Introduction:
For an introduction to Ovid and the work as a whole, the reader is invited to look at the translation of "Metamorphoses" Book I, published on this blog on 1st February 2018.
Book IV, translated below, focuses, in particular on three pairs of lovers: Pyramus and Thisbe; Salmacis and Hermaphroditus; and Perseus and Andromeda, and contains the following contents: i) the daughters of Minyas; ii) Pyramus and Thisbe; iii) Sol in love; iv) Salmacis and Hermaphroditus; v) the daughters of Minyas transformed; vi) Athamas and Ino; vi) the transformation of Cadmus and Harmonia; vii) Perseus and Andromeda.
Ll. 1-30. The Festival of Bacchus.
For an introduction to Ovid and the work as a whole, the reader is invited to look at the translation of "Metamorphoses" Book I, published on this blog on 1st February 2018.
Book IV, translated below, focuses, in particular on three pairs of lovers: Pyramus and Thisbe; Salmacis and Hermaphroditus; and Perseus and Andromeda, and contains the following contents: i) the daughters of Minyas; ii) Pyramus and Thisbe; iii) Sol in love; iv) Salmacis and Hermaphroditus; v) the daughters of Minyas transformed; vi) Athamas and Ino; vi) the transformation of Cadmus and Harmonia; vii) Perseus and Andromeda.
Ll. 1-30. The Festival of Bacchus.
But Alcithoë, the daughter of Minyas (i.e. King of Orchomenus in Boeotia), will not celebrate the rites in acceptance of the god, but (is) rash enough (to) deny that Bacchus (i.e. the God of Wine) is the son of Jupiter, and she has sisters (i.e. Arsippe and Leucothoë) (who are) associated with her impiety. (Now) the priest had ordered the celebration of the festival, (and) that female servants should be freed from their work, and that their mistresses should cover their breasts with animal skins, take off their head-bands, wreathe their hair, and take up the leafy thyrsus (i.e. a Bacchic wand) in their hands, and he had prophesied that the anger of the god would be fierce (if he were) offended. The mothers and young women obey, and put aside their looms and wicker-baskets, and their unfinished tasks, and burn incense, and they invoke Bacchus, and Bromius (i.e. 'the noisy one'), and Lyaeus (i.e. 'the relaxer' or 'the deliverer from care'), and the fire-born, and the twice-born, and the only child of two mothers: to these (names) is added Nyseus (i.e. 'he of Nysa', a city in India, on Mount Meros, reputedly the birthplace of Bacchus), and the unshorn Thyoneus (i.e. the son of Thyone, an epithet of Bacchus' mother, Semele, under which name she was worshipped as a wild woman of the Bacchic rites) and Nyctelius (i.e. 'the night-comer', an epithet given to Bacchus, because his mysteries were celebrated at night) and Lenaeus, the planter of the congenial vine, and father Eleleus (i.e. an epithet of Bacchus, derived from ἐλελεῦ, the cry of the Bacchantes) and Iacchus, and Euhan (i.e. these are both names for Bacchus taken from the cries of his worshippers), and the very many other names, which you have, Liber (i.e. an old Italian deity, who presided over planting and fructification, and who afterwards became associated with the Greek god Bacchus) among the peoples of Greece. For your youth is unfading, you boy eternal, (and) you are seen (as) the most beautiful (sight) from the heights of the sky; you have a face like a virgin's, when you stand before (us) without your horns; by you the East (is) conquered as far as the remote Ganges, in which tawny India is dipped: you, (O) revered (one), killed those doubters, Pentheus, and Lycurgus, wielder of the double-headed axe (i.e. a king of Thrace, who, because he had opposed Bacchus entering his kingdom, was driven mad and killed his son with an axe, thinking he was pruning a vine), and you hurled the bodies of those Tyrrhenian (sailors) into the sea, (and) you harness the necks of a pair of yoked lynxes, distinguished by their coloured bridles; Bacchantes and Satyrs follow (you), and (so does) that drunken old man (i.e. Silenus), who supports his stumbling legs with his staff, and clings desperately to his bent-backed mule. Wherever you go, the yells of youths, together with the screams of women, and (the sounds of) hand-beaten drums, and hollow cymbals, and flutes with their long tubes are heard.
Ll. 31-54. The daughters of Minyas reject Bacchus.
The women of the Ismenus (i.e. a river near Thebes) pray (by Bacchus): "May you be calm and gentle," and they practice his rites as required. Only the daughters of Minyas (remain) inside, disturbing the festival with the untimely (arts) of Minerva, either drawing out (strands of) wool, or twisting the threads with their fingers, or staying at their looms and plying their handmaids with work.
(Then,) one of them (i.e. Arsippe), spinning the thread with her nimble thumb, says, "While the others stop doing their work, and are celebrating these fictitious rites, let us, whom Pallas (i.e. Minerva), a truer goddess, restrains, also lighten the useful work of our hands with different stories: for our joint benefit, let us, in turn, relate to our disengaged ears something which does not allow time to seem (so) long. Her sisters approve her words, and bid (her) tell (her story) first.
(Then,) one of them (i.e. Arsippe), spinning the thread with her nimble thumb, says, "While the others stop doing their work, and are celebrating these fictitious rites, let us, whom Pallas (i.e. Minerva), a truer goddess, restrains, also lighten the useful work of our hands with different stories: for our joint benefit, let us, in turn, relate to our disengaged ears something which does not allow time to seem (so) long. Her sisters approve her words, and bid (her) tell (her story) first.
She wonders as to which of many (stories) she should tell - for she knew very many - and hesitates (whether) to tell about about you, Babylonian Dercetis, whom the Palestinians believe swam in the waters with an altered shape, (and) with scales covering her limbs; or rather how her daughter (i.e. Semiramis), assuming wings, passed her earliest years in white dovecotes; or how a Naiad (i.e. a water-nymph), through incantations and all too powerful herbs, changed the bodies of youths into dumb fishes, until she suffered the same (thing); or how the tree that bore white berries now bears dark (ones) from the stain of blood. This (one) pleases (her), (and) she begins (to spin) this (tale), although the story is not well-known, by such measures as her wool follows its threads.
Ll. 55-92. Arsippe tells the story of Pyramus and Thisbe.
"Pyramus and Thisbe, the one the most handsome of youths, (and) the other the most sought after of the girls, whom the East possessed, lived in adjoining houses (in the place) where Semiramis is said to have enclosed her towering city with walls made of brick (i.e. Babylon). Their nearness caused their acquaintance and its first steps: love grew with time. They would also have joined in lawful marriage, but their fathers forbade (them). They were both on fire, with hearts equally captivated, (something) which their parents could not prevent. There have no go-between at all: they communicate by nods and signs, and the more the hidden fire (of love) is concealed, the more it blazes. The wall common to each house (i.e. the party wall) had been split by a thin crack, which had developed at some former time when it was being built. In all this time, this defect had not been noticed by anyone - but what does love not detect? - (but) you lovers (were) the first (to) see (it), and you made (it) a passage for your speech; your endearments used to pass safely through that (crack) with the gentlest of murmurs. Often, when they were in place, Thisbe on the one side (and) Pyramus on the other, and the breath from (each) mouth had been caught in turn, they said, '(You) jealous wall, why do you hinder lovers? How small (a thing) would it be (for you) to allow our bodies to be united in a close embrace, or, if this is too much (to ask), at least to allow (us) to give (each other) kisses? Not that we are ungrateful: we acknowledge that we owe to you (the fact) that a passage has been granted for words (to reach) our loving ears.' Speaking such (words) to no purpose from their separate abodes, as night (fell) they said, 'Farewell!' and each gave to their own side (of the wall) kisses which did not reach the opposite (side).
Then, Aurora (i.e. dawn) quenched the fires of night (i.e the stars), and the sun dried the grass with his rays: they came to their usual places. Then, after first complaining of many (things) with a little murmur, they decide to try to deceive the guards in the silence of the night, and to go outside the gates, and, when they have left their houses, they would leave the city's buildings as well; and, lest they should go astray while crossing the wide field, (they decide that) that they shall meet at the grave of Ninus, and hide in the shadow of a tree. There was a tree there, a tall mulberry, heavily laden with snow-white berries, close to a cool fountain. They were pleased with their plan. Then the light, appearing to ebb slowly, sinks in the waters, and night emerges from the same waters.
Ll. 93-127. The death of Pyramus.
Carefully opening the door, Thisbe slipped out through the darkness, and eludes her (parents), and, veiling her face, she reaches the tomb, and sat down under the agreed tree. Love was making (her) bold. (But) look, (here) comes a lioness, her jaws smeared (with blood) from a recent slaugther of cattle, in order to slake her thirst in the waters of the nearby fountain. Babylonian Thisbe saw her from a distance in the light of the moon, and fled, with trembling footsteps, to a dark cave, and, as she flees, she leaves her fallen veil behind (her). When the fierce lioness has quenched her thirst with much water, as she is returning to the woods, she happened to find the flimsy (article of) clothing without its (owner) and ripped (it) in her blood-stained mouth. Leaving a little later, Pyramus saw the clear foot-marks of the wild beast in the thick dust, and his whole face turned pale: (and) indeed, when he also discovered the blood-stained (piece of) fabric, he cries out, 'One night will destroy two lovers. Of the two of us, she was the most deserving of a long life; my spirit is the guilty (one): I have killed you, poor (girl), (I) who told (you to) come by night to this place (so) full of danger, nor did I come here before (you). O all you lions who live beneath these rocks, tear my body to pieces and devour my sinful flesh with your fierce bites. But it is (the sign) of a coward to ask for death.' He picks up Thisbe's veil and carries (it) to the shade of the chosen tree; and, as he soaked the familiar garment with his tears, (and) gave (it) his kisses, he says, 'Now receive some draughts of my blood as well!' Straightway, he plunged the sword, with which he was girded, into his groin, (and as he was) dying, he drew (it) warm from his wound. As he lay back on the ground, his blood spurted up high, just as, when a pipe is split apart, when the lead has fractured, and shoots out long (streams of) water through the narrow hissing opening, and bursts through the air in blasts. With this spatter of blood, the fruit of the tree takes on a dark aspect and its roots, soaked in blood, imbue the overhanging mulberries with a purple colour.
