Introduction:
For an introduction to Ovid and the work as a whole, the reader is invited to look at the introduction to the translation of "Metamorphoses" Book I, published on this blog on 1st February 2018.
The first 400 lines of Book VI, all of which is translated below, focuses in particular on stories about the rivalry between gods and mortals, and on the revenge exacted by the gods: Arachne's rivalry with Minerva; Niobe's rivalry with Latona, and the cruel killing of the former's children by Apollo and Diana, the children of the latter; Latona's punishment of the Lycian peasants; and Apollo's torture and killing of Marsyas. From l. 401, however, the focus changes to the appalling story of how Tereus rapes Philomela, the sister of his wife, Procne, and how the two sisters secure their revenge by killing his son Itys and serving up his remains to his father at a banquet. Book VI ends with the account of how Boreas, the God of the North Wind, obtains his wife Orithyia.
Ll. 1-25. Arachne rejects Minerva.
For an introduction to Ovid and the work as a whole, the reader is invited to look at the introduction to the translation of "Metamorphoses" Book I, published on this blog on 1st February 2018.
The first 400 lines of Book VI, all of which is translated below, focuses in particular on stories about the rivalry between gods and mortals, and on the revenge exacted by the gods: Arachne's rivalry with Minerva; Niobe's rivalry with Latona, and the cruel killing of the former's children by Apollo and Diana, the children of the latter; Latona's punishment of the Lycian peasants; and Apollo's torture and killing of Marsyas. From l. 401, however, the focus changes to the appalling story of how Tereus rapes Philomela, the sister of his wife, Procne, and how the two sisters secure their revenge by killing his son Itys and serving up his remains to his father at a banquet. Book VI ends with the account of how Boreas, the God of the North Wind, obtains his wife Orithyia.
Ll. 1-25. Arachne rejects Minerva.
Tritonia (i.e. Minerva) had proffered her ears to these words, and had commended the songs of the Aonides (i.e. the Muses) and their just anger. Then, (she says) to herself, "It is not enough to give praise; let me, myself, be praised as well, and not allow my divine powers to be scorned without retribution," and she turns her thoughts to the fortunes of Maeonian (i.e. Lydian) Arachne, whom she had heard would not give her any praise for her skill in wool-working. She was not renowned for her place (of birth) or her family background, but for her skill. Her father, Idmon of Colophon (i.e. a town near Ephesus in Asia Minor), used to dye absorbent wool in Phocaean (i.e. from the town of Phocaea near the coast of Ionia) purple. Her mother had died; but she, too, had been of humble birth, and the same as her husband. Still, although she lived in little Hypaepae (i.e. a town in Lydia overlooked by Mount Tmolus), and (had been) raised in a modest home, she had gained a name memorable for her artistry throughout the cities of Lydia. Often, the nymphs of her (Mount) Tmolus, had deserted their vineyards, (and) the nymphs of the (River) Pactolus had deserted their waves, in order to look at her wonderful work. It was delightful (for them) not only to observe the finished clothes, but also (to watch) when they were being made: so much beauty was the result of her skill. Whether she was winding the coarse yarn into new balls, or was plying the work with her fingers and was softening the fleeces, making (them) like clouds with a long trail, or whether she was twirling her polished spindle with a nimble thumb, or was embroidering with her needle, you knew (she had been) taught by Pallas (i.e. Minerva). Yet, she denies this, and, taking offence at such a mistress, she says, "Compete with me: there is nothing that I shall complain about, (if I am) beaten."
Ll. 26-69. Pallas (Minerva) challenges Arachne.
Pallas takes the shape of an old woman, and adds disguised grey (hair) to her temples and weak limbs which she supports with a stick. Then, she begins to speak as follows: "We should not shun everything which abundant old-age has (to give): experience comes from advancing years. Do not reject my advice. Seek the greatest fame among mortals for your weaving of wool: (but) yield to the goddess, and ask her pardon for your words, in a suppliant's voice: she will give (you) her forgiveness, if you ask."
She (i.e. Arachne) looks at her with fierce (eyes), and leaves the work (she had) begun, and restraining her hands with difficulty, and revealing the dark anger in her face, she answered Pallas with these words: "You come (here), weak-minded and worn out by tedious old-age. And it is harmful (for you) to have lived for much too long. If you have a daughter-in-law, if you have a daughter, let her listen to these words of yours. I have wisdom enough within myself. And lest you think there is some value in your advice, my opinion is the same (as before). Why does she not come herself? Why is she avoiding this contest?" Then, the goddess says, "She has come!" and she cast off the old woman's form and revealed (herself as) Pallas. The nymphs and the Mygdonian (i.e. Phrygian) women worship her divinity: the virgin alone is not afraid. But yet she did blush, and a sudden redness diffused her reluctant face, and (then) disappeared again, as the sky is used to becoming purple, when Aurora (i.e. Dawn) first stirs, and, after a short time, to turn pale when the sun rises. She persists in her undertaking, and, in her eagerness for a worthless prize, she rushed towards her fate: for Jupiter's daughter (i.e. Minerva) does not decline, nor does she give any further warning, or now delay the contest.
Without delay, they both take up their positions in separate places, and direct a fine thread toward the two looms - the loom is fastened to the beam, the threads (of the warp) are separated with the reed - (the thread of) the weft, which their fingers provide, is inserted between (them) by the pointed shuttles, and, drawn between the threads (of the warp), the teeth notched in the weaver's comb beat (them into place). They both make haste, and, (with) their garments girded to their breasts, they move their skilful arms, with their zeal disguising the effort. And there a purple (shade) which is found on a Tyrian bronze (vessel) is woven (into the cloth), as are lighter shades with (only) a small difference between (them); as when, after a rain-storm, a rainbow struck by the sun, is accustomed to tinge the expanse of the sky by a huge arch, in which a thousand different colours shine, but the transition between (them) beguiles the watching eyes; for some distance (the threads) which touch seem the same (colour), but the extremes (on either side) are (quite) different. And there a lasting gold is engraved by threads, and an ancient drama is spun in the web.
Ll. 70-102. Pallas (Minerva) weaves her web.
Pallas represents in her embroidery the hill of Mavors (i.e. the Areopagus) within the stronghold of Cecrops (i.e. Athens), and the ancient dispute concerning the name of the place.
The twelve gods are seated with majestic dignity on their high thrones, with Jupiter in the centre. (With regard to) each one of the gods, she depicts their faces: the image of Jupiter is a regal (one). She portrays the god of the sea (i.e. Neptune) as he stands and strikes the rough stone with his lengthy trident, and the sea(-water) that sprang forth from the centre of the damaged rock, by token of which he asserts his claim to the city; and she gives herself a shield, and a spear with a sharp point, and a helmet for her head; her breast is protected by her aegis, and she shows the earth, struck (by a blow) from her spear, bringing forth the sprig of an olive-tree, pale with berries, and the gods marvelling: Victory (was) the end of her work. But, so that her rival in renown might learn from these examples what reward she might expect for such fearful daring, she adds in the four corners (the scenes of) four contests, distinct with miniature figures in their own clear colours.
One corner shows Thacian (Mount) Rhodope and (Mount) Haemus (i.e. also in Thrace), now icy mountains, (but) once mortal beings, who attributed to themselves the names of the highest gods. A second corner shows the miserable fate of the queen of the Pygmies: (how) Juno, having overcome her in a contest, ordered (her) to become a crane and to make war on her own people. Also she (i.e. Minerva) depicted Antigone, whom Queen Juno turned into a bird, because she had once dared to compete with Jupiter's mighty consort; neither Ilium (i.e. her home city) nor her father Laomedon were of any use to her, but, taking wing (as) a white stork, she applauds herself with a chattering beak. The only corner which is left shows the bereaved Cinyras (i.e. a king of Assyria); and he is seen clasping the steps of the temple, (once) the limbs of his daughters, and he weeps as he lies on the stone. She (i.e. Minerva) encircled the outer edges with (the designs of) peaceful olives: this is her method, and she makes an end of her work with (emblems of) her own tree.
Ll. 103-128. Arachne weaves her own designs in reply.
The Maeonian (i.e. Lydian) (girl) (i.e. Arachne) depicts Europa, deceived by the form of the bull; you would have thought (it) a true bull (and) real waves. She is seen looking at the land (she has) left, and calling her companions, and being afraid of the surging water, and drawing up her timid feet. She also showed Asterie (i.e. the sister of Leda) being held by the struggling eagle, and Leda (i.e. the mother of Castor and Pollux and Helen of Troy) lying beneath the wings of the swan; she added how Jupiter, disguised in the form of a satyr, impregnated the beautiful daughter of Nycteus (i.e. Antiope) with twin offspring (i.e. Amphion and Zetus), (how) he became Amphitryon when he took you, Tirynthia (i.e. Alcmena, the mother of Hercules), how he deceived Danaë (i.e. the mother of Perseus) (as) a golden (shower), the daughter of Asopus (i.e. Aegina) (as) a flame, Mnemosyne (i.e. the mother of the nine Muses) (as) a shepherd, (and) the daughter of Deo (i.e. Proserpina, daughter of Ceres) (as) a spotted snake. She showed you, too, Neptune, changed to a fierce bull, in relation to the Aeolian virgin (i.e. Canace, or Arne). Seen (as) Enipeus (i.e. the god of the Thessalian river), you beget the Aloïdae (i.e. Otus and Ephialtes), (and as) a ram you deceive the daughter of Bisaltis (i.e. Theophano); and the golden-haired, most gentle, mother of the cornfields (i.e. Ceres) knew you (as) a horse, the snake-haired mother (i.e. Medusa) of the winged horse (i.e. Pegasus) knew (you as) a bird, (and) Melantho (i.e. the daughter of Deucalion) knew (you as) a dolphin. To all of these, she gave their own form and the character of their places (of residence). Phoebus (i.e. Apollo) is there in the form of a countryman, and she shows (him) now with the wings of a hawk, now with the skin of a lion, (and) how (as) a shepherd he tricked Macareus' daughter, Isse. (She shows) how Liber (i.e. Bacchus) deceived Erigone with a false grape, (and) how Saturn, as a horse, begot the dual-natured Chiron (i.e. the centaur). The outer part of the web, surrounded by a slender border, contains flowers interwoven with entangled ivy.
Ll. 129-145. Arachne is turned into a spider.
