be so. It seems it was harder for him to please himself than his readers. Mis judgment was certainly great, nor was his vivacity of imagination less ; for the first without the last is too heavy, and like a dress without fancy; and the last without the first is too gay, and but all trimming*
Our author's similitudes are next to be consi- dered; which are always remarkably short, and convey some pleasing idea to the imagination. It is in this branch of the poem, that he has dis- covered as just a judgment as any of the classics whatever. Poets, to give a loose to a warm fancy, are generally too apt, not only to expatiate in their simijies, but introduce them too frequently; by
- 1
PREFACE. 15
doing the first, they detain the attention too long from the principal narration; and by the latter, they make too frequent breaches in the unity of the poem.
These two errors Ovid has most discerningly avoided. How short and significant are generally Ms comparisons ! He fails not in these to keep a stiff rein on a high-mettled Pegasos ; and takes' care not to surfeit here, as he had done on other heads, by an erroneous abundance.
His similies are thicker sown by much in the fable of Salmacis and Hermaphrodilus, than in any other book ; but always short.
The nymph clasps the youth close to her breast, and both insensibly grow one :
Velut si quis conducto cortlce ramos
Crescendo jvngl, pariterque adolescere ceniat.
Met. B. ir.
Again, as Atalanta reddens in the race with Hippomenes :
Inque puellari corpus candore ruborem
Traxerat .- hand aliter qttam cum super atria vektm
Candida purpureum simulates mficU umbras.
Met. B. x.
Philomela's tongue seemed to move, after it wan cut out by Tereus :
Utque satire solet mutUata cauda eolubra, Palpitat â– . Met. B. vi.
Cadmus sows the dragon's teeth, and the sons of the earth rise gradually :
Jade, fide majus, glebe capere moveri; Prtmaque de sulci* acies apparuit hast* ; Tegmtna max capitum picto nutantia com i
16 PREFACE.
Max humeri, pectusque
Stc,ubitoUunturfestis aulaa tkeatris
Surgcre signa solent ; primumque oslendere vultum ;
Cater a paulatim, placidoque educta tenore
Tota patents unoque pedes in margine ponunt.
Met. B. iil.
The objection to Ovid, that he never knows when to give over, is too manifest. Though be frequently expatiates on the same thought, in dif- ferent words ; yet in his similies that exuberance is avoided. There is in them all a simplicity, and a confinement to the present object; always a fecundity of fancy, but rarely an intemperance : nor do I remember he has erred above once by an ill-judged superfluity. After be has described the labyrinth built by Daedalus, he compares it thus :
Non secus ae liquidus PhrygUs Maandros in arvis Ludit, et ombiguo lapsu refluitque, Jluitque ; Et nunc ad /antes, nunc ad mare versus apertum Incertas exercet aquas Met B. viti.
He should have ended at the close of the second line, as Virgil should have done at the end of the fourth, in his noble simile where Dido proceeds to the temple with her court about her :
Qualis in Eurotcc ripU% out perjuga Cynthi Exercet Diana chores, quam milie teeuta Sine, atque hinc glomerantur Oreadts, ilia pharctram Fert humero, gradiensque Deas supereminet omnes: Lcttonce. taciturn pertentant gaudia pectus. Rjh. B. iv.
I see no reason for the last line. Though the poet be justly celebrated for a most consummate judgment, yet by an endeavour to imitate Homer's similies, he is not only very long, but, by introduc- ing several circumstances, Me fails of an applicable
relation Irtwixt tb* Dcsariual snhiBct and Mt near ideae. Hesojntflnyn few** ft fr wort tote fl» ptee* jetne ^tfforwg en^roKlery, saMch, though ▼cry rich, jet makes at beat tat jbrieae matfeb- work; 1 *eufy believe trie exeeffcnt poaai had not been the teas so, i£ in this article, jhe had thiMMfht lit to hatf walkitd .on io his .nana ■**— !■■' aatf enjjfiestic grace, tatter than have been honied .frtavarj jfemmajk tafcen J>y-a*ys by Ma b**d
I aball imacribe one 4f Iris sinuuea. wkielijsnoi colled oatyimt exactly of the same texture with mil the rett In the fear test books of the JEneids.
T^ptkaj^in^fram^.ciiaqot;
PnhtHtOxpt fmttft tQtvit iif t&apta TttHtttst,
Jta.*.a*.!<
It does not seem to be at all materia), wjhetber the rock was blown or washed down by wind or rainy' or undei'wned'by time*
But to return to Ovid; the reader may take notice how unforced bis compliments, and bow natural bjjs transitions generally are. Witfe jpw much ease fcasipP >Hae |ato .some new circum- stance, without f6y vjotetion of the miity of the story! The texture jb so artfid, that it may be com- pared to the work of his own Arachne; where the shade dies so gradually, and the light revives so nnn^t^centiWy, tfeat it is hard to jtejlwbere g* one ccaisf, asjd «a jQtistr begins*
w?mi» is going osTjrea aaasts*y of.Aaollo
MtlFACE.
and Daphne, how happily doe* he introduce
'- â– "o the Roman conquerors !
— Etamfiuq*
He compliments Augustus upon the aisifjnatii of Julius; and, by way of simile, takes the oppi tunity from the horror that the barbarity of Lyca. fa»e:
Jolius is deified, and looka down on his adopt
. Naliqta tidau bene/acta, faletur
KtK nri* mqjora, et liict gaudct ab itio. Met 6- it And immediately follows,
Bic sua praftrrtqvanqvam sttot acta potcmiij Libera J rtma tamcn, ritd tuque obnoxia juatit
The author, in the two first lines, shows t affectionate condescension of the father ; in t three last, the pious gratitude of the son.
The complimenti to Augusta* are very frequt «•> the hist book of the HetankaVphosea ; as the ** Ate same emperor an in me Georgics of Virf which also strike the imagination by their agret *** flattery :
]o, netnrijtu wABita
PREFACE. 19
Again on Julias :
• Imperium Oceano,famam qui tertninct astrU Juliut AEa. B. t
The compliments have a great sublimity, and are worthy of the grandeur of the heroes, and the wit of the poet.
Ovid as much deserves praise for saying a great deal in a little, as censure for saying a little in a great deal. None of the classic poets had the talent of expressing himself with more force and perspicuity.
Phaeton desires some pledge of his father's ten* rlerness, and asks to be trusted with his chariot He answers:
Pignora certa petit ; do pignora carta timendo.
Met. B.H.
However, ttie latter complies with his importu- lity j the consequence is fatal, the world is set on ire ; even the rivers feel the force of the confla- gration. The Tagus boils,
Fluit tgnibus aurum.
The Nile retreats,
Occuluitquc caput , quod adkuc latet â– â–
Xanthns is parched up,
Artunuque itntm Xanthta — —
The poefs fancy is here full of energy, as *ell as in the following lines. Apollo courts Daphne, and promises himself success, but is dit- ippointed :
Quodquc cupit, tptrat ; tuaqutiUam OraculafaUunt,
. And again, the river Acbetous combats Hercules,
- \
SO PREFACE.
and assumes several shapes in vain, then puts on it last that of a snake ; the hero smiles in contempt: Cunantm labor at angua superare nuarum.
Ovid never excels liimself so much, as when he take* occasion to touch upon the passion of love; all hearts are in a manner sensible of the same emotions ; and, like instruments tuned unisons, if a string of any one of them be struck, the rest bf consent vibrate.
Procris is jealous of Cepbalus ; she endeavona to be confirmed in her fears, but hopes the con* trary:
Sjpertdquc mucrrimafalU. The next is not less natural :
— — — Sed cuncta timerruu cunanUt.
Byblis is in love with Caunus. Hie struggle is betwixt her unlawful flame and her honour.
She is all confusion at the thoughts of discovering her passion :
â– miserere Jatcntii ainoTttn*
She attempts to write :
Incipit tt dubitat: scribU,da>rtnatgtietabeUaa, Et notat, et delet : tnutat, culpatgue, probmtqtu.
In the end, inclination (as it does always) gets the better of discretion.
This last fable shows how toechingly the poet argues in love-affairs, as well as those of Medea and Scylla. The two last are left by their heroes, and their reflections are very natural and affecting. Ovid seemed here to have had Virgil's passion or Dido in his eye, but with this difference ; the one (artcanverjad aunch with ladies, and knew they
pktrAcB. 21
le'ved to talk a great deal : the other considered no less, what was natural for them to say, than what became them to say.
Virgil has, through the whole management of this rencounter, discovered a most finished judg- ment. JEneas, like other men, likes for con- venience; and leaves lor greater. Dido, like other ladies, resents the neglect, enumerates the obliga- tions, the lover is under, upbraids him with ingrati- tude, threatens him with revenge; then by and by submits, begs for compassion, and has recourse to tears.
It appears from this piece, that Virgil was a de- cerning master in the passion of love ; and they that consider the spirit and turn of that inimita- ble line,
Qui Barium non adit • â– â–
cannot doubt but he had an equal talent for satire. Nor does the genius of Ovid more exert on the subject of love than on all others. In the con- tention of Ajax, Ulysses's elocution is most nervous and persuading. Where he endeavours to dissuade mankind from indulging carnivorous appetites in his Pythagorean philosophy, how emphatical is his reasoning!
Quid mcruert botes, animal sinefraudt, doUsque, Innocuum, simplex* nation tolerart laborts ? bnmtmor est demum, necfrugum muneredignus. Qui potuU curd dempto modo pondtre uratri, Ruricolam mactare suum — -— Mel. B. zv.
I think Agricolam had been stronger; but the authority of manuscripts does not warrant that emendation. Through the whole texture of this work, Ovid
VOL.1. c
2* PREFACE.
discovers the highest humanity, and a most exceed* ing good nature. The virtuous in distress are always his concern; and his wit contrives to give thern an immortality with himself.
He seems to have taken the most pains in the first and second book of the Metamorphoses, though the thirteenth abounds with sentiments most moving, and with calamitous incidents intro- duced with great art. The poet had here in view the tragedy of Hecuba in Euripides ; and it is a wonder it has never been attempted in our own tongue. The house of Priam is destroyed, hi* royal daughter a sacrifice to the manes of him that occasioned it. She is forced from the arms of her. unhappy friends, and hurried to the altar ; where she behaves herself with a decency becoming her sex, and a magnanimity equal to her blood, and so very affecting that even the priest wept.
â– Ipse etiamflens, invUuvjue sacerdos, ice.
She shows no concern at approaching death, but on the account of her old, unfortunate mother :
Mors tantvm vcUem matrtm meafmUere possit. Mater obest, minuitque necis men gaudia ; quamcis Non mea mora illi, vtrwn sua vita gemenda est.
Then begs her body may be delivered to her without ransom :
• Genetrici corpus inemptum
JUddite i neve, auro redimatjus tritte scpulchri, Sed lacrymis : tunc, cumpoterat, redimebut et auro.
The unhappy queen laments she is not able to give her daughter royal burial : ,
Non tuec tstfortuna domus —
PftBFACS.
Then takes the body in ber decrepit arms, wad halts to the sea to wash off the blood :
• Ad Uttus pastu procemt aniti,
Albertta laniata comas.
The animated thoughts and lively images of this poem are numerous. None ever painted mora to the life than oar anthor, though several gro- tesque figures are now and then seen in the saint group. The most plentiful season that gives birth to the finest flowers, produces also the- rankest weeds. Ovid has shown in one line the- brightest fancy sometimes, and in the next tao poorest affectation.
Venus makes court to Adorns :
Eteccef
V
â– Opporturta tua bUmditur Popuhu umbra; Et trqtaevit humo ; presntque ctgramtn et ipmm.
MetB. x.Lttff.
Phoebus requests Phaeton to desist from bis re- quest:
- â– â– â– Consiliis, rum currUna utere mxCrit.
Cseneus, in the battle of the Centaurs, wounds Latreus in several places :
â– â– - VtUnusquc in vulnercftcit.
These are some of our poet's boyisms. There is- another affectation, called by Quintilian 'OfJ/za^or,. or * a witty folly;' which would not nave appeared quite so trifling, had it been less frequent.
Medea persuades the daughters of Pehas to kill their father, in order to have his youth renewed- She that loves him best gives the first wound.
Et,ne sU scderata,facit mxUu M4. B. viL
24 PREFACE.
Althea is enraged at her son Mcleager, and, to do justice to the manes of his brothers, destroys him:
Impielate pia est »■•
Envy enters Athens, and beholds the flourishing condition of the city :
Fixque tenet lacrymas, quia nil lacrymabUe cernit.
. Ovid was much too fond of sueh witticism*, jvucii are more to be wondered at, because they were not the fashion of that age, as puns and qwbbles are of this. Virgil, as I remember, is not found trifling in this manner above once or twice :
Deucalion vacuum lapida Jactatit in orbem,
Vhde hominet ttati, durum genus—— Georg. B. i. I. 63.
Juno is in indignation at iEneas upon bis arrival
in Italy :
Nunh capti potuere capi 1 nutn incenta cremavit Trqja vivos ? Mm. vii. I. 995.
The poet is so far from affecting this sort of wit, that he rarely ventures on so spirited a turn of fancy, as in these following instances.
Juno upbraids tenus and Copid,ironica%, that two deities could be able to get the better of one weak woman :
â– â– Memorabilenomen, Una ddo Divum, nftzmina victa duorum fit.
MB. B. IV. I. 05. '
Euryams, going upon* an enterprise, expresses
his concern fbt bis surviving rttfthef , if he should
fall, and recommends her to tn€ care of Ascantas ;
who answers,
Namqvrt trit ista miht gtrtUHi, hdmthqui Create Solum defucri* >
PREFACE. 25
Venus is importunate in her solicitations to Vulcan, to make armour for her son ; he answers,
â– Abriaie prccand*
Viribus indubitare tuU Sn. B. f .
At die first kindling of Dido's passion, lie has this most natural thought :
— Ilhtm absent atocntem ei«titgve, xddttquc
But to return to Ovid ; though I cannot vindi- cate him for his points, I shall endeavour to mollify his critics, when they give him no quarter for his diction, and attack him so inflexibly for ending bis lines wish monosyllables, as — st outs, si ttoii, Sec. and as I think he cannot be excused more advantageously than by affirming, tint wfeere-ne has done it once, Virgil has twenty times.
|
ctcum. |
Ceo*, i. |
|
nqwt. |
Qeorg. il. |
|
rtecdum. siquam |
Sft"- |
|
nquu. |
An.vil. |
|
jam hot. |
JGaxti. |
|
nunc nuncr |
-Jtc. |
There are a great many endings of lines in this manner, and more indeed than seems consistent with the majesty of heroic verse. When lines are designed to be sermoni propUres, this liberty may be allowable, but not so when the subject requires more sonorous numbers. Virgil seems to endeavour to keep up his versification to an bar- monious dignity ; and therefore, when fit words do 4>ot offer with some ease, be will rather break off in an hemifttic, than that the line should be lazy and languid* He well knew how essential it was in poetry to flatter 4he .ear; and at the same tine
tO PREFACE.
was sensible, that this organ prows tired by a con- stant attention to the same harmony ; and there* fore he endeavoured now and then to relieve it by a cadence of pauses, and a variation of measures:
AmpkUm Dirceus in Adtmo Aracxmtho. Ed. &
This line seems not tuneful at the first hearing; but, by repetition, it reconciles itself, and has the same effect with some compositions of mask, which are at the first performance tiresome, and afterward entertaining.
The commentators and critics are of opinion, that whenever Virgil is less musical, it is where he endeavours at an agreement of the sound with the sense, as,
. Procumbit humi bos.
It would show as much singularity to deny this, as it does a fanciful facility to affirm it; because it is obvious in many places he had no such view.
— — Inventa sub ilidbus nts. ALn. IU. 1. 390.
— Dentesque. Sabellicus exacuit tut. Georg. lift. 1. 24$.
——Jam setts obsita, Jam bos. Xn. Til. 1. 191*
— — Furor additus, inde lupi ecu, &c. Mn. xi. 1. 356.
The places which favour most the first opinion are:
Saxa per et scopulos, et depressas oonvaUes.
Geoff. W. I. «S. ■8ape criguui rrvus.
Omnia sub magna labentia flumina terra. Georg. if.
The last line is the only instance, I remember, (except one in Ed. ii.) where the words terminals in the same vowel, and seem to represent the cos- #tant and uniform sound of a sliding stream.
Those that are most conversant in classic poetry, most be sensible that Virgil has been much more
â– PREFACE. t?
solicitous than Ovid to keep np Iris lines to an easy and a musical flow ; but though, the critics charge the latter with breaking through prosody and grammar, and allowing himself too often the licence of Gnecisras, I take this- censure to be only an arrogant pedantry in the grammarians, aid groundless in itself; but though it were true, I dare be confident it is full as just upon Virgil :
— Curru tutgungtre Tigrcs EcL v. L «9.
for currui, according to the grammarians.
Often adjectives for adverbs, and the contrary.
— Pinguiaculta Geoff. I
An adjective for a substantive.
— Dcnso distingnere pingui — —
The same.
Seu languentis Hyacinthi JEu. xl. 1. 09.
First foot of the dactyl short
— - - TultruntfaUidia mentcs—— £n. iv. The penultima of the verb short.
Opstupui feteruntgue coma. The same. So Lucretius, prodiderunt, reciderunt, &c.
— Pampineo gravidas autumno. Geoff, ii. 1. 5.
An iambic for a spondee.
Ftuviorum rex Eridanus camposque per omnes.
An anapest for a dactyl, or a spondee.
Nee Clytio genitore minor necJYatrc Mnentheo.
JEu. x. 1. CO.
A trochee, unless the two consonants m n of the following word be allowed.
£8 frRBFACI.
Fervtrt, non ilia quitquam-— Geoig. i. L 40t, I*
The penoltima commonly short with Virgil; * rJ
fulgere, stridere, ip. I1*
Sine me fttrerc ante furorem—— 4En.xii.LG60.
*<
Aoracum. i;
— — Lnponere Pelio Onam. Georg. 1. 1. CM-'
A Graecism where there is no elision, bat the long yowel before another made short.
The learned and reverend Dr. Clarke has ob- served, (as he tells me) that though there be several short vowels made long in Homer, yet there is no instance, on the contrary, of any long vowel (such as the first syllable of rtjuu), ^vx*> >**«> and the like) ever made short, where no vowel follows: which- shows that there is no such thing as a poetic* licentia, properly so called.
Certainly no body can imagine but these two celebrated authors understood their own tongue better than the scrupulous grammarians of after- ages, who are too dogmatical and self-sufficient, when they presume to censure either of them for not attending strictly enough to syntax and the measure of verse. The Latin tongue is a dead language, and none can decide with confidence on the harmony or dissonance of the numbers of these times, unless they were thoroughly acquainted with their pauses and cadence. They may indeed pronounce with much. more assurance on their diction; and distinguish where they have been negligent, and where more finished. There are certainly many lines in .Ovid where he has .been
PtVACC £9
downright buy, and where be might hare avoided the appearance of being obviously so, by a very little application. In recording the succession of the Alban kings thus :
Epitus ex illo est, post nunc Capetusque, Copysquc, . Std Capys antcfuit
There are also several lines in Virgil, which are not altogether tunable to a modern ear, and which
appear nnrnnsneci •
Sdticet omnibus est labor impcndcndus, ct < Cagendtt infulcum — Georg. tt. 1. 61.
Praertim si tempestas a vertict sylvis
JmcsOuU Geoff . H. 1. 310.
Quasvc reftrrt partm ? scd nunc, est omnia quando hie animas supra JEa. xi. I. 309.
lata quidem quia nota mini tua, magne, voluntas, Jupiter—— JEn. xK. 1. 108.
3«t the sun has its spots ; and if, amongst thou- sands of inimitable lines, there should be some found of an unequal dignity with the rest, nothing can be said for their vindication more, than, if they be faults, they are the faults of Virgil.
As I ought to be on this occasion an advocate for Ovid, who I think is too much run down at present by the critical spirit of this nation, I dare say I cannot be more effectually so, than by com- paring him in many places with his admired con- temporary Virgil; and though the last certainly deserves the palm, I shall make use of Ovid's own lines, in the Irial of strength betwixt Acheloiis and Hercules, to show how much he is honoured by the contention.
