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Title: The Metamorphoses of Ovid, Books I-VII

Author: Ovid

Translator: Henry T. Riley

Release date: June 8, 2007 [eBook #21765]
Most recently updated: June 28, 2021

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
METAMORPHOSES OF OVID, BOOKS I-VII ***

All Greek words have mouse-hover transliterations: Δηοῦς κόρη.
The text is based on two reprints of the 1851 Riley translation: Bell (1893,
London) and McKay (1899, Philadelphia). Page and line numbers in the left
margin refer to Bell; numbers in the right margin are from McKay. Details
about the texts are given at the end of this file, along with notes on errors
and footnote numbering.

The Metamorphoses of Ovid
Books I-VII

Translated by Henry T. Riley

The
METAMORPHOSES
of
OVID.
Literally Translated into English Prose, with Copious Notes and Explanations,
BY HENRY T. RILEY, B.A.
of Clare Hall, Cambridge.

London:
George Bell & Sons, York St., Covent Garden, and New York.
1893.

The
METAMORPHOSES OF OVID
Vol. I—Books I-VII
Literally Translated with Notes and Explanations
by
HENRY T. RILEY, M.A.
With an Introduction by
EDWARD BROOKS, JR.

London:
Reprinted from the Stereotype Plates by Wm. Clowes & Sons, Ltd., Stamford Street and Charing
Cross.

Copyright, 1899, By David McKay
press of
Sherman & Co., Philadelphia

Contents

Introductory Material
from Bell edition:
Introduction
“Synoptical View”:
Book I
Book II
Book III
Book IV
Book V
Book VI
Book VII
Introductory Material
from McKay edition:
Introduction
by Edward Brooks, Jr.
Advertising (last page of volume)
The Metamorphoses of Ovid
Books I-III
Book I
Book II
Book III
Books IV-VII
Book IV
Book V
Book VI
Book VII

Introductory material from 1893 Bell edition, omitting synopses of Books VIII-
XV:

INTRODUCTION.

The Metamorphoses of Ovid are a compendium of the Mythological
narratives of ancient Greece and Rome, so ingeniously framed, as to
embrace a large amount of information upon almost every subject
connected with the learning, traditions, manners, and customs of antiquity,
and have afforded a fertile field of investigation to the learned of the
civilized world. To present to the public a faithful translation of a work,
universally esteemed, not only for its varied information, but as being the
masterpiece of one of the greatest Poets of ancient Rome, is the object of
the present volume.
To render the work, which, from its nature and design, must, of necessity,
be replete with matter of obscure meaning, more inviting to the scholar, and
more intelligible to those who are unversed in Classical literature, the
translation is accompanied with Notes and Explanations, which, it is
believed, will be found to throw considerable light upon the origin and
meaning of some of the traditions of heathen Mythology.
In the translation, the text of the Delphin edition has been generally
adopted; and no deviation has been made from it, except in a few instances,
where the reason for such a step is stated in the notes; at the same time, the
texts of Burmann and Gierig have throughout been carefully consulted. The
several editions vary materially in respect to punctuation; the Translator has
consequently used his own discretion in adopting that which seemed to him
the most fully to convey in each passage the intended meaning of the writer.
The Metamorphoses of Ovid have been frequently translated into the
English language. On referring to Mr. Bohn’s excellent Catalogue of the
Greek and Latin Classics and their Translations, we find that the whole of
the work has been twice translated into English Prose, while five

translations in Verse are there enumerated. A prose version of the
Metamorphoses was published by Joseph Davidson, about the middle of the
last century, which professes to be “as near the original as the different
idioms of the Latin and English will allow;” and to be “printed for the use
of schools, as well as of private gentlemen.” A few moments’ perusal of this
work will satisfy the reader that it has not the slightest pretension to be
considered a literal translation, while, by its departure from the strict letter
of the author, it has gained nothing in elegance of diction. It is accompanied
by “critical, historical, geographical, and classical notes in English, from
the best Commentators, both ancient and modern, beside a great number of
notes, entirely new;” but notwithstanding this announcement, these
annotations will be found to be but few in number, and, with some
exceptions in the early part of the volume, to throw very little light on the
obscurities of the text. A fifth edition of this translation was published so
recently as 1822, but without any improvement, beyond the furbishing up of
the old-fashioned language of the original preface. A far more literal
translation of the Metamorphoses is that by John Clarke, which was first
published about the year 1735, and had attained to a seventh edition in
1779. Although this version may be pronounced very nearly to fulfil the
promise set forth in its title page, of being “as literal as possible,” still, from
the singular inelegance of its style, and the fact of its being couched in the
conversational language of the early part of the last century, and being
unaccompanied by any attempt at explanation, it may safely be pronounced
to be ill adapted to the requirements of the present age. Indeed, it would not,
perhaps, be too much to assert, that, although the translator may, in his own
words, “have done an acceptable service to such gentlemen as are desirous
of regaining or improving the skill they acquired at school,” he has, in many
instances, burlesqued rather than translated his author. Some of the
curiosities of his version will be found set forth in the notes; but, for the
purpose of the more readily justifying this assertion, a few of them are
adduced: the word “nitidus” is always rendered “neat,” whether applied to a
fish, a cow, a chariot, a laurel, the steps of a temple, or the art of wrestling.
He renders “horridus,” “in a rude pickle;” “virgo” is generally translated
“the young lady;” “vir” is “a gentleman;” “senex” and “senior” are
indifferently “the old blade,” “the old fellow,” or “the old gentleman;”
while “summa arx” is “the very tip-top.” “Misera” is “poor soul;” “exsilio”

means “to bounce forth;” “pellex” is “a miss;” “lumina” are “the peepers;”
“turbatum fugere” is “to scower off in a mighty bustle;” “confundor” is “to
be jumbled;” and “squalidus” is “in a sorry pickle.” “Importuna” is “a
plaguy baggage;” “adulterium” is rendered “her pranks;” “ambages”
becomes either “a long rabble of words,” “a long-winded detail,” or “a tale
of a tub;” “miserabile carmen” is “a dismal ditty;” “increpare hos” is “to
rattle these blades;” “penetralia” means “the parlour;” while “accingere,”
more literally than elegantly, is translated “buckle to.” “Situs” is “nasty
stuff;” “oscula jungere” is “to tip him a kiss;” “pingue ingenium” is a
circumlocution for “a blockhead;” “anilia instrumenta” are “his old
woman’s accoutrements;” and “repetito munere Bacchi” is conveyed to the
sense of the reader as, “they return again to their bottle, and take the other
glass.” These are but a specimen of the blemishes which disfigure the most
literal of the English translations of the Metamorphoses.
In the year 1656, a little volume was published, by J[ohn] B[ulloker,]
entitled “Ovid’s Metamorphosis, translated grammatically, and, according
to the propriety of our English tongue, so far as grammar and the verse will
bear, written chiefly for the use of schools, to be used according to the
directions in the preface to the painfull schoolmaster, and more fully in the
book called, ‘Ludus Literarius, or the Grammar school, chap. 8.’”
Notwithstanding a title so pretentious, it contains a translation of no more
than the first 567 lines of the first Book, executed in a fanciful and pedantic
manner; and its rarity is now the only merit of the volume. A literal
interlinear translation of the first Book “on the plan recommended by Mr.
Locke,” was published in 1839, which had been already preceded by “a
selection from the Metamorphoses of Ovid, adapted to the Hamiltonian
system, by a literal and interlineal translation,” published by James
Hamilton, the author of the Hamiltonian system. This work contains
selections only from the first six books, and consequently embraces but a
very small portion of the entire work.
For the better elucidation of the different fabulous narratives and allusions,
explanations have been added, which are principally derived from the
writings of Herodotus, Apollodorus, Pausanias, Dio Cassius, Dionysius of
Halicarnassus, Strabo, Hyginus, Nonnus, and others of the historians,
philosophers, and mythologists of antiquity. A great number of these

illustrations are collected in the elaborate edition of Ovid, published by the
Abbé Banier, one of the most learned scholars of the last century; who has,
therein, and in his “Explanations of the Fables of Antiquity,” with
indefatigable labour and research, culled from the works of ancient authors,
all such information as he considered likely to throw any light upon the
Mythology and history of Greece and Rome.
This course has been adopted, because it was considered that a statement of
the opinions of contemporary authors would be the most likely to enable the
reader to form his own ideas upon the various subjects presented to his
notice. Indeed, except in two or three instances, space has been found too
limited to allow of more than an occasional reference to the opinions of
modern scholars. Such being the object of the explanations, the reader will
not be surprised at the absence of critical and lengthened discussions on
many of those moot points of Mythology and early history which have
occupied, with no very positive result, the attention of Niebuhr, Lobeck,
Müller, Buttmann, and many other scholars of profound learning.

A SYNOPTICAL VIEW
OF THE

PRINCIPAL TRANSFORMATIONS MENTIONED IN

THE METAMORPHOSES.

BOOK I.
Chaos is divided by the Deity into four Elements: to these their respective
inhabitants are assigned, and man is created from earth and water. The four
Ages follow, and in the last of these the Giants aspire to the sovereignty of
the heavens; being slain by Jupiter, a new race of men springs up from their
blood. These becoming noted for their impiety, Jupiter not only transforms
Lycaon into a wolf, but destroys the whole race of men and animals by a
Deluge, with the exception of Deucalion and Pyrrha, who, when the waters

have abated, renew the human race, by throwing stones behind them. Other
animated beings are produced by heat and moisture: and, among them, the
serpent Python. Phœbus slays him, and institutes the Pythian games as a
memorial of the event, in which the conquerors are crowned with beech; for
as yet the laurel does not exist, into which Daphne is changed soon after,
while flying from Phœbus. On this taking place, the other rivers repair to
her father Peneus, either to congratulate or to console him; but Inachus is
not there, as he is grieving for his daughter Io, whom Jupiter, having first
ravished her, has changed into a cow. She is entrusted by Juno to the care of
Argus; Mercury having first related to him the transformation of the Nymph
Syrinx into reeds, slays him, on which his eyes are placed by Juno in the tail
of the peacock. Io, having recovered human shape, becomes the mother of
Epaphus.
BOOK II.
Epaphus, having accused Phaëton of falsely asserting that Phœbus is his
father, Phaëton requests Phœbus, as a proof of his affection towards his
child, to allow him the guidance of the chariot of the Sun for one day. This
being granted, the whole earth is set on fire by him, and the Æthiopians are
turned black by the heat. Jupiter strikes Phaëton with a thunderbolt, and
while his sisters and his kinsman Cyenus are lamenting him, the former are
changed into trees, and Cyenus into a swan. On visiting the earth, that he
may repair the damage caused by the conflagration, Jupiter sees Calisto,
and, assuming the form of Diana, he debauches her. Juno, being enraged,
changes Calisto into a bear; and her own son Arcas being about to pierce
her with an arrow, Jupiter places them both among the Constellations. Juno
having complained of this to Oceanus, is borne back to the heavens by her
peacocks, who have so lately changed their colour; a thing which has also
happened to the raven, which has been lately changed from white to black,
he having refused to listen to the warnings of the crow (who relates the
story of its own transformation, and of that of Nyctimene into an owl), and
having persisted in informing Phœbus of the intrigues of Coronis. Her son
Æsculapius being cut out of the womb of Coronis and carried to the cave of
Chiron the Centaur, Ocyrrhoë, the daughter of Chiron, is changed into a
mare, while she is prophesying. Her father in vain invokes the assistance of

Apollo, for he, in the guise of a shepherd, is tending his oxen in the country
of Elis. He neglecting his herd, Mercury takes the opportunity of stealing it;
after which he changes Battus into a touchstone, for betraying him. Flying
thence, Mercury beholds Herse, the daughter of Cecrops, and debauches
her. Her sister Aglauros, being envious of her, is changed into a rock.
Mercury returns to heaven, on which Jupiter orders him to drive the herds
of Agenor towards the shore; and then, assuming the form of a bull, he
carries Europa over the sea to the isle of Crete.
BOOK III.
Agenor commands his son Cadmus to seek his sister Europa. While he is
doing this, he slays a dragon in Bœotia; and having sowed its teeth in the
earth, men are produced, with whose assistance he builds the walls of
Thebes. His first cause of grief is the fate of his grandson Actæon, who,
being changed into a stag, is torn to pieces by his own hounds. This,
however, gives pleasure to Juno, who hates not only Semele, the daughter
of Cadmus, and the favourite of Jupiter, but all the house of Agenor as well.
Assuming the form of Beroë, she contrives the destruction of Semele by the
lightnings of Jupiter; while Bacchus, being saved alive from his mother’s
womb, is brought up on the earth. Jupiter has a discussion with Juno on the
relative pleasures of the sexes, and they agree to refer the question to
Tiresias, who has been of both sexes. He gives his decision in favour of
Jupiter, on which Juno deprives him of sight; and, by way of recompense,
Jupiter bestows on him the gift of prophesy. His first prediction is fulfilled
in the case of Narcissus, who, despising the advances of all females (in
whose number is Echo, who has been transformed into a sound), at last
pines away with love for himself, and is changed into a flower which bears
his name. Pentheus, however, derides the prophet; who predicts his fate, and
his predictions are soon verified; for, on the celebration of the orgies,
Bacchus having assumed a disguise, is brought before him; and having
related to Pentheus the story of the transformation of the Etrurian sailors
into dolphins, he is thrown into prison. On this, Pentheus is torn in pieces
by the Bacchanals, and great respect is afterwards paid to the rites of
Bacchus.
BOOK IV.

Still Alcithoë and her sisters, neglecting the rites, attend to their spinning,
during the festivities, and pass the time in telling stories; and, among others,
that of Pyramus and Thisbe, by whose blood the mulberry is turned from
white to black, and that of the discovery of the intrigues of Mars and Venus,
on the information of the Sun. They also tell how the Sun assumed the form
of Eurynome, that he might enjoy her daughter Leucothoë; how Clytie,
becoming jealous of her sister, was transformed into a sun-flower; and how
Salmacis and Hermaphroditus had become united into one body. After this,
through the agency of Bacchus, the sisters are transformed into bats, and
their webs are changed into vines. Ino rejoicing at this, Juno, in her hatred
and indignation, sends one of the Furies to her, who causes her to be struck
with insanity, on which she leaps into the sea, with her son Melicerta in her
arms; but by the intercession of Venus, they become sea Deities, and their
Sidonian attendants, who are bewailing them as dead, are changed into
rocks. Cadmus, afflicted at this fresh calamity, retires from Thebes, and flies
to Illyria, together with his wife, where they are both transformed into
serpents. Of those who despise Bacchus, Acrisius alone remains, the
grandfather of Perseus, who, having cut off the head of the Gorgon Medusa,
serpents are produced by her blood. Perseus turns Atlas into a mountain,
and having liberated Andromeda, he changes sea-weed into coral, and
afterwards marries her.
BOOK V.
A tumult arising during the celebration of the nuptials, Phineus claims
Andromeda, who has been betrothed to him; and together with Prœtus, he
and Polydectes are turned into stone. Pallas, who has aided Perseus, now
leaves him, and goes to Helicon, to see the fountain of Hippocrene. The
Muses tell her the story of Pyreneus and the Pierides, who were transformed
into magpies after they had repeated various songs on the subjects of the
transformation of the Deities into various forms of animals; the rape of
Proserpine, the wanderings of Ceres, the change of Cyane into a fountain,
of a boy into a lizard, of Ascalaphus into an owl, of the Sirens into birds in
part, of Arethusa into a spring, of Lyncus into a lynx, and of the invention
of agriculture by Triptolemus.
BOOK VI.

Influenced by the example of the Muses, Pallas determines on the
destruction of Arachne. She enters with her into a contest for the superiority
in the art of weaving. Each represents various transformations on her web,
and then Arachne is changed into a spider. Niobe, however, is not deterred
thereby from preferring her own lot to that of Latona; on account of which,
all her children are slain by Apollo and Diana, and she is changed into a
rock. On learning this, while one person relates the transformation by
Latona of the Lycian rustics into frogs, another calls to mind how Marsyas
was flayed by Apollo. Niobe is lamented by Pelops, whose shoulder is of
ivory. To console the Thebans in their afflictions, ambassadors come from
the adjacent cities. The Athenians alone are absent, as they are attacked by
hordes of barbarians, who are routed by Tereus, who marries Progne, the
daughter of Pandion. Tereus coming a second time to Athens, takes back
with him to his kingdom Philomela, his wife’s sister; and having committed
violence on her, with other enormities, he is transformed into a hoopoe,
while Philomela is changed into a nightingale, and Progne becomes a
swallow. Pandion, hearing of these wondrous events dies of grief. Erectheus
succeeds him, whose daughter, Orithyia, is ravished by Boreas, and by him
is the mother of Calais and Zethes, who are of the number of the Argonauts
on the following occasion.
BOOK VII.
Jason, by the aid of Medea, having conquered the bulls that breathe forth
flames, having sowed the teeth of a serpent, from which armed men are
produced, and having lulled the dragon to sleep, recovers the Golden
Fleece. Medea, accompanying Jason to Greece, restores Æson to youth by
the aid of drugs; and promising the same to Pelias, having first, as a
specimen, changed a ram into a lamb, by stratagem she kills him. Passing
through many places made remarkable by various transformations, and
having slain her children, she marries Ægeus, when Theseus returns home,
and narrowly escapes being poisoned by her magic potions. Minos
interrupts the joy of Ægeus on the return of his son, and wages war against
him; having collected troops from all parts, even from Paros, where Arne
has been changed into a jackdaw. Minos endeavours to gain the alliance of
Æacus, who, however, refuses it, and sends the Myrmidons, (who have

been changed into ants from men after a severe pestilence), under the
command of Cephalus to assist Ægeus. Cephalus relates to Phocus, the son
of Æacus, how, being carried off by Aurora and assuming another shape, he
had induced his wife Procris to prove faithless; and how he had received
from her a dog and a javelin, the former of which, together with a fox, was
changed into stone; while the latter, by inadvertence, caused the death of his
wife.

Introduction by Stephen Brooks, Jr., from 1899 McKay edition:

INTRODUCTION.
P. Ovidius Naso—commonly known as Ovid—was born at Sulmo, about,
ninety miles from Rome, in the year 43 B.C. His father belonged to an old
equestrian family, and at an early age brought his son to Rome, where he
was educated under the most distinguished masters. Very little is known of
the poetís life, except that which is gathered from his own writings. After
finishing his education at home he visited Athens, in company with the poet
Macer, for the purpose of completing his studies, and before returning
visited the magnificent cities of Asia Minor and spent nearly a year in
Sicily.
Although as a young man Ovid showed a natural taste and inclination for
poetical composition, he was by no means encouraged to indulge in this
pursuit. His father thought that the profession of law was much more apt to
lead to distinction and political eminence than the vocation of a poet. He
therefore dissuaded his son from writing poetry and urged him to devote
himself to the legal profession. Compliance with his father’s wishes led him
to spend much time in the forum, and for a while poetry was abandoned.
Upon attaining his majority, he held several minor offices of state; but
neither his health nor his inclinations would permit him to perform the
duties of public life. Poetry was his love, and in spite of the strong
objections of his father, he resolved to abandon the law courts and devote

himself to a more congenial occupation. He sought the society of the most
distinguished poets of the day, and his admiration for them amounted
almost to reverence. He numbered among his intimate friends the poets
Macer, Propertius, Ponticus and Bassus, while Æmilius Macer, Virgil’s
contemporary, used to read his compositions to him, and even the fastidious
Horace, it is said, occasionally delighted the young man’s ear with the
charm of his verse.
Ovid was married three times. His first wife he married when little more
than a boy, and the union does not seem to have been a happy one, though it
was probably due to no fault of the wife. His second wife seems also to
have been of blameless character, but his love for her was of short duration.
His third wife was a lady of the great Fabian house and a friend of the
Empress Livia. She appears to have been a woman in every way worthy of
the great and lasting love which the poet lavished upon her to the day of his
death.
Up to the age of fifty Ovid had lived a life of prosperity and happiness.
Though not a wealthy man, his means were such as to permit him to indulge
in the luxuries of refined life, and his attainments as a poet had surrounded
him with a circle of most desirable friends and admirers. He had even
obtained the favor and patronage of the royal family. About the year 8 A.D.
he, however, incurred the great displeasure of Augustus, and was ordered by
him to withdraw from Rome and dwell in the colony of Tomi, on the shore
of the Euxine sea. Leaving behind him a wife to whom he was devotedly
attached he obeyed the edict of his emperor and entered upon an exile from
which he was destined never to return. He died in banishment at Tomi in the
year 18 A.D.
The exact reason for Ovid’s banishment has never been clear, though there
have been many conjectures as to the cause. About two years previous to
his exile Ovid had published a composition which had greatly displeased
Augustus, on account of its immoral tendency. Almost coincident with this
publication was the discovery of the scandal relating to Julia, daughter of
the emperor. It is probable that the proximity of these two events tended to
intensify the imperial displeasure, and when some time later there was

made public the intrigue of the emperor’s granddaughter, the indignation of
Augustus gave itself vent in the banishment of Ovid.
The writings of Ovid consist of the Amores in three books; the Heroic
Epistles, twenty-one in number; the Ars Amatoria; the Remedia Amoris; the
Metamorphoses, in fifteen books; the Fasti, in six books; the Tristia, in five
books; the Epistles, in four books, and a few minor poems. In the following
pages will be found a translation of the Metamorphoses.

Final page of 1899 McKay edition:

The Hamilton, Locke Clark
SERIES OF

Interlinear Translations
Have long been the Standard and are now the Best Translated and Most
Complete Series of Interlinears published.
12mo., well bound in Half Leather.
Price reduced to $1.50 each. Postpaid to any address.

Latin Interlinear Translations:
VIRGIL—By Hart and Osborne.
CÆSAR—By Hamilton and Clark.
HORACE—By Stirling, Nuttall and Clark.

CICERO—By Hamilton and Clark.
SALLUST—By Hamilton and Clark.
OVID—By George W. Heilig.
JUVENAL—By Hamilton and Clark.
LIVY—By Hamilton and Clark.
CORNELIUS NEPOS—
By Hamilton and Underwood.

Greek Interlinear Translations:
HOMER’S ILIAD—By Thomas Clark.
XENOPHON’S ANABASIS—By Hamilton and Clark.
GOSPEL OF ST. JOHN—By George W. Heilig.

S. Austin Allibone, the distinguished author, writes:
“There is a growing disapprobation, both in Great Britain and America, of the disproportionate length
of time devoted by the youthful student to the acquisition of the dead languages; and therefore
nothing will tend so effectually to the preservation of the Greek and Latin grammars as their
judicious union (the fruit of an intelligent compromise) with the Interlinear Classics.”

DAVID McKAY, Publisher, Philadelphia,
Formerly published by Charles De Silver & Sons.

THE METAMORPHOSES Books I-III.

Fable descriptions are taken from the translator’s Synopses.
Introduction
Book I
The Argument
Fable I: God reduces Chaos into order.
Fable II: God gives form and regularity to the universe.
Fable III: The Golden Age.
Fable IV: The Silver Age. The Brazen Age. The Iron Age.
Fable V: The Giants.
Fable VI: Jupiter determines to destroy the world.
Fable VII: Lycaon changes into a wolf.
Fable VIII: Jupiter resolves to extirpate mankind by a universal deluge.
Fable IX: Neptune appeases the angry waves. Deucalion and Pyrrha are the only
persons saved from the deluge.
Fable X: Deucalion and Pyrrha re-people the earth.
Fable XI: Apollo institutes the Pythian games.
Fable XII: Apollo and Daphne.
Fable XIII: Jupiter and Io.
Fable XIV: Jupiter changes Io into a cow; the watchful Argus.
Fable XV: Pan and Syrinx.
Fable XVI: Juno places Argus’s eyes in the peacock’s tail.
Fable XVII: Io stops in Egypt, under the name of Isis.
Book II
Fable I: Phaëton guides Apollo’s chariot.
Fable II: Phaëton falls into the river Eridanus.
Fable III: The sisters of Phaëton.
Fable IV: Cycnus is transformed into a swan.
Fable V: Jupiter and Calisto.
Fables VI and VII: Calisto is transformed into a Bear. Calisto and Arcas become the
Great and the Little Bear. The raven is changed from white to black.
Fable VIII: Ericthonius enclosed in a basket.
Fable IX: Nyctimene transformed into an owl.

Fable X: Ocyrrhoë, the daughter of Chiron, transformed into a mare.
Fable XI: Mercury steals the oxen of Apollo.
Fable XII: Mercury and Herse.
Fable XIII: Aglauros and Envy.
Fable XIV: Jupiter and Europa.
Book III
Fable I: Cadmus founds Bœotia.
Fable II: Cadmus and the dragon’s teeth. Cadmus founds Thebes.
Fable III: Actæon transformed into a stag.
Fable IV: Jupiter and Semele.
Fable V: Birth of Bacchus. Tiresias decides a dispute between Jupiter and Juno.
Fable VI: Echo and Narcissus.
Fable VII: Narcissus changed into a flower.
Fable VIII: Pentheus is torn to pieces by the Bacchantes.

BOOK THE FIRST.

THE ARGUMENT.
My design leads me to speak of forms changed into new bodies.1 Ye Gods,
(for you it was who changed them,) favor my attempts,2 and bring down the
lengthened narrative from the very beginning of the world, even to my own
times.3

FABLE I.
God reduces Chaos into order. He separates the four elements, and disposes
the several bodies, of which the universe is formed, into their proper
situations.
At first, the sea, the earth, and the heaven, which covers all things, were the
only face of nature throughout [I. 6-26 the whole universe, I. 6-26] which men
have named Chaos; a rude and undigested mass,4 and nothing more than an
inert weight, and the discordant atoms of things not harmonizing, heaped
together in the same spot. No Sun5 as yet gave light to the world; nor did
the Moon,6 by increasing, recover her horns anew. The Earth did not as yet
hang in the surrounding air, balanced by its own weight, nor had
Amphitrite7 stretched out her arms along the lengthened margin of the
coasts. Wherever, too, was the land, there also was the sea and the air; and
thus was the earth without firmness, the sea unnavigable, the air void of
light; in no one of them did its present form exist. And one was ever
obstructing the other; because in the same body the cold was striving with
the hot, the moist with the dry, the soft with the hard, things having weight
with those devoid of weight.

To this discord God and bounteous Nature8 put an end; for he separated the
earth from the heavens, and the waters from the earth, and distinguished the
clear [I. 26-31 heavens from the gross atmosphere. And after he had
unravelled these elements, and released them from that confused heap, he
combined them, thus disjoined, in harmonious unison, each in its proper
place. The I. 26-31] element of the vaulted heaven,9 fiery and without weight,
shone forth, and selected a place for itself in the highest region; next after it,
both in lightness and in place, was the air; the Earth was more weighty than
these, and drew with it the more ponderous atoms, and was pressed together
by its own gravity. The encircling waters sank to the lowermost place,10 and
surrounded the solid globe.
EXPLANATION.

The ancient philosophers, unable to comprehend how something could
be produced out of nothing, supposed a matter pre-existent to the Earth
in its present shape, which afterwards received form and order from
some powerful cause. According to them, God was not the Creator, but
the Architect of the universe, in ranging and disposing the elements in
situations most suitable to their respective qualities. This is the Chaos
so often sung of by the poets, and which Hesiod was the first to
mention.
It is clear that this system was but a confused and disfigured tradition
of the creation of the world, as mentioned by Moses; and thus, beneath
these fictions, there lies some faint glimmering of truth. The first two
chapters of the book of Genesis will be found to throw considerable
light on the foundation of this Mythological system of the world’s
formation.
Hesiod, the most ancient of the heathen writers who have enlarged
upon this subject, seems to have derived much of his information [I. 32-
40 from the works of Sanchoniatho, who is supposed to have borrowed
his ideas concerning Chaos from that passage in the second verse of
the first Chapter of Genesis, which mentions the darkness that was
spread over the whole universe—‘and darkness was upon the face of
the deep’—for he expresses himself almost in those words.
Sanchoniatho lived before the Trojan war, and professed to have

received his information respecting the original construction of the
world from a priest of ‘Jehovah,’ named Jerombaal. He wrote in the
Phœnician language; but we have only a translation of his works, I. 32-
43] by Philo Judæus, which is by many supposed to be spurious. It is,
however, very probable, that from him the Greeks borrowed their
notions regarding Chaos, which they mingled with fables of their own
invention.

FABLE II.
After the separation of matter, God gives form and regularity to the
universe; and all other living creatures being produced, Prometheus
moulds earth tempered with water, into a human form, which is animated
by Minerva.
When thus he, whoever of the Gods he was,11 had divided the mass so
separated, and reduced it, so divided, into distinct members; in the first
place, that it might not be unequal on any side, he gathered it up into the
form of a vast globe; then he commanded the sea to be poured around it,
and to grow boisterous with the raging winds, and to surround the shores of
the Earth, encompassed by it; he added also springs, and numerous pools
and lakes, and he bounded the rivers as they flowed downwards, with
slanting banks. These, different in different places, are some of them
swallowed up12 by the Earth itself; some of them reach the ocean, [I. 40-49
and, received in the expanse of waters that take a freer range, beat against
shores instead of banks.
He commanded the plains,13 too, to be extended, the valleys I. 43-49] to sink
down, the woods to be clothed with green leaves, the craggy mountains to
arise; and, as on the right-hand side,14 two Zones intersect the heavens, and
as many on the left; and as there is a fifth hotter than these, so did the care
of the Deity distinguish this enclosed mass of the Earth by the same
number, and as many climates are marked out upon the Earth. Of these, that
which is the middle one15 is not habitable [I. 49-60 on account I. 49-61] of the
heat; deep snow covers two16 of them. Between either these he placed as

many more,17 and gave them a temperate climate, heat being mingled with
cold.
Over these hangs the air, which is heavier than fire, in the same degree that
the weight of water is lighter than the weight of the earth. Here he ordered
vapors, here too, the clouds to take their station; the thunder, too, to terrify
the minds of mortals, and with the lightnings, the winds that bring on cold.
The Contriver of the World did not allow these indiscriminately to take
possession of the sky. Even now, (although they each of them govern their
own blasts in a distinct tract) they are with great difficulty prevented from
rending the world asunder, so great is the discord of the brothers.18 [I. 61-73
Eurus took his way19 towards the rising of Aurora and the realms of
Nabath20 and I. 61-76] Persia, and the mountain ridges exposed to the rays of
the morning. The Evening star, and the shores which are warm with the
setting sun, are bordering upon Zephyrus.21 The terrible Boreas invaded
Scythia,22 and the regions of the North. The opposite quarter is wet with
continual clouds, and the drizzling South Wind.23 Over these he placed the
firmament, clear and devoid of gravity, and not containing anything of the
dregs of earth.
Scarcely had he separated all these by fixed limits, when the stars, which
had long lain hid, concealed beneath [I. 73-88 that mass of Chaos, began to
glow through the range of the heavens. And that no region might be
destitute of its own peculiar animated beings, the stars and the forms of the
Gods24 possess the tract of heaven; the waters fell to be inhabited by the
smooth fishes;25 the Earth received the wild beasts, and the yielding air the
birds.
But an animated being, more holy than these, more fitted to I. 76-88] receive
higher faculties, and which could rule over the rest,26 was still wanting.
Then Man was formed. Whether it was that the Artificer of all things, the
original of the world in its improved state, framed him from divine
elements;27 or whether, the Earth, being newly made, and but lately divided
from the lofty æther, still retained some atoms of its kindred heaven, which,
tempered with the waters of the stream, the son of Iapetus fashioned after
the image of the Gods, who rule over all things. And, whereas other animals
bend their looks downwards upon the Earth, to Man he gave a countenance

to look on high and to behold the heavens, and to raise his face erect to the
stars. Thus, that which had been lately rude earth, and without any [I. 89-97
regular shape, being changed, assumed the form of Man, till then unknown.
EXPLANATION.

According to Ovid, as in the book of Genesis, man is the last work of
the Creator. The information derived from Holy Writ is here presented
to us, in a disfigured form. Prometheus, who tempers the earth, and
Minerva, who animates his workmanship, is God, who formed man,
and ‘breathed into his nostrils the breath of life.’
Some writers have labored to prove that this Prometheus, of the
heathen Mythology, was a Scriptural character. Bochart believes him
to have been the same with Magog, mentioned in the book of Genesis.
Prometheus was the son of Iapetus, and Magog was the son of Japhet,
who, according to that learned writer, was identical with Iapetus. He
says, that as Magog went to settle in Scythia, so did Prometheus; as
Magog either invented, or improved, the art of founding metals, and
forging iron, so, according to the heathen poets, did Prometheus.
Diodorus Siculus asserts that Prometheus was the first to teach
mankind how to produce fire from the flint and steel.
The fable of Prometheus being devoured by an eagle, according to
some, is founded on the name of Magog, which signifies ‘a man
devoured by I. 89-105] sorrow.’ Le Clerc, in his notes on Hesiod, says,
that Epimetheus, the brother of Prometheus, was the same with the
Gog of Scripture, the brother of Magog. Some writers, again, have
exerted their ingenuity to prove that Prometheus is identical with the
patriarch Noah.

FABLE III.
The formation of man is followed by a succession of the four ages of the
world. The first is the Golden Age, during which Innocence and Justice
alone govern the world.

The Golden Age was first founded, which, without any avenger, of its own
accord, without laws, practised both faith and rectitude. Punishment, and
the fear of it, did not exist, and threatening decrees were not read upon the
brazen tables,28 fixed up to view, nor yet did the suppliant multitude dread
the countenance of its judge; but all were in safety without any avenger.
The pine-tree, cut from its native mountains, had not [I. 98-105 yet descended
to the flowing waves, that it might visit a foreign region; and mortals were
acquainted with no shores beyond their own. Not as yet did deep ditches
surround the towns; no trumpets of straightened, or clarions of crooked
brass,29 no helmets, no swords then existed. Without occasion for soldiers,
the minds of men, free from care, enjoyed an easy tranquillity.
The Earth itself, too, in freedom, untouched by the harrow, and wounded by
no ploughshares, of its own accord produced everything; and men,
contented with the food created under no compulsion, gathered the fruit of
the arbute-tree, and the strawberries of the mountain, and cornels, and
blackberries I. 105-124] adhering to the prickly bramble-bushes, and acorns
which had fallen from the wide-spreading tree of Jove. Then it was an
eternal spring; and the gentle Zephyrs, with their soothing breezes,
cherished the flowers produced without any seed. Soon, too, the Earth
unploughed yielded crops of grain, and the land, without being renewed,
was whitened with the heavy ears of corn. Then, rivers of milk, then, rivers
of nectar were flowing, and the yellow honey was distilled from the green
holm oak.
EXPLANATION.

The heathen poets had learned, most probably from tradition, that our
first parents lived for some time in peaceful innocence; that, without
tillage, the garden of Eden furnished them with fruit and food in
abundance; and that the animals were submissive to their commands:
that after the fall the ground became unfruitful, and yielded nothing
without labor; and that nature no longer spontaneously acknowledged
man for its master. The more happy days of our first parents they seem
to have styled the Golden Age, each writer being desirous to make his
own country the scene of those times of innocence. The Latin writers,
for instance, have placed in Italy, and under the reign of Saturn and

Janus, events, which, as they really happened, the Scriptures relate in
the histories of Adam and of Noah.
[I. 105-134

FABLE IV.
In the Silver Age, men begin not to be so just, nor, consequently, so happy,
as in the Golden Age. In the Brazen Age, which succeeds, they become
yet less virtuous; but their wickedness does not rise to its highest pitch
until the Iron Age, when it makes its appearance in all its deformity.
Afterwards (Saturn being driven into the shady realms of Tartarus), the
world was under the sway of Jupiter; then the Silver Age succeeded,
inferior to that of gold, but more precious than that of yellow brass. Jupiter
shortened the duration of the former spring, and divided the year into four
periods by means of winters, and summers, and unsteady autumns, and
short springs. Then, for the first time, did the parched air glow with sultry
heat, and the ice, bound up by the winds, was pendant. Then, for the first
time, did men enter houses; those houses were caverns, and thick shrubs,
and twigs fastened together with bark. Then, for the first time, were the
seeds of Ceres buried in long furrows, and the oxen groaned, pressed by the
yoke of the ploughshare.
I. 124-148]

The Age of Brass succeeded, as the third in order, after these; fiercer in
disposition, and more prone to horrible warfare, but yet free from impiety.
The last Age was of hard iron. Immediately every species of crime burst
forth, in this age of degenerated tendencies;30 modesty, truth, and honor
took flight; in their place succeeded fraud, deceit, treachery, violence, and
the cursed hankering for acquisition. The sailor now spread his sails to the
winds, and with these, as yet, he was but little acquainted; and the trees,
which had long stood on the lofty mountains, now, as ships bounded31
through the unknown waves. The ground, [I. 134-150 too, hitherto common as
the light of the sun and the breezes, the cautious measurer marked out with
his lengthened boundary.

And not only was the rich soil required to furnish corn and due sustenance,
but men even descended into the entrails of the Earth; and riches were dug
up, the incentives to vice, which the Earth had hidden, and had removed to
the Stygian shades.32 Then destructive iron came forth, and gold, more
destructive than iron; then War came forth, that fights through the means of
both,33 and that brandishes in his blood-stained hands the clattering arms.
Men live by rapine; the guest is not safe from his entertainer, nor the father-
in-law from the son-in-law; good feeling, too, between brothers is a rarity.
The husband is eager for the death of the wife, she for that of her husband.
Horrible stepmothers then mingle the ghastly wolfsbane; the son
prematurely makes inquiry34 I. 148-156] into the years of his father. Piety lies
vanquished, and the virgin Astræa35 is the last of the heavenly Deities to
abandon the Earth, now drenched in slaughter.
EXPLANATION.

The Poet here informs us, that during the Golden Age, a perpetual
spring reigned on the earth, and that the division of the year into
seasons was not known until the Silver Age. This allusion to Eden is
very generally to be found in the works of the [I. 150-156 heathen poets.
The Silver Age is succeeded by the Brazen, and that is followed by the
Iron Age, which still continues. The meaning is, that man gradually
degenerated from his primeval innocence, and arrived at that state of
wickedness and impiety, of which the history of all ages, ancient and
modern, presents us with so many lamentable examples.
The limited nature of their views, and the fact that their exuberant
fancy was the source from which they derived many of their alleged
events, naturally betrayed the ancient writers into great
inconsistencies. For in the Golden Age of Saturn, we find wars waged,
and crimes committed. Saturn expelled his father, and seized his
throne; Jupiter, his son, treated Saturn as he had done his father
Uranus; and Jupiter, in his turn, had to wage war against the Giants, in
their attempt to dispossess him of the heavens.

FABLE V.

The Giants having attempted to render themselves masters of heaven,
Jupiter buries them under the mountains which they have heaped together
to facilitate their assault; and the Earth, animating their blood, forms out
of it a cruel and fierce generation of men.
And that the lofty realms of æther might not be more safe than the Earth,
they say that the Giants aspired to the sovereignty of Heaven, and piled the
mountains, heaped together, even to the lofty stars. Then the omnipotent
Father, hurling his lightnings, broke through Olympus,36 and struck Ossa
away from Pelion, that lay beneath it. While the dreadful I. 156-170] carcasses
lay overwhelmed beneath their own structure, they say that the Earth was
wet, drenched with the plenteous blood of her sons, and that she gave life to
the warm gore; and that, lest no memorial of this ruthless race should be
surviving, she shaped them into the form of men. But that generation, too,
was a despiser of the Gods above, and most greedy of ruthless slaughter,
and full of violence: you might see that they derived their origin from
blood.
[I. 156-172
EXPLANATION.

The war of the giants, which is here mentioned, is not to be
confounded with that between Jupiter and the Titans, who were
inhabitants of heaven. The fall of the angels, as conveyed by tradition,
probably gave rise to the story of the Titans; while, perhaps, the
building of the tower of Babel may have laid the foundation of that of
the attempt by the giants to reach heaven. Perhaps, too, the
descendants of Cain, who are probably the persons mentioned in
Scripture as the children ‘of men’ and ‘giants,’ were the race depicted
under the form of the Giants, and the generation that sprung from their
blood. See Genesis, ch. vi. ver. 2, 4.

FABLE VI.
Jupiter, having seen the crimes of this impious race of men, calls a council
of the Gods, and determines to destroy the world.

