For an introduction to Ovid and the work as a whole, the reader is invited to look at the introduction to the translation of "Metamorphoses" Book I, published on this blog on 1st February 2018.
Book X continues the theme of 'the pathos of love', which began on l. 401 of Book VI. The book focuses in particular on stories of doomed love, beginning with the celebrated tale of Orpheus and Eurydice. Shortly after the sad conclusion of this, ll. 148-739 are all conducted in the voice of Orpheus. Particular attention is given to the story of Myrrha and her incestuous love for her father Cinyras, and then to Venus and her love for Adonis, the unlikely offspring of that relationship. The metamorphosis myths recounted in Book X are as follows: Orpheus and Eurydice; Cyparissus; Ganymede; Hyacinthus; the Propoetides and the Cerastae; Pygmalion and his love for his statue (unusual in that it does not end unhappily); Myrrha and Cinyras; Venus and Adonis; and Atalanta and Hippomenes.
Then, enveloped in his saffron mantle, Hymen (i.e. the God of marriage) makes his way through the vast sky, and proceeds to the shores of the Cicones (i.e. a Thracian tribe to which Orpheus belongs), and (there) he is called in vain by the voice of Orpheus. He was present (at the marital festivities), it is true, but he brought (with him) no hallowed words, no joyful glances, no happy omen. Also, the torch that he held was hissing continually with tear-inducing smoke, and caused no flames when it was shaken around. The outcome (was) worse than any omen: for, while the newly-wedded bride wanders through the grass, accompanied by a crowd of naiads (i.e. water-nymphs), she is killed by a snake's tooth biting (her) in the ankle.
After the Rhodopeian (i.e. an epithet of Orpheus, taken from Mount Rhodope in his native Thrace) bard had lamented her to the high heavens, he dared to descend to the Styx (i.e. the river of hate, the principal river of the Underword, and often used as a synonym for the Underworld itself or for the state of death) through the gate of Taenarus (i.e. a peninsula on the southern tip of the Peloponnese, near the mouth of the River Eurotas, and traditionally seen as the entrance to the Underworld) to see if he might not also move the ghost of the deceased; through the weightless throng, and the phantoms (on whom a proper) burial had been performed, he came to Persephone (i.e. the daughter of Ceres, and queen of Hades) and the lord of the shadows, (he) who was the master of the joyless realm (i.e. Pluto, Dis or Hades). Then, striking his lyre-strings to (accompany) his words, he sang thus: "O gods of the world situated under the earth, to which all of us who is created mortal must return, if it is lawful, and, setting aside the fictions of false tongues, you allow me to speak the truth, I have not come down here to look at dark Tartarus (i.e. the Underworld), nor to bind the snaky hair (and) the three necks of the monstrous son of Medusa (i.e. Cerberus, the canine guardian of the entrance to the Underworld): the reason for my journey is my wife, into whose (veins) the poison of a viper (on which she had) trodden spread, and cut off her coming years. I wished to be able to endure (it), nor shall I deny that I have tried: Love won. He is a god well-known in the world above; whether he is (so) here, I am not sure: but I guess that he is (well-known) here too, and, if that story of rape in ancient times (i.e. Pluto's abduction of Persephone) is not a lie, Love also joined you (together). By these places (so) full of fear, by this huge abyss, and the silence of your vast kingdom, I beg (you) to reverse Eurydice's hasty death. We, (like) all (things), are destined to be yours, and, although we tarry for a while, sooner or later we hasten to that one abode. Here we are all bound, this is our final home, and you hold the longest reign over the human race. She too will be yours by right, when, full of age, she has completed her allotted (span of) years; I ask for this benefit as a gift. But if the fates deny this favour to my wife, I have made up my mind not to return: (in that case) rejoice in the death of the two (of us)."
The bloodless souls wept as thus he sang, while plucking his lyre-strings to (accompany) his words: Tantalus (i.e. the son of Jupiter, subjected to eternal thirst in Hades for serving his son Pelops to the gods in a a banquet) stopped trying to catch the runaway water, Ixion's wheel (i.e. for attempting to seduce Juno, Ixion was punished in Hades by being attached to an ever-revolving wheel) stood still in amazement, the vultures stopped plucking at (Tityos') liver (i.e. Tityos was a giant punished in Hades for attempting to ravish Latona by having vultures feeding eternally on his liver, which was then constantly renewed), while Belus' granddaughters (i.e. the fifty daughters of Danaüs, who, with one exception, murdered their husbands, the fifty sons of Aegyptus, on their wedding night, and were eternally punished in Hades by having to carry water in leaking sieves to fill a bottomless cistern) left their water-jars, and you, Sisyphus (i.e. the villainous son of Aeolus, who was eternally punished in Hades by having to roll a rock up a hill, and then having to pursue it as it rolled down again) sat down on your rock. Then, the story is that, for the first time, the cheeks of the Furies were wet with tears, (as they had been) overcome by his song. Neither the royal bride (i.e. Persephone), nor (the one) who rules over the depths (i.e. Pluto) could bear to refuse his entreaty, and they called for Eurydice. She was among the recent shades, and walked with a halting step on account of her wound. The Rhodopeian demi-god (i.e. Orpheus) received her, and, at the same time, (accepted) the requirement not to turn his eyes round behind (him), until he had emerged from the vale of Avernus (i.e. the Underworld): or that (,if he did,) his gift would be null and void.
They take the uphill path through the still silence, steep, dark, (and) gloomy with a dense fog. They were not far from the threshold of the upper world: then, fearing that he might lose (her), and eager to see (her), the lover turned his eyes back, and, at once, she slipped away, and, stretching out his arms, seeking to hold (her) and be held (by her), the unhappy (man) clutched nothing but the receding air. Now, dying a second time, she did not make any complaint about her husband: for what could she complain of, except that she had been loved? She spoke a last "farewell", that he could now scarcely hear, and turned back again to that same (place).
Orpheus was stunned by the double death of his wife, just like the cowardly (man) who saw the three necks of that dog, with his middle (one) carrying chains, (and) whose fear did not leave (him) until his former nature (did), as the stone spread throughout his body; and (you,) Olenos, who drew a charge upon yourself, and wished to be seen to be guilty, and you, O unhappy Lethaea, (too) proud of your beauty, your hearts, once closely-wedded, (are) now rocks, which (Mount) Ida, moist (with springs,) sustains.
The ferryman (i.e. Charon) fended (Orpheus) off, as he sought and begged in vain to cross (the Styx) again. Yet, for seven days he sat (there) on the banks in squalor (and) without any food: anxiety, grievous thoughts, and tears were his nourishment. Complaining that the gods of Erebus (i.e. the Underworld) were cruel, he took himself off to lofty Rhodope and the windswept Haemus (i.e. a mountain in Thrace).
Three times Titan (i.e. the Sun) completed the end of the year in watery Pisces (i.e. the constellation of the Fishes, the twelfth and last sign of the solar year, preceding the spring equinox), and Orpheus shunned all love of women, either because it had ended badly for him, or (because) he had given his pledge (to Eurydice). Yet, desire to join themselves to the bard was felt by many (women), and many grieved at their rejection. He was also the first of the people of Thrace to transfer his love to young boys, and to enjoy their brief springtime and early flowering on this side of their young manhood.
Ll. 86-105. The gathering of the trees.
There was a hill, and, on the top of this hill, a very flat area of level ground, which had been turfed with blades of grass: in that place shade was lacking: (but) when the bard born of the gods (i.e. Orpheus) reclined in some part (of this ground), and struck the sounding strings (of his lyre), shade came to the place. Nor was (Jupiter's) Chaonian oak-tree missing, nor (was) the grove of the daughters of Helios (i.e. poplars, into which the seven daughters of the Sun-God were turned, while weeping over the loss of their brother Phaethon), nor the durmast-oak with its lofty foliage, nor soft lime-trees, nor the beech and the virgin laurel, and frail hazel-trees, and the ash-tree, used for spears, and the silver fir-tree, free from knots, and the holm-oak, weighed down with acorns, and the pleasant plane-tree, and the maple, varying in its colours, together with river-haunting willow-trees, and the water-loving lotus, and the evergreen boxwood, and the slender tamarisk, and the two-coloured myrtle and the blue-berry bush. You came also, you clinging ivy, together with grape-vines full of tendrils, and elm-trees, wrapped in vines, and wild mountain ash-trees, and pitch-pines, and the strawberry-tree, weighed down with red fruit, and pliant palms, the victor's prizes, and the pine-tree enveloped in foliage and prickly on top, (a sight) pleasing to the mother of the gods, ever since Attis, beloved of Cybele, exchanged his human (form) for it, and hardened in its trunk.
Ll. 106-142. The death of Cyparissus.
Among this crowd came the cypress, shaped like the turning post (on a race course), now a tree, (but) once a boy, beloved by that god who (tunes) the lyre by (adjusting) its strings, and fixes strings to the bow (i.e. Phoebus Apollo). Now there was a huge stag, sacred to the nymphs that haunt the land of Carthaea (i.e. a town on the island of Ceos in the Aegean Sea), and he provided a deep shade around his own head from his widely extending antlers. His antlers shone with gold, and a bejewelled collar, lowered around his polished neck, hung down on to his soldiers. A silver charm, fastened by some small strips of leather, and of equal age (to him), quivered on the top of his forehead: around his hollow temples, pearls gleamed from both his ears. Free from fear, and setting aside his natural shyness, he used to visit (people's) homes and offer his neck to be stroked at will by strangers' hands. But, yet, above (all) others, he was dear to you, Cyparissus, the fairest (lad) of the race of Ceos. You used to lead the stag to fresh pastures, and to the waters of a clear spring. Now, you used to weave various flowers through his horns, (and) then (like) a horseman settling on his back, you delighted to curb his soft mouth this way and that with purple reins.
There was heat at noon, and the curving claws of the shore-loving Crab were burning in the steam (arising from the rays) of the sun: (being) exhausted, the stag had settled his body on the grassy turf, and was deriving some coolness from the shade of the woodlands. Carelessly, the boy Cyparissus transfixed it with his sharp spear, and, when he saw that it was dying, he decided that he wanted to die (himself). What comforting (things) did Phoebus not say, and he cautioned (him) to grieve in moderation and in proportion to the circumstances! But still the lad lamented, and besought this final gift from the gods, that he might mourn forever. And then, with his blood having discharged through the flood of his tears, his limbs began to turn into a green colour, and his hair, which, until a moment ago, was hanging over his pale forehead, became a bristling crest, and he took on a hard shape with a slender top looking up at the starry heavens. The god sighed, and said sadly, "You will be mourned by me, while you will mourn for others, and you will be present among those who are grieving."
Ll. 143-161. Orpheus begins to sing: Ganymede.
Such (was) the grove (of trees that) the bard had drawn together, and he sat in the midst of an assembly of wild animals and a crowd of birds. When he had tested a few strings, plucking (them) with his thumb, and felt that the various notes were in harmony, although (their pitch) sounded different, he raised his voice in song: "Begin my song with Jupiter, (O) Muse, my mother (i.e. Calliope)! - (for) all (things) yield to the sway of Jupiter! I have often sung before about the power of Jupiter: with a heavier plectrum (i.e. in an epic strain), I have sung about the Giants, and the conquering thunderbolts hurled at the fields of Phlegra (i.e. a region of Macedonia, which was the location of Jupiter's overthrow of the Giants). Now there is gentler work for the lyre, and I sing of boys loved by the gods, and girls crazed by forbidden fires and deserving punishment for their lust.
