HOMER: ILIAD: BOOK IV: THE WAR RESUMES

Introduction:

The opening sections of Book IV are notable for the way in which they display the amoral and cynical behaviour of the gods. Firstly, there is the chilling agreement between Zeus and his wife Hera, in which the former accepts the eventual destruction of Troy as the price to pay for keeping the peace between him and his consort, while she in return agrees to the sacrifice of a number of Greek cities if that should ever be pleasing to Zeus. Then comes the stealthy plot by which Athene, Hera's ally against Troy, induces Pandarus to break the truce between Trojans and the Greeks by firing an arrow at Menelaus, and wounding him. This is the perfidious act which it is generally agreed justifies the condemnation of Troy - indeed in Book VI even Hector tells Andromache that it must be so - yet, as we read, this only happens because of a piece of shameless manipulation by the gods themselves. One wonders, indeed, what implications this divine behaviour would have had for what Homer's audience imagined was the nature of the gods in which they believed. 

Lines 223-421, i.e. the central passages of the Book, constitute Agamemnon's "Epipolesis" or Review, in which he meets the main generals under his command and reviews the contingents which they are leading. Like the scene known as the "Teichoskopia" in Book III, and indeed the "Catalogue of Ships" in Book II, the review by Agamemnon of his army would have made better sense if it had occurred at the beginning of the war, rather than after nine years of fighting. However, its position here in Book IV is understandable because there is an opportunity for it at this point, and because it culminates in a scene involving Diomedes, whose domination of the battlefield is a feature of Books V and VI. 

The final passages of Book IV involve episodes of close hand-to-hand fighting, and the associated pathos, which set the scene for what so much of the "Iliad" comprises.

The text for this translation is taken from "Homer: Iliad I-XII", edited by M.M. Willcock, Bristol Classical Press (1978).

Ll. 1-67.  Hera prolongs the war.

Meanwhile, the gods were gathered beside Zeus in their seats on the golden floor of the council-chamber, and the princess Hebe (went) among them pouring nectar; and they toasted one another in their golden goblets, as they gazed upon the city of the Trojans; at once, the son of Cronos (i.e. Zeus) tried to provoke Hera with his mocking words, addressing her (as follows) in a sly manner: "Menelaus has two of the goddesses (as) helpers, both Hera of Argos and Athene of Alalcomenae (i.e. a small town in Boeotia which had a sanctuary dedicated to her). But they are truly happy sitting (there) looking on from a distance; while, on the other hand, laughter-loving Aphrodite continues to stand beside the other one (i.e. Paris) and shields him from his fate; and now she saves (him) when he thinks he is going to die. But surely victory (belongs) to Menelaus, dear to Ares; then, let us consider how this business will turn out: whether we should let loose harsh war and the dread din of battle once more, or whether we should cast (a pact of) friendship between both sides. And, if this might somehow be good and pleasing to all, then the city of king Priam might (still) be lived in, and Menelaus can take Argive Helen back again."

So he spoke, and Athene and Hera muttered (at his words): so they sat (there) side by side, and plotted the downfall of the Trojans. Athene, it is true, was silent, nor did she say anything, despite her anger at her father Zeus, but a fierce fury took hold of her; however, Hera's breast could not contain her anger, but she addressed (him thus): "Most dread son of Cronos, what kind of words are these that you have said! Are you really willing to render null and void (all) the toil and sweat, which I have expended in my labour, while the (two) horses (of my chariot) have grown weary as I assemble a host (to bring) disaster upon Priam and his sons? Do (as you wish)! but all the rest of us gods do not agree with you."

Greatly vexed, cloud-gathering Zeus answered her (thus): "My dear (wife), what great crimes are Priam and Priam's sons committing against you, such that you desire (so) unceasingly to sack the well-built citadel of Ilium? If you could go in through its gates and great walls and consume the raw (flesh of) of Priam, and Priam's sons, and all the other Trojans, then you might (I suppose) assuage your wrath. Do as you wish! (But do) not (let) this quarrel between you and me about the future become a great (source of) dispute between the two of us. But I tell you something else, and do you keep (this) in your mind: whenever I, in my turn, may long to destroy some city, where the men may happen to be dear to you, do not (try to) thwart me at all, but let me (have my way). For now I yield to you of my own free will, though with a reluctant mind; for of all the cities of earthly men that are inhabited beneath the sun and the sparkling heavens, sacred Ilium, and Priam, and the people of Priam of the fine ashen spear were the (most) revered within my heart. For (there) my altar has never lacked its share of the feast, and of the libation (of wine), and of the savour of burnt sacrifice; for we received these (as) gifts of honour.

And then, the ox-eyed queenly Hera answered him (thus): "In truth, there are three cities most dear to me: Argos, Sparta, and wide-paved Mycenae; sack these, whenever you may feel a hatred (for them) in your heart; let me tell you, I shall not stand before (i.e. shield) them, nor shall I grudge (their destruction). For, even if I should resent (it) and try to refuse their sack, my resentment would not achieve (anything), since you are undoubtedly by far the stronger. But my efforts must not be rendered ineffective; for I too am divine, and my stock is the same as yours, and Cronos, crooked of counsel, begot me as the most senior (of his daughters), both in age and on account of being called your wife, and you being king among all the immortals. But yet, let us bow to one another in this (matter), both I to you, and you to me; then all the other immortal gods will follow after (us); and do you quickly command Athene to go to the grim battle-lines of the Trojans and the Achaeans, and try (to ensure) that, contrary to their oaths, the Trojans may begin to attack the most glorious Achaeans before (they are attacked themselves)."

Ll. 68-126.  Athene stirs Pandarus into action.

So she spoke, and the father of men and gods did not disregard (her wishes); straightway he addressed Athene with these winged words: "Go swiftly to the soldiers, among the Trojans and the Achaeans, and try (to ensure) that, contrary to their oaths, the Trojans may begin to attack the most glorious Achaeans before (they are attacked themselves)."

Thus speaking, he urged on Athene, who had been desiring (this) earlier (herself), and she went darting down from the peaks of Olympus. (She was) just like the gleaming star that the son of Cronos, crooked of counsel (i.e. Zeus), sends to sailors or to the broad encampment of a host; and from it many sparks are sent forth (i.e. it was a shooting star). In that likeness, Pallas Athene shot to earth, and leapt down into their midst; and she brought amazement to those who saw (her), both the horse-taming Trojans and the well-greaved Achaeans; and so one (man) looked at another (man) nearby, and said: "Surely there will be harsh war and the dread din of battle once more, or (else) Zeus, who has been made the dispenser of war between men, is setting (a pact of) friendship between both sides."

So said some (warrior in the ranks) of the Achaeans and the Trojans. But she (i.e. Athene) went down into the throng of the Trojans, resembling a man, the mighty spearman, Laodocus, the son of Antenor, while she searched for the godlike Pandarus, (to see) if she could find (him) somewhere. She found the son of Lycaon (i.e. Pandarus), as he stood (there), (looking) noble and strong; and around him (were) the strong ranks of shield-bearing warriors, who had followed him from the streams of the Aesepus (i.e. a river rising in the foothills of Mount Ida). Then, standing close by, she addressed (him) with these winged words: "May you obey me now in some matter, I pray (you), (O) warlike son of Lycaon! Should you bring yourself to fire a swift(-flying) arrow at Menelaus, you would gain gratitude and renown among all the Trojans, and prince Alexander (i.e. Paris) most of all. From him, before all others, you would be loaded with splendid gifts, if he were to see Menelaus, the warlike son of Atreus, brought down by your shaft and laid on the grievous (funeral) pyre. But, come (now), shoot at glorious Menelaus, and vow to the renowned archer, Lycian-born Apollo, to make a splendid sacrifice of firstling lambs, as soon as you return home to the city of sacred Zeleia (i.e. a city in the north-west of the Troad).

So spoke Athene and swayed his foolish mind; at once he (i.e. Pandarus) unstrapped his well-polished bow (made from the horn) of a leaping wild goat that he himself had once shot under the chest, as it sprang down from a rock, - he had shot (it) in the breast as he was lying in wait in a hide; and it tumbled backwards on to the rock (below). The horns growing from its head (were) sixteen palms in length (i.e. about 1.25 m.). And these a craftsman skilled in polishing horn had prepared and joined together, and, after carefully polishing all (of it), he put a golden tip on (it). Now, he bent (the bow) back, (then) he strung (it), and laid it carefully on the ground; and his noble companions held their shields in front of (him), lest the warrior sons of the Achaeans should spring upon (him) before Menelaus, the warlike son of Atreus, was smitten. Then, he removed the lid from his quiver and took out an arrow, (which was) unused, well-feathered, and the carrier of black pain; he swiftly fitted a keen arrow to his bow-string, and vowed to the renowned archer, Lycian-born Apollo, to make a splendid sacrifice of firstling lambs, as soon as he had returned to the city of sacred Zeleia. Then, he pulled the notched arrow-butt and the string of ox-gut together and drew (them) back; he pulled the string back to his breast, and the iron(-point) back to the bow. Then, when he had bent the great bow into a circle, the bow twanged and the string sang out loudly, and the sharp-pointed arrow sprung forward, eager to fly on into the mass (of men).

Ll. 127-197.  Menelaus is wounded.

But the blessed gods did not forget you, Menelaus, and first (among them was) Zeus' daughter, (the one) who takes the spoil (i.e. Athene), who stood before you and warded off the piercing arrow. And, at the very last moment, she deflected (it) from your flesh, as when a mother brushes a fly away from her child, when he is lying in sweet sleep, and she directed (it) instead (to the place) where the golden buckles of your belt came together and where the two layers of your corselet overlapped. But the keen arrow burst into the fastenings of his belt; then it drove on through his embossed belt and forced its way through his elaborately-worked corselet and the metal skirt, which he saw (as) a guard for his flesh (and) a barrier to spears; and it went right through that too. And the arrow grazed the surface of the man's flesh; and, at once, dark blood began to trickle from his wound.

As when a woman of Maeonia or Caria stains (a piece of) ivory scarlet (so as) to become a cheek-piece for a horse, and it lies (there) in her chamber and many charioteers pray to possess it, but it is laid in store to delight a king, both (to provide) decoration for a horse and glory for the driver; so, Menelaus, your sturdy thighs, and your legs, and the fine ankles beneath (them) were stained with blood.

Then, Agamemnon, king of men, shuddered when he saw the dark blood trickling down from the wound; and Menelaus, dear to Ares, himself shuddered likewise; but, when he saw that the arrow-head and its cord were (still) outside (his body), his spirits gathered back again into his breast. But, deeply groaning, lord Agamemnon spoke (thus) among those around (them), while holding Menelaus by the hand, and his companions groaned (as they listened to him): "My dear brother, (it was) your death then (that I arranged), (when) I concluded that truce, and sent you out alone on behalf of the Achaeans to fight the Trojans; and, when the Trojans shot you, they trampled on their trusty oaths. But an oath cannot be, by any means, in vain, (when it involves) the blood of lambs, unmixed drink offerings and the right (hands) (i.e. hand-clasps), in which we had put our trust.