50 PREFACE.
• Non tarn
Turpefu.it vinci, quam contendisse decoitun.
Met B. fat
I shall finish my remarks on our author, 1 taking notice of the justness and perspicuity his allegories, which are either physical or natun moral or historical. Of the first kind is the fat of Apollo, or Python ; in the explanation of tl all the niythologists agree; exhalations and mis being the constant effects of inundations, are he dissipated by the rays of the sun.
Of the second kind, are Actaeon torn to piet by his own pack of dogs, and Erisicthon starv by the disease of hunger. These two allegor seem to signify, that extravagance and luxury e in want.
Of the third, is the story of the rape of Euro] History says she was daughter to Agenor, a carried by the Candians in a galley, bearing a b in the stern, in order to be married to one of th kings, named Jupiter.
This explanation gives an occasion for a digr .sion, which is not altogether foreign to the presi purpose; because it will be of use to justify 0< on some other occasions, where he is censured being too free with the characters of the gods, was once representing the Metamorphoses as excellent system of morality ; but an illustri< lady (whose least advantage above her sex, is fJ of being one of the greatest princesses â– in Euro]
1 This probably «u the Princess of Wales, consul * George II. to whom Garth inscribed his version of Ovid 1717.
PRBFACI. 31
that the loose and immodest sallies of d by no means confirm my assertion, ist consider, that what appeared an ab- O? id, is not so much his own fault as te times before him. The characters of of the old heroic age represented them their actions, mutable in their designs, their favours, ignorant of events, scur- their language; some 'of the superior treating one auother with injurious bra- nd arc often guilty of such indecencies »liaviour, as the lowest of mortals wonld jwn. Juno calls Diana, the goddess of Kvot *$$il$, brazenfaced bitch; Horn. II. .481. Jupiter insults his daughter, the if wisdom, for rashness and folly ; bids er, he will maul her coach-horses for her, rly bitch as site is ; cuvotcxtti kv'ov : II. B. line 400 to line 425, then threatens in lace to beat his wife, that divine vixen, rtal partner of the empyreal throne, xau Tif IfMxcra'U' II* B. xv. 1. 17. minentators may endeavour to hide those es uuder the veil of allegories ; but the lat considers the whole texture of the find, that the author's meaning, and their ation, are often as unlike as the imaginary •* bis time are to the real ones of ours, iries should be obvious, and not like in the air, which represent a different > every different eye. Now they are f soldiers ; now flocks of sheep ; and by o thing. ps the critics of a more exalted taste
32 PREPACK.
may discover such beauties in the ancient poetry, as may escape the comprehension of us pigmies of a more limited genius. They may be able to fathom the divine sense of the pagan theology, whilst we aim at no more than to judge of a little common sense.
It is, and ever will be, a rule to a great many, to applaud and condemn with the general vogue, though never so ill grounded. The most are afraid of being particular; and, rather than strive against the stream, are proud of being in the wrong with the many, rather than desirous of being in the right with the few : and though they be convinced of the reasonableness of dissenting from the com- mon cry, yet, out of a poor fear of censure, they contribute to establish it, and thus become an authority against others, who in reality are but of their own opinion.
Ovid was so tar from paying a blind deference to the venerable name of his Grecian predecessor, in the character of his gods, that when Jupiter punishes Andromeda for the crimes of her mother, he calls him ir\justus Ammon, (Met B. iv.) and takes commonly an honourable care of the deco- rum of the godhead, when their actions are con- sistent with the divinity of their character. His allegories include some religions or instructive moral, wrapped up in a peculiar perspicuity. The fable of Proserpina, being sometimes in hell and sometimes with Ceres her mother, can scarce mean any thing else than the sowing and coming op of corn. The various dresses that Vertummis, the god of seasons, puts on, in his courtship of Pomona the garden-goddess, seem plainly to express the
"\
PRBFACK. 33
it and most proper times for digging, plant- tnring, and gathering the increase. I shall ter •* tki* head, became our countryman ndys has, by a laborious search amongst the agists, been very fell. He has annexed his item* to the end of eflefc book, whieh de- » be recommended to none that are Curious figurative learning.
reader cannot fail of observing, bow many nt lessons of morality OrM has given us m irse of bis fables.
story of Deucalion and Pyrrba teaches, sty and innocence cannot miss of the divine ion ; and that the only loss irreparable is our probity and justice. of Pmeton ; how the too great tenderness parent proves a cruelty to the child; and , who would climb to the seat of Jnpiter, ry meets with his bolt by the way. tale of Baucis and Philemon is most inimi- oM. He omits not the minutest circum- of a cottage-life ; and is much fuller than where be brings in his contented old man b, Georg. iv. Ovid represents a good old happy and satisfied in a cleanly poverty ; Me, and free of the few things that fortune en them ; moderate in desires ; affectionate conjugal relation ; so religious in life, that ley observed their homely cabin rising to e, aft the bounty they asked of the gods d entertained was, that they might do the f priesthood there, and at their death not one another, ttories of Lycaon and Pentfceus, not only
M
34 PREFACE.
deter from infidelity, and irreverence f but the last also shows, that too great ze the same effects as none at all, and that is often more cruel than atheism.
The story of Minos and Scylla rep infamy of selling our country ; and t< even they who love the crime, abhor t In Cippus we find a noble magna heavenly self-denial ; he preferred the republic to his own private grandeur ; with an exemplary generosity, rathe private freeman out of Rome, than t numbers of slaves in it. ., From the story of Hercules we lean is a lady, who (like many others) loves admirers suffer a great deal for her. enumerates the labours of the hero ; he conquered every thing for others, for himself; then does him the poetic an apotheosis, thinking it most fit tl had borne the celestial orbs on hisshou have a mansion amongst them.
From the assumption of Romulus war is at an end, the chief busiuess of ] be the enacting good laws; that after preserved from the enemy, the next be to preserve them from themselves lore the best legislators deserve a pi heroes and deities.
From Ariadne being inhumanly Theseus, and generously received 1 we find, that as there is nothing we ca so there is nothing we ought to despa
From Althea burning the brand; tli
PREFACE. 56 '
take care lest, under the notion of justice, we should do a cruelty; for they that are set upon revenge, only endeavour to imitate the injury.
From Polyphemus making love to Galatea ; one may observe, that the most deformed can find something to like in their own person. He ex- amines his face in the stream, combs his rueful locks with a rake, grows more exact and studious of his dress, and discovers the first sign of being in love, by endeavouring at a more than usual care to please.
The (able of Cephalns and Procris confirms, that every trifle contributes to heighten the disease of jealousy ; and that the most convincing proofs can scarce cure it
From that of Hippomenes and Atalanta we may discover, that a generous present helps to persuade, as well as an agreeable person.
From Medea's flying from Pelias's court ; that the offered favours of the impious should be always suspected; and that they, who design to make every one fear them, are afraid of every one.
From Myrrha ; that shame is sometimes hard to be overcome ; but if the sex once gets the better of it, it gives them afterwards no more trouble.
From Genis; that effeminacy in youth may change to valour in manhood, and that as fame perishes, so does censure.
From Tereus ; that one crime lays the founda- tion of many; and that the same person, who begins with lust, may conclude with murder.
From Midas ; that no body can punish a covetous man worse than he punishes himself; that scarce
M
any thing wonMnnMtasn prove more fatal I thin toe completiâ„¢ of our own wishes ; and he who hat the most dnih-ea, will eertainiy with the most disappointments.
From the Pythagorean philosophy, it mi observed, tliat man n the only animal who his reUow-creatnre without being angry.
From Protein we have this lesion, that a s man can pat on any shape ; can be a span the lion, ami a Hon to tbe spaniel ; and th knows not to be an enemy who knows not hi teem a friend ; that if all crowns sliotild cl their mrnrstry as often as they please, though may be called other ministers, they are tti
The legend of iEKrulapsas's voyage to Ko form of a snake, seems to express the beet sagacity required in professors of that art, ii readier insight into distempers ; this reptile ! celebrated by the ancient naturalists for a sight
Cur in amleonm vilium lam arnii acutum, Quam out aquita, aut terpen* Epidaurim ?
The venerable Epidanrian assumed the figi an animal, without hands to take fees ; and i fore grateful posterity honoured him with a pic. in Una manner should wealthy physi Hpon proper occasion;, practise, and thoa
PREFACE. 37
will be the less surprised at the author's prophetic spirit, relating to the duration and success of the work:
Jdmque'opta exegi, &c.
This prediction has so far proved true, that this poem has been, ever since, the magazine which has furnished the greatest poets of the following ages with fancy and allusions ; and the most cele- brated painters with subjects and designs. Nor have his poetical predecessors and contempora- ries paid less regard to their own performances :
Jntignemque meo capiH petere indt coronam, Vnde prius nutii vclaritit tempera Mxact.
Lucr. B. I.
Nemo me lacrumeis decoret, nccfunera fietu Faciit; quur volito vivu% per ora virum.
Ban. Frag.
— — — Ttntanda via e*t, qua me quoque possim Jbttere humo, victorque virum volitare per ora.
Virg. Ceorg. iii. :
Me dociarum hedera prcunia frontium
Dtis misccnt superis Hor. Od. i.
Again,
Exegi monumentum are perernihtf,
Hegalique $Un Pyratnidum altnu.
Quod non imber cdux, non Aquilo impotent
PouU diruere, out i/mumcrabilis
Annorum series, etfuga temporum.
Hon omnia moriar. Hor. B. tii. Od. xxx. '
The whole Ode is in a manner a continued corn* pliment to his own writings : nor, in imitation of this celebrated author, want we poets of our pre- lent age, who have been pleased to rank them« selves amongst their own admirers.
vol. 1. »
*B PBBMCB.
I hare done with the oriaiual ; and shall n H excuse for the length of the. Preface, h*e, it is in the power of the reader to make it as si u be pleases. I shall now conclude with a « or two abont the tr.rsiou.
Translation is commonly either verbal or raphrasr, or imitation; of the first u Mr. Sao* Which I think the Metamorphoses can by means allow of. It fa agreed tlmt the author It nnfiui'hed; if it had undergone liis last hi it is more tluu> probable that many aaperffctl had been retrenched. Where a poem n pertfe, finished, the translation, with regard to parttci idioms, cannot be too exact: try doing tfna sense of the author is more entirely his own ' , the cast of the periodi more faithfully preaerr but where a poem is tedious through exnberai or dark through a hasty brevity, I think the tn lator may be excused for dome; what the antt npon revising, woidd have done himself.
If Mr. Sandys had been of this opinion, j haps other translations of the Metamorphoses I not been attempted.
A critic has observed, that in his version of i book he has scrupulously confined the number his lines to those of the original. It is fit laboi lake Die sum npon content, and be better hi than to count after him.
The manner that seems most suited for this p sent undertaking, is, neither to follow tb* net! too close, oat of a critical timoroumes* . a abandon him too wantonly, through a poetic bel â– sfM. The original should always be kept in vie *itij(,nt too apparent a deviation from the aem
PABTACEv £9
it is otherwise, it is not a Tersfcjti, fat ut 9iu The translator ought to be as intent
> up the gracefulness of the poem, as artful i its imperfections; to copy its beauties,
throw a shade Oyer its biemisbes ; to be
to an idolatry, where the author excels ;
take the license of a little paraphrase,
penury of fancy or dryness of expression
> ask for it
ingenious gentlemen concerned in this lin- ing seem to be of this opinion ; and there- by have not only consulted the reputation author, but their own also. There is one d has no other share in this compliment, r being the occasion of engaging them that i obliging the public. He has also been so the memory and reputation of Mr. Dry- to give bis incomparable lines the advan* appearing so near his own. inot pass by that admirable English poet, t endeavouring to make his country sensi- the obligations they have to his muse. »r they consider the flowing grace of his- atioh ; the vigorous sallies of his fancy, or collar delicacy of bis periods; they will t excellencies never to be enough admired. ' trace him from the first productions of th to the last performances of his age, they d, that as the tyranny of rhyme never im- >n the perspicuity of the sense, so a laft- ose never wanted to be set off by the har- f rhyme. And as his earlier works wanted nrity; so this latter wanted no force o*
40 MM AC 6. I
spirit The felling off of bit hair liad do OQa^. / consequence than to make his laurels be seen **!- ft
A* a translator he was just; as an inventor W/' was rich. His ve rsinos of some parti of Lucre- tios, Horace, Homer, and Virgil throughout, gat him a just pretence to that compliment which war* ^sw made to Monsieur d'Ablancourt, a celebrate! 1?*^ French translator: ' It is uncertain who have tea ^••2 greatest obligations to him, the dead or the tit- ^——
■Willi all these wondrous talents, he was libelled •■■>■in his lifetime by the very men, who had no other J^ excellencies, but as they were his imitators. When *^j be was allowed to have sentiments superior to all others, they charged liim with theft. Hut boo did he steal r no otherwise than like those that steal beggars' children, only to clothe them the better.
It is to be lamented, that gentlemen still con- tinue this unfair behaviour, and treat one another every day with most injurious libels. The Hoses should be ladies of a chaste and fair behaviour: when they are otherwise, they are furies. It is certain that Parnassus is at best but a barren mountain, and its inhabitants contrive to make it more so by their unneighbourly deportment; the authors are the only corporation that eniieavoor at the rain of their own society. Every day mat convince them, how much a rich fool is respected above a poor wit The only talents in esteem at present are those of Excbange^lley : one tally is north a grove of bays i and it is of muck mora
irycieu is still a ud and diamefnl balance rath : tlie man that could make kings inl- and raise triumpliant arebea to heroes, itt a poor square foot of stone, to show ie asbes of one of the greatest poets, that i opon earth, are deposited'.'
Dtydcn'i awb in ITOi), Ihec m* Be miniil
i
'I
If
!?
i:
VID'S METAMORPHOSES.
BOOK I.
TRANSLATED BY DRTDEN.
wdies ehang'd to various forms I sing: ods, from whom these miracles did spring, ire my numbers with celestial heat, I my loug laborious work complete ; add perpetual teooor to my rhymes, led from nature's birth to Caesar's times, ifbre the seas and this terrestrial ball, heaven's high canopy that covers all, was the face of nature ; if a face; >er a rude and indigested mass : eless lump, unfashion'd and unfranVd, irring seeds, and justly Chaos nam'd. on was lighted up, the world to view ; noon did yet her Wanted horns renew ; yet was earth suspended in the sky ; , potsVl, did on her own foundations lie ; seas about the shores their arms had thrown | earth, and air, and water, were in one. i ait was void of light, and earth unstable, water's dark abyss nnnavigabfe.
A
44 OVID 9 METAWOBPBOIM. fl
No certain form mi any was impresari ; All were conlus'd, and each diatiirb'd the n For hot and cold were in one body fix'd ; And soft with hard, and light with heavy m But god or nature, while they thai cooti To these intestine discords pat an end ; Then earth from air, and seas from earth wen And grosser air sunk from ethereal heav'n. Thiu disembroil'd, they take their proper pi The next of kin contiguously embrace ; And foes arc snnder'd, by a larger space. The force of fire ascended first on high, And took its dwelling in the vaulted sky: Then air succeeds, in lightness next to fire ; Whose atoms from [inactive earth retire. Earth sinks beneath, and draws a numerous Of pondYons, thick, unwieldy seed* along; About her roasts unruly waters row; And, rising nn a ridge, insult the shore. Thus when the god, whatever god was he, Had furm'd the whole, and made the parts . That no unequal portions might be found, He moulded earth into a spacious ronnd i Then with a breath, he gave the winds to b And had the congregated waters flow. He adds the running springs, and standing 1 And bounding banks for winding rivers mat Some part in earth are SHUllow'd up, the mi In ample oceans, disembogu'd, are lost. He shades the woods, the valleys he n-straii With rocky mountains, and extends the phi: And as five zones the' ethereal regions bii Five, correspondent, are to earth asBign'd : The sun with rays, directly darting down, tires all beneath, Mid fires the middle zone :
I
Book 1. OVID'S METAMORPHOSIS, 45
The two beneath the distant poles complain Of endless winter, and perpetual rain. Betwixt the? extremes, two happier climates bald The temper that partakes of hot and cold. The fields of liquid air, inclosing all, Surround the compass of this earthly ball : The lighter parts lie neat the fires above, To* grosser near the watry surface move : Thick clouds are spread, and storms engender
there, And thunder's voice,which wretched mortals fear, I And winds that on their wings cold winter bear. / Nor were those blustering brethren left at large, On seas and shores, their fury to discharge: Bound as they are, and circumscribed in place, They rend the world, resistless where they pass; And mighty marks of mischief leave behind j Such is the rage of their tempestuous kind. First Earns to the rising morn is sent, (The regions of the balmy continent ;) And eastern realms, where early Persians run, To greet the bless'd appearance of the sun. 'Westward, the wanton ZepLyr wings his flight, Pleas'd with the remnants of departing hgbt ; Fierce Boreas, with bis offspring, issues forth To* invade the frozen waggon o€ the north ; While frowning Anster seeks the southern sphere, And rots with endless rain the' unwholesome year.
High o'er the clouds, and empty realms of wind, The god a clearer space for heaven designM ; Where fields of light and liquid ether flow, Purged from the pondrous dregs of earth below.
Scarce bad the power distinguished these, when straight The stars, no longer overlaid with wc
« OVID'S METAMOHPHOSES. flw
Exert (heir Leads, from underneath the mass And upward shoot, and kindle as they past, And with diffusive light adorn their beavei
phrct. Then, every void of nature to supply, With forma of gods he fills the vacant sky: New herds of beasts he sends, the plains to sha New colonies of birds, to people air; And to their oosy beds the finny fish repair.
A creature of a more exalted kind Was wanting yet, and then was man designed Conscious of thought, of more capacious bre For empire form'd, aud fit to rule the rest : Whether with particles of heavenly Are The e°d of nature did his sonl inspire, Or earth, bnt new divided from the sky, And pliant, still retaio'd the' ethereal energy Which wise Prometheus temperM into paste And, mix'rt with living streams, the godlike i
cast Than, while the mote creation downward be: Their sight, and to their earthly mother tend Man looks aloft ; and with erected eyes Beholds his own hereditary skies. From such rude principles our form began ; And earth was mctamorphos'd into man,
THE GOLDEN AGS.
The golden age was first ; when man, yet w No rale but uncorrnpted reason knew, And, with a native bent, did good purine. Unfbrc'd by punishment, unaw'd by fear. His word* were simple, and his sou) sincere ; Needless was written law, where none oppn The law of man was written in his breast !
\
: 1. OVID'S MBTAMOBVHOtlt. 47
ppliant crowds before the judge appear'd, 1 art erected yet, nor cease was heard ; > U was safe, for conscience was their guard. J loontain-rrees in distant prospect please, it the pine descended to the seas ; life were spread, new oceans to explore; appy mortals, unconcerned for more, fd their wishes to their native shore, ills were yet; nor fence, nor mote, nor mound, nun was lieard, nor trumpet's angry sound : voids were forg'd ; but, void of care and crime, >ft creation slept away their time, curing earth, yet guiltless of the plough, mprovok'd, did fruitful stores allow : nt with food, which nature freely bred, tidings and on strawberries they fed; Is and bramble-berries gave the rest, ailing acorns rornish'd out a feast, owers, unsown, infields and meadows reign*d ; western winds immortal spring maintain'd. lowing years, the bearded corn ensn'd earth unask'd, nor was that earth renew*cL veins of valleys, milk and nectar broke ; loney sweating through the pores of oak*
THE SILVER AGE,
t when good Saturn, banish'd from above, Iriven to hell, the world was under Jove, eding times a silver age behold, ling brass, but more excelPd by gold, summer, autumn, winter, did appear; pring was but a season of the year. on his annual course obliquely made, days contracted, and enlars/d the bad.
/
»
I
48 otid's metamorphosis. Boa
Then air with sultry heats began to glow ; The wings of winds were clog'd with ice and s And shivering mortals, into houses driven, Sought shelter from the' inclemency of lieav'i Those houses then were caves, or homely she With twining osiers fenc*d ; and moss their b Then ploughs, for seed, the fruitful furrows b And oxen labour'd first beneath the yoke.
THE BRAZEN AGE.
To this came next in course the brazen ag< A warlike offspring, prompt to bloody rage, Not impious yet
J.l
THE IRON AGB.