Neither Pallas nor Envy could find any fault with that work. The golden-haired warrior goddess was grieved by its success, and tore the tapestries embroidered with the crimes of the gods. And, as she held her shuttle (made) from (the boxwood of) Mount Cytorus (i.e. a mountain in Paphlagonia), she struck Idmonian Arachne's forehead three (or) four times.
The unfortunate (girl) could not bear (the pain), and bravely bound her neck with a noose. In pity, Pallas lifted (her) up as she hung (there), and spoke thus: "Live then, (you) condemned (girl), but go on hanging. And, lest you are unconcerned about the future, let the same condition of your punishment be pronounced against your race to the last of your descendants." After (saying) this, she sprinkled (her) with the juice of Hecate's herb; and, immediately, at the touch of this grim poison, her hair fell out, (and) with it (went) both her nose and her ears, and her head becomes very small, and she is tiny all over her body: her little fingers stick to her sides as legs, (and) the rest (of her) is belly: from this she still spins a thread and weaves her old web (as) a spider.
Ll. 146-203. Niobe rejects the worship of Latona.
Without delay, they both take up their positions in separate places, and direct a fine thread toward the two looms - the loom is fastened to the beam, the threads (of the warp) are separated with the reed - (the thread of) the weft, which their fingers provide, is inserted between (them) by the pointed shuttles, and, drawn between the threads (of the warp), the teeth notched in the weaver's comb beat (them into place). They both make haste, and, (with) their garments girded to their breasts, they move their skilful arms, with their zeal disguising the effort. And there a purple (shade) which is found on a Tyrian bronze (vessel) is woven (into the cloth), as are lighter shades with (only) a small difference between (them); as when, after a rain-storm, a rainbow struck by the sun, is accustomed to tinge the expanse of the sky by a huge arch, in which a thousand different colours shine, but the transition between (them) beguiles the watching eyes; for some distance (the threads) which touch seem the same (colour), but the extremes (on either side) are (quite) different. And there a lasting gold is engraved by threads, and an ancient drama is spun in the web.
Ll. 70-102. Pallas (Minerva) weaves her web.
Pallas represents in her embroidery the hill of Mavors (i.e. the Areopagus) within the stronghold of Cecrops (i.e. Athens), and the ancient dispute concerning the name of the place.
The twelve gods are seated with majestic dignity on their high thrones, with Jupiter in the centre. (With regard to) each one of the gods, she depicts their faces: the image of Jupiter is a regal (one). She portrays the god of the sea (i.e. Neptune) as he stands and strikes the rough stone with his lengthy trident, and the sea(-water) that sprang forth from the centre of the damaged rock, by token of which he asserts his claim to the city; and she gives herself a shield, and a spear with a sharp point, and a helmet for her head; her breast is protected by her aegis, and she shows the earth, struck (by a blow) from her spear, bringing forth the sprig of an olive-tree, pale with berries, and the gods marvelling: Victory (was) the end of her work. But, so that her rival in renown might learn from these examples what reward she might expect for such fearful daring, she adds in the four corners (the scenes of) four contests, distinct with miniature figures in their own clear colours.
One corner shows Thacian (Mount) Rhodope and (Mount) Haemus (i.e. also in Thrace), now icy mountains, (but) once mortal beings, who attributed to themselves the names of the highest gods. A second corner shows the miserable fate of the queen of the Pygmies: (how) Juno, having overcome her in a contest, ordered (her) to become a crane and to make war on her own people. Also she (i.e. Minerva) depicted Antigone, whom Queen Juno turned into a bird, because she had once dared to compete with Jupiter's mighty consort; neither Ilium (i.e. her home city) nor her father Laomedon were of any use to her, but, taking wing (as) a white stork, she applauds herself with a chattering beak. The only corner which is left shows the bereaved Cinyras (i.e. a king of Assyria); and he is seen clasping the steps of the temple, (once) the limbs of his daughters, and he weeps as he lies on the stone. She (i.e. Minerva) encircled the outer edges with (the designs of) peaceful olives: this is her method, and she makes an end of her work with (emblems of) her own tree.
Ll. 103-128. Arachne weaves her own designs in reply.
The Maeonian (i.e. Lydian) (girl) (i.e. Arachne) depicts Europa, deceived by the form of the bull; you would have thought (it) a true bull (and) real waves. She is seen looking at the land (she has) left, and calling her companions, and being afraid of the surging water, and drawing up her timid feet. She also showed Asterie (i.e. the sister of Leda) being held by the struggling eagle, and Leda (i.e. the mother of Castor and Pollux and Helen of Troy) lying beneath the wings of the swan; she added how Jupiter, disguised in the form of a satyr, impregnated the beautiful daughter of Nycteus (i.e. Antiope) with twin offspring (i.e. Amphion and Zetus), (how) he became Amphitryon when he took you, Tirynthia (i.e. Alcmena, the mother of Hercules), how he deceived Danaë (i.e. the mother of Perseus) (as) a golden (shower), the daughter of Asopus (i.e. Aegina) (as) a flame, Mnemosyne (i.e. the mother of the nine Muses) (as) a shepherd, (and) the daughter of Deo (i.e. Proserpina, daughter of Ceres) (as) a spotted snake. She showed you, too, Neptune, changed to a fierce bull, in relation to the Aeolian virgin (i.e. Canace, or Arne). Seen (as) Enipeus (i.e. the god of the Thessalian river), you beget the Aloïdae (i.e. Otus and Ephialtes), (and as) a ram you deceive the daughter of Bisaltis (i.e. Theophano); and the golden-haired, most gentle, mother of the cornfields (i.e. Ceres) knew you (as) a horse, the snake-haired mother (i.e. Medusa) of the winged horse (i.e. Pegasus) knew (you as) a bird, (and) Melantho (i.e. the daughter of Deucalion) knew (you as) a dolphin. To all of these, she gave their own form and the character of their places (of residence). Phoebus (i.e. Apollo) is there in the form of a countryman, and she shows (him) now with the wings of a hawk, now with the skin of a lion, (and) how (as) a shepherd he tricked Macareus' daughter, Isse. (She shows) how Liber (i.e. Bacchus) deceived Erigone with a false grape, (and) how Saturn, as a horse, begot the dual-natured Chiron (i.e. the centaur). The outer part of the web, surrounded by a slender border, contains flowers interwoven with entangled ivy.
Ll. 129-145. Arachne is turned into a spider.
Neither Pallas nor Envy could find any fault with that work. The golden-haired warrior goddess was grieved by its success, and tore the tapestries embroidered with the crimes of the gods. And, as she held her shuttle (made) from (the boxwood of) Mount Cytorus (i.e. a mountain in Paphlagonia), she struck Idmonian Arachne's forehead three (or) four times.
The unfortunate (girl) could not bear (the pain), and bravely bound her neck with a noose. In pity, Pallas lifted (her) up as she hung (there), and spoke thus: "Live then, (you) condemned (girl), but go on hanging. And, lest you are unconcerned about the future, let the same condition of your punishment be pronounced against your race to the last of your descendants." After (saying) this, she sprinkled (her) with the juice of Hecate's herb; and, immediately, at the touch of this grim poison, her hair fell out, (and) with it (went) both her nose and her ears, and her head becomes very small, and she is tiny all over her body: her little fingers stick to her sides as legs, (and) the rest (of her) is belly: from this she still spins a thread and weaves her old web (as) a spider.
Ll. 146-203. Niobe rejects the worship of Latona.
All of Lydia is murmuring, and the rumour of the deed goes through the towns of Phrygia (i.e. all of Greek Asia Minor) and fills the whole world with talk. At the time when, before her marriage, she had lived (as) a girl in Maeonia (i.e. Lydia), near (Mount) Sipylus (i.e. a mountain near Smyrna), Niobe had known her; but she was yet warned by the punishment of her fellow countrywoman Arachne to give precedence to the gods, and to use more modest words. Many (things) gave her encouragement: but actually neither the skill of her husband (i.e. Amphion was a famous musician), nor the lineage of both (of them) and the power of their great kingdom (i.e. Thebes) were so pleasing to her, though all these (things) were pleasing (to her), as her children; and Niobe would have been spoken of (as) the most fortunate of mothers, if she had not seemed (so) to herself.
For Manto, the daughter of Tiresias, (who was) prescient of the future, inspired by divine impulse, had been (going) through the midst of the streets prophesying: "Daughters of the Ismenus (i.e. Theban women, the Ismenus being the river of Thebes), go as a crowd, and bring incense and holy prayer to Latona and to the two children of Latona (i.e. Apollo and Diana), and entangle your hair with laurel. Latona (so) orders (this) by means of my mouth." They obey, and all the Theban women adorn their hair with the required leaves, and bring incense and words of prayer to the sacred flames.
Look, (here,) with her throng of companions, comes the most honoured Niobe, conspicuous in her Phrygian robes, inlaid with gold, and (as) beautiful as her anger allows: and, shaking the hair on her graceful head loose over both of her shoulders, she stops, and, as she turned her proud eyes around in all directions from her full height, she says, "What madness, (is it not,) to prefer the gods (you have) heard about to (the ones) you can see? Or why is Latona being worshipped at the altars, (while) my divine authority is still without its incense? Tantalus, (who is) the only (man) who has been permitted to touch the dinner-tables of the gods, is my father, my mother (i.e. Dione) is a sister of the Pleiads, (and) mighty Atlas, who carries the axis of the heavens on his shoulders, is my grandfather; Jupiter (is) my other grandfather, (and) I glory in him (being) my father-in-law as well. The peoples of Phrygia fear me and the royal house of Cadmus is under me (as) its mistress, and the walls (were) built to (the sound) of my husband's lyre, and its people are ruled by me and my husband. To whichever part of the palace I turn my eyes immense wealth is seen. My beauty, worthy of a goddess, augments this. Add to this seven daughters and the same number of sons, and soon sons-in-law and daughters-in-law. Now ask what cause does my pride have, and (then) dare to prefer that Titaness Latona, the daughter of Coeus, whoever he is, to me, when the wide earth once refused (her even) a little (piece of) ground to give birth on (i.e. Apollo and Diana were born on the floating island of Delos). Your goddess was received neither by the sky, nor by the earth, nor by the seas: she was an exile, until, Delos, pitying the wanderer, said, "Friend, you wander the earth, I the seas, and gave (her) a precarious spot. She became the parent of twins: this is (but) a seventh part of (the product) of my womb. I am lucky: who indeed can deny this? And I shall remain lucky: who can doubt this too? Who, indeed, can deny this? My wealth has made me safe. I am greater than (anyone) whom Fortune can harm, and, though she might take much away (from me), she would leave me with much more. My advantages have already exceeded my fears. Imagine that some of this host of children could be taken (from me), (though) bereft, I should still not be reduced to the number of two, the size of Latona's (family): with that (number), how far away is she from childlessness? Go (home), go (home) quickly, that is enough of sacred (things), and take the laurel-wreathes from your hair." They set (them) aside, and leave the rites unfinished, except what is permitted (to them), to reverence the goddess in a quiet murmur.
