[Footnote 70: _Acheloüs._--Ver. 552. The Sirens were said to be

the daughters of the river Acheloüs and of one of the Muses,

either Calliope, Melpomene, or Terpsichore.]

EXPLANATION.

Apollodorus says, that the terms of the treaty respecting Proserpine

were, that she should stay on earth nine months with Ceres, and three

with Pluto, in the Infernal Regions. Other writers divide the time

equally; six months to Ceres, and six to Pluto. They also tell us that

the story of Ascalaphus is founded on the fact, that he was one of the

courtiers of Pluto, who, having advised his master to carry away

Proserpine, did all that lay in his power to obstruct the endeavors of

Ceres, and hinder the restoration of her daughter, on which Proserpine

had him privately destroyed; to screen which deed the Fable was

invented; the pernicious counsels which he gave his master being

signified by the seeds of the pomegranate. It has also been suggested

that the story of his change into an owl was based on the circumstance

that he was the overseer of the mines of Pluto, in which he perished,

removed from the light of day. Perhaps he was there crushed to death

by the fall of a rock, which caused the poets to say that Proserpine

had covered him with a large stone, as Apollodorus informs us, who

also says that it was Ceres who inflicted the punishment upon him. The

name ‘Ascalaphus’ signifies, ‘one that breaks stones,’ and, very

probably, that name was only given him to denote his employment. Some

writers state that he was changed into a lizard, which the Greeks call

‘Ascalabos,’ and, probably, the resemblance between the names gave

rise to this version of the story.

Probably, the story of the Nymph Cyane reproaching Pluto with his

treatment of Proserpine, and being thereupon changed by him into a

fountain, has no other foundation than the propinquity of the place

where Pluto’s emissaries embarked to a stream of that name near the

city of Syracuse; which was, perhaps, overflowing at that time, and

may have impeded their passage.

Ovid, probably, feigned that the Sirens begged the Gods to change them

into birds, that they might seek for Proserpine, on the ground of some

existing tradition, that living on the coast of Italy, near the island

of Sicily, and having heard of the misfortune that had befallen her,

they ordered a ship with sails to be equipped to go in search of her.

Further reference to the Sirens will be made, on treating of the

adventures of Ulysses.

FABLE VI. [V.564-641]

The Muse continues her song, in which Ceres, being satisfied with the

decision of Jupiter relative to her daughter, returns to Arethusa, to

learn the history of her adventures. The Nymph entertains the Goddess

with the Story of the passion of Alpheus, and his pursuit of her; to

avoid which, she implores the assistance of Diana, who changes her

into a fountain.

“But Jupiter being the mediator between his brother and his disconsolate

sister, divides the rolling year equally {between them}. For {now}, the

Goddess, a common Divinity of two kingdoms, is so many months with her

mother, and just as many with her husband. Immediately the appearance of

both her mind and her countenance is changed; for the brow of the

Goddess, which, of late, might appear sad, even to Pluto, himself, is

full of gladness; as the Sun, which has lately been covered with watery

clouds, when he comes forth from the clouds, {now} dispersed. The genial

Ceres, {now} at ease on the recovery of her daughter, {thus} asks, ‘What

was the cause of thy wanderings? Why art thou, Arethusa, a sacred

spring?’ The waters are silent, {and}, the Goddess raises her head from

the deep fountain; and, having dried her green tresses with her hand,

she relates the old amours of the stream of Elis.[71]

“‘I was,’ says she, ‘one of the Nymphs which exist in Achaia, nor did

any one more eagerly skim along the glades than myself, nor with more

industry set the nets. But though the reputation for beauty was never

sought by me, although, {too}, I was of robust make, {still} I had the

name of being beautiful. But my appearance, when so much commended, did

not please me; and I, like a country lass, blushed at those endowments

of person in which other females are wont to take a pride, and I deemed

it a crime to please. I remember, I was returning weary from the

Stymphalian[72] wood; the weather was hot, and my toil had redoubled the

intense heat. I found a stream gliding on without any eddies, without

any noise, {and} clear to the bottom; through which every pebble, at so

great a depth, might be counted, {and} which you could hardly suppose to

be in motion. The hoary willows[73] and poplars, nourished by the water,

furnished a shade, spontaneously produced, along the shelving banks.

I approached, and, at first, I dipped the soles of my feet, and then, as

far as the knee. Not content with that, I undressed, and I laid my soft

garments upon a bending willow; and, naked, I plunged into the waters.

“‘While I was striking them, and drawing them {towards me}, moving in a

thousand ways, and was sending forth my extended arms, I perceived a

most unusual murmuring noise beneath the middle of the stream; and,

alarmed, I stood on the edge of the nearer bank. ‘Whither dost thou

hasten, Arethusa?’ said Alpheus from his waves. ‘Whither dost thou

hasten?’ again he said to me, in a hollow tone. Just as I was, I fled

without my clothes; {for} the other side had my garments. So much the

more swiftly did he pursue, and become inflamed; and, because I was

naked, the more tempting to him did I appear. Thus was I running; thus

unrelentingly was he pursuing me; as the doves are wont to fly from the

hawk with trembling wings, and as the hawk is wont to pursue the

trembling doves, I held out in my course even as far as Orchomenus,[74]

and Psophis,[75] and Cyllene, and the Mænalian valleys, and cold

Erymanthus and Elis. Nor was he swifter than I, but unequal to {him} in

strength, I was unable, any longer, to keep up the chase; for he was

able to endure prolonged fatigue. However, I ran over fields {and} over

mountains covered with trees, rocks too, and crags, and where there was

no path. The sun was upon my back; I saw a long shadow advancing before

my feet, unless, perhaps, it was my fear that saw it. But, at all

events, I was alarmed at the sound of his feet, and his increased

hardness of breathing was {now} fanning the fillets of my hair. Wearied

with the exertion of my flight, I said, ‘Give aid, Dictynna, to thy

armor-bearer, {or} I am overtaken; {I}, to whom thou hast so often given

thy bow to carry, and thy darts enclosed in a quiver.’ The Goddess was

moved, and, taking one of the dense clouds, she threw it over me. The

river looked about for me, concealed in the darkness, and, in his

ignorance sought about the encircling cloud and twice, unconsciously did

he go around the place where the Goddess had concealed me, and twice did

he cry, ‘Ho, Arethusa![76] Ho, Arethusa!’ What, then, were my feelings

in my wretchedness? Were they not just those of the lamb, as it hears

the wolves howling around the high sheep-folds? Or of the hare, which,

lurking in the bush, beholds the hostile noses of the dogs, and dares

not make a single movement with her body? Yet he does not depart; for no

{further} does he trace any prints of my feet. He watches the cloud and

the spot. A cold perspiration takes possession of my limbs {thus}

besieged, and azure colored drops distil from all my body. Wherever I

move my foot, {there} flows a lake; drops trickle from my hair, and, in

less time than I take in acquainting thee with my fate, I was changed

into a stream. But still the river recognized the waters, the objects of

his love; and, having laid aside the shape of a mortal, which he had

assumed, he was changed into his own waters, that he might mingle with

me. {Thereupon}, the Delian Goddess cleaved the ground. Sinking, I was

carried through dark caverns to Ortygia,[77] which, being dear to me,

from the surname of my own Goddess, was the first to introduce me to the

upper air.’”

[Footnote 71: _Stream of Elis._--Ver. 576. The Alpheus really rose

in Arcadia; but, as it ran through the territory of the Eleans,

and discharged itself into the sea, near Cyllene, the seaport of

that people, they worshipped it with divine honors.]

[Footnote 72: _Stymphalian._--Ver. 585. Stymphalus was the name of

a city, mountain, and river of Arcadia, near the territory of

Elis.]

[Footnote 73: _Hoary willows._--Ver. 590. The leaf of the willow

has a whitish hue, especially on one side of it.]

[Footnote 74: _Orchomenus._--Ver. 607. This was a city of Arcadia,

in a marshy district, near to Mantinea. There was another place of

the same name, in Bœotia, between Elatea and Coronea, famous for a

splendid temple to the Graces, there erected.]

[Footnote 75: _Psophis._--Ver. 607. This was a city of Arcadia

also, adjoining to the Elean territory, which received its name

from Psophis, the daughter of Lycaon, or of Eryx, according to

some writers. There were several other towns of the same name.

The other places here mentioned, with the exception of Elis, were

mountains of Arcadia.]

[Footnote 76: _Ho, Arethusa!_--Ver. 625-6. Clarke thus translates

these lines:--‘And twice called out Soho, Arethusa! Soho,

Arethusa! What thought had I then, poor soul!’]

[Footnote 77: _To Ortygia._--Ver. 640. From the similarity of its

name to that of the Goddess Diana, who was called Ortygia, from

the Isle of Delos, where she was born.]

EXPLANATION.

Bochart tells us that the story of the fountain Arethusa and the river

Alpheus, her lover, who traversed so many countries in pursuit of her,

has no other foundation than an equivocal expression in the language

of the first inhabitants of Sicily. The Phœnicians, who went to settle

in that island, finding the fountain surrounded with willows, gave it

the name of ‘Alphaga,’ or ‘the fountain of the willows.’ Others,

again, gave it the name of ‘Arith,’ signifying ‘a stream.’ The Greeks,

arriving there in after ages, not understanding the signification of

these words, and remembering their own river Alpheus, in Elis,

imagined that since the river and the fountain had nearly the same

name, Alpheus had crossed the sea, to arrive in Sicily.

This notion appearing, probably, to the poets not devoid of ingenuity,

they accordingly founded on it the romantic story of the passion of

the river God Alpheus for the Nymph Arethusa. Some of the ancient

historians appear, however, in their credulity, really to have

believed, at least, a part of the story, as they seriously tell us,

that the river Alpheus passes under the bed of the sea, and rises

again in Sicily, near the fountain of Arethusa. Even among the more

learned, this fable gained credit; for we find the oracle of Delphi

ordering Archias to conduct a colony of Corinthians to Syracuse, and

the priestess giving the following directions:--‘Go into that island

where the river Alpheus mixes his waters with the fair Arethusa.’

Pausanias avows, that he regards the story of Alpheus and Arethusa as

a mere fable; but, not daring to dispute a fact established by the

response of an oracle, he does not contradict the fact of the river

running through the sea, though he is at a loss to understand how it

can happen.

FABLE VII. [V.642-678]

Ceres entrusts her chariot to Triptolemus, and orders him to go

everywhere, and cultivate the earth. He obeys her, and, at length,

arrives in Scythia, where Lyncus, designing to kill him, is changed

into a lynx. The Muse then finishes her song, on which the daughters

of Pierus are changed into magpies.

“Thus far Arethusa. The fertile Goddess yoked[78] two dragons to her

chariot, and curbed their mouths with bridles; and was borne through the

mid air of heaven and of earth, and guided her light chariot to the

Tritonian citadel, to Triptolemus; and she ordered him to scatter the

seeds that were entrusted {to him} partly in the fallow ground, {and}

partly {in the ground} restored to cultivation after so long a time. Now

had the youth been borne on high over Europe and the lands of Asia,[79]

and he arrived at the coast of Scythia: Lyncus was the king there. He

entered the house of the king. Being asked whence he came, and the

occasion of his coming, and his name, and his country, he said, ‘My

country is the famous Athens, my name is Triptolemus. I came neither in

a ship through the waves, nor on foot by land; the pervious sky made a

way for me. I bring the gifts of Ceres, which, scattered over the wide

fields, are to yield {you} the fruitful harvests, and wholesome food.’

The barbarian envies him; and that he himself may be {deemed} the author

of so great a benefit, he receives him with hospitality, and, when

overpowered with sleep, he attacks him with the sword. {But}, while

attempting to pierce his breast, Ceres made him a lynx; and again sent

the Mopsopian[80] youth to drive the sacred drawers of her chariot

through the air.

“The greatest of us[81] had {now} finished her learned song. But the

Nymphs, with unanimous voice, pronounced that the Goddesses who inhabit

Helicon had proved the conquerors. Then the others, {thus} vanquished,

began to scatter their abuse: ‘Since,’ said she, ‘it is a trifling

matter for you to have merited punishment by this contest, you add

abuse, too, to your fault, and endurance is not permitted us: we shall

proceed to punishment, and whither our resentment calls, we shall

follow.’ The Emathian sisters smiled, and despised our threatening

language; and endeavoring to speak, and to menace with their insolent

hands amid great clamor, they beheld quills growing out of their nails,

and their arms covered with feathers. And they each see the face of the

other shooting out into a hard beak, and new birds being added to the

woods. And while they strive to beat their breasts elevated by the

motion of their arms, they hang poised in the air, {as} magpies, the

scandal of the groves. Even then their original talkativeness remains in

{them} as birds, and their jarring garrulity, and their enormous love of

chattering.”

[Footnote 78: _Goddess yoked._--Ver. 642. Clarke renders ‘geminos

Dea fertilis angues curribus admovit,’ ‘the fertile Goddess

clapped two snakes to her chariot.’]

[Footnote 79: _Lands of Asia._--Ver. 648. Asia Minor is here

meant; the other parts of Asia being included under the term

‘Scythicas oras.’]

[Footnote 80: _Mopsopian._--Ver. 661. This very uneuphonious name

is derived from Mopsopus, one of the ancient kings of Attica. It

here means ‘Athenian.’]

[Footnote 81: _The greatest of us._--Ver. 662. Namely, Calliope,

who had commenced her song as the representative of the Muses, at

line 341.]

EXPLANATION.

