BOOK XV.

Numa succeeds; who, on making inquiry respecting the origin of the city

of Crotona, learns how black pebbles were changed into white; he also

attends the lectures of Pythagoras, on the changes which all matter is

eternally undergoing. Egeria laments the death of Numa, and will not

listen to the consolations of Hippolytus, who tells her of his own

transformation, and she pines away into a fountain. This is not less

wonderful, than how Tages sprang from a clod of earth; or how the lance

of Romulus became a tree; or how Cippus became decked with horns. The

Poet concludes by passing to recent events; and after shewing how

Æsculapius was first worshipped by the Romans, in the sacred isle of the

Tiber, he relates the Deification of Julius Cæsar and his change into a

Star; and foretells imperishable fame for himself.

BOOK THE EIGHTH.

FABLE I. [VIII.1-151]

Minos commences the war with the siege of Megara. The preservation

of the city depends on a lock of the hair of its king, Nisus. His

daughter, Scylla, falling in love with Minos, cuts off the fatal

lock, and gives it to him. Minos makes himself master of the place;

and, abhorring Scylla and the crime she has been guilty of, he takes

his departure. In despair, she throws herself into the sea, and

follows his fleet. Nisus, being transformed into a sea eagle,

attacks her in revenge, and she is changed into a bird called Ciris.

Now, Lucifer unveiling the day and dispelling the season of night, the

East wind[1] fell, and the moist vapours arose. The favourable South

winds gave a passage to the sons of Æacus,[2] and Cephalus returning;

with which, being prosperously impelled, they made the port they were

bound for, before it was expected.

In the meantime Minos is laying waste the Lelegeian coasts,[3] and

previously tries the strength of his arms against the city Alcathoë,

which Nisus had; among whose honoured hoary hairs a lock, distinguished

by its purple colour, descended from the middle of his crown, the

safeguard of his powerful kingdom. The sixth horns of the rising Phœbe

were {now} growing again, and the fortune of the war was still in

suspense, and for a long time did victory hover between them both with

uncertain wings. There was a regal tower built with vocal walls, on

which the son of Latona[4] is reported to have laid his golden harp;

{and} its sound adhered to the stone. The daughter of Nisus was wont

often to go up thither, and to strike the resounding stones with a

little pebble, when it was a time of peace. She used, likewise, often to

view the fight, and the contests of the hardy warfare, from that tower.

And now, by the continuance of the hostilities, she had become

acquainted with both the names of the chiefs, their arms, their horses,

their dresses, and the Cydonean[5] quivers.

Before the rest, she had observed the face of the chieftain, the son of

Europa; even better than was enough for merely knowing him. In her

opinion, Minos, whether it was that he had enclosed his head in a helm

crested with feathers, was beauteous in a helmet; or whether he had

taken up a shield shining with gold, it became him to assume that

shield. Drawing his arm back, did he hurl the slender javelin; the

maiden commended his skill, joined with strength. Did he bend the wide

bow with the arrow laid upon it; she used to swear that thus Phœbus

stood, when assuming his arrows. But when he exposed his face, by taking

off the brazen {helmet}, and, arrayed in purple, pressed the back of a

white horse, beauteous with embroidered housings, and guided his foaming

mouth; the virgin daughter of Nisus was hardly mistress of herself,

hardly able to control a sound mind. She used to call the javelin happy

which he touched, and the reins happy which he was pressing with his

hand. She had an impulse (were it only possible) to direct her virgin

footsteps through the hostile ranks; she had an impulse to cast her body

from the top of the towers into the Gnossian camp, or to open the gates,

strengthened with brass, to the enemy; or, {indeed}, anything else, if

Minos should wish it. And as she was sitting, looking at the white tents

of the Dictæan king, she said, “I am in doubt whether I should rejoice,

or whether I should grieve, that this mournful war is carried on.

I grieve that Minos is the enemy of the person who loves him; but unless

there had been a war, would he have been known to me? yet, taking me for

a hostage, he might cease the war, and have me for his companion, me as

a pledge of peace. If, most beauteous of beings, she who bore thee, was

such as thou art thyself, with reason was the God {Jupiter} inflamed

with {love for} her. Oh! thrice happy were I, if, moving upon wings

through the air, I could light upon the camp of the Gnossian king, and,

owning myself and my flame, could ask him with what dowry he could wish

to be purchased; provided only, that he did not ask the city of my

father. For, perish rather the desired alliance, than that I should

prevail by treason; although the clemency of a merciful conqueror has

often made it of advantage to many, to be conquered. He certainly

carries on a just war for his slain son,[6] and is strong both in his

cause, and in the arms that defend his cause.

“We shall be conquered, as I suppose. If this fate awaits this city, why

should his own arms, and not my love, open the walls to him? It will be

better for him to conquer without slaughter and delay, and the expense

of his own blood. How much, indeed, do I dread, Minos, lest any one

should unknowingly wound thy breast! for who is so hardened as to dare,

unless unknowingly, to direct his cruel lance against thee? The design

pleases me; and my determination is to deliver up my country as a dowry,

together with myself, and {so} to put an end to the war. But to be

willing, is too little; a guard watches the approaches, and my father

keeps the keys of the gates. Him alone, in my wretchedness, do I dread;

he alone obstructs my desires. Would that the Gods would grant I might

be without a father! Every one, indeed, is a God to himself. Fortune is

an enemy to idle prayers. Another woman, inflamed with a passion so

great, would long since have taken a pleasure in destroying whatever

stood in the way of her love. And why should any one be bolder than

myself? I could dare to go through flames, {and} amid swords. But in

this case there is no occasion for any flames or {any} swords; I {only}

want the lock of my father. That purple lock is more precious to me than

gold; it will make me happy, and mistress of my own wish.”

As she is saying such things, the night draws on, the greatest nurse of

cares, and with the darkness her boldness increases. The first slumbers

are now come, in which sleep takes possession of the breast wearied with

the cares of the day. She silently enters the chamber of her father, and

({O abominable} crime!) the daughter despoils the father of his fatal

lock, and having got the prize of crime, carries with her the spoil of

her impiety; and issuing forth by the gate, she goes through the midst

of the enemy, (so great is her confidence in her deserts) to the king,

whom, in astonishment, she thus addresses: “’Twas love that urged the

deed. I {am} Scylla, the royal issue of Nisus; to thee do I deliver the

fortunes of my country and my own, {as well}; I ask for no reward, but

thyself. Take this purple lock, as a pledge of my love; and do not

consider that I am delivering to thee a lock of hair, but the life of my

father.” And {then}, in her right hand, she holds forth the infamous

present. Minos refuses it, {thus} held out; and shocked at the thought

of so unheard of a crime, he says, “May the Gods, O thou reproach of our

age, banish thee from their universe; and may both earth and sea be

denied to thee. At least, I will not allow so great a monster to come

into Crete, the birth-place of Jupiter, which is my realm.” He {thus}

spoke;[7] and when, {like} a most just lawgiver, he had imposed

conditions on the vanquished, he ordered the halsers of the fleet to be

loosened, and the brazen {beaked} ships to be impelled with the oars.

Scylla, when she beheld the launched ships sailing on the main, and

{saw} that the prince did not give her the {expected} reward of her

wickedness, having spent {all} her entreaties, fell into a violent rage,

and holding up her hands, with her hair dishevelled, in her frenzy she

exclaimed,

“Whither dost thou fly, the origin of thy achievements {thus} left

behind, O thou preferred before my country, preferred before my father?

Whither dost thou fly, barbarous {man}? whose victory is both my crime

and my merit. Has neither the gift presented to thee, nor yet my

passion, moved thee? nor yet {the fact} that all my hopes were centred

in thee alone? For whither shall I return, forsaken {by thee}? To my

country? Subdued, it is ruined. But suppose it were {still} safe; by my

treachery, it is shut against me. To the face of my father, that I have

placed in thy power. My fellow-citizens hate me deservedly; the

neighbours dread my example. I have closed the whole world against me,

that Crete alone might be open {to me}. And dost thou thus forbid me

that as well? Is it thus, ungrateful one, that thou dost desert me?

Europa was not thy mother, but the inhospitable Syrtis,[8] or

Armenian[9] tigresses, or Charybdis disturbed by the South wind. Nor

wast thou the son of Jupiter; nor was thy mother beguiled by the

{assumed} form of a bull. That story of thy birth is false. He was both

a fierce bull, and one charmed with the love of no heifer, that begot

thee. Nisus, my father, take vengeance upon me. Thou city so lately

betrayed, rejoice at my misfortunes; for I have deserved them,

I confess, and I am worthy to perish. Yet let some one of those, whom I

have impiously ruined, destroy me. Why dost thou, who hast conquered by

means of my crime, chastise that crime? This, which was treason to my

country and to my father, was an act of kindness to thee. She is truly

worthy[10] of thee for a husband, who, adulterously {enclosed} in wood,

deceived the fierce-looking bull, and bore in her womb an offspring of

shape dissimilar {to herself}. And do my complaints reach thy ears?

Or do the same winds bear away my fruitless words, and thy ships,

ungrateful man? Now, {ah!} now, it is not to be wondered at that

Pasiphaë preferred the bull to thee; thou didst have the more savage

nature {of the two}. Wretch that I am! He joys in speeding onward, and

the waves resound, cleaved by his oars. Together with myself, alas!

my {native} land recedes from him. Nothing dost thou avail; oh thou!

forgetful to no purpose of my deserts. In spite of thee, will I follow

thee, and grasping thy crooked stern, I will be dragged through the long

seas.”

Scarce has she said {this, when} she leaps into the waves, and follows

the ships, Cupid giving her strength, and she hangs, an unwelcome

companion, to the Gnossian ship. When her father beholds her, (for now

he is hovering in the air, and he has lately been made a sea eagle, with

tawny wings), he is going to tear her in pieces with his crooked beak.

Through fear she quits the stern; but the light air seems to support her

as she is falling, that she may not touch the sea. It is feathers {that

support her}. With feathers, being changed into a bird, she is called

Ciris;[11] and this name does she obtain from cutting off the lock.

[Footnote 1: _The East wind._--Ver. 2. Eurus, or the East wind,

while blowing, would prevent the return of Cephalus from the

island of Ægina to Athens.]

[Footnote 2: _The sons of Æacus._--Ver. 4. ‘Æacidis’ may mean

either the forces sent by Æacus, or his sons Telamon and Peleus,

in command of those troops. It has been well observed, that

‘redeuntibus,’ ‘returning,’ is here somewhat improperly applied to

the troops of Æacus, for they were not, strictly speaking,

returning to Athens although Cephalus was.]

[Footnote 3: _Lelegeian coasts._--Ver. 6. Of Megara, which is also

called Alcathoë, from Alcathoüs, its restorer.]

[Footnote 4: _Of Latona._--Ver. 15. The story was, that when

Alcathoüs was rebuilding the walls of Megara, Apollo assisted him,

and laying down his lyre among the stones, its tones were

communicated to them.]

[Footnote 5: _Cydonean._--Ver 22. From Cydon, a city of Crete.]

[Footnote 6: _His slain son._--Ver. 58. Namely, his son Androgeus,

who had been put to death, as already mentioned.]

[Footnote 7: _He thus spoke._--Ver. 101. The poet omits the

continuation of the siege by Minos, and how he took Megara by

storm, as not pertaining to the developement of his story.]

[Footnote 8: _Inhospitable Syrtis._--Ver. 120. There were two

famous quicksands, or ‘Syrtes,’ in the Mediterranean Sea, near the

coast of Africa; the former near Cyrene, and the latter near

Byzacium, which were known by the name of ‘Syrtis Major’ and

‘Syrtis Minor.’ The inhabitants of the neighbouring coasts were

savage and inhospitable, and subsisted by plundering the

shipwrecked vessels.]

[Footnote 9: _Armenian._--Ver. 121. Armenia was a country of Asia,

lying between Mount Taurus and the Caucasian chain, and extending

from Cappadocia to the Caspian Sea. It was divided into the

greater and the less Armenia, the one to the East, the other to

the West. Its tigers were noted for their extreme fierceness.]

[Footnote 10: _She is truly worthy._--Ver. 131. Pasiphaë, who was

the mother of the Minotaur.]

[Footnote 11: _She is called Ciris._--Ver. 151. From the Greek

word κείρω, ‘to clip,’ or ‘cut.’ According to Virgil, who, in his

Ciris, describes this transformation, this bird was of variegated

colours, with a purple breast, and legs of a reddish hue, and

lived a solitary life in retired spots. It is uncertain what kind

of bird it was; some think it was a hawk, some a lark, and others

a partridge. It has been suggested that Ovid did not enter into

the details of this transformation, because it had been so

recently depicted in beautiful language by Virgil. Hyginus says

that the ‘Ciris’ was a fish.]