Ll. 204-266. The gods' vengeance: Niobe's sons are killed.
The goddess (i.e. Latona) was furious and spoke to her children (i.e. Apollo and Diana) on the highest peak of (Mount) Cynthus (i.e. a mountain on the island of Delos) in the following words: "Look, I, your mother, proud to have given birth to you and yielding precedence to no one among the goddesses except Juno, am the object of doubt as to whether I am a goddess, and shall be prevented from access to my cultivated altars throughout all the ages, unless you help (me), O my children. Nor is this my only (source of) grief: the daughter of Tantalus (i.e. Niobe) has added insults to her evil deeds, and has dared to place her own children before you, and has called me childless, (something) that may recoil upon her (own head), and, in her wickedness, has displayed her father's tongue." Latona was about to add entreaties to those (things she had) related, (when) Phoebus (i.e. Apollo) cries, "Stop! A long complaint is a hindrance to her punishment!" Phoebe (i.e. Diana) says the same: and falling swiftly through the air, (while) concealed by clouds, they reached the citadel of Cadmus (i.e. Thebes).
For Manto, the daughter of Tiresias, (who was) prescient of the future, inspired by divine impulse, had been (going) through the midst of the streets prophesying: "Daughters of the Ismenus (i.e. Theban women, the Ismenus being the river of Thebes), go as a crowd, and bring incense and holy prayer to Latona and to the two children of Latona (i.e. Apollo and Diana), and entangle your hair with laurel. Latona (so) orders (this) by means of my mouth." They obey, and all the Theban women adorn their hair with the required leaves, and bring incense and words of prayer to the sacred flames.
Look, (here,) with her throng of companions, comes the most honoured Niobe, conspicuous in her Phrygian robes, inlaid with gold, and (as) beautiful as her anger allows: and, shaking the hair on her graceful head loose over both of her shoulders, she stops, and, as she turned her proud eyes around in all directions from her full height, she says, "What madness, (is it not,) to prefer the gods (you have) heard about to (the ones) you can see? Or why is Latona being worshipped at the altars, (while) my divine authority is still without its incense? Tantalus, (who is) the only (man) who has been permitted to touch the dinner-tables of the gods, is my father, my mother (i.e. Dione) is a sister of the Pleiads, (and) mighty Atlas, who carries the axis of the heavens on his shoulders, is my grandfather; Jupiter (is) my other grandfather, (and) I glory in him (being) my father-in-law as well. The peoples of Phrygia fear me and the royal house of Cadmus is under me (as) its mistress, and the walls (were) built to (the sound) of my husband's lyre, and its people are ruled by me and my husband. To whichever part of the palace I turn my eyes immense wealth is seen. My beauty, worthy of a goddess, augments this. Add to this seven daughters and the same number of sons, and soon sons-in-law and daughters-in-law. Now ask what cause does my pride have, and (then) dare to prefer that Titaness Latona, the daughter of Coeus, whoever he is, to me, when the wide earth once refused (her even) a little (piece of) ground to give birth on (i.e. Apollo and Diana were born on the floating island of Delos). Your goddess was received neither by the sky, nor by the earth, nor by the seas: she was an exile, until, Delos, pitying the wanderer, said, "Friend, you wander the earth, I the seas, and gave (her) a precarious spot. She became the parent of twins: this is (but) a seventh part of (the product) of my womb. I am lucky: who indeed can deny this? And I shall remain lucky: who can doubt this too? Who, indeed, can deny this? My wealth has made me safe. I am greater than (anyone) whom Fortune can harm, and, though she might take much away (from me), she would leave me with much more. My advantages have already exceeded my fears. Imagine that some of this host of children could be taken (from me), (though) bereft, I should still not be reduced to the number of two, the size of Latona's (family): with that (number), how far away is she from childlessness? Go (home), go (home) quickly, that is enough of sacred (things), and take the laurel-wreathes from your hair." They set (them) aside, and leave the rites unfinished, except what is permitted (to them), to reverence the goddess in a quiet murmur.
Ll. 204-266. The gods' vengeance: Niobe's sons are killed.
The goddess (i.e. Latona) was furious and spoke to her children (i.e. Apollo and Diana) on the highest peak of (Mount) Cynthus (i.e. a mountain on the island of Delos) in the following words: "Look, I, your mother, proud to have given birth to you and yielding precedence to no one among the goddesses except Juno, am the object of doubt as to whether I am a goddess, and shall be prevented from access to my cultivated altars throughout all the ages, unless you help (me), O my children. Nor is this my only (source of) grief: the daughter of Tantalus (i.e. Niobe) has added insults to her evil deeds, and has dared to place her own children before you, and has called me childless, (something) that may recoil upon her (own head), and, in her wickedness, has displayed her father's tongue." Latona was about to add entreaties to those (things she had) related, (when) Phoebus (i.e. Apollo) cries, "Stop! A long complaint is a hindrance to her punishment!" Phoebe (i.e. Diana) says the same: and falling swiftly through the air, (while) concealed by clouds, they reached the citadel of Cadmus (i.e. Thebes).
There was a level plain, lying wide open near the walls, (which had been) flattened by the constant (trampling of) horses, where a host of wheels and hard hooves had softened the soil beneath (them). There, some of Amphion's seven sons are mounted on their sturdy horses and sit firmly on their backs, (which are) bright-red with Tyrian (i.e. purple) dye, and guide (them) with reins (which are) heavy with gold. (One) of these, Ismenus, who had once been the first of his mother's burdens, while he was turning his horse's course in a fixed circle, and controlling its foaming mouth, cries out, "Oh, (poor) me!" and shows an arrow fixed in the middle of his breast, and, as the reins slipped from his dying hands, he gradually dropped down sideways over (his steed's) right shoulder. Next, Sipylus, hearing the sound of a quiver in the empty (air), gave the reins (a tug), just like when the master (of a ship), foreseeing a storm, runs when he sees a cloud, and unfurls the sails (which) hang down from every (yardarm), lest any light breeze should blow. Yet, as he tugs the reins, the unavoidable arrow pursues (him); the arrow stuck, quivering, in the top of his neck, and the naked steel protruded from his throat. He, as he was falling forward, rolls over their galloping legs and manes, and pollutes the ground with his warm blood. When the luckless Phaedimus and Tantalus, the heir to his grandfather's name, had put an end to their usual work, they had gone over to the young men's business in the sleek wrestling-ground. And they were already joined in a tight hold as they wrestled chest to chest, wen an arrow loosed from a taut string transfixed (them) both, just as they were joined together (in a clinch). They groaned together, they lay on the ground together, their limbs contorted with pain, (and) as they lay (there), they rolled their dying eyes at the same time, as they gave up the ghost together. Alphenor sees (this), and, beating his breast in anguish, he hastens to lift up their cold limbs in his embrace, and in this dutiful service he falls: for the Delian (god) (i.e. Apollo) burst his innermost organs with deadly steel. As soon as it was removed, a part of his lung was drawn out on the barbs, and his blood poured out into the air. But (it is) not a simple wound (that) affects the unshaven (i.e. youthful) Damasicthon. He was hit where the shin begins to exist, and where his sinewy knee makes a soft space between the (two joints) (i.e. his shin and his thigh). And, while he was trying to extract the destructive shaft with his hand, another arrow was driven into his throat right up to its feathers. (A rush of) blood drove (it) out, and, gushing out, it spurts high into (the air), and shoots up into the perforated sky. Her last (son), Ilioneus, had stretched out his arms unavailingly in an entreaty, and had cried out, "O all (you) universal gods, spare (me)!" unaware that it was not necessary to ask (them) all. The Archer-god (i.e. Apollo) was moved, although the dart was not now recoverable. Yet, he was killed by a very small wound, as the arrow did not strike (him) deeply in the heart.
Ll. 267-312. Niobe's daughters are killed. Her fate.
The rumour of the tragedy, the grief of the people, and the tears of her own (family), made the mother sure that such a sudden disaster (had happened), while she wondered that they had such power, and was angry that the gods had dared (to do) this, (and) they had such authority. For their father Amphion, having driven a sword through his chest, had, by dying, ended his pain together with his life. Alas, how the present Niobe differed from the former Niobe, (she,) who had just cleared the people away from Latona's altar, and, with her head held high, had made her way through the middle of the city, envied by her (friends), but now to be pitied even by an enemy. She falls on the cold bodies, and, without ceremony, she bestows final kisses on all of her sons. (Turning) from them, she lifts her bruised arms to the heavens, and cries, "Feed on my pain, (O you) cruel Latona, feed and fill your heart with my grief! Glut your savage heart," she said, " (for) I am having to take part in seven funerals. Exult and triumph over your enemy, (as) the victor! But why (are you) the victor? (Even) in my misery, I have more than you, happy (as you are): even after so many funerals, I (still) outdo (you)."
She finished speaking, and a string sounded from a taut bow. This frightened all (of them) except Niobe: she is defiant in her misfortune. With dishevelled hair, the sisters were standing with black vestments before the funeral biers of their brothers. One of these, pulling out an arrow that was stuck in her flesh, fainted in death beside the face of her brother: a second (one), (while) trying to comfort her grief-stricken mother, fell suddenly silent, and was completely doubled up (in agony) by a wound. She pressed her lips together, but her life had already gone. One falls as she flees in vain, another dies on top of her sister, a further one hides, and you would have seen yet another one trembling. Now, after six had been delivered to death, and had suffered their different wounds, only one remained. The mother, (while) protecting her with her whole body (and) with all her clothing, exclaimed, "Leave (me) the youngest one, I ask for the youngest one of many." But, while she prays, (the one), on behalf of whom she prays, is dead. She sat down, childless, among her lifeless sons and daughters and husband. The breeze does not stir her hair at all, the colour of her face is bloodless, her eyes stand motionless between her sad cheeks, (and) there is nothing alive in her appearance. Her tongue also freezes inside her hard mouth, and her veins cease to be able to throb: her neck cannot be bent, nor her arms return their movements, nor her feet go (anywhere); inside too, her body is stone. Still she weeps. Now, enclosed in a whirl of powerful wind, she is snatched back to her native land (i.e. Lydia). There, set on the summit of a mountain (i.e. Mount Sipylus), she melts, and even now the marble monument drips with tears (i.e. it weeps when the sun strikes its snow cap).