Triptolemus reigned at Eleusis at the time when the mysteries of Ceres

were established there. As we are told by Philochorus, he went with a

ship, to carry corn into different countries, and introduced there the

worship of Ceres, whose priest he was. This is, doubtless, the key for

the explanation of the story, that Ceres nursed him on her own milk,

and purified him by fire. Some have supposed that the fable refers to

the epoch when agriculture was introduced into Greece: but it is much

more probable that it relates simply to the introduction there of the

mysterious worship of Ceres, which was probably imported from Egypt.

It is possible that, at the same period, the Greeks may have learned

some improved method of tilling the ground, acquired by their

intercourse with Egypt.

Probably, the dangers which Triptolemus experienced in his voyages and

travels, gave rise to the story of Lyncus, whose cruelty caused him to

be changed into a lynx. Bochart and Le Clerc think that the fable of

Triptolemus being drawn by winged dragons, is based upon the equivocal

meaning of a Phœnician word, which signified either ‘a winged dragon,’

or ‘a ship fastened with iron nails or bolts.’ Philochorus, however,

as cited by Eusebius, says that his ship was called a flying dragon,

from its carrying the figure of a dragon on its prow. We learn from a

fragment of Stobæus, that Erectheus, when engaged in a war against the

Eleusinians, was told by the oracle that he would be victorious, if he

sacrificed his daughter Proserpine. This, perhaps, may have given

rise, or added somewhat, to the story of the rape of Proserpine by

Pluto.

According to a fragment of Homer, cited by Pausanias, the names of the

first Greeks, who were initiated into the mysteries of Ceres,

were,--Celeus, Triptolemus, Eumolpus, and Diocles. Clement of

Alexandria calls them Baubon, Dysaulus, Eubuleüs, Eumolpus, and

Triptolemus. Eumolpus being the Hierophant, or explainer of the

mysteries of Eleusis, made war against Erectheus, king of Athens. They

were both killed in battle, and it was thereupon agreed that the

posterity of Erectheus should be kings of Athens, and the descendants

of Eumolpus should, in future, retain the office of Hierophant.

BOOK THE SIXTH.

FABLE I. [VI.1-145]

Arachne, vain-glorious of her ingenuity, challenges Minerva to a

contest of skill in her art. The Goddess accepts the challenge, and,

being enraged to see herself outdone, strikes her rival with her

shuttle; upon which, Arachne, in her distress, hangs herself. Minerva,

touched with compassion, transforms her into a spider.

Tritonia had {meanwhile} lent an ear to such recitals as these, and she

approved of the songs of the Aonian maids, and their just resentment.

Then {thus she says} to herself: “To commend is but a trifling matter;

let us, too, deserve commendation, and let us not permit our divine

majesty to be slighted without {due} punishment.” And {then} she turns

her mind to the fate of the Mæonian Arachne; who, as she had heard, did

not yield to her in the praises of the art of working in wool. She was

renowned not for the place {of her birth}, nor for the origin of her

family, but for her skill {alone}. Idmon, of Colophon,[1] her father,

used to dye the soaking wool in Phocæan[2] purple.[3] Her mother was

dead; but she, too, was of the lower rank, and of the same condition

with her husband. Yet {Arachne}, by her skill, had acquired a memorable

name throughout the cities of Lydia; although, born of a humble family,

she used to live in the little {town} of Hypæpæ.[4] Often did the Nymphs

desert the vineyards of their own Tymolus, that they might look at her

admirable workmanship; {often} did the Nymphs of the {river} Pactolus[5]

forsake their streams. And not only did it give them pleasure to look at

the garments when made, but even, too, while they were being made, so

much grace was there in her working. Whether it was that she was rolling

the rough wool into its first balls, or whether she was unravelling the

work with her fingers, and was softening the fleeces worked over again

with long drawings out, equalling the mists {in their fineness}; or

whether she was moving the {smooth} round spindle with her nimble thumb,

or was embroidering with the needle, you might perceive that she had

been instructed by Pallas.

This, however, she used to deny; and, being displeased with a mistress

so famed, she said, “Let her contend with me. There is nothing which, if

conquered, I should refuse {to endure}.” Pallas personates an old woman;

she both places false gray hair on her temples, and supports as well her

infirm limbs by a staff. Then thus she begins to speak: “Old age has not

everything which we should avoid; experience comes from lengthened

years. Do not despise my advice; let the greatest fame for working wool

be sought by thee among mortals. {But} yield to the Goddess, and, rash

woman, ask pardon for thy speeches with suppliant voice. She will grant

pardon at my entreaty.” {The other} beholds her with scowling {eyes},

and leaves the threads she has begun; and scarcely restraining her hand,

and discovering her anger by her looks, with such words as these does

she reply to the disguised Pallas: “Thou comest {here} bereft of thy

understanding, and worn out with prolonged old age; and it is thy

misfortune to have lived too long. If thou hast any daughter-in-law, if

thou hast any daughter {of thy own}, let her listen to these remarks.

I have sufficient knowledge for myself in myself, and do not imagine

that thou hast availed anything by thy advice; my opinion is {still} the

same. Why does not she come herself? why does she decline this contest?”

Then the Goddess says, “Lo! she is come;” and she casts aside the figure

of an old woman, and shows herself {as} Pallas. The Nymphs and the

Mygdonian[6] matrons venerate the Goddess. The virgin alone is not

daunted. But still she blushes, and a sudden flush marks her reluctant

features, and again it vanishes; {just} as the sky is wont to become

tinted with purple, when Aurora is first stirring, and after a short

time to grow white from the influence of the Sun. She persists in her

determination, and, from a desire for a foolish victory, she rushes upon

her own destruction. Nor, indeed, does the daughter of Jupiter decline

{it}, or advise her any further, nor does she now put off the contest.

There is no delay; they both take their stand in different places, and

stretch out two webs {on the loom} with a fine warp. The web is tied

around the beam; the sley separates the warp; the woof is inserted in

the middle with sharp shuttles, which the fingers hurry along, and being

drawn within the warp, the teeth notched in the moving sley strike it.

Both hasten on, and girding up their garments to their breasts, they

move their skilful arms, their eagerness beguiling their fatigue. There

both the purple is being woven, which is subjected to the Tyrian brazen

vessel,[7] and fine shades of minute difference; just as the rainbow,

with its mighty arch, is wont to tint a long tract of the sky by means

of the rays reflected by the shower: in which, though a thousand

different colors are shining, yet the very transition eludes the eyes

that look upon it; to such a degree is that which is adjacent the same;

and yet the extremes are different. There, too, the pliant gold is mixed

with the threads, and ancient subjects are represented on the webs.

Pallas embroiders the rock of Mars[8] in {Athens}, the citadel of

Cecrops, and the old dispute about the name of the country. Twice six[9]

celestial Gods are sitting on lofty seats in august state, with Jupiter

in the midst. His own proper likeness distinguishes each of the Gods.

The form of Jupiter is that of a monarch. She makes the God of the sea

to be standing {there}, and to be striking the rugged rocks with his

long trident, and a wild {horse} to be springing forth[10] out of the

midst of the opening of the rock; by which pledge {of his favor} he lays

claim to the city. But to herself she gives the shield, she gives the

lance with its sharp point; she gives the helmet to her head, {and} her

breast is protected by the Ægis. She {there} represents, too, the earth

struck by her spear, producing a shoot of pale olive with its berries,

and the Gods admiring it. Victory is the end of her work. But that the

rival of her fame may learn from precedents what reward to expect for an

attempt so mad, she adds, in four {different} parts, four contests

bright in their coloring, and distinguished by diminutive figures. One

corner contains Thracian Rhodope and Hæmus, now cold mountains, formerly

human bodies, who assumed to themselves the names of the supreme Gods.

Another part contains the wretched fate of the Pygmæan matron.[11] Her,

overcome in a contest, Juno commanded to be a crane, and to wage war

against her own people. She depicts, too, Antigone,[12] who once dared

to contend with the wife of the great Jupiter; {and} whom the royal Juno

changed into a bird; nor did Ilion protect her, or her father Laomedon,

from assuming wings, and {as} a white crane, from commending herself

with her chattering beak. The only corner that remains, represents the

bereft Cinyras;[13] and he, embracing the steps of a temple, {once} the

limbs of his own daughters, and lying upon the stone, appears to be

weeping. She surrounds the exterior borders with peaceful olive. That is

the close; and with her own tree she puts an end to the work.

The Mæonian Nymph delineates Europa, deceived by the form of the bull;

and you would think it a real bull, and real sea. She herself seems to

be looking upon the land which she has left, and to be crying out to her

companions, and to be in dread of the touch of the dashing waters, and

to be drawing up her timid feet. She drew also Asterie,[14] seized by

the struggling eagle; and made Leda, reclining beneath the wings of the

swan. She added, how Jupiter, concealed under the form of a Satyr,

impregnated {Antiope},[15] the beauteous daughter of Nycteus, with a

twin offspring; {how} he was Amphitryon, when he beguiled thee,

Tirynthian[16] dame; how, turned to gold, he deceived Danaë; {how},

changed into fire, the daughter of Asopus;[17] {how}, as a shepherd,

Mnemosyne;[18] and as a speckled serpent, Deois.[19] She depicted thee

too, Neptune, changed into a fierce bull, with the virgin daughter[20]

of Æolus. Thou, seeming to be Enipeus,[21] didst beget the Aloïdæ; as a

ram, thou didst delude {Theophane}, the daughter of Bisaltis.[22] Thee

too the most bounteous mother of corn, with her yellow hair,

experienced[23] as a steed; thee, the mother[24] of the winged horse,

with her snaky locks, received as a bird; Melantho,[25] as a dolphin. To

all these did she give their own likeness, and the {real} appearance of

the {various} localities. There was Phœbus, under the form of a rustic;

and how, {besides}, he was wearing the wings of a hawk at one time, at

another the skin of a lion; how, too, as a shepherd, he deceived

Isse,[26] the daughter of Macareus. How Liber deceived Erigone,[27] in a

fictitious bunch of grapes; {and} how Saturn[28] begot the two-formed

Chiron, in {the form of} a horse. The extreme part of the web, being

enclosed in a fine border, had flowers interwoven with the twining ivy.

Pallas could not blame that work, nor could Envy {censure} it. The

yellow-haired Virgin grieved at her success, and tore the web

embroidered with the criminal acts of the Gods of heaven. And as she was

holding her shuttle {made of boxwood} from Mount Cytorus, three or four

times did she strike the forehead of Arachne, the daughter of Idmon. The

unhappy creature could not endure it; and being of a high spirit, she

tied up her throat in a halter. Pallas, taking compassion, bore her up

as she hung; and thus she said: “Live on indeed, wicked one,[29] but

still hang; and let the same decree of punishment be pronounced against

thy race, and against thy latest posterity, that thou mayst not be free

from care in time to come.” After that, as she departed, she sprinkled

her with the juices of an Hecatean herb;[30] and immediately her hair,

touched by the noxious drug, fell off, and together with it her nose and

ears. The head of herself, {now} small as well throughout her whole

body, becomes very small. Her slender fingers cleave to her sides as

legs; her belly takes possession of the rest {of her}; but out of this

she gives forth a thread; and {as} a spider, she works at her web as

formerly.

[Footnote 1: _Colophon._--Ver. 8. Colophon was an opulent city of

Lydia, famous for an oracle of Apollo there.]

[Footnote 2: _Phocæan._--Ver. 9. Phocæa was a city of Æolia, in

Ionia, on the shores of the Mediterranean, famous for its purple

dye.]

[Footnote 3: _Purple._--Ver. 9. ‘Murex’ was a shell-fish, now

called ‘the purple,’ the juices of which were much used by the

ancients for dyeing a deep purple color. The most valuable kinds

were found near Tyre and Phocæa, mentioned in the text.]

[Footnote 4: _Hypæpæ._--Ver. 13. This was a little town of Lydia,

near the banks of the river Cayster. It was situate on the descent

of Mount Tymolus, or Tmolus, famed for its wines and saffron.]

[Footnote 5: _Pactolus._--Ver. 16. This was a river of Lydia,

which was said to have sands of gold.]

[Footnote 6: _Mygdonian._--Ver. 45. Mygdonia was a small territory

of Phrygia, bordering upon Lydia, and colonized by a people from

Thrace. Probably these persons had come from the neighboring

country, to see the exquisite works of Arachne. As the Poet tells

us, many were present when the Goddess discovered herself, and

professed their respect and veneration, while Arachne alone

remained unmoved.]

[Footnote 7: _Brazen vessel._--Ver. 60. It seems that brazen

cauldrons were used for the purposes of dyeing, in preference to

those of iron.]

[Footnote 8: _Rock of Mars._--Ver. 70. This was the spot called

Areiopagus, which was said to have received its name from the

trial there of Mars, when he was accused by Neptune of having

slain his son Halirrothius.]

[Footnote 9: _Twice six._--Ver. 72. These were the ‘Dii

consentes,’ mentioned before, in the note to Book i., l. 172. They

are thus enumerated in an Elegiac couplet, more consistent with

the rules of prosody than the two lines there quoted:--

‘Vulcanus, Mars, Sol, Neptunus, Jupiter, Hermes,

Vesta, Diana, Ceres, Juno, Minerva, Venus.’]

[Footnote 10: _To be springing forth._--Ver. 76-7. Clarke renders

‘facit--e vulnere saxi Exsiluisse ferum,’ ‘she makes a wild horse

bounce out of the opening in the rock.’]

[Footnote 11: _Pygmæan matron._--Ver. 90. According to Ælian, the

name of this queen of the Pigmies was Gerane, while other writers

call her Pygas. She was worshipped by her subjects as a Goddess,

which raised her to such a degree of conceit, that she despised

the worship of the Deities, especially of Juno and Diana, on which

in their indignation, they changed her into a crane, the most

active enemy of the Pygmies. These people were dwarfs, living

either in India, Arabia, or Thrace, and they were said not to

exceed a cubit in height.]

