For his next piece of translation Sabidius turns to Ovid, after Virgil and Horace the third great poet of Golden or Augustan Age Latin (i.e. 40 B.C.-14 A.D.). In his 'Metamorphoses', written in fifteen books of hexameter verse, he describes the miraculous 'Transformations' of classical mythology, in which humans or demi-gods are changed into other forms, such as stars, trees and birds. Ovid's verse is polished and smooth, and he is a gifted story teller. This work, which is a true treasure chest of classical mythology, has had a huge influence on subsequent European literature.
Book VIII, perhaps the most widely read of the work's fifteen books, includes eight 'Metamorphosis' myths, and includes, in particular, the haunting tale of Daedalus and Icarus, and the delightful account of how Philemon and Baucis, despite their poverty, seek to show hospitality to two travellers who turn out to be Jupiter and Mercury in disguise. Much of Book VIII also focusses on the Calydonian Boar-hunt, and its follow-up. The eight myths are: 1) Scylla and Minos (ll. 1-151); 2) the Minotaur, Theseus and Ariadne (ll. 152-182); 3) Daedalus and Icarus (ll. 183-235); 4) Daedalus and Perdix (ll. 236-259); 5) Meleager and the Calydonian Boar, and Althaea and Meleager (ll. 260-546); 6) Acheloüs and the Nymphs (ll. 547-611); 7) Baucis and Philemon (ll. 612-727); and 8) Erysichthon and his daughter Mestra (ll. 728-887). In this translation, Sabidius seeks to keep as closely as possible to the structure of Ovid's sentences. The text is that of Hugo Magnus, Gotha (Germany), 1892 (available on the Perseus website). This translation breaks up the text using the divisions and subtitles employed in the edition of 'Metamorphoses', Book VIII, first published by Macmillan, 1940, and edited by H.E. Gould and J.L. Whiteley.
Book VIII, perhaps the most widely read of the work's fifteen books, includes eight 'Metamorphosis' myths, and includes, in particular, the haunting tale of Daedalus and Icarus, and the delightful account of how Philemon and Baucis, despite their poverty, seek to show hospitality to two travellers who turn out to be Jupiter and Mercury in disguise. Much of Book VIII also focusses on the Calydonian Boar-hunt, and its follow-up. The eight myths are: 1) Scylla and Minos (ll. 1-151); 2) the Minotaur, Theseus and Ariadne (ll. 152-182); 3) Daedalus and Icarus (ll. 183-235); 4) Daedalus and Perdix (ll. 236-259); 5) Meleager and the Calydonian Boar, and Althaea and Meleager (ll. 260-546); 6) Acheloüs and the Nymphs (ll. 547-611); 7) Baucis and Philemon (ll. 612-727); and 8) Erysichthon and his daughter Mestra (ll. 728-887). In this translation, Sabidius seeks to keep as closely as possible to the structure of Ovid's sentences. The text is that of Hugo Magnus, Gotha (Germany), 1892 (available on the Perseus website). This translation breaks up the text using the divisions and subtitles employed in the edition of 'Metamorphoses', Book VIII, first published by Macmillan, 1940, and edited by H.E. Gould and J.L. Whiteley.
A. SCYLLA AND MINOS
Ll. 1-24. How Megara was besieged by King Minos of Crete.
Now, as Lucifer (i.e. the Morning Star) reveals the shining day, and puts to flight the hours of night, the East Wind falls, and the moist clouds lift: the gentle South Winds give passage to the returning sons of Aeacus (i.e. Peleus and Telamon) and Cephalus, and, favourably propelled by these, they reached the harbour which they were seeking before (they were) expected. Meanwhile, Minos ravages the Lelegaïan (i.e. Megarian) coast, and tries out the strength of his army on the city of Alcathoüs (i.e. Megara), which Nisus rules, amongst whose distinguished white tresses and on the crown of (whose) head there grows a lock bright with purple, the pledge of his great kingdom. The horns of the rising moon were rising again for the sixth time, and the fortunes of war were still hanging in the balance, and for a long time victory flies between both (kings) on uncertain wings. There was a royal tower built upon tuneful walls, on which the child of Leto (i.e. Apollo) is said to have put down his golden lyre. Its sound is absorbed in the stone. Thither, in the days when there was peace, the daughter of Nisus (i.e. Scylla) often used to climb, and aim a small pebble at the sounding stone; in wartime too, she often used to watch from that place the stern contest of war. And now, owing to the length of the war, she had even come to know the names of their (i.e. those of the hostile Cretans) chiefs, and their armour, and their horses, and their dress and Cydonian (i.e. Cretan) quivers. Above (all) else, she came to know the face of their leader, the son of Europa (i.e. Minos), more indeed than it was fitting (for her) to have known.
Ll. 24-66. How Scylla, daughter of Nisus, the Megarian King, fell in love with Minos.
In her judgment, if Minos had hidden his head in a helmet crested with plumes, he was handsome in his helmet; if he had taken up his shield gleaming with gold, it became (him) to have taken up his shield. If he had bent his arm and hurled a flexible spear, the maiden praised his skill combined with his strength. If he had placed an arrow on (the bow-string) and bent his broad bow, she swore that Phoebus (i.e. Apollo) had taken up his arrows in such a manner and was standing (there). But, whenever he took off his bronze (helmet) and exposed his face, and, (when) clothed in purple, he sat on the back of his white charger, caparisoned with embroidered saddle-cloth, and curbed its foaming mouth, the maiden daughter of Nisus was scarcely (mistress of) herself (and) scarcely in control of her wits : she called the javelin which he touched happy, and the reins which he grasped in his hands blessed. She has a compulsion - if only she could! - to carry her maiden steps through the enemy ranks; she has a compulsion to cast her body from the top of the tower into the Cnossian (i.e. Cretan) camp, or to open the bronze(-plated) gates to the enemy, or (to do) whatever else Minos might wish. And as she sat gazing at the white tents of the king of (Mount) Dicte (i.e. Crete), she cries: "I am not sure whether I should rejoice or grieve that this mournful war is being waged: I grieve because Minos is an enemy to (one) who loves (him), but unless there had been a war he would never have been known to me. But, if he received me (as) a hostage, he could set aside the war: he could have me (as) his companion, and (as) a pledge of peace. If she who bore you (i.e. Europa), most beautiful of creatures, was just like you yourself are, no wonder the god (i.e. Jupiter) was smitten with love for her. Oh, (I should be) thrice fortunate, if I could glide through the air on wings and alight within the camp of the Cnossian (i.e. Cretan) king, and, after I had confessed myself and my passion, (I could) inquire for what dowry he was willing to be bought: (and beg him) only not to demand my father's citadel. For may the bed of my dreams be lost rather than I should be mistress of my desires through treachery. Yet the mercy of an appeased conqueror has often made defeat profitable to many. He is certainly waging a just war on behalf of his murdered son (i.e. Androgeos), and he is strong both in his cause and in the arms which defend that cause. As I believe, we shall be conquered. If this (is) the end (which) awaits our city, why should his army and not my love unbar these my walls to him? (It is) better for him that he should be able to conquer without slaughter and delay, and the expense of his own blood. Certainly, I shall not have to fear lest anyone should pierce your breast inadvertently, Minos, for (is there) anyone so unfeeling that he would venture to aim his cruel spear at you consciously?"
Ll. 67-94. How Scylla, for love of Minos, betrayed her father to him.
Her plans are pleasing (to her) and her resolve is fixed to surrender her country together with herself as dowry and to bring an end to the war. But to wish is not enough. "A guard protects the entrances, and my father keeps the keys to the gates. In my misfortune, I fear him, alone; only he hinders my desires. Oh that the gods acted (so that) I were without a father! Surely each man is a god to himself: fortune resists idle prayers. Another (woman), if she had been fired by such strong desire, would long since have delighted to destroy whatever were standing in the way of her love. And why should another be braver than I? I should venture to go through fire and sword. But in this case there is no need of any fire or sword: I need the paternal lock. That (lock) is more precious to me than gold, that purple (lock) shall make me blessed and mistress of my heart's desire."
As she was uttering these (things), night, chief nourisher of cares, came upon (her), and her boldness grew in the darkness. The first (hour) of rest was come, in which slumber takes possession of the breast, wearied (as it is) by the cares of the day. Silently, she enters her father's bed-chamber, and - alas, the evil deed! - she, his daughter, robs her father of his fateful lock, and, now that she has obtained her impious spoil, she carries her prize with her, and, having gone out swiftly through a gate into the midst of the enemy - so great is her confidence in her deserts - , she reaches the king. Thus she addressed him, horrified (as he was): "Love has prompted this crime. I, the princess Scylla, daughter of Nisus, surrender to you both my country's guardian spirit and my own. I seek no reward, except you. Take the purple lock as a pledge of my love, and believe not that I am now handing over to you a lock of hair, but my father's life". And in her right hand she holds out the impious gift.