-Hard steel succeeded then ;
And stubborn as the metal were the men. Truth, modesty, and shame, the world forsoc Fraud, avarice, and force, their places took. Then sails were spread to every wind that hi Raw were the sailors, and the depths were r Trees, rudely hollow'd, did the waves sustaii Ere ships in triumph plough'd the watry plaii Then landmarks limited to each his right ; For all before was common as the light. Nor w&* the ground alone requir*d to bear Her annual income to the crooked share ; But greedy mortals, rummaging her store, Dig'd from her entrails first the precious ore. Which next to hell the prudent gods had laic And that alluring ill to sight display'd. Thus cursed steel, and more accuised gold, Gave mischief birth, and made that mischief
Book 1. OVID'S METAMORPHOSE*. 49
And doable death did wretched man invade,
By steel assaulted, and by gold betrayed.
N ow (braudish'd weapons glittering in their hands)
Mankind is broken loose from moral bands ;
No rights of hospitality remain :
The guest, by him who harbour'd him, is slain;
The son-in-law pursues the father's life ;
The wife her husband murders ; he, the wife.
The step-dame poison for the son prepares;
The son inquires into his father's years.
Faith flies, and piety in exile mourns ;
And justice, here oppress'd, to heaven returns.
THE GIANT'S WAR.
Nor were the gods themselves more safe above ; Against beleaguer'd heaven the giants move. Hills pil'd on hills, on mountains mountains lie, To make their mad approaches to the sky : Till Jove, no longer patient, took his time To' avenge with thunder their audacious crime : Red lightning play'd along the firmament. And their demolish'd works to pieces rent. Siug'd with the flames, and with the bolts transfix'd, With native earth their blood the monsters mix'd. The blood, indued with animating heat, Did in the' impregnant earth new sons beget : They, like the seed from which they sprung, accurs'd, Against the gods immortal hatred nurs'd ; An impious, arrogant, and cruel brood, Expressing their original from blood.
Which when the king of gods beheld from high (Withal revolving in his memory, What he himself had found on earth of late, Lycaon's guilt, mid his inhuman treat),
fi
50 OVID'S tf ETAMORPHOSSI. BoVNt
He sigh'd ; nor longer with hit pity strove ; But kindled to a wrath becoming Jove :— •
Then calfd a general council of the gods ; Who, summonM, iasue from their bless'd abodei And fill the* assembly with a shining train* A way there is, in heaven's expanded plain, Which, when the skits are clear, is seen below, And mortals by the name of milky know. The groundwork is of stars; through which the n Lies open to the thunderer's abode ; The gods of greater nations dwell around, And, on the right and left, the palace bound ; The commons where they can ; the nobler sort With winding doors wide open, front the court This place, as far as earth with heaven may vie I dare to call the Louvre of the sky. When all were plac'd, in seats distinctly knowi And he, their father, had assunVd the throne. Upon his ivory sceptre first he leant, Then shook his head, that shook the firmament Air, earth, and seas, obey'd the' almighty nod, And with a general fear confess'd the god. At length, with indignation, thus be broke His awful silence, and the powers bespoke.
* I was not more concerned in that debate Of empire, when our universal state Was put to hazard, and the giant-race Our captive skies were ready to embrace : jj For though, the foe was fierce, the seeds of a
Rebellion sprung from one original ; Now wheresoever ambient waters glide, All are corrupt, and all must be destroy'd. Let me this holy protestation make, By hell, and hells inviolable lake,
I
OVID'S SCETAMOKFHOSE* ft
batever in the godhead by ; ren'd members most be top'd away te nobler parts are tainted to decay, rells below a race of demi-gods, is in waters, and of fawns in woods, ugh not worthy yet in heaven to live, it least, enjoy that earth we give. i be thought securely tods/d below, nyself, who no superior know, ive heaven and earth at my command, n attempted by Lycabn's hand ? a mnrmar through the synod went, i one voice they vote his purisument. en conspiring traitors dartl to doom >f Caesar, and in him of Rome, ins'trembled with a pious fear, us for their earthly thnnderer ; their care, O Caesar ! less esteem'd than that of heaven for Jove was deem'd : 1 bis hand, and voice, did first restrain rmurs, then resum'd his speech again, to silence were compos d, and sate erence due to bis superior state. >1 your pious cares ; already be his debt to justice and to me. his crimes, and what my judgments were, for me thus briefly to declare, ours of this vile degenerate age, of orphans, and the' oppressor's rage, h'd the stars ; I will descend* said I, o prove this loud complaint a lie. in human shape, I travelled round d, and more than what I heard, I found.
5£ OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. Book 1.
O'er Msenalus I took my steepy way,
By caverns infamous for beasts of prey ;
Then cross'd Cyllenl, and the piny shade
More infamous, by cnrs'd Lycaon made.
Dark night had eover'd heaven and earth, before
I entered his nnbospitable door :
Jnst at my entrance, I displayed the sign
That somewhat was approaching of divine.
The prostrate people pray ; the tyrant grins j
And, adding profanation to his sins,
u I'll try," said he, " and if a god appear,
To prove his deity shall cost him dear."
*T was late ; the graceless wretch my death prepares,
When I shonld sonndly sleep, oppress'd with cares;
This dire experiment he chose, to prove
If I were mortal, or undoubted Jove.
But first he had resolv'd to taste my pow'r ;
Not long before, but in a luckless hour,
Some legates, sent from the Molossian state,
Were on a peaceful errand come to treat :
Of these he murders one, he boils the flesh,
And lays the mangled morsels in a dish :
Some part he roasts ; then serves it up, so dress'd,
And bids me welcome to this human feast.
MoV'd with disdain, the table I o'erturn'd,
And with avenging flames the palace burn'd :
The tyrant, in a fright, for shelter gains
The neighbouring fields, and scours along the plains.
Howling he fled, and fain he wonld have spoke j
But human voice bis brutal tongue forsook.
About his lips the gather^ foam he churns,
And, breathing8langhter8,stiU with rage he burns j
But on the bleating flock his fury turns.
â– 1
OVID* METAMORPHOSES. * 55
j, now his hide, with rugged hairs bis back ; a ramish'd face he bears ; lescend, his shoulders sink away ly his legs for chase of prey, a wolf, his hoariniess remains, une rage in other members reigns, till sparkle in a narrower space; •etain the grin and violence of his face. vat a single rain, foot not one so jast a punishment alone, i a monster, and the' ungodly times, te into guilt, are sworn to crimes. ke involv'd in ill ; and all he same relentless fury rail.' tded he ; the greater gods assent ; ar urging his severe intent ; ill up the cry for punishment vith pity they remember man, n as much as heavenly spirits can. * when those were lost of human birth, would do with all this waste of eaith ? peopled world he would resign , a mute and more ignoble line ; 1 altars must no longer smoke, rere left to worship and invoke/ the father of the gods replied — : unnecessary fear aside ; he care new people to provide | n wondrous principles ordain dike the first, and try my skill again/ r had -he toss'd the flaming brand, I the thunder in his spacious hand, I to discharge on seas and land;
}
54 OVIf>'§ METAMORPHOSES. Book h
But stop'd, for fear, thus violently driv'n, The sparks should catch the axle-tree of heavn. Kinwmbring in the fates, a time when fire Should to tl:e battlements of heaven aspire, And all his blazing worlds above should burn; And all the' inferior globe to ciudere turn. His dire artillery thus dismiss'd, he bent His thoughts to some securer punishment: Concludes to pour a watry deluge down j And what he durst not burn, resolves to drown*
The northern breath, that freezes floods, he binds With all the race of cloud-dispelling winds ; The south he loos'd, who night and horror brinpi And frogs arc shaken from his flaggy wings. From his divided beard two streams he pours, His head and rheumy eyes distil in show'rs. With rain his robe and heavy mantle flow, And lazy mists arc lowring on his brow ; Still as he swept along, with his clencu'd fist Hesqucez'd the clouds, the' imprisoned clouds resist: The skies, from pole to pole, with peals resound; And showers inlarg'd, come pouring on the ground. Then, clad in colours of a various dye, Juuonian Iris breeds a new supply To feed the clouds : impetuous rain descends; The bearded corn beneath the burden bends ; Defrauded clowns deplore their perish'd grain ; And the long labours of the year are vain*
Nor from his patrimonial heaven alone Is Jove content to pour his vengeance down; Aid from his brother of the seas he craves, To help him with auxiliary waves. The watry tyrant calls his brooks and floods, Who roll from jnossy caves (their moist abodes)^
fc 1. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 55
with perpetual unit his palace fill: horn, in brief, he thus imparts his will, mall exhortation needs ; your powers enmity ) this bad world, so Jove requires, destroy. ♦ oose the reins to all your watry store: down the dams, and. open every door.' e floods, by natnre enemies to land, proudly swelling with their new command, ore the living stones that stop*d their way ; gushing from their source, augment the sea. , with his mace, their monarch struck the
ground; inward trembling, earth received the wound; | rising streams a ready passage found, expanded waters gather on the plain : float the fields, and over-top the grain ; i rushing onwards, with a sweepy sway, flocks and folds and labouring hinds away, safe their dwellings were ; for, sap'd by floods, r houses fell upon their household gods, solid piles, too strongly built to fall, o'er their heads behold a watry wall : seas and earth were iu confusion lost; >rld of waters, and without a coast, le climbs a cliff; one in his boat is borne, ploughs above, where late he sow'd his corn ; rs o'er chimney-tops and turrets row, drop their anchors on the meads below ; lownward driven, they bruise the tender vine, :oss'd aloft, are knock'd against a pine, where of late the kids bad crop'd the grass, monsters of the deep now take their place, ting Nereids on the cities ride, wondering dolphins o'er the palace glide.
56 OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. B*)k 1.
On leave*, and roast* of mighty oak*, they brosst; And their broad fins entangle in the boughs. The frighted wolf now swims amongst the sheep; Tfc yellow lion wanders in the deep ; His rapid force no longer helps the boar ; The stag swims foster than be ran before. The fowls, long beating on their wings in vain, Despair of land, and drop into the main. Now hills and vales no more distinction know; And levelTd nature lies oppress'd below. The most of mortals perish in the flood : The small remainder dies for want of food.
A mountain of stupendous height there stands Betwixt the' Athenian and Boeotian lands, The bound of fruitful fields, while fields they were; But then a field of waters did appear: Parnassus is its name ; whose forky rise Mounts through the clouds, and mates the lofty skies. High on the summit of this dubious cliff, Deucalion wafting, moor'd his little skiff. He with his wife were only left behind Of perish'd man ; they two were human kind. Hie mountain nymphs and Themis they adore, And from her oracles relief implore. The most upright of mortal men was he ; The most sincere, and holy woman, she.
When Jupiter, surveying earth from high, Beheld it in a lake of water lie, That where so many millions lately liv'd, But two, the best of either sex, surviv'd ; He loos'd the northern wind ; fierce Boreas flies To puff away the clouds, and purge tlie skies: Serenely, while he blows, the vapours driv'n, Discover heaven to earth, and earth to heaven.
I a«cc.
Book 1. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 57
The billows fall, while Neptune lays his mace
On the rough sea, and smooths its furrow'd face.
Already Triton, at his call, appears
Above the waves ; a Tyrian robe he wears
And in his hand a crooked trumpet bears.
The sovereign bids him peaceful sounds inspire,
And give the waves the signal to retire.
His writhen shell he takes ; whose narrow vent
Grows by degrees into a large extent ;
Then gives it breath ; the blast, with doubting sound,
Runs the wide circuit of the world around. -
The sun first heard it, in his early east,
And met the rattling echoes in the west.
The waters, listening to the trumpet's roar,
Obey the summons, and forsake the shore.
A thin circumference of land appears ; â– And earth, but not at once, her visage rears, And peeps upon the seas from upper grounds; The streams, but just contained within their bounds, By slow degrees into their channels crawl ; And earth increases as the waters fall. In longer time the tops of trees appear, Which mud on their dishonoured branches bear.
At length the world was all restored to view i Bnt desolate, and of a sickly hue : Nature beheld herself, and stood aghast, A dismal desart, and a silent waste.
Which when Deucalion, with a piteous look Beheld, he wept, and thus to Pyrrha spoke : * Ob wife, oh sister, oh ! of all thy kind The best and only creature left behind : By kindred, love, and now by dangers join' Of multitudes, who breath'd the common air, We two remain : a species in a pair:
kind )
lind ; >
;ers join'd ; 3
i
36 OVID'S METAMORPHOSES, fiftffcl.
The rest the seas have swallow**! ; nor have we Ev'n of this wretched lire a certainty. The clouds are still above ; and while I speak, A second deluge o'er our heads may break. Should I be snatched from hence^and thou remain^ ) Without relief, or partner of thy pain, >
How couldst thou such a wretched Hie sustain? > Should 1 be left, and thou be lost, the sea That buried her I lov'd should bury me. Oh, could our father his old arts inspire, And make me heir of his informing Are, That so I might abolish'd man retrieve, And perish'd people in new souls might live! But heaven is pleas'd, (nor ought we to compfana) That we, the' examples of mankind, remain.' He said : the careful couple join their tears, And then invoke the gods with pious prayers* Thus, in devotion having eas'd their grief, From sacred oracles they seek relief, And to Cephisus' brook their way pursue : The stream was troubled, but the ford they knew With living waters in the fountain bred» They sprinkle first their garments and their head, Then took the way which to the temple led. The roofs were all defiPd with moss and mire, The desart altars void of solemn fire. Before the gradual, prostrate they adortt ; The pavement kiss'd, and thus the saint implorU
' O righteous Themis 1 if the powers above By prayers are bent to pity and to love ; If human miseries can move their mind $ If yet they can forgive and yet be kind ; Tell how we may restore, by second birth, Mankind, and people desolated earth.'
k l. ovrr/s metamorphosis. 59
i thus the gracious goddess, nodding, said : wrt, and with your vestments veil your head ; stooping lowly down, with loosen'd looes, w each behind your backs yonr mighty me*
flier's bones.' s'd the pair and mnte with wonder stand, Pyrrha first refus'd the dire command, bid it heaven !' said she, * that I should tear e holy relics from the sepulchre,' ponder*d the mysterious words again, «me new sense; and long they sought in vain: ngth Deucalion clear'd his clondy brow, said : * The dark enigma will allow swing, which if well I understand, i sacrilege will free the god's command, earth our mighty mother is, the stones r capacious body are her bones ; 3 we must cast behind.' With hope and fear, sjotnan did the new solution liear : nan drffides in his own augury, doubts the gods ; yet both resolve to try. ending from the mount, they first unbind 'vests ; and, voil'd, they cast the stones behind ; (tones (a miracle to mortal view, ong tradition makes it pass for true) irst the rigour of their kind expel, suppled into softness as they fell ; swell'd ; and, swelling, by degrees grew warm, took the rudiments of human form. rfect shapes : in marble such are seen, l the rude chisel does the man begin; e yet the roughness of the stone remains, oat the rising muscles and the veins.
i
-* »■*-^*-.
I
60 OVID'S METAMORPHOSES* JMt
T.te sippy parte, and next resembling juice, Were turn'd to moisture, for the body's use, |( Supplying humours, blood, and nourishment; The re*t, too solid to receive a bent, Converts to bones ; and what was once a vein, Its former name and nature did retain. By help of power divine, in little space What the man threw assum'd a mauly face; And what the wife, renew'd the female race. Hence we derive our nature, born to bear Laborious life, and harden'd into care.
The rest of animals, from teeming earth Produc'd, in various forms receiv'd their birth. The native moisture, in its close retreat. Digested by the sun's ethereal heat, As in a kindly womb, began to breed, Then swell'd, and quicken'd by the vital seed : And some in less, and some in longer space, Were ripen'd into form, and took a several face. Thus when the Nile frrm Pharian fields is fled, And seeks, with ebbing tides, his ancient bed, The fat manure with heavenly fire is warm'd, And crusted creatures, as in wombs, are form'dj These, when they turn the glebe, the peasants nod; Some rude, and yet unfinish'd in their kind : Short of their limbs, a lame imperfect birth; One half alive, and one of lifeless earth.
For heat and moisture, when in bodies join'd, The temper that results from cither kind Conception makes ; and fighting till they mix, Their mingled atoms in each other fix. Thus nature's hand the genial bed prepares With friendly discord, and with fruitful wan.
I
.^
•}
2?«0& 1. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 01
From hence the surface of the ground with mod And slime besmear^, (the feces of the flood) Receiv'd the rays of heaven, and, sacking in The seeds of heat, new creature did begin : Some were of several sorts prodocM before, Bat of new monsters, earth created more. Unwillingly, but yet she brought to light Thee, Python, too, the wondering world to fright And the new nations, with so dire a sight : So monstrous was his balk, so h^pt a space Did bis vast body and long train embrace. Whom Phoebus basking on a bank espy'd ; Ere now the god his arrows had not try'd, But on the trembling deer, or mountain goat ; At this new quarry he prepares to shoot. Though every shaft took place, he spent the store ) Of his rail quiver; and 'twas long before >
The* expiring serpent wallow'd in his gore. )
Then, to preserve the lame of such a deed, For Python slain, he Pythian games decreed; Where noble youths for mastership should strive, To quoit, to run, and steeds and chariots drive. The prize was fame : in witness of renown An oaken garland did the victor crown. The laurel was not yet for triumphs born ; *>
3 ut every green alike by Phcebus worn, [adorn, I X>id, with promiscuous grace, his flowing locks J
THE TRANSFORMATION OF DAPHNE INTO A
LAUREL.
The first and fairest of his loves was she Whom not blind fortune, but the dire decree Of angry Cupid, forc'd him to desire : Xtepbne her name, and Peneus was her sire.
02 OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. Book 1.
SwelFd with the pride that new success attends, He sees the stripling while his bow he bends, And thus insults him : ' Thou lascivious boy, Are arms like these for children to employ? Know, such achievements are my proper claim,' Due to my vigour, and unerring aim : Resistless are my shafts, and Python late In such a feathe.r'd death has found his fate. Take up thy torch, (and lay my weapons by) With that the fltfble souls of lovers fry.' To whom the son of Venus thus reply'd : 1 Phoebus, thy shafts are sure on all beside, But mine on Phoebus ; mine the fame shall be Of all thy conquests, when I conquer thee.'
He said ; and, soaring, swiftly wing'd his flight, Nor stop'd but on Parnassus' airy height. Two different shafts he from his quiver draws ; One to repel desire, and one to cause. One shaft is pointed with refulgent gold ; To bribe the love, and make the lover bold : One blunt, and tip'd with lead, whose base allay Provokes disdain, and drives desire away. The blunted bolt against the nymph he dress'd ; But with the sharp transfix'd Apollo's breast.
The* enamoured deity pursues the chase; The scornful damsel shuns his loath'd embrace : In hunting beasts of prey her youth employs, And Phoebe rivals in her rural joys. With naked neck she goes, and shoulders bare ; And with a fillet binds her flowing hair. By many suitors sought, she mocks their pains, And still her vow'd virginity maintains. Impatient of a yoke, the name of bride Kiie shuns, and hates the joys she never try*d.