[Footnote 12: _Antigone._--Ver. 93. She was the daughter of

Laomedon, king of Troy, and was remarkable for the extreme beauty

of her hair. Proud of this, she used to boast that she resembled

Juno; on which the Goddess, offended at her presumption, changed

her hair into serpents. In compassion, the Deities afterwards

transformed her into a stork.]

[Footnote 13: _Cinyras._--Ver. 98. Cinyras had several daughters

(besides Myrrha), remarkable for their extreme beauty. Growing

insolent upon the strength of their good looks, and pretending to

surpass even Juno herself in beauty, they incurred the resentment

of that Goddess, who changed them into the steps of a temple, and

transformed their father into a stone, as he was embracing the

steps.]

[Footnote 14: _Asterie._--Ver. 108. She was the daughter of Cæus,

the Titan, and of Phœbe, and was ravished by Jupiter under the

form of an eagle. She was the wife of Perses, and the mother of

Hecate. Flying from the wrath of Jupiter, she was first changed by

him into a quail; and afterwards into a stone.]

[Footnote 15: _Antiope._--Ver. 110. Antiope was the daughter of

Nycteus, a king of Bœotia. Being seduced by Jupiter under the form

of a Satyr, she bore two sons, Zethus and Amphion. On being

insulted by Dirce, she was seized with madness, and was cured by

Phocus, whom she is said to have afterwards married.]

[Footnote 16: _Tirynthian._--Ver. 112. Tirynthus was a city near

Argos, where Hercules was born and educated, and from which place

his mother, Alcmene, derived her present appellation.]

[Footnote 17: _Daughter of Asopus._--Ver. 113. Jupiter changed

himself into fire, or, according to some, into an eagle, to seduce

Ægina, the daughter of Asopus, king of Bœotia. By her he was the

father of Æacus.]

[Footnote 18: _Mnemosyne._--Ver. 114. This Nymph, as already

mentioned, became the mother of the Nine Muses, having been

seduced by Jupiter.]

[Footnote 19: _Deois._--Ver. 114. Proserpine was called Deois, or

Dêous Δηοῦς κόρη, from her mother Ceres, who was called Δηὼ by the

Greeks, from the verb δήω, ‘to find;’ because as it was said, when

seeking for her daughter, the universal answer of those who wished

her success in her search, was, δήεις, ‘You will find her.’]

[Footnote 20: _Virgin daughter._--Ver. 116. This was Canace, or

Arne, the daughter of Æolus, whom Neptune seduced under the form

of a bull.]

[Footnote 21: _Enipeus._--Ver. 116. Under the form of Enipeus,

a river of Thessaly, Neptune committed violence upon Iphimedeia,

the wife of the giant Aloëus, and by her was the father of the

giants Otus and Ephialtes.]

[Footnote 22: _Bisaltis._--Ver. 117. Theophane was the daughter of

Bisaltis. Changing her into a sheep, and himself into a ram,

Neptune begot the Ram with the golden fleece, that bore Phryxus to

Colchis.]

[Footnote 23: _Experienced._--Ver. 119. ‘Te sensit,’ repeated

twice in this line, Clarke translates, not in a very elegant

manner, ‘had a bout with thee,’ and ‘had a touch from thee.’ By

Neptune, Ceres became the mother of the horse Arion; or, according

to some, of a daughter, whose name it was not deemed lawful to

mention.]

[Footnote 24: _Thee the mother._--Ver. 119. This was Medusa, who,

according to some, was the mother of the horse Pegasus, by

Neptune, though it is more generally said that it sprang from her

blood, when she was slain by Perseus.]

[Footnote 25: _Melantho._--Ver. 120. Melantho was the daughter

either of Proteus, or of Deucalion, and was the mother of Delphus,

by Neptune.]

[Footnote 26: _Isse._--Ver. 124. She was a native of either

Lesbos, or Eubœa. Her father, Macareus, was the son of Jupiter and

Cyrene.]

[Footnote 27: _Erigone._--Ver. 125. She was the daughter of

Icarus, and was placed among the Constellations.]

[Footnote 28: _How Saturn._--Ver. 126. By Phillyra, Saturn was the

father of the Centaur Chiron. We may here remark, that Arachne was

not very complimentary to the Gods, in the choice of her subjects;

probably it was not her intention or wish to be so.]

[Footnote 29: _Wicked one._--Ver. 136. Clarke translates

‘improba,’ ‘thou wicked jade.’]

[Footnote 30: _An Hecatean Herb._--Ver. 139. This was aconite, or

wolfsbane, said to have been discovered by Hecate, the mother of

Medea. She was the first who sought after, and taught the

properties of poisonous herbs. Some accounts say, that the aconite

was produced from the foam of Cerberus, when dragged by Hercules

from the infernal regions.]

EXPLANATION.

The story of Arachne is most probably based upon the simple fact, that

she was the most skilful artist of her time, at working in silk and

wool. Pliny the Elder tells us, that Arachne, the daughter of Idmon,

a Lydian by birth, and of low extraction, invented the art of making

linen cloths and nets; which invention was also by some attributed to

Minerva. This competition, then, for the merit of the invention, is

the foundation of the challenge here described by the Poet. As,

however, Arachne is said to have hanged herself in despair, she

probably fell a prey to some cause of grief or discontent, the

particulars of which, in their simple form, have not come down to us.

Perhaps the similarity of her name and employment with those of the

spider, as known among the Greeks, gave rise to the story of her

alleged transformation; unless we should prefer to attribute the story

to the fact of the Hebrew word “arag,” signifying to spin, and, in

some degree, resembling her name.

In this story, Ovid takes the opportunity of touching upon several

fables, the subjects whereof he states to have been represented in the

works of Minerva and Arachne. He alludes, among other matters, to the

dispute between Neptune and Minerva, about giving a name to the city

of Athens. St. Augustine, on the authority of Varro, says, that

Cecrops, in building that city, found an olive tree and a fountain,

and that the oracle at Delphi, on being consulted, stating that both

Minerva and Neptune had a right to name the city, the Senate decided

in favor of the Goddess; and this circumstance, he says, gave rise to

the story. According to some writers, it was based on the fact, that

Cranaüs changed the name of the city from Poseidonius, which it was

called after Neptune, to Athenæ, after his own daughter Athena: and as

the Areiopagus sanctioned this change, it was fabled that Neptune had

been overcome by the judgment of the Gods.

The Jesuit Tournemine suggests the following explanation of the

story:--He says, that the aborigines of Attica, being conquered by the

Pelasgians, learned from them the art of navigation, which they turned

to account by becoming pirates. Cecrops, bringing a colony from Saïs,

in Egypt, tried to abolish this barbarous custom, and taught them a

more civilized mode of life; and, among other things, he showed them

how to till the earth, and to raise the olive, for the cultivation of

which he found the soil very favorable. He also introduced the worship

of Minerva, or Athena, as she was called, a Goddess highly honored at

Saïs, and to whom the olive tree was dedicated. Her the Athenians

afterwards regarded as the patroness of their city, which they called

after her name. Athens becoming famous for its olives, and,

considerable profit arising from their cultivation, the new settlers

attempted to wean the natives from piracy, by calling their attention

to agricultural pursuits. To succeed in this, they composed a fable,

in which Neptune was said to be overcome by Minerva; who, even in the

judgment of the twelve greater deities, had found out something of

more utility than he. This fable Tournemine supposes to have been

composed in the ancient language of the country, which was the

Phrygian, mingled with many Phœnician words; and, as in those

languages the same word signifies either a ship or a horse, those who

afterwards interpreted the fable, took the word in the latter

signification, and spoke of a horse instead of a ship, which was

really the original emblem employed in the fiction.

Vossius thinks that the fable originated in a dispute between the

sailors of Athens, who acknowledged Neptune for their chief, and the

people, who followed the Senate, governed by Minerva. The people

prevailed, and a life of civilization, marked by attention to the

pursuits of agriculture, was substituted for one of piracy; which gave

occasion for the saying, that Minerva had overcome Neptune.

With reference to the intrigues and lustful actions attributed to the

various Deities by Arachne in the delineations on her embroidery, we

may here remark, by way of elucidating the origin of these stories in

general, that, in early times, when the earth was sunk in ignorance

and superstition, and might formed the only right in the heathen

world, where a king or petty chieftain demanded the daughter of a

neighbor in marriage, and met with a refusal, he immediately had

recourse to arms, to obtain her by force. Their standards and ships,

on these expeditions, carrying their ensigns, consisting of birds,

beasts, or fabulous monsters, gave occasion to those who described

their feats of prowess to say, that the ravisher had changed himself

into a bull, an eagle, or a lion, for the purpose of effecting his

object. The kings and potentates of those days, being frequently

called Jupiter, Apollo, Neptune, etc., and the priests of the Gods so

named often obtaining their ends by assuming the names of the

Divinities they served, we can account the more easily for the number

of intrigues and abominable actions, attended by changes and

transformations, which the poets and mythologists attribute to many of

the Deities.

Palæphatus suggests a very ingenious method of accounting for these

stories; founded, however, it must be owned, on a very low estimate of

female virtue in those times. He says, that these fabulous narratives

originate in the figures of different animals which were engraved on

the coins of those times; and that, when money was given to buy over

or to procure the seduction of a female, it was afterward said that

the lover had himself taken the figure which was represented on the

coin, by means of which his object had been effected.

Ovid, in common with many of the ancient historians, geographers, and

naturalists, mentions the Pygmies, of which, from the time of Homer

downwards, a nation was supposed to exist, in a state of continual

warfare with the Cranes. Aristotle, who believed in their existence,

placed them in Æthiopia; Pliny, Solinus, and Philostratus in India,

near the source of the Ganges; others again, in Scythia, on the banks

of the Danube. Some of the moderns have attempted to explain the

origin of this prevalent notion. Olaüs Magnus thinks the Samoeids and

Laplanders to have been the Pygmies of Homer. Gesner and others fancy

that they have found their originals in Thuringia; while Albertus

Magnus supposed that the Pygmies were the monkeys, which are so

numerous in the interior of Africa, and which were taken for human

beings of diminutive stature. Vander Hart, who has written a most

ingenious treatise on the subject, suggests that the fable originated

in a war between two cities in Greece, Pagæ and Gerania, the

similarity of whose names to those of the Pygmies and the Cranes, gave

occasion to their neighbors, the Corinthians, to confer on them those

nicknames. It is most probable, however, that the story was founded

upon the diminutive stature of some of the native tribes of the

interior of Africa.

As to the fable of Pygas being changed into a crane, Banier suggests,

that the origin of it may be found in the work of Antoninus Liberalis,

quoting from the Theogony of Bœus. That poet, whose works are lost,

says, that among the Pygmies there was a very beautiful princess,

named Œnoë, who greatly oppressed her subjects. Having married

Nicodamas, she had by him a son, named Mopsus, whom her subjects

seized upon, to educate him in their own way. She accordingly raised

levies against her own subjects; and that circumstance, together with

the name of Gerane, which, according to Ælian, she also bore, gave

rise to the fable, which said that she was changed into a crane; the

resemblance which it bore to ‘geranos,’ the Greek for ‘a crane,’

suggesting the foundation of the story.

FABLE II. [VI.146-312]

The Theban matrons, forming a solemn procession in honor of Latona,

Niobe esteems herself superior to the Goddess, and treats her and her

offspring with contempt; on which, Apollo and Diana, to avenge the

affront offered to their mother, destroy all the children of Niobe;

and she, herself, is changed into a statue.

All Lydia is in an uproar, and the rumor of the fact goes through the

town of Phrygia, and fills the wide world with discourse {thereon}.

Before her own marriage Niobe had known her,[31] at the time, when still

single, she was inhabiting Mæonia and Sipylus.[32] And yet by the

punishment of her countrywoman, Arachne, she was not warned to yield to

the inhabitants of Heaven, and to use less boastful words. Many things

augmented her pride; but yet, neither the skill of her husband, nor the

descent of them both, nor the sovereignty of a mighty kingdom, pleased

her so much (although all of them did please her) as her own progeny;

and Niobe might have been pronounced the happiest of mothers, if she had

not so seemed to herself.

For Manto, the daughter of Tiresias, foreknowing the future, urged by a

divine impulse, had proclaimed through the middle of the streets, “Ye

women of Ismenus, go all of you,[33] and give to Latona, and the two

children of Latona, the pious frankincense, together with prayers, and

wreathe your hair with laurel; by my mouth does Latona command {this}.”

Obedience is paid; and all the Theban women adorn their temples with

leaves {of laurel}, as commanded, and offer frankincense on the sacred

fires, and words of supplication. Lo! Niobe comes, surrounded with a

crowd of attendants, conspicuous for the gold interwoven in her Phrygian

garments, and beautiful, so far as anger will allow; and tossing her

hair, hanging down on both shoulders, with her graceful head, she stands

still; and as she loftily casts around her haughty eyes, she says, “What

madness is this to prefer the inhabitants of Heaven, that you have

{only} heard of, to those who are seen? or why is Latona worshipped at

the altars, {and} my Godhead is still without its {due} frankincense?