When the Father of the Gods, the son of Saturn, beheld this from his loftiest
height, he groaned aloud; and recalling to memory the polluted banquet on
the table of Lycaon, not yet publicly known, from the crime being but lately
committed, he conceives in his mind vast wrath, and such as is worthy of
Jove, and calls together a council; no delay detains them, thus summoned.
There is a way on high,37 easily seen in a clear sky, and which, remarkable
for its very whiteness, receives the name of the Milky Way. Along this is the
way for the Gods above to I. 170-193] the abode of the great Thunderer and
his royal palace. On the right and on the left side the courts of the ennobled
Deities38 are thronged, with [I. 172-193 open gates. The Gods of lower rank39
inhabit various places; in front of the Way, the powerful and illustrious
inhabitants of Heaven have established their residence. This is the place
which, if boldness may be allowed to my expression, I should not hesitate
to style the palatial residence of Heaven. When, therefore, the Gods above
had taken their seats in the marble hall of assembly; he himself, elevated on
his seat, and leaning on his sceptre of ivory, three or four times shook the
awful locks40 of his head, with which he makes the Earth, the Seas, and the
Stars to tremble. Then, after such manner as this, did he open his indignant
lips:—
“Not even at that time was I more concerned for the empire of the universe,
when each of the snake-footed monsters was endeavoring to lay his hundred
arms on the captured skies. For although that was a dangerous enemy, yet
that war was with but one stock, and sprang from a single origin. Now must
the race of mortals be cut off by me, wherever Nereus41 roars on all sides of
the earth; this I swear by the Rivers of Hell, that glide in the Stygian grove
beneath the earth. All methods have been already tried; but a wound that
admits of no cure, must be cut away with the knife, that the sound parts may
not be corrupted. I have as subjects, Demigods, and I have the rustic
Deities, the Nymphs,42 [I. 193-215 and the Fauns, and the Satyrs, and the
Sylvans, the inhabitants of I. 193-215] the mountains; these, though as yet, we
have not thought them worthy of the honor of Heaven, let us, at least,
permit to inhabit the earth which we have granted them. And do you, ye
Gods of Heaven, believe that they will be in proper safety, when Lycaon
remarkable for his cruelty, has formed a plot against even me, who own and
hold sway over the thunder and yourselves?”

All shouted their assent aloud, and with ardent zeal they called for
vengeance on one who dared such crimes. Thus, when an impious band43
madly raged to extinguish the Roman name in the blood of Cæsar, the
human race was astonished with sudden terror at ruin so universal, and the
whole earth shook with horror. Nor was the affectionate regard, Augustus,
of thy subjects less grateful to thee, than that was to Jupiter. Who, after he
had, by means of his voice and his hand, suppressed their murmurs, all of
them kept silence. Soon as the clamor had ceased, checked by the authority
of their ruler, Jupiter again broke silence in these words:
“He, indeed, (dismiss your cares) has suffered dire punishment; but what
was the offence and what the retribution, I will inform you. The report of
the iniquity of the age had reached my ears; wishing to find this not to be
the truth, I descended from the top of Olympus, and, a God in a human
shape, I surveyed the earth. ’Twere an endless task to enumerate how great
an amount of guilt was everywhere discovered; the report itself was below
the truth.”
[I. 216-226
EXPLANATION.

It is to be presumed, that Ovid here follows the prevailing tradition of
his time; and it is surprising how closely that tradition adheres to the
words I. 216-228] of Scripture, relative to the determination of the
Almighty to punish the earth by a deluge, as disclosed in the sixth
chapter of Genesis. The Poet tells us, that the King of heaven calls the
Gods to a grand council, to deliberate upon the punishment of
mankind, in retribution for their wickedness. The words of Scripture
are, “And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth,
and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil
continually. And it repented the Lord that he had made man on the
earth, and it grieved him at his heart. And the Lord said, ‘I will destroy
man, whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man and
beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air: for it repenteth
me that I have made them.’”—Genesis, ch. vi. ver. 5, 6, 7.
Tradition seems to have faithfully carried down the fact, that, amid this
universal corruption, there was still at least one just man, and here it

attributes to Deucalion the merit that belonged to Noah.

FABLE VII.
Lycaon, king of Arcadia, in order to discover if it is Jupiter himself who has
come to lodge in his palace, orders the body of an hostage, who had been
sent to him, to be dressed and served up at a feast. The God, as a
punishment, changes him into a wolf.
I had now passed Mænalus, to be dreaded for its dens of beasts of prey, and
the pine-groves of cold Lycæus, together with Cyllene.44 After this,
I entered the realms and the inhospitable abode of the Arcadian tyrant, just
as the late twilight was bringing on the night. I gave a signal that a God had
come, and the people commenced to pay their adorations. In the first place,
Lycaon derided their pious supplications. Afterwards, he said, I will make
trial, by a plain proof, whether this is a God, or whether he is a mortal; nor
shall the truth remain a matter of doubt. He then makes preparations to
destroy me, when sunk in sleep, by an unexpected death; this mode of
testing the truth pleases him. And not content with that, with the [I. 226-243
sword he cuts the throat of an hostage that had been sent from the nation of
the Molossians,45 and I. 228-243] then softens part of the quivering limbs, in
boiling water, and part he roasts with fire placed beneath. Soon as he had
placed these on the table, I, with avenging flames, overthrew the house
upon the household Gods,46 worthy of their master. Alarmed, he himself
takes to flight, and having reached the solitude of the country, he howls
aloud, and in vain attempts to speak; his mouth gathers rage from himself,
and through its usual desire for slaughter, it is directed against the sheep,
and even still delights in blood. His garments are changed into hair, his
arms into legs; he becomes a wolf, and he still retains vestiges of his ancient
form. His hoariness is still the same, the same violence appears in his
features; his eyes are bright as before; he is still the same image of ferocity.
“Thus fell one house; but one house alone did not deserve to perish;
wherever the earth extends, the savage Erinnys47 reigns. You would
suppose that men had conspired to be wicked; let all men speedily feel that
vengeance which they deserve to endure, for such is my determination.”

EXPLANATION.

If Ovid is not here committing an anachronism, and making Jupiter,
before the deluge, relate the story of a historical personage, [I. 244-255
who existed long after it, the origin of the story of Lycaon must be
sought in the antediluvian narrative. It is just possible that the guilty
Cain may have been the original of Lycaon. The names are not very
dissimilar: they are each mentioned as the first murderer; and the fact,
that Cain murdered Abel at the moment when he was offering sacrifice
to the Almighty, may have given rise to the tradition that Lycaon had
set human flesh before the king of heaven. The Scripture, too, tells us,
that Cain was personally called to account by the Almighty for his
deed of blood.
The punishment here inflicted on Lycaon was not very dissimilar to
that I. 244-257] with which Cain was visited. Cain was sentenced to be a
fugitive and a wanderer on the face of the earth; and such is essentially
the character of the wolf, shunned by both men and animals. Of
course, there are many points to which it is not possible to extend the
parallel. Some of the ancient writers tell us, that there were two
Lycaons, the first of whom was the son of Phoroneus, who reigned in
Arcadia about the time of the patriarch Jacob; and the second, who
succeeded him, polluted the festivals of the Gods by the sacrifice of
the human race; for, having erected an altar to Jupiter, at the city of
Lycosura, he slew human victims on it, whence arose the story related
by the Poet. This solution is given by Pausanias, in his Arcadica. We
are also told by that historian, and by Suidas, that Lycaon was,
notwithstanding, a virtuous prince, the benefactor of his people, and
the promoter of improvement.

FABLE VIII.
Jupiter, not thinking the punishment of Lycaon sufficient to strike terror
into the rest of mankind, resolves, on account of the universal corruption,
to extirpate them by a universal deluge.

Some, by their words approve the speech of Jupiter, and give spur to him,
indignantly exclaiming; others, by silent assent fulfil their parts. Yet the
entire destruction of the human race is a cause of grief to them all, and they
inquire what is to be the form of the earth in future, when destitute of
mankind? who is to place frankincense48 on the altars? and whether it is his
design to give up the nations for a prey to the wild beasts? The ruler of the
Gods forbids them making these enquiries, to be alarmed (for that the rest
should [I. 255-271 be his care); and he promises, that from a wondrous source
he will raise a generation unlike the preceding race.
And now he was about to scatter his thunder over all lands; but he was
afraid lest, perchance, the sacred æther might catch fire, from so many
flames, and the extended sky might become inflamed. He remembers, too,
that it was in the decrees of Fate, that a time should come,49 at which the
sea, the earth, I. 257-283] and the palace of heaven, seized by the flames,
should be burned, and the laboriously-wrought fabric of the universe should
be in danger of perishing. The weapons forged by the hands of the Cyclops
are laid aside; a different mode of punishment pleases him: to destroy
mankind beneath the waves, and to let loose the rains from the whole tract
of Heaven. At once he shuts the North Wind in the caverns of Æolus, and
all those blasts which dispel the clouds drawn over the Earth; and then he
sends forth the South Wind. With soaking wings the South Wind flies
abroad, having his terrible face covered with pitchy darkness; his beard is
loaded with showers, the water streams down from his hoary locks, clouds
gather upon his forehead, his wings and the folds of his robe50 drip with
wet; and, as with his broad hand he squeezes the hanging clouds, a crash
arises, and thence showers are poured in torrents from the sky. Iris,51 the
messenger of Juno, clothed in various colors, collects [I. 271-301 the waters,
and bears a supply upwards to the clouds.
The standing corn is beaten down, and the expectations of the husbandman,
now lamented by him, are ruined, and the labors of a long year prematurely
perish. Nor is the wrath of Jove satisfied with his own heaven; but Neptune,
his azure brother, aids him with his auxiliary waves. He calls together the
rivers, which, soon as they had entered the abode of their ruler, he says,
“I must not now employ a lengthened exhortation; pour forth all your
might, so the occasion requires. Open your abodes, and, each obstacle

removed, give full rein to your streams.” Thus he commanded; they return,
and open the mouths of their fountains,52 and roll on into the ocean with
unobstructed course. He himself struck I. 283-312] the Earth with his trident,
on which it shook, and with a tremor laid open the sources of its waters. The
rivers, breaking out, rush through the open plains, and bear away, together
with the standing corn, the groves, flocks, men, houses, and temples,
together with their sacred utensils. If any house remained, and, not thrown
down, was able to resist ruin so vast, yet the waves, rising aloft, covered the
roof of that house, and the towers tottered, overwhelmed beneath the
stream. And now sea and land had no mark of distinction; everything now
was ocean; and to that ocean shores were wanting. One man takes
possession of a hill, another sits in a curved boat, and plies the oars there
where he had lately ploughed; another sails over the standing corn, or the
roof of his country-house under water; another catches a fish on the top of
an elm-tree. An anchor (if chance so directs) is fastened in a green meadow,
or the curving keels come in contact with the vineyards, now below them;
and where of late the slender goats had cropped the grass, there unsightly
sea-calves are now reposing their bodies.
The Nereids wonder at the groves, the cities, and the [I. 301-312 houses under
water; dolphins get into the woods, and run against the lofty branches, and
beat against the tossed oaks. The wolf swims53 among the sheep; the wave
carries along the tawny lions; the wave carries along the tigers. Neither does
the powers of his lightning-shock avail the wild boar, nor his swift legs the
stag, now borne away. The wandering bird, too, having long sought for
land, where it may be allowed to light, its wings failing, falls down into the
sea. The boundless range of the sea had overwhelmed the hills, and the
stranger waves beat against the heights of the mountains. The greatest part
is carried off by the water: those whom the water spares, long fastings
overcome, through scantiness of food.
EXPLANATION.

Pausanias makes mention of five deluges. The two most celebrated
happened in the time of Ogyges, and in that of Deucalion. Of the last I.
313-321] Ovid here speaks; and though that deluge was generally said to
have overflowed Thessaly only, he has evidently adopted in his

narrative the tradition of the universal deluge, which all nations seem
to have preserved. He says, that the sea joined its waters to those
falling from heaven. The words of Scripture are (Genesis, vii. 11), ‘All
the fountains of the great deep were broken up, and the windows of
heaven were opened.’ In speaking of the top of Parnassus alone being
left uncovered, the tradition here followed by Ovid probably referred
to Mount Ararat, where Noah’s ark rested. Noah and his family are
represented by Deucalion and Pyrrha. Both Noah and Deucalion were
saved for their virtuous conduct; when Noah went out of the ark, he
offered solemn sacrifices to God; and Pausanias tells us that
Deucalion, when saved, raised an altar to Jupiter the Liberator. The
Poet tells us, that Deucalion’s deluge was to be the last: God promised
the same thing to Noah. Josephus, in his Antiquities, Book i., tells us,
that the history of the universal deluge was written by Nicolas of
Damascus, Berosus, Mnaseas, and other ancient writers, from whom
the Greeks and Romans received it.
[I. 313-328

FABLE IX.
Neptune appeases the angry waves; and he commands Triton to sound his
shell, that the sea may retire within its shores, and the rivers within their
banks. Deucalion and Pyrrha are the only persons saved from the deluge.
Phocis separates the Aonian54 from the Actæan region; a fruitful land while
it was a land; but at that time it had become a part of the sea, and a wide
plain of sudden waters. There a lofty mountain rises towards the stars, with
two tops, by name Parnassus,55 and advances beyond the clouds with its
summit. When here Deucalion (for the sea had covered all other places),
borne in a little ship, with the partner of his couch, first rested; they adored
the Corycian Nymphs,56 and the Deities of the mountain, and the prophetic
Themis,57 I. 321-337] who at that time used to give out oracular responses. No
man was there more upright than he, nor a greater lover of justice, nor was
any woman more regardful of the Deities than she.

Soon as Jupiter beholds the world overflowed by liquid waters, and sees
that but one man remains out of so many thousands of late, and sees that but
one woman remains out of so many thousands of late, both guiltless, and
both worshippers of the Gods, he disperses the clouds; and the showers
being removed by the North [I. 329-342 Wind, he both lays open the earth to
the heavens, and the heavens to the earth. The rage, too, of the sea does not
continue; and his three-forked trident now laid aside, the ruler of the deep
assuages the waters, and calls upon the azure Triton standing above the
deep, and having his shoulders covered with the native purple shells;58 and
he bids him blow59 his resounding trumpet, and, the signal being given, to
call back the waves and the streams. The hollow-wreathed trumpet60 is
taken up by him, which grows to a great width from its lowest twist; the
trumpet, which, soon I. 337-365] as it receives the air in the middle of the sea,
fills with its notes the shores lying under either sun. Then, too, as soon as it
touched the lips of the God dripping with his wet beard, and being blown,
sounded the bidden retreat;61 it was heard by all the waters both of earth
and sea, and stopped all those waters by which it was heard. [I. 343-366 Now
the sea62 again has a shore; their channels receive the full rivers; the rivers
subside; the hills are seen to come forth. The ground rises, places increase
in extent as the waters decrease; and after a length of time, the woods show
their naked tops, and retain the mud left upon their branches.
The world was restored; which when Deucalion beheld to be empty, and
how the desolate Earth kept a profound silence, he thus addressed Pyrrha,
with tears bursting forth:—“O sister, O wife, O thou, the only woman
surviving, whom a common origin,63 and a kindred descent, and afterwards
the marriage tie has united to me, and whom now dangers themselves unite
to me; we two are the whole people of the earth, whatever both the East and
the West behold; of all the rest, the sea has taken possession. And even now
there is no certain assurance of our lives; even yet do the clouds terrify my
mind. What would now have been thy feelings, if without me thou hadst
been rescued from destruction, O thou deserving of compassion? In what
manner couldst thou have been able alone to support this terror? With
whom for a consoler, to endure these sorrows? For I, believe me, my wife,
if the sea had only carried thee off, should have followed thee, and the sea
should have carried me off as well. Oh that I could replace the people that

are lost by the arts of my father,64 and infuse the soul into the moulded
earth! Now I. 365-382] the mortal race exists in us two alone. Thus it has
seemed good to the Gods, and we remain as mere samples of mankind.”
EXPLANATION.

Jupiter, Neptune, and Pluto, were, perhaps, originally three [I. 367-382
brothers, kings of three separate kingdoms. Having been deified each
retaining his sovereignty, they were depicted as having the world
divided between them; the empire of the sea falling to the share of
Neptune. Among his occupations, were those of raising and calming
the seas; and Ovid here represents him as being so employed.

FABLE X.
Deucalion and Pyrrha re-people the earth by casting stones behind them, in
the manner prescribed by the Goddess Themis, whose oracle they had
consulted.
He thus spoke, and they wept. They resolved to pray to the Deities of
Heaven, and to seek relief through the sacred oracles. There is no delay;
together they repair to the waters of Cephisus,65 though not yet clear, yet
now cutting their wonted channel. Then, when they have sprinkled the
waters poured on their clothes66 and their heads, they turn their steps to the
temple of the sacred Goddess, the roof of which was defiled with foul moss,
and whose altars were standing without fires. Soon as they reached the steps
of the temple, each of them fell prostrate on the ground, and, trembling,
gave kisses to the cold pavement. And thus they said:
“If the Deities, prevailed upon by just prayers, are to be mollified, if the
wrath of the Gods is to be averted; tell us, O Themis, by what art the loss of
our race is to be repaired, and give thy assistance, O most gentle Goddess to
our ruined fortunes.” The Goddess was moved, and gave this response:
“Depart from my temple, and cover your heads,67 and loosen I. 382-411] the
garments [I. 382-410 girt around you, and throw behind your backs the bones
of your great mother.” For a long time they are amazed; and Pyrrha is the
first by her words to break the silence, and then refuses to obey the
commands of the Goddess; and begs her, with trembling lips, to grant her

pardon, and dreads to offend the shades of her mother by casting her bones.
In the meantime they reconsider the words of the response given, but
involved in dark obscurity, and they ponder them among themselves. Upon
that, the son of Prometheus soothes the daughter of Epimetheus with these
gentle words, and says, “Either is my discernment fallacious, or the oracles
are just, and advise no sacrilege. The earth is the great mother; I suspect that
the stones in the body of the earth are the bones meant; these we are ordered
to throw behind our backs.” Although she, descended from Titan,68 is
moved by this interpretation of her husband, still her hope is involved in
doubt; so much do they both distrust the advice of heaven; but what harm
will it do to try?
They go down, and they veil their heads, and ungird their garments, and
cast stones, as ordered, behind their footsteps. The stones (who could have
believed it, but that antiquity is a witness of the thing?) began to lay aside
their hardness and their stiffness, and by degrees to become soft; and when
softened, to assume a new form. Presently after, when they were grown
larger, a milder nature, too, was conferred on them, so that some shape of
man might be seen in them, yet though but imperfect; and as if from the
marble commenced to be wrought, not sufficiently distinct, and very like to
rough statues. Yet that part of them which was humid with any moisture,
and earthy, was turned into portions adapted for the use of the body. That
which is solid, and cannot be bent, is changed into bones; that which was
just now a vein, still [I. 410-418 remains under the same name.69 And in a
little time, by I. 411-423] the interposition of the Gods above, the stones
thrown by the hands of the man, took the shape of a man, and the female
race was renewed by the throwing of the woman. Thence are we a hardy
generation, and able to endure fatigue, and we give proofs from what
original we are sprung.
EXPLANATION.

In the reign of Deucalion, king of Thessaly, the course of the river
Peneus was stopped, probably by an earthquake. In the same year so
great a quantity of rain fell, that all Thessaly was overflowed.
Deucalion and some of his subjects fled to Mount Parnassus; where
they remained until the waters abated. The children of those who were

preserved are the stones of which the Poet here speaks. The Fable,
probably, has for its foundation the double meaning of the word
‘Eben,’ or ‘Aben,’ which signifies either ‘a stone,’ or ‘a child.’ The
Scholiast on Pindar tells us, too, that the word λάος, which means
people, formerly also signified ‘a stone.’
The brutal and savage nature of the early races of men may also have
added strength to the tradition that they derived their original from
stones. After the inundation, Deucalion is said to have repaired to
Athens, where he built a temple to Jupiter, and instituted sacrifices in
his honor. Some suppose that Cranaus reigned at Athens when
Deucalion retired thither; though Eusebius informs us it was under the
reign of Cecrops. Deucalion was the son of Prometheus, and his wife
Pyrrha was the daughter of his uncle, Epimetheus. After his death, he
received the honor of a temple, and was worshipped as a Divinity.

FABLE XI.
The Earth, being warmed by the heat of the sun, produces many monsters:
among others, the serpent Python, which Apollo kills with his arrows. To
establish a memorial of this event, he institutes the Pythian games, and
adopts the surname of Pythius.
The Earth of her own accord brought forth other animals of different forms;
after that the former moisture was thoroughly heated by the rays of the sun,
and the mud and the wet fens fermented with the heat; [I. 418-446 and the
fruitful seeds of things nourished by the enlivening soil, as in the womb of a
mother, grew, and, in lapse of time, assumed some regular shape. Thus,
when the seven-streamed Nile70 has forsaken the oozy I. 423-445] fields, and
has returned its waters to their ancient channel, and the fresh mud has been
heated with the æthereal sun, the laborers, on turning up the clods, meet
with very many animals, and among them, some just begun at the very
moment of their formation, and some they see still imperfect, and as yet
destitute of some of their limbs; and often, in the same body, is one part
animated, the other part is coarse earth. For when moisture and heat have

been subjected to a due mixture, they conceive; and all things arise from
these two.
And although fire is the antagonist of heat, yet a moist vapor creates all
things, and this discordant concord is suited for generation; when, therefore,
the Earth, covered with mud by the late deluge, was thoroughly heated by
the æthereal sunshine and a penetrating warmth, it produced species of
creatures innumerable; and partly restored the former shapes, and partly
gave birth to new monsters. She, indeed, might have been unwilling, but
then she produced thee as well, thou enormous Python; and thou, unheard-
of serpent, wast a source of terror to this new race of men, so vast a part of a
mountain didst thou occupy.
The God that bears the bow, and that had never before used such arms, but
against the deer and the timorous goats, destroyed him, overwhelmed with a
thousand arrows, his quiver being well-nigh exhausted, as the venom oozed
forth through the black wounds; and that length of time might not efface the
fame of the deed, he instituted sacred games,71 with contests I. 443-454]
famed in [I. 447-451 story, called “Pythia,” from the name of the serpent so
conquered. In these, whosoever of the young men conquered in boxing, in
running, or in chariot-racing, received the honor of a crown of beechen
leaves.72 As yet the laurel existed not, and Phœbus used to bind his temples,
graceful with long hair, with garlands from any tree.
EXPLANATION.

The story of the serpent Python, being explained on philosophical
principles, seems to mean, that the heat of the sun, having dissipated
the noxious exhalations emitted by the receding waters, the reptiles,
which had been produced from the slime left by the flood, immediately
disappeared.
If, however, we treat this narrative as based on historical facts, it is
probable that the serpent represented some robber who infested the
neighborhood of Parnassus, and molested those who passed that way
for the purpose of offering sacrifice. A prince, either bearing the name
of Apollo, or being a priest of that God, by his destruction liberated
that region from this annoyance. This event gave rise to the institution
of the Pythian games, which were celebrated near Delphi. Besides the

several contests mentioned by Ovid, singing, dancing, and
instrumental music, formed part of the exercises of these games. The
event which Ovid here places soon after the deluge, must have
happened much later, since in the time of Deucalion, the worship of
Apollo was not [I. 452-474 known at Delphi. The Goddess Themis then
delivered oracles there, which, previously to her time, had been
delivered by the Earth.

FABLE XII.
Apollo, falling in love with Daphne, the daughter of the river Peneus, she
flies from him. He pursues her; on which, the Nymph, imploring the aid
of her father, is changed into a laurel.
Daphne, the daughter of Peneus, was the first love of Phœbus; whom, not
blind chance, but the vengeful anger of Cupid assigned to him.
The Delian God,73 proud of having lately subdued the serpent, I. 454-481] had
seen him bending the bow and drawing the string, and had said, “What hast
thou to do, wanton boy, with gallant arms? Such a burden as that better
befits my shoulders; I, who am able to give unerring wounds to the wild
beasts, wounds to the enemy, who lately slew with arrows innumerable the
swelling Python, that covered so many acres of land with his pestilential
belly. Do thou be contented to excite I know not what flames with thy torch;
and do not lay claim to praises properly my own.”
To him the son of Venus replies, “Let thy bow shoot all things, Phœbus; my
bow shall shoot thee; and as much as all animals fall short of thee, so much
is thy glory less than mine.” He thus said; and cleaving the air with his
beating wings, with activity he stood upon the shady heights of Parnassus,
and drew two weapons out of his arrow-bearing quiver, of different
workmanship; the one repels, the other excites desire. That which causes
love is of gold, and is brilliant, with a sharp point; that which repels it is
blunt, and contains lead beneath the reed. This one the God fixed in the
Nymph, the daughter of Peneus, but with the other he wounded the very
marrow of Apollo, through his bones pierced by the arrow. Immediately the
one is in love; the other flies from the very name of a lover, rejoicing [I. 475-

488 in the recesses of the woods, and in the spoils of wild beasts taken in
hunting, and becomes a rival of the virgin Phœbe. A fillet tied together74 her
hair, put up without any order. Many a one courted her; she hated all
wooers; not able to endure, and quite unacquainted with man, she traverses
the solitary parts of the woods, and she cares not what Hymen,75 what love,
or what marriage means. Many a time did her father say, “My daughter,
thou owest me a son-in-law;” I. 481-505] many a time did her father say, “My
daughter, thou owest me grandchildren.” She, utterly abhorring the nuptial
torch,76 as though a crime, has her beauteous face covered with the blush of
modesty; and clinging to her father’s neck, with caressing arms, she says,
“Allow me, my dearest father, to enjoy perpetual virginity; her father, in
times, bygone, granted this to Diana.”
He indeed complied. But that very beauty forbids [I. 488-515 thee to be what
thou wishest, and the charms of thy person are an impediment to thy
desires. Phœbus falls in love, and he covets an alliance with Daphne, now
seen by him, and what he covets he hopes for, and his own oracles deceive
him; and as the light stubble is burned, when the ears of corn are taken off,
and as hedges are set on fire by the torches, which perchance a traveller has
either held too near them, or has left there, now about the break of day, thus
did the God burst into a flame; thus did he burn throughout his breast, and
cherish a fruitless passion with his hopes. He beholds her hair hanging
unadorned upon her neck, and he says, “And what would it be if it were
arranged?” He sees her eyes, like stars, sparkling with fire; he sees her lips,
which it is not enough to have merely seen; he praises both her fingers and
her hands, and her arms and her shoulders naked, from beyond the middle;
whatever is hidden from view, he thinks to be still more beauteous. Swifter
than the light wind she flies, and she stops not at these words of his, as he
calls her back:
“O Nymph, daughter of Peneus, stay, I entreat thee! I am not an enemy
following thee. In this way the lamb flies from I. 505-524] the wolf; thus the
deer flies from the lion; thus the dove flies from the eagle with trembling
wing; in this way each creature flies from its enemy: love is the cause of my
following thee. Ah! wretched me! shouldst thou fall on thy face, or should
the brambles tear thy legs, that deserve not to be injured, and should I prove
the cause of pain to thee. The places are rugged, through which thou art thus

hastening; run more leisurely, I entreat thee, and restrain thy flight; I myself
will follow more leisurely. And yet, inquire whom thou dost please; I am
not an inhabitant of the mountains, I am not a shepherd; I am not here, in
rude guise,77 watching the herds or the flocks. Thou knowest not, rash girl,
thou knowest not from whom thou art flying, and therefore it is that thou
dost fly. [I. 516-531 The Delphian land, Claros and Tenedos,78 A and the
Pataræan palace pays service to me. Jupiter is my sire; by me, what shall be,
what has been, and what is, is disclosed; through me, songs harmonize with
the strings. My own arrow, indeed, is unerring; yet one there is still more
unerring than my own, which has made this wound in my heart, before
unscathed. The healing art is my discovery, and throughout the world I am
honored as the bearer of help, and the properties of simples are79 subjected
to me. Ah, wretched me!80 that love is not to be cured by any herbs; and
that those arts which afford relief to all, are of no avail for their master.”
I. 525-537]

The daughter of Peneus flies from him, about to say still more, with timid
step, and together with him she leaves his unfinished address. Then, too, she
appeared lovely; the winds exposed her form to view, and the gusts meeting
her fluttered about her garments, as they came in contact, and the light
breeze spread behind herB her careless locks; and thus, by her flight, was
her beauty increased. But the youthful God81 has not patience any longer to
waste his blandishments; and as [I. 532-545 love urges him on, he follows her
steps with hastening pace. As when the greyhound82 has seen the hare in the
open field, and the one by the speed of his legs pursues his prey, the other
seeks her safety; the one is like as if just about to fasten on the other, and
now, even now, hopes to catch her, and with nose outstretched plies upon
the footsteps of the hare. The other is I. 537-562] in doubt whether she is
caught already, and is delivered from his very bite, and leaves behind the
mouth just touching her. And so is the God, and so is the virgin;83 he swift
with hopes, she with fear.
Yet he that follows, aided by the wings of love, is the swifter, and denies her
any rest; and is now just at her back as she flies, and is breathing upon her
hair scattered upon her neck. Her strength being now spent, she grows pale,
and being quite faint, with the fatigue of so swift a flight, looking upon the
waters of Peneus, she says, “Give me, my father, thy aid, if you rivers [I. 545-

566 have divine power. Oh Earth, either yawn to swallow me, or by changing
it, destroy that form, by which I have pleased too much, and which causes
me to be injured.”
Hardly had she ended her prayer, when a heavy torpor seizes her limbs; and
her soft breasts are covered with a thin bark. Her hair grows into green
leaves, her arms into branches; her feet, the moment before so swift, adhere
by sluggish roots; a leafy canopy overspreads her features; her elegance
alone84 remains in her. This, too, Phœbus admires, and placing his right
hand upon the stock, he perceives that the breast still throbs beneath the
new bark; and then, embracing the branches as though limbs in his arms, he
gives kisses to the wood, and yet the wood shrinks from his kisses. To her
the God said: “But since thou canst not be my wife, at least thou shalt be
my tree; my hair, my lyre,85 my quiver shall always have thee, oh laurel!
Thou shalt be presented to the Latian chieftains, when the joyous voice of
the soldiers shall sing the song of triumph,86 and the long procession shall
resort to the Capitol. Thou, the same, shalt stand as a most I. 563-568] faithful
guardian at the gate-posts of Augustus before his doors,87 and shalt protect
the oak placed in the centre; and as my head is ever youthful with unshorn
locks, do thou, too, always wear the lasting honors of thy foliage.”
Pæan had ended his speech; the laurel nodded assent [I. 566-569 with its new-
made boughs, and seemed to shake its top just like a head.
EXPLANATION.

To explain this Fable, it must be laid down as a principle that there
were originally many Jupiters, and Apollos, and Mercuries, whose
intrigues being, in lapse of time, attributed to but one individual, that
fact accounts for the great number of children which claimed those
respective Gods for their fathers.
Some prince probably, for whom his love of learning had acquired the
name of Apollo, falling in love with Daphne, pursued her to the brink
of the river Peneus, into which, being accidentally precipitated, she
perished in her lover’s sight. Some laurels growing near the spot,
perhaps gave rise to the story of her transformation; or possibly the
etymology of the word ‘Daphne,’ which in Greek signifies a laurel,
was the foundation of the Fable. Pausanias, however, in his Arcadia,

gives another version of this story. He says that Leucippus, son of
Œnomaus, king of Pisa, falling in love with Daphne, disguised himself
in female apparel, and devoted himself to her service. He soon
procured her friendship and confidence; but Apollo, who was his rival,
having discovered his fraud, one day redoubled the heat of the sun.
Daphne and her companions going to bathe, obliged Leucippus to
follow their example, on which, having discovered his stratagem, they
killed him with the arrows which they carried for the purposes of
hunting.
Diodorus Siculus tells us that Daphne was the same with Manto, the
daughter of Tiresias, who was banished to Delphi, where she delivered
oracles, of the language of which Homer availed himself in the
composition of his poems. The inhabitants of Antioch asserted that the
adventure here narrated happened in the suburbs of their city, which
thence derived its name of Daphne.

FABLE XIII.
Jupiter, pursuing Io, the daughter of Inachus, covers the earth with
darkness, and ravishes the Nymph.
There is a grove of Hæmonia,88 which a wood, placed on a I. 568-583] craggy
rock, encloses on every side. They call it Tempe;89 through this the river
Peneus, flowing from [I. 570-587 the bottom of mount Pindus,90 rolls along
with its foaming waves, and in its mighty fall, gathers clouds that scatter a
vapor like thin smoke,91 and with its spray besprinkles the tops of the
woods, and wearies places, far from near to it, with its noise. This is the
home, this the abode, these are the retreats of the great river; residing here
in a cavern formed by rocks, he gives law to the waters, and to the Nymphs
that inhabit those waters. The rivers of that country first repair thither, not
knowing whether they should congratulate, or whether console the parent;
the poplar-bearing Spercheus,92 and the restless Enipeus,93 the aged
Apidanus,94 the gentle Amphrysus,95 and Æas,96 and, soon after, the other
rivers, which, as their current leads them, carry down into the sea their
waves, wearied by wanderings. Inachus97 alone is absent, and, hidden in his

I. 583-600] deepest cavern, increases his waters with his tears, and in extreme
wretchedness bewails his daughter Io as lost; he knows not whether she
now enjoys life, or whether she is among the shades below; but her, whom
he does not find anywhere, he believes to be nowhere, and in his mind he
dreads the worst.
[I. 588-600

Jupiter had seen Io as she was returning from her father’s stream, and had
said, “O maid, worthy of Jove, and destined to make I know not whom
happy in thy marriage, repair to the shades of this lofty grove (and he
pointed at the shade of the grove) while it is warm, and while the Sun is at
his height, in the midst of his course. But if thou art afraid to enter the
lonely abodes of the wild beasts alone, thou shalt enter the recesses of the
groves, safe under the protection of a God, and that a God of no common
sort; but with me, who hold the sceptre of heaven in my powerful hand; me,
who hurl the wandering lightnings—Do not fly from me;” for now she was
flying. And now she had left behind the pastures of Lerna,98 and the
Lircæan plains planted with trees, when the God covered the earth far and
wide with darkness overspreading, and arrested her flight, and forced her
modesty.
EXPLANATION.

The Greeks frequently embellished their mythology with narratives of
Phœnician or Egyptian origin. The story of Io probably came from
Egypt. Isis was one of the chief divinities of that country, and her
worship naturally passed, with their colonies, into foreign countries.
Greece received it when Inachus went to settle there, and in lapse of
time Isis, under the name of Io, was supposed to have been his
daughter, and the fable was invented which is here narrated by Ovid.
The Greek authors, Apollodorus, Strabo, Diodorus Siculus, and
Pausanias, say that Io was the daughter of Inachus, the first king of
Argos; that Jupiter carried her away to Crete; and that by her he had a
son named Epaphus, who went to reign in Egypt, whither his mother
accompanied I. 601-619] him. They also tell us that she married Apis, or
Osiris, who, after his death, was numbered among the Deities of Egypt
by the name of Serapis. From them we also learn that Juno, being

actuated by jealousy, on the discovery of the intrigue, put Io under the
care of her uncle Argus, a man of great vigilance, but that Jupiter
having slain him, placed his mistress on [I. 601-619 board of a vessel
which had the figure of a cow at its head; from which circumstance
arose the story of the transformation of Io. The Greek writers also
state, that the Bosphorus, a part of the Ægean sea, derived its name
from the passage of Io in the shape of a cow.

FABLE XIV.
Jupiter, having changed Io into a cow, to conceal her from the jealousy of
Juno, is obliged to give her to that Goddess, who commits her to the
charge of the watchful Argus. Jupiter sends Mercury with an injunction to
cast Argus into a deep sleep, and to take away his life.
In the meantime Juno looked down upon the midst of the fields, and
wondering that the fleeting clouds had made the appearance of night under
bright day, she perceived that they were not the vapors from a river, nor
were they raised from the moist earth, and then she looked around to see
where her husband was, as being one who by this time was full well
acquainted with the intrigues of a husband who had been so often
detected.99 After she had found him not in heaven, she said, “I am either
deceived, or I am injured;” and having descended from the height of
heaven, she alighted upon the earth, and commanded the mists to retire. He
had foreseen the approach of his wife, and had changed the features of the
daughter of Inachus into a sleek heifer.100 As a cow, too, she is beautiful.
The daughter of Saturn, though unwillingly, extols the appearance of the
cow; and likewise inquires, whose it is, and whence, or of what herd it is, as
though ignorant of the truth. Jupiter falsely asserts that it was produced out
of the earth, that the owner may cease to be inquired after. The daughter of
Saturn begs her of him as a gift. What can he do? It is a cruel thing to
deliver up his own mistress, and not to give her up is a cause of suspicion. It
is shame which persuades him on the one hand, love [I. 619-647 dissuades him
on the other. His shame would have been I. 619-651] subdued by his love; but
if so trifling a gift as a cow should be refused to the sharer of his descent
and his couch, she might well seem not to be a cow.

The rival now being given up to her, the Goddess did not immediately lay
aside all apprehension; and she was still afraid of Jupiter, and was fearful of
her being stolen, until she gave her to Argus, the son of Aristor, to be kept
by him. Argus had his head encircled with a hundred eyes. Two of them
used to take rest in their turns, the rest watched, and used to keep on
duty.101 In whatever manner he stood, he looked towards Io; although
turned away, he still used to have Io before his eyes. In the daytime he
suffers her to feed; but when the sun is below the deep earth, he shuts her
up, and ties a cord round her neck undeserving of such treatment. She feeds
upon the leaves of the arbute tree, and bitter herbs, and instead of a bed the
unfortunate animal lies upon the earth, that does not always have grass on
it, and drinks of muddy streams. And when, too, she was desirous, as a
suppliant, to stretch out her arms to Argus, she had no arms to stretch out to
Argus; and she uttered lowings from her mouth, when endeavoring to
complain. And at this sound she was terrified, and was affrighted at her own
voice.
She came, too, to the banks, where she was often wont to sport, the banks of
her father, Inachus; and soon as she beheld her new horns in the water, she
was terrified, and, astonished, she recoiled from herself. The Naiads knew
her not, and Inachus himself knew her not, who she was; but she follows
her father, and follows her sisters, and suffers herself to be touched, and
presents herself to them, as they admire her. The aged Inachus held her
some grass he had plucked; she licks his hand, and gives kisses to the palms
of her father. Nor does she restrain her tears; and if only words would
follow, she would implore his aid, and [I. 648-671 would declare her name and
misfortunes. Instead of words, letters, which her foot traced in the dust,
completed the sad discovery of the transformation of her body. “Ah,
wretched me!” exclaims her father Inachus; and clinging to the horns and
the neck I. 651-674] of the snow-white cow, as she wept, he repeats, “Ah,
wretched me! and art thou my daughter, that hast been sought for by me
throughout all lands? While undiscovered, thou wast a lighter grief to me,
than now, when thou art found. Thou art silent, and no words dost thou
return in answer to mine; thou only heavest sighs from the depth of thy
breast, and what alone thou art able to do, thou answerest in lowings to my
words. But I, in ignorance of this, was preparing the bridal chamber, and the

nuptial torches for thee; and my chief hope was that of a son-in-law, my
next was that of grandchildren. But now must thou have a mate from the
herd, now, too, an offspring of the herd. Nor is it possible for me to end
grief so great by death; but it is a detriment to be a God; and the gate of
death being shut against me, extends my grief to eternal ages.”
While thus he lamented, the starry Argus removed her away, and carried the
daughter, thus taken from her father, to distant pastures. He himself, at a
distance, occupies the lofty top of a mountain, whence, as he sits, he may
look about on all sides.
Nor can the ruler of the Gods above, any longer endure so great miseries of
the granddaughter of Phoroneus;102 and he calls his son Mercury, whom the
bright Pleiad, Maia,103 brought forth, and orders him to put Argus to death.
There is but little delay to take wings upon his feet, and his soporiferous
wand104 in his hand, [I. 672-688 and a cap for his hair.105 After he had put
these things in order, the son of Jupiter leaps down from his father’s high
abode upon the earth, and there he takes off I. 674-694] his cap, and lays aside
his wings; his wand alone was retained. With this, as a shepherd, he drives
some she-goats through the pathless country, taken up as he passed along,
and plays upon oaten straws joined together.
The keeper appointed by Juno, charmed by the sound of this new
contrivance, says, “Whoever thou art, thou mayst be seated with me upon
this stone; for, indeed, in no other place is the herbage more abundant for
thy flock; and thou seest, too, that the shade is convenient for the
shepherds.” The son of Atlas sat down, and with much talking he occupied
the passing day with his discourse, and by playing upon his joined reeds he
tried to overpower his watchful eyes. Yet the other strives hard to overcome
soft sleep; and although sleep was received by a part of his eyes, yet with a
part he still keeps watch. He inquires also (for the pipe had been but lately
invented) by what method it had been found out.
EXPLANATION.