As she was uttering these (things), night, chief nourisher of cares, came upon (her), and her boldness grew in the darkness. The first (hour) of rest was come, in which slumber takes possession of the breast, wearied (as it is) by the cares of the day. Silently, she enters her father's bed-chamber, and - alas, the evil deed! - she, his daughter, robs her father of his fateful lock, and, now that she has obtained her impious spoil, she carries her prize with her, and, having gone out swiftly through a gate into the midst of the enemy - so great is her confidence in her deserts - , she reaches the king. Thus she addressed him, horrified (as he was): "Love has prompted this crime. I, the princess Scylla, daughter of Nisus, surrender to you both my country's guardian spirit and my own. I seek no reward, except you. Take the purple lock as a pledge of my love, and believe not that I am now handing over to you a lock of hair, but my father's life". And in her right hand she holds out the impious gift.
Ll. 95-151. How Scylla, scorned by Minos for her treachery, plunged into the sea to follow his departing fleet and was changed into the sea-bird Ciris.
Minos shunned the proffered (gift); and, deeply troubled by the sight of the strange exploit, he replied: "May the gods banish you from their own world, O disgrace of our age, and may earth and ocean be denied to you. Certainly, I shall not allow Crete, the cradle of Jupiter, which is my own sphere, to suffer contact with so great a monster". He spoke: and when the most just law-giver had imposed terms on his captured enemies, he ordered the hawsers of his fleet to be loosened and the brazen sterns to be filled up with rowers. When Scylla saw that the keels (which had been) launched were afloat on the sea, and that their leader had not bestowed a reward on her for her crime, and that her prayers had been exhausted, she turns into a violent rage and stretching out her hands, (and) with her hair streaming, she shouts in fury, "Where are you running to, after you have abandoned the author of your success, O (you) whom I have put before my native country, (you) whom I have put before my father? Where are you running to, (you) pitiless one, whose victory is both my crime and (the reward for) my service? Did neither the gift (I) gave you nor my love move you, nor (the fact) that all my hope was centred on you alone? For, (now) that I have been abandoned, where shall I turn? To my country? It lies defeated. But imagine that it (still) existed: it is barred to me by my betrayal. To the face of my father, whom I have presented to you? My fellow-citizens detest (me) deservedly: (and) our neighbours fear the example (I have set). I am so exposed to the world that Crete alone might lie open to me. If you forbid it also, and, in your ingratitude, you abandon me, your mother is not Europa, but cruel Syrtis, or an Armenian tigress, or Charybdis tossed by a south wind. Nor (are) you a son of Jupiter, nor was your mother beguiled by the likeness of a bull: that story of your birth is false: the bull who sired you, was real and feral and (was) captured by the love of no heifer. Take your revenge, (O) Nisus, my father! Rejoice at my miseries, my city, lately betrayed (by me)! For I confess that I have deserved, and am worthy, to die. But yet may someone destroy me from among those whom I have impiously injured. Why should (you,) who have conquered through my sin, prosecute my crime? Let this be, in the eyes of both my country and my father, a crime: in yours a service. That adulterous woman (i.e. Pasiphaë), who deceived the savage bull with wood and bore a hybrid fetus in her womb, is indeed worthy of you (as) a mate. Do any of my words penetrate your ears? Or do the winds, and the same (winds which drive) your ships, ungrateful man, bear away my words (as) empty? Now indeed it is not surprising that Pasiphaë preferred a bull to you: you had more beastliness. Woe (is) me! It pleases (him) to hasten, and the torn water ripples with oars. And my country recedes together with me. You gain nothing, O (you) who forgets my services in vain: I shall follow (you) against your will, and, having embraced your curving stern, I shall be dragged across the wide seas." She had scarcely finished speaking, (when) she leapt into the waves, and she reached a ship, her passion lending (her) strength, and she clings, an unwelcome companion, to a Cnossian (i.e. Cretan) hull. When her father (i.e. Nisus) saw her - for he had just been made an osprey with tawny wings and was now hovering in the air - , he began to swoop in order to tear at (her) with his crooked beak, as she clung (there). In fear, she let go of the stern, and a light breeze seemed to sustain (her) as she fell, lest she should touch the sea. It was her plumage; changed into a bird with feathers, she is called Ciris (i.e. the Shearer), and this name comes from the shorn lock.
B. THE MINOTAUR AND ARIADNE
Ll. 152-168. How Daedalus, the great craftsman, built for Minos the Labyrinth, to house the half-beast Minotaur.
When, having set forth in his ships, he reached the land of Crete, Minos paid his offerings to Jupiter, the bodies of a hundred bulls, and his palace was adorned with the trophies (which he had) hung up. The scandal concerning his family (i.e. the birth of the Minotaur) had grown and the loathsome adultery of the mother stood revealed in the strangeness of the two-shaped monster. Minos resolved to remove this shameful (creature) from his bed-chamber and to shut (it) up in a house of manifold (passages) and secret enclosures. Daedalus, renowned for his skill in the art of carpentry, constructs the building; and he confuses the signs, and leads the eyes into wandering this way and that down the windings of various passage-ways. Just as the clear Maeander sports in the fields of Phrygia and ebbs and flows in his changeable course and, meeting himself, he looks on the waters (yet) to come, and, turning now to his source, now to the open sea, he drives the wavering waters; so Daedalus fills the endless passages with wrong-turns, and he himself could scarcely retrace (his footsteps) to the entrance: (for) so great is the deceptiveness of the building.
Ll. 169-182. How Ariadne, daughter of Minos, fleeing from Crete after aiding Theseus to slay the Minotaur, had her diadem changed into a constellation by Bacchus.
When he had imprisoned within it the two-fold form of a bull and of a young man, and the third lot, renewed every nine years, had laid low that monster, (which had) twice (been) fed on Actaean (i.e. Athenian) blood, and, when, with the help of a maiden (i.e. Ariadne), the elusive entrance, attained again by none of his predecessors, had been found by means of the thread (which he had) rewound, the son of Aegeus (i.e. Theseus), carrying off the daughter of Minos (i.e. Ariadne), set sail for Dia (i.e. Naxos), but he (then) cruelly abandoned his companion on the shore (of) that (island). To the forsaken (girl), bitterly complaining (as she was), Liber (i.e. Bacchus) brought embraces and help, and, so that she might be renowned as an eternal star, he took the crown from her forehead and cast (it) into the sky. It flies through the slender breezes, and, as it flies, its jewels are turned into brilliant fires, and, retaining the shape of a crown (i.e. the Corona Borealis), they come to rest in a place which lies mid-way between the Kneeler (i.e. Hercules) and the Serpent Holder (i.e. Ophiucus).
C. DAEDALUS AND ICARUS
Ll. 183-220. How Daedalus, wearying of his long exile in Crete, sought to escape to Athens, with his son Icarus, by flying through the air on man-made wings.
Meanwhile, Daedalus, loathing Crete and his long exile and stirred by love for his native land, had been shut in by the sea. "Although he (i.e. Minos) bars land and sea," he said, "yet surely the sky lies open. We shall go that way. Let Minos possesses everything (for all I care), he is (still) not master of the air." He spoke and he applies his mind towards unknown skills and seeks to change his nature. For he places feathers in order, beginning with the smallest, a shorter (one) coming after a long (one), so that you would think they had grown upon a hill-side: thus a rustic pipe sometimes rises gradually with reeds of unequal length. Then he binds the middle part (of the feathers) with thread and the lower parts with wax, and, when he has arranged (them) thus, he bends (them) in a gentle curve, in order to imitate real birds. The boy Icarus stood nearby, unaware that he was handling his own dangers, now with a smiling mouth he would try to catch at the feathers which the fluttering wind had ruffled, now he would soften the yellow wax with his thumb, and through play he hindered his father's wonderful work. When the final touch to the undertakings was made, the craftsman himself balanced his body upon his two wings and hovered, beating the air. He prepares his son too, and says (to him), "I warn you to fly a middle course, Icarus, lest the sea may make your wings heavy (with spray), if you go too low, (and) the fire (of the sun) may burn (you), if (you go) too high: fly between each of these (courses). And I bid you not to watch Boötes (i.e. the Lesser Bear or the Waggoner) or Helice (i.e. the Great Bear) or the drawn sword of Orion (i.e. the Hunter); traverse the route with me (as) your guide, ". At the same time, he delivers his instructions for flying, and fits the strange wings on his shoulders. Between the work and the warnings the old man's cheeks were wet, and his paternal hands trembled. He gave kisses, not destined to be repeated again, to his son, and, raised upon his wings, he flies in front, and fears for his companion like a mother bird who has brought forth a tender fledgling from her high nest into the air; and he encourages (him) to follow, and teaches (him) the baneful art, and he himself moves his own wings and looks back at (those) of his son. Someone, while he captured a fish with his trembling rod, or a shepherd leaning on his staff, or a ploughman (leaning on) his ploughshare, saw them and was amazed, and believed that they were gods since they could traverse the sky.
Ll. 220-235. How Icarus, flying too near the sun, lost his wings and fell to his death in the sea.