EXPLANATION.

Minos, having raised an army and received auxiliary troops from his

allies, made war upon the Athenians, to revenge the death of his

son, Androgeus. Having conquered Nisea, he laid siege to Megara,

which was betrayed by the perfidy of Scylla, the daughter of its

king, Nisus. Pausanias and other historians say that the story here

related by the Poet is based on fact; and that Scylla held a secret

correspondence with Minos during the siege of Megara, and, at

length, introduced him into the town, by opening the gates to him

with the keys which she had stolen from her father, while he was

asleep. This is probably alluded to under the allegorical

description of the fatal lock of hair, though why it should be

depicted in that form especially, it is difficult to guess. The

change of Scylla into a lark, or partridge, and of her father into a

sea eagle, are poetical fictions based on the equivocal meanings of

their names, the one Greek and the other Hebrew; for the name

‘Ciris’ resembles the Greek verb κείρω, which signifies ‘to clip,’

or ‘cut short.’ ‘Nisus,’ too, resembles the Hebrew word ‘Netz,’

which means a bird resembling the osprey, or sea eagle. Apollodorus

says, that Minos ordered Scylla to be thrown into the sea; and

Zenodotus, that he caused her to be hanged at the mainmast of his

ship.

FABLE II. [VIII.152-182]

Minos, having overcome the Athenians, obliges them to pay a tribute

of youths and virgins of the best families, to be exposed to the

Minotaur. The lot falls on Theseus, who, by the assistance of

Ariadne, kills the monster, escapes from the labyrinth, which

Dædalus made, and carries Ariadne to the island of Naxos, where he

abandons her. Bacchus wooes her, and, to immortalize her name, he

transforms the crown which he has given her into a Constellation.

Minos paid, as a vow to Jupiter, the bodies of a hundred bulls, as soon

as, disembarking from his ships, he reached the land of the Curetes; and

his palace was decorated with the spoils there hung up. The reproach of

his family had {now} grown up, and the shameful adultery of his mother

was notorious, from the unnatural shape of the two-formed monster. Minos

resolves to remove the disgrace from his abode, and to enclose it in a

habitation of many divisions, and an abode full of mazes. Dædalus, a man

very famed for his skill in architecture, plans the work, and confounds

the marks {of distinction}, and leads the eyes into mazy wanderings, by

the intricacy of its various passages. No otherwise than as the limpid

Mæander sports in the Phrygian fields, and flows backwards and forwards

with its varying course, and, meeting itself, beholds its waters that

are to follow, and fatigues its wandering current, now {pointing} to its

source, and now to the open sea. Just so, Dædalus fills innumerable

paths with windings; and scarcely can he himself return to the entrance,

so great are the intricacies of the place. After he has shut up here the

double figure of a bull and of a youth;[12] and the third supply, chosen

by lot each nine years, has subdued the monster twice {before} gorged

with Athenian blood; and when the difficult entrance, retraced by none

of those {who have entered it} before, has been found by the aid of the

maiden, by means of the thread gathered up again; immediately, the son

of Ægeus, carrying away the daughter of Minos, sets sail for Dia,[13]

and barbarously deserts his companion on those shores.

Her, {thus} deserted and greatly lamenting, Liber embraces and aids;

and, that she may be famed by a lasting Constellation, he places in the

heavens the crown taken from off her head. It flies through the yielding

air, and, as it flies, its jewels are suddenly changed into fires, and

they settle in their places, the shape of the crown {still} remaining;

which is in the middle,[14] between {the Constellation} resting on his

knee,[15] and that which holds the serpents.

[Footnote 12: _Of a youth._--Ver. 169. Clarke translates this

line, ‘In which, after he had shut the double figure of a bull and

a young fellow.’]

[Footnote 13: _Sets sail for Dia._--Ver. 174. Dia was another name

of the island of Naxos, one of the Cyclades, where Theseus left

Ariadne. Commentators have complained, with some justice, that

Ovid has here omitted the story of Ariadne; but it should be

remembered that he has given it at length in the third book of the

Fasti, commencing at line 460.]

[Footnote 14: _In the middle._--Ver. 182. The crown of Ariadne was

made a Constellation between those of Hercules and Ophiuchus. Some

writers say, that the crown was given by Bacchus to Ariadne as a

marriage present; while others state that it was made by Vulcan of

gold and Indian jewels, by the light of which Theseus was aided in

his escape from the labyrinth, and that he afterwards presented it

to Ariadne. Some authors, and Ovid himself, in the Fasti,

represent Ariadne herself as becoming a Constellation.]

[Footnote 15: _Resting on his knee._--Ver. 182. Hercules, as a

Constellation, is represented in the attitude of kneeling, when

about to slay the dragon that watched the gardens of the

Hesperides.]

EXPLANATION.

Oppressed with famine, and seeing the enemy at their gates, the

Athenians went to consult the oracle at Delphi; and were answered,

that to be delivered from their calamities, they must give

satisfaction to Minos. They immediately sent ambassadors to him,

humbly suing for peace, which he granted them, on condition that

each year, according to Apollodorus and Diodorus Siculus, or every

nine years, according to Plutarch and Ovid, they should send him

seven young men and as many virgins. The severity of these

conditions provoked the Athenians to render Minos as odious as

possible; whereupon, they promulgated the story, that he destined

the youths that were sent to him, to fight in the Labyrinth against

the Minotaur, which was the fruit of an intrigue of his wife

Pasiphaë with a white bull which Neptune had sent out of the sea.

They added, that Dædalus favoured this extraordinary passion of the

queen; and that Venus inspired Pasiphaë with it, to be revenged for

having been surprised with Mars by Apollo, her father. Plato,

Plutarch, and other writers acknowledge that these stories were

invented from the hatred which the Greeks bore to the king of Crete.

As, however, these extravagant fables have generally some foundation

in fact, we are informed by Servius, Tzetzes, and Zenobius, that,

in the absence of Minos, Pasiphaë fell in love with a young noble of

the Cretan court, named Taurus, who, according to Plutarch, was the

commander of the fleet of Minos; that Dædalus, their confidant,

allowed their assignations to take place in his house, and that the

queen was afterwards delivered of twins, of which the one resembled

Minos, and the other Taurus. This, according to those authors, was

the foundation of the story as to the fate for which the young

Athenians were said to be destined. Philochorus, quoted by Plutarch,

says that Minos instituted funeral games in honour of his son

Androgeus, and that those who were vanquished became the slaves of

the conquerors. That author adds, that Taurus was the first who won

all the prizes in these games, and that he used the unfortunate

Athenians, who became his slaves, with great barbarity. Aristotle

tells us that the tribute was paid three times by the Athenians, and

that the lives of the captives were spent in the most dreadful

servitude.

Dædalus, on returning into Crete, built a labyrinth there, in which,

very probably, these games were celebrated. Palæphatus, however,

says that Theseus fought in a cavern, where the son of Taurus had

been confined. Plutarch and Catullus say, that Theseus voluntarily

offered to go to Crete with the other Athenians, while Diodorus

Siculus says that the lot fell on him to be of the number. His

delivery by Ariadne, through her giving him the thread, is probably

a poetical method of informing us that she gave her lover the plan

of the labyrinth where he was confined, that he might know its

windings and the passage out. Eustathius, indeed, says, that Ariadne

received a thread from Dædalus; but he must mean a plan of the

labyrinth, which he himself had designed. The story of Ariadne’s

intercourse with Bacchus is most probably founded on the fact, that

on arriving at the Isle of Naxos, when she was deserted by Theseus,

she became the wife of a priest of Bacchus.

FABLE III. [VIII.183-259]

Dædalus, weary of his exile, finds means, by making himself wings,

to escape out of Crete. His son Icarus, forgetting the advice of his

father, and flying too high, the Sun melts his wings, and he

perishes in the sea, which afterwards bore his name. The sister of

Dædalus commits her son Perdix to his care, for the purpose of being

educated. Dædalus, being jealous of the talent of his nephew, throws

him from a tower, with the intention of killing him; but Minerva

supports him in his fall, and transforms him into a partridge.

In the meantime, Dædalus, abhorring Crete and his prolonged exile,[16]

and inflamed by the love of his native soil, was enclosed {there} by the

sea. “Although Minos,” said he, “may beset the land and the sea, still

the skies, at least, are open. By that way will we go: let Minos possess

everything {besides}: he does not sway the air.” {Thus} he spoke; and he

turned his thoughts to arts unknown {till then}; and varied {the course}

{of} nature. For he arranges feathers in order, beginning from the

least, the shorter one succeeding the longer; so that you might suppose

they grew on an incline. Thus does the rustic pipe sometimes rise by

degrees, with unequal straws. Then he binds those in the middle with

thread, and the lowermost ones with wax; and, thus ranged, with a gentle

curvature, he bends them, so as to imitate real {wings of} birds. His

son Icarus stands together with him; and, ignorant that he is handling

{the source of} danger to himself, with a smiling countenance, he

sometimes catches at the feathers which the shifting breeze is ruffling;

and, at other times, he softens the yellow wax with his thumb; and, by

his playfulness, he retards the wondrous work of his father.

After the finishing hand was put to the work, the workman himself poised

his own body upon the two wings, and hung suspended in the beaten air.

He provided his son {with them} as well; and said to him, “Icarus,

I recommend thee to keep the middle tract; lest, if thou shouldst go too

low, the water should clog thy wings; if too high, the fire {of the sun}

should scorch them. Fly between both; and I bid thee neither to look at

Boötes, nor Helice,[17] nor the drawn sword of Orion. Under my guidance,

take thy way.” At the same time, he delivered him rules for flying, and

fitted the untried wings to his shoulders. Amid his work and his

admonitions, the cheeks of the old man were wet, and the hands of the

father trembled. He gives kisses to his son, never again to be repeated;

and, raised upon his wings, he flies before, and is concerned for his

companion, just as the bird which has led forth her tender young from

the lofty nest into the air. And he encourages him to follow, and

instructs him in the fatal art, and both moves his own wings himself,

and looks back on those of his son. A person while he is angling for

fish with his quivering rod, or the shepherd leaning on his crook, or

the ploughman on the plough tail, when he beholds them, is astonished,

and believes them to be Divinities, who thus can cleave the air. And now

Samos,[18] sacred to Juno, and Delos, and Paros, were left behind to the

left hand. On the right were Lebynthus,[19] and Calymne,[20] fruitful in

honey; when the boy began to be pleased with a bolder flight, and

forsook his guide; and, touched with a desire of reaching heaven,

pursued his course still higher. The vicinity of the scorching Sun

softened the fragrant wax that fastened his wings. The wax was melted;

he shook his naked arms, and, wanting his oar-like wings, he caught no

{more} air. His face, too, as he called on the name of his father, was

received in the azure water, which received its name[21] from him.

But the unhappy father, now no more a father, said, “Icarus, where art

thou? In what spot shall I seek thee, Icarus?” did he say; {when} he

beheld his wings in the waters, and {then} he cursed his own arts; and

he buried his body in a tomb, and the land was called from the name of

him buried there. As he was laying the body of his unfortunate son in

the tomb, a prattling partridge beheld him from a branching

holm-oak,[22] and, by its notes, testified its delight. ’Twas then but a

single bird {of its kind}, and never seen in former years, and, lately

made a bird, was a grievous reproof, Dædalus, to thee. For, ignorant {of

the decrees} of fate, his sister had entrusted her son to be instructed

by him, a boy who had passed twice six birthdays, with a mind eager for

instruction. ’Twas he, too, who took the backbones observed in the

middle of the fish, for an example, and cut {a} continued {row of} teeth

in iron, with a sharp edge, and {thus} discovered the use of the saw.

He was the first, too, that bound two arms of iron to one centre, that,

being divided {and} of equal length, the one part might stand fixed,

{and} the other might describe a circle. Dædalus was envious, and threw

him headlong from the sacred citadel of Minerva, falsely pretending that

he had fallen {by accident}. But Pallas, who favours ingenuity, received

him, and made him a bird; and, in the middle of the air, he flew upon

wings. Yet the vigour of his genius, once so active, passed into his

wings and into his feet; his name, too, remained the same as before. Yet

this bird does not raise its body aloft, nor make its nest in the

branches and the lofty tops {of trees, but} flies near the ground, and

lays its eggs in hedges: and, mindful of its former fall, it dreads the

higher regions.

[Footnote 16: _His prolonged exile._--Ver. 184. Dædalus had been

exiled for murdering one of his scholars in a fit of jealousy;

probably Perdix, his nephew, whose story is related by Ovid.]

[Footnote 17: _Helice._--Ver. 207. This was another name of the

Constellation called the Greater Bear, into which Calisto had been

changed.]

[Footnote 18: _Samos._--Ver. 220. This island, off the coast of

Caria in Asia Minor, was famous as the birth-place of Juno, and

the spot where she was married to Jupiter. She had a famous temple

there.]

[Footnote 19: _Lebynthus._--Ver. 222. This island was one of the

Cyclades, or, according to some writers, one of the Sporades,

a group that lay between the Cyclades and Crete.]

[Footnote 20: _Calymne._--Ver. 222. This island was near Rhodes.

Its honey is praised by Strabo.]

[Footnote 21: _Received its name._--Ver. 230. The island of Samos

being near the spot where he fell, received the name of Icaria.]

[Footnote 22: _Branching holm oak._--Ver. 237. Ovid here forgot

that partridges do not perch in trees; a fact, which, however,

he himself remarks in line 257.]

EXPLANATION.

Dædalus was a talented Athenian, of the family of Erechtheus; and he

was particularly famed for his skill in statuary and architecture.

He became jealous of the talents of his nephew, Talos, whom Ovid

here calls Perdix; and, envying his inventions of the saw, the

compasses, and the art of turning, he killed him privately. Flying

to Crete, he was favourably received by Minos, who was then at war

with the Athenians. He there built the Labyrinth, as Pliny the Elder

asserts, after the plan of that in Egypt, which is described by

Herodotus, Diodorus Siculus, and Strabo. Philochorus, however, as

quoted by Plutarch, says that it did not resemble the Labyrinth of

Egypt, and that it was only a prison in which criminals were

confined.

Minos, being informed that Dædalus had assisted Pasiphaë in carrying

out her criminal designs, kept him in prison; but escaping thence,

by the aid of Pasiphaë, he embarked in a ship which she had prepared

for him. Using sails, which till then, according to Pausanias and

Palæphatus, were unknown, he escaped from the galleys of Minos,

which were provided with oars only. Icarus, either fell into the

sea, or, overpowered with the fatigues of the voyage, died near an

island in the Archipelago, which afterwards received his name. These

facts have been disguised by the poets under the ingenious fiction

of the wings, and the neglect of Icarus to follow his father’s

advice, as here related.

FABLE IV. [VIII.260-546]

Diana, offended at the neglect of Œneus, king of Calydon, when

performing his vows to the Gods, sends a wild boar to ravage his

dominions; on which Œneus assembled the princes of the country for

its pursuit. His son Meleager leads the chase, and, having killed

the monster, presents its head to his mistress, Atalanta, the

daughter of the king of Arcadia. He afterwards kills his two uncles,

Plexippus and Toxeus, who would deprive her of this badge of his

victory. Their sister Althæa, the mother of Meleager, filled with

grief at their death, loads her son with execrations; and,

remembering the torch which she received from the Fates at his

birth, and on which the preservation of his life depends, she throws

it into the fire. As soon as it is consumed, Meleager expires in the

greatest torments. His sisters mourn over his body, until Diana

changes them into birds.

And now the Ætnæan land received Dædalus in his fatigue; and

Cocalus,[23] taking up arms for him as he entreated, was commended for

his kindness. {And} now Athens has ceased to pay her mournful tribute,

through the exploits of Theseus. The temples are decked with garlands,

and they invoke warlike Minerva, with Jupiter and the other Gods, whom

they adore with the blood {of victims} vowed, and with presents offered,

and censers[24] of frankincense. Wandering Fame had spread the renown of

Theseus throughout the Argive cities, and the nations which rich Achaia

contained, implored his aid amid great dangers. Calydon, {too}, although

it had Meleager,[25] suppliantly addressed him with anxious entreaties.

The occasion of asking {aid} was a boar, the servant and the avenger of

Diana in her wrath.

For they say that Œneus, for the blessings of a plenteous year, had

offered the first fruits of the corn to Ceres, to Bacchus his wine, and

the Palladian juice[26] {of olives} to the yellow-haired Minerva. These

invidious honours commencing with the rural {Deities}, were continued to

all the Gods above; they say that the altars of the daughter of Latona,

who was omitted, were alone left without frankincense. Wrath affects

even the Deities. “But {this},” says she, “I will not tamely put up

with; and I, who am thus dishonoured, will not be said to be unrevenged

{as well}:” and she sends a boar as an avenger throughout the lands of

Œneus, than which not even does verdant Epirus[27] possess bulls of

greater size; even the fields of Sicily have them of less magnitude. His

eyes shine with blood and flames, his rough neck is stiff; bristles,

too,[28] stand up, like spikes, thickly set; like palisades[29] do those

bristles project, just like high spikes. Boiling foam, with a harsh

noise, flows down his broad shoulders; his tusks rival the tusks of

India. Thunders issue from his mouth; the foliage is burnt up with the

blast. One while he tramples down the corn in the growing blade, and

crops the expectations of the husbandman, doomed to lament, as yet

unripe, and he intercepts the corn in the ear. In vain does the

threshing floor, and in vain do the barns await the promised harvest.

The heavy grapes, with the long branches of the vine, are scattered

about, and the berries with the boughs of the ever-green olive. He vents

his fury, too, upon the flocks. These, neither dogs nor shepherds {can

protect}; not {even} the fierce bulls are able to defend the herds. The

people fly in all directions, and do not consider themselves safe, but

in the walls of a city, until Meleager, and, together {with him},

a choice body of youths, unite from a desire for fame.

The two sons of Tyndarus,[30] the one famous for boxing, the other for

his skill in horsemanship; Jason, too, the builder of the first ship,

and Theseus, with Pirithoüs,[31] happy unison, and the two sons of

Thestius,[32] and Lynceus,[33] the son of Aphareus, and the swift Idas,

and Cæneus,[34] now no longer a woman; and the valiant Leucippus,[35]

and Acastus,[36] famous for the dart, and Hippothoüs,[37] and Dryas,[38]

and Phœnix,[39] the son of Amyntor, and the two sons of Actor,[40] and

Phyleus,[41] sent from Elis, {are there}. Nor is Telamon[42] absent; the

father, too, of the great Achilles;[43] and with the son of Pheres,[44]

and the Hyantian Iolaüs,[45] the active Eurytion,[46] and Echion,[47]

invincible in the race, and the Narycian Lelex,[48] and Panopeus,[49]

and Hyleus,[50] and bold Hippasus,[51] and Nestor,[52] now but in his

early years. Those, too, whom Hippocoön[53] sent from ancient

Amyclæ,[54] and the father-in-law of Penelope,[55] with the Parrhasian

Ancæus,[56] and the sage son of Ampycus,[57] and the descendant of

Œclus,[58] as yet safe from his wife, and Tegeæan[59] {Atalanta}, the

glory of the Lycæan groves. A polished buckle fastened the top of her

robe; her plain hair was gathered into a single knot. The ivory keeper

of her weapons rattled, hanging from her left shoulder; her left hand,

too, held a bow. Such was her dress, and her face such as you might say,

with reason, was that of a maid in a boy, that of a boy in a maid. Her

the Calydonian hero both beheld, and at the same moment sighed for her,

against the will of the God; and he caught the latent flame, and said,

“Oh, happy {will he be}, if she shall vouchsafe {to make} any one her

husband.” The occasion and propriety allow him to say no more; the

greater deeds of the mighty contest {now} engage him.

A wood, thick with trees, which no age has cut down, rises from a plain,

and looks down upon the fields below. After the heroes are come there,

some extend the nets; some take the couples off the dogs, some follow

close the traces of his feet, and are anxious to discover their own

danger. There is a hollow channel, along which rivulets of rain water

are wont to discharge themselves. The bending willows cover the lower

parts of the cavity, and smooth sedges, and marshy rushes, and oziers,

and thin reeds with their long stalks. Aroused from this spot, the boar

rushes violently into the midst of the enemy, like lightning darted from

the bursting clouds. In his onset the grove is laid level, and the wood,

borne down, makes a crashing noise. The young men raise a shout, and

with strong right hands hold their weapons extended before them,

brandished with their broad points. Onward he rushes, and disperses the

dogs, as any one {of them} opposes his career; and scatters them, as

they bark {at him}, with sidelong wounds. The spear that was first

hurled by the arm of Echion, was unavailing, and made a slight incision

in the trunk of a maple tree. The next, if it had not employed too much

of the strength of him who threw it, seemed as if it would stick in the

back it was aimed at: it went beyond. The owner of the weapon was the

Pagasæan Jason. “Phœbus,” said the son of Ampycus,[60] “if I have

worshipped thee, and if I do worship thee, grant me {the favour} to

reach what is {now} aimed at, with unerring weapon.” The God consented

to his prayer, so far as he could. The boar was struck by him, but

without a wound; Diana took the steel head from off the flying weapon;

the shaft reached him without the point. The rage of the monster was

aroused, and not less violently was he inflamed than the lightnings;

light darted from his eyes, and flame was breathed from his breast. As

the stone flies, launched by the tightened rope, when it is aimed[61] at

either walls, or towers filled with soldiers, with the like unerring

onset is the destroying boar borne on among the youths, and lays upon

the ground Eupalamus and Pelagon,[62] who guard the right wing. {Thus}

prostrate, their companions bear them off. But Enæsimus, the son of

Hippocoön, does not escape a deadly wound. The sinews of his knee, cut

{by the boar}, fail him as he trembles, and prepares to turn his back.

Perhaps, too, the Pylian {Nestor} would have perished[63] before the

times of the Trojan {war}: but taking a spring, by means of his lance,

planted {in the ground}, he leaped into the branches of a tree that was

standing close by, and, safe in his position, looked down upon the enemy

which he had escaped. He, having whetted his tusk on the trunk of an

oak, fiercely stood, ready for their destruction; and, trusting to his

weapons newly pointed, gored the thigh of the great Othriades[64] with

his crooked tusks. But the two brothers, not yet made Constellations of

the heavens, distinguished from the rest, were borne upon horses whiter

than the bleached snow; {and} both were brandishing the points of their

lances, poised in the air, with a tremulous motion. They would have

inflicted wounds, had not the bristly {monster} entered the shady wood,

a place penetrable by neither weapons nor horses. Telamon pursues him;

and, heedless in the heat of pursuit, falls headlong, tripped up by the

root of a tree. While Peleus[65] is lifting him up, the Tegeæan damsel

fits a swift arrow to the string, and, bending the bow, lets it fly.

Fixed under the ear of the beast, the arrow razes the surface of the

skin, and dyes the bristles red with a little blood. And not more joyful

is she at the success of her aim than Meleager is.

He is supposed to have observed it first, and first to have pointed out

the blood to his companions, and to have said, “Thou shalt receive due

honour for thy bravery.” The heroes blush {in emulation}; and they

encourage one another, and raise their spirits with shouts, and

discharge their weapons without any order. Their {very} multitude is a

hindrance to those that are thrown, and it baffles the blow for which it

is designed. Behold! the Arcadian,[66] wielding his battle-axe, rushing

madly on to his fate, said, “Learn, O youths, how much the weapons of

men excel those of women, and give way for my achievement. Though the

daughter of Latona herself should protect him by her own arms, still,

in spite of Diana, shall my right hand destroy him.” Such words did he

boastingly utter with self-confident lips; and lifting his double-edged

axe with both hands, he stood erect upon tiptoe. The beast seized him

{thus} bold, and, where there is the nearest way to death, directed his

two tusks to the upper part of his groin. Ancæus fell; and his bowels,

twisted, rush forth, falling with plenteous blood, and the earth was

soaked with gore. Pirithoüs, the son of Ixion, was advancing straight

against the enemy, shaking his spear in his powerful right hand. To him

the son of Ægeus, at a distance, said, “O thou, dearer to me than

myself; stop, thou better part of my soul; we may be valiant at a

distance: his rash courage was the destruction of Ancæus.” {Thus} he

spoke, and he hurled his lance of cornel wood, heavy with its brazen

point; which, well poised, and likely to fulfil his desires, a leafy

branch of a beech-tree opposed.

The son of Æson, too, hurled his javelin, which {unlucky} chance turned

away from {the beast}, to the destruction of an unoffending dog, and

running through his entrails, it was pinned through {those} entrails

into the earth. But the hand of the son of Œneus has different success;

and of two discharged by him, the first spear is fastened in the earth,

the second in the middle of his back. There is no delay; while he rages,

while he is wheeling his body round, and pouring forth foam, hissing

with the fresh blood, the giver of the wound comes up, and provokes his

adversary to fury, and buries his shining hunting spear in his opposite

shoulder. His companions attest their delight in an encouraging shout,

and in their right hands endeavour to grasp the conquering right hand;

and with wonder they behold the huge beast as he lies upon a large space

of ground, and they do not deem it safe as yet to touch him; but yet

they, each of them, stain their weapons with his blood. {Jason} himself,

placing his foot upon it, presses his frightful head, and thus he says:

“Receive, Nonacrian Nymph, the spoil that is my right; and let my glory

be shared by thee.” Immediately he gives her the skin as the spoil,

thick with the stiffening bristles, and the head remarkable for the huge

tusks. The giver of the present, as well as the present, is a {source}

of pleasure to her. The others envy her, and there is a murmuring

throughout the whole company. Of these, stretching out their arms, with

a loud voice, the sons of Thestius cry out, “Come, lay them down, and do

not thou, a woman, interfere with our honours; let not thy confidence in

thy beauty deceive thee, and let the donor, seized with this passion for

thee, keep at a distance.” And {then} from her they take the present,

{and} from him the right {of disposing} of the present.

The warlike[67] {prince} did not brook it, and, indignant with swelling

rage, he said, “Learn, ye spoilers of the honour that belongs to

another, how much deeds differ from threats;” and, with his cruel sword,

he pierced the breast of Plexippus, dreading no such thing. Nor suffered

he Toxeus, who was doubtful what to do, and both wishful to avenge his

brother, and fearing his brother’s fate, long to be in doubt; but a

second time warmed his weapon, reeking with the former slaughter, in the

blood of the brother.

Althæa was carrying gifts to the temples of the Gods, her son being

victorious, when she beheld her slain brothers carried off {from the

field}: uttering a shriek, she filled the city with her sad

lamentations, and assumed black garments in exchange for her golden

ones. But soon as the author of their death was made known, all grief

vanished; and from tears it was turned to a thirst for vengeance. There

was a billet, which, when the daughter of Thestius was lying in labour

{with her son}, the three Sisters, {the Fates}, placed in the flames,

and spinning the fatal threads, with their thumbs pressed upon them,

they said, “We give to thee, O new-born {babe}, and to this wood, the

same period {of existence}.” Having uttered this charm, the Goddesses

departed; {and} the mother snatched the flaming brand from the fire, and

sprinkled it with flowing water. Long had it been concealed in her most

retired apartment; and being {thus} preserved, had preserved, O youth,

thy life. This {billet} the mother {now} brings forth, and orders

torches to be heaped on broken pieces {of wood}; and when heaped,

applies to them the hostile flames. Then four times essaying to lay the

branch upon the flames, four times does she pause in the attempt. Both

the mother and the sister struggle hard, and the two different titles

influence her breast in different ways. Often is her countenance pale

with apprehension of the impending crime; often does rage, glowing in

her eyes, produce its red colour. And one while is her countenance like

that of one making some cruel threat or other; at another moment, such

as you could suppose to be full of compassion. And when the fierce heat

of her feelings has dried up her tears, still are tears found {to flow}.

Just as the ship, which the wind and a tide running contrary to the

wind, seize, is sensible of the double assault, and unsteadily obeys

them both; no otherwise does the daughter of Thestius fluctuate between

{two} varying affections, and in turn lays by her anger, and rouses it

again, {when thus} laid by. Still, the sister begins to get the better

of the parent; and that, with blood she may appease the shades of her

relations, in her unnatural conduct she proves affectionate.

For after the pernicious flames gained strength, she said, “Let this

funeral pile consume my entrails.” And as she was holding the fatal

billet in her ruthless hand, she stood, in her wretchedness, before the

sepulchral altars,[68] and said, “Ye Eumenides,[69] the three Goddesses

of punishment, turn your faces towards these baleful rites; I am both

avenging and am committing a crime. With death must death be expiated;

crime must be added to crime, funeral to funeral; by accumulated

calamities, let this unnatural race perish. Shall Œneus, in happiness,

be blessed in his victorious son; and shall Thestius be childless? It is

better that you both should mourn. Only do ye, ghosts of my brothers,

phantoms newly made, regard this my act of affection, and receive this

funeral offering,[70] provided at a cost so great, the guilty pledge of

my womb. Ah, wretched me! Whither am I hurried away? Pardon, my

brothers, {the feelings of} a mother. My hands fail me in my purpose,

I confess that he deserves to die; but the author of his death is

repugnant to me. Shall he then go unpunished? Alive and victorious, and

flushed with his success, shall he possess the realms of Calydon? {And}

shall you lie, a little heap of ashes, and {as} lifeless phantoms? For

my part, I will not endure this. Let the guilty wretch perish, and let

him carry along with him the hopes of his father,[71] and the ruin of

his kingdom and country. {But} where are the feelings of a mother, where

are the affectionate ties of the parent? Where, too, are the pangs which

for twice five months[72] I have endured? Oh, that thou hadst been

burnt, when an infant, in that first fire! And would that I had allowed

it! By my aid hast thou lived; now, for thy own deserts, shalt thou die.

Take the reward of thy deeds; and return to me that life which was twice

given thee, first at thy birth, next when the billet was rescued; or

else place me as well in the tomb of my brothers. I both desire {to do

it}, and I am unable. What shall I do? one while the wounds of my

brothers are before my eyes, and the form of a murder so dreadful; at

another time, affection and the name of mother break my resolution.

Wretch that I am! To my sorrow, brothers, will you prevail; but {still}

prevail; so long as I myself shall follow the appeasing sacrifice that I

shall give you, and you yourselves;” she {thus} said, and turning

herself away, with trembling right hand she threw the fatal brand into

the midst of the flames.

That billet either utters, or seems to utter, a groan, and, caught by

the reluctant flames, it is consumed. Unsuspecting, and at a distance,

Meleager is burned by that flame, and feels his entrails scorched by the

secret fires; but with fortitude he supports the mighty pain. Still, he

grieves that he dies by an inglorious death, and without {shedding his}

blood, and says that the wounds of Ancæus were a happy lot. And while,

with a sigh, he calls upon his aged father, and his brother, and his

affectionate sisters, and with his last words the companion of his

bed,[73] perhaps, too, his mother {as well}; the fire and his torments

increase; and {then} again do they diminish. Both of them are

extinguished together, and by degrees his spirit vanishes into the light

air.

Lofty Calydon {now} lies prostrate. Young and old mourn, both people and

nobles lament; and the Calydonian matrons of Evenus,[74] tearing their

hair, bewail him. Lying along upon the ground, his father pollutes his

white hair and his aged features with dust, and chides his prolonged

existence. But her own hand, conscious to itself of the ruthless deed,

exacted punishment of the mother, the sword piercing her entrails.[75]

If a God had given me a mouth sounding with a hundred tongues, and an

enlarged genius, and the whole of Helicon {besides}; {still} I could not

enumerate the mournful expressions of his unhappy sisters. Regardless of

shame, they beat their livid bosoms, and while the body {still} exists,

they embrace it, and embrace it again; they give kisses to it, {and}

they give kisses to the bier {there} set. After {he is reduced to}

ashes, they pour them, when gathered up, to their breasts; and they lie

prostrate around the tomb, and kissing his name cut out in the stone,

they pour their tears upon his name. Them, the daughter of Latona, at

length satiated with the calamities of the house of Parthaon,[76] bears

aloft on wings springing from their bodies, except Gorge,[77] and the

daughter-in-law of noble Alcmena; and she stretches long wings over

their arms, and makes their mouths horny, and sends them, {thus}

transformed, through the air.

[Footnote 23: _Cocalus._--Ver. 261. He was the king of Sicily, who

received Dædalus with hospitality.]

[Footnote 24: _And censers._--Ver. 265. Acerris. The ‘acerra’ was

properly a box used for holding incense for the purposes of

sacrifice, which was taken from it, and placed on the burning

altar. According to Festus, the word meant a small altar, which

was placed before the dead, and on which perfumes were burnt. The

Law of the Twelve Tables restricted the use of ‘acerræ’ at

funerals.]

[Footnote 25: _Meleager._--Ver. 270. He was the son of Œneus, king

of Calydon, a city of Ætolia, who had offended Diana by neglecting

her rites.]

[Footnote 26: _Palladian juice._--Ver. 275. Oil, the extraction of

which, from the olive, Minerva had taught to mortals.]

[Footnote 27: _Epirus._--Ver. 283. This country, sometimes also

called Chaonia, was on the north of Greece, between Macedonia,

Thessaly, and the Ionian sea, comprising the greater part of what

is now called Albania. It was famous for its oxen. According to

Pliny the Elder, Pyrrhus, its king, paid particular attention to

improving the breed.]

[Footnote 28: _Bristles too._--Ver. 285. This line, or the

following one, is clearly an interpolation, and ought to be

omitted.]

[Footnote 29: _Palisades._--Ver. 286. The word ‘vallum’ is found

applied either to the whole, or a portion only, of the

fortifications of a Roman camp. It is derived from ‘vallus,’ ‘a

stake;’ and properly means the palisade which ran along the outer

edge of the ‘agger,’ or ‘mound:’ but it frequently includes the

‘agger’ also. The ‘vallum,’ in the latter sense, together with the

‘fossa,’ or ‘ditch,’ which surrounded the camp outside of the

‘vallum,’ formed a complete fortification.]

[Footnote 30: _Sons of Tyndarus._--Ver. 301. These were Castor and

Pollux, the putative sons of Tyndarus, but really the sons of

Jupiter, who seduced Leda under the form of a swan. According to

some, however, Pollux only was the son of Jupiter. Castor was

skilled in horsemanship, while Pollux excelled in the use of the

cestus.]

[Footnote 31: _Pirithoüs._--Ver. 303. He was the son of Ixion of

Larissa, and the bosom friend of Theseus.]

[Footnote 32: _Sons of Thestius._--Ver. 304. These were Toxeus and

Plexippus, the uncles of Meleager, and the brothers of Althæa, who

avenged their death in the manner afterwards described by Ovid.

Pausanias calls them Prothoüs and Cometes. Lactantius adds a

third, Agenor.]

[Footnote 33: _Lynceus._--Ver. 304. Lynceus and Idas were the sons

of Aphareus. From his skill in physical science, the former was

said to be able to see into the interior of the earth.]

[Footnote 34: _Cæneus._--Ver. 305. This person was originally a

female, by name Cænis. At her request, she was changed by Neptune

into a man, and was made invulnerable. Her story is related at

length in the 12th book of the Metamorphoses.]

[Footnote 35: _Leucippus._--Ver. 306. He was the son of Perieres,

and the brother of Aphareus. His daughters were Elaira, or Ilaira,

and Phœbe, whom Castor and Pollux attempted to carry off.]

[Footnote 36: _Acastus._--Ver. 306. He was the son of Pelias, king

of Thessaly.]

[Footnote 37: _Hippothoüs._--Ver. 307. According to Hyginus,

he was the son of Geryon, or rather, according to Pausanias,

of Cercyon.]

[Footnote 38: _Dryas._--Ver. 307. The son of Mars, or, according

to some writers, of Iapetus.]

[Footnote 39: _Phœnix._--Ver. 307. He was the son of Amyntor.

Having engaged in an intrigue, by the contrivance of his mother,

with his father’s mistress, he fled to the court of Peleus, king

of Thessaly, who entrusted to him the education of Achilles, and

the command of the Dolopians. He attended his pupil to the Trojan

war, and became blind in his latter years.]

[Footnote 40: _Two sons of Actor._--Ver. 308. These were Eurytus

and Cteatus, the sons of Actor, of Elis. They were afterwards

slain by Hercules.]

[Footnote 41: _Phyleus._--Ver. 308. He was the son of Augeas, king

of Elis, whose stables were cleansed by Hercules.]

[Footnote 42: _Telamon._--Ver. 309. He was the son of Æacus. Ajax

Telamon was his son.]

[Footnote 43: _Great Achilles._--Ver. 309. His father was Peleus,

the brother of Ajax, and the son of Æacus and Ægina. Peleus was

famed for his chastity.]

[Footnote 44: _The son of Pheres._--Ver. 310. This was Admetus,

the son of Pheres, of Pheræ, in Thessaly.]

[Footnote 45: _Hyantian Iolaüs._--Ver. 310. Iolaüs, the Bœotian,

the son of Iphiclus, aided Hercules in slaying the Hydra.]

[Footnote 46: _Eurytion._--Ver. 311. He was the son of Irus, and

attended the Argonautic expedition.]

[Footnote 47: _Echion._--Ver. 311. He was an Arcadian, the son of

Mercury and the Nymph Antianira, and was famous for his speed.]

[Footnote 48: _Narycian Lelex._--Ver. 312. So called from Naryx,

a city of the Locrians.]

[Footnote 49: _Panopeus._--Ver. 312. He was the son of Phocus, who

built the city of Panopæa, in Phocis, and was the father of

Epytus, who constructed the Trojan horse.]

[Footnote 50: _Hyleus._--Ver. 312. According to Callimachus,

he was slain, together with Rhœtus, by Atalanta, for making an

attempt upon her virtue.]