Ll. 128-166. The death of Thisbe.
"Look, she is returning, though her fear is not yet set aside, in order not to cheat her lover, and she looks for the young man with longing eyes, and is most eager to tell (him) what a great danger she has avoided. And, as she recognises the spot and the shape of the tree (she had) seen, so the colour of the berries makes (her) doubtful: she is unsure whether this is the tree (or not). While she hesitates, she sees (someone's) quivering limbs beating the blood-stained earth, and she started back, and, her face looking whiter than boxwood, she shuddered like the sea, which trembles when a slight breeze touches its surface. But, when, after a little while, she recognises her lover, she strikes her innocent arms in loud lamentation, and, tearing her hair and embracing the beloved body, she drenched his wounds with her tears, and mingled her tears with his blood, and, planting kisses on his cold features, she cried out, 'Pyramus, what misfortune has taken you from me? Pyramus, answer (me): your dearest Thisbe is calling you: listen (to me), and raise your drooping face!' At the name of Thisbe Pyramus raised his eyes, now heavy with death, and, when he saw that it was she, he buried (them) once more (in darkness).
When she recognised her own garment, and saw his ivory (scabbard) without its sword, she says, 'Unhappy (boy), your own hand and your love have destroyed you. I, too, have a hand strong (enough) for this one (deed), and (I,) too, have love: it will give (me) the strength to (inflict) a wound. I shall follow (you in) death, and I shall be called the most wretched cause and companion of your death; and you who could (only) be torn away from me, alas, by death alone, not even by death can you (now) be torn away (from me). Yet, O most wretched parents, (both) mine and his, may you be asked this, by the words of (us) both, that you do not begrudge (us) whom undoubted love and our last hour have joined together (the right) to be laid in the same tomb. And you, the tree who now cover with your branches the poor body of one (of us), (and who) will soon be covering (the bodies) of the two (of us), retain the emblems of our death, and always keep your fruit dark in colour and fit for mourning, (as) a memorial of the blood of the two (of us).'
She spoke, and, fitting the point at the bottom of her breast (i.e her heart), she fell forward on to the sword which was still warm from his blood. Yet, her prayers moved the gods, (and) moved their parents (too): for the colour of the berry, when it has ripened, is dark red, and what is left from the funeral pyres rests in a single urn."
Ll. 167-189. Leuconoë's story: Mars and Venus.
Ll. 55-92. Arsippe tells the story of Pyramus and Thisbe.
"Pyramus and Thisbe, the one the most handsome of youths, (and) the other the most sought after of the girls, whom the East possessed, lived in adjoining houses (in the place) where Semiramis is said to have enclosed her towering city with walls made of brick (i.e. Babylon). Their nearness caused their acquaintance and its first steps: love grew with time. They would also have joined in lawful marriage, but their fathers forbade (them). They were both on fire, with hearts equally captivated, (something) which their parents could not prevent. There have no go-between at all: they communicate by nods and signs, and the more the hidden fire (of love) is concealed, the more it blazes. The wall common to each house (i.e. the party wall) had been split by a thin crack, which had developed at some former time when it was being built. In all this time, this defect had not been noticed by anyone - but what does love not detect? - (but) you lovers (were) the first (to) see (it), and you made (it) a passage for your speech; your endearments used to pass safely through that (crack) with the gentlest of murmurs. Often, when they were in place, Thisbe on the one side (and) Pyramus on the other, and the breath from (each) mouth had been caught in turn, they said, '(You) jealous wall, why do you hinder lovers? How small (a thing) would it be (for you) to allow our bodies to be united in a close embrace, or, if this is too much (to ask), at least to allow (us) to give (each other) kisses? Not that we are ungrateful: we acknowledge that we owe to you (the fact) that a passage has been granted for words (to reach) our loving ears.' Speaking such (words) to no purpose from their separate abodes, as night (fell) they said, 'Farewell!' and each gave to their own side (of the wall) kisses which did not reach the opposite (side).
Then, Aurora (i.e. dawn) quenched the fires of night (i.e the stars), and the sun dried the grass with his rays: they came to their usual places. Then, after first complaining of many (things) with a little murmur, they decide to try to deceive the guards in the silence of the night, and to go outside the gates, and, when they have left their houses, they would leave the city's buildings as well; and, lest they should go astray while crossing the wide field, (they decide that) that they shall meet at the grave of Ninus, and hide in the shadow of a tree. There was a tree there, a tall mulberry, heavily laden with snow-white berries, close to a cool fountain. They were pleased with their plan. Then the light, appearing to ebb slowly, sinks in the waters, and night emerges from the same waters.
Ll. 93-127. The death of Pyramus.
Carefully opening the door, Thisbe slipped out through the darkness, and eludes her (parents), and, veiling her face, she reaches the tomb, and sat down under the agreed tree. Love was making (her) bold. (But) look, (here) comes a lioness, her jaws smeared (with blood) from a recent slaugther of cattle, in order to slake her thirst in the waters of the nearby fountain. Babylonian Thisbe saw her from a distance in the light of the moon, and fled, with trembling footsteps, to a dark cave, and, as she flees, she leaves her fallen veil behind (her). When the fierce lioness has quenched her thirst with much water, as she is returning to the woods, she happened to find the flimsy (article of) clothing without its (owner) and ripped (it) in her blood-stained mouth. Leaving a little later, Pyramus saw the clear foot-marks of the wild beast in the thick dust, and his whole face turned pale: (and) indeed, when he also discovered the blood-stained (piece of) fabric, he cries out, 'One night will destroy two lovers. Of the two of us, she was the most deserving of a long life; my spirit is the guilty (one): I have killed you, poor (girl), (I) who told (you to) come by night to this place (so) full of danger, nor did I come here before (you). O all you lions who live beneath these rocks, tear my body to pieces and devour my sinful flesh with your fierce bites. But it is (the sign) of a coward to ask for death.' He picks up Thisbe's veil and carries (it) to the shade of the chosen tree; and, as he soaked the familiar garment with his tears, (and) gave (it) his kisses, he says, 'Now receive some draughts of my blood as well!' Straightway, he plunged the sword, with which he was girded, into his groin, (and as he was) dying, he drew (it) warm from his wound. As he lay back on the ground, his blood spurted up high, just as, when a pipe is split apart, when the lead has fractured, and shoots out long (streams of) water through the narrow hissing opening, and bursts through the air in blasts. With this spatter of blood, the fruit of the tree takes on a dark aspect and its roots, soaked in blood, imbue the overhanging mulberries with a purple colour.
Ll. 128-166. The death of Thisbe.
"Look, she is returning, though her fear is not yet set aside, in order not to cheat her lover, and she looks for the young man with longing eyes, and is most eager to tell (him) what a great danger she has avoided. And, as she recognises the spot and the shape of the tree (she had) seen, so the colour of the berries makes (her) doubtful: she is unsure whether this is the tree (or not). While she hesitates, she sees (someone's) quivering limbs beating the blood-stained earth, and she started back, and, her face looking whiter than boxwood, she shuddered like the sea, which trembles when a slight breeze touches its surface. But, when, after a little while, she recognises her lover, she strikes her innocent arms in loud lamentation, and, tearing her hair and embracing the beloved body, she drenched his wounds with her tears, and mingled her tears with his blood, and, planting kisses on his cold features, she cried out, 'Pyramus, what misfortune has taken you from me? Pyramus, answer (me): your dearest Thisbe is calling you: listen (to me), and raise your drooping face!' At the name of Thisbe Pyramus raised his eyes, now heavy with death, and, when he saw that it was she, he buried (them) once more (in darkness).
When she recognised her own garment, and saw his ivory (scabbard) without its sword, she says, 'Unhappy (boy), your own hand and your love have destroyed you. I, too, have a hand strong (enough) for this one (deed), and (I,) too, have love: it will give (me) the strength to (inflict) a wound. I shall follow (you in) death, and I shall be called the most wretched cause and companion of your death; and you who could (only) be torn away from me, alas, by death alone, not even by death can you (now) be torn away (from me). Yet, O most wretched parents, (both) mine and his, may you be asked this, by the words of (us) both, that you do not begrudge (us) whom undoubted love and our last hour have joined together (the right) to be laid in the same tomb. And you, the tree who now cover with your branches the poor body of one (of us), (and who) will soon be covering (the bodies) of the two (of us), retain the emblems of our death, and always keep your fruit dark in colour and fit for mourning, (as) a memorial of the blood of the two (of us).'
She spoke, and, fitting the point at the bottom of her breast (i.e her heart), she fell forward on to the sword which was still warm from his blood. Yet, her prayers moved the gods, (and) moved their parents (too): for the colour of the berry, when it has ripened, is dark red, and what is left from the funeral pyres rests in a single urn."
Ll. 167-189. Leuconoë's story: Mars and Venus.
She (i.e. Arsippe) ceased (speaking), and for a short time there was a pause, and (then) Leuconoë began to speak: her sisters held back their voices. "Love even took Sol (i.e. the Sun) prisoner, the one who rules all the stars with his light: I shall tell (you) about Sol's amours. He is thought to have been the first god to have seen the adultery of Venus with Mars: he (is) the god (who) sees everything first. He was sorry (to see) this act: and he informed her husband, the son of Juno (i.e. Vulcan) about the bedroom intrigue and the location of the intrigue. Then his (i.e. Vulcan's) heart fell, and (so did) the craftsman's work which his right (hand) was holding. Immediately, he (begins to) file thin chain-links of bronze (as) a net, and a snare, which would deceive the eye - the finest (spun) threads, those that the spider spins from the roof beams, would not better this work of his - , and he makes (it) so that it would follow the lightest touch and the slightest movement, and, with his (cunning) skill, he places (it) around the bed. When his wife and the adulterer came to the one bed, they were both stuck fast, caught in the act, in the midst of their embraces, by the husband's craft, and by the chains which he had prepared by his new method (of imprisonment). The Lemnian (i.e. Vulcan, who lived on the island of Lemnos) immediately threw open the folding-doors and let in the gods: there they lay (i.e. Mars and Venus), bound together in their shame; then, one of the gods, not dismayed, prays that he might become shamed like that: the gods laughed, and, for a long time, this was the best-known story in all the heavens.