Tantalus was my father, who alone was allowed to approach the tables of

the Gods above. The sister of the Pleiades[34] is my mother; the most

mighty Atlas is my grandsire, who bears the æthereal skies upon his

neck. Jupiter is my other grandsire; of him, too, I boast as my

father-in-law.[35] The Phrygian nations dread me; the palace of Cadmus

is subject to me as its mistress; and the walls that were formed by the

strings of my husband’s {lyre}, together with their people, are governed

by me and my husband; to whatever part of the house I turn my eyes,

immense wealth is seen. To this is added a face worthy of a Goddess. Add

to this my seven daughters,[36] and as many sons, and, at a future day,

sons-in-law and daughters-in-law. Now inquire what ground my pride has

{for its existence}; and presume to prefer Latona the Titaness, the

daughter of some obscure Cæus, to whom, when in travail,[37] the great

earth once refused a little spot, to myself. Neither by heaven, nor by

earth, nor by water, was your Goddess received; she was banished the

world, till Delos, pitying the wanderer, said, “Thou dost roam a

stranger on the land, I in the waves;” and gave her an unstable place

{of rest}. She was made the mother of two children, that is {but} the

seventh part of my issue. I am fortunate, and who shall deny it? and

fortunate I shall remain; who, too, can doubt of that? Plenty has made

me secure; I am too great for Fortune possibly to hurt; and, though she

should take away many things from me, {even then} much more will she

leave me: my {many} blessings have now risen superior to apprehensions.

Suppose it possible for some part of this multitude of my children to be

taken away {from me}; still, thus stripped, I shall not be reduced to

two, the number of Latona; an amount, by the number of which, how far,

{I pray}, is she removed from one that is childless? Go from the

sacrifice; hasten away from the sacrifice, and remove the laurel from

your hair!”

They remove it, and the sacrifice they leave unperformed; and what they

can do, they adore the Divinity in gentle murmurs. The Goddess was

indignant; and on the highest top of {Mount} Cynthus, she spoke to her

two children in such words as these: “Behold! I, your mother, proud of

having borne you, and who shall yield to no one of the Goddesses, except

to Juno {alone}, am called in question whether I am a Goddess, and, for

all future ages, I am driven from the altars devoted {to me}, unless you

give me aid. Nor is this my only grief; the daughter of Tantalus has

added abusive language to her shocking deeds, and has dared to postpone

you to her own children, and (what {I wish} may fall upon herself), she

has called me childless; and the profane {wretch} has discovered a

tongue like her father’s.”[38] To this relation Latona was going to add

entreaties, when Phœbus said, “Cease thy complaints, ’tis prolonging the

delay of her punishment.” Phœbe said the same; and, by a speedy descent

through the air, they arrived, covered with clouds, at the citadel of

Cadmus.

There was near the walls a plain, level, and extending far and wide,

trampled continually by horses, where multitudes of wheels and hard

hoofs had softened the clods placed beneath them. There, part of the

seven sons of Amphion are mounting upon their spirited steeds, and press

their backs, red with the Tyrian dye, and wield the reins heavy with

gold; of these, Ismenus, who had formerly been the first burden of his

mother, while he is guiding the steps of the horses in a perfect circle,

and is curbing their foaming mouths, cries aloud, “Ah, wretched me!”

and, pierced through the middle of his breast, bears a dart {therein};

and the reins dropping from his dying hand, by degrees he falls on his

side, over {the horse’s} shoulder. The next {to him}, Sipylus, on

hearing the sound of a quiver in the air, gives rein[39] {to his horse};

as when the pilot, sensible of the storm {approaching}, flies on seeing

a cloud, and unfurls the hanging sails on every side, that the light

breeze may by no means escape them. He gives rein, {I said}; while thus

giving it, the unerring dart overtakes him, and an arrow sticks

quivering in the top of his neck, and the bare steel protrudes from his

throat. He, as he is bending forward, rolls over the neck, {now} let

loose, and {over} the mane, and stains the ground with his warm blood.

The unhappy Phædimus, and Tantalus, the heir to the name of his

grandsire, when they had put an end to their wonted exercise {of

riding}, had turned to the youthful exercises of the palæstra, glowing

with oil;[40] and now had they brought[41] breast to breast, struggling

in a close grapple, when an arrow, sped onward from the stretched bow,

pierced them both, just as they were united together. At the same

instant they groaned aloud, and together they laid their limbs on the

ground, writhing with pain; together as they lay, for the last time,

they rolled their eyeballs, and together they breathed forth their life.

Alphenor sees this, and, beating his torn breast, flies to them, to lift

up their cold limbs in his embrace, and falls in this affectionate duty.

For the Delian God pierces the inner part of his midriff with the fatal

steel. Soon as it is pulled out, a part of his lungs is dragged forth on

the barbs, and his blood is poured forth, with his life, into the air;

but no single wound reaches the unshaven Damasicthon. He is struck where

the leg commences, and where the sinewy ham makes the space between the

joints soft; and while he is trying with his hand to draw out the fatal

weapon, another arrow is driven through his neck, up to the feathers.

The blood drives this out, and itself starting forth, springs up on

high, and, piercing the air, spouts forth afar. The last {of them},

Ilioneus, had raised his unavailing arms in prayer, and had said,

“O, all ye Gods, in common, (not knowing that all were not to be

addressed) spare me!” The {God}, the bearer of the bow, was moved, when

now his arrow could not be recalled; yet he died with the slightest

wound {of all}, his heart not being struck deep by the arrow.

The report of this calamity, and the grief of the people, and the tears

of her family, made the mother acquainted with a calamity so sudden,

wondering that it could have happened, and enraged that the Gods above

had dared this, {and} that they enjoyed a privilege so great. For

Amphion the father, thrusting his sword through his breast, dying, had

ended his grief together with his life. Alas! how different is this

Niobe from that Niobe who had lately driven the people from the altars

of Latona, and, with lofty head, had directed her steps through the

midst of the city, envied by her own people, but now to be pitied even

by an enemy! She falls down upon the cold bodies, and with no

distinction she distributes her last kisses among all her sons. Raising

her livid arms from these towards heaven, she says, “Glut thyself, cruel

Latona, with my sorrow; glut thyself, and satiate thy breast with my

mourning; satiate, too, thy relentless heart with seven deaths. I have

received my death-blow;[42] exult and triumph, my victorious enemy. But

why victorious? More remains to me, in my misery, than to thee, in thy

happiness. Even after so many deaths, I am the conqueror.” {Thus} she

spoke; {when} the string twanged from the bent bow, which affrighted all

but Niobe alone; she {became} bold by her misfortunes.

The sisters were standing in black array, with their hair dishevelled,

before the biers[43] of their brothers. One of these, drawing out the

weapon sticking in her entrails, about to die, swooned away, with her

face placed upon her brother. Another, endeavoring to console her

wretched parent, was suddenly silent, and was doubled together with an

invisible wound; and did not close her mouth, until after the breath had

departed. Another, vainly flying, falls down; another dies upon her

sister; another lies hid; another you might see trembling. And {now} six

being put to death, and having received different wounds, the last

{only} remains; her mother covering her with all her body, {and} with

all her garments, cries, “Leave me but one, and that the youngest; the

youngest only do I ask out of so many, and {that but} one.” And while

she was entreating, she, for whom she was entreating, was slain.

Childless, she sat down among her dead sons and daughters and husband,

and became hardened by her woes. The breeze moves no hair {of hers}; in

her features is a color without blood; her eyes stand unmoved in her sad

cheeks; in her form there is no {appearance} of life. Her tongue itself,

too, congeals within, together with her hardened palate, and the veins

cease to be able to be moved. Her neck can neither be bent, nor can her

arms give any motion, nor her feet move. Within her entrails, too, it is

stone.

Still did she weep on; and, enveloped in a hurricane of mighty wind, she

was borne away to her native land. There, fixed on the top of a

mountain,[44] she dissolves; and even yet does the marble distil tears.

[Footnote 31: _Had known her._--Ver. 148. This was the more

likely, as Tantalus, the father of Niobe, was king of both Phrygia

and Lydia.]

[Footnote 32: _Sipylus._--Ver. 149. This was the name of both a

city and a mountain of Lydia.]

[Footnote 33: _Go all of you._--Ver. 159. Clarke renders the words

‘Ismenides, ite frequentes,’ ‘Go, ye Theban ladies in general.’]

[Footnote 34: _Sister of the Pleiades._--Ver. 174. Taygete, one of

the Pleiades, was the mother of Niobe.]

[Footnote 35: _As my father-in-law._--Ver. 176. Because Jupiter

was the father of her husband, Amphion.]

[Footnote 36: _Seven daughters._--Ver. 182. Tzetzes enumerates

fourteen daughters of Niobe, and gives their names.]

[Footnote 37: _When in travail._--Ver. 187. She alludes to the

occasion on which Latona fled from the serpent Python, which Juno,

in her jealousy, had sent against her; and when Delos, which had

hitherto been a floating island, became immovable, for the

convenience of Latona, in labor with Apollo and Diana. That island

was said to have received its name from the Greek, δῆλος,

‘manifest,’ or ‘appearing,’ from having risen to the surface of

the sea on that occasion.]

[Footnote 38: _Like her father’s._--Ver. 213. Latona alludes to

one of the crimes of Tantalus, the father of Niobe, who was

accused of having indiscreetly divulged the secrets of the Gods.]

[Footnote 39: _Gives rein._--Ver. 230. This was done with the

intention of making his escape.]

[Footnote 40: _Glowing with oil._--Ver. 241. Clarke renders this

line, ‘Were gone to the juvenile work of neat wrestling.’ It would

be hard to say what ‘neat’ wrestling is. He seems not to have

known, that the ‘Palæstra’ was called ‘nitida,’ as shining with

the oil which the wrestlers used for making their limbs supple,

and the more difficult for their antagonist to grasp. Juvenal

gives the epithet ‘ceromaticum’ to the neck of the athlete, or

wrestler, which word means ‘rubbed with wrestler’s oil.’]

[Footnote 41: _Now had they brought._--Ver. 243-4. Clarke thus

translates ‘Et jam contulerant arcto luctantia nexu Pectora

pectoribus;’ ‘And now they had clapped breast to breast,

struggling in a close hug.’]

[Footnote 42: _I have received my death-blow._--Ver. 283.

‘Efferor’ literally means, ‘I am carried out.’ ‘Effero’ was the

term used to signify the carrying of the body out of the city

walls, for the purposes of burial.]

[Footnote 43: _Before the biers._--Ver. 289. The body of the

deceased person was in ancient times laid out on a bed of the

ordinary kind, with a pillow for supporting the head and back;

among the Romans, it was placed in the vestibule of the house,

with its feet towards the door, and was dressed in the best robe

which the deceased had worn when alive. Among the better classes,

the body was borne to the place of burial, or the funeral pile, on

a couch, which was called ‘feretrum,’ or ‘capulus.’ This was

sometimes made of ivory, and covered with gold and purple.]

[Footnote 44: _Top of a mountain._--Ver. 311. This was Mount

Sipylus, in Bœotia, which, as we learn from Pausanias, had on its

summit a rock, which, at a distance, strongly resembled a female

in an attitude of sorrow. This resemblance is said to exist even

at the present day.]

EXPLANATION.

All the ancient historians agree with Diodorus Siculus and

Apollodorus, that Niobe was the daughter of Tantalus, and the sister

of Pelops; but she must not be confounded with a second Niobe, who was

the daughter of Phoroneus, and the first mortal (Homer tells us) with

whom Jupiter fell in love. Homer says that she was the mother of

twelve children, six sons and six daughters. Herodotus says, that she

had but two sons and three daughters. Diodorus Siculus makes her the

mother of fourteen children, seven of each sex. Apollodorus, on the

authority of Hesiod, says, that she had ten sons and as many

daughters; but gives the names of fourteen only. The story of the

destruction of her children is most likely based upon truth, and bears

reference to a historical fact. The plague, which ravaged the city of

Thebes, destroyed all the children of Niobe; and contagious distempers

being attributed to the excessive heat of the sun, it was fabled that

Apollo had killed them with his arrows; while women, who died of the

plague, were said to owe their death to the anger of Diana. Thus,

Homer says, that Laodamia and the mother of Andromache were killed by

Diana. Valerius Flaccus relates the sorrow of Clytie, the wife of

Cyzicus, on the death of her mother, killed by the same Goddess; so

the Scholiast on Pindar (Pythia, ode iii.) says, on the authority of

Pherecydes, that Apollo sent Diana to kill Coronis and several other

women. Eustathius distinctly asserts, that the poets attributed the

deaths of men, who died of the plague, to Apollo; and those of women,

dying a similar death, to Diana.

This supposition is based upon rational and just grounds; since many

contagious distempers may be clearly traced to the exhalations of the

earth, acted on by the intense heat of the sun. Homer, most probably,

means this, when he says that the plague came upon the Grecian camp,

on the God, in his anger, discharging his arrows against it; or, in

other words, when the extreme heat of his rays had caused a corruption

of the atmosphere. It may be here observed, that arrows were the

symbol of Apollo, when angry, and the harp when he was propitious.

Diogenes Laertius tells us, that, during the prevalence of the plague,

it was the custom to place branches of laurel on the doors of the

houses, in the hope that the God, being reminded of Daphne, would

spare the places which thereby claimed his protection.

Ovid says, that the sons of Niobe were killed while managing their

horses; but Pausanias tells us that they died on Mount Cithæron, while

engaged in hunting, and that her daughters died at Thebes. Homer says,

that her children remained nine days without burial, because the Gods

changed the Thebans into stones, and that the offended Divinities

themselves performed the funeral rites on the tenth day; the meaning

probably, is, that, they dying of the plague, no one ventured to bury

them, and all seemed insensible to the sorrows of Niobe, as each

consulted his own safety. Ismenus, her eldest son, not being able to

endure the pain of his malady, is said to have thrown himself into a

river of Bœotia, which, from that circumstance, received his name.