"The king of the gods once burned with love for Phrygian (i.e. Trojan) Ganymede (i.e. the son of Tros, and the brother of Ilus and Assaracus), and contrived to chose to be something other than what (he,) Jupiter, was. Yet, he does not deign to be changed into any bird except (the one) which could carry his lightning-bolts (i.e. an eagle). Without delay, he beat the air with his deceitful wings, and stole the Trojan (boy); he (i.e. Ganymede) still mixes (the wine in) the drinking cups, and, against the will of Juno, serves Jupiter his nectar.
Ll. 162-219. Hyacinthus.
"You, too, descendant of Amyclas (i.e. Hyacinthus, whose ancestor, Amyclas, was the founder of Amyclae, the town in Laconia, which was his home), Phoebus would have placed in heaven, if gloomy fate had given him the opportunity to put (him there). As it is, you are still immortal: and whenever spring drives winter away, and Aries follows watery Pisces, then you will arise and flower in the green turf. You my father loved above all (others), and Delphi, placed at the centre of the world, lost its presiding guardian, while the God (i.e. Phoebus) frequents the Eurotas (i.e. a river in Laconia) and unfortified Sparta. Neither his lute, nor his arrows, are (held) in honour: forgetful of himself, he does not object to carrying the nets, nor to handling the dogs, nor to travelling (as) your companion over the rough mountain ridges, and he feeds the flames (of his love) with your close association.
"And now the Sun was about halfway between the coming night and (the one that was) passed, and was separated by an equal distance from either of these: they relieve their bodies of their clothing, and, gleaming with rich olive oil, they enter into a contest with the broad discus. Phoebus balanced it first, (and then) hurled (it) high into the air, and scattered the intervening clouds with its weight. After a long time, the (heavy) weight fell back on to the solid ground, and it showed his skill and strength combined. Without thinking, and prompted by his desire to compete, the Taenarian boy (i.e. Hyacinthus) immediately ran forward to pick up the disc; but the missile rebounded, (and) the hard earth threw it up into your face, Hyacinth. The god went just as white as the boy himself, and cradles the fallen body; and now he (tries to) revive you, now to staunch your terrible wound, and now to sustain your departing spirit by applying herbs. (But) his arts are of absolutely no use: the wound was beyond cure. Just as if someone in a garden breaks violets, or a stiff poppy, or yellow lilies with their bristling stamens, (as) they wilt, they suddenly droop their shrivelled heads, and, unable to support themselves, they stare at the ground with their heads: so his dying head drops, and, as his strength fails, his neck becomes a burden to itself, and falls back upon his shoulder. 'You are slipping away, (O you) descendant of Oebalus (i.e. an early king of Sparta), cheated of your early youth,' says Phoebus, 'and I see my guilt (in) your wound. You are (the cause of) my sorrow and my crime: my right-hand must be assigned (as the cause) of your death! I am the agent of your funeral. But how (is it) my fault? Unless if taking part in a game can be called a fault, unless it can also be called a fault to have loved (you). If only I might be permitted to give up my life deservedly together with you! But, since we are bound by the law of fate, you will always be with me, and your memory will remain on my lips. The lyre, struck by my hand, and my songs will celebrate you, and, (as) a newly-formed flower, you will imitate my woes by your marking. And the time will come, when the bravest of heroes (i.e. Ajax, son of Telamon) will associate himself with this flower and will be identified by its petals (n.b. the hyacinth bears on its petals the letters "AI", the marks of woe, and the first two letters of Ajax's name).'
"While such (words) are being uttered by the sincere mouth of Apollo, behold, the blood, which had spilled on the ground and had stained the grass, ceases to be blood, and a flower springs up, brighter than Tyrian purple, and takes the form of a lily, (were) they not purple in colour, (whereas the colour) was silvery-white in those (others).
"This is not enough for Phoebus - for he was the author of the honour: he, himself, marked his woe on the petals, and the flower has the inscription 'AI AI', and the mournful letters are marked (there). Nor does Sparta regret to have fathered Hyacinthus, and his fame endures to this (very) day, and, celebrated by ancient custom, the festival of Hyacinthus returns each year, with the (flower) being carried along in procession.
Ll. 220-242. The Propoetides and the Cerastae.
"But if you should happen to ask the city of Amathus, rich in metals (i.e. a city in Cyprus, sacred to Venus, and famous for its mines) whether it would have wished to produce the Propoetides, it would repudiate (them), just like those (men), on whose rough foreheads there were once two horns: (it was)
from this, actually, that they derived their name, Cerastae. An altar to Jupiter the Hospitable used to stand in front of their gates; if any stranger, unaware of their wickedness, had seen it, stained with blood, he would have thought that suckling calves and sheep from Amathus (had been) sacrificed there: (in fact) a guest had been slaughtered. Outraged by their abominable rites, kindly Venus was in the process of abandoning her cities and the Orphusian (i.e. Cyprian) fields. 'But how (has) this dear place, how have my cities sinned? What crime,' said she, '(has been committed) in those (places)? Rather let this impious race pay the penalty of exile or death, or some (punishment that) is between death and banishment, and what could that be but the penalty of a changed form? While she is uncertain about what form she should change them into, she turned her gaze towards their horns, and these suggested (to her) that she could leave (them) with those: and she transforms their large bodies into wild bullocks.
"Still, the obscene Propoetides dared to deny that Venus was a goddess. For this (reason), they are said to have been the first to prostitute their bodies, together with their beauty, on account of the wrath of the goddess: and as (all sense of) shame was lost, and the blood had hardened in their faces, (they were) turned into hard flint, with (only) a small space of time intervening.
Ll. 243-297. Pygmalion and the statue.
"Because Pygmalion had seen (women) spending their lives in wickedness, (and had been) offended by the weaknesses which nature had implanted so deeply in female hearts, he lived (as) a bachelor without a wife, and, for a long time, lacked a partner for his bed. Meanwhile, with wondrous skill, he brilliantly carves snow-white ivory, and gives (it) a beautiful shape, such as no woman could (ever) be born with: and he fell in love with his own creation. Its appearance is (that) of a real girl, whom you might think is alive and wishes to be set in motion, if (proper) respect did not forbid (it): indeed, art hides his art. Pygmalion marvels, and a passion for this pretended (human) body consumes his heart. Often, he applies his hands to the work, trying (to see) whether it is a body, or whether it (is) ivory: still, he does not admit that it is ivory. He gives (it) kisses, and thinks they are returned, and he speaks to (it) and he holds (it), and he believes that his fingers leave an impress on the parts (they have) touched, and he is afraid lest a bruise may appear on the limbs he has pressed. Now, he addresses (it) with compliments, now he brings (it) gifts (which are) pleasing to girls: shells and polished pebbles, and little birds and many-coloured flowers, and painted balls, and the (amber) tears of the Heliades (i.e. the seven daughters of the Sun God), which have fallen from the trees; he also dresses the body in clothing, he places gems on its fingers, (and) he puts a long necklace around its neck: light pearls hang from its ears, and chaplets on its breast. All (these things) are becoming: but it appears no less lovely (when) naked. He places the (statue) on a bedspread, dyed with Sidonian murex (i.e. purple), and calls (it) the partner of his bed, and he lays its reclining neck on soft downy (pillows), as if it could feel.
"The day of Venus' festival had come, celebrated throughout Cyprus, and heifers, with their horns overlaid with gold, had fallen to a blow on their snow-white necks, and the incense was smoking, when Pygmalion, having discharged his offering, stood by the altar, and said shyly, 'If you gods can grant all (things), I wish to have (as) a bride' - (he did) not dare to say 'that girl of ivory' - (but he did say 'one) like my ivory (girl).' Golden Venus, as she, herself, was present at her own festival, knew what was the purpose of that prayer; and, as a sign of the goddess's kindness, the flame flared three times, and extended its crown through the air.
"When he returned, he sought the statue of his girl, and, leaning over the bed, he gave (her) a kiss: she seemed warm. He kissed her once more, (and) he also feels her breast with his hands: the ivory softens at his touch, and, as it loses its hardness, it subsides and yields to his fingers, as the bees' wax of (Mount) Hymettus grows soft again in the sun, and, (when) moulded by the thumb, turns into many shapes, and is made useful by its very use. While the lover is stupefied, and hesitantly rejoices and fears that he is mistaken, he re-enacts his wishes with his hand again and again. It was a (living) body: tested by his thumb, the veins are throbbing. Then indeed, the hero of Paphos (i.e. Pygmalion) conceives a multitude of words, by which he gives thanks to Venus, and, finally, he presses his mouth on a mouth (that was) no (longer) unreal: the girl felt the kisses (he) gave (her), and blushed, and, lifting her bashful eyes to the light, she saw her lover at the same time as the sky.
"The goddess (i.e. Venus) is present at the marriage which she had brought about. Then, when the lunar horns had come together to (form) a full moon nine times, she (i.e. Galatea) gave birth to Paphos, from whom the island takes its name.
Ll. 298-355. Myrrha's incestuous love for Cinyras.
The famous Cinyras was sprung from him, and he might have been considered among the fortunate, if he had been without offspring.
"I sing of terrible (events): fathers and daughters, keep far away from this (tale)! Or, if my song has charmed your mind, may your faith be wanting in this story of mine, and do not believe (it) happened, or, if you do believe (it), believe also (in) the punishment (that followed) what happened. If, however, nature allows such crime to be apparent, I congratulate the Ismarian (i.e. Thracian, the name Ismarian coming from Ismarus, a mountain in Thrace) people and my city, (and) I congratulate this land, because they are (so) far from those regions, where such sin was born. Let the land of Panchaia (i.e. an island east of Arabia) be rich in balsam, cinnamon, and its own aromatic perfume, and let it bear incense exuded from wood and its different flowers, while it bears myrrh as well: a strange tree is not worth such a price. Cupid, himself, denies that his weapons have (ever) harmed you, Myrrha, and he exonerates his torches from that crime of yours. One of the three sisters, with her swollen snakes and her firebrand (i.e. the Furies), breathed on you. It is a crime to hate your father: (but) that love (of yours) is a greater wrong than hatred. The pick of the princes from everywhere desire you, and young men from all of the East come to the contest of marrying (you). Out of all (of these), choose one man, Myrrha: but let not that one (man) be among (them) all. Indeed, she knows (it) and resists her disgraceful passion, and she says to herself, 'Where (is) my mind taking (me)? What am I trying to do? I pray (to you, O) gods, and (to) piety and the sacred laws concerning parents, prevent this wickedness, and put a stop to my sin, - if, indeed, it is a sin. But actually piety refuses to condemn such love, and (all) other animals mate (in this way) without it being an offence. It is not considered a disgrace for a heifer to bear her sire on her back, or for his own filly to be a stallion's mate, and a goat goes among the flocks he has produced, and a bird conceives through him, by whose seed it has itself been conceived. Happy (are) those (creatures) who are allowed (to do so)! Human concern has made malign laws, and, what nature permits, jealous laws forbid. Yet, they say there are races, among which mother is joined to son, and daughter to father, so that family affection increases by a two-fold love. How wretched I am, that I did not happen to be born there, and that I am injured by an accident of place! Why does my mind dwell on these forbidden (things)? Go away, (you) forbidden hopes! He is worthy to be loved, but (only) as a father. So, I could lie with Cinyras, if I were not great Cinyras' daughter; now, he does not belong to me, because he already belongs to me, and the very closeness (of our relationship) is a (source of) harm to me: I would be better off (as) a stranger. I would be pleased to go far away from here, and leave the borders of my native-land behind (me), if only I could escape from evil. Loving (him as I do), a wicked desire holds (me) back, so that I may see Cinyras face to face, and touch (him), and talk (with him), and give (him) kisses, if nothing further is allowed. But what more could you look for, (you) impious girl? And do you realise how many (sacred) ties and names you are throwing into confusion? Will you be both your mother's rival and your father's mistress? Will you be called your son's sister and your brother's mother? And will you not fear those sisters, covered with black snaky hair (i.e. the Furies), whom (those with) guilty hearts see attacking their eyes and mouths with their cruel torches? But you, as long as you have not experienced sin with your body, do not imagine it in your mind, nor pollute mighty nature's law by forbidden congress. Think what you wish: the law, itself, forbids (it). He (i.e. Cinyras) (is) a dutiful (man) and is mindful of custom - but, O, (how) I wish the same passion were in him!'
