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.
Book VII continues the theme of the 'pathos of love', which began on l. 401 of Book VI. The book focuses, in particular, on the activities of the witch Medea and, later, on the relationship between Cephalus and Procris. In more detail it tells the stories of the following: Medea and Jason, Medea and Aeson, Medea and Pelias, Theseus, Minos, Aeacus, the plague at Aegina, the Myrmidons, and Cephalus and Procris. The account of the plague on the island of Aegina provided by Aeacus reminds one of how appalling were the effects of such a terrible event in the ancient world, and, indeed, as many educated Romans will have known from their reading of Thucydides, such a plague did indeed strike Athens in 430 B.C. at the beginning of the Peloponnesian War.
Book VII is one of the longest books in the "Metamorphoses". Most of it is comprised of very entertaining material, and the moving final section, concerning the love story of Cephalus and Procris, is a particularly good example of the 'pathos of love' which Ovid is seeking to expound in this part of the work.
Ll. 1-73. Medea agonises over her love for Jason.
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.
Book VII continues the theme of the 'pathos of love', which began on l. 401 of Book VI. The book focuses, in particular, on the activities of the witch Medea and, later, on the relationship between Cephalus and Procris. In more detail it tells the stories of the following: Medea and Jason, Medea and Aeson, Medea and Pelias, Theseus, Minos, Aeacus, the plague at Aegina, the Myrmidons, and Cephalus and Procris. The account of the plague on the island of Aegina provided by Aeacus reminds one of how appalling were the effects of such a terrible event in the ancient world, and, indeed, as many educated Romans will have known from their reading of Thucydides, such a plague did indeed strike Athens in 430 B.C. at the beginning of the Peloponnesian War.
Book VII is one of the longest books in the "Metamorphoses". Most of it is comprised of very entertaining material, and the moving final section, concerning the love story of Cephalus and Procris, is a particularly good example of the 'pathos of love' which Ovid is seeking to expound in this part of the work.
Ll. 1-73. Medea agonises over her love for Jason.
And now the Minyans (i.e. the Argonauts, but called Minyans because their boat was built in Minyan territory at Iolchos in Thessaly) were ploughing through the sea in their Pagasean(-built) boat (i.e. the Argo, which was built at Pagasaea, a Thessalian port), and had visited Phineus, (i.e. the King of Thracian Salmydessus) (who was) living out a useless old-age in perpetual blindness, and the young men (who had been) begotten by the North Wind (i.e. Calaïs and Zetes) had driven the winged virgins (i.e. the Harpies) from the presence of the wretched old man, and, having suffered many (hardships) under (the leadership of) the distinguished Jason, at last they reached the fast-flowing waters of the muddy Phasis. And, while they approach the king (i.e. Aeetes) and demand the fleece (which he had obtained) from Phrixus, and the dread condition of mighty labours is given to the Minyans, in the meantime the daughter of Aeetes (i.e. Medea) conceives an overwhelming passion (in her heart), and, after struggling for a long time, when she could not overcome her frenzy by (the use of) reason, she says: "Medea, you are struggling in vain: some god is baffling (you), and, it (is something) wondrous, unless this is, or (is) at least something like, that thing which is called love. For why do my father's commands seem to me (to be) too harsh? Indeed, they are extremely harsh! Why do I fear, lest (a man,) whom I have seen only once, should perish? What (is) the cause of so great a fear? Unhappy (wench), cast out, if you can, the flames (which have been) conceived in your maiden's breast! - If I could, I should be better. But a strange force draws (me to him) against my will, and desire urges one (thing), my mind another. I see and approve the better (course), (but) I follow the worse (one). Why, (O) royal maiden, do you burn (with love) for a stranger, and do you contemplate a marriage-bed in a foreign world? This land of yours could also present (you with a bridegroom) which you could love. (Whether) he lives or dies is in (the hands of) the gods. Yet, let him live! I can pray for this, even without (the stress of) love: for what (wrong) has Jason committed? Would not the (youthful) age of Jason, and his noble birth and his courage, move anyone but the (most) hard-hearted? Although the other (qualities) may be lacking, whom can he not move by (the beauty of) his face? He certainly moves my heart. But, unless I offer (him) my help, he will feel the (hot) breath from the mouth of bulls, and will meet in his own cornfield enemies sprung from the earth, or be given (as) savage spoil to a ravenous dragon. If I allow this, then I shall confess that I (am) born of a tigress and carry iron and rocks in my heart. Why, then, do I not watch (him) die and stain my eyes with the sight? Why do I not exhort the bulls, and the wild earth-born (warriors), and the sleepless dragon to (meet) him? Let the gods desire the better (outcome)! Although (it is) not for me to pray for this, but to make (it) happen. - Shall I betray my father's realm, and shall some stranger be saved by my power, so that, unharmed because of me he may set his sails to the wind without me, and be the husband of another, (and) shall I, Medea, be left behind for punishment? If he can do this, and set another (woman) before me, let him die, the ungrateful (brute). But there is in him such a countenance, such nobility of spirit, (and) such grace of form, that I do not fear any deceit or any forgetfulness of my service (to him). And he will plight his troth to me beforehand, and I shall gather the gods to be the witnesses to our pledge. Why fear, (when you are) secure? Get ready, and repel all delay: Jason will always be indebted to you, and will join himself to you in sacred marriage, and throughout the cities of Pelasgia (i.e. Greece) a crowd of women will glorify (you as) his saviour. So, borne away by the winds, shall I leave my sister, and my brother, and my father, and my gods, and my native soil? To be sure, my father is a savage, and certainly my country is barbarous, (and) my brother (is) still a child: my sister's prayers are for me, and the greatest god is within me. I shall not be leaving any great (things) behind, I shall be pursuing great (things): (namely) the fame of saving Achaean youth, and familiarity with a better place, and cities, whose reputation flourishes even here, and the culture and arts of those places; and the son of Aeson (i.e. Jason), for whom I would barter all the things which the world possesses; as his wife, I shall be called fortunate and beloved of the gods, and I shall touch the stars with my head. What of the mountains, I know not which, that are said to clash together in the midst of the waves, and Charybdis, the bane of boats, now sucking in the sea, now spewing (it) out again, and the rapacious Scylla, crowned with savage dogs, barking over the Sicilian deep? Holding what, of course, I love, and clinging to Jason's bosom, I shall be borne across the wide seas: embracing him, I shall fear nothing, or, if I am at all afraid, I shall fear for my husband alone. Do you call (that) a marriage, Medea, and lay fair names on your fault? Rather consider how great a sin you are about to commit, and, while you can, shun the crime."
She spoke, and rectitude, piety and modesty were standing firm before her eyes, and Cupid (i.e. desire), having been defeated, turned his back (and fled).
Ll. 74-99. Jason promises to marry Medea.
(So,) he went to the ancient altars of Hecate (i.e. the goddess of witchcraft and magic incantations), the daughter of Perses, which the shadowy grove (in) the remote forest conceals. And now she was strong, and her passion, having been overcome, had abated, when she sees the son of Aeson, and relights the extinguished flames. Her cheeks flushed and her whole face went white, and, just as some tiny spark that lay buried under the the ashes, induced to take its nourishment from the winds, is wont to grow, and, having been fed, to regain its former strength, so now her sluggish passion, which you would have thought had now dulled, when she saw the young man, flared up at the sight of (him) in person. And, by chance, the son of Aeson was more handsome than usual on that day: you could forgive (her) for loving (him). She gazes (at him) and keeps her eyes fixed on his countenance, as if (she had only) seen (it) just then, and, in her infatuation, seeing his face, she could not think that he (was) mortal, nor could she turn her (eyes) away from him.
She spoke, and rectitude, piety and modesty were standing firm before her eyes, and Cupid (i.e. desire), having been defeated, turned his back (and fled).
Ll. 74-99. Jason promises to marry Medea.
(So,) he went to the ancient altars of Hecate (i.e. the goddess of witchcraft and magic incantations), the daughter of Perses, which the shadowy grove (in) the remote forest conceals. And now she was strong, and her passion, having been overcome, had abated, when she sees the son of Aeson, and relights the extinguished flames. Her cheeks flushed and her whole face went white, and, just as some tiny spark that lay buried under the the ashes, induced to take its nourishment from the winds, is wont to grow, and, having been fed, to regain its former strength, so now her sluggish passion, which you would have thought had now dulled, when she saw the young man, flared up at the sight of (him) in person. And, by chance, the son of Aeson was more handsome than usual on that day: you could forgive (her) for loving (him). She gazes (at him) and keeps her eyes fixed on his countenance, as if (she had only) seen (it) just then, and, in her infatuation, seeing his face, she could not think that he (was) mortal, nor could she turn her (eyes) away from him.
So, when the stranger grasped her right(-hand) and began to speak, and, in a submissive voice, asked for her help and promised (her) marriage, she replies in a flood of tears: "I see what I am doing - (it is) not ignorance of the truth (that) ensnares (me), but love - : by my assistance you will be saved; (but when you have been) saved, fulfil your promise." He swears by the sacred rites of the triple goddess (i.e. Hecate or Trivia) and the divine presence which was in that grove, and by the all-seeing father (i.e. Sol) of his future father-in-law (i.e. Aeetes), and (by) his own good fortunes and very great dangers. (Now that he was) trusted, he immediately received (from her) the magic herbs and learned their use, and joyfully returned to the palace.
Ll. 100-158. Jason wins the Golden Fleece.
The next day's dawn dispelled the sparkling stars: the people gather on the sacred field of Mars and take up their position on the ridge. The king, himself (i.e. Aeetes), took his seat in the middle of the troop, clothed in purple and distinguished by his ivory sceptre. Behold, the bronze-footed bulls breathe Vulcan's (fire) from their adamantine nostrils, and, touched by these vapours, the grass burns, and, just as stoked fires are wont to roar, and, (as) broken limestone in an earthen kiln creates a fiery (steam), when it is sprayed with cool water, so their heaving chests and burning throats tell of their pent-up flames. Still, the son of Aeson goes to meet them. As he came (towards them), the fierce (creatures), with their iron-tipped horns, turned their terrible gaze upon his face and pawed the dusty ground with their cloven feet, and filled the place with the steam of their bellowing. The Minyans froze in fear. (But) he goes up (to them), and he does not feel their fiery breath - so great is the power of (magic) drugs! - and he strokes their pendulous dewlaps with a bold hand, and, putting (them) under the yoke, he forces (them) to draw their heavy burden and till the unworked field with an iron plough.
The Colchians were amazed, (but) the Minyans increase their shouting and endow (him) with courage. Then, he takes the dragon's teeth from the bronze helmet and scatters (them) over the ploughed fields. The earth softens the seeds, steeped (as they are) in virulent poison, and, (after they have been) sown, the teeth sprout and become new bodies. And, just as an embryo takes on human form in its mother's womb, and is developed within (it) in (all) its parts, and does not emerge into the air we share, until (it is) completely formed, so, when the shape of a man has been made in the bowels of the pregnant earth, it rises up into the fertile field, and, what is (even) more wonderful, it clashes arms, (which have been) brought forth at the same time. The Pelasgians' (i.e. the Argonauts') faces fell, and their courage (failed them), when they saw them preparing to hurl their sharp-pointed spears at the head of the young Haemonian (i.e. Thessalian, referring to Jason). She, who had (previously) rendered him safe (i.e. Medea), was also afraid herself, and, when she saw the solitary youth being attacked by so many enemies, she turned pale, and sat (there), cold and bloodless; and, in case the herbs given (him) by her were not strong enough, she chants an incantation to support (them) and calls on her secret arts. He threw a heavy stone into the midst of his enemies, and turns a (type of) assault repulsed by him against themselves. The earth-born brethren perish through wounds inflicted by one another, and fall as in a civil war. The Achaeans (i.e. the Argonauts) cheer and hug the victor, and cling (to him) with eager embraces. You, (O) barbarous (princess), also long to hold the victorious (man): (but) modesty prevented (it) happening. Still, you might have embraced (him), but concern for your reputation restrained you from doing (so). As is fitting, you rejoice in silence, and you give thanks for your incantations and for their authors, the gods.
(The task) remains to put to sleep with the (magic) herbs the watchful dragon, which, renowned for its crest, its three tongues and its hooked fangs, was the dread guardian of the tree's gold. When he (i.e. Jason) sprinkled it with the Lethaean (i.e. from the Lethe, the River of Unmindfulness) juice of a (certain) herb, and repeated three times the words that bring sleep, (and) which calm the rough sea and the turbulent rivers, an unknown sleep came upon its eyes, and the heroic son of Aeson gains the golden (fleece), and, proud of his prize, (and) taking (as) a second prize, the agent of this task (i.e. Medea), he triumphantly attained the harbour at Iolchos together with his wife.
Ll. 159-178. Jason asks Medea to lengthen Aeson's life.
The aged Harmonian (i.e. Thessalian) mothers and fathers bring offerings to celebrate their sons' return, and they melt the incense heaped in the flames, and the dedicated victim with horns of gold is led in and killed. But Aeson, now quite near to death and weary with old age, is absent from (those) rejoicing. Then, the son of Aeson (speaks) as follows: "O wife, to whom I confess that I owe my life, although you have given me everything, and the sum total of your services has (far) exceeded what you promised, yet if your incantations can do this - and indeed what can they not do? - reduce my years and add what has been taken away to my father." He could not hold back his tears. She was moved by the dutifulness of his request, and Aeetes, (whom she had) abandoned, came to her mind in contrast. Yet, not acknowledging such revelations, she says, "Husband, what a crime has escaped from your lips? So, do I seem to be capable of transferring any part of your life to someone (else)? Hecate would not allow it, nor are you making a right request. But I shall try to grant a greater gift than the one which you are asking for, Jason. I shall attempt to renew the long life of my father-in-law by my arts, (and) not by (taking) your years: (if) only the triple goddess (i.e. Hecate) would help (me) and give her assent in person to this great act of daring.
Ll. 179-233. Medea summons the powers and gathers herbs.
Three nights were wanting for all the horns to meet and complete the orb. When the moon shone at its fullest and gazed at the earth with a perfect form, she (i.e. Medea) left the palace, dressed in ungirded robes, with bare feet (and) with her hair streaming down over her shoulders, and she directs her wandering footsteps through midnight's still silence. Deep sleep had freed men and birds and wild beasts (from their cares): the hedgerows are silent without (even) a murmur, and the still leaves are silent, (and) the humid air is silent; only the stars are twinkling. Turning her arms to them, she turns herself around three times, sprinkled her hair three times with water taken from the stream, and let out three wailing cries from her mouth, and lowering her knee on to the hard ground, she prays, "(O) night, most faithful to my mysteries, and you, golden stars, who, with the moon, succeed the fires of the daylight, and you, triple Hecate, who (are) aware of (all) our undertakings, and (who) comes (as) an aid to our magic spells and witches' art, and (you,) Earth, who supplies (us) witches with potent drugs, and (you,) breezes and winds, and hills and streams and pools, and all (you) gods of groves and all (you) gods of night, be there to support (me). By their help, when I have wanted (it), streams have returned to their sources, with their banks amazed, and I calm rough seas, (and, when they are) standing still, I disturb (them) with my magic chants; I disperse the clouds and I bring the clouds, and I drive away and I invoke the winds; I break the serpent's teeth with my spells and incantations, and I uproot the living rocks and oak-trees from their native earth, and I move the forests, and command the mountains to quake and the earth to groan and the shades to come out of their tombs. You, too, Luna, I draw down, although the bronze (vessels) of Temese reduce your labours; my grandfather's (i.e. Sol's) chariot grows pale at my chant, (and) Aurora grows dim at my poisons. For me you have quenched the bulls' hot breath and you have forced their reluctant necks beneath the yoke of the curved plough, you have turned the savage warfare of the dragon-born against themselves, and you have lulled the rough custodian to sleep, and, having deceived its guard, you have sent the golden (fleece) to the cities of Greece. Now, I have need of the juice, by which old-age can be renewed, (so that) he (i.e. Aeson) may return to the flower (of youth) and regain his earliest years. And you will grant (it). For the stars have not sparkled in vain, nor is my chariot here in vain, having been drawn by the necks of the winged dragons." There, sent down from the sky, was her chariot.
As soon as she has mounted it, and stroked the dragons' bridled necks and shaken the light reins in her hands, she is snatched up on high, and she looks down on Thessalian Tempe far below and steers her Thracian dragons to (certain) places (that she knows): and she observes the herbs which (Mount) Ossa bore, and those (borne by) lofty Pelion, and Othrys, and Pindus and Olympus, higher than Pindus, and, (of those which) pleased (her,) she plucks some by the roots, (and) others she cuts with a curved bronze sickle. Many herbs from the banks of the Apidanus, were also pleasing (to her), many too (from the banks of) the Amphrysus, nor were you exempt, (O) Enipeus; moreover, the waters of the Peneus and of the Spercheos contributed something, as did the shores of (Lake) Boebe, full of rushes. Also, she picked a long-living plant from Euboean Anthedon (i.e. a town in Boeotia on the Euboean Gulf), not yet well-known for changing the body of Glaucus.
Ll. 234-293. Medea rejuvenates Aeson.
And then, after she had surveyed for nine days and nine nights from her chariot, (drawn) by the wings of the dragons, all the lands which she had traversed, she returned. The dragons had not been affected (by anything) other than odour, and yet they had shed their skins of a lengthy old-age. Reaching her threshold and its entrance, she stops outside (it), with only the heavens for cover, and she shuns (all) contact with men, and erects two altars of turf, (the one) on the right (being dedicated) to Hecate, and (the one) on the left(-hand) side to Youth. When she had wreathed them with sacred boughs from the wild wood, and had dug two trenches in the earth nearby, she performs the sacrifice and drives her knife into the throat of a black-fleeced (sheep), and floods the open ditches with its blood. Then, pouring (over it) cups of liquid honey, and (then) pouring (over it) cups of warm milk, she uttered words as she did so, and called upon the deities of the earth and the king of the shades (i.e. Pluto) and his stolen bride (i.e. Proserpina) not to be so quick to deprive the old man's limbs of their life. Meanwhile, a strong medicine seethes and bubbles in a bronze (cauldron), placed (nearby), and it whitens in a boiling froth. In it she boils roots cut from a Haemonian (i.e. Thessalian) valley, and seeds and flowers and dark juices. She throws in (it) (precious) stones, sought for in the Far East, and sands that the ebbing tide of the Ocean washes, and she adds hoar-frost collected at night under the moon, and the wings and the very flesh of a vile screech-owl, and the entrails of a were-wolf, accustomed to change its beastly features into (those) of a man; nor was there lacking in this the scaly skin of a Cinyphian (i.e. from the River Cinyps in Africa) water-snake, and the liver of a long-lived stag; on top of these she adds the beak and head of a crow (which has) lived for nine human lifetimes. With these and a thousand other things, although (they are) nameless, the barbarian (witch) pursued her greater than mortal purpose, (and) she mixed it all together with the long dry branch of a fruitful olive-tree, and she intermingled the (contents) of the bottom with (those) at the top. Behold, the ancient staff, (which was being) turned in the cauldron, first grows green (again), and, in a short time, sprouts leaves, and is suddenly loaded with olives. And, whenever the fire ejected froth from the hollow cauldron, and warm drops fall on the ground, the soil blooms, and flowers and tender grasses spring up.
Ll. 294-349. Medea's destruction of Pelias.
The Colchians were amazed, (but) the Minyans increase their shouting and endow (him) with courage. Then, he takes the dragon's teeth from the bronze helmet and scatters (them) over the ploughed fields. The earth softens the seeds, steeped (as they are) in virulent poison, and, (after they have been) sown, the teeth sprout and become new bodies. And, just as an embryo takes on human form in its mother's womb, and is developed within (it) in (all) its parts, and does not emerge into the air we share, until (it is) completely formed, so, when the shape of a man has been made in the bowels of the pregnant earth, it rises up into the fertile field, and, what is (even) more wonderful, it clashes arms, (which have been) brought forth at the same time. The Pelasgians' (i.e. the Argonauts') faces fell, and their courage (failed them), when they saw them preparing to hurl their sharp-pointed spears at the head of the young Haemonian (i.e. Thessalian, referring to Jason). She, who had (previously) rendered him safe (i.e. Medea), was also afraid herself, and, when she saw the solitary youth being attacked by so many enemies, she turned pale, and sat (there), cold and bloodless; and, in case the herbs given (him) by her were not strong enough, she chants an incantation to support (them) and calls on her secret arts. He threw a heavy stone into the midst of his enemies, and turns a (type of) assault repulsed by him against themselves. The earth-born brethren perish through wounds inflicted by one another, and fall as in a civil war. The Achaeans (i.e. the Argonauts) cheer and hug the victor, and cling (to him) with eager embraces. You, (O) barbarous (princess), also long to hold the victorious (man): (but) modesty prevented (it) happening. Still, you might have embraced (him), but concern for your reputation restrained you from doing (so). As is fitting, you rejoice in silence, and you give thanks for your incantations and for their authors, the gods.
(The task) remains to put to sleep with the (magic) herbs the watchful dragon, which, renowned for its crest, its three tongues and its hooked fangs, was the dread guardian of the tree's gold. When he (i.e. Jason) sprinkled it with the Lethaean (i.e. from the Lethe, the River of Unmindfulness) juice of a (certain) herb, and repeated three times the words that bring sleep, (and) which calm the rough sea and the turbulent rivers, an unknown sleep came upon its eyes, and the heroic son of Aeson gains the golden (fleece), and, proud of his prize, (and) taking (as) a second prize, the agent of this task (i.e. Medea), he triumphantly attained the harbour at Iolchos together with his wife.
Ll. 159-178. Jason asks Medea to lengthen Aeson's life.
The aged Harmonian (i.e. Thessalian) mothers and fathers bring offerings to celebrate their sons' return, and they melt the incense heaped in the flames, and the dedicated victim with horns of gold is led in and killed. But Aeson, now quite near to death and weary with old age, is absent from (those) rejoicing. Then, the son of Aeson (speaks) as follows: "O wife, to whom I confess that I owe my life, although you have given me everything, and the sum total of your services has (far) exceeded what you promised, yet if your incantations can do this - and indeed what can they not do? - reduce my years and add what has been taken away to my father." He could not hold back his tears. She was moved by the dutifulness of his request, and Aeetes, (whom she had) abandoned, came to her mind in contrast. Yet, not acknowledging such revelations, she says, "Husband, what a crime has escaped from your lips? So, do I seem to be capable of transferring any part of your life to someone (else)? Hecate would not allow it, nor are you making a right request. But I shall try to grant a greater gift than the one which you are asking for, Jason. I shall attempt to renew the long life of my father-in-law by my arts, (and) not by (taking) your years: (if) only the triple goddess (i.e. Hecate) would help (me) and give her assent in person to this great act of daring.
Ll. 179-233. Medea summons the powers and gathers herbs.
Three nights were wanting for all the horns to meet and complete the orb. When the moon shone at its fullest and gazed at the earth with a perfect form, she (i.e. Medea) left the palace, dressed in ungirded robes, with bare feet (and) with her hair streaming down over her shoulders, and she directs her wandering footsteps through midnight's still silence. Deep sleep had freed men and birds and wild beasts (from their cares): the hedgerows are silent without (even) a murmur, and the still leaves are silent, (and) the humid air is silent; only the stars are twinkling. Turning her arms to them, she turns herself around three times, sprinkled her hair three times with water taken from the stream, and let out three wailing cries from her mouth, and lowering her knee on to the hard ground, she prays, "(O) night, most faithful to my mysteries, and you, golden stars, who, with the moon, succeed the fires of the daylight, and you, triple Hecate, who (are) aware of (all) our undertakings, and (who) comes (as) an aid to our magic spells and witches' art, and (you,) Earth, who supplies (us) witches with potent drugs, and (you,) breezes and winds, and hills and streams and pools, and all (you) gods of groves and all (you) gods of night, be there to support (me). By their help, when I have wanted (it), streams have returned to their sources, with their banks amazed, and I calm rough seas, (and, when they are) standing still, I disturb (them) with my magic chants; I disperse the clouds and I bring the clouds, and I drive away and I invoke the winds; I break the serpent's teeth with my spells and incantations, and I uproot the living rocks and oak-trees from their native earth, and I move the forests, and command the mountains to quake and the earth to groan and the shades to come out of their tombs. You, too, Luna, I draw down, although the bronze (vessels) of Temese reduce your labours; my grandfather's (i.e. Sol's) chariot grows pale at my chant, (and) Aurora grows dim at my poisons. For me you have quenched the bulls' hot breath and you have forced their reluctant necks beneath the yoke of the curved plough, you have turned the savage warfare of the dragon-born against themselves, and you have lulled the rough custodian to sleep, and, having deceived its guard, you have sent the golden (fleece) to the cities of Greece. Now, I have need of the juice, by which old-age can be renewed, (so that) he (i.e. Aeson) may return to the flower (of youth) and regain his earliest years. And you will grant (it). For the stars have not sparkled in vain, nor is my chariot here in vain, having been drawn by the necks of the winged dragons." There, sent down from the sky, was her chariot.
As soon as she has mounted it, and stroked the dragons' bridled necks and shaken the light reins in her hands, she is snatched up on high, and she looks down on Thessalian Tempe far below and steers her Thracian dragons to (certain) places (that she knows): and she observes the herbs which (Mount) Ossa bore, and those (borne by) lofty Pelion, and Othrys, and Pindus and Olympus, higher than Pindus, and, (of those which) pleased (her,) she plucks some by the roots, (and) others she cuts with a curved bronze sickle. Many herbs from the banks of the Apidanus, were also pleasing (to her), many too (from the banks of) the Amphrysus, nor were you exempt, (O) Enipeus; moreover, the waters of the Peneus and of the Spercheos contributed something, as did the shores of (Lake) Boebe, full of rushes. Also, she picked a long-living plant from Euboean Anthedon (i.e. a town in Boeotia on the Euboean Gulf), not yet well-known for changing the body of Glaucus.
Ll. 234-293. Medea rejuvenates Aeson.
And then, after she had surveyed for nine days and nine nights from her chariot, (drawn) by the wings of the dragons, all the lands which she had traversed, she returned. The dragons had not been affected (by anything) other than odour, and yet they had shed their skins of a lengthy old-age. Reaching her threshold and its entrance, she stops outside (it), with only the heavens for cover, and she shuns (all) contact with men, and erects two altars of turf, (the one) on the right (being dedicated) to Hecate, and (the one) on the left(-hand) side to Youth. When she had wreathed them with sacred boughs from the wild wood, and had dug two trenches in the earth nearby, she performs the sacrifice and drives her knife into the throat of a black-fleeced (sheep), and floods the open ditches with its blood. Then, pouring (over it) cups of liquid honey, and (then) pouring (over it) cups of warm milk, she uttered words as she did so, and called upon the deities of the earth and the king of the shades (i.e. Pluto) and his stolen bride (i.e. Proserpina) not to be so quick to deprive the old man's limbs of their life. Meanwhile, a strong medicine seethes and bubbles in a bronze (cauldron), placed (nearby), and it whitens in a boiling froth. In it she boils roots cut from a Haemonian (i.e. Thessalian) valley, and seeds and flowers and dark juices. She throws in (it) (precious) stones, sought for in the Far East, and sands that the ebbing tide of the Ocean washes, and she adds hoar-frost collected at night under the moon, and the wings and the very flesh of a vile screech-owl, and the entrails of a were-wolf, accustomed to change its beastly features into (those) of a man; nor was there lacking in this the scaly skin of a Cinyphian (i.e. from the River Cinyps in Africa) water-snake, and the liver of a long-lived stag; on top of these she adds the beak and head of a crow (which has) lived for nine human lifetimes. With these and a thousand other things, although (they are) nameless, the barbarian (witch) pursued her greater than mortal purpose, (and) she mixed it all together with the long dry branch of a fruitful olive-tree, and she intermingled the (contents) of the bottom with (those) at the top. Behold, the ancient staff, (which was being) turned in the cauldron, first grows green (again), and, in a short time, sprouts leaves, and is suddenly loaded with olives. And, whenever the fire ejected froth from the hollow cauldron, and warm drops fall on the ground, the soil blooms, and flowers and tender grasses spring up.
Ll. 294-349. Medea's destruction of Pelias.
Liber (i.e. Bacchus) had seen from on high the wonders of so great a miracle, and, being reminded that their youthful years could be restored to his nurses (i.e. the Nymphs of Mount Nysa), he receives that gift from the (witch) of Colchis (i.e. Medea).
Now, in order that her magic tricks should not come to an end, the Phasian (i.e. the Phasis was the main river of Colchis) (sorceress) pretends a feigned quarrel with her husband, and flees to the threshold of Pelias' (palace) (i.e. Pelias was the King of Thessaly and Jason's uncle). And, since he himself is heavy with old age, his daughters welcome her. In a short time, the shrewd Colchian (princess) won them over by a show of deceptive friendship. And, when she tells (them) that the removal of Aeson's dullness of mind was among the greatest of her services, and she lingers on this part (of her work), the hope is aroused in Pelias' virgin daughters that their father could be rejuvenated by a similar (magic) art. And they ask (her) for this, and bid (her) agree a price without any limit. For a short space (of time) she is silent and appears to hesitate. And she keeps the minds of her petitioners in suspense by a pretence of serious thought. Then, when she has promised (to do it), she says, "So that you may have the more confidence in this gift of mine, (the one) who is the oldest among your sheep, (and) the leader of your flock, will become a lamb (again) through my medicine."
Straightaway, the woolly (creature), worn out by countless years, is dragged forward, with its horns curved around its hollow temples. When the witch slits its scrawny throat with her Haemonian (i.e. Thessalian) knife, and barely stained the blade with blood, she plunges the sheep's carcass in a hollow bronze (cauldron): behold, the joints of its body shrink and its horns melt away, and, with its horns, the years, and a feeble bleating (sound) is heard from within the cauldron. (While they are) wondering at the bleating, suddenly a lamb jumps out, and frisks around in flight, and looks for udders that give suck.
Pelias' daughters were astounded: and after her promises have displayed their truth, then they insist even more eagerly. Three times had Phoebus removed the yoke from his horses, after they had plunged into the Iberian (i.e. Western) river (i.e. after sundown), and on the fourth night the stars were glittering in (all) their radiance, when the treacherous daughter of Aeetes places some clear water and ineffectual herbs over a blazing fire. And now a death-like sleep had taken hold of the king, with his motionless body, and, with their king, his guards, (a sleep,) which her incantations and the potency of her magic spells had achieved: his daughters had entered the threshold with the Colchian (witch) at her command, and stood around his bed. "Why do you hesitate (so) tamely, " she says. "Draw your swords, and drain his old blood, so that I can refill his empty veins with youthful blood. Your father's life and age are in your hands: if you have any filial affection, and vain hopes do not stir you, bestow this service upon your father, and drive out old age with your weapons, and let out his blood with a stroke of your iron (blade)."
(Urged on) by these exhortations, the more dutiful each one is, the more impious the dutiful becomes, and she does evil in order to avoid being wicked. Still, not one (of them) could (bear to) see her own blows, and they turned away their eyes, and, (with their faces) averted, they blindly inflicted wounds (on him) with their cruel hands. Streaming with blood, he (i.e. Pelias) still raises his body up on to his elbow, and, (though) half-mutilated, he tries to get up from his bed, and, stretching forth his pallid arms in the midst of so many swords, he says, "Daughters, why are you doing (this)? Who is rousing you to arms against your father's life?" Both their courage and their hands fell away. As he was about to say more with words, the Colchian (witch) cut his throat and plunged his mangled (body) into the boiling water.
Ll. 350-403. Medea flees and reaches Athens.
But she would not have escaped punishment, if she had not taken to the air on her dragons' wings. She flies high over shady Pelion, the home of the son of Philyra (i.e. Chiron the Centaur), and over Othrys and the places made famous by the fate of the ancient Cerambus. He, with the help of the nymphs, was lifted into the air on his wings (i.e. he became a scarab-beetle), when the solid earth was covered by the incoming sea, and escaped Deucalion's flood without being overwhelmed.
She left Aeolian Pitane (i.e. a city on the Aeolian coast near to Lesbos) behind on her left side, and its image of a huge dragon, made of stone, and the grove of Ida, where Liber concealed, in the deceptive shape of a stag, the bullock, which had been stolen by his son, and (she passed the vale) where the father of Corythus (i.e. Paris) lay buried in a little sand, and the fields through which Maera (i.e. Hecuba) spread terror by her strange howling; and (over) the city of Eurypylus, where the women of Cos grew horns at the time when the company of Hercules was departing, and (over) Rhodes, beloved of Phoebus, and the Telechines of Ialysius, whose eyes tainted everything within their sight, (so that) Jupiter, utterly disgusted (by them), thrust (them) under his brother's (i.e. Neptune's) waves.
And she passed (over) the city-walls of Cartheia, in ancient Ceos, where a father, Alcidamas, would marvel that a peaceful dove could spring from the body of his daughter.
Then, she sees Lake Hyrie (i.e. in Boeotia), and the Tempe of Cycnus, which a swan suddenly made famous. For there, at the boy's (i.e. Cycnus') command, Phylius had brought (him) birds and a fierce lion (which he had) tamed; ordered to overcome a bull as well, he had overcome (it), but, angry, because his love (had) so often (been) spurned, he refused the petitioner this last reward. Indignant, he (i.e. Cycnus) said, "You will wish that you had given (it to me)," and he jumped from a high cliff. Everyone thought he had fallen: (but) he was turned into a swan and hung in the air on snow-white wings. But his mother Hyrie, unaware that (he had been) saved, pined away with weeping, and formed the lake that bears her name. Lying near this was Pleuron, in which Combe, the daughter of Ophius, escaped the injuries (inflicted) by her sons.
Then, she (i.e. Medea) looks down on the fields of Calaurea, sacred to Leto (i.e. an island off the coast of Argolis), aware that her king and his wife (had been) turned into birds. On her right is Cyllene (i.e. a mountain in Arcadia), on which Menephron had lain with his mother as though (they were) wild beasts; further on from there she sees (the river-god) Cephisus (i.e. a river in Phocis) bewailing the fate of his son, (who had been) changed by Apollo into a puffed-up seal, and the home of Eumelus, mourning his son (i.e. Botres), (reborn) in the air (i.e. as a bee-eating bird).
At last, she reached Pirene Ephyre (i.e. Corinth) on her dragon's wings. Here (the men) of old stated that in the earliest times mortal bodies sprang from fungi swollen by rain. But, after his (i.e. Jason's) new wife (i.e. Glauce) had burned with the fires of the Colchian's (i.e. Medea's) witchcraft, and both gulfs (i.e. the seas on either side of the Isthmus of Corinth) had seen the king's palace on fire, her sword was impiously bathed in the blood of their sons, and, having avenged herself (so) atrociously, their mother flees the sword of Jason.
Then, carried by her dragons that were born of the Titans, she (i.e. Medea) goes into Pallas' citadel (i.e. Athens), which (once) saw you, most righteous Phene, and you, old Periphas, both flying (in the air as birds) (i.e. as an osprey and an eagle respectively), and the granddaughter of Polypemon (i.e. Alcyone), supported by strange new wings (i.e. those of a kingfisher). Aegeus welcomes her (there), condemned (thereafter) by that one action; nor was hospitality enough (for him): he even joins (her to him) in a contract of marriage.
Ll. 404-424. Medea tries to kill Jason, and then vanishes.
And then Theseus came (there), a son unknown to his father (i.e. Aegeus), and by his courage he pacified the Isthmus between the two seas. For the purpose of his destruction, Medea mixes some poison, which she had in the past collected from the shores of Scythia. That say that that poison had dripped from the teeth of Echidna's dog (i.e. Cerberus). There is a secret cavern with a gloomy aperture, and a downward path, through which that Tirynthian hero (i.e. Hercules) dragged Cerberus, bound with chains of adamant, resisting (all the way) and turning his eyes away from the daylight and the shining rays (of the sun); provoked by a frenzy of wrath, he filled the air with simultaneous howling from his three heads, and spattered the green fields with white (flecks of) foam. It is thought that these have congealed, and, obtaining food from the rich and productive soil, they have gained the strength to do harm. Because these (roots) spring, long-living, from rock, the country people call (them) dustless. Through the cunning of his wife (i.e. Medea), the father Aegeus, himself, offered them to his son, as (if he were) an enemy. Theseus had, unwittingly, taken the cup (he had been) given in his right(-hand), when his father recognised the emblems of his own house on the ivory hilt of his sword, and dashed the poisoned chalice from his mouth. (But) she escapes death in a mist raised by her incantations.
Ll. 424-452. Praise for Theseus.
But the father, although he is overjoyed that his son is unharmed, is, nevertheless, horrified that (so) great a crime could have (come) within a short distance of being committed. He lights up the altars with fires and loads the gods with gifts, and his axes strike the brawny necks of oxen, their horns tied with sacrificial fillets. They say that no day (in the city) of Erechtheus (i.e. Athens) has (ever) shone more brilliantly than that (one). The elders arrange banquets in the midst of the people, and they also sing songs, with wine causing this inspiration: "Marathon (i.e. a plain and town on the east coast of Attica) has admired you, mighty Theseus, for the blood of the Cretan bull; and the service and the deed is yours, through which the farmer can plough the fields of Cromyon (i.e. a village near Corinth), unmolested by that (wild) sow. The land of Epidaurus (i.e. a city in Argolis) saw the club-wielding son of Vulcan (i.e. Periphetes) die at your hands, and the banks of the Cephisus (i.e. a river in Phocis) saw the pitiless Procrustes (brought down), (and) Eleusis, sacred to Ceres, saw the death of Cercyon. Sinis is dead, that (man who) employed his great strength to evil (ends), (and) who could bend the branches of a pine-tree and force (them) from on high down to the ground, so as to scatter (men's) body (parts) far and wide. (Now) that Sciron (has been) laid low, a safe path lies open to Alcathoë, the walled city of the Leleges (i.e. Megara), and the earth denies a resting-place, and the sea denies a resting-place, to the brigand's scattered bones; after they had been tossed about for a long time, a future age is said to have hardened them into rocks: Sciron's name is connected with these rocks. If we want to count your honours and years, the deeds would exceed the years. To you, (O) bravest (of men), we offer our public prayers (of thanks), (and) we take up and drain a cup of wine in your (honour)."
The palace resounds to the applause of the people and the prayers of his supporters, and there is no sad place in the whole of the city.
Ll. 453-500. Minos threatens war.
However, Aegeus did not perceive his joy in welcoming his son as carefree - indeed, no pleasure is (ever) complete, and some trouble always interferes with our delight. Minos is preparing for war. Although he is strong in his army and in his fleet, he is still most powerful in his anger as a father, and he seeks to avenge the death of Androgeos by right of arms. Yet, he first acquires allied troops for his war, and he crosses the sea in the swift fleet, in which his power lay. Then, he joins Anaphe and the kingdom of Astypaleia to himself, Anaphe, (moved) by promises, and the kingdom of Astypaleia by (his strength) in war; then, (he secures) low-lying Myconos and the chalky-soiled Cimolos, Syros, flowing with thyme, and flat Seriphos, and Paros, and Siphnos too, which the treacherous Arne betrayed (to him) - when she had received the gold, which, in her greed, she had demanded, she was changed (by the gods) into a bird, the black-footed jackdaw, draped in black wings, which gold delights even now. But Oliaros gave no help to the ships of Cnossos (i.e. the Cretan fleet), nor did Didyme and Tenos and Andros and Gyaros, and Perparethos, rich in bright olives. From these, Minos makes for Oenopia, the realm of the Aeacidae; the ancients called (it) Oenopia, but Aeacus, himself, called (it) Aegina from the name of his mother.
The crowd rushes (to meet him), and wants to get to know a man with such a great reputation. Telamon, and Peleus, (who is) younger than Telamon, and Phocus, the third child, run up to him. Aeacus, himself, comes too, (though) slow with the burden of old-age, and asks what is the reason for his visit. Reminded of his paternal grief, the ruler of a hundred peoples (i.e. Minos) sighs, and answers him with the following words: "I beg you to help (me) take up arms on behalf of my son, and for you to be a part of a just fight; I ask for the consolation of (marking out) his tomb." The grandson of Asopus (i.e. Aeacus) said to him, "You are asking for (something which is) impossible and (which) my city (just) cannot do: for there is no land more closely linked to the people of Cecrops (i.e. the Athenians) than this (one): there (is) a treaty (which binds) us." He goes away in sadness, and said, "Your treaty will cost you dear," and he thinks it is more useful to threaten war than to wage (one), and thus to consume his strength in advance.
The Lyctian (i.e. Cretan) fleet could still be seen from the walls of Oenopia, when a ship from Attica arrives, spurred on in full sail, and enters the friendly harbour, (a ship,) which bore Cephalus and his country's instructions at the same time. (Although) the young sons of Aeacus had last seen (him) a long time (ago), they still recognised Cephalus, and gave (him) their right(-hands in welcome) and led (him) to their father's house. Observed (by all), and retaining even now traces of his former beauty, the hero goes forward, and, holding a branch of his country's native olive, the elder (man) has, on his right and on his left, two (men,) younger in age, Clytos and Butes, the sons of Pallas (i.e. not the goddess, but an Athenian prince and the son of Pandion).
Ll. 501-613. Aeacus tells of the plague at Aegina.
After coming to meet (them) and offering, firstly, some words of his own, Cephalus describes his mandate from Cecropia (i.e. Athens), and he asks for their help, and quotes the treaty and the oaths of their ancestors, and adds that control over the whole of Achaea (i.e. Greece) was being sought (by Minos). When his eloquence has assisted the cause (with which he has been) mandated, Aeacus, with his left-hand resting upon the handle of his sceptre, replied, "Don't ask for help, Athens, but assume (it); undoubtedly, you should consider the forces, which this island has, (as) your own; it has everything - let this state of affairs (continue) in my case! Our strength is not lacking, and (the size of) my army exceeds that of the enemy; thanks (be) to the gods, this moment is an auspicious (one) and (there can be) no excuses (for me not to help you)." "If only it could (always) be so," says Cephalus. "I do hope that your city grows in (the number of) its citizens. Indeed just now, as I was coming, I felt happy, when so many fair young men, so well matched in age, passed me on the way. Yet I am now missing many that I saw before, when I visited your city previously." Aeacus groaned, and (then) spoke thus in a sad voice: "Better luck has followed a lamentable beginning. Would that I could mention the one to you without the other! I shall recall (them) now in order. Nor shall I delay you by a long circumlocution: (those,) whom your mind is seeking to remember (now) lie (as) bones and ashes. And how great a part of my wealth perished with them!
"A dreadful plague falls upon my people, due to the anger of the unjust Juno, who hated our land, because it was named after her rival (i.e. Aeacus' mother, Aegina). While it seemed (to be) a human disease, and the harmful cause of so great a disaster lay hidden, it was fought by the art of medicine: (but) destruction overcame our efforts, which declined (when they were) unsuccessful.
"At the outset, the sky enveloped the earth with a thick fog, and confined the sultry heat under the clouds; and, while the Moon filled up her disc with joined-up horns four times, and four times she unravelled her full disc and became slender, hot southerly winds breathed their deadly air (over us). And it is known that the pestilence reached our springs and lakes, and that many thousands of snakes wandered across our untilled fields and defiled our streams with their poison. The power of the unexpected disease surprised (us) at first, with its destruction of dogs, and birds, and sheep, and oxen, and among the wild beasts. The unfortunate ploughman is astonished that sturdy bulls collapse at their work and sink down into the middle of the furrow; with the fleecy flocks giving out a sickly bleating (sound), their wool falls off of its own accord, and their bodies waste away. The spirited horse, once (held) in great renown on the track, is (now) unworthy of his prizes, and forgetting his former achievements, whinnies plaintively in his stall, about to die an inglorious death. The boar does not remember to rage, nor the stag to put his trust in his speed, and the bears to rush upon the strong herds. Lethargy takes hold of everything; rotting carcasses lie in the woods, and in the fields, and on the roadways, and the air is befouled by their stench. I shall talk of strange (things): dogs and hungry birds and hoary wolves did not touch them; the decaying (corpses) dissolve into liquid and pollute (the air) with their exhalations, and spread contagion far and wide.
"With increasing virulence, the plague spreads to the wretched farmers (themselves), and lords (it) within the walls of the great city (i.e. Athens). Firstly, their internal organs grow hot, and a rash is an indication, and heavy breathing a sign, of a hidden fever. The tongue (becomes) rough (and) swollen, and, parched with hot breath, the lips lie open and the heavy air is sucked in through the gaping mouth. (The sick) cannot endure a bed or any kind of covering, but lie on their stomachs on the bare ground; the body does not become cool on the ground, but the ground becomes hot on account of the body. And no controller (of it) is available, and the cruel disease breaks out among the doctors themselves, and (the practice of) their skills is prejudicial to the practitioners. The nearer anyone is to a sick (person) and the more faithfully he attends (him), the more quickly he comes to sharing his death. And, as the hope of recovery deserts (them), and they see an end of their sickness (only) in death, they indulge their desires and they have no concern for what is good (for them); for nothing is good (for them). And everywhere, with (all) shame set aside, they cling to the fountains and streams and the deep wells, nor is their thirst extinguished by drinking any sooner than their life. Then, many (of them are so) sick (that) they cannot rise, and they even die in the water: yet others still drink (it). Some of these wretched (people) have such a loathing of their hateful beds, (that) they jump out (of them), or, if they lack the strength to stand, they roll their bodies on to the ground: and everyone, whose home seems fatal, abandons their household gods, and, because the reason (for the plague) lies hidden, the place is (held) to blame; you could have seen some (of them) half-dead, wandering the streets, while they (still) have the strength to stand; (and) others lying on the ground, weeping and turning their exhausted eyes (upwards) in a final convulsion: and they stretch their arms to the stars in the overhanging sky, breathing out (their lives) here or there, wherever death had overtaken (them). What feelings did I have then? What should they be, (but) to hate life and to desire to be a part of my (people). Wherever the gaze of my eyes had turned itself, a prostrate mass (of people) was (lying) there, just like when rotten apples fall from shaken branches, and acorns from a wind-blown holm-oak.
"You see the temple opposite high up (on the hill) with a long (flight of) steps: Jupiter has it. Who (among us) did not bring vain offerings to those altars? How often a husband, while saying words of prayer for his wife, (or) a father (saying words of prayer) for his son, ended his life in front of those inexorable altars, and part of the unconsumed incense was found in their hands! How often did the bulls, after they had been conducted to the temple, fall down without waiting for the blow. Even when I was offering some sacrifices to Jupiter for myself and my country and my three sons (i.e. Telamon, Peleus and Phocus), the victim let out a dreadful lowing (sound) and suddenly collapsed without (receiving) any blows, barely staining the knife below with its blood. Its diseased entrails had even obliterated the tokens of the truth and the warnings of the gods: the dismal sickness penetrates its vital organs. I have seen corpses thrown down in front of the temple doors, (and) even in front of the altars, in order that their deaths should be more worthy of reproach. Some conclude their life with a noose, and banish by death their fear of death, and summon their approaching fate from two directions. After they have died, their bodies do not receive any of the customary funeral rites: for the gates (of the city) could not manage (so many) funerals. They either lie on the ground unburied, or they are heaped on the top of funeral pyres without any ceremony. And now there is no longer any reverence, and they fight for the pyres and the burn in the fires of others. (Those) who can mourn are wanting; and the spirits of sons and fathers, and of young and old, wander around unlamented. (There is) no room in the burial mounds, nor is there enough wood for the fires.
Ll. 614-660. The creation of the Myrmidons.
"Stunned by such a spiral of wretched events, I said, 'O Jupiter! if they are not telling lies when they say that you were held in the embraces of Aegina, the daughter of Asopus, nor are you ashamed, mighty father, that you are my parent, either give me back my (people), or bury me too in their tomb.'
He (i.e. Jupiter) gave his sign by (a flash of) lightning and by a following (crack of) thunder. I said, 'I
accept these (things), and I pray that they may be auspicious tokens of your intention. I interpret what you give me (as) an omen.'
"There happened to be nearby a very rare oak-tree with spreading branches, sacred to Jupiter, (and grown) from a seed from Dodona (i.e. the oracle of Jupiter in Epirus): on it I caught sight of a long column of ants, carrying a large load in their tiny mouths, and forging their own path across its wrinkled bark. While admiring their numbers, I said, 'Best of fathers, may you give me as many citizens as this, and fill my city-walls.' The tall oak trembled, and gave out a (cracking) sound, as its branches shook without any wind. My limbs shuddered with a trembling fear, and my hair stood (on end). However, I kissed the ground and the tree, (but) I did not acknowledge that I was hopeful: still, I was hopeful, and cherished my longings in my heart.
"Night falls, and sleep takes hold of my care-worn body: the same oak-tree is there before my eyes, and it seemed to exhibit as many branches and as many animals on its branches, and to shake with a similar motion, and to scatter its column of grain-bearers on to the ground below; and suddenly it seems that they are growing larger and larger, and are raising themselves from the earth and standing with body erect, and that they are losing their leanness and the number of their feet and their black colour, and that their limbs are taking on a human shape. Sleep departs: awake (once more), I dismiss
my visions and complain that no help comes from the gods. But in the palace there was a great murmuring (sound), and I thought that I heard human voices, (the ones to which) I (was) now accustomed. While I suspect that these are just (the effects) of sleep, Telamon comes running, and, throwing open the doors, he said, 'Come outside, Father! You will see greater (things) than (you could ever) hope or believe.' I go out, and I see and recognise in turn, such men as I had seemed to have seen in sleep's imagining. They come up (to me), and salute (me as) king. I fulfil my vows to Jupiter, and divide the city and the previous farmers' empty fields amongst these newly arrived people, and I call (them) Myrmidons, and I do not belie their origin in their name (i.e. μύρμηκες, ants). You have seen their bodies; they retain even now the habits which they demonstrated before: they are a thrifty and hard-working race, keen to acquire (things) and to keep what they have acquired. These (men), well-matched, (as they are,) in years and courage, will follow you to war, as soon as that favourable east wind that brought you (here) - for (it was) an east wind (that) had brought him - changes into southerlies."
Ll. 661-758. The infidelities of Cephalus and Procris.
They filled a long day with such, and other, conversations. The last part of the daylight was given over to feasting, (and) the night to sleep. The golden Sun had produced the light - an east wind was still blowing and was keeping the sails from the return (voyage): the sons of Pallas (i.e. Clytos and Butes) go to Cephalus, who is their senior in age, and Cephalus, together with the sons of Pallas, go to the king. But deep sleep still had hold of the king. Aeacus' son, Phocus, received (them) at the (palace) entrance: for Telamon and his brother (i.e. Peleus) were selecting men for the war. Phocus leads the Cecropidae (i.e. Athenians) into a beautiful and secluded inner walk, (and) he sat down together with them.
He (i.e. Phocus) noticed that the grandson of Aeolus (i.e. Cephalus) carried in his hand a javelin, made of an unknown wood, the tip of which was golden. Having spoken a few (words) to begin with, he says in the midst of their conversation, "I am knowledgeable about woodlands and the killing of animals: however, I have been wondering for some time from what wood that spear-shaft (was) cut. If it were ash, it would undoubtedly be yellow in colour; if (it were) cornelian-cherry, it would be knotted. From where it comes I do not know. But my eyes have never seen a spear more beautifully formed for throwing than this (one) of yours." One of the Actaean (i.e. Athenian) brothers (i.e. either Clytos or Butes) overhears (this), and said, "You will marvel at its usefulness more than its appearance. It hits whatever it is aimed at, and chance does not guide its flight, and it flies back, bloodied, without needing to be retrieved." Then indeed the young grandson of Nereus (i.e. Phocus, whose mother was the Nereid Psamathe) wants to know everything: why it is (so) and from where (it has been) given, and who (is) the originator of so great a gift. He (i.e. Cephalus) told (him) what he wanted to know. But in fact he was ashamed to say what a high price it had cost (him); he falls silent, and touched with sadness for the loss of his wife (i.e. Procris), he utters the following words with the tears welling up (in his eyes): "Son of the goddess, this weapon makes me weep - who would believe (that)? - and it will do (so) for a long time, if the fates grant me a long life. It did away with me and my dear wife: if only I had always been without such a gift! She was Procris - or if (the name of) Orithyia has happened to reach your ears more (often), the sister of the ravished Orithyia - , (though) if you were to compare the looks and manners of the two (of them), she (was) the more worthy of being ravished. Her father Erechtheus joined her to me (in marriage), (and) love joined (her) to me (as well). I was called fortunate, and I was. (But) it did not seem so to the gods, or perhaps I should be (fortunate) even now. A second month was spent after our sacred nuptials, when, early in the morning, saffron-coloured Aurora (i.e. Dawn), as she was chasing away the shadows, sees me from the summit of Mount Hymettus, (as I was) setting out the nets (to catch) the horned stags, and steals (me) away against my will. By the grace of the goddess I can speak the truth. Though she (i.e. Aurora) may be remarkable for her rosy face, though she holds the boundaries of the day-light and of the night, though she is nourished by liquid nectar, I was in love with Procris: Procris was in my heart, (the name of) Procris (was) always on my lips. I kept talking of the sacredness of our couch, of our new union, of our recent wedding and the prior claims of our deserted (marriage-)bed. The goddess was provoked, and said, 'Stop complaining, you ungrateful (wretch): have your Procris! But if my mind has any foresight, you will wish you had never had (her).' And enraged, she sent me back to her. While I was returning, and was reconsidering the goddess's words to me, I began to have fears that my wife might not have kept our marriage vows well. Her youth and beauty prompted thoughts of adultery, (although) her character forbade such thoughts. But yet I had been absent (for some time), and she from whom I was returning was a (good) example of such a failing, and we lovers fear everything. Aurora favours this fear (of mine), and changes my appearance - I seem to feel (it).
"I go into Palladian Athens unrecognised, and enter my home. The house, itself, lacked any fault, and gave signs of innocence, and was (only) anxious for its stolen master: with difficulty, and (only) by a thousand tricks, did I gain access to Erechtheus' daughter (i.e. Procris). When I saw (her), I was quite overcome, and almost abandoned any thoughts of testing her loyalty. I could scarcely contain myself from confessing the truth, and from giving (her) kisses, as I ought (to have done). She was sad - but yet no one could be more lovely than her in her sadness - and she burned with longing for the husband (who had been) snatched away (from her). Think about (it), Phocus, there was in her such beauty, which her grief itself so befitted. Why should I tell how many times her chaste character repelled my advances, how many times she said I am keeping myself for one (man only); wherever he is, I am preserving my joys for that one (man)!" For whom in his right mind would that not have been a great enough test of loyalty? (But) I am not satisfied, and I struggle on in my wounded (state), until by saying that I would give her (great) wealth for (just one) night, and (then) by increasing the offer, I forced (her) to waver. Wrongly victorious, I cry out: "A fictitious adulterer is present, you wicked (person)! I am your true husband! You can have me as a witness to your treachery." She (said) nothing. All but overcome by her silent shame, she fled the insidious threshold and her evil husband; wounded by me, and hating the whole race of men, she roamed the mountains, occupied by the pursuits of Diana (i.e. the goddess of hunting). Then, deserted (as I was), an (even) more violent flame pervades my bones. I begged her forgiveness, and acknowledged that I had sinned and that I too could have succumbed to the same fault (as hers) when the gifts were offered, if such gifts were offered (to me).
"After I had confessed to this, (and) after she had avenged her injured honour, she returns to me, and spends some happy years in harmony (with me). Moreover, as though she had (only) given herself to me as a small gift, she gives me a hound (as) a gift, which her (goddess) Cynthia (i.e. Diana, who was born on Mount Cynthus on the island of Delos) had consigned to her, (and) she said, 'He will surpass all (others) in speed.' Likewise, she also gives (me) a spear, (the one) which, you see, I am holding in my hands. Do you want to know what was the fate of the other gift? Listen to (something) miraculous: you will be stirred by the strangeness of the exploit.
Ll. 759-795. The transformation of Cephalus' dog, Laelaps.
The son of Laius (i.e. Oedipus) had solved, through his genius, the riddles (which had) previously not been understood, and the dark prophetess (i.e. the Sphinx) was thrown headlong (from the cliffs), her enigmatic words (having been) forgotten: gracious Themis (i.e. the goddess of justice and prophecy) does not of course leave such things unavenged. At once another plague was launched against Aonian (i.e. Aonia was a district of Boeotia) Thebes, and many of the country-people feared that the wild beast (i.e. the Teumessian vixen) (would accomplish) the destruction of their crops and their own. We, the young men of the neighbourhood (i.e. Cadmeia) came and encompassed the fields by an encirclement (of netting). That swift (creature) leapt over our nets with a nimble jump, and cleared the top of the toils of the traps we had set. The leash is withdrawn from our hounds: she escapes their pursuit, and, (running) no slower than than a swift bird, she mocks (the pack). With the full agreement (of all), I, myself, am asked (to release) my Laelaps (i.e. λαῖλαψ, hurricane) - this (is) the name of my gift. He has long been trying to let slip the chains from himself and he strains (against) the restraint on his neck. He had scarcely been properly released, and already we could not know where he was. The warm dust showed the marks of his paws, but he himself had been plucked from our eyesight. No spear (was) quicker than him, nor any lead bullets cast from a whirled sling, nor a Gortynian (i.e. Cretan) arrow shot from a bow. The top of an intervening hill overlooks the fields below: I climbed it and watch the spectacle of the strange race, in which at one moment the beast appeared to be caught, and at another to escape from its wound, nor does the dexterous (animal) flee in a straight line and in the open, but it eludes the pursuing mouth, and runs around in a circle so that there cannot be an attack by its enemy. He presses (it) hard and pursues (it) with equal (pace), and he seems to grip (it), (but) does not grip (it), and he worries the air with empty bites. I turned to my spear for help. While my right(-hand) balances it, while I try to insert my fingers into the thong, I turned away my eyes. Recalling (them) once more, I brought (them) back to the same (place): I see a marvel, two (pieces of) marble in the middle of the plain: You would think one to be fleeing, the other to be chasing. Assuredly, if some god (was) with them, that god (i.e. Jupiter) must have wished that both (of them) should be unconquered in the running contest."
(He got) thus far (in his story), and fell silent. "What crime has the spear itself committed," says Phocus. (And) he recounted the spear's crimes as follows:
Ll. 796-865. The death of Procris.
"My joys, Phocus, were the beginning of my sorrow: I shall speak of them first. O son of Aeacus (i.e. Phocus), it is delightful (for me) to remember that blessed time, when in those early years, I was rightly happy with my wife, and she was happy with her husband. Mutual cares and a shared love possessed the two (of us); nor would she have preferred Jupiter's bed to my love, nor was there any (woman) who could have captured (me), not (even) if Venus herself had come (there): an equal flame fired our hearts.
Just as the Sun struck the hill-tops with his first rays, I used to go hunting vigorously in the woods. Nor were any attendants, or horses, or keen-scented hounds accustomed to go with me, nor any knotted snares to follow (me): I was safe with my spear. But, when my right(-hand) was sated with the slaughter of wild creatures, I would return to the cool of the shade and the breeze which came out of the chill valleys. The breeze, gentle to me in the midst of the heat, was sought (by me); I waited for the breeze, and it was my repose in my labour. I used to sing, "Aura (i.e. Breeze) - for I do remember - , "may you come and delight me, and may you enter my breast, (you) most pleasing one, and, as you do (so), may you be willing to relieve this heat, with which I am burning." Perhaps, I added (still) more endearments - thus did my fate lead me on - and I used to say, "You (are) such a great pleasure to me. You revive and pamper me, you make (me) love the woods and the lonely spots; and that breath of yours is always captured by my lips."
Someone, I know not (who), proffered a deceived ear to my ambiguous words, and thinks that the name of the breeze, (which I had) so often called, is (that) of a nymph: he believes that nymph to be beloved by me. Immediately, the thoughtless witness of my imagined crime goes to Procris and recounts with his tongue the whispers (he has) heard. Love is a credulous thing: overcome by a sudden pain, they tell me that she fainted; when, after a long time, she revived, she spoke of her wretchedness and of her unjust fate, and complained of his faithlessness; and disturbed, (as she was,) by this imagined crime, she fears (something) which is nothing, she fears a name without any substance, and, in her unhappiness, she grieves as though (she has) a real rival. Yet, she is often in doubt, and, in her great misery, she hopes she is wrong, and she refuses to believe this information, and (says that) she will not condemn her husband of any faults, unless she has seen (them) herself. Next (morning) the light of Dawn had dispelled the night: I (i.e. Cephalus) go forth and make for the woods, and (lying) on the grass, successful (in the hunt), I said, "Come, Aura, and relieve my toil." And, suddenly, I thought I heard someone's moans amid my words: still saying, "Come, dearest!", (and) as the fallen foliage makes a slight rustling sound in reply, I thought it was a wild creature, and flung my swift spear. It was Procris; and, clasping the wound in the centre of her breast, she cries out, "Ah, me!" When the voice of my faithful wife is recognised (by me), I ran headlong and frantically towards that voice. I find (her) half-alive (and) mutilated, and her clothes bespattered with her blood, and trying - (O) wretched me! - to pull her gift (to me) from her wound; and I lift her body, dearer to me than my own, and, tearing the fabric from her breast, I bind the cruel wound and try to stem the (flow of) blood, and beseech (her) not to leave me, guilty (as I am) of her death. (Although) failing in strength, and already on the verge of death, she forced herself to speak these few (words to me): "By the compact of our bed, by the gods, both (those) above and (those) of my own (hearth), by anything good I have deserved of you, and by our love that abides even now, (although it is) the cause of my death, I humbly beg you, that, when I die, you do not allow that Aura to wed (you) in our marriage-chamber." She spoke, and then at last I understood the error that existed in the name, and I told (her). But what was the use of telling (her)? She sinks, and (what) little strength (she has) ebbs away with her blood. While she can (still) look at anything, she gazes at me, and breathes out her unfortunate spirit on to me and on to my lips; but in her face she seems composed in an easier death."
The tearful hero was telling this (story), as they wept: and, behold, Aeacus enters with his two sons (i.e. Telamon and Peleus) and their newly enlisted men, whom Cephalus accepts with their sturdy armour.
Straightaway, the woolly (creature), worn out by countless years, is dragged forward, with its horns curved around its hollow temples. When the witch slits its scrawny throat with her Haemonian (i.e. Thessalian) knife, and barely stained the blade with blood, she plunges the sheep's carcass in a hollow bronze (cauldron): behold, the joints of its body shrink and its horns melt away, and, with its horns, the years, and a feeble bleating (sound) is heard from within the cauldron. (While they are) wondering at the bleating, suddenly a lamb jumps out, and frisks around in flight, and looks for udders that give suck.
Pelias' daughters were astounded: and after her promises have displayed their truth, then they insist even more eagerly. Three times had Phoebus removed the yoke from his horses, after they had plunged into the Iberian (i.e. Western) river (i.e. after sundown), and on the fourth night the stars were glittering in (all) their radiance, when the treacherous daughter of Aeetes places some clear water and ineffectual herbs over a blazing fire. And now a death-like sleep had taken hold of the king, with his motionless body, and, with their king, his guards, (a sleep,) which her incantations and the potency of her magic spells had achieved: his daughters had entered the threshold with the Colchian (witch) at her command, and stood around his bed. "Why do you hesitate (so) tamely, " she says. "Draw your swords, and drain his old blood, so that I can refill his empty veins with youthful blood. Your father's life and age are in your hands: if you have any filial affection, and vain hopes do not stir you, bestow this service upon your father, and drive out old age with your weapons, and let out his blood with a stroke of your iron (blade)."
(Urged on) by these exhortations, the more dutiful each one is, the more impious the dutiful becomes, and she does evil in order to avoid being wicked. Still, not one (of them) could (bear to) see her own blows, and they turned away their eyes, and, (with their faces) averted, they blindly inflicted wounds (on him) with their cruel hands. Streaming with blood, he (i.e. Pelias) still raises his body up on to his elbow, and, (though) half-mutilated, he tries to get up from his bed, and, stretching forth his pallid arms in the midst of so many swords, he says, "Daughters, why are you doing (this)? Who is rousing you to arms against your father's life?" Both their courage and their hands fell away. As he was about to say more with words, the Colchian (witch) cut his throat and plunged his mangled (body) into the boiling water.
Ll. 350-403. Medea flees and reaches Athens.
But she would not have escaped punishment, if she had not taken to the air on her dragons' wings. She flies high over shady Pelion, the home of the son of Philyra (i.e. Chiron the Centaur), and over Othrys and the places made famous by the fate of the ancient Cerambus. He, with the help of the nymphs, was lifted into the air on his wings (i.e. he became a scarab-beetle), when the solid earth was covered by the incoming sea, and escaped Deucalion's flood without being overwhelmed.
She left Aeolian Pitane (i.e. a city on the Aeolian coast near to Lesbos) behind on her left side, and its image of a huge dragon, made of stone, and the grove of Ida, where Liber concealed, in the deceptive shape of a stag, the bullock, which had been stolen by his son, and (she passed the vale) where the father of Corythus (i.e. Paris) lay buried in a little sand, and the fields through which Maera (i.e. Hecuba) spread terror by her strange howling; and (over) the city of Eurypylus, where the women of Cos grew horns at the time when the company of Hercules was departing, and (over) Rhodes, beloved of Phoebus, and the Telechines of Ialysius, whose eyes tainted everything within their sight, (so that) Jupiter, utterly disgusted (by them), thrust (them) under his brother's (i.e. Neptune's) waves.
And she passed (over) the city-walls of Cartheia, in ancient Ceos, where a father, Alcidamas, would marvel that a peaceful dove could spring from the body of his daughter.
Then, she sees Lake Hyrie (i.e. in Boeotia), and the Tempe of Cycnus, which a swan suddenly made famous. For there, at the boy's (i.e. Cycnus') command, Phylius had brought (him) birds and a fierce lion (which he had) tamed; ordered to overcome a bull as well, he had overcome (it), but, angry, because his love (had) so often (been) spurned, he refused the petitioner this last reward. Indignant, he (i.e. Cycnus) said, "You will wish that you had given (it to me)," and he jumped from a high cliff. Everyone thought he had fallen: (but) he was turned into a swan and hung in the air on snow-white wings. But his mother Hyrie, unaware that (he had been) saved, pined away with weeping, and formed the lake that bears her name. Lying near this was Pleuron, in which Combe, the daughter of Ophius, escaped the injuries (inflicted) by her sons.
Then, she (i.e. Medea) looks down on the fields of Calaurea, sacred to Leto (i.e. an island off the coast of Argolis), aware that her king and his wife (had been) turned into birds. On her right is Cyllene (i.e. a mountain in Arcadia), on which Menephron had lain with his mother as though (they were) wild beasts; further on from there she sees (the river-god) Cephisus (i.e. a river in Phocis) bewailing the fate of his son, (who had been) changed by Apollo into a puffed-up seal, and the home of Eumelus, mourning his son (i.e. Botres), (reborn) in the air (i.e. as a bee-eating bird).
At last, she reached Pirene Ephyre (i.e. Corinth) on her dragon's wings. Here (the men) of old stated that in the earliest times mortal bodies sprang from fungi swollen by rain. But, after his (i.e. Jason's) new wife (i.e. Glauce) had burned with the fires of the Colchian's (i.e. Medea's) witchcraft, and both gulfs (i.e. the seas on either side of the Isthmus of Corinth) had seen the king's palace on fire, her sword was impiously bathed in the blood of their sons, and, having avenged herself (so) atrociously, their mother flees the sword of Jason.
Then, carried by her dragons that were born of the Titans, she (i.e. Medea) goes into Pallas' citadel (i.e. Athens), which (once) saw you, most righteous Phene, and you, old Periphas, both flying (in the air as birds) (i.e. as an osprey and an eagle respectively), and the granddaughter of Polypemon (i.e. Alcyone), supported by strange new wings (i.e. those of a kingfisher). Aegeus welcomes her (there), condemned (thereafter) by that one action; nor was hospitality enough (for him): he even joins (her to him) in a contract of marriage.
Ll. 404-424. Medea tries to kill Jason, and then vanishes.
And then Theseus came (there), a son unknown to his father (i.e. Aegeus), and by his courage he pacified the Isthmus between the two seas. For the purpose of his destruction, Medea mixes some poison, which she had in the past collected from the shores of Scythia. That say that that poison had dripped from the teeth of Echidna's dog (i.e. Cerberus). There is a secret cavern with a gloomy aperture, and a downward path, through which that Tirynthian hero (i.e. Hercules) dragged Cerberus, bound with chains of adamant, resisting (all the way) and turning his eyes away from the daylight and the shining rays (of the sun); provoked by a frenzy of wrath, he filled the air with simultaneous howling from his three heads, and spattered the green fields with white (flecks of) foam. It is thought that these have congealed, and, obtaining food from the rich and productive soil, they have gained the strength to do harm. Because these (roots) spring, long-living, from rock, the country people call (them) dustless. Through the cunning of his wife (i.e. Medea), the father Aegeus, himself, offered them to his son, as (if he were) an enemy. Theseus had, unwittingly, taken the cup (he had been) given in his right(-hand), when his father recognised the emblems of his own house on the ivory hilt of his sword, and dashed the poisoned chalice from his mouth. (But) she escapes death in a mist raised by her incantations.
Ll. 424-452. Praise for Theseus.
But the father, although he is overjoyed that his son is unharmed, is, nevertheless, horrified that (so) great a crime could have (come) within a short distance of being committed. He lights up the altars with fires and loads the gods with gifts, and his axes strike the brawny necks of oxen, their horns tied with sacrificial fillets. They say that no day (in the city) of Erechtheus (i.e. Athens) has (ever) shone more brilliantly than that (one). The elders arrange banquets in the midst of the people, and they also sing songs, with wine causing this inspiration: "Marathon (i.e. a plain and town on the east coast of Attica) has admired you, mighty Theseus, for the blood of the Cretan bull; and the service and the deed is yours, through which the farmer can plough the fields of Cromyon (i.e. a village near Corinth), unmolested by that (wild) sow. The land of Epidaurus (i.e. a city in Argolis) saw the club-wielding son of Vulcan (i.e. Periphetes) die at your hands, and the banks of the Cephisus (i.e. a river in Phocis) saw the pitiless Procrustes (brought down), (and) Eleusis, sacred to Ceres, saw the death of Cercyon. Sinis is dead, that (man who) employed his great strength to evil (ends), (and) who could bend the branches of a pine-tree and force (them) from on high down to the ground, so as to scatter (men's) body (parts) far and wide. (Now) that Sciron (has been) laid low, a safe path lies open to Alcathoë, the walled city of the Leleges (i.e. Megara), and the earth denies a resting-place, and the sea denies a resting-place, to the brigand's scattered bones; after they had been tossed about for a long time, a future age is said to have hardened them into rocks: Sciron's name is connected with these rocks. If we want to count your honours and years, the deeds would exceed the years. To you, (O) bravest (of men), we offer our public prayers (of thanks), (and) we take up and drain a cup of wine in your (honour)."
The palace resounds to the applause of the people and the prayers of his supporters, and there is no sad place in the whole of the city.
Ll. 453-500. Minos threatens war.
However, Aegeus did not perceive his joy in welcoming his son as carefree - indeed, no pleasure is (ever) complete, and some trouble always interferes with our delight. Minos is preparing for war. Although he is strong in his army and in his fleet, he is still most powerful in his anger as a father, and he seeks to avenge the death of Androgeos by right of arms. Yet, he first acquires allied troops for his war, and he crosses the sea in the swift fleet, in which his power lay. Then, he joins Anaphe and the kingdom of Astypaleia to himself, Anaphe, (moved) by promises, and the kingdom of Astypaleia by (his strength) in war; then, (he secures) low-lying Myconos and the chalky-soiled Cimolos, Syros, flowing with thyme, and flat Seriphos, and Paros, and Siphnos too, which the treacherous Arne betrayed (to him) - when she had received the gold, which, in her greed, she had demanded, she was changed (by the gods) into a bird, the black-footed jackdaw, draped in black wings, which gold delights even now. But Oliaros gave no help to the ships of Cnossos (i.e. the Cretan fleet), nor did Didyme and Tenos and Andros and Gyaros, and Perparethos, rich in bright olives. From these, Minos makes for Oenopia, the realm of the Aeacidae; the ancients called (it) Oenopia, but Aeacus, himself, called (it) Aegina from the name of his mother.
The crowd rushes (to meet him), and wants to get to know a man with such a great reputation. Telamon, and Peleus, (who is) younger than Telamon, and Phocus, the third child, run up to him. Aeacus, himself, comes too, (though) slow with the burden of old-age, and asks what is the reason for his visit. Reminded of his paternal grief, the ruler of a hundred peoples (i.e. Minos) sighs, and answers him with the following words: "I beg you to help (me) take up arms on behalf of my son, and for you to be a part of a just fight; I ask for the consolation of (marking out) his tomb." The grandson of Asopus (i.e. Aeacus) said to him, "You are asking for (something which is) impossible and (which) my city (just) cannot do: for there is no land more closely linked to the people of Cecrops (i.e. the Athenians) than this (one): there (is) a treaty (which binds) us." He goes away in sadness, and said, "Your treaty will cost you dear," and he thinks it is more useful to threaten war than to wage (one), and thus to consume his strength in advance.
The Lyctian (i.e. Cretan) fleet could still be seen from the walls of Oenopia, when a ship from Attica arrives, spurred on in full sail, and enters the friendly harbour, (a ship,) which bore Cephalus and his country's instructions at the same time. (Although) the young sons of Aeacus had last seen (him) a long time (ago), they still recognised Cephalus, and gave (him) their right(-hands in welcome) and led (him) to their father's house. Observed (by all), and retaining even now traces of his former beauty, the hero goes forward, and, holding a branch of his country's native olive, the elder (man) has, on his right and on his left, two (men,) younger in age, Clytos and Butes, the sons of Pallas (i.e. not the goddess, but an Athenian prince and the son of Pandion).
Ll. 501-613. Aeacus tells of the plague at Aegina.
After coming to meet (them) and offering, firstly, some words of his own, Cephalus describes his mandate from Cecropia (i.e. Athens), and he asks for their help, and quotes the treaty and the oaths of their ancestors, and adds that control over the whole of Achaea (i.e. Greece) was being sought (by Minos). When his eloquence has assisted the cause (with which he has been) mandated, Aeacus, with his left-hand resting upon the handle of his sceptre, replied, "Don't ask for help, Athens, but assume (it); undoubtedly, you should consider the forces, which this island has, (as) your own; it has everything - let this state of affairs (continue) in my case! Our strength is not lacking, and (the size of) my army exceeds that of the enemy; thanks (be) to the gods, this moment is an auspicious (one) and (there can be) no excuses (for me not to help you)." "If only it could (always) be so," says Cephalus. "I do hope that your city grows in (the number of) its citizens. Indeed just now, as I was coming, I felt happy, when so many fair young men, so well matched in age, passed me on the way. Yet I am now missing many that I saw before, when I visited your city previously." Aeacus groaned, and (then) spoke thus in a sad voice: "Better luck has followed a lamentable beginning. Would that I could mention the one to you without the other! I shall recall (them) now in order. Nor shall I delay you by a long circumlocution: (those,) whom your mind is seeking to remember (now) lie (as) bones and ashes. And how great a part of my wealth perished with them!
"A dreadful plague falls upon my people, due to the anger of the unjust Juno, who hated our land, because it was named after her rival (i.e. Aeacus' mother, Aegina). While it seemed (to be) a human disease, and the harmful cause of so great a disaster lay hidden, it was fought by the art of medicine: (but) destruction overcame our efforts, which declined (when they were) unsuccessful.
"At the outset, the sky enveloped the earth with a thick fog, and confined the sultry heat under the clouds; and, while the Moon filled up her disc with joined-up horns four times, and four times she unravelled her full disc and became slender, hot southerly winds breathed their deadly air (over us). And it is known that the pestilence reached our springs and lakes, and that many thousands of snakes wandered across our untilled fields and defiled our streams with their poison. The power of the unexpected disease surprised (us) at first, with its destruction of dogs, and birds, and sheep, and oxen, and among the wild beasts. The unfortunate ploughman is astonished that sturdy bulls collapse at their work and sink down into the middle of the furrow; with the fleecy flocks giving out a sickly bleating (sound), their wool falls off of its own accord, and their bodies waste away. The spirited horse, once (held) in great renown on the track, is (now) unworthy of his prizes, and forgetting his former achievements, whinnies plaintively in his stall, about to die an inglorious death. The boar does not remember to rage, nor the stag to put his trust in his speed, and the bears to rush upon the strong herds. Lethargy takes hold of everything; rotting carcasses lie in the woods, and in the fields, and on the roadways, and the air is befouled by their stench. I shall talk of strange (things): dogs and hungry birds and hoary wolves did not touch them; the decaying (corpses) dissolve into liquid and pollute (the air) with their exhalations, and spread contagion far and wide.
"With increasing virulence, the plague spreads to the wretched farmers (themselves), and lords (it) within the walls of the great city (i.e. Athens). Firstly, their internal organs grow hot, and a rash is an indication, and heavy breathing a sign, of a hidden fever. The tongue (becomes) rough (and) swollen, and, parched with hot breath, the lips lie open and the heavy air is sucked in through the gaping mouth. (The sick) cannot endure a bed or any kind of covering, but lie on their stomachs on the bare ground; the body does not become cool on the ground, but the ground becomes hot on account of the body. And no controller (of it) is available, and the cruel disease breaks out among the doctors themselves, and (the practice of) their skills is prejudicial to the practitioners. The nearer anyone is to a sick (person) and the more faithfully he attends (him), the more quickly he comes to sharing his death. And, as the hope of recovery deserts (them), and they see an end of their sickness (only) in death, they indulge their desires and they have no concern for what is good (for them); for nothing is good (for them). And everywhere, with (all) shame set aside, they cling to the fountains and streams and the deep wells, nor is their thirst extinguished by drinking any sooner than their life. Then, many (of them are so) sick (that) they cannot rise, and they even die in the water: yet others still drink (it). Some of these wretched (people) have such a loathing of their hateful beds, (that) they jump out (of them), or, if they lack the strength to stand, they roll their bodies on to the ground: and everyone, whose home seems fatal, abandons their household gods, and, because the reason (for the plague) lies hidden, the place is (held) to blame; you could have seen some (of them) half-dead, wandering the streets, while they (still) have the strength to stand; (and) others lying on the ground, weeping and turning their exhausted eyes (upwards) in a final convulsion: and they stretch their arms to the stars in the overhanging sky, breathing out (their lives) here or there, wherever death had overtaken (them). What feelings did I have then? What should they be, (but) to hate life and to desire to be a part of my (people). Wherever the gaze of my eyes had turned itself, a prostrate mass (of people) was (lying) there, just like when rotten apples fall from shaken branches, and acorns from a wind-blown holm-oak.
"You see the temple opposite high up (on the hill) with a long (flight of) steps: Jupiter has it. Who (among us) did not bring vain offerings to those altars? How often a husband, while saying words of prayer for his wife, (or) a father (saying words of prayer) for his son, ended his life in front of those inexorable altars, and part of the unconsumed incense was found in their hands! How often did the bulls, after they had been conducted to the temple, fall down without waiting for the blow. Even when I was offering some sacrifices to Jupiter for myself and my country and my three sons (i.e. Telamon, Peleus and Phocus), the victim let out a dreadful lowing (sound) and suddenly collapsed without (receiving) any blows, barely staining the knife below with its blood. Its diseased entrails had even obliterated the tokens of the truth and the warnings of the gods: the dismal sickness penetrates its vital organs. I have seen corpses thrown down in front of the temple doors, (and) even in front of the altars, in order that their deaths should be more worthy of reproach. Some conclude their life with a noose, and banish by death their fear of death, and summon their approaching fate from two directions. After they have died, their bodies do not receive any of the customary funeral rites: for the gates (of the city) could not manage (so many) funerals. They either lie on the ground unburied, or they are heaped on the top of funeral pyres without any ceremony. And now there is no longer any reverence, and they fight for the pyres and the burn in the fires of others. (Those) who can mourn are wanting; and the spirits of sons and fathers, and of young and old, wander around unlamented. (There is) no room in the burial mounds, nor is there enough wood for the fires.
Ll. 614-660. The creation of the Myrmidons.
"Stunned by such a spiral of wretched events, I said, 'O Jupiter! if they are not telling lies when they say that you were held in the embraces of Aegina, the daughter of Asopus, nor are you ashamed, mighty father, that you are my parent, either give me back my (people), or bury me too in their tomb.'
He (i.e. Jupiter) gave his sign by (a flash of) lightning and by a following (crack of) thunder. I said, 'I
accept these (things), and I pray that they may be auspicious tokens of your intention. I interpret what you give me (as) an omen.'
"There happened to be nearby a very rare oak-tree with spreading branches, sacred to Jupiter, (and grown) from a seed from Dodona (i.e. the oracle of Jupiter in Epirus): on it I caught sight of a long column of ants, carrying a large load in their tiny mouths, and forging their own path across its wrinkled bark. While admiring their numbers, I said, 'Best of fathers, may you give me as many citizens as this, and fill my city-walls.' The tall oak trembled, and gave out a (cracking) sound, as its branches shook without any wind. My limbs shuddered with a trembling fear, and my hair stood (on end). However, I kissed the ground and the tree, (but) I did not acknowledge that I was hopeful: still, I was hopeful, and cherished my longings in my heart.
"Night falls, and sleep takes hold of my care-worn body: the same oak-tree is there before my eyes, and it seemed to exhibit as many branches and as many animals on its branches, and to shake with a similar motion, and to scatter its column of grain-bearers on to the ground below; and suddenly it seems that they are growing larger and larger, and are raising themselves from the earth and standing with body erect, and that they are losing their leanness and the number of their feet and their black colour, and that their limbs are taking on a human shape. Sleep departs: awake (once more), I dismiss
my visions and complain that no help comes from the gods. But in the palace there was a great murmuring (sound), and I thought that I heard human voices, (the ones to which) I (was) now accustomed. While I suspect that these are just (the effects) of sleep, Telamon comes running, and, throwing open the doors, he said, 'Come outside, Father! You will see greater (things) than (you could ever) hope or believe.' I go out, and I see and recognise in turn, such men as I had seemed to have seen in sleep's imagining. They come up (to me), and salute (me as) king. I fulfil my vows to Jupiter, and divide the city and the previous farmers' empty fields amongst these newly arrived people, and I call (them) Myrmidons, and I do not belie their origin in their name (i.e. μύρμηκες, ants). You have seen their bodies; they retain even now the habits which they demonstrated before: they are a thrifty and hard-working race, keen to acquire (things) and to keep what they have acquired. These (men), well-matched, (as they are,) in years and courage, will follow you to war, as soon as that favourable east wind that brought you (here) - for (it was) an east wind (that) had brought him - changes into southerlies."
Ll. 661-758. The infidelities of Cephalus and Procris.
They filled a long day with such, and other, conversations. The last part of the daylight was given over to feasting, (and) the night to sleep. The golden Sun had produced the light - an east wind was still blowing and was keeping the sails from the return (voyage): the sons of Pallas (i.e. Clytos and Butes) go to Cephalus, who is their senior in age, and Cephalus, together with the sons of Pallas, go to the king. But deep sleep still had hold of the king. Aeacus' son, Phocus, received (them) at the (palace) entrance: for Telamon and his brother (i.e. Peleus) were selecting men for the war. Phocus leads the Cecropidae (i.e. Athenians) into a beautiful and secluded inner walk, (and) he sat down together with them.
He (i.e. Phocus) noticed that the grandson of Aeolus (i.e. Cephalus) carried in his hand a javelin, made of an unknown wood, the tip of which was golden. Having spoken a few (words) to begin with, he says in the midst of their conversation, "I am knowledgeable about woodlands and the killing of animals: however, I have been wondering for some time from what wood that spear-shaft (was) cut. If it were ash, it would undoubtedly be yellow in colour; if (it were) cornelian-cherry, it would be knotted. From where it comes I do not know. But my eyes have never seen a spear more beautifully formed for throwing than this (one) of yours." One of the Actaean (i.e. Athenian) brothers (i.e. either Clytos or Butes) overhears (this), and said, "You will marvel at its usefulness more than its appearance. It hits whatever it is aimed at, and chance does not guide its flight, and it flies back, bloodied, without needing to be retrieved." Then indeed the young grandson of Nereus (i.e. Phocus, whose mother was the Nereid Psamathe) wants to know everything: why it is (so) and from where (it has been) given, and who (is) the originator of so great a gift. He (i.e. Cephalus) told (him) what he wanted to know. But in fact he was ashamed to say what a high price it had cost (him); he falls silent, and touched with sadness for the loss of his wife (i.e. Procris), he utters the following words with the tears welling up (in his eyes): "Son of the goddess, this weapon makes me weep - who would believe (that)? - and it will do (so) for a long time, if the fates grant me a long life. It did away with me and my dear wife: if only I had always been without such a gift! She was Procris - or if (the name of) Orithyia has happened to reach your ears more (often), the sister of the ravished Orithyia - , (though) if you were to compare the looks and manners of the two (of them), she (was) the more worthy of being ravished. Her father Erechtheus joined her to me (in marriage), (and) love joined (her) to me (as well). I was called fortunate, and I was. (But) it did not seem so to the gods, or perhaps I should be (fortunate) even now. A second month was spent after our sacred nuptials, when, early in the morning, saffron-coloured Aurora (i.e. Dawn), as she was chasing away the shadows, sees me from the summit of Mount Hymettus, (as I was) setting out the nets (to catch) the horned stags, and steals (me) away against my will. By the grace of the goddess I can speak the truth. Though she (i.e. Aurora) may be remarkable for her rosy face, though she holds the boundaries of the day-light and of the night, though she is nourished by liquid nectar, I was in love with Procris: Procris was in my heart, (the name of) Procris (was) always on my lips. I kept talking of the sacredness of our couch, of our new union, of our recent wedding and the prior claims of our deserted (marriage-)bed. The goddess was provoked, and said, 'Stop complaining, you ungrateful (wretch): have your Procris! But if my mind has any foresight, you will wish you had never had (her).' And enraged, she sent me back to her. While I was returning, and was reconsidering the goddess's words to me, I began to have fears that my wife might not have kept our marriage vows well. Her youth and beauty prompted thoughts of adultery, (although) her character forbade such thoughts. But yet I had been absent (for some time), and she from whom I was returning was a (good) example of such a failing, and we lovers fear everything. Aurora favours this fear (of mine), and changes my appearance - I seem to feel (it).
"I go into Palladian Athens unrecognised, and enter my home. The house, itself, lacked any fault, and gave signs of innocence, and was (only) anxious for its stolen master: with difficulty, and (only) by a thousand tricks, did I gain access to Erechtheus' daughter (i.e. Procris). When I saw (her), I was quite overcome, and almost abandoned any thoughts of testing her loyalty. I could scarcely contain myself from confessing the truth, and from giving (her) kisses, as I ought (to have done). She was sad - but yet no one could be more lovely than her in her sadness - and she burned with longing for the husband (who had been) snatched away (from her). Think about (it), Phocus, there was in her such beauty, which her grief itself so befitted. Why should I tell how many times her chaste character repelled my advances, how many times she said I am keeping myself for one (man only); wherever he is, I am preserving my joys for that one (man)!" For whom in his right mind would that not have been a great enough test of loyalty? (But) I am not satisfied, and I struggle on in my wounded (state), until by saying that I would give her (great) wealth for (just one) night, and (then) by increasing the offer, I forced (her) to waver. Wrongly victorious, I cry out: "A fictitious adulterer is present, you wicked (person)! I am your true husband! You can have me as a witness to your treachery." She (said) nothing. All but overcome by her silent shame, she fled the insidious threshold and her evil husband; wounded by me, and hating the whole race of men, she roamed the mountains, occupied by the pursuits of Diana (i.e. the goddess of hunting). Then, deserted (as I was), an (even) more violent flame pervades my bones. I begged her forgiveness, and acknowledged that I had sinned and that I too could have succumbed to the same fault (as hers) when the gifts were offered, if such gifts were offered (to me).
"After I had confessed to this, (and) after she had avenged her injured honour, she returns to me, and spends some happy years in harmony (with me). Moreover, as though she had (only) given herself to me as a small gift, she gives me a hound (as) a gift, which her (goddess) Cynthia (i.e. Diana, who was born on Mount Cynthus on the island of Delos) had consigned to her, (and) she said, 'He will surpass all (others) in speed.' Likewise, she also gives (me) a spear, (the one) which, you see, I am holding in my hands. Do you want to know what was the fate of the other gift? Listen to (something) miraculous: you will be stirred by the strangeness of the exploit.
Ll. 759-795. The transformation of Cephalus' dog, Laelaps.
The son of Laius (i.e. Oedipus) had solved, through his genius, the riddles (which had) previously not been understood, and the dark prophetess (i.e. the Sphinx) was thrown headlong (from the cliffs), her enigmatic words (having been) forgotten: gracious Themis (i.e. the goddess of justice and prophecy) does not of course leave such things unavenged. At once another plague was launched against Aonian (i.e. Aonia was a district of Boeotia) Thebes, and many of the country-people feared that the wild beast (i.e. the Teumessian vixen) (would accomplish) the destruction of their crops and their own. We, the young men of the neighbourhood (i.e. Cadmeia) came and encompassed the fields by an encirclement (of netting). That swift (creature) leapt over our nets with a nimble jump, and cleared the top of the toils of the traps we had set. The leash is withdrawn from our hounds: she escapes their pursuit, and, (running) no slower than than a swift bird, she mocks (the pack). With the full agreement (of all), I, myself, am asked (to release) my Laelaps (i.e. λαῖλαψ, hurricane) - this (is) the name of my gift. He has long been trying to let slip the chains from himself and he strains (against) the restraint on his neck. He had scarcely been properly released, and already we could not know where he was. The warm dust showed the marks of his paws, but he himself had been plucked from our eyesight. No spear (was) quicker than him, nor any lead bullets cast from a whirled sling, nor a Gortynian (i.e. Cretan) arrow shot from a bow. The top of an intervening hill overlooks the fields below: I climbed it and watch the spectacle of the strange race, in which at one moment the beast appeared to be caught, and at another to escape from its wound, nor does the dexterous (animal) flee in a straight line and in the open, but it eludes the pursuing mouth, and runs around in a circle so that there cannot be an attack by its enemy. He presses (it) hard and pursues (it) with equal (pace), and he seems to grip (it), (but) does not grip (it), and he worries the air with empty bites. I turned to my spear for help. While my right(-hand) balances it, while I try to insert my fingers into the thong, I turned away my eyes. Recalling (them) once more, I brought (them) back to the same (place): I see a marvel, two (pieces of) marble in the middle of the plain: You would think one to be fleeing, the other to be chasing. Assuredly, if some god (was) with them, that god (i.e. Jupiter) must have wished that both (of them) should be unconquered in the running contest."
(He got) thus far (in his story), and fell silent. "What crime has the spear itself committed," says Phocus. (And) he recounted the spear's crimes as follows:
Ll. 796-865. The death of Procris.
"My joys, Phocus, were the beginning of my sorrow: I shall speak of them first. O son of Aeacus (i.e. Phocus), it is delightful (for me) to remember that blessed time, when in those early years, I was rightly happy with my wife, and she was happy with her husband. Mutual cares and a shared love possessed the two (of us); nor would she have preferred Jupiter's bed to my love, nor was there any (woman) who could have captured (me), not (even) if Venus herself had come (there): an equal flame fired our hearts.
Just as the Sun struck the hill-tops with his first rays, I used to go hunting vigorously in the woods. Nor were any attendants, or horses, or keen-scented hounds accustomed to go with me, nor any knotted snares to follow (me): I was safe with my spear. But, when my right(-hand) was sated with the slaughter of wild creatures, I would return to the cool of the shade and the breeze which came out of the chill valleys. The breeze, gentle to me in the midst of the heat, was sought (by me); I waited for the breeze, and it was my repose in my labour. I used to sing, "Aura (i.e. Breeze) - for I do remember - , "may you come and delight me, and may you enter my breast, (you) most pleasing one, and, as you do (so), may you be willing to relieve this heat, with which I am burning." Perhaps, I added (still) more endearments - thus did my fate lead me on - and I used to say, "You (are) such a great pleasure to me. You revive and pamper me, you make (me) love the woods and the lonely spots; and that breath of yours is always captured by my lips."
Someone, I know not (who), proffered a deceived ear to my ambiguous words, and thinks that the name of the breeze, (which I had) so often called, is (that) of a nymph: he believes that nymph to be beloved by me. Immediately, the thoughtless witness of my imagined crime goes to Procris and recounts with his tongue the whispers (he has) heard. Love is a credulous thing: overcome by a sudden pain, they tell me that she fainted; when, after a long time, she revived, she spoke of her wretchedness and of her unjust fate, and complained of his faithlessness; and disturbed, (as she was,) by this imagined crime, she fears (something) which is nothing, she fears a name without any substance, and, in her unhappiness, she grieves as though (she has) a real rival. Yet, she is often in doubt, and, in her great misery, she hopes she is wrong, and she refuses to believe this information, and (says that) she will not condemn her husband of any faults, unless she has seen (them) herself. Next (morning) the light of Dawn had dispelled the night: I (i.e. Cephalus) go forth and make for the woods, and (lying) on the grass, successful (in the hunt), I said, "Come, Aura, and relieve my toil." And, suddenly, I thought I heard someone's moans amid my words: still saying, "Come, dearest!", (and) as the fallen foliage makes a slight rustling sound in reply, I thought it was a wild creature, and flung my swift spear. It was Procris; and, clasping the wound in the centre of her breast, she cries out, "Ah, me!" When the voice of my faithful wife is recognised (by me), I ran headlong and frantically towards that voice. I find (her) half-alive (and) mutilated, and her clothes bespattered with her blood, and trying - (O) wretched me! - to pull her gift (to me) from her wound; and I lift her body, dearer to me than my own, and, tearing the fabric from her breast, I bind the cruel wound and try to stem the (flow of) blood, and beseech (her) not to leave me, guilty (as I am) of her death. (Although) failing in strength, and already on the verge of death, she forced herself to speak these few (words to me): "By the compact of our bed, by the gods, both (those) above and (those) of my own (hearth), by anything good I have deserved of you, and by our love that abides even now, (although it is) the cause of my death, I humbly beg you, that, when I die, you do not allow that Aura to wed (you) in our marriage-chamber." She spoke, and then at last I understood the error that existed in the name, and I told (her). But what was the use of telling (her)? She sinks, and (what) little strength (she has) ebbs away with her blood. While she can (still) look at anything, she gazes at me, and breathes out her unfortunate spirit on to me and on to my lips; but in her face she seems composed in an easier death."
The tearful hero was telling this (story), as they wept: and, behold, Aeacus enters with his two sons (i.e. Telamon and Peleus) and their newly enlisted men, whom Cephalus accepts with their sturdy armour.