Ll. 313-381. The story of Latona and the Lycians.
After this, all men and women are indeed afraid of the anger shown by a god, and, in their worship, they all pay even greater respect to the great divine power of the twin-bearing goddess (i.e. Latona), and, as it happens, they retell old (stories) because of a more recent event.
One of these says: "In the fields of fertile Lycia, the farmers of ancient times also spurned that goddess (but) without avoiding punishment. The matter is certainly not well-known, due to the obscurity of these men, (but it is) still wonderful. For my father, now more advanced in age and unable to endure the journey, had ordered me to collect some choice oxen, and had, himself, given (me) a guide from those people as I went. While I am traversing the pastures with him, behold, an old altar, black with the ashes of sacrifices, was standing in the middle of a lake, surrounded by quivering ashes. My guide stopped, and said in a fearful murmur, 'Have mercy on me!' and I said in a similar murmur, 'Have mercy!' Yet, when I asked (him whether) it was an altar belonging to the Naiads (i.e. the water-nymphs) or to Faunus (i.e. the god of the forests and herdsmen, identified with Pan) or to an indigenous god, my friend replied as follows:
" 'O young man, there is no mountain deity in this altar: she (i.e. Latona) calls it her own, whom the royal consort (i.e. Juno) once banned from the world, (and) whose prayers the wandering Delos scarcely accepted at the time when she was a lightly floating island. There, lying between a palm-tree and a tree (sacred) to Pallas (i.e. an olive-tree), Latona gave birth to twins against the will of her step-mother (i.e. Juno). Then also, having borne her children she is said to have fled from Juno, and to have carried her two divine children (clasped) to her breast. And now, within the borders of Lycia, home of the Chimaera, when the harsh sun was scorching the fields, the goddess, exhausted by her protracted labour, (and) parched by the radiant heat, contracted a (terrible) thirst, and her greedy children had drained her milky breasts. She happened to catch sight of a lake of calm water at the bottom of a valley; countrymen (were) there gathering bushy osiers, together with rushes from the marsh and fine sedge. The Titan's daughter (i.e. Latona) approached, and, having placed her knee on the ground, she knelt (on it), in order to draw out some cool water to drink. The rustic crowd forbids (it). The goddess addressed (those) denying (her) thus: "Why do you prevent (me) from (drinking) your waters? The use of water is a communal (right). Nature has not made the sun, or the air, or the clear waters a private (thing): I have come to a public facility. Yet, I beg you to grant it (to me as) a suppliant. I was not preparing to wash my joints or my weary limbs here, but to quench my thirst. My mouth lacks moisture due to speaking, and my throat is parched, and there is scarcely a passage in it for my voice. A draught of water would be nectar to me, and at the same time I should acknowledge that I have received life (from it): in that water you would be giving (me) life. Let (those) who stretch out their little arms from my breast move you also." And, by chance, the children were stretching out their arms. Whom would the goddess's winning words not have had the power to move? Yet, they persist in denying (her despite) her begging, and add threats, if she does not take herself off far away, and insults on top (of that). Nor is that enough, (but) they also stirred the lake with their feet and hands, and churned up the soft mud at the bottom of the pool by spiteful jumping here (and) there. Anger dispersed her thirst: for the daughter of Coeus (i.e. Latona) does not entreat the unworthy any longer, nor can she bear to speak words in any way inferior to (those of) a goddess, and, raising her hand-palms to the heavens, she said, "May you live in that swamp for ever!"
(The things which) the goddess wished for come about: it is delightful (for them) to be under water, and now to submerge their limbs completely in the depths of the marsh, and now to stick out their heads and swim on the surface of the pool; (and) often (they delight) to squat on the bank of the swamp, (and) often to spring back into the cool lake. But, even now, they employ their ugly voices in quarrels, and, although they are under water, they banish shame and try to make abusive remarks (while) under water. Now too, their voices are hoarse and their bloated necks swell up, and their loud croaking noise extends their wide-open mouths. Their backs meet their heads, (and) their necks seem to have disappeared, their backbones have become green and their bellies, (now) the largest part of their bodies, are white, and, (as) newly-formed frogs, they leap around in their muddy pool.' "
Ll. 382-400. The tale of Marsyas.
When whoever it was had related the ruin of the men from the people of Lycia, another (person) remembers the satyr (i.e. Marsyas), whom the son of Latona (i.e. Apollo) had afflicted with punishment, (after he had been) defeated by the flute invented by Tritonia (i.e. Minerva). "Why do you strip me of my (skin)? he cries. "Aah, I am sorry, aah, a flute is not worth (all this)," he screams (in agony). As he screams, the skin is flayed from the surface of his limbs, (and) there was nothing but a wound; blood flows everywhere, and his exposed sinews lie open, and his trembling veins quiver without any skin; you can count his throbbing internal organs, and the sections of his lungs are clearly visible in his chest. The country-dwellers, the woodland deities, the fauns and his brother satyrs, and then also his beloved Olympus (i.e. his pupil) and the nymphs, and whoever pastured their fleecy flocks and horned cattle on those mountains, lamented him. The fertile (soil) was drenched, and the sodden earth caught the falling tears and absorbed (them) into its deepest veins; when it had formed (them) into water, it sent (them) out into the vacant air. From there, making swiftly for the sea between sloping banks, it has the name Marsyas, the clearest river in Phrygia.
Ll. 401-438. The marriage of Procne and Tereus.
From such stories as these, the people immediately return to present-day (affairs), and they mourn the death of Amphion and his children. Their mother (i.e. Niobe) was the object of unpopularity: even then, one man, Pelops (i.e. her brother), is said to have wept for her, and, after he had taken off his clothing, to have shown the ivory on his left shoulder. This shoulder was composed of flesh and (was) the same colour as his right (shoulder) at the time of his birth: then, when his limbs had been cut in pieces by his father's (i.e. Tantalus') hands, they say that the gods joined (them) together (again); when (all) the others had been found, (the one) which was lacking was the place between the collar-bone and the upper arm. (A piece of) ivory was inserted in place of the missing part, and, when that was done, Pelops was (made) whole (again).
The neighbouring princes and the nearby cities come together to beg their kings to go and (offer) sympathy (to Thebes), Argos and Sparta, and Peloponnesian Mycenae, and Calydon, not yet hateful to the stern Diana, and fruitful Orchomenos and Corinth, renowned for its bronze, and warlike Messene, and Patrae, and low-lying Cleonae, and the Pylos belonging to Neleus, and the Troezen still not ruled by Pittheus, and whichever of the other cities are shut in by the Isthmus between the two seas (i.e. those to the south-east of the Isthmus of Corinth) and (those) sited beyond (it which) can be seen from the Isthmus between the two seas (i.e. those to the north-east of the Isthmus of Corinth).(But) who can believe (this)? Athens, (you) alone did nothing. War prevented (it) from helping, as a barbarian army had crossed the sea and was bringing terror to the walls of Mopsopius (i.e. Athens). Tereus of Thrace had routed these with his army of auxiliaries, and won a distinguished name by defeating (them).
As he was strong in riches and in men, and as he happened to trace his descent from mighty Gradivus (i.e. Mars), Pandion joined his (daughter) to him in marriage. Neither the bridal matron, Juno, nor Hymen nor one of the Graces is present at that wedding-bed. The Eumenides (i.e. the Furies) held torches, snatched from a funeral, the Eumenides spread their couch, and the unholy screech owl brooded over their house and sat on the roof of their bed-chamber. By this bird(-omen) Procne and Tereus (were) united, by this bird(-omen) they became parents. Thrace, of course, rejoiced with them, and they themselves gave thanks to the gods, and commanded that the day on which Pandion's daughter was given to her illustrious ruler, and (the day) on which (their son) Itys was born, should be called a festival. So far does our benefit lie hidden.
Ll. 438-485. Tereus' passion for Procne's sister, Philomela.
Now, Titan (i.e. Sol, the Sun, son of the Titan Hyperion) had guided the seasons of the revolving year through five autumns, when Procne said to her husband in a coaxing voice, "If any thanks are (due) to me, either send me to see my sister (i.e. Philomela), or let her come here! You can promise your father-in-law (i.e. Pandion) that she will return after a short time: you would be giving me the equivalent of a great gift, if you would let me see my sister." He (i.e. Tereus) orders his ship to be launched on the sea, and, by means of sail and oar, it enters the port of Cecrops (i.e. Athens) and reaches the shore of the Piraeus.
As soon as he had gained access to his father-in-law, right(-hand) is joined to right(-hand) and the conversation is begun with good wishes. He had (just) begun to relate the reason for his visit, (which was) his wife's request, and to avow a speedy return, (if she were) sent, (when) lo! Philomela enters rich in her costly raiment, (yet) richer in beauty: (she walks) as we are accustomed to hear that the naiads and the dryads would walk in the midst of the woods, if only you were to give them a refined manner and a dress like hers. At the sight of the young girl, Tereus was set on fire, just as if someone were to apply fire to corn stubble, or to burn the leaves and the grasses stored in a hay-loft. Her appearance (is) indeed worthy (of it): but his innate lust also goads him on, and the people of his region (i.e. Thrace) are inclined towards love: he burns with his own vice and (that) of his nation. His impulse is to wear down the care of her companions and the loyalty of her nurse, and also to seduce the (girl) herself with enormous gifts, and (even) to lay out his whole kingdom, or to rape (her) and (then) to defend having raped her in a brutal war. And, overcome by unbridled passion, there is nothing which he would not dare, nor could his breast control the flames confined within (it). And now he brooks delay badly, and returns to Procne's request with an eager voice, and pursues his own wishes under hers. Desire made (him) eloquent:and whenever he begged more strongly than (was) proper, he maintained that Procne wished (it) so. He even added tears, as if she had commissioned these too. O gods, what secret darkness do human hearts possess! Tereus was thought to be dutiful in his wicked efforts, and he receives praise for his crime. Philomela wants the same as him, and, putting her arms around her father's shoulders, coaxing (him) to let (her go) to visit her sister, she seeks (it) both in and against her own interest. Tereus gazes at her, and, by seeing (her), he considers (he has her) already, and seeing her kisses and her placing her arms around (her father's) neck, he takes (it) all as spurs, both firewood and food, for his frenzy; and, whenever she embraces her father, he wishes he were her father: for indeed that would be no less impious. Her father is overcome by the entreaties of (them) both, She rejoices and gives thanks to her father, and she imagines, poor (girl), that something, which will bring mourning to the two (of them), has been a success for the two (of them).