Ll. 356-430. Myrrha and her nurse.
"She finished speaking, but Cinyras, whom the worthy crowd of suitors had made uncertain (as to) what he should do, inquires of her, once their names have been declared, to whom she wanted to be married. At first, she is silent, and keeping (her eyes) fixed on her father's face, she hesitates, and her eyes fill with tears. Thinking this to be the shyness of a virgin, Cinyras tells her not to cry, and dries her cheeks, and joins their mouths (in a kiss). Myrrha is overjoyed at this gift: and, when she is consulted (as to) what kind of husband she might choose to have, she said '(someone) like you.' But he, not understanding her remark, praises (her), and says, 'May you always be so loving!' When he said the word 'loving,' the girl lowered her countenance, (being) conscious of her sin.
"It was midnight, and sleep had released (mortal) bodies from their cares. But, (being) wide-awake, Cinyras' virgin (daughter) stirs her ungovernable passion, and reawakens her frantic longings. At one moment she despairs, and at another she wishes to be tempted, both ashamed and eager (at the same time), and she does not (yet) know what she should do. As a huge tree, stricken by an axe, when the last blow remains (to be struck), is in doubt (as to) where it should fall, and there is fear on every side, so does her mind, weakened by many a wound, sway unsteadily this way and that, and she selects her movements in both directions. She finds no end or relief for her love, except death. (The thought of) death is pleasing (to her.) She arises, and resolves to to fix a noose around her throat, and, tying a belt to the top of a door-post, she said, 'Farewell, dear Cinyras, and understand the reason for my death!' and (then) she put the cord around her bloodless neck.
"They say that the murmured words came to the ears of her loyal nurse, (who was) watching at the foster-child's threshold. The old woman gets up and opens the door, and, seeing the instruments of death (which have been) prepared, she cries out, and, at the same time, she strikes her (breast) and rips the folds (of her dress), and she tears the cord from her neck and pulls (it) apart. Then at last, she finds the time to weep, and to give (her) hugs, and to ask the reason for the noose. The mute girl remains silent, and looks fixedly at the ground, and is sad that her attempts at a slow death (have been) intercepted. The old woman insists (on knowing), and, baring her white locks and her withered breasts, she begs (her) by (the memory of) her cradle and her first nourishment to tell her about whatever (it is that) is causing her grief. Tearing herself away from her questioner, she groans. The nurse is determined to get to the bottom of (it) and to promise not only her loyalty: 'Tell (me),' she says, 'and let me bring you help; nor does my old age slow me down. If it is some frenzy, I have (a remedy) which heals by charms and herbs, or, if someone has (sought to) harm you, you will be purified by magic rites, or, if it is the anger of the gods, their anger (is) easily appeased by sacrifices. What else do I think (it could be)? For sure, the destiny of your house is favourable and on course, and your mother and father are alive (and well).'
"Hearing (the word) 'father', she let out sighs from the bottom of her heart. Even now, her nurse does not perceive any sin in her mind, though she guessed it might be some love-affair. Persistent in her purpose, she begs (her) to tell (her) whatever it was, and she raises the weeping (girl) to her breast, and, holding her body thus in her feeble arms, she says, 'I have sensed you are in love! But set aside your fear, for my zeal will be accommodated to your (needs) at this time, and your father will never know of it.' In a frenzy, she leapt from her breast, and, pressing her face into the bed, she says, 'Go away, I beg (you), and spare (me from having to acknowledge) my wretched shame!' With vehemence she said, 'Go away (from me), or stop asking why I am grieving. What you are striving to know about is a crime.'
"The old woman shudders, and she stretches forth her hands, trembling with age and fear, and she falls, as a suppliant, at the feet of her foster-child, and now coaxing (her), now frightening (her), unless she should become aware (of it); and she threatens (her with) the evidence of the noose and her attempted death, and pledges her help in pursuing her love-affair. The (girl) raised her head, and the nurse's breast filled with her tears (which had been) welling up; often she tries to confess, often she holds her voice, and, hiding her face, in shame, in her clothing, she said, 'O mother, (how) fortunate (you are) in your husband!' So much (she said), and she groaned. A cold tremor goes through the nurse's limbs and bones, and her shaggy white hair stood in stiffened locks on the top (of her head). She told (her) firmly to discard, if she could, her fatal passion: but (while) the girl knows that she is being rightly advised, yet she is (still) determined to die, if she cannot obtain her desire. 'Live,' says the (nurse), 'possess your .... ' and not daring to say 'father', she was silent and confirmed her promise with a nod.
Ll. 431-502. Myrrha's crime and punishment.
"The women were celebrating that annual festival of dutiful Ceres, in which, with their bodies wrapped in white robes, they offer wreathes of corn as the first fruits of their harvest, and for nine nights they consider love-making and the touches of men as forbidden (things). Cenchreis, the king's wife, is present in that crowd, and she frequents the secret rites. So, finding Cinyras drunk with wine, while his bed (is) without of a partner, the nurse, wrongly diligent (as she is), tells (him) of one who truly loves (him), although her name is false, and praises her beauty. When he asked how old the girl (was), she says, 'Myrrha is the same (age).' After she had been ordered to bring her, and when she hd returned home, she said, 'Rejoice, my foster-child! We have won!' The unhappy girl feels no joy at all in her heart, and her heart mourned prophetically; but yet she also rejoices: such is the confusion in her mind.
"It was the hour when all is silent, and Boötes (i.e. the constellation of the Waggoner or Herdsman, here identified as Icarius, the father of Erigone), between the Bears (i.e. the constellations Ursa Major and Ursa Minor), had turned his wagon with its downward-pointing shaft: she (i.e. Myrrha) approaches her sinful act; the golden moon flees the sky, (and) black clouds cover the hiding stars; night lacks its fires. (You,) Icarius, and (you,) Erigone (i.e. the constellation Virgo; Erigone had been set in the sky following her suicide by hanging after finding her father's grave) immortalised by your pious love of your father, hid your faces first. Three times she (i.e. Myrrha) was checked by the omen of her stumbling foot, three times the gloomy screech-owl gave (her) a warning by its fatal shriek: yet (onward) she goes, and the shadows and the black night lessen her (sense of) shame; and she holds the hand of the nurse with her left(-hand), and her other (hand) explores the dark passage-way by its groping. Now she reaches the entrance to the bed-chamber, and now she opens the door and is led inside: but, as the backs of her thighs give way, her knees begin to shake, and she loses both her colour and her blood, and her courage leaves (her) as she goes forward. And the closer she is to that sin of hers, she more she shudders and repents of her audacity, and wants to be able to turn back unrecognised. (But,) as she hesitates, the old woman leads (her) by the hand, and, having brought (her) to the high bed, when she delivered (her) up, she said, 'Take (her), she is yours, Cinyras,' and she unites the accursed bodies. The father welcomes his own child into his indecent bed, and he relieves her virginal fears, and encourages (her, despite) her timidity. Perhaps, he also called (her) 'daughter', as a name suited to her age, and she said 'father', lest the names were wanting from their crime. She left her father's bed-chamber pregnant, and she bears his impious seed in her fatal womb, and carries the guilt she has conceived.
"The next night sees the crime repeated. Nor is that the end: when at last Cinyras, eager to know his lover, after coupling in this (manner), and, having fetched a lamp, recognised both his daughter and his guilt, and holding back his words, through grief, he pulls out his shining sword from the sheath (in which it was) hanging. Myrrha flees, and she escaped death through the shadows and through the gift of a dark night: roaming through the broad fields, she left palm-bearing Arabia and the land of Panchaia behind; she wandered through nine horns of the returning moon, until, exhausted, she rested at last in the land of the Sabaeans; now she could scarcely carry the burden of her womb. Then, not knowing (how) to pray, and amidst her fear of death and her weariness of life,she composed the following words of entreaty: 'O if anyone of you gods are open (to hearing) my confessions, I deserve, and do not object to, a dreadful punishment. But, lest I offend both the living by surviving, and the dead by dying, banish (me) from both realms, and, (by) changing me, deny (me) both life and death.'
"Some god listens to her confession: certainly her last request found its (way) to the gods. For, (as she was) speaking, soil covered her legs, and a root spread sideways through her broken toes (as) the support for a tall trunk; her bones took on (the part of) a tree, and in the midst of her remaining marrow, her blood turns into sap, her arms into big branches, her fingers into little (ones), (and) her skin hardens into bark. And now the growing tree had closely bound her pregnant womb, and had buried her breasts, and was getting ready to cover over her neck; she could not endure the delay, and sank down against the wood in order to meet (it), and plunged her face into the bark. Although she has lost her her former senses with her body, she still weeps and the warm drops trickle down from the tree. There is even a merit in her tears, and the myrrh distilled from the trunk keeps the name of its mistress, and there will no silence (about it) in any (future) age.
Ll. 503-559. Venus and Adonis.
"Now, the child, (which had been) conceived in sin, had grown within the tree, and was seeking a way by which it could leave its mother and reveal itself: the pregnant belly swells in the midst of the tree. The burden stretches the mother: the pain does not have its own words, nor can Lucina (i.e. the Roman goddess of childbirth, associated with Juno) be called upon in the voice of (a woman) giving birth. Yet still the tree is like a woman in labour, and, as it bends, if gives frequent groans, and is wet with falling tears. Gentle Lucina stood by the suffering branches, and laid her hands on (them), and spoke words in aid of childbirth. The tree opens up cracks, and, from its torn bark it gives up its living burden, and the boy cries; the naiads (i.e. water-nymphs) laid him on the soft grass and anointed (him) with his mother's tears. Even Envy would praise his beauty. For he was just like those torsos of the naked Amores (i.e. Cupids), painted in a picture: but, lest their attire should cause any distinctions, (you must) either add light quivers to him, or take away (theirs) from them.
Fleeting time slips by unnoticed and deceives (us), and nothing goes more swiftly than the years. That son of his sister and of his grandfather, who (was) recently hidden in a tree, has just been born, now a most beautiful child, then a youth, then a man, is now more beautiful than he himself (ever was): now he even attracts Venus, and avenges his mother's desire. For, while the boy wearing a quiver gives his mother kisses, he innocently scratches her breast with a loose arrow. The injured goddess pushes her son away with her hand. (But) the wound, (which had been) made, was deeper than it appeared, and deceived her at first.
Overwhelmed by a man's beauty, she no longer cares for the shores of Cythera (i.e. an island in the Aegean Sea, sacred to Venus, and on the shores of which she rose from the sea), nor does she revisit Paphos, surrounded by its deep waters (i.e. a city on the island of Cyprus, also sacred to Venus), and Cnidos, full of fish, (i.e. a city on the coast of Caria in Asia Minor), or Amathus, rich in metals (i.e. another city of Cyprus, famous for its mines); she even refrains from (visiting) the heavens: she prefers Adonis to heaven. She holds (him), and is a companion to him; and, (although she is) always used to indulging herself in the shade, and to increasing her beauty by cultivating (it), (now) she roams across mountain ridges, through forests and over thorny rocks, with her clothes girded up to the knee in the manner of Diana, and she cheers on the hounds, and chases the animals (that are) safe prey, either hares running headlong, or a stag with lofty antlers, or its hinds: (but) she keeps away from strong wild boars and ravening wolves, and she avoids bears equipped with claws, and lions glutted with the slaughter of cattle. She warns you, Adonis, to fear them too, (as) if anything could ever be achieved by a warning, and she says, 'Be brave with the timorous, but daring is unsafe amongst (those who are) daring. Do not be rash, young man, if I am in danger, nor provoke wild animals, to which nature has given arms, lest your glory should cost me greatly. Neither age nor beauty, nor (those things) which cause love affect lions or bristling boars, or the eyes and temper of (other) creatures. Wild boars have (the force of) a thunderbolt in their curved tusks, and tawny lions have an enormous anger in their onset, and (their whole) tribe is hateful to me.' When he asks (her) what (is) the cause (of this), she says, 'I will tell (you), and you will wonder at the monstrous (result) of this ancient crime. But now this unaccustomed effort has made me tired, and, look, that convenient poplar-tree entices (us) with its shade, and that turf provides (us) with a bed; I should like to rest here on the ground with you,' - and rest she did - , and she lay on both the ground and him, and, placing her head on the breast of the reclining youth, she speaks as follows, and interposes kisses in the midst of her words:
Ll. 560-637. Atalanta and Hippomenes.
" 'You may, perhaps, have heard of a certain (girl) who beat the fastest men in a running contest: that rumour was no fable: for she was a winner (all right); nor could you say (whether) her speed or her beauty was the more deserving of high praise. A god, when she had asked him about a husband, replied, "You have no need of a husband, Atalanta: flee from the requirement of a husband! But yet, you will not escape, and, (while still) living, you will lose yourself." Frightened by this god's oracle, she lives in the dark forests unmarried, and she escapes the crowd of insistent suitors by setting harsh conditions, and she says, "I shall not be won, unless (I have) first (been) beaten in a race. Compete with me in running: a wife and a marital bed-chamber will be given (as) prizes to the swift, (but) death (will be) the price (paid) by (those who are) slow. Let this (be) the condition of the contest." She (was) pitiless indeed: but - such is the power of her beauty - a rash crowd of suitors accepted these terms.
Hippomenes had sat down (as) a spectator of this cruel contest, and had said, "Who would seek a wife by means of such great dangers?" and had condemned the young men's excessive passions. (But,) when he saw her face and her body after she had taken off her clothing, (a body) like mine or like yours, if you are made (into) a woman, he was stunned, and, raising his hands, he said, "Forgive (me, you) with whom I have just found fault. The prize which you were seeking was not then clear to me." In praising (her), he develops a passion (for her), and hopes that none of the young men can run faster (than she can), and, because of his jealousy, he fears (the result). "But why is my chance in this contest being left untested? says he. "The god, himself, helps the bold." While Hippomenes is deliberating such (things) in his mind, the maiden flies (past) with the speed of a bird. Although she seemed to the young man from Aonia (i.e. the region of Boeotia, from which Hippomenes came) to go (past him) just like a Scythian arrow (i.e. an arrow belonging to the horse-riding nomads of the Eurasian steppes north of the Black Sea), yet he admired her beauty (all) the more. The breeze blows back the ankle(-streamers) attached to her flying feet, her hair is tossed (back) all over her ivory-white shoulders, and some garters with embroidered edges were just below her knees; and her body had acquired a blush over its girlish whiteness, just as when a purple awning across a marble-white courtyard stains (it) with pretended shadows. While the stranger (i.e. Hippomenes) is observing this, the final marker is passed, and the victorious Atalanta is crowned with a festive garland. The losers give a groan, and pay the penalty of their compact.
Yet, undeterred by the young men's fate, he stood up in the midst of them (all), and, fixing his gaze on the maiden, he says, "Why do you seek easy fame by beating the lazy? Compete with me!" "If fortune makes me the master, you will not be shamed by being overcome by such a (man as me): for Megareus of Onchestus (i.e. a city in Boeotia) (is) my father, (and as) Neptune is his grandfather, I am the great-grandson of the king of the seas, and my courage is no less (worthy) than my birth; or, if I am beaten, you will have a great and renowned name for defeating Hippomenes.
As he says these (things), the daughter of Schoeneus (i.e. Atalanta) looks at (him) with a softening expression, and is uncertain (whether) she wants to be conquered or to be victorious. And then she says the following: "What god, impatient with handsome (youths), wants to destroy this (one), and bids (him) seek marriage (to me) at the risk of his own dear life? In my judgment, I am not worth so much. Nor am I moved by his beauty - yet I could be moved by this too - but (by the fact) that he is still (only) a boy: he, himself, does not move me, but his age (does). What if he does have courage and a spirit unafraid of death? What if he is reckoned (as) fourth in (the line of) descent from the (king) of the seas? What if he does love (me), and thinks that our marriage is of so much importance (to him) that he would perish, if a harsh fate were to deny me to him? Depart, while you (still) can, stranger, and leave this blood-soaked marriage-making behind (you): marriage to me is a cruel (business). No (other girl) will be unwilling to marry you, and you can be chosen by a sensible girl. But why am I (so) concerned about you, (when) so many (others) have already died before (you)? Let him look out (for himself)! Let him die, since he has not been put off by the slaughter of so many suitors, and is driving himself towards a weariness of life. Should he die then, because he wanted to live with me, and should he suffer death as the price of love? My victory would not mean that envy would be swept away. But that is not my fault! If only you would stop, or, if you are mad (enough to continue), I do wish you might be the swifter! But what a virginal expression is (set) on his boyish face! O, poor Hippomenes, I wish I had never been seen by you! You were worthy to live. But if I were luckier, and the harsh fates were not preventing my marriage, you would be the one (person), with whom I would wish to share my bed."
" 'She (i.e. Atalanta) finished speaking, and as (she is) inexperienced, and, being touched by desire for the first time, (is) unaware of what is happening (to her), she loves and does not understand (it is) love.
Ll. 638-680. The foot-race.
" 'Now, the people and her father (i.e. Schoeneus) are calling for the usual foot-race, when Neptune's descendant (i.e. Hippomenes) invokes me with an anxious voice, and he says, "May Cytherea (i.e. Venus) stand by in support of my daring, and may she, I beg, sustain the fires (of love) which she has lit." A friendly breeze wafted this flattering prayer to me; and I was moved, I confess (it). (All the same), no long space of time could be given to my help. There is a field - the indigenous (people) call it the field of Tamasus; (it is) the best piece of soil in the land of Cyprus, and in the past the elders made it sacred to me and instructed that it should be added to my temples (as) a gift. A tree gleams in the middle of a field, with golden foliage (and) its branches rustling with yellow gold. Coming from there by chance, I was carrying in my hands three golden apples (which I had) picked: and, showing myself to no one but him, I went to Hippomenes and showed him what benefit (lay) in them.
" 'The trumpet had given the signal, when both (of them) flash forth from the starting block, and skim the surface of the sand with flying feet. You would think they could pass through the waves with dry feet and run over the standing heads of the ripened corn. Shouts and applause, and words of encouragement raise the young man's spirits: "Go on, Hippomenes, now, now (is) the time to exert yourself! Now (is the time) to use all your strength! Get rid of any delay, you are going to win!" (It is) unclear (whether it is) the heroic (son) of Megareus or Schoeneus' maiden (daughter who) rejoices more at these words. O, how often when she could already have overtaken him, she lingered, and (then), watching his face for a while, reluctantly left him behind! A dry (panting) breath came from his weary mouth, and the winning post was (still) a long (way off). Only then did Neptune's progeny (i.e. Hippomenes) throw one of the three (pieces of) fruit from the tree. The maiden was astonished, and, in her eagerness for the shining apple, she runs off the course, and picks up the spinning (piece of) gold. Hippomenes goes past (her)! The spectator-stands resound with applause. She made up for the delay and the lost time by a burst of speed, and left the youth behind her once more. And, having been held up again by the throwing of the second apple, she pursues and overtakes the man. (Only) the final section of the track was left. "Now," he says, "be near (me), goddess, originator of the gift!" and he threw the shining (piece of) gold vigorously sideways into a flank of the field, from where she would take longer to return. The maiden seemed to be in doubt (as to) whether she should chase (it): I forced (her) to pick (it) up and added (it) to the weight of the fruit (she was already) carrying, and I hindered (her) equally by the heaviness of her burden and the (time) delay. And, lest my narrative should take longer than the race itself, the maiden was overtaken; the winner led away his prize.
Ll. 681-707. The transformation.
" 'Surely, Adonis, I deserved, (did I not,) to be (someone) to whom he should give thanks (and) to whom he should bring an offering of incense? But, forgetting (all my help), he did not give me any thanks, nor did he give me any incense. I am thrown into a sudden (fit of) anger, and, aggrieved by this slight, I take care that an example (should be made of them), so that I should not be (so) scorned in the future, and I arouse myself against (them) both.
" 'They (i.e. Hippomenes and Atalanta) were going past a temple to the Mother of the gods (i.e. Cybele), hidden in the leafy woods, which noble Echion (i.e. one of the five surviving heroes sprung from the dragon's teeth sown by Cadmus) had once built in accordance with a vow, and the length of their journey persuaded (them) to rest. (While) there, stirred by my divine power, an untimely desire to make love takes hold of Hippomenes. Near the temple, there was a poorly lit recess, like a cave, roofed with natural pumice-stone, (and) sacred to the old religion, in which a priest had gathered together many wooden images of the ancient gods. He enters it, and desecrates the sanctuary by forbidden intercourse. The sacred (images) avert their eyes, and the (Great) Mother with the turreted (crown) (i.e. Cybele) wondered whether she should plunge the guilty (pair) into the waters of the Styx. (But) this punishment seemed (too) light. So, tawny manes cover their necks, (which were) smooth (but) a moment ago, their fingers are bent into claws, forelegs are formed from their shoulders, all their weight goes on to their breasts, (and) the surface of the sand is swept by their tails. Their expression has (a look of) anger, they utter growls instead of words, they frequent the woods for a bridal-chamber: (as) lions, (who are) a source of fear to others, they bite on Cybele's bit with tame teeth. You must avoid them, my beloved, and, with them, all species of wild animals that (do) not (turn) their backs in flight, but (rather) offer their breasts to the fight, lest your courage should be ruinous to both (of us).'
Ll. 708-739. The death of Adonis.
"Indeed, she warned (him), and (drawn) through the air by her harnessed swans, she goes on her way: but his courage stands opposed to her warnings.
"His dogs, following a well-marked trail, happened to rouse a boar from its lair, and, as it was preparing to rush from the woods, the young grandson of Cinyras (i.e. Adonis) struck (it) a glancing blow. At once, the wild boar dislodged the hunting-spear, stained (with its own blood, with its crooked snout, and chased (the boy, who was) alarmed and seeking safety, and buried all its tusks into his groin, and stretched him dying on the yellow sand.