After the death of her husband and children, Niobe is said to have

retired to Mount Sipylus, in Lydia, where she died. Here, as Pausanias

informs us, was a rock, resembling, at a distance, a woman overwhelmed

with grief; though according to the same author, who had visited it,

the resemblance could not be traced on approaching it. On this ground,

Ovid relates, that she was borne on a whirlwind to the top of a Lydian

mountain, where she was changed into a rock.

Pausanias tells us, that Melibœa, or Chloris, and Amycle, two of her

daughters, appeased Diana, who preserved their lives; or that, in

other words, they recovered from the plague; though he inclines to

credit the version of Homer, who says that all of her children died by

the hands of Apollo and Diana. Melibœa received the surname of

Chloris, from the paleness which ensued on her alarm at the sudden

death of her sisters.

FABLE III. [VI.313-381]

Latona, fatigued with the burden of her two children, during a long

journey, and parched with thirst, goes to drink at a pond, near which

some countrymen are at work. These clowns, in a brutal manner, not

only hinder her from drinking, but trouble the water to make it muddy;

on which, the Goddess, to punish their brutality, transforms them into

frogs.

But then, all, both women and men, dread the wrath of the divinity,

{thus} manifested, and with more zeal {than ever} all venerate with

{divine} worship the great godhead of the Deity who produced the twins;

and, as {commonly} happens, from a recent fact they recur to the

narration of former events.

One of them says, “Some countrymen of old, in the fields of fertile

Lycia, {once} insulted the Goddess, {but} not with impunity. The thing,

indeed, is but little known, through the obscure station of the

individuals, still it is wonderful. I have seen upon the spot, the pool

and the lake noted for the miracle. For my father being now advanced in

years, and incapable of travel, ordered me to bring thence some choice

oxen, and on my setting out, had given me a guide of that nation: with

whom, while I was traversing the pastures, behold! an ancient altar,

black with the ashes of sacrifices, was standing in the middle of a

lake, surrounded with quivering reeds. My guide stood still, and said in

a timid whisper, ‘Be propitious to me;’ and with a like whisper, I said,

‘Be propitious.’ However, I asked him whether it was an altar of the

Naiads, or of Faunus, or of some native God; when the stranger answered

me in such words; ‘Young man, there is no mountain Divinity for this

altar. She calls this her own, whom once the royal Juno banished from

the world; whom the wandering Delos, at the time when it was swimming as

a light island, hardly received at her entreaties. There Latona, leaning

against a palm, together with the tree of Pallas, brought forth twins,

in spite of their stepmother {Juno}. Hence, too, the newly delivered

{Goddess} is said to have fled from Juno, and in her bosom to have

carried the two divinities, her children. And now the Goddess, wearied

with her prolonged toil, being parched with the heat of the season,

contracted thirst in the country of Lycia, which bred the Chimæra[45]

when the intense sun was scorching the fields; the craving children,

too, had exhausted her suckling breasts. By chance she beheld a lake[46]

of fine water, in the bottom of a valley; some countrymen were there,

gathering bushy osiers, together with bulrushes, and sedge natural to

fenny spots. The Titaness approached, and bending her knee, she pressed

the ground, that she might take up the cool water to drink; the company

of rustics forbade it. The Goddess thus addressed them, as they forbade

her: ‘Why do you deny me water? The use of water is common {to all}.

Nature has made neither sun, nor air, nor the running stream, the

property of any one. To her public bounty have I come, which yet I

humbly beg of you to grant me. I was not intending to bathe my limbs

here, and my wearied joints, but to relieve my thirst. My mouth, as I

speak, lacks moisture, and my jaws are parched, and scarce is there a

passage for my voice therein; a draught of water will be nectar to me,

and I shall own, that, together with it, I have received my life {at

your hands}. In {that} water you will be giving me life. Let these, too,

move you, who hold out their little arms from my bosom’; and by chance

the children were holding out their arms.

“What person might not these kindly words of the Goddess have been able

to influence? Still, they persist in hindering {the Goddess thus}

entreating them; and moreover add threats and abusive language, if she

does not retire to a distance. Nor is this enough. They likewise muddy

the lake itself {with} their feet and hands; and they raise the soft mud

from the very bottom of the water, by spitefully jumping to and fro.

Resentment removes her thirst. For now no longer does the daughter of

Cæus supplicate the unworthy {wretches}, nor does she any longer endure

to utter words below {the majesty of} a Goddess; and raising her hands

to heaven, she says, ‘For ever may you live in that pool.’ The wish of

the Goddess comes to pass. They delight to go beneath the water, and

sometimes to plunge the whole of their limbs in the deep pool; now to

raise their heads, and now to swim on the top of the water; oft to sit

on the bank of the pool, {and} often to leap back again into the cold

stream. And even now do they exercise their offensive tongues in strife:

and banishing {all} shame, although they are beneath the water, {still}

beneath the water,[47] do they try to keep up their abuse. Their voice,

too, is now hoarse, and their bloated necks swell out; and their very

abuse dilates their extended jaws. Their backs are united to their

heads: their necks seem as though cut off; their backbone is green;

their belly, the greatest part of their body, is white; and {as}

new-made frogs, they leap about in the muddy stream.”

[Footnote 45: _The Chimæra._--Ver. 339. The Chimæra, according to

the poets, was a monster having the head of a lion, the body of a

goat, and the tail of a dragon. It seems, however, that it was

nothing more than a volcanic mountain of Lycia, in Asia Minor,

whence there were occasional eruptions of flame. The top of it was

frequented by lions; the middle afforded plentiful pasture for

goats; and towards the bottom, being rocky, and full of caverns,

it was infested by vast numbers of serpents, that harbored there.]

[Footnote 46: _Beheld a lake._--Ver. 343. Probus, in his

Commentary on the Second Book of the Georgics, says that the name

of the spring was Mela, and that of the shepherd who so churlishly

repulsed Latona, was Neocles. Antoninus Liberalis says, that the

name of the stream was Melites, and that Latona required the water

for the purpose of bathing her children. He further tells us, that

on being repulsed, she carried her children to the river Xanthus,

and returning thence, hurled stones at the peasants, and changed

them into frogs.]

[Footnote 47: _Beneath the water._--Ver. 376. Some commentators

are so fanciful as to say, that the repetition of the words ‘sub

aqua,’ in the line ‘Quamvis sint sub aquâ, sub aquâ, maledicere

tentant,’ not inelegantly [non ineleganter] expresses the croaking

noise of the frogs. A man’s fancy must, indeed, be exuberant to

find any such resemblance; more so, indeed, than that of

Aristophanes, who makes his frogs say, by way of chorus,

‘brekekekekex koäx koäx.’ Possibly, however, that might have been

the Attic dialect among frogs.]

EXPLANATION.

This story may possibly be based upon some current tradition of Latona

having been subjected to such cruel treatment from some country

clowns; or, which is more probable, it may have been originally

invented as a satire on the rude manners and uncouth conduct of the

peasantry of ancient times. The story may also have been framed, to

account, in a poetical manner, for the origin of frogs.

FABLE IV. [VI.382-411]

The Satyr Marsyas, having challenged Apollo to a trial of skill on the

flute, the God overcomes him, and then flays him alive for his

presumption. The tears that are shed on the occasion of his death

produce the river that bears his name.

When thus one, who, it is uncertain, had related the destruction of

{these} men of the Lycian race, another remembers {that of} the

Satyr;[48] whom, overcome {in playing} on the Tritonian reed, the son of

Latona visited with punishment. “Why,” said he, “art thou tearing me

from myself? Alas! I {now} repent; alas,” cried he, “the flute is not of

so much value!” As he shrieked aloud, his skin was stript[49] off from

the surface of his limbs, nor was he aught but {one entire} wound. Blood

is flowing on every side; the nerves, exposed, appear, and the quivering

veins throb without any skin. You might have numbered his palpitating

bowels, and the transparent lungs within his breast. The inhabitants of

the country, the Fauns, Deities of the woods, and his brothers the

Satyrs, and Olympus,[50] even then renowned, and the Nymphs lamented

him; and whoever {besides} on those mountains was feeding the

wool-bearing flocks, and the horned herds.

The fruitful earth was moistened, and being moistened received the

falling tears, and drank them up in her lowest veins, which, when she

had turned into a stream, she sent forth into the vacant air. And then,

as the clearest river in Phrygia, running towards the rapid sea within

steep banks, it bears the name of Marsyas.

From narratives such as these the people return at once to the present

events, and mourn Amphion extinct together with {all} his race. The

mother is {an object} of hatred. Yet {her brother} Pelops is said alone

to have mourned for her as well; and after he had drawn his clothes from

his shoulder towards his breast, he discovered the ivory on his left

shoulder. This shoulder, at the time of his birth, was of the same color

with the right one, and {was} formed of flesh. They say that the Gods

afterwards joined his limbs cut asunder by the hands of his father; and

the rest of them being found, that part which is midway between the

throat and the top of the arm, was wanting. Ivory was inserted there, in

the place of the part that did not appear; and so by that means Pelops

was made entire.

[Footnote 48: _The Satyr._--Ver. 382. Herodotus tells this story

of the Satyr Marsyas, under the name of Silenus. Fulgentius

informs us, that in paintings, Marsyas was represented with the

tail of a pig.]

[Footnote 49: _His skin was stript._--Ver. 387. Apollo fastened

him to a pine-tree, or, according to Pliny the Elder,

a plane-tree, which was to be seen even in his day. The skin was

afterwards suspended by Apollo in the city of Celenæ. Hyginus

says, that Apollo hewed Marsyas to pieces. The description here of

the flaying is, perhaps, very natural; but it is all the more

disgusting for being so. A commentator justly says, that it might

suit a Roman, whose eyes were familiar with bloodshed, much better

than the taste of the reader of modern times.]

[Footnote 50: _Olympus._--Ver. 393. He was a Satyr, the brother

and pupil of Marsyas. Pausanias describes a picture, painted by

Polygnotus, in which Olympus was represented as sitting by

Marsyas, clad as a youth, and learning to play on the flute.

Euripides, in the Iphigenia in Aulis (l. 576) says that Olympus

discovered some new measures for the ‘tibia,’ or flute. From

Hyginus we learn, that Apollo delivered to him the body of Marsyas

for burial.]

EXPLANATION.

Marsyas was the son of Hyagnis, the inventor of a peculiar kind of

flute, and of the Phrygian measure. Livy and Quintus Curtius tell us,

that the story of Apollo and Marsyas is an allegory; and that the

river Marsyas gave rise to it. They say that the river, falling from a

precipice, in the neighborhood of the town of Celenæ, in Phrygia, made

a very stunning and unpleasant noise; but that the smoothness of its

course afterwards gave occasion for the saying, that the vengeance of

Apollo had rendered it more tractable.

It is, however, not improbable that the story may have been based on

historical facts. Having learned from his father, Hyagnis, the art of

playing on the flute, and, proud of his skill, at a time when the

musical art was yet in its infancy, Marsyas may have been rash enough

to challenge either a priest of Apollo, or some prince who bore that

name, and, for his presumption, to have received the punishment

described by Ovid. Herodotus certainly credited the story; for he says

that the skin of the unfortunate musician was to be seen, in his time,

in the town of Celenæ. Strabo, Pausanias, and Aulus Gellius also

believe its truth. Suidas tells us, that Marsyas, mortified at his

defeat, threw himself into the river that runs near Celenæ, which,

from that time, bore his name. Strabo says, that Marsyas had stolen

the flute from Minerva, which proved so fatal to him, and had thereby

drawn upon himself the indignation of that Divinity. Ovid, in the

Sixth Book of the Fasti, and Pausanias, quoting from Apollodorus, tell

us, that Minerva, having observed, by seeing herself in the river

Meander, that, when she played on the flute, her cheeks were swelled

out in an unseemly manner, threw aside the flute in her disgust, and

Marsyas finding it, learned to play on it so skilfully, that he

challenged Apollo to a trial of proficiency. Hyginus, in his 165th

Fable, says that Marsyas was the son of Œagrius, and not Hyagnis;

perhaps, however, this is a corrupt reading.

FABLE V. [VI.412-586]

Tereus, king of Thrace, having married Progne, the daughter of

Pandion, king of Athens, falls in love with her sister Philomela, whom

he ravishes, and then, having cut out her tongue, he shuts her up in a

strong place in a forest, to prevent a discovery. The unfortunate

Philomela finds means to acquaint her sister with her misfortunes;

for, weaving her story on a piece of cloth, she sends it to Progne by

the hands of one of her keepers.

The neighboring princes met together; and the cities that were near,

entreated their kings to go to console {Pelops, namely}, Argos and

Sparta, and the Pelopean Mycenæ, and Calydon,[51] not yet odious to the

stern Diana, and fierce Orchomeneus, and Corinth famous for its

brass,[52] and fertile Messene, and Patræ, and humble Cleonæ,[53] and

the Neleian Pylos, and Trœzen not yet named from Pittheus;[54] and other

cities which are enclosed by the Isthmus between the two seas, and those

which, situated beyond, are seen from the Isthmus between the two seas.

Who could have believed it? You, Athens, alone omitted it. A war

prevented this act of humanity; and barbarous troops[55] brought

{thither} by sea, were alarming the Mopsopian walls. The Thracian Tereus

had routed these by his auxiliary forces, and by his conquest had

acquired an illustrious name. Him, powerful both in riches and men, and,

as it happened, deriving his descent from the mighty Gradivus, Pandion

united to himself, by the marriage of {his daughter} Progne.