Ll. 190-213. Leuconoë's story: Venus's revenge.
"But Cytherea (i.e. Venus), remembering the disclosure, exacted punishment, and harmed in turn with equal love the one who had harmed her love-making. (O) son of Hyperion (i.e. Sol), what use to you now are your beauty, your colour and your radiant light? Surely, you, who burns all lands with fires, will burn with a new fire; and you who should see everything, are gazing at Leucothoë, and you fix your eyes, which should be fixed on the whole world, on one virgin (girl). Sometimes, you rise too early in the Dawn sky, at another time, you sink too late into the waves; and you extend the hours of winter by a period of time, so that you can gaze (at her). Sometimes, you vanish altogether, and your mind's defect affects your light, and, (when you are) obscured, you terrify men's hearts. Nor do you fade because the shadow of the moon, (being) closer to the earth, gets in your way: that love of yours determines your colour. You love only her; Clymene (i.e. the mother of Phaëthon) and Rhode (i.e. the nymph of the island of Rhodes), and the most beautiful mother of Aeaean Circe (i.e. Perse), do not interest you, and Clytie (i.e. a daughter of Oceanus), although (she has been) scorned, was seeking union with you, and had a deep wound from that very time: Leucothoë has caused (you) to forget (so) many (of them), (she) whom the most lovely Eurynome (i.e. a goddess of the sea) brought to birth among the perfume-producing people. But, when her daughter grew (to womanhood), the daughter surpassed her mother (in beauty), as her mother (had surpassed) all (others). Her father, Orchamus, ruled the Achaemenian (i.e. Persian) cities, and he is counted seventh (in line) from their founder, ancient Belus.
Ll. 214-255. The transformation of Leucothoë into frankincense.
"Under Hesperian (i.e. Western) skies are the pastures of the horses of Sol. They have ambrosia instead of grass: this nourishes their weary legs after their daily (round of) duties, and refreshes (them) after their hard work. While his horses graze there on celestial fodder, and night performs her duties, the god (i.e. Sol) enters his beloved's bed-chamber, having changed into the form of her mother Eurynome, and (there) he sees Leucothoë in the lamplight among her twelve handmaids, drawing out fine threads and winding (them) on her spindle. So, when he gave (her) a kiss, just like a mother (gives) her dear daughter, he says, 'It is a secret matter. Depart, maids, and do not rob a mother of the ability to speak (to her daughter) in private.' They obeyed: when the bed-chamber was left without a witness, the god said, 'I am he who measures the length of the year, the eye of the world, who sees all (things), (and) through whom the earth sees all (things). Believe (me), you (really) do please me!' She is terrified, and, in her fear, both the distaff and spindle fell from her enfeebled fingers. Her very fear made her more attractive. And he, delaying no longer, returned to his true form and his accustomed brightness: then the virgin, although alarmed by this unexpected sight, (is) overwhelmed by his brightness, (and, all) complaint set aside, submitted to the god's assault.
"Clytie was jealous (of Leucothoë) - for her love for Sol had been without any restraint - (and,) goaded by anger at her rival, she broadcasts the adultery, and betrays (her) to her father by divulging (it). In his pride and wildness, that merciless man (i.e. Orchamus) buries (her) deep (in the ground), as she prays and stretches out her hands towards Sol's light, and cries out, 'He carried out his assault against my will,' and he heaps a pile of heavy sand on top of (her). Hyperion's son disperses this with his rays, and gives you a way by which you can show your buried face. (But) you, (poor) nymph, could no longer lift your head, crushed (as it was) by the weight of earth, and you lay (there), a bloodless corpse. It is said that the manager of those winged horses (i.e. Sol) had seen nothing more bitter than this, since the fires that (had destroyed) Phaëthon. Indeed, he tries (to see) if he could recall those frozen limbs to a living heat with the power of his rays: but, since fate obstructs such efforts, he sprinkled both body and place with fragrant nectar, and, after much prior lamentation, he said: 'You will still touch the air.' Immediately, the body, steeped in heavenly nectar, dissolved and soaked the earth in its perfume: a sprout of frankincense, gradually putting forth roots, sprung up through the soil, and burst through the summit of the mound.
Ll. 256-273. Clytie is transformed into the heliotrope.
"Now, the promoter of light (i.e. Sol) no longer visits Clytie or found in her any reason to love her, although love could have excused her pain, and pain her disclosure. Deranged by her experience of loving him, (and) impatient of deities, she wasted away, and, under the (open) sky, she sat night and day on the bare earth, dishevelled (and) with her hair unadorned; and, without food and water for nine days, she satisfied her thirst with pure dew and her own tears; nor did she stir from the ground: she only gazed at the god's face, as he passed, and turned her own face towards him. They say that her limbs clung to the soil, and her ghostly pallor changed part of her complexion to (that of) a bloodless plant; (but) she was partly red, and a flower like a violet hid her face. Though she is held by her roots, she turns towards Sol, and, (while) altered, she retains her love of him."
She finished speaking, and the miraculous action had captivated their ears. Some say it could not have happened, others that the true gods can do everything: but Bacchus is not among them.
Ll. 274-316. Alcithoë tells the story of Salmacis.
When the sisters have fallen silent, Alcithoë is called upon (next). She, standing (there), running the threads through the shuttle on her loom, said, "I (shall) keep silent about the well-known loves of Daphnis, the Idaean shepherd-boy, whom a nymph, in her anger at a rival, turned to stone - so great (is) the pain (which) inflames lovers. Nor (shall) I speak of how, with the law of nature effecting a change, Sithon once became of indeterminate gender, now a man, now a woman. I (shall) pass over (how) you too, Celmis, (who were) once a most loyal (friend) to the infant Jupiter, (are) now adamantine steel, (how) the Curetes (were) born from vast showers of rain, and (how) Crocus and Smilax (were) changed into small flowers, and I shall capture your attention with a charming new story.
"Learn from where the sturdy pool of Salmacis gained its infamous (reputation), (and) how it (so) badly weakens and softens the limbs it touches. The cause lies hidden, (but) the fountain's power is widely known.
"The Naiads (i.e. the water-nymphs) reared a boy, born to Mercury by the goddess Cytherea (i.e. Venus) in the caves of (Mount) Ida: his features were (such that) in them both his mother and his father could be seen; (and) from them he also took his name (i.e. Hermaphroditus). As soon as he reached fifteen years (of age), he abandoned his native mountains and, leaving behind Ida, his nursery, he delighted to wander in unknown places (and) to behold unknown rivers, his enthusiasm making light of the effort (of travelling). He even reaches the cities of Lycia and (those) of Caria (which are) near to Lycia. Here he sees a pool (which is) clear to its very bottom. There (there were) no marshy reeds, nor sterile sedge, nor any sharp-bladed rushes: the water was crystal clear; but the edges of the pool are bordered by fresh turf, and by grass (that is) always green. A nymph lives (there), but (she is) not keen on hunting, nor is she accustomed to bending the bow, or to compete in running, and (she is) the only (one) of the Naiads not known to the swift(-footed) Diana. The story goes that her sisters would often say to her: 'Take up your javelin or your painted quiver, Salmacis, and combine your leisure with some hard hunting!' She neither takes up a javelin nor a painted quiver, nor does she combine her leisure with hard hunting, but she only bathes her shapely limbs in that spring of hers, and she often combs her hair with a comb (made of boxwood) from (Mount) Cytorus (i.e. a mountain in Paphlagonia renowned for its supply of boxwood), and she gazes in the water to see what makes her look most beautiful; now draped in a translucent robe, she lays her body in soft leaves or on the soft grass; often she gathers some flowers. And then she also happened to be gathering (these), when she saw the boy, and what she saw she longed to have.
Ll. 317-345. Salmacis falls for Hermaphroditus.
"Yet she did not go to (him), even if she was yearning to go to (him), until she had calmed herself, and had checked her clothing, and had arranged her appearance, and merited being considered beautiful.
"Then she began to speak as follows: 'Boy, O most worthy to be a god, if you are a god, you must be Cupid, or, if you are mortal, (those) who brought you to birth, (are) blessed, and any brother (you may have is) happy, and any sister, if you (have) one, and the nurse who gave (you) her breasts, is fortunate indeed: but far beyond all (of these) and far more blessed (is) she, if (there is) someone (who is) betrothed to you, if you think her worthy of marriage. If you have someone, let this pleasure of mine be a stolen (one), or if you don't have (someone), I shall be that (person), and we shall enter marriage together.'
"After this, the Naiad was silent. A red (flush) marked the boy's face - for he did not know what love (was) - , but yet his redness was most becoming. This is the colour of apples hanging from a sunlit tree, or of painted ivory, or of the moon blushing in her brightness, while the bronze (shields) clash as they vainly try to rescue (her). (While) the nymph begs endlessly for sisterly kisses, at least, and is on the verge of putting her hands on his ivory(-white) neck, he says (to her), 'You must stop, or I shall go and leave this (place) and you.' Salmacis was afraid, and says, 'Stranger, I freely surrender this place to you,' and, turning around, she pretends to depart, but then, looking back, she hides (herself) away, concealed in the shrubbery of the bushes, and lowered (herself) on bended knee. But he, thinking that he is unobserved, then walks about here and there on the vacant grass, and dips the top parts of his feet, as far as his ankles, in the playful waters; and without delay, captivated (as he is) by the coolness of the enticing water, he removes the soft clothes from his slender body.
Ll. 346-388. Salmacis and Hermaphroditus merge.
Then, Salmacis really was pleased, and was inflamed by a desire for his naked form: the nymph's eyes are blazing too, just like when brightest Phoebus (i.e. the sun) is reflected in the likeness of a mirror (placed) opposite his unclouded orbit. She can scarcely permit a delay, now she can scarcely contain her delight, now she longs to embrace (him), now, in her madness, she restrains herself without success. Clapping his body with hollow palms, he speedily jumps into the waters, and, drawing (himself through the water by) alternate arms (i.e. swimming), he shines in the clear water, as if someone is veiling ivory statues or shining white lilies with clear glass. 'I have won, and he is mine!' cries the Naiad, and, hurling away all her clothes, she plunges into the midst of the water, and grabs hold of (him) as he struggles, and she snatches fighting kisses, and puts her hands under (him) and touches his unwilling breast, and smothers the youth, now from this side (and) now from that; at last she clasps (him), like a snake, which the royal bird (i.e. an eagle) holds (in his talons) and carries off on high, as he (i.e. Hermaphroditus) struggles against (her) and tries to slip away: hanging (there), it binds his head and feet, and entangles his spreading wings with its tail: or, as ivy is wont to envelop tall tree-trunks, and as a cuttlefish holds the prey (it has) caught under water, wrapping its tentacles (around it) from all sides. Atlas' descendant (i.e. Hermaphroditus, whose father Mercury was the son of Atlas' daughter Maia) stands fast, and refuses the nymph's hoped-for pleasures. She hugs (him), and clings to (him), as though (she is) joined to his whole body. 'You may struggle, you perverse (fellow),' she said, 'but you will not escape. (O) gods, may you make the following decree! That no day may part him from me, or me from him.' Her prayers reached their gods: for the entwined bodies of the pair (of them) are joined together, and one form is exhibited in them (both), just as if someone grafts a twig on to the bark (of a tree), and he sees (them) united in their growth and developing together. So, when their limbs have met in a tight embrace, they are not two but a two-fold form, so that it is not possible (for them) to be called either woman or boy, and they seem neither one of them or both of them.
"So, when he sees that the clear waters, into which he had plunged (as) a man, had made him (into) a creature of both sexes, and that his limbs (had been) softened in them, Hermaphroditus says, but not now in a man's voice: '(O) father and mother, grant this gift to your son, who possesses the name of (you) both: whoever comes to these fountains (as) a man, let him go from here (as) a half-man, and let him, having been immersed in these waters, suddenly become soft.' Both his parents, moved (by this), fulfilled the words of their two-formed son, (which they had) ratified, and contaminated the fountain with an impure drug."
Ll. 389-415. The daughters of Minyas become bats.
This was the end of their stories. But, still, the daughters of Minyas press on with their work, and they spurn the the god and desecrate his feast, when suddenly unseen drums disturbed (the air) with harsh sounds, and pipes with curved horns and ringing brass resound; myrrh and saffron fill (the air) with perfume, and, an occurrence (which is) beyond belief, their looms began to grow green, and the cloth, as it hung (there), (began) to put forth leaves in the shape of ivy. Some (of it) turns into vines, and what have just been threads are changed into tendrils; a vine-shoot comes out of the warp; (and) the purple (fabric) lends its splendour to the coloured grapes. And now the day was passed, and the time was come which you cannot call darkness or light, but rather the borderline between uncertain night and light: suddenly the roof seems to shake and the oil lamps to burn and their house to shine brightly with glowing fires, and the false phantoms of savage beasts to howl. Immediately, the sisters conceal themselves throughout the smoke-filled house, and in separate locations they avoid the fires and the light; while they seek the shadows, a membrane stretches over their slender limbs, and a delicate wing enfolds their arms. The darkness does not enable (them) to know by what means they have lost their former shape. Soft feathers have not lifted (them) up, but they have raised themselves on transparent wings; and (when) trying to speak, they let out the tiniest squeak in line with (the size of) their bodies, and express their faint complaints with a hiss. They frequent rafters, not woods, and detesting the light, they fly at night, and derive their name (i.e. 'vespertiliones,' bats) from the late evening (i.e. 'vesper,' evening).
Ll. 416-463. Juno is angered by Semele's sister, Ino.
Then, indeed, Bacchus' divinity was talked about throughout Thebes, and his maternal aunt (i.e. Ino) speaks everywhere of the new god's great powers, and of (all) her sisters she was the only one free of troubles except (that) which her sisters caused.
Juno considers this (woman and) the lofty pride (which she) has in her sons, and in her marriage to Athamas and in the god (who was) her foster-child (i.e. Bacchus), and she could not bear (it), and (says) to herself: "That son of my rival (i.e. Semele) could change those Maeonian (i.e. Lydian) sailors and immerse (them) in the sea, and permit the flesh of a son (i.e. Pentheus) to be torn to pieces by his own mother (i.e. Agave), and cover over the three daughters of Minyas (i.e. Alcithoë, Arsippe and Leuconoë) with strange wings: can Juno (do) nothing except weep over her troubles? Is that enough for me? Is that my only power? He (i.e. Bacchus) teaches (me) what I can do - it is even possible to learn from your enemy - and he has sufficiently, and more (than sufficiently), shown what power madness can have by killing Pentheus: why should Ino not be tormented, and follow her relatives' example in her frenzies?"
There is a gloomy path sloping downwards, with a mournful yew-tree: it leads through still silences to the infernal regions. The sluggish Styx exhales vapours, and the shades of the newly dead descend there, when their ghosts (are) discharged from their graves. Pallor and winter occupy these wide thorny regions, and the newly-arrived shades do not know what road it is that leads to the Stygian city, where stands the cruel palace of black Dis (i.e. Pluto). This spacious city has a thousand entrances and open gates on every side, and, as the sea receives all the world's rivers, so that place (receives) all its souls, nor is it (too) small for any (number of) people, nor does it think that a crowd has come. (There) bloodless shades without flesh or bones wander (around), and some (of them) frequent the forum, some the house of the ruler of the depths, (while) others engage in certain trades (in) imitation of their former life, (and,) in the case of others still, their punishment corrects (them).
Leaving her home in heaven, Saturn's daughter, Juno, withstood the journey to those abodes - she gave up so much to her hatred and anger. As soon as she entered, and the threshold groaned (when) touched by her sacred body, Cerberus lifted up his three mouths, and at once gave out his three-fold barking. She summons the sisters, the children of Night (i.e. the Furies), and their dread and implacable divine power: they were sitting in front of the gates, (which are) enclosed by adamantine steel, and they were combing black snakes from their hair. As soon as they recognise her among the shadows of the darkness, the goddesses arose. The place is called accursed: (here) Tityos offers up his innards to be torn, and stretched out across nine acres; no (drops) of water can be caught by you, Tantalus, and the tree which he grasps at eludes (him). You, Sisyphus, either seek or push forward the stone that will (always) return; Ixion turns around, and follows after himself and flees; and the granddaughters of Belus (i.e. the forty-nine daughters of Danaus), who dared to devise the death of their cousins, continually take back again the water, which they (then) lose.
Ll. 464-511. Tisiphone maddens Athamas and Ino.
After Saturn's daughter (i.e. Juno) had looked at all of these with a fierce glance, and, above all, at Ixion, looking back from him to Sisyphus, she says, "Why, out of these brothers, should he (i.e. Sisyphus) suffer perpetual punishment, (while) a rich palace holds proud Athamas, who, together with his wife (i.e. Ino), has always scorned me?" Then, she expounds the reasons for her hatred and her journey, and what (it is) she wants. What she wished was that the royal house of Cadmus should not stand, and that the sisters (i.e. the Furies) should draw Athamas into a criminal act. She mixes command, promises (and) prayers into one (statement), and rouses the goddesses. So, when Juno (had) said these (things), Tisiphone, grey-haired as she was, shook her disordered locks, and threw back the obstructing snakes from her face, and says as follows: "There is no need for these long-winded words. Whatever (things) you order, consider (them) done." (Now) leave this hateful kingdom, and return yourself to the sweeter airs of heaven." Juno returned happily, and Iris, the daughter of Thaumas, purified her with drops of dew.
Without delay, the importunate Tisiphone takes up a torch soaked in blood, and puts on a robe dripping with gore, and is girded about with a writhing serpent, and leaves the house. Grief accompanies (her) as she goes, and Panic and Terror, and Madness with its twitching face. She stood on the threshold: they say that the door-posts of (the palace of) Aeolus (i.e. King of the Winds, and the father of Athamas and Sisyphus) shook, and a pallor tainted its maple-wood doors, and the sun fled the place. Athamas is scared, (and) his wife (is) terrified by these portents. They were preparing to leave the palace: the baleful Fury (i.e. Tisiphone) obstructs (them) and blocks the way out, and, stretching out her arms, (which were) wreathed with knots of vipers, she shook her hair. The snakes made sounds as she moved, and some lie on her shoulders, (while) others, sliding over her breasts, give out hissing noises, and vomit blood and flick their tongues. Then, she pulls two snakes from the middle of her hair, and threw what she had snatched with her deadly hand. Then, they slither over the bosoms of Ino and Athamas, and blow their oppressive breath into (them). Their limbs do not suffer any wounds: it is the mind that feels the dreadful strokes. She had also brought with her monstrous (potions) of liquid poison, foam (gathered) from the mouth of Cerberus, and the venom of Echidna (i.e. the mother of Cerberus, who was half-woman, half-snake), (causing) vague delusions, the oblivion of the dark mind, wickedness, tears, rage, and a love of murder, all rubbing together; these, she had boiled in a hollow bronze (cauldron), mixed with fresh blood, (and) stirred by (a stalk of) green hemlock. While they stand trembling, she pours this fearful venom over the breasts of both (of them), and sent (it) to the bottom of their hearts. Then, brandishing her torch, she pursues the fire with swiftly moving fires through the same repeated cycle.
So, having conquered, and having successfully carried out her orders, she returns to the insubstantial kingdom of mighty Dis, and she is ungirded of the snake (which she had) taken up.
Ll. 512-542. Ino becomes the goddess Leucothoë.