Ll. 486-548. Tereus rapes Philomela.
Now, little of his (daily) labour was left to Phoebus (i.e. the sun), and his horses were beating the track of steep Olympus with their hooves: a royal feast is served at (Pandion's) tables, and the wine (is served) in golden (goblets); then they give their sated bodies to quiet sleep. But the Odrysian (i.e. Thracian) king, although he had retired (to bed), is on fire with his (thoughts) of her, and, recalling her appearance, and her gestures and her hands, he imagines what he had not yet seen just as he wishes, and he fuels his own fires, with his restlessness making sleep impossible. Day came, and, Pandion, clasping his son-in-law's right(-hand), as he was departing, with tears welling up (in his eyes), commends his daughter to him, (with the following words):
"My dear son-in-law, since dutiful reasons require (it) and they both (i.e. Procne and Philomela) have desired (it) - and you too have desired (it), Tereus - I give her to you, and, entreating (you) through your loyalty and your kinsman's heart, I beg (you) by the gods above to protect (her) with a father's love, and to send (her) back to me as soon as possible - it will all be too long a wait for me - (as) the sweet comfort of my troubled old-age. You too, if you have any family affection at all - it is surely enough that your sister is (already) so far away - , come back to me, Philomela, as soon as possible!"
He (i.e. Pandion) issued commands and gave kisses to his daughter at the same time, and his soft tears fell among his instructions. And, as a token of their good faith, he called for the right(- hands) of the two of them (i.e. Philomela and Tereus), and, when these had been given, he joined (them) together, and asks (them) to remember to greet his absent daughter (i.e. Procne) and grandson (i.e. Itys) for him; and, with his mouth full of sobs, he could barely say a last farewell, and he feared the forebodings in his mind.
As soon as Philomela was on board the (brightly) painted ship, and the sea was being churned by the oars, and the land was left behind, he (i.e. Tereus) exclaims, "I have won! My wishes are being carried with me!" and the barbarian exults, and can scarcely defer the delights he has in mind. He never turns his eyes away from her, just like, when the predatory bird of Jupiter (i.e. an eagle) has deposited a hare with its hooked claws in its high eerie: there is no escape for the captive, (and) the plunderer gazes at its prize. And now their journey (has been) completed, and now they had disembarked from their tired ship on the shores of his (country), when the king took Pandion's daughter to a high building, hidden in an ancient forest, and there he shut (her) in, pale and trembling and afraid of everything, and now in tears (and) begging (to know) where her sister was: then admitting his evil intention, he overcomes (her) by force, both a virgin and alone (as she is), as she cries out again and again to her father and her sister, (and,) above all, to the great gods. She shakes like a frightened lamb that, wounded and cast out of the jaws of a grey wolf, does not yet seem to itself (to be) safe, or like a dove, with its feathers soaked in its own blood, (that) still dreads and fears the rapacious claws, by which it had been gripped. After a while, when her senses had returned, she tears out her dishevelled hair and beating her breast with her arms like a mourner, she stretches out her hands and cries, "O (you) savage, O (you) cruel (wretch), (what) dreadful (things) have you done! Did not my father's requests, (delivered) with his dutiful tears, nor concern for my sister, nor my virginity and my conjugal rights move you (at all)? You have wrecked everything: I have become my sister's rival, you (have become) a consort to two (persons), (and) Procne (is) due to become my enemy. Why not rob me of this life of mine, lest any crime may escape you, (you) treacherous (devil)? But, if only you had done (it) before that impious coupling (of ours), I should have a shade free of any guilt. Yet, if the gods above witness such (things), if the powers of the gods mean anything, if everything has not perished with me, (then) some day you will pay me a penalty (for this). With shame banished, I shall tell of your deeds. If the opportunity should be given (to me) I shall come before the people; if I am to be kept shut up in these woods, I shall fill the woods (with it), and I shall move (to pity) the (very) stones that know (of it): the sky will hear of it, and any god, if there is (one) in it."
Ll. 549-570. Philomela is mutilated.
When the anger of the savage king had been stirred by these (words), nor was his fear any less than that, goaded by both of these reasons, he frees the sword from the scabbard, with which he was girded, and he seizes (her) by (the tresses of) her hair, (and) bending her arms behind her back, he compels (her) to suffer (them as) chains; Philomela, having seen the sword, had fostered the hope of her death and offered (him) her throat: as she struggled to speak and, in her anger, called out her father's name continuously, he, holding her tongue with a pincer, severed (it) with his savage blade. The root of her tongue is left quivering, and (the tongue) itself lies on the dark ground, and murmurs as it shakes, and, like the tail of a mutilated snake is wont to thrash around, it writhes and seeks the footprints of its mistress (while) dying. Even after this crime, it is said - (although) I can scarcely believe (it) - that he repeatedly assailed her wounded body again in his lust.
After these (dreadful) deeds, he manages to return to Procne; when she sees her husband, she asks after her sister: but he gives false groans, and tells of her fictitious funeral, and his tears gave (it) credence. Procne tears her glistening garments with their gold hems from her shoulders and puts on black clothes, and she builds an empty tomb and brings sacrificial offerings to the imagined shade, and she laments the fate of a sister, not due to be lamented in such a manner.
Ll. 571-619. The truth about Philomela is revealed.
The (sun) god had traversed the twelve signs (of the zodiac), and a year had passed. What can Philomela do? A guard prevents her escape, the piled up walls of the building are hardened by solid stone, (and) her mute mouth is wanting as a witness to what happened. There is a great inventiveness in sorrow, and ingenuity arises from pitiful circumstances. She cleverly hangs her web from a barbarian (i.e. Phrygian) loom, and embroidered purple materials with white thread (as) evidence of the crime; (when it was) completed, she handed (it) to her only (attendant), and asks (her), by a gesture, to take (it) to her mistres: (as she had been) asked, she took (it) to Procne, not knowing what it recorded within it. The wife of that cruel king unrolls the cloth, and reads the pitiable account of her sister's fate, and keeps silent - it is a miracle that she could be! Grief has checked her lips, and, as she seeks (to find) words (expressive of) sufficient indignation, her tongue fails (her); nor has she time to cry, but, on the verge of confusing right and wrong, she rushes off, and is completely (engrossed) by the thought of vengeance.
It was the time when the Sithonian (i.e. Thracian) women used to celebrate the triennial festival of Bacchus - night (was) aware of their sacred rites, (and) at night (Mount) Rhodope (i.e. a Thracian mountain) resounds with the clashing of shrill bronze (cymbals) - : at night the queen left her palace, and is arrayed for the rites of the god, and takes up their frenzied weapons. Her head is covered with vine (leaves), and a deer skin hangs down over her left side, and a light spear rests on her shoulder. Rushing through the woods, with a crowd of her (attendants) accompanying (her), the terrifying Procne, driven by the frenzies of grief, imitates your own (frenzies), Bacchus. At last, she comes to the lonely building, and howls and cries "Euhoe!", and she breaks down the doors and seizes hold of her sister; and, once she has been seized, she puts the trappings of Bacchus (on her), and conceals her face with ivy leaves, and, dragging the terrified (girl along with her), she takes (her) inside her (palace) walls. When Philomela realised that she had reached that accursed house, the unfortunate (girl) shuddered in horror, and the whole of her face turned pale. Having reached the place, Procne takes off her religious trappings, and unveils the downcast face of her wretched sister, and seeks to embrace (her). But she could not bear to lift up her eyes face to face, seeing herself (as) her sister's rival, and, turning her face to the ground, (and,) wanting to swear to the gods, and to call (them) to witness that that shame of hers had been brought upon her by force, she used her hands instead of speech. Procne, herself, burned (with fury) and could not control her wrath; and, cutting short her sister's weeping, she says, "This is not the time for tears, but for the sword, and what can overcome the sword, if you have such a thing. I shall either burn down the royal palace with firebrands (and) throw the perpetrator Tereus into the midst of the flames, or I shall cut out with a sword his tongue, or his eyes, or those parts (of him) which brought such shame upon you, or I shall put an end to his guilty life by a thousand wounds. I am ready for every possible enormity: but what it should be, I am still uncertain."
Ll. 619-652. The pitiless feast.
While Procne was talking of these (things), Itys came to his mother. She was reminded by him of what she could do: regarding (him) with cold eyes, she said, "Ah, how like your father you are!" Saying no more, she prepares her woeful plan, and seethes with silent anger. Yet, when her son came near, and gave his mother a greeting, and put his little arms around her neck and gave her kisses mingled with childish endearments, the mother was moved, it is true, and her anger, having weakened, was checked, and her eyes were wet with tears that had gathered against her will. But, as soon as she realised that her mind was wavering through too much family affection, she turned from him (to look) at her sister's face once more, and gazing in turn at both (of them), she says, "Why can the one offer his endearments, (while) the other is silent because her tongue has been cut out? Why can she not call sister (the one) whom he calls his mother? Look, daughter of Pandion, at the husband, to whom you are wed. You are unworthy: family affection is a crime in the wife of Tereus."
Without delay, she dragged Itys away, just as a tiger of the (River) Ganges (drags off) the suckling fawn of a hind through the dark forests. When they reached a remote part of the lofty palace, as he, already aware of his fate, stretched out his hands, and, crying out, "Mother! Mother!" reached for her neck, Procne struck (him) with a sword in the side which was close to his heart, and she did not change her expression. This one wound was probably enough to (seal) his fate: (but then) Philomela cut open his throat with a knife, and, while his limbs were still warm and retained some life, they tore (them) to pieces. Then, some bubble in a hollow bronze (cauldron), others hiss on spits, (and) the innermost rooms drip with the blood of his entrails.
His wife summons the unsuspecting Tereus to this banquet, and pretends (it is) a sacred rite in accordance with the custom of her native-land (i.e. Athens), and she sends his followers and attendants away. Tereus eats (by) himself, seated high up on his ancestral throne, and packs his own son into his belly. And so great is the darkness of his understanding that he said, "Fetch Itys here!"
Ll. 653-674. Procne, Philomela and Tereus are all transformed into birds.