Neither Juno, the guardian of marriage rites, nor yet Hymeneus, nor the

Graces,[56] attended those nuptials. {On that occasion}, the Furies

brandished torches, snatched from the funeral pile. The Furies prepared

the nuptial couch, and the ill-boding owl hovered over the abode, and

sat on the roof of the bridal chamber. With these omens were Progne and

Tereus wedded; with these omens were they made parents. Thrace, indeed,

congratulated them, and they themselves returned thanks to the Gods, and

they commanded the day, upon which the daughter of Pandion was given to

the renowned prince, and that upon which Itys was born, to be considered

as festivals. So much does our true interest lie concealed {from us}.

Now Titan had drawn the seasons of the repeated year through five

autumns, when Progne, in gentle accents, said to her husband, “If I have

any influence {with thee}, either send me to see my sister, or let my

sister come hither. Thou shalt promise thy father-in-law that she shall

return in a short time. As good as a mighty God {wilt thou be} to me, if

thou shalt allow me to see my sister.”

He {thereupon} ordered ships to be launched;[57] and with sails and oars

he entered the Cecropian harbor, and landed upon the shores of the

Piræus.[58] As soon as ever an opportunity was given of {addressing} his

father-in-law, and right hand was joined to right hand, with evil omen

their discourse began. He had commenced to relate the occasion of his

coming, {and} the request of his wife, and to promise a speedy return

for {Philomela, if} sent. {When} lo! Philomela comes, richly adorned in

costly apparel; richer {by far} in her charms; such as we hear {of} the

Naiads and Dryads {as they} haunt the middle of the forests, if you were

only to give them the like ornaments and dress. Tereus was inflamed upon

seeing the virgin, no otherwise than if one were to put fire beneath the

whitening ears of corn, or were to burn leaves and {dry} grass laid up

in stacks. Her beauty, indeed, is worthy {of love}; but inbred lust, as

well, urges him on, and the people in those regions are {naturally} much

inclined to lustfulness. He burns, both by his own frailty and that of

his nation. He has a desire to corrupt the care of her attendants, and

the fidelity of her nurse, and {besides}, to tempt herself with large

presents, and to spend his whole kingdom {in so doing}; or else, to

seize her, and, when seized, to secure her by a cruel war. And there is

nothing which, being seized by an unbridled passion, he may not dare;

nor does his breast contain the internal flame. And now he ill bears

with delay; and with eager mouth returns to {urge} the request of

Progne, and under it he pleads his own wishes; passion makes him

eloquent. As oft as he presses beyond what is becoming, he pretends

that Progne has thus desired. He adds tears as well, as though she had

enjoined them too. O ye Gods above, how much of dark night do the

breasts of mortals contain! Through his very attempt at villany, Tereus

is thought to be affectionate, and from his crime does he gather praise.

And how is it, too, that Philomela desires the same thing? and fondly

embracing the shoulders of her father with her arms, she begs, even by

her own safety (and against it too), that she may visit her sister.

Tereus views her, and, while viewing her, is embracing her beforehand in

imagination; and, as he beholds her kisses, and her arms around {her

father’s} neck, he receives them all as incentives, and fuel, and the

food of his furious passion; and, as often as she embraces her father,

he could wish to be {that} father, and, even then, he would have been

not the less impious. The father is overcome by the entreaties of them

both. She rejoices, and returns thanks to her parent, and, to her

misfortune, deems that the success of both, which will be the cause of

sorrow to them both. Now but little of his toil was remaining for

Phœbus, and his steeds were beating with their feet the descending track

of Olympus; a regal banquet was set on the tables, and wine in golden

{vessels}; after this, their bodies were given up to gentle sleep. But

the Odrysian king,[59] though he was withdrawn, still burned for her;

and, recalling her form, her movements, her hands, fancies that which he

has not yet seen, to be such as he wishes; and he himself feeds his own

flames, his anxiety preventing sleep.

It was {now} day; and Pandion, grasping the right hand of his

son-in-law, about to depart, with tears bursting forth, recommended his

companion {to his care}. “I commit her, my dear son-in-law, to thee,

because reasons, grounded on affection, have compelled me, and both {my

daughters} have desired it, and thou as well, Tereus, hast wished it;

and I entreat thee, begging by thy honor, by thy breast {thus} allied to

us, {and} by the Gods above, to protect her with the love of a father;

and do send back to me, as soon as possible, this sweet comfort of my

anxious old age, {for} all delay will be tedious to me, and do thou,

too, Philomela, if thou hast any affection for me, return as soon as

possible: ’tis enough that thy sister is so far away.” {Thus} did he

enjoin, and at the same time he gave kisses to his daughter, and his

affectionate tears fell amid his instructions. He {then} demanded the

right hands of them both, as a pledge of their fidelity, and joined them

together when given, and bade them, with mindful lips, to salute for him

his absent daughter and grandson, and with difficulty[60] uttered the

last farewell, his mouth being filled with sobs; and he shuddered at the

presages of his own mind. But as soon as Philomela was put on board of

the painted ship, and the sea was urged by the oars, and the land was

left behind, he exclaimed, “I have gained my point; the object of my

desires is borne along with me.” The barbarian exults, too, and with

difficulty defers his joy in his intention, and turns not his eyes

anywhere away from her. No otherwise than when the ravenous bird of

Jupiter, with crooked talons, has placed a hare in his lofty nest; there

is no escape for the captive; the plunderer keeps his eye on his prey.

And now the voyage is ended, and now they have gone forth from the

wearied ship, upon his own shore; when the king drags the daughter of

Pandion into a lofty dwelling, concealed in an ancient wood, and there

he shuts her up, pale and trembling, and dreading everything, and now

with tears inquiring where her sister is; and confessing his baseness,

he masters by force her a maiden, and but one, while she often vainly

calls on her father, often on her sister, and on the great Gods above

all. She trembles like a frightened lamb, which, wounded, being snatched

from the mouth of a hoary wolf, does not as yet seem to itself in

safety; and as a dove, its feathers soaked with its own blood, still

trembles, and dreads the ravening talons wherein it has been {lately}

held. {But} soon, when consciousness returned, tearing her dishevelled

hair like one mourning, and beating her arms in lamentation, stretching

out her hands, she said, “Oh, barbarous {wretch}, for thy dreadful

deeds; oh, cruel {monster}! have neither the requests of my father, with

his affectionate tears, moved thee, nor a regard for my sister, nor my

virgin state, nor the laws of marriage? Thou hast confounded all. I am

become the supplanter of my sister; thou, the husband of both of us.

This punishment was not my due. Why dost thou not take away this life,

that no villany, perfidious {wretch}, may remain {unperpetrated} by

thee? and would that thou hadst done it before thy criminal embraces!

{then} I might have had a shade void of {all} crime. Yet, if the Gods

above behold these things, if the majesty of the Gods be anything; if,

with myself, all things are not come to ruin; one time or other thou

shalt give me satisfaction. I myself, having cast shame aside, will

declare thy deeds. If opportunity is granted me, I will come among the

people; if I shall be kept imprisoned in the woods, I will fill the

woods, and will move the conscious rocks. Let Heaven hear these things,

and the Gods, if there are any in it.”

After the wrath of the cruel tyrant was aroused by such words, and his

fear was not less than it, urged on by either cause, he drew the sword,

with which he was girt, from the sheath, and seizing her by the hair,

her arms being bent behind her back, he compelled her to submit to

chains. Philomela was preparing her throat, and, on seeing the sword,

had conceived hopes of her death. He cut away, with his cruel weapon,

her tongue seized with pincers, while giving vent to her indignation,

and constantly calling on the name of her father, and struggling to

speak. The extreme root of the tongue {still} quivers. {The tongue}

itself lies, and faintly murmurs, quivering upon the black earth; and as

the tail of a mangled snake is wont to writhe about, {so} does it throb,

and, as it dies, seeks the feet of its owner. It is said, too, that

often after this crime (I could hardly dare believe it) he satisfied his

lust upon her mutilated body.

He has the effrontery, after such deeds, to return to Progne, who, on

seeing her husband, inquires for her sister; but he heaves feigned

sighs, and tells a fictitious story of her death; and his tears procure

him credit. Progne tears from her shoulders her robes, shining with

broad gold, and puts on black garments, and erects an honorary

sepulchre, and offers expiation to an imaginary shade; and laments the

death of a sister not thus to be lamented.

The God {Apollo}, the year being completed, had run through the twice

six signs {of the Zodiac}. What can Philomela do? A guard prevents her

flight; the walls of the house are hard, built of solid stone: her

speechless mouth is deprived of the means of discovering the crime. But

in grief there is extreme ingenuity, and inventive skill arises in

misfortunes. She skilfully suspends the warp in a web of Barbarian

design,[61] and interweaves purple marks with white, as a mode of

discovering the villany {of Tereus}; and delivers it, when finished, to

one {of her attendants}, and begs her, by signs, to carry it to her

mistress. As desired, she carries it to Progne, and does not know what

she is delivering in it. The wife of the savage tyrant unfolds the web,

and reads the mournful tale[62] of her sister, and (wondrous that she

can be so!) she is silent. ’Tis grief that stops her utterance, and

words sufficiently indignant fail her tongue, in want of them; nor is

there room for weeping. But she rushes onward, about to confound both

right and wrong, and is wholly {occupied} in the contrivance of revenge.

[Footnote 51: _Calydon._--Ver. 415. This was a city of Ætolia,

which derived its name from Calydon, the son of Endymion. Diana,

being incensed against Œneus, its king, because he omitted her

when offering the first fruits to the other Deities, sent an

immense boar to ravage its fields, which was slain by Meleager.

Ovid recounts these circumstances in the eighth book of the

Metamorphoses. Argos, Sparta, and Mycenæ, are also included in one

line, by Homer, as having been under the particular tutelage of

Juno.]

[Footnote 52: _Famous for its brass._--Ver. 416. According to some

writers, the Corinthian brass became famous after the fall of

Corinth, when it was taken and burnt by the Consul Mummius. On

that occasion, they say, that from the immense number of statues

melted in the conflagration, a stream of metal poured through the

streets, consisting of melted gold, silver, and copper; in which,

of course, the latter would be predominant. If that was the ground

on which the Corinthian brass was so much commended, Ovid is here

guilty of an anachronism.]

[Footnote 53: _Cleonæ._--Ver. 417. This was a little town, situate

between Argos and Corinth. It is called ‘humilis,’ not from its

situation, but from the small number of its inhabitants. Patræ was

a city of Achaia.]

[Footnote 54: _Pittheus._--Ver. 418. He was the uncle of Theseus;

and was (after the time here mentioned) the king of Trœzen, in

Peloponnesus.]

[Footnote 55: _Barbarous troops._--Ver. 423. Some suggest that it

is here meant that Attica was invaded by the Amazons at this time;

and they rely on a passage of Justin in support of the position.

The story is, however, very improbable.]

[Footnote 56: _The Graces._--Ver. 429. The Graces, who were the

attendants of Venus, were three in number, Aglaia, Thalia, and

Euphrosyne.]

[Footnote 57: _To be launched._--Ver. 445. The ships were launched

into the sea by means of rollers placed beneath them, from which

circumstance they were said ‘deduci,’ ‘to be led down.’]

[Footnote 58: _Shores of the Piræus._--Ver. 446. The Piræus was

the arsenal and the harbor of the Athenians, and owed its

magnificence to the vast conceptions of Themistocles.]

[Footnote 59: _The Odrysian king._--Ver. 490. Tereus is thus

called, from the Odrysæ, a people of Thrace.]

[Footnote 60: _With difficulty._--Ver. 510. Clarke translates

‘vix,’ ‘with much ado.’]

[Footnote 61: _Barbarian design._--Ver. 576. Probably of a

Phrygian design.]

[Footnote 62: _The mournful tale._--Ver. 582. This line is

translated by Clarke, ‘And reads the miserable ditty of her

sister.’]

EXPLANATION.

The gravest authors among the ancients, such as Strabo and Pausanias,

speaking of this tragical story, agree that the narrative, divested of

its poetical ornaments, is strictly conformable to truth; though, of

course, the sequel bears evident marks of embellishment either by the

fancy of the Poet, or the superstition of the vulgar.

FABLE VI. [VI.587-676]

Progne delivers her sister Philomela from captivity, and brings her to

the court of Tereus, where she revolves in her mind her different

projects of revenge. Her son Itys, in the meantime, comes into her

apartment, and is murdered by his mother and aunt. Progne afterwards

serves him up at a feast, which she prepares for her husband; on

which, being obliged to fly from the fury of the enraged king, she is

changed into a swallow, Philomela into a nightingale, and Tereus

himself into a lapwing.

It is {now} the time[63] when the Sithonian[64] matrons are wont to

celebrate the triennial festival of Bacchus. Night is conscious of their

rites; by night Rhodope resounds with the tinklings of the shrill

cymbal. By night the queen goes out of her house, and is arrayed

according to the rites of the God, and carries the arms of the frantic

solemnity. Her head is covered with vine leaves; from her left side hang

down the skins of a deer;[65] upon her shoulder rests a light spear.

{Then} the terrible Progne rushing through the woods, a multitude of her

followers attending her, and agitated by the fury of her resentment,

pretends, Bacchus, that it is {inspired} by thee.