And now Samos, sacred to Juno, was on his left side - both Paros and Delos had been left behind - , Lebinthus and Calymne, fruitful in honey, (were) on the right, when the boy began to rejoice in audacious flight, and he forsook his guide and, carried away with a desire for the heavens, he pursued too high a course. The nearness of the fiery sun softens the fragrant wax, the fastenings of his wings. The wax melted; he shakes his naked arms and, lacking the oarage (of his feathers), he no longer grips any breezes, and his blue lips, crying out the name of his father, are caught by the sea: it took its name (i.e. the Icarian Sea) from him. But his unfortunate father, no longer a father, said "Icarus"; "Icarus," he said, " where are you? In what area am I to look for you? "Icarus," he continued to say: (then) he saw his wings in the waves, and cursed his skills, and he buried the body in a tomb, and the land (was) called by the name of the buried (boy) (i.e. Icaria).
D. DAEDALUS AND PERDIX
Ll. 236-259. How the nephew of Daedalus, Perdix, who, having been flung by him from the Acropolis, was changed by Minerva into a partridge, rejoiced in the sorrow of Daedalus.
A chattering partridge observed him from a muddy ditch placing the body of his son in an earth-mound, and clapped its wings and showed its joy by a song: (it was) then a single bird, and had not been seen in earlier years, and had recently been made a bird, (as) an everlasting reproach to you, Daedalus. For his sister (i.e. Polycaste), unaware of destiny, had entrusted her son (to him) to be taught, a boy, twelve years old, with a mind ready for learning. He even took as a model the backbone which he had observed in the middle of a fish, and he cut a row of teeth with sharp iron, and invented the power of the saw. He was also the first to join two arms of iron from one hinge, so that with these standing apart at an equal distance, one arm could stand fast (while) the other arm could draw a circle (i.e. the compass). Daedalus was envious, and hurled (him) headlong from the sacred citadel of Minerva (i.e. the Acropolis at Athens), having pretended that he had slipped. But Pallas (i.e. Minerva) who favours (men of) genius, caught him, and made (him) a bird, and clothed (him) with (feathered) wings in mid-air. But the strength of his once quick intelligence was absorbed into his wings and into his feet; (and) even his name remained what (it was) before (i.e. Perdix, a partridge). This bird, however, does not lift its body up (off the ground), nor makes its nests in trees or on high points: (but) it flies near the ground, and places its eggs in hedgerows, and, mindful of its former fall, it fears the heights.
(N.B. In Ovid's account, as indicated above, Perdix is the name of Daedalus' nephew. In another version, however, the nephew's name is Talus, and Perdix is an alternative name for his mother, Polycaste. In Ovid's tale the boy Perdix gives his name to the partridge; in the alternative version the partridge is named after his mother, the sister of Daedalus.)
E. MELEAGER AND THE CALYDONIAN BOAR
Ll. 260-300. How Theseus, returning home from Crete, was begged by the townsfolk of Calydon to aid them in destroying a monstrous boar, sent by Diana to ravage their land.
And now the land of Sicily supported the weary Daedalus, and Cocalus (i.e. King of Camicus in Sicily) was deemed merciful, because he had taken up arms on behalf of the suppliant (i.e. Daedalus); already Athens had ceased to pay its mournful tribute through the glorious action of Theseus. The temples are wreathed (with flowers), and they (i.e. the Athenians) call upon warlike Minerva, together with Jupiter and the other gods, whom they honour with the blood (that had been) vowed, with the offerings (that had been) given, and with caskets of incense. Wandering rumour had spread abroad the name of Theseus through (all) the cities of the Argolis (i.e. Greece), and the peoples, whom rich Achaea (i.e. Greece) contained, entreated his help in their great peril. Although it (already) had Meleager, Calydon (i.e. a town in Aetolia, Central Greece) humbly sought his help with anxious prayer. The cause of their asking was a boar, the servant and champion of an enraged Diana. For they say that Oeneus (i.e. the King of Calydon) had made as offerings for a year full of successful (harvests) the first fruits of corn to Ceres, his wine to Lyaeus (i.e. Bacchus), (and) olive-oil to golden-haired Minerva. Beginning with the gods of agriculture (i.e. the three just mentioned), the much sought after honour was extended to all the gods: they say that the altars of the forsaken daughter of Latona (i.e. Diana), having alone been left without incense, stood idle. "But I shall not bear (this) with impunity, and (I) who (am called) unhonoured, shall not also be called unavenged," she cried, and, having been (thus) slighted, she sent, (as) an avenger through the fields of Oeneus, a boar so big that grassy Epirus does not have any bulls that are bigger, while the Sicilian fields have (bulls that are actually) smaller. Its eyes flash with blood and fire, its steep neck stiffens, and its bristles stand on end like hard spear-shafts: and they stand just like a rampart, as though its bristles (were) tall spears: hot foam runs down across its broad flanks with a hoarse hissing, its tusks are as big as the teeth of Indian (elephants), lightning comes from its mouth, (and) the leaves are ablaze from its breath. Now he tramples under foot the crops growing on the stalk, now he mows down the full-grown hopes (i.e. the crops) of the farmer, fated to weep (though he is), and he has destroyed the corn in the ear; in vain the threshing-floors, in vain the barns await the promised harvests. The bulging fruits (of the vine) with their long shoots are laid low, as also the berry of the ever leafy olive with its branches. He rages too among the flocks: neither the shepherd nor the dogs can guard them, nor (can) the fierce bulls (guard) the cattle. The people scatter in flight, and they do not think that they are safe except within the walls of the city: (that is) until Meleager and his chosen band of young men met together in their desire for glory.
Ll. 301-328. How many great hunters - and one huntress - joined Prince Meleager to hunt the Calydonian boar.
(They included) the twin sons of Tyndareus (i.e. Castor and Pollux), one renowned for his boxing, the other for his horsemanship, and Jason, the builder of the first ship (i.e. the Argo), and Theseus with Pirithoüs, a happy partnership, and the two sons of Thestius (i.e. Plexippus and Toxeus) and Lynceus and swift Idas, (both) offspring of Aphareus, and Caeneus, no longer a woman, and fierce Leucippus and Acastus, famed for his javelin, and Hippothoüs and Dryas and Phoenix, the son of Amyntor, and the twin (sons) of Actor (i.e. Eurytus and Cleatus), and Phyleus, sent from Elis. And Telamon (too) was there, and the begetter of the mighty Achilles (i.e. Peleus), and together with the son of Pheres (i.e. Admetus) and the Hyantean (i.e. Boeotian) Iolaüs (were) the tireless Eurytion and Echion, unbeaten at running; and Lelex from Naryx, and Panopeus, and Hyleus, and the fierce Hippasus, and Nestor, still in his early years, and (those) whom Hippocoön sent from ancient Amyclae, and the father-in-law of Penelope (i.e. Laërtes) with Arcadian Ancaeus, and the wise son of Ampyx (i.e. Mopsus) and the son of Oecleus (i.e. Amphiaraüs), still safe from his wife (i.e. Eriphyle), and the (girl) from Tegea, the pride of the Lycaean forest (i.e. Atalanta). A polished buckle fastened her robe at the top, her hair was simply (arranged), (and) gathered in a single knot: hanging from her left shoulder, the ebony custodian of her arrows rattled, (and) her left (hand) was also holding a bow. Such she was in dress: her face (was) such as one could truthfully call maidenly in a boy, (and) boyish in a maiden. As soon as he saw her, the Calydonian hero (i.e. Meleager) desired her, although it was against the will of heaven, and he conceived hidden fires (of love), and said, "O happy (the man), if she shall deem anyone worthy (as) a husband!" But neither time nor modesty allowed (him) to say more: the work of the great contest is more pressing.
Ll. 329-364. How the hunt began, and how Enaesimus was slain by the boar's tusk.
A wood thick with trees, which had never been cut at any time, begins from the flat and overlooks the sloping fields. After the men had come to this, some stretch their nets, others release the hounds from their leashes, (and) others again follow the deeply marked foot-prints, and are keen to find their dangerous (quarry). There was a deep gorge, into which rivulets of rain water had been used to discharge themselves: pliant willows, and light sedge, and marsh rushes, and osiers, and small reeds overshadowed by tall bulrushes occupy the bottom of the hollow. Roused from this (covert), the boar rushes violently into the middle of his foes, like lightning struck from clashing clouds. The forest is laid low by his onslaught, and the felled wood gives out a crash. The young men shout out, and bravely hold the quivering broad-bladed spears stretched out in their right (hands). It rushes forward and scatters the hounds, as each one stands in the way of its furious (path), and it disperses the barking (pack) by sidelong blows (of its tusks). The spear, first hurled by the arm of Echion, was ineffectual, and dealt (but) a slight wound to the trunk of a maple-tree. The next (spear), if it had not received the excessive strength of its sender, seemed likely to stick in the back at which it was aimed: (but) it goes too far. The thrower of the spear (was) Jason of Pagasae (i.e. Thessaly). "Phoebus", said the son of Ampyx (i.e. Mopsus), "grant me to hit with a sure spear (the thing) that it is aimed at!" As far as he could, the god assented to the prayer: the boar was struck by it, but (was) without a wound: (for) Diana had taken away the iron tip from the flying spear; (so) the wooden (shaft) arrived without its point. The anger of the wild beast was stirred, and it was blazing as fiercely as a thunderbolt: flame shoots forth from its eyes (and) also breathes from its breast. And as a mass of rock, sped by the tautened strings, flies when it is aimed at walls or towers full of soldiers, so the wound-dealing hog rushes upon the young men with a determined attack, and throws down Eupalamon and Pelagon, (who are) guarding the right wing: as they lay (there), their comrades carried (them) off. But Enaesimus, the son of Hippocoön, did not escape the fatal blows: trembling and preparing to turn his back, his sinews failed (him), when his hamstrings were torn.