'â– \
}
1
FID'S METAMORPHOSIS. 6$
woods she fixes her desire, lat youth and kindly love inspire. :des her oft : ' Thou ow'st,' says he, ) thyself, a son to me.' ne abhors the nuptial bed ; h blushes, and she hangs her head ; • i
round his neck her tender arms, ; \
ith blandishments, and filial charms : • lord/ said she, ' to live and die id, without the marriage-tie. til request ; I beg no more tana's father gave before.' sire was soften'd to consent ; rish wonld prove her punishment : routh and so much beauty join'd, tate which her desires designed, light, aspiring to her bed, e seeks, with nattering fancies fed own oracles misled. >ty fields the stubble burns,
ivellers, when day returns, <
torches on dry hedges throw, , f
e flames, and kindle all the row, god, consuming in desire, a his breast a fruitless fire, d neck he view'd, (her neck was bare) toulders her dishevell'd hair : comb'd,' said be, ' with what a grace waving curl become her face !' eyes, like heavenly lamps that shone ; r tips, too sweet to view alone ; gen, and her panting breast ; be sees, and for the rest tamtim-yet unseen are best :
:l
64 OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. Boofc 1.
Swift as the wind, the damsel fled away, JNor did for these alluring speeches stay : 4 Stay, nymph/ he cried, ' I follow, not a foe. Thus from the lion trips the trembling doe ; Thus from the wolf the frighten'd lamb removes And, from pursuing falcons, fearful doves ; Thou shunn'st a god, and shunn'st a god that loves. Ah, lest some thorn should pierce thy tender foot, Or thou shouldst fall in flying my pursuit ! To sharp uneven ways thy steps decline ; Abate thy speed, and I will bate of mine. Yet think from whom thou dost so rashly fly; Nor basely born, nor shepherd's swain am I. Perhaps thon know'st not my superior state ; And from that ignorance proceeds thy bate. Me Claros, Delphos, Tenedos, obey; These hands the Patareian sceptre sway. The king of gods begot me : what shall be, Or is, or ever was, in fate, I see. Mine is the' invention of the charming lyre ; Sweet notes, and heavenly numbers, I inspire. Sure is my bow, unerring is my dart ; But ah ! more deadly his who piere'd my heart Med'cinc is mine; what herbs and simples grow In fields and forests, all their powers I know And am the great physician call'd, below. Alas, that fields and forests can afford No remedies to heal their love-sick lord I To cure the pains of love no plant avails ; And his own physic the physician fails.'
She heard not half, so furiously she flies ; And on her ear the' imperfect accent dies. Fear gave her wings ; and as she fled, the wind Increasing, spread her flowing hair behind ;
in. •ow)
M
~. .1
„bU.p.rft""°„aii="
the MttinC ""»-"■ft ffi,; BtoM « ™".™ mot»l W*
The nymph ii all into a lanrel pone ; The smoothness of her akin remains alone. Yet Pluxboa loves her still, and casting rotn Her bole his arms, some little warmth be fc The tree still panted in the' onfinishM part. Not wholly veretivr, and heav'd her heart. Be fix'd his lips upon the tremblinf rind ; It awcrv'd aside, and his embrace declin'd. To whom the god : ' Because tbon canst m My mistress, I espouse thee for my tree : Be thou the prise of honour and renown, The deathless poet, and the poem crown. Thon shalt the Roman festivals adorn, And, after poets, be by vie ton worn. Tbon shalt returning Ca?«sr*8 triumph grace When pomps shall in a long procession pan Wreath'd on the pott before his palace wail And be the sacred guardian of the gate. Secure from thunder, and uuhann'd by Jon Unfading as th' immurtal powei* above ; And aa the locks of Phcebns are unshorn. So shall perpetual green thy boughs adorn.' The grateful tree was pleas' d with what he And shoos: the shady honours of her head.
nut)
An ancient forest in Thessalja grows, Which Tempe'i pleasing valley does iocloai Through this the rapid Peneus takes his co From Hindus rolling with inipetooDs force : Mists from the rivers mighty fall arise, And deadly damps inclose the cloudy skies Perpetual fogs are banging o'er the wood; And sounds of waters deaf the neigbbourtw
Book I. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 63
Deep, in a rocky cave, he makes abode, (A mansion proper for a mourning god). Here he gives audience ; issuing oat decreet To rivers, his dependent deities. On this occasion hither they resort, To pay their homage, and to make their court. All doubtful, whether to congratulate His daughter's honour, or lament her rate. Spercbaeus, crown'd with poplar, first appears ; Then old Apidanus came crown'd with years: Enipeus turbulent, Amphrysos tame; And Mas last, with lagging waters came. Then, of his kindred brooks, a numerous throes; Condole his loss, and bring their urns along. Not one was wanting of the watery tram, That filTd his flood, or mingled with the main, But Inachus, who in his cave, alone, Wept not another's losses, but his own : For his dear 16, whether stray'd or dead, To him uncertain, doubtful tears he shed. He sought her through the world; butsbughtin vain: And no where finding, rather fear'd her slain. Her, just returning from her father's brook, Jove had beheld with a desiring look ; And, * Oh fair daughter of the flood V he said, Worthy alone of Jove's imperial bed, Happy whoever shall those charms possess ; The king of gods (nor is thy lover less) Invites thee to yon cooler shades ; to shun The scorching rays of the meridian sun. Nor shalt thou tempt the dangers of the grove Alone, without a guide ; thy guide is Jove ; No puny power, but be whose high command Is unconfin'd ; who rules the seas and land j And tempers thunder in hit awfid JhhkL
\
I
6S OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. B*k \
Oh, fly not !' — for she fled from his embrace O'er Lerna's pastures ; lie pursued the chase Along the shades of the Lyrcaean plain : At length the god, who never asks in vain, Involv'd with vapours, imitating night, Both air and earth ; and then suppress* d her flight, And, mingling force with love, enjoy'd the fall . r delight.
Meantime the jealous Juno, from on high, Survey'd the fruitful fields of Arcady ; And wonder'd that the mist should overran The face of daylight, and obscure the son. No natural cause she found, from brooks or bog Or marshy lowlands, to produce the fogs : Then round the skies she sought for Jupiter, Her faithless husband ; but no Jove was there. Suspecting now the worst, * Or 1/ she said, ' Am much mistaken, or am much betray'oV With fury she precipitates her flight ; Dispels the shadows of dissembled night; And to the day restores his native light. The* almighty lecher, careful to prevent The consequence, foreseeing her descent, Transforms his mistress in a trice*, and now In Id's place appears a lovely cow. So sleek her skin, so faultless was her make, £v*n Juno did unwilling pleasure take i ! To see so fair a rival of her love ;
And what she was, and whence, inquired of Jo* Of what fair herd, and from what pedigree ? The god, half caught, was forc'd upon a lie ; And said, she sprung from earth. She took the wo And beg'd the beauteous heifer of her lord. What should he do? 'twas equal shame to Jove Or to relinquish, or betray his love :
*
â– i
â–
Book 1. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES, 69
Yet to refuse so slight a gift would be Bat more t' increase his consort's jealousy ; Thus fear and love, by turns, his heart assail'd j And stronger love had sure, at length, prevail'd : Bnt some faint hope remauVd, his jealous queen Had not the mistress through the heifer seen. The cautious goddess, of her gift possess'd,. Yet harbour'd anxious thoughts within her breast j As she who knew the falsehood of her Jove, And justly fear'd some new relapse of love ; Which to prevent, and to secure her care, To trusty Argus she commits the fair.
The head of Argus (as with stars the skies) Was compass'd round, and wore an hundred eyes j Bnt two by turns their lids in slumber steep, The rest on duty still their station keep ; Nor could the total constellation sleep. Thus, ever present to his eyes and mind. His charge was still before him, though behind. In fields he suffer'd her to feed by day ; But when the setting sun to night gave way, The captive eow he summon'd with a call, And drove ber back, and tied her to the stall. On leaves of trees and bitter herbs she fed, Heaven was her canopy, bare earth her bed; So hardly lodg'd, and to digest her food, She drank from troubled streams defll'd with mud . Her woeful story fain she would have told, With hands upheld, but had no hands to hold. Her head to her ungentle keeper bow'd, She strove to speak; she spoke not, but she low'd : Affrighted with the noise, she iook'd around, And seem'd to* inquire the author of the sound*
vol. i, p
7U «)V ID'S METAMORPHOSES. Botkl-
Once on the banks where often die bad ptatfd, ( Her father's bauki) she came, and there sorreytf Her alter'd visage, and her branching: head. And, starting, from herself she would have fled. Her fellow nymphs, familiar to her eyes, Beheld, but knew her not in this disguise. Ev'n Inachns himself was ignorant, And in his daughter did his daughter want. She follow'd where her fellows went, as she Were still a partner of the company : They stroke her neck ; the gentle heifer standi, And her neck offers to their stroking hands. Her father gave her grass; the grass she took, And lick'd his palms, and cast a piteous look; And in the language of her eyes she spoke, She would have told Iter name, and ask'd rebef, But, wanting words, in tears she tells her grief; Which with her foot she makes him understand, And prints the name of Io in the sand.
' Ah, wretched me!' her mournful father cried; She, with a sigh, to wretched mc replied : About her milk-white neck his arms he threw. And wept, and then these tender words easoe: * And art thou sue, whom I have sought around The world, and have at length so sadly found? So found, is worse than lost : with mutual wonk Thou answer'st not, no voir- thy tongue afford*; But sighs are deeply drawn from out thy breast, And speech denied, by lowing is expressed. Unknowing, I prepar'd the bridal bed. With empty hopes of happy issue fed ; But now the husband of a herd must be Thy mate, and bellowing sons thy progeny.
1
Book 1. OVID'S M BTAMO&PnetlS. 7]
Oh, were I mortal, death might bring relief; Bat now my godhead but extends my grief; Prolongs my woes, of which no end I see, And makes me curse my immortality P More had he said, bat, fearful of her stay, The starry guardian drove his charge away To some fresh pasture ; on a hilly height He sat himself, and kept her still in sight
THE EYES OF ARGUS TRANSFORMED INTO A PEACOCK'S TRAIN.
Now Jove no longer could her suiferings bear; Bat calTd in haste his airy messenger, The son of Maia, with severe decree To kill the keeper, and to set her free. With all his harness soon the god was sped, His flying hat was fastened on his head ; Wings on his heels were hung, and in bis hand He holds the virtue of the snaky wand. The liquid air his moving pinions wound, And, in the moment, shoot him on the ground. Before he came in sight, the crafty god His wings dismissed, but still retain'd his rod : That sleep-procuring wand wise Hermes took, But made it seem to sight a shepherd's hook. With this, he did a herd of goats control, Which by the way he met, and slily stole. Clad like a country swain, he pip'd and sung, And, playing, drove his jolly troop along.
With pleasure, Argus the musician heeds ; But wonders much at those new vocal reeds. * And whosoe'er thou art, my friend,' said be, 4 Up hither drive thy goats, and play by me : This hill has browse for them, and shade for thee.'
4
72 OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. Bo** 1.
The god, who was with ease induc'd to climb, Began discourse to pass away the time ; And still betwixt his tuneful pipe he plies, And watch'd his hour to close the keeper's eyes. With roach ado he partly kept awake, Not suffering all his eyes repose to take ; And ask'd the stranger, who did reeds inve And whence began so rare an instrument ?
THE TRANSFORMATION OP SYRINX INTO REEDS.
Then Hermes thus: ' A nymph of late there was Whose heavenly form her fellows did The pride and joy of mir Arcadia's plains, Belov'd by deities, ador'd by swains : Syrinx her name, by Sylvans oft pursued, As oft she did the lustful gods demde : The rural and the woodland powers disdain'd; With Cynthia hunted, and her rights maintained: like Phoebe clad, even Phoebe's self she seems; So tall, so straight, such well-proportionM limbs: The nicest eye did no distinction know, But that the goddess bore a golden bow: Distiuguish'd thus, the sight she cheated too. Descending from Lycseus, Pan admires The matchless nymph, and burns with new desires : A crown of pine upon his head he wore, And thus began her pity to implore ; But ere he thus began, she took her flight So swift, she was already out of sight : Nor stay'd to hear the courtship of the god ; But bent her course to Ladon's geotle flood : There by the river stop'd, and, trr*d before, Relief from water-nymphs her prayers implore.
ur.')
Book 1. OTID'8 METAMORPHOSES. 75
' Now while the lustful god, with speedy pace, \ Just thought to strain her in a strict embrace, (^ He fills his arms with reeds, new-rising on the 1 place: )
And while he sighs, his ill success to find, The tender canes were shaken by the wind, And breath'd a mournful air, nnheard before, That much surprising Fan, yet pleas'd him more* Admiring this new music, u Thon," he said, " Who canst not be the partner of my bed, At least sbalt be the consort of my mind, And often, often to my lips be johfd." He foratfd the reeds, proportion'd as they are, Unequal in their length, and wax'd with care, They still retain the name of his ungrateful mir.
While Hermes pip'd, and song, and told his tale, The keeper's winking eyes began to mil, And drowsy slumber on the lids to creep, Till all the watchman was at length asleep. Then soon the god his voice and song suppressM, And with his powerful rod confirm'd his rest: Without delay his crooked falchion drew, And at one fatal stroke the keeper slew. Down from the rock fell the dissever^ head, Opening its eyes in death ; and, falling, bled, And mark'd the passage with a crimson trail : Thus Argus lies in pieces, cold and pale ; And all his hundred eyes, with all their light, Are clos'd, at once, in one perpetual night These Juno takes, that they no more may fail, And spreads them in her peacock's gaudy tail.
Impatient to revenge her injnrVl bed, She wreaks her anger on her rival's bead ;
74
DVin't MBTAMOBPHMEI.
With furies frights her from her native hoi And driven her guiding, round the world 1 Nor cni'd her madness, end her flight be) She tonch'd the limits of the Pharian sho: At length, arriving on the banks of Nile, Wearied with length of way*, and worn v She laid her down ; and, leaning on her k Invok'd the cause of all her miseries ; And out her languishing regards above, For help from heaven, and her ungrateful She eigji'd, slie wept, she low'd; 'twas all ski And with unkindness seem'd to tax the gt 1 ant, with an humble prayer, she beg'd re Or death at least, to finish all her woes. Jove heard her vows, and with a flstteric, In her behalf to jealous Juno spoke. He cast his anus about her neck, and sail ' Dame, rest secure ; no more thy nuptial This nymph shall violate ; by Styx I awe) And every oath that binds the Thunderer The goddess was appeaa'd ; and at the »i Was 16 to her former shape restor'd I The rugged hair began to fall away ; The sweetness of her eyes did only stay, Though not so large -, her crooked boras i The wideaesi of her jaws and nostrils cea Her hoofs to hands return, in little space The five long taper fingers take their plat And nothing of the heifer now is seen, Beside the native whiteness of the akin. Erected on her feet she walks again ; And two the duty of the four sustain. She tries her tongue ; her silence softly bi And fearc her former lowing) when she sr.
Book I. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 75
A goddess now, through all the' Egyptian state ; And serv'd by priests, who in white linen wait.
Her son was Epaphus, at length believ'd The son of Jove, and as a god received ; With sacrifice ador'd, and public pray Ys, He common temples with his mother shares. Equal in years, and rival in renown )
With Epaphus, the youthful Phaeton >
Like honour claims and boasts his sire the Sun. > His haughty looks, and his assuming air, The son of Isis could no longer bear : 4 Thou tak'st thy mother's word too far,' said he, ' And hast nsurp'd thy boasted pedigree. Go, base pretender to a borrow'd name.' Thus tax'd, he blush'd with anger and with shame ; But shame repress'd his rage : the daunted youth Soon seeks his mother, and inquire* the truth. ' Mother,' said he, * this infan-y was thrown ' By Epaphus on you, and in* your son. He spoke in public, told it to my face ; Nor durst I vindicate the dire disgrace : Even I, the bold, the sensible of wrong, Restrained by shame, was forc'd to hold my tongue. To hear an open slander is a curse ; But not to find an answer is a worse. If I am heaven-begot, assert your son By some sure sign ; and make my rather known, To right my honour, and redeem your own. He said, and saying cast his arms about Her neck, and beg'd her to resolve the i'oubt
'Tis hard to judge if Clymene were mov'd More by his prayer, whom she so dearly lov'd, Or more with fury nYd ; to find her name 2>adnc*d, and made the sport of common fame.
iown,>
76
OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. B*k 1.
She strctch'd her arms to heaven, and fix'd her ejei
On that fair planet that adorns the skies :
' Now by those beams,' said she, ' whose holy firei
Consume my breast, and kindle my desires;
By him who sees ns both, and cheers our sight.
By liim, the public minister of light,
I swear that Sun begot thee : if I lie,
Let him his cheerful influence deny :
Let him no more this perjnr'd creature see,
And shine on all the world bnt only me.
If still yon donbt your mother'* innocence,
His eastern mansion is not far from hence ;
With little pains you to his levee go,
And from himself your parentage may know.1
With joy the' ambitious youth his mother heard,
And eager for the journey soon prepared.
He longs the world beneath him to survey ;
To guide the chariot, and to give the day.
From Mero's burning sands he bends his course.
Nor less in India feels bis father's force ;
His travel urging till tie came in sight,
And saw the palace by the purple light.
■. m - • ■" 1«4 '
3VID»S METAMORPHOSES.
BOOK II.
TRANSLATED BY ADDI30V. THE STORY OF PHAETO*. *
B Sun's bright palace, on bigh columns rais'd, h burnish'd gold and flaming jewels blazed; : folding gates difius'd a silver light, I with a milder gleam refresb'd the sight ; polish'd ivory was the covering wrought : ! matter vied not with the sculptor's thought: in the portal was display'd on high e work of Vulcan) a fictitious sky ; raving sea the' inferior earth embrac'd, 1 gods and goddesses the waters grac'd. son here a mighty whale bestrode ; ton, and Proteus, (the deceiving god) h Doris here were carv'd, and all her train ; le loosely swimming in the figur'd main, ile some on rocks their drooping hair divide, I some on fishes through the waters glide : •ugh various features did the sisters grace, ister*s likeness was in every face, earth a different landscape courts the eyes $ 11, towns, and beasts, in distant prospects rise, 1 nymphs, and streams, and woods, and rural deities.
K
78 OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. Bt
O'er all the heaven's refulgent image shines On either gate were sis engraven signs.
Here Phaeton, still gaining on the' ascent To his suspected father's palace went; Till pressing forward through the bright atw He saw at distance the illustrious god : He saw at distance, or the daazling light Had flash'!] too strongly on bis aching sight,
The god sits high, exalted on a throne Of bluing gems, with purple garments on ; The Hours, in order nuig'd on either band, And Days, and Months, and Years, and Ages Here Spring appears with flowery duplets I Here Summer in her wheaten garland crow; Here Autumn the rich trodden grapes beam And hoary Winter shivers in the rear.
Plite 1ms beheld the youth from off hU thi That eye, which looks on all, was fix d in oi He saw the boy's confusion in his nice, Snrpris'd at all the wonders of the place ; And cries aloud, ' What wants my son ? for My son thou art, and I must call tbee so.'
' Light of the world! (the trembling y on thr Illustrious parent ! since you dont despise The parents name, some certain token give That I may Clyinenes proud boast believe. Nor longer under false reproaches grieve.'
The tender sire was toucli'd with what hi And flung the blare of glories from his head And bid the yonth advance : ' My son,' saic ' Come to thy father's arms ! for Clymeue His told thee true: a parent's name I own, And deem thee worthy to be call'd my son.
k 2. OYID'8 METAMORPHOSIS. 79
sore proof, make some request, and I, te'er it be, with that request comply ; tyx I swear, whose waves are hid in night, roll impervious to my piercing sight.' ie youth transported asks, without delay, aide the son's bright chariot for a day. ie god repented of the oath he took, inguish thrice his radiant head he shook : son,' says he, ' some other proof require, was my promise, rash is thy desire, lia deaytiiis wish which thoo hast made, vhat I caWt deny, would fain dissuade. vast and hazardous the ta*k appears, smted to thy strength, nor to thy years, lot is mortal, but thy wishes fly nd the province of mortality : e is not one of all the gods that dares rever skiU'd in other great affirin) loont the burning axle-tree bat I ; Jove himself, the ruler of the sky, hnrls the three-fbrk'd thunder from above, a try his strength : yet who so strong as Jove ? steeds climb up the first ascent with pain, when- the middle firmament they gain, >wnward from the heavens my head I bow, see the earth and ocean hang below, I am seiiVl with horror and affright, my own heart misgives me at the sight, ghty downfal steeps the evening stage, steady reins must curb the horses* rage. ys herself has fear'd to see me driv'n n headlong from the precipice of heav'n. ies, consider what impetuous force is stars and planets in a different course*
Borne back by all Die current of the eky. Bui bow conld jr« miit the othe that roll In advene whirls, and stern the rapid pole' Bnt yon, perhaps, may bop* for pleasing- woods, And stately domes, and dties filld with god*; While through a thousand a— your pragma fa. Where forms of starry monsters stock the skies:
For, should yon hit the di
The Ball withi
Next him the b\.„ ...._..._ ...._._
And neat, (he Iiotfi gnmiing vfaaffbisng:
The ScnrpioTt'9 clam here clasp a wide extent;
And here the Crab'i in latex el— pa are beat.
Nor would yon find it easy to compose 1
The mettled steeds, when from theirnostrila Bowl f
Tiie torching fire that in their entnihi glows. \
E*'n I their headstrong rbry scarce restrain,
When they grow warn and restive to the rein.
Let not my son a fatal gift require ;
But, oh ! in time recal your rash desire.
You ask a gift that may your parent tell,
Let these my tears your parentage reveal.
And learn a father from a father's care : 1
Look on my face ; or if my heart lay bare, J
Conld you bat look you'd read the father there. J
Choose oat a gift from seas, or earth, or skies,
For open to your wish all nature Bes;
Only decline this one nneqnal task,
For 'tis a mischief, not a gift, yon ask.
You ask * real mischief, Fbneton!
Nay hang not thus about my neck, ray son :
I erant your wish, and Styx has heard are vaiee;
Choose what too will, hot make a wiser choice.'
ri ui gviu.
light, J right; >
Book f. OVID'S METAMORPHOSIS. 81
Thus, did the god the' unwary youth advise, But he still longs to travel through the skies : When the fond father, (for in vain he pleads) At length to the Vulcanian chariot leads ; A golden axle did the work uphold, Gold was the beam, the wheels were orb'd with gold. The spokes in rows of silver pleas'd the sight, The seat with party-colour'd gems was bright Apollo shin'd amid the glare of light. The youth with secret joy the work surveys, When now the moon disclos'd her purple rays : The stars were fled ; for Lucifer bad chas'd The stars away, and fled himself at last. Soon as the father saw the rosy morn, And the moon shining with a Wuater horn, He bid the nimble Hours, without delay, Bring forth the steeds; the nimble Hours obey : From their full racks the generous steeds retire. Dropping ambrosial foams, and snorting fire. Still anxious for his son, the god of day, To make him proof against the burning ray, His temples with celestial ointment wet, Of sovereign virtue to repel the heat ; Then fix'd the beamy circle on his head, And fetchM a deep foreboding sigh, and said, * Take this at least, this last advice, my son ; Keep a stiff rein, and move but gently on : The coursers of themselves will run too fast, Your art must be, to moderate their haste. Drive 'em not on directly through the skies ; But where the zodiac's winding circle lies, Along the midmost cone ; but sally forth Nor to the distant -south, nor stormy north*
f
8* OYIB'S METAMOUl'HOseS. Botk 1
The hones' hoofe a beaten back will show, Bat neither mount too high, nor sink too low, That no new fires, or heaven, or earth iniert ; Keep the midway, the middle way it best. Nor where in radiant folds the serpent twines, Direct your coarse, nor where the altar shhsea. Shan both extremes ; the rest let Fortune guide, And better tar thee than thyself provide! See, while I apeak, the shade) disperse away, " Aurora gives, the promise of a day ; J
I'm call'd, nor can I make a longer stay. .Snatch up the reins ; or still the' attempt forsake And not my chariot, but my counsel take, While yet securely on the earth yen stand ; Nor touch the horses with too rash a hand. Let me alone to light the world, while yon Enjoy those hcains which you may safely view.' He spoke in vain ; the youth with active beat And sprightly vigour vaults into the seat ; And joys to hold foe reins, and fondly gives Those thanks his father with remorse receives. Meanwhile the restless horses neigh'd aloud, Breathing out fire, and pawing where they stood Tethys, not knowing what had past, gave way, And all the waste of heaven before 'eoi lay. They spring together out, and swiftly bear The flying youth through clouds and yielding sir; With wiogy speed outstrip the eastern wind. And leave the breezes of the morn behind. The vouch was light, nor could he fill the seat, Or poise foe chariot with its wonted weight: But as at sea the1 unballas**d vessel rides, Cast In and fro, the sport of winds and tides;
}
Book t. OVID'9 METAMORPHOSES. £5
So in the bounding chariot toss*d on high, The youth is hurried headlong through the sky. Soon as the steeds perceive it, they forsake Their stated course, and leave the beaten track. The youth was in amaze, nor did he know Which way to turn the reins, or where to go ; Nor would the horses, had he known, obey. Then the seven stars first felt Apollo's ray, And wished to dip in the forbidden sea. The folded serpent next the frozen pole, Stiff and benumb'd before, began to roll, Andtag'd with inward heat, and threaten'd war, And shot a redder light from every star ; Nay, and 'tis said, Bootes too, that fain [wain. Thou wouldst have fled, though cumber'd with thy
The* unhappy youth then, bending down has head, Saw earth and ocean far beneath him spread : His colour chang'd, he startled at the sight, And his eyes darkened by too great a light. Now could he wish the fiery steeds untried, His birth obscure, and his request deny'd ; Now would lie Merops for his father own, And quit bis boasted kindred to the Sun.
So fares the pilot, when his ship is tost In troubled seas, and all its steerage lost; He gives her to the winds, and in despair Seeks his last refuge in the gods and pray'r.
What could he do i his eyes if backward cast, Find a long path be had already past ; If forward, still a longer path they find ; Both he compares, and measures in his mind ; And sometimes casts an eye upon the east, AiH sometimes looks on the forbidden west.
f
B4 OVID'l METAMORPHOSES. Aft**
The horses' names he knew not in the fright, Nor would he loose the reins, nor could btssw^ 'em right
Now all the horrors of the heavens he spies, T. And monstrous shadows of prodigious sue, t That, deck'd with stance scattered o'er thestin^ There is a place above, where Scorpio bent In tail and arms swrounds a vast extent j In a wide circuit of the heavens he ahum. And fills the space of two celestial signs. Soon as the youth beheld him, vex'd with ban, Brandish his sting, and in his poison sweat, Half-dead with sudden fear he drop'4 the ids*, „ The horses felt 'em loose upon their manes, And, flying out through all the plains above, Ran uncontroU'd where'er their rury drove; Rush'd on the stars, and through a pathless way Of unknown regions hurried on the day : And now above, and now below they flew, And near the earth the burning chariot drew.
Tin 1 1 In ilinji â– â– hi iiifiiiiun Hii wnn(liiiiii|SMsf
Beholds her brother's steeds beneath her own ; The highlands smoke, cleft by the piercing rajs. Or clad with woods, in their own fuel bias*. Next o'er the plains, where ripen'd harvests snm*/ The running conflagration spreads below. But these are trivial ills : whole cities bun, And peopled kingdoms into ashes turn.
The mountains kindle as the car draws near, Athos and Traolus red with fires appear; CEagrian Haernus, (then a single name) And virgin Helicon increase the flame ; Taurus and (Ete glare amid the sky, And Ida, spite of all her fountains, dry ;
I '
i
i- â– â–
I METAMORPHOSES. . 85
, and Cithaeron, glow, longer cloth'd in snow ; ns, and Parnassus sweat, rith redoubled heat •ugh her hoary regions warm'd, ;r native frost was ann'd. es the towering Apennine, 1 proud Olympus, shine; rag-extended Alps aspire, e continued range of fire, youth, where'er bb eyes could j [:
se around him burn : -y '
a blaze ; nor could be bear
s and the scorching air,
r, as from a furnace, flow'd;
-tree beneath him glow'd :
ng clouds that round him broke,
shes, hovering in the smoke, *
the horses drove; nor knew
a drove, or where he flew. \
y say, the swarthy Moor begun
», and blacken in the sun.
of all her moisture drain'd,
waste, a wild of sand.
s lament their empty urns,
' silver Dirce, mourns,
wasted spring bewails,
s whilst Amymone fails.
drain'd from every distant coa
igh fix'd in ice, was lost
id Lycormas roar,
ed to be burn'd once more.
i
j
£6 OVID'S METAMORPHOSEI. ifesfc t
« â–
The fam'd Mscander, that unwearied strays Through mazy windings, smokes in every maze. From bis lov'd Babylon Euphrates flics; 1
The big-swoln Ganges and the Danube rise > In thickening fumes, am' iarken half the skies. J In flames Ismenos and the Phasis rolfd, And Tagus, floating in his melted gold. The swan?, that on Cayster often tried Their tuneful songs, now sung their last and died. The frighted Nile ran off, and under ground Conceal'd his head, nor can it yet be found : "His seven divided currents all are dry, And where they row'd, seven gaping trenches lie: No more the Rhine or Rhone their course mainta*, Nor Tiber, of his promis'd empire vain.
The ground, deep-cleft, admits the dazzling rty And startles Pluto with the fla*h of day. The seas shrink in, and to the sight disclose Wide naked plains, where once their billows rotti Their rocks are all discovered, and increase The number of the scattered Cyclades. The fish in shoals about the bottom creep, Nor longer dares the crooked dolphin leap : Gasping for breath, the* unshapen Phoce die, And on the boiling wave extended lie. Nereus and Poris, with her . irgin train, Seek out the last recesses of the main ; Beneath unfathomable depths they faint, And secret in their gloomy caverns pant. >'ern Neptune thrice above the waves upheld His face, and thrice was by the flames repcH'd.
The Earth ait length, on every side embrae'd M ith scaldiug seas that floated rornid her waist,
i
Book f . OVID'S METAMORPHOSE!. 8?
When now she felt the springs and rivers come, Ind crowd within the hollow of her womb, Jp-lifted to the heavens her blasted head, knd clap'd her hand upon her brows, and said; But first; impatient of the sultry heat, Junk deeper down, and sought a cooler seat :)
' If you, great king of gods, my death approve, knd I deserve it, let me die by Jove ; f I must perish by the force of fire, Ot me transfix'd with thunderbolts expire, tee, whilst I speak, my breath the vapours choke*/ [For now her face lay wrapt in clouds of smoke.) See my sim/d hair, behold my faded eye, knd witheril face, where heaps of cinders lie ! Ind does the plough for this my body tear? this the reward for all the fruits I bear, ^ortur'd with rakes, and harass'd all the year ? *hat herbs for cattle daily I renew, nd food for man, and frankincense for you f at grant me guilty; what has Neptune done ? hy are his waters boiling in the sun? te wavy empire, which by lot was giv'n, ry does it waste, and further shrink from heav'n? I, nor he, your pity can provoke, your own heavens ; the heavens begin to smoke ! old once the sparkles catch those bright abodes, traction seizes on the heavens and gods ; s becomes unequal to his freight, almost faints beneath the glowing weight, aven, and earth, and sea, together burn, mst again hit j their chaos turn, r some speedy cure, prevent our fate, ucconr nature, ere it be too late.'
88 OVID'S METAMORFHOSE*. Bit*
She ceas'd ; for, chok'd with vapours rood 1
spread, Down to the deepest shades she souk her bead
Jove caH'd to witness every power above, And ev'n the god whose son the chariot drove, That what he acts he is compell'd to do, Or universal rain most ensue. Straight he ascends the high ethereal throne, From whence he us'd to dart his thnnder dowa From whence his showers and storms he ns'd to po But now could meet with neither storm nor shot Then, aiming at the youth, with lifted hand. Full at his head he burl'd the fbrky brand, In dreadful thunderings. Thus, the* almighty i Suppressed the raging of the fires with fire.
At once from life and from the chariot drivfc The* ambitious boy fell thunderstruck from bow The horses started with a sudden bound, And flung the reins and chariot to the ground : The studded harness from their necks they broJ Here fell a wheel, and here a silver spoke; Here were the beam and axle torn away j p And scattered o'er the earth the shining fragme The breathless Phaeton, with naming hair, Shot from the chariot like a falling star, That in a summer's evening from the top Of heaven drops down, or seems at least to dn Till on the Po his blasted corpse was burl'd, Far from his country, in the western world.
PHAETON'S SISTERS TRANSFORMED INTO TRBJ
The Letian nymphs came round him, and, amaf On the dead youth transnVd with thunder gait
•fc S. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 89
I, whilst yet smoking from the bolt ke lay, shattered body to a tomb convey, 1 o'er the tomb an epitaph devise ; tre he, who drove the tan's bright chariot^nes j father's fiery steeds he coald not guide, in the glorious enterprise he died.' polio hid his lace and phVd for grief; , if the story may deserve belief space of one whole day is said to ran, n morn to wonted even, without a sua: burning rains, with a fainter ray, ply the sun, and counterfeit a day; ly that still did nature's face disclose : i comfort from the mighty mischief rose, at Crymene, enraged with grief, laments, as her grief inspires, her passion vents; 1 for her son, and frantic in her woes, i hair dishevel'd round the world she goes, icek where'er his body might be cast ; on the borders of the Po at last name inscrib'd on the new tomb appears: dear dear name she bathes in flowing tears; gs o'er the tomb, unable to depart, hugs the marble to her throbbing heart, er daughters too lament, and sigh, and mourn, roitless tribute to their brother's urn) beat their naked bosoms, and complain, call aloud for Phaeton in vain: he long night their mournful watch they keep, aH the day stand round the tomb and weep, mr times revolving, the full moon return'd; rag the mother and the daughters moura'd : n now the eldest, Pbaetuusa, strove est her weary limbs, but could not move;,
•K) OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. Ifofcf.
Lampetia would have belp'd her, bat she found Herself withheld, and rooted to the ground ; A third in wild affliction, aa she grieves, Would rend her hair, bat fills her hands with leans; One sees her thighs transform^, another views Her arms shot out, and branching into boughs. And now their legs, and breasts, and bodies, stari Crusted with bark, and hardening into wood; But still above were female heads display'd, And mouths, that call'd the mother to their aid. What could, alas ! the weeping mother do? ) From this to that with eager haste she flew, f And kiss'd her sprouting daughters as they grew. ) She tears the bark that to each body cleaves, And from their verdant fingers strips the leaves: The blood came trickling, where she tore away The leaves and bark : the maids were heard to ssy, ' Forbear, mistaken parent, oh ! forbear; A wounded daughter in each tree yon tear ; Farewell for ever.' Here the bark increas'd, Clos'd on their faces, and their words snppresrt.
Thejiew-made trees in tears of amber run, Which, harden'd into value by the sun, Distil for ever on the streams below : The limpid streams their radiant treasure show, Mix'd in the sand ; whence the rich drops convey^ Shine in the dress of the bright Latian maid.
THE TRANSFORMATION OF CYCNUS INTO A SWAI.
â–
Cycnus beheld the nymphs transform'd, allied To their dead brother, on the mortal side, In friendship and affection nearer bound: He left the cities and the realms he own'd,
tft METAMORPHOSE?. $i
i fields and lonely shores to range,
e thicker by the sisters' change.
bin the dismal gloom, alone,
monarch made his moan ;
ssen*d as he tried to speak,
igh a long-extended neck ;
ms to down, bis fingers meet
and shape his oary feel ;
des the wings and feathers break,
rath proceeds a blunted beak ;
into a swan wa3 tnrn'd,
nbring how his kinsman burn'd,
\ and lakes retires,
aters as oppos'd to fires.
polio in a gloomy shade
re of his brows decay'd)
r, sickens at the sight
trine, and abhors the light ;
&, that in his bosom rise,
, and overcast his eyes :
usky orb obstructs his ray,
Jim eclipse the day.
with inward griefe he pin'd,
atments to his griefs he join'd,
c'd hb office to mankind.
birth of time/ said he, ' I've bornu
ll toil, without return :
ther manage, if he dare,
, and mount the burning car;
, let Jove his fortune try,
' his murdering thunder by ;
na, perhaps, but own too late,
I not so severe a fate/
93 OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. fitffc f.
The gods stand round htm,as he mourns, andprty He would resume the conduct of the day, Nor let the world be lost in endless night : Jove too himself, descending from his height, Excuses what had happened, and entreats; Majestically mixing prayers and threats. PrevaiTd upon at length, again he took The harness'd steeds, that still with horror shook, And plies 'em with the lash, and whips 'em on, And, as he whips, upbraids 'em with his son.
THE STORY OF CALI8TO.
The day was settled in its coarse, and Jove Walk'd the wide circuit of the heavens above. To search if any cracks or flaws were made \ But all was safe. The earth he then survey*d, And cast an eye on every different coast. And every land ; but on Arcadia most. Her fields he cloth'd, and cheer'd her blasted face With running fountains, and with springing No tracks of heaven's destructive fire remain, The fields and woods revi ve, and nature smiles agaia.
But as the god walk'd to and fro the earth, And rais'd the plants, and gave the spring its birth, By chance a fair Arcadian nymph he view'd, And felt the lovely charmer in bis blood. The nymph nor spun, nor dress'd with artful pride; Her vest was gather'd up, her hair was tied ; Now in her hand a slender spear she bore, Now a light quiver on her shoulders wore; To chaste Diana from her youth inclin'd, Tlir sprightly warriors of the wood she join'd. Diana too the gentle huntress lov'd, Nor was there one of all the nymphs that rov*d
ifeffc 9. OVID'S Bf ETAMORPHOf BS. 9S
O'er Msenalus amid the maiden throng, More favoor'd once, bat favour lasts not long.
The son now shone in all its strength, and drove The heated virgin panting to the grove; The grove around a grateful shadow cast ; She drOp'd her arrows, and her bow unbrae'd; She flung herself on the cool grassy bed, And on the painted quiver rais'd her head. Jove saw the charming huntress unprepar'd, Stretch'd on the verdant turf, without a guard. ' Here I am safe,' he cries, ' from Juno's eye ; Or should my jealous queen the theft descry, Yet would I venture on a theft like this ; And stand her rage for such, for such a bliss !' Diana's shape and habit straight he took, }
Soften'd his brows, and smooth'd his awful look, > And mildly in a female accent spoke : )
4 How fares my girl ? How went the morning chase ? ' To whom the virgin, starting from the grass, ' All hail, bright deity, whom I prefer To Jove himself, though Jove himself were here.' The god was nearer than she thought, and heard, Well pleasM, himself before himself prefer'd.
He then salutes her with a warm embrace ; And, ere she half had told the morning chase, With love inflam'd, and eager on his bli^s, Smother*d her words, and stop'd her with a kiss. His kisses with unwonted ardour glow'd, Nor could Diana's shape conceal the god. The virgin did whate'er a virgin cou'd ; (Sure Juno must have pardon'd, had she view'd) With all her might against his force she strove ; But how can mortal maids contend with Jove ?
94 OVIB'S METAMORPHOSE?. B*k&
Posscss'd at Length of what his heart denVd,' Back to his heavens the' exalting god retif d. The lovely huntress, rising from the grass, With downcast eyes, and with a blushing free, By shame confounded, and by fear dismayed, Flew from the covert of the guilty shade; And almost, in the tumult of her mind, Left her forgotten bow and shafts behind.
But now Diana, with a sprightly train Of quiver'd virgins, bounding o'er the plain, CalPd to the nymph ; the nymph began to fear A second fraud, a Jove disguis'd in her ; But, when she saw the sister-nymphs, suppresi'd Her rising fears, and mingled with the rest
How in the look does conscious guilt appear! Slowly she mov'd, aud loiterM in the rear; Nor lightly trip'd, nor by the goddess ran, As once she us'd, the foremost of the train. Her looks were flush'd, and sullen was her mien, That sure the virgin-goddess (had she been Aught but a virgin) must the guilt have seen. 'Tis said the nympbs saw all, and guess*d aright: And now the moon had nine times lost her light, When Dian, fainting in the mid-day beams, Foimd a cool covert, and refreshing streams, That in soft murmurs through the forest flow'd, And a smooth bed of shining gravel showM.
A covert so obscure, and streams so clear, The goddess prais'd : ' And now no spies are Let's strip, my gentle maids, and wash ;' she Pleas'd with the motion, every maid complies; Only the blushing huntress stood confus'd, And form'd delays, and her delays excus'd ;
lien,) a. 1
Book & OVID'8 METAMORPHOSES*. 95
In Tain excus'd : her fellows round her press'd', And the reluctant nymph by force undressed. The naked huntress all her shame reveal'd, In vain her hands the pregnant womb conceal'd ; ' Begone !' the goddess cries with stern disdain, ) ' Begone! nor dare the hallo w*d stream to stain:' J She fled, for ever banish'd from the train. )
This Juno heard, who long had watch'd her time To punish the detested rival's crime; The time was come ; for, to enrage her more, A lovely boy the teeming rival bore.
The goddess cast a furious look, aud cried, * It is enough ! I'm fully satisfied ! This boy shall stand a living mark, to prove My husband's baseness, and the strumpet's love ; But vengeance shall awake: those guilty charms That drew the Thunderer from Juno's arms, No longer shall their wonted force retain, Nor please the god, nor make the mortal vain.'
This said; her hand within her hair she wound, Swung her to earth, and drag'd her on the ground : The prostrate wretch lifts up her arms in praj'r; Her arms grow shaggy, and deform'd with hair, Her nails are sharpen* d into pointed claws, Her hands bear half her weight, and turn to paws ; Her lips, that once could tempt a god, begin To grow distorted in an ugly grin : And, lest the supplicating brute might reach The ears of Jove, she was depriv'd of speech : Her surly voice through a hoarse passage came In savage sounds ; her mind was still the same. The furry monster fix'd her eyes above, And beav'd her new unwieldy paws to Jove,
96 ovid** inumrBMii. Bm
And beg'd his »id with inward groan ; and tt She could not call him false, ifae r**""gh» Urn How did she fear to lodge in wooda aloac, And haunt the fields and meadow*, once her . How often would the deep-mouth'd dog* pan Whilst from her hounds the frighted huuliemi How did the fear her fellow brutes, and ihu The ■haggj bear, though now herself waa on
Fierce at the chase, and in the forest bold ; When, u be beat the wood* m quest of prey, He rhane'd to rouse hit mother where the mj She knew her son, and kept him in her tight. And fondly aaz'd i the boy wan in a fright, And aim'd a pointed arrow at her b re ait. And would have slain his mother in the hi ml But Jotc forbad, and snatch'd 'em through tl In whirlwind! up to heaven, and fix'd 'em the Where the new constellations nightly rise, And add a lustre to the northern ikies.
When Juno saw the rival in her height, Spangled with atari, and circled round with 1 She sought old Ocean in his deep abodes, And Tethys, both rever'd among the god*. They ask what bring* her there : ' Ne'er *ak,' ' What brings me here, heaven U no place fin Yc-ull see, when night has eovef d all thing* o Jove's starry bastard, and triumphant whore, Usurp the heavens; you'll see 'em proudly roil Id their new orb*, and brighten all the pole. And who shall now on Jimo1* altar* wait, When those she hate* grow greater by her hal
B*ok t. OVID'S VETAMORFHOflES. 97
I on the nymph a brutal form hnpress'd, Jove to a goddess has transrorm'd the beast; This, this was all my weak revenge could do : Bnt let the god bis chaste amours pursue, And, as be acted after Id's rape, Restore the* adoltress to her former shape ; Then may he cast bis Juno off, and lead The great Lycaon's offspring to bis bed. Bnt yon, ye venerable powers, be kind ; And, if my wrongs a due resentment find,' Receive not in your waves their setting beams, Nor let the glaring strumpet taint your streams.'
The goddess ended, and her wish was giv'n ; Back she return'd in triumph op to heav*n ; Her gaudy peacocks drew her through the skies : Their tails were spotted with a thousand eyes ; The eyes of Argus on their tails were rang'd ; At the same time the raven's colour chant/d.
THE STORY OF COROH IS, AND BIRTH OF JSSCULAPIUS.
The raven once in snowy plumes was dress'd, White as the whitest dove's unsullied breast, Fair as the guardian of the capitol, Soft as the swan; a large and lovely fowl; His tongoe,his prating tongue^iad changed him quite To sooty blackness, from the purest white.
The story of his change shall here be told. In Tbessaly there hVd a nymph of old, Coronis nam'd ; a peerless maid she shin* d, Confessed the fairest of the fairer kind. Apollo lovM her, till her guilt he knew, While true she was, or whilst he thought her true.
96 OVID'S mTAMORPHOm. Bf
But his aim bird the men cbanc'd to find The false one with a lecret rival join'd. Coronis beg'd him to suppress the tale, Bat could not with repeated prayers prevail. His milk-white pinions to the god he plied ; The busy daw flew with him, side by side. And by a thousand teasing questions drew The' important secret from him as they flew. The daw gave honest counsel, though despii'c And, tedious in her tattle, thus advis'd :
' Stay, silly bird, the' lll-natur'd task refine Nor be the bearer of unwelcome news. Be wam'd by my example : yon discern What now I am, and what I was shall learn. My foolish honesty was all my crime ; Then "hear my story. — Once upon a time, The two-shap'd Ericthonius had his birth ( Without a mother) from the teeming earth ; Minerva nurs'd him, and the infant laid Within a chest, of twining osiers made. The daughters of king Cecrops undertook To guard the chest, commanded not to too On what was hid within : I stood to see The charge obey'd, perch'd on a neighbouring The sisters Pandrosos and Herse keep The strict command ; Aglauros needs would | And saw the monstrous infirnt in ■fright ; And call'd her Bisters to the hideous sight: A hoy's soft shape did to the waist prevail, But the boy ended in a dragon's tail. I told the stern Minerva all Unit pasa'd; But for my pains, discarded and disgrae'd, The frowning goddess drove me from her ligt And for her fa vonrite chose the bird of night.
Book % of id's metamorphose*. 99
Be then no tell-tale ; for I think my wrong Enough to teach a bird to hold her tongue,
1 But yon, perhaps, may think I was remov'd, As never by the heavenly maid belov'd ; But I was lov'd ; ask Pallas if I lie ; Though Pallas bate me now, she won't deny : For I, whom in a feathered shape you view, Was once a maid, (by heaven ! the story's true) -A blooming maid, and a king's daughter too. A crowd of lovers own'd my beauty's charms ; My beauty was the cause of all my harms ; Neptune, as on the shores I wont to rove, ObseiVd me in my walks, and fell in love. He made his courtship, he confess'd his pain, And offer'd force, when all his arts were vain. Swift he pursu'd : I ran along the strand, Till, spent and wearied on the sinking sand, I shriek'd aloud; with cries I fill'd the air To gods and men ; nor god nor man was there ; A virgin-goddess heard a virgin's pray'r : For, as my arms I lifted to the skies, I saw black feathers from my fingers rise ; I strove to fling my garment on the ground ; My garment turn'd to plumes, and girt me round : My hands to beat my naked bosom try ; Nor naked bosom now nor hands had I : Lightly I trip'd, nor weary as before Sunk in the sand, but skim'd along the shore ; Till, rising on my wings, I was prefer'd To be the chaste Minerva's virgin-bird : Wefer'd in vain ! I now am in disgrace : Nyctimene, the owl, enjoys my place.
( On ijer incestuous life I need not dwell, (In Lesbos still the horrid tale they tell)
100 OVID'S METAKOt
And of ber dire amoun you Par which the now does pea Thar, conscious of her sltan* Ami lot H the gloomy coveri Tbe birds, wbeie'et she flulti The booting wretch, and drii
TLo raven, urg'd by such i: Grew passionate, it seems, ai And cont'd the harmless daw The raven to ber injur'd patr And found him out, and told Of false Coronia and the favo
The god was wroth ; the c The wreath bis head, tie bar] His silver bow and feather'd And lodg'd an arrow in the t That had so often to bis own Down fell the wounded nymi And fin II il his arrow- reeking And, weltering in ber blood, ' Alt, cruel god I though I ha What has, alas ! my unborn i That lie should rail, and two This said, in agonies she fete The god dissolves in pity at He hates the bird that made And hates himself for what h Tbe feather'd shaft, tbat sent And his own hand that sent i Fain would he heal the woiin And tries the compass of his Soon ai be taw the lovely ny Tbe pile made ready, and tin
Hook 9. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 101
With sighs and groans her obsequies he kept, And, if a god cooW weep, the god had wept. Jfer corps he kiss*d, and heavenly incense brought, And soIennnVd the death himself had wrought
But lest his offspring should her fate partake, Spite of the' immortal mixture in his make, He rip'd her womb, and set the child at large, » And gave him to the centaur Chiron's charge ; Then, in his fury, Wack'd the raven o'er, And bad him prate Hi his white plumes no more.
OCTROK TRANSFORMED TO A MARS.
Old Chiron took the babe with secret jo^, Proud of the charge of the celestial boy : ' His daughter too, whom on the sandy shore The nymph Chariclo to the Centaur bote, With hair dishevefd on her shoulders, came To see the child ; Ocyroe was her name; She knew her father's arts, and could rehearse The depths of prophecy in sounding verse. Once as the sacred infant she •surveyed, The god was kindled in the raving maid, And thus she utter' d her prophetic tale : * Hail, great physician of the world, all hail ! Hail, mighty infant ! who in years to come Shalt heal the nations, and defraud the tomb ; Swift be thy growth i thy triumphs unconfin'd ! Make kingdoms thicker, and increase mankind. Thy daring art shall animate the dead, And draw the thunder on thy guilty head : Then shalt thou die, but from the dark abode Rise up victorious, and be twice a god. And thou, my sire, not destin'd by thy birth To turn to dust, and mix with common earth
VOl. I. H
%\)t OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. Ifofc t
How wilt thou toss, and rave, tod king to die; And quit thy claim to immortality ; When thou shalt feel enrag/d with inward pains, The Hydra's venom rankling in thy veins ! The gods, in pity, shall contract thy date, And give thee over to the power of fate.*
Thus entering into destiny, the maid The secrets of offended Jove betray'd : More had she still to say ; but now appears Oppressed with sobs and sighs, and drown'd in ban. * My voice,' says she, * is gone, my language faik; Through every limb my kindred shape prevails: Why did the god tins ratal gift impart, And with prophetic raptures swell my heart? What new desires are these ? I long to pace O'er flowery meadows, and to feed on grass; I hasten to a brute, a maid no more ; But why, alas ! am I transform'd all o'er ? My sire does half a human shape retain, And in his upper parts preserve the man.'
Her tongue no more distinct complaints afford*, But in shrill accents and mis-shapen words Pours forth such hideous waitings, as declare The human form confounded. in the mare; Till by degrees accomplished in the beast, She neigh'd outright, and all the steed exprenU Her stooping body on her hands is borne ; Her hands are turn'd to hoofs, and shod in bom; Iter yellow tresses ruffle in a mane, And in a flowing tail she frisks her train. The mare was finish'd in her voice and look, And a new name from the new ngnre took.
r'd.£
Book t. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 103
THE TRANSFORMATION OF B ATT US TO A TOUCH- STONE.
Sore wept the Centaur, and to Phoebus pray'd ; Bnt how could Phoebus give the Centaur aid ? Degraded of his power by angry Jove, In Elis then a herd of beeves he drove ; And wielded in his hand a staff of oak, And o'er his shoulders threw the shepherd's cloke ; On seven compacted reeds he us'd to play, And on his rural pipe to waste the day.
As once attentive to his pipe he play*d, The crafty Hermes from the god convey*d A drove, that separate from their fellows stray'd. The theft an old insidious peasant view'd, (They calTd him Battus in the neighbourhood) Hir'd by a wealthy Pylian prince to feed His favourite marcs, and watch the generous breed. The thievish god suspected him, and took The hind aside, and thus in whispers spoke : ' Discover not the theft, whoe'er thou be, And take that milk-white heifer for thy fee.' ' Go, stranger,' cries the clown, ' securely on, That stone shall sooner tell/ and show'd a stone. The god withdrew, but straight return'd again, In speech and habit like a country swain ; And cries out, * Neighbour, hast thou seen a stray Of bullocks and of heifers pass this way ? In the recovery of my cattle join ; A bullock and a heifer shall be thine.' The peasant quick replies, * You'll find 'em there In yon dark vale ;' and in the vale they were.
10 1 OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. B*k 1
The doable bribe had his fake heart beguuM : The god, successful in the trial, smiPd ; * And dost tbou thus betray myself to me? Me to myself dost thou betray P says he : Then to a touchstone turns the faithless spy j And in his name records his infamy.
THE STORY OF AGLAUROS TRANSFORMED IETO A
STATUE.
This done, the god flew up on high, and part O'er lofty Athens, by Minerva gracVi, And wide Munichia; whilst his eyes survey All the vast region that beneath hhn lay.
Twas now the feast, when each Athenian nasi Her yearly homage to Minerva paid; In canisters, with garlands eover'd o'er, High on their heads, their mystic gifts they here: And now, returning in a solemn train, The troop of shining virgins fill'd the nana !
The god well plcas'd beheld the pompous sfasWj And saw the bright procession pass below; Then veer'd about, and took a wheeling flight. And hover'd o'er them. As the spreading kite, That smells the slaughter^ victim from on rngij Flies at a distance, if the priests are nigh, And sails around, and keeps it in her eye; So kept the god the virgin quire in view, And in slow winding circles round them flew.
As Lucifer excels the meanest star, Or, as the full-orb'd Phoebe, Lucifer ; So much did Herse all the rest outvie, And gave a grace to die solemnity. â– *!
I
Botik 2. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 105
Hermes was nVd, as in the clouds he hong : So the cold bullet, that with fury flung From Balearic engines mounts on high, Glows in the whirl, and burns along the sky. At length he pitched upon the ground, and show*d The form divine, the features of a god. He knew their virtue o'er a female heart, And yet he strives to better them by art. He hangs his mantle loose, and sets to show The golden edging on the seam below ; Adjusts his flowing curis, and in his hand Waves, with an air, the steep-procuring wand ; The glittering sandals to his feet applies, And to each heel the well-trimm'd pinion ties.
His ornaments with nicest art displayed, He seeks the* apartment of the royal maid. The roof was all with poksh'd ivory tioM, That, richly mix'd, in clouds of tortoise sbin'd. Three rooms, contiguous, in a range were placed, The midmost by the beauteous Herse grac'd ; Her virgin sisters lodged on either side. Aglauros first the* approaching god descry'd, And, as he cross'd her chamber, ask'd bis name, And what his business was, and whence he came ? * I come/ replied the god, ' from heaven, to woo Your sister, and to make an aunt of you ; I am the son and messenger of Jove ; My name is Mercury, my business love ; Do you, kind damsel, take a lover's part, And gain admittance to your sister's heart.'
She atari! him in the face with looks amas'd, As when she on Minerva's secret gas'd, And asks a mighty treasure for her hire; And till be brings it makes the god retire.
\
106 OVID'S METAMORPHOSIS. JBSSkS.
Minerva griev'd to see the nymph succeed; And now remembering the late impious deed, When, disobedient to her strict command, She toucbM the chest with sjLonbaUow'd haadj In big-swoln sighs her inward rage expreafd, That heaved the rising aegis on her breast ; Then sought oat Envy in her dark abode, DefiPd with ropy gore and clots of Mood: Shnt from the winds and from the wholesome stia, In a deep vale the gloomy dungeon lies, Dismal and cold, where not a beam of tight Invades the winter or disturbs the night
Directly to the cave her course she steerM, Against the gates her martial lance she reuM, The gates flew open, and the fiend appearU A poisonous morsel in her teeth she cbew'd, And gorged the flesh of vipers for her food. Minerva, loathing, turn'd away her eye; The hideous monster, rising heavily, Came stalking forward with a sullen pace, And left her mangled offals on the place. Soon as she saw the goddess gay and bright, She fetch'd a groan at such a cheerful sight Livid and meagre were her looks, her eye In foul distorted glances turn'd awry ; A hoard of gall her inward parts possess'd, And spread a greenness o'er her cankered breast} Her teeth were brown with rust, and from h*
tongue, In dangling drops, the stringy poison hung. She never smiles but when the wretched weep. Nor lulls her malice with a moment's sleep, Restless in spite, while watchful to destroy, She pines and sickens at another's joy ;
Book t. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES*. i(l4
Foe to herself, distressing and distressed, She bears her own tormentor in her breast The goddess gave (for she abhor'd her sight) A short command : ' To Athens speed thy flight, On curs'd Aglauros try thy utmost art, And fix thy rankest venoms irf her heart' This said, her spear she pnsh'd against the ground, And mounting from it with an active bound Flew off to heaven. The hag with eyes askew1 Look'd up, and muttered curses as she flew* ; For sore she fretted, and began to grieve At the success which she herself must give. Then takes her staff hung round with wreaths of*
thorn, And sails along, in a black whirlwind borne, O'er fields and flowery meadows : where she steers Her baneful course a mighty blast appears, Mildews and blights ; the meadows are defac'd, The fields, the flowers,and the whole year laid waste. On mortals next and peopled towns she falls, And breathes a burning plague among their walls.
When Athens she beheld, for arts renown'd, With peace made happy, and with plenty crown'd ; Scarce could the hideous fiend from tears forbear, To find out nothing that deserv*d a tear. The1 apartment now she enter'd, where at rest Aghtttros lay, with gentle sleep oppressed j To execute Minerva's dire command, She strok'd the virgin with her cankered band, Then prickly thorns into her breast convey'd, That stung to madness the devoted maid ; Her subtle venom still improves the smart, Frets in the bltfod, and festers in the heart
106 OVID'S METAMORPHOf Et. B§tk 2.
To make the work more tore, a scene snedrewj And plac'd before the dreaming virgin's view Her sister's marriage, and her glorious fate ; The* imaginary bride appears in state; The bridegroom with unwonted beauty glows, For Envy magnifies whatever she shows.
Foil of the dream, Aghuiros pin'd away In tears all night, in darkness all the day ; Consum'd like ice, that just begins to run When feebly smitten by the distant sun; Or like unwholesome weeds, that set on fire Are slowly wasted, and in smoke expire : Giv'n up to envy (for in every thought The thorns, the venom, and the vision wrought) Oft did she call on death, as oft decreed, Rather than see her sister's wish succeed, To tell her awful rather what had pass'd ; At length before the door herself she cast ; And, sitting on the ground with sullen pride, A passage to the lovesick god denied. The god caress'd, and for admission prayM, And sooth'd in softest words the' envenom'd maiL In vain he sooth'd : ' Begoue!' the maid replies, ' Or here I keep my seat and never rise.' ' Then keep thy seat for ever,' cries the god, And touch'd the door wide opening to bis rod. Fain would she rise and stop him, but she found Her trunk too heavy to forsake the ground ; Her joints are all benumb'd, her hands are pale, And marble now appears in every nail. As when a cancer in the body feeds, And gradual death from limb to limb proceeds, So does the chilness to each vital part Spread by degrees, and creeps into her heart;
I
Botik & OVI&'S METAMORPHOSES, 109
Till hardening every where, and speechless grown, She sits unmov'd, and freezes to a stone. Bat still her envious hoe and sullen mien Are in the sedentary figure seen. .
europa's rape.
When now the god hk fury had allay'd. And taken vengeance of the stubborn maid ; From where the bright Athenian turrets rise He mounts aloft, and re-ascends the skies. Jove saw him enter the sublime abodes, And as he mix'd among the crowd of gods, Beckon*d him out, and drew him from the rest, And in soft whispers thus his will expressed: 1 My trusty Hermes, by whose ready aid Tuy sire's commands are through the world eonvey'd, Resume thy wings, exert their utmost force, And to the walls of Sidon speed thy course; There find a herd of heifers wandering o'er The neighbouring hill, and drive 'em to the shore/
Tims spoke the god, concealing his intent. The trusty Hermes on his message went, And found the herd of heifers wandering o'er A neighbouring hill, and drove 'cm to the shore ; Where the king's daughter, with a lovely train Of fellow-nymphs, was sporting on the plain.
The dignity of empire laid aside, (For love but ill agrees with kingly pride) The ruler of the skies, the thundering god, Who shakes the world's foundations with a nod, Among a herd of lowing heifers ran, Frisk'd in a bull, and bellow'd o'er the plain. Large rolls of fat about his shoulders clung. And from bis neck the double dewlap hung;
110 OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. Book 4.
His skin was whiter than the snow that lies Unsullied by the breath of southern skies, Small shining horns on his curl'd forehead stand*, As turn'd and polish'd by the workman's hand ; His eye-balls roll'd, not formidably bright, Bnt gaz*d and languished with a gentle light; His every look was peaceful, and express'd The softness of the lover in the beast
Agenor's royal daughter, as she play'd Among the fields, the milk-white bull survey'd, And view'd bis spotless body with delight, And at a distance kept him in her sight. At length she pluck'd the rising flowers, and fed The gentle beast, and fondly strok'd his head. He stood well pleas'd to touch the charming fair, But hardly could confine his pleasure there. And now he wantons o'er the neighbouring strand, Now rolls his body on the yellow sand, And now, perceiving all her fears decay'd, Comes tossing forward to the royal maid ; Gives her his breast to stroke, and downward turns His grizly brow, and gently stoops his horns. In flowery wreaths the royal virgin dress'd His bending horns, and kindly clapp'd his breast : Till now grown wanton and devoid of fear, Not knowing that she press'd the Thunderer, She plac'd herself upon his back, and rode O'er fields and meadows seated on the god.