She comes at length to the lonely dwelling, and howls aloud, and cries

“Evoë!” and breaks open the gates, and seizes her sister, and puts upon

her, {so} seized, the badges of Bacchus, and conceals her countenance

under the foliage of ivy; and dragging her along, full of amazement,

leads her within her threshold. When Philomela perceives that she has

arrived at that accursed house,[66] the wretched woman shudders, and

paleness spreads over her whole face. Progne having {now} got a

{fitting} place {for so doing}, takes away the symbols of the rites,[67]

and unveils the blushing face of her wretched sister; and holds her in

her embraces. But she, on the other hand, cannot endure to lift up her

eyes; seeming to herself the supplanter of her sister, and fixing her

looks on the ground, her hand is in the place of voice to her, as she

desires to swear and to call the Gods to witness that this disgrace has

been brought upon her by violence. Progne burns {with rage}, and

contains not her anger; and checking the grief of her sister, she says,

“We must not act in this matter with tears, but with the sword, {and

even} with anything, if {such} thou hast, that can possibly outdo the

sword. I have, sister, prepared myself for every crime! Either, when I

shall have set fire to the royal palace with torches, I will throw the

artful Tereus into the midst of the flames, or with the steel will I cut

away his tongue or his eyes, or the members that have deprived thee of

thy chastity, or by a thousand wounds will I expel his guilty soul {from

his body}. Something tremendous am I prepared for; what it is, I am

still in doubt.”

While Progne was uttering such expressions, Itys came to his mother. By

him she was put in mind of what she might do; and looking at him with

vengeful eyes, she said, “Ah! how like thou art to thy father!” And

saying no more, she prepared for a horrible deed, and burned with silent

rage. Yet when her son came to her, and saluted his mother and drew her

neck {towards him} with his little arms, and added kisses mingled with

childish endearments, the mother, in truth, was moved, and her anger

abated, and her eyes, in spite of her, became wet with tears {thus}

forced {from her}. But soon as she found the mother {in her} shrinking

from excess of affection, from him again did she turn towards the

features of her sister; and looking at them both by turns, she said,

“Why does the one employ endearments, {while} the other is silent with

her tongue torn from her? Why does she not call her sister, whom he

calls mother? Consider to what kind of husband thou art married,

daughter of Pandion. Thou dost grow degenerate. Tenderness in the wife

of Tereus is criminality.” No {more} delay {is there}; she drags Itys

along, just as the tigress of the banks of the Ganges {does} the

suckling offspring of the hind, through the shady forests. And when they

are come to a remote part of the lofty house, Progne strikes[68] him

with the sword, extending his hands, and as he beholds his fate, crying

now “Alas!” and now “My mother!” and clinging to her neck, where his

breast joins his side; nor does she turn away her face. Even one wound

{alone} is sufficient for his death; Philomela cuts his throat with the

sword; and they mangle his limbs, still quivering and retaining somewhat

of life. Part of them boils,[69] in the hollow cauldrons; part hisses on

spits; the inmost recesses stream with gore. His wife sets Tereus, in

his unconsciousness, before this banquet; and falsely pretending rites

after the manner of her country, at which it is allowed one man only to

be present, she removes his attendants and servants. Tereus himself,

sitting aloft on the throne of his forefathers, eats and heaps his own

entrails into his own stomach. And so great is the blindness of his

mind, {that} he says, “Send for Itys.” Progne is unable to conceal her

cruel joy; and now, desirous to be the discoverer of her having murdered

him, she says, “Thou hast within {thee}, that for which thou art

asking.” He looks around, and inquires where he is; as he inquires, and

calls him again, Philomela springs forth, just as she is, with her hair

disordered by the infernal murder, and throws the bloody head of Itys in

the face of his father; nor at any time has she more longed to be able

to speak, and to testify her joy by words such as are deserved.

The Thracian pushes from him the table with a loud cry, and summons the

Viperous sisters[70] from the Stygian valley; and at one moment he

desires, if he {only} can, by opening his breast to discharge thence the

horrid repast, and the half-digested entrails. And then he weeps, and

pronounces himself the wretched sepulchre of his own son; and then he

follows the daughters of Pandion with his drawn sword. You would have

thought the bodies of the Cecropian[71] Nymphs were supported by wings;

{and} they were supported by wings. The one of them makes for the woods,

the other takes her place beneath the roofs {of houses}. Nor {even} as

yet have the marks of murder withdrawn from her breast; and her feathers

are {still} stained with blood. He, made swift by his grief, and his

desire for revenge, is turned into a bird, upon whose head stands a

crested {plume}; a prolonged bill projects in place of the long spear.

The name of the bird is ‘epops’ [{lapwing}]; its face appears to be

armed. This affliction dispatched Pandion to the shades of Tartarus

before his day, and the late period of protracted old age.

[Footnote 63: _Now the time._--Ver. 587. This was the festival of

Bacchus, before mentioned as being celebrated every three years,

in memory of his Indian expedition.]

[Footnote 64: _Sithonian._--Ver. 588. Sithonia was a region of

Thrace, which lay between Mount Hæmus and the Euxine sea. The

word, however, is often used to signify the whole of Thrace.]

[Footnote 65: _Skins of a deer._--Ver. 593. These were the

‘nebrides,’ or skins of fawns and deer, which the Bacchanals wore

when celebrating the orgies. The lance mentioned here was, no

doubt, the thyrsus.]

[Footnote 66: _That accursed house._--Ver. 601. Clarke translates

this line, ‘As soon as Philomela perceived she had got into the

wicked rogue’s house.’]

[Footnote 67: _Symbols of the rites._--Ver. 603. These were the

ivy, the deer-skins, and the thyrsus.]

[Footnote 68: _Progne strikes._--Ver. 641. ‘Ense ferit Progne’ is

translated by Clarke, ‘Progne strikes with the sword poor Itys.’]

[Footnote 69: _Part of them boils._--Ver. 645-6. Clarke gives this

comical translation: ‘Then part of them bounces about in hollow

kettles; part hisses upon spits; the parlor runs down with gore.’]

[Footnote 70: _Viperous sisters._--Ver. 662. Tereus invokes the

Furies, who are thus called from having their hair wreathed with

serpents. Clarke translates, ‘ingenti clamore,’ in line 661, ‘with

a huge cry.’]

[Footnote 71: _Cecropian._--Ver. 667. The Cecropian or Athenian

Nymphs are Progne and Philomela, the daughters of Pandion, king of

Athens.]

EXPLANATION.

By the symbolical changes of Philomela, Progne, and Tereus, those who

framed this termination of the story intended to depict the different

characters of the persons whose actions are there represented. As the

lapwing delights in filth and impurity, the ancients thereby portrayed

the unscrupulous character of Tereus; and, as the flight of that bird

is but slow, it shows that he was not able to overtake his wife and

her sister. The nightingale, concealed in the woods and thickets,

seems there to be concealing her misfortunes and sorrows; and the

swallow, which frequents the abodes of man, shows the restlessness of

Progne, who seeks in vain for her son, whom, in her frantic fit, she

has so barbarously murdered.

Anacreon and Apollodorus, however, reverse the story, saying that

Philomela was changed into a swallow, and Progne into a nightingale.

This event is said by some writers to have happened not in Thrace, but

at Daulis, a town of Phocis, where Tereus is supposed to have gone to

settle. Pausanias tells us, that the tomb of Tereus was to be seen

near Athens, so that it is probable that he died at a distance from

Thrace, his native country. Homer alludes to the story of Philomela in

somewhat different terms; speaking of the grounds of the grief of

Penelope, he says, that ‘she made her complaints to be heard like the

inconsolable Philomela, the daughter of Pandarus, always hidden among

the leaves and branches of trees. When the Spring arrives, she makes

her voice echo through the woods, and laments her dear Itylus, whom

she killed by an unhappy mistake; varying, in her continued plaints,

the mournful melody of her notes.’ By this, Homer seems to have known

nothing of Tereus or of Progne, and to have followed a tradition,

which was to the following effect:--Pandarus had three daughters,

Ædon, Mecrope, and Cleothera. Ædon, the eldest, was married to Zethus,

the brother of Amphion, by whom she had one son, who was named Itylus.

Envying the more numerous family of Niobe, her sister-in-law, she

resolved to despatch the eldest of her nephews; and, as her son was

brought up with his cousin, and was his bedfellow, she bade him change

his place in the bed, on the night on which she intended to commit the

crime. Itylus forgot her commands, and consequently his mother killed

him by mistake for her nephew.

FABLE VII. [VI.677-721]

Boreas, not obtaining the consent of Erectheus, king of Athens, for

the marriage of his daughter, Orithyïa, takes that princess in his

arms, and carries her away into Thrace. By her he has two sons, Calaïs

and Zethes, who have wings, like their father, and afterwards embark

with Jason in search of the Golden Fleece.

Erectheus[72] received the sceptre of {that} country, and the government

of the state; it is a matter of doubt whether he was more powerful

through his justice, or by his mighty arms. He had, indeed, begotten

four sons, and as many of the female sex: but the beauty of two {of

them} was equal. Of these, Cephalus,[73] the son of Æolus, was blessed

with thee, Procris, for his wife; Tereus and the Thracians were an

obstacle to Boreas; and long was {that} God without his much-loved

Orithyïa, while he was entreating, and choosing rather to use prayers

than force. But when nothing was effected by blandishments, terrible

with that rage which is his wont, and but too natural with that wind, he

said, “And {this is} deservedly {done}; for why did I relinquish my own

weapons, my violence, my strength, my anger, and my threatening spirit,

and turn to prayers, the employment of which ill becomes me? Violence is

suitable for me; by violence do I dispel the lowering clouds, by

violence do I arouse the seas, and overthrow the knotted oaks, and

harden the snow, and beat the earth with hail. I too, when I have met

with my brothers in the open air (for that is {peculiarly} my field),

struggle with efforts so great, that the intermediate sky thunders again

with our onset, and fires flash, struck forth from the hollow clouds.

I too, when I have descended into the hollow recesses of the earth, and

in my rage have placed my back against its lowest depths, disturb the

shades below, and the whole globe with earthquakes. By these means

should I have sought this alliance; and Erectheus ought not to have been

entreated {to be} my father-in-law, but made so by force.”

Boreas, having said these words, or some not less high-sounding than

these, shakes his wings, by the motion of which all the earth is fanned,

and the wide sea becomes ruffled; and the lover, drawing his dusty

mantle over the high tops {of mountains}, sweeps the ground, and, wrapt

in darkness, embraces with his tawny wings Orithyïa, as she trembles

with fear. As she flies, his flame, being agitated, burns more fiercely.

Nor does the ravisher check the reins of his airy course, before he

reaches the people and the walls of the Ciconians.[74] There, too, is

the Actæan damsel made the wife of the cold sovereign, and {afterwards}

a mother, bringing forth twins at a birth, who have the wings of their

father, the rest {like} their mother. Yet they say that these {wings}

were not produced together with their bodies; and while their long

beard, with its yellow hair, was away, the boys Calaïs and Zethes were

without feathers. {But} soon after, at once wings began to enclose both

their sides, after the manner of birds, and at once their cheeks {began}

to grow yellow {with down}. When, therefore, the boyish season of youth

was passed, they sought,[75] with the Minyæ, along the sea {before}

unmoved,[76] in the first ship {that existed}, the fleece that glittered

with shining hair {of gold}.

[Footnote 72: _Erectheus._--Ver. 677. This personage really was

king of Athens before Pandion, the father of Progne and Philomela,

and not after him, as Ovid here states; at least, such is the

account given by Pausanias and Eusebius: the order of succession

being Actæus, Cecrops, Cranaüs, Amphictyon, Erecthonius, Pandion,

Erectheus, Cecrops II., Pandion II., Ægeus, Theseus.]

[Footnote 73: _Cephalus._--Ver. 681. He was the son of Deioneus,

and the grandson of Æolus. According to some writers, he was the

son of Mercury; in and the Art of Love (Book iii. l. 725) he is

called ‘Cyllenia proles.’ Strabo says that he was the son-in-law

of Deioneus. His story is related at length in the next Book.]

[Footnote 74: _The Ciconians._--Ver. 710. The Cicones were a

people of Thrace, living near Mount Ismarus, and the Bistonian

lake.]

[Footnote 75: _They sought._--Ver. 720. This was the fleece of the

ram that carried Phryxus along the Hellespont to Colchis, which is

mentioned again in the next Book.]

[Footnote 76: _Before unmoved._--Ver. 721. This passage may mean

that that part of the sea had not been navigated before; though

many of the poets assert that the Argo was the first ship that was

ever built. It is more probable that it was the first vessel that

was ever fitted out as a ship of war.]

EXPLANATION.

Plato tells us that the story of the rape of Orithyïa is but an

allegory, which signifies that, by accident, she was blown by the wind

into the sea, where she was drowned. Apollodorus and Pausanias,

however, assert that this story is based on historical facts, and that

Boreas, king of Thrace, seized Orithyïa, the daughter of Erectheus,

king of Athens, and sister of Procris, as she was passing the river

Ilissus, and carried her into his dominions, where she became the

mother of twins, Calaïs and Zethes. In the Argonautic expedition,

these chiefs delivered Phineus, the king of Bithynia, from the

persecution of the Harpies, which were in the habit of snatching away

the victuals served up at his table.

BOOK THE SEVENTH.

FABLE I. [VII.1-158]

Jason, after having met with various adventures, arrives with the

Argonauts in Colchis, and demands the Golden Fleece. Medea falls in

love with Jason, and by the power of her enchantments preserves him

from the dangers he has to encounter in obtaining it. He obtains the

prize, and carrying off Medea, returns in triumph to Thessaly.

And now the Minyæ[1] were ploughing the sea in the Pagasæan ship;[2] and

Phineus prolonging a needy old age under perpetual night, had been

visited, and the youthful sons of the North wind had driven the birds

with the faces of virgins from {before} the mouth of the distressed old

man;[3] and having suffered many things under the famous Jason, had

reached at length the rapid waters of the muddy Phasis.