Ll. 365-402. How the boar was first wounded by Atalanta, and how Ancaeus was slain.
And the Pylian (i.e. Nestor) might perhaps have perished before his time at Troy: but, having obtained leverage from his spear (which he had) placed (in the ground), he leapt into the branches of a tree, which was standing nearby, and safe in this place he looked down upon the adversary from which he had fled. Having whetted its teeth upon the bark of an oak-tree, that ferocious (creature) is bent upon destruction and, trusting in its freshly sharpened tusks, it gored with its turned up snout the thigh of the great son of Eurytus (i.e. Hippasus). But the twin brothers (i.e. Castor and Pollux), not yet heavenly stars, both conspicuous, were both riding on horses whiter than snow, (and) both brandished their pointed lances with a quivering motion and hurled (them) through the air. They would have inflicted wounds, if the bristle-bearer (i.e. the boar) had not gone into dark woods, places penetrable neither to spears nor to a horse. Telamon went in pursuit, and, unwary due to his eagerness to advance, he was caught by the root of a tree and fell headlong. While Peleus lifted him up, the (girl) from Tegea placed a swift arrow on her bow-string and fired (it) from her bent bow. The shaft, grazes the skin of the beast's body and sticks fast beneath its ear, and reddens its bristles with a trickle of blood. But she was no more joyful at the success of her blow than Meleager. He is thought to have been the first to have seen the blood, and, having seen (it), and to have been the first to point (it) out to his comrades, and to have said, "You will receive the honour earned by your courage." The men blushed, and they exhort themselves and inspire (fresh) courage by shouting, and hurl weapons in a disorderly manner. Their number hampers the (weapons) which they throw, and hinders the blows which (each man) seeks (to inflict). Behold the axe-bearing Arcadian (i.e. Ancaeus), burning to meet his doom: "See how far the weapons of a man surpass (those) of a woman, and give way to my work, O young men!" he said. "Although the daughter of Latona herself may protect him with her weapons, yet my right hand will destroy him against Diana's will." Such things he had proudly said from his boastful lips and, raising his two-headed axe with both his hands, he stood on his toes, poised for a downward stroke: (but) the beast forestalls his reckless (foe), (and) aimed his twin tusks at the upper groin, and (the spot) where the way to death is nearest. Ancaeus falls, and his heaped up entrails come tumbling out with much blood: (and) the earth was moistened with his gore.
Ll. 403-424. How the boar was slain at last by Meleager.
Pirithoüs, offspring of Ixion, went against the contending foe, brandishing his hunting spear in his strong right (hand). To him the son of Aegeus (i.e. Theseus) said, "Stand still from afar, O (you who are) dearer to me than myself, (O you who are) half of my soul. We can be brave from a distance: reckless courage was the undoing of Ancaeus". He spoke and hurled his heavy cornel-wood (shaft) with its bronze spear-point. Though this had been well aimed and though it seemed about to be successful, an evergreen branch from an oak-tree blocked (it). The son of Aeson (i.e. Jason) threw his spear, which chance turned away from it (i.e. the boar) to the destruction of an innocent barker, and (this), having been hurled into the midst of its flanks, pinned it to the earth through its flanks. But the aim of the son of Oeneus (i.e. Meleager) varies, and, two having been thrown, the first spear was fixed in the earth, (and) the second in the middle of its back. Nor (is there) any delay: while it rages, while it whirls its body round in circles and spews out bubbling foam together with fresh blood, the author of the wound comes forward, and provokes his foe to fury and buries his gleaming hunting spear in the shoulder facing (him). His comrades demonstrate their joy with favourable shouting and seek to clasp his victorious right(-hand) in (their own) right(-hands); and, marvelling, they gaze on the savage beast lying on (so) much ground, nor as yet do they think it is safe to touch (it), but yet each one stains his spear in its blood.
Ll. 425-444. How Meleager slew his uncles, Plexippus and Toxeus, for having resented his bestowal of the spoils upon Atalanta.
He himself, having placed his foot there, trod on the deadly head, and spoke thus, "Take the spoil (that is) rightly mine, (O lady) of Nonacria (i.e. Atalanta), and let my glory be shared with you". Forthwith he gives (her) the spoils, the skin prickly with stiff bristles and the head remarkable for its enormous tusks. The author of the gift serves as a delight to her along with the gift. Others were envious and there was murmuring throughout the whole company. Out of these the sons of Thestius, (i.e. Plexippus and Toxeus), stretching out their arms, shouted in a loud voice, "Come, put (them) down, and do not usurp our honours, woman, nor let trust in your beauty deceive you, lest the author (of the gift), overcome by love, may be far from you", and they took the gifts away from her, (and) the right of (bestowing) the gift from him. The descendant of Mars (i.e. Meleager) did not endure (this), and, gnashing his teeth in swelling rage, he said, "Learn, thieves of another's honour, how much deeds differ from threats", and he pierced with an impious sword the heart of Plexippus, (who was) dreading no such (deed). He does not allow Toxeus, uncertain what to do, and equally wishing to avenge his brother and fearing (to suffer) the fate of his brother, to hesitate for a long time, and his weapon, warm from the murder of the first (victim), was warmed up again with the blood of a kinsman.
Ll. 445-514. How Althaea, mother of Meleager, long torn by her two loyalties, at last revenged herself upon him for his slaying of her brothers by committing to the flames the sacred brand on which his life depended.
Althaea was bearing offerings to the temples of the gods in honour of her son's victory, when she saw (the bodies of) her dead brothers being brought back. Having let out a (loud) wail, she fills the city with sorrowful cries and exchanged her golden robes for black (ones). But as soon as (the name of) the agent of death was reported (to her), all grief is forgotten, and she turned from tears towards a passion for vengeance. There was a brand, which, when the daughter of Thestius (i.e. Althaea) was in childbed, and had brought forth her offspring, the three sisters (i.e. the Parcae or Fates) placed in the fire, and, spinning the threads of fate with thumb pressed on, they said, "O (child) just born, we give the same life-span both to this (piece of) wood and to you". After this incantation had been uttered, as soon as the goddesses had departed, the mother snatched away the brand from the fire, and doused (it) in running water. It had been hidden for a long time in the depths of the innermost parts (of the palace), and, (thus) preserved, had safeguarded your years, young man. The mother brought it forth, and orders pinewood and kindling to be laid in position, and, when these things were laid, she brings the fatal flames near to (them). Then, having tried four times to place the brand in the flames, four times she checked her design. Both mother and sister were at war (within her), and two different names tug at one heart. Often her face went pale in dread of her projected crime, often burning anger brought redness to her eyes, and now her face was like (that of someone) threatening I know not what cruel (deed), now (that of someone) whom you could believe had pity. And, whenever the fierce heat of her anger had dried her tears, yet tears were (still) found. And as a vessel, which the wind and the tide at war with the wind catches, feels the double power and obeys the two uncertainly, so the daughter of Sestius wavers under conflicting emotions and by turns lays aside her anger and, having laid (it) aside, (then) rekindles (it).
However, the sister (in her) begins to be stronger than the parent, and, in order to appease the ghosts of her blood with blood, she is pious in her impiousness. For, when the deadly fire grew strong, she said, "Let that pyre consume my flesh." And as she held the fatal wood in her dread hand, the unhappy (creature) took her stand before the funereal altar, and says, "Eumenides (i.e. Kindly Ones, a name for the Furies), three goddesses of punishment, turn your faces to a sacrifice pleasing to the Furies. I take revenge and I commit a sin. Death must be atoned for by death: a crime must be joined to a crime, a body to a body: may this impious house perish amid a pile of sorrows. Shall the fortunate Oeneus rejoice in his son (as) the victor, (while) Thestius shall be bereft (of his sons). (It is) better that you both grieve. You only, fraternal shades and fresh spirits, perceive my dutifulness and accept this sacrifice to the dead, prepared at great (personal cost), this evil child of my womb. Ah me! To where am I being carried off? Pardon a mother, brothers! My hands lack the strength for this undertaking. I confess that he deserves to die: (but to be) the agent of his death is displeasing to me. Therefore, shall he escape without punishment, and, living (as) a victor and puffed up with success itself, shall he possess the kingdom of Calydon, (while) you lie (as) a handful of ashes and shivering ghosts? I shall not indeed allow this. Let that wicked man perish, and may he bring down with him both his father's hopes, his kingdom, and the ruin of his native-land. Where are my maternal feelings? Where are my loving duties as a parent and the ten months of pain which I endured? Oh, would that you had burned (as) an infant in that first fire, and I had allowed it (to happen then)! You have lived by my favour; now you will die by your own deserts. Take the reward of your action, and return the life (which I have) twice given (you), first by your birth, then by my snatching of the brand, or add me to my brothers' tombs .