He gently march'd along, and by degrees Left the dry meadow and approach'd the seas, Where now he dips his hooft and wets his thighs, Now plunges in and carries off the prize. The frighted nymph looks backward on the shore,1 And heats the tumbling billows round her' roar,
i
Book*. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. Ill
Bat still she holds him fast ; one hand is borne Upon his back, the other grasps a horn ; Her train of raffling garments flies behind, Swells in the air, and hovers in the wind.
Through storms and tempests he the virgin bore, And lands her safe on the Dictaean shore, Where now, in bis diviuest form array'd, In his true shape he captivates the maid, Who gazes on him, and with wondering eyes Beholds the new majestic figure rise, His glowing features and celestial light, And all the god discovert to her sight.
OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.
BOOK III.
TRANSLATED BY ADDISON. THE STORY OF CADMUS.
When now Agenor had bis daughter lost, He sent his son to search ou every coast, And sternly bid him to his arms restore The darling maid, or see his face no more, Bnt live an exile in a foreign clime ; Thus was the father pious to a crime.
The restless youth searched all the world around; But how can Jove in his amours be found? When, tir'd at length with unsuccessful toil, To shun his angry sire and native soil, He goes a suppliant to the Delphic dome, There asks the god what new appointed home Should end his wanderings, and his toils relieve. The Delphic oracles this answer give :
' Behold among the fields a lonely cow, Unworn with yokes, unbroken to the plow ; Mark well the place where first she lays her down, There measure out thy walls and build thy town; And from the guide Boeotia call the land, In which the destin'd walls and town shall stand.'
}
Book S, OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 113
No sooner had he left the dark abode, Big with the promise of the Delphic god, When in the fields the fatal cow he view'd, Nor galfd with yokes, nor worn with servitude Her gently at a distance he pursued, And as he walk'd aloof, in silence pray'd To the great power whose counsels he obey'd. Her way through flowery Panope she took. And now, Cephisus, cross'd thy silver brook ; When to the heavens her spacious front she rais'd, And beflowV) thrice, then backward turning, gaz'd On those behind, till on the destin'd place She stoor/d, and couch*d amid the rising grass.
Cadmus salutes the soil, and gladly hails The new-found mountains, and the nameless vales, And thanks the gods, and turns about his eye To see his new dominions round him lie ; Then sends his servants to a neighbouring grove For living streams, a sacrifice to Jove. O'er the wide plain there rose a shady wood Of aged trees ; in its dark bosom stood A bushy thicket, pathless and unworn, O'errun with brambles, and perplex'd with thorn : Amidst the brake a hollow den was found, With rocks and shelving arches vaulted round.
Deep in the dreary den, conceal'd from day, Sacred to Mars, a mighty dragon lay, Bloated with poison to a monstrous size ; Fire broke in flashes when he glanc'd bis eyes : His towering crest was glorious to behold, His shoulders and his sides were scal'd with gold ; Three tongues he brandished whenhe charged his foes; His teeth stood jaggy in three dreadful rows. The Tyrians in the den for water sought, And with their urns explored the hollow vault:
!
114 OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. BstltS.
From side to side their empty urns rebound, 15 And rouse the sleeping serpent with the sound. Y Straight he bestirs him, and is seen to rise ; \ And now with dreadful hissings fills the skies, ( And darts his forky tongues, and rolbhUglarimgf eyes. J
The Tynans drop their vessels in the fright, All pale and trembling at the hideous sight Spire above spire uprearM in air he stood, And gazing round him overlooked the wood: Then floating on the ground, in circles rell'd; Then leap'd upon them in a mighty ibid. Of such a bulk, and such a monstrous sire The serpent in the polar circle lies, That stretches over half the northern skies. In vain the Tyrians on their arms rely, In vain attempt to fight, in vain to fly; All their endeavours and their hopes are vain; Some die entangled in the winding train ; Some arc devoured, or feel a loathsome death, Swoln up with blasts of pestilential breath.
And now the scorching sun was mounted hifi, In all its lustre, to the noonday sky; When, anxious for his friends, and fill'd with cam, To search the woods the' impatient chief prepare! A lion's hide around his loins he wore, The well-pois'd javelin to the field he bore, Innr'd to blood ; the far-destroying dart ; And, the best weapon, an undaunted heart.
Soon as the youth approach' d the fatal place, He saw his servants breathless on the grass; The scaly foe amidst their corps he view,d, Basking at ease, and feasting in their blood: * Such friends/ he cries, ' deserv'd a longer date; But Cadmus will revenge or share their fate.'
Book 3. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 115
Then heav'd a stone, and rising to the throw, He sent it in a whirlwind at the foe : A tower, assaulted by so rude a stroke, With all its lofty battlements bad shook ; But nothing here the' unwieldy rock avails, Rebounding harmless from the plaited scales, That, firmly join'd, preserved him from a wound, With native armour crusted all around. With more success the dart unerring flew, Which at his back the raging warrior threw ; Amid the plaited scales it took its course, And in the spinal marrow spent its force. The monster hiss'd aloud, and rag'd in vain, And writh'd his body to and fro with pain ; He bit the dart, and wrench'd the wood away; The point still buried in the marrow lay. And now his rage, increasing with bis pain, Reddens his eyes, and beats in every vein ; Churn'd in his teeth the foamy venom rose, Whilst from his mouth a blast of vapours flows, Snch as the' infernal Stygian waters cast ; The plants around him wither in the blast. Now in a maze of rings he lies enroll'd, Now all unravel'd, and without a fold ; Now, like a torrent, with a mighty force Bears down the forest in his boisterous course. Cadmus gave back, and on the lion's spoil Sustain'd the shock, then forc'd him to recoil ; The pointed javelin warded off his rage : Mad with his pains, and furious to engage, Tjie serpent champs the steel, and bites the spear, Till blood and venom all the point besmear. But still the hurt he yet receiv'd was slight ; For, while the champion with redoubled might
116 OTID'I MCTAMOKF
Strikes home the javelin, his n Shrinks from the wound, and d
The dauntless hero still pan And presses forward, till a km Retards his foe, and stops him Full in his throat he plung'd th That in the' extended neck a \ And pierc'd the solid timber tl Fix'd to the reeling trunk, wit Of his huge tail he lash'd the t Till spent with toil, and labour He now lay twisting in the pai
Cadmus beheld him wallow Of swimmmg poison, intermix When suddenly a speech was fa (The speech was hearduior wj ' Why dost thou thus with seci Insulting man ! what thou thys Astonish'd at the voice he stoo And all around with inward ho When Pallas swift descending Pallas, the guardian of the bo! Bids him plough up the field, i The dragon's teeth o'er all the Then tells the youth bow to hi Embattled armies from the fiel
He sows the teeth at Pallas** And flings the future people ft The clods grow warm, and crui And now the pointed spears ac Now nodding plumes appear, -, Now the broad shoulders and O'er all the field the breathing A growing host, a crop of mei
too*S.
Bo§k 3. OVID9 METAMORPHOSES
So through the parting stage a figu Its body up, and limb by limb appea\ ic blow. jjv j„gt degrees, till all the man arise, ce> And in his full proportion strikes the <
Cadmus, surprised and startled at th« Of his new foes, prepaid himself for i "» When one cried out, * Forbear, fond n
*> To' mingle in a blind promiscuous war.'
oond . This said, he struck his brother to the |
t>ke Himself expiring by another's wound ;
, Nor did the third his conquest long sun
J**â„¢? Dying ere scarce he had begun to live.
The dire example ran througli all the 1 Till heaps of brothers were by brothers . â– y The fiirrows swam in blood ; and only G\
^> Of all the vast increase were left alive.
r "SP1 Echion one, at Pallas's command,
*i Let fall the guiltless weapon from his hanc
And with the rest a peaceful treaty makes, Whom Cadmus as his friends and partners So founds a city on the promb'd earth, * And gives bis new Boeotian empire birth.
Here Cadmus reigrfd, and now one wou fflA The royal founder in his exile bless'd ; [
°Ai Long did he live within his new abodes,
F& Allied by marriage to the deathless gods ;
And, in a fruitful wife's embraces old, A long increase of children's children told ; But no frail man, however great or high, ett*; Can be concluded bless'd before he die. jv, Actaeon was the first of all his race
4e$i Who griev'd his grandsire in his borrow'd f, ,g& Condemn'd by stern Diana to bemoan
Hie branching horns, and visage not his ovi
VOL. I. I
k— «
ilo UVID'S .HfcTAMoRPHOSts. Bwkl
To shun his ouce-lov'd do&»s, to bound away, And from their huntsman to become their prey. \ud jet, consider why the change was wrought, You'll find it his misfortune, not his fault; Or, if a fault, it was the fault of chance: For how can guilt proceed from ignorance?
TRANSFORMATION OF ACTION INTO A STAG.
In u fair chase a shady mountain stood, [blood; UYil *:orM with name, and mark'd with trails ot i lei e ilid the huntsmen, till the heat of day, Cinque the stair, and luad themselves with prey, When thus Ac tar on calling to the rest: ' My friends,' said he, * our sport is at the beat, The sun i> his;h advanc'd, and downward *bcd* His hurniu^ beams directly on our heads ; Then by consent abstain from further spoife, Call off the do^s, and gather up tfie toils; And ere to-monow's sun begins his race, 'lake the cool mornin? to renew the chase.' They all consent, and in a cheerful train )
The jolly huntsmen, loaden with the slain, Return in triumph from the sultry plain. J
Down in a vale with pine and cypress clad, Kefresh'dwith gentle winds, and brown with shade, The chaste Diana's private haunt, there stood Full in the centre of the darksome wood A spacious grotto, all around o'ergrown With hoary moss, and arc lid with pumice-stant1- From out its rocky clefts the waters How, And trickling swell into a lake below. Nature had everywhere so play'd her part, That everywhere she seem d to vie with art Here the bright goddess, toil'd and chaf 'd with heat) "Was wont to bathe her iu the cool retreat.
Book 3. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. il'J
Here did she now with all her train resort, Panting with heat, and breathless from the sport ; Her armour-bearer laid her bow aside, Some loos'd her sandals, some her veil untied ; Each busy nymph her proper part undress'd, While Crocale, more handy than the rest, Gathered her flowing hair, and in a noose Bound it together, whilst her own hung loose. Five of the more ignoble sort, by turns Fetch up the water, and unlade the urns.
Now all undress'd the shining goddess stood, When young Actaeon, wilder'd in the wood, To the cool grot by his hard fate betrayed, The fountains fill'd with naked nymphs surveyed. The frighted virgins shriek'd at the surprise, (The forest echo'd with their piercing cries) Then in a huddle Tound tlieir goddess pressed ; She, proudly eminent above the rest, With brashes glow*d, such blushes as adorn The ruddy welkin, or the purple morn ; And though the crowding nymphs her body hide, Half backward shrunk, and view'd him from aside. Surpris'd at first she would have snatch'd her bow, Bat sees the circling waters round her flow ; These in the hollow of her hand she took, And dash'd 'em in his face, while thus she spoke : ' Tell, if thou canst, the wondrous sight disclos'd, A goddess naked to thy view expos'd.'
This said, the man begun to disappear By slow degrees, and ended in a deer. A rising horn on either brow he wears, And stretches out bis neck and pricks his ears. Rough is his skin, with sudden hairs o'ergrown, His bosom pants with fears before unknown :
r
ISO OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. BockS.
Transform'd at length he flies away in haste, And wonders why be flies away so fast. But as by chance within a neighbouring brook, He saw his branching horns and altered look; Wretched Actaeon ! in a doleful tone He tried to speak, but only gave a groan ; And as he wept, within the watry glass He saw the big round drops with silent pace Run trickling down a savage hairy face. What should he do ? or seek his old abodes, Or herd among the deer, and skulk in woods? Here shame dissuades nun, there bis fear prevail*, And each by turns his aching heart assails.
As he thus ponders, he behind him spies His opening hounds, and now he hears their criei: A generous pack, or to maintain the chase, Or snuff the vapour from the scented grass.
He bounded off with fear, and swiftly ran O'er craggy mountains and the flowery plain ; Through brakes and thickets forc'd his way, and flew Through many a ring where once he did pursue. In vain he oft endeavoured to proclaim His new misfortune, and to tell his name ; Nor voice nor words the brutal tongue supplies;) From shouting men, and horns and dogs, he ffieijr Deafen'd and stun'd with their promiscuous cries. 1 When now the fleetest of the pack, that pressd Close at his heels, and spmng before the rest, Had fksten'd on him ; straight another pair Hung on his wounded haunch, and held him thenv Till all the pack came up, and every hound ) Tore the sad huntsman groveling on the ground, f Who now appear'd but one continued wound. ' With dropping tears his bitter fate he moans, And Alls the mountain with his dying groans.
}
Book 3. OVID'8 metamorphoses. 121
His servants with a piteous look he spies, And tarns jabout his supplicating eyes. His servants, ignorant of what had chanc'd, With eager haste and joyful shouts advanced, And call'd their lord Actaeon to the game. He shook his head in answer to the name ; He heard, but wish'd he had indeed been gone. Or only to have stood a looker-on. Bnt to his grief he finds himself too near, And feels his ravenous dogs with fury tear Their wretched master panting in a deer.
THE BIRTH OF BACCHUS.
Actaeon's sufferings, and Diana's rage, Did all the thoughts of men and gods engage ; (Some call'd the evils which Diana wrought Too great, and disproportion'd to the fault : Others, again, esteem'd Acteon's woes Fit for a virgin-goddess to impose. The hearers into different parts divide, And reasons are produced on either side.
Juno alone, of all that heard the news, Nor would condemn the goddess nor excuse : She heeded not the justice of the deed, But joy'd to see the race of Cadmus bleed; For still she kept Europa in her mind, And for her sake detested alf her kind. Besides, to aggravate her hate, she heard How Semele, to Jove's embrace preferVI, Was now grown big with an immortal load, And carried in her womb a future god. Thus terribly incens'd, the goddess broke To sadden fury, and abruptly spoke : v
' Are my reproaches of so small a force? 'Tib time I then pursue another course :
r
I,
12*2 OV ID'S METAMORPHOSES. Bodk 3.
It is decreed the guilty wretch shall die, If I'm indeed the mistress of the sky ; If rightly styl'd among the powers above The wife and sister of the thundering Jove; (And none can sure a sister's right deny) It is decreed the guilty wretch shall die. She boasts an honour I can hardly claim, Pregnant she rises to a mother's name ; While prond and vain she triumphs in her Jove, And shows the glorious tokens of his love ; But if I'm still the mistress of the skies, By her own lover the fond beauty dies.' This said, descending in a yellow cloud, Before the gates of Semele she stood.
Old Beroe's decrepit shape she wears, Her wrinkled visage, and her hoary hairs ; Whilst in her trembling gait she totters on, And learns to tattle in the nurse's tone. The goddess, thus disguis'd in age, beguiPd With pleasing stories her false foster-child. Much did she talk of love, and when she came To mention to the nymph her lover's name, Fetching a sigh, and holding down her head, ' Tis well,' says she, ' if all be true that's said. But trust me, child, I'm much inclin'd to fear Some counterfeit in this your Jupiter. Many an honest well-designing maid Has been by these pretended gods betray'd. But if he be indeed the thundering Jove, Bid him, when next he courts the rites of love, Descend triumphant from the' ethereal sky, In all the pomp of his divinity ; Encompass'd round by those celestial charms With which be tills the' immortal Juno's arms.'
. . • ..
B*0k 3. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 123
3
The* nnwary nymph, ensnar'd with what she said, Desir'd of Jove, when next he sought her bed, To grant a certain gift which she would choose ; ' Fear not,' replied the god, ' that Til refuse Wbate'er yon ask ; may Styx confirm my voice, Choose what you will and y oh shall have your choice.' ' Then* says the nymph, ' when next you seek my May yon descend in those celestial charms [arms, With which your Juno's bosom you inflame, And fill with transport heaven's immortal dame.' The god,surpris*d, would fain have stop'd her voice ; But he had sworn, and she had made her choice.
To keep his promise he ascends* and shrouds His awful brow in whirlwinds and in clouds ; Whilst all around in terrible array, His thunders rattle and his lightnings play, And yet, the dazzling lustre to abate, He set not out in all his pomp and state ; Clad in the mildest lightning of the skies, And arm'd with thunder of the smallest size ; Not those huge bolts, by which the giants slain Lay overthrown on the Phlegrean plain : 'Twas of a lesser mould and lighter weight, They call it thunder of a second-rate ; For the rough Cyclops, who by Jove's command Temper*d the bolt, and turn'd it to his hand, Work*d up less flame and fury in its make, And quench'd it sooner in the standing lake. Thus dreadfully adorn'd with horror bright, 1 The' illustrious god, descending from his height, £ Came rushing on her in a storm of light. J
The mortal dame, too feeble to engage The lightning's flashes and the thunder's rage, Consum'd amidst the glories she desir'd, And in the terrible embrace expir'd.
124 ovid's metamorphoses. BeokS,
But to preserve his offspring from the tomb, Jove took him smoking from the blasted womb: And, if on ancient tales we may rely, Inclos'd the' abortive infant in his thigh. Here when the babe had all his time fui6U'd, Ino first took him for her foster-child ; Then the Niseaus, in their dark abode, Nurs'd secretly with milk the thriving god.
THE TRANSFORMATION OF TIRESIAS.
T was now wliilc these transactions pass'd on earth, And Bacchus thus procur'd a second birth; When Jove, dispos'd to lay aside the weight Of public empire and the cares of state, As to his queen in nectar bowls he quaff'd; 1 In troth/ says he, and as he spoke he laugh'd, 1 The sense of pleasure in the male is far More dull and dead, tlian what you females share.' Juno the truth of what was said denied, Tiresias therefore must the cause decide, For he the pleasure of each sex had tried.
It happen'd once, within a shady wood, Two twisted snakes be in conjunction view'd, When with his staff their slimy folds he broke, And lost his manhood at the fatal stroke. But after seven revolving years, he view'd The self-same serpents in the self-same wood : ' And if/ says he, ' such virtue in you lie, That he who dares your slimy folds untie Must change his kind, a second stroke I'll try.' Again he struck the snakes, and stood again New-sex'd, and straight recover'd into man. Him therefore both the deities create The sovereign umpire in their grand debate :
Btok $, OVID'S METAMORPHOSIS. 125
And he declar'd for Jove ; when Juno, nVd, .More than so trivial an affair requirtl, Depriy'd bim in her fury of his sight, And left him groping round in sadden night. Bnt Jove (for so it is ip heaven decreed, That no one god repeal another's deed) Irradiates all his soul with inward light, And with the prophet's art relieves the want of sight.
THE TRANSFORMATION OF ECHO.
Fam'd far and near for knowing things to come, From him the' inquiring nations sought their doom ; The fair Liriope his answers tried, And first the' unerring prophet justified. This nymph the god Cephisus bad abusld. With all bis winding waters drcumfus'd. And on the Nereid got a lovely boy, Whom the soft maids ev'n then beheld with joy.
The tender dame, solicitous to know Whether her child should reach old age or no, Consults the sage Tiresias, who replies, * If e'er he knows himself, be surely dies.' Long liv'd the dubious mother in suspense, Till time unriddled all the prophet's sense.
Narcissus now his sixteenth year began, Just tunfd of boy, and on the verge of man ; Many a friend the blooming youth caress'd, Many a lovesick maid her flame confessed. Such was his pride in vain the friend caress'd, The lovesick maid in vain her flame confess'd.
Once, in the woods, as he pursued the chase, The babbling Echo had descried bis race; She, who in others' words her silence breaks, Nor speaks herself but when another speaks.
126 oyid's metamorphoses. Book 3.