For, if the Olympian (i.e. Zeus) does not exact immediate (punishment), yet he will exact (it) in full, though belatedly, and they will pay a high price, that is their heads and (those) of their wives and children. For this I know full well in my heart and in my mind: the day will come when sacred Ilium shall sometime be destroyed, and Priam, and the people of Priam with his fine ashen spear (as well), and Zeus, who sits on high and dwells in the heavens, shall himself shake his dark aegis over all of them. But I should suffer a terrible pain for you, O Menelaus, if you were to die and fill the measure of your life. And I should return to parched Argos in deepest shame; for the Achaeans would, at once, be mindful of their native land; and we would leave behind Argive Helen to Priam and the Trojans as a cause for boasting, and the earth should cause your bones to rot as you lie in Troy, with our task unfulfilled. And some overbearing Trojan, jumping on the tomb of the glorious Menelaus, will speak thus: 'Would that Agamemnon always completes his angry (missions) like this, when he brought his army of Achaeans here with no result, and now he has returned home with empty ships, leaving behind the noble Menelaus.' That (is what) someone will say; then may the earth gape wide open for me!"

Then, the fair-haired Menelaus spoke these encouraging (words) to him: "Take courage, and do not alarm the host of the Achaeans in any way at all; the sharp arrow is not stuck in a fatal (spot), but, in front of (it), my glittering belt, and, beneath (it), my loin-cloth and my metal skirt, which the coppersmiths made, have rescued me."

Then, lord Agamemnon addressed him (thus) in reply: "Would that it may be so, O my dear Menelaus; but our physician will look at the wound, and will treat (it) with medicines, which should put a stop to the dark pains."

He spoke, and (then) addressed his sacred herald, Talthybius (thus): "Talthybius, summon here as quickly as possible Machaon, the mortal son of Asclepius, the peerless physician, so that he may look at Menelaus, the warlike son of Atreus, who some skilled archer among the Trojans or Lycians has shot at and hit, to his renown and our sorrow."

Ll. 198-249.  Machaon tends to Menelaus' wound, and Agamemnon rouses the generals.

So he spoke, and, having heard (his words), the herald did not disobey him, but went his way among the bronze-clad Achaeans, eagerly looking for the hero Machaon; and he saw him standing (there), and around him (were) the strong ranks of the shield-bearing host that had accompanied him from cattle-rich Tricca (i.e. a town in the region that was later to be called Thessaly). Then, standing close (to him), he spoke these winged words: "Come, rouse yourself, son of Asclepius, lord Agamemnon is calling (you) to tend the warlike Menelaus, leader of the Achaeans, whom some skilled archer among the Trojans and Lycians shot at and hit, to his renown and our sorrow."

So he spoke, and stirred the heart in his breast; and they went their way through the mass (of men) across the broad encampment of the Achaeans. But, when they came (to the place) where fair-haired Menelaus had fallen, and all those who (were) chieftains had gathered around him in a circle, then the godlike mortal (i.e. Machaon) came to stand in their midst, and at once extracted the shaft from his clasped belt; and the sharp barbs broke off as he drew (them) back out. Then, he unfastened his gleaming belt and, beneath (it), his loin-cloth and the metal skirt, which the coppersmiths had made (for him). Then, when he saw the wound where the keen arrow had pierced (him), he sucked the blood from (it), and skilfully sprinkled on (it) those soothing medicines which the kindly-minded Cheiron (i.e. the wisest of the Centaurs who lived on Mount Pelion and was renowned for his skill in medicine, inter alia) had once given to his father.

As they were attending to Menelaus, good at the war-cry, so the ranks of the shield-bearing Trojans advanced upon (them); and they (i.e. the Greeks) put on their armour again and were reminded of the joy of battle.

(Ll. 223-421.  The 'Epipolesis' or Review of Agamemnon.)

Then, you would not have seen godlike Agamemnon sleeping or cowering (in fear) or wishing to avoid the fight, but very eager for the battle where men win glory. For he let go his horses and his chariot trimmed with bronze; and his comrade, Eurymedon, son of Ptolemy, son of Peiraeus, held his (steeds) aside snorting; (but) he commanded him repeatedly to hold (them) in readiness (for the time) when weariness might overcome his limbs, as he went though the crowd (of men) inspecting (them). Nevertheless, while on foot, he ranged through the ranks of men; and whomsoever of the Danaans  on their swift horses he might see eager (for battle), he stood at their side and encouraged (them) with these words: "Argives, do not give up your impetuous courage; for, in the case of liars, father Zeus will be no helper, but, with regard to those who first turned to violence contrary to their oaths, vultures will assuredly consume their tender flesh, while we shall carry off their dear wives and infant children in our ships, once we have seized their citadel." 

But anyone whom he saw hanging back from the hateful fight, them he fiercely rebuked with these angry words: "(You) wretched Argives, do you not now feel ashamed and worthy of reproof? Why, pray, do you stand thus dazed, like fawns, that, when they have become exhausted (by) running across a wide plain, stand still, and there is no courage in their hearts; so you stand (there) dazed and do not fight. Are you waiting for the Trojans to come in close, where our fine-sterned ships have been drawn up on the shore of the grey sea, to see if the son of Cronos (i.e. Zeus) will hold out his hand to protect you?"

Ll. 250-325.  Agamemnon meets Idomeneus, the Aiantes, and Nestor.

So he went through the ranks of his men, reviewing (them); and, going through the throng of warriors, he came to the Cretans. They were arming themselves (for battle) under the warrior Idomeneus; Idomeneus, like a (wild) boar in his fighting spirit, (was) amongst those in the front rank, and Meriones urged on (those) who were at the rear of the battle-line. Agamemnon, king of men, rejoiced at the sight of them, and at once addressed Idomeneus with these soothing words: "(O) Idomeneus, I regard you (most highly) beyond all the other Danaans with swift horses, both in war and in any other action, and in the feast, when the chiefs of the Argives mix the sparkling wine of the elders in the bowl. For, if all the other long-haired Achaeans drink (only) their allotted portion, your cup is always kept full, just like mine, to drink whenever one's heart desires. But rouse yourself to battle, and (be) such a man as you have previously professed to be."

Then, Idomeneus, leader of the Cretans, addressed him (thus) face to face: "Son of Atreus, I am your fully loyal companion, as I promised and pledged at the beginning (of the war); but may you urge on the rest of the long-haired Achaeans so we can join battle at once, since the Trojans have broken their oaths to (us); and death and woes shall be (their lot) hereafter, as they were the first to turn to violence contrary to their oaths."

So he spoke, and the son of Atreus passed on glad at heart, and, as he went on his way among the throng of warriors, he came upon the Aiantes (i.e. both Ajax the Greater, son of Telamon, from Salamis, and Ajax the Lesser, son of Oïleus, from Locris); and they were arming for battle and a mass of foot-soldiers was accompanying (them). Just as when from some vantage-point a goatherd sees a cloud coming across the sea, (driven) by the roaring blast of the West Wind; and, being in the distance, it appears to him black as pitch as it comes across the sea, and it brings a great storm (with it), and he shudders at the sight (of it), and drives his (flock of) sheep into (the shelter of) a cavern; such (were) the dark densely-packed battalions of vigorous (young) men, beloved of Zeus, moving to destructive war in company with the Aiantes, and bristling with shields and spears. And then lord Agamemnon rejoiced at the sight of them, and he called them by name and addressed these winged words (to them): "To you Aiantes I give no orders of any kind - for it would not be right to urge (you) on; for you are pressing your people hard to fight with all their strength. (O) father Zeus, and Athene, and Apollo, if only such courage (as yours) were in all our hearts! In that case, the city of King Priam would soon topple, and be captured and sacked at our hands."

So speaking, he left them there, and went among others; then he came upon Nestor, the clear-voiced speaker of the men of Pylos, (while he was) marshalling his companions and urging (them) to fight under the mighty Pelagon, and Alastor, and Chromius, and lord Haemon, and Bias, shepherd of the host; he stationed the charioteers in front with their horses and chariots, and the foot-soldiers behind, both numerous and brave, to be a bulwark in battle; but the cowards he drove into their midst, so that (every) man would have to fight, even if he did not wish (to do so). He gave his commands to the charioteers first; he ordered them to check their horses and not to rush wildly in among the mass (of the enemy). "And do not let anyone of you strive to engage the Trojans alone ahead of the others, relying on your skill in chariot-driving and your manhood, but do not hang back (either); for you will be much weakened (if you do). Any man who can reach an enemy chariot from his own chariot, let him thrust with his spear, since that used to be much the better (way). For (those) who first sacked cities and their battlements (acted) thus, as they had this purpose and resolve in their hearts."

Thus the old man, knowing well the (ways of) war long ago, urged (them) on; and lord Agamemnon was delighted when he saw him, and, when he spoke to him, he addressed (him) with these winged words: "O old man, would that, just as that spirit is in your breast, so would your knees match (it), and that your strength would remain steadfast (in you)! But shared old age oppresses you; would that some other warrior could assume (your old age), and that you could take your place among younger (men)!"

Then, Nestor, the Gerenian charioteer, answered him (thus): "Let me tell you, son of Atreus, I myself would also dearly wish to be (a man) such as (I was) when I slew the godlike Ereuthalion (i.e. an Arcadian warrior slain by Nestor at Pheia). But the gods do not grant men everything at the same time; if I was a young (man) then, now in turn old age is pressing hard upon me. But even so, I shall be among the charioteers, and I shall exhort (them) with advice and words (of encouragement); for this is the prize of old men. But let younger (men) hurl their spears, (those) who were born much later than me, and (who are) confident in their strength."

Ll. 326-421.  Agamemnon meets Menestheus, Odysseus and Diomedes.

So he (i.e. Nestor) spoke, and the son of Atreus went his way glad at heart. He came upon Menestheus, the horse-driving son of Peteos, who was standing (there); and around (him) (were) the Athenians, masters of the war-cry, and nearby was standing Odysseus, (the man) of many wiles, and, beside and around (him) stood the ranks of the Cephallenians, a far from feeble (force); for their contingents had not yet heard the cry to battle, for the battalions of horse-taming Trojans and of Achaeans had only just been stirred into movement; and they stood about waiting for when some other column of Achaeans should advance and rush headlong at the Trojans and begin the fighting. When he saw (this), Agamemnon, king of men, scolded them, and, when he spoke (to them), he addressed them with these winged words: "O son of Peteos, a king dear to Zeus, and you who excels in cunning tricks in your desire for gain (i.e. Odysseus), why on earth are you cowering (here) away from (the action), and waiting for others? You two ought to be standing among the front (ranks) and sharing in the heat of battle; for you are the first to be called to my feast, whenever we Achaeans are preparing such a feast for the elders. Then (it is) pleasant (for you) to eat roasted meat and to drink cups of honey-sweet wine for as long as you wish; but now you would happily look on, even if ten battalions of Achaeans were fighting in front of you in their remorseless bronze (armour)."

Looking askance at him, the wily Odysseus replied (thus): "What sort of word has slipped out of your mouth (lit. has escaped the fence of your teeth), son of Atreus? How can you say that we shirk the fighting, whenever we Achaeans swamp the horse-taming Trojans with the keen (passions of) war? You will see, if you wish, and if you care to do so, Telemachus' dear father intermingled with the foremost fighters of the horse-taming Trojans; so what you  are saying is rubbish!"

However, when he saw his anger, lord Agamemnon answered him with a smile; and he took back his words: "(O) high-born son of Laertes, resourceful Odysseus, I have no great quarrel with you, nor do I give you any orders; for I know for a fact that the heart in your breast is full of good intentions (towards me) - for you think the (things) that I (think) myself. But come, if anything harsh has been said just now, I will set such (words) to rights later, and may the gods turn them all into wind."

So saying, he left them there, and went among others. Then, he came upon Tydeus' son, the high-spirited Diomedes, standing among his horses and by his strongly-built chariot; and beside him there stood Sthenelus, son of Capaneus. Then, when he saw him (i.e. Diomedes), lord Agamemnon rebuked (him), and when he spoke (to him) he addressed him with these winged words: "For shame, son of the warlike and horse-taming Tydeus, why are you skulking (there), and why are you eyeing up the gaps between the battle-lines? It was not pleasing to Tydeus to cower in this way, but (rather) to engage his enemies far ahead of his comrades. So say (all those) who saw him at work; for I myself never met (him) or saw (him); but they say that he was superior to all (of them). For he (once) came to Mycenae in peaceful circumstances, (as) a guest, together with the noble Polyneices (i.e. the son of Oedipus), to raise an army; at that time they lay encamped outside the sacred walls of Thebes, and they earnestly begged (the Mycenaeans) to provide them with fine helpers; they were willing to provide (these) and were agreeing to what they had requested, but (then) Zeus dissuaded (them by) displaying inauspicious omens. Now, when they had departed, and had gone some distance on their way, they came to the Asopus (i.e. a river south of Thebes), with its deep-growing rushes and its grassy banks, where the Achaeans sent Tydeus to (Thebes) with a message. (There) he went, and found a host of Cadmeians (i.e. Thebans) feasting in the palace of Eteocles. There, stranger though he was, he felt no fear, though he was alone among a throng of Cadmeians, but he challenged (them) to contend for prizes, and won all (the events) with ease; such was the help Athene (gave) him. But the horse-goading Cadmeians were angry, and so, as he was journeying back, they set a mass ambush (for him) involving fifty young men; and they had two leaders, Maeon, Haemon's son, (a man) resembling the immortals, and Polyphontes, son of the steadfast Autophonus. But Tydeus sent these (men) to a shameful fate: he slew (them) all, and let one only return home; he let Maeon go, in obedience to signs from the gods. Such (a man) was Aetolian Tydeus; but he begot a son, (who was) his inferior in battle, but better at talking (i.e. Diomedes)."

So he spoke, and mighty Diomedes said nothing to him at all, respecting (as he did) this rebuke from the king he reverenced. But the son of the renowned Capaneus exchanged (these words) with him: "Son of Atreus, do not speak untruths, since you know how to tell the truth. We profess to be much better (men) than our fathers; we even captured the seat of seven-gated Thebes, though we brought a lesser host against a stronger wall, as we put our trust in signs from the gods and the aid of Zeus. But they were destroyed by their own presumptuous folly. So never place our fathers in equal honour with us."

But, looking askance (at him), mighty Diomedes addressed him (thus): "Stay quiet, my friend, and heed my words. I do not resent Agamemnon, shepherd of the host, for urging the well-greaved Achaeans into battle; for the glory will go to him, if the Achaeans cut down the Trojans and capture sacred Ilium, but great sorrow (will be) his, if the Achaeans are defeated. But come now, let us turn our thoughts to (feats of) impetuous bravery."

So he spoke and jumped to the ground from his chariot with all his armour; and the bronze rang dreadfully on the king's chest (i.e. Diomedes was king of Argos) as he roused himself; fear would have seized the heart even of a stout-hearted (man).

Ll. 422-456.  The Greeks and Trojans come together in battle.

Just as, when the swell of the sea, driven by the West Wind, beats upon the much resounding shore, with one (wave) after another, and, at first, out on the deep it rears its way to a crest, and then it breaks on dry land with loud roaring, and, as it comes around the headlands, it is brought to an arched head; so then the battalions of the Danaans marched unceasingly to war; and each of the leaders gave commands to his (men); and the rest went in silence, nor would you have thought that those men who were following (them) in such numbers had any voice in their chests, (as they were) silent through fear of their commanders; and round each (one of them), (as) they marched, shone the beaten armour in which they were clad. But (with regard to) the Trojans, just as the countless ewes of an exceedingly rich man stand in his farmyard ready to give their white milk and bleating incessantly as they hear the voices of their lambs, so a clamour arose throughout the broad (ranks of) the Trojan army; for there was no common voice or single language (shared) by all, but there was a mixture of tongues and their men were summoned from many (different) lands. Ares urged on the (Trojans), and bright-eyed Athene the (Greeks), and Terror, and Panic, and Strife were pressing forward insatiably, (Strife being) the sister and comrade of man-killing Ares, and, at first, she rears up her head just a little, but later she fixes her head in the heavens, while she walks upon the earth (beneath); then she also cast strife into their midst alike, as she sped through the mass (of their ranks), increasing the sighs of men.

Now, when they had met together and had come into one place, then they dashed together their oxhide shields, and their spears and the force of men with bronze-breastplates (were matched against each other); then, embossed shields clashed with one another, and a great din arose. Then were mingled together the lamentations over men who had been killed and the boasts of men who were killing, and the earth ran with blood. Just as when (two) winter-coursing streams, flowing down the mountains from their great springs to the place where their valleys meet, join their mighty waters together within a deep gorge, and far away in the mountains a shepherd hears their thunder; such was the noise and labour of their (armies') meeting.

Ll. 457-544.  The thick of battle.

Antilochus (i.e. the son of Nestor) was the first to kill a Trojan man in armour, Echepolus, son of Thalysius, a noble (man) among those in the front line; he first struck him on the horn of his helmet, thick with horse-hair (as it was), and the bronze point of his spear lodged in the space between his eyes and drove into the bone; darkness covered his eyes, and he fell as a tower (falls) amid the press of battle. When he fell, lord Elephenor, the son of Chalcodon, and commander of the great-hearted Abantes (i.e. the people of Euboea), took hold of him by the feet and began to drag (him) out of range of the missiles (falling around him), striving eagerly to strip off his armour as soon as (he could); but his effort only lasted for a short time. For great-hearted Agenor (i.e. the son of Antenor, a Trojan elder and one of Priam's closest counsellors) saw him dragging the body away, and stabbed (him) with his bronze-headed spear in the side which had been left exposed by his shield as he stooped, and (thus) loosened (all) his limbs. So, his spirit left him, and grievous (was) the struggle of Trojans and Achaeans (that) took place over his (body). They sprang at one another like wolves, and man tumbled man (in the fray). Then, Telamonian Ajax smote Anthemion's son, the sturdy youth Simoeisius, whom his mother once bore beside the banks of the Simoeis as she was coming down from (Mount) Ida, seeing that she had gone (there) with her parents to watch over their flocks. For that reason they called him Simoeisius, but he could not repay his parents for their care of him as a child, and his short-lived life was terminated by the spear of the great-hearted Ajax. For, as he came out into the front (line), he struck him in the chest by his right nipple; and the bronze spear went right through his shoulder; then he fell to the ground in the dust, like a black poplar-tree which grows up straight on the bank of a great marsh, but branches have sprung forth on its top; then, some wheelwright cuts it down with red-hot iron, in order to craft the wheel-rims for a chariot of the finest make; and it lies (there), drying out, by the banks of the river.

In such a manner did the high-born Ajax slay Anthemion's son, Simoeisius; then, Priam's son Antiphus, with his gleaming breast-plate, cast his keen spear at him (i.e. Ajax) through the mass (of men). Him he missed, but he did strike Leucus, Odysseus' noble comrade, in the groin, as he was dragging the corpse to one side; he crashed down on top of it, and the body fell from his grasp. Then, Odysseus was enraged in his heart at his slaying, and, wearing his gleaming bronze helmet, he strode through the front ranks, and, going up very close (to the foe), and, after looking all around him, he hurled his shining spear; and the Trojans shrank back from the warrior as he threw his spear; and he did not cast his missile in vain, but it struck Democoon, the bastard son of Priam, who had come from his swift-footed mares at Abydos. Angry about his comrade, Odysseus smote him with his spear in the temple; and the bronze spear-point passed right through to the other side of his forehead; and darkness covered his eyes, and he fell with a crash and his armour clattered around him. Then, their front ranks and glorious Hector fell back; and the Argives cried aloud, and dragged away the dead bodies, and pressed on further forward; then, Apollo, looking down from Pergama (i.e. the citadel of Troy), was filled with indignation, he and shouted out these (words) of exhortation to the Trojans: "Rouse yourselves, (you) horse-taming Trojans, and do not give ground in battle to the Argives, since their flesh (is) neither stone nor iron so as to stop the bronze from tearing (it) when they are hit; indeed not, nor is Achilles, son of fair-haired Thetis, in the fight, but he nurses his bitter anger beside his ships."

So spake the dread god from their citadel; yet, Zeus' daughter, the most honoured Tritogeneia (i.e. Athene, whose birth was associated with the Tritonian lake in Libya) urged on the Achaeans, as she hurtled through their ranks, wherever she saw (them) slacking.

Then, fate shackled Diores, the son of Amarynceus; for he was struck by a large jagged stone on his right shin near the ankle; now Peirous, son of Imbrasus, the leader of the Thracian contingent, (and) who had come from Aenus, had thrown (it). The relentless stone utterly crushed both tendons and the bone; and he collapsed on his back in the dust, while stretching out both his hands to his companions and gasping his life away; then Peirous, the very one who had thrown the stone, ran up and stabbed (him) in the navel with a spear; and all his guts spilled out on to the ground, and darkness covered his eyes.

But, as he sprang away, Aetolian Thoas smote him with his spear in the breast above the nipple, and the bronze (point) stuck in his lung; then, Thoas came right up to him and pulled the mighty spear out of his chest, and drew his sharp sword (and) stabbed him in the middle of his belly, and took away his life. But he could not strip (him) of his armour; for his Thracian companions, sporting their top-knots, surrounded (him), holding their long spears in their hands, and, though he was tall, and strong and noble, they drove him away from them; and he staggered back in retreat. So they lay stretched out beside each other in the dust, leaders in truth, one of the Thracians, the other of the bronze-clad Epeians (i.e. the people of Elis in the North-West of what was later to be called the Peloponnese); and many others were also slain around (them). Then would no man who had taken part in the action any longer make light of (it),  any (man) who, still unsmitten and unwounded by the sharp bronze, might career through the midst (of all that slaughter), and Pallas Athene might take (him) by the hand and lead him, and shield (him) from the hail of missiles; for, on that day, a host of Trojans and Achaeans lay face downwards in the dust beside one another.



APPENDIX:   SPONDEIAZONS.

In Homer's hexameter poetry, spondees (i.e. two long syllables) in the fifth or penultimate foot are relatively rare. Such lines are known as "spondeiazons". In Book IV of the "Iliad" there are 31 instances of such spondeiazons, and these are to be found in the following lines: 45, 60, 67, 72, 74, 79, 85, 87, 136, 140, 149, 182, 194, 221, 236, 252, 271, 280, 282, 320, 327, 366, 386, 388, 402, 417, 423, 462, 482, 500, 520.