Procne cannot disguise her cruel joy, and now, eager to be the messenger of their loss, she says, "You have inside (you the one) whom you are asking for." He looks around and asks where he is; (and,) as he is asking for (him) and calling out once more, just as she was present with her hair dishevelled by that frenzied murder, Philomela leapt forward and hurled Itys' bloody head into his father's face, and at no (other) time did she (more) wish to have had the power to speak and to give witness to her joy in fitting words. The Thracian (king) (i.e. Tereus) pushes back the table with a great cry, and invokes the snake(-haired) sisters from the valley of the Styx (i.e. the Furies); and now he longs, if he could (do so), to open up his breast and discharge the dreadful (contents of) the feast and his half-eaten son, (but) then he weeps and calls himself the wretched sepulchre of his son, and pursues with naked blade the daughters of Pandion (i.e. Procne and Philomela). You might have thought the bodies of the Cecropian (i.e. Athenian) (women) were hanging from wings: they were hanging from wings. One of them (i.e. Philomela: the nightingale) makes for the woods, the other one (i.e. Procne: the swallow) climbs to the roof; nor yet have the stains of the murder disappeared from her breast, and her plumage is marked with blood. He (i.e. Tereus), swift in his grief and in his desire for revenge, is turned into a bird, on the head of which stands a feathered crest; an excessive beak juts out, like a long spear: the name of this bird is a hoopoe, (and) it seems to have an armed appearance.
Ll. 675-721. Boreas and Orithyia.
This tragedy sent Pandion to the shadows of Tartarus before his time and the final period of his old age. Erechtheus (i.e. the son of Pandion) took over the rule of the region and the management of its affairs, (and it was) doubtful (whether he was) more powerful in his justice or in the strength of his arms. He even begat four young men and as many of the female condition: but the beauty of two (of them) was equal. Of these (two), Cephalus, the grandson of Aeolus, was fortunate to (have) you, Procris, as his wife; Tereus and the Thracians damaged Boreas (i.e. the god of the North Wind), and the god was deprived of his beloved Orithyia for a long time, while he begged (for her) and preferred to use prayers rather than force. But when nothing is gained by blandishments, bristling with the wrath to which he was accustomed, and which involved so much wind, he said, "I deserved (this)! For why have I relinquished my weapons, and my ferocity and violence, and my anger and menacing moods, and (why) have I turned to prayer, the use of which is unbecoming to me? Force is fitting for me: by force I drive away the gloomy clouds, by force I shake up the seas and overturn the knotted oaks, and I harden the snow and batter the ground with hail. Likewise, when I meet with my brothers in the open sky - for that is my field of action - , I struggle with so much force that the middle of the sky resounds with our collisions, and flashes of lightning leap out, dashing from the hollow clouds. In the same way, when I have entered the hollow openings of the earth, and have proudly applied my back to its deepest caverns, I trouble the shades and the whole world with my tremors. By such means I should have sought my marriage, and I ought not to have begged Erechtheus (to be) my father-in-law, but made (him so) by force."
Speaking such (words), or (words) no less forceful than (these), Boreas unfurled his wings: by their beating the whole world is stirred and the wide ocean trembled violently. Dragging his dusty cloak over the highest (mountain) summits, the lover sweeps the land, and, shrouded in darkness, he embraces Orithyia with his tawny wings. While he flies, his flames (of passion were) fanned and burned more strongly. Nor did the thief check the reins in his airy course until he reached the people of the Cicones (i.e. the Thracians) and their city-walls. There, the Actaean (i.e. Athenian) (girl) became the wife of the chilly tyrant (i.e. Boreas) and a mother, giving birth to twin brothers, who had their father's wings, (and) everything else like their mother. Yet, they say that these (were) not the only (things absent) from their bodies (when they were) born, but that while a beard, matching their red hair was lacking, Calais and Zetes were without wings (as) boys. (But) soon, wings in the shape of birds, began to sprout on the flanks of both alike, (and) their cheek-bones became golden at the same time. Then, when their time as boys had passed, the youths travelled with the Minyans (i.e. the Argonauts) in that first ship across an unknown sea (i.e. the Black Sea) in search of the gleaming wool of the golden fleece.
Ll. 267-312. Niobe's daughters are killed. Her fate.
The rumour of the tragedy, the grief of the people, and the tears of her own (family), made the mother sure that such a sudden disaster (had happened), while she wondered that they had such power, and was angry that the gods had dared (to do) this, (and) they had such authority. For their father Amphion, having driven a sword through his chest, had, by dying, ended his pain together with his life. Alas, how the present Niobe differed from the former Niobe, (she,) who had just cleared the people away from Latona's altar, and, with her head held high, had made her way through the middle of the city, envied by her (friends), but now to be pitied even by an enemy. She falls on the cold bodies, and, without ceremony, she bestows final kisses on all of her sons. (Turning) from them, she lifts her bruised arms to the heavens, and cries, "Feed on my pain, (O you) cruel Latona, feed and fill your heart with my grief! Glut your savage heart," she said, " (for) I am having to take part in seven funerals. Exult and triumph over your enemy, (as) the victor! But why (are you) the victor? (Even) in my misery, I have more than you, happy (as you are): even after so many funerals, I (still) outdo (you)."
She finished speaking, and a string sounded from a taut bow. This frightened all (of them) except Niobe: she is defiant in her misfortune. With dishevelled hair, the sisters were standing with black vestments before the funeral biers of their brothers. One of these, pulling out an arrow that was stuck in her flesh, fainted in death beside the face of her brother: a second (one), (while) trying to comfort her grief-stricken mother, fell suddenly silent, and was completely doubled up (in agony) by a wound. She pressed her lips together, but her life had already gone. One falls as she flees in vain, another dies on top of her sister, a further one hides, and you would have seen yet another one trembling. Now, after six had been delivered to death, and had suffered their different wounds, only one remained. The mother, (while) protecting her with her whole body (and) with all her clothing, exclaimed, "Leave (me) the youngest one, I ask for the youngest one of many." But, while she prays, (the one), on behalf of whom she prays, is dead. She sat down, childless, among her lifeless sons and daughters and husband. The breeze does not stir her hair at all, the colour of her face is bloodless, her eyes stand motionless between her sad cheeks, (and) there is nothing alive in her appearance. Her tongue also freezes inside her hard mouth, and her veins cease to be able to throb: her neck cannot be bent, nor her arms return their movements, nor her feet go (anywhere); inside too, her body is stone. Still she weeps. Now, enclosed in a whirl of powerful wind, she is snatched back to her native land (i.e. Lydia). There, set on the summit of a mountain (i.e. Mount Sipylus), she melts, and even now the marble monument drips with tears (i.e. it weeps when the sun strikes its snow cap).
Ll. 313-381. The story of Latona and the Lycians.
After this, all men and women are indeed afraid of the anger shown by a god, and, in their worship, they all pay even greater respect to the great divine power of the twin-bearing goddess (i.e. Latona), and, as it happens, they retell old (stories) because of a more recent event.
One of these says: "In the fields of fertile Lycia, the farmers of ancient times also spurned that goddess (but) without avoiding punishment. The matter is certainly not well-known, due to the obscurity of these men, (but it is) still wonderful. For my father, now more advanced in age and unable to endure the journey, had ordered me to collect some choice oxen, and had, himself, given (me) a guide from those people as I went. While I am traversing the pastures with him, behold, an old altar, black with the ashes of sacrifices, was standing in the middle of a lake, surrounded by quivering ashes. My guide stopped, and said in a fearful murmur, 'Have mercy on me!' and I said in a similar murmur, 'Have mercy!' Yet, when I asked (him whether) it was an altar belonging to the Naiads (i.e. the water-nymphs) or to Faunus (i.e. the god of the forests and herdsmen, identified with Pan) or to an indigenous god, my friend replied as follows:
" 'O young man, there is no mountain deity in this altar: she (i.e. Latona) calls it her own, whom the royal consort (i.e. Juno) once banned from the world, (and) whose prayers the wandering Delos scarcely accepted at the time when she was a lightly floating island. There, lying between a palm-tree and a tree (sacred) to Pallas (i.e. an olive-tree), Latona gave birth to twins against the will of her step-mother (i.e. Juno). Then also, having borne her children she is said to have fled from Juno, and to have carried her two divine children (clasped) to her breast. And now, within the borders of Lycia, home of the Chimaera, when the harsh sun was scorching the fields, the goddess, exhausted by her protracted labour, (and) parched by the radiant heat, contracted a (terrible) thirst, and her greedy children had drained her milky breasts. She happened to catch sight of a lake of calm water at the bottom of a valley; countrymen (were) there gathering bushy osiers, together with rushes from the marsh and fine sedge. The Titan's daughter (i.e. Latona) approached, and, having placed her knee on the ground, she knelt (on it), in order to draw out some cool water to drink. The rustic crowd forbids (it). The goddess addressed (those) denying (her) thus: "Why do you prevent (me) from (drinking) your waters? The use of water is a communal (right). Nature has not made the sun, or the air, or the clear waters a private (thing): I have come to a public facility. Yet, I beg you to grant it (to me as) a suppliant. I was not preparing to wash my joints or my weary limbs here, but to quench my thirst. My mouth lacks moisture due to speaking, and my throat is parched, and there is scarcely a passage in it for my voice. A draught of water would be nectar to me, and at the same time I should acknowledge that I have received life (from it): in that water you would be giving (me) life. Let (those) who stretch out their little arms from my breast move you also." And, by chance, the children were stretching out their arms. Whom would the goddess's winning words not have had the power to move? Yet, they persist in denying (her despite) her begging, and add threats, if she does not take herself off far away, and insults on top (of that). Nor is that enough, (but) they also stirred the lake with their feet and hands, and churned up the soft mud at the bottom of the pool by spiteful jumping here (and) there. Anger dispersed her thirst: for the daughter of Coeus (i.e. Latona) does not entreat the unworthy any longer, nor can she bear to speak words in any way inferior to (those of) a goddess, and, raising her hand-palms to the heavens, she said, "May you live in that swamp for ever!"
(The things which) the goddess wished for come about: it is delightful (for them) to be under water, and now to submerge their limbs completely in the depths of the marsh, and now to stick out their heads and swim on the surface of the pool; (and) often (they delight) to squat on the bank of the swamp, (and) often to spring back into the cool lake. But, even now, they employ their ugly voices in quarrels, and, although they are under water, they banish shame and try to make abusive remarks (while) under water. Now too, their voices are hoarse and their bloated necks swell up, and their loud croaking noise extends their wide-open mouths. Their backs meet their heads, (and) their necks seem to have disappeared, their backbones have become green and their bellies, (now) the largest part of their bodies, are white, and, (as) newly-formed frogs, they leap around in their muddy pool.' "
Ll. 382-400. The tale of Marsyas.