And while they go to the king, and ask the fleece that once belonged to

Phryxus, and conditions are offered them, dreadful for the number of

mighty labors; in the meantime, the daughter of Æetes[4] conceives a

violent flame; and having long struggled {against it}, after she is

unable to conquer her frenzy by reason, she says: “In vain, Medea, dost

thou resist; some God, who, I know not, is opposing thee. It is a wonder

too, if it is not this, or at least something like this, which is called

‘love.’ For why do the commands of my father appear too rigid for me?

and yet too rigid they are. Why am I in dread, lest he whom I have seen

{but} so lately, should perish? What is the cause of alarm so great?

Banish the flames conceived in thy virgin breast, if thou canst, unhappy

{creature}. If I could, I would be more rational. But a new power draws

me on, against my will; and Cupid persuades one thing, reason another.

I see which is the more proper {course}, and I approve of it, {while} I

follow the wrong one. Why, royal maiden, art thou burning for a

stranger, and why coveting the nuptial ties of a strange country? This

land, too, may give thee something which thou mayst love. Whether he

shall live, or whether die, is in {the disposal of} the Gods. Yet he may

survive; and that I may pray for, even without love. For what {fault}

has Jason committed? Whom, but one of hard heart, would not the

{youthful} age of Jason affect? his descent too, and his valor? Whom,

though these other points were wanting, would not his beauty move? at

least, he has moved my breast. But unless I shall give him aid, he will

be breathed upon by the mouths of the bulls; and will engage with his

own {kindred} crops, an enemy sprung from the earth; or he will be given

as a cruel prey to the ravenous dragon. If I allow this, then I will

confess that I was born of a tigress; then, {too}, that I carry steel

and stone in my heart. Why do I not as well behold him perish? Why not,

too, profane my eyes by seeing it? Why do I not stimulate the bulls

against him, and the fierce sons of the earth, and the never-sleeping

dragon? May the Gods award better things. And yet these things are not

to be prayed for, but must be effected by myself. Shall I {then} betray

the kingdom of my father? and by my aid shall some stranger, I know not

who, be saved; that being delivered by my means, he may spread his sails

to the winds without me, and be the husband of another; and I, Medea, be

left for punishment? If he can do this, and if he is capable of

preferring another to me, let him perish in his ingratitude. But not

such is his countenance, not such that nobleness of soul, that

gracefulness of person, that I should fear treachery, and forgetfulness

of what I deserve. Besides, he shall first pledge his faith, and I will

oblige the Gods to be witnesses of our compact. What then dost thou

dread, {thus} secure? Haste {then},[5] and banish {all} delay. Jason

will ever be indebted to thee for his preservation; thee will he unite

to himself in the rites of marriage, and throughout the Pelasgian

cities[6] thou wilt be celebrated by crowds of matrons, as the preserver

{of their sons}. And shall I then, borne away by the winds, leave my

sister[7] and my brother,[8] and my father, and my Gods, and my native

soil? My father is cruel, forsooth; my country, too, is barbarous;[9] my

brother is still {but} an infant; the wishes of my sister are in my

favor. The greatest of the Gods is in possession of me. I shall not be

relinquishing anything great; I shall be pursuing what is great; the

credit of saving the youth of Greece,[10] acquaintance with a better

country, and cities, whose fame is flourishing even here, and the

politeness and the arts of their inhabitants; and the son of Æson, whom

I could be ready to take in exchange for {all} the things that the whole

world contains; with whom for my husband I shall both be deemed dear to

the Gods, and shall reach the stars with my head. Why say that I know

not what mountains[11] are reported to arise in the midst of the waves,

and that Charybdis, an enemy to ships, one while sucks in the sea, at

another discharges it; and how that Scylla, begirt with furious dogs, is

said to bark in the Sicilian deep? Yet holding him whom I love, and

clinging to the bosom of Jason, I shall be borne over the wide seas;

embracing him, naught will I dread; or if I fear anything, for my

husband alone will I fear. And dost thou, Medea, call this a marriage,

and dost thou give a plausible name to thy criminality? Do but consider

how great an offence thou art meditating, and, while {still} thou mayst,

fly from guilt.”

{Thus} she said, and before her eyes stood Virtue, Affection, and

Modesty; and now Cupid turned his vanquished back. She was going to the

ancient altars of Hecate,[12] the daughter of Perses, which a shady

grove and the recesses of a wood concealed. And now she was resolved,

and her passion being checked, had subsided; when she beheld the son of

Æson, and the extinguished flame revived. Her cheeks were covered with

blushes, and her whole face was suffused with a glow. As a spark is wont

to derive nourishment from the winds, which, but small when it lay

concealed beneath the ashes cast over it, {is wont} to increase, and

aroused, to rise again to its original strength, so her love, now

declining, which you would suppose was now growing languid, when she

beheld the youth, was rekindled with the appearance of him before her

eyes. And by chance, on that day, the son of Æson was more beauteous

than usual. You might forgive her loving him. She gazes; and keeps her

eyes fixed upon his countenance, as though but now seen for the first

time; and in her frenzy she thinks she does not behold the face of a

mortal; nor does she turn away from him. But when the stranger began to

speak, and seized her right hand, and begged her assistance with a

humble voice, and promised her marriage; she said, with tears running

down, “I see what I ought to do; and it will not be ignorance of the

truth, but love that beguiles me. By my agency thou shalt be saved; when

saved, grant what thou hast promised.”

He swears by the rites of the Goddess of the triple form, and the Deity

which is in that grove, and by the sire[13] of his future father-in-law,

who beholds all things, and by his own adventures, and by dangers so

great. Being believed {by her}, he immediately received some enchanted

herbs, and thoroughly learned the use of them, and went away rejoicing

to his abode. The next morning had {now} dispersed the twinkling stars,

{when} the people repaired to the sacred field of Mavors, and ranged

themselves on the hills. In the midst of the assembly sat the king

himself, arrayed in purple, and distinguished by a sceptre of ivory.

Behold! the brazen-footed bulls breathe forth flames[14] from their

adamantine nostrils; and the grass touched by the vapors is on fire. And

as the forges filled {with fire} are wont to roar, or when flints[15]

dissolved in an earthen furnace receive intense heat by the sprinkling

of flowing water; so do their breasts rolling forth the flames enclosed

within, and their scorched throats, resound. Yet the son of Æson goes

forth to meet them. The fierce {bulls} turn their terrible features, and

their horns pointed with iron, towards his face as he advances, and with

cloven hoofs they spurn the dusty ground, and fill the place with

lowings, that send forth clouds of smoke. The Minyæ are frozen with

horror. He comes up, and feels not the flames breathed forth by them, so

great is the power of the incantations. He even strokes their hanging

dewlaps with a bold right hand, and, subjected to the yoke, he obliges

them to draw the heavy weight of a plough, and to turn up with the share

the plain {till now} unused to it.[16]

The Colchians are astonished; the Minyæ fill {the air} with their

shouts, and give him {fresh} courage. Then in a brazen helmet he takes

the dragon’s teeth,[17] and strews them over the ploughed up fields. The

ground, impregnated beforehand with a potent drug, softens the seed; and

the teeth that were sown grow up, and become new bodies. And as the

infant receives the human form in the womb of the mother, and is there

formed in all its parts, and comes not forth into the common air until

at maturity, so when the figure of man is ripened in the bowels of the

pregnant earth, it arises in the fruitful plain; and, what is still more

surprising, it brandishes arms produced at the same time. When the

Pelasgians saw them preparing to hurl their spears with sharp points at

the head of the Hæmonian youth, they lowered their countenances and

their courage, {quailing} with fear. She, too, became alarmed, who had

rendered him secure; and when she saw the youth, being but one, attacked

by so many enemies, she turned pale, and suddenly chilled {with fear},

sat down without blood {in her cheeks}. And, lest the herbs that had

been given by her, should avail him but little, she repeats an auxiliary

charm, and summons {to her aid} her secret arts. He, hurling a heavy

stone into the midst of his enemies, turns the warfare, now averted from

himself, upon themselves. The Earth-born brothers perish by mutual

wounds, and fall in civil fight. The Greeks congratulate him, and caress

the conqueror, and cling to him in hearty embraces. And thou too,

barbarian maiden, wouldst fain have embraced him; ’twas modesty that

opposed the design; otherwise thou wouldst have embraced him; but regard

for thy reputation restrained thee from doing so. What thou mayst do,

{thou dost do}; thou rejoicest with a silent affection, and thou givest

thanks to thy charms, and to the Gods, the authors of them.

It {still} remains to lay asleep with herbs the watchful dragon, who,

distinguished by his crest and his three tongues, and terrible with his

hooked teeth, is the keeper of the Golden Fleece. After he has sprinkled

him with herbs of Lethæan juice,[18] and has thrice repeated words that

cause placid slumbers, which {would even calm} the boisterous ocean,

{and} which would stop the rapid rivers, sleep creeps upon the eyes that

were strangers to it, and the hero, the son of Æson, gains the gold; and

proud of the spoil and bearing with him the giver of the prize as a

second spoil, he arrives victorious, with his wife, at the port of

Iolcos.[19]

[Footnote 1: _The Minyæ._--Ver. 1. The Argonauts. The Minyæ were a

people of Thessaly, so called from Minyas, the son of Orchomenus.]

[Footnote 2: _Pagasæan ship._--Ver. 1. Pagasæ was a seaport of

Thessaly, at the foot of Mount Pelion, where the ship Argo was

built.]

[Footnote 3: _Distressed old man._--Ver. 4. Clarke translates

‘miseri senis ore,’ ‘from the mouth of the miserable old fellow.’]

[Footnote 4: _Daughter of Æetes._--Ver. 9. Medea was the daughter

of Æetes, the king of Colchis. Juno, favoring Jason, had persuaded

Venus to inspire Medea with love for him.]

[Footnote 5: _Haste then._--Ver. 47. Clarke translates

‘accingere,’ more literally than elegantly, ‘buckle to.’]

[Footnote 6: _Pelasgian cities._--Ver. 49. Pelasgia was properly

that part of Greece which was afterwards called Thessaly. The

province of Pelasgiotis, in Thessaly, afterwards retained its

name, which was derived from the Pelasgi, an early people of

Greece. Pliny informs us that Peloponnesus at first had the names

of ‘Apia’ and ‘Pelasgia.’ Some suppose that the Pelasgi derived

their name from Pelasgus, the son of Jupiter; while other writers

assert that they were so called from πελαργοὶ, ‘storks,’ from

their wandering habits. The name is frequently used, as in the

present instance, to signify the whole of the Greeks.]

[Footnote 7: _My sister._--Ver. 51. Her sister was Chalciope, who

had married Phryxus, after his arrival in Colchis. Her children

being found by Jason, in the isle of Dia, they came with him to

Colchis, and presented him to their mother, who afterwards

commended him to the care of Medea.]

[Footnote 8: _And my brother._--Ver. 51. Her brother was Absyrtus,

whose tragical death is afterwards mentioned.]

[Footnote 9: _Is barbarous._--Ver. 53. It was certainly ‘barbara’

in the eyes of a Greek; but the argument sounds rather oddly in

the mouth of Medea, herself a native of the country.]

[Footnote 10: _The youth of Greece._--Ver. 56. These were the

Argonauts, who were selected from the most noble youths of

Greece.]

[Footnote 11: _What mountains._--Ver. 63. These were the Cyanean

rocks, or Symplegades, at the mouth of the Euxine sea.]

[Footnote 12: _Hecate._--Ver. 74. Ancient writers seem to have

been much divided in opinion who Hecate was. Ovid here follows the

account which made her to be the daughter of Perses, who,

according to Diodorus Siculus, was the son of Phœbus, and the

brother of Æetes. Marrying her uncle Æetes, she is said to have

been the mother of Circe, Medea, and Absyrtus. By some writers she

is confounded with the Moon and with Proserpine; as identical with

the Moon, she has the epithets ‘Triceps’ and ‘Triformis,’ often

given to her by the poets, because the Moon sometimes is full,

sometimes disappears, and often shows but part of her disk.]

[Footnote 13: _And by the sire._--Ver. 96. Allusion is made to the

Sun, who was said to be the father of Æetes, the destined

father-in-law of Jason.]

[Footnote 14: _Breathe forth flames._--Ver. 104. The name of the

God of fire is here used to signify that element. Apollodorus

says, that Medea gave Jason a drug (φάρμακον) to rub over himself

and his armor.]

[Footnote 15: _Or when flints._--Ver. 107. It is difficult to

determine whether ‘silices’ here means ‘flint-stones,’ or

‘lime-stone;’ probably the latter, from the mention of water

sprinkled over them. If the meaning is ‘flint-stones,’ the passage

may refer to the manufacture of glass, with the art of making

which the ancients were perfectly acquainted.]

[Footnote 16: _Unused to it._--Ver. 119. Because, being sacred to

Mars, it was not permitted to be ploughed.]

[Footnote 17: _Dragon’s teeth._--Ver. 122. These were a portion of

the teeth of the dragon slain by Cadmus, which Mars and Minerva

had sent to Æetes.]

[Footnote 18: _Lethæan juice._--Ver. 152. Lethe was a river of the

infernal regions, whose waters were said to produce sleep and

forgetfulness.]

[Footnote 19: _Port of Iolcos._--Ver. 158. Iolcos was a city of

Thessaly, of which country Jason was a native.]

EXPLANATION.

To understand this story, one of the most famous in the early history

of Greece, we must go back to the origin of it, and examine the

fictions which the poets have mingled with the history of the

expedition of the Argonauts, one of the most remarkable events of the

fabulous ages.