The story of the Metamorphosis of Io has been already enlarged upon
in the Explanation of the preceding Fable. It may, however, not be
irrelevant to observe, that myths, or mythological stories or fables, are
frequently based upon some true history, corrupted by tradition in

lapse of time. The poets, too, giving loose to their fancy in their love of
the marvellous, have still further disfigured the original story; so that it
is in most instances extremely difficult to trace back the facts to their
primitive simplicity, by a satisfactory explanation of each circumstance
attending them, either upon a philosophical, or an historical principle
of solution.
[I. 689-706

FABLE XV.
Pan, falling in love with the Nymph Syrinx, she flies from him; on which
he pursues her. Syrinx, arrested in her flight by the waves of the river
Ladon, invokes the aid of her sisters, the Naiads, who change her into
reeds. Pan unites them into an instrument with seven pipes, which bears
the name of the Nymph.
Then the God says, “In the cold mountains of Arcadia, among the
Hamadryads of Nonacris,106 there was one Naiad very famous; the Nymphs
called her Syrinx. And not once alone had she escaped the Satyrs as they
pursued, and whatever Gods either the shady grove or the fruitful fields
have in them. In her pursuits and her virginity itself she used I. 694-712] to
devote herself to the Ortygian Goddess;107 and being clothed after the
fashion of Diana, she might have deceived one, and might have been
supposed to be the daughter of Latona, if she had not had a bow of cornel
wood, the other, a bow of gold; and even then did she sometimes deceive
people. Pan spies her as she is returning from the hill of Lycæus, and having
his head crowned with sharp pine leaves, he utters such words as these;” it
remained for Mercury to repeat the words, and how that the Nymph,
slighting his suit, fled through pathless spots, until she came to the gentle
stream of sandy Ladon;108 and that here, the waters stopping her course, she
prayed to her watery sisters, that they would change her; and how that Pan,
when he was thinking that Syrinx was now caught by him, had seized hold
of some reeds of the [I. 706-721 marsh, instead of the body of the Nymph; and
how, while he was sighing there, the winds moving amid the reeds had
made a murmuring noise, and like one complaining; and how that, charmed
by this new discovery and the sweetness of the sound, he had said, “This

mode of converse with thee shall ever remain with me;” and that
accordingly, unequal reeds being stuck together among themselves by a
cement of wax, had since retained the name of the damsel.
EXPLANATION.

This appears to have been an Egyptian fable, imported into the works
of the Grecian poets. Pan was probably a Divinity of the Egyptians,
who worshipped nature under that name, as we are told by Herodotus
and Diodorus Siculus. As, however, according to Nonnus, there were
not less than twelve Pans, it is possible that the adventure here related
may have been supposed to have happened to one of them who was a
native of Greece. He was most probably the inventor of the Syrinx, or
Pandæan pipe, and, perhaps, formed his first instrument from the
produce of the banks of the River Ladon, from which circumstance
Syrinx may have been styled the daughter of that river.

I. 712-723]

FABLE XVI.
Mercury, having lulled Argus to sleep, cuts off his head, and Juno places
his eyes in the peacock’s tail.
The Cyllenian God109 being about to say such things, perceived that all his
eyes were sunk in sleep, and that his sight was wrapped110 in slumber. At
once he puts an end to his song, and strengthens his slumbers, stroking his
languid eyes with his magic wand. There is no delay; he wounds him, as he
nods, with his crooked sword, where the head is joined to the neck; and
casts him, all blood-stained, from the rock, and stains the craggy cliff with
his gore.
Argus, thou liest low, and the light which thou hadst in so many eyes is now
extinguished; and one night [I. 722-733 takes possession of a whole hundred
eyes. The daughter of Saturn takes them, and places them on the feathers of
her own bird, and she fills its tail with starry gems.
EXPLANATION.

The ancient writers, Asclepiades and Pherecydes, tell us, that Argus
was the son of Arestor. He is supposed by some to have been the fourth
king of Argos after Inachus, and to have been a person of great wisdom
and penetration, on account of which he was said to have a hundred
eyes. Io most probably was committed to his charge, and he watched
over her with the greatest care.
It is impossible to divine the reason why his eyes were said to have
been set by Juno in the tail of the peacock; though, perhaps, the
circumstance has no other foundation than the resemblance of the
human eye to the spots in the tail of that bird, which was consecrated
to Juno. Besides, if Juno is to be considered the symbol of Air, or
Æther, through which light is transmitted to us, it is not surprising that
the ancients bestowed so many eyes upon the bird which was
consecrated to her.

I. 723-747]

FABLE XVII.
Io, terrified and maddened with dreadful visions, runs over many regions,
and stops in Egypt, when Juno, at length, being pacified, restores her to
her former shape, and permits her to be worshipped there, under the
name of Isis.
Immediately, she was inflamed with rage, and deferred not the time of
expressing her wrath; and she presented a dreadful Fury before the eyes and
thoughts of the Argive mistress,111 and buried in her bosom invisible stings,
and drove her, in her fright, a wanderer through the whole earth. Thou,
O Nile, didst remain, as the utmost boundary of her long wanderings. Soon
as she arrived there, she fell upon her knees, placed on the edge of the bank,
and raising herself up, with her neck thrown back, and casting to Heaven
those looks which then alone she could, by her groans, and her tears, and
her mournful lowing, she seemed to be complaining of Jupiter, and to be
begging an end of her sorrows.

He, embracing the neck of his wife with his arms, [I. 734-759 entreats her, at
length, to put an end to her punishment; and he says, “Lay aside thy fears
for the future; she shall never more be the occasion of any trouble to thee;”
and then he bids the Stygian waters to hear this oath. As soon as the
Goddess is pacified, Io receives her former shape, and she becomes what
she was before; the hairs flee from off of her body, her horns decrease, and
the orb of her eye becomes less; the opening of her jaw is contracted; her
shoulders and her hands return, and her hoof, vanishing, is disposed of into
five nails; nothing of the cow remains to her, but the whiteness of her
appearance; and the Nymph, contented with the service of two feet, is
raised erect on them; and yet she is afraid to speak, lest she should low like
a cow, and timorously tries again the words so long interrupted. Now, as a
Goddess, she is worshipped by the linen-wearing throng112 of Egypt.
I. 748-774]

To her, at length, Epaphus113 is believed to have been born from the seed of
great Jove, and throughout the cities he possesses temples joined to those of
his parent. Phaëton, sprung from the Sun, was equal to him in spirit and in
years; whom formerly, as he uttered great boasts, and yielded not at all to
him, and proud of his father, Phœbus, the grandson of Inachus could not
endure; and said, “Thou, like a madman, believest thy mother in all things,
and art puffed up with the conceit of an imaginary father.”
Phaëton blushed, and in shame repressed his resentment; and he reported to
his mother, Clymene,114 the reproaches of Epaphus; and said, “Mother, to
grieve thee still more, I, the free, the bold youth, was silent; I am ashamed
both that these reproaches can be uttered against us, and that they cannot be
refuted; but do [I. 760-779 thou, if only I am born of a divine race, give me
some proof of so great a descent, and claim me for heaven.” Thus he spoke,
and threw his arms around the neck of his mother; and besought her, by his
own head and by that of Merops,115 and by the nuptial torches of his sisters,
that she would give him some token of his real father.
It is a matter of doubt whether Clymene was more moved by the entreaties
of Phaëton, or by resentment at the charge made against her; and she raised
both her arms to heaven, and, looking up to the light of the Sun, she said,
“Son, I swear to thee, by this beam, bright with shining rays, which both

hears and sees us, that thou, that thou, I say, wast begotten by this Sun,
which thou beholdest; by this Sun, which governs the world. If I utter an
untruth, let him deny himself to be seen by me, and let this light prove the
last for my eyes. Nor will it be any prolonged trouble for thee to visit thy
father’s dwelling; the abode where he arises is contiguous to our regions.116
I. 775-779] If only thy inclination disposes thee, go forth, and thou shalt
inquire of himself.”
Phaëton immediately springs forth, overjoyed, upon these words of his
mother, and reaches the skies in imagination; and he passes by his own
Æthiopians, and the Indians situate beneath the rays of the Sun,117 and
briskly wends his way to the rising of his sire.
EXPLANATION.

To the elucidation of this narrative, already given, we will only add,
that some of the mythologists inform us, that when Mercury had lulled
Argus to sleep, a youth named Hierax awoke him; on which Mercury
killed Argus with a stone, and turned Hierax into a spar-hawk.

1. Forms changed into new bodies.]—Ver. 1. Some commentators cite
these words as an instance of Hypallage as being used for ‘corpora
mutata in novas formas,’ ‘bodies changed into new forms;’ and they
fancy that there is a certain beauty in the circumstance that the
proposition of a subject which treats of the changes and variations of
bodies should be framed with a transposition of words. This
supposition is perhaps based rather on the exuberance of a fanciful
imagination than on solid grounds, as if it is an instance of Hypallage,
it is most probably quite accidental; while the passage may be
explained without any reference to Hypallage, as the word ‘forma’ is
sometimes used to signify the thing itself; thus the words ‘formæ
deorum’ and ‘ferarum’ are used to signify ‘the Gods,’ or ‘the wild
beasts’ themselves.
2. Favor my attempts.]—Ver. 3. This use of the word ‘adspirate’ is a
metaphor taken from the winds, which, while they fill the ship’s sails,
were properly said ‘adspirare.’ It has been remarked, with some

justice, that this invocation is not sufficiently long or elaborate for a
work of so grave and dignified a nature as the Metamorphoses.
3. To my own times.]—Ver. 4. That is, to the days of Augustus Cæsar.
4. A rude and undigested mass.]—Ver. 7. This is very similar to the
words of the Scriptures, ‘And the earth was without form and void,’
Genesis, ch. i. ver. 2.
5. No Sun.]—Ver. 10. Titan. The Sun is so called, on account of his
supposed father, Hyperion, who was one of the Titans. Hyperion is
thought to have been the first who, by assiduous observation,
discovered the course of the Sun, Moon, and other luminaries. By
them he regulated the time for the seasons, and imparted this
knowledge to others. Being thus, as it were, the father of astronomy, he
has been feigned by the poets to have been the father of the Sun and
the Moon.
6. The Moon.]—Ver. 11. Phœbe. The Moon is so called from the Greek
φοῖβος, ‘shining,’ and as being the sister of Phœbus, Apollo, or the
Sun.
7. Amphitrite.]—Ver. 14. She was the daughter of Oceanus and Doris,
and the wife of Neptune, God of the Sea. Being the Goddess of the
Ocean, her name is here used to signify the ocean itself.
8. Nature.]—Ver. 21. ‘Natura’ is a word often used by the Poet without
any determinate signification, and to its operations are ascribed all
those phenomena which it is found difficult or impossible to explain
upon known and established principles. In the present instance it may
be considered to mean the invisible agency of the Deity in reducing
Chaos into a form of order and consistency. ‘Et’ is therefore here, as
grammarians term it, an expositive particle; as if the Poet had said,
‘Deus sive natura,’ ‘God, or in other words, nature.’
9. The element of the vaulted heaven.]—Ver. 26. This is a periphrasis,
signifying the regions of the firmament or upper air, in which the sun
and stars move; which was supposed to be of the purest fire and the
source of all flame. The heavens are called ‘convex,’ from being

supposed to assume the same shape as the terrestrial globe which they
surround.
10. The lowermost place.]—Ver. 31. ‘Ultima’ must not be here
understood in the presence of ‘infima,’ or as signifying ‘last,’ or
‘lowest,’ in a strict philosophical sense, for that would contradict the
account of the formation of the world given by Hesiod, and which is
here closely followed by Ovid; indeed, it would contradict his own
words,—‘Circumfluus humor coercuit solidum orbem.’ The meaning
seems to be, that the waters possess the lowest place only in respect to
the earth whereon we tread, and not relatively to the terrestrial globe,
the supposed centre of the system, inasmuch as the external surface of
the earth in some places rises considerably, and leaves the water to
subside in channels.
11. Whoever of the Gods he was.]—Ver. 32. By this expression the
Poet perhaps may intend to intimate that the God who created the
world was some more mighty Divinity than those who were commonly
accounted Deities.
12. Are some of them swallowed up.]—Ver. 40. He here refers to those
rivers which, at some distance from their sources, disappear and
continue their course under ground. Such was the stream of Arethusa,
the Lycus in Asia, the Erasinus in Argolis, the Alpheus in
Peloponnesus, the Arcas in Spain, and the Rhone in France. Most of
these, however, after descending into the earth, appear again and
discharge their waters into the sea.
13. He commanded the plains.]—Ver. 43. The use here of the word
‘jussit,’ signifying ‘ordered,’ or ‘commanded,’ is considered as being
remarkably sublime and appropriate, and serving well to express the
ease wherewith an infinitely powerful Being accomplishes the most
difficult works. There is the same beauty here that was long since
remarked by Longinus, one of the most celebrated critics among the
ancients, in the words used by Moses, ‘And God said, Let there be
light, and there was light,’ Genesis, ch. i. ver. 3.

14. On the right-hand side.]—Ver. 45. The “right hand” here refers to
the northern part of the globe, and the “left hand” to the southern. He
here speaks of the zones. Astronomers have divided the heavens into
five parallel circles. First, the equinoctial, which lies in the middle,
between the poles of the earth, and obtains its name from the equality
of days and nights on the earth while the sun is in its plane. On each
side are the two tropics, at the distance of 23 deg. 30 min., and
described by the sun when in his greatest declination north and south,
or at the summer and winter solstices. That on the north side of the
equinoctial is called the tropic of Cancer, because the sun describes it
when in that sign of the ecliptic; and that on the south side is, for a
similar reason, called the tropic of Capricorn. Again, at the distance of
23½ degrees from the poles are two other parallels called the polar
circles, either because they are near to the poles, or because, if we
suppose the whole frame of the heavens to turn round on the plane of
the equinoctial, these circles are marked out by the poles of the
ecliptic. By means of these parallels, astronomers have divided the
heavens into four zones or tracks. The whole space between the two
tropics is the middle or torrid zone, which the equinoctial divides into
two equal parts. On each side of this are the temperate zones, which
extend from the tropics to the two polar circles. And lastly, the portions
enclosed by the polar circles make up the frigid zones. As the planes of
these circles produced till they reached the earth, would also impress
similar parallels upon it, and divide it in the same manner as they
divide the heavens, astronomers have conceived five zones upon the
earth, corresponding to those in the heavens, and bounded by the same
circles.
15. That which is the middle one.]—Ver. 49. The ecliptic in which the
sun moves, cuts the equator in two opposite points, at an angle of 23½
degrees; and runs obliquely from one tropic to another, and returns
again in a corresponding direction. Hence, the sun, which in the space
of a year, performs the revolution of this circle, must in that time be
twice vertical to every place in the torrid zone, except directly under
the tropics, and his greatest distance from their zenith at noon, cannot
exceed 47 degrees. Thus his rays being often perpendicular, or nearly

so, and never very oblique, must strike more forcibly, and cause more
intense heat in that spot. Being little acquainted with the extent and
situation of the earth, the ancients believed it uninhabitable. Modern
discovery has shown that this is not the case as to a considerable part
of the torrid zone, though with some parts of it our acquaintance is still
very limited.
16. Deep snow covers two.]—Ver. 50. The two polar or frigid zones.
For as the sun never approaches these nearer than the tropic on that
side, and is, during one part of the year, removed by the additional
extent of the whole torrid zone, his rays must be very oblique and
faint, so as to leave these tracts exposed to almost perpetual cold.
17. He placed as many more.]—Ver. 51. The temperate zones, lying
between the torrid and the frigid, partake of the character of each in a
modified degree, and are of a middle temperature between hot and
cold. Here, too, the distinction of the seasons is manifest. For in either
temperate zone, when the sun is in that tropic, which borders upon it,
being nearly vertical, the heat must be considerable, and produce
summer; but when he is removed to the other tropic by a distance of 47
degrees, his rays will strike but faintly, and winter will be the
consequence. The intermediate spaces, while he is moving from one
tropic to the other, make spring and autumn.
18. The brothers.]—Ver. 60. That is, the winds, who, according to the
Theogony of Hesiod, were the sons of Astreus, the giant, and Aurora.
19. Eurus took his way.]—Ver. 61. The Poet, after remarking that the
air is the proper region of the winds, proceeds to take notice that God,
to prevent them from making havoc of the creation, subjected them to
particular laws, and assigned to each the quarter whence to direct his
blasts. Eurus is the east wind, being so called from its name, because it
blows from the east. As Aurora, or the morning, was always ushered in
by the sun, who rises eastward, she was supposed to have her
habitation in the eastern quarter of the world; and often, in the
language of ancient poetry, her name signifies the east.

20. The realms of Nabath.]—Ver. 61. From Josephus we learn that
Nabath, the son of Ishmael, with his eleven brothers, took possession
of all the country from the river Euphrates to the Red Sea, and called it
Nabathæa. Pliny the Elder and Strabo speak of the Nabatæi as situated
between Babylon and Arabia Felix, and call their capital Petra. Tacitus,
in his Annals (Book ii. ch. 57), speaks of them as having a king.
Perhaps the term ‘Nabathæa regna’ implies here, generally, the whole
of Arabia.
21. Are bordering upon Zephyrus.]—Ver. 63. The region where the sun
sets, that is to say, the western part of the world, was assigned by the
ancients to the Zephyrs, or west winds, so called by a Greek derivation
because they cherish and enliven nature.
22. Boreas invaded Scythia.]—Ver. 64. Under the name of Scythia, the
ancients generally comprehended all the countries situate in the
extreme northern regions. ‘Septem trio,’ meaning the northern region
of the world, is so called from the ‘Triones,’ a constellation of seven
stars, near the North Pole, known also as the Ursa Major, or Greater
Bear, and among the country people of our time by the name of
Charles’s Wain. Boreas, one of the names of ‘Aquilo,’ or the ‘north
wind,’ is derived from a Greek word, signifying ‘an eddy.’ This name
was probably given to it from its causing whirlwinds occasionally by
its violence.
23. The drizzling South Wind.]—Ver. 66. The South Wind is especially
called rainy, because, blowing from the Mediterranean sea on the coast
of France and Italy, it generally brings with it clouds and rain.
24. The forms of the Gods.]—Ver. 73. There is some doubt what the
Poet here means by the ‘forms of the Gods.’ Some think that the stars
are meant, as if it were to be understood that they are forms of the
Gods. But it is most probably only a poetical expression for the Gods
themselves, and he here assigns the heavens as the habitation of the
Gods and the stars; these last, according to the notion of the Platonic
philosophers being either intelligent beings, or guided and actuated by
such.

25. Inhabited by the smooth fishes.]—Ver. 74. ‘Cesserunt nitidis
habitandæ piscibus;’ Clarke translates ‘fell to the neat fishes to
inhabit.’
26. Could rule over the rest.]—Ver. 77. This strongly brings to mind
the words of the Creator, described in the first chapter of Genesis, ver.
28. ‘And God said unto them—have dominion over the fish of the sea,
and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth
upon the earth.’
27. Framed him from divine elements.]—Ver. 78. We have here strong
grounds for contending that the ancient philosophers, and after them
the poets, in their account of the creation of the world followed a
tradition that had been copied from the Books of Moses. The formation
of man, in Ovid, as well as in the Book of Genesis, is the last work of
the Creator, and was, for the same purpose, that man might have
dominion over the other animated works of the creation.
28. Read upon the brazen tables.]—Ver. 91. It was the custom among
the Romans to engrave their laws on tables of brass, and fix them in
the Capitol, or some other conspicuous place, that they might be open
to the view of all.
29. Clarions of crooked brass.]—Ver. 98. ‘Cornu’ seems to have been
a general name for the horn or trumpet; whereas the “tuba” was a
straight trumpet, while the ‘lituus’ was bent into a spiral shape. Lydus
says that the ‘lituus’ was the sacerdotal trumpet, and that it was
employed by Romulus when he proclaimed the title of his newly-
founded city. Acro says that it was peculiar to the cavalry, while the
‘tuba’ belonged to the infantry. The notes of the ‘lituus’ are usually
described as harsh and shrill.
30. Age of degenerated tendencies.]—Ver. 128. ‘Vena’ signifies among
other things, a vein or track of metal as it lies in the mine. Literally,
‘venæ pejoris’ signifies ‘of inferior metal.’
31. Now as ships bounded.]—Ver. 134. ‘Insultavere carinæ.’ This line
is translated by Clarke, ‘The keel-pieces bounced over unknown
waves.’

32. To the Stygian shades.]—Ver. 139. That is, in deep caverns, and
towards the centre of the earth; for Styx was feigned to be a river of
the Infernal Regions, situate in the depths of the earth.
33. Through the means of both.]—Ver. 142. Gold forms, perhaps, more
properly the sinews of war than iron. The history of Philip of Macedon
gives a proof of this, as he conquered Greece more by bribes than the
sword, and used to say, that he deemed no fortress impregnable, where
there was a gate large enough to admit a camel laden with gold.
34. Prematurely makes inquiry.]—Ver. 148. Namely, by inquiring of
the magicians and astrologers, that by their skill in casting nativities,
they might inform them the time when their parents were likely to die,
and to leave them their property.
35. Astræa.]—Ver. 150. She was the daughter of Astræus and Aurora,
or of Jupiter and Themis, and was the Goddess of Justice. On leaving
the earth, she was supposed to have taken her place among the stars as
the Constellation of the Virgin.
36. Olympus.]—Ver. 154. Olympus was a mountain between Thessaly
and Macedonia. Pelion was a mountain of Thessaly, towards the
Pelasgic gulf; and Ossa was a mountain between Olympus and Pelion.
These the Giants are said to have heaped one on another, in order to
scale heaven.
37. There is a way on high.]—Ver. 168. The Poet here gives a
description of the court of heaven; and supposing the galaxy, or Milky
Way, to be the great road to the palace of Jupiter, places the habitations
of the Gods on each side of it, and adjoining the palace itself. The
mythologists also invented a story, that the Milky Way was a track left
in the heavens by the milk of Juno flowing from the mouth of
Hercules, when suckled by her. Aristotle, however, suspected what has
been since confirmed by the investigations of modern science, that it
was formed by the light of innumerable stars.
38. The ennobled Deities.]—Ver. 172. These were the superior Deities,
who formed the privy councillors of Jupiter, and were called ‘Di
majorum gentium,’ or, ‘Di consentes.’ Reckoning Jupiter as one, they

were twelve in number, and are enumerated by Ennius in two limping
hexameter lines:—
‘Juno, Vesta, Minerva, Ceres, Diana, Venus, Mars,
Mercurius, Jovis, Neptunus, Vulcanus, Apollo.’

39. The Gods of lower rank.]—Ver. 173. These were the ‘Dii minorum
gentium,’ or inferior Deities.
40. Shook the awful locks.]—Ver. 179. This awful nod of Jupiter, the
sanction by which he confirms his decrees, is an idea taken from
Homer; by whom it is so vividly depicted at the end of the first book of
the Iliad, that Phidias, in his statue of that God, admired for the awful
majesty of its looks, is said to have derived his conception of the
features from that description. Virgil has the same idea in the Æneid,
book x; ‘Annuit, et totum metu tremefecit Olympum.’
41. Nereus.]—Ver. 187. He was one of the most ancient of the Deities
of the sea, and was the son of Oceanus and Tethys.
42. The Nymphs.]—Ver. 192. The terrestrial Nymphs were the Dryads
and Hamadryads, who haunting the woods, and the duration of their
existence depending upon the life of particular trees, derived their
name from the Greek word δρῦς, ‘an oak.’ The Oreades were nymphs
who frequented the mountains, while the Napeæ lived in the groves
and valleys. There were also Nymphs of the sea and of the rivers; of
which, the Nereids were so called from their father Nereus, and the
Oceanitides, from Oceanus. There were also the Naiads, or nymphs of
the fountains, and many others.
43. Thus when an impious band.]—Ver. 200. It is a matter of doubt
whether he here refers to the conspiracies of Brutus and Cassius
against Julius Cæsar, or whether to that against Augustus, which is
mentioned by Suetonius, in the nineteenth chapter of his History. As
Augustus survived the latter conspiracy, and the parallel is thereby
rendered more complete, probably this is the circumstance here
alluded to.
44. Together with Cyllene.]—Ver. 217. Cyllenus, or Cyllene, was a
mountain of Arcadia, sacred to Mercury, who was hence called by the

poets Cyllenius. Lycæus was also a mountain of Arcadia, sacred to
Pan, and was covered with groves of pine-trees.
45. Of the Molossians.]—Ver. 226. The Molossi were a people of
Epirus, on the eastern side of the Ambracian gulf. Ovid here commits a
slight anachronism, as the name was derived from Molossus, the son
of Neoptolemus, long after the time of Lycaon. Besides, as Burmann
observes, who could believe that ‘wars could be waged at such an
early period between nations so distant as the Molossi and the
Arcadians?’ Apollodorus says, that it was a child of the same country,
whose flesh Lycaon set before Jupiter. Other writers say that it was
Nyctimus, the son of Lycaon, or Arcas, his grandson, that was slain by
him.
46. Upon the household Gods.]—Ver. 231. This punishment was
awarded to the Penates, or household Gods of Lycaon, for taking such
a miscreant under their protection.
47. The savage Erinnys.]—Ver. 241. Erinnys was a general name given
to the Furies by the Greeks. They were three in number—Alecto,
Tisiphone, and Megæra. These were so called, either from the Greek
ἔρις νοῦ, ‘the discord of the mind,’ or from ἐν τῇ ἔρα ναίειν, ‘their
inhabiting the earth,’ watching the actions of men.
48. To place frankincense.]—Ver. 249. In those early ages, corn or
wheaten flour, was the customary offering to the Deities, and not
frankincense, which was introduced among the luxuries of more
refined times. Ovid is consequently guilty of an anachronism here.
49. That a time should come.]—Ver. 256. Lactantius informs us that
the Sibyls predicted that the world should perish by fire. Seneca also,
in his consolation to Marcia, and in his Quæstiones Naturales,
mentions the same destined termination of the present state of the
universe. It was a doctrine of the Stoic philosophers, that the stars were
nurtured with moisture, and that on the cessation of this nourishment
the conflagration of the universe would ensue.
50. The folds of his robe.]—Ver. 267. ‘Rorant pennæ sinusque,’ is
quaintly translated by Clarke, ‘his wings and the plaits of his coat

drop.’
51. Iris.]—Ver. 271. The mention of Iris, the goddess of the rainbow, in
connection with the flood of Deucalion, cannot fail to remind us of the
‘bow set in the cloud, for a token of the covenant between God and the
earth,’ on the termination of Noah’s flood.—Gen. x. 14.
52. The mouths of their fountains.]—Ver. 281. The expressions in this
line and in line 283, are not unlike the words of the 11th verse of the
7th chapter of Genesis, ‘The fountains of the great deep were broken
up.’
53. The wolf swims.]—Ver. 304. One commentator remarks here, that
there was nothing very wonderful in a dead wolf swimming among the
sheep without devouring them. Seneca is, however, too severe upon
our author in saying that he is trifling here, in troubling himself on so
serious an occasion with what sheep and wolves are doing: for he
gravely means to say, that the beasts of prey are terrified to that degree
that they forget their carnivorous propensities.
54. The Aonian.]—Ver. 313. Aonia was a mountainous region of
Bœotia; and Actæa was an ancient name of Attica, from ἄκτη, the sea-
shore.
55. By name Parnassus.]—Ver. 317. Mount Parnassus has two peaks,
of which the one was called ‘Tichoreum,’ and was sacred to Bacchus;
and the other ‘Hypampeum,’ and was devoted to Apollo and the
Muses.
56. The Corycian Nymphs.]—Ver. 320. The Corycian Nymphs were so
called from inhabiting the Corycian cavern in Mount Parnassus; they
were fabled to be the daughters of Plistus, a river near Delphi. There
was another Corycian cave in Cilicia, in Asia Minor.
57. The prophetic Themis.]—Ver. 321. Themis is said to have preceded
Apollo in giving oracular responses at Delphi. She was the daughter of
Cœlus and Terra, and was the first to instruct men to ask of the Gods
that which was lawful and right, whence she took the name of Themis,
which signifies in Greek, ‘that which is just and right.’

58. The native purple shells.]—Ver. 332. ‘Murex’ was the name of the
shell-fish from which the Tyrian purple, so much valued by the
ancients, was procured. Some suppose that the meaning here is, that
Triton had his shoulders tinted with the purple color of the murex. It is,
however, more probable that the Poet means to say that he had his
neck and shoulders studded with the shells of the murex, perhaps as a
substitute for scales.
59. He bids him blow.]—Ver. 333. There were several Tritons, or minor
sea gods. The one mentioned here, the chief Triton, was fabled to be
the son of Neptune and Amphitrite, who always preceded Neptune in
his course, and whose arrival he was wont to proclaim by the sound of
his shell. He was usually represented as swimming, with the upper part
of his body resembling that of a human being, while his lower parts
terminated with the tail of a fish.
60. The hollow-wreathed trumpet.]—Ver. 335. The ‘Buccina,’ or, as we
call it, ‘the conch shell,’ was a kind of horn, or trumpet, made out of a
shell, called ‘buccinum.’ It was sometimes artificially curved, and
sometimes straight, retaining the original form of the shell. The twisted
form of the shell was one of the characteristic features of the trumpet,
which, in later times, was made of horn, wood, or metal, so as to
imitate the shell. It was chiefly used among the Romans, to proclaim
the watches of the day and of the night, which watches were thence
called ‘buccina prima,’ ‘secunda,’ etc. It was also blown at funerals,
and at festive entertainments, both before sitting down to table and
after. Macrobius tells us, that Tritons holding ‘buccinæ’ were fixed on
the roof of the temple of Saturn.
61. The bidden retreat.]—Ver. 340. ‘Canere receptus’ was ‘to sound
the retreat,’ as the signal for the soldiers to cease fighting, and to
resume their march.
62. Now the sea.]—Ver. 343. This and the two following lines are
considered as entitled to much praise for their terseness and brevity, as
depicting by their short detached sentences the instantaneous effect
produced by the commands of Neptune in reducing his dominions to a
state of order.

63. A common origin.]—Ver. 352. Because Prometheus was the father
of Deucalion and Epimetheus of Pyrrha; Prometheus and Epimetheus
being the sons of Iapetus. It is in an extended sense that he styles her
‘sister,’ she being really his cousin.
64. The arts of my father.]—Ver. 363. He alludes to the story of his
father, Prometheus, having formed men of clay, and animated them
with fire stolen from heaven.
65. The waters of Cephisus.]—Ver. 369. The river Cephisus rises on
Mount Parnassus, and flows near Delphi.
66. Poured on their clothes.]—Ver. 371. It was the custom of the
ancients, before entering a temple, either to sprinkle themselves with
water, or to wash the body all over.
67. Cover your heads.]—Ver. 382. It was a custom among the ancients
to cover their heads in sacrifice and other acts of worship, either as a
mark of humility, or, according to Plutarch, that nothing of ill omen
might meet their sight, and thereby interrupt the performance of the
rites.
68. Descended from Titan.]—Ver. 395. Pyrrha was of the race of the
Titans; for Iapetus, her grandfather, was the son of Titan and Terra.
69. Under the same name.]—Ver. 410. With his usual propensity for
punning, he alludes to the use of the word ‘vena,’ as signifying either
‘a vein’ of the body, or a ‘streak’ or ‘vein’ in stone, according to the
context.
70. The seven-streamed Nile.]—Ver. 423. The river Nile discharges
itself into the sea by seven mouths. It is remarkable for its inundations,
which happen regularly every year, and overflow the whole country of
Egypt. To this is chiefly owing the extraordinary fertility of the soil of
that country; for when the waters subside, they leave behind them
great quantities of mud, which, settling upon the land, enrich it, and
continually reinvigorate it.
71. Instituted sacred games.]—Ver. 446. Yet Pausanias, in his
Corinthiaca, tells us that they were instituted by Diomedes; others,

again, say by Eurylochus the Thessalian; and others, by Amphictyon,
or Adrastus. The Pythian games were celebrated near Delphi, on the
Crissæan plain, which contained a race-course, a stadium of 1000 feet
in length, and a theatre, in which the musical contests took place. They
were once held at Athens, by the advice of Demetrius Poliorcetes,
because the Ætolians were in possession of the passes round Delphi.
They were most probably originally a religious ceremonial, and were
perhaps only a musical contest, which consisted in singing a hymn in
honor of the Pythian God, accompanied by the music of the cithara. In
later times, gymnastic and equestrian games and exercises were
introduced there. Previously to the 48th Olympiad, the Pythian games
had been celebrated at the end of every eighth year; after that period
they were held at the end of every fourth year. When they ceased to be
solemnized is unknown; but in the time of the Emperor Julian they still
continued to be held.
72. Crown of beechen leaves.]—Ver. 449. This was the prize which
was originally given to the conquerors in the Pythian games. In later
times, as Ovid tells us, the prize of the victor was a laurel chaplet,
together with the palm branch, symbolical of his victory.
73. The Delian God.]—Ver. 454. Apollo is so called, from having been
born in the Isle of Delos, in the Ægean Sea. The Peneus was a river of
Thessaly.
74. A fillet tied together.]—Ver. 477. The ‘vitta’ was a band encircling
the head, and served to confine the tresses of the hair. It was worn by
maidens and by married women also; but the ‘vitta’ assumed on the
day of marriage was of a different form from that used by virgins. It
was not worn by women of light character, or even by the ‘libertinæ,’
or female slaves who had been liberated; so that it was not only
deemed an emblem of chastity, but of freedom also. It was of various
colors: white and purple are mentioned. In the later ages the ‘vitta’ was
sometimes set with pearls.
75. Hymen.]—Ver. 480. Hymen, or Hymenæus, was one of the Gods of
Marriage; hence the name ‘Hymen’ was given to the union of two
persons in marriage.

76. The nuptial torch.]—Ver. 483. Plutarch tells us, that it was the
custom in the bridal procession to carry five torches before the bride,
on her way to the house of her husband. Among the Romans, the
nuptial torch was lighted at the parental hearth of the bride, and was
borne before her by a boy, whose parents were alive. The torch was
also used at funerals, for the purpose of lighting the pile, and because
funerals were often nocturnal ceremonies. Hence the expression of
Propertius,— ‘Vivimus inter utramque facem,’ ‘We are living between
the two torches.’ Originally, the ‘tædæ’ seem to have been slips or
lengths of resinous pine wood: while the ‘fax’ was formed of a bundle
of wooden staves, either bound by a rope drawn round them in a spiral
form, or surrounded by circular bands at equal distances. They were
used by travellers and others, who were forced to be abroad after
sunset; whence the reference in line 493 to the hedge ignited through
the carelessness of the traveller, who has thrown his torch there on the
approach of morning.
77. Here in rude guise.]—Ver. 514. ‘Non hic armenta gregesve
Horridus observo’ is quaintly translated by Clarke, ‘I do not here in a
rude pickle watch herds or flocks.’
78. Claros and Tenedos.]—Ver. 516. Claros was a city of Ionia, famed
for a temple and oracle of Apollo, and near which there was a
mountain and a grove sacred to him. There was an island in the
Myrtoan Sea of that name, to which some suppose that reference is
here made. Tenedos was an island of the Ægean Sea, in the
neighborhood of Troy. Patara was a city of Lycia, where Apollo gave
oracular responses during six months of the year. It was from Patara
that St. Paul took ship for Phœnicia, Acts, xxi. 1, 2.
79. The properties of simples.]—Ver. 522. The first cultivators of the
medical art pretended to nothing beyond an acquaintance with the
medicinal qualities of herbs and simples; it is not improbable that
inasmuch as the vegetable world is nourished and raised to the surface
of the earth in a great degree by the heat of the sun, a ground was
thereby afforded for allegorically saying that Apollo, or the Sun, was
the discoverer of the healing art.

80. Ah! wretched me!]—Ver. 523. A similar expression occurs in the
Heroides, v. 149, ‘Me miseram, quod amor non est medicabilis herbis.’
81. The youthful God.]—Ver. 531. Apollo was always represented as a
youth, and was supposed never to grow old. The Scholiast on the
Thebais of Statius, b. i., v. 694, says, ‘The reason is, because Apollo is
the Sun; and because the Sun is fire, which never grows old.’ Perhaps
the youthfulness of the Deity is here mentioned, to account for his
ardent pursuit of the flying damsel.
82. As when the greyhound.]—Ver. 533. The comparison here of the
flight of Apollo after Daphne, to that of the greyhound after the hare, is
considered to be very beautifully drawn, and to give an admirable
illustration of the eagerness with which the God pursues on the one
hand, and the anxiety with which the Nymph endeavors to escape on
the other. Pope, in his Windsor Forest, has evidently imitated this
passage, where he describes the Nymph Lodona pursued by Pan, and
transformed into a river. His words are—
‘Not half so swift the trembling dove can fly,
When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky;
Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves,
When through the clouds he drives the trembling doves;
As from the God she flew with furious pace,
Or as the God more furious urged the chase.
Now fainting, sinking, pale, the nymph appears;
Now close behind, his sounding steps she hears;
And now his shadow reached her as she run,
His shadow lengthened by the setting sun;
And now his shorter breath, with sultry air,
Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair.’

Both editions modernized Pope’s spelling; only the
differences between the two texts are marked.

The greyhound was probably called ‘canis Gallicus,’ from having been
originally introduced into Italy from Gaul. ‘Vertagus’ was their Gallic
name, which we find used by Martial, and Gratian in his Cynegeticon,
ver. 203.

83. And so is the virgin.]—Ver. 539. ‘Sic Deus et virgo est’ is
translated by Clarke, ‘So is the God and the young lady;’ indeed, he
mostly translates ‘virgo,’ ‘young lady.’
84. Her elegance alone.]—Ver. 552. Clarke translates ‘Remanet nitor
unus in illa,’ ‘her neatness alone continues in her.’
85. My lyre.]—Ver. 559. The players of the cithara, the instrument of
Apollo, were crowned with laurel, in the scenic representations of the
stage.
86. The song of triumph.]—Ver. 560. The Poet here pays a compliment
to Augustus and the Roman people. The laurel was the emblem of
victory among the Romans. On such occasions the ‘fasces’ of the
general and the spears and javelins of the soldiers were wreathed with
laurel; and after the time of Julius Cæsar, the Roman general, when
triumphing, wore a laurel wreath on his head, and held a branch of
laurel in his hand.
87. Before his doors.]—Ver. 562. He here alludes to the civic crown of
oak leaves which, by order of the Senate, was placed before the gate of
the Palatium, where Augustus Cæsar resided, with branches of laurel
on either side of it.
88. A grove of Hæmonia.]—Ver. 568. Hæmonia was an ancient name
of Thessaly, so called from its king, Hæmon, a son of Pelasgus, and
father of Thessalus, from which it received its later name.
89. Call it Tempe.]—Ver. 569. Tempe was a valley of Thessaly,
proverbial for its pleasantness and the beauty of its scenery. The river
Peneus ran through it, but not with the violence which Ovid here
depicts; for Ælian tells us that it runs with a gentle sluggish stream,
more like oil than water.
90. Mount Pindus.]—Ver. 570. Pindus was a mountain situate on the
confines of Thessaly.
91. Like thin smoke.]—Ver. 571. He speaks of the spray, which in the
fineness of its particles resembles smoke.

92. Spercheus.]—Ver. 579. The Spercheus was a rapid stream, flowing
at the foot of Mount Æta into the Malian Gulf, and on whose banks
many poplars grew.
93. Enipeus.]—Ver. 579. The Enipeus rises in Mount Othrys, and runs
through Thessaly. Virgil (Georgics, iv. 468) calls it ‘Altus Enipeus,’ the
deep Enipeus.
94. Apidanus.]—Ver. 580. The Apidanus, receiving the stream of the
Enipeus at Pharsalia, flows into the Peneus. It is supposed by some
commentators to be here called ‘senex,’ aged, from the slowness of its
tide. But where it unites the Enipeus it flows with violence, so that it is
probably called ‘senex,’ as having been known and celebrated by the
poets from of old.
95. Amphrysus.]—Ver. 580. This river ran through that part of
Thessaly known by the name of Phthiotis.
96. Æas.]—Ver. 580. Pliny the Elder (Book iii, ch. 23C) calls this river
Aous. It was a small limpid stream, running through Epirus and
Thessaly, and discharging itself into the Ionian sea.
97. Inachus.]—Ver. 583. This was a river of Argolis, now known as the
Naio. It took its rise either in Lycæus or Artemisium, mountains of
Arcadia. Stephens, however, thinks that Lycæus was a mountain of
Argolis.
98. Lerna.]—Ver. 597. This was a swampy spot on the Argive territory,
where the poets say that the dragon with seven heads, called Hydra,
which was slain by Hercules, had made his haunt. It is not improbable
that the pestilential vapors of this spot were got rid of by means of its
being drained under the superintendence of Hercules, on which fact the
story was founded. Some commentators, however, suppose the Lerna
to have been a flowing stream.
99. So often detected.]—Ver. 606. Clarke translates ‘deprensi toties
mariti’ by the expression, ‘who had been so often catched in his
roguery.’