I yearn (to do it), and I (yet) I cannot (do it). What am I to do? Now my brothers' wounds and the picture of such a terrible slaughter are before my eyes, now the love and the name of a mother breaks my spirit. (Ah,) wretched me! You will win in an evil manner, but conquer, my brothers, (you will), provided that I myself shall follow you and the solace (i.e. the body of Meleager) which I give you (down to the shades). She spoke, and, averting (her gaze), she threw the fatal brand into the midst of the fire with a trembling right hand. That piece of wood either gave or seemed to give a groan, as, caught by the reluctant flames, it burned.
However, the sister (in her) begins to be stronger than the parent, and, in order to appease the ghosts of her blood with blood, she is pious in her impiousness. For, when the deadly fire grew strong, she said, "Let that pyre consume my flesh." And as she held the fatal wood in her dread hand, the unhappy (creature) took her stand before the funereal altar, and says, "Eumenides (i.e. Kindly Ones, a name for the Furies), three goddesses of punishment, turn your faces to a sacrifice pleasing to the Furies. I take revenge and I commit a sin. Death must be atoned for by death: a crime must be joined to a crime, a body to a body: may this impious house perish amid a pile of sorrows. Shall the fortunate Oeneus rejoice in his son (as) the victor, (while) Thestius shall be bereft (of his sons). (It is) better that you both grieve. You only, fraternal shades and fresh spirits, perceive my dutifulness and accept this sacrifice to the dead, prepared at great (personal cost), this evil child of my womb. Ah me! To where am I being carried off? Pardon a mother, brothers! My hands lack the strength for this undertaking. I confess that he deserves to die: (but to be) the agent of his death is displeasing to me. Therefore, shall he escape without punishment, and, living (as) a victor and puffed up with success itself, shall he possess the kingdom of Calydon, (while) you lie (as) a handful of ashes and shivering ghosts? I shall not indeed allow this. Let that wicked man perish, and may he bring down with him both his father's hopes, his kingdom, and the ruin of his native-land. Where are my maternal feelings? Where are my loving duties as a parent and the ten months of pain which I endured? Oh, would that you had burned (as) an infant in that first fire, and I had allowed it (to happen then)! You have lived by my favour; now you will die by your own deserts. Take the reward of your action, and return the life (which I have) twice given (you), first by your birth, then by my snatching of the brand, or add me to my brothers' tombs .
I yearn (to do it), and I (yet) I cannot (do it). What am I to do? Now my brothers' wounds and the picture of such a terrible slaughter are before my eyes, now the love and the name of a mother breaks my spirit. (Ah,) wretched me! You will win in an evil manner, but conquer, my brothers, (you will), provided that I myself shall follow you and the solace (i.e. the body of Meleager) which I give you (down to the shades). She spoke, and, averting (her gaze), she threw the fatal brand into the midst of the fire with a trembling right hand. That piece of wood either gave or seemed to give a groan, as, caught by the reluctant flames, it burned.
Ll. 515-546. How Meleager died, and how his sisters, grieving for death, were changed by Diana into guinea-hens.
Unaware (of this) and absent (from home) Meleager is burned by that flame, and feels his vital organs being scorched by unseen fire, but he overcomes the terrible pains by his courage. He grieves, however, because he is falling through a cowardly and bloodless death, and he calls the wounds of Ancaeus fortunate: and with a groan he calls, with his last utterance, on his aged father, and his brothers, and his loving sisters, and the companion of his bed (i.e. his wife Cleopatra), and perhaps his mother (i.e. Althaea) too. Both the fire and his pain flare up and subside again: both were extinguished together, and his spirit gradually passed into the thin breezes with white ash gradually shrouding the embers. Haughty Calydon is brought low: both young and old grieve, both the common people and the nobles lament, and Calydonian mothers, the daughters of Evenus (i.e. the women of Calydon, which stands on the banks of the River Evenus), with torn tresses, beat (their breasts). Stretched out upon the ground, his old father (i.e. Oeneus) begrimes his grey hair and his face in the dust, and curses his long life-span. As for the mother, her hand, aware within itself of the dreadful deed, has enforced punishment, by driving a sword through her vital organs. Nor, if heaven had given me a hundred mouths sounding with tongues and a capacious wit and complete inspiration, could I report the dismal laments of his wretched sisters. Heedless of decorum, they beat their breasts black and blue, and, while the body was (still) there, they both fondle and fondle the body again; they give kisses to (the body) itself, (and) they give kisses to the bier, (after it had been been) placed (on the pyre). After (it was turned) to ashes, they press the scraped up ashes to their bosoms, and lie stretched over his tomb and, embracing the name marked upon the stone, they poured their tears on to his name. Satiated at last by the disaster to the house of Parthaon (i.e. a previous king of Calydon and father of Oeneus), the daughter of Latona (i.e. Diana) raises them (all) up, except Gorge and the daughter-in-law of high-born Alcmena (i.e. Deianira, the wife of Hercules), causing feathers to sprout on their bodies, and she extends long wings along their arms and makes their mouths horny, and, (thus) transfigured, she launches (them) on the breezes (i.e. as guinea-hens or Meleagrides).
F. ACHELOÜS, THE NAIADS AND PERIMELE
Ll. 547-611. Acheloüs, the river-god, feasting Theseus on his homeward way, tells how certain nymphs were changed into islands.
Meanwhile, Theseus, having performed his share of the common task, was going to the Erecthean (i.e. Athenian) citadel (i.e. the Acropolis) of Tritonis (i.e. Minerva). Acheloüs (i.e. the river separating Acarnania from Aetolia), swollen with rain, stopped his journey and caused (him) a delay as he went. "Enter my house, glorious descendant of Cecrops (i.e. the first king of Athens)," he says, "and do not entrust yourself to these greedy waters. They are accustomed to carry thick tree-trunks and to roll boulders on their sides with a great noise. I have seen lofty stables close to the bank carried away together with their flocks; nor did it then profit oxen to be strong or horses (to be) swift. When the snow on the mountains has melted, the resulting torrent has also engulfed many bodies of young men in its whirling currents. Rest is safer until the river can run in its usual channel, (and) until its bed contains less water."
The son of Aegeus (i.e. Theseus) agreed, and he replied, "I shall make use of both your house and your advice," and he did (indeed) make use of both. He enters a hall built of porous pumice-stone and rough tufa: the ground was moist with soft moss; mussel-shells panelled the roof, alternately with purple oyster-shells.
And now, Hyperion (i.e. the Sun) having traversed two parts of the day, Theseus and the companions of his labours reclined on couches: on this (side of him) was the son of Ixion (i.e. Pirithoüs), (and) on that side (was) Lelex, the hero of Troezen, his temples already streaked with scattered grey (hairs), and others whom the Acarnanian river (god) (i.e. Acheloüs), very joyful at (entertaining) so great a guest, had deemed worthy of equal honour. Forthwith, bare-footed nymphs brought up tables and laid the feast on them, and, when the banquet had been removed, they served up unwatered wine in jewelled (goblets). That greatest of heroes (i.e. Theseus) looking at the sea lying beneath his eyes, says, "What (is) that place?" He points with his finger, and (says,) "Tell me the name which that island bears: and yet it does not seem (to be) a single (island)". To this the river (god) replies, "What you see is not one (island). Five (pieces of) land are lying (there): the distance conceals the gaps (between them). And, so that you may be less astonished at the action of the scorned Diana, these (islands) were (once) Naiads, who when they had slaughtered ten bullocks and had invited the rural gods to the sacrificial feast, led the festal dance, forgetting me (entirely). I swelled up and was as great as I flow whenever I (am) at my fullest, and, terrible alike in anger and in flood, I tore away woods from woods and fields from fields, (and) I swept the nymphs, now at last remembering me, together with the ground (on which they stood), into the sea. My flood and (that) of the sea separated the continuous land, and broke (it) into as many pieces as the Echinades (i.e. the Hedgehog Isles), (which) you can see in the midst of the sea. Yet, as you can see, far off, there in the distance an island, pleasing to me, lies apart; a mariner calls (it) Perimele: I took away the name of virgin from her whom I loved; her father Hippodamas took this badly, and pushed the doomed body of his daughter from a cliff into the sea. I caught (her) up, and, bearing (her) as she swam, said, 'O Trident-bearer, you who have received as your portion the kingdom of the waves, in which we, sacred rivers, end up (and) into which we flow, come hither, Neptune, and calmly hear (me) as I pray. I have injured her whom I carry. If her father Hippodamas had been merciful and fair-minded, or if he had been less unjust, he ought to have pitied her, (and) pardoned me. Bring help and grant a place of safety, I pray, Neptune, to (one) drowned by paternal savagery; or let her become a place herself. May I embrace it also'. The king of the sea moved his head and shook all of the waves in his agreement. The nymph was terrified, yet she swam. I myself touched her breast as she swam, throbbing (as it was) with an agitated motion. And as I touched it, I felt her whole body grow hard and her breast was concealed by the earth in (which it was) dressed. While I spoke, new earth clasped her floating body, and from her altered limbs a solid island grew (i.e. Perimele)."