Echo was then a maid of speech bereft, Of wonted speech ; for though her voice was left, Judo a curse did on her tongue impose, To sport with every sentence in the close. Full often when the goddess might have caught Jove and her rivals in the very fruit, This nymph with subtle stories would delay Her coming till the lovers slipt away. The goddess found out the deceit in time, And then she cried, ' That tongue for this thy crimp, Which could so many subtle tales produce, Shall be hereafter but of little use.' Hence 'tis she prattles in a fainter tone, With mimic sounds and accents not her own.
This lovesick virgin, overjoy'd to find The boy alone, still foUow'd him behind ; When, glowing warmly at her near approach, As sulphur blazes at the taper's touch, She long'd her hidden passion to reveal, And tell her pains, but had not words to tell : She can't begin, but waits for the rebound, To catch his voice and to return the sound.
The nymph, when nothing could Narcissus mote, Still dash'd with blushes for her slighted love, Liv'd in the shady covert of the wood*, In solitary caves and dark abodes; Where pining wander'd the rejected fair, Till harass'd out, and worn away with care, The sounding skeleton, of blood bereft. Besides her bones and voice had nothing left. Her bones are petrified, her voice is found In vaults, where still it doubles every sound.
C S. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 127
am!' 3
THE STORY OF NARCISSUS.
» did the nymphs in vain caress the hoy ; ill was lovely, bat be still was coy ; i one fair virgin of the slighted train pray'd the gods, provok'd by bis disdain aay he love like me, and love like me in vain ! amsia pitied the neglected fair, vith jost vengeance answered to her pray'r. ere stands a fountain in a darksome wood, ttain'd with falling leaves, nor rising mod ; mbled by tlie breath of winds it rests Died by the touch of men or beasts; bowers of shady trees above it grow, rising grass and cheerful greens below. *d with the form and coolness of the place, over-heated by the morning chase, issus on the grassy verdure lies ; riiilst within the crystal fount he tries ciench bis heat be feels new heat arise. ts his own bright image he surveyed, ill in love with the fantastic shade ; o'er the fair resemblance hung unmov'd, knew, fond youth ! it was himself he lov'd. well-turn'd neck and shoulders he descries, spacious forehead, and the sparkling eyes ; hands that Bacchus might not scorn to show, hair that round Apollo's head might flow ; i all the purple youthfulness of face, gently blushes in the watery glass, is own flames consumed the lover lies, gives himself the wound by which he dies. he cold water oft he joins his lips, ^aftpjring at the beauteous shade he dips altV, as often from himself hettips :
\
128 OVID'S METAMORPHOSBS. fifttfc 3.
Nor knows he who it is his arms pursue With eager clasps, bat loves be knows not who.
What could, fond youth, tins helpless pssnaa What kindled in thee this unpitied lore? [mm? Thy own warm blush within the water glows, With thee the colour'd shadow conies and goes, Its empty being on thyself relies, Step thou aside, and the frail charmer dies.
Still o'er the fountain's watery gleam he stood, Mindless of sleep, and negligent of food, Still view'd his face, and languished as he viewed. At length he rais'd his head, and thin began To vent bis griefs, and tell the woods his pan, * You trees,' says he, 'and thou sarroandhig grow, Who oft have been the kindly scenes of love, Tell me, if e'er within your shades did lie A youth so tortur'd, so perplex'd as I ? I, who before rae see the charming fair, Whilst there he stands, and yet he stands not there; In such a maze of love my thoughts are lost; And yet no bulwark'd town, nor distant coast, Preserves the beauteous youth from being seen; No mountains rise, nor oceans flow between. A shallow water hinders my embrace, And yet the lovely mimic wears a face That kindly smiles, and when I bend to join My lips to his, he fondly bends to mine. Hear, gentle youth, and pity my complaint, Come from thy well, thou fair inhabitant. My charms an easy conquest have obtain'd O'er other hearts, by thee alone disdain'd. But why should I despair ? I'm sure be barm With equal flames, and languishes by turns. Whene'er I stoop he offers at a kiss, And when my arms I stretch, he stretches bb.
Book 3. OTLD'S METAMORPHOSES. 129
His eyes with pleasure oo my face he keeps, He smiles my smiles, and when I weep he weeps. Whene'er I speak, his moving lips appear To otter something which I cannot hear.
' Ah, wretched me ! I now begin too late To find out all the long-perplex'd deceit ; It is myself I love, myself I see, The gay delusion is a part of me. I kindle op the fires by which I burn, And my own beauties from the well return, Whom should I court? How utter my complaint? } Enjoyment but produces my restraint, V
And too much plenty makes me die for want. 3 How gladly would I from myself remove I And at a distance set the thing I love. My breast is warm'd with such unusual fire, I wish him absent whom I most desire. And now I faint with grief, my fate draws nigh ; In all the pride of blooming youth I die ; Death will the sorrows of my heart relieve. Oh, might the visionary youth survive, I should with joy my latest breath resign! But oh ! I see his fate involv'd in mine/
This said, the weeping youth again return'd To the clear fountain, where again he burn'd ; His tears defac'd the surface of the well, With circle after circle as they fell: And now the lovely face but half appears, O'errun with wrinkles, and defbrm'd with tears. ' Ah whither,' cries Narcissus ' dost thou fly? Let me still feed the flame by which I die; Let me still see, though I'm no further bless'd.' Then rends his garment off, and beats his breast; His naked bosom reddens with the blow, In such a blush as purple clusters show,
130 OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. Book 3.
Ere yet the sun's autumnal heats refine Their sprightly juice, and mellow it to wine : The glowing beauties of his breast he spies, And with a new redoubled passion dies. As wax dissolves, as ice begins to run, And trickle into drops before the sun ; So melts the youth, and languishes away, His beauty withers, and his limbs decay; And none of those attractive charms remain, To which the slighted Echo su'd in vain.
She saw him in his present misery, Whom, spite of all her wrongs, she griev'd to see She answered sadly to. the lover's moan, Sigh'd back his sighs, and groan'd to every groan ' Ah youth ! belov'd in vain,' Narcissus cries ;
* Ah youth ! belov'd in vain,' the nymph replies.
* Farewell,' says he ; the parting sound scarce fel From his mint lips, but she replied, ' Farewell.' Then on the' unwholesome earth he gasping lies, Till death shuts up those self-admiring eyes.
To the cold shades his flitting ghost retires, And in the Stygian waves itself admires.
For him the Naiads and the Dryads mourn, Whom the sad Echo answers in her turn, And now the sister-nymphs prepare his urn : When, looking for his corpse, they only found A rising stalk, with yellow blossoms crown'd.
THE STORY OF PENTIIEUS.
This sad event gave blind Tiresias fame, Through Greece established in a prophet's na
The* unhallow'd Pentheus only durst derid The cheated people, and their eyeless guide To whom the prophet in bis fury said, Shaking the hoary honours of his head;
Hook 3. OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 131
' Twere well, presumptuous man, 'twere well for If thou wert eyeless too, and blind like me: [thee, For the time conies, nay 'tis already here, When the young god's solemnities appear ; Which, if thou dost not with just rites adorn, f Thy impious carcase, into pieces torn, >
Shall strew the woods, and hang on every thorn. 3 Then, then, remember what I now foretel, And own the blind Tiresias saw too well.'
Still Pentheus scorns him, and derides his skill ; But time did all the prophets threats fulfil, [rode, For now through prostrate Greece young Bacchus Whilst howling matrons celebrate the god ; All ranks and sexes to his orgies ran, To mingle in the pomps, and fill the train ; When Pentheus thus his wicked rage expressed : ' What madness, Thebans, has your souls possess'd ? Can hollow timbrels, can a drunken shout, And the lewd clamours of a beastly rout, Thus quell; your courage ? Can the weak alarm Of women's yells those stubborn souls disarm, Whom nor the sword nor trumpet e'er could fright, Nor the loud din and horror of a fight ? And you, our sires, who left your old abodes, And fix'd in foreign earth your country gods, Will you without a stroke your city yield, And poorly quit an undisputed field ? But you, whose youth and vigour should inspire Heroic warmth, and kindle martial fire, Whom burnish'd arms and crested helmets grace, Not flowery garlands and a painted Ace ; Remember him to whom you stand allied, The serpent for his well of waters died. He fought the strong, do you his courage show, And gain a conquest o'er a feeble foe.
132 OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. So0k 3.
If Thebes must fall, oh ! might the fates afford A nobler doom from famine, fire, or sword. Then might the Thebans perish with renown ; Bat now a beardless victor sacks the town ; Whom nor the prancing steed nor pondroos shield, Nor the hack'd helmet, nor the dusty field, But the soft joys of luxury and ease, The pnrple vests and flowery garlands please : Stand then aside, I'll make the counterfeit Renounce his god-head, and confess the cheat. Acrisius from the Grecian walls repeU'd [yield ? This boasted power: why then should Fentheus Go quickly, drag the* impostor boy to me, I'll try the force of his divinity.' Thus did the' audacious wretch those rites profane ; His friends dissuade the1 audacious wretch in vain ; In vain his grandare urg'd him to give o'er His impious threats ; the wretch but raves the more.
So have I seen a river gently glide In a smooth course and inoffensive tide ; But if with dams ite current we restrain, It bears down all, and foams along the plain.
But now his servants came besmeared with bloody Sent by their haughty prince to seiae the god j The god they found not in the frantic throng, But drag'd a zealous votary along.
THE MARINERS TRANSFORMED TO DOLPHINS.
Him Pentbeus view*d with fury in his look, And scarce withheld his bands whilst thus be spoke : * Vile slave 1 whom speedy vengeance shall pursue, And terrify thy base seditious crew; Thy country and thy parentage reveal, And why thou joinst in these mad orgies tell.'
B*9k3, OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 135
sThe captive views him with undaunted eyes ; Aid, arm'd with inward innocence, replies :
c From high Meonia's rocky shores I came, Of poor descent, Acoetes is my name ; My sire was meanly born ; no oxen ptough'd His fruitful fields, nor in his pastures low'd> His whole estate within the waters lay, With lines and hooks he caught the finny prey ; His art was all his livelihood, which he Thus with his dying lips bequeathed to me : ' In streams, my boy, and rivers take thy chance ; There swims,' said he, ' thy whole inheritance.' Long did I live on this poor legacy, Till9 tir*d with rocks and my old native sky, To arts of navigation I inclin'd, Observ'd the turns and changes of the wind ; Learn'd the fit havens, and began to note The stormy Hyades, the rainy Goat, The bright Taygete, and the shining Bears, With all the sailor's catalogue of stars. Once as by chance for Delos I design'd, My vessel, driven by a strong gust of wind, Moor*d in a Chian creek, ashore I went, And all the following night in Chios spent. When morning rose I sent my mates to bring Supplies of water from a neighbouring spring, Whilst I the motion of the winds explored ; Then summoned in my crew, and went aboard. Opheltes heard my summons, and with joy Brought to the shore a soft and lovely boy, With more than female sweetness in his look, Whom straggling in the neighbouring fields he took. With fumes of wine the little captive glows, And nods with sleep, and staggers as he goes. vol. i. x
134 OVID** MKTAMORPHOIES. Bo*fc3.
i
* •
\
' I view'd him nicely, and began to trace Each heavenly feature, each immortal grace, And saw divinity in all his face. " I know not who," raid I, " thin god should be, But that he is a god I plainly see ; And thou, whoe'er thou art, excuse tiie force These men have us'd ; and oil, befriend our coarse r " Pray not for us," the nimble Dictys cried, Dictys, that could the main-top. mast bestride, And down the ropes with active vigour slide. To the same purpose old Epopeus spoke, Who overlooked the oars and tim'd the stroke; The same the pilot, and the same the rest, Such impious avarice their souls pos&e&s'd. " Nay, heaven forbid that I should bear away Within my vessel so divine a prey," Said I , and stood to hinder their intent ; When Ly cabas, a wretch for murder sent From Tuscany to suffer banishment, With his clench'd fist had struck me overboard, Had not my hands, in falling, grasp'd a cord.
* His base confederates the fact approve, When Bacchus, (for 'twas he) begun to move, Wak'd by the noise and clamours which they rais'd. And shook his drowsy limbs, and round him gai'd: '' What means this noise ?" he cries, "ami betray 'd? Ah, whither, whither must I be convey'd ?• " Fear not,** said Proreus, "child, but tell us where You wish to land, and trust our friendly care." " To Naxos then direct your course,** said " Naxos a hospitable port shall be To each of you, a joyful home to me," By every god that rules the sea or sky, The perjnr'd villains promise to comply,
I
are.' he: )
ifeefcA. OVID'S MBTAMOBPHOSBS. 155
Aiid bid me batten to unmoor the ship ;
With eager joy I launch into the deep,
And heedless of the fraud for Naxos stand ;
They whisper oft, and beckon with the band.
And give me signs, all anxious for. their prey,
To tack about and steer another way.
" Then let some other to my post succeed,*
Said I, " I'm guiltless of so foul a deed."
" What,* says Etbalion, " roast the ship's whole crew
Follow your humour, and depend on you?19
And straight himself he seated at the prore,
And tack'd about, and sooght another shore.
' The beauteous youth now found himself be-* tray'd, And from the deck the rising waves sunrey'd, And seenfd to weep, and as he wept he said : " And do you thus my easy faith beguile ? Thus do you bear me to my native isle? Will such a multitude of men employ Their strength against a weak defenceless boy ?"
' In vain did I the godlike youth deplore, The more I beg'd they thwarted me the more. And now by all the gods in heaven that hear This solemn oath, by Bacchus' self I swear, The mighty miracle that did ensue, Although it seems beyond belief, is true. The vessel, 6x'd and rooted in the flood, Umnov'd by all the beating billows stood : In vain the mariners would plough the main With sails unfurTd, and strike their oars in vain; Around their oars a twining ivy cleaves, , And climbs the mast, and hides the cords in leaves ;, The sails are cover*d with a cheerful green, And berries in the fruitful canvass seen.
»r-
I
A hero m
In glaring forms ; the gr»tv —
On bis Air brows, and dangle on his hew
And whilst ht> frowns and brandishes his i
My mates, surprised with madness or wit
Leap'd overboard ; first perjnr'd Madon 1
Rongh scales and fins his stiffening sides s
'* Ah ! what," cries one, " has thus transit
look?" Straight his own month grew wider as hi And now himself he views with like snrpi Still at bis oar the' industrious Libya plie But as he plie*, each busy arm shrinks in And by degrees is fashion'd to a fin : Another, as he catches at a cord, Misses his arms, and, tumbling overboarc With his broad fins and forky tail he lave The rising surge, and flounces iu the wai Thus all my crew transform'd around tHfc Or dive below, or on the surface leap; â– And spout the waves, and wanton in the Full nineteen sailors did the ship convey, A shoal of nineteen dolphins round her pi I only in my proper shape appear, Speechless with wonder, and half dead w Till Bacchus kindly bid me fear no more "With him I landed on the Chian shore, And him shall ever gratefully adore.'
' Thia forging slave,' says Pentheus, * wo O'er our just fury by a far-fetch'd talc : Go, let him feel the whips, the swords, And in the tortures of the rack expire.
Btk 3. uvia't KRAMdtptrosM. 137
The' officious servant* harry Lim awn?, And the poor captive in s dongeon lay ; Bat whilst the whips and tortures are prepar'd, The gates fly open, of themselves nobarr'd ; At nberty the' unfetter'd captive stands, And flings the looseu'd shackles from bis hand*.
But Pentheus, grown more furious than before, Resolv'd to send liis messengers no more, But went himself to tlie distracted throng, Where high Cithteron echo'd with their song. And as the Aery war-horse paws the ground. And snarls and trembles at the trompef s soand } Transported thus he heard the frantic root, And rat'd aud madden 'd at the distant shoot.
A spacious circuit on the hill there stood, Level and wide, and skirted roond with wood ; Here the rash Pentheus, with onhaltow'd eyes, The howling dames and mystic orgies spies. His mother sternly view'd him where be stood, And kindled into madness as she view'd : Her leafy javelin at her son she cast, And cries, 'The boar that lays onr country waste! 1'lie boar, my sisters ! aim the fatal dart, y%nd strike the brindled monster to the heart' Pentheus astonish 'd heard the dismal sound, j4nd sees the yelling matrons gathering round ; rig sees, and weeps at his approaching fate, And beg* t°T mercy, ""d repents too late. jMe |p t help ! my ai'™* A »»*-»s ' >■- ■» *** ff.erne~' '"■", '■"
toss**"
138
OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. Book 3.
i
In vain does Pentheus to his mother sue, And the raw bleeding stamps presents to view : His mother bowl'd, and, heedless of his pray'r, Her trembling hand she twisted in his hair, ' And this,' she cried, ' shall be Agave's shared When from the neck his struggling head she tore, And in her hands the ghastly visage bore ; With pleasure all the hideous trunk survey ; Then pull'd and tore the mangled limbs away, As, starting, in the pangs of death it lay. Soon as the wood its leafy honours casts, Blown off and scattered by autumnal blasts, With such a sudden death lay Pentheus slain, And in a thousand pieces strow'd the plain*
By so distinguishing a judgment aw'd, The Thebans tremble, and confess the gocL
k
.+ .
OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.
BOOK IV.
THE STORY OF ALClTHOE AND HER SltTEBt.
BY EUSDEN.
Yrr still Ateitboe perverse remains, And Bacchus still and all bis rites disdain*: Too rash and madly bold, she bids him prove Himaelf a cod, nor owns the son of Jove. Her sisters too unanimous agree, Faithful associates in impiety. * fie this a solemn feast/ the priest had said,
* He, with each mistress, unemploy'd each maid. With skins of beasts your tender limbs inclose, And with an ivy-crown adorn yonr brows, The leafy Thyrsus high in triumph bear,
And give your locks to wanton in the air.' These rites profan'd, the holy seer foresbow'd
A mourning people and a vengeful god. Matrons and pious wives obedience show,
Distaffs and wool half-spun away they throw ;
Then incense burn, and Bacchus thee adore $
Or lov'st tbon Kys&ns or Lyaens more ?
* Oh ! doubly got, ob ! doubly born,' they sung ;
' Thou mighty Bromius, foil, from lightning sprung !
140 OVID'S Bf ETAMORPHOSKS. B*>k 4.
Hail, Thyon, Eleleus ! each name is thine : Or listen parent of the genial Tine ! lacchusl Evan!' londly they repeat. And not one Grecian attribute forget, Which to thy praise great deity belong j Styl'd justly Liber in the Roman song. ' Eternity of youth is thine ! enjoy Years roll'd on years, yet still a blooming boy. In heaven thou shin'st with a superior grace ; Conceal thy horns, and 'tis a virgin's face. Thon taught'st the tawny Indian to obey, And Ganges smoothly flowing own'd thy sway; Lycurgus, Pen the us, equally profane, By thy just vengeance equally were slain : By thee the Tuscans, who conspirM to keep Thee captive, plong'd, and cut with fins the deep. With painted reins all-glittering from afar, The spotted lynxes proudly draw thy car : Around the Bacchep and the satyrs throng, Behind Silenus drunk lags slow along ; On his dull ass he nods from side to side, Forbears to fall, yet half forgets to ride. Still at thy near approach applauses loud Are heard, with yellings of the female crowd : Timbrels and boxen pipes, with mingled cries, Swell up in sounds confus'd, and rend the skies : Come, Bacchus, come propitious, all implore And act thy sacred orgies o'er and o'er.'
But Mineus' daughters while these rites were At home impertinently busy stay'd ; [p*f&>
Their wicked tasks they ply with various art, And through the loom the sliding shuttle dart ; Or at the tire to comb the wool they stand, Or twirl the spindle with a dextrous hand :
Both %, OVIDS Bf ETAMORPHOSBS. 141
Guilty themselves, they force the guiltless in ; Their maids who share their labour share their sin* At last one sister cries, who nimbly knew To draw nice threads and wind the finest cine, ' While others idly rove, and gods revere, Their fended gods ! they know not who or where; Let lis, whom Pallas taught her better arts, Still working, cheer with mirthful chat our hearts ; And, to deceive the time, let me prevail With each by turns to tell some antique tale.' She said ; her sisters like the humour well, And, smiling, bade her the first story tell ; But she awhile profoundly seem'd to muse, PerpJex'd amid variety to choose ; And knew not whether she should first relate The poor Dircetis and her wondrous fate. The Palesttnes believe it to a man, And show the lake in which her scales began ; Or if she rather should the daughter sing,