When whoever it was had related the ruin of the men from the people of Lycia, another (person) remembers the satyr (i.e. Marsyas), whom the son of Latona (i.e. Apollo) had afflicted with punishment, (after he had been) defeated by the flute invented by Tritonia (i.e. Minerva). "Why do you strip me of my (skin)? he cries. "Aah, I am sorry, aah, a flute is not worth (all this)," he screams (in agony). As he screams, the skin is flayed from the surface of his limbs, (and) there was nothing but a wound; blood flows everywhere, and his exposed sinews lie open, and his trembling veins quiver without any skin; you can count his throbbing internal organs, and the sections of his lungs are clearly visible in his chest. The country-dwellers, the woodland deities, the fauns and his brother satyrs, and then also his beloved Olympus (i.e. his pupil) and the nymphs, and whoever pastured their fleecy flocks and horned cattle on those mountains, lamented him. The fertile (soil) was drenched, and the sodden earth caught the falling tears and absorbed (them) into its deepest veins; when it had formed (them) into water, it sent (them) out into the vacant air. From there, making swiftly for the sea between sloping banks, it has the name Marsyas, the clearest river in Phrygia.
Ll. 401-438. The marriage of Procne and Tereus.
From such stories as these, the people immediately return to present-day (affairs), and they mourn the death of Amphion and his children. Their mother (i.e. Niobe) was the object of unpopularity: even then, one man, Pelops (i.e. her brother), is said to have wept for her, and, after he had taken off his clothing, to have shown the ivory on his left shoulder. This shoulder was composed of flesh and (was) the same colour as his right (shoulder) at the time of his birth: then, when his limbs had been cut in pieces by his father's (i.e. Tantalus') hands, they say that the gods joined (them) together (again); when (all) the others had been found, (the one) which was lacking was the place between the collar-bone and the upper arm. (A piece of) ivory was inserted in place of the missing part, and, when that was done, Pelops was (made) whole (again).
The neighbouring princes and the nearby cities come together to beg their kings to go and (offer) sympathy (to Thebes), Argos and Sparta, and Peloponnesian Mycenae, and Calydon, not yet hateful to the stern Diana, and fruitful Orchomenos and Corinth, renowned for its bronze, and warlike Messene, and Patrae, and low-lying Cleonae, and the Pylos belonging to Neleus, and the Troezen still not ruled by Pittheus, and whichever of the other cities are shut in by the Isthmus between the two seas (i.e. those to the south-east of the Isthmus of Corinth) and (those) sited beyond (it which) can be seen from the Isthmus between the two seas (i.e. those to the north-east of the Isthmus of Corinth).(But) who can believe (this)? Athens, (you) alone did nothing. War prevented (it) from helping, as a barbarian army had crossed the sea and was bringing terror to the walls of Mopsopius (i.e. Athens). Tereus of Thrace had routed these with his army of auxiliaries, and won a distinguished name by defeating (them).
As he was strong in riches and in men, and as he happened to trace his descent from mighty Gradivus (i.e. Mars), Pandion joined his (daughter) to him in marriage. Neither the bridal matron, Juno, nor Hymen nor one of the Graces is present at that wedding-bed. The Eumenides (i.e. the Furies) held torches, snatched from a funeral, the Eumenides spread their couch, and the unholy screech owl brooded over their house and sat on the roof of their bed-chamber. By this bird(-omen) Procne and Tereus (were) united, by this bird(-omen) they became parents. Thrace, of course, rejoiced with them, and they themselves gave thanks to the gods, and commanded that the day on which Pandion's daughter was given to her illustrious ruler, and (the day) on which (their son) Itys was born, should be called a festival. So far does our benefit lie hidden.
Ll. 438-485. Tereus' passion for Procne's sister, Philomela.
Now, Titan (i.e. Sol, the Sun, son of the Titan Hyperion) had guided the seasons of the revolving year through five autumns, when Procne said to her husband in a coaxing voice, "If any thanks are (due) to me, either send me to see my sister (i.e. Philomela), or let her come here! You can promise your father-in-law (i.e. Pandion) that she will return after a short time: you would be giving me the equivalent of a great gift, if you would let me see my sister." He (i.e. Tereus) orders his ship to be launched on the sea, and, by means of sail and oar, it enters the port of Cecrops (i.e. Athens) and reaches the shore of the Piraeus.
As soon as he had gained access to his father-in-law, right(-hand) is joined to right(-hand) and the conversation is begun with good wishes. He had (just) begun to relate the reason for his visit, (which was) his wife's request, and to avow a speedy return, (if she were) sent, (when) lo! Philomela enters rich in her costly raiment, (yet) richer in beauty: (she walks) as we are accustomed to hear that the naiads and the dryads would walk in the midst of the woods, if only you were to give them a refined manner and a dress like hers. At the sight of the young girl, Tereus was set on fire, just as if someone were to apply fire to corn stubble, or to burn the leaves and the grasses stored in a hay-loft. Her appearance (is) indeed worthy (of it): but his innate lust also goads him on, and the people of his region (i.e. Thrace) are inclined towards love: he burns with his own vice and (that) of his nation. His impulse is to wear down the care of her companions and the loyalty of her nurse, and also to seduce the (girl) herself with enormous gifts, and (even) to lay out his whole kingdom, or to rape (her) and (then) to defend having raped her in a brutal war. And, overcome by unbridled passion, there is nothing which he would not dare, nor could his breast control the flames confined within (it). And now he brooks delay badly, and returns to Procne's request with an eager voice, and pursues his own wishes under hers. Desire made (him) eloquent:and whenever he begged more strongly than (was) proper, he maintained that Procne wished (it) so. He even added tears, as if she had commissioned these too. O gods, what secret darkness do human hearts possess! Tereus was thought to be dutiful in his wicked efforts, and he receives praise for his crime. Philomela wants the same as him, and, putting her arms around her father's shoulders, coaxing (him) to let (her go) to visit her sister, she seeks (it) both in and against her own interest. Tereus gazes at her, and, by seeing (her), he considers (he has her) already, and seeing her kisses and her placing her arms around (her father's) neck, he takes (it) all as spurs, both firewood and food, for his frenzy; and, whenever she embraces her father, he wishes he were her father: for indeed that would be no less impious. Her father is overcome by the entreaties of (them) both, She rejoices and gives thanks to her father, and she imagines, poor (girl), that something, which will bring mourning to the two (of them), has been a success for the two (of them).
Ll. 486-548. Tereus rapes Philomela.
Now, little of his (daily) labour was left to Phoebus (i.e. the sun), and his horses were beating the track of steep Olympus with their hooves: a royal feast is served at (Pandion's) tables, and the wine (is served) in golden (goblets); then they give their sated bodies to quiet sleep. But the Odrysian (i.e. Thracian) king, although he had retired (to bed), is on fire with his (thoughts) of her, and, recalling her appearance, and her gestures and her hands, he imagines what he had not yet seen just as he wishes, and he fuels his own fires, with his restlessness making sleep impossible. Day came, and, Pandion, clasping his son-in-law's right(-hand), as he was departing, with tears welling up (in his eyes), commends his daughter to him, (with the following words):
"My dear son-in-law, since dutiful reasons require (it) and they both (i.e. Procne and Philomela) have desired (it) - and you too have desired (it), Tereus - I give her to you, and, entreating (you) through your loyalty and your kinsman's heart, I beg (you) by the gods above to protect (her) with a father's love, and to send (her) back to me as soon as possible - it will all be too long a wait for me - (as) the sweet comfort of my troubled old-age. You too, if you have any family affection at all - it is surely enough that your sister is (already) so far away - , come back to me, Philomela, as soon as possible!"
He (i.e. Pandion) issued commands and gave kisses to his daughter at the same time, and his soft tears fell among his instructions. And, as a token of their good faith, he called for the right(- hands) of the two of them (i.e. Philomela and Tereus), and, when these had been given, he joined (them) together, and asks (them) to remember to greet his absent daughter (i.e. Procne) and grandson (i.e. Itys) for him; and, with his mouth full of sobs, he could barely say a last farewell, and he feared the forebodings in his mind.
As soon as Philomela was on board the (brightly) painted ship, and the sea was being churned by the oars, and the land was left behind, he (i.e. Tereus) exclaims, "I have won! My wishes are being carried with me!" and the barbarian exults, and can scarcely defer the delights he has in mind. He never turns his eyes away from her, just like, when the predatory bird of Jupiter (i.e. an eagle) has deposited a hare with its hooked claws in its high eerie: there is no escape for the captive, (and) the plunderer gazes at its prize. And now their journey (has been) completed, and now they had disembarked from their tired ship on the shores of his (country), when the king took Pandion's daughter to a high building, hidden in an ancient forest, and there he shut (her) in, pale and trembling and afraid of everything, and now in tears (and) begging (to know) where her sister was: then admitting his evil intention, he overcomes (her) by force, both a virgin and alone (as she is), as she cries out again and again to her father and her sister, (and,) above all, to the great gods. She shakes like a frightened lamb that, wounded and cast out of the jaws of a grey wolf, does not yet seem to itself (to be) safe, or like a dove, with its feathers soaked in its own blood, (that) still dreads and fears the rapacious claws, by which it had been gripped. After a while, when her senses had returned, she tears out her dishevelled hair and beating her breast with her arms like a mourner, she stretches out her hands and cries, "O (you) savage, O (you) cruel (wretch), (what) dreadful (things) have you done! Did not my father's requests, (delivered) with his dutiful tears, nor concern for my sister, nor my virginity and my conjugal rights move you (at all)? You have wrecked everything: I have become my sister's rival, you (have become) a consort to two (persons), (and) Procne (is) due to become my enemy. Why not rob me of this life of mine, lest any crime may escape you, (you) treacherous (devil)? But, if only you had done (it) before that impious coupling (of ours), I should have a shade free of any guilt. Yet, if the gods above witness such (things), if the powers of the gods mean anything, if everything has not perished with me, (then) some day you will pay me a penalty (for this). With shame banished, I shall tell of your deeds. If the opportunity should be given (to me) I shall come before the people; if I am to be kept shut up in these woods, I shall fill the woods (with it), and I shall move (to pity) the (very) stones that know (of it): the sky will hear of it, and any god, if there is (one) in it."