Forthwith, the son of Aeolus (i.e. Athamas), raging in the midst of his palace, cries out, "Ho there, my companions, spread our nets through these woods! I have just seen a lioness here with her two cubs." And, in his madness, he follows his wife's footsteps, as (if she were) a wild beast, and snatches up little Learchus, (who was) laughing and waving his arms, from his mother's breast, and whirls (him) two or three times through the air, like a sling, and (then) dashes the infant's head fiercely against a solid rock. Then, his mother, roused at last - either grief caused this, or the reason (was) the poison sprinkled (on her) - , howls violently, and flees madly, with her hair dishevelled, and, carrying little you, Melicertes, in her bare arms, she cries out, "Euhoe, Bacchus!" Juno laughed at the name of Bacchus, and said, " Help such as this may your foster-son give you!"
A cliff overhangs the sea: its bottom part is worn hollow by the breakers, and it protects the waves it hides from the rain; its summit is rugged and projects its front out over the open sea. Ino climbs this - her madness had given (her) the strength - and, unrestrained by any fear, she throws herself and her burden (i.e. Melicertes) into the sea; where she struck (it), the sea grew white.
But Venus, pitying her granddaughter's (i.e. Ino's mother Harmonia was Venus' daughter) undeserved sufferings, coaxed her uncle thus: "O Neptune, god of the waters, whose power (only) ceases near heaven, I ask great (things) indeed, but may you (please) take pity (on those relations) of mine, whom you see are thrown into the vast Ionic (sea), and add (them) to your (sea) gods. Some kindness is surely (due) to me, if only (because) I was compounded from the foam in the middle of the deep, and from that my Greek name (i.e. Aphrodite) (still) remains.
Neptune assented to her prayer, and took from them what was mortal, and he assigned (to them) a venerable divine majesty, and, at the same time, gave (them) a new name and form, and he called the god (i.e. Melicertes) Palaemon and his mother (i.e. Ino) Leucothoë (i.e. the White Goddess, and not the same as the lover of Sol).
Ll. 543-562. Juno transforms the Theban women.
Her Sidonian attendants, following her foot marks as well as they could, saw her very last (steps) on the tip of the rock; thinking that there was no doubt of her death, they bewail frantically the house of Cadmus, and tear at their hair and their clothes with their hands, (saying) that too little justice and too much cruelty towards her rival have caused the goddess's jealousy. Juno could not bear their reproaches, and said, "I will make you, yourselves, the best monument to my cruelty." Action followed her words.
Ll. 190-213. Leuconoë's story: Venus's revenge.
"But Cytherea (i.e. Venus), remembering the disclosure, exacted punishment, and harmed in turn with equal love the one who had harmed her love-making. (O) son of Hyperion (i.e. Sol), what use to you now are your beauty, your colour and your radiant light? Surely, you, who burns all lands with fires, will burn with a new fire; and you who should see everything, are gazing at Leucothoë, and you fix your eyes, which should be fixed on the whole world, on one virgin (girl). Sometimes, you rise too early in the Dawn sky, at another time, you sink too late into the waves; and you extend the hours of winter by a period of time, so that you can gaze (at her). Sometimes, you vanish altogether, and your mind's defect affects your light, and, (when you are) obscured, you terrify men's hearts. Nor do you fade because the shadow of the moon, (being) closer to the earth, gets in your way: that love of yours determines your colour. You love only her; Clymene (i.e. the mother of Phaëthon) and Rhode (i.e. the nymph of the island of Rhodes), and the most beautiful mother of Aeaean Circe (i.e. Perse), do not interest you, and Clytie (i.e. a daughter of Oceanus), although (she has been) scorned, was seeking union with you, and had a deep wound from that very time: Leucothoë has caused (you) to forget (so) many (of them), (she) whom the most lovely Eurynome (i.e. a goddess of the sea) brought to birth among the perfume-producing people. But, when her daughter grew (to womanhood), the daughter surpassed her mother (in beauty), as her mother (had surpassed) all (others). Her father, Orchamus, ruled the Achaemenian (i.e. Persian) cities, and he is counted seventh (in line) from their founder, ancient Belus.
Ll. 214-255. The transformation of Leucothoë into frankincense.
"Under Hesperian (i.e. Western) skies are the pastures of the horses of Sol. They have ambrosia instead of grass: this nourishes their weary legs after their daily (round of) duties, and refreshes (them) after their hard work. While his horses graze there on celestial fodder, and night performs her duties, the god (i.e. Sol) enters his beloved's bed-chamber, having changed into the form of her mother Eurynome, and (there) he sees Leucothoë in the lamplight among her twelve handmaids, drawing out fine threads and winding (them) on her spindle. So, when he gave (her) a kiss, just like a mother (gives) her dear daughter, he says, 'It is a secret matter. Depart, maids, and do not rob a mother of the ability to speak (to her daughter) in private.' They obeyed: when the bed-chamber was left without a witness, the god said, 'I am he who measures the length of the year, the eye of the world, who sees all (things), (and) through whom the earth sees all (things). Believe (me), you (really) do please me!' She is terrified, and, in her fear, both the distaff and spindle fell from her enfeebled fingers. Her very fear made her more attractive. And he, delaying no longer, returned to his true form and his accustomed brightness: then the virgin, although alarmed by this unexpected sight, (is) overwhelmed by his brightness, (and, all) complaint set aside, submitted to the god's assault.
"Clytie was jealous (of Leucothoë) - for her love for Sol had been without any restraint - (and,) goaded by anger at her rival, she broadcasts the adultery, and betrays (her) to her father by divulging (it). In his pride and wildness, that merciless man (i.e. Orchamus) buries (her) deep (in the ground), as she prays and stretches out her hands towards Sol's light, and cries out, 'He carried out his assault against my will,' and he heaps a pile of heavy sand on top of (her). Hyperion's son disperses this with his rays, and gives you a way by which you can show your buried face. (But) you, (poor) nymph, could no longer lift your head, crushed (as it was) by the weight of earth, and you lay (there), a bloodless corpse. It is said that the manager of those winged horses (i.e. Sol) had seen nothing more bitter than this, since the fires that (had destroyed) Phaëthon. Indeed, he tries (to see) if he could recall those frozen limbs to a living heat with the power of his rays: but, since fate obstructs such efforts, he sprinkled both body and place with fragrant nectar, and, after much prior lamentation, he said: 'You will still touch the air.' Immediately, the body, steeped in heavenly nectar, dissolved and soaked the earth in its perfume: a sprout of frankincense, gradually putting forth roots, sprung up through the soil, and burst through the summit of the mound.
Ll. 256-273. Clytie is transformed into the heliotrope.
"Now, the promoter of light (i.e. Sol) no longer visits Clytie or found in her any reason to love her, although love could have excused her pain, and pain her disclosure. Deranged by her experience of loving him, (and) impatient of deities, she wasted away, and, under the (open) sky, she sat night and day on the bare earth, dishevelled (and) with her hair unadorned; and, without food and water for nine days, she satisfied her thirst with pure dew and her own tears; nor did she stir from the ground: she only gazed at the god's face, as he passed, and turned her own face towards him. They say that her limbs clung to the soil, and her ghostly pallor changed part of her complexion to (that of) a bloodless plant; (but) she was partly red, and a flower like a violet hid her face. Though she is held by her roots, she turns towards Sol, and, (while) altered, she retains her love of him."
She finished speaking, and the miraculous action had captivated their ears. Some say it could not have happened, others that the true gods can do everything: but Bacchus is not among them.
Ll. 274-316. Alcithoë tells the story of Salmacis.
When the sisters have fallen silent, Alcithoë is called upon (next). She, standing (there), running the threads through the shuttle on her loom, said, "I (shall) keep silent about the well-known loves of Daphnis, the Idaean shepherd-boy, whom a nymph, in her anger at a rival, turned to stone - so great (is) the pain (which) inflames lovers. Nor (shall) I speak of how, with the law of nature effecting a change, Sithon once became of indeterminate gender, now a man, now a woman. I (shall) pass over (how) you too, Celmis, (who were) once a most loyal (friend) to the infant Jupiter, (are) now adamantine steel, (how) the Curetes (were) born from vast showers of rain, and (how) Crocus and Smilax (were) changed into small flowers, and I shall capture your attention with a charming new story.
"Learn from where the sturdy pool of Salmacis gained its infamous (reputation), (and) how it (so) badly weakens and softens the limbs it touches. The cause lies hidden, (but) the fountain's power is widely known.
"The Naiads (i.e. the water-nymphs) reared a boy, born to Mercury by the goddess Cytherea (i.e. Venus) in the caves of (Mount) Ida: his features were (such that) in them both his mother and his father could be seen; (and) from them he also took his name (i.e. Hermaphroditus). As soon as he reached fifteen years (of age), he abandoned his native mountains and, leaving behind Ida, his nursery, he delighted to wander in unknown places (and) to behold unknown rivers, his enthusiasm making light of the effort (of travelling). He even reaches the cities of Lycia and (those) of Caria (which are) near to Lycia. Here he sees a pool (which is) clear to its very bottom. There (there were) no marshy reeds, nor sterile sedge, nor any sharp-bladed rushes: the water was crystal clear; but the edges of the pool are bordered by fresh turf, and by grass (that is) always green. A nymph lives (there), but (she is) not keen on hunting, nor is she accustomed to bending the bow, or to compete in running, and (she is) the only (one) of the Naiads not known to the swift(-footed) Diana. The story goes that her sisters would often say to her: 'Take up your javelin or your painted quiver, Salmacis, and combine your leisure with some hard hunting!' She neither takes up a javelin nor a painted quiver, nor does she combine her leisure with hard hunting, but she only bathes her shapely limbs in that spring of hers, and she often combs her hair with a comb (made of boxwood) from (Mount) Cytorus (i.e. a mountain in Paphlagonia renowned for its supply of boxwood), and she gazes in the water to see what makes her look most beautiful; now draped in a translucent robe, she lays her body in soft leaves or on the soft grass; often she gathers some flowers. And then she also happened to be gathering (these), when she saw the boy, and what she saw she longed to have.
Ll. 317-345. Salmacis falls for Hermaphroditus.
"Yet she did not go to (him), even if she was yearning to go to (him), until she had calmed herself, and had checked her clothing, and had arranged her appearance, and merited being considered beautiful.