The son of Aegeus (i.e. Theseus) agreed, and he replied, "I shall make use of both your house and your advice," and he did (indeed) make use of both. He enters a hall built of porous pumice-stone and rough tufa: the ground was moist with soft moss; mussel-shells panelled the roof, alternately with purple oyster-shells.
And now, Hyperion (i.e. the Sun) having traversed two parts of the day, Theseus and the companions of his labours reclined on couches: on this (side of him) was the son of Ixion (i.e. Pirithoüs), (and) on that side (was) Lelex, the hero of Troezen, his temples already streaked with scattered grey (hairs), and others whom the Acarnanian river (god) (i.e. Acheloüs), very joyful at (entertaining) so great a guest, had deemed worthy of equal honour. Forthwith, bare-footed nymphs brought up tables and laid the feast on them, and, when the banquet had been removed, they served up unwatered wine in jewelled (goblets). That greatest of heroes (i.e. Theseus) looking at the sea lying beneath his eyes, says, "What (is) that place?" He points with his finger, and (says,) "Tell me the name which that island bears: and yet it does not seem (to be) a single (island)". To this the river (god) replies, "What you see is not one (island). Five (pieces of) land are lying (there): the distance conceals the gaps (between them). And, so that you may be less astonished at the action of the scorned Diana, these (islands) were (once) Naiads, who when they had slaughtered ten bullocks and had invited the rural gods to the sacrificial feast, led the festal dance, forgetting me (entirely). I swelled up and was as great as I flow whenever I (am) at my fullest, and, terrible alike in anger and in flood, I tore away woods from woods and fields from fields, (and) I swept the nymphs, now at last remembering me, together with the ground (on which they stood), into the sea. My flood and (that) of the sea separated the continuous land, and broke (it) into as many pieces as the Echinades (i.e. the Hedgehog Isles), (which) you can see in the midst of the sea. Yet, as you can see, far off, there in the distance an island, pleasing to me, lies apart; a mariner calls (it) Perimele: I took away the name of virgin from her whom I loved; her father Hippodamas took this badly, and pushed the doomed body of his daughter from a cliff into the sea. I caught (her) up, and, bearing (her) as she swam, said, 'O Trident-bearer, you who have received as your portion the kingdom of the waves, in which we, sacred rivers, end up (and) into which we flow, come hither, Neptune, and calmly hear (me) as I pray. I have injured her whom I carry. If her father Hippodamas had been merciful and fair-minded, or if he had been less unjust, he ought to have pitied her, (and) pardoned me. Bring help and grant a place of safety, I pray, Neptune, to (one) drowned by paternal savagery; or let her become a place herself. May I embrace it also'. The king of the sea moved his head and shook all of the waves in his agreement. The nymph was terrified, yet she swam. I myself touched her breast as she swam, throbbing (as it was) with an agitated motion. And as I touched it, I felt her whole body grow hard and her breast was concealed by the earth in (which it was) dressed. While I spoke, new earth clasped her floating body, and from her altered limbs a solid island grew (i.e. Perimele)."
G. PHILEMON AND BAUCIS
Ll. 612-681. Lelex tells the scoffer Pirithoüs how an old peasant Philemon and Baucis entertained Jupiter and Mercury.
With these words the river (god) was silent. His wonderful account had moved everyone. The son of Ixion scorns (those) who believed (it), both because he was a despiser of the gods and (because of) his headstrong nature, (and) he said, "You are telling stories, Acheloüs, and you think the gods are much too powerful, if (you think) they give and (then) take away natural shapes." All were aghast (at this), nor did they approve of such words, and, before everyone, Lelex, mature (both) in mind and in age, says thus: "The power of heaven is unmeasurable and has no bounds, and whatsoever the gods have decreed is accomplished. And in order that you may have less doubt, there is in the hills of Phrygia an oak-tree near to a linden, (both) surrounded by a low wall: I, myself, have seen the place, for Pittheus sent me into the lands of Pelops, once ruled by his own father. Not far from here is a swamp, once habitable land, (but) now waters frequented by divers and coots from the marshes. Jupiter came hither with the appearance of a mortal and with his father (came) the grandson of Atlas, the herald (i.e. Mercury) with his wings set aside. To a thousand homes they went, seeking a place to rest: bolts closed a thousand homes. However, one did receive (them), humble indeed, (and) roofed with straw and marsh reeds, but Baucis, a dutiful old woman, and Philemon of equal age were wedded in that (cottage) in their youthful years; they grew old in that cottage, and by admitting their poverty and by bearing (it) with a not impatient spirit they made light (of it). Nor does it matter there whether you ask for the masters or the servants: the two (of them) are the whole household, (and) the same (two) both obey and give orders.
Therefore, when the heaven-dwellers arrived at the small home and went in through the low doors with bowed head, the old man bade (them) relax their limbs on a couch (which had been) placed (there), on which bustling Baucis threw a rough cloth. Then she stirred up the warm ash in the hearth and rekindles yesterday's fire and feeds (it) with leaves and dry bark and coaxes (it) into flames with her old woman's breath, and she brought down finely split sticks and dry twigs from the roof, and chopped them up and put them under a small bronze cauldron, and she strips of its leaves a cabbage which her husband had picked from his well-watered garden; with a two-pronged fork he lifts down the smoked back of a pig, hanging from a blackened beam, and he cuts off a small part from the back which had been preserved for a long time, and he makes tender (the piece) cut off in the boiling water.
Meanwhile, they beguile the intervening hours with conversation and prevent the delay being felt. There was a beech-wood bowl there, hung from a hook by its strong handle; it is filled with warm water and receives their limbs which need to be refreshed. In the middle (of the room), there is a mattress, (made) from soft sedge, placed upon a couch with a frame and feet of willow-wood; they cover this with a cloth, which they had not been accustomed to spread out except on a festal occasion, but even this cloth was both cheap and old, (although) deemed not unworthy of a willow-wood couch. The gods reclined. With her skirts tucked up and tremulous, the old woman places a table (beside them). But the third foot of the table was unequal (in height): a potsherd made (it) equal. As soon as this had been shoved underneath, it raised up the slope, (and) green mint wiped clean the levelled table. Here are placed two-coloured (i.e. green and black) berries of the virgin Minerva (i.e. olives), and autumn cornel-cherries preserved in flowing lees, and endives and radishes, and a lump of curdled milk (i.e. cheese), and eggs, lightly cooked in the warm embers, all (served) on earthenware (dishes). After these things, a carved mixing bowl of the same fine material (n.b. this is an ironical comment, as it is earthenware) is placed (there), as well as cups made from beech-wood, coated with yellow wax where they are hollow (i.e. on the inside). There is a small delay, and then the hearth sent up the main course (i.e. the cabbage and smoked pork) piping-hot. And the wine, of no long vintage, is brought back again (i.e. it had been served previously with the appetisers), and, (then) being put aside for a while, it makes way for the second (course). Here there are nuts, here there are figs mixed with dried dates, and plums, and sweet-smelling apples in broad baskets, and grapes gathered from purple vines. In the middle (of the table) there is a gleaming honey-comb. Above all, there were pleasant faces and a good will, neither sluggish nor mean.
Therefore, when the heaven-dwellers arrived at the small home and went in through the low doors with bowed head, the old man bade (them) relax their limbs on a couch (which had been) placed (there), on which bustling Baucis threw a rough cloth. Then she stirred up the warm ash in the hearth and rekindles yesterday's fire and feeds (it) with leaves and dry bark and coaxes (it) into flames with her old woman's breath, and she brought down finely split sticks and dry twigs from the roof, and chopped them up and put them under a small bronze cauldron, and she strips of its leaves a cabbage which her husband had picked from his well-watered garden; with a two-pronged fork he lifts down the smoked back of a pig, hanging from a blackened beam, and he cuts off a small part from the back which had been preserved for a long time, and he makes tender (the piece) cut off in the boiling water.
Meanwhile, they beguile the intervening hours with conversation and prevent the delay being felt. There was a beech-wood bowl there, hung from a hook by its strong handle; it is filled with warm water and receives their limbs which need to be refreshed. In the middle (of the room), there is a mattress, (made) from soft sedge, placed upon a couch with a frame and feet of willow-wood; they cover this with a cloth, which they had not been accustomed to spread out except on a festal occasion, but even this cloth was both cheap and old, (although) deemed not unworthy of a willow-wood couch. The gods reclined. With her skirts tucked up and tremulous, the old woman places a table (beside them). But the third foot of the table was unequal (in height): a potsherd made (it) equal. As soon as this had been shoved underneath, it raised up the slope, (and) green mint wiped clean the levelled table. Here are placed two-coloured (i.e. green and black) berries of the virgin Minerva (i.e. olives), and autumn cornel-cherries preserved in flowing lees, and endives and radishes, and a lump of curdled milk (i.e. cheese), and eggs, lightly cooked in the warm embers, all (served) on earthenware (dishes). After these things, a carved mixing bowl of the same fine material (n.b. this is an ironical comment, as it is earthenware) is placed (there), as well as cups made from beech-wood, coated with yellow wax where they are hollow (i.e. on the inside). There is a small delay, and then the hearth sent up the main course (i.e. the cabbage and smoked pork) piping-hot. And the wine, of no long vintage, is brought back again (i.e. it had been served previously with the appetisers), and, (then) being put aside for a while, it makes way for the second (course). Here there are nuts, here there are figs mixed with dried dates, and plums, and sweet-smelling apples in broad baskets, and grapes gathered from purple vines. In the middle (of the table) there is a gleaming honey-comb. Above all, there were pleasant faces and a good will, neither sluggish nor mean.
Ll. 682-727. How Philemon and Baucis, at last recognising their guests, were made guardians of their temple and were changed in extreme old age into trees.
Meanwhile, they see that, as often as the mixing bowl is drained, it is refilled of its own accord, and that the wine is supplied spontaneously: astonished by this strange happening they are fearful, and with upturned hands both Baucis and frightened Philemeon utter prayers and beg pardon for the meal and for their lack of preparation. There was a single goose, the guardian of the tiny house: the hosts were preparing to sacrifice it to the gods (who were their guests). Swift of wing, it exhausts (them), slowed down by age, and for a long time eludes (them), and at last it seemed to have fled for refuge to the gods themselves. The gods forbade (it) to be killed, and said, 'We are gods, and this impious neighbourhood will pay deserved penalties; (but) it shall be granted to you to be exempt from this disaster. Only leave your home and follow in our steps to the heights of the mountain'. They both obey and, supported by sticks, they struggle to place their footsteps up the long slope. They were as far away from the top as an arrow, which has been fired, is able to go in a single shot: they turned their eyes and see the rest (of the countryside) submerged by a flood, and that their house alone was remaining. And, while they gaze in wonder at these things and while they bewail the fate of their (friends), that old cottage, small even for two occupants, is changed into a temple: columns took the place of forked poles, the roof thatch grows yellow and the roof appears gilded, and the doors (appear) engraved, and the earth (appears) covered in marble. Then, the son of Saturn (i.e. Jupiter) uttered these things from his calm mouth: 'Tell (us), just old man and woman worthy of a just husband, what you desire'. Having spoken a few (words) with Baucis, Philemon reveals their shared decision: 'We ask to be priests and to watch over your shrine, and, since we have spent years together, may the same hour carry the two (of us) off, nor may I ever see the tomb of my wife nor may I (ever) have to be buried by her'. Fulfilment follows their prayer; they were guardians of the temple while life was granted (to them). Worn out by the years and by old age, when they happened to be standing before the sacred steps and were relating the fortunes of the place, Baucis (saw) Philemon sprouting leaves, and old Philemon saw Baucis sprouting leaves. And now, with a tree-top growing on top of both of their faces, they exchanged words in turn, while they (still) could, and they said, 'Farewell O spouse', at the same time as greenery covered and hid their faces.
The inhabitant of Thynia (i.e. Bithynia) still points to the neighbouring tree-trunks (sprung) from their two bodies (that were growing) there. Trustworthy old men recounted these things to me, nor was there (any reason) why they should wish to deceive (me). Indeed, I saw the wreathes hanging from the branches, and, placing some fresh (ones there), I said, 'Let the gods be the concern of the gods, and let (those) who have honoured (them) be honoured'."
The inhabitant of Thynia (i.e. Bithynia) still points to the neighbouring tree-trunks (sprung) from their two bodies (that were growing) there. Trustworthy old men recounted these things to me, nor was there (any reason) why they should wish to deceive (me). Indeed, I saw the wreathes hanging from the branches, and, placing some fresh (ones there), I said, 'Let the gods be the concern of the gods, and let (those) who have honoured (them) be honoured'."
H. ERYSICHTHON
Ll. 728-779. Acheloüs tells how Erysichthon the impious felled a tree in which dwelt a Dryad.
He (i.e. Lelex) had finished, and both the tale and the the teller had moved everyone, especially Theseus. The Calydonian river (god) (i.e. Acheloüs), leaning upon his elbow, addresses him, (who was) wishing to hear of the wondrous deeds of the gods, with these (words): "O bravest of men, there are (some) whose form has changed (only) once, and it has stayed in this new state; there are (some) who have the power to transform themselves into several shapes, like you, Proteus, inhabitant of the sea which encompasses the earth. For (men) saw you, now (as) a young man, now (as) a lion; now you were a violent boar, then a serpent whom they would be afraid to touch; now horns made you (into) a bull. Often, you could appear (as) a stone, often also (as) a tree: sometimes you were a river, imitating the appearance of flowing waters, sometimes fire, the opposite (element) to water.
"Nor has the wife of Autolycus, the daughter (i.e. Mestra) of Erysichthon (i.e. king of Thessaly), (any) less power. Her father was (the sort of man) who scorned the power of the gods and burned no fragrant offerings on the altars. He is even said to have violated the grove of Ceres with an axe and to have defiled the ancient woods with an iron (blade). An enormous oak-tree, with the strength of years, was standing in these (woods), a forest in itself: fillets and votive tablets and garlands surrounded its middle, the tokens of effective prayer. Often, the Dryads (i.e. Tree Nymphs) conducted festal dances underneath it: often they would also trip around the circumference of its trunk in order with hands joined, and the measure of the oak made up fifteen ells. And indeed the rest of the wood was as much lower than this (oak) as the grass was lower than all the wood.
"Yet the son of Triopas (i.e. Erysichthon) did not keep his axe away from it for this reason, but he orders his servants to cut down the sacred oak: and, when he saw (them) hesitating, (despite having been) ordered (to do so), the impious man seized an axe from one (of them) and pronounced these words: 'Not only (though) beloved by the goddess but even though it may be the goddess herself, it will now reach the ground with its leafy tops'.
"He spoke, and, while he poised his weapon for a slanting blow, the oak-tree, sacred to Deo (i.e. Ceres), trembled greatly and gave a groan: and at the same time its leaves and its acorns began to grow pale and its long branches (began) to assume a pallor. As the impious hand made a gash on its trunk, blood flowed out from its shattered bark, just as, when a huge bull falls (as) a (sacrificial) victim before the altar, its gore is accustomed to burst forth from its severed neck.
"All were appalled: but one (man) among (them) all dares to prevent the crime, and restrain the savage axe. The Thessalian (i.e. Erysichthon) sees him and said, 'Take this reward for your pious mind!' and he turns his axe from the tree to the man, and lops off his head; and (then) he attacks the oak-tree anew and hews at (it), and the following sound is heard from the middle of the wood: 'I am the nymph beneath this tree, beloved of Ceres, who, as I die, prophesies that punishment for your deeds is at hand for you, (as) compensation for my death'. That (man) persists in his crime, and, at last, tottering under countless blows and pulled down by ropes, the tree collapsed and toppled over much of the wood by its weight.
"Nor has the wife of Autolycus, the daughter (i.e. Mestra) of Erysichthon (i.e. king of Thessaly), (any) less power. Her father was (the sort of man) who scorned the power of the gods and burned no fragrant offerings on the altars. He is even said to have violated the grove of Ceres with an axe and to have defiled the ancient woods with an iron (blade). An enormous oak-tree, with the strength of years, was standing in these (woods), a forest in itself: fillets and votive tablets and garlands surrounded its middle, the tokens of effective prayer. Often, the Dryads (i.e. Tree Nymphs) conducted festal dances underneath it: often they would also trip around the circumference of its trunk in order with hands joined, and the measure of the oak made up fifteen ells. And indeed the rest of the wood was as much lower than this (oak) as the grass was lower than all the wood.
"Yet the son of Triopas (i.e. Erysichthon) did not keep his axe away from it for this reason, but he orders his servants to cut down the sacred oak: and, when he saw (them) hesitating, (despite having been) ordered (to do so), the impious man seized an axe from one (of them) and pronounced these words: 'Not only (though) beloved by the goddess but even though it may be the goddess herself, it will now reach the ground with its leafy tops'.
"He spoke, and, while he poised his weapon for a slanting blow, the oak-tree, sacred to Deo (i.e. Ceres), trembled greatly and gave a groan: and at the same time its leaves and its acorns began to grow pale and its long branches (began) to assume a pallor. As the impious hand made a gash on its trunk, blood flowed out from its shattered bark, just as, when a huge bull falls (as) a (sacrificial) victim before the altar, its gore is accustomed to burst forth from its severed neck.
"All were appalled: but one (man) among (them) all dares to prevent the crime, and restrain the savage axe. The Thessalian (i.e. Erysichthon) sees him and said, 'Take this reward for your pious mind!' and he turns his axe from the tree to the man, and lops off his head; and (then) he attacks the oak-tree anew and hews at (it), and the following sound is heard from the middle of the wood: 'I am the nymph beneath this tree, beloved of Ceres, who, as I die, prophesies that punishment for your deeds is at hand for you, (as) compensation for my death'. That (man) persists in his crime, and, at last, tottering under countless blows and pulled down by ropes, the tree collapsed and toppled over much of the wood by its weight.
Ll. 780-825. How Erysichthon, for his sin, was smitten by Ceres with insatiable hunger.
"Horrified both by the forest's and their own loss, all her Dryad sisters come to Ceres, lamenting in black garments, and beg for the punishment of Erysichthon. She agreed with them, and, by the movement of her head, the (goddess) most fair shook the fields laden (as they were) with heavy corn; and she contrives a kind of punishment (which would have been) worthy of pity, if he had not been unworthy of anyone's pity, because of his own deeds, (namely) to rack (him) by deadly Hunger. Since she is not to be approached by the goddess in person - for the Fates do not allow both Ceres and Hunger to meet - , she hails a rural Oread (i.e. a Mountain Nymph), one of the mountain spirits, with these words: 'There is a place on the furthest borders of icy Scythia, a gloomy terrain, a barren land without crops, (and) without trees. Sluggish Cold, and Pallor and Trembling live there, and (so does) barren Hunger. Command that she (i.e. Hunger) hide herself in the accursed heart of that sacrilegious (man), and that an abundance of foodstuffs should not conquer her, and that she should overcome me in any trial of strength. And so that the length of the journey should not frighten you, take my chariot, take my dragons, whom you may guide on high by the reins'. And she gave (them to her): after the chariot has been given, she (i.e. the Oread), soars through the air, and arrives in Scythia, and on the top of a frozen mountain - they call (it) the Caucasus - she freed the necks of the dragons, and, looking for Hunger, she saw (her) in a stony field, plucking at the scanty grass with her nails and teeth. Her hair was matted, her eyes (were) hollow, (there was) a pallor in her face, her lips (were) grey with disuse, her throat (was) rough with scurf, her skin, through which her vital organs could be seen, (was) drawn tight, her dry bones stood out beneath her sagging loins, the space for a stomach was in place of a stomach, (and) you would have thought her breasts hung (free) and were supported only by the framework of her spine. Her emaciation had magnified her joints, and the round of her knees was swollen, and her ankles bulged in great swellings. When she saw her from afar - for she did not dare to come up close (to her) - , she reports the commands of the goddess: while she (only) lingered (there) for a little, (and) although she remained far off, (and) although she had only (just) arrived there, yet she (still) seemed to feel hunger; and she drove the dragons back to Haemonia (i.e. Thessaly), directing (them) on high with the reins. Hunger carries out Ceres' commands, although she is always opposed to her work, and she was carried through the air on the wind to the appointed palace, and forthwith she enters the bed-chamber of the sacrilegious (man), and she embraces (him) with both her arms (as he is) relaxed in a deep sleep - for (it was) night time - , and she breathes herself into the man, and breathes upon his throat and his breast and his mouth, and sows hunger into his hollow veins. And, having accomplished her mandate, she forsakes the world of plenty and returns to her accustomed caves in the abodes of the destitute.
Ll. 826-887. How Erysichthon's hunger drove him at last to sell his daughter into slavery; how she was changed by Neptune, her lover, into a man, and how she thereafter had power to assume many forms.
"Gentle sleep on her peaceful wings caressed Erysichthon: under the dream of sleep he seeks a feast, and he moves his jaws in vain and grinds tooth on tooth, and he keeps his deluded throat busy with imagined food, and for a banquet he devours thin air in vain. But, when sleep is driven away, a craving for eating rages through his ravenous throat and governs his cavernous entrails. Nor (is there) any delay: he demands (all) that sea, (all) that earth, (all) that air can produce, and, although tables (of food) are placed before (him), he (still) complains of hunger, and, in the midst of banquets, he seeks banquets; and what (could) be (enough) for (whole) cities, what could (be) enough for a nation does not suffice for a single (man), and the more (food) he lowers into his belly, the more he desires. And (just) as the ocean receives rivers from the whole earth, and is not satisfied with the water, but drinks up far-away rivers, and (just) as a raging fire never refuses food, but burns countless logs, and the greater supply (that) is given, the more it seeks, and the more voracious it is because of the very quantity (of fuel supplied); so, the lips of the profane Erysichthon receive every banquet, and he demands (them) at the same time. In him all food is for the sake of food, and his belly always becomes empty by eating.
"And now he had diminished his ancestral wealth through hunger and through the deep abyss of his stomach, but then his dreadful hunger still remained undiminished, and the flame of his unappeased belly burned. At last, after (all) his wealth had been lowered into his gut, (only) his daughter (i.e. Mestra) was left, (a girl) not worthy of that father. In his poverty, he even sold her. The noble (girl) rejected her master, and, stretching out her palms over the nearby sea, she said: '(O you) who has the prize of my virginity, (which you) snatched from me, rescue me from my master.' Neptune had this prize. He did not scorn her prayer, although she had only (just) been seen by her master (who was) following (her), and he changes her shape and puts a male face (on her) and an attire suited to (men) catching fish. Her master, catching sight of her, says, 'O (you) manager of the fishing-rod, who conceals your hanging bronze hook with a little food, so (may) the sea be calm, so may you have a gullible fish in the waves, and may it perceive no hooks unless (it is) pierced: tell (me) where she is who was standing on this shore a moment ago with her shabby clothing and her dishevelled hair - for I did see (her) standing on this shore - :indeed her foot-prints are no longer visible'. She realises that the gift of the god was turning out well, and, delighted that she was being questioned about herself, she replied to his enquiry with these (words): 'May you forgive (me), whoever you are: I have not turned my eyes in any direction away from this pool, and I have stuck to my pursuit, (as I have been totally) absorbed (in it). And so that you may have no doubt - so may the god of the sea assist these skills (of mine) - , no man except me has stood on this shore for a long time, nor any woman (either).' Her master believed (her), and, turning his feet (around), he trod the sand, and, having been fooled, he went away. Her shape was restored to her.
"But, when her father realised that his (daughter) had a body capable of changing its form, he sells the granddaughter of Triopas (i.e. Mestra) to (new) masters quite often. But she, now a mare, now a bird, now a cow, now a deer, continued to get away, and bestowed stolen food on her greedy father. But, when that force of his affliction had consumed all his wealth, and he had given over (any) new food to his virulent malady, he himself began to tear apart his own limbs with a lacerating bite, and the wretched man nourished his body by diminishing (it).
"(But) why do I dwell on external (instances)? I (i.e. Acheloüs), O young man, (i.e. Theseus), also have the limited power of a body which can often be changed in a number (of ways). For sometimes I seem as I am just now, sometimes I am turned into a snake, sometimes, (as) the leader of a herd, I assume the strength (which is) in my horns, (at least) while I (still) could. Now, the other side of my forehead lacks its weapon, as you yourself can see (n.b. his lost horn had been broken off in a struggle with Hercules)." Groans followed his words.
"And now he had diminished his ancestral wealth through hunger and through the deep abyss of his stomach, but then his dreadful hunger still remained undiminished, and the flame of his unappeased belly burned. At last, after (all) his wealth had been lowered into his gut, (only) his daughter (i.e. Mestra) was left, (a girl) not worthy of that father. In his poverty, he even sold her. The noble (girl) rejected her master, and, stretching out her palms over the nearby sea, she said: '(O you) who has the prize of my virginity, (which you) snatched from me, rescue me from my master.' Neptune had this prize. He did not scorn her prayer, although she had only (just) been seen by her master (who was) following (her), and he changes her shape and puts a male face (on her) and an attire suited to (men) catching fish. Her master, catching sight of her, says, 'O (you) manager of the fishing-rod, who conceals your hanging bronze hook with a little food, so (may) the sea be calm, so may you have a gullible fish in the waves, and may it perceive no hooks unless (it is) pierced: tell (me) where she is who was standing on this shore a moment ago with her shabby clothing and her dishevelled hair - for I did see (her) standing on this shore - :indeed her foot-prints are no longer visible'. She realises that the gift of the god was turning out well, and, delighted that she was being questioned about herself, she replied to his enquiry with these (words): 'May you forgive (me), whoever you are: I have not turned my eyes in any direction away from this pool, and I have stuck to my pursuit, (as I have been totally) absorbed (in it). And so that you may have no doubt - so may the god of the sea assist these skills (of mine) - , no man except me has stood on this shore for a long time, nor any woman (either).' Her master believed (her), and, turning his feet (around), he trod the sand, and, having been fooled, he went away. Her shape was restored to her.
"But, when her father realised that his (daughter) had a body capable of changing its form, he sells the granddaughter of Triopas (i.e. Mestra) to (new) masters quite often. But she, now a mare, now a bird, now a cow, now a deer, continued to get away, and bestowed stolen food on her greedy father. But, when that force of his affliction had consumed all his wealth, and he had given over (any) new food to his virulent malady, he himself began to tear apart his own limbs with a lacerating bite, and the wretched man nourished his body by diminishing (it).
"(But) why do I dwell on external (instances)? I (i.e. Acheloüs), O young man, (i.e. Theseus), also have the limited power of a body which can often be changed in a number (of ways). For sometimes I seem as I am just now, sometimes I am turned into a snake, sometimes, (as) the leader of a herd, I assume the strength (which is) in my horns, (at least) while I (still) could. Now, the other side of my forehead lacks its weapon, as you yourself can see (n.b. his lost horn had been broken off in a struggle with Hercules)." Groans followed his words.