100. Into a sleek heifer.]—Ver. 611. Clarke renders the words,
‘nitentem juvencam,’ a neat heifer.
101. To keep on duty.]—Ver. 627. ‘In statione manebant.’ This is a
metaphorical expression, taken from military affairs, as soldiers in
turns relieve each other, and take their station, when they keep watch
and ward.
102. Phoroneus.]—Ver. 668. He was the father of Jasius and of
Inachus, the parent of Io. Some accounts, however, say that Inachus
was the father of Phoroneus, and the son of Oceanus.
103. Pleiad Maia.]—Ver. 670. Maia was one of the seven daughters of
Atlas, who were styled Pleiädes after they were received among the
constellations.
104. Soporiferous wand.]—Ver. 671. This was the ‘caduceus,’ or staff,
with which Mercury summoned the souls of the departed from the
shades, induced slumber, and did other offices pertaining to his
capacity as the herald and messenger of Jupiter. It was represented as
an olive branch, wreathed with two snakes. In time of war, heralds and
ambassadors, among the Greeks, carried a ‘caduceus.’ It was not used
by the Romans.
105. A cap for his hair.]—Ver. 672. This was a cap called ‘Petasus.’ It
had broad brims, and was not unlike the ‘causia,’ or Macedonian hat,
except that the brims of the latter were turned up at the sides.
106. Nonacris.]—Ver. 690. Nonacris was the name of both a mountain
and a city of Arcadia, in the Peloponnesus.
107. The Ortygian Goddess.]—Ver. 694. Diana is called “Ortygian,”
from the isle of Delos, where she was born, one of whose names was
Ortygia, from the quantity of quails, ὄρτυγες, there found.
108. Ladon.]—Ver. 702. This was a beautiful river of Arcadia, flowing
into the Alpheus: its banks were covered with vast quantities of reeds.
Ovid here calls its stream ‘placidum;’ whereas in the fifth book of the
Fasti, l. 89, he calls it ‘rapax,’ ‘violent;’ and in the second book of the
Fasti, l. 274, its waters are said to be ‘citæ aquæ,’ swift waters. Some

commentators have endeavored to reconcile these discrepancies; but
the probability is, that Ovid, like many other poets, used his epithets at
random, or rather according to the requirements of the measure for the
occasion.
109. The Cyllenian God.]—Ver. 713. Mercury is so called from
Cyllene, in Arcadia, where he was born.
110. That his sight was wrapped.]—Ver. 714. Clarke translates
‘Adopertaque lumina somno,’ ‘and his peepers covered with sleep.’
111. The Argive mistress.]—Ver. 726. Clarke renders ‘Pellicis
Argolicæ,’ ‘of the Grecian miss.’
112. The linen-wearing throng.]—Ver. 747. The priests, and
worshippers of Isis, with whom Io is here said to be identical, paid
their adoration to her clothed in linen vestments. Probably, Isis was the
first to teach the Egyptians the cultivation of flax.
113. Epaphus.]—Ver. 748. Herodotus, in his second book, tells us, that
this son of Jupiter, by Io, was the same as the Egyptian God, Apis.
Eusebius, quoting from Apollodorus, says that Epaphus was the son of
Io, by Telegonus, who married her.
114. Clymene.]—Ver. 756. She was a Nymph of the sea, the daughter
of Oceanus and Tethys.
115. Merops.]—Ver. 763. He was king of Ethiopia, and marrying the
Nymph Clymene, was either the stepfather of Phaëton, or, as some
writers say, his putative father.
116. To our regions.]—Ver. 773. Ethiopia, which, in the time of Ovid,
was generally looked upon as one of the regions of the East.
117. The rays of the Sun.]—Ver. 778. ‘Ignibus sidereis,’ means here the
‘heat,’ or ‘fire of the sun,’ the sun being considered as a ‘sidus,’ or
‘luminous heavenly body.’

Supplementary Notes (added by transcriber)

A. In the McKay text, this and the following three footnotes—one full
page—were misprinted as 66-69 instead of 76-79.
B. ...the light breeze spread behind her her careless locks. Read as
“...the light breeze spread her careless locks behind her.” In McKay,
“her / her” is printed at a line break and can easily be mistaken for an
error.
C. Pliny the Elder (Book iii, ch. 23) Editions of Pliny vary; the passage
may also be found as ch. 58 or 145.

BOOK THE SECOND.

FABLE I.
Phaëton, insulted by Epaphus, goes to the Palace of Apollo, to beseech him
to give some token that he is his son. Apollo, having sworn, by the river
Styx, to refuse him nothing that he should desire, he immediately asks to
guide his chariot for one day. He is unsuccessful in the attempt, and, the
horses running away, the world is in danger of being consumed.
The palace of the Sun was raised high, on stately columns, bright with
radiant gold, and carbuncle that rivals the flames; polished ivory covered its
highest top, and double folding doors shone with the brightness of silver.
The workmanship even exceeded the material; for there Mulciber had
carved the sea circling round the encompassed Earth; and the orb of the
Earth, and the Heavens which hang over that orb. There the waves have in
them the azure Deities, both Triton, sounding with his shell, and the
changing Proteus, and Ægeon,1 pressing the huge backs of whales with his
arms; Doris,2 too, and her daughters, part of whom appear to be swimming,
part, sitting on the bank, to be drying their green hair; some are seen borne
upon fishes. The features in all are not the same, nor, however, remarkably
different: they are such as those of sisters ought to be. The Earth has upon it
men and cities, and woods, and wild beasts, and rivers, and Nymphs, and
other Deities of the country. Over these is placed the figure of the shining
Heaven, and there are six Signs of the Zodiac on the right door, and as
many on the left.
[II. 19-49

Soon as the son of Clymene had arrived thither by an ascending path, and
entered the house of his parent, thus doubted of; he immediately turned his
steps to the presence II. 20-57] of his father, and stood at a distance, for he

could not bear the refulgence nearer. Arrayed in a purple garment, Phœbus
was seated on a throne sparkling with brilliant emeralds. On his right hand,
and on his left, the Days, the Months, the Years, the Ages, and the Hours
were arranged, at corresponding distances, and the fresh Spring was
standing, crowned with a chaplet of blossoms; Summer was standing naked,
and wearing garlands made of ears of corn; Autumn, too, was standing
besmeared with the trodden-out grapes; and icy Winter, rough with his
hoary hair.
Then the Sun, from the midst of this place, with those eyes with which he
beholds all things, sees the young man struck with fear at the novelty of
these things, and says, “What is the occasion of thy journey hither? What
dost thou seek, Phaëton, in this my palace, a son not to be denied by his
parent?”
He answers, “O thou universal Light of the unbounded World, Phœbus, my
father, if thou grantest me the use of that name; and if Clymene is not
concealing an error under a false pretext, give me, my parent, some token,
by which I may be believed to be really thy progeny; and remove this
uncertainty from my mind.” Thus he spoke; but his parent took off the rays
shining all around his head, and commanded him to come nearer; and,
having embraced him, he says, “And neither art thou deserving to be denied
to be mine, and Clymene has told thee thy true origin; and that thou mayst
have the less doubt, ask any gift thou mayst please, that thou mayst receive
it from me bestowing it. Let the lake, by which the Gods are wont to swear,
and which is unseen, even by my eyes, be as a witness of my promise.”
Hardly had he well finished, when he asks for his father’s chariot, and for
the command and guidance of the wing-footed horses for one day. His
father repented that he had so sworn, and shaking his splendid head [II. 49-77
three or four times, he said, “By thine have my words been made rash.
I wish I were allowed not to grant what I have promised! I confess, my son,
that this alone I would deny thee. Still, I may dissuade thee: thy desire is not
attended with safety. Thou desirest, Phaëton, a gift too great, and one which
is suited neither to thy strength, nor to such youthful years. Thy lot is that of
a mortal; that which thou desirest, belongs not to mortals. Nay, thou II. 57-86]
aimest, in thy ignorance, at even more than it is allowed the Gods above to

obtain. Let every one be self-satisfied, if he likes; still, with the exception of
myself, no one is able to take his stand upon the fire-bearing axle-tree. Even
the Ruler of vast Olympus, who hurls the ruthless bolts with his terrific
right hand, cannot guide this chariot; and yet, what have we greater than
Jupiter? The first part of the road is steep, and such as the horses, though
fresh in the morning, can hardly climb. In the middle of the heavens it is
high aloft, from whence it is often a source of fear, even to myself, to look
down upon the sea and the earth, and my breast trembles with fearful
apprehensions. The last stage is a steep descent, and requires a sure
command of the horses. Then, too, Tethys3 herself, who receives me in her
waves, extended below, is often wont to fear, lest I should be borne
headlong from above. Besides, the heavens are carried round4 with a
constant rotation, and carry with them the lofty stars, and whirl them with
rapid revolution. Against this I have to contend; and that force which
overcomes all other things, does not overcome me; and I am carried in a
contrary direction to the rapid world. Suppose the chariot given to thee;
what couldst thou do? Couldst thou proceed, opposed to the whirling poles,
so that the rapid heavens should not carry thee away? Perhaps, too, thou
dost fancy in thy mind that there are groves, and cities of the Gods, and
temples [II. 77-103 enriched with gifts: whereas, the way is through dangers,
and the forms of wild beasts;5 and though thou shouldst keep on thy road,
and be drawn aside by no wanderings, still thou must pass amid the horns of
the threatening Bull, and the Hæmonian6 bow, and before the visage of the
raging Lion, and the Scorpion, bending his cruel claws with a wide
compass, and the Crab, that bends his claws in a different manner; nor is it
easy for thee to govern the II. 86-121] steeds spirited by those fires which they
have in their breasts, and which they breathe forth from their mouths and
their nostrils. Hardly are they restrained by me, when their high-mettled
spirit is once heated, and their necks struggle against the reins. But do thou
have a care, my son, that I be not the occasion of a gift fatal to thee, and
while the matter still permits, alter thy intentions. Thou askest, forsooth,
a sure proof that thou mayst believe thyself sprung from my blood? I give
thee a sure proof in thus being alarmed for thee; and by my paternal
apprehensions, I am shown to be thy father. Lo, behold my countenance!
I wish, too, that thou couldst direct thy eyes into my breast, and discover
my fatherly concern within! Finally, look around thee, upon whatever the

rich world contains, and ask for anything out of the blessings, so many and
so great, of heaven, of earth, and of sea; and thou shalt suffer no denial. In
this one thing alone I beg to be excused, which, called by its right name, is
a penalty, and not an honor; thou art asking, Phaëton, a punishment instead
of a gift. Why, in thy ignorance, art thou embracing my neck with caressing
arms? Doubt not; whatever thou shalt desire shall be granted thee (by the
Stygian waves I have sworn it); but do thou make thy desire more
considerately.”
He had finished his admonitions; and yet Phaëton [II. 103-129 resists his
advice, and presses his point, and burns with eagerness for the chariot.
Wherefore, his parent having delayed as long as he could, leads the young
man to the lofty chariot, the gift of Vulcan. The axle-tree was of gold, the
poles were of gold; the circumference of the exterior of the wheel was of
gold; the range of the spokes was of silver. Chrysolites and gems placed
along the yoke in order, gave a bright light from the reflected sun. And
while the aspiring Phaëton is admiring these things, and is examining the
workmanship, behold! the watchful Aurora opened her purple doors in the
ruddy east, and her halls filled with roses. The stars disappear, the troops
whereof Lucifer gathers, and moves the last from his station in the heavens.
But the father Titan, when he beheld the earth and the universe growing red,
and the horns of the far-distant Moon, as if about to vanish, orders the swift
Hours to yoke the horses. The Goddesses speedily perform his commands,
and lead forth the steeds from the lofty stalls, II. 121-148] snorting forth
flames, and filled with the juice of Ambrosia; and then they put on the
sounding bits.
Then the father touched the face of his son with a hallowed drug, and made
it able to endure the burning flames, and placed the rays upon his locks, and
fetching from his troubled heart sighs presaging his sorrow, he said: “If thou
canst here at least, my boy, obey the advice of thy father, be sparing of the
whip, and use the bridle with nerve. Of their own accord they are wont to
hasten on; the difficulty is to check them in their full career. And let not the
way attract thee through the five direct circles.7 There is a track cut [II. 130-
164 obliquely, with a broad curvature, and bounded by the extremities of
three zones, and so it shuns the South pole, and the Bear united to the
North. Let thy way be here; thou wilt perceive distinct traces of the wheels.

And that heaven and earth may endure equal heat, neither drive too low, nor
urge the chariot along the summit of the sky. Going forth too high, thou wilt
set on fire the signs of the heavens; too low, the earth; in the middle course
thou will go most safely. Neither let the right wheel bear thee off towards
the twisted Serpent, nor let the left lead thee to the low Altar; hold thy
course between them. The rest I leave to Fortune, who, I pray, may aid thee,
and take more care of thee, than thou dost of thyself. Whilst I am speaking,
the moist Night has touched the goals placed on the Western shores; delay is
not allowed me. I am required; the Morning is shining forth, the darkness
being dispersed. Seize the reins with thy hands; or if thou hast a mind
capable of change, make use of my advice, and not my chariot, while thou
art still able, and art even yet standing upon solid ground; and while thou art
not yet in thy ignorance filling the chariot that thou didst so unfortunately
covet.”
II. 149-181]

The other leaps into the light chariot with his youthful body, and stands
aloft, and rejoices to take in his hand the reins presented to him, and then
gives thanks to his reluctant parent. In the meantime the swift Pyroeis, and
Eoüs and Æthon, the horses of the sun, and Phlegon, making the fourth, fill
the air with neighings, sending forth flames, and beat the barriers with their
feet. After Tethys, ignorant of the destiny of her grandson, had removed
these, and the scope of the boundless universe was given them, they take
the road, and moving their feet through the air, they cleave the resisting
clouds, and raised aloft by their wings, they pass by the East winds that had
arisen from the same parts. But the weight was light; and such as the horses
of the sun could not feel; and the yoke was deficient of its wonted weight.
And as the curving ships, without proper ballast, are tossed about, and
unsteady, through their too great lightness, are borne through [II. 165-191 the
sea, so does the chariot give bounds8 in the air, unimpeded by its usual
burden, and is tossed on high, and is just like an empty one.
Soon as the steeds have perceived this, they rush on, and leave the beaten
track, and run not in the order in which they did before. He himself
becomes alarmed; and knows not which way to turn the reins entrusted to
him, nor does he know where the way is, nor, if he did know, could he
control them. Then, for the first time, did the cold Triones grow warm with

sunbeams, and attempt, in vain, to be dipped in the sea that was forbidden
to them. And the Serpent which is situate next to the icy pole, being before
torpid with cold, and formidable to no one, grew warm, and regained new
rage from the heat. They say, too,9 that thou, Boötes, being disturbed, took
to flight; although thou wast but slow, and thy wain impeded thee. But
when, from the height of the skies, the unhappy Phaëton looked down upon
the earth, lying far, very far beneath, he grew pale, and his knees shook with
a sudden terror; and in a light so great, darkness overspread II. 181-216] his
eyes. And now he could wish that he had never touched the horses of his
father; and now he is sorry that he knew his descent, and that he prevailed
in his request; now desiring to be called the son of Merops. He is borne
along, just as a ship driven by the furious Boreas, to which its pilot has
given up the overpowered helm, and which he has resigned to the Gods and
the effect of his supplications. What can he do? much of heaven is left
behind his back; still more is before his eyes. Either space he measures in
his mind; and at one moment he is looking forward to the West, which it is
not allowed him by fate to reach; and sometimes he looks back upon the
East. Ignorant what to do, he is stupeified; [II. 191-217 and he neither lets go
the reins, nor is he able to retain them; nor does he know the names of the
horses. In his fright, too, he sees strange objects scattered everywhere in
various parts of the heavens, and the forms of huge wild beasts. There is a
spot where the Scorpion bends his arms into two curves, and with his tail
and claws bending on either side, he extends his limbs through the space of
two signs of the Zodiac. As soon as the youth beheld him wet with the
sweat of black venom, and threatening wounds with the barbed point of his
tail, bereft of sense, he let go the reins, in a chill of horror. Soon as they,
falling down, have touched the top of their backs, the horses range at large:
and no one restraining them, they go through the air of an unknown region;
and where their fury drives them thither, without check, do they hurry
along, and they rush on to the stars fixed in the sky, and drag the chariot
through pathless places. One while they are mounting aloft, and now they
are borne through steep places, and along headlong paths in a tract nearer to
the earth.
The Moon, too, wonders that her brother’s horses run lower than her own,
and the scorched clouds send forth smoke. As each region is most elevated,

it is caught by the flames, and cleft, it makes vast chasms, and becomes dry,
its moisture being carried away. The grass grows pale; the trees, with their
foliage, are burnt up; and the dry standing corn affords fuel for its own
destruction. But I am complaining of trifling ills. Great cities perish,
together with their fortifications, and the flames turn whole nations, with
their populations, into ashes; woods, together with mountains, II. 216-223] are
on fire. Athos10 burns, and the Cilician Taurus,11 and Tmolus,12 [II. 217-226
and Œta,13 and Ida,14 now dry, but once most famed for its springs; and
Helicon,15 the resort of the Virgin Muses, and Hæmus,16 not yet called
Œagrian. Ætna17 burns intensely with redoubled flames, and Parnassus,
with its two summits, and Eryx,18 and Cynthus,19 and Othrys, and
Rhodope,20 at length to be despoiled of its snows, and Mimas,21 and
Dindyma,22 and Mycale,23 and Cithæron,24 created for the II. 223-241]
performance of sacred rites. Nor does its cold avail even Scythia;
Caucasus25 is on fire, and Ossa with Pindus, and Olympus, greater than
them both, and the lofty Alps,26 and the cloud-bearing Apennines.27
[II. 227-243

Then, indeed, Phaëton beholds the world set on fire on all sides, and he
cannot endure heat so great, and he inhales with his mouth scorching air, as
though from a deep furnace, and perceives his own chariot to be on fire.
And neither is he able now to bear the ashes and the emitted embers; and,
on every side, he is involved in heated smoke. Covered with a pitchy
darkness, he knows not whither he is going, nor where he is, and is hurried
away at the pleasure of the winged steeds. They believe that it was then that
the nations of the Æthiopians contracted their black hue,28 the blood being
attracted into the surface of the body. Then was Libya29 made dry by the
heat, the moisture being carried off; then, with dishevelled hair, the Nymphs
lamented the springs and the lakes. Bœotia bewails Dirce,30 Argos
Amymone,31 and Ephyre32 the waters of Pirene. Nor do rivers that have got
banks distant in II. 241-251] situation, remain secure; Tanais33 smokes in the
midst of its waters, and the aged Peneus, and Teuthrantian [II. 243-251
Caïcus,34 and rapid Ismenus,35 with Phocean Erymanthus,36 and Xanthus37
again to burn, and yellow Lycormas,38 and Mæander,39 which sports with
winding streams, and the Mygdonian Melas,40 and the Tænarian Eurotas.41
The Babylonian Euphrates, too, was on fire, Orontes42 was in flames, and

the swift Thermodon43 and Ganges,44 and Phasis,45 and Ister.46 Alpheus47
boils; the banks of Spercheus burn; and the gold which Tagus48 carries II.
251-276] with its stream, melts in the flames. [II. 252-275 The river birds too,
which made famous the Mæonian49 banks of the river with their song, grew
hot in the middle of Caÿster. The Nile, affrighted, fled to the remotest parts
of the earth, and concealed his head, which still lies hid; his seven last
mouths are empty, become seven mere channels, without any stream. The
same fate dries up the Ismarian rivers, Hebrus together with Strymon,50 and
the Hesperian51 streams, the Rhine, and the Rhone, and the Po, and the
Tiber, to which was promised the sovereignty of the world.
All the ground bursts asunder; and through the chinks, the light penetrates
into Tartarus, and startles the Infernal King with his spouse. The Ocean too,
is contracted, and that which lately was sea, is a surface of parched sand;
and the mountains which the deep sea had covered, start up and increase the
number of the scattered Cyclades.52 The fishes sink to the bottom, and the
crooked Dolphins do not care to raise themselves on the surface into the air,
as usual. The bodies of sea calves float lifeless on their backs, on the top of
the water. The story, too, is, that even Nereus himself, and Doris and their
daughters, lay hid in the heated caverns. Three times had Neptune ventured,
with a stern countenance, to thrust his arms out of the water; three times he
was unable to endure the scorching heat of the air. However, the genial
Earth, as she was surrounded with sea, amid the waters of the main, and the
springs, dried up on every side, which had hidden themselves in the bowels
of their cavernous parent, burnt-up, lifted up her all-productive face53 as far
as [II. 275-302 her neck, and placed her hands to her forehead, II. 276-303] and
shaking all things with a vast trembling, she sank down a little, and retired
below the spot where she is wont to be, and thus she spoke, with a parched
voice: “O sovereign of the Gods, if thou approvest of this, if I have
deserved it, why do thy lightnings linger? Let me, if doomed to perish by
the force of fire, perish by thy flames; and alleviate my misfortune, by
being the author of it. With difficulty, indeed, do I open my mouth for these
very words;” (the vapor had oppressed her utterance.) “Behold my scorched
hair, and such a quantity of ashes over my eyes, so much too, over my
features. And dost thou give this as my recompense? this, as the reward of
my fertility and of my duty, in that I endure wounds from the crooked

plough and harrows, and am harassed all the year through? In that I supply
green leaves for the cattle, and corn, a wholesome food for mankind, and
frankincense for yourselves? But still, suppose that I am deserving of
destruction, why have the waves deserved this? Why has thy brother
deserved it? Why do the seas, delivered to him by lot, decrease, and why do
they recede still further from the sky? But if regard for neither thy brother
nor for myself influences thee, still have consideration for thy own skies;
look around, on either side, how each pole is smoking; if the fire shall injure
them, thy palace will fall in ruins. See! Atlas54 himself is struggling, and
hardly can he bear the glowing heavens on his shoulders. If the sea, if the
earth perishes, if the palace of heaven, we are thrown55 into the confused
state of ancient chaos. Save it from the flames, if aught still survives, and
provide for the preservation of the universe.”
Thus spoke the Earth; nor, indeed, could she any longer endure the vapor,
nor say more; and she withdrew [II. 303-304 her face within herself, and the
caverns neighboring to the shades below.
EXPLANATION.

If we were to regard this fable solely as an allegory intended to convey
II. 304-310] a moral, we should at once perceive that the adventure of
Phaëton represents the wilful folly of a rash young man, who consults
his own inclination, rather than the dictates of wisdom and prudence.
Some ancient writers tell us that Phaëton was the son of Phœbus and
Clymene, while others make the nymph Rhoda to have been his
mother. Apollodorus, following Hesiod, says that Hersa, the daughter
of Cecrops, king of Athens, was the mother of Cephalus, who was
carried away by Aurora; which probably means that he left Greece for
the purpose of settling in the East. Cephalus had a son named
Tithonus, the father of Phaëton. Thus Phaëton was the fourth in lineal
descent from Cecrops, who reigned at Athens about 1580, B.C. The
story is most probably based upon the fact of some excessive heat that
happened in his time. Aristotle supposes that at that period flames fell
from heaven, which ravaged several countries. Possibly the burning of
the cities of the plain, or the stay of the sun in his course at the
command of Joshua, may have been the foundation of the story. St.

Chrysostom suggests that it is based upon an imperfect version of the
ascent of Elijah in a chariot of fire; that name, or rather ‘Elias,’ the
Greek form of it, bearing a strong resemblance to Ἥλιος, the Greek
name of the sun. Vossius suggests that this is an Egyptian history, and
considers the story of the grief of Phœbus for the loss of his son to be
another version of the sorrows of the Egyptians for the death of Osiris.
The tears of the Heliades, or sisters of Phaëton, he conceives to be
identical with the lamentations of the women who wept for the death
of Thammuz. The Poet, when he tells us that Phaëton abandoned his
chariot on seeing The Scorpion, probably intends to show that the
event of which he treats happened in the month in which the sun enters
that sign.
Plutarch and Tzetzes tell us that Phaëton was a king of the Molossians,
who drowned himself in the Po; that he was a student of astronomy,
and foretold an excessive heat which happened in his reign, and laid
waste his kingdom. Lucian, also, in his Discourse on Astronomy, gives
a similar explanation of the story, and says that this prince dying very
young, left his observations imperfect, which gave rise to the fable that
he did not know how to drive the chariot of the sun to the end of its
course.

FABLE II.
Jupiter, to save the universe from being consumed, hurls his thunder at
Phaëton, on which he falls headlong into the river Eridanus.
But the omnipotent father, having called the Gods [II. 305-330 above to
witness, and him, too, who had given the chariot to Phaëton, that unless he
gives assistance, all things will perish in direful ruin, mounts aloft to the
highest eminence, from which he is wont to spread the clouds over the
spacious earth; from which he moves his thunders, and hurls the brandished
lightnings. But then, he had neither clouds that he could II. 310-335] draw over
the earth, nor showers that he could pour down from the sky. He thundered
aloud, and darted the poised lightning from his right ear against the
charioteer, and at the same moment deprived him both of his life and his

seat, and by his ruthless fires restrained the flames. The horses are
affrighted, and, making a bound in an opposite direction, they shake the
yoke from off their necks, and disengage themselves from the torn harness.
In one place lie the reins; in another, the axle-tree wrenched away from the
pole; in another part are the spokes of the broken wheels; and the fragments
of the chariot torn in pieces are scattered far and wide. But Phaëton, the
flames consuming his yellow hair, is hurled headlong, and is borne in a long
tract through the air; as sometimes a star from the serene sky may appear to
fall, although it really has not fallen. Him the great Eridanus receives, in a
part of the world far distant from his country, and bathes his foaming face.

FABLE III.
The sisters of Phaëton are changed into poplars, and their tears become
amber distilling from those trees.
The Hesperian Naiads56 commit his body, smoking from the three-forked
flames, to the tomb, and inscribe these verses on the stone:—“Here is
Phaëton buried, the driver of his father’s chariot, which if he did not
manage, still he miscarried in a great attempt.” But his wretched father had
hidden his face, overcast with bitter sorrow, and, if only we can believe it,
they say [II. 331-359 that one day passed without the sun.57 The flames
afforded light; and so far, there was some advantage in that disaster. But
Clymene, after she had said whatever things were to be said amid
misfortunes so great, traversed the whole earth, full of woe, and distracted,
and tearing her bosom. II. 335-366] And first seeking his lifeless limbs, and
then his bones, she found his bones, however, buried on a foreign bank. She
laid herself down on the spot; and bathed with tears the name she read on
the marble, and warmed it with her open breast. The daughters of the Sun
mourn no less, and give tears, an unavailing gift, to his death; and beating
their breasts with their hands, they call Phaëton both night and day, who is
doomed not to hear their sad complaints; and they lie scattered about the
tomb.
The Moon had four times filled her disk, by joining her horns; they,
according to their custom (for use had made custom), uttered lamentations;

among whom Phaëthusa, the eldest of the sisters, when she was desirous to
lie on the ground, complained that her feet had grown stiff; to whom the fair
Lampetie attempting to come, was detained by a root suddenly formed.
A third, when she is endeavoring to tear her hair with her hands, tears off
leaves; one complains that her legs are held fast by the trunk of a tree,
another that her arms are become long branches. And while they are
wondering at these things, bark closes upon their loins; and by degrees, it
encompasses their stomachs, their breasts, their shoulders, and their hands;
and only their mouths are left uncovered, calling upon their mother. What is
their mother to do? but run here and there, whither frenzy leads her, and
join her lips with theirs, while yet she may? That is not enough; she tries to
pull their bodies out of the trunks of the trees, and with her hands to tear
away the tender [II. 360-380 branches; but from thence drops of blood flow as
from a wound. Whichever of them is wounded, cries out, “Spare me,
mother, O spare me, I pray; in the tree my body is being torn. And now
farewell.” The bark came over the last words.
Thence tears flow forth; and amber distilling from the new-formed
branches, hardens in the sun; which the clear river receives and sends to be
worn by the Latian matrons.

II. 367-391]

FABLE IV.
Cycnus, king of Liguria, inconsolable for the death of Phaëton, is
transformed into a swan.
Cycnus, the son of Sthenelus,58 was present at this strange event; who,
although he was related to thee, Phaëton, on his mother’s side, was yet more
nearly allied in affection. He having left his kingdom (for he reigned over
the people and the great cities of the Ligurians59) was filling the verdant
banks and the river Eridanus, and the wood, now augmented by the sisters,
with his complaints; when the man’s voice became shrill, and gray feathers
concealed his hair. A long neck, too, extends from his breast, and a
membrane joins his reddening toes; feathers clothe his sides, and his mouth
holds a bill without a point. Cycnus becomes a new bird; but he trusts

himself not to the heavens or the air, as being mindful of the fire unjustly
sent from thence. He frequents the pools and the wide lakes, and abhorring
fire, he chooses the streams, the very contrary of flames.
[II. 381-400

Meanwhile, the father of Phaëton, in squalid garb, and destitute of his
comeliness, just as he is wont to be when he suffers an eclipse of his disk,
abhors both the light, himself, and the day; and gives his mind up to grief,
and adds resentment to his sorrow, and denies his services to the world.
“My lot,” says he, “has been restless enough from the very beginning of
time, and I am tired of labors endured by me, without end and without
honor. Let any one else drive the chariot that carries the light. If there is no
one, and all the Gods confess that they cannot do it, let Jupiter himself
drive it; that, at least, while he is trying my reins, he may for a time lay
aside the lightnings that bereave fathers. Then he will know, II. 392-408]
having made trial of the strength of the flame-footed steeds, that he who did
not successfully guide them, did not deserve death.”
All the Deities stand around the Sun, as he says such things; and they
entreat him, with suppliant voice, not to determine to bring darkness over
the world. Jupiter, as well, excuses the hurling of his lightnings, and
imperiously adds threats to entreaties. Phœbus calls together his steeds,
maddened and still trembling with terror, and, subduing them, vents his fury
both with whip and lash; for he is furious, and upbraids them with his son,
and charges his death upon them.
EXPLANATION.

Plutarch places the tomb of Phaëton on the banks of the river Po; and it
is not improbable that his mother and sisters, grieving at his fate,
ended their lives in the neighborhood of his tomb, being overcome
with grief, which gave rise to the story that they were changed into the
poplars on its banks, which distilled amber. Some writers say, that they
were changed into larch trees, and not poplars. Hesiod and Pindar also
make mention of this tradition. Possibly, Cycnus, being a friend of
Phaëton, may have died from grief at his loss, on which the poets
graced his attachment with the story that he was changed into a swan.
Apollodorus mentions two other persons of the name of Cycnus. One

was the son of Mars, and was killed before Troy; the other, as Hesiod
tells us, was killed by Hercules. Lucian, in his satirical vein, tells us,
that inquiring on the banks of the Po for the swans, and the poplars
distilling amber, he was told that no such things had ever been seen
there; and that even the tradition of Phaëton and his sisters was utterly
unknown to the inhabitants of those parts.
[II. 401-422

FABLE V.
Jupiter, while taking a survey of the world, to extinguish the remains of the
fire, falls in love with Calisto, whom he sees in Arcadia; and, in order to
seduce that Nymph, he assumes the form of Diana. Her sister Nymphs
disclose her misfortune before the Goddess, who drives her from her
company, on account of the violation of her vow of chastity.
But the omnipotent father surveys the vast walls of heaven, and carefully
searches, that no part, impaired by the violence of the fire, may fall to ruin.
After he has seen them to be secure and in their own full strength, he
examines the earth, and the works of man; yet a care for his own Arcadia is
more particularly his object. He restores, too, the springs and the rivers, that
had not yet dared to flow, he gives grass to the earth: green leaves to the
trees; and orders the injured forests II. 408-438] again to be green. While thus
he often went to and fro, he stopped short on seeing a virgin of Nonacris,
and the fires engendered within his bones received fresh heat. It was not her
employment to soften the wool by teasing, nor to vary her tresses in their
arrangement; while a buckle fastened her garment, and a white fillet her
hair, carelessly flowing; and at one time she bore in her hand a light javelin,
at another, a bow. She was a warrior of Phœbe; nor did any Nymph frequent
Mænalus, more beloved by Trivia,60 than she; but no influence is of long
duration. The lofty Sun had now obtained a position beyond the mid course,
when she enters a grove which no generation had ever cut. Here she puts
her quiver off from her shoulders, and unbends her pliant bow, and lies
down on the ground, which the grass had covered, and presses her painted
quiver, with her neck laid on it. When Jupiter saw her thus weary, and
without a protector, [II. 423-449 he said, “For certain, my wife will know

nothing of this stolen embrace; or, if she should chance to know, is her
scolding, is it, I say, of such great consequence?”
Immediately he puts on the form and dress of Diana, and says, “O Virgin!
one portion of my train, upon what mountains hast thou been hunting?” The
virgin raises herself from the turf, and says, “Hail, Goddess! that art, in my
opinion, greater than Jove, even if he himself should hear it.” He both
smiles and he hears it, and is pleased at being preferred to himself; and he
gives her kisses, not very moderate, nor such as would be given by a virgin.
He stops her as she is preparing to tell him in what wood she has been
hunting, by an embrace, and he does not betray himself without the
commission of violence. She, indeed, on the other hand, as far as a woman
could do (would that thou hadst seen her, daughter of Saturn, then thou
wouldst have been more merciful), she, indeed, I say, resists; but what
damsel, or who besides, could prevail against Jupiter? Jove, now the
conqueror, seeks the heavens above; the grove and the conscious II. 438-465]
wood is now her aversion. Making her retreat thence, she is almost
forgetting to take away her quiver with her arrows, and the bow which she
had hung up.
Behold, Dictynna,61 attended by her train, as she goes along the lofty
Mænalus, and exulting in the slaughter of the wild beasts, beholds her, and
calls her, thus seen. Being so called, she drew back, and at first was afraid
lest Jupiter might be under her shape; but after she saw the Nymphs
walking along with her, she perceived that there was no deceit,62 and she
approached their train. Alas! how difficult it is not to betray a crime by
one’s looks! She scarce raises her eyes from the ground, nor, as she used to
do, does she walk by the side of the Goddess, nor is she the foremost in the
whole company; [II. 450-470 but she is silent, and by her blushes she gives
signs of her injured honor. And Diana, but for the fact, that she is a virgin,
might have perceived her fault by a thousand indications; the Nymphs are
said to have perceived it.
The horns of the Moon were now rising again in her ninth course, when the
hunting Goddess, faint from her brother’s flames, lighted on a cool grove,
out of which a stream ran, flowing with its murmuring noise, and borne
along the sand worn fine by its action. When she had approved of the spot,

she touched the surface of the water with her foot; and commending it as
well, she says, “All overlookers are far off; let us bathe our bodies, with the
stream poured over them.” She of Parrhasia63 blushed; they all put off their
clothes; she alone sought an excuse for delay. Her garment was removed as
she hesitated, which being put off, her fault was exposed with her naked
body. Cynthia said to her, in confusion, and endeavoring to conceal her
stomach with her hands, “Begone afar hence! and pollute not the sacred
springs;” and she ordered her to leave her train.

II. 465-486]

FABLES VI AND VII.
Juno, being jealous that Calisto has attracted Jupiter, transforms her into a
Bear. Her son, Arcas, not recognizing his mother in that shape, is about to
kill her; but Jupiter removes them both to the skies, where they form the
Constellations of the Great and the Little Bear. The raven, as a
punishment for his garrulity, is changed from white to black.
The spouse of the great Thunderer had perceived this some time before, and
had put off the severe punishment designed for her, to a proper time. There
is now no reason for delay; and now the boy Arcas (that, too, was a grief to
Juno) was born of the mistress of her husband. Wherefore, she turned her
thoughts, full of [II. 470-494 resentment, and her eyes upon her, and said,
“This thing, forsooth, alone was wanting, thou adulteress, that thou shouldst
be pregnant, and that my injury should become notorious by thy labors, and
that thereby the disgraceful conduct of my husband, Jupiter, should be
openly declared. Thou shalt not go unpunished; for I will spoil that shape of
thine, on which thou pridest thyself, and by which thou, mischievous one,64
dost charm my husband.”
Thus she spoke; and seizing her straight in front by the hair,65 threw her on
her face to the ground. She suppliantly stretched forth her arms; those arms
began to grow rough with black hair,66 and her hands to be bent, and to
increase to hooked claws, and to do the duty of feet, and the mouth, that
was once admired by Jupiter, to become deformed with a wide opening; and
lest her prayers, and words not needed, should influence her feelings, the

power of speech is taken from her; an angry and threatening voice, and full
of terror, is uttered from her hoarse throat. Still, her former understanding
remains in her, even thus become a bear; and expressing her II. 486-519]
sorrows by her repeated groans, she lifts up her hands, such as they are, to
heaven and to the stars, and she deems Jove ungrateful, though she cannot
call him so. Ah! how often, not daring to rest in the lonely wood, did she
wander about before her own house, and in the fields once her own. Ah!
how often was she driven over the crags by the cry of the hounds; and,
a huntress herself, she fled in alarm, through fear of the hunters! Often,
seeing the wild beasts, did she [II. 494-521 lie concealed, forgetting what she
was; and, a bear herself, dreaded the he-bears seen on the mountains, and
was alarmed at the wolves, though her father was among them.
Behold! Arcas, the offspring of the daughter of Lycaon, ignorant of who is
his parent, approaches her, thrice five birthdays being now nearly past; and
while he is following the wild beasts, while he is choosing the proper
woods, and is enclosing the Erymanthian forests67 with his platted nets, he
meets with his mother. She stood still, upon seeing Arcas, and was like one
recognizing another. He drew back, and, in his ignorance, was alarmed at
her keeping her eyes fixed upon him without ceasing; and, as she was
desirous to approach still nearer, he would have pierced her breast with the
wounding spear. Omnipotent Jove averted this, and removed both them and
such wickedness; and placed them, carried through vacant space with a
rapid wind, in the heavens, and made them neighboring Constellations.
Juno swelled with rage after the mistress shone amid the stars, and
descended on the sea to the hoary Tethys, and the aged Ocean, a regard for
whom has often influenced the Gods; and said to them, inquiring the reason
of her coming, “Do you inquire why I, the queen of the Gods, am come
hither from the æthereal abodes? Another has possession of heaven in my
stead. May I be deemed untruthful, if, when the night has made the world
dark, you see not in the highest part of heaven stars but lately thus honored
to my affliction; there, where the last and most limited circle surrounds the
extreme part of the axis of the world. Is there, then, any ground why one
should hesitate to affront Juno, and dread my being offended, who only
benefit them by my resentment? II. 520-550] See what a great thing I have
done! How vast is my power! I forbade her to be of human shape; she has

been made a Goddess; ’tis thus that I inflict punishment on offenders; such
is my [II. 522-550 mighty power! Let him obtain for her her former shape, and
let him remove this form of a wild beast; as he formerly did for the Argive
Phoronis. Why does he not marry her as well, divorcing Juno, and place her
in my couch, and take Lycaon for his father-in-law? But if the wrong done
to your injured foster-child affects you, drive the seven Triones away from
your azure waters, and expel the stars received into heaven as the reward of
adultery, that a concubine may not be received into your pure waves.”
The Gods of the sea granted her request. The daughter of Saturn enters the
liquid air in her graceful chariot,68 with her variegated peacocks; peacocks
just as lately tinted, upon the killing of Argus, as thou, garrulous raven,
hadst been suddenly transformed into a bird having black wings, whereas
thou hadst been white before. For this bird was formerly of a silver hue,
with snow-white feathers, so that he equalled the doves entirely without
spot; nor would he give place to the geese that were to save the Capitol by
their watchful voice, nor to the swan haunting the streams. His tongue was
the cause of his disgrace; his chattering tongue being the cause, that the
color which was white is now the reverse of white.
There was no one more beauteous in all Hæmonia than Larissæan69
Coronis. At least, she pleased thee, Delphian God, as long as she continued
chaste, or was not the object of remark. But the bird of Phœbus found out
her infidelity;70 and the inexorable informer winged his way to his master,
that he might disclose the hidden offence. Him the prattling crow follows,
with flapping wings, to make all inquiries of him. And having heard the
occasion of his journey, she says, “Thou art going on a fruitless errand; do
not despise the presages of my voice.”
[II. 550-564] II. 550-567]
EXPLANATION.

Cicero (On the Nature of the Gods, Book iii.) tells us, that Lycaon had
a daughter who delighted in the chase, and that Jupiter, the second of
that name, the king of Arcadia, fell in love with her. This was the
ground on which she was said to have been a favorite of Diana. The
story of Calisto having been received into Heaven, and forming the
Constellation of the Bear, was perhaps grounded on the fact of Lycaon,

her father, having been the first known to take particular notice of this
Constellation. The story of the request of Juno, that Tethys will not
receive this new Constellation into the Ocean, is probably derived
from the circumstance, that the Bear, as well as the other stars within
the Arctic Circle, never sets.
Possibly, Arcas, the son of Calisto, dying at a youthful age, may have
been the origin of the Constellation of the Lesser Bear.