"Then she began to speak as follows: 'Boy, O most worthy to be a god, if you are a god, you must be Cupid, or, if you are mortal, (those) who brought you to birth, (are) blessed, and any brother (you may have is) happy, and any sister, if you (have) one, and the nurse who gave (you) her breasts, is fortunate indeed: but far beyond all (of these) and far more blessed (is) she, if (there is) someone (who is) betrothed to you, if you think her worthy of marriage. If you have someone, let this pleasure of mine be a stolen (one), or if you don't have (someone), I shall be that (person), and we shall enter marriage together.'
"After this, the Naiad was silent. A red (flush) marked the boy's face - for he did not know what love (was) - , but yet his redness was most becoming. This is the colour of apples hanging from a sunlit tree, or of painted ivory, or of the moon blushing in her brightness, while the bronze (shields) clash as they vainly try to rescue (her). (While) the nymph begs endlessly for sisterly kisses, at least, and is on the verge of putting her hands on his ivory(-white) neck, he says (to her), 'You must stop, or I shall go and leave this (place) and you.' Salmacis was afraid, and says, 'Stranger, I freely surrender this place to you,' and, turning around, she pretends to depart, but then, looking back, she hides (herself) away, concealed in the shrubbery of the bushes, and lowered (herself) on bended knee. But he, thinking that he is unobserved, then walks about here and there on the vacant grass, and dips the top parts of his feet, as far as his ankles, in the playful waters; and without delay, captivated (as he is) by the coolness of the enticing water, he removes the soft clothes from his slender body.
Ll. 346-388. Salmacis and Hermaphroditus merge.
Then, Salmacis really was pleased, and was inflamed by a desire for his naked form: the nymph's eyes are blazing too, just like when brightest Phoebus (i.e. the sun) is reflected in the likeness of a mirror (placed) opposite his unclouded orbit. She can scarcely permit a delay, now she can scarcely contain her delight, now she longs to embrace (him), now, in her madness, she restrains herself without success. Clapping his body with hollow palms, he speedily jumps into the waters, and, drawing (himself through the water by) alternate arms (i.e. swimming), he shines in the clear water, as if someone is veiling ivory statues or shining white lilies with clear glass. 'I have won, and he is mine!' cries the Naiad, and, hurling away all her clothes, she plunges into the midst of the water, and grabs hold of (him) as he struggles, and she snatches fighting kisses, and puts her hands under (him) and touches his unwilling breast, and smothers the youth, now from this side (and) now from that; at last she clasps (him), like a snake, which the royal bird (i.e. an eagle) holds (in his talons) and carries off on high, as he (i.e. Hermaphroditus) struggles against (her) and tries to slip away: hanging (there), it binds his head and feet, and entangles his spreading wings with its tail: or, as ivy is wont to envelop tall tree-trunks, and as a cuttlefish holds the prey (it has) caught under water, wrapping its tentacles (around it) from all sides. Atlas' descendant (i.e. Hermaphroditus, whose father Mercury was the son of Atlas' daughter Maia) stands fast, and refuses the nymph's hoped-for pleasures. She hugs (him), and clings to (him), as though (she is) joined to his whole body. 'You may struggle, you perverse (fellow),' she said, 'but you will not escape. (O) gods, may you make the following decree! That no day may part him from me, or me from him.' Her prayers reached their gods: for the entwined bodies of the pair (of them) are joined together, and one form is exhibited in them (both), just as if someone grafts a twig on to the bark (of a tree), and he sees (them) united in their growth and developing together. So, when their limbs have met in a tight embrace, they are not two but a two-fold form, so that it is not possible (for them) to be called either woman or boy, and they seem neither one of them or both of them.
"So, when he sees that the clear waters, into which he had plunged (as) a man, had made him (into) a creature of both sexes, and that his limbs (had been) softened in them, Hermaphroditus says, but not now in a man's voice: '(O) father and mother, grant this gift to your son, who possesses the name of (you) both: whoever comes to these fountains (as) a man, let him go from here (as) a half-man, and let him, having been immersed in these waters, suddenly become soft.' Both his parents, moved (by this), fulfilled the words of their two-formed son, (which they had) ratified, and contaminated the fountain with an impure drug."
Ll. 389-415. The daughters of Minyas become bats.
This was the end of their stories. But, still, the daughters of Minyas press on with their work, and they spurn the the god and desecrate his feast, when suddenly unseen drums disturbed (the air) with harsh sounds, and pipes with curved horns and ringing brass resound; myrrh and saffron fill (the air) with perfume, and, an occurrence (which is) beyond belief, their looms began to grow green, and the cloth, as it hung (there), (began) to put forth leaves in the shape of ivy. Some (of it) turns into vines, and what have just been threads are changed into tendrils; a vine-shoot comes out of the warp; (and) the purple (fabric) lends its splendour to the coloured grapes. And now the day was passed, and the time was come which you cannot call darkness or light, but rather the borderline between uncertain night and light: suddenly the roof seems to shake and the oil lamps to burn and their house to shine brightly with glowing fires, and the false phantoms of savage beasts to howl. Immediately, the sisters conceal themselves throughout the smoke-filled house, and in separate locations they avoid the fires and the light; while they seek the shadows, a membrane stretches over their slender limbs, and a delicate wing enfolds their arms. The darkness does not enable (them) to know by what means they have lost their former shape. Soft feathers have not lifted (them) up, but they have raised themselves on transparent wings; and (when) trying to speak, they let out the tiniest squeak in line with (the size of) their bodies, and express their faint complaints with a hiss. They frequent rafters, not woods, and detesting the light, they fly at night, and derive their name (i.e. 'vespertiliones,' bats) from the late evening (i.e. 'vesper,' evening).
Ll. 416-463. Juno is angered by Semele's sister, Ino.
Then, indeed, Bacchus' divinity was talked about throughout Thebes, and his maternal aunt (i.e. Ino) speaks everywhere of the new god's great powers, and of (all) her sisters she was the only one free of troubles except (that) which her sisters caused.
Juno considers this (woman and) the lofty pride (which she) has in her sons, and in her marriage to Athamas and in the god (who was) her foster-child (i.e. Bacchus), and she could not bear (it), and (says) to herself: "That son of my rival (i.e. Semele) could change those Maeonian (i.e. Lydian) sailors and immerse (them) in the sea, and permit the flesh of a son (i.e. Pentheus) to be torn to pieces by his own mother (i.e. Agave), and cover over the three daughters of Minyas (i.e. Alcithoë, Arsippe and Leuconoë) with strange wings: can Juno (do) nothing except weep over her troubles? Is that enough for me? Is that my only power? He (i.e. Bacchus) teaches (me) what I can do - it is even possible to learn from your enemy - and he has sufficiently, and more (than sufficiently), shown what power madness can have by killing Pentheus: why should Ino not be tormented, and follow her relatives' example in her frenzies?"
There is a gloomy path sloping downwards, with a mournful yew-tree: it leads through still silences to the infernal regions. The sluggish Styx exhales vapours, and the shades of the newly dead descend there, when their ghosts (are) discharged from their graves. Pallor and winter occupy these wide thorny regions, and the newly-arrived shades do not know what road it is that leads to the Stygian city, where stands the cruel palace of black Dis (i.e. Pluto). This spacious city has a thousand entrances and open gates on every side, and, as the sea receives all the world's rivers, so that place (receives) all its souls, nor is it (too) small for any (number of) people, nor does it think that a crowd has come. (There) bloodless shades without flesh or bones wander (around), and some (of them) frequent the forum, some the house of the ruler of the depths, (while) others engage in certain trades (in) imitation of their former life, (and,) in the case of others still, their punishment corrects (them).
Leaving her home in heaven, Saturn's daughter, Juno, withstood the journey to those abodes - she gave up so much to her hatred and anger. As soon as she entered, and the threshold groaned (when) touched by her sacred body, Cerberus lifted up his three mouths, and at once gave out his three-fold barking. She summons the sisters, the children of Night (i.e. the Furies), and their dread and implacable divine power: they were sitting in front of the gates, (which are) enclosed by adamantine steel, and they were combing black snakes from their hair. As soon as they recognise her among the shadows of the darkness, the goddesses arose. The place is called accursed: (here) Tityos offers up his innards to be torn, and stretched out across nine acres; no (drops) of water can be caught by you, Tantalus, and the tree which he grasps at eludes (him). You, Sisyphus, either seek or push forward the stone that will (always) return; Ixion turns around, and follows after himself and flees; and the granddaughters of Belus (i.e. the forty-nine daughters of Danaus), who dared to devise the death of their cousins, continually take back again the water, which they (then) lose.
Ll. 464-511. Tisiphone maddens Athamas and Ino.
After Saturn's daughter (i.e. Juno) had looked at all of these with a fierce glance, and, above all, at Ixion, looking back from him to Sisyphus, she says, "Why, out of these brothers, should he (i.e. Sisyphus) suffer perpetual punishment, (while) a rich palace holds proud Athamas, who, together with his wife (i.e. Ino), has always scorned me?" Then, she expounds the reasons for her hatred and her journey, and what (it is) she wants. What she wished was that the royal house of Cadmus should not stand, and that the sisters (i.e. the Furies) should draw Athamas into a criminal act. She mixes command, promises (and) prayers into one (statement), and rouses the goddesses. So, when Juno (had) said these (things), Tisiphone, grey-haired as she was, shook her disordered locks, and threw back the obstructing snakes from her face, and says as follows: "There is no need for these long-winded words. Whatever (things) you order, consider (them) done." (Now) leave this hateful kingdom, and return yourself to the sweeter airs of heaven." Juno returned happily, and Iris, the daughter of Thaumas, purified her with drops of dew.
Without delay, the importunate Tisiphone takes up a torch soaked in blood, and puts on a robe dripping with gore, and is girded about with a writhing serpent, and leaves the house. Grief accompanies (her) as she goes, and Panic and Terror, and Madness with its twitching face. She stood on the threshold: they say that the door-posts of (the palace of) Aeolus (i.e. King of the Winds, and the father of Athamas and Sisyphus) shook, and a pallor tainted its maple-wood doors, and the sun fled the place. Athamas is scared, (and) his wife (is) terrified by these portents. They were preparing to leave the palace: the baleful Fury (i.e. Tisiphone) obstructs (them) and blocks the way out, and, stretching out her arms, (which were) wreathed with knots of vipers, she shook her hair. The snakes made sounds as she moved, and some lie on her shoulders, (while) others, sliding over her breasts, give out hissing noises, and vomit blood and flick their tongues. Then, she pulls two snakes from the middle of her hair, and threw what she had snatched with her deadly hand. Then, they slither over the bosoms of Ino and Athamas, and blow their oppressive breath into (them). Their limbs do not suffer any wounds: it is the mind that feels the dreadful strokes. She had also brought with her monstrous (potions) of liquid poison, foam (gathered) from the mouth of Cerberus, and the venom of Echidna (i.e. the mother of Cerberus, who was half-woman, half-snake), (causing) vague delusions, the oblivion of the dark mind, wickedness, tears, rage, and a love of murder, all rubbing together; these, she had boiled in a hollow bronze (cauldron), mixed with fresh blood, (and) stirred by (a stalk of) green hemlock. While they stand trembling, she pours this fearful venom over the breasts of both (of them), and sent (it) to the bottom of their hearts. Then, brandishing her torch, she pursues the fire with swiftly moving fires through the same repeated cycle.
So, having conquered, and having successfully carried out her orders, she returns to the insubstantial kingdom of mighty Dis, and she is ungirded of the snake (which she had) taken up.
Ll. 512-542. Ino becomes the goddess Leucothoë.
Forthwith, the son of Aeolus (i.e. Athamas), raging in the midst of his palace, cries out, "Ho there, my companions, spread our nets through these woods! I have just seen a lioness here with her two cubs." And, in his madness, he follows his wife's footsteps, as (if she were) a wild beast, and snatches up little Learchus, (who was) laughing and waving his arms, from his mother's breast, and whirls (him) two or three times through the air, like a sling, and (then) dashes the infant's head fiercely against a solid rock. Then, his mother, roused at last - either grief caused this, or the reason (was) the poison sprinkled (on her) - , howls violently, and flees madly, with her hair dishevelled, and, carrying little you, Melicertes, in her bare arms, she cries out, "Euhoe, Bacchus!" Juno laughed at the name of Bacchus, and said, " Help such as this may your foster-son give you!"
A cliff overhangs the sea: its bottom part is worn hollow by the breakers, and it protects the waves it hides from the rain; its summit is rugged and projects its front out over the open sea. Ino climbs this - her madness had given (her) the strength - and, unrestrained by any fear, she throws herself and her burden (i.e. Melicertes) into the sea; where she struck (it), the sea grew white.
But Venus, pitying her granddaughter's (i.e. Ino's mother Harmonia was Venus' daughter) undeserved sufferings, coaxed her uncle thus: "O Neptune, god of the waters, whose power (only) ceases near heaven, I ask great (things) indeed, but may you (please) take pity (on those relations) of mine, whom you see are thrown into the vast Ionic (sea), and add (them) to your (sea) gods. Some kindness is surely (due) to me, if only (because) I was compounded from the foam in the middle of the deep, and from that my Greek name (i.e. Aphrodite) (still) remains.
Neptune assented to her prayer, and took from them what was mortal, and he assigned (to them) a venerable divine majesty, and, at the same time, gave (them) a new name and form, and he called the god (i.e. Melicertes) Palaemon and his mother (i.e. Ino) Leucothoë (i.e. the White Goddess, and not the same as the lover of Sol).
Ll. 543-562. Juno transforms the Theban women.
Her Sidonian attendants, following her foot marks as well as they could, saw her very last (steps) on the tip of the rock; thinking that there was no doubt of her death, they bewail frantically the house of Cadmus, and tear at their hair and their clothes with their hands, (saying) that too little justice and too much cruelty towards her rival have caused the goddess's jealousy. Juno could not bear their reproaches, and said, "I will make you, yourselves, the best monument to my cruelty." Action followed her words.
For (the one) who had been especially faithful cries, "I shall follow the queen into the sea, but, as she was about to make her leap, she could not move herself at all, and, stuck fast, fixed to the cliff. Another, while she tries to beat her breasts with the customary blows, felt her arms had gone rigid as she tried (to do so); the former, as she chanced to stretch out her hands to the waves of the sea, a hand made of stone extends over the same waves; the latter, as she she tore at the crown of her head to pull out her hair, you might suddenly see the stiffened fingers in her hair: and in whatever gesture she was caught, she was stuck in it. Others were made (into) birds; they, the women of the Ismenus (i.e. the Theban women), now also skim the surface of these depths with the tops of their wings.
Ll. 563-603. Cadmus and Harmonia become serpents.
The son of Agenor (i.e. Cadmus) was unaware that his daughter (i.e. Ino) and little grandson (i.e. Melicertes) were (now) sea-gods: overcome by grief and by this run of disasters, and by the many prodigies which he had seen, the founder leaves his city (i.e. Thebes), as if the misfortune of the place, (and) not his own, were oppressing him; and, driven by lengthy wanderings, he came to the borders of Illyria with his exiled wife (i.e. Harmonia).
And now, weighed down by their age and their woes, while they are reviewing the original destiny of their house and recounting their sufferings in their conversation, Cadmus says, "Surely that snake (which was) pierced by my spear, must have been sacred, at the time, when, having (just) come from Sidon, I scattered the snake's teeth, that strange seed, over the ground? If the diligence of the gods is avenging it with such sure anger, I pray that I, myself, may be stretched into a long belly (like) a serpent." He spoke, and is stretched into a long belly like a serpent, and he feels his scales growing on his stiffened skin, and his black body being chequered with dark-green spots. He falls forward on to his breast. And gradually his legs are fused into one, and are tapered into a rounded point. Now (only) his arms remain: he stretches out what is left of his arms, and, with tears flowing across his still human face, he said, "Come here, O wife, come here, (you) most unfortunate (person), and, while there is (still) something left of me, touch me and take my hand, while it (still) is a hand, (and) while the snake does not (yet) possess me entirely!"
Now, he wants to say (so) much more, but suddenly his tongue is split into two parts: (and although) he wishes (to speak), the words are not forthcoming, and, whenever he tries to emit some plaintive (sounds), he (just) hisses: nature has left him this voice. (Then,) striking her naked breast with her hand, his wife exclaims, "Hold on, Cadmus, (you) unfortunate (one), set aside this monstrous (shape)! Cadmus, what (is all) this? Where are your feet, where (are) your shoulders and your hands, and your colour and your face and, while I am speaking, everything (else), ? Why, (O you) gods, do you not change me into a similar snake as well?"
She finished speaking: he licked his wife's face, and slid between her beloved breasts, as though he were acquainted with them, and gave (her) a hug, and looked for the neck (which he) knew so well. Everyone who is there - their companions were present - is horrified: but she strokes the gleaming neck of the crested serpent, and suddenly there are two (of them), and they slither along with an intertwined coil, until they plunged into the shelter of a nearby grove.
Even now, they do not shun any man, or harm (anyone) by a wound, and these peaceful serpents remember what they once were.
Ll. 604-662. Perseus and Atlas.
But yet, their grandson (i.e. Bacchus), whom conquered India worshipped, had given both (of them) (i.e. Cadmus and Harmonia) great consolation, (even) in their altered form, and Achaea (i.e. Greece) glorified (him) in his (newly) established temples. Only Acrisius, the son of Abas, born from the same stock (i.e. he was descended from Belus, the brother of Cadmus' father Agenor), remains to keep (him) from the walls of the city of Argos, and to bear arms against the god, whom he does not consider to be the son of Jupiter; nor, indeed, did he consider Perseus, whom Danaë (i.e. Acrisius' daughter) had conceived in a shower of golden rain, to be the (son) of Jupiter. Soon, however, Acrisius -so great is the effect of the truth - regrets that he had so outraged the god that he had not acknowledged his own grandson: one (i.e. Bacchus) had already been assigned to the heavens, and the other (i.e. Perseus) was traversing the gentle air on beating wings, bringing back the remarkable prize of the snake-infested (head of) a monster (i.e. Medusa). And, as the victor hung above the Libyan sands, drops of blood fell from the Gorgon's head. The earth caught them and gave life to various (species of) snakes, as a result of which that country is regularly infested with snakes.
Driven from there by conflicting winds, he is carried this way and that through a vast (space) like a rain-cloud, and from the lofty sky he looks down from afar at remote (areas of) the earth, and he flies over the whole world. Three times he saw the frozen (constellations of) the Bears (i.e. Ursa Major and Ursa Minor), and three times the Crab's pincers: often he was taken right up to the west, often into the east. And now, with the daylight failing, (and) afraid to entrust himself to the night, he sets down in the region of Hesperus, in the realms of Atlas, and (there) he seeks a short rest, while Lucifer (i.e. the Morning Star) summons Aurora's (i.e. Dawn's) fires and Aurora the chariot of the day.
Here was Atlas, the son of Iapetus, who surpasses all men by (the size of) his huge body. This most remote land was under his sway, as was the ocean, which bathes in its waters Sol's panting horses and welcomes his weary chariot-wheels. A thousand flocks of his (sheep) and as many herds (of cattle) were roaming through grassy (pastures), and his soil was not encroaching upon any neighbouring (lands). The leaves on the trees, shining with radiant gold, concealed branches (made) of gold and apples (made) of gold. Perseus says to him, "My friend, if the glory of high birth impresses you, Jupiter (is) responsible for my birth; or, if you are an admirer of (great) deeds, you will admire mine. I am (only) looking for hospitality and rest." He (i.e. Atlas) was mindful of an ancient prophecy: Themis had given this prophecy on (Mount) Parnassus: "Atlas, the time will come, when your tree will be stripped of its gold, and a son of Jupiter will have the fame of this spoil."
Fearful of this, Atlas had enclosed his orchard with walls, and had given the (task of) guarding (it) to a huge dragon, and kept all strangers away from his territory. Then he says to him (i.e. Perseus), "Go far away, lest the glory of the deeds, about which you are lying, and Jupiter, (himself,) are of no help to you at all!" And he adds force to his threats, and he tries to push (him) away with his hands, as he lingers, and combines courage with calm words. Inferior in strength - for who was Atlas' equal in strength? - , he says, "Now, seeing that my friendship is of such small (importance) to you, accept this gift!" and, turning himself away, he held out Medusa's foul face on his left(-hand) side. Atlas became a mountain, as big as he had been: for his beard and hair turn into woods, his shoulders and hands are ridges, and what had previously been his head is (now) the crest on the mountain summit, and his bones become stone: then, enlarged on every side, he grew to an immense (height) - so you, gods, ordained (it) - and the whole sky, with all its stars, rested on him.
Ll. 663-705. Perseus offers to save Andromeda.
The son of Hippotas (i.e. Aeolus, the King of the winds) had locked up the winds in their permanent prison (i.e. under Mount Etna), and Lucifer (i.e. the Morning Star), who exhorts (us) to work, had risen at his brightest in the lofty sky. He (i.e. Perseus) ties the winged sandals, (which he had) taken up, on his feet, and girds himself with a curved sword, and cleaves the clear air in both directions on beating wings. Leaving behind countless nations around and below (him), he catches sight of the Ethiopian people and the fields of Cepheus (i.e. the King of Ethiopia). There the unjust Ammon (i.e. an Egyptian and Libyan god, identified with Jupiter by the Romans) had ordered the innocent Andromeda to pay the penalty for her mother's (i.e. Cassiope's) tongue.
When the descendant of Abas (i.e. Perseus) saw her fastened by her arms to the hard rock - he would have thought (her to be) a work of marble, except that a light breeze had ruffled her hair and her eyes were streaming with warm tears - , he unconsciously draws fire and is stunned, and, seized by the vision of the form (he had) seen, he almost forgot to shake his wings in the air. When he landed, he said, "O you who does not deserve these chains, but (rather those) by which ardent lovers are joined to one another, tell (me,) who wants to know, your name and (that of) your country, and why you wear these chains." At first, she says nothing, and, (being) a virgin, she does not dare to address a man, and she would have hidden her face modestly in her hands, if she had not been fettered: (but this was something) which she could (do), she filled her eyes with welling tears. At his repeated insistence, lest she seemed to be unwilling to acknowledge any fault of her own, she declares her name and (the name of) her country, and how great had been her mother's faith in her beauty. And, (while) everything had not yet been mentioned, the waves sounded, and a monster, coming from the deep sea, menaces (them), and takes possession of a wide stretch of sea beneath its breast.
The maiden cries out: her grieving father (i.e. Cepheus) and mother (i.e. Cassiope) are there together, both wretched, but she more deservedly (so). They bring no help with them, but (only) weeping and lamentation befitting the moment, and they cling to her fettered body. Then, the stranger (i.e. Perseus) speaks: "Plenty of time can be left to you for tears: (but only) a short time is available for action. If I, Perseus, the son of Jupiter and she whom Jupiter filled with a rich (shower of) golden rain (when she was) imprisoned (i.e. Danaë), that Perseus, (who was) the conqueror of the snake-haired Gorgon (i.e. Medusa) and who has ventured to fly through the aerial breezes on restless wings, were to seek her, I should surely be preferred to all (others as) a son-in-law. (If) only the gods should favour me, I will also try to add (further) merit to so great a marriage portion; I shall make a bargain, that, (when she is) rescued by my valour, she will be mine." Her parents accept the contract - for who (in such circumstances) would hesitate? - and they entreat (him) and promise (him) a kingdom in addition as his dowry.
Ll. 706-752. Perseus defeats the sea-serpent.
See, how the creature (comes), parting the waves by the force of its breast, like a speedy ship, with pointed prow, ploughs the waters, driven by the sweaty forearms of her crew; it was as far from the rock as a Balearic sling can send a whirling leaden-shot through the midst of the air: then suddenly the young man, pushing his feet from the ground, rose upwards to the clouds. When the shadow of a man appeared on the top of the surface of the water, the creature rages at the shadow. And, just as Jupiter's bird (i.e. an eagle), when it has seen a serpent in an open field, showing Phoebus (i.e. the sun) its livid body, seizes (it) from behind, (and) fixes its eager talons in its scaly neck, lest it twists back its cruel fangs, so the descendant of Inachus (i.e. Perseus, who derived from the royal house of Argos), hurling (himself) headlong, in his swift flight through the empty (air), attacked the beast's back, and, as it screamed, he buried his sword, right up to its curved hilt, in its right shoulder.
Hurt by the deep wound, now it rears up high into the air, now it dives under the water, and now it turns, like a fierce wild boar, when a baying pack of hounds scares (it). He (i.e. Perseus) evades the eager jaws by means of his swift wings, and wounds (it) with his curved sword wherever it is exposed, now its back, the top (of which) is thickly covered with hollow shells, now the ribs of its sides, now its tail where at its thinnest it ends like a fish. The monster vomits from its mouth seawater mixed with purple blood: its wings, (now) heavy, were soaked in spray. Perseus, not daring to trust his drenched winged-sandals any further, caught sight of a rock, which, at its highest point, stands out above the water (when it is) calm, but is covered over by the water (when it is) rough. Resting there, and holding on to the topmost pinnacle of the rock with his left(-hand), he drove his sword repeatedly through its entrails three or four times.
The noise of applause filled the shorelines and the lofty dwellings of the gods: Cassiope and father Cepheus rejoice and greet their son-in-law and acknowledge (him as) the pillar of their household and their saviour. Released from her chains, the maiden (i.e. Andromeda) comes forward, both the prize and the cause of his efforts. He washes his victorious hands in water (which is) drawn (for him), and, lest the harsh sand should bruise that snake-infested head, he softens the ground with leaves and strews (on it) plants grown under water, and (then) lays the face of Medusa, the daughter of Phorcys, (on them). The fresh plants, still absorbent and with their pith alive, seize hold of the monster's strength, and hardened at its touch, and took on a new toughness in its branches and foliage. And the ocean nymphs try out this wonderful exploit on more plants, and are delighted that the same (thing) happens, and repeat (it by) scattering seeds from them among the waves. Now even the same nature affected coral-stones, so that they acquire a hardness from a touch of air, and what was willow in the water becomes stone above water.
Ll. 753-803. Perseus tells the story of Medusa.
To the three gods, he (i.e. Perseus) builds the same number of altars out of turf: on the left to Mercury, on the right to you, (O) warlike virgin (i.e. Minerva), (and) there is an altar to Jupiter in the centre. A cow is sacrificed to Minerva, a calf to the wing-footed (god) (i.e. Mercury), and a bull to you, (O) greatest of the gods (i.e. Jupiter). Straightaway, he claims Andromeda as the portionless prize of his great deed: Hymen and Amor wave the marriage torch, the fires are saturated with bountiful perfumes, garlands hang down from the rafters, and everywhere there is the sound of flutes, pipes and singing, the happy evidence of joyous hearts. The folding-doors having been unbarred, the whole golden hall lies open, and Cepheus' chieftains enter the king's banquet (which has been) set out with fine preparation.
When they have done justice to the feast, they cheered their spirits through the gift of generous Bacchus (i.e. wine), and the descendant of Lynceus (i.e. Perseus) asks about the culture and the people of the country, its customs and the spirit of its heroes. (So) the descendant of Abas (i.e. Perseus) asks; in response to his question, the one who immediately tells the descendant of Lynceus about the customs and the spirit of their heroes, at the same time as he tells (him) about (these matters), said, "O most valiant Perseus, I beg (you), tell (us) by what prowess and by what arts you carried off that face with snakes for hair."
The descendant of Agenor (i.e. Perseus) tells (how) there is a spot lying below the frozen (slopes of Mount) Atlas (which is) secure in the bulwark of its solid mass; at its entrance lived sisters, similar in appearance, the daughters of Phorcys (i.e. the three Graeae: Deino, Enyo and Pemphredo), who shared the use of a single eye (between them). He took it stealthily (and) with skilful adroitness, substituting his own hand, while it was being passed around (from one to another), and, far from there, by hidden out-of-the-way (tracks) and (over) rocks bristling with rough shrubs, he reached the habitation of the Gorgons (i.e. Medusa, Stheino and Euryale, also daughters of Phorcys), and, here and there, among the fields and along the paths, he saw the shapes of men and wild animals turned from their own (natures) to hard stone, after seeing Medusa. Yet, he caught sight of dread Medusa's visage, reflected in the bronze shield which he bore on his left (side), and, while a deep sleep took hold of both her snakes and herself, he struck her head from her neck; and Pegasus, swift on his wings (i.e. the flying horse, afterwards ridden by Bellerophon in his conquest of the Chimaera), and his brother (i.e. the warrior Chrysaor) (were) born from their mother's blood. Then, he told (them) of the very real dangers of his long journey, (and) which seas, (and) which lands he had seen beneath him from his high (position in the sky), and which stars he had struck with his beating wings.
Yet he (still) finished speaking before (this was) welcome. (Then,) one of the many chieftains speaks next, asking why, alone of her sisters, she (i.e. Medusa) had borne snakes intermingled one after the other in her hair.
Their guest (i.e. Perseus) replies: "Since you seek to know (something which is) worth telling, hear the cause of what you are asking about. She was (once) most distinguished for her beauty, and (was) the jealously regarded hope of many suitors: of all her (charms), no feature (was) more admired than her hair. I came across (someone) who recalled that he had seen (her). The ruler of the sea (i.e. Neptune) violated her in the temple of Minerva. Jupiter's daughter turned away and hid her chaste countenance behind her aegis (i.e. shield). Lest this should go unpunished, she changed the Gorgon's hair into foul serpents. Now also, so as to frighten her enemies and paralyse (them) with fear, she sustains the snakes, which she created, on the front of her breast."