TO MY WIFE ON ST. VALENTINE'S DAY, 14 FEBRUARY 2018

O my wife, I love you!

I always have, I always will,

The way you talk, the way you laugh, 

The kindness that you always show,

That gorgeous smile of yours, 

Your cheerful sense of fun, 

Which always makes your grandsons giggle, 

These are some, but only some

Of the many reasons why

I shall love you till I die.  

OVID: "METAMORPHOSES": BOOK XIV

Introduction:

For an introduction to the work as a whole, the reader is invited to turn to the introduction to the translation of "Metamorphoses" Book I, published on this blog on 1st February 2018.

Book XIV continues the quasi-historical theme of the final quarter of the work, which is concerned with the aftermath of the Trojan war and the legends of early Rome, and thus much of the action now moves to Italy. More specifically, the Book includes stories about the following: Scylla and Glaucus (continued from Book XIII); Aeneas and the Sibyl of Cumae; tales relating to the adventures of Ulysses and his crew, including the rescue of Achaemenides from the Cyclops Polyphemus, and the long sojourn on Circe's island of Aeaea; the tragic story of Picus and Canens; the fate of the followers of Diomedes; the transformation of the Trojan ships; the apotheosis of Aeneas; the line of the Alban kings; Pomona and Vertumnus, and the associated tale of Iphis and Anaxarete; the war between the Romans and Sabines; and the apotheosis of Romulus and his wife Hersilia. 

While much of Book XIV, it is true, does deal with historical themes, or at least what the Romans may have considered as historical, these details, such as the line of Alban kings and the war with the Sabines, are dealt with in a perfunctory, if not garbled manner, and are largely submerged within the frankly mythic content of much of the Book, and its tendency to return to the "pathos of love" theme of the third quarter of the work. Glaucus' unrequited passion for Scylla, and Circe's similarly unrequited passion for Glaucus are examples of this at the very beginning of the Book; the tales of Picus and Canens, Iphis and Anaxarete, and Vertumnus and Pomona are further examples, although in the last case there is an apparently happy ending. In fact, it is in the relatively lengthy excursuses provided by these stories that much of the best poetry of the Book is to be found. As in Book XIII the metamorphoses, which are the supposed connecting thread of the whole work, are almost incidental, if not an afterthought, to the stories to which these transformations provide the culmination. In some cases, such transformations are inserted into the narrative in an almost random fashion; for instance, the coarse shepherd turning into a wild-olive (ll. 517-526), and the city of Ardea turning into a heron (see ll. 574-580). Nevertheless, despite the bewildering melange of themes, with which it is composed, and partly perhaps because of this mixture, Book XIV is exceptionally entertaining to read, a pleasure which is certainly enhanced by the perfection of the hexameter lines, which Ovid churns out so prolifically. 

Ll. 1-74.  The transformation of Scylla.

And now the Euboean inhabitant (i.e. Glaucus) of the swollen waters had passed (Mount) Aetna, piled (as it was) on the Giant's (i.e. Typhoeus') head, and the lands of the Cyclopes, that know nothing of the harrow or the uses of the plough, and owe nothing to yoked oxen, and had left behind Zancle (i.e. Messana) and the walls of Rhegium opposite, and the dangerous straits (i.e. the Straits of Messina), hemmed in by the twin coastlines that comprise the boundaries of the lands of Ausonia (i.e. Italy) and Sicily. Then, Glaucus, swimming with his huge hands through the Tyrrhenian sea, drew near to the grassy hills and the halls of Circe, daughter of the Sun, full of men transformed into beasts.

As soon as he saw (her), and words of greeting had been received, he said, "Have pity, goddess, on a (brother) god, I beg (you)! For you alone can relieve this (passion of mine), (if) only I should seem to be at all worthy (of your help)! What the power of herbs can be, Titania (i.e. Daughter of the Sun), (is) known to no one more than I, who was (myself) changed by them. And, so that the cause of my passion should not be unknown to you, Scylla was seen by me on the Italian shore opposite the walls of Messana; I am ashamed to recount (all) my promises, and entreaties, and my blandishments and slighted words. But you, if you have any power in your incantations, utter such an incantation on your sacred lips, or, if a herb is more potent, use the proven strength of an active herb. I trust (you) not to cure me or heal these wounds of mine, nor do I need an end (of my pain): (only) let her endure a share of this heat.

But Circe - for no one has a nature more susceptible to such fires, whether the reason for it is within herself, or whether Venus, offended by her father's disclosure, caused it - replies in the following words: (You would do) better to pursue (someone) wanting and desiring the same things (as you do), and (someone) captivated by by an equal desire. You deserved to be sought after on your own account- and you certainly could have been - and, if you give (me) hope, you will be sought after on your own account. Lest you should be doubtful of, and have no faith in, your own attractiveness, look, although I am a goddess and the daughter of shining Sol, (and,) although I possess such potent herbs and such powerful incantations, I vow that I am yours; spurn (the one) who scorns you (i.e. Scylla) and repay in like manner (the one) who courts (you), and with one action avenge the two (of us) (i.e. Glaucus, himself, because Scylla rejected him and Circe, because Scylla competed with her.)

To these temptation (of hers), Glaucus replies as follows: "Trees will grow in the sea and seaweed on mountain-tops before my love for lucky Scylla will be changed!"

The goddess was angered, and, inasmuch as she could not harm him - nor, loving (him), did she wish (to do so) - she turns her rage upon the one who was preferred to her, and, offended by the rejection of her love, she immediately crushes her infamous herbs into noxious juices, and mingles the spells of Hecate (with them) while they are being ground. A russet cloak is put on (her), and she makes her way from the middle of the palace through a fawning column of wild beasts, and, seeking Rhegium opposite the facing rocks of Zancle, she enters the waves seething with tides, on which she places her footsteps as if on solid ground, and glides with dry feet over the surface of the sea.

There was a little pool, curved like a bent bow, a place of rest pleasing to Scylla, to which she withdrew from the rage of the sea and the sky, when the sun was at his most powerful in the middle of his course, and, (while shining down) from the zenith, he had cast the shortest shadows. This the goddess (i.e. Circe) taints in advance, and contaminates with her monstrous poison; here she sprinkles juices distilled from a noxious root, and over (them) she mutters thrice nine times with her magic lips a charm made unintelligible by a string of strange words. Scylla comes (there), and waded in up to the middle of her waist, when she sees that her groin is deformed by yelping monsters, (and,) at first believing that they were not parts of her body, she runs and tries to drive (them) away, and is afraid of the dogs' eager mouths, but what she flees from she drags along with her, and, seeking the flesh of her thighs, legs and feet, she finds Cerberus' gaping jaws instead of those parts: and she stands amid the rage of dogs, and she encloses the exposed backs of wild beasts within her truncated loins and projecting belly.

Her lover Glaucus wept, and fled the embraces of Circe, who had made too hostile a use of the strength of her herbs; Scylla remained in that place, and, as soon as the opportunity was given (to her), in her hatred of Circe, she robbed Ulysses of his companions; later on, she would have sunk the Teucrian (i.e. Trojan) ships in the same way, if she had not first been transformed into a promontory, which even now projects like a rock: the sailor still avoids this promontory.

Ll. 75-100.  Aeneas journeys to Cumae.

When the Trojan ships had overcome this (i.e. the promontory of Scylla) and the greedy Charybdis by (the use of) their oars, and had then come near to the Ausonian shore, they are driven by a gale to the Libyan coast.

There, the Sidonian (woman) (i.e. Dido), destined not to endure well the departure of her Phrygian husband, welcomes Aeneas to her heart and home; and on a pyre, constructed under the pretence of sacred rites, she threw herself upon a sword, and deceives everyone, as she has been deceived (herself).

Fleeing once more from the new city on its sandy soil (i.e. Carthage), and returning to the abode of Eryx (i.e. on the west coast of Sicily) and the faithful Acestes, he (i.e. Aeneas) performs a sacrifice and honours his father's (i.e. Anchises') tomb; he lets loose the ships which Juno's (messenger), Iris, had almost burned, and sails past the kingdom (i.e. Aeolia) of the grandson of Hippotes (i.e. Aeolus, king of the winds), and regions smoking with sulphur (i.e. the volcanic islands to the north-west of Sicily), including Stromboli and Vulcano), and the rocky (haunts) of the Sirens, the daughters of Achelous, and the ship, bereft of its captain (i.e. Palinurus, drowned by accident), coasts along by Inarime and Prochyta, and the island of Pithecusae (i.e. all part of the one island, now called Ischia), called by the name of its inhabitants (i.e. pithecii, little apes). For, once upon a time, the father of the gods, hating the deceit and perjuries of the Cercopes and the crimes of that treacherous race, changed its men into ugly animals, so that they should seem unlike men at the same time (as being) like (them), and he contracted their limbs and crushed the snubbed noses on their foreheads, and he furrowed their faces with the wrinkles of old age, and, with the whole of their bodies covered with yellow hair, he sent them to these abodes, but not before he had robbed (them) of the use of speech and of their tongues (so long) inclined towards dreadful perjuries: he only left (them) with the ability to complain by raucous shrieking.

Ll. 101-153.  Aeneas and the Sibyl of Cumae.

When he (i.e. Aeneas) had gone past these (islands) and had left the walls of Parthenope (i.e. Naples) on his starboard (side), the tomb of the tuneful son of Aeolus (i.e. the trumpeter Misenus) and the shores of Cumae, a place full of marshy waters, he enters the cavern of the long-lived Sibyl, and prays that he would come to his father's shade at (Lake) Avernus. Then, she raised her countenance which had been lingering for a long time on the ground, and, the god (i.e. Apollo) having recovered his frenzies, she said: "You are seeking great (things), (O) man of very great deeds, whose right(-hand) has been tested by the sword, (and whose) piety (has been tested) by fires. But set aside your fear, (O) Trojan: you will obtain your desires, and with me as your guide you will discover the halls of Elysium (i.e. the paradise of the Underworld) and the earth's latest realm (i.e. Hades or the Underworld was given to Pluto, the third and youngest son of Cronos) and the dear likeness of your father. To virtue no path is barred!" (Thus) she spoke, and pointed to a bough, gleaming with gold, in the woods of the Juno of Avernus (i.e. Proserpina), and told (him) to break (it) from its trunk.

Aeneas obeyed (her), and saw the power of terrifying Orcus (i.e. the Underworld), and his own ancestors, and the ancient shade of great-hearted Anchises; and he also learned of the laws of those regions, and of the perils which must be undergone (by him) in fresh wars. Then, enduring the weary steps on the steep path before (him), he eased his toil by conversation with his Cumaean guide.

And, while he made his fearful way through the shadowy twilight, he said, "Whether you (are) actually a goddess, or (simply someone) most beloved by the gods, you will always be like a divine being to me, and I shall (always) acknowledge that I am in your debt, (you) who determined that I should enter the place of death, and that, (once) I had seen the place of death, I should escape from (it). For these services, when I have been carried forth to the upper air, I shall build a temple to you, (and) I shall bestow the honours of incense upon you."

The prophetess gazes at him, and, sighing deeply, she says, "I am not a  goddess, nor (is) any human-being worthy of the honour of sacred incense; nor should you err out of ignorance: eternal life without end was offered to me, if my virginity should have been presented to my lover Phoebus. While he still hopes for it, while he (still) wishes to corrupt me with gifts, he says, "Choose, Cumaean maiden, what you wish: you shall obtain your wishes." I pointed to a heap of dust that had collected (there), (and) I foolishly asked that as many birthdays should come to me as there were specks of dust; I forgot to ask right away that my years should also be youthful (ones). Still, he gave me these (years), and eternal youth (as well), if (only) I should endure his love-making: having rejected Phoebus' gift, I remain unwed; but now my more fortunate time has fled, and (now) infirm old age comes with a tottering step, and it must be endured for a long time - for now you see that seven centuries have passed me by: it remains that I should see three hundred harvests and three hundred vintages in order to equal the number of (particles of) dust. The time will (come) when the length of days will render the size of my body tiny, and my limbs, consumed with old age, will be reduced to the slightest burden: I will be thought never to have loved, nor to have delighted a god; Phoebus, himself too, will perhaps not know (me), or will deny that he (ever) loved (me): I shall be changed to a very great degree, and, (though) I can be seen by no one, yet I shall be known by my voice; (for) the fates will leave me a voice.

Ll. 154-222.  Macareus meets Achaemenides again.

As the Sibyl spoke these (words), Trojan Aeneas emerges by the upward path from the abodes of the Styx (i.e. the principal river of the Underworld) into the Euboean city (i.e. Cumae), and comes to the shore, not yet having the name of his nurse (i.e. Caïeta, after whom the coastal town of Gaeta was to be named), where her funeral sacrifices were offered in accordance with custom.

Here also Macareus of Neritus, a companion of the enterprising Ulysses, had come to a halt due to the interminable weariness caused by his toils; he recognises Achaemenides, who had previously been abandoned in the midst of the rocks of (Mount) Aetna, and, astonished to have discovered (him) unexpectedly (still) alive, he says, "What chance or (what) god is preserving (you), Achaemenides? (And) why is this foreign ship conveying (you), a Greek? (And) what land is your ship making for?"

Achaemenides, no longer ragged in his cloak, now his own (master) and with his clothing no longer bound together with thorns, replies as follows to his questions: "May I once more see Polyphemus and those jaws (of his) dripping with human blood, (and,) if my home and Ithaca are dearer to me than this ship, (and) if I revere Aeneas less than my father, I can never be grateful enough (to him), even if I should offer (him) my all. (Seeing) that I speak and breathe and see the sky and the sun's (shining) star, (how) could I (possibly) be ungrateful and irreverent? That (man) granted that my life did not end in that Cyclops' mouth, and, (though) I were to leave the light of life this instant, I should at least be buried in a tomb and not in its belly. What, then, was my state of mind - if fear had not robbed (me) of all sense and feeling - when, having been abandoned, I saw you (i.e. Macareus and his comrades) making for the deep sea? I wanted to shout to (you), but I feared to reveal myself to the enemy (i.e. Polyphemus): in fact, Ulysses' shout nearly led to the wreck of your vessel. I watched as he tore an enormous boulder from the mountainside and threw (it) into the midst of the waves; again I saw (him) hurling huge stones with his giant's arm, as if driven by the force of a catapult, and I was afraid that the waves and the wind would sink the ship, (while) forgetting that I was not now aboard it.

"Now, when flight saved you from certain death, he, indeed, prowls around the whole of (Mount) Aetna, groaning, and feels his way through the woods with his hand, and, deprived of his eye, he stumbles among the rocks, and, stretching forth his arms, bespattered with gore, towards the sea, he curses the Achaean race, and says: 'O, if (only) some chance would return Ulysses, or one of his companions, to me, and my fury might rage, and I could eat his flesh and tear his living body with my hands, and his blood could fill my gullet, and his torn limbs could quiver beneath my teeth, how non-existent or slight would be the loss to me of my sight!'

"(How) fiercely (he shouted) this and (much) more; pale terror takes hold of me, as I look at his face, even now streaming with gore, and his cruel hands, and his sightless eye, and his limbs, and beard clotted with human blood. Death was before my eyes, but that was (still) the least of my evils: and I reckoned that now he would catch (me) and then immerse my entrails among his own, and the image stuck in my mind of that moment when I saw (him) dash the bodies of two of my comrades three or four times against the ground, (and), when, crouching over (them) like a shaggy lion, he buried their entrails and flesh, and their bones with their whitened marrow, and their still-warm limbs, in his greedy belly. (A fit of) trembling seized hold of me: I stood (there,) bloodless and downcast; and as I watched (him) chewing and spitting out that cruel feast from his mouth, and vomiting scraps (of flesh) mixed with wine, I imagined that a similar fate was being prepared for my wretched self, and, (after) lying hidden for many days, and trembling at every sound, both fearing death and wanting to be dead, repelling hunger with acorns and leaves mixed with grass, alone, without help, in despair, (and) left to punishment and death, after a long time, I espied this ship in the distance, and begged by gestures for deliverance, and ran to the shore - I prevailed.

"(Now) you too, my dearest of comrades, tell (me) of your fortunes and (those) of your leader (i.e. Ulysses) and of that crew, which, together with yourself, entrusted itself to the sea."

Ll. 223-319.  Ulysses and Circe.

He (i.e. Macareus) tells (him) that Aeolus has his realm in the Tuscan sea, Aeolus, the son of Hippotes, who confines the winds in a prison; and that the Dulichian leader (i.e. Ulysses) had received (these) enclosed in a bull's leather (bag), an amazing gift, and that he had been sailing with a favourable wind for nine days and had caught sight of the land they were seeking; but that, when the next dawn after the ninth aroused them (i.e. on the tenth day), his comrades were overcome by envy and by a desire for plunder, and, thinking that there was gold (inside it), they removed (the strings) to the bag (enclosing) the winds; driven by these (winds), the ship sailed back (over) the waters through which it had just come, and returned to the harbour of king Aeolus.

"From there," he says, "we came to the ancient city of the Laestrygonian Lamus. Antiphates was (now) ruling in that land. I was sent to him with two (comrades) accompanying (me), and safety in flight was scarcely achieved by me and (one of) my companions: the third of us stained the Laestrygonian's wicked mouth with his blood. Antiphates pursues (us) as we flee, and urges on his horde (of men). They come together, and hurl rocks and tree-trunks (at us), and drown our men and sink our ships.

"But one (ship), which carries us, Ulysses and myself, escapes. Mourning our lost group of comrades, and lamenting greatly, we come to those territories which you can see in the distance from here (i.e. from Caïeta) - believe me, that island seen by me (i.e. Aeaea) should be seen from here in the distance! - ,  and you, O most just of the Trojans, son of the goddess,  - for (now) that the war is over, you are no longer called an enemy, Aeneas! - I warn (you), avoid the shores of Circe! We, also, having moored our vessel on Circe's shore, remembering Antiphates and the savage Cyclops, were (all) for refusing to go (ashore); but we were chosen by lot to explore the unknown abode; the lot sent me and the faithful Polites, and Eurylochus, and Elpenor, (who drank) too much wine, and eighteen (more) of my comrades to the walls of Circe's (dwelling).

"As soon as we arrived and stood on the threshold of her dwelling, a thousand wolves, and both bears and lionesses mixed with the wolves, caused (us) terror by rushing up to (us), but there was nothing to be afraid of, and none (of them) were to make a (single) scratch on our bodies. Why they even wagged their tails affectionately in the air and follow our footsteps in a fawning manner, until female attendants receive (us), and lead (us) through the marble-covered halls to their mistress: she is seated on her sacred throne in a beautiful alcove, and, dressed in a shining robe, she is enveloped by a golden veil on top (of it). Nereids (i.e. sea-nymphs) and nymphs (are there) together (with her), but they work no wool with moving fingers, nor do they draw the following threads: they arrange the herbs and flowers (which are) scattered without any order, (and) divide the different-coloured herbs into (separate) baskets; she, herself, checks what they do, and she, herself, has learned what is the value of each leaf, (and) what is (the effect of) their union when they are mixed together, and she examines with great care (each of) the herbs as they are weighed.

"When she saw us, and words of welcome had been exchanged, she diffused her countenance (with a cheerful look), and replied to our requests with favourable signs. Without delay, she orders parched barley-corns, and honey, and strong wine to be mixed with milk that had been treated with rennet (i.e. the coagulating agent), and she adds juices which were secretly hidden by the sweetness (of the drink). We took the cups offered (to us) by her sacred right(-hand). As soon as we had thirstily drained these (cups) with our parched lips, the dread goddess touched the tops of our hair with her wand - and it shames (me to say so), yet I will tell (it) - I began to bristle with hair, and, no longer able to speak, to give out hoarse grunts, and to fall forward with my whole face (looking) towards the ground; and I felt that my mouth was hardening into a crooked snout, (and) that my neck was swelling with muscles, and I made footprints with that part (of my body) by which the cup had just been lifted to my (mouth). I was shut in a pig-sty together with those who had suffered the same (experience as me) - so great was the power of her magic potions! - and we saw that only Eurylochus was free from the shape of a pig: (for) he only had avoided the proffered cup. If he had not refused it, I should even now remain one part of that bristly herd, and Ulysses, having been informed by him of this great disaster, would not have come to Circe (as) our avenger.

"The peace-loving Cyllenian (god) (i.e. Mercury) had given him a white flower: the gods call (it) moly, and it is acquired from a black root; with this, together with divine warnings, he enters Circe's house in safety, and, (when) summoned to (drink from) the treacherous cup, he pushed (her) away, as she tried to flick his hair with her wand, and scared off the frightened (goddess) with his drawn sword. Then, their right(-hands) are given (to one another as) a pledge of good faith, and he is received into her wedding-bed, and asks for the (normal) bodies of his comrades (to be restored as) his marriage-dowry. We are sprinkled with the more beneficent juices of unknown herbs, and are smitten on the head with a stroke of her reversed wand, and words are said with the words spoken backwards. The more she chants the more we are raised upright from the ground, and our bristles fall away and the cleft disappears from our cloven hooves; our shoulders return and our fore-arms are brought beneath our upper arms: weeping we embrace (him) as he weeps himself, and we cling to our leader's neck, nor did we say any words before (words) testifying that we (were) grateful.

"The space of a year kept us there, and in so long a period of time I saw many (things) and took in many (things) with my ears. This, too, (is something) which, together with many (other things), was told to me in secret by one of the female attendants who were preparing such rites (as Circe practised). For, while Circe was spending time alone with my leader, she showed me a statue, made of white marble, of a young man bearing a woodpecker on his head, (which was) placed in a sacred temple, adorned with many wreaths.

"When, in my desire to know, I asked (her) who it was, why he was being worshipped in this sacred temple, (and) why he bore that bird (on his head), she says, 'Listen, Macareus, and learn too about the power that my mistress has in this place: keep your mind on my words!

Ll. 320-440.  The transformation of Picus and the fate of Canens.

" 'Picus, the offspring of Saturn, (and) very fond of horses trained for war, was king in the lands of Ausonia (i.e. Italy); the hero's appearance was (just) as you see (it here): you yourself may look at his beauty and judge (what) the original (looked like) from the imagined form. His spirit was equal to his looks; in age he could not yet have seen the quinquennial contest at Greek Elis (i.e. the Olympic Games) four times (i.e. he was under the age of twenty). He had drawn the attention of the dryads  (i.e. the wood-nymphs), born on the hills of Latium, towards his appearance, (and) the spirits of the springs pined for him, (as did) the naiads (i.e. the water-nymphs), (those) whom the Albula (i.e. the River Tiber), and the waters of the Numicius and of the Anio, and the Almo, very brief in its course, and the rapid Nar and the Farfarus with its dense shadows, have (all) brought forth, and (those) who haunt the wooded pool of Scythian Diana (i.e. today's Lago di Nemi) and its neighbouring lakes. But, spurning all (others), he cherishes one nymph (alone), (she) whom, it is said, Venilia once bore to Ionian Janus (i.e. the Roman two-faced god of doorways and beginnings) on the Palatine hill. As soon as she had reached marriageable age, she was given to Picus of Laurentum (i.e. the ancient capital of Latium), (who was) preferred to (all) others. She was rare indeed in her beauty, but rarer (still) in the art of singing, for which reason she was called Canens (i.e. the Singer); with her voice she used to stir the woods and rocks, tame wild beasts, halt long rivers, and (even) detain the wandering birds.

" '(One day,) while she was singing her songs in her feminine voice, Picus had left their home to hunt wild boars in the Laurentian fields, and he was seated on the back of his eager horse, and was carrying two hunting spears in his left(-hand), and his purple cloak (was) fastened by a golden-yellow (brooch).

" 'Sol's daughter (i.e. Circe) had come to those same woods too, (and) had left the fields called Circaean after her name. As soon as she, concealed (as she was) in the bushes, saw the youth, she was completely stunned: the herbs, which she had picked, fell from her hand, and a flame seemed to course through the whole of her marrow. As soon as she recovered her mind from this strong wave (of passion), she wanted to confess what (it was) she desired: (but) the speed of her horse and the throng of attendants surrounding (her) ensured that she could not reach (him). "Though you may be seized by the wind, (yet) you will not escape," she cries "if I know myself at all, (and,) if the power of my herbs does not vanish, and my spells do not fail me." 

" 'She spoke, and she formed (in her mind) the effigy of an imaginary wild boar without any body, and commanded (it) to run under the king's (very) eyes, and to go into a grove, dense with trees, where the wood is thickest and the site is impenetrable to a horse. (There is) no delay: at once Picus follows instinctively his phantom prey, and quickly jumps from the foaming back of his steed and wanders on foot into the deep wood, in pursuit of an empty hope. She chants imprecations, and recites magic words and entreats unknown gods with unknown incantations, which she uses both to dim the (shining) white face of the Moon and to weave dank clouds as a veil over the head of her father (the Sun). Then also, the sky is thickened due to her song being sung, and the earth exhales vapours, and his companions wander down blind paths and the king's guard is no longer there. Having found the place and the opportunity, she said, "O, (you) most handsome (of youths), by those eyes of yours, which have (so) captivated mine, and by that beauty (of yours) that ensures that I, a goddess, am your suppliant, have a regard for my passion, and accept Sol, who discerns all, (as) your father-in-law, and do not unfeelingly scorn Circe, daughter of Titan!"

" 'She finished speaking. He fiercely rejects both her and her entreaties, and says, "Whoever you are, I am not yours; another holds me captive, and I pray that she may hold (me so) for a (very) long time! Nor will I harm our conjugal ties by making love to a stranger, while the fates preserve Janus' daughter Canens for me!" Constantly repeating her entreaties in vain, Titan's daughter cries out, "You will not go unpunished or return to your Canens, and you will learn (just) what a loving woman (who has been) slighted can actually do; and Circe is a lover, and (has been) slighted, and (is) a woman!"

" 'Then, she turns herself twice towards the west, and twice towards the east, touches the young man three times with her staff, (and) recites an incantation three times. He flees, but is amazed that he himself is running faster than usual: he saw wings (appearing) on his body, and, angered that he is suddenly joining the woods of Latium (as) a strange bird, he pecks at the wild tree-trunks with his hard beak, and, in his fury, inflicts wounds on the long branches. His wings took on the purple colour of his cloak, what had been a brooch and had fastened his golden robe becomes feathers, and his neck is girded all around with yellow gold, and nothing remains to Picus of his former self except his name (i.e. picus, a woodpecker). 

" 'Meanwhile, his companions, after calling for Picus continually across the fields in vain, and finding not a single trace (of him), come upon Circe - for now she had thinned the air and had dispersed the clouds by wind and by the revealing of the sun, and they press true charges (against her) and demand (to see) their king again, and they talk about (using) force, and prepare to fall upon (her) with deadly weapons.

" 'She (i.e. Circe) sprinkles harmful drugs and poisonous juices (on them), and she summons Night and the gods of night from Erebus (i.e. the Underworld) and Chaos, and entreats (the aid of) Hecate with long wailing (cries): wonderful to relate, the woods sprung out of the ground, and the soil groaned, and the nearby trees turned pale, and the fodder was wet with drops of blood. And the rocks seemed to emit hoarse groans, and the dogs to bark, and the ground to be stiff with black serpents, and insubstantial ghosts (of the dead) were seen to flutter about. The terrified mob shudders at these monstrosities: she touched the stunned faces of the shuddering (crowd) with her magic wand, and, after contact with it, the monstrous (shapes) of various wild beasts come upon the warriors: nor did anyone keep his own shape.

" 'The setting Phoebus (i.e. the sun) had cast (his light upon) the shores of Tartessus (i.e. the south-west coast of Spain, indicating the extreme west), and her husband was awaited in vain by the eyes and thoughts of Canens: her attendants and her people run through all of the woods, and carry torches to meet him; the nymph is not satisfied with weeping and tearing her hair and beating her breast - yet she does all these (things) - , and she rushes forth and wanders madly through the fields of Latium. Six nights and as many returning dawns of the sun found (her) traversing the ridges and valleys, wherever chance led (her), without any sleep or food.

" 'The Tiber (was) the last (to) see (her), as, exhausted now by her grief and journeying she laid her body down along its bank. There, as she grieves, she poured out her words in a faint voice, measuring her anguish in tears, just as a swan, at the time when (it is) dying, sings its own funeral song. In the end, wasted by grief (and) with her marrow dissolved, she melted away and gradually vanished into thin air; but her fame is marked by the place that the Camenae (i.e. the Latin name for the Muses), fittingly called from the name of the nymph.'

"Many such (things were) told to me and (were) seen (by me) throughout that long year. Sluggish and tardy through inactivity, we are commanded to go to sea again, and to set sail. Titan's daughter (i.e. Circe) had told (us) of the dangerous routes, and the vast journey, and the perils of the raging sea that were in store (for us). I confess I was afraid, and, having found this shore, I have clung to (it)."

Ll. 441-526.  Diomedes' followers are transformed; the creation of the wild olive.

Macareus had finished (speaking). And Aeneas' nurse (was) interred in a marble urn, (and) had this brief inscription on her tomb: "Here my foster-child, of noted piety, having saved me from the Argive fire, cremated me, Caieta, as was my due."

The cable fixed to the grassy bank is loosed, and they leave the insidious (island) (i.e. Aeaea) and home of the infamous goddess (i.e. Circe), and they make for the groves where the Tiber, dark with shadows, rushes forth to the sea with its yellow sands; (there) he (i.e. Aeneas) wins the home and daughter (i.e. Lavinia) of Latinus, the descendant of Faunus, but not without fighting: war is waged with a fierce people, and Turnus (i.e. the king of the Rutulians) fights furiously for his promised bride. The whole of Tyrrhenia (i.e. Etruria) clashes with Latium, and for a long time a hard-fought victory is sought by anxious warfare.

Both (sides) add to their strength by external help, and many support the Rutulians and many the Trojan camp. Aeneas had not come to the city of Evander (i.e. Pallanteum on the site of the Palatine Hill in Rome) in vain, but Venulus (had met) with no success at the city of the exiled Diomedes: he, indeed, had founded his mighty city (i.e. Arpi) under (the sovereignty) of Iapygian (i.e. Apulian) Daunus, and held his lands as a marriage-dowry. But, when Venulus had followed the orders of Turnus (and) asked for help, the Aetolian hero (i.e. Diomedes) pleads his (lack of) resources as an excuse: he was not willing to commit his father-in-law's people to a battle, nor did he have any (men) from a tribe of his own (people) whom he could arm. "Lest you should think this (is) a lie," (he says,) I will, however, endure the telling of my story, although my bitter lamentations may be renewed at this suggestion. When lofty Ilium was burned, and Pergama shook with fear at the Danaan flames, and (when) the hero of Naryx (i.e. Ajax the Lesser from Naryx in Locris, Central Greece) had brought down upon (us) all the punishment of the virgin goddess (i.e. Minerva), which he alone deserved for the rape of a virgin (i.e. Cassandra), and we are seized and scattered by the winds over the hostile seas, (and) we, Danaans, suffer lightning, darkness and storms, and the anger of the sky and sea and (Cape) Caphereus (i.e a rocky promontory on the south-east coast of the island of Euboea, where the returning Greek fleet was wrecked) (as) the crown of our disaster. Lest I detain (you by) telling (you) of our sad misfortunes one by one, Greece might then seem to have merited even Priam's tears. Nevertheless, the care of warlike Minerva saved and rescued me from the waves, but I am driven once more from my native land, and gentle Venus, remembering her old wound, exacted her punishment, and I suffered such great hardships in the deep sea and in conflicts on land, that those, whom our shared storm and the troublesome Caphereus drowned in the waters, have often been called happy by me, and I longed to have been one of them.   

"Now my companions, having endured the extremities (of misery) both in war and on the sea, lose (heart), and beg for an end to our wanderings, but hot-tempered Acmon, now truly exasperated by our misfortunes, said, 'What is there, my friends, that your patience would now refuse to bear? What can Cytherea (i.e. Venus) do, supposing she wishes to, beyond what she has (done already). For when quite bad things are feared there is a place (for them) in our prayers: but when our lot (involves) the (very) worst of things, fear (is trampled) beneath our feet, and the height of misfortune (becomes a matter) of unconcern. Though she, herself, should hear me, though she should hate, as she does, all the men under Diomedes' (command), yet we all scorn her hatred: great (as) her power (is), it does not cost us much!'

"(By) provoking (her) with such words, Acmon of Pleuron (i.e. a town in Aetolia) goads Venus and rekindles her former anger. His words please (but) a few (of us): we, the majority of his friends, reprove Acmon; while he was trying to answer (us), his voice and, at the same time, the passage for his voice (i.e. his throat) were attenuated, and his hair turns into soft feathers, his newly-formed neck, chest and back are covered with plumage, his arms receive larger feathers, and his elbows are curved into light wings. A large amount of (what is) foot takes possession of his toes, and his face hardens and stiffens like horn, and ends in a beak. Lycus and Idas, and Nycteus, as well as Rhexenor, and Abas marvel at him, and, while they marvel, they receive the same form (themselves), and a greater number of this flock fly upwards and encircle the oarsmen on beating wings. If you should ask what is the shape of these dubious birds, yes, (it was) very close (to that) of white swans, though (they were) not swans. (Now) indeed, I can scarcely hold this house and its parched fields (as) the son-in-law of Iapygian Daunus with so small a part of my (friends)."

So far (spoke) the grandson of Oeneus (i.e. Diomedes). Venulus leaves the Calydonian realms (i.e. the territories of Diomedes, whose grandfather Oeneus was king of Calydon, an ancient town in Aetolia) and the valley of Peucetia (i.e. a region of Apulia in Lower Italy) and the fields of Messapia (i.e. a region of Calabria in Lower Italy). Among these he sees a cave, which, overcast by many trees and streaming with slender reeds, the half-goat Pan now holds, but at one time nymphs held (it). An Apulian shepherd from that region scared (them) into flight, and he affected (them) at first with a sudden terror, (but) soon, when their wits returned, and they have scorned their pursuer, they performed their dances, with their feet moving to the metre. The shepherd scoffs at them, and, imitating (them) with wild leaps, he adds coarse abuse to his obscene language, nor was his mouth silent until a tree imprisoned his throat: for he is (indeed) a tree, and you may know its character by the taste (of its fruit); indeed the wild olive exhibits the mark of his tongue in its bitter berries: the sharpness of his words has entered into them.

Ll. 527-580.  The transformation of the Trojan ships, and of the ruins of Ardea.

Then, when the ambassadors returned, saying that Aetolia's arms were denied them, the Rutulians prepare for and wage war, and much blood is spilled on both sides; see (how) Turnus bears his greedy torches against the (Trojans') pinewood-built (ships), and those that the waves had spared (now) fear these flames. And now Mulciber (i.e. Vulcan, God of Fire) burned the pitch and wax (i.e. ships' caulking materials) and the other (sources of) food for his flames, and up the high masts to the sails  he went, and the thwarts across the hulls were smouldering, when the sacred mother of the gods (i.e. Cybele), remembering that these pines (had been) felled on the summit of (Mount) Ida, filled the air with the ringing of clashing bronze (cymbals) and the sound of blown flutes, and, as she is conveyed through the gentle breezes by her tame lions, she cries out, "(It is) in vain, Turnus, (that) you hurl those firebrands with your sacrilegious hands. I will save (those ships), and I shall not allow your devouring fire to burn (what were) parts and members of my groves."

As the goddess was speaking, it thundered, and following the thunder, there fell heavy rain and leaping hail, and the Astraean brothers (i.e. the winds, whose father Astraeus, was a Titan, and married to Aurora) disturb the air and the sea, swollen by the sudden onrush, and (so) join the conflict. Using the force of one of them, the kindly mother (goddess) broke the tow-ropes of the Phrygian (i.e. Trojan) ships and carries their vessels prow-foremost, and sinks (them) beneath the middle of the waves; their hardness having been softened, and their wood having been turned into flesh, their curved sterns are changed into the faces of humans, their oars are changed into fingers and swimming legs, the flank remains what it had previously been (i.e. it becomes the side of a body), and the submerged keel of each ship is altered to serve as a spine; the cordage becomes soft hair, the yardarms arms, (and) their colour remains (as) azure as it had been (before); and the naiads of the sea cultivate those waves which they had previously dreaded, and, (though) they were born on the rugged mountains, they frequent the gentle sea, and their origin does not affect them. Not yet forgetting how many dangers they have frequently endured on the ocean, they frequently place their hands beneath the (storm-)tossed ships, unless one were carrying Achaeans: still remembering the Phrygian (i.e. Trojan) disaster, they hate the Pelasgians (i.e. the Greeks), and they saw with joyful faces the wreckage of the Neritian ship (i.e. the ship belonging to Ulysses, on whose home island of Ithaca Mount Neriton was located), and they (also) saw with joyful faces Alcinoüs' vessel harden (into rock) and stone grow upon its wood (N.B. the Phaeacian vessel which had conveyed Ulysses back to Ithaca was turned into a mountain by Jupiter, as it was returning to port in Scheria, in order to oblige his brother Neptune, whom King Alcinoüs had managed to offend).  

There was a hope that, with the (Trojan) fleet having been quickened into sea-nymphs, they might, through the Rutulians' fear of this miracle, abandon the war: (but) it continues, and both sides have (the help of) gods, and they have courage, which is worth as much as gods; now they are not seeking a kingdom as a dowry, nor a father-in-law's sceptre, nor you, virgin Lavinia, but victory, and they wage war (to avoid) the shame of laying down (their arms), and, at last, Venus sees the victorious weapons of her son, and Turnus falls, (and) Ardea falls, (a city) spoken of as powerful (while) Turnus (was) alive. After the foreign sword had destroyed it, and its houses were concealed by hot embers, a bird, now noticed for the first time, soars aloft from the midst of its ruins, and strikes violently at the ashes with beating wings. Its cry, its emaciated (form), its pallid (hue), and everything which befits the captured city, even the name of the city, remained in that (bird) (i.e. ardea, a heron); and Ardea, itself, is frantically bewailed by its wings. 

Ll. 581-608.  The deification of Aeneas.

Now, the virtue of Aeneas had compelled all the gods, and (even) Juno herself, to put an end to their ancient feud, since, with the fortunes of the growing Iulus (i.e. Aeneas' son, also known as Ascanius) being (so) firmly founded, the Cytherean hero (i.e. the son of Venus) was ripe for heaven: Venus had canvassed (the opinions of) the gods, and, throwing (her arms) around her father's (i.e. Jupiter's) neck, she said, "(O) father, (who has) never (been) harsh to me at any time, may you now be very kind (to me), I beg (you, O) dearest (one), and grant divinity to my (son) Aeneas, who has claimed you (as) his grandfather through my bloodline, albeit (divinity) at a low (level,) so long as you grant (him) something! It is (surely) enough that he has once gazed at the hateful kingdom (i.e. Hades) and that he has once crossed the streams of the Styx!"

The gods assented, and the royal consort (i.e. Juno) did not display her severe expression, but agreed with a calm face; then the father says, "Both you who asks and (he,) on behalf of whom you ask, are worthy of this divine gift: take, daughter, what you desire!"

He had spoken: she (i.e. Venus) rejoices and gives thanks to her father, and, conveyed through the gentle breezes by her team of doves, she comes to the coast of Laurentum, where, hidden by reeds, the Numicius, with its river waters, winds down to the nearby sea. She orders him (i.e. the river-god Numicius) to cleanse Aeneas of whatever (things were) subject to death and (then) to bear (them) away in his silent course down to the sea; the horned (god) executes Venus' orders, and purges (him of these things) and sprinkles (them) over the (waters of) the sea: his best part is left to him. (Once he had been) purified, his mother anoints his body with a divine perfume, touched his lips with ambrosia mixed with sweet nectar, and made (him) a god, whom the throng of Quirinus (i.e. the people of Romulus, or the Romans) names Indiges, and (then) admitted to their temple and altars.

Ll. 609-697.  The line of Alban kings; Vertumnus' pursuit of Pomona.

Then, Alba was under the sovereignty of the double-named Ascanius (i.e. he was also called Iulus), and the Latin state (too). Silvius succeeded him. His son Latinus bore a revived name (i.e. Aeneas had married Lavinia, the daughter of Latinus, the king of Laurentum) together with the ancient sceptre. The renowned Alba follows Latinus. Epytus is next; after him (come) Capetus and Capys, but Capys was the earlier. Tiberinus inherited the kingdom from them, and, having drowned in the waters of the Tuscan stream, gave his name to that river (i.e. the Tiber); from him were born Remulus and the daring Acrota. The elder Remulus, an imitator of lightning, was killed by a bolt of lightning. Acrota, more restrained than his brother, passes the sceptre to brave Aventinus, who lies buried on the very hill where he had reigned, and he has given his name to that hill.

And then Proca had the sovereignty of the people of the Palatine (hill). Pomona (i.e. the Roman goddess of tree-fruit) lived under this king, and no one else among the Latin hamadryads (i.e. wood-nymphs) cultivated their gardens more skilfully than her, nor was anyone else (so) devoted to the fruit of the trees. For this reason she possesses her name: she does not care for the woods or the streams, (but for) the countryside and the boughs which bear (such) delicious fruit.

Nor is her right(-hand) laden with a javelin, but with a curved pruning-knife, with which at one moment she prunes the luxuriant growth and lops the branches (which are) spreading out in all directions, (and,) now splitting the bark, she inserts a graft and provides sap for the strange nursling. Nor does she allow (them) to feel any thirst, but she waters the sinuous tendrils of sappy root in the trickling streams: this (is) her love, this (is) her passion; and also she has no desire at all for love-making.

Yet, fearing the violence of rustic (men), she shuts off her orchards from within, and denies any (means of) access (to them), and shuns men. What did the Satyrs, fitted by their youth for dancing, and the Pans (i.e. fawns), their horns girded with pine, and Silvanus (i.e. the Roman god of the woodlands and uncultivated land), always younger than his years (would suggest), and that god who scares off thieves with his pruning-hook and his phallus (i.e. Priapus, god of gardens and vineyards), (what did they) not do to possess her? But, in fact, Vertumnus (i.e. the Roman god of the changing seasons) surpassed them all in his love (for her), although he was no more fortunate (in his suit) than they were. O how often in the guise of an uncouth reaper, he would bring (her) ears of corn in a basket, and he was the perfect image of a reaper! Often displaying his forehead bound with fresh hay, he might seem to have been tossing the (newly) mown grass; he was often carrying a goad in his firm hand, so that you would swear he had just unyoked his (team of) oxen. Given a pruning-knife, he was a stripper and a trimmer of vines; (sometimes) he carried a ladder on his back: (then) you would think he was about to pick apples; (sometimes) he was a soldier with a sword, (or) a fisherman lifting his rod.

In short, through his many disguises, he often procured access for himself, in order to feel the joy of gazing at her beauty. (Once) he even covered his temples with a coloured headband, (and,) leaning upon a staff, (and) with (a wig of) grey (hair) placed over his temples, he pretended to be an old woman. Then, he entered the well-tended garden and admired the fruits, and he says, "(You are) so much more lovely (than them)!" and gave the admired (maiden) a few kisses, such as no real old woman had ever given, and he sank down on the flattened grass, looking at the branches bent by the weight of the autumn (fruits).

There was a beautiful elm-tree opposite (him), (covered) with shining grapes: after he had praised it, together with its companion vine, he says, "But if that tree had stood (there) unwed without its vine-sprout, there would be no (reason) why it should be sought after, other than its leaves; also, that vine which is joined (to it) is resting on the elm: if it were not mated (with it), it would be lying prostrate on the ground. But you are not affected by this tree's example, and you shun sexual union and care not that you are wed. But if only you did wish (it)! (If she had wanted to be married,) Helen would not have been solicited by so many suitors, nor (would she) who caused the battles of the Lapiths (i.e. Hippodameia), nor would the wife of Ulysses who delayed (his return) too long (i.e. Penelope). Even now, a thousand (i.e. countless) men want (you), as well as demi-gods, and gods, and whatever deities haunt the Alban hills, although you shun (them) and turn away (those) who woo (you). But, if you are wise, and you wish to make a good match, then listen to this old woman, who loves you more than all of them, (and) more than you think, (and) reject their vulgar marriage-offers, and select Vertumnus (to be) the companion of your bed! You may take me too (as) a surety - for he is not better known to himself than (he is) to me - ; nor does he wander at random in all directions throughout the world: he inhabits this place alone; nor does he love (the girl) whom he has just seen, as a large part of your suitors (do). You will be his first and his last love, and he will devote his life to you only. Add (to that) that he is young, that he has the native gift of charm, and that he can be shaped appropriately in every form, and that, whatever may be required (of him), though you may order (absolutely) everything, he will do (it). Why, that which you love in the same (degree), that (is those) apples which you tend, he (is) the first (to) have, and (he is the first to) hold your joyous gifts in his hand! But he does not now desire the fruit (that is) plucked from your trees, nor the herbs with their mellow juices which your garden provides, nor (does he desire) anything but you; (so) take pity on his ardour, and believe that that he who seeks (you) is begging (you) in person through my mouth, and fear the vengeful gods and the Idalian (goddess) (i.e. Venus, to whom Mount Idalium in Cyprus was sacred), who hates the hard-hearted and remembers the wrath of Rhamnusis (i.e. Nemesis, who had punished Narcissus for his treatment of Echo, and to whom a temple was dedicated in Rhamnus in Attica)!

So that you may fear (them) the more - since my great age has given me the knowledge of many (tales) - , I will tell (you)  a story, well-known throughout the whole of Cyprus, by which you may be readily swayed and softened.

Ll. 698-771.  Vertumnus tells Pomona the story of Anaxarete and Iphis.

(Once) Iphis, (a youth) born of humble stock, saw the noble Anaxarete, from the bloodstock of ancient Teucer (i.e. the half-brother of Ajax the Greater, who was the foremost archer of the Greek army at Troy, and later founded Salamis on the island of Cyprus); he saw (her) and felt the heat (of passion coursing) through all his bones, and, when, having fought (it), he could not overcome his madness, he came to her threshold (as) a suppliant, and, at one moment, confessing his wretched love to her nurse, he begged (her), through the hopes (that she had for her foster-child, not to be hard on him, and, at another time, flattering each of her many attendants with enticing words, he sought their favourable disposition; often he gave (them) his messages to be carried (to her) in (the form of) charming little notes (i.e. billets doux); sometimes he spread wreaths, wet with the dew of his tears, around her doorpost, and he laid his soft flank on the hard (floor of) her threshold, and made complaints about the pitiless bolts (barring his way). (But,) crueller than the surging sea when the Kids are setting, and harder than the steel which the fires of Noricum (i.e. the territory between the Alps and the Danube) heat and the rock which is kept still alive by its root, she spurns and mocks (him,) and, in an insolent manner, she adds proud words to her harsh actions and also robs her lover of (all) hope.

"The frustrated Iphis could not endure the torment of his prolonged pain, and spoke these words  before her door: 'You win, Anaxarete, nor at last will you have to endure any wearisome (advances) from me: devise joyful triumphs, and sing the (victory) Paean and crown yourself with shining laurel! For you conquer, and I gladly die: come (now), rejoice, (you) steel(-hearted one)! At least, you will have to commend my love for something, by which I have pleased you, and (for which) you must confess my merit. But remember that my love did not end before my life (did), and that I must loose two lights (i.e. his life and his love) at the same time. No rumour will come to you announcing my death. I, myself, - do not doubt (it)! - shall come to you in person, so that you can feast your cruel eyes on my lifeless body. Yet, if, O gods, you can see the deeds of mortals, may you be mindful of me - my tongue can bear to ask for nothing more - , and arrange to tell of me in future years, and grant to the memory (of me) the years which you have taken from my life!' 

"He spoke, and, lifted his tear-filled eyes and his pale arms to the doorpost, which he had (so) often adorned with wreathes, (and then,) when he had fastened a rope with a noose to the top of the door, he said, 'This wreath will please you, cruel and wicked (as you are)!' and he thrust his head into (the noose), but even then he turned towards her, and hung (there), a pitiful burden, with his throat crushed. The door, struck by the drumming of his fearful feet, seemed to have made a sound bidding (him) to enter, and, (when) opened, it revealed (what he had) done. The servants shrieked, and, after he had been lifted (down) in vain, they took (him) back to his mother's house - for his father had (already) died - ; she held (him) to her bosom and embraced the cold limbs of her child, (and,) after she had uttered the words (natural) to a distraught parent, and had performed the actions (natural) to a distraught mother, she led his funeral procession through the centre of the city, weeping, and carried his body on a bier to the (funeral) pyre.

"Her house happened to be near to the street where the tearful procession was passing, and the sound of lamentation came to the ears of the hard(-hearted) Anaxarete, whom some vengeful god had now aroused: (but) still aroused (she was, and) says, 'Let us see this wretched funeral!' and she went to a room at the top (of the house) with open windows; and scarcely had she looked at Iphis, well placed (as he was) on his bier, (than) her eyes became fixed, and the warm blood left her body as a pallid (colour) spread over (it), and, when she tried to step back again, she stuck (there), (and,) when she tried to turn her face away, she could not (do) this (also), and gradually the stone, which had long been in that hard body (of hers), occupies her (whole) body. Should  you think this (is only) a story, Salamis (i.e. in Cyprus) still preserves a statue in the likeness of the lady (i.e. Anaxarete): it also has a temple in the name of Venus Prospiciens (i.e. Venus Who Looks Out). - Mindful of these (things), O my nymph (i.e. Pomona), set aside your cold pride, I beg (you), and join with your lover. So (then), the coldness of spring will not nip your fruits in the bud, nor will the storm winds cast (them) down when they are in flower!"

When the god (i.e. Vertumnus), fitted out in the shape of an old woman, had spoken these (words) to no effect, he went back to his youthful (form) and removes the trappings of the old woman from himself, and appeared to her just like when the glowing image of the sun overcomes the opposing clouds, and shines forth with no (cloud) standing in its way; and he prepares for (the use of) force: but there is no need for force, and the nymph, captivated by the form of the god, felt the same passion as he did.

Ll. 772-851.  War and reconciliation with the Sabines; the deification of Romulus, and of his wife Hersilia.

Following (this), the soldiers of unjust Amulius ruled the resources of Ausonia (i.e. Italy), and old Numitor captures the kingdom (he had) lost with the help of his grandson (i.e. Romulus), and the city walls start to be built on the festival of Pales (i.e. a Roman pastoral deity), and Tatius and the Sabine fathers (i.e. of the girls seized as wives by the Romans) wage war, and Tarpeia, having opened up the way to  the citadel, loses her life deservedly by the punishment of shields being piled upon (her).

Then, the men of Cures (i.e. the Sabine capital) suppress the voices in their throats like silent wolves, and creep up upon men overcome by sleep, and they make for the gates which the son of Ilia (i.e. Romulus, son of Rhea Silvia, sometimes called Ilia) had shut with strong bolts: but the daughter of Saturn (i.e. Juno) herself opened one (gate), nor did she make a sound as she turned (it) on its hinges. Only Venus saw that the bars had dropped, and she would have closed (it herself), save that gods are never permitted to rescind the actions of (other) gods. The Ausonian naiads (i.e. water-nymphs) owned a spot adjoining (the temple of) Janus, which spouted water from a spring: she (i.e. Venus) asks them for help, nor did the nymphs withstand the goddess's just request, and they drew out water-courses and streams from their spring; but the entrance to (the temple of) Janus, with its open doors, was not yet blocked, nor did the water bar the way: they place pale yellow sulphur under their copious spring and heat the hollow channels with smoking pitch. By this and by other means, the vapour penetrated to the bottom of the spring, and (you) waters that just now dared to compete with Alpine coldness did not (now) yield to fire itself! The twin gate-posts steam under a boiling spray, and the gate (which had been) promised in vain to the hardy Sabines was made impassable by the sudden fountain, while the Martian (i.e. Roman, as Romulus was the son of Mars) soldier donned his armour; after this, Romulus sallied forth of his own accord and Roman soil was strewn with Sabine corpses and with its own as well, and the impious sword mingled the blood of son-in-law with the blood of father-in-law; yet it was decided that war should be checked by peace, and so not to fight it out to the end, and that Tatius should be added to the kingship.

Tatius had died and you, Romulus, were giving laws to the two peoples, when Mavors (i.e. Mars), removing his metal helmet, addresses the father of both gods and men (i.e. Jupiter) in these (words): "Since the Roman state is (now) firmly established on strong foundations, and does not rely upon a single champion, the time has come, sire, (for you to grant) the reward - (the one that) was promised to me and to my deserving grandson! - to raise (him) and to free (his spirit) from the earth and set (him) in heaven. You once said to me, when you were present at a council of the gods - for I am reminding (you) of your gracious words and I have kept (them) in my retentive mind - 'There will be one whom you will raise to the azure (skies) of heaven:' may all of your words be ratified! "

The omnipotent (one) nods in assent, and veils the sky with dark clouds and terrifies the world with thunder and lightning: Gradivus (i.e. Mars, 'the terrible god') knew that these (things were) a sign that ratified the promised seizure, and, leaning on his spear, he fearlessly mounted (his chariot) and rebuked the horses with a blow of the lash, and, having fallen headlong through the air, he landed on the top of the hill of the wooded Palatine and bore off the son of Ilia just as he was dispensing royal justice to his (people), the Quirites (i.e. the Romans, now fused with the Sabines): his mortal body dissolved in the thin air, just like a lead bullet, hurled by the broad (thong) of a sling, often melts in midst of the sky. There comes to (him) a beautiful appearance, and (one) more worthy of the couches of the gods, (and) such is the form of Quirinus (i.e. the name of the deified Romulus) in his ceremonial robes.

His wife was weeping (for him) as lost, when royal Juno orders Iris to go down to Hersilia by her curved path (i.e. by her rainbow) and thus carry her commands to the widow: "O lady, special ornament of both the Latin and the Sabine people, previously worthy to have been the consort of so great a man (and) now to be (the consort) of Quirinus, cease your tears, and, if it is your wish to see your husband, guide me (and) make for the grove which flourishes on the Quirinal hill and provides the temple of the Roman king with shade."

Iris obeys, and, gliding down to earth by means of her many-coloured rainbow, she addressed Hersilia in the words (she had been) ordered (to deliver). Scarcely raising her eyes, she replies with a modest countenance: "O goddess - for it is not easy for me to say who you are, but it is clear that you are a goddess - , lead (the way), lead (the way), and show me my husband's face, and if the fates only grant that I can see him once, I shall (still) declare that I have been received in heaven."

Without delay, she climbs up Romulus' hill together with the virgin daughter of Thaumas (i.e. Iris): there a star falls, gliding from the sky to the earth, (and) Hersilia, her hair set alight by its flame, disappeared with the star into the air. The founder of the city of Rome welcomes her with familiar hands, and changes her former name, at the same time as her bodily (form), and calls her Hora, and she is now a goddess, joined to Quirinus.