FABLE VIII.
A virgin, the favorite of Apollo, of the same name with Coronis, is changed
into a crow, for a story which she tells Minerva, concerning the basket in
which Ericthonius was enclosed.
“Consider what I was, and what I am, and inquire into my deserts. Thou
wilt find that my fidelity was my ruin. For once upon a time, Pallas had
enclosed Ericthonius, an offspring born without a mother, in a basket made
of Actæan twigs; and had given it to keep to the three virgins born of the
two-shaped71 Cecrops, and had given them this injunction, that they should
not inquire into her secrets. I, being hidden among the light foliage, was
watching from a thick elm what they were doing. Two of them, Pandrosos
and Herse, observe their charge without any treachery; Aglauros alone calls
her sisters cowards, and unties the knots with her hand; but within they
behold a child, and a dragon extended by him. I told the Goddess what was
done; for which such a return as this is made to me, that I am said to have
been banished from the protection of Minerva, and am placed after the bird
of the night. My punishment may warn birds not to incur [II. 564-590 dangers,
by their chattering. But I consider that she courted me with no inclination of
my own, nor asking for any such favors. This thou mayst ask of Pallas
thyself; II. 567-590] although she is angry, she will not, with all her anger,
deny this. For Coroneus, one famous in the land of Phocis (I mention what
is well known) begot me: and so I was a virgin of royal birth, and was
courted by rich suitors (so despise me not). My beauty was the cause of my
misfortune; for while I was passing with slow steps along the sea-shore, on
the surface of the sand, as I was wont to do, the God of the Ocean beheld

me, and was inflamed; and when he had consumed his time to no purpose,
in entreating me with soft words, he prepared to use violence, and followed
me. I fled, and I left the firm shore, and wearied myself in vain on the
yielding sand. Then I invoked both Gods and men; but my voice did not
reach any mortal. A virgin was moved for a virgin, and gave me assistance.
I was extending my arms toward heaven; when those arms began to grow
black with light feathers. I struggled to throw my garments from off my
shoulders, but they were feathers, and had taken deep root in my skin.
I tried to beat my naked breast with my hands, but I had now neither hands
nor naked breast. I ran; and the sand did not retard my feet as before, and I
was lifted up from the surface of the ground. After that, being lifted up,
I was carried through the air, and was assigned, as a faultless companion, to
Minerva. Yet what does this avail me, if Nyctimene, made a bird for a
horrid crime, has succeeded me in my honor?”
EXPLANATION.

Ericthonius was fabled to be the son, or foster-child, of Athene, or
Minerva, perhaps because he was the son of the daughter of Cranaus,
who had the name of Athene, by a priest of Vulcan, which Divinity
was said to have been his progenitor. St. Augustine alleges that he was
exposed, and found in a temple dedicated to Minerva and Vulcan. His
name being composed of two words, ἔρις and χθὼν, signifying
‘contention,’ and ‘earth,’ Strabo imagines that he was the son of
Vulcan and the Earth. But it seems that the real ground on which he
was called by that name was, that he disputed the right to the crown of
Athens with Amphictyon, on the death of Cranaus, the second king.
Amphictyon prevailed, but Ericthonius succeeded him. To hide his
legs, which were deformed, he is said [II. 590-605 to have invented
chariots; though that is not likely, as Egypt, from which Greece had
received many colonies, was acquainted with the use of them from the
earliest times. He is also said to have instituted the festival of the
Panathenæa, at Athens, whence, in process of time, it was adopted by
the whole of Greece.
Hyginus tells us, that after his death he was received into heaven as the
II. 590-611] constellation ‘Auriga,’ or ‘the Charioteer;’ and he further

informs us, that the deformity of his legs gave occasion to the saying,
that he was half man and half a serpent. Apollodorus says that he was
born in Attica; that he was the son of Cranaë, the daughter of Attis; and
that he dethroned Amphictyon, and became the fourth king of Athens.

FABLE IX.
Nyctimene having entertained a criminal passion for her father, Nycteus, the
Gods, to punish her incest, transform her into an owl. Apollo pierces the
breast of Coronis with an arrow, on the raven informing him of the
infidelity of his mistress.
“Has not the thing, which is very well known throughout the whole of
Lesbos,72 been heard of by thee, that Nyctimene defiled the bed of her
father? She is a bird indeed; but being conscious of her crime, she avoids
the human gaze and the light, and conceals her shame in the darkness; and
by all the birds she is expelled entirely from the sky.”
The raven says to him, saying such things, “May this, thy calling of me
back, prove a mischief to thee, I pray; I despise the worthless omen.” Nor
does he drop his intended journey; and he tells his master, that he has seen
Coronis lying down with a youth of Hæmonia. On hearing the crime of his
mistress, his laurel fell down; and at the same moment his usual looks, his
plectrum,73 and his color, forsook the God. And as his mind was now
burning with swelling rage, he took up his wonted arms, and levelled his
bow bent from the extremities, and pierced, with an unerring shaft, that
bosom, that had been so oft pressed to his [II. 605-632 own breast. Wounded,
she uttered a groan, and, drawing the steel from out of the wound, she
bathed her white limbs with purple blood; and she said, “I might justly,
Phœbus, have been punished by thee, but still I might have first brought
forth; now we two shall die in one.” Thus far she spoke; and she poured
forth her life, together with her blood. A deadly coldness took possession of
her body deprived of life.
II. 611-632]

The lover, too late, alas! repents of his cruel vengeance, and blames himself
that he listened to the bird, and that he was so infuriated. He hates the bird,

through which he was forced to know of the crime and the cause of his
sorrow; he hates, too, the string, the bow, and his hand; and together with
his hand, those rash weapons, the arrows. He cherishes her fallen to the
ground, and by late resources endeavors to conquer her destiny; and in vain
he practices his physical arts.
When he found that these attempts were made in vain, and that the funeral
pile was being prepared, and that her limbs were about to be burnt in the
closing flames, then, in truth, he gave utterance to sighs fetched from the
bottom of his heart (for it is not allowed the celestial features to be bathed
with tears). No otherwise than, as when an axe, poised from the right ear of
the butcher, dashes to pieces, with a clean stroke, the hollow temples of the
sucking calf, while the dam looks on. Yet after Phœbus had poured the
unavailing perfumes on her breast, when he had given the last embrace and
had performed the due obsequies prematurely hastened, he did not suffer his
own offspring to sink into the same ashes; but he snatched the child from
the flames and from the womb of his mother, and carried him into the cave
of the two-formed Chiron. And he forbade the raven, expecting for himself
the reward of his tongue that told no untruth, to perch any longer among the
white birds.
EXPLANATION.

History does not afford us the least insight into the foundation of the
story of Coronis transformed into a crow, for making too faithful a
report, nor that of the raven changed from white to black, [II. 632-651 for
talking too much. If they are based upon some events which really
happened, we must be content to acknowledge that these Fables refer
to the history of two persons entirely unknown to us, and who,
perhaps, lived as far back as the time of the daughters of Cecrops, to
whom the story seems to bear some relation. Coronis being the name
of a crow as well as of a Nymph, Lucian and other writers have fabled
that her son, Æsculapius, was produced from the egg of that bird, and
was born in the shape of a serpent, under which form he was very
generally worshipped.

II. 632-658]

FABLE X.
Ocyrrhoë, the daughter of the Centaur Chiron, attempting to predict future
events, tells her father the fate of the child Æsculapius, on which the
Gods transform her into a mare.
In the meantime the half-beast Chiron was proud of a pupil of Divine
origin, and rejoiced in the honor annexed to the responsibility. Behold! the
daughter of the Centaur comes, having her shoulders covered with her
yellow hair; whom once the nymph Chariclo,74 having borne her on the
banks of a rapid stream, called Ocyrrhoë. She was not contented to learn her
father’s arts only; but she sang the secrets of the Fates. Therefore, when she
had conceived in her mind the prophetic transports, and grew warm with the
God, whom she held confined within her breast, she beheld the infant, and
she said, “Grow on, child, the giver of health to the whole world; the bodies
of mortals shall often owe their own existence to thee. To thee will it be
allowed to restore life when taken away; and daring to do that once against
the will of the Gods, thou wilt be hindered by the bolts of thy grandsire
from being able any more to grant that boon. And from a God thou shalt
become a lifeless carcase; and a God again, who lately wast a carcase; and
twice shalt thou renew thy destiny. Thou likewise, dear father, now
immortal, and produced at thy nativity, on the condition of enduring for
ever, wilt then wish that thou couldst die, when thou shalt be [II. 652-675
tormented on receiving the blood of a baneful serpent75 in thy wounded
limbs; and the Gods shall make thee from an immortal being, subject to
death, and the three Goddesses76 shall cut thy threads.”
Something still remained in addition to what she had said. She heaved a
sigh from the bottom of her breast, and the tears bursting forth, trickled
down her cheeks, and thus she said: “The Fates prevent me, and I am
forbidden to say any more, II. 658-682] and the use of my voice is precluded.
My arts, which have brought the wrath of a Divinity upon me, were not of
so much value; I wish that I had not been acquainted with the future. Now
the human shape seems to be withdrawing from me; now grass pleases me
for my food; now I have a desire to range over the extended plains; I am
turned into a mare, and into a shape kindred to that of my father. But yet,
why entirely? For my father partakes of both forms.”

As she was uttering such words as these, the last part of her complaint was
but little understood; and her words were confused. And presently neither
were they words indeed, nor did it appear to be the voice of a mare, but of
one imitating a mare. And in a little time she uttered perfect neighing, and
stretched her arms upon the grass. Then did her fingers grow together, and a
smooth hoof united five nails in one continued piece of horn. The length of
her face and of her neck increased; the greatest part of her long hair became
a tail. And as the hairs lay scattered about her neck, they were transformed
into a mane lying upon the right side; at once both her voice and her shape
were changed. And this wondrous change gave her the new name of Enippe.
[II. 676-693

FABLE XI.
Mercury, having stolen the oxen of Apollo, and Battus having perceived
the theft, he engages him, by a present, to keep the matter secret.
Mistrusting, however, his fidelity, he assumes another shape, and
tempting him with presents, he succeeds in corrupting him. To punish his
treachery, the God changes him into a touchstone.
The Philyrean77 hero wept, and in vain, God of Delphi, implored thy
assistance; but neither couldst thou reverse the orders of great Jupiter, nor, if
thou couldst have reversed them wast thou then present; for then thou wast
dwelling in Elis and the Messenian78 fields. This was the time when a
shepherd’s skin garment was covering thee, and a stick cut out of the wood
was the burden of thy left hand, and of the other, II. 682-707] a pipe unequal
with its seven reeds. And while love is thy concern, while thy pipe is
soothing thee, some cows are said to have strayed unobserved into the
plains of Pylos.79 The son of Maia the daughter of Atlas, observes them,
and with his usual skill hides them, driven off, in the woods. Nobody but an
old man, well-known in that country, had noticed the theft: all the
neighborhood called him Battus. He was keeping the forests and the grassy
pastures, and the set of fine-bred mares of the rich Neleus.80
Mercury was afraid of him, and took him aside with a gentle hand, and said
to him, “Come, stranger, whoever thou art, if, perchance any one should ask

after these herds, deny that thou hast seen them; and, lest [II. 694-707 no
requital be paid thee for so doing, take a handsome cow as thy reward;” and
thereupon he gave him one. On receiving it, the stranger returned this
answer: “Thou mayst go in safety. May that stone first make mention of thy
theft;” and he pointed to a stone. The son of Jupiter feigned to go away. But
soon he returned, and changing his form, together with his voice, he said,
“Countryman, if thou hast seen any cows pass along this way, give me thy
help, and break silence about the theft; a female, coupled together with its
bull shall be presented thee as a reward.” But the old man,81 after his
reward was thus doubled, said, “They will be beneath those hills;” and
beneath those hills they really were. The son of Atlas laughed and said,
“Dost thou, treacherous man, betray me to my own self? Dost betray me to
myself?” and then he turned his perjured breast into a hard stone, which
even now is called the “Touchstone;”82 and this old disgrace is attached to
the stone that really deserves it not.
II. 708-718]
EXPLANATION.

The Centaurs, fabulous monsters, half men and half horses, were
perhaps the first horsemen in Thessaly and its neighborhood. It is also
probable that Chiron, who was one of these, acquired great fame by
the knowledge he had acquired at a time and in a country where
learning was little cultivated. The ancients regarded him as the first
promulgator of the utility of medicines, in which he was said to have
instructed his pupil Æsculapius. He was also considered to be an
excellent musician and a good astronomer, as we learn from Homer,
Diodorus Siculus, and other authors. Most of the heroes of that age,
and among them Hercules and Jason, studied under him. Very
probably, the only foundation for the story of the transformation of
Ocyrrhoë, was the skill and address which, under her father’s
instruction, she acquired in riding and [II. 708-726 the management of
horses. For if, as it seems really was the case, the horsemen of that age
were taken for monsters, half men and half horses, it is not surprising
to find the story that the daughter of a Centaur was transformed into a
mare.

Chiron is generally supposed to have marked out the Constellations,
for the purpose of directing the Argonauts in their voyage for the
recovery of the Golden Fleece.

FABLE XII.
Mercury, falling in love with Herse, the daughter of Cecrops, endeavors to
engage Aglauros in his interest, and by her means, to obtain access to her
sister. She refuses to assist him, unless he promises to present her with a
large sum of money.
Hence, the bearer of the caduceus raised himself upon equal wings; and as
he flew, he looked down upon the fields of Munychia,83 and the land
pleasing to Minerva, and the groves of the well-planted Lycæus. On that
day, by chance, the chaste virgins were, in their purity, carrying the sacred
offerings in baskets crowned with flowers, upon their heads to the joyful
citadel of Pallas. The winged God beholds them returning thence; and he
does not shape his course directly forward, but wheels round in the same
circle. As that bird swiftest in speed, the kite, on espying the entrails, while
he is afraid, and the priests stand in numbers around the sacrifice, wings his
flight in circles, and yet ventures not to go far away, II. 719-736] and greedily
hovers around the object of his hopes with waving wings, so does the active
Cyllenian God bend his course over the Actæan towers, and circles round in
the same air. As much as Lucifer shines more brightly than the other stars,
and as much as the golden Phœbe shines more brightly than thee, O Lucifer,
so much superior was Herse, as she went, to all the other virgins, and was
the ornament of the solemnity and of her companions. The son of Jupiter
was astonished at her beauty; and as he hung in the air, he burned no
otherwise than as when the [II. 727-741 Balearic84 sling throws forth the
plummet of lead; it flies and becomes red hot in its course, and finds
beneath the clouds the fires which it had not before.
He alters his course, and, having left heaven, goes a different way; nor does
he disguise himself; so great is his confidence in his beauty. This, though it
is every way complete, still he improves by care, and smooths his hair and
adjusts his mantle,85 that it may hang properly, so that the fringe and all the

gold may be seen; and minds that his long smooth wand, with which he
induces and drives away sleep, is in his II. 736-764] right hand, and that his
wings86 shine upon his beauteous feet.
A private part of the house had three bed-chambers, adorned with ivory and
with tortoiseshell, of which thou, Pandrosos, hadst the right-hand one,
Aglauros the left-hand, and Herse had the one in the middle. She that
occupied the left-hand one was the first to remark Mercury approaching,
and she ventured to ask [II. 741-764 the name of the God, and the occasion of
his coming. To her thus answered the grandson of Atlas and of Pleione:
“I am he who carries the commands of my father through the air. Jupiter
himself is my father. Nor will I invent pretences; do thou only be willing to
be attached to thy sister, and to be called the aunt of my offspring. Herse is
the cause of my coming; I pray thee to favor one in love.” Aglauros looks
upon him with the same eyes with which she had lately looked upon the
hidden mysteries of the yellow-haired Minerva, and demands for her
agency gold of great weight; and, in the meantime, obliges him to go out of
the house. The warlike Goddess turned upon her the orbs of her stern eyes,
and drew a sigh from the bottom of her heart, with so great a motion, that
she heaved both her breast and the Ægis placed before her valiant breast. It
occurred to her that she had laid open her secrets with a profane hand, at the
time when she beheld progeny created for the God who inhabits Lemnos,87
without a mother, and contrary to the assigned laws; and that she could now
be agreeable both to the God and to the sister of Aglauros, and that she
would be enriched by taking the gold, which she, in her avarice, had
demanded. Forthwith she repairs to the abode of Envy, hideous with black
gore. Her abode is concealed in the lowest recesses of a cave, wanting sun,
and not pervious to any wind, dismal and filled with benumbing cold; and
which is ever without fire, and ever abounding with darkness.
EXPLANATION.

Cicero tells us, that there were several persons in ancient times named
Mercury. The probability is, that one of them fell in love with Herse,
one of the daughters of Cecrops, king of Athens; and that Aglauros
becoming jealous of her, this tradition was built upon facts of so
ordinary a nature.

[II. 765-789 II. 765-791]

FABLE XIII.
Pallas commands Envy to make Aglauros jealous of her sister Herse. Envy
obeys the request of the Goddess; and Aglauros, stung with that passion,
continues obstinate in opposing Mercury’s passage to her sister’s
apartment, for which the God changes her into a statue.
When the female warrior, to be dreaded in battle, came hither, she stood
before the abode (for she did not consider it lawful to go under the roof),
and she struck the door-posts with the end of the spear. The doors, being
shaken, flew open; she sees Envy within, eating the flesh of vipers, the
nutriment of her own bad propensities; and when she sees her, she turns
away her eyes. But the other rises sluggishly from the ground, and leaves
the bodies of the serpents half devoured, and stalks along with sullen pace.
And when she sees the Goddess graced with beauty and with splendid arms,
she groans, and fetches a deep sigh at her appearance. A paleness rests on
her face, and leanness in all her body; she never looks direct on you; her
teeth are black with rust; her breast is green with gall; her tongue is
dripping with venom. Smiles there are none, except such as the sight of
grief has excited. Nor does she enjoy sleep, being kept awake with watchful
cares; but sees with sorrow the successes of men, and pines away at seeing
them. She both torments and is tormented at the same moment, and is ever
her own punishment. Yet, though Tritonia88 hated her, she spoke to her
briefly in such words as these: “Infect one of the daughters of Cecrops with
thy poison; there is occasion so to do; Aglauros is she.”
Saying no more, she departed, and spurned the ground with her spear
impressed on it. She, beholding the Goddess as she departed, with a look
askance, uttered a few murmurs, and grieved at the success of Minerva; and
took her staff, which wreaths of thorns entirely [II. 790-822 surrounded; and
veiled in black clouds, wherever she goes she tramples down the blooming
II. 791-829] fields, and burns up the grass, and crops the tops of the flowers.
With her breath, too, she pollutes both nations and cities, and houses; and at
last she descries the Tritonian89 citadel, flourishing in arts and riches, and

cheerful peace. Hardly does she restrain her tears, because she sees nothing
to weep at. But after she has entered the chamber of the daughter of
Cecrops, she executes her orders; and touches her breast with her hand
stained with rust, and fills her heart with jagged thorns. She breathes into
her as well the noxious venom, and spreads the poison black as pitch
throughout her bones, and lodges it in the midst of her lungs.
And that these causes of mischief may not wander through too wide a
space, she places her sister before her eyes, and the fortunate marriage of
that sister, and the God under his beauteous appearance, and aggravates
each particular. By this, the daughter of Cecrops being irritated, is gnawed
by a secret grief, and groans, tormented by night, tormented by day, and
wastes away in extreme wretchedness, with a slow consumption, as ice
smitten upon by a sun often clouded. She burns at the good fortune of the
happy Herse, no otherwise than as when fire is placed beneath thorny reeds,
which do not send forth flames, and burn with a gentle heat. Often does she
wish to die, that she may not be a witness to any such thing; often, to tell
the matters, as criminal, to her severe father. At last, she sat herself down in
the front of the threshold, in order to exclude the God when he came; to
whom, as he proffered blandishments and entreaties, and words of extreme
kindness, she said, “Cease all this; I shall not remove myself hence, until
thou art repulsed.” “Let us stand to that agreement,” says the active
Cyllenian God; and he opens the carved door with his wand. But in her, as
she endeavors to arise, the parts which we bend in sitting cannot be moved,
through their numbing weight. She, indeed, struggles to raise herself, with
her body, [II. 823-840 upright; but the joints of her knees are stiff, and a chill
runs through her nails, and her veins are pallid, through the loss of blood.
And as the disease of an incurable cancer is wont to spread in all directions,
and to add the uninjured parts to the tainted; so, by degrees, did a deadly
chill enter her breast, and stop the passages of life, and her respiration. She
did not endeavor II. 829-849] to speak; but if she had endeavored, she had no
passage for her voice. Stone had now possession of her neck; her face was
grown hard, and she sat, a bloodless statue. Nor was the stone white; her
mind had stained it.
EXPLANATION.

Pausanias, in his Attica, somewhat varies this story, and says that the
daughters of Cecrops, running mad, threw themselves from the top of a
tower. It is very probable that on the introduction of the worship of
Pallas, or Minerva, into Attica, these daughters of Cecrops may have
hesitated to encourage the innovation, and the story was promulgated
that the Goddess had in that manner punished their impiety. This seems
the more likely, from the fact mentioned by Pausanias that Pandrosos,
the third daughter of Cecrops, had, after her death, a temple built in
honor of her, near that of Minerva, because she had continued faithful
to that Goddess, and had not disobeyed her, as her sisters had done.
The reputation and good fame of Herse and Aglauros had, however,
been restored by the time of Herodotus, since he informs us that they
both had their temples at Athens.

FABLE XIV.
Jupiter assumes the shape of a Bull, and carrying off Europa, swims with
her on his back to the isle of Crete.
When the grandson of Atlas had inflicted this punishment upon her words
and her profane disposition, he left the lands named after Pallas, and
entered the skies with his waving wings. His father calls him on one side;
and, not owning the cause of his love, he says, “My son, the trusty minister
of my commands, banish delay, and swiftly descend with thy usual speed,
and repair to the region which looks towards thy Constellation mother on
the left side, (the natives call it [II. 840-870 Sidonis90 by name) and drive
towards the sea-shore, the herd belonging to the king, which thou seest
feeding afar upon the grass of the mountain.”
Thus he spoke; and already were the bullocks, driven from the mountain,
making for the shore named, where the daughter of the great king, attended
by Tyrian virgins, was wont to amuse herself. Majesty and love but ill
accord, nor can they continue in the same abode. The father and the ruler of
the Gods, whose right hand is armed with the three-forked flames, II. 849-875]
who shakes the world with his nod, laying aside the dignity of empire,
assumes the appearance of a bull; and mixing with the oxen, he lows, and,

in all his beauty, walks about upon the shooting grass. For his color is that
of snow, which neither the soles of hard feet have trodden upon, nor the
watery South wind melted. His neck swells with muscles; dewlaps hang
from between his shoulders. His horns are small indeed, but such as you
might maintain were made with the hand, and more transparent than a
bright gem. There is nothing threatening in his forehead; nor is his eye
formidable; his countenance expresses peace.
The daughter of Agenor is surprised that he is so beautiful, and that he
threatens no attack; but although so gentle, she is at first afraid to touch
him. By and by she approaches him, and holds out flowers to his white
mouth. The lover rejoices, and till his hoped-for pleasure comes, he gives
kisses to her hands; scarcely, oh, scarcely, does he defer the rest. And now
he plays with her, and skips upon the green grass; and now he lays his
snow-white side upon the yellow sand. And, her fear now removed by
degrees, at one moment he gives his breast to be patted by the hand of the
virgin; at another, his horns to be wreathed with new-made garlands. The
virgin of royal birth even ventured to sit down upon the back of the bull, not
knowing upon whom she was pressing. Then the God, by degrees moving
from the land, and from the dry shore, places [II. 870-875 the fictitious hoofs
of his feet in the waves near the brink. Then he goes still further, and carries
his prize over the expanse of the midst of the ocean. She is affrighted, and,
borne off, looks back on the shore she has left; and with her right hand she
grasps his horn, while the other is placed on his back; her waving garments
are ruffled by the breeze.
EXPLANATION.

This Fable depicts one of the most famous events in the ancient
Mythology. As we have already remarked, it is supposed that there
were several persons of the name of Zeus, or Jupiter; though there is
great difficulty in assigning to each individual his own peculiar
adventures. Vossius refers the adventure of Niobe, the daughter of
Phoroneus, to Jupiter Apis, the king of Argos, who reigned about B.C.
1770; and that of Danaë to Jupiter Prœtus, who lived about 1350 years
before the Christian era. It was Jupiter Tantalus, according to him, that
carried off Ganymede; and it was Jupiter, the father of Hercules, that

deceived Leda. He says that the subject of the present Fable was
Jupiter Asterius, who reigned about B.C. 1400. Diodorus Siculus tells
us that he was the son of Teutamus, who, having married the daughter
of Creteus, went with some Pelasgians to settle in the island of Crete,
of which he was the first king. We may then conclude, that Jupiter
Asterius, having heard of the beauty of Europa, the daughter of
Agenor, King of Tyre, fitted out a ship, for the purpose of carrying her
off by force. This is the less improbable, as we learn from Herodotus,
that the custom of carrying those away by force, who could not be
obtained by fair means, was very common in these rude ages.
The ship in which Asterius made his voyage, had, very probably, the
form of a bull for its figure-head; which, in time, occasioned those
who related the adventure, to say, that Jupiter concealed himself under
the shape of that animal, to carry off his mistress. Palæphatus and
Tzetzes suggest, that the story took its rise from the name of the
general of Asterius, who was called Taurus, which is also the Greek
name for a bull. Bochart has an ingenious suggestion, based upon
etymological grounds. He thinks that the twofold meaning of the word
‘Alpha,’ or ‘Ilpha,’ which, in the Phœnician dialect, meant either a ship
or a bull, gave occasion to the fable; and that the Greeks, on reading
the annals of the Phœnicians, by mistake, took the word in the latter
sense.
Europa was honored as a Divinity after her death, and a festival was
instituted in her memory, which Hesychius calls ‘Hellotia,’ from
Ἑλλωτὶς, the name she received after her death.

1. Ægeon.]—Ver. 10. Homer makes him to be the same with Briareus.
According to another account, which Ovid here follows, he was a sea
God, the son of Oceanus and Terra.
2. Doris.]—Ver. 11. She was the daughter of Oceanus, the wife of
Nereus, and the mother of the fifty Nereids.
3. Tethys.]—Ver. 69. She was the daughter of Cœlus and Terra, and the
wife of Oceanus. Her name is here used to signify the ocean itself.

4. Are carried round.]—Ver. 70. Clarke thus renders this line,—“Add,
too, that the heaven was whisked round with a continual rolling.”
5. Wild beasts.]—Ver. 78. The signs of the Zodiac.
6. Hæmonian.]—Ver. 81. Or Thessalian. He here alludes to the
Thessalian Chiron, the Centaur, who, according to Ovid and other
writers, was placed in the Zodiac as the Constellation Sagittarius:
while others say that Crotus, or Croto, the son of Eupheme, the nurse
of the Muses, was thus honored.
7. Through the five direct circles.]—Ver. 129. There is some obscurity
in this passage, arising from the mode of expression. Phœbus here
counsels Phaëton what track to follow, and tells him to pursue his way
by an oblique path, and not directly in the plane of the equator. This
last is what he calls ‘directos via quinque per arcus.’ These five arcs, or
circles, are the five parallel circles by which astronomers distinguish
the heavens, namely, the two polar circles, the two tropics, and the
equinoctial. The latter runs exactly in the middle, between the other
two circles, so that the expression must be understood to mean, ‘pursue
not your way directly through that circle which is the middlemost of
the five, but observe the track that cuts it obliquely.’
8. The chariot give bounds.]—Ver. 165-6. Clarke thus renders these
lines.—‘Thus does the chariot give jumps into the air without its usual
weight, and is kicked up on high, and is like one empty.’
9. They say, too.]—Ver. 176-7. The following is Clarke’s translation of
these two lines,—‘They say, too, that you, Boötes, scowered off in a
mighty bustle, although you were but slow, and thy cart hindered thee.’
10. Athos.]—Ver. 217. Athos (now Monte Santo) was a mountain of
Macedonia, so lofty that its shadow was said to extend even to the Isle
of Lemnos, which was eighty-seven miles distant.
11. Taurus.]—Ver. 217. This was an immense mountain range which
ran through the middle of Cilicia, in Asia Minor.
12. Tmolus.]—Ver. 217. Tmolus (now Bozdaz) was a mountain of
Lydia, famed for its wines and saffron. Pactolus, a stream with sands

reputed to be golden, took its rise there.
13. Œta.]—Ver. 217. This was a mountain chain, which divided
Thessaly from Doris and Phocis; famed for the death of Hercules on
one of its ridges.
14. Ida.]—Ver. 218. There were two mountains of the name of Ide, or
Ida; one in Crete, the other near Troy. The latter is here referred to, as
being famed for its springs.
15. Helicon.]—Ver. 219. This was a mountain of Bœotia, sacred to the
Virgin Muses.
16. Hæmus.—Ver. 219. This, which is now called the Balkan range,
was a lofty chain of mountains running through Thrace. Orpheus, the
son of Œagrus and Calliope, was there torn in pieces by the Mænades,
or Bacchanalian women, whence the mountain obtained the epithet of
‘Œagrian.’
17. Ætna.]—Ver. 220. This is the volcanic mountain of Sicily; the
flames caused by the fall of Phaëton, added to its own, caused them to
be redoubled.
18. Eryx.]—Ver. 221. This was a mountain of Sicily, now called San
Juliano. On it, a magnificent temple was erected, in honor of Venus.
19. Cynthus.]—Ver. 221. This was a mountain of Delos, on which
Apollo and Diana were said to have been born.
20. Rhodope.]—Ver. 222. It was a high mountain, capped with
perpetual snows, in the northern part of Thrace.
21. Mimas.]—Ver. 222. A mountain of Ionia, near the Ionian Sea. It
was of very great height; whence Homer calls it ὑψίκρημνος.
22. Dindyma.]—Ver. 223. This was a mountain of Phrygia, near Troy,
sacred to Cybele, the mother of the Gods.
23. Mycale.]—Ver. 223. A mountain of Caria, opposite to the Isle of
Samos.
24. Cithæron.]—Ver. 223. This was a mountain of Bœotia, famous for
the orgies of Bacchus, there celebrated. In its neighborhood, Pentheus

was torn to pieces by the Mænades, for slighting the worship of
Bacchus.
25. Caucasus.]—Ver. 224. This was a mountain chain in Asia, between
the Euxine and Caspian Seas.
26. Alps.]—Ver. 226. This mountain range divides France from Italy.
27. Apennines.]—Ver. 226. This range of mountains runs down the
centre of Italy.
28. Their black hue.]—Ver. 235. The notion that the blackness of the
African tribes was produced by the heat of the sun, is borrowed by the
Poet from Hesiod. Hyginus, too, says, ‘the Indians, because, by the
proximity of the fire, their blood was turned black by the heat thereof,
became of black appearance themselves.’ Notwithstanding the learned
and minute investigations of physiologists on the subject, this question
is still involved in considerable obscurity.
29. Libya.]—Ver. 237. This was a region between Mauritania and
Cyrene. The Greek writers, however, often use the word to signify the
whole of Africa. Servius gives a trifling derivation for the name, in
saying that Libya was so called, because λείπει ὁ ὕετος, ‘it is without
rain.’
30. Dirce.]—Ver. 239. Dirce was a celebrated fountain of Bœotia, into
which it was said that Dirce, the wife of Lycus, king of Thebes, was
transformed.
31. Amymone.]—Ver. 240. It was a fountain of Argos, near Lerna, into
which the Nymph, Amymone, the daughter of Lycus, king of the
Argives, was said to have been transformed.
32. Ephyre.]—Ver. 240. It was the most ancient name of Corinth, in
the citadel of which, or the Acrocorinthus, was the spring Pyrene, of
extreme brightness and purity and sacred to the Muses.
33. Tanais.]—Ver. 242. This river, now the Don, after a long winding
course, discharges itself into the ‘Palus Mæotis,’ now the sea of
‘Azof.’

34. Caïcus.]—Ver. 243. This is a river of Mysia, here called
‘Teuthrantian,’ from Mount Teuthras, in its vicinity.
35. Ismenus.]—Ver. 244. Ismenus was a river of Bœotia, that flowed
past Thebes into the Euripus.
36. Erymanthus.]—Ver. 245. This was a river of Arcadia, which, rising
in a mountain of that name, fell into the Alpheus.
37. Xanthus.]—Ver. 245. This was a river of Troy; here spoken of as
destined to behold flames a second time, in the conflagration of that
city.
38. Lycormas.]—Ver. 245. This was a rapid river of Ætolia, which was
afterwards known by the name of Evenus.
39. Mæander.]—Ver. 246. This was a river of Phrygia, flowing
between Lydia and Caria; it was said to have 600 windings in its
course.
40. Melas.]—Ver. 247. This name was given to many rivers of Thrace,
Thessaly, and Asia, on account of the darkness of the color of their
waters; the name was derived from the Greek word μέλας, ‘black.’
41. Tænarian Eurotas.]—Ver. 247. The Eurotas was a river of Laconia,
which flowed under the walls of the city of Sparta, and discharged
itself into the sea near the promontory of Tænarus, now called Cape
Matapan. The Eurotas is now called ‘Basilipotamo,’ or ‘king of
streams.’
42. Orontes.]—Ver. 248. The Orontes was a river of Asia Minor, which
flowed near Antioch.
43. Thermodon.]—Ver. 249. This was a river of Cappadocia, near
which the Amazons were said to dwell.
44. Ganges.]—Ver. 249. This is one of the largest rivers in Asia, and
discharges itself into the Persian Gulf; and not, as Gierig says, in his
note on this passage, in the Red Sea.
45. Phasis.]—Ver. 249. This was a river of Colchis, falling into the
Euxine Sea.

46. Ister.]—Ver. 249. The Danube had that name from its source to the
confines of Germany; and thence, in its course through Scythia to the
sea, it was called by the name of ‘Ister.’
47. Alpheus.]—Ver. 250. It was a river of Arcadia, in Peloponnesus.
48. Tagus.]—Ver. 251. This was a river of Spain, which was said to
bring down from the mountains great quantities of golden sand. The
Poet here feigns this to be melted by the heat of the sun, and in that
manner to be carried along by the current of the river.
49. Mæonian.]—Ver. 252. Mæonia was so called from the river Mæon,
and was another name of Lydia. The Caÿster, famous for its swans,
flowed through Lydia.
50. Strymon.]—Ver. 257. The Hebrus and the Strymon were rivers of
Thrace. Ismarus was a mountain of that country, famous for its vines.
51. Hesperian.]—Ver. 258. Hesperia, or ‘the western country,’ was a
general name of not only Spain and Gaul, but even Italy. The Rhine is
a river of France and Germany, the Rhone of France. The Padus, or Po,
and the Tiber, are rivers of Italy.
52. Cyclades.]—Ver. 264. The Cyclades were a cluster of islands in the
Ægean Sea, surrounding Delos as though with a circle, whence their
name.
53. Her all-productive face.]—Ver. 275. The earth was similarly called
by the Greeks παμμήτωρ, ‘the mother of all things.’ So Virgil calls it
‘omniparens.’
54. Atlas.]—Ver. 296. This was a mountain of Mauritania, which, by
reason of its height, was said to support the heavens.
55. We are thrown.]—Ver. 299. Clarke translates, ‘In chaos antiquum
confundimur,’ ‘We are then jumbled into the old chaos again.’
56. The Hesperian Naiads.]—Ver. 325. These were the Naiads of Italy.
They were by name Phaëthusa, Lampetie, and Phœbe.
57. Passed without the sun.]—Ver. 331. There is, perhaps, in this line
some faint reference to a tradition of the sun having, in the language of

Scripture, ‘stood still upon Gibeon, in his course, by the command of
Joshua, when dispensing the divine vengeance upon the Amorites,’
Joshua, x. 13. Or of the time when ‘the shadow returned ten degrees
backward’, by the sun-dial of Ahaz, 2 Kings, xx.11.
58. Sthenelus.]—Ver. 367. He was a king of Liguria. Commentators
have justly remarked that it was not very likely that a king of Liguria
should be related to Clymene, a queen of the Ethiopians, as Ovid, in
the next line, says was the case. This story was probably invented by
some writer, who fancied that there were two persons of the name of
Phaëton; one the subject of eastern tradition, and the other a personage
of the Latin mythology.
59. The Ligurians.]—Ver. 370. These were a people situate on the
eastern side of Etruria, between the rivers Var and Macra. The Grecian
writers were in the habit of styling the whole of the north of Italy
Liguria.
60. Trivia.]—Ver. 416. This was an epithet of Diana, as presiding over
and worshipped in the places where three roads met, which were called
‘trivia.’ Being known as Diana on earth, the Moon in the heavens, and
Proserpine in the infernal regions, she was represented at these places
with three faces; those of a horse, a dog, and a female; the latter being
in the middle.
61. Dictynna.]—Ver. 441. Diana was so called from the Greek word
δικτὺς, ‘a net,’ which was used by her for the purposes of hunting.
62. There was no deceit.]—Ver. 446. Clarke translates ‘sensit abesse
dolos,’ ‘she was convinced there was no roguery in the case.’
63. She of Parrhasia.]—Ver. 460. Calisto is so called from Parrhasia,
a region of Arcadia. Parrhasius was the name of a mountain, a grove,
and a city of that country and was derived from the name of Parrhasus,
a son of Lycaon.
64. Thou, mischievous one.]—Ver. 475. Clarke, rather too familiarly,
renders ‘importuna,’ ‘plaguy baggage.’

65. In front by the hair.]—Ver. 476. ‘Adversâ prensis a fronte capillis,’
is rendered by Clarke, ‘seizing her fore-top.’ Had he been describing
the combats of two fish-wives, such a version would have been,
perhaps, more appropriate than in the present instance.
66. With black hair.]—Ver. 478. To the explanation given at the end of
the story, we may here add the curious one offered by Palæphatus. He
says that Calisto was a huntress who entered the den of a bear, by
which she was devoured; and that the bear coming out, and Calisto
being no more seen, it was reported that she had been transformed into
a bear.
67. Erymanthian forests.]—Ver. 499. Erymanthus was a mountain of
Arcadia, which was afterwards famous for the slaughter there, by
Hercules, of the wild boar, which made it his haunt.
68. Graceful chariot.]—Ver. 531. Clarke translates ‘habili curru,’ ‘her
neat chariot.’
69. Larissæan.]—Ver. 542. Larissa was the chief city of Thessaly, and
was situate on the river Peneus.
70. Her infidelity.]—Ver. 545. ‘Sed ales sensit adulterium Phœbeius,’ is
translated by Clarke, ‘but the Phœban bird found out her pranks.’
71. Two-shaped.]—Ver. 555. Cecrops is here so called, and in the
Greek, διφυὴς from the fact of his having been born in Egypt, and
having settled in Greece, and was thus to be reckoned both as an
Egyptian, and in the number of the Greeks.
72. Lesbos.]—Ver. 591. This was an island in the Ægean sea, lying to
the south of Troy.
73. Plectrum.]—Ver. 601. This was a little rod, or staff, with which the
player used to strike the strings of the lyre, or cithara, on which he was
playing.
74. Chariclo.]—Ver. 636. She was the daughter of Apollo, or of
Oceanus, but is supposed not to have been the same person that is
mentioned by Apollodorus as the mother of the prophet Tiresias.

75. A baneful serpent.]—Ver. 652. This happened when one of the
arrows of Hercules, dipped in the poison of the Lernæan Hydra,
pierced the foot of Chiron while he was examining it.
76. The three Goddesses.]—Ver. 654. Namely, Clotho, Lachesis, and
Atropos, the ‘Parcæ,’ or ‘Destinies.’
77. Philyrean.]—Ver. 676. Chiron was the son of Philyra, by Saturn.
78. Messenian.]—Ver. 679. Elis and Messenia were countries of
Peloponnesus; the former was on the northwest, and the latter on the
southwest side of it.
79. Plains of Pylos.]—Ver. 684. There were three cities named Pylos in
Peloponnesus. One was in Elis, another in Messenia, and the third was
situate between the other two. The latter is supposed to have been the
native place of Nestor, though they all laid claim to that honor.
80. Neleus.]—Ver. 689. He was the king of Pylos, and the father of
Nestor.
81. The old man.]—Ver. 702. Clarke quaintly translates ‘at senior,’ ‘but
then the old blade.’
82. The ‘Touchstone.’]—Ver. 706. It is a matter of doubt among
commentators whether ‘index’ here means a general term for the
touchstone, by which metals are tested; or whether it means that Battus
was changed into one individual stone, which afterwards was called
‘index.’ Lactantius, by his words, seems to imply that the latter was the
case. He says, ‘He changed him into a stone, which, from this
circumstance, is called “index” about Pylos.’ ‘Index’ was a name of
infamy, corresponding with the Greek word συκοφάντης, and with our
term ‘spy.’
83. Munychia.]—Ver. 709. Munychia was the name of a promontory
and harbor of Attica, between the Piræus and the promontory of
‘Sunium.’ The spot was so called from Munychius, who there built a
temple in honor of Diana.
84. Balearic.]—Ver. 727. The Baleares were the islands of Majorca,
Minorca, and Iviza, in the Mediterranean, near the coast of Spain. The

natives of these islands were famous for their skill in the use of the
sling. That weapon does not appear to have been used in the earliest
times among the Greeks, as Homer does not mention it; it had,
however, been introduced by the time of the war with Xerxes, though
even then the sling was, perhaps, rarely used as a weapon. The
Acarnanians and the Achæans of Agium, Patræ, and Dymæ were very
expert in the use of the sling. That used by the Achæans was made of
three thongs of leather, and not of one only, like those of other nations.
The natives of the Balearic isles are said to have attained their skill
from the circumstance of their mothers, when they were children,
obliging them to obtain their food by striking it, from a tree, with a
sling. While other slings were made of leather, theirs were made of
rushes. Besides stones, plummets of lead, called ‘glandes,’ (as in the
present instance), and μολύβδιδες, of a form between acorns and
almonds, were cast in moulds, to be thrown from slings. They have
been frequently dug up in various parts of Greece, and particularly on
the plains of Marathon. Some have the device of a thunderbolt; while
others are inscribed with δέξαι, ‘take this.’ It was a prevalent idea with
the ancients that the stone discharged from the sling became red hot in
its course, from the swiftness of its motion.
85. Adjusts his mantle.]—Ver. 733. ‘Chlamydemque ut pendeat apte,
Collocat,’ etc., is translated by Clarke—‘And he places his coat that it
might hang agreeably, that the border and all its gold might appear.’
86. That his wings.]—Ver. 736. Clarke renders ‘ut tersis niteant talaria
plantis,’ ‘that his wings shine upon his spruce feet.’
87. God who inhabits Lemnos.]—Ver. 757. Being precipitated from
heaven for his deformity, Vulcan fell upon the Isle of Lemnos, in the
Ægean Sea, where he exercised the craft of a blacksmith, according to
the mythologists. The birth of Ericthonius, by the aid of Minerva, is
here referred to.
88. Tritonia.]—Ver. 783. Minerva is said to have been called Tritonia,
either from the Cretan word τριτω, signifying ‘a head,’ as she sprang
from the head of Jupiter; or from Trito, a lake of Libya, near which she
was said to have been born.

89. Tritonian.]—Ver. 794. Athens, namely, which was sacred to Pallas,
or Minerva, its tutelary divinity.
90. Sidonis.]—Ver. 840. Sidon, or Sidonis, was a maritime city of
Phœnicia, near Tyre, of whose greatness it was not an unworthy rival.

BOOK THE THIRD.

FABLE I.
Jupiter, having carried away Europa, her father, Agenor, commands his son
Cadmus to go immediately in search of her, and either to bring back his
sister with him, or never to return to Phœnicia. Cadmus, wearied with his
toils and fruitless inquiries, goes to consult the oracle at Delphi, which
bids him observe the spot where he should see a cow lie down, and build
a city there, and give the name of Bœotia to the country.
And now the God, having laid aside the shape of the deceiving Bull, had
discovered himself, and reached the Dictæan land; when her father, ignorant
of her fate, commands Cadmus to seek her thus ravished, and adds exile as
the punishment, if he does not find her; being both affectionate and
unnatural in the self-same act. The son of Agenor, having wandered over
the whole world,1 as an exile flies from his country and the wrath of his
father, for who is there that can discover the intrigues of Jupiter?
A suppliant, he consults the oracle of Phœbus, and inquires in what land he
must dwell. “A heifer,” Phœbus says, “will meet thee in the lonely fields,
one that has never borne the yoke, and free from the crooked plough. Under
her guidance, go on thy way; and where she shall lie down on the grass,
there cause a city to be built, and call it the Bœotian2 city.”
[III. 13-34

Scarcely had Cadmus well got down from the Castalian III. 14-34] cave,3
when he saw a heifer, without a keeper, slowly going along, bearing no
mark of servitude upon her neck. He follows, and pursues her steps with
leisurely pace, and silently adores Phœbus, the adviser of his way. And now
he had passed the fords of the Cephisus, and the fields of Panope, when the
cow stood still and raising her forehead, expansive with lofty horns,

towards heaven, she made the air reverberate with her lowings. And so,
looking back on her companions that followed behind, she lay down, and
reposed her side upon the tender grass. Cadmus returned thanks, and
imprinted kisses upon the stranger land, and saluted the unknown
mountains and fields. He was now going to offer sacrifice to Jupiter, and
commanded his servants to go and fetch some water for the libation from
the running springs. An ancient grove was standing there, as yet profaned
by no axe. There was a cavern in the middle of it, thick covered with twigs
and osiers, forming a low arch by the junction of the rocks; abounding with
plenty of water. Hid in this cavern, there was a dragon sacred to Mars,4
adorned with crests and a golden color. His eyes sparkle with fire, and all
his body is puffed out with poison; three tongues, too, are brandished, and
his teeth stand in a triple row.
EXPLANATION.

Reverting to the history of Europa, it may be here remarked, that
Apollodorus has preserved her genealogy. Libya, according [III. 35-48 to
that author, had two sons by Neptune, Belus and Agenor. The latter
married Telephassa, by whom he had Cadmus, Phœnix, and Cilix, and
a daughter named Europa. Some ancient writers, however, say, that
Europa was the daughter of Phœnix, and the grandchild of Agenor.
Some authors, and Ovid among the rest, have supposed that Europe
received its name from Europa. Bochart has, with considerable
probability, suggested that it was originally so called from the fair
complexion of the III. 35-49] people who inhabited it. Europa herself
may have received her name also from the fairness of her complexion:
hence, the poets, as the Scholiast on Theocritus tells us, invented a
fable, that a daughter of Juno stole her mother’s paint, to give it to
Europa, who used it with so much success as to ensure, by its use, an
extremely fair and beautiful complexion.

FABLE II.
The companions of Cadmus, fetching water from the fountain of Mars, are
devoured by the Dragon that guards it. Cadmus, on discovering their

destruction, slays the monster, and, by the advice of Minerva, sows the
teeth, which immediately produce a crop of armed men. They forthwith
quarrel among themselves, and kill each other, with the exception of five
who assist Cadmus in building the city of Thebes.
After the men who came from the Tyrian nation had touched this grove
with ill-fated steps, and the urn let down into the water made a splash; the
azure dragon stretched forth his head from the deep cave, and uttered
dreadful hissings. The urns dropped from their hands; and the blood left
their bodies, and a sudden trembling seized their astonished limbs. He
wreathes his scaly orbs in rolling spires, and with a spring becomes twisted
into mighty folds; and uprearing himself from below the middle into the
light air, he looks down upon all the grove, and is of as large a size,5 as, if
you were to look on him entire, the serpent which separates the two Bears.
There is no delay; he seizes the Phœnicians (whether they are resorting to
their arms or to flight, or whether fear itself is preventing either step); some
he kills with [III. 48-71 his sting,6 some with his long folds, some breathed
upon7 by the venom of his baneful poison.
III. 50-83]

The sun, now at its height, had made the shadows but small: the son of
Agenor wonders what has detained his companion and goes to seek his
men. His garment was a skin torn from a lion; his weapon was a lance with
shining steel, and a javelin; and a courage superior to any weapon. When he
entered the grove, and beheld the lifeless bodies, and the victorious enemy
of immense size upon them, licking the horrid wounds with bloodstained
tongue, he said, “Either I will be the avenger of your death, bodies of my
faithful companions, or I will be a sharer in it.” Thus he said; and with his
right hand he raised a huge stone,8 and hurled the vast weight with a
tremendous effort. And although high walls with lofty towers would have
been shaken with the shock of it, yet the dragon remained without a wound;
and, being defended by his scales as though with a coat of mail, and the
hardness of his black hide, he repelled the mighty stroke with his skin. But
he did not overcome the javelin as well with the same hardness; which
stood fast, fixed in the middle joint of his yielding spine, and sank with the
entire point of steel into his entrails. Fierce with pain, he turned his head

towards his back, and beheld his wounds, and bit the javelin fixed there.
And after he had twisted it on every side with all his might, with difficulty
he wrenched it from his back; yet the steel [III. 71-100 stuck fast in his bones.
But then, when this newly inflicted wound has increased his wonted fury,
his throat swelled with gorged veins, and white foam flowed around his
pestilential jaws. The Earth, too, scraped with the scales, sounds again, and
the livid steam that issues from his infernal mouth,9 infects the tainted air.
One while he is enrolled in spires making enormous rings; sometimes he
unfolds himself straighter than a long beam. Now with a vast impulse, like a
torrent swelled with rain, he is borne along, and bears down the obstructing
forests with his breast. The son of Agenor gives way a little; and by the
spoil of the lion he sustains the shock, and with his lance extended before
him, pushes back his mouth, as it advances. III. 83-112] The dragon rages, and
vainly inflicts wounds on the hard steel, and fixes his teeth upon the point.
And now the blood began to flow from his poisonous palate, and had dyed
the green grass with its spray. But the wound was slight; because he
recoiled from the stroke, and drew back his wounded throat, and by
shrinking prevented the blow from sinking deep, and did not suffer it to go
very far. At length, the son of Agenor, still pursuing, pressed the spear
lodged in his throat, until an oak stood in his way as he retreated, and his
neck was pierced, together with the trunk. The tree was bent with the
weight of the serpent, and groaned at having its trunk lashed with the
extremity of its tail.
While the conqueror was surveying the vast size of his vanquished enemy,
a voice was suddenly heard (nor was it easy to understand whence it was,
but heard it was). “Why, son of Agenor, art thou thus contemplating the
dragon slain by thee? Even thou thyself shalt be seen in the form of a
dragon.”10 He, for a long time in alarm, lost his color together with his
presence of mind, and his hair stood on end with a chill [III. 101-119 of terror.
Lo! Pallas, the favorer of the hero, descending through the upper region of
the air, comes to him, and bids him sow the dragon’s teeth under the earth
turned up, as the seeds of a future people. He obeyed; and when he had
opened a furrow with the pressed plough, he scattered the teeth on the
ground as ordered, the seed of a race of men. Afterwards (’tis beyond
belief) the turf began to move, and first appeared a point of a spear out of

the furrows, next the coverings of heads nodding with painted cones;11 then
the shoulders and the breast, and the arms laden with weapons start up, and
a crop of men armed with shields grows apace. So, when the curtains12 are
drawn up in the joyful theaters, figures III. 112-130] are wont to rise, and first
to show their countenances; by degrees the rest; and being drawn out in a
gradual continuation, the whole appear, and place their feet on the lowest
edge of the stage. Alarmed with this new enemy, Cadmus is preparing to
take arms, when one of the people that the earth had produced cries out,
“Do not take up arms, nor engage thyself in civil war.” And then, engaged
hand to hand, he strikes one of his earth-born brothers with the cruel sword,
while he himself falls by a dart sent from a distance. [III. 120-130 He, also,
who had put him to death, lives no longer than the other, and breathes forth
the air which he has so lately received. In a similar manner, too, the whole
troop becomes maddened, and the brothers so newly sprung up, fall in fight
with each other, by mutual wounds. And now the youths that had the space
of so short an existence allotted them, beat with throbbing breast their
blood-stained mother, five only remaining, of whom Echion13 was one. He,
by the advice of Tritonia, threw his arms upon the ground, and both asked
and gave the assurance of brotherly concord.
The Sidonian stranger had these as associates in his task, when he built the
city that was ordered by the oracle of Phœbus.
EXPLANATION.

Agenor, on losing his daughter, commands his sons to go in search of
her, and not to return till they have found her. The young princes,
either unable to learn what was become of her, or, perhaps, being too
weak to recover her out of the hands of the king of Crete, did not
return to their father, but established themselves in different countries;
Cadmus settling in Bœotia, Cilix in Cilicia, to which he gave his name,
and Phœnix, as Hyginus tells us, remaining in Africa. Photius, quoting
from Conon, the historian, informs us, that the hope of conquering
some country in Europe, and establishing a colony there, was the true
ground of the voyage of Cadmus.
Palæphatus, and other writers, say, that the Dragon which was killed
by Cadmus was a king of the country, who was named Draco, and was

a son of Mars: that his teeth were his subjects, who rallied again after
their defeat, and that Cadmus put them all to the sword, except
Chthonius, Udeus, Hyperenor, Pelor, and Echion, who became
reconciled to him. Heraclitus, however, assures us, that Cadmus really
did slay a serpent, which was very annoying to the Bœotian territory.
Bochart and Le Clerc are of opinion that the Fable has the following
foundation:—They say, that in the Phœnician language, the same word
signifies either the teeth of a serpent, or short javelins, pointed with
brass; that the word which signifies the number five likewise means an
army; and that probably, from these circumstances, the Fable may have
taken its rise. For the Greeks, in following the annals written in the
Phœnician language, while writing the history of the founder of
Thebes, instead of describing his soldiers as wearing helmets on their
heads, with back and breast-plates, and with darts in their [III. 131-132
hands pointed with brass, which equipment was then entirely novel in
Greece, chose rather to follow the more wonderful version, and to say,
that Cadmus had five companions produced from the teeth of a
serpent; as, according to Bochart’s suggestion, the same Phœnician
phrase may either signify a company of men sprung from the teeth of a
serpent, or a company of men armed with brazen darts.
This conjecture is, perhaps, confirmed by a story related by Herodotus
(book ii.), which resembles it very much. He tells us, that
Psammeticus, king of Egypt, being driven to the marshy parts of his
kingdom, sent to consult the oracle of Latona, which answered that he
should be restored by brass men coming from the sea. At the time, this
answer appeared to him entirely frivolous; but certain Ionian soldiers,
being obliged, some years after, to retire to Egypt, and appearing on
the shore with their weapons and armor, all of brass, those who
perceived them ran immediately to inform the king, that men clad in
brass were plundering the country. The prince then fully
comprehended the meaning of the oracle, and making an alliance with
them, recovered his throne by the assistance they gave him. These
brass men come from the sea, and those sprung from the earth were
soldiers who assisted Psammeticus and Cadmus in carrying out their
objects. Bochart’s conjecture is strengthened by the fact, that Cadmus

was either the inventor of the cuirass and javelin, or the first that
brought them into Greece. Without inquiring further into the subject,
we may conclude, that the men sprung from the earth, or the dragon’s
teeth which were sown, were the people of the country, whom Cadmus
found means to bring over to his interest; and that they first helped him
to conquer his enemies, and then to build the citadel of Thebes, to
ensure his future security. Apollodorus says that Cadmus, to expiate
the slaughter of the dragon, was obliged to serve Mars a whole year;
which year, containing eight of III. 131-142] our years, it is not
improbable that Cadmus rendered services for a long time to his new
allies before he received any assistance from them.

FABLE III.
Actæon, the grandson of Cadmus, fatigued with hunting and excessive
heat, inadvertently wanders to the cool valley of Gargaphie, the usual
retreat of Diana, when tired with the same exercise. There, to his
misfortune, he surprises the Goddess and her Nymphs while bathing, for
which she transforms him into a stag, and his own hounds tear him to
pieces.
And now Thebes was standing; now Cadmus, thou mightst seem happy in
thy exile. Both Mars and Venus14 [III. 132-150 had become thy father-in-law
and mother-in-law; add to this, issue by a wife so illustrious, so many
sons15 and daughters, and grandchildren, dear pledges of love; these, too,
now of a youthful age. But, forsooth, the last day of life must always be
awaited by man, and no one ought to be pronounced happy before his
death,16 and his last obsequies. Thy grandson, Cadmus, was the first
occasion of sorrow to thee, among so much prosperity, the horns, too, not
his own, placed upon his forehead, and you, O dogs, glutted with the blood
of your master. But, if you diligently inquire into his case, you will find the
fault of an accident, and not criminality in him; for what criminality did
mistake embrace?
III. 143-170]

There was a mountain stained with the blood of various wild beasts; and
now the day had contracted the meridian shadow of things, and the sun was
equally distant from each extremity of the heavens; when the Hyantian
youth17 thus addressed the partakers of his toils, as they wandered along the
lonely haunts of the wild beasts, with gentle accent: “Our nets are
moistened, my friends, and our spears, too, with the blood of wild beasts;
and the day has yielded sufficient sport; when the next morn, borne upon
her rosy chariot, shall bring back the light, let us seek again our proposed
[III. 151-173 task. Now Phœbus is at the same distance from both lands, the
Eastern and the Western, and is cleaving the fields with his heat. Cease
your present toils, and take away the knotted nets.” The men execute his
orders, and cease their labors. There was a valley, thick set with pitch-trees
and the sharp-pointed cypress; by name Gargaphie,18 sacred to the active
Diana. In the extreme recess of this, there was a grotto in a grove, formed
by no art; nature, by her ingenuity, had counterfeited art; for she had formed
a natural arch, in the native pumice and the light sand-stones. A limpid
fountain ran murmuring on the right hand with its little stream, having its
spreading channels edged with a border of grass. Here, when wearied with
hunting, the Goddess of the woods was wont to bathe her virgin limbs in
clear water.
After she had entered there, she handed to one of the Nymphs, her armor-
bearer, her javelin, her quiver, and her unstrung bow. Another Nymph put
her arms under her mantle, when taken off: two removed the sandals from
her feet. But Crocale,19 the daughter of Ismenus, more skilled than they,
gathered her hair, which lay scattered over her neck, into a knot, although
she herself was with her hair loose. III. 171-197] Nephele,20 and Hyale,21 and
Rhanis,22 fetch water, Psecas23 and Phyale24 do the same, and pour it from
their large urns. And while the Titanian Goddess was there bathing in the
wonted [III. 174-198 stream, behold! the grandson of Cadmus, having deferred
the remainder of his sport till next day, came into the grove, wandering
through the unknown wood, with uncertain steps; thus did his fate direct
him.
Soon as he entered the grotto, dropping with its springs, the Nymphs, naked
as they were, on seeing a man, smote their breasts, and filled all the woods
with sudden shrieks, and gathering round Diana, covered her with their

bodies. Yet the Goddess herself was higher than they, and was taller than
them all by the neck. The color that is wont to be in clouds, tinted by the
rays of the sun when opposite, or that of the ruddy morning, was on the
features of Diana, when seen without her garments. She, although
surrounded with the crowd of her attendants, stood sideways, and turned her
face back; and how did she wish that she had her arrows at hand; and so she
took up water,25 which she did have at hand, and threw it over the face of
the man, and sprinkling his hair with the avenging stream, she added these
words, the presages of his future woe: “Now thou mayst tell, if tell thou
canst, how that I was seen by thee without my garments.” Threatening no
more, she places on his sprinkled head the horns of a lively stag; she adds
length to his neck, and sharpens the tops of his ears; and she changes his
hands into feet, and his arms into long legs, and covers his body with a
spotted coat of hair; fear, too is added. III. 198-212] The Autonoëian26 hero
took to flight, and wondered [III. 199-213 that he was so swift in his speed; but
when he beheld his own horns in the wonted stream, he was about to say,
“Ah, wretched me!” when no voice followed. He groaned; that was all his
voice, and his tears trickled down a face not his own, but that of a stag. His
former understanding alone remained. What should he do? Should he return
home, and to the royal abode? or should he lie hid in the woods? Fear
hinders the one step, shame the other. While he was hesitating, the dogs
espied him, and first Melampus,27 and the good-nosed Ichnobates gave the
signal, in full cry. Ichnobates,28 was a Gnossian dog; Melampus was of
Spartan breed. Then the rest rush on, swifter than the rapid winds;
Pamphagus,29 and Dorcæus,30 and Oribasus,31 all Arcadian dogs; and able
Nebrophonus,32 and with Lælaps,33 fierce Theron,34 and Pterelas,35
excelling in III. 212-221] speed, Agre36 in her scent, and Hylæus,37 [III. 214-223
lately wounded by a fierce boar, and Nape,38 begotten by a wolf, and
Pœmenis,39 that had tended cattle, and Harpyia,40 followed by her two
whelps, and the Sicyonian Ladon,41 having a slender girth; Dromas,42 too,
and Canace,43 Sticte,44 and Tigris, and Alce,45 and Leucon,46 with snow-
white hair, and Asbolus,47 with black, and the able-bodied Lacon,48 and
Aëllo,49 good at running, and Thoüs,50and swift Lycisca,51 with her Cyprian
brother, Harpalus,52 too, having his black face marked with white down III.
221-245] the middle, and Melaneus,53 and Lachne,54 with a wire-haired body,
and [III. 224-246 Labros,55 and Agriodos,56 bred of a Dictæan sire, but of a

Laconian dam, and Hylactor,57 with his shrill note; and others which it were
tedious to recount.
This pack, in eagerness for their prey, are borne over rocks and cliffs, and
crags difficult of approach, where the path is steep, and where there is no
road. He flies along the routes by which he has so often pursued; alas! he is
now flying from his own servants. Fain would he have cried, “I am Actæon,
recognize your own master.” Words are wanting to his wishes; the air
resounds with their barking. Melanchætes58 was the first to make a wound
on his back, Theridamas59 the next; Oresitrophus60 fastened upon his
shoulder. These had gone out later, but their course was shortened by a near
cut through the hill. While they hold their master, the rest of the pack come
up, and fasten their teeth in his body. Now room is wanting for more
wounds. He groans, and utters a noise, though not that of a man, still, such
as a stag cannot make; and he fills the well-known mountains with dismal
moans, and suppliant on his bended knees, and like one in entreaty, he turns
round his silent looks as though they were his arms.
But his companions, in their ignorance, urge on the eager pack with their
usual cries, and seek Actæon with their eyes; and cry out “Actæon” aloud,
as though he were absent. At his name he turns his head, as they complain
that he is not III. 245-252] there, and in his indolence, is not enjoying a sight of
the sport afforded them. He wished, indeed, he had been away, but there [III.
247-252 he was; and he wished to see, not to feel as well, the cruel feats of his
own dogs. They gather round him on all sides, and burying their jaws in his
body, tear their master in pieces under the form of an imaginary stag. And
the rage of the quiver-bearing Diana is said not to have been satiated, until
his life was ended by many a wound.
EXPLANATION.

If the maxim of Horace, ‘Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus,’
had been a little more frequently observed by the ancient poets, their
Deities would not have been so often placed in a degrading or
disgusting light before posterity. There cannot be a better illustration of
the truth of this than the present Fable, where Ovid represents the
chaste and prudent Diana as revenging herself in a cruel and barbarous

manner for the indiscretion, or rather misfortune, of an innocent young
man.
Cicero mentions several Goddesses of the name of Diana. The first
was the daughter of Jupiter and Proserpine; the second of Jupiter and
Latona; and the third of Upis and Glauce. Strabo mentions another
Diana, named Britomartis, the daughter of Eubalus. The worship,
however, of Diana as the Goddess of the Moon, was, most probably,
derived from Egypt, with the Isis of whom she is perhaps identical.
The adventure narrated in this Fable is most probably to be attributed
to Diana Britomartis, as Strabo tells us, that she was particularly fond
of the chase. Pausanias, in his Attica, tells the story in much the same
terms, but he adds, that on seeing Diana bathing, the novelty of the
sight excited Actæon’s curiosity, and prompted him to approach nearer.
To explain this fable, some authors suggest, that Actæon’s dogs
becoming mad, devoured him; while others suppose, that having
ruined himself by the expense of supporting a large pack of hounds,
and a hunting establishment, it was reported that he had been devoured
by his dogs. Diodorus Siculus, and Euripides, tell us, that Actæon
showed contempt to Diana, and was about to eat of the sacrifice that
had been offered to her; and of course, in such a case, punishment at
the hands of the Goddess would be deemed a just retribution.
Apollodorus says, that Actæon was brought up by Chiron, and that he
was put to death on Mount Cithæron, for having seen Diana bathing;
though, according to one ancient authority, he was punished for having
made improper overtures to Semele. Apollodorus also says, that his
dogs died of grief, on the loss of their master, and he has preserved
some of their names.
[III. 253-274 III. 253-277]

FABLE IV.
Juno, incensed against Semele for her intrigue with Jupiter, takes the form
of Beroë, the more easily to ensure her revenge. Having first infused in
Semele suspicions of her lover, she then recommends her to adopt a
certain method of proving his constancy. Semele, thus deceived, obtains a

reluctant promise from Jupiter, to make his next visit to her in the
splendor and majesty in which he usually approached his wife.
They speak in various ways of this matter. To some, the Goddess seems
more severe than is proper; others praise her, and call her deserving of her
state of strict virginity: both sides find their reasons. The wife of Jupiter
alone does not so much declare whether she blames or whether she
approves, as she rejoices at the calamity of a family sprung from Agenor,
and transfers the hatred that she has conceived from the Tyrian mistress to
the partners of her race. Lo! a fresh occasion is now added to the former
one; and she grieves that Semele is pregnant from the seed of great Jupiter.
She then lets loose her tongue to abuse.
“And what good have I done by railing so often?” said she. “She herself
must be attacked by me. If I am properly called the supreme Juno, I will
destroy her; if it becomes me to hold the sparkling sceptre in my right hand;
if I am the queen, and both the sister and wife of Jupiter. The sister I am, no
doubt. But I suppose she is content with a stolen embrace, and the injury to
my bed is but trifling. She is now pregnant; that alone was wanting; and she
bears the evidence of his crime in her swelling womb, and wishes to be
made a mother by Jupiter, a thing which hardly fell to my lot alone. So
great is her confidence in her beauty. I will take care61 he shall deceive her;
and may I be no daughter of Saturn, if she does not descend to the Stygian
waves, sunk there by her own dear Jupiter.”
Upon this she rises from her throne, and, hidden in a cloud of fiery hue, she
approaches the threshold of [III. 274-301 Semele. Nor did she remove the
clouds before she counterfeited an old woman, and planted gray hair on her
temples; and furrowed her skin with wrinkles, and moved her bending
limbs with palsied step, III. 277-301] and made her voice that of an old
woman. She became Beroë62 herself, the Epidaurian63 nurse of Semele.
When, therefore, upon engaging in discourse with her, and after long
talking, they came to the name of Jupiter, she sighed, and said, “I only wish
it may be Jupiter; yet I am apt to fear everything. Many a one under the
name of a God has invaded a chaste bed. Nor yet is it enough that he is
Jupiter; let him, if, indeed, he is the real one, give some pledge of his
affection; and beg of him to bestow his caresses on thee, just in the

greatness and form in which he is received by the stately Juno; and let him
first assume his ensigns of royalty.” With such words did Juno tutor the
unsuspecting daughter of Cadmus. She requested of Jupiter a favor, without
naming it. To her the God said, “Make thy choice, thou shalt suffer no
denial; and that thou mayst believe it the more, let the majesty of the
Stygian stream bear witness. He is the dread and the God of the Gods.”
Overjoyed at what was her misfortune, and too easily prevailing, as now
about to perish by the complaisance of her lover, Semele said, “Present
thyself to me, just such as the daughter of Saturn is wont to embrace thee,
when ye honor the ties of Venus.” The God wished to shut her mouth as she
spoke, but the hasty words had now escaped into air. He groaned; for
neither was it now possible for her not to have wished, nor for him not to
have sworn. Therefore, in extreme sadness, he mounted the lofty skies, and
with his nod drew along the attendant clouds; to which he added showers
and lightnings mingled with winds, and thunders, and the inevitable
thunderbolt.
[III. 302-315
EXPLANATION.

It is most probable, that an intrigue between a female named Semele
and one of the princes called Jupiter having had a tragical end, gave
occasion to this Fable. Pausanias, in his Laconica, tells us, that
Cadmus, exasperated against his daughter Semele, caused her and her
son to be thrown into the sea; and that being thrown ashore at Oreate,
an ancient town of Laconia, Semele was buried there.
III. 302-316]

Semele, according to Apollodorus, was, after her death, ranked among
the Goddesses by the name of Thyone. He says that her son Bacchus
going down to hell, brought her thence, and carried her up to heaven;
where, according to Nonnus, she conversed with Pallas and Diana, and
ate at the same table with Jupiter, Mercury, Mars, and Venus. The
author, known by the name of Orpheus, gives Semele the title of
Goddess, and Πανβασίλεια, or ‘Queen of the Universe.’

FABLE V.
Semele is visited by Jupiter, according to the promise she had obliged him
to make; but, being unable to support the effulgence of his lightning, she
is burnt to ashes in his presence. Bacchus, with whom she is pregnant, is
preserved; and Tiresias decided the dispute between Jupiter and Juno,
concerning the sexes.
And yet, as much as possible, he tries to mitigate his powers. Nor is he now
armed with those flames with which he had overthrown the hundred-handed
Typhœus; in those, there is too much fury. There is another thunder, less
baneful, to which the right hand of the Cyclops gave less ferocity and
flames, and less anger. The Gods above call this second-rate thunder; it he
assumes, and he enters the house of Agenor. Her mortal body could not
endure64 the æthereal shock, and she was burned amid her nuptial presents.
The infant, as yet unformed, is taken out of the womb of his mother, and
prematurely (if we can believe it) is inserted in the thigh of the father, and
completes the time that he should have spent in the womb. His aunt, Ino,
nurses him privately in his early cradle. After that, the Nyseian Nymphs65
conceal him, entrusted to [III. 315-338 them, in their caves, and give him the
nourishment of milk.
And while these things are transacted on earth by the III. 316-342] law of
destiny, and the cradle of Bacchus, twice born,66 is secured; they tell that
Jupiter, by chance, well drenched with nectar, laid aside all weighty cares,
and engaged in some free jokes with Juno, in her idle moments, and said:
“Decidedly the pleasure of you, females, is greater than that which falls to
the lot of us males.” She denied it. It was agreed between them, to ask what
was the opinion of the experienced Tiresias. To him both pleasures were
well known. For he had separated with a blow of his staff two bodies of
large serpents, as they were coupling in a green wood; and (passing strange)
become a woman from a man, he had spent seven autumns. In the eighth, he
again saw the same serpents, and said, “If the power of a stroke given you
is so great as to change the condition of the giver into the opposite one,
I will now strike you again.” Having struck the same snakes, his former sex
returned, and his original shape came again. He, therefore, being chosen as
umpire in this sportive contest, confirmed the words of Jove. The daughter

of Saturn is said to have grieved more than was fit, and not in proportion to
the subject; and she condemned the eyes of the umpire to eternal darkness.
But the omnipotent father (for it is not allowed any God to cancel the acts
of another Deity) gave him the knowledge of things to come, in
recompense for his loss of sight, and alleviated his punishment by this
honor.
[III. 339-362

FABLE VI.
Echo, having often amused Juno with her stories, to give time to Jupiter’s
mistresses to make their escape, the Goddess, at last, punishes her for the
deception. She is slighted and despised by Narcissus, with whom she
falls in love.
He, much celebrated by fame throughout the cities of Aonia,67 gave
unerring answers to the people consulting him. The azure Liriope68 was the
first to make essay and experiment of III. 342-371] his infallible voice; whom
once Cephisus encircled in his winding stream, and offered violence to,
when enclosed by his waters. The most beauteous Nymph produced an
infant from her teeming womb, which even then might have been beloved,
and she called him Narcissus. Being consulted concerning him, whether he
was destined to see the distant season of mature old age; the prophet,
expounding destiny, said, “If he never recognizes himself.” Long did the
words of the soothsayer appear frivolous; but the event, the thing itself, the
manner of his death, and the novel nature of his frenzy, confirmed it.
And now the son of Cephisus had added one to three times five years, and
he might seem to be a boy and a young man as well. Many a youth,69 and
many a damsel, courted him; but there was so stubborn a pride in his
youthful beauty, that no youths, no damsels made any impression on him.
The noisy Nymph, who has neither learned to hold her tongue after another
speaking, nor to speak first herself, resounding Echo, espied him, as he was
driving the timid stags into his nets. Echo was then a body, not a voice; and
yet the babbler had no other use of her speech than she now has, to be able
to repeat the last words out of many. [III. 362-385 Juno had done this; because

when often she might have been able to detect the Nymphs in the mountains
in the embrace of her husband, Jupiter, she purposely used to detain70 the
Goddess with a long story, until the Nymphs had escaped. After the
daughter of Saturn perceived this, she said, “But small exercise of this
tongue, with which I have been deluded, shall be allowed thee, and a very
short use of thy voice.” And she confirmed her threats by the event. Still, in
the end of one’s speaking she redoubles the voice, and returns the words she
hears. When, therefore, she beheld Narcissus71 wandering through III. 371-
401] the pathless forests, and fell in love with him, she stealthily followed
his steps; and the more she followed him, with the nearer flame did she
burn. In no other manner than as when the native sulphur, spread around72
the tops of torches, catches the flame applied to it. Ah! how often did she
desire to accost him in soft accents, and to employ soft entreaties! Nature
resists, and suffers her not to begin; but what Nature does permit, that she is
ready for; to await his voice, to which to return her own words.
By chance, the youth, being separated from the trusty company of his
attendants, cries out, “Is there any one here?” and Echo answers “Here!” He
is amazed; and when he has cast his eyes on every side, he cries out with a
loud voice, “Come!” Whereon she calls the youth who calls. He looks back;
and again, as no one comes, he says, “Why dost thou avoid me?” and just as
many words as he spoke, he receives. He persists; and being deceived by
the imitation of an alternate [III. 385-401 voice, he says, “Let us come together
here;” and Echo, that could never more willingly answer any sound
whatever, replies, “Let us come together here!” and she follows up her own
words, and rushing from the woods,73 is going to throw her arms around the
neck she has so longed for. He flies; and as he flies, he exclaims, “Remove
thy hands from thus embracing me; I will die first, before thou shalt have
the enjoyment of me.” She answers nothing but “Have the enjoyment of
me.” Thus rejected, she lies hid in the woods, and hides her blushing face
with green leaves, and from that time lives in lonely caves; but yet her love
remains, and increases from the mortification of her refusal. Watchful cares
waste away her miserable body; leanness shrivels her skin, and all the juices
of her body fly off in air. Her voice and her bones alone are left.
Her voice still continues, but they say that her bones received the form of
stones. Since then, she lies concealed in the woods, and is never seen on the

mountains: but is heard in all of them. It is her voice alone which remains
alive in her.
III. 402-413]
EXPLANATION.

It appears much more reasonable to attempt the explanation of this
story on the grounds of natural philosophy than of history. The poets,
in their fondness for basing every subject upon fiction, probably
invented the fable, to explain what to them appeared an extraordinary
phenomenon. By way of embellishing their story, they tell us that Echo
was the daughter of the Air and the Tongue, and that the God Pan fell
in love with her; by which, probably, the simple fact is meant, that
some person, represented under the name of that god, endeavored to
trace the cause of this phenomenon.
If, however, we should endeavor to base the story upon purely
historical grounds, we may suppose that it took its rise from some
Nymph, who wandered so far into the woods as to be unable to find
her way out again; and from the fact that those who went to seek her,
hearing nothing but the echo of their own voices, brought back the
strange but unsatisfactory intelligence that the Nymph had been
changed into a voice.
[III. 401-419

FABLE VII.
Narcissus falls in love with his own shadow, which he sees in a fountain;
and, pining to death, the Gods change him into a flower, which still bears
his name.
Thus had he deceived her, thus, too, other Nymphs that sprung from the
water or the mountains, thus the throng of youths before them. Some one,
therefore, who had been despised by him, lifting up his hands towards
heaven, said, “Thus, though he should love, let him not enjoy what he
loves!” Rhamnusia74 assented to a prayer so reasonable. There was a clear
spring, like silver, with its unsullied waters, which neither shepherds, nor
she-goats feeding on the mountains, nor any other cattle, had touched;

which neither bird nor wild beast had disturbed, nor bough falling from a
tree. There was grass around it, which the neighboring water nourished, and
a wood, that suffered the stream to become warm with no rays of the sun.
Here the youth, fatigued both with the labor of hunting and the III. 413-445]
heat, lay down, attracted by the appearance of the spot, and the spring; and,
while he was endeavoring to quench his thirst, another thirst grew upon
him.
While he is drinking, being attracted with the reflection of his own form,
seen in the water, he falls in love with a thing that has no substance; and he
thinks that to be a body, which is but a shadow. He is astonished at himself,
and remains unmoved with the same countenance, like a statue formed of
Parian marble.75 [III. 420-450 Lying on the ground, he gazes on his eyes like
two stars, and fingers worthy of Bacchus, and hair worthy of Apollo, and
his youthful cheeks and ivory neck, and the comeliness of his mouth, and
his blushing complexion mingled with the whiteness of snow; and
everything he admires, for which he himself is worthy to be admired. In his
ignorance, he covets himself; and he that approves, is himself the thing
approved. While he pursues he is pursued, and at the same moment he
inflames and burns. How often does he give vain kisses to the deceitful
spring; how often does he thrust his arms, catching at the neck he sees, into
the middle of the water, and yet he does not catch himself in them. He
knows not what he sees, but what he sees, by it is he inflamed; and the same
mistake that deceives his eyes, provokes them. Why, credulous youth, dost
thou vainly catch at the flying image? What thou art seeking is nowhere;
what thou art in love with, turn but away and thou shalt lose it; what thou
seest, the same is but the shadow of a reflected form; it has nothing of its
own. It comes and stays with thee; with thee it will depart, if thou canst but
depart thence.
No regard for food,76 no regard for repose, can draw him away thence; but,
lying along upon the overshadowed grass, he gazes upon the fallacious
image with unsatiated eyes, and by his own sight he himself is undone.
Raising himself a little while, extending his arms to the woods that stand
around him, he says, “Was ever, O, ye woods! any one more fatally in love?
For this ye know, and have been a convenient shelter for many a one. And
do you remember any one, who ever thus pined away, III. 445-480] during so

long a time, though so many ages of your life has been spent? It both
pleases me and I see it; but what I see, and what pleases me, yet I cannot
obtain; so great a mistake possesses one in love; and to make me grieve the
more, neither a vast sea separates us, nor a long way, nor mountains, nor a
city with its gates closed; we are kept asunder by a little water. He himself
wishes to be embraced; for as [III. 451-483 often as I extend my lips to the
limpid stream, so often does he struggle towards me with his face held up;
you would think he might be touched. It is a very little that stands in the
way of lovers. Whoever thou art, come up hither. Why, dear boy, the choice
one, dost thou deceive me? or whither dost thou retire, when pursued?
Surely, neither my form nor my age is such as thou shouldst shun; the
Nymphs, too, have courted me. Thou encouragest I know not what hopes in
me with that friendly look, and when I extend my arms to thee, thou
willingly extendest thine; when I smile, thou smilest in return; often, too,
have I observed thy tears, when I was weeping; my signs, too, thou
returnest by thy nods, and, as I guess by the motion of thy beauteous mouth,
thou returnest words that come not to my ears. In thee ’tis I, I now perceive;
nor does my form deceive me. I burn with the love of myself, and both raise
the flames and endure them. What shall I do? Should I be entreated, or
should I entreat? What, then, shall I entreat? What I desire is in my power;
plenty has made me poor. Oh! would that I could depart from my own
body! a new wish, indeed, in a lover; I could wish that what I am in love
with was away. And now grief is taking awayA my strength, and no long
period of my life remains; and in my early days am I cut off; nor is death
grievous to me, now about to get rid of my sorrows by death. I wish that he
who is beloved could enjoy a longer life. Now we two, of one mind, shall
die in the extinction of one life.”
Thus he said, and, with his mind but ill at ease, he returned to the same
reflection, and disturbed the water with his tears; and the form was rendered
defaced by the moving of the stream; when he saw it beginning to
disappear, he cried aloud, “Whither dost thou fly? Stay, I beseech thee! and
do not in thy cruelty abandon thy lover; let it be allowed me to behold that
which I may not touch, and to give nourishment to my wretched frenzy.”
And, while he was grieving, he III. 480-510] tore his garment from the upper
border, and beat his naked breast with his palms, white as marble. His

breast, when struck, received a little redness, no otherwise than as [III. 484-510
apples are wont, which are partly white and partly red; or as a grape, not yet
ripe, in the parti-colored clusters, is wont to assume a purple tint. Soon as
he beheld this again in the water, when clear, he could not endure it any
longer; but, as yellow wax with the fire, or the hoar frost of the morning, is
wont to waste away with the warmth of the sun, so he, consumed by love,
pined away, and wasted by degrees with a hidden flame. And now, no
longer was his complexion of white mixed with red; neither his vigor nor
his strength, nor the points which had charmed when seen so lately, nor
even his body, which formerly Echo had been in love with, now remained.
Yet, when she saw these things, although angry, and mindful of his usage of
her, she was grieved, and, as often as the unhappy youth said, “Alas!” she
repeated, “Alas!” with re-echoing voice; and when he struck his arms with
his hands, she, too, returned the like sound of a blow.
His last accents, as he looked into the water, as usual, were these: “Ah,
youth, beloved in vain!” and the spot returned just as many words; and after
he had said, “Farewell!” Echo, too, said, “Farewell!” He laid down his
wearied head upon the green grass, when night closed the eyes that admired
the beauty of their master; and even then, after he had been received into
the infernal abodes, he used to look at himself in the Stygian waters. His
Naiad sisters lamented him, and laid their hair,77 cut off, over their brother;
the Dryads, too, lamented him, and Echo resounded to their lamentations.
And now they were preparing the funeral pile, and the shaken torches, and
the bier. The body was nowhere to be found. Instead of his body, they found
a yellow flower, with white leaves encompassing it in the middle.
EXPLANATION.

If this story is based upon any historical facts, they are entirely lost to
us; as all we learn from history concerning Narcissus, is the [III. 511-512
fact that he was a Thespian by birth. The Fable seems rather to be
intended as a III. 511-512] useful moral lesson, disclosing the fatal effects
of self-love. His pursuit, too, of his own image, ever retiring from his
embrace, strongly resembles the little reality that exists in many of
those pleasures which mankind so eagerly pursue.

Pausanias, in his Bœotica, somewhat varies the story. He tells us that
Narcissus having lost his sister, whom he tenderly loved, and who
resembled him very much, and was his constant companion in the
chase, thought, on seeing himself one day in a fountain, that it was the
shade of his lost sister, and, thereupon, pined away and died of grief.
According to him, the fountain was near a village called Donacon, in
the country of the Thespians. Pausanias regards the account of his
change into the flower which bears his name as a mere fiction, since
Pamphus says that Proserpina, when carried away, long before the time
of Narcissus, gathered that flower in the fields of Enna; and that the
same flower was sacred to her. Persons sacrificing to the Furies, or
Eumenides, used to wear chaplets made of the Narcissus, because that
flower commonly grew about graves and sepulchres.
Tiresias, who predicted the untoward fate of Narcissus, was, as we are
informed by Apollodorus, the son of Evenus and Chariclo, and was the
most renowned soothsayer of his time. He lost his life by drinking of
the fountain of Telphusa when he was overheated; or, as some suppose,
through the unwholesome quality of the water. As he lived to a great
age, and became blind towards the end of his life, the story, which
Ovid mentions, was invented respecting him. Another version of it
was, that he lost his sight, by reason of his having seen Minerva while
bathing. This story was very probably based either upon the fact that
he had composed a Treatise upon the Animal Functions of the Sexes,
or that he had promulgated the doctrine that the stars had not only
souls (a common opinion in those times), but also that they were of
different sexes. He is supposed to have lived about 1200 years before
the Christian era.

FABLE VIII.
Pentheus ridicules the predictions of Tiresias; and not only forbids his
people to worship Bacchus, who had just entered Greece in triumph, but
even commands them to capture him, and to bring him into his presence.
Under the form of Acœtes, one of his companions, Bacchus suffers that
indignity, and relates to Pentheus the wonders which the God had

wrought. The recital enrages Pentheus still more, who thereupon goes to
Mount Cithæron, to disturb the orgies then celebrating there; on which
his own mother and the other Bacchantes tear him to pieces.
This thing, when known, brought deserved fame to the prophet through the
cities of Achaia;78 and great [III. 513-537 was the reputation III. 512-534] of the
soothsayer. Yet Pentheus,79 the son of Echion, a contemner of the Gods
above, alone, of all men, despises him, and derides the predicting words of
the old man, and upbraids him with his darkened state, and the misfortune
of having lost his sight. He, shaking his temples, white with hoary hair,
says: “How fortunate wouldst thou be, if thou as well couldst become
deprived of this light, that thou mightst not behold the rites of Bacchus. For
soon the day will come, and even now I predict that it is not far off, when
the new God Liber, the son of Semele, shall come hither. Unless thou shalt
vouchsafe him the honor of a temple, thou shalt be scattered, torn in pieces,
in a thousand places, and with thy blood thou shalt pollute both the woods,
and thy mother and the sisters of thy mother. These things will come to
pass; for thou wilt not vouchsafe honor to the Divinity; and thou wilt
complain that under this darkness I have seen too much.”
The son of Echion drives him away as he says such things as these.
Confirmation follows his words, and the predictions of the prophet are
fulfilled. Liber comes, and the fields resound with festive howlings. The
crowd runs out; both matrons and new-married women mixed with the men,
both high and low, are borne along to the celebration of rites till then
unknown. “What madness,” says Pentheus, “has confounded your minds,
O ye warlike men,80 descendants of the Dragon? Can brass knocked against
brass prevail so much with you? And the pipe with the bending horn, and
these magical delusions? And shall the yells of women, and madness
produced by wine, and troops of effeminate wretches, and empty
tambourines81 prevail [III. 538-550 over you, whom neither the warrior’s
sword III. 535-549] nor the trumpet could affright, nor troops with weapons
prepared for fight? Am I to wonder at you, old men, who, carried over
distant seas, have fixed in these abodes a new Tyre, and your banished
household Gods, but who now allow them to be taken without a struggle?
Or you, of more vigorous age and nearer to my own, ye youths; whom it
was befitting to be brandishing arms, and not the thyrsus,82 and to be

covered with helmets, not green leaves? Do be mindful, I entreat you, of
what race you are sprung, and assume the courage of that dragon, who
though but one, destroyed many. He died for his springs and his stream; but
do you conquer for your own fame. He put the valiant to death; do you
expel the feeble foe, and regain your country’s honor. If the fates forbid
Thebes to stand long, I wish that engines of war83 and III. 549-577] men
should demolish the walls, and that fire and sword should resound. Then [III.
551-571 should we be wretched without any fault of our own, and our fate
were to be lamented, but not concealed, and our tears would be free from
shame. But now Thebes will be taken by an unarmed boy, whom neither
wars delight, nor weapons, nor the employment of horses, but hair wet with
myrrh, and effeminate chaplets, and purple, and gold interwoven with
embroidered garments; whom I, indeed, (do you only stand aside) will
presently compel to own that his father is assumed, and that his sacred rites
are fictitious. Has Acrisius84 courage enough to despise the vain Deity, and
to shut the gates of Argos against his approach; and shall this stranger
affright Pentheus with all Thebes? Go quickly, (this order he gives to his
servants), go, and bring hither in chains the ringleader. Let there be no
slothful delay in executing my commands.”
His grandfather,85 Cadmus, Athamas, and the rest of the company of his
friends rebuke him with expostulations, and in vain try to restrain him. By
their admonition he becomes more violent, and by being curbed his fury is
irritated, and is on the increase, and the very restraint did him injury. So
have I beheld a torrent, where nothing obstructed it in its course, run gently
and with moderate noise; but wherever beams and stones in its way
withheld it, it ran foaming and raging, [III. 572-594 and more violent from its
obstruction. Behold! the servants return, all stained with blood; and when
their master inquires where Bacchus is, they deny that they have seen
Bacchus. “But this one,” say they, “we have taken, who was his attendant
and minister in his sacred rites.” And then they deliver one, who, from the
Etrurian nation, had followed the sacred rites of the Deity, with his hands
bound behind his back.
Pentheus looks at him with eyes that anger has made terrible, III. 577-598] and
although he can scarcely defer the time of his punishment, he says,
“O wretch, doomed to destruction, and about, by thy death, to set an

example to others, tell me thy name, and the name of thy parents, and thy
country, and why thou dost attend the sacred rites of a new fashion.” He,
void of fear, says, “My name is Acœtes; Mæonia86 is my country; my
parents were of humble station. My father left me no fields for the hardy
oxen to till, no wool-bearing flocks, nor any herds. He himself was but
poor, and he was wont with line, and hooks, to deceive the leaping fishes,
and to take them with the rod. His trade was his only possession. When he
gave that calling over to me, he said, ‘Receive, as the successor and heir of
my employment, those riches which I possess;’ and at his death he left me
nothing but the streams. This one thing alone can I call my patrimony. But
soon, that I might not always be confined to the same rocks, I learned with a
steadying right hand to guide the helm of the ship, and I made observations
with my eyes of the showery Constellation of the Olenian she-goat,87 and
Taygete,88 [III. 594-620 and the Hyades,89 and the Bear, and the quarters of the
winds, and the harbors fit for ships. By chance, as I was making for Delos,
I touched at the coast of the land of Dia,90 and came up to the shore by
plying the oars on the right side; III. 599-632] and I gave a nimble leap, and
lighted upon the wet sand. When the night was past, and the dawn first
began to grow red, I arose and ordered my men to take in fresh water, and I
pointed out the way which led to the stream. I myself, from a lofty
eminence, looked around to see what the breeze promised me; and then I
called my companions, and returned to the vessel. ‘Lo! we are here,’ says
Opheltes, my chief mate; and having found, as he thought, a prize in the
lonely fields, he was leading along the shore, a boy with all the beauty of a
girl. He, heavy with wine and sleep, seemed to stagger, and to follow with
difficulty. I examined his dress, his looks, and his gait, and I saw nothing
there which could be taken to be mortal. I both was sensible of it, and I said
to my companions, ‘I am in doubt what Deity is in that body; but in that
body a Deity there is. Whoever thou art, O be propitious and assist our toils;
and pardon these as well.’ ‘Cease praying for us,’ said Dictys, than whom
there was not another more nimble at climbing to the main-top-yards, and at
sliding down by catching hold of a rope. This Libys, this the yellow-haired
Melanthus, the guardian of the prow, and this Alcimedon approved of; and
Epopeus91 as well, the cheerer of their spirits, who by his voice gave both
rest and time to the oars; and so did all the rest; so blind is the greed for
booty. ‘However,’ [III. 621-648 I said, ‘I will not allow this ship to be damaged

by this sacred freight. Here I have the greatest share of right.’ and I opposed
them at the entrance.
“Lycabas, the boldest of all the number, was enraged, who, expelled from a
city of Etruria, was suffering exile as the punishment for a dreadful
murder.92 He, while I was resisting, seized hold of my throat with his
youthful fist, and shaking me, had thrown me overboard into the sea, if I
had not, although stunned, held fast by grasping a rope. The impious crew
approved of the deed. Then at last Bacchus (for Bacchus it was), as though
his sleep had been broken by the noise, and his sense was returning into his
breast after much wine, said: ‘What are you doing? What is this noise? Tell
me, sailors, III. 632-665] by what means have I come hither? Whither do you
intend to carry me?’ ‘Lay aside thy fears,’ said Proreus, ‘and tell us what
port thou wouldst wish to reach. Thou shalt stop at the land that thou
desirest.’ ‘Direct your course then to Naxos,’93 says Liber, ‘that is my
home; it shall prove a hospitable land for you.’
“In their deceit they swore by the ocean and by all the Deities, that so it
should be; and bade me give sail to the painted ship. Naxos was to our
right; and as I was accordingly setting sail for the right hand, every one said
for himself, ‘What art thou about, madman? What insanity possesses thee,
Acœtes? Stand away to the left.’ The greater part signified their meaning to
me by signs; some whispered in my ear what they wanted. I was at a loss,
and I said, ‘Let some one else take the helm;’ and I withdrew myself from
the execution both of their wickedness, and of my own calling. I was
reviled by them all, and the whole crew muttered reproaches against me.
Æthalion, among them, says, ‘As if, forsooth, all our safety is centred in
thee,’ and he himself comes up, and takes my duty; [III. 649-678 and leaving
Naxos, he steers a different course. Then the God, mocking them as if he
had at last but that moment discovered their knavery, looks down upon the
sea from the crooked stern; and, like one weeping, he says: ‘These are not
the shores, sailors, that you have promised me; this is not the land desired
by me. By what act have I deserved this treatment? What honor is it to you,
if you that are young men, deceive a mere boy? if you that are many,
deceive me, who am but one?’ I had been weeping for some time. The
impious gang laughed at my tears, and beat the sea with hastening oars.
Now by himself do I swear to thee (and no God is there more powerful than

he), that I am relating things to thee as true, as they are beyond all belief.
The ship stood still upon the ocean, no otherwise than if it was occupying a
dry dock. They, wondering at it, persisted in the plying of their oars; they
unfurled their sails, and endeavored to speed onward with this twofold aid.
Ivy impeded the oars,94 and twined around them in encircling wreaths; and
III. 665-699] clung to the sails with heavy clusters of berries. He himself,
having his head encircled with bunches of grapes, brandished a lance
covered with vine leaves. Around him, tigers and visionary forms of lynxes,
and savage bodies of spotted panthers, were extended.
“The men leaped overboard, whether it was madness or fear that caused
this; and first of all, Medon began to grow black with fins, with a flattened
body, and to bend in the curvature of the back-bone. To him Lycabas said,
‘Into what prodigy art thou changing?’ and, as he spoke, the opening of his
mouth was wide, his nose became crooked, and his hardened skin received
scales upon it. But Libys, while he was attempting to urge on the resisting
oars, saw his hands shrink into a small compass, and now to be hands no
longer, and that now, in fact, they may be pronounced fins. Another,
desirous [III. 679-708 to extend his arms to the twisting ropes, had no arms,
and becoming crooked, with a body deprived of limbs, he leaped into the
waves; the end of his tail was hooked, just as the horns of the half-moon are
curved. They flounce about on every side, and bedew the ship with
plenteous spray, and again they emerge, and once more they return beneath
the waves. They sport with all the appearance of a dance, and toss their
sportive bodies, and blow forth the sea, received within their wide nostrils.
Of twenty the moment before (for so many did that ship carry), I was the
only one remaining. The God encouraged me, frightened and chilled with
my body all trembling, and scarcely myself, saying, ‘Shake off thy fear, and
make for Dia.’ Arriving there, I attended upon the sacred rites of Bacchus,
at the kindled altars.”
“We have lent ear to a long story,”95 says Pentheus, “that our anger might
consume its strength in its tediousness. Servants! drag him headlong, and
send to Stygian night his body, racked with dreadful tortures.” At once the
Etrurian Acœtes, dragged away, is shut up in a strong prison; and while the
cruel instruments of the death that is ordered, and the iron and the fire are
being made ready, the report is that the doors III. 699-730] opened of their own

accord, and that the chains, of their own accord, slipped from off his arms,
no one loosening them.
The son of Echion persists: and now he does not command others to go, but
goes himself to where Cithæron,96 chosen for the celebration of these
sacred rites, was resounding with singing, and the shrill voices of the
votaries of Bacchus. Just as the high-mettled steed neighs, when the warlike
trumpeter gives the alarm with the sounding brass, and conceives a desire
for battle, so did the sky, struck with the long-drawn howlings, excite
Pentheus, and his wrath was rekindled on hearing the clamor. There was,
about the middle [III. 708-733 of the mountain, the woods skirting its
extremity, a plain free from trees, and visible on every side. Here his
mother was the first to see him looking on the sacred rites with profane
eyes; she first was moved by a frantic impulse, and she first wounded her
son, Pentheus, by hurling her thyrsus, and cried out, “Ho! come, my two
sisters;97 that boar which, of enormous size, is roaming amid our fields, that
boar I must strike.” All the raging multitude rushes upon him alone; all
collect together, and all follow him, now trembling, now uttering words less
atrocious than before, now blaming himself, now confessing that he has
offended.
However, on being wounded, he says, “Give me thy aid, Autonoë, my aunt;
let the ghost of Actæon98 influence thy feelings.” She knows not what
Actæon means, and tears away his right hand as he is praying; the other is
dragged off by the violence of Ino. The wretched man has now no arms to
extend to his mother; but showing his maimed body, with the limbs torn off,
he says, “Look at this, my mother!” At the sight Agave howls aloud, and
tosses her neck, and shakes her locks in the air; and seizing his head, torn
off, with her blood-stained fingers, she cries out, “Ho! my companions, this
victory is our work!”
The wind does not more speedily bear off, from a lofty tree, the leaves
nipped by the cold of autumn, and now adhering III. 730-733] with difficulty,
than were the limbs of the man, torn asunder by their accursed hands.
Admonished by such examples, the Ismenian matrons frequent the new
worship, and offer frankincense, and reverence the sacred altars.
EXPLANATION.

Cicero mentions two Deities of the name of Bacchus; while other
authors speak of several of that name. The first was the son of Jupiter
and Proserpina; the second was the son of the Nile, and the founder of
the city of Nysa, in Arabia; Caprius was the father of the third. The
fourth was the son of the Moon and Jupiter, in honor of whom the
Orphic ceremonies were performed. The fifth was the son of Nisus and
Thione, and the instituter of the Trieterica. Diodorus Siculus mentions
but three of the name of Bacchus; namely, the Indian, surnamed the
bearded Bacchus, who conquered India; the son of Jupiter and Ceres,
who was represented with horns; and the son of Jupiter and Semele,
who was called the Theban Bacchus.
The most reasonable opinion seems to be that of Herodotus and
Plutarch, who inform us, that the true Bacchus, and the most ancient of
them all, was born in Egypt, and was originally called Osiris. The
worship of that Divinity passed from Egypt to Greece, where it
received great alterations; and, according to Diodorus Siculus, it was
Orpheus who introduced it, and made those innovations. In gratitude to
the family of Cadmus, from which he had received many favors, he
dedicated to Bacchus, the grandson of Cadmus, those mysteries which
had been instituted in honor of Osiris, whose worship was then but
little known in Greece. Diodorus Siculus says, that as Semele was
delivered of Bacchus in the seventh month, it was reported that Jupiter
shut him up in his thigh, to carry him there the remaining time of
gestation. This Fable was probably founded on the meaning of an
equivocal word. The Greek word μηρὸς signifies either ‘a thigh,’ or
‘the hollow of a mountain.’ Thus the Greeks, instead of saying that
Bacchus had been nursed on Mount Nysa, in Arabia, according to the
Egyptian version of the story, published that he had been carried in the
thigh of Jupiter.
As Bacchus applied himself to the cultivation of the vine, and taught
his subjects several profitable and necessary arts, he was honored as a
Divinity; and having won the esteem of many neighboring countries,
his worship soon spread. Among his several festivals there was one
called the Trieterica, which was celebrated every three years. In that
feast the Bacchantes carried the figure of the God in a chariot drawn

by two tigers, or panthers; and, crowned with vine leaves, and holding
thyrsi in their hands, they ran in a frantic manner around the chariot,
filling the air with the noise of tambourines and brazen instruments,
shouting ‘Evoë. Bacche!’ and calling the God by his several names of
Bromius, Lyæus, Evan, Lenæus, and Sabazius. To this ceremonial,
received from the Egyptians, the Greeks added other ceremonies
replete with abominable licentiousness, and repulsive to common
decency. These were often suppressed by public enactment, but were
as often re-established by the votaries of lewdness and immodesty, and
such as found in these festivals a pretext and opportunity for the
commission of the most horrible offences.
The story of the unfortunate fate of Pentheus is supposed by the
ancient writers to have been strictly true. Pentheus, the son of Echion
and Agave, the daughter of Cadmus, having succeeded his grandfather
in his kingdom, is supposed, like him, to have opposed those abuses
that had crept into the mysteries of Bacchus, and went to Mount
Cithæron for the purpose of chastising the Bacchantes, who were
celebrating his festival; whereupon, in their frantic madness, the
worshippers, among whom were his mother and his aunt, tore him in
pieces. Pausanias, however, says that Pentheus really was a wicked
prince; and he somewhat varies his story, as he tells us that having got
into a tree to overlook the secret ceremonies of the orgies, Pentheus
was discovered by the Bacchantes, who punished his curiosity by
putting him to death. The story of the transformation of the mariners is
supposed by Bochart to have been founded on the adventure of certain
merchants from the coast of Etruria, whose vessel had the figure of a
dolphin at the prow, or rather of the fish called ‘tursio,’ probably the
porpoise, or sea-hog. They were probably shipwrecked near the Isle of
Naxos, which was sacred to Bacchus, whose mysteries they had
perhaps neglected, or even despised. On this slender ground, perhaps,
the report spread, that the God himself had destroyed them, as a
punishment for their impiety.

1. Over the whole world.]—Ver. 6. Apollodorus tells us that Cadmus
lived in Thrace until the death of his mother, Telephassa, who

accompanied him; and that, after her decease, he proceeded to Delphi
to make inquiries of the oracle.
2. Bœotian.]—Ver. 13. He implies here that Bœotia received its name
from the Greek word βοῦς, ‘an ox’ or ‘cow.’ Other writers say that it
was so called from Bœotus, the son of Neptune and Arne. Some
authors also say that Thebes received its name from the Syrian word
‘Thebe,’ which signified ‘an ox.’
3. Castalian cave.]—Ver. 14. Castalius was a fountain at the foot of
Mount Parnassus, and in the vicinity of Delphi. It was sacred to the
Muses.
4. Sacred to Mars.]—Ver. 32. Euripides says, that the dragon had been
set there by Mars to watch the spot and the neighboring stream. Other
writers say that it was a son of Mars, Dercyllus by name, and that a
Fury, named Tilphosa, was its mother. Ancient history abounds with
stories of enormous serpents. The army of Regulus is said by Pliny the
Elder, to have killed a serpent of enormous size, which obstructed the
passage of the river Bagrada, in Africa. It was 120 feet in length.
5. As large a size.]—Ver. 44. This description of the enormous size of
the dragon or serpent is inconsistent with what the Poet says in line 91,
where we find Cadmus enabled to pin his enemy against an oak.
6. With his sting.]—Ver. 48. He enumerates in this one instance the
various modes by which serpents put their prey to death, either by
means of their sting, or, in the case of the larger kinds of serpent, by
twisting round it, and suffocating it in their folds.
7. Some breathed upon.]—Ver. 49. It was a prevalent notion among the
ancients, that some serpents had the power of killing their prey by their
poisonous breath. Though some modern commentators on this passage
may be found to affirm the same thing, it is extremely doubtful if such
is the fact. The notion was, perhaps, founded on the power which
certain serpents have of fascinating their prey by the agency of the eye,
and thus depriving it of the means of escape.
8. A huge stone.]—Ver. 59. ‘Molaris’ here means a stone as large as a
mill-stone, and not a mill-stone itself, for we must remember that this

was an uninhabited country, and consequently a stranger to the
industry of man.
9. His infernal mouth.]—Ver. 76. ‘Stygio’ means ‘pestilential as the
exhalations of the marshes of Styx.’
10. Form of a dragon.]—Ver. 98. This came to pass when, having been
expelled from his dominions by Zethus and Amphion, he retired to
Illyria, and was there transformed into a serpent, a fate which was
shared by his wife Hermione.
11. With painted cones.]—Ver. 108. The ‘conus’ was the conical part of
the helmet into which the crest of variegated feathers was inserted.
12. When the curtains.]—Ver. 111. The ‘Siparium’ was a piece of
tapestry stretched on a frame, and, rising before the stage, answered
the same purpose as the curtain or drop-scene with us, in concealing
the stage till the actors appeared. Instead of drawing up this curtain to
discover the stage and actors, according to our present practice, it was
depressed when the play began, and fell beneath the level of the stage;
whence ‘aulæa premuntur,’ ‘the curtain is dropped,’ meant that the play
had commenced. When the performance was finished, this was raised
again gradually from the foot of the stage; therefore ‘aulæa tolluntur,’
‘the curtain is raised,’ would mean that the play had finished. From the
present passage we learn, that in drawing it up from the stage, the
curtain was gradually displayed, the unfolding taking place, perhaps,
below the boards, so that the heads of the figures rose first, until the
whole form appeared in full with the feet resting on the stage, when
the ‘siparium’ was fully drawn up. From a passage in Virgil’s Georgics
(book iii. l. 25), we learn that the figures of Britons (whose country
had then lately been the scene of new conquests) were woven on the
canvas of the ‘siparium,’ having their arms in the attitude of lifting the
curtain.
13. Echion.]—Ver. 126. The names of the others were Udeus,
Chthonius, Hyperenor, and Pelor, according to Apollodorus. To these
some added Creon, as a sixth.

14. Mars and Venus.]—Ver. 132. The wife of Cadmus was Hermione,
or Harmonia, who was said to have been the daughter of Mars and
Venus. The Deities honored the nuptials with their presence, and
presented marriage gifts, while the Muses and the Graces celebrated
the festivity with hymns of their own composition.
15. So many sons.]—Ver. 134. Apollodorus, Hyginus, and others, say
that Cadmus had but one son, Polydorus. If so, ‘tot,’ ‘so many,’ must
here refer to the number of his daughters and grandchildren. His
daughters were four in number, Autonoë, Ino, Semele, and Agave. Ino
married Athamas, Autonoë Aristæus, Agave Echion, while Semele
captivated Jupiter. The most famous of the grandsons of Cadmus were
Bacchus, Melicerta, Pentheus, and Actæon.
16. Before his death.]—Ver. 135. This was the famous remark of Solon
to Crœsus, when he was the master of the opulent and flourishing
kingdom of Lydia, and seemed so firmly settled on his throne, that
there was no probability of any interruption of his happiness. Falling
into the hands of Cyrus the Persian, and being condemned to be burnt
alive, he recollected this wise saying of Solon, and by that means
saved his life, as we are told by Herodotus, who relates the story at
length. Euripides has a similar passage in his Troades, line 510.
17. The Hyantian youth.]—Ver. 147. Actæon is thus called, as being a
Bœotian. The Hyantes were the ancient or aboriginal inhabitants of
Bœotia.
18. Gargaphie.]—Ver. 156. Gargaphie, or Gargaphia, was a valley
situate near Platæa, having a fountain of the same name.
19. Crocale.]—Ver. 169. So called, perhaps, from κεκρύφαλος, an
ornament for the head, being a coif, band, or fillet of network for the
hair called in Latin ‘reticulum,’ by which name her office is denoted.
The handmaid, whose duty it was to attend to the hair, held the highest
rank in ancient times among the domestics.
20. Nephele.]—Ver. 171. From the Greek word νεφέλη, ‘a cloud.’
21. Hyale.]—Ver. 171. This is from ὕαλος, ‘glass,’ the name signifying
‘glassy,’ ‘pellucid.’ The very name calls to mind Milton’s line in his

Comus—
‘Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave.’

22. Rhanis.]—Ver. 171. This name is adapted from the Greek verb
ῥαίνω, ‘to sprinkle.’
23. Psecas.]—Ver. 172. From the Greek ψεκὰς, ‘a dew-drop.’
24. Phyale.]—Ver. 172. This is from the Greek φιαλὴ, ‘an urn.’
25. Took up water.]—Ver. 189. The ceremonial of sprinkling previous
to the transformation seems not to have been neglected any more by
the offended Goddesses of the classical Mythology, than by the
intriguing enchantresses of the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments; as the
unfortunate Beder, when under the displeasure of the vicious queen
Labè, experienced to his great inconvenience. The love for the
supernatural, combined with an anxious desire to attribute its
operations to material and visible agencies, forms one of the most
singular features of the human character.
26. Autonoëian.]—Ver. 198. Autonoë was the daughter of Cadmus and
Hermione, or Harmonia, and the wife of Aristæus, by whom she was
the mother of Actæon. We may here remark, that in one of his satires,
Lucian introduces Juno as saying to Diana, that she had let loose his
dogs on Actæon, for fear lest, having seen her naked, he should
divulge the deformity of her person.
27. Melampus.]—Ver. 206. These names are all from the Greek, and
are interesting, as showing the epithets by which the ancients called
their dogs. The pack of Actæon is said to have consisted of fifty dogs.
Their names were preserved by several Greek poets, from whom
Apollodorus copied them; but the greater part of his list has perished,
and what remains is in a very corrupt state. Hyginus has preserved two
lists, the first of which contains thirty-nine names, most of which are
similar to those here given by Ovid, and in almost the same order;
while the second contains thirty-six names, different from those here
given. Æschylus has named but four of them, and Ovid here names
thirty-six. Crete, Arcadia, and Laconia produced the most valuable

hounds. Melampus, ‘Black-foot,’ is from the Greek words μέλας,
‘black,’ and ποῦς, ‘a foot.’
28. Ichnobates.]—Ver. 207. ‘Tracer.’ From the Greek ἰχνὸς, ‘a
footstep,’ and βαίνω, ‘to go.’
29. Pamphagus.]—Ver. 210. ‘Glutton.’ From πᾶν, ‘all,’ and φάγω, ‘to
eat.’
30. Dorcæus.]—Ver. 210. ‘Quicksight.’ From δέρκω, ‘to see.’
31. Oribasus.]—Ver. 210. ‘Ranger.’ From ὄρος, ‘a mountain,’ and
βαίνω, ‘to go.’
32. Nebrophonus.]—Ver. 211. ‘Kill-buck.’ From νεβρὸς, ‘a fawn,’ and
φονέω, ‘to kill.’
33. Lælaps.]—Ver. 211. ‘Tempest.’ So called from its swiftness and
power, λαίλαψ, signifying ‘a whirlwind.’
34. Theron.]—Ver. 211. ‘Hunter.’ From the Greek, θερεύω, ‘to trace,’
or ‘hunt.’
35. Pterelas.]—Ver. 212. ‘Wing.’ ‘Swift-footed,’ from πτερὸν, ‘a
wing,’ and ἐλαύνω, ‘to drive onward.’
36. Agre.]—Ver. 212. ‘Catcher.’ ‘Quick-scented,’ from ἄγρα, ‘hunting,’
or ‘the chase.’
37. Hylæus.]—Ver. 213. ‘Woodger,’ or ‘Wood-ranger;’ the Greek ὕλη,
signifying ‘a wood.’
38. Nape.]—Ver. 214. ‘Forester.’ A ‘forest,’ or ‘wood,’ being in Greek,
νάπη.
39. Pœmenis.]—Ver. 215. ‘Shepherdess,’ From the Greek ποίμενις, ‘a
shepherdess.’
40. Harpyia.]—Ver. 215. ‘Ravener.’ From the Greek word ἅρπυια, ‘a
harpy,’ or ‘ravenous bird.’
41. Ladon.]—Ver. 216. This dog takes its name from Ladon, a river of
Sicyon, a territory on the shores of the gulf of Corinth.

42. Dromas.]—Ver. 217. ‘Runner.’ From the Greek δρόμος, ‘a race.’
43. Canace.]—Ver. 217. ‘Barker.’ The word καναχὴ, signifies ‘a
noise,’ or ‘din.’
44. Sticte.]—Ver. 217. ‘Spot.’ So called from the variety of her colors,
as στικτὸς, signifies ‘diversified with various spots,’ from στίζω, ‘to
vary with spots.’ ‘Tigris’ means ‘Tiger.’
45. Alce.]—Ver. 217. ‘Strong.’ From the Greek ἀλκὴ ‘strength.’
46. Leucon.]—Ver. 218. ‘White.’ From λευκὸς, ‘white.’
47. Asbolus.]—Ver. 218. ‘Soot,’ or ‘Smut.’ From the Greek ἄσβολος,
‘soot.’
48. Lacon.]—Ver. 219. From his native country, Laconia.
49. Aëllo.]—Ver. 219. ‘Storm.’ From ἄελλα, ‘a tempest.’
50. Thoüs.]—Ver. 220. ‘Swift.’ From θοὸς, ‘swift.’ Pliny the Elder
states, that ‘thos’ was the name of a kind of wolf, of larger make, and
more active in springing than the common wolf. He says that it is of
inoffensive habits towards man; but that it lives by prey, and is hairy in
winter, but without hair in summer. It is supposed by some that he
alludes to the jackal. Perhaps, from this animal, the dog here
mentioned derived his name.
51. Lycisca.]—Ver. 220. ‘Wolf.’ From the diminutive of the Greek
word λύκος, ‘a wolf.’ Virgil uses ‘Lycisca’ as the name of a dog, in his
Eclogues.
52. Harpalus.]—Ver. 222. ‘Snap.’ From ἁρπάζω, ‘to snatch,’ or
‘plunder.’
53. Melaneus.]—Ver. 222. ‘Black-coat.’ From the Greek, μέλας,
‘black.’
54. Lachne.]—Ver. 222. ‘Stickle.’ From the Greek work λαχνὴ,
signifying ‘thickness of the hair.’
55. Labros.]—Ver. 224. ‘Worrier.’ From the Greek λάβρος, ‘greedy.’
Dicte was a mountain of Crete; whence the word ‘Dictæan’ is often

employed to signify ‘Cretan.’
56. Agriodos.]—Ver. 224. ‘Wild-tooth.’ From ἄγριος, ‘wild,’ and
ὀδοῦς, ‘a tooth.’
57. Hylactor.]—Ver. 224. ‘Babbler.’ From the Greek word ὑλακτέω,
signifying ‘to bark.’
58. Melanchætes.]—Ver. 232. ‘Black-hair.’ From the μέλας, ‘black,’
and χαιτὴ, ‘mane.’
59. Theridamas.]—Ver. 233. ‘Kilham.’ From θὴρ, ‘a wild beast,’ and
δαμάω, ‘to subdue.’
60. Oresitrophus.]—Ver. 223. ‘Rover.’ From ὄρος ‘a mountain,’ and
τρέφω ‘to nourish.’
61. I will take care.]—Ver. 271. ‘Faxo,’ ‘I will make,’ is sometimes
used by the best authors for ‘fecero;’ and ‘faxim’ for ‘faciam,’ or
‘fecerim.’
62. Beroë.]—Ver. 278. Iris, in the fifth book of the Æneid (l. 620),
assumes the form of another Beroë; and a third person of that name is
mentioned in the fourth book of the Georgics, l. 34.
63. Epidaurian.]—Ver. 278. Epidaurus was a famous city of Argolis, in
Peloponnesus, famous for its temple, dedicated to the worship of
Æsculapius, who was the tutelary Divinity of that city.
64. Could not endure.]—Ver. 308. ‘Corpus mortale tumultus Non tulit
æthereos,’ is rendered by Clarke, ‘her mortal body could not bear this
æthereal bustle.’
65. The Nyseian Nymphs.]—Ver. 314. Nysa was the name of a city and
mountain of Arabia, or India. The tradition was, that there the Nyseian
Nymphs, whose names were Cysseis, Nysa, Erato, Eryphia, Bromia,
and Polyhymnia, brought up Bacchus. The cave where he was
concealed from the fury of Juno, was said to have had two entrances,
from which circumstance Bacchus received the epithet of Dithyrites.
Servius, in his commentary on the sixth Eclogue of Virgil (l. 15), says
that Nysa was the name of the female that nursed Bacchus. Hyginus

also speaks of her as being the daughter of Oceanus. From the name
‘Nysa,’ Bacchus received, in part, his Greek name ‘Dionysus.’
66. Twice born.]—Ver. 318. Clarke thus translates and explains this
line—‘They tell you, that Jupiter well drenched;’ i.e. ‘fuddled with
nectar,’ etc.
67. Aonia.]—Ver. 339. Aonia was a mountainous district of Bœotia, so
called from Aon, the son of Neptune, who reigned there. The name is
often used to signify the whole of Bœotia.
68. Liriope.]—Ver. 342. She was the daughter of Oceanus and Tethys,
and was the mother of the youth Narcissus, by the river Cephisus. Her
name is derived from the Greek λείριον, ‘a lily.’
69. Many a youth.]—Ver. 353. Clarke translates ‘multi juvenes,’ ‘many
young fellows.’
70. Used to detain.]—Ver. 364. Clarke translates ‘Illa Deam longo
prudens sermone tenebat Dum fugerent Nymphæ,’ ‘She designedly
detained the Goddess with some long-winded discourse or other till the
Nymphs ran away.’ He translates ‘garrula,’ in line 360, ‘the prattling
hussy.’
71. Narcissus.]—Ver. 370. This name is from the Greek word ναρκᾷν,
‘to fade away,’ which was characteristic of the youth’s career, and of
the duration of the flower.
72. Sulphur spread around.]—Ver. 372. These lines show, that it was
the custom of the ancients to place sulphur on the ends of their torches,
to make them ignite the more readily, in the same manner as the
matches of the present day are tipped with that mineral.
73. Rushing from the woods.]—Ver. 388. ‘Egressaque sylvis.’ Clarke
renders, ‘and bouncing out of the wood.’
74. Rhamnusia.]—Ver. 406. Nemesis, the Goddess of Retribution, and
the avenger of crime, was the daughter of Jupiter. She had a famous
temple at Rhamnus, one of the ‘pagi,’ or boroughs of Athens. Her
statue was there, carved by Phidias out of the marble which the
Persians brought into Greece for the purpose of making a statue of

Victory out of it, and which was thus appropriately devoted to the
Goddess of Retribution. This statue wore a crown, and had wings, and
holding a spear of ash in the right hand, it was seated on a stag.
75. Parian marble.]—Ver. 419. Paros was an island in the Ægean sea,
one of the Cyclades; it was famous for the valuable quality of its
marble, which was especially used for the purpose of making statues
of the Gods.
76. Regard for food.]—Ver. 437. ‘Cereris.’ The name of the Goddess of
corn is here used instead of bread itself.
77. Laid their hair.]—Ver. 506. It was the custom among the ancients
for females, when lamenting the dead, not only to cut off their hair, but
to lay it on the body, when extended upon the funeral pile.
78. Cities of Achaia.]—Ver. 511. Achaia was properly the name of a
part of Peloponnesus, on the gulf of Corinth; but the name is very
frequently applied to the whole of Greece.
79. Pentheus.]—Ver. 513. He was the son of Echion and Agave, the
daughter of Cadmus.
80. Warlike men.]—Ver. 531. ‘Mavortia.’ Mavors was a name of Mars,
frequently used by the poets. The Thebans were ‘proles Mavortia,’ as
being sprung from the teeth of the dragon, who was said to be a son of
Mars.
81. Tambourines.]—Ver. 537. ‘Tympana.’ These instruments, among
the ancients, were of various kinds. Some resembled the modern
tambourine; while others presented a flat circular disk on the upper
surface, and swelled out beneath, like the kettle-drum of the present
day. They were covered with the hides of oxen, or of asses, and were
beaten either with a stick or the hand. They were especially used in the
rites of Bacchus, and of Cybele.
82. The thyrsus.]—Ver. 542. The thyrsus was a long staff, carried by
Bacchus, and by the Satyrs and Bacchanalians engaged in the worship
of the God of the grape. It was sometimes terminated by the apple of
the pine, or fir-cone, the fir-tree being esteemed sacred to Bacchus,

from the turpentine flowing therefrom and its apples being used in
making wine. It is, however, frequently represented as terminating in a
knot of ivy, or vine leaves, with grapes or berries arranged in a conical
form. Sometimes, also, a white fillet was tied to the pole just below the
head. We learn from Diodorus Siculus, and Macrobius, that Bacchus
converted the thyrsi carried by himself and his followers into weapons,
by concealing an iron point in the head of leaves. A wound with its
point was supposed to produce madness.
83. Engines of war.]—Ver. 549. ‘Tormenta.’ These were the larger
engines of destruction used in ancient warfare. They were so called
from the verb ‘torqueo,’ ‘to twist,’ from their being formed by the
twisting of hair, fibre, or strips of leather. The different sorts were
called ‘balistæ’ and ‘catapultæ.’ The former were used to impel stones;
the latter, darts and arrows. In sieges, the ‘Aries,’ or ‘battering ram,’
which received its name from having an iron head resembling that of a
ram, was employed in destroying the lower part of the wall, while the
‘balista’ was overthrowing the battlements, and the ‘catapulta’ was
employed to shoot any of the besieged who appeared between them.
The ‘balistæ’ and ‘catapultæ’ were divided into the ‘greater’ and the
‘less.’ When New Carthage, the arsenal of the Carthaginians, was
taken, according to Livy (b. xxvi. c. 47), there were found in it 120
large and 281 small catapultæ, and twenty-three large and fifty-two
small balistæ. The various kinds of ‘tormenta’ are said to have been
introduced about the time of Alexander the Great. If so, Ovid must
here be committing an anachronism, in making Pentheus speak of
‘tormenta,’ who lived so many ages before that time. To commit
anachronisms with impunity seems, however, to be the poet’s
privilege, from Ovid downwards to our Shakspere, where he makes
Falstaff talk familiarly of the West Indies. We find the dictionaries
giving ‘tormentum’ as the Latin word for ‘cannon;’ so that in this case
we may say not that ‘necessity is the mother of invention,’ but rather
that she is ‘the parent of anachronism.’
84. Acrisius.]—Ver. 559. He was a king of Argos, the son of Abas, and
the father of Danaë. He refused, and probably with justice, to admit
Bacchus or his rites within the gates of his city.

85. His grandfather.]—Ver. 563. Athamas was the son of Æolus, and
being the husband of Ino, was the son-in-law of Cadmus; who being
the father of Agave, the mother of Pentheus, is the grandfather
mentioned in the present line.
86. Mæonia.]—Ver. 583. Colonists were said to have proceeded from
Lydia, or Mæonia, to the coasts of Etruria. Bacchus assumes the name
of Acœtes, as corresponding to the Greek epithet ἀκοίτης, ‘watchful,’
or ‘sleepless;’ which ought to be the characteristic of the careful ‘pilot,’
or ‘helmsman.’
87. Olenian she-goat.]—Ver. 594. Amalthea, the goat that suckled
Jupiter, is called Olenian, either because she was reared in Olenus,
a city of Bœotia, or because she was placed as a Constellation between
the arms, ὠλέναι, of the Constellation Auriga, or the Charioteer. The
rising and setting of this Constellation were supposed to produce
showers.
88. Taygete.]—Ver. 594. She was one of the Pleiades, the daughters of
Atlas, who were placed among the Constellations.
89. Hyades.]—Ver. 594. These were the Dodonides, or nurses of
Bacchus, whom Jupiter, as a mark of his favor, placed in the number of
the Constellations. Their name is derived from ὕειν, ‘to rain.’
90. Dia.]—Ver. 596. This was another name of the Isle of Naxos.
Gierig thinks that the reading here is neither ‘Diæ’ nor ‘Chiæ,’ which
are the two common readings; as the situation of neither the Isle of
Naxos nor that of Chios, would suit the course of the ship, as stated in
the text. He thinks that the Isle of Ceos, or Cea, is meant, which
Ptolemy calls Κια, and which he thinks ought here to be written ‘Ciæ.’
91. Epopeus.]—Ver. 619. He was the κελεύστης, ‘pausarius,’ or keeper
of time for the rowers.
92. A dreadful murder.]—Ver. 626. They seem to have been composed
of much the same kind of lawless materials that formed the daring
crews of the buccanier Morgan and Captain Kydd in more recent
times.

93. Naxos.]—Ver. 636. This was the most famous island of the group
of the Cyclades.
94. Ivy impeded the oars.]—Ver. 664. Hyginus tells us, that Bacchus
changed the oars into thyrsi, the sails into clusters of grapes, and the
rigging into ivy branches. In the Homeric hymn on this subject we find
the ship flowing with wine, vines growing on the sails, ivy twining
round the mast, and the benches wreathed with chaplets.
95. To a long story.]—Ver. 692. Clarke renders this line, ‘We have lent
our ears to a long tale of a tub.’
96. Cithæron.]—Ver. 702. This was a mountain of Bœotia, famous for
the orgies of Bacchus there celebrated.
97. My two sisters.]—Ver. 713. These were Ino and Autonoë.
98. Ghost of Actæon.]—Ver. 720. He appeals to Autonoë, the mother of
Actæon, to remember the sad fate of her own son, and to show him
some mercy; but in vain: for, as one commentator on the passage says,
‘Drunkenness had taken away both her reason and her memory.’

Supplementary Note (added by transcriber)
A. grief is taking away: Ovid III.469 “adĭmit”. Translating “has taken”
would require the metrically impossible variant “adēmit”.

THE METAMORPHOSES Book IV-VII.

Fable descriptions are taken from the translator’s Synopses.
Book IV
Fable I: The daughters of Minyas. Pyramus and Thisbe.
Fable II: Mars and Venus. The Sun and Leucothoë.
Fable III: Clytie buried alive.
Fable IV: Daphnis; Scython; Celmus; Crocus and Smilax; the Curetes.
Fable V: Salmacis and Hermaphroditus.
Fable VI: The daughters of Minyas.
Fable VII: Athamas and Ino.
Fable VIII: Cadmus leaves Thebes.
Fable IX: Perseus kills Medusa.
Fable X: Perseus and Andromeda. Medusa’s hair.
Book V
Fable I: Perseus’s marriage feast.
Fable II: Minerva and the Muses.
Fable III: The song of Calliope.
Fable IV: Pluto and Proserpina.
Fable V: Ceres searches for Proserpina.
Fable VI: Arethusa is changed into a fountain.
Fable VII: Lyncus is changed into a lynx; the Pierides are changed into magpies.
Book VI
Fable I: Arachne and Minerva.
Fable II: Niobe and her children.
Fable III: Latona and the frogs.
Fable IV: Marsyas is flayed alive.
Fable V: Tereus, Progne and Philomela.
Fable VI: Progne’s son Itys.
Fable VII: Boreas and Orithyïa.
Book VII
Fable I: Jason, the Golden Fleece and Medea.
Fable II: Medea restores Æson to youth. The daughters of Pelias.
Fable III: Medea in Corinth.

Fable IV: Hercules chains Cerberus. Theseus and Medea.
Fable V: Minos at Ægina. Cephalus at Ægina.
Fable VI: The Myrmidons.
Fable VII: Procris becomes a huntress. Œdipus and the Sphinx.
Fable VIII: Cephalus accidentally kills Procris.

BOOK THE FOURTH.

FABLE I.
The daughters of Minyas, instead of celebrating the festival of Bacchus,
apply themselves to other pursuits during the ceremonies; and among
several narratives which they relate to pass away the time, they divert
themselves with the story of the adventures of Pyramus and Thisbe.
These lovers having made an appointment to meet without the walls of
Babylon, Thisbe arrives first; but at the sight of a lioness, she runs to hide
herself in a cave, and in her alarm, drops her veil. Pyramus, arriving soon
after, finds the veil of his mistress stained with blood; and believing her
to be dead, kills himself with his own sword. Thisbe returns from the
cave; and finding Pyramus weltering in his blood, she plunges the same
fatal weapon into her own breast.
But Alcithoë, the daughter of Minyas,1 does not think that the rites2 of the
God ought to be received; but still, in her rashness, denies that Bacchus is
the progeny of Jupiter; and she has her sisters3 as partners in her impiety.
The priest had ordered both mistresses and maids, laying aside their
employments, to have their breasts [IV. 6-19 covered with skins, and to loosen
the fillets of their hair, and to put garlands IV. 7-22] on their locks, and to take
the verdant thyrsi in their hands; and had prophesied that severe would be
the resentment of the Deity, if affronted. Both matrons and new-married
women obey, and lay aside their webs and work-baskets,4 and their tasks
unfinished; and offer frankincense, and invoke both Bacchus and Bromius,5
and Lyæus,6 and the son of the Flames, and the Twice-Born, and the only
one that had two mothers.7 To these is added the name of Nyseus, and the
unshorn Thyoneus,8 and with Lenæus,9 the planter of the genial grape, and
Nyctelius,10 and father Eleleus, and Iacchus,11 and Evan,12 and a great

many other names, which thou, Liber, hast besides, throughout the nations
of Greece. For thine is youth everlasting; thou art a boy to all time, thou art
beheld as the most beauteous of all in high heaven; [IV. 20-42 thou hast the
features of a virgin, when thou standest without thy horns. By thee the East
was conquered, as far as where swarthy India is bounded by the remote
Ganges. Thou IV. 23-46] God, worthy of our veneration, didst smite Pentheus,
and the axe-bearing Lycurgus,13 sacrilegious mortals; thou didst hurl the
bodies of the Etrurians into the sea. Thou controllest the neck of the lynxes
yoked to thy chariot, graced with the painted reins. The Bacchanals and the
Satyrs follow thee; the drunken old man, too, Silenus, who supports his
reeling limbs with a staff, and sticks by no means very fast to his bending
ass. And wherever thou goest, the shouts of youths, and together the voices
of women, and tambourines beaten with the hands, and hollow cymbals
resound, and the box-wood pipe, with its long bore. The Ismenian matrons
ask thee to show thyself mild and propitious, and celebrate thy sacred rites
as prescribed.
The daughters of Minyas alone, within doors, interrupting the festival with
unseasonable labor,14 are either carding wool, or twirling the threads with
their fingers, or are plying at the web, and keeping the handmaids to their
work. One of them, as she is drawing the thread with her smooth thumb,
says, “While others are idling, and thronging to these fanciful rites, let us,
whom Pallas, a better Deity, occupies, alleviate the useful toil of our hands
with varying discourse; and let us relate by turns to our disengaged ears, for
the general amusement, something each in our turn, that will not permit the
time to seem long.” They approve of what she says, and her sisters bid her
to be the first to tell her story.
[IV. 43-58 She considers which of many she shall tell (for she knows many a
one), and she is in doubt whether she shall tell of thee, Babylonian
Dercetis,15 whom the people of Palestine16 IV. 46-66] believe to inhabit the
pools, with thy changed form, scales covering thy limbs; or rather how her
daughter, taking wings, passed her latter years in whitened turrets; or how a
Naiad,17 by charms and too potent herbs, changed the bodies of the young
men into silent fishes, until she suffered the same herself. Or how the tree
which bore white fruit formerly, now bears it of purple hue, from the
contact of blood. This story pleases her; this, because it was no common

tale, she began in manner such as this, while the wool followed the thread:
—
“Pyramus and Thisbe, the one the most beauteous of youths,18 the other
preferred before all the damsels that the East contained, lived in adjoining
houses; where Semiramis is said to have surrounded her lofty city19 with
walls of brick.20 The nearness caused their [IV. 59-88 first acquaintance, and
their first advances in love; with time their affection increased. They would
have united themselves, too, by the tie of marriage, but their fathers forbade
it. A thing which they could not forbid, they were both inflamed, with
minds equally captivated. There is no one acquainted with it; by nods and
signs, they hold converse. And the more the fire is smothered, the more,
when so smothered, does it burn. The party-wall, common to the two
houses, was cleft by a small chink, which it had got formerly, when it was
IV. 66-99] built. This defect, remarked by no one for so many ages, you lovers
(what does not love perceive?) first found one, and you made it a passage
for your voices, and the accents of love used to pass through it in safety,
with the gentlest murmur. Oftentimes, after they had taken their stations,
Thisbe on one side, and Pyramus on the other, and the breath of their
mouths had been mutually caught by turns, they used to say, ‘Envious wall,
why dost thou stand in the way of lovers? what great matter were it, for thee
to suffer us to be joined with our entire bodies? Or if that is too much, that,
at least, thou shouldst open, for the exchange of kisses. Nor are we
ungrateful; we confess that we are indebted to thee, that a passage has been
given for our words to our loving ears.’ Having said this much, in vain, on
their respective sides, about night they said, ‘Farewell’; and gave those
kisses each on their own side, which did not reach the other side.
”The following morning had removed the fires of the night, and the Sun,
with its rays, had dried the grass wet with rime, when they met together at
the wonted spot. Then, first complaining much in low murmurs, they
determine, in the silent night, to try to deceive their keepers, and to steal out
of doors; and when they have left the house, to quit the buildings of the city
as well: but that they may not have to wander, roaming in the open fields, to
meet at the tomb of Ninus,21 and to [IV. 89-117 conceal themselves beneath
the shade of a tree. There was there a lofty mulberry tree, very full of snow-
white fruit, quite close to a cold spring. The arrangement suits them; and the

light, seeming to depart but slowly, is buried in the waters, and from the
same waters the night arises. The clever Thisbe, turning the hinge, gets out
in the dark, and deceives her attendants, and, having covered her face,
arrives at the tomb, and sits down under the tree agreed upon; love made
her bold. Lo! a lioness approaches, having her foaming jaws besmeared
with the recent slaughter of oxen, about to quench her thirst with the water
of the neighboring spring. The Babylonian IV. 99-130] Thisbe sees her at a
distance, by the rays of the moon, and with a trembling foot she flies to a
dark cave; and, while she flies, her veil falling from her back, she leaves it
behind. When the savage lioness has quenched her thirst with plenteous
water, as she is returning into the woods, she tears the thin covering, found
by chance without Thisbe herself, with her blood-stained mouth.
“Pyramus, going out later than Thisbe, saw the evident footmarks of a wild
beast, in the deep dust, and grew pale all over his face. But, as soon as he
found her veil, as well, dyed with blood, he said: ‘One night will be the ruin
of two lovers, of whom she was the most deserving of a long life. My soul
is guilty; ’tis I that have destroyed thee, much to be lamented; who bade
thee to come by night to places full of terror, and came not hither first.
O, whatever lions are lurking beneath this rock, tear my body in pieces, and
devour my accursed entrails with ruthless jaws. But it is the part of a
coward to wish for death.’ He takes up the veil of Thisbe, and he takes it
with himself to the shade of the tree agreed on, and, after he has bestowed
tears on the well-known garment, he gives kisses to the same, [IV. 118-141 and
he says, ‘Receive, now, a draught of my blood as well!’ and then plunges
the sword, with which he is girt, into his bowels; and without delay, as he is
dying, he draws it out of the warm wound. As he falls on his back upon the
ground, the blood spurts forth on high, not otherwise than as when a pipe is
burst on the lead decaying,22 and shoots out afar the liquid water from the
hissing flaw, and cleaves the air with its jet. The fruit of the tree, by the
sprinkling of the blood, are changed to a dark tint, and the root, soaked with
the gore, tints the hanging mulberries with a purple hue. Behold! not yet
having banished her fear, Thisbe returns, that she may not disappoint her
lover, and seeks for the youth both with her eyes and her affection, and
longs to tell him how great dangers IV. 130-160] she has escaped. And when
she observes the spot, and the altered appearance of the tree, she doubts if it

is the same, so uncertain does the color of the fruit make her. While she is in
doubt, she sees palpitating limbs throbbing upon the bloody ground; she
draws back her foot, and having her face paler than box-wood,23 she
shudders like the sea, which trembles24 when its surface is skimmed by a
gentle breeze. But, after pausing a time, she had recognized her own lover,
she smote her arms, undeserving of such usage, and tearing her hair, and
embracing the much-loved body, she filled the gashes with her tears, and
mingled her tokens of sorrow [IV. 142-166 with his blood; and imprinting
kisses on his cold features, she exclaimed, ‘Pyramus! what disaster has
taken thee away from me? Pyramus! answer me; ’tis thy own Thisbe,
dearest, that calls thee; hear me, and raise thy prostrate features.’
“At the name of Thisbe, Pyramus raised his eyes, now heavy with death,
and, after he had seen her, he closed them again. After she had perceived
her own garment, and beheld, too, the ivory sheath25 without its sword, she
said, ‘’Tis thy own hand, and love, that has destroyed thee, ill-fated youth!
I, too, have a hand bold enough for this one purpose; I have love as well;
this shall give me strength for the wound. I will follow thee in thy death,
and I shall be called the most unhappy cause and companion of thy fate, and
thou who, alas! couldst be torn from me by death alone, shalt not be able,
even by death, to be torn from me. And you, O most wretched parents of
mine and his, be but prevailed upon, in this one thing, by the entreaties of
us both, that you will not deny those whom their constant love and whom
their last moments have joined, to be buried in the same tomb. But thou,
O tree, which now with thy boughs IV. 160-166] dost overshadow the luckless
body of but one, art fated soon to cover those of two. Retain a token of this
our fate, and ever bear fruit black and suited for mourning, as a memorial of
the blood of us two.’ Thus she said; and having fixed the point under the
lower part of her breast, she fell upon the sword, which still was reeking
with his blood.
“Her prayers, however, moved the Gods, and moved their parents. For the
color of the fruit, when it has fully ripened, is black;26 and what was left of
them, from the funeral pile, reposed in the same urn.”
EXPLANATION.

It is pretty clear, as we have already seen, that the establishment of the
worship of Bacchus in Greece met with great opposition, and that his
priests and devotees published several miracles and prodigies, the
more easily to influence the minds of their fellow-men. Thus, the
daughters of Minyas are said to have been changed into bats, solely
because they neglected to join in the orgies of that God; when,
probably, the fact was, that they were either secretly despatched, or
were forced to fly for their lives; and their absence was accounted for
to the ignorant and credulous, by the invention of this Fable. The story
of Dercetis, as related by Diodorus Siculus, Pliny, and Herodotus, is,
that having offended Venus, that Goddess caused her to fall in love
with a young man, by whom she had a daughter. In despair at her
misfortune, she killed her lover, and exposed her child, and afterwards
drowned herself. The Syrians, lamenting her fate, built a temple near
where she was drowned, and honored her as a Goddess. They stated
that she was turned into a fish, and they there represented her under the
figure of a woman down to the waist, and of a fish thence downwards.
They also abstained from eating fish; though they offered them to her
in sacrifice, and suspended gilded ones in her temple. Selden, in his
Treatise on the Syrian Gods, suggests that the story of Dercetis, or
Atergatis, was founded on the figure and worship of Dagon, the God of
the Philistines, who was represented under the figure of a fish; and that
the name of Atergatis is a corruption of ‘Adir Dagon,’ ‘a great fish,’
which is not at all improbable. The same author supposes that Dercetis
was originally the same Deity with Venus, Astarte, Minerva, Juno, Isis,
and the Moon; and that she was worshipped under the name of Mylitta
by the Assyrians, and as Alilac by the Arabians. Lucian tells us, that
Dercetis was reported to have been the mother of Semiramis.
Ovid and Hyginus are the only authors that make mention of the story
of Pyramus and Thisbe, and both agree in making Babylon the scene
of it. It seems to be rather intended as a moral tale, than to have been
built upon any actual circumstance. It affords a lesson to youth not to
enter rashly IV. 167-186] into engagements: and to parents not to pursue,
too rigorously, the gratification of their own resentment, but rather to

consult the inclination of their children, when not likely to be
productive of unhappiness at a future period.
The reader cannot fail to call to mind the admirable travesty of this
story by Shakspere, in the ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream.’
[IV. 167-186

FABLE II.
The Sun discovers to Vulcan the intrigue between Mars and Venus, and
then, himself, falls in love with Leucothoë. Venus, in revenge for the
discovery, resolves to make his amours unfortunate.
Here she ended; and there was but a short time betwixt, and then Leuconoë
began27 to speak. Her sisters held their peace. “Love has captivated even
this Sun, who rules all things by his æthereal light. I will relate the loves of
the Sun. This God is supposed to have been the first to see the adultery of
Venus with Mars; this God is the first to see everything. He was grieved at
what was done, and showed to the husband, the son of Juno,28 the wrong
done to his bed, and the place of the intrigue. Both his senses, and the work
which his skilful right hand was then holding, quitted him on the instant.
Immediately, he files out some slender chains of brass, and nets, and
meshes, which can escape the eye. The finest threads cannot surpass that
work, nor yet the cobweb that hangs from the top of the beam. He makes it
so, too, as to yield to a slight touch, and a gentle movement, and skilfully
arranges it drawn around the bed. When the wife and the gallant come into
the same bed, being both caught through the artifice of the husband, and
chains prepared by this new contrivance, they are held fast in the very midst
of their embraces.
“The Lemnian God immediately threw open the folding doors29 of ivory,
and admitted the Deities. There [IV. 186-207 they lay IV. 186-210] disgracefully
bound. And yet many a one of the Gods, not the serious ones, could fain
wish thus to become disgraced. The Gods of heaven laughed, and for a long
time was this the most noted story in all heaven. The Cytherean30 goddess
exacts satisfaction of the Sun, in remembrance of this betrayal; and, in her
turn, disturbs him with the like passion, who had disturbed her secret

amours. What now, son of Hyperion,31 does thy beauty, thy heat, and thy
radiant light avail thee? For thou, who dost burn all lands with thy flames,
art now burnt with a new flame; and thou, who oughtst to be looking at
everything, art gazing on Leucothoë, and on one maiden art fixing those
eyes which thou oughtst to be fixing on the universe. At one time thou art
rising earlier in the Eastern sky; at another thou art setting late in the waves;
and in taking time to gaze on her, thou art lengthening the hours of mid-
winter. Sometimes thou art eclipsed, and the trouble of thy mind affects thy
light, and, darkened, thou fillest with terror the breasts of mortals. Nor art
thou pale, because the form of the moon, nearer to the earth, stands in thy
way. It is that passion which occasions this complexion. Thou lovest her
alone, neither does Clymene, nor Rhodos,32 nor the most beauteous
mother33 of the Ææan Circe engage thee, nor yet Clytie, who, though
despised, was longing for thy embraces; at that very time thou wast
suffering these grievous [IV. 208-232 pangs. Leucothoë occasioned the
forgetting of many a damsel; she, whom Eurynome, the most beauteous of
the IV. 210-233] perfume-bearing34 nation produced.35 But after her daughter
grew up, as much as the mother excelled all other Nymphs, so much did the
daughter excel the mother. Her father, Orchamus, ruled over the
Achæmenian36 cities, and he is reckoned the seventh in descent from the
ancient Belus.37
“The pastures of the horses of the Sun are under the Western sky; instead of
grass, they have ambrosia.38 That nourishes their limbs wearied with their
daily service, and refits them for labor. And while the coursers are there
eating their heavenly food, and night is taking her turn; the God enters the
beloved chamber, changed into the shape of her mother Eurynome, and
beholds Leucothoë among twice six handmaids, near the threshold, drawing
out the smooth threads with twirling spindle. When, therefore, as though her
mother, he has given kisses to her dear daughter, he says, “There is a secret
matter, which I have to mention; maids, withdraw, and take not from a
mother the privilege of speaking in private with her daughter.” They obey;
and the God being left in the chamber without any witness, he says, ‘I am
he, who measures out the long year, who beholds all things, and through
whom the earth sees all things; the eye, in fact, of the universe. Believe me,
thou art pleasing to me.’ She is affrighted; and in her alarm, both her distaff

and her spindle fall from her relaxed fingers. Her very fear becomes her;
and he, no longer delaying, returns to his true shape, and his wonted beauty.
But the [IV. 233-237 maiden, although startled at the unexpected sight,
overcome by the beauty of the God,39 and dismissing all complaints,
submits to his embrace.
IV. 234-244]
EXPLANATION.

Plutarch, in his Treatise ‘How to read the Poets,’ suggests a curious
explanation of the discovery by the Sun of the intrigue of Mars and
Venus. He says that such persons as are born under the conjunction of
the planets Mars and Venus, are naturally of an amorous temperament;
but that if the Sun does not happen then to be at a distance, their
indiscretions will be very soon discovered.
Palæphatus gives a historical solution to the story. He says that Helius,
the son of Vulcan, king of Egypt, resolving to cause his father’s laws
against adultery to be strictly observed, and having been informed that
a lady of the court had an intrigue with one of the courtiers, entered her
apartment in the night, and obtaining ocular proof of the courtier’s
guilt, caused him to be severely punished. He also tells us that the
similarity of the name gave birth to the Fable which Homer was the
first to relate, with a small variation, and which is here copied by Ovid.
Libanius, deploring the burning of the Temple of Apollo near Antioch,
complains of the ingratitude of Vulcan to that God, who had formerly
discovered to him the infidelity of his wife; a subject upon which St.
Chrysostom seems to think that the rhetorician would have done better
to have been silent.

FABLE III.
Clytie, in a fit of revenge, discovers the adventure of Leucothoë to her
father, who orders her to be buried alive. The Sun, grieved at her
misfortune, changed her into the frankincense tree; he also despises the
informer, who pines away for love of him, and is at last changed into the
sunflower.

Clytie envied her, (for the love of the Sun40 for her had not been moderate),
and, urged on by resentment at a rival, she published the intrigue, and, when
spread abroad, brought it to the notice of her father. He, fierce and
unrelenting, cruelly buried her alive deep in the ground, as she entreated
and stretched out her [IV. 238-267 hands towards the light of the Sun, and
cried, “’Twas he that offered violence to me against my will;” and upon her
he placed a heap of heavy sand. The son of Hyperion scattered it with his
rays, and gave a passage to thee, by which thou mightst be able to put forth
thy buried features.
But thou, Nymph, couldst not now raise thy head smothered with the
weight of the earth; and there thou didst lie, a lifeless IV. 244-270] body. The
governor of the winged steeds is said to have beheld nothing more afflicting
than that, since the lightnings that caused the death of Phaëton. He, indeed,
endeavors, if he can, to recall her cold limbs to an enlivening heat, by the
strength of his rays. But, since fate opposes attempts so great, he sprinkles
both her body and the place with odoriferous nectar, and having first uttered
many a complaint he says, “Still shalt thou reach the skies.”41 Immediately,
the body, steeped in the heavenly nectar, dissolves, and moistens the earth
with its odoriferous juices; and a shoot of frankincense having taken root by
degrees through the clods, rises up and bursts the hillock with its top.
But the author of light came no more to Clytie (although love might have
excused her grief, and her grief the betrayal); and he put an end to his
intercourse with her. From that time she, who had made so mad a use of her
passion, pined away, loathing the other Nymphs; and in the open air, night
and day, she sat on the bare ground, with her hair dishevelled and
unadorned. And for nine days, without water or food, she subsisted in her
fast, merely on dew and her own tears; and she did not raise herself from
the ground. She only used to look towards the face of the God as he moved
along, and to turn her own features towards him. They say that her limbs
became rooted fast in the ground; and a livid paleness turned part of her [IV.
268-277 color into that of a bloodless plant. There is a redness in some part;
and a flower, very like a violet,42 conceals her face. Though she is held fast
by a root, she turns towards the Sun, and though changed, she still retains
her passion.

EXPLANATION.

No ascertained historical fact can be found as the basis of the story of
Leucothoë being buried alive by her father Orchamus, or of her rival
IV. 271-284] Clytie being metamorphosed into a sunflower. The story
seems to have been most probably simply founded on principles of
natural philosophy. Leucothoë, it is not unreasonable to suppose, may
have been styled the daughter of Orchamus, king of Persia, for no
other reason but because that Prince was the first to introduce the
frankincense tree, which was called Leucothoë, into his kingdom; and
it was added that she fell in love with Apollo, because the tree
produces an aromatic drug much used in physic, of which that God
was fabled to have been the inventor. The jealousy of Clytie was,
perhaps, founded upon a fact, stated by some naturalists, that the
sunflower is a plant which kills the frankincense tree, when growing
near it. Pliny, however, who ascribes several properties to the
sunflower, does not mention this among them.
Orchamus is nowhere mentioned by the ancient writers, except in the
present instance.

FABLE IV.
Daphnis is turned into a stone. Scython is changed from a man into a
woman. Celmus is changed into adamant. Crocus and Smilax are made
into flowers. The Curetes are produced from a shower.
Thus she spoke; and the wondrous deed charms their ears. Some deny that it
was possible to be done, some say that real Gods can do all things; but
Bacchus is not one of them. When her sisters have become silent, Alcithoë
is called upon; who running with her shuttle through the warp of the
hanging web, says, “I keep silence upon the well-known amours of
Daphnis, the [IV. 277-284 shepherd of Ida,43 whom the resentment of the
Nymph, his paramour, turned into a stone. Such mighty grief inflames those
who are in love. Nor do I relate how once Scython, the law of nature being
altered, was of both sexes first a man, then a woman. Thee too, I pass by,
O Celmus, now adamant, formerly most attached to Jupiter when little; and

the Curetes,44 sprung from a plenteous shower of rain; Crocus, too,
changed, together with Smilax,45 into little flowers; and I will entertain
your minds with a pleasing novelty.”
IV. 284-295]
EXPLANATION.

Most probably, the story of the shepherd Daphnis being turned into a
stone, was no other than an allegorical method of expressing the
insensibility of an individual. Thalia was the name of the Nymph who
was thus affronted by Daphnis.
The story of Scython changing his sex, is perhaps based upon the fact,
that the country of Thrace, which took the name of Thracia from a
famous sorceress, was before called Scython; and that as it lost a name
of the masculine gender for one of the feminine, in after times it
became reported that Scython had changed sexes.
Pliny tells us that Celmus was a young man of remarkable wisdom and
moderation, and that the passions making no impression on him, he
was changed into adamant. Some, however, assert that he was foster-
father to Jupiter, by whom he was enclosed in an impenetrable tower,
for revealing the immortality of the Gods.
According to one account, Crocus and Smilax were a constant and
happy married couple, who for their chaste and innocent life were said
to have been changed into flowers; but another story is, that Crocus
was a youth beloved by Smilax, and that on his rejecting the Nymph’s
advances, they were both turned into flowers.
The story of the Curetes being sprung from rain, is possibly founded
on the report that they were descended from Uranus and Tita, the
Heaven and the Earth. Some suppose them to have been [IV. 285-310 the
original inhabitants of the isle of Crete; and they are said to have
watched over the infancy of Jupiter, by whom they were afterwards
slain, for having concealed Epaphus from his wrath.

FABLE V.

The Naiad Salmacis falls in love with the youth Hermaphroditus, who
rejects her advances. While he is bathing, she leaps into the water, and
seizing the youth in her arms, they become one body, retaining their
different sexes.
Learn how Salmacis became infamous, and why it enervates, with its
enfeebling waters, and softens the limbs bathed in it. The cause is unknown;
but the properties of the fountain are very well known. The Naiads nursed a
boy, born to Mercury of the Cytherean Goddess in the caves of Ida; whose
face was such that therein both mother and father could be discerned; he
likewise took his name from them. As soon as he had completed thrice five
years, he forsook his native mountains, and leaving Ida, the place of his
nursing, he loved to wander over IV. 295-326] unknown spots, and to see
unknown rivers, his curiosity lessening the fatigue. He went, too, to the
Lycian46 cities, and the Carians, that border upon Lycia. Here he sees a pool
of water, clear to the very ground at the bottom; here there are no fenny
reeds, no barren sedge, no rushes with their sharp points. The water is
translucent; but the edges of the pool are enclosed with green turf, and with
grass ever verdant. A Nymph dwells there; but one neither skilled in
hunting, nor accustomed to bend the bow, nor to contend in speed; the only
one, too, of all the Naiads not known to the swift Diana. The report is, that
her sisters often said to her, “Salmacis, do take either the javelin, or the
painted quiver, and unite thy leisure with the toils of the chase.” She takes
neither the javelin, nor the painted quiver, nor does she unite her leisure
with the toils of the chase. But sometimes she is bathing her beauteous
limbs in her own spring; [IV. 311-333 and often is she straitening her hair with
a comb of Citorian boxwood,47 and consulting the waters, into which she
looks, what is befitting her. At other times, covering her body with a
transparent garment, she reposes either on the soft leaves or on the soft
grass. Ofttimes is she gathering flowers. And then, too, by chance was she
gathering them when she beheld the youth, and wished to possess him, thus
seen.
But though she hastened to approach the youth, still she did not approach
him before she had put herself in order, and before she had surveyed her
garments, and put on her best looks, and deserved to be thought beautiful.
Then thus did she begin to speak: “O youth, most worthy to be thought to

be a God! if thou art a God, thou mayst well be Cupid; but, if thou art a
mortal, happy are they who begot thee, and blessed is thy brother, and
fortunate indeed thy sister, if thou hast one, and the nurse as well who gave
thee the breast. But far, far more fortunate than all these is she; if thou hast
any wife, if thou shouldst vouchsafe any one the honor of marriage. IV. 326-
349] And if any one is thy wife, then let my pleasure be stolen; but, if thou
hast none, let me be thy wife, and let us unite in one tie.” After these things
said, the Naiad is silent; a blush tinges the face of the youth: he knows not
what love is, but even to blush becomes him. Such is the color of apples,
hanging on a tree exposed to the sun, or of painted ivory, or of the moon
blushing beneath her brightness when the aiding cymbals48 of brass are
resounding in [IV. 334-349 vain. Upon the Nymph desiring, without ceasing,
such kisses at least as he might give to his sister, and now laying her hands
upon his neck, white as ivory, he says, “Wilt thou desist, or am I to fly, and
to leave this place, together with thee?”
Salmacis is affrighted, and says, “I freely give up this spot to thee,
stranger,” and, with a retiring step, she pretends to go away. But then
looking back, and hid in a covert of shrubs, she lies concealed, and puts her
bended knees down to the ground. But he, just like a boy, and as though
unobserved on the retired sward, goes here and there, and in the sportive
waves dips the soles of his feet, and then his feet as far as his ankles. Nor is
there any delay; being charmed with the temperature of the pleasant waters,
he throws off his soft garments from his tender body. Then, indeed,
Salmacis is astonished, and burns with desire for his naked beauty. The
eyes, too, of the Nymph are on fire, no otherwise than as when the Sun,49
most brilliant [IV. 349-375 with his clear orb, is reflected IV. 349-371] from the
opposite image of a mirror. With difficulty does she endure delay; hardly
does she now defer her joy. Now she longs to embrace him; and now,
distracted, she can hardly contain herself. He, clapping his body with his
hollow palms, swiftly leaps into the stream, and throwing out his arms
alternately, shines in the limpid water, as if any one were to cover statues of
ivory, or white lilies, with clear glass.
“I have gained my point,” says the Naiad; “see, he is mine!” and, all her
garments thrown aside, she plunges in the midst of the waters, and seizes
him resisting her, and snatches reluctant kisses, and thrusts down her hands,

and touches his breast against his will, and clings about the youth, now one
way, and now another. Finally, as he is struggling against her, and desiring
to escape, she entwines herself about him, like a serpent which the royal
bird takes up and is bearing aloft; and as it hangs, it holds fast his head and
feet, and enfolds his spreading wings with its tail. Or, as the ivy is wont to
wind itself along the tall trunks of trees; and as the polypus50 holds fast its
enemy, caught beneath the waves, by letting down his suckers on all sides;
so does the descendant of Atlas51 still persist, and deny the Nymph the
hoped-for joy. She presses him hard; and clinging to him with every limb,
as she holds fast, she says, “Struggle as thou mayst, perverse one, still thou
shalt not escape. So ordain it, ye Gods, and let no time IV. 371-390] separate
him from me, nor me from him.” Her prayers find propitious Deities, for
the mingled bodies of the two are united,52 and one human shape is put
upon them; just as if any one should see [IV. 376-391 branches beneath a
common bark join in growing, and spring up together. So, when their bodies
meet together in the firm embrace, they are no more two, and their form is
twofold, so that they can neither be styled woman nor boy; they seem to be
neither and both.
Therefore, when Hermaphroditus sees that the limpid waters, into which he
had descended as a man, have made him but half a male, and that his limbs
are softened in them, holding up his hands, he says, but now no longer with
the voice of a male, “O, both father and mother, grant this favor to your son,
who has the name of you both, that whoever enters these streams a man,
may go out thence but half a man, and that he may suddenly become
effeminate in the waters when touched.” Both parents, moved, give their
assent to the words of their two-shaped son, and taint the fountain with
drugs of ambiguous quality.
EXPLANATION.

The only probable solution of this story seems to have been the fact
that there was in Caria, near the town of Halicarnassus, as we read in
Vitruvius, a fountain which was instrumental in civilizing certain
barbarians who had been driven from that neighborhood by the Argive
colony established there. These men being obliged to repair to the
fountain for water, and meeting the Greek colonists there, their

intercourse not only polished them, but in course of time corrupted
them, by the introduction of the luxurious manners of Greece. Hence
the fountain had the reputation of changing men into women.
Possibly the water of that fountain, by some peculiar chemical quality,
made those who drank of it become soft and effeminate, as waters are
to be occasionally found with extraordinary qualities. Lylius Gyraldus
suggests, that several disgraceful adventures happened near this
fountain (which was enclosed by walls), which in time gave it a bad
name.

FABLE VI.
Bacchus, to punish the daughters of Minyas for their contempt of his
worship, changes them into bats, and their work into ivy and vine leaves.
There was now an end of their stories; and still do the daughters IV. 390-417]
of Minyas go on with their work, and despise the God, and desecrate his
festival; when, on a sudden, tambourines unseen resound with their jarring
[IV. 392-417 noise; the pipe, too, with the crooked horn, and the tinkling brass,
re-echo; myrrh and saffron shed their fragrant odors; and, a thing past all
belief, their webs begin to grow green, and the cloth hanging in the loom to
put forth foliage like ivy. Part changes into vines, and what were threads
before, are now turned into vine shoots. Vine branches spring from the
warp, and the purple lends its splendor to the tinted grapes.
And now the day was past, and the time came on, which you could neither
call darkness nor light, but yet the very commencement of the dubious night
along with the light. The house seemed suddenly to shake, and unctuous
torches to burn, and the building to shine with glowing fires, and the
fictitious phantoms of savage wild beasts to howl. Presently, the sisters are
hiding themselves throughout the smoking house, and in different places are
avoiding the fires and the light. While they are seeking a hiding-place,
a membrane is stretched over their small limbs, and covers their arms with
light wings; nor does the darkness suffer them to know by what means they
have lost their former shape. No feathers bear them up; yet they support
themselves on pellucid wings; and, endeavoring to speak, they utter a voice

very diminutive even in proportion to their bodies, and express their low
complaints with a squeaking sound. They frequent houses, not woods; and,
abhorring the light, they fly abroad by night. And from the late evening do
they derive their name.53

FABLE VII.
Tisiphone, being sent by Juno to the Palace of Athamas, causes him to
become mad; on which he dashes his son Learchus to pieces against a
wall. He then pursues his wife Ino, who throws herself headlong from the
top of a rock into the sea, with her other son Melicerta in her arms: when
Neptune, at the intercession of Venus, changes them into Sea Deities. The
attendants of Ino, who have followed her in her flight, are changed, some
into stone, and others into birds, as they are about to throw themselves
into the sea after their mistress.
But then the Divine power of Bacchus is famed [IV. 417-441 throughout all IV.
417-444] Thebes; and his aunt is everywhere telling of the great might of the
new Divinity; she alone,54 out of so many sisters, is free from sorrow,
except that which her sisters have occasioned. Juno beholds her, having her
soul elevated with her children, and her alliance with Athamas, and the God
her foster-child. She cannot brook this, and says to herself, “Was the child
of a concubine able to transform the Mæonian sailors, and to overwhelm
them in the sea, and to give the entrails of the son to be torn to pieces by his
mother, and to cover the three daughters of Minyas with newly formed
wings? Shall Juno be able to do nothing but lament these griefs
unrevenged? And is that sufficient for me? Is this my only power? He
himself instructs me what to do. It is right to be taught even by an enemy.
And what madness can do,A he shows enough, and more than enough, by
the slaughter of Pentheus. Why should not Ino, too, be goaded by madness,
and submit to an example kindred to those of her sisters?”
There is a shelving path, shaded with dismal yew, which leads through
profound silence to the infernal abodes. Here languid Styx exhales vapors;
and the new-made ghosts descend this way, and phantoms when they have
enjoyed55 funeral rites. Horror and winter possess these dreary regions far

and wide, and the ghosts newly arrived know not where the way is that
leads to the Stygian city, or where is the dismal palace of the black Pluto.
The wide city has a thousand passages, and gates open on every side. And
as the sea receives the rivers for the whole earth, so does that spot56 receive
[IV. 442-459 all the souls; nor is it too little for any amount of people, IV. 444-
461] nor does it perceive the crowd to increase. The shades wander about,
bloodless, without body and bones; and some throng the place of judgment;
some the abode of the infernal prince. Some pursue various callings, in
imitation of their former life; their own punishment confines others.
Juno, the daughter of Saturn, leaving her celestial habitation, submits to go
thither, so much does she give way to hatred and to anger. Soon as she has
entered there, and the threshold groans, pressed by her sacred body,
Cerberus raises his threefold mouth, and utters triple barkings at the same
moment. She summons the Sisters,57 begotten of Night, terrible and
implacable Goddesses. They are sitting before the doors of the prison shut
close with adamant, and are combing black vipers from their hair. Soon as
they recognize her amid the shades of darkness, these Deities arise. This
place is called “the accursed.” Tityus58 is giving his entrails to be mangled,
and is stretched over nine acres. By thee, Tantalus,59 no waters are reached,
and the tree which overhangs thee, starts away. Sisyphus,60 thou [IV. 460-481
art either catching or thou art pushing on the stone destined to fall again.
Ixion61 is whirled IV. 461-496] round, and both follows and flies from himself.
The granddaughters, too, of Belus, who dared to plot the destruction of their
cousins, are everlastingly taking up the water which they lose. After the
daughter of Saturn has beheld all these with a stern look, and Ixion before
all; again, after him, looking upon Sisyphus, she says,
“Why does he alone, of all the brothers, suffer eternal punishment? and why
does a rich palace contain the proud Athamas, who, with his wife, has ever
despised me?” And then she explains the cause of her hatred and of her
coming, and what it is she desires. What she desires is, that the palace of
Cadmus shall not stand, and that the Sister Furies shall involve Athamas in
crime. She mingles together promises, commands, and entreaties, and
solicits the Goddesses. When Juno has thus spoken, Tisiphone, with her
locks dishevelled as they are, shakes them, and throws back from her face
the snakes crawling over it; and thus she says: “There is no need of a long

preamble; whatever thou commandest, consider it as done: leave these
hateful realms, and betake thyself to the air of a better heaven.”
Juno returns, overjoyed; and, preparing to enter heaven, Iris,62 the daughter
of Thaumas, purifies her by sprinkling water. Nor is there any delay; the
persecuting Tisiphone63 takes a torch reeking with gore, and puts on a cloak
red with fluid blood, and is girt [IV. 482-511 with twisted snakes, and then
goes forth from her abode. Mourning attends her as she goes, and Fright,
and Terror, and Madness with quivering features. She now reaches the
threshold; the Æolian door-posts are said to have shaken, and paleness tints
the maple door; the Sun, too, flies from the place. His wife is terrified at
these prodigies; Athamas, too, is alarmed, and they are both preparing to
leave the house. The baneful Erinnys stands in the way, and blocks up the
passage; and extending her arms twisted round with folds of vipers, she
shakes her locks; the snakes thus moved, emit a sound. Some lying about
her shoulders, some gliding around her temples, send forth hissings and IV.
496-523] vomit forth corruption, and dart forth their tongues. Then she tears
away two snakes from the middle of her hair, which, with pestilential hand,
she throws against them. But these creep along the breasts of Ino and
Athamas, and inspire them with direful intent. Nor do they inflict any
wounds upon their limbs; it is the mind that feels the direful stroke. She had
brought, too, with her a monstrous composition of liquid poison, the foam
of the mouth of Cerberus, and the venom of Echidna;64 and purposeless
aberrations, and the forgetfulness of a darkened understanding, and crime,
and tears, and rage, and the love of murder. All these were blended together;
and, mingled with fresh blood she had boiled them in a hollow vessel of
brass, stirred about with a stalk of green hemlock. And while they are
trembling, she throws the maddening poison into the breasts of them both,
and moves their inmost vitals. Then repeatedly waving her torch in the
same circle, she swiftly follows up the flames thus excited with fresh
flames. Thus triumphant, and having executed her commands, she returns to
the empty realms of the great Pluto; and she ungirds the snakes which she
had put on. [IV. 512-533 Immediately the son of Æolus, filled with rage, cries
out, in the midst of his palace, “Ho! companions, spread your nets in this
wood; for here a lioness was just now beheld by me with two young ones.”
And, in his madness, he follows the footsteps of his wife, as though of a

wild beast; and he snatches Learchus, smiling and stretching forth his little
arms from the bosom of his mother, and three or four times he whirls him
round in the air like a sling, and, frenzied, he dashes in pieces65 the bones of
the infant against the hard stones. Then, at last, the mother being roused
(whether it was grief that caused it, or whether the power of the poison
spread over her), yells aloud, and runs away distracted, with dishevelled
hair; and carrying thee, Melicerta, a little child, in IV. 523-542] her bare arms,
she cries aloud “Evoë, Bacche.” At the name of Bacchus, Juