When Clymené with all that sorrow could
To ease her woes give utterance, loud had wail'd
In wild lament; all spark of reason fled,
Her bosom tearing, through the world she roam'd.
And now his limbs inanimate she sought;
Then for his whiten'd bones: his bones she found,
On banks far distant from his home inhum'd.
Prone on his tomb her form she flung, and pour'd
Her tears in floods upon the graven lines:
And with her bosom bar'd, the cold stone warm'd.
His sisters' love their fruitless offerings bring,
Their griefs and briny droppings; cruel tear
Their beauteous bosoms; while they loudly call
Phaëton, deaf to all their mournful cries.
Stretch'd on his tomb, by night, by day they call'd.
Till Luna's circle four times fill'd was seen;
Their blows still given as 'custom'd, (use had made
Their forms of grief as nature). Sudden plain'd
Fair Phaëthusa, eldest of the three,
Of stiffen'd feet; as on the tomb she strove
To cast her body prone. Lampetie bright,
Rushing in hope to aid, a shooting root
Abruptly held. With lifted hands the third
Her locks to tear attempted; but green leaves
Tore off instead. Now this laments her legs,
Bound with thin bark; that mourns to see her arms
Shoot in long branches. While they wonder thus,
Th' increasing bark their bodies upward veils,
Their breasts, their arms, and hands, with gradual growth:
Their mouths alone remain; which loudly call
Their mother. What a mother could, she did:
What could she do? save, here and there to fly,
Where blind affection dragg'd her; and while yet,
'Twas given to join, join with them mouth to mouth.
Nor this contents; she strives to tear the rind,
Their limbs enwrapping; and the tender boughs
Pluck from their hands: but from the rended spot
The sanguine drops flow swift. Each suffering nymph
Cries,—“Spare me, mother!—spare your wounded child;
“I suffer in the tree.—farewell!—farewell!”—
For as they spoke the rind their mouths inclos'd.
From these new branches tears were dropp'd, and shap'd
By solar heat, bright amber straight compos'd.
Dropt in the lucid stream, the prize was borne
To Latium, and its gayest nymphs adorn'd.

    This wonderous change Sthenelian Cycnus saw;
To thee, O Phaëton, by kindred join'd,
But by affection closer. He his realms,
(For o'er Liguria's large and populous towns
He reign'd) had then relinquish'd. With his plaints,
The Po's wide stream was fill'd; and fill'd the banks
With his lamentings; ev'n the woods, whose shade
The sister poplars thicken'd. Soon he feels
His utterance shrill and weak: his streaming locks
Soft snowy plumes displace: high from his chest,
His lengthen'd neck extends: a filmy web
Unites his ruddy toes: his sides are cloth'd
With quills and feathers: where his mouth was seen
Expanded, now a blunted beak obtains;
And Cycnus stands a bird;—but bird unknown
In days of yore. Mistrustful still of Jove,
His heaven he shuns; as mindful of the flames
From thence unjustly hurl'd. Wide lakes and ponds
He seeks to habit now;—indignant shuns
What favors fire, and joys in purling streams.

    Meantime was Phœbus dull, his blaze obscur'd,
As when eclips'd his orb: his rays he hates;
Himself; and even the day. To grief his soul
He gives, and anger to his grief he joins;
Depriving earth of all its wonted light.
“Troubled my lot has been,” he cry'd, “since first
“Was publish'd my existence:—urg'd my toil
“Endless,—still unremitted, still unprais'd.
“Now let who will my furious chariot drive
“Flammiferous! If every god shall shrink
“Inadequate,—let Jove the task attempt:
“Then while my reins he tries, at least those flames,
“Which cause parental grief must peaceful rest.
“Then when the fiery flaming coursers strain
“His nervous arms, no more he'll judge the youth
“Of death deserving, who could less control.”
Sol, grieving thus, the deities surround,
And suppliant beg that earth may mourn no more,
By darkness 'whelm'd. Ev'n Jove concession gave,—
And why his fiery bolts were launch'd explain'd;
But threats and prayers majestically mix'd.
The steeds with terror trembling, Phœbus seiz'd,
Wild from their late affright, and rein'd their jaws;
Furious he wields his goad and lash, and fierce
He storms, and their impetuous fury blames
At every blow, as murderers of his son.

  High heaven's huge walls the mighty sire explores,
With eye close searching, lest a weakening flaw,
Might hurl some part to ruin. All he found
Firm in its pristine strength;—then glanc'd his eye
Around the earth, and toils of man below.
'Bove all terrestrial lands, Arcadia felt—
His own Arcadia—his preserving care.
Her fountains he restores; her streams not yet
To murmur daring; to her fields he gives
Seed-corn; and foliage to her spreading boughs;
And her scorch'd forests bids again look green.
Through here as oft he journey'd, and return'd,
A virgin of Nonacriné he spy'd,
And instant inward fire the god consum'd.
No nymph was she whose skill the wool prepar'd;
Nor comb'd with art her tresses seem'd; full plain,
Her vest a button held; a fillet white
Careless her hair confin'd. Now pois'd her hand
A javelin light, and now a bow she bore:
In Dian's train she ran, nor nymph more dear
To her the mountain Mænalus e'er trode.
But brief the reign of favor! Sol had now
Beyond mid-heaven attain'd; Calistho sought
A grove where felling axe had never rung:
Here was her quiver from her shoulder thrown;
Her slender bow unstrung; and on the ground
With soft grass clad she rested: 'neath her neck
Was plac'd the painted quiver. Jove, the maid
Weary'd beheld, and from her wonted troop
Far distant. “Surely now, my wife,” he cries,
“This theft can ne'er discover. Should she know,
“What is her rage with such a prize compar'd?”
Then Dian's face and form the god conceal'd;
Loud calling,—“Where, O virgin, hast thou stray'd?
“What hills, my comrade, hast thou crost in chase?”
Light springing from the turf, the nymph reply'd,—
“Hail goddess, greater, if with me the palm,
“Than Jove himself, though Jove himself should hear.”
The feign'd Diana smil'd, and joy'd to hear
Him to himself preferr'd; then press'd her lips
With kisses, such as virgins never give
To virgins. Her, prepar'd to tell the woods
Where late she hunted, with a warm embrace
He hinder'd; and his crime the god disclos'd.
Hard strove the nymph,—and what could female more?
(O Juno, hadst thou seen her, less thy ire!)
Long she resists, but what can nymph attain,
Or any mortal, when to Jove oppos'd?
Victor the god ascends th' ethereal court.

    The groves and forests, conscious of the deed,
Calistho hates; so swift she flies the spot,
Her quiver, and her darts, and slender bow
Suspended on the tree, through eager haste
Were nigh forgotten. Lo! Diana comes,
By clustering nymphs attended, o'er the hills
Of lofty Mænalus, from slaughter'd beasts,
Proudly triumphant. She Calistho sees,
And calls her;—as the goddess calls she flies,
Fearing another Jove disguis'd to meet.
But when th' attendant virgin-troop appear'd,
Fraud she no more suspected, but the train
Join'd fearless. Hard the countenance to form,
And not betray a perpetrated crime!
Scarce from the ground she dar'd her looks to raise;
Nor with her wonted ardor press'd before,
First of the throng, close to Diana's side.
Silent she moves; her blushes prove a wound
Her modesty had felt. E'en Dian' might,
(But that a virgin,) all the truth have known.
By numerous proofs and strong. Nay, fame reports
Her sister-nymphs had long her shame perceiv'd.
Nine times had Luna now her orb renew'd,
When Dian' from the chase retreating faint
By Phœbus' rays, had gain'd a forest cool,
Where flow'd a limpid stream with murmuring noise,
The shining sand upturning. Much the spot
The goddess tempted, and her feet she dipp'd
Light in the waves, as to the nymphs she cry'd:—
“Hence far each prying eye, we'll dare unrobe
“And lave beneath the stream.” Calistho blush'd;—
Quick while the other nymphs their bodies bare,
Protracting she undresses. From her limbs,
Suspicious they the garments rend, and view
Her body naked, and her fault is plain.
To her, confus'd, whose trembling hands essay'd
Her shame to hide, Diana spoke;—“Hence fly,—
“Far hence, nor more these sacred streams pollute.”
And drove her instant from her spotless train.

    Long time the mighty thunderer's queen had known
Calistho's state; but curb'd her furious ire
Till ripe occasion suited: longer now
Delay were needless; now the nymph produc'd
Arcas; whom Juno more enrag'd beheld.
With savage mind, and furious look she ey'd
The boy, and spoke;—“Adulteress! this alone
“Was wanting! fruitful, harlot, hast thou prov'd?
“Must by this birth my wrongs in public glare?
“And what dishonor I from Jove receive
“Be palpable to sight. Expect not thou
“Impunity to find. Thy form I'll change,—
“To thee so pleasing, and so dear to Jove.”
She said; and on the flowing tresses seiz'd
Which o'er her forehead stream'd, and prostrate dragg'd
The nymph to earth. She rais'd her suppliant hands,—
With black hairs cover'd, rough her arms appear'd;
Bent were her hands, and, with her lengthen'd nails
To claws transform'd, press'd on the ground as feet;
Her mouth so beauteous, late of Jove admir'd,
Yawn'd wide deformity;—and lest soft prayers
And flowing words, might pity move, no power
To speak she left. Now through her hoarse throat sounds
An angry threatening voice that fear instills;
A bear becoming, though her sense the same:
Her sufferings proving by her constant groans.
Lifting to heaven such hands as lift she could,
Jove she ungrateful found, but Jove to call
Ungrateful, strove in vain. Alas! how oft
In woods and solitudes, to sleep afraid,
She roam'd around the house and fertile fields
Of late her own!—-Alas, how oft thence driven
By yelping hounds o'er craggy steeps she fled!
Thou dread'st the hunters though an huntress thou!
Oft was her form forgotten, and in fear
From beasts she crouch'd conceal'd: the shaggy bear
Shudder'd to see the bears upon the hills;
And at the wolves she trembled, though with wolves
Her sire Lycaön howl'd. Now Arcas comes;
Arcas, her son, unconscious of his race.
Near fifteen suns the youth had seen revolv'd;
And while the game he chases, while he seeks
Thickets best suited for his sports, and round
The Erymanthean woods his toils he sets,
He meets his mother:—at his sight she stay'd,
The well-known object viewing. Arcas fled
Trembling, unconscious why those eyes were fix'd
On him immoveably. His spear, prepar'd
To pierce his mother's breast, as near she draws
The youth protends. But Jove the deed prevents:
Both bears away, and stays the matricide.
Swept through the void of heaven by rapid whirl
They're borne, and neighbouring constellations made,
Loud Juno rag'd, to see the harlot shine,
Amid the stars; and 'neath the deep descends,
To hoary Tethys, and her ancient spouse;
Where reverence oft the host of heaven had shewn.
And thus to them, who anxious seek the cause,
Why there she journeys. “Wish ye then to know
“Why I the queen of heaven, my regal seat
“Now leave? Another fills my lofty throne!
“Nor false I speak,—for when gray night shall spread
“O'er all,—new constellations shall you see
“Me irking,—on the utmost bounds of heaven,
“Where the last shorten'd zone the axis binds.
“Now surely none, t' insult shall rashly dare
“The thunderer's spouse, but tremble at her frown;
“For she who most offends is honor'd most!
“Much has my power perform'd!—vast is my sway!
“Her human form I chang'd,—and lo! she shines
“A goddess;—thus the guilty feel my ire!
“Thus potent I. Why not her form restore,
“And change that beastly shape, as Iö once
“In Argolis, the same indulgence felt.
“Why drives he not his consort from his bed,
“Calistho placing there;—for sire-in-law
“The wolf Lycaön chusing? If to you
“Your foster-daughter's insults ought import,
“Forbid these stars to touch the blue profound:
“Repel those constellations, plac'd in heaven,
“Meed of adultery; lest the harlot dip
“In your pure waves.”—The gods their promise gave
And through the liquid air Saturnia flies,
Borne in her chariot by her peacocks bright;
Their coats gay studded from fall'n Argus' eyes.

    No fairer maid all Thessaly contain'd,
Than young Coronis,—to the Delphic god
Most dear while chaste, or while her fault unknown.
But Corvus, Phœbus' watchman, spy'd the deed
Adulterous;—and inexorably bent
To tell the secret crime, his flight directs
To seek his master. Him the daw pursues,
On plumes quick waving, curious all to learn.
His errand heard, she cries;—“Thy anxious task,
“A journey vain, pursue not: mark my words;—
“Learn what I have been;—see what now I am;
“And hear from whence my change: a fault you'll find
“Too much fidelity, which wrought my woe.

    “Time was, when Pallas, Ericthonius took,
“Offspring created motherless, and close
“In basket twin'd with Attic twigs conceal'd.
“The charge to keep, three sister-maids she chose,
“Daughters of Cecrops double-form'd, but close,
“Conceal'd what lodg'd within; and strict forbade
“All prying, that her secret safe might rest.
“On a thick elm, behind light leaves conceal'd,
“I mark'd their actions. Two their sacred charge
“Hold faithful; Pandrosos, and Hersé they:
“Aglauros calls her sisters cowards weak;
“The twistings with bold hand unloosening, sees
“Within an infant, and a dragon stretch'd.
“The deed I tell to Pallas, and from her
“My service this remuneration finds:
“Driven from her presence, she my place supplies
“Of favorite with the gloomy bird of night.
“All other birds my fate severe may warn,
“To seek not danger by officious tales.
“Pallas, perhaps you think, but lightly lov'd
“One whom she thus so suddenly disgrac'd.
“But ask of Pallas;—she, though much enrag'd
“Will yet my truth confirm. A regal maid
“Was I,—of facts to all well-known I speak:
“Coroneus noble, of the Phocian lands
“As sire I claim. Me wealthy suitors sought—
“Contemn me not,—my beauty was my bane.
“While careless on the sandy shore I roam'd,
“With gentle pace as wont, the ocean's god
“Saw me and lov'd: persuasive words in vain
“Long trying, force prepar'd, and me pursu'd.
“I fled; the firm shore left, and tir'd my limbs
“Vainly, upon the light soft sinking sand.
“There to assist me men and gods I call'd;
“Deaf to the sound was every mortal ear:
“But by a virgin's cries a virgin mov'd,
“Assistance gave. Up to the skies my arms
“I stretch'd; and black my arms began to grow,
“With waving pinions. From my shoulders, back
“My robes I strove to fling,—my robes were plumes;
“Deep in my skin the quills were fix'd: I try'd
“On my bare bosom with my hands to beat;
“Nor hands nor naked bosom now were found:
“I ran; the sand no longer now retain'd
“My feet, but lightly o'er the ground I skimm'd;
“And soon on pinions through the air was borne;
“And Pallas' faultless favorite I became.
“What now avail to me my pure deserts?
“Nyctimené, whose horrid crime deserv'd
“Her transformation, to my place succeeds.
“The deed so wide through spacious Lesbos known,
“Ere this has reach'd thee;—how Nyctimené—
“Her father's bed defil'd,—a bird became.
“Conscious of guilt, she shuns the sight of man;
“Flies from the day, and in nocturnal shades
“Conceals her shame; by every bird assail'd
“And exil'd from the skies.” The crow in rage
To her still chattering, cry'd;—“May each delay
“Thy babbling causes, prove to thee a curse.
“I scorn thy foolish presages,”—and flew
His journey urging. When his master found,
He told him where Coronis he had seen
Claspt by a young Thessalian. Down he dropp'd
His laurel garland, when the crime he heard
Of her he lov'd;—his harp away he flung;
His countenance fell, and pale his visage grew.
Now with fierce rage his swelling bosom fires;
His wonted arms he seizes; draws his bow,
Bent to the horns; and through that breast so oft
Embrac'd,—th' inevitable weapon drove.
Deep groan'd the wounded nymph, and tearing out
The arrow from her breast, a purple flood
Gush'd o'er her shining limbs. She sighing cry'd,—
“This fate, O Phœbus, I deserv'dly meet,
“Were but thy infant born;—two now in one
“Thy dart has slain!”—She spoke,—her vital blood
Fast flow'd, and stay'd her voice. A deadly chill
Seiz'd all her members, now of life bereft.
Too late, alas! her sorrowing lover mourns
His cruel vengeance; and himself he hates,
Too credulous listening, and too soon enflam'd:
The bird he hates, who first betray'd the deed
And caus'd him first to grieve: his bow he hates;
His bowstring; arm; and with his arm the dart,
Shot vengeful. Fond he clasps her fallen form;
And strives by skill, by skill too late apply'd
To conquer fate:—his healing arts he tries,—
All unavailing. Fruitless he beholds
His each attempt, and sees the pile prepar'd;
And final flames her limbs about to burn.
Then from his deepest bosom burst his groans;
(For tears on cheeks celestial ne'er are seen,)
Such groans are utter'd when the heifer sees,
The weighty mallet, from the right ear pois'd,
Crush down the forehead of her suckling calf.
And now his useless odors in her breast
He pour'd; embrac'd her; to her last rites gave
Solemnization due. The greedy fires
His offspring were not suffer'd to consume.
Snatch'd from the curling flames, and from the womb
Of his dead mother, he the infant bore
To double-body'd Chiron's secret cave.
But bade the self-applauding crow, fill'd big
With hopes of favor for his faithful tale,
With snowy-plumag'd birds no more to join.

    Meantime while Chiron, human half, half beast,
Proud of his deity-descended charge,
Joy'd in the honor with the task bestow'd:—
Behold, her shoulders with her golden locks
Shaded, the daughter of the Centaur comes;
Whom fair Chariclo, on a river's brink
Swift-rolling, bore, and thence Ocyrrhoë nam'd.
She not content her father's arts to know,
The hidden secrets of the fates disclos'd.
Now was her soul with fate-foretelling sounds
Fill'd, and within her fiercely rag'd the god:
The infant viewing;—“Grow,” she said, “apace,
“Health-bearer through the world. To thee shall oft
“Expiring mortals owe returning life!
“To thee 'tis given to render souls again
“Back to their bodies! Once thou'lt dare the deed;—
“The angry god's forbidding flames, thy power
“Further preventing:—and a bloodless corps
“Heaven-born, thou ly'st;—-but what thy body form'd
“A god becomes,—resuscitated twice.
“Thou too, my dearest and immortal sire!
“To ages never-ending, born to live,
“Shalt wish for death in vain; when writhing sad
“From the dire serpent's venom in thy limbs,
“By wounds instill'd. The pitying gods will change
“Thy destin'd fate, and let immortal die:
“The triple sisters shall thy thread divide.
“More yet untold remains;”—Deep from her chest
The sighs burst forth, and starting tears stream down,
Laving her cheeks, while thus the maid pursues:
“The fates prevent me, and forbid to tell
“What more I would;—all power to speak deny.
“Those arts, alas! heaven's anger which have drawn,—
“What were they? Would I ne'er the future knew!
“Now seems my human shape to leave me. Now
“The verdant grass a pleasing food appears.
“Now am I urg'd along the plain to bound;
“Chang'd to a mare: unto my sire ally'd
“In form,—but why sole chang'd? my father bears
“A two-form'd body;”—Wailing thus, her words
Confus'd and indistinct at length are heard.
Next sounds are utter'd partly human, more
A mare's resembling:—then she neighs aloud;
Treading with alter'd arms the ground: fast join'd
Her fingers now become: a slender hoof
Her toes connecting with continuous horn.
Her head enlarges; and her neck expands;
Her spreading garment floats a beauteous tail:
Her scatter'd tresses o'er her shoulders flung,
Form a thick mane to clothe her spacious neck:
Her voice is alter'd with her alter'd shape:
And change of name the wonderous deed attends.

    Deep Chiron mourn'd, O Phœbus, and thy aid
In vain invok'd; for bootless was thy power
Jove's mandate to resist; nor if thou could'st
Then wast thou nigh to help. In Elis far,
And fields Messenian then was thy abode.
Then was the time when shepherd-like a robe
Of skins enwrapp'd thee;—when thy left hand bore
A sylvan staff;—thy right a pipe retain'd,
Of seven unequal reeds. While love engag'd
Thy thoughts, and dulcet music sooth'd thy cares,
'Tis said, thy herds without their herdsman stray'd,
Far to the Pylian meadows. These the son
Of Atlantean Maiä espy'd;
And, slily driven away, within the woods
The cattle artful hid. None saw the deed,
Save one old hoary swain, well known around,
And Battus nam'd; whose post it was to guard
The groves, the grassy meads, and high-bred mares
Of wealthy Neleus. Him the robber fear'd;
Drew him aside, and coaxing thus address'd;—
“Whoe'er thou art, good friend, if here perchance,
“Someone should seek an herd,—say that thou here
“No herd hast seen;—thou shall not lack reward:
“Take this bright heifer:”—and the cow he gave.
The bribe receiv'd, the shepherd thus replies;
“Friend, thou art safe,—that stone shall sooner speak
“And tell thy deed than I:”—and shew'd the stone.
The son of Jove departs, or seems to go;
But soon with alter'd form and voice returns.
“Here, countryman,” he cries, “hast thou an herd
“This way observ'd to pass?—no secret keep,
“To aid the theft; an heifer with a bull
“Await thy information.” Doubly brib'd,
The hoary rogue betray'd his former trust.
“Beneath those hills,” he said, “the herd you'll find.”
Beneath the hills they were. Loud laugh'd the god
And cry'd,—“Thou treacherous villain, to myself
“Wouldst thou betray me? wouldst thou to myself
“My deeds betray?” And to a flinty stone
His perjur'd breast he chang'd, which still retains
The name of Touchstone;—on the harmless rock
His infamous demerits firmly fix'd.

    Hermes from hence, on waving wings upborne
Darted, and in his flight beneath him saw
The Attic pastures,—the much-favor'd land
Of Pallas; and Lyceum's cultur'd groves.
It chanc'd that day, as wont, the virgins chaste,
Bore on their heads in canisters festoon'd,
Their offerings pure to Pallas' sacred fane.
Returning thence the winged god espy'd
The troop, and straight his onward flight restrain'd;
Wheeling in circles round. As sails the kite,
Swiftest of birds, when entrails seen from far
By holy augurs thick beset,—he fears
A near approach, but circling steers his flight
On beating wings, around his hopes and round.
So 'bove the Athenian towers the light-plum'd god
Swept round in circles on the self-same air.
As Phosphor far outshines the starry host;
As silver Cynthia Phosphor bright outshines;
So much did Hersé all the nymphs excel,
The bright procession's ornament; the pride
Of all th' accompanying nymphs. Her beauteous mien
Stagger'd Jove's son, who hovering in the air
Fierce burns with love. The Balearic sling,
Thus shoots a ball; quick through the air it flies,
Warms in its flight, and feels beneath the clouds
Flames hereto known not. Alter'd now his route
The skies he leaves, and holds a different flight:
Nor veils his figure,—such reliance gave
His beauteous form: and beauteous though that form,
Yet careful did the god his looks adorn;
He smoothes his tresses, and his robe adjusts
To hang in graceful folds, and fair display
The golden fringe; his round and slender wand,
Of sleep-procuring, sleep-repelling power,
His right hand bears; and on his comely feet
His plumed sandals shine. Within the house
Three separate chambers were secluded form'd,
With tortoise and with ivory rich adorn'd.
Thou, Pandrosos, within the right repos'd;
And on the left hand thou Aglauros, slept;
Fair Hersé in the midst. Aglauros first
The god's approach descry'd, and daring ask'd
Who he?—and what he sought?—To whom the god;
“Him you behold, who through the air conveys
“His sire's commands: Almighty Jove that sire.
“Nor will I feign my errand. So may'st thou
“True to thy sister prove, and soon be call'd
“My offspring's aunt. 'Tis Hersé draws me here.
“Help then a lover in his warm pursuit.”
Aglauros bends on Mercury those eyes,
Which yellow-hair'd Minerva's secret saw;
And ponderous sums for her assistance claims;
Driving the god meantime without the gates.
With angry glare the warlike goddess view'd
The mercenary nymph, and angry sighs,
Which shook her bosom heav'd; the Ægis shook,
On that strong bosom fix'd. Now calls to mind
Minerva how with hands prophane, the maid
Her strict behests despising, daring pry'd
To know her secrets; and the seed beheld
Of Vulcan, child without a mother form'd:
Now to her sister and the god unkind;
Rich with the gold her avarice had claim'd.
To Envy's gloomy cell, where clots of gore
The floor defil'd, enrag'd Minerva flew:
A darkened vale, deep sunk, the cavern held,
where vivid sun ne'er shone, nor freshening breeze
Health wafted: torpid melancholy rul'd,
And sluggish cold; and cheering light unknown,
Damp darkness ever gloom'd. The goddess here
In conflict dreaded came, but at the doors
Her footsteps staid, for entrance Fate forbade.
The gates she strikes—struck by her spear, the gates
Wide open fly, and dark within disclose,
On vipers gorging, (her accustom'd feast,)
The envious fiend: back from the hideous sight
Recoils the goddess, and averts her eyes.
Slow rising from the ground, her half chew'd food
She quits, advancing indolently forth:
The maid, in warlike brightness clad, she saw,
In form divine, and heavy sighs burst forth
Deep from her bosom's black recess: pale gloom.
Dwells on her forehead; lean her fleshless form;
Askaunce her eyes; encrusted black her teeth;
Green'd deep with gall her breasts; her hideous tongue
With poisons lurid; laughter knows her not,
Save woes and pangs unmerited she sees;
Sleep flies her couch, by cares unceasing wrung;
At men's success she sickens, pining sad;
But stung herself, while others feel her sting
Her torture closely grasps her.—Much the maid
The sight abhors; and thus in brief she speaks:—
“Deep in the breast of Cecrops' daughter fix
“Thy venom'd sting—Aglauros is the nymph.—
“More needs not.”—Speaking so Minerva fled,
Upbounding, earth she with her spear repell'd.
Glancing asquint the fury saw her rise,
And inly groan'd,—that she success should gain.
Her staff with prickly thorns enwreath'd she takes,
And forth she sallies, wrapp'd in gloomy clouds.
Where'er she flies she blasts the flowery fields;
Consumes the herbage; and the harvest blights.
Her breath pestiferous felt the cities round,
Houses and 'habitants where'er she flew.
At length the towers of Athens she beheld
With arts and riches flourishing, and blest
With holy peace. Scarce could she tears withhold,
No tearful eye throughout the place to see.
Straight to the room of Cecrops' daughter now
Her route she urges, and her task performs:
Her rusty hand upon the maiden's breast
She plants, and with sharp thorns that bosom fills;
Breathes noxious poison through her frame; imbues
With venom black her heart, and all her limbs.
Lest from her eyes escap'd, the maddening scene
Should cease to vex her, full in view she plac'd
Her sister, and her sister's nuptial rites;
And Hermes beauteous in the bridal pomp:
In beauty all, and splendor all increas'd.
Mad with the imag'd sight, the maid is gnawn
With secret pangs;—deep groans the lengthen'd night,
And deep the morning hears; she wastes away
Silently wretched, lingeringly slow.
As Sol's faint rays the summer ice dissolves:
So burns she to behold the envy'd lot
Of Hersé; not with furious flames,—as weeds
Blaze not when damp, but with slow heat consume.
Oft would she wish to die: and oft the deed
To hinder, thinks to tell her rigid sire
Her sister's fault. At length her seat she takes
Across the threshold, and th' approaching god
Repuls'd; and to his blandishments, and words
Beseeching fair, and soft-alluring prayers,
She cry'd,—“Desist,—from hence I ne'er will move
“Till thou art driven away.” Swift Hermes said.—
“Keep firmly that resolve.” And with his wand
The sculptur'd portals touching, wide they flew.
But when her limbs to raise, the virgin strove,
A weighty numbness o'er the members crept
Which bend in sitting, and their movement staid.
Strenuous she strives to raise her form erect,
But stiffen'd feels her knees; chill coldness spreads
Through all her toes; and, fled the purple stream,
Her veins turn pallid: cruel cancer thus,
Disease incurable, spreads far and wide,
Sound members adding to the parts diseas'd.
So gradual, o'er her breast the chilling frost
Crept deadly, and the gates of life shut close.
Complaint she try'd not; had she try'd, her voice
Had found no passage, for the stone had seiz'd
Her throat,—her mouth; to marble all was chang'd.
She sat a pallid statue;—all the stone
Her envy tainted with a livid hue.

    His vengeance, when Jove's son complete had seen,
Due to her avarice, and her envious soul;
He left Minerva's land, and up the sky
On wafting pinions mounted. There his sire,
Him from th' assembly drew; nor yet disclos'd,
The object of his love:—“Son, quickly haste,—
“Thou faithful messenger of my commands,
“Urge rapid thy descending flight, and seek
“The realm whose northern bounds thy mother star
“O'erlooks,—the land by natives Sidon call'd.
“There wilt thou pasturing find the royal herd,
“'Neath hills not distant from the sea: turn down
“This herd to meadows bordering on the beach.”
He said;—the cattle tow'rd the sea shore move,
Where sported with her Tyrian maids as wont,
The monarch's daughter. Ill majestic state
And love agree; nor long combin'd remain.
The sire and ruler of the gods resigns
His weighty sceptre: he whose right hand bears
The three-fork'd fires; whose nod creation shakes,
Assumes a bull's appearance:—with the herd
Mingles; and strolling lets the tender shrubs
Brush his fair sides. Of snowy white his skin;
Such snow as rugged feet has never soil'd,
Nor southern showers dissolv'd: his brawny neck,
Strong from his shoulders stands: beneath extends
The dewlap pendulous: small are his horns;
But smooth as polish'd by the workman's hand;—
Pellucid as the brightest gems they shine:
No threatenings wear his brow; no fire his eyes
Flame fierce; but all his countenance peace proclaims.
Him much Agenor's royal maid admir'd;—
His form so beauteous, and his look so mild.
Yet peaceful as he seem'd, she fear'd at first
A close approach;—but nearer soon she drew,
And to his shining mouth the flowery food
Presented. Joy'd th' impatient lover stands,
Her fingers kissing; and with sore restraint
Defers his look'd for pleasures. Sportive now
He wantons, frisking in the grass; now rolls
His snowy sides upon the yellow sand.
Her apprehensions chas'd, by slow degrees,
The virgin's fingers playful stroke his breast;
Then bind with wreaths his horns: more daring now
Upon his back the royal maid ascends;—
Witless a god she presses. From the fields,
His steps deceitful gradual turn'd, he bends,
And seeks the shore; then playful in the waves
Just dips his feet;—thence plunging deep, he swims
Through midmost ocean with his ravish'd prize.
Trembling the nymph beholds the lessening shore;——
Firm grasps one hand his horn; upon his back,
Secure the other resting: to the wind,
Her fluttering garments floating as she sails.

The Third Book.

Unsuccessful search of Cadmus for his sister. Death of his companions by the dragon. Overthrow of the dragon, and production of armed men from his teeth. Thebes. Actæon devoured by his hounds. Semelé destroyed by lightening, and the birth of Bacchus. The prophet Tiresias. Echo: and the transformation of Narcissus. Impiety of Pentheus. Change of the Tyrrhenian sailors to dolphins. Massacre of Pentheus.

THE
Third Book
OF THE
METAMORPHOSES
OF
OVID.

    And now the god, his bestial form resign'd,
Shone in his form celestial as he gain'd
The Cretan shore. Meantime, the theft unknown,
Mourn'd her sad sire, and Cadmus sent to seek
The ravish'd maid; stern threatening as he went,
Perpetual exile if his searching fail'd:—
Parental love and cruelty combin'd!
All earth explor'd in vain, (for who shall find
The amorous thefts of Jove?) the exile shuns
His father's anger, and paternal soil.
A suppliant bends before Apollo's shrine,
To ask his aid;—what region he should chuse
To fix his habitation. Phœbus thus;—
“A cow, whose neck the yoke has never prest,
“Strange to the crooked plough, shall meet thy steps,
“Lone in the desert fields: the way she leads
“Chuse thou,—rand where upon the grass she rests,
“Erect thy walls;—Bœotia call the place.”
Scarce had the cave Castalian Cadmus left,
When he an heifer, gently pacing, spy'd
Untended; one whose neck no mark betray'd
Of galling service. Closely treads the youth,
Slow moving in her footsteps, and adores
In silence Phœbus, leader of his way.
Now had he pass'd the Cephisidian stream,
And meads of Panopé, when stay'd the beast;
Her broad front lifted to the sky; reverse
Her lofty horns reclining, shook the air
With lowings loud; back then her face she bent,
And saw the comrades following close behind:
Down low she couch'd, and press'd the yielding grass,
Glad thanks to Phœbus, Cadmus gave, and kiss'd
The foreign soil;—the unknown hills, and land
Saluted. Then a sacrifice to Jove
Preparing, sent his followers to explore
Streams flowing from the living fountain clear.

    An ancient forest hallow'd from the axe,
Not far there stood; in whose dark bosom gloom'd
A cavern:—twigs and branches thick inwove
With rocky crags, a low arch'd entrance form'd;
Where pure and copious, gush'd transparent waves.
Deep hid within a monstrous serpent lay,
Sacred to Mars. Bright shone his crested head;
His eyeballs glow'd with fire; his body swell'd
Bloated with poison; o'er a threefold row
Of murderous teeth, three quivering tongues he shook.
This grove the Tyrians with ill-fated feet
Now enter'd; and now in the waters threw,
With noisy dash, their urns. Uprears his head,
The azure serpent from the cavern deep;
And breathes forth hisses dire: their urns they drop;
The blood forsakes their bodies; sudden fear
Chills their astonish'd limbs. He writhing quick,
Forms scaly circles; spiral twisting round,
Bends in an arch immense to leap, and rears
In the thin air erect, 'bove half his height;
All the wide grove o'erlooking. Such his size,
Could all be seen, than that vast snake no less,
Whose huge bulk lies the Arctic bears between.
The Tyrians quick he seizes; some their arms
Vain grasping,—flying some,—and some through fear
To fight or fly unable:—these his jaws
Crash murderous; those his writhing tail surrounds;
Others his breath, with poison loaded, kills.

    Now loftiest Phœbus shorten'd shadows gave,
When Cadmus, wondering much why still his friends
Tarried so long, their parting footsteps trac'd.
His robe an hide torn from a lion's back;
A dart and spear of shining steel his arms;
With courage, arms surpassing. Now the grove
He enters, and their breathless limbs beholds;—
Their victor foe's huge bulk upon them stretch'd;
Licking with gory tongue their mournful wounds.
“My faithful friends,” he cry'd, “I will avenge
“Your fate,—or perish with you.” Straight a rock
His right hand rais'd, and with impetuous force,
Hurl'd it right on. A city's lofty walls
With all its towers, to feel the blow had shook!
Yet lay the beast unwounded; safely sheath'd
With scaly armour, and his harden'd hide:—
His skin alone the furious blow repell'd.
Not so that hardness mocks the javelin,—fixt
Firm in the bending of the pliant spine
His weapon stood,—and all the iron head
Deep in his entrails sunk. Mad with the pain,
Reverse he writhes his head;—beholds the wound;
Champs the fixt dart;—by many forceful tugs
Loosen'd at length, he tears the shaft away;
But deep the steel within his bones remains.
Now to his wonted fury fiercer flames
This torture adding, big with poison swells
His throat; and flowing, round his venom'd jaws,
White foam appears; deep harrow'd with his scales
Loud sounds the earth; and vapours black, breath'd out
His mouth infernal, taint with death the air.
Now roll'd in spires, he forms an orb immense:
Now stretch'd at length he seems a monstrous beam:
Now rushing forward with impetuous force,
As sweeps a torrent swell'd by rain, his breast
Bears down th' opposing forest. Cadmus back
A step recedes, and on his lion's hide
The shock sustains;—then with protended spear
Checks his approaching jaws. Furious he strives
To wound the harden'd steel;—on the sharp point
He grinds his teeth: now from his poisonous mouth,
Began the blood to flow, and sprinkling ting'd
The virid grass; but trivial still the hurt;
For shrinking from the blow, and twisting back
His wounded neck, the stroke he still prevents
Deeper to pierce, by yielding to its force.
But pushing arduous on, Agenor's son,
Fix'd in his throat the steel;—and the sharp point
Forc'd through his neck: an oak oppos'd behind;—
The tree and neck the spear at once transfix'd.
Dragg'd by the monster's weight low bends the tree,
And groans and cracks, as lashing blows, his tail
Immense, deals round. Now whilst the victor stands
And wondering views the conquer'd serpent's size,
Sudden a voice is heard, (from whence unknown,—
But plain the words he hears) “Why view'st thou thus,
“Agenor's son, the foe by thee destroy'd?
“Thou one day like this serpent shalt be seen.”
Aghast he stood,—the warm blood fled his cheeks;
His courage chang'd to terror; freezing fear
Rais'd his stiff locks erect. Lo! Pallas comes,
Pallas, the known protectress of the brave.
Smooth sliding from the higher clouds she comes;
Bids him remove the soil, and place beneath,
The serpent's fangs, a future offspring's pledge.
The prince obeys; and as with crooked share,
The ground he opens, in the furrows throws
The teeth directed. Thence, (beyond belief!)
The clods of earth at once began to move;
Then in the furrows glitter'd, first, the points
Of spears: anon fair painted crests arose,
Above bright helmets nodding: shoulders next;
And breasts; and arms, with javelins loaded came:
Thickening the harvest grew of shielded men.
Thus shews the glad theatric curtain; rais'd
The painted figures' faces first appear,
Gradual display'd; and more by slow degrees;
At length the whole stand forth, their feet all fix'd
Firm on the lower margin. Wondering, he
His new-made foe beheld; and grasp'd his arms.
But one whom earth had just produc'd, exclaim'd;—
“Arm not, nor meddle in our civil broils.”
He said,—an earth-born brother, hand to hand
With sword keen-edg'd attacking; but from far,
A javelin hurl'd, dispatch'd him. Short the boast
Of him who sent it;—his death wound infix'd,—
He breathes the air out he so late receiv'd.
So rage the rest, and in the furious war
The new-made brethren fall by mutual wounds:
And on their blood-stain'd mother, dash, the youths
To short existence born, their damp cold breasts.
Five only stand unhurt,—Echion one,—
Who threw, by Pallas prompted, down his arms
And peace propos'd: his brethren took his pledge.
These join the Tyrian prince, and social aid
His efforts, when th' appointed walls he builds;
Obedient to the Delphic god's commands.

    The Theban walls now rais'd, thou, Cadmus seem'd
Blest in thy exile. Mars and Venus gave
Their daughter to thy wife. This spouse so fam'd,
Thee daughters brought, and sons,—a numerous tribe;
And grandsons, pledges dear of nuptial joys,
Already risen to manhood. But too true
That man should still his final day expect;
Nor blest be deem'd till flames his funeral pyre.
Thy grandson's fate, O, Cadmus! first with grief
Thy bosom wrung, amid thy prosperous state:
The alien horns which nodded o'er his brow;
And ye, voracious hounds, with blood full-gorg'd,
Your master's life-stream. Yet by close research,
We find unlucky chance, not vice, his crime.

    Near stood a vale, where pointed cypress form'd
With gloomy pines a grateful shade, and nam'd
Gargaphié;—sacred to the girded maid:
Its deep recess a shrubby cavern held,
By nature modell'd,—but by nature, art
Seem'd equall'd, or excell'd. A native arch
Of pumice light, and tophus dry, was form'd;
And from the right a stream transparent flow'd,
Of trivial size, which spread a pool below;
With grassy margin circled. Dian' here,
The woodland goddess, weary'd with the chace,
Had oft rejoic'd to bathe her virgin limbs.
As wont she comes;—her quiver, and her dart,
And unstrung bow, her armour-bearing nymph
In charge receives. Disrob'd, another's arms
Sustain her vest. Two from her feet unloose
Her sandals. Crocalé, Ismenian nymph,
Than others more expert, her tresses binds,
Loose o'er her shoulders floating, in a knot;
Her own wild flowing still. Five more the streams
In huge urns lifting; Hyalé, and Niphé,
Phialé, Rhanis, Psecas, lave her limbs.
Here while the goddess in the limpid wave
Washes as 'custom'd,—lo! Actæon comes;—
His sportive toil till morning dawn deferr'd:
And roving through the vale with random steps,
By hapless fate conducted, he arrives
Close to the sacred grove. Within the grot
Stream-pouring, when he stept, the naked nymphs,—
Then first by man beheld,—their bosoms beat;
Fill'd the deep grove with outcries loud; and round
Diana crowded, screening as they could
Her limbs with theirs. Yet high above them tower'd
The goddess, and her neck their heads o'erlook'd.
As blush the clouds by Phœbus' adverse rays
Deep ting'd;—or as Aurora in the morn;
So blush'd the virgin-goddess, seen unrob'd.
Sideway she stood, though closely hemm'd around
By clustering nymphs, and backward bent her face:
Then anxious praying she could reach her darts,
In vain,—she seiz'd the waters which she could,
And dash'd them o'er his features:—as his locks,
The vengeful drops besprinkled, thus in rage,
She cry'd,—“Now tell thou hast Diana seen
“Disrob'd;—go tell it, if thou canst,”—no more,
With threatenings storm'd, but on his sprinkled head,
The antlers of the long-liv'd stag are plac'd.
His neck is lengthen'd; with a sharpen'd point,
His upright ears are form'd; to feet his hands,—
To long and slender legs his arms are chang'd;
And round his body clings a dappled coat.
Fear in his bosom she instils: the youth,
The bold Actæon flies, and wondering feels
His bounding feet so rapid in the race.
But soon the waters shew'd his branching horns;
And,—“ah unhappy me!” he strove to cry:
His voice he found not; sighs and sobs were all;
And tears fast streaming down his alter'd face.
Still human sense remains. Where shall he turn?
His royal palace seek,—or in the woods
Secluded hide?—To tarry fear forbids,
And shame prevents returning. While he doubts
His hounds espy him. Quick-nos'd Tracer first,
And Blackfoot give the signal by their yell:
Tracer of Crete, and Blackfoot Spartan bred.
Swifter than air the noisy pack rush on;
Arcadian Quicksight; Glutton; Ranger, stout;
Strong Killbuck; Whirlwind, furious; Hunter, fierce;
Flyer, swift-footed; and quick-scented Snap:
Ringwood, late wounded by a furious bear;
And Forester, by savage wolf begot:
Flock-tending Shepherdess; with Ravener fierce,
And her two whelps; and Sicyonian Catch:
The thin flank'd greyhound, Racer; Yelper; Patch;
Tiger; Robust; Milkwhite, with snowy coat;
And coalblack Soot. First in the race, fleet Storm;
Courageous Spartan Swift; and rapid Wolf;
Join'd with his Cyprian brother, Snatch, well mark'd
With sable forehead on a coat of white:
Blackcoat: and thickhair'd Shag: Worrier; and Wild,—
Twins from a dam Laconian sprung, their sire
Dictæan: Babbler with his noisy throat:—
But all to name were endless. Urg'd by hope
Of prey they crowd; down precipices rush;
O'er rocks, and crags; through rugged paths, and ways
Unpass'd before. His hounds he flies, where oft
His hounds he had pursu'd. Poor wretch! he flies
His own domestics, striving hard to call,
“Actæon am I!—villains, know your lord.”
Words aid him not: loud rings the air with yells,
Howlings, and barkings:—Blackhair first, his teeth
Fix'd in his back; staunch Tamer fasten'd next;
And Rover seiz'd his shoulder: tardy these,
The rest far left behind, but o'er the hills
Athwart, the chase they shorten'd. Now the pack,
Join'd them their lord retaining; join'd their teeth
Their victim seizing:—now his body bleeds,
A wound continuous: deep he utters groans,
Not human, yet unlike a dying deer;
And fills the well-known mountains with his plaint.
Prone on his knees in suppliant form he bends;
And low beseeching waves his silent head,
As he would wave his hands. His witless friends,
The savage pack with joyous outcries urge;
Actæon anxious seeking: echoing loud
Eager his name as absent. At the name,
His head he turns. His absence irks them sore,
As lazy loitering, not the noble prey
Obtain'd, beholding. Joyful could he be,
At distance now,—but hapless is too near:
Glad would he see the furious dogs their fangs,
On other prey than his torn limbs infix.
On every side they crowd; their dying lord,
A well-seem'd deer, they rend; their ravenous teeth
Deep tear his members. With a thousand wounds,
(Dian's insatiate anger less despis'd)
The hapless hunter yielded forth his breath.

    Report flies dubious; some the goddess blame
For disproportion'd vengeance; others warm
Applaud the deed as worthy one so pure;
And reasons weighty either party urge:
Jove's consort only silent: she nor blames
The action, nor approves; but inward joys,
Agenor's house should such misfortune feel.
The hatred nourish'd for the Tyrian maid,
Her brother's offspring visits. Now fresh cause
Of wrath succeeds; enrag'd the goddess learns
That Semelé, embrac'd by mighty Jove,
Is pregnant. Straight broke loose her angry tongue,
And loud she storm'd:—“Advantage much I gain
“By endless railing at unfaithful Jove!
“This harlot will I find,—and, if with truth
“They potent Juno stile me, she shall die.
“Destruction shall o'erwhelm her, if beseems
“My hand the sparkling sceptre of the sky:
“If queen I am to Jove;—if sister;—wife:—
“His sister doubtless am I, if no more.
“Content perchance is Semelé to joy
“In pleasures briefly tasted; and my wrongs
“Though deep, not lasting. No!—she must conceive
“Foul aggravation of her shameless deed!
“Her swelling womb unblushing proves her crime:
“By Jove she longs to be a mother hail'd;
“Which scarcely I can boast. Such faith her pride,
“In conscious beauty places. Trust me not,
“Or she mistaken proves. As I am child
“Of hoary Saturn, she shall sink o'erwhelm'd
“By her own Jove; and dip in Stygian waves.”

    She said, and starting from her regal throne,
Wrapt in a dusky cloud descended; o'er
The threshold stepp'd of Semelé, nor chas'd
Her darkening veil, till like an ancient dame
She stood display'd. White hairs her temples strew'd;
Deep furrows plough'd her skin; her bending limbs
Quiver'd beneath her weight; her tremulous voice
Exhausted age betray'd: she stood to view
Old Beroë, from Epidaurus come,
The nurse of Semelé. With tedious tales
She garrulous amus'd:—when in her turn
Listening, the name of Jupiter she heard
She sigh'd, and said,—“May he be truly Jove!
“But age is still suspicious. Chastest beds
“Have been by these pretended gods defil'd:
“For if the deity supreme he be,
“Why comes he thus disguis'd? If true his love,
“Why prove it not? Urge thou an anxious wish
“To clasp him in his might, in such a sort,
“As lofty Juno he embraces;—round
“Begirt with all the ensigns of his power.”
Thus Juno artful, Semelé's desires
Apt moulded to her mind. From Jove she prays
A nameless boon: the ready god consents;—
“Chuse what thou wilt, nor least denial dread:
“To prove my faith, I call the Stygian streams
“To witness, terror of the god of gods.”
Joy'd at her fatal prayer's too large success;
And by her lover's prompt compliance, doom'd
To sure destruction;—“This,” said she, “I wish;—
“When with me next you love's delights enjoy,
“Appear as when Saturnia fills your arms.”
Fain would the god have stopp'd her mouth:—too soon
The hasty words found entrance to his ears.
Deep mourn'd he. Equal now the fates forbid,
The wish retracted, or the oath absolv'd.
Sorrowing he seeks the lofty heaven: his nod
Dark rolling clouds collects: here form black showers;
And hurricanes; and flashing lightenings mixt;
Thunders; and his inevitable bolt:
Anxious he strives with all his power to damp,
The fierceness of his flames: nor arm'd him now,
With those dread fires that to the earth dash'd down
The hundred-handed foe:—too powerful they.
He chose a milder thunder;—less of rage,
Of fire, and fury, had the Cyclops given
The mass when forg'd; a second-rated bolt.
Clad in mild glory thus, the dome he seeks
Of Semelé;—her mortal frame too weak,
To bear th' ethereal shock, fierce scorcht she sunk,
Beneath the nuptial grant. Th' imperfect babe,
Snatcht from his mother's smoking womb, was sew'd
(If faith the tale deserves) within his thigh;
There to complete the period of his growth.
Ino, his aunt maternal, then receiv'd
The boy; in private rear'd him, till the nymphs
Of Nysa's mountains, in their secret caves
Shelter'd, and fed with milk, th' entrusted charge.

    While the rash promise caus'd on earth those deeds,
And twice-born Bacchus' cradle safe was hid;
'Tis said that Jove with heavenly nectar flush'd,
All serious cares dismiss'd. With sportive jests,
At ease conversing, he and Juno sate:
When he:—“The thrilling ecstasies of love,
“Are surely strongest on the female side.”
She differs,—and the question both agree
Tiresias, who each sex had prov'd, shall judge.
Two mighty snakes he spy'd upon the grass,
Twisted in Venus' wreaths; and with his staff
Hard smote them;—instant alter'd was his sex.
Wonderous! he woman of a man became,
Seven winters so he liv'd:—the eight, again
He spy'd the same; and cry'd,—“If such your power,
“That whoso strikes you must their gender change,
“Once more I'll try the spell.” Straight as the blow
The snakes receiv'd, his pristine form return'd:
Hence was he chosen, in the strife jocose,
As umpire; and the words of Jove confirm'd.

    Fam'd far and wide through all Bœotia's towns,
Unerring answers still the prophet gave,
To all who sought him. Blue Liriopé,
First prov'd his faith, and ne'er-deceiving words.
Her once Cephisus, in his winding stream
Entwin'd, and forceful in his waves enjoy'd.
The beauteous nymph's full womb, in time produc'd
A babe, whose features ev'n from birth inspir'd
Th' attendant nymphs with love; Narcissus nam'd.
For him enquiring, whether doom'd to see,
The peaceful period of maturest age,
The fate-foretelling prophet thus reply'd:—
“Yes,—if himself he never knows.” The words
Were long absurd esteem'd: but well th' event
Their justice prov'd; his strange unheard of death;
And love of object never lov'd before.

    Now sixteen summers had Narcissus seen,
A boy in beauty, but in growth a man;
And crowds of youths his friendship sought, and crowds
Of damsels sought his love: but fiercely pride
Swell'd in his snowy bosom; and he spurn'd
His friends' advances, and the love-sick maids.
A chattering nymph, resounding Echo, saw
The youth, when in his toils the trembling deer
He drove;—a nymph who ne'er her words retain'd,
Nor dialogue commenc'd. But then she bore
A body palpable; and not, as now,
Merely a voice:—yet garrulous, she then
That voice, nor other us'd; 'twas all she could,
The closing words of speakers to repeat.
Juno had this ordain'd: for oft the dame
The frailer nymphs upon the hills had caught,
In trespass with her Jove; but Echo sly
With lengthen'd speech the goddess kept amus'd,
Till all by flight were sav'd. Soon Juno saw
The trick:—“The power of that delusive tongue,”—
She cry'd, “I'll lessen, and make brief thy words;”
Nor stay'd, but straight her threaten'd vengeance took.
Now she redoubles (all she can) the words
Which end another's speech; reporting back,

    Thus slighted he the nymph; nor her alone,
But numbers else who o'er the mountains rov'd;
Or sported in the waves. Nor less his pride,
When more mature: keen smarting from his scorn,
To heaven one rais'd her hands, and ardent pray'd;—
“Ordain that he may love, but love like me
“One ne'er to be enjoy'd!” Rhamnusia grants
To prayers so just, th' assenting nod. There stood,
A mudless pool, whose waters silvery bright,
The shepherds touch'd not,—nor the mountain goats,
Nor lowing herds: which birds, and fierce wild beasts,
Dabbling disturb'd not:—nor a wither'd branch,
Dropt from a tree o'erhanging. Round the brink,
Fed by the moisture, virid grass arose;
And trees impervious to the solar beam,
Screen'd the cool surface. Weary'd with the chase,
And faint with heat, here laid Narcissus down;
Charm'd with the place, and tempted by the pool.
Here as he seeks to quench his burning thirst,
He burns with other fires: and while he drinks,
Caught by the image of his beauteous face,
He loves th' unbody'd form: a substance thinks
The shadow:—loves enraptur'd,—loves himself!
Fixes with eager gaze upon the sight
As on a face in Parian marble wrought.
Stretcht on the ground, his own bright eyes he views,
Twin stars;—his fingers, such as Bacchus grace;
His tresses like Apollo's;—downy cheeks,
Unbearded yet; his neck as ivory white;
The roseate blooming fading into snow:
Each trait admiring which the hapless nymphs,
In him admir'd. Unwitting youth, himself
He wants;—at once beloving, and belov'd:
Himself desiring, by himself desir'd:
Burning with love, while by himself he burns.
Oft, stooping, were his fruitless kisses given:
Oft were his arms outstretch'd to clasp the neck
So plainly seen beneath the waters. No!—
Himself he could not clasp. Whom he beholds,
He knows not; but for whom he sees he burns.
The error that his eye deceives, provokes
His rage. O, foolish youth! why vainly grasp
A fleeting shadow? What thou seek'st is not:—
And what thou lov'st thou now destroy'st:—thou see'st
A semblance only;—a reflected shade—
Nought of itself: with thee it came;—with thee
It stays;—and with thee, if thou could'st, would go.
Not hunger's power has force to drag him thence;
Nor cares of sleep oppress him. Thrown along
The shaded grass, he bends insatiate eyes
Tow'rds the fallacious beauty;—by those eyes
He perishes. Now half-uprais'd, his arms
Outspread, to all the groves around he cry'd:—
“Ye woods, whose darken'd shades so oft have given
“Convenient privacies to lovers, say,
“Saw you e'er one so cruelly who lov'd?
“In ages heap'd on ages you have stood,
“Remember ye a youth who pin'd as I?
“Pleas'd with the object, I its form behold;
“But what I see, and what so pleases flies.
“I find it not: in such bewilder'd maze
“The lover stands. And what my grief augments,
“No mighty seas divide us; lengthen'd roads;
“Nor lofty hills; nor high embattled walls,
“With portals clos'd: asunder are we held
“By trivial drops of water. It no less
“Than I, would give th' embrace; for when I bend
“My lips to kiss it in the limpid stream;
“With rising lips to meet, it anxious strives:
“Then might you think we touch, so faint a line
“Sunders us lovers. Come! whate'er thou art,
“Come hither! why thus mock me, dearest form?
“Why fly my wooing thus? My beauty sure,
“Nor youth are such as should provoke thy flight:
“For numerous nymphs for me have burn'd. Some hope
“Thy kindly sympathizing face affords;
“And when my anxious arms I stretch,—thy arms
“Advance to clasp me:—when I smile, thou smil'st:
“And often have I noted, when the tears
“Stream'd down my cheeks, a rivulet on thine:
“I nod,—thou, answering, noddest: and those lips,
“Those beauteous lips, whose movements plain I see,
“Words utter sure to mine,—though I forbid,
“The sounds to hear. In thee am I!—no more
“My shadow me deceives: I see the whole;
“Love for myself consumes me:—flames self-rais'd,
“Myself torment. What hope? be woo'd,—or woo?
“Wooing, or being woo'd, where is my gain?
“Myself I wish, and plenty makes me poor.
“Would that my body from itself could part!
“Strange wish for lovers, what most dear they love,
“Absent to pray. Grief undermines my strength;
“Nor long my life can linger;—immature,
“In youth I perish: but in me no fears,
“Can death infuse, of all my woes the end;
“Might I but leave this lovely object, still
“Existing: now two images, alas!
“Sink with one soul in death.” Narcissus wails;
And raving turns to view the face again.
His tears the waters trouble; and the face
So beauteous, scarce is seen. Griev'd, he exclaims,
When disappearing,—“Whither fly'st thou? stay—
“Stay, I beseech thee; cruel, fly me not,—
“Thy lover: grant me still to view the form,
“To touch forbidden:—food, at least, afford
“To this unhappy flame.” Lamenting thus,
He from his shoulders tore his robe, and beat
With snow-white hands his bosom; at the blow
His bosom redden'd: so the cherry seems,
Here ruddy blushing, there as fair as snow:
Or grapes unripe, part purpling to the sun,
In vary'd clusters. This he soon espy'd,
Reflected in the placid pool; no more
He bore it, but as gentle fire dissolves
The yellow wax: as Phœbus' morning beams
Melt the light hoar;—so wasted he,—by love
Gradual consum'd, as by a secret fire.
No more the ruddy teints appear, with white
Soft blended. All his active strength decays;
And all that pleas'd so lately. Ev'n his form
So much by Echo lov'd, no more remains.

    All Echo saw; and though of former slights
Still mindful, griev'd; and when the hapless youth
“Alas!” exclaim'd; responsive sigh'd, “Alas!”
When on his breast the blows resounded; blows
Loud answering his were heard. His final words,
Gazing still earnest on the wonted wave,
Were,—“dearest form, belov'd in vain!”—the words
Resounded from the grove: “farewel,” he cry'd,
And Echo cry'd, “farewel.” Weary'd he threw,
On the green turf his head. Night clos'd his eyes;
Their owner fond admiring. Now retir'd
To regions far beneath, the Stygian lake
Reflects his form. The Naiäd sisters wail,
Shorn of their tresses, which to him they throw:
The Dryads also mourn; their bosoms beat;
And Echo answers every tearful groan.
A pile they build; the high-tost torches bring;
And funeral bier; but, lo! the corpse is gone:
A saffron-teinted flower alone is found,
Rising encircled with its snowy leaves.

    Th' adventure spread through all the Achaian towns,
And much repute th' unerring augur gain'd.
Great now his prophesying fame. Alone,
Pentheus despis'd him;—(he the gods despis'd)
And only he;—he mock'd each holy word
Sagely prophetic:—with his rayless eyes
Reproach'd him. Angrily, his temples hoar
With reverend locks, the prophet shook, and said;—
“Happy for thee, if thus of light bereft,
“The Bacchanalian orgies ne'er to see!
“The day approaches, nor far distant now;
“My sight prophetic tells,—when here will come
“Bacchus new-born, of Semelé the son,
“Whose rites, if thou with honor due, not tend'st
“In temples worthy,—scatter'd far and wide,
“Thy limbs dismember'd shall the ground bestrew:
“Thy blood the forests shall distain;—thy gore
“Thy aunts,—nay e'en thy mother, shall pollute:
“For thou such honors, as immortals claim,
“Shalt to the god deny; then wilt thou find
“Beneath this darkness I but see too well.”
Thus speaking, Echion's son the prophet push'd
Harshly away; but his too faithful words
Time prov'd;—the threaten'd deeds accomplish'd all.

    Lo! Bacchus comes, and all the country rings
With joyous outcries; crowds on crowds thick swarm;—
Matrons, and wives new-wedded, mixt with men;
Nobles, and commons; all the impulse bears,
To join the stranger's rites. But Pentheus thus;—
“Offspring of Mars! O nation, serpent born!
“What madness fills your minds? Can piercing sounds
“Of brass from brass rebounding; winding horns,
“And magic cheatings, then possess such power?
“You whom the warlike sword, the trumpet's clang,
“And battle's edge, dread bristling close with arms,
“Appal not; yield ye thus to female howls;
“Wine's maddening fumes; a filthy shameless crowd;
“And empty cymbals? In amaze, I see,
“You venerable men who plough'd the seas,
“And here, a refuge for your exil'd gods,
“This second Tyre have built,—without a blow,
“Yield it a spoil! Ye too, robuster youths,
“Of hardier age, and years more near my own;—
“Whom warlike arms, than Thyrsi more become;
“And brows with helmets than with leaves comprest:
“Think whence you sprang, and let the thought inspire
“Your souls with all the dragon's fierceness: he
Singly slew hosts: he for his fountain fell;
You for your honor vanquish. He destroy'd
The valiant; you th' effeminate expel;
And all the glory of your sire regain.
“If fate to Thebes a speedy fall decrees,
“May heroes, O, ye gods! with battering force
“O'erturn her walls;—may the sword rage, and flames
“Crackling, devour her. Wretched though our lot;
“Not criminal: our fate, though much bemoan'd,
“Would need concealment not: tears then might flow,
“But not from shame. Now unresisting Thebes,
“Yields to a boy unarm'd; who never joys
“In armies, steeds, nor swords;—but more in locks
“With myrrh moist-dropping, garlands soft, and robes
“Of various teints, with gold and purple gay.
“Rest ye but tranquil, and without delay,
“Him will I force to own his boasted sire
“Untrue; and forg'd those new invented rites.
“Had not Acrisius bravery to despise
“The counterfeited deity, and close
“The gates of Argos on him? And must now
“This wanderer come, and Pentheus terrify,
“With all the power of Thebes! Haste, quickly haste,”—
He bade his servants,—“hither drag, firm chain'd,
“This leader. Quick, nor brook my words delay!”
His grandsire, Athamas, and all the crowd
Reprove;—while thus he rails, with fruitless toil
Labor to stop him. Obstinate he stands,
More raging at remonstrance; and his ire
Restrain'd, increases; goading more and more;
Restraint itself enkindling more his rage.
So may be seen a river rolling smooth,
With murmuring nearly silent, while unchecked;
But when by rocks, or bulky trees oppos'd,
Foaming and boiling furious, on it sweeps
Impetuous raging; fiercer, more withstood.

    With blood besmear'd, his men return;—their lord
For Bacchus anxious asks;—but Bacchus they,
To find, arriv'd too late;—“but here,” they cry,—
“Here have we seiz'd his comrade;—one who joins
“His train, and joins his rites.” (The Tuscans once
The Bacchanalian orgies follow'd.) Bound
Behind, his hands, their prisoner they present.
Pentheus survey'd the stranger, while his eyes
Sparkled with rage terrific: with constraint
His torture so deferring, thus he spoke;—
“Wretch! ere thou sufferest,—ere thy death shall give
“A public warning,—tell thy name;—confess
“Thy sire; declare thy country; and the cause
“Those rites thou celebratest in a mode
“Diverse from others.” Fearless, he reply'd;—
“Acœtes is my name: my natal land,
“Tyrrhenia: from an humble stock I spring.
“Lands by strong oxen plough'd, or wool-clad flocks,
“Or lowing herds my father left me none:
“For poor was he;—his daily toil to catch
“With nets and lines the fish, and as they leap'd,
“Draw with his bending rod the prey to land:
“His skill his sole estate. When unto me
“This art he taught,—receive, said he, my wealth;
“Such wealth as I possess; heir to my toil,
“And to my toil successor: dying, he
“To me bequeath'd the waters;—nothing more:
“These only as paternal wealth I claim.
“But soon, disliking on the self-same rock
“To dwell, I learn'd the art to rule the track
“Plough'd by the keel, with skilful guiding hand;
“And learn'd th' Olenian sign, the showery goat;
“Taygeté; and the Hyädes; the Bear;
“The dwellings of the winds; and every port
“Where ships could shelter. Once for Delos bound,
“By chance, the shore of Chios' isle we near'd;
“And when our starboard oars the beach had touch'd,
“Lightly I leap'd, and rested on the land.
“Now, night expir'd, Aurora warmly glow'd,
“And rousing up from sleep, my men I bade
“Supplies of living waters bring; and shew'd
“What path the fountain led to. I meanwhile,
“A lofty hill ascending, careful mark'd
“The wish'd-for wind approaching;—loud I call'd
“My fellows, and with haste the vessel gain'd.
“Lo! cry'd Opheltes, chief of all my crew,—
“Lo! here we come;—and from the desart fields,
“(A prize obtain'd, he thought),—he dragg'd along
“A boy of virgin beauty tow'rd the sands:
“Staggering, the youth, with wine and sleep opprest,
“With difficulty follow'd. Closely I
“His dress, his countenance, and his gait remark;
“And all I see, displays no mortal man.
“Conscious, I speak my comrades thus:—Unknown
“To me, what deity before us stands,
“But sure I am, that form conceals a god.
“O thou! whoe'er thou art, assist us;—aid
“Our undertakings;—who have seiz'd thee, spare,
“Unknowing what they did. Bold Dictys cries,—
“Than whom none swifter gain'd the topmost yards,
“Nor on the cordage slid more agile down;—
“Prayers offer not for us. Him Lybis joins;
“And brown Melanthus, ruler of the helm;
“Alcimedon unites; Epopeus too,
“Who rul'd the rowers, and their restings mark'd;
“(Arduous they urg'd their sinews by his voice)—
“Nay all Opheltes join,—the lust of gain,
“So blinded all their judgments. Still I cry;—
“Ne'er will I yield my vessel to behold
“Burthen'd with such a sacrilegious load:
“Pre-eminent is here my right. I stand
“To those who strive to hoist him in, oppos'd.
“Bold and outrageous, far beyond the rest,
“Was Lycabas; from Tuscan shore exil'd
“For deeds of murderous violence: he grasp'd
“My throat with force athletic, as I stood,
“And in the waves had flung me; but sore stunn'd,
“A cable caught, and sav'd me. Loud the crew
“The impious deed applauded. Bacchus rose,
“(The boy was Bacchus!) with the tumult loud
“Rous'd from his sleep;—the fumes of wine dispell'd,
“His senses seem'd restor'd. What is't you do?
“What noise is this? he cry'd;—What brought me here?
“O, mariners! inform me;—tell me where
“You carry me! Fear not,—the pilot said,—
“Say but the port, where most thou'dst chuse to land;—
“Thither we straight will steer. The god reply'd;—
“To Naxos then your course direct; that isle
“My native soil I call:—to you that isle
“A friendly shore shall prove. False men, they swear,
“By ocean, and by all the sacred gods,
“This to perform; and order me to loose,
“The painted vessel's sails. Full on the right
“Stood Naxos. Loudly one to me exclaims;
“As tow'rd the right I trim the sails to steer;—
“What now, Acœtes? madman! fool! what now?
“Art thou distracted? to the left we sail.—
“Most nod significant their wishes: some
“Soft whisper in my ear. Astounded, I
“Let others guide!—exclaim,—and quit the helm;
“Guiltless of aiding in their treacherous guile.
“Loud murmurings sound from all; and loudly one,
“Ethalion, cries;—in thee alone is plac'd
“Our safety, doubtless!—forward steps himself;—
“My station seizes; and a different course
“Directs the vessel, Naxos left behind.
“The feigning god, as though but then, the fraud
“To him perceptible, the waves beholds
“From the curv'd poop, and tears pretending, cries;—
“Not this, O, seamen! is the promis'd shore:
“Not this the wish'd-for land! What deed of mine
“This cruel treatment merits? Where the fame
“Of men, a child deceiving; numbers leagu'd
“Misleading one? Fast flow'd my tears with his;
“Our tears the impious mob deride, and press
“The ocean with their strong-propelling oars.
“Now by the god himself, I swear, (and none
“To vows more ready listens) that the tale,
“Though in appearance credence far beyond,
“Is strictly true. Firm fixt amid the waves
“The vessel stands, as in a harbour laid
“Dry from the ocean! Wondering, they their oars,
“With strokes redoubled ply; loose to the wind
“More sails; and with this double aid essay
“Onward to urge. Their oars with ivy twin'd,
“Are clogg'd; the curving tendrils crooked spread;
“The sails with clustering berries loaded hang.
“His temples girded with a branchy crown,
“Whence grapes hang dangling, stands the god, and shakes
“A spear entwisted with the curling vine.
“Round seem to prowl the tiger, and the lynx,
“And savage forms of panthers, various mark'd.
“Up leap'd the men, by sudden madness mov'd;
“Or terror only: Medon first appear'd
“Blackening to grow, with shooting fins; his form
“Flatten'd; and in a curve was bent his spine.
“Him Lycabas address'd;—what wonderous shape
“Art thou receiving?—speaking, wide his jaws
“Expanded; flatten'd down, his nose appear'd;
“A scaly covering cloth'd his harden'd skin.
“Lybis to turn the firm fixt oars attempts,
“But while he tries, perceives his fingers shrink;
“And hands, now hands no longer, fins he sees.
“Another round the cordage strives his arms
“To clasp,—but arms he has not,—down he leaps
“Broad on his crooked back, and seeks the waves.
“Forkt is their new-made tail; like Luna's form
“Bent in the skies, ere half her orb is fill'd.
“Bounding all round they leap;—now down they dash,
“Besprinkling wide the foamy drops; now 'merge;
“And now re-diving, plunge in playful sport:
“As chorus regular they act, and move
“Their forms in shapes lascivious; spouting high,
“The briny waters through their nostrils wide.
“Of twenty now, (our ship so many bore)
“I only stand unchang'd; with trembling limbs,
“And petrify'd with fear. The god himself,
“Scarce courage in my mind inspires; when thus,—
“Pale terror from thy bosom drive, and seek
“The isle of Naxos.—Thither come, I tend
“On smoking altars, Bacchus' sacred rites.”