Ll. 549-570. Philomela is mutilated.
When the anger of the savage king had been stirred by these (words), nor was his fear any less than that, goaded by both of these reasons, he frees the sword from the scabbard, with which he was girded, and he seizes (her) by (the tresses of) her hair, (and) bending her arms behind her back, he compels (her) to suffer (them as) chains; Philomela, having seen the sword, had fostered the hope of her death and offered (him) her throat: as she struggled to speak and, in her anger, called out her father's name continuously, he, holding her tongue with a pincer, severed (it) with his savage blade. The root of her tongue is left quivering, and (the tongue) itself lies on the dark ground, and murmurs as it shakes, and, like the tail of a mutilated snake is wont to thrash around, it writhes and seeks the footprints of its mistress (while) dying. Even after this crime, it is said - (although) I can scarcely believe (it) - that he repeatedly assailed her wounded body again in his lust.
After these (dreadful) deeds, he manages to return to Procne; when she sees her husband, she asks after her sister: but he gives false groans, and tells of her fictitious funeral, and his tears gave (it) credence. Procne tears her glistening garments with their gold hems from her shoulders and puts on black clothes, and she builds an empty tomb and brings sacrificial offerings to the imagined shade, and she laments the fate of a sister, not due to be lamented in such a manner.
Ll. 571-619. The truth about Philomela is revealed.
The (sun) god had traversed the twelve signs (of the zodiac), and a year had passed. What can Philomela do? A guard prevents her escape, the piled up walls of the building are hardened by solid stone, (and) her mute mouth is wanting as a witness to what happened. There is a great inventiveness in sorrow, and ingenuity arises from pitiful circumstances. She cleverly hangs her web from a barbarian (i.e. Phrygian) loom, and embroidered purple materials with white thread (as) evidence of the crime; (when it was) completed, she handed (it) to her only (attendant), and asks (her), by a gesture, to take (it) to her mistres: (as she had been) asked, she took (it) to Procne, not knowing what it recorded within it. The wife of that cruel king unrolls the cloth, and reads the pitiable account of her sister's fate, and keeps silent - it is a miracle that she could be! Grief has checked her lips, and, as she seeks (to find) words (expressive of) sufficient indignation, her tongue fails (her); nor has she time to cry, but, on the verge of confusing right and wrong, she rushes off, and is completely (engrossed) by the thought of vengeance.
It was the time when the Sithonian (i.e. Thracian) women used to celebrate the triennial festival of Bacchus - night (was) aware of their sacred rites, (and) at night (Mount) Rhodope (i.e. a Thracian mountain) resounds with the clashing of shrill bronze (cymbals) - : at night the queen left her palace, and is arrayed for the rites of the god, and takes up their frenzied weapons. Her head is covered with vine (leaves), and a deer skin hangs down over her left side, and a light spear rests on her shoulder. Rushing through the woods, with a crowd of her (attendants) accompanying (her), the terrifying Procne, driven by the frenzies of grief, imitates your own (frenzies), Bacchus. At last, she comes to the lonely building, and howls and cries "Euhoe!", and she breaks down the doors and seizes hold of her sister; and, once she has been seized, she puts the trappings of Bacchus (on her), and conceals her face with ivy leaves, and, dragging the terrified (girl along with her), she takes (her) inside her (palace) walls. When Philomela realised that she had reached that accursed house, the unfortunate (girl) shuddered in horror, and the whole of her face turned pale. Having reached the place, Procne takes off her religious trappings, and unveils the downcast face of her wretched sister, and seeks to embrace (her). But she could not bear to lift up her eyes face to face, seeing herself (as) her sister's rival, and, turning her face to the ground, (and,) wanting to swear to the gods, and to call (them) to witness that that shame of hers had been brought upon her by force, she used her hands instead of speech. Procne, herself, burned (with fury) and could not control her wrath; and, cutting short her sister's weeping, she says, "This is not the time for tears, but for the sword, and what can overcome the sword, if you have such a thing. I shall either burn down the royal palace with firebrands (and) throw the perpetrator Tereus into the midst of the flames, or I shall cut out with a sword his tongue, or his eyes, or those parts (of him) which brought such shame upon you, or I shall put an end to his guilty life by a thousand wounds. I am ready for every possible enormity: but what it should be, I am still uncertain."
Ll. 619-652. The pitiless feast.
While Procne was talking of these (things), Itys came to his mother. She was reminded by him of what she could do: regarding (him) with cold eyes, she said, "Ah, how like your father you are!" Saying no more, she prepares her woeful plan, and seethes with silent anger. Yet, when her son came near, and gave his mother a greeting, and put his little arms around her neck and gave her kisses mingled with childish endearments, the mother was moved, it is true, and her anger, having weakened, was checked, and her eyes were wet with tears that had gathered against her will. But, as soon as she realised that her mind was wavering through too much family affection, she turned from him (to look) at her sister's face once more, and gazing in turn at both (of them), she says, "Why can the one offer his endearments, (while) the other is silent because her tongue has been cut out? Why can she not call sister (the one) whom he calls his mother? Look, daughter of Pandion, at the husband, to whom you are wed. You are unworthy: family affection is a crime in the wife of Tereus."
Without delay, she dragged Itys away, just as a tiger of the (River) Ganges (drags off) the suckling fawn of a hind through the dark forests. When they reached a remote part of the lofty palace, as he, already aware of his fate, stretched out his hands, and, crying out, "Mother! Mother!" reached for her neck, Procne struck (him) with a sword in the side which was close to his heart, and she did not change her expression. This one wound was probably enough to (seal) his fate: (but then) Philomela cut open his throat with a knife, and, while his limbs were still warm and retained some life, they tore (them) to pieces. Then, some bubble in a hollow bronze (cauldron), others hiss on spits, (and) the innermost rooms drip with the blood of his entrails.
His wife summons the unsuspecting Tereus to this banquet, and pretends (it is) a sacred rite in accordance with the custom of her native-land (i.e. Athens), and she sends his followers and attendants away. Tereus eats (by) himself, seated high up on his ancestral throne, and packs his own son into his belly. And so great is the darkness of his understanding that he said, "Fetch Itys here!"
Ll. 653-674. Procne, Philomela and Tereus are all transformed into birds.
Procne cannot disguise her cruel joy, and now, eager to be the messenger of their loss, she says, "You have inside (you the one) whom you are asking for." He looks around and asks where he is; (and,) as he is asking for (him) and calling out once more, just as she was present with her hair dishevelled by that frenzied murder, Philomela leapt forward and hurled Itys' bloody head into his father's face, and at no (other) time did she (more) wish to have had the power to speak and to give witness to her joy in fitting words. The Thracian (king) (i.e. Tereus) pushes back the table with a great cry, and invokes the snake(-haired) sisters from the valley of the Styx (i.e. the Furies); and now he longs, if he could (do so), to open up his breast and discharge the dreadful (contents of) the feast and his half-eaten son, (but) then he weeps and calls himself the wretched sepulchre of his son, and pursues with naked blade the daughters of Pandion (i.e. Procne and Philomela). You might have thought the bodies of the Cecropian (i.e. Athenian) (women) were hanging from wings: they were hanging from wings. One of them (i.e. Philomela: the nightingale) makes for the woods, the other one (i.e. Procne: the swallow) climbs to the roof; nor yet have the stains of the murder disappeared from her breast, and her plumage is marked with blood. He (i.e. Tereus), swift in his grief and in his desire for revenge, is turned into a bird, on the head of which stands a feathered crest; an excessive beak juts out, like a long spear: the name of this bird is a hoopoe, (and) it seems to have an armed appearance.
Ll. 675-721. Boreas and Orithyia.
This tragedy sent Pandion to the shadows of Tartarus before his time and the final period of his old age. Erechtheus (i.e. the son of Pandion) took over the rule of the region and the management of its affairs, (and it was) doubtful (whether he was) more powerful in his justice or in the strength of his arms. He even begat four young men and as many of the female condition: but the beauty of two (of them) was equal. Of these (two), Cephalus, the grandson of Aeolus, was fortunate to (have) you, Procris, as his wife; Tereus and the Thracians damaged Boreas (i.e. the god of the North Wind), and the god was deprived of his beloved Orithyia for a long time, while he begged (for her) and preferred to use prayers rather than force. But when nothing is gained by blandishments, bristling with the wrath to which he was accustomed, and which involved so much wind, he said, "I deserved (this)! For why have I relinquished my weapons, and my ferocity and violence, and my anger and menacing moods, and (why) have I turned to prayer, the use of which is unbecoming to me? Force is fitting for me: by force I drive away the gloomy clouds, by force I shake up the seas and overturn the knotted oaks, and I harden the snow and batter the ground with hail. Likewise, when I meet with my brothers in the open sky - for that is my field of action - , I struggle with so much force that the middle of the sky resounds with our collisions, and flashes of lightning leap out, dashing from the hollow clouds. In the same way, when I have entered the hollow openings of the earth, and have proudly applied my back to its deepest caverns, I trouble the shades and the whole world with my tremors. By such means I should have sought my marriage, and I ought not to have begged Erechtheus (to be) my father-in-law, but made (him so) by force."
Speaking such (words), or (words) no less forceful than (these), Boreas unfurled his wings: by their beating the whole world is stirred and the wide ocean trembled violently. Dragging his dusty cloak over the highest (mountain) summits, the lover sweeps the land, and, shrouded in darkness, he embraces Orithyia with his tawny wings. While he flies, his flames (of passion were) fanned and burned more strongly. Nor did the thief check the reins in his airy course until he reached the people of the Cicones (i.e. the Thracians) and their city-walls. There, the Actaean (i.e. Athenian) (girl) became the wife of the chilly tyrant (i.e. Boreas) and a mother, giving birth to twin brothers, who had their father's wings, (and) everything else like their mother. Yet, they say that these (were) not the only (things absent) from their bodies (when they were) born, but that while a beard, matching their red hair was lacking, Calais and Zetes were without wings (as) boys. (But) soon, wings in the shape of birds, began to sprout on the flanks of both alike, (and) their cheek-bones became golden at the same time. Then, when their time as boys had passed, the youths travelled with the Minyans (i.e. the Argonauts) in that first ship across an unknown sea (i.e. the Black Sea) in search of the gleaming wool of the golden fleece.