[Footnote 51: _Hippasus._--Ver. 313. He was a son of Eurytus.]

[Footnote 52: _Nestor._--Ver. 313. He was the son of Neleus and

Chloris. He was king of Pylos, and went to the Trojan war in his

ninetieth, or, as some writers say, in his two hundredth year.]

[Footnote 53: _Hippocoön._--Ver. 314. He was the son of Amycus. He

sent his four sons, Enæsimus, Alcon, Amycus, and Dexippus, to hunt

the Calydonian boar. The first was killed by the monster, and the

other three, with their father, were afterwards slain by

Hercules.]

[Footnote 54: _Amyclæ._--Ver. 314. This was an ancient city of

Laconia, built by Amycla, the son of Lacedæmon.]

[Footnote 55: _Of Penelope._--Ver. 315. This was Laërtes, the

father of Ulysses, the husband of Penelope, and king of Ithaca.]

[Footnote 56: _Ancæus._--Ver. 315. He was an Arcadian, the son of

Lycurgus.]

[Footnote 57: _Son of Ampycus._--Ver. 316. Ampycus was the son of

Titanor, and the father of Mopsus, a famous soothsayer.]

[Footnote 58: _Descendant Œclus._--Ver. 317. This was Amphiaraüs,

who, having the gift of prophecy, foresaw that he would not live

to return from the Theban war; and, therefore, hid himself, that

he might not be obliged to join in the expedition. His wife,

Eriphyle, being bribed by Adrastus with a gold necklace, betrayed

his hiding-place; on which, proceeding to Thebes, he was swallowed

up in the earth, together with his chariot. Ovid refers here to

the treachery of his wife.]

[Footnote 59: _Tegeæan._--Ver. 317. Atalanta was the daughter of

Iasius, and was a native of Tegeæa, in Arcadia. She was the mother

of Parthenopæus, by Meleager. She is thought, by some, to have

been a different person from Atalanta, the daughter of Schœneus,

famed for her swiftness in running, who is mentioned in the tenth

book of the Metamorphoses.]

[Footnote 60: _Son of Ampycus._--Ver. 350. Mopsus was a priest of

Apollo.]

[Footnote 61: _When it is aimed._--Ver. 357. When discharged from

the ‘balista,’ or ‘catapulta,’ or other engine of war.]

[Footnote 62: _Eupalamus and Pelagon._--Ver. 360. They are not

previously named in the list of combatants; and nothing further is

known of them.]

[Footnote 63: _Would have perished._--Ver. 365. What is here told

of Nestor, one of the Commentators on Homer attributes to

Thersites, who, according to him, being the son of Agrius, the

uncle of Meleager, was present on this occasion.]

[Footnote 64: _Othriades._--Ver. 371. Nothing further is known of

him.]

[Footnote 65: _Peleus._--Ver. 375. According to Apollodorus,

Peleus accidentally slew Eurytion on this occasion.]

[Footnote 66: _The Arcadian._--Ver. 391. This was Ancæus, who is

mentioned before, in line 215.]

[Footnote 67: _Warlike._--Ver. 437. ‘Mavortius’ may possibly mean

‘the son of Mars,’ as, according to Hyginus, Mars was engaged in

an intrigue with Althæa.]

[Footnote 68: _Sepulchral altars._--Ver. 480. The ‘sepulchralis

ara’ is the funeral pile, which was built in the form of an altar,

with four equal sides. Ovid also calls it ‘funeris ara,’ in the

Tristia, book iii. Elegy xiii. line 21.]

[Footnote 69: _Eumenides._--Ver. 482. This name properly signifies

‘the well-disposed,’ or ‘wellwishers,’ and was applied to the

Furies by way of euphemism, it being deemed unlucky to mention

their names.]

[Footnote 70: _Funeral offering._--Ver. 490. The ‘inferiæ’ were

sacrifices offered to the shades of the dead. The Romans appear to

have regarded the souls of the departed as Gods; for which reason

they presented them wine, milk, and garlands, and offered them

victims in sacrifice.]

[Footnote 71: _Hopes of his father._--Ver. 498. Œneus had other

sons besides Meleager, who were slain in the war that arose in

consequence of the death of Plexippus and Toxeus. Nicander says

they were five in number; Apollodorus names but three, Toxeus,

Tyreus, and Clymenus.]

[Footnote 72: _Twice five months._--Ver. 500. That is, lunar

months.]

[Footnote 73: _Of his bed._--Ver. 521. Antoninus Liberalis calls

her Cleopatra, but Hyginus says that her name was Alcyone. Homer,

however, reconciles this discrepancy, by saying that the original

name of the wife of Meleager was Cleopatra, but that she was

called Alcyone, because her mother had the same fate as Alcyone,

or Halcyone.]

[Footnote 74: _Evenus._--Ver. 527. Evenus was a river of Ætolia.]

[Footnote 75: _Piercing her entrails._--Ver. 531. Hyginus says

that she hanged herself.]

[Footnote 76: _Parthaon._--Ver. 541. Parthaon was the grandfather

of Meleager and his sisters, Œneus being his son.]

[Footnote 77: _Gorge._--Ver. 542. Gorge married Andræmon, and

Deïanira was the wife of Hercules, the son of Alcmena. The two

sisters of Meleager who were changed into birds were Eurymede and

Melanippe.]

EXPLANATION.

It is generally supposed that the story of the chase of the

Calydonian boar, though embracing much of the fabulous, is still

based upon historical facts. Homer, in the 9th book of the Iliad,

alludes to it, though in somewhat different terms from the account

here given by Ovid; and from the ancient historians we learn, that

Œneus, offering the first fruits to the Gods, forgot Diana in his

sacrifices. A wild boar, the same year having ravaged some part of

his dominions, and particularly a vineyard, on the cultivation of

which he had bestowed much pains, these circumstances, combined,

gave occasion for saying that the boar had been sent by Diana. As

the wild beast had killed some country people, Meleager collected

the neighbouring nobles, for the purpose of destroying it. Plexippus

and Toxeus, having been killed, in the manner mentioned by the Poet,

Althæa, their sister, in her grief, devoted her son to the Furies;

and, perhaps, having used some magical incantations, the story of

the fatal billet was invented.

Homer does not mention the death of Meleager; but, on the contrary,

says that his mother, Althæa, was pacified. Some writers, however,

think that he really was poisoned by his mother. The story of the

change of the sisters of Meleager into birds is only the common

poetical fiction, denoting the extent of their grief at the untimely

death of their brother.

FABLE V. [VIII.547-610]

Theseus, returning from the chase of the Calydonian boar, is stopped

by an inundation of the river Acheloüs, and accepts of an invitation

from the God of that river, to come to his grotto. After the repast,

Acheloüs gives him the history of the five Naiads, who had been

changed into the islands called Echinades, and an account of his own

amour with the Nymph Perimele, whom, being thrown by her father into

the sea, Neptune had transformed into an island.

In the meantime, Theseus having performed his part in the joint labour,

was going to the Erecthean towers of Tritonis. {But} Acheloüs, swollen

with rains, opposed his journey,[78] and caused him delay as he was

going. “Come,” said he, “famous Cecropian, beneath my roof; and do not

trust thyself to the rapid floods. They are wont to bear away strong

beams, and to roll down stones, as they lie across, with immense

roaring. I have seen high folds, contiguous to my banks, swept away,

together with the flocks; nor was it of any avail there for the herd to

be strong, nor for the horses to be swift. Many bodies, too, of young

men has this torrent overwhelmed in its whirling eddies, when the snows

of the mountains dissolved. Rest is the safer {for thee}; until the

river runs within its usual bounds, until its own channel receives the

flowing waters.”

To {this} the son of Ægeus agreed; and replied, “I will make use of thy

dwelling and of thy advice, Acheloüs;” and both he did make use of.

He entered an abode built of pumice stone with its many holes, and the

sand-stone far from smooth. The floor was moist with soft moss, shells

with alternate {rows of} murex arched the roof. And now, Hyperion having

measured out two parts of the light, Theseus and the companions of his

labours lay down upon couches; on the one side the son of Ixion,[79] on

the other, Lelex, the hero of Trœzen, having his temples now covered

with thin grey hairs; and some others whom the river of the Acarnanians,

overjoyed with a guest so great, had graced with the like honour.

Immediately, some Nymphs, barefoot, furnished with the banquet the

tables that were set before them; and the dainties being removed, they

served up wine in {bowls adorned with} gems. Then the mighty hero,

surveying the seas that lay beneath his eyes, said, “What place is

this?” and he pointed with his finger; “and inform me what name that

island bears; although it does not seem to be one only?” In answer to

these words, the River said, “It is not, indeed, one object that we see;

five countries lie {there}; they deceive through their distance. And

that thou mayst be the less surprised at the deeds of the despised

Diana, these were Naiads; who, when they had slain twice five bullocks,

and had invited the Gods of the country to a sacrifice, kept a joyous

festival, regardless of me. {At this} I swelled, and I was as great as I

ever am, in my course, when I am the fullest; and, redoubled both in

rage and in flood, I tore away woods from woods, and fields from fields;

and together with the spot, I hurled the Nymphs[80] into the sea, who

then, at last, were mindful of me. My waves and those of the main

divided the land, {before} continuous, and separated it into as many

parts, as thou seest {islands, called} Echinades, in the midst of the

waves.

“But yet, as thou thyself seest from afar, one island, see! was

withdrawn far off from the rest, {an island} pleasing to me. The mariner

calls it Perimele.[81] This beloved Nymph did I deprive of the name of a

virgin. This her father, Hippodamas, took amiss, and pushed the body of

his daughter, when about to bring forth, from a rock, into the sea.

I received her; and bearing her up when swimming, I said, ‘O thou bearer

of the Trident, who hast obtained, by lot, next in rank to the heavens,

the realms of the flowing waters, in which we sacred rivers end, {and}

to which we run; come hither, Neptune, and graciously listen to me, as I

pray. Her, whom I am bearing up, I have injured. If her father,

Hippodamas, had been mild and reasonable, or if he had been less

unnatural, he ought to have pitied her, and to have forgiven me. Give

thy assistance; and grant a place, Neptune, I beseech thee, to her,

plunged in the waters by the cruelty of her father; or allow her to

become a place herself. Her, even, {thus} will I embrace.’ The King of

the ocean moved his head, and shook all the waters with his assent. The

Nymph was afraid; but yet she swam. Her breast, as she was swimming,

I myself touched, as it throbbed with a tremulous motion; and while I

felt it, I perceived her whole body grow hard, and her breast become

covered with earth growing over it. While I was speaking, fresh earth

enclosed her floating limbs, and a heavy island grew upon her changed

members.”

[Footnote 78: _Opposed his journey._--Ver. 548. It has been

objected to this passage, that the river Acheloüs, which rises in

Mount Pindus, and divides Acarnania from Ætolia, could not

possibly lie in the road of Theseus, as he returned from Calydon

to Athens.]

[Footnote 79: _Son of Ixion._--Ver. 566. Pirithoüs lay on the one

side, and Lelex on the other; the latter is called ‘Trœzenius,’

from the fact of his having lived with Pittheus, the king of

Trœzen.]

[Footnote 80: _I hurled the Nymphs._--Ver. 585. Clarke translates

‘Nymphas in freta provolvi,’ ‘I tumbled the nymphs into the sea.’]

[Footnote 81: _Perimele._--Ver. 590. According to Apollodorus, the

name of the wife of Acheloüs was Perimede; and she bore him two

sons, Hippodamas and Orestes. The Echinades were five small

islands in the Ionian Sea, near the coast of Acarnania, which are

now called Curzolari.]

EXPLANATION.

This story is simply based upon physical grounds. The river

Acheloüs, running between Acarnania and Ætolia, and flowing into the

Ionian Sea, carried with it a great quantity of sand and mud, which

probably formed the islands at its mouth, called the Echinades. The

same solution probably applies to the narrative of the fate of the

Nymph Perimele.

FABLE VI. [VIII.611-737]

Jupiter and Mercury, disguised in human shape, are received by

Philemon and Baucis, after having been refused admittance by their

neighbours. The Gods, in acknowledgment of their hospitality,

transform their cottage into a temple, of which, at their own

request, they are made the priest and priestess; and, after a long

life, the worthy couple are changed into trees. The village where

they live is laid under water, on account of the impiety of the

inhabitants, and is turned into a lake. Acheloüs here relates the

surprising changes of Proteus.

After these things the river was silent. The wondrous deed had

astonished them all. The son of Ixion laughed at them,[82] believing

{the story}; and as he was a despiser of the Gods, and of a haughty

disposition, he said, “Acheloüs, thou dost relate a fiction, and dost

deem the Gods more powerful than they are, if they both give and take

away the form {of things}.” {At this} all were amazed, and did not

approve of such language; and before all, Lelex, ripe in understanding

and age, spoke thus: “The power of heaven is immense, and has no limits;

and whatever the Gods above will, ’tis done.

“And that thou mayst the less doubt {of this}, there is upon the

Phrygian hills, an oak near to the lime tree, enclosed by a low

wall.[83] I, myself, have seen the spot; for Pittheus sent me into the

land of Pelops, once governed by his father, {Pelops}. Not far thence is

a standing water, formerly habitable ground, but now frequented by

cormorants and coots, that delight in fens. Jupiter came hither in the

shape of a man, and together with his parent, the grandson of Atlas,

{Mercury}, the bearer of the Caduceus, having laid aside his wings. To a

thousand houses did they go, asking for lodging and for rest. A thousand

houses did the bolts fasten {against them}. Yet one received them,

a small one indeed, thatched with straw,[84] and the reeds of the marsh.

But a pious old woman {named} Baucis, and Philemon of a like age, were

united in their youthful years in that {cottage}, and in it, they grew

old together; and by owning their poverty, they rendered it light, and

not to be endured with discontented mind. It matters not, whether you

ask for the masters there, or for the servants; the whole family are but

two; the same persons both obey and command. When, therefore, the

inhabitants of heaven reached this little abode, and, bending their

necks, entered the humble door, the old man bade them rest their limbs

on a bench set {there}; upon which the attentive Baucis threw a coarse

cloth. Then she moves the warm embers on the hearth, and stirs up the

fire they had had the day before, and supplies it with leaves and dry

bark, and with her aged breath kindles it into a flame; and brings out

of the house faggots split into many pieces, and dry bits of branches,

and breaks them, and puts them beneath a small boiler. Some pot-herbs,

too, which her husband has gathered in the well-watered garden, she

strips of their leaves.

“With a two-pronged fork {Philemon} lifts down[85] a rusty side of

bacon, that hangs from a black beam; and cuts off a small portion from

the chine that has been kept so long; and when cut, softens it in

boiling water. In the meantime, with discourse they beguile the

intervening hours; and suffer not the length of time to be perceived.

There is a beechen trough there, that hangs on a peg by its crooked

handle; this is filled with warm water, and receives their limbs to

refresh them. On the middle of the couch, its feet and frame[86] being

made of willow, is placed a cushion of soft sedge. This they cover with

cloths, which they have not been accustomed to place there but on

festive occasions; but even these cloths are coarse and old, {though}

not unfitting for a couch of willow. The Gods seat themselves. The old

woman, wearing an apron, and shaking {with palsy}, sets the table

{before them}. But the third leg of the table is too short; a potsherd,

{placed beneath}, makes it equal. After this, being placed beneath, has

taken away the inequality, green mint rubs down the table {thus} made

level. Here are set the double-tinted berries[87] of the chaste Minerva,

and cornel-berries, gathered in autumn, {and} preserved in a thin

pickle; endive, too, and radishes, and a large piece of curdled milk,

and eggs, that have been gently turned in the slow embers; all {served}

in earthenware. After this, an embossed goblet of similar clay is placed

{there}; cups, too, made of beech wood, varnished, where they are

hollowed out, with yellow wax.

“There is {now} a short pause;[88] the fire {then} sends up the warm

repast; and wine kept no long time, is again put on; and {then}, set

aside for a little time, it gives place to the second course. Here are

nuts, {and} here are dried figs mixed with wrinkled dates, plums too,

and fragrant apples in wide baskets, and grapes gathered from the purple

vines. In the middle there is white honey-comb. Above all, there are

welcome looks, and no indifferent and niggardly feelings. In the

meanwhile, as oft as Baucis and the alarmed Philemon behold the goblet,

{when} drunk off, replenish itself of its own accord, and the wine

increase of itself, astonished at this singular event, they are

frightened, and, with hands held up, they offer their prayers, and

entreat pardon for their entertainment, and their want of preparation.

There was a single goose, the guardian of their little cottage, which

its owners were preparing to kill for the Deities, their guests. Swift

with its wings, it wearied them, {rendered} slow by age, and it escaped

them a long time, and at length seemed to fly for safety to the Gods

themselves. The immortals forbade it[89] to be killed, and said, ‘We are

Divinities, and this impious neighbourhood shall suffer deserved

punishment. To you it will be allowed to be free from this calamity;

only leave your habitation, and attend our steps, and go together to the

summit of the mountain.’

“They both obeyed; and, supported by staffs, they endeavoured to place

their feet {on the top} of the high hill. They were {now} as far from

the top, as an arrow discharged can go at once, {when} they turned their

eyes, and beheld the other parts sinking in a morass, {and} their own

abode alone remaining. While they were wondering at these things, {and}

while they were bewailing the fate of their {fellow countrymen}, that

old cottage of {theirs}, {too} little for even two owners, was changed

into a temple. Columns took the place of forked stakes, the thatch grew

yellow, and the earth was covered with marble; the doors appeared

carved, and the roof to be of gold. Then, the son of Saturn uttered such

words as these with benign lips: ‘Tell us, good old man, and thou, wife,

worthy of a husband {so} good, what it is you desire?’ Having spoken a

few words to Baucis, Philemon discovered their joint request to the

Gods: ‘We desire to be your priests, and to have the care of your

temple; and, since we have passed our years in harmony, let the same

hour take us off both together; and let me not ever see the tomb of my

wife, nor let me be destined to be buried by her.’ Fulfilment attended

their wishes. So long as life was granted, they were the keepers of the

temple; and when, enervated by years and old age, they were standing, by

chance, before the sacred steps, and were relating the fortunes of the

spot, Baucis beheld Philemon, and the aged Philemon saw Baucis, {too},

shooting into leaf. And now the tops of the trees growing above their

two faces, so long as they could they exchanged words with each other,

and said together, ‘Farewell! my spouse;’ and at the same moment the

branches covered their concealed faces. The inhabitants of Tyana[90]

still shew these adjoining trees, made of their two bodies. Old men, no

romancers, (and there was no reason why they should wish to deceive me)

told me this. I, indeed, saw garlands hanging on the branches, and

placing {there} some fresh ones {myself}, I said, ‘The good are the

{peculiar} care of the Gods, and those who worshipped {the Gods}, are

{now} worshipped {themselves}.’”

He had {now} ceased; and the thing {itself} and the relator {of it} had

astonished them all; {and} especially Theseus, whom, desiring to hear of

the wonderful actions of the Gods, the Calydonian river leaning on his

elbow, addressed in words such as these: “There are, O most valiant

{hero}, some things, whose form has been once changed, and {then} has

continued under that change. There are some whose privilege it is to

pass into many shapes, as thou, Proteus, inhabitant of the sea that

embraces the earth. For people have seen thee one while a young man, and

again a lion; at one time thou wast a furious boar, at another a

serpent, which they dreaded to touch; {and} sometimes, horns rendered

thee a bull. Ofttimes thou mightst be seen as a stone; often, too, as a

tree. Sometimes imitating the appearance of flowing water, thou wast a

river; sometimes fire, the {very} contrary of water.”

[Footnote 82: _Laughed at them._--Ver. 612. The Centaurs, from one

of whom Pirithoüs was sprung, were famed for their contempt of,

and enmity to, the Gods.]

[Footnote 83: _By a low wall._--Ver. 620. As a memorial of the

wonderful events here related by Lelex.]

[Footnote 84: _Thatched with straw._--Ver. 630. It was the custom

with the ancients, when reaping, to take off only the heads of the

corn, and to leave the stubble to be reaped at another time. From

this passage, we see that straw was used for the purpose of

thatching.]

[Footnote 85: _Lifts down._--Ver. 647. The lifting down the flitch

of bacon might induce us to believe that the account of this story

was written yesterday, and not nearly two thousand years since.

So true is it, that there is nothing new under the sun.]

[Footnote 86: _Feet and frame._--Ver. 659. ‘Sponda.’ This was the

frame of the bedstead, and more especially the sides of it. In the

case of a bed used for two persons, the two sides were

distinguished by different names; the side at which they entered

was open, and was called ‘sponda:’ the other side, which was

protected by a board, was called ‘pluteus.’ The two sides were

also called ‘torus exterior,’ or ‘sponda exterior,’ and ‘torus

interior,’ or ‘sponda interior.’]

[Footnote 87: _Double-tinted berries._--Ver. 664. Green on one

side, and swarthy on the other.]

[Footnote 88: _A short pause._--Ver. 671. This was the second

course. The Roman ‘cœna,’ or chief meal, consisted of three

stages. First, the ‘promulsis,’ ‘antecœna,’ or ‘gustatio,’ when

they ate such things as served to stimulate the appetite. Then

came the first course, which formed the substantial part of the

meal; and next the second course, at which the ‘bellaria,’

consisting of pastry and fruits, such as are now used at dessert,

were served.]

[Footnote 89: _Immortals forbade it._--Ver. 688. This act of

humanity reflects credit on the two Deities, and contrasts

favourably with their usual cruel and revengeful disposition, in

common with their fellow Divinities of the heathen Mythology.]

[Footnote 90: _Of Tyana._--Ver. 719. This was a city of

Cappadocia, in Asia Minor.]

EXPLANATION.

The story of Baucis and Philemon, which is here so beautifully

related by the Poet, is a moral tale, which shows the merit of

hospitality, and how, in some cases at least, virtue speedily brings

its own reward. If the story is based upon any actual facts, the

history of its origin is entirely unknown. Huet, the theologian,

indeed, supposes that it is founded on the history of the reception

of the Angels by Abraham. This is a bold surmise, but entirely in

accordance with his position, that the greatest part of the fictions

of the heathen mythology were mere glosses or perversions of the

histories of the Old Testament. If derived from Scripture, the story

is just as likely to be founded on the hospitable reception of the

Prophet Elijah by the woman of Zarephath; and the miraculous

increase of the wine in the goblet, calls to mind ‘the barrel of

meal that wasted not, and the cruse of oil that did not fail.’ The

story of the wretched fate of the inhospitable neighbours of Baucis

and Philemon is thought, by some modern writers, to be founded upon

the Scriptural account of the destruction of the wicked cities of

the plain.

Ancient writers have made many attempts to solve the wondrous story

of Proteus. Some say that he was an elegant orator, who charmed his

auditors by the force of his eloquence. Lucian says that he was an

actor of pantomime, so supple that he could assume various postures.

Herodotus, Diodorus Siculus, and Clement of Alexandria, assert that

he was an ancient king of Egypt, successor to Pheron, and that he

lived at the time, of the Trojan war. Herodotus, who represents him

as a prince of great wisdom and justice, does not make any allusion

to his powers of transformation, which was his great merit in the

eyes of the poets. Diodorus Siculus says that his alleged changes

may have had their rise in a custom which Proteus had of adorning

his helmet, sometimes with the skin of a panther, sometimes with

that of a lion, and sometimes with that of a serpent, or of some

other animal. When Lycophron states that Neptune saved Proteus from

the fury of his children, by making him go through caverns from

Pallene to Egypt, he follows the tradition which says that he

originally came from that town in Thessaly, and that he retired

thence to Egypt. Virgil, and Servius, his Commentator, assert that

Proteus returned to Thessaly after the death of his children, who

were slain by Hercules; in which assertion, however, they are not

supported by Homer or Herodotus.

FABLE VII. [VIII.738-884]

Acheloüs continues his narrative with the story of Metra, the

daughter of Erisicthon, who is attacked with insatiable hunger, for

having cut down an oak, in one of the groves of Ceres. Metra begs of

Neptune, who was formerly in love with her, the power of

transforming herself into different shapes; that she may be enabled,

if possible, to satisfy the voracious appetite of her father. By

these means, Erisicthon, being obliged to expose her for sale, in

order to purchase himself food, always recovers her again; until,

by his repeated sale of her, the fraud is discovered. He at last

becomes the avenger of his own impiety, by devouring his own limbs.

“Nor has the wife of Autolycus,[91] the daughter of Erisicthon, less

privileges {than he}. Her father was one who despised the majesty of the

Gods; and he offered them no honours on their altars. He is likewise

said to have profaned with an axe a grove of Ceres, and to have violated

her ancient woods with the iron. In these there was standing an oak with

an ancient trunk, a wood {in itself} alone, fillets and tablets, {as}

memorials,[92] and garlands, proofs of wishes that had been granted,

surrounded the middle of it. Often, beneath this {tree}, did the Dryads

lead up the festive dance; often, too, with hands joined in order, did

they go round the compass of its trunk; and the girth of the oak made up

three times five ells. The rest of the wood, too, lay as much under this

oak as the grass lay beneath the whole of the wood. Yet not on that

account {even} did the son of Triopas[93] withhold the axe from it; and

he ordered his servants to cut down the sacred oak; and when he saw them

hesitate, {thus} ordered, the wicked {wretch}, snatching from one of

them an axe, uttered these words: ‘Were it not only beloved by a

Goddess, but even were it a Goddess itself, it should now touch the

ground with its leafy top.’ {Thus} he said; and while he was poising his

weapon for a side stroke, the Deoïan oak[94] shuddered, and uttered a

groan; and at once, its green leaves, and, with them, its acorns began

to turn pale; and the long branches to be moistened with sweat. As soon

as his impious hand had made an incision in its trunk, the blood flowed

from the severed bark no otherwise than, as, at the time when the bull,

a large victim, falls before the altars, the blood pours forth from his

divided neck. All were amazed and one of the number attempted to hinder

the wicked design, and to restrain the cruel axe. The Thessalian eyes

him, and says, ‘Take the reward of thy pious intentions,’ and turns the

axe from the tree upon the man, and hews off his head; and {then} hacks

at the oak again; when such words as these are uttered from the middle

of the oak: ‘I, a Nymph,[95] most pleasing to Ceres, am beneath this

wood; I, {now} dying, foretell to thee that the punishment of thy deeds,

the solace of my death, is at hand.’

“He pursued his wicked design; and, at last, weakened by numberless

blows, and pulled downward with ropes, the tree fell down, and with its

weight levelled a great part of the wood. All her sisters, the Dryads,

being shocked at the loss of the grove and their own, in their grief

repaired to Ceres, in black array,[96] and requested the punishment of

Erisicthon. She assented to their {request}, and the most beauteous

Goddess, with the nodding of her head, shook the fields loaded with the

heavy crops; and contrived {for him} a kind of punishment, lamentable,

if he had not, for his crimes, been deserving of the sympathy of none,

{namely}, to torment him with deadly Famine. And since that Goddess

could not be approached by herself (for the Destinies do not allow Ceres

and Famine to come together), in such words as these she addressed

rustic Oreas, one of the mountain Deities: ‘There is an icy region in

the extreme part of Scythia, a dreary soil, a land, desolate, without

corn {and} without trees; there dwell drowsy Cold, and Paleness, and

Trembling, and famishing Hunger; order her to bury herself in the breast

of this sacrilegious {wretch}. Let no abundance of provisions overcome

her; and let her surpass my powers in the contest. And that the length

of the road may not alarm thee, take my chariot, take the dragons, which

thou mayst guide aloft with the reins;’ and {then} she gave them to her.

“She, borne through the air on the chariot {thus} granted, arrived in

Scythia; and, on the top of a steep mountain (they call it Caucasus),

she unyoked the neck of the dragons, and beheld Famine, whom she was

seeking, in a stony field, tearing up herbs, growing here and there,

with her nails and with her teeth. Rough was her hair, her eyes hollow,

paleness on her face, her lips white with scurf,[97] her jaws rough with

rustiness; her skin hard, through which her bowels might be seen; her

dry bones were projecting beneath her crooked loins; instead of a belly,

there was {only} the place for a belly. You would think her breast was

hanging, and was only supported from the chine[98] of the back. Leanness

had, {to appearance}, increased her joints, and the caps of her knees

were stiff, and excrescences projected from her overgrown ancles. Soon

as {Oreas} beheld her at a distance (for she did not dare come near

her), she delivered the commands of the Goddess; and, staying for so

short a time, although she was at a distance from her, {and} although

she had just come thither, still did she seem to feel hunger; and,

turning the reins, she drove aloft the dragon’s back to Hæmonia.

“Famine executes the orders of Ceres (although she is ever opposing her

operations), and is borne by the winds through the air to the assigned

abode, and immediately enters the bedchamber of the sacrilegious

{wretch}, and embraces him, sunk in a deep sleep ({for} it is

night-time), with her two wings. She breathes herself into the man, and

blows upon his jaws, and his breast, and his face; and she scatters

hunger through his empty veins. And having {thus} executed her

commission, she forsakes the fruitful world, and returns to her famished

abode, her wonted fields. Gentle sleep is still soothing[99] Erisicthon

with its balmy wings. In a vision of his sleep he craves for food, and

moves his jaws to no purpose, and tires his teeth {grinding} upon teeth,

and wearies his throat deluded with imaginary food; and, instead of

victuals, he devours in vain the yielding air. But when sleep is

banished, his desire for eating is outrageous, and holds sway over his

craving jaws, and his insatiate entrails. And no delay {is there}; he

calls what the sea, what the earth, what the air produces, and complains

of hunger with the tables set before him, and requires food in {the

midst of} food. And what might be enough for {whole} cities, and what

{might be enough} for a {whole} people, is not sufficient for one man.

The more, too, he swallows down into his stomach, the more does he

desire. And just as the ocean receives rivers from the whole earth, and

{yet} is not satiated with water, and drinks up the rivers of distant

countries, and as the devouring fire never refuses fuel, and burns up

beams of wood without number, and the greater the quantity that is given

to it, the more does it crave, and it is the more voracious through the

very abundance {of fuel}; so do the jaws of the impious Erisicthon

receive all victuals {presented}, and at the same time ask for {more}.

In him all food is {only} a ground for {more} food, and there is always

room vacant for eating {still more}.

“And now, through his appetite, and the voracity of his capacious

stomach, he had diminished his paternal estate; but yet, even then, did

his shocking hunger remain undiminished, and the craving of his

insatiable appetite continued in full vigour. At last, after he has

swallowed down his estate into his paunch,[100] his daughter {alone} is

remaining, undeserving of him for a father; her, too, he sells, pressed

by want. Born of a noble race, she cannot brook a master; and stretching

out her hands, over the neighbouring sea, she says, ‘Deliver me from a

master, thou who dost possess the prize of my ravished virginity.’ This

{prize} Neptune had {possessed himself of}. He, not despising her

prayer, although, the moment before, she has been seen by her master in

pursuit of her, both alters her form, and gives her the appearance of a

man, and a habit befitting such as catch fish. Looking at her, her

master says, ‘O thou manager of the rod, who dost cover the brazen

{hook}, as it hangs, with tiny morsels, even so may the sea be smooth

{for thee}, even so may the fish in the water be {ever} credulous for

thee, and may they perceive no hook till caught; tell me where she is,

who this moment was standing upon this shore (for standing on the shore

I saw her), with her hair dishevelled, {and} in humble garb; for no

further do her footsteps extend.’ She perceives that the favour of the

God has turned to good purpose, and, well pleased that she is inquired

after of herself, she replies to him, as he inquires, in these words:

‘Whoever thou art, excuse me, {but} I have not turned my eyes on any

side from this water, and, busily employed, I have been attending to my

pursuit. And that thou mayst the less disbelieve {me}, may the God of

the sea so aid this employment of mine, no man has been for some time

standing on this shore, myself only excepted, nor has any woman been

standing {here}.’ Her master believed her, and, turning his feet {to go

away}, he paced the sands, and, {thus} deceived, withdrew. Her own shape

was restored to her.

“But when her father found that his {daughter} had a body capable of

being transformed, he often sold the grand-daughter of Triopas to

{other} masters. But she used to escape, sometimes as a mare, sometimes

as a bird, now as a cow, now as a stag; and {so} provided a dishonest

maintenance for her hungry parent. Yet, after this violence of his

distemper had consumed all his provision, and had added fresh fuel to

his dreadful malady: he himself, with mangling bites, began to tear his

own limbs, and the miserable {wretch} used to feed his own body by

diminishing it. {But} why do I dwell on the instances of others? I, too,

O youths,[101] have a power of often changing my body, {though} limited

in the number {of those changes}. For, one while, I appear what I now

am, another while I am wreathed as a snake; then {as} the leader of a

herd, I receive strength in my horns. In my horns, {I say}, so long as I

could. Now, one side of my forehead is deprived of its weapons, as thou

seest thyself.” Sighs followed his words.

[Footnote 91: _Autolycus._--Ver. 738. He was the father of

Anticlea, the mother of Ulysses, and was instructed by Mercury in

the art of thieving. His wife was Metra, whose transformations are

here described by the Poet.]

[Footnote 92: _Tablets as memorials._--Ver. 744. That is, they had

inscribed on them the grateful thanks of the parties who placed

them there to Ceres, for having granted their wishes.]

[Footnote 93: _Son of Triopas._--Ver. 751. Erisicthon was the son

of Triopas.]

[Footnote 94: _Deoïan oak._--Ver. 758. Belonging to Ceres. See

Book vi. line 114.]

[Footnote 95: _I, a Nymph._--Ver. 771. She was one of the

Hamadryads, whose lives terminated with those of the trees which

they respectively inhabited.]

[Footnote 96: _In black array._--Ver. 778. The Romans wore

mourning for the dead; which seems, in the time of the Republic,

to have been black or dark blue for either sex. Under the Empire,

the men continued to wear black, but the women wore white. On such

occasions all ornaments were laid aside.]

[Footnote 97: _With scurf._--Ver. 802. Clarke gives this

translation of ‘Labra incana situ:’ ‘Her lips very white with

nasty stuff.’]

[Footnote 98: _From the chine._--Ver. 806. ‘A spinæ tantummodo

crate teneri,’ is translated by Clarke, ‘Was only supported by the

wattling of her backbone.’]

[Footnote 99: _Is still soothing._--Ver. 823. Clarke renders the

words ‘Lenis adhuc somnus--Erisicthona pennis mulcebat;’ ‘Gentle

sleep as yet clapped Erisicthon with her wings.’]

[Footnote 100: _Into his paunch._--Ver. 846. Clarke translates

‘Tandem, demisso in viscera censu;’ ‘at last, after he had

swallowed down all his estate into his g--ts.’]

[Footnote 101: _I too, O youths._--Ver. 880. Acheloüs is

addressing Theseus, Pirithoüs, and Lelex. The words, ‘Etiam mihi

sæpe novandi Corporis, O Juvenes,’ is rendered by Clarke, ‘I too,

gentlemen, have the power of changing my body.’]

EXPLANATION.

The story of Metra and Erisicthon has no other foundation, in all

probability, than the diligent care which she took, as a dutiful

daughter, to support her father, when he had ruined himself by his

luxury and extravagance. She, probably, was a young woman, who, in

the hour of need, could, in common parlance, ‘turn her hand’ to any

useful employment. Some, however, suppose that, by her changes are

meant the wages she received from those whom she served in the

capacity of a slave, and which she gave to her father; and it must

be remembered that, in ancient times, as money was scarce, the wages

of domestics were often paid in kind. Other writers again suggest,

less to the credit of the damsel, that her changes denote the price

she received for her debaucheries. Ovid adds, that she married

Autolycus, the robber, who stole the oxen of Eurytus. Callimachus

also, in his Hymn to Ceres, gives the story of Erisicthon at length.

He was the great grandfather of Ulysses, and was probably a man

noted for his infidelity and impiety, as well as his riotous course

of life. The story is probably of Eastern origin, and if a little

expanded might vie with many of the interesting fictions which we

read in the Arabian Night’s Entertainments.

BOOK THE NINTH.

FABLE I. [IX.1-100]

Deïanira, the daughter of Œneus, having been wooed by several

suitors, her father gives his consent that she shall marry him who

proves to be the bravest of them. Her other suitors, having given

way to Hercules and Acheloüs, they engage in single combat.

Acheloüs, to gain the advantage over his rival, transforms himself

into various shapes, and, at length, into that of a bull. These

attempts are in vain, and Hercules overcomes him, and breaks off one

of his horns. The Naiads, the daughters of Acheloüs, take it up, and

fill it with the variety of fruits which Autumn affords; on which it

obtains the name of the Horn of Plenty.

Theseus, the Neptunian hero,[1] inquires what is the cause of his

sighing, and of his forehead being mutilated; when thus begins the

Calydonian river, having his unadorned hair crowned with reeds:

“A mournful task thou art exacting; for who, when overcome, is desirous

to relate his own battles? yet I will relate them in order; nor was it

so disgraceful to be overcome, as it is glorious to have engaged; and a

conqueror so mighty affords me a great consolation. If, perchance,

Deïanira,[2] by her name, has at last reached thy ears, once she was a

most beautiful maiden, and the envied hope of many a wooer; together

with these, when the house of him, whom I desired as my father-in-law,

was entered by me, I said, ‘Receive me, O son of Parthaon,[3] for thy

son-in-law.’ Alcides, too, said {the same}; the others yielded to {us}

two. He alleged that he was offering {to the damsel} both Jupiter as a

father-in-law, and the glory of his labours; the orders, too, of his

step-mother, successfully executed. On the other hand (I thought it

disgraceful for a God to give way to a mortal, for then he was not a

God), I said, ‘Thou beholdest me, a king of the waters, flowing amid thy

realms,[4] with my winding course; nor {am I some} stranger sent thee

for a son-in-law, from foreign lands, but I shall be one of thy people,

and a part of thy state. Only let it not be to my prejudice, that the

royal Juno does not hate me, and that all punishment, by labours

enjoined, is afar from me. For, since thou, {Hercules}, dost boast

thyself born of Alcmena for thy mother; Jupiter is either thy pretended

sire, or thy real one through a criminal deed: by the adultery of thy

mother art thou claiming a father. Choose, {then}, whether thou wouldst

rather have Jupiter {for thy} pretended {father}, or that thou art

sprung {from him} through a disgraceful deed?’

“While I was saying such things as these, for some time he looked at me

with a scowling eye, and did not very successfully check his inflamed

wrath; and he returned me just as many words {as these}: ‘My right hand

is better than my tongue. If only I do but prevail in fighting, do thou

get the better in talking;’ and {then} he fiercely {attacked} me. I was

ashamed, after having so lately spoken big words, to yield. I threw on

one side my green garment from off my body, and opposed my arms {to

his}, and I held my hands bent inwards,[5] from before my breast, on

their guard, and I prepared my limbs for the combat. He sprinkled me

with dust, taken up in the hollow of his hands, and, in his turn, grew

yellow with the casting of yellow sand[6] {upon himself}. And at one

moment he aimed at my neck, at another my legs, as they shifted about,

or you would suppose he was aiming {at them}; and he assaulted me on

every side. My bulk defended me, and I was attacked in vain; no

otherwise than a mole, which the waves beat against with loud noise:

it remains {unshaken}, and by its own weight is secure.

“We retire a little, and {then} again we rush together in conflict, and

we stand firm, determined not to yield; foot, too, is joined to foot;

and {then} I, bending forward full with my breast, press upon his

fingers with my fingers, and his forehead with my forehead. In no

different manner have I beheld the strong bulls engage, when the most

beauteous mate[7] in all the pasture is sought as the reward of the

combat; the herds look on and tremble, uncertain which the mastery of so

great a domain awaits. Thrice without effect did Alcides attempt to hurl

away from him my breast, as it bore hard against him; the fourth time,

he shook off my hold, and loosened my arms clasped around him; and,

striking me with his hand, (I am resolved to confess the truth) he

turned me quite round, and clung, a mighty load, to my back. If any

credit {is to be given me}, (and, indeed, no glory is sought by me

through an untrue narration) I seemed to myself {as though} weighed down

with a mountain placed upon me. Yet, with great difficulty, I disengaged

my arms streaming with much perspiration, {and}, with great exertion,

I unlocked his firm grasp from my body. He pressed on me as I panted for

breath, and prevented me from recovering my strength, and {then} seized

hold of my neck. Then, at last, was the earth pressed by my knee, and

with my mouth I bit the sand. Inferior in strength, I had recourse to my

arts,[8] and transformed into a long serpent, I escaped from the hero.

“After I had twisted my body into winding folds, and darted my forked

tongue with dreadful hissings, the Tirynthian laughed, and deriding my

arts, he said, ‘It was the labour of my cradle to conquer serpents;[9]

and although, Acheloüs, thou shouldst excel other snakes, how large a

part wilt thou, {but} one serpent, be of the Lernæan Echidna? By her

{very} wounds was she multiplied, and not one head of her hundred in

number[10] was cut off {by me} without danger {to myself}; but rather so

that her neck became stronger, with two successors {to the former head}.

{Yet} her I subdued, branching with serpents springing from {each}

wound, and growing stronger by her disasters; and, {so} subdued, I slew

her. What canst thou think will become of thee, who, changed into a

fictitious serpent, art wielding arms that belong to another, and whom a

form, obtained as a favour, is {now} disguising?’ {Thus} he spoke; and

he planted the grip of his fingers on the upper part of my neck. I was

tortured, just as though my throat was squeezed with pincers; and I

struggled hard to disengage my jaws from his fingers.

“Thus vanquished, too, there still remained for me my third form, {that}

of a furious bull; with my limbs changed into {those of} a bull I

renewed the fight. He threw his arms over my brawny neck, on the left

side, and, dragging {at me}, followed me in my onward course; and

seizing my horns, he fastened them in the hard ground, and felled me

upon the deep sand. And that was not enough; while his relentless right

hand was holding my stubborn horn, he broke it, and tore it away from my

mutilated forehead. This, heaped with fruit and odoriferous flowers, the

Naiads have consecrated, and the bounteous {Goddess}, Plenty, is

enriched by my horn.” {Thus} he said; but a Nymph, girt up after the

manner of Diana, one of his handmaids, with her hair hanging loose on

either side, came in, and brought the whole {of the produce} of Autumn

in the most plentiful horn, and choice fruit for a second course.

Day comes on, and the rising sun striking the tops of the hills, the

young men depart; nor do they stay till the stream has quiet {restored

to it}, and a smooth course, and {till} the troubled waters subside.

Acheloüs conceals his rustic features, and his mutilated horn, in the

midst of the waves; yet the loss of this honour, taken from him, {alone}

affects him; in other respects, he is unhurt. The injury, too, which has

befallen his head, is {now} concealed with willow branches, or with

reeds placed upon it.

[Footnote 1: _The Neptunian hero._--Ver. 1. Theseus was the

grandson of Neptune, through his father Ægeus.]

[Footnote 2: _Deïanira._--Ver. 9. She was the daughter of Œneus,

king of Ætolia, and became the wife of Hercules.]

[Footnote 3: _Parthaon._--Ver. 12. He was the son of Agenor and

Epicaste. Homer, however, makes Portheus, and not Parthaon, to

have been the father of Œneus.]

[Footnote 4: _Amid thy realms._--Ver. 18. The river Acheloüs

flowed between Ætolia and Acarnania.]

[Footnote 5: _Bent inwards._--Ver. 33. ‘Varus,’ which we here

translate ‘bent inwards,’ according to some authorities, means

‘bent outwards.’]

[Footnote 6: _Casting of yellow sand._--Ver. 35. It was the custom

of wrestlers, after they had anointed the body with ‘ceroma’ or

wrestler’s oil, in order to render the body supple and pliant, to

sprinkle the body with sand, or dust, to enable the antagonist to

take a firm hold. It was, however, considered more praiseworthy to

conquer in a contest which was ἀκονιτὶ ‘without the use of sand.’]

[Footnote 7: _Most beauteous mate._--Ver. 47. Clarke translates

‘nitidissima conjux,’ ‘the neatest cow.’]

[Footnote 8: _Recourse to my arts._--Ver. 62. ‘Devertor ad artes,’

is rendered by Clarke, ‘I fly to my tricks.’]

[Footnote 9: _To conquer serpents._--Ver. 67. Hercules, while an

infant in his cradle, was said to have strangled two serpents,

which Juno sent for the purpose of destroying him.]

[Footnote 10: _Hundred in number._--Ver. 71. The number of heads

of the Hydra varies in the accounts given by different writers.

Seven, nine, fifty, and a hundred are the numbers mentioned. This,

however, is not surprising, as we are told that where one was cut

off, two sprang up in their place, until Hercules, to prevent such

consequences, adopted the precaution of searing the neck, where

the head had been cut off, with a red hot iron.]

EXPLANATION.

The river Acheloüs, which ran between Acarnania and Ætolia, often

did considerable damage to those countries by its inundations, and,

at the same time, by confounding or sweeping away the limits which

separated those nations, it engaged them in continual warfare with

each other. Hercules, who seems really to have been a person of

great scientific skill, which he was ever ready to employ for the

service of his fellow men, raised banks to it, and made its course

so uniform and straight, that he was the means of establishing

perpetual peace between these adjoining nations.

The early authors who recorded these events have narrated them under

a thick and almost impenetrable veil of fiction. They say that

Hercules engaged in combat with the God of that river, who

immediately transformed himself into a serpent, by which was

probably meant merely the serpentine windings of its course. Next

they say, that the God changed himself into a bull, under which

allegorical form they refer to the rapid and impetuous overflowing

of its banks, ever rushing onwards, bearing down everything in its

course, and leaving traces of its ravages throughout the country in

its vicinity. This mode of description the more readily occurred to

them in the case of Acheloüs, as from the roaring noise which they

often make in their course, rivers in general were frequently

represented under the figure of a bull, and, of course, as wearing

horns, the great instruments of the havoc which they created.

It was said, then, that Hercules at length overcame this bull, and

broke off one of his horns; by which was meant, according to Strabo,

that he brought both the branches of the river into one channel.

Again, this horn became the Horn of Plenty in that region; or, in

other words, being withdrawn from its bed, the river left a large

track of very fertile ground for agricultural purposes. As to the

Cornucopia, or Horn of Plenty of the heathen Mythology, there is

some variation in the accounts respecting it. Some writers say that

by it was meant the horn of the goat Amalthea, which suckled

Jupiter, and that the Nymphs gave it to Acheloüs, who again gave it

in exchange for that of which Hercules afterwards deprived him.

Deïanira, having given her hand to Hercules, as the recompense of

the important services which he had rendered to her father, Œneus,

it was fabled that she had been promised to Acheloüs, who was

vanquished by his rival; and on this foundation was built the

superstructure of the famous combat which the Poet here describes.

After having remained for some time at the court of his

father-in-law, Hercules was obliged to leave it, in consequence of

having killed the son of Architritilus, who was the cupbearer of

that prince.

FABLE II. [IX.101-272]

Hercules, returning with Deïanira, as the prize of his victory,

entrusts her to the Centaur Nessus, to carry her over the river

Evenus. Nessus seizes the opportunity of Hercules being on the other

side of the river, and attempts to carry her off; on which Hercules,

perceiving his design, shoots him with an arrow, and thus prevents

its execution. The Centaur, when expiring, in order to gratify his

revenge, gives Deïanira his tunic dipped in his blood, assuring her

that it contains an effectual charm against all infidelity on the

part of her husband. Afterwards, on hearing that Hercules is in love

with Iole, Deïanira sends him the tunic, that it may have the

supposed effect. As soon as he puts it on, he is affected with

excruciating torments, and is seized with such violent fits of

madness, that he throws Lychas, the bearer of the garment, into the

sea, where he is changed into a rock. Hercules, then, in obedience

to a response of the oracle, which he consults, prepares a funeral

pile, and laying himself upon it, his friend Philoctetes applies the

torch to it, on which the hero, having first recounted his labours,

expires in the flames. After his body is consumed, Jupiter

translates him to the heavens, and he is placed in the number of the

Gods.

But a passion for this same maiden proved fatal to thee, fierce

Nessus,[11] pierced through the back with a swift arrow. For the son of

Jupiter, as he was returning to his native city with his new-made wife,

had {now} come to the rapid waters of {the river} Evenus.[12] The stream

was swollen to a greater extent than usual with the winter rains, and

was full of whirlpools, and impassable. Nessus came up to him,

regardless of himself, {but} feeling anxiety for his wife, both strong

of limb,[13] and well acquainted with the fords, and said, “Alcides, she

shall be landed on yonder bank through my services, do thou employ thy

strength in swimming;” and the Aonian {hero} entrusted to Nessus the

Calydonian damsel full of alarm, and pale with apprehension, and

{equally} dreading both the river and {Nessus} himself. Immediately,

just as he was, loaded both with his quiver and the spoil of the lion,

(for he had thrown his club and his crooked bow to the opposite side),

he said, “Since I have undertaken it, the stream must be passed.”

And he does not hesitate; nor does he seek out where the stream is the

smoothest, and he spurns to be borne over by the compliance of the

river. And now having reached the bank, and as he is taking up the bow

which he had thrown over, he recognizes the voice of his wife; and as

Nessus is preparing to rob him of what he has entrusted to his care, he

cries out, “Whither, thou ravisher, does thy vain confidence in thy feet

hurry thee? to thee am I speaking, Nessus, thou two-shaped {monster}.

Listen; and do not carry off my property. If no regard for myself

influences thee, still the wheel of thy father[14] might have restrained

thee from forbidden embraces. Thou shall not escape, however, although

thou dost confide[15] in thy powers of a horse; with a wound, {and} not

with my feet, will I overtake thee.” {These} last words he confirms by

deeds, and pierces him through the back, as he is flying, with an arrow

discharged {at him}. The barbed steel stands out from his breast; soon

as it is wrenched out, the blood gushes forth from both wounds, mingled

with the venom of the Lernæan poison. Nessus takes it out, and says to

himself, “And yet I shall not die unrevenged;” and gives his garment,

dyed in the warm blood, as a present to her whom he is carrying off,

as though an incentive to love.