"Cytherea (i.e. Venus), borne in her light chariot through the midst of the breezes, had not yet reached Cyprus on her swans' wings; she recognised from afar the groans of the dying (boy), and turned her white wings in that direction. And, when she looked down from the lofty sky and (saw) the body (and him) lying lifeless in his own blood, she leapt down, and tore both the folds (of her clothes) and her hair at the same time, and she beat her breast with indignant hand-palms. Complaining to the fates, she said, 'But yet, not everything is within your jurisdiction. There will remain an everlasting memorial of my grief, Adonis, and an imitation of your death, repeated annually, will complete a re-enactment of my mourning. Now, your blood will be changed into a flower. Persephone, you were once permitted to change a woman's body into fragrant mint, (were you not)? Will the transformation of the heroic (grandson) of Cinyras be grudged to me?' So saying, she sprinkled his blood with sweet-smelling nectar: (as soon as it was) touched by this, it swelled up, just as a transparent water-bubble always rises in yellow mud. Nor does the interval of time last longer than a full hour, when a flower arose of the same colour as blood (i.e. scarlet), such as pomegranates, which hide their seeds under a tough rind, are accustomed to carry. But the enjoyment of it is short-lived: for as it clings slenderly and falls too easily, the winds which shake off (its petals are) the same (as those) which give (it) its name (i.e. ἡ ἀνεμώνη, anemone, wind-flower).
After the Rhodopeian (i.e. an epithet of Orpheus, taken from Mount Rhodope in his native Thrace) bard had lamented her to the high heavens, he dared to descend to the Styx (i.e. the river of hate, the principal river of the Underword, and often used as a synonym for the Underworld itself or for the state of death) through the gate of Taenarus (i.e. a peninsula on the southern tip of the Peloponnese, near the mouth of the River Eurotas, and traditionally seen as the entrance to the Underworld) to see if he might not also move the ghost of the deceased; through the weightless throng, and the phantoms (on whom a proper) burial had been performed, he came to Persephone (i.e. the daughter of Ceres, and queen of Hades) and the lord of the shadows, (he) who was the master of the joyless realm (i.e. Pluto, Dis or Hades). Then, striking his lyre-strings to (accompany) his words, he sang thus: "O gods of the world situated under the earth, to which all of us who is created mortal must return, if it is lawful, and, setting aside the fictions of false tongues, you allow me to speak the truth, I have not come down here to look at dark Tartarus (i.e. the Underworld), nor to bind the snaky hair (and) the three necks of the monstrous son of Medusa (i.e. Cerberus, the canine guardian of the entrance to the Underworld): the reason for my journey is my wife, into whose (veins) the poison of a viper (on which she had) trodden spread, and cut off her coming years. I wished to be able to endure (it), nor shall I deny that I have tried: Love won. He is a god well-known in the world above; whether he is (so) here, I am not sure: but I guess that he is (well-known) here too, and, if that story of rape in ancient times (i.e. Pluto's abduction of Persephone) is not a lie, Love also joined you (together). By these places (so) full of fear, by this huge abyss, and the silence of your vast kingdom, I beg (you) to reverse Eurydice's hasty death. We, (like) all (things), are destined to be yours, and, although we tarry for a while, sooner or later we hasten to that one abode. Here we are all bound, this is our final home, and you hold the longest reign over the human race. She too will be yours by right, when, full of age, she has completed her allotted (span of) years; I ask for this benefit as a gift. But if the fates deny this favour to my wife, I have made up my mind not to return: (in that case) rejoice in the death of the two (of us)."
The bloodless souls wept as thus he sang, while plucking his lyre-strings to (accompany) his words: Tantalus (i.e. the son of Jupiter, subjected to eternal thirst in Hades for serving his son Pelops to the gods in a a banquet) stopped trying to catch the runaway water, Ixion's wheel (i.e. for attempting to seduce Juno, Ixion was punished in Hades by being attached to an ever-revolving wheel) stood still in amazement, the vultures stopped plucking at (Tityos') liver (i.e. Tityos was a giant punished in Hades for attempting to ravish Latona by having vultures feeding eternally on his liver, which was then constantly renewed), while Belus' granddaughters (i.e. the fifty daughters of Danaüs, who, with one exception, murdered their husbands, the fifty sons of Aegyptus, on their wedding night, and were eternally punished in Hades by having to carry water in leaking sieves to fill a bottomless cistern) left their water-jars, and you, Sisyphus (i.e. the villainous son of Aeolus, who was eternally punished in Hades by having to roll a rock up a hill, and then having to pursue it as it rolled down again) sat down on your rock. Then, the story is that, for the first time, the cheeks of the Furies were wet with tears, (as they had been) overcome by his song. Neither the royal bride (i.e. Persephone), nor (the one) who rules over the depths (i.e. Pluto) could bear to refuse his entreaty, and they called for Eurydice. She was among the recent shades, and walked with a halting step on account of her wound. The Rhodopeian demi-god (i.e. Orpheus) received her, and, at the same time, (accepted) the requirement not to turn his eyes round behind (him), until he had emerged from the vale of Avernus (i.e. the Underworld): or that (,if he did,) his gift would be null and void.
They take the uphill path through the still silence, steep, dark, (and) gloomy with a dense fog. They were not far from the threshold of the upper world: then, fearing that he might lose (her), and eager to see (her), the lover turned his eyes back, and, at once, she slipped away, and, stretching out his arms, seeking to hold (her) and be held (by her), the unhappy (man) clutched nothing but the receding air. Now, dying a second time, she did not make any complaint about her husband: for what could she complain of, except that she had been loved? She spoke a last "farewell", that he could now scarcely hear, and turned back again to that same (place).
Orpheus was stunned by the double death of his wife, just like the cowardly (man) who saw the three necks of that dog, with his middle (one) carrying chains, (and) whose fear did not leave (him) until his former nature (did), as the stone spread throughout his body; and (you,) Olenos, who drew a charge upon yourself, and wished to be seen to be guilty, and you, O unhappy Lethaea, (too) proud of your beauty, your hearts, once closely-wedded, (are) now rocks, which (Mount) Ida, moist (with springs,) sustains.
The ferryman (i.e. Charon) fended (Orpheus) off, as he sought and begged in vain to cross (the Styx) again. Yet, for seven days he sat (there) on the banks in squalor (and) without any food: anxiety, grievous thoughts, and tears were his nourishment. Complaining that the gods of Erebus (i.e. the Underworld) were cruel, he took himself off to lofty Rhodope and the windswept Haemus (i.e. a mountain in Thrace).
Three times Titan (i.e. the Sun) completed the end of the year in watery Pisces (i.e. the constellation of the Fishes, the twelfth and last sign of the solar year, preceding the spring equinox), and Orpheus shunned all love of women, either because it had ended badly for him, or (because) he had given his pledge (to Eurydice). Yet, desire to join themselves to the bard was felt by many (women), and many grieved at their rejection. He was also the first of the people of Thrace to transfer his love to young boys, and to enjoy their brief springtime and early flowering on this side of their young manhood.
Ll. 86-105. The gathering of the trees.
There was a hill, and, on the top of this hill, a very flat area of level ground, which had been turfed with blades of grass: in that place shade was lacking: (but) when the bard born of the gods (i.e. Orpheus) reclined in some part (of this ground), and struck the sounding strings (of his lyre), shade came to the place. Nor was (Jupiter's) Chaonian oak-tree missing, nor (was) the grove of the daughters of Helios (i.e. poplars, into which the seven daughters of the Sun-God were turned, while weeping over the loss of their brother Phaethon), nor the durmast-oak with its lofty foliage, nor soft lime-trees, nor the beech and the virgin laurel, and frail hazel-trees, and the ash-tree, used for spears, and the silver fir-tree, free from knots, and the holm-oak, weighed down with acorns, and the pleasant plane-tree, and the maple, varying in its colours, together with river-haunting willow-trees, and the water-loving lotus, and the evergreen boxwood, and the slender tamarisk, and the two-coloured myrtle and the blue-berry bush. You came also, you clinging ivy, together with grape-vines full of tendrils, and elm-trees, wrapped in vines, and wild mountain ash-trees, and pitch-pines, and the strawberry-tree, weighed down with red fruit, and pliant palms, the victor's prizes, and the pine-tree enveloped in foliage and prickly on top, (a sight) pleasing to the mother of the gods, ever since Attis, beloved of Cybele, exchanged his human (form) for it, and hardened in its trunk.
Ll. 106-142. The death of Cyparissus.
Among this crowd came the cypress, shaped like the turning post (on a race course), now a tree, (but) once a boy, beloved by that god who (tunes) the lyre by (adjusting) its strings, and fixes strings to the bow (i.e. Phoebus Apollo). Now there was a huge stag, sacred to the nymphs that haunt the land of Carthaea (i.e. a town on the island of Ceos in the Aegean Sea), and he provided a deep shade around his own head from his widely extending antlers. His antlers shone with gold, and a bejewelled collar, lowered around his polished neck, hung down on to his soldiers. A silver charm, fastened by some small strips of leather, and of equal age (to him), quivered on the top of his forehead: around his hollow temples, pearls gleamed from both his ears. Free from fear, and setting aside his natural shyness, he used to visit (people's) homes and offer his neck to be stroked at will by strangers' hands. But, yet, above (all) others, he was dear to you, Cyparissus, the fairest (lad) of the race of Ceos. You used to lead the stag to fresh pastures, and to the waters of a clear spring. Now, you used to weave various flowers through his horns, (and) then (like) a horseman settling on his back, you delighted to curb his soft mouth this way and that with purple reins.
There was heat at noon, and the curving claws of the shore-loving Crab were burning in the steam (arising from the rays) of the sun: (being) exhausted, the stag had settled his body on the grassy turf, and was deriving some coolness from the shade of the woodlands. Carelessly, the boy Cyparissus transfixed it with his sharp spear, and, when he saw that it was dying, he decided that he wanted to die (himself). What comforting (things) did Phoebus not say, and he cautioned (him) to grieve in moderation and in proportion to the circumstances! But still the lad lamented, and besought this final gift from the gods, that he might mourn forever. And then, with his blood having discharged through the flood of his tears, his limbs began to turn into a green colour, and his hair, which, until a moment ago, was hanging over his pale forehead, became a bristling crest, and he took on a hard shape with a slender top looking up at the starry heavens. The god sighed, and said sadly, "You will be mourned by me, while you will mourn for others, and you will be present among those who are grieving."
Ll. 143-161. Orpheus begins to sing: Ganymede.
Such (was) the grove (of trees that) the bard had drawn together, and he sat in the midst of an assembly of wild animals and a crowd of birds. When he had tested a few strings, plucking (them) with his thumb, and felt that the various notes were in harmony, although (their pitch) sounded different, he raised his voice in song: "Begin my song with Jupiter, (O) Muse, my mother (i.e. Calliope)! - (for) all (things) yield to the sway of Jupiter! I have often sung before about the power of Jupiter: with a heavier plectrum (i.e. in an epic strain), I have sung about the Giants, and the conquering thunderbolts hurled at the fields of Phlegra (i.e. a region of Macedonia, which was the location of Jupiter's overthrow of the Giants). Now there is gentler work for the lyre, and I sing of boys loved by the gods, and girls crazed by forbidden fires and deserving punishment for their lust.
"The king of the gods once burned with love for Phrygian (i.e. Trojan) Ganymede (i.e. the son of Tros, and the brother of Ilus and Assaracus), and contrived to chose to be something other than what (he,) Jupiter, was. Yet, he does not deign to be changed into any bird except (the one) which could carry his lightning-bolts (i.e. an eagle). Without delay, he beat the air with his deceitful wings, and stole the Trojan (boy); he (i.e. Ganymede) still mixes (the wine in) the drinking cups, and, against the will of Juno, serves Jupiter his nectar.
Ll. 162-219. Hyacinthus.
"You, too, descendant of Amyclas (i.e. Hyacinthus, whose ancestor, Amyclas, was the founder of Amyclae, the town in Laconia, which was his home), Phoebus would have placed in heaven, if gloomy fate had given him the opportunity to put (him there). As it is, you are still immortal: and whenever spring drives winter away, and Aries follows watery Pisces, then you will arise and flower in the green turf. You my father loved above all (others), and Delphi, placed at the centre of the world, lost its presiding guardian, while the God (i.e. Phoebus) frequents the Eurotas (i.e. a river in Laconia) and unfortified Sparta. Neither his lute, nor his arrows, are (held) in honour: forgetful of himself, he does not object to carrying the nets, nor to handling the dogs, nor to travelling (as) your companion over the rough mountain ridges, and he feeds the flames (of his love) with your close association.
"And now the Sun was about halfway between the coming night and (the one that was) passed, and was separated by an equal distance from either of these: they relieve their bodies of their clothing, and, gleaming with rich olive oil, they enter into a contest with the broad discus. Phoebus balanced it first, (and then) hurled (it) high into the air, and scattered the intervening clouds with its weight. After a long time, the (heavy) weight fell back on to the solid ground, and it showed his skill and strength combined. Without thinking, and prompted by his desire to compete, the Taenarian boy (i.e. Hyacinthus) immediately ran forward to pick up the disc; but the missile rebounded, (and) the hard earth threw it up into your face, Hyacinth. The god went just as white as the boy himself, and cradles the fallen body; and now he (tries to) revive you, now to staunch your terrible wound, and now to sustain your departing spirit by applying herbs. (But) his arts are of absolutely no use: the wound was beyond cure. Just as if someone in a garden breaks violets, or a stiff poppy, or yellow lilies with their bristling stamens, (as) they wilt, they suddenly droop their shrivelled heads, and, unable to support themselves, they stare at the ground with their heads: so his dying head drops, and, as his strength fails, his neck becomes a burden to itself, and falls back upon his shoulder. 'You are slipping away, (O you) descendant of Oebalus (i.e. an early king of Sparta), cheated of your early youth,' says Phoebus, 'and I see my guilt (in) your wound. You are (the cause of) my sorrow and my crime: my right-hand must be assigned (as the cause) of your death! I am the agent of your funeral. But how (is it) my fault? Unless if taking part in a game can be called a fault, unless it can also be called a fault to have loved (you). If only I might be permitted to give up my life deservedly together with you! But, since we are bound by the law of fate, you will always be with me, and your memory will remain on my lips. The lyre, struck by my hand, and my songs will celebrate you, and, (as) a newly-formed flower, you will imitate my woes by your marking. And the time will come, when the bravest of heroes (i.e. Ajax, son of Telamon) will associate himself with this flower and will be identified by its petals (n.b. the hyacinth bears on its petals the letters "AI", the marks of woe, and the first two letters of Ajax's name).'
"While such (words) are being uttered by the sincere mouth of Apollo, behold, the blood, which had spilled on the ground and had stained the grass, ceases to be blood, and a flower springs up, brighter than Tyrian purple, and takes the form of a lily, (were) they not purple in colour, (whereas the colour) was silvery-white in those (others).
"This is not enough for Phoebus - for he was the author of the honour: he, himself, marked his woe on the petals, and the flower has the inscription 'AI AI', and the mournful letters are marked (there). Nor does Sparta regret to have fathered Hyacinthus, and his fame endures to this (very) day, and, celebrated by ancient custom, the festival of Hyacinthus returns each year, with the (flower) being carried along in procession.
Ll. 220-242. The Propoetides and the Cerastae.
"But if you should happen to ask the city of Amathus, rich in metals (i.e. a city in Cyprus, sacred to Venus, and famous for its mines) whether it would have wished to produce the Propoetides, it would repudiate (them), just like those (men), on whose rough foreheads there were once two horns: (it was)
from this, actually, that they derived their name, Cerastae. An altar to Jupiter the Hospitable used to stand in front of their gates; if any stranger, unaware of their wickedness, had seen it, stained with blood, he would have thought that suckling calves and sheep from Amathus (had been) sacrificed there: (in fact) a guest had been slaughtered. Outraged by their abominable rites, kindly Venus was in the process of abandoning her cities and the Orphusian (i.e. Cyprian) fields. 'But how (has) this dear place, how have my cities sinned? What crime,' said she, '(has been committed) in those (places)? Rather let this impious race pay the penalty of exile or death, or some (punishment that) is between death and banishment, and what could that be but the penalty of a changed form? While she is uncertain about what form she should change them into, she turned her gaze towards their horns, and these suggested (to her) that she could leave (them) with those: and she transforms their large bodies into wild bullocks.
"Still, the obscene Propoetides dared to deny that Venus was a goddess. For this (reason), they are said to have been the first to prostitute their bodies, together with their beauty, on account of the wrath of the goddess: and as (all sense of) shame was lost, and the blood had hardened in their faces, (they were) turned into hard flint, with (only) a small space of time intervening.
Ll. 243-297. Pygmalion and the statue.
"Because Pygmalion had seen (women) spending their lives in wickedness, (and had been) offended by the weaknesses which nature had implanted so deeply in female hearts, he lived (as) a bachelor without a wife, and, for a long time, lacked a partner for his bed. Meanwhile, with wondrous skill, he brilliantly carves snow-white ivory, and gives (it) a beautiful shape, such as no woman could (ever) be born with: and he fell in love with his own creation. Its appearance is (that) of a real girl, whom you might think is alive and wishes to be set in motion, if (proper) respect did not forbid (it): indeed, art hides his art. Pygmalion marvels, and a passion for this pretended (human) body consumes his heart. Often, he applies his hands to the work, trying (to see) whether it is a body, or whether it (is) ivory: still, he does not admit that it is ivory. He gives (it) kisses, and thinks they are returned, and he speaks to (it) and he holds (it), and he believes that his fingers leave an impress on the parts (they have) touched, and he is afraid lest a bruise may appear on the limbs he has pressed. Now, he addresses (it) with compliments, now he brings (it) gifts (which are) pleasing to girls: shells and polished pebbles, and little birds and many-coloured flowers, and painted balls, and the (amber) tears of the Heliades (i.e. the seven daughters of the Sun God), which have fallen from the trees; he also dresses the body in clothing, he places gems on its fingers, (and) he puts a long necklace around its neck: light pearls hang from its ears, and chaplets on its breast. All (these things) are becoming: but it appears no less lovely (when) naked. He places the (statue) on a bedspread, dyed with Sidonian murex (i.e. purple), and calls (it) the partner of his bed, and he lays its reclining neck on soft downy (pillows), as if it could feel.
"The day of Venus' festival had come, celebrated throughout Cyprus, and heifers, with their horns overlaid with gold, had fallen to a blow on their snow-white necks, and the incense was smoking, when Pygmalion, having discharged his offering, stood by the altar, and said shyly, 'If you gods can grant all (things), I wish to have (as) a bride' - (he did) not dare to say 'that girl of ivory' - (but he did say 'one) like my ivory (girl).' Golden Venus, as she, herself, was present at her own festival, knew what was the purpose of that prayer; and, as a sign of the goddess's kindness, the flame flared three times, and extended its crown through the air.
"When he returned, he sought the statue of his girl, and, leaning over the bed, he gave (her) a kiss: she seemed warm. He kissed her once more, (and) he also feels her breast with his hands: the ivory softens at his touch, and, as it loses its hardness, it subsides and yields to his fingers, as the bees' wax of (Mount) Hymettus grows soft again in the sun, and, (when) moulded by the thumb, turns into many shapes, and is made useful by its very use. While the lover is stupefied, and hesitantly rejoices and fears that he is mistaken, he re-enacts his wishes with his hand again and again. It was a (living) body: tested by his thumb, the veins are throbbing. Then indeed, the hero of Paphos (i.e. Pygmalion) conceives a multitude of words, by which he gives thanks to Venus, and, finally, he presses his mouth on a mouth (that was) no (longer) unreal: the girl felt the kisses (he) gave (her), and blushed, and, lifting her bashful eyes to the light, she saw her lover at the same time as the sky.
"The goddess (i.e. Venus) is present at the marriage which she had brought about. Then, when the lunar horns had come together to (form) a full moon nine times, she (i.e. Galatea) gave birth to Paphos, from whom the island takes its name.
Ll. 298-355. Myrrha's incestuous love for Cinyras.
The famous Cinyras was sprung from him, and he might have been considered among the fortunate, if he had been without offspring.
"I sing of terrible (events): fathers and daughters, keep far away from this (tale)! Or, if my song has charmed your mind, may your faith be wanting in this story of mine, and do not believe (it) happened, or, if you do believe (it), believe also (in) the punishment (that followed) what happened. If, however, nature allows such crime to be apparent, I congratulate the Ismarian (i.e. Thracian, the name Ismarian coming from Ismarus, a mountain in Thrace) people and my city, (and) I congratulate this land, because they are (so) far from those regions, where such sin was born. Let the land of Panchaia (i.e. an island east of Arabia) be rich in balsam, cinnamon, and its own aromatic perfume, and let it bear incense exuded from wood and its different flowers, while it bears myrrh as well: a strange tree is not worth such a price. Cupid, himself, denies that his weapons have (ever) harmed you, Myrrha, and he exonerates his torches from that crime of yours. One of the three sisters, with her swollen snakes and her firebrand (i.e. the Furies), breathed on you. It is a crime to hate your father: (but) that love (of yours) is a greater wrong than hatred. The pick of the princes from everywhere desire you, and young men from all of the East come to the contest of marrying (you). Out of all (of these), choose one man, Myrrha: but let not that one (man) be among (them) all. Indeed, she knows (it) and resists her disgraceful passion, and she says to herself, 'Where (is) my mind taking (me)? What am I trying to do? I pray (to you, O) gods, and (to) piety and the sacred laws concerning parents, prevent this wickedness, and put a stop to my sin, - if, indeed, it is a sin. But actually piety refuses to condemn such love, and (all) other animals mate (in this way) without it being an offence. It is not considered a disgrace for a heifer to bear her sire on her back, or for his own filly to be a stallion's mate, and a goat goes among the flocks he has produced, and a bird conceives through him, by whose seed it has itself been conceived. Happy (are) those (creatures) who are allowed (to do so)! Human concern has made malign laws, and, what nature permits, jealous laws forbid. Yet, they say there are races, among which mother is joined to son, and daughter to father, so that family affection increases by a two-fold love. How wretched I am, that I did not happen to be born there, and that I am injured by an accident of place! Why does my mind dwell on these forbidden (things)? Go away, (you) forbidden hopes! He is worthy to be loved, but (only) as a father. So, I could lie with Cinyras, if I were not great Cinyras' daughter; now, he does not belong to me, because he already belongs to me, and the very closeness (of our relationship) is a (source of) harm to me: I would be better off (as) a stranger. I would be pleased to go far away from here, and leave the borders of my native-land behind (me), if only I could escape from evil. Loving (him as I do), a wicked desire holds (me) back, so that I may see Cinyras face to face, and touch (him), and talk (with him), and give (him) kisses, if nothing further is allowed. But what more could you look for, (you) impious girl? And do you realise how many (sacred) ties and names you are throwing into confusion? Will you be both your mother's rival and your father's mistress? Will you be called your son's sister and your brother's mother? And will you not fear those sisters, covered with black snaky hair (i.e. the Furies), whom (those with) guilty hearts see attacking their eyes and mouths with their cruel torches? But you, as long as you have not experienced sin with your body, do not imagine it in your mind, nor pollute mighty nature's law by forbidden congress. Think what you wish: the law, itself, forbids (it). He (i.e. Cinyras) (is) a dutiful (man) and is mindful of custom - but, O, (how) I wish the same passion were in him!'
Ll. 356-430. Myrrha and her nurse.
"She finished speaking, but Cinyras, whom the worthy crowd of suitors had made uncertain (as to) what he should do, inquires of her, once their names have been declared, to whom she wanted to be married. At first, she is silent, and keeping (her eyes) fixed on her father's face, she hesitates, and her eyes fill with tears. Thinking this to be the shyness of a virgin, Cinyras tells her not to cry, and dries her cheeks, and joins their mouths (in a kiss). Myrrha is overjoyed at this gift: and, when she is consulted (as to) what kind of husband she might choose to have, she said '(someone) like you.' But he, not understanding her remark, praises (her), and says, 'May you always be so loving!' When he said the word 'loving,' the girl lowered her countenance, (being) conscious of her sin.
"It was midnight, and sleep had released (mortal) bodies from their cares. But, (being) wide-awake, Cinyras' virgin (daughter) stirs her ungovernable passion, and reawakens her frantic longings. At one moment she despairs, and at another she wishes to be tempted, both ashamed and eager (at the same time), and she does not (yet) know what she should do. As a huge tree, stricken by an axe, when the last blow remains (to be struck), is in doubt (as to) where it should fall, and there is fear on every side, so does her mind, weakened by many a wound, sway unsteadily this way and that, and she selects her movements in both directions. She finds no end or relief for her love, except death. (The thought of) death is pleasing (to her.) She arises, and resolves to to fix a noose around her throat, and, tying a belt to the top of a door-post, she said, 'Farewell, dear Cinyras, and understand the reason for my death!' and (then) she put the cord around her bloodless neck.
"They say that the murmured words came to the ears of her loyal nurse, (who was) watching at the foster-child's threshold. The old woman gets up and opens the door, and, seeing the instruments of death (which have been) prepared, she cries out, and, at the same time, she strikes her (breast) and rips the folds (of her dress), and she tears the cord from her neck and pulls (it) apart. Then at last, she finds the time to weep, and to give (her) hugs, and to ask the reason for the noose. The mute girl remains silent, and looks fixedly at the ground, and is sad that her attempts at a slow death (have been) intercepted. The old woman insists (on knowing), and, baring her white locks and her withered breasts, she begs (her) by (the memory of) her cradle and her first nourishment to tell her about whatever (it is that) is causing her grief. Tearing herself away from her questioner, she groans. The nurse is determined to get to the bottom of (it) and to promise not only her loyalty: 'Tell (me),' she says, 'and let me bring you help; nor does my old age slow me down. If it is some frenzy, I have (a remedy) which heals by charms and herbs, or, if someone has (sought to) harm you, you will be purified by magic rites, or, if it is the anger of the gods, their anger (is) easily appeased by sacrifices. What else do I think (it could be)? For sure, the destiny of your house is favourable and on course, and your mother and father are alive (and well).'
"Hearing (the word) 'father', she let out sighs from the bottom of her heart. Even now, her nurse does not perceive any sin in her mind, though she guessed it might be some love-affair. Persistent in her purpose, she begs (her) to tell (her) whatever it was, and she raises the weeping (girl) to her breast, and, holding her body thus in her feeble arms, she says, 'I have sensed you are in love! But set aside your fear, for my zeal will be accommodated to your (needs) at this time, and your father will never know of it.' In a frenzy, she leapt from her breast, and, pressing her face into the bed, she says, 'Go away, I beg (you), and spare (me from having to acknowledge) my wretched shame!' With vehemence she said, 'Go away (from me), or stop asking why I am grieving. What you are striving to know about is a crime.'
"The old woman shudders, and she stretches forth her hands, trembling with age and fear, and she falls, as a suppliant, at the feet of her foster-child, and now coaxing (her), now frightening (her), unless she should become aware (of it); and she threatens (her with) the evidence of the noose and her attempted death, and pledges her help in pursuing her love-affair. The (girl) raised her head, and the nurse's breast filled with her tears (which had been) welling up; often she tries to confess, often she holds her voice, and, hiding her face, in shame, in her clothing, she said, 'O mother, (how) fortunate (you are) in your husband!' So much (she said), and she groaned. A cold tremor goes through the nurse's limbs and bones, and her shaggy white hair stood in stiffened locks on the top (of her head). She told (her) firmly to discard, if she could, her fatal passion: but (while) the girl knows that she is being rightly advised, yet she is (still) determined to die, if she cannot obtain her desire. 'Live,' says the (nurse), 'possess your .... ' and not daring to say 'father', she was silent and confirmed her promise with a nod.
Ll. 431-502. Myrrha's crime and punishment.
"The women were celebrating that annual festival of dutiful Ceres, in which, with their bodies wrapped in white robes, they offer wreathes of corn as the first fruits of their harvest, and for nine nights they consider love-making and the touches of men as forbidden (things). Cenchreis, the king's wife, is present in that crowd, and she frequents the secret rites. So, finding Cinyras drunk with wine, while his bed (is) without of a partner, the nurse, wrongly diligent (as she is), tells (him) of one who truly loves (him), although her name is false, and praises her beauty. When he asked how old the girl (was), she says, 'Myrrha is the same (age).' After she had been ordered to bring her, and when she hd returned home, she said, 'Rejoice, my foster-child! We have won!' The unhappy girl feels no joy at all in her heart, and her heart mourned prophetically; but yet she also rejoices: such is the confusion in her mind.
"It was the hour when all is silent, and Boötes (i.e. the constellation of the Waggoner or Herdsman, here identified as Icarius, the father of Erigone), between the Bears (i.e. the constellations Ursa Major and Ursa Minor), had turned his wagon with its downward-pointing shaft: she (i.e. Myrrha) approaches her sinful act; the golden moon flees the sky, (and) black clouds cover the hiding stars; night lacks its fires. (You,) Icarius, and (you,) Erigone (i.e. the constellation Virgo; Erigone had been set in the sky following her suicide by hanging after finding her father's grave) immortalised by your pious love of your father, hid your faces first. Three times she (i.e. Myrrha) was checked by the omen of her stumbling foot, three times the gloomy screech-owl gave (her) a warning by its fatal shriek: yet (onward) she goes, and the shadows and the black night lessen her (sense of) shame; and she holds the hand of the nurse with her left(-hand), and her other (hand) explores the dark passage-way by its groping. Now she reaches the entrance to the bed-chamber, and now she opens the door and is led inside: but, as the backs of her thighs give way, her knees begin to shake, and she loses both her colour and her blood, and her courage leaves (her) as she goes forward. And the closer she is to that sin of hers, she more she shudders and repents of her audacity, and wants to be able to turn back unrecognised. (But,) as she hesitates, the old woman leads (her) by the hand, and, having brought (her) to the high bed, when she delivered (her) up, she said, 'Take (her), she is yours, Cinyras,' and she unites the accursed bodies. The father welcomes his own child into his indecent bed, and he relieves her virginal fears, and encourages (her, despite) her timidity. Perhaps, he also called (her) 'daughter', as a name suited to her age, and she said 'father', lest the names were wanting from their crime. She left her father's bed-chamber pregnant, and she bears his impious seed in her fatal womb, and carries the guilt she has conceived.
"The next night sees the crime repeated. Nor is that the end: when at last Cinyras, eager to know his lover, after coupling in this (manner), and, having fetched a lamp, recognised both his daughter and his guilt, and holding back his words, through grief, he pulls out his shining sword from the sheath (in which it was) hanging. Myrrha flees, and she escaped death through the shadows and through the gift of a dark night: roaming through the broad fields, she left palm-bearing Arabia and the land of Panchaia behind; she wandered through nine horns of the returning moon, until, exhausted, she rested at last in the land of the Sabaeans; now she could scarcely carry the burden of her womb. Then, not knowing (how) to pray, and amidst her fear of death and her weariness of life,she composed the following words of entreaty: 'O if anyone of you gods are open (to hearing) my confessions, I deserve, and do not object to, a dreadful punishment. But, lest I offend both the living by surviving, and the dead by dying, banish (me) from both realms, and, (by) changing me, deny (me) both life and death.'
"Some god listens to her confession: certainly her last request found its (way) to the gods. For, (as she was) speaking, soil covered her legs, and a root spread sideways through her broken toes (as) the support for a tall trunk; her bones took on (the part of) a tree, and in the midst of her remaining marrow, her blood turns into sap, her arms into big branches, her fingers into little (ones), (and) her skin hardens into bark. And now the growing tree had closely bound her pregnant womb, and had buried her breasts, and was getting ready to cover over her neck; she could not endure the delay, and sank down against the wood in order to meet (it), and plunged her face into the bark. Although she has lost her her former senses with her body, she still weeps and the warm drops trickle down from the tree. There is even a merit in her tears, and the myrrh distilled from the trunk keeps the name of its mistress, and there will no silence (about it) in any (future) age.
Ll. 503-559. Venus and Adonis.
"Now, the child, (which had been) conceived in sin, had grown within the tree, and was seeking a way by which it could leave its mother and reveal itself: the pregnant belly swells in the midst of the tree. The burden stretches the mother: the pain does not have its own words, nor can Lucina (i.e. the Roman goddess of childbirth, associated with Juno) be called upon in the voice of (a woman) giving birth. Yet still the tree is like a woman in labour, and, as it bends, if gives frequent groans, and is wet with falling tears. Gentle Lucina stood by the suffering branches, and laid her hands on (them), and spoke words in aid of childbirth. The tree opens up cracks, and, from its torn bark it gives up its living burden, and the boy cries; the naiads (i.e. water-nymphs) laid him on the soft grass and anointed (him) with his mother's tears. Even Envy would praise his beauty. For he was just like those torsos of the naked Amores (i.e. Cupids), painted in a picture: but, lest their attire should cause any distinctions, (you must) either add light quivers to him, or take away (theirs) from them.
Fleeting time slips by unnoticed and deceives (us), and nothing goes more swiftly than the years. That son of his sister and of his grandfather, who (was) recently hidden in a tree, has just been born, now a most beautiful child, then a youth, then a man, is now more beautiful than he himself (ever was): now he even attracts Venus, and avenges his mother's desire. For, while the boy wearing a quiver gives his mother kisses, he innocently scratches her breast with a loose arrow. The injured goddess pushes her son away with her hand. (But) the wound, (which had been) made, was deeper than it appeared, and deceived her at first.
Overwhelmed by a man's beauty, she no longer cares for the shores of Cythera (i.e. an island in the Aegean Sea, sacred to Venus, and on the shores of which she rose from the sea), nor does she revisit Paphos, surrounded by its deep waters (i.e. a city on the island of Cyprus, also sacred to Venus), and Cnidos, full of fish, (i.e. a city on the coast of Caria in Asia Minor), or Amathus, rich in metals (i.e. another city of Cyprus, famous for its mines); she even refrains from (visiting) the heavens: she prefers Adonis to heaven. She holds (him), and is a companion to him; and, (although she is) always used to indulging herself in the shade, and to increasing her beauty by cultivating (it), (now) she roams across mountain ridges, through forests and over thorny rocks, with her clothes girded up to the knee in the manner of Diana, and she cheers on the hounds, and chases the animals (that are) safe prey, either hares running headlong, or a stag with lofty antlers, or its hinds: (but) she keeps away from strong wild boars and ravening wolves, and she avoids bears equipped with claws, and lions glutted with the slaughter of cattle. She warns you, Adonis, to fear them too, (as) if anything could ever be achieved by a warning, and she says, 'Be brave with the timorous, but daring is unsafe amongst (those who are) daring. Do not be rash, young man, if I am in danger, nor provoke wild animals, to which nature has given arms, lest your glory should cost me greatly. Neither age nor beauty, nor (those things) which cause love affect lions or bristling boars, or the eyes and temper of (other) creatures. Wild boars have (the force of) a thunderbolt in their curved tusks, and tawny lions have an enormous anger in their onset, and (their whole) tribe is hateful to me.' When he asks (her) what (is) the cause (of this), she says, 'I will tell (you), and you will wonder at the monstrous (result) of this ancient crime. But now this unaccustomed effort has made me tired, and, look, that convenient poplar-tree entices (us) with its shade, and that turf provides (us) with a bed; I should like to rest here on the ground with you,' - and rest she did - , and she lay on both the ground and him, and, placing her head on the breast of the reclining youth, she speaks as follows, and interposes kisses in the midst of her words:
Ll. 560-637. Atalanta and Hippomenes.
" 'You may, perhaps, have heard of a certain (girl) who beat the fastest men in a running contest: that rumour was no fable: for she was a winner (all right); nor could you say (whether) her speed or her beauty was the more deserving of high praise. A god, when she had asked him about a husband, replied, "You have no need of a husband, Atalanta: flee from the requirement of a husband! But yet, you will not escape, and, (while still) living, you will lose yourself." Frightened by this god's oracle, she lives in the dark forests unmarried, and she escapes the crowd of insistent suitors by setting harsh conditions, and she says, "I shall not be won, unless (I have) first (been) beaten in a race. Compete with me in running: a wife and a marital bed-chamber will be given (as) prizes to the swift, (but) death (will be) the price (paid) by (those who are) slow. Let this (be) the condition of the contest." She (was) pitiless indeed: but - such is the power of her beauty - a rash crowd of suitors accepted these terms.
Hippomenes had sat down (as) a spectator of this cruel contest, and had said, "Who would seek a wife by means of such great dangers?" and had condemned the young men's excessive passions. (But,) when he saw her face and her body after she had taken off her clothing, (a body) like mine or like yours, if you are made (into) a woman, he was stunned, and, raising his hands, he said, "Forgive (me, you) with whom I have just found fault. The prize which you were seeking was not then clear to me." In praising (her), he develops a passion (for her), and hopes that none of the young men can run faster (than she can), and, because of his jealousy, he fears (the result). "But why is my chance in this contest being left untested? says he. "The god, himself, helps the bold." While Hippomenes is deliberating such (things) in his mind, the maiden flies (past) with the speed of a bird. Although she seemed to the young man from Aonia (i.e. the region of Boeotia, from which Hippomenes came) to go (past him) just like a Scythian arrow (i.e. an arrow belonging to the horse-riding nomads of the Eurasian steppes north of the Black Sea), yet he admired her beauty (all) the more. The breeze blows back the ankle(-streamers) attached to her flying feet, her hair is tossed (back) all over her ivory-white shoulders, and some garters with embroidered edges were just below her knees; and her body had acquired a blush over its girlish whiteness, just as when a purple awning across a marble-white courtyard stains (it) with pretended shadows. While the stranger (i.e. Hippomenes) is observing this, the final marker is passed, and the victorious Atalanta is crowned with a festive garland. The losers give a groan, and pay the penalty of their compact.
Yet, undeterred by the young men's fate, he stood up in the midst of them (all), and, fixing his gaze on the maiden, he says, "Why do you seek easy fame by beating the lazy? Compete with me!" "If fortune makes me the master, you will not be shamed by being overcome by such a (man as me): for Megareus of Onchestus (i.e. a city in Boeotia) (is) my father, (and as) Neptune is his grandfather, I am the great-grandson of the king of the seas, and my courage is no less (worthy) than my birth; or, if I am beaten, you will have a great and renowned name for defeating Hippomenes.
As he says these (things), the daughter of Schoeneus (i.e. Atalanta) looks at (him) with a softening expression, and is uncertain (whether) she wants to be conquered or to be victorious. And then she says the following: "What god, impatient with handsome (youths), wants to destroy this (one), and bids (him) seek marriage (to me) at the risk of his own dear life? In my judgment, I am not worth so much. Nor am I moved by his beauty - yet I could be moved by this too - but (by the fact) that he is still (only) a boy: he, himself, does not move me, but his age (does). What if he does have courage and a spirit unafraid of death? What if he is reckoned (as) fourth in (the line of) descent from the (king) of the seas? What if he does love (me), and thinks that our marriage is of so much importance (to him) that he would perish, if a harsh fate were to deny me to him? Depart, while you (still) can, stranger, and leave this blood-soaked marriage-making behind (you): marriage to me is a cruel (business). No (other girl) will be unwilling to marry you, and you can be chosen by a sensible girl. But why am I (so) concerned about you, (when) so many (others) have already died before (you)? Let him look out (for himself)! Let him die, since he has not been put off by the slaughter of so many suitors, and is driving himself towards a weariness of life. Should he die then, because he wanted to live with me, and should he suffer death as the price of love? My victory would not mean that envy would be swept away. But that is not my fault! If only you would stop, or, if you are mad (enough to continue), I do wish you might be the swifter! But what a virginal expression is (set) on his boyish face! O, poor Hippomenes, I wish I had never been seen by you! You were worthy to live. But if I were luckier, and the harsh fates were not preventing my marriage, you would be the one (person), with whom I would wish to share my bed."
" 'She (i.e. Atalanta) finished speaking, and as (she is) inexperienced, and, being touched by desire for the first time, (is) unaware of what is happening (to her), she loves and does not understand (it is) love.
Ll. 638-680. The foot-race.
" 'Now, the people and her father (i.e. Schoeneus) are calling for the usual foot-race, when Neptune's descendant (i.e. Hippomenes) invokes me with an anxious voice, and he says, "May Cytherea (i.e. Venus) stand by in support of my daring, and may she, I beg, sustain the fires (of love) which she has lit." A friendly breeze wafted this flattering prayer to me; and I was moved, I confess (it). (All the same), no long space of time could be given to my help. There is a field - the indigenous (people) call it the field of Tamasus; (it is) the best piece of soil in the land of Cyprus, and in the past the elders made it sacred to me and instructed that it should be added to my temples (as) a gift. A tree gleams in the middle of a field, with golden foliage (and) its branches rustling with yellow gold. Coming from there by chance, I was carrying in my hands three golden apples (which I had) picked: and, showing myself to no one but him, I went to Hippomenes and showed him what benefit (lay) in them.
" 'The trumpet had given the signal, when both (of them) flash forth from the starting block, and skim the surface of the sand with flying feet. You would think they could pass through the waves with dry feet and run over the standing heads of the ripened corn. Shouts and applause, and words of encouragement raise the young man's spirits: "Go on, Hippomenes, now, now (is) the time to exert yourself! Now (is the time) to use all your strength! Get rid of any delay, you are going to win!" (It is) unclear (whether it is) the heroic (son) of Megareus or Schoeneus' maiden (daughter who) rejoices more at these words. O, how often when she could already have overtaken him, she lingered, and (then), watching his face for a while, reluctantly left him behind! A dry (panting) breath came from his weary mouth, and the winning post was (still) a long (way off). Only then did Neptune's progeny (i.e. Hippomenes) throw one of the three (pieces of) fruit from the tree. The maiden was astonished, and, in her eagerness for the shining apple, she runs off the course, and picks up the spinning (piece of) gold. Hippomenes goes past (her)! The spectator-stands resound with applause. She made up for the delay and the lost time by a burst of speed, and left the youth behind her once more. And, having been held up again by the throwing of the second apple, she pursues and overtakes the man. (Only) the final section of the track was left. "Now," he says, "be near (me), goddess, originator of the gift!" and he threw the shining (piece of) gold vigorously sideways into a flank of the field, from where she would take longer to return. The maiden seemed to be in doubt (as to) whether she should chase (it): I forced (her) to pick (it) up and added (it) to the weight of the fruit (she was already) carrying, and I hindered (her) equally by the heaviness of her burden and the (time) delay. And, lest my narrative should take longer than the race itself, the maiden was overtaken; the winner led away his prize.
Ll. 681-707. The transformation.
" 'Surely, Adonis, I deserved, (did I not,) to be (someone) to whom he should give thanks (and) to whom he should bring an offering of incense? But, forgetting (all my help), he did not give me any thanks, nor did he give me any incense. I am thrown into a sudden (fit of) anger, and, aggrieved by this slight, I take care that an example (should be made of them), so that I should not be (so) scorned in the future, and I arouse myself against (them) both.
" 'They (i.e. Hippomenes and Atalanta) were going past a temple to the Mother of the gods (i.e. Cybele), hidden in the leafy woods, which noble Echion (i.e. one of the five surviving heroes sprung from the dragon's teeth sown by Cadmus) had once built in accordance with a vow, and the length of their journey persuaded (them) to rest. (While) there, stirred by my divine power, an untimely desire to make love takes hold of Hippomenes. Near the temple, there was a poorly lit recess, like a cave, roofed with natural pumice-stone, (and) sacred to the old religion, in which a priest had gathered together many wooden images of the ancient gods. He enters it, and desecrates the sanctuary by forbidden intercourse. The sacred (images) avert their eyes, and the (Great) Mother with the turreted (crown) (i.e. Cybele) wondered whether she should plunge the guilty (pair) into the waters of the Styx. (But) this punishment seemed (too) light. So, tawny manes cover their necks, (which were) smooth (but) a moment ago, their fingers are bent into claws, forelegs are formed from their shoulders, all their weight goes on to their breasts, (and) the surface of the sand is swept by their tails. Their expression has (a look of) anger, they utter growls instead of words, they frequent the woods for a bridal-chamber: (as) lions, (who are) a source of fear to others, they bite on Cybele's bit with tame teeth. You must avoid them, my beloved, and, with them, all species of wild animals that (do) not (turn) their backs in flight, but (rather) offer their breasts to the fight, lest your courage should be ruinous to both (of us).'
Ll. 708-739. The death of Adonis.
"Indeed, she warned (him), and (drawn) through the air by her harnessed swans, she goes on her way: but his courage stands opposed to her warnings.
"His dogs, following a well-marked trail, happened to rouse a boar from its lair, and, as it was preparing to rush from the woods, the young grandson of Cinyras (i.e. Adonis) struck (it) a glancing blow. At once, the wild boar dislodged the hunting-spear, stained (with its own blood, with its crooked snout, and chased (the boy, who was) alarmed and seeking safety, and buried all its tusks into his groin, and stretched him dying on the yellow sand.
"Cytherea (i.e. Venus), borne in her light chariot through the midst of the breezes, had not yet reached Cyprus on her swans' wings; she recognised from afar the groans of the dying (boy), and turned her white wings in that direction. And, when she looked down from the lofty sky and (saw) the body (and him) lying lifeless in his own blood, she leapt down, and tore both the folds (of her clothes) and her hair at the same time, and she beat her breast with indignant hand-palms. Complaining to the fates, she said, 'But yet, not everything is within your jurisdiction. There will remain an everlasting memorial of my grief, Adonis, and an imitation of your death, repeated annually, will complete a re-enactment of my mourning. Now, your blood will be changed into a flower. Persephone, you were once permitted to change a woman's body into fragrant mint, (were you not)? Will the transformation of the heroic (grandson) of Cinyras be grudged to me?' So saying, she sprinkled his blood with sweet-smelling nectar: (as soon as it was) touched by this, it swelled up, just as a transparent water-bubble always rises in yellow mud. Nor does the interval of time last longer than a full hour, when a flower arose of the same colour as blood (i.e. scarlet), such as pomegranates, which hide their seeds under a tough rind, are accustomed to carry. But the enjoyment of it is short-lived: for as it clings slenderly and falls too easily, the winds which shake off (its petals are) the same (as those) which give (it) its name (i.e. ἡ ἀνεμώνη, anemone, wind-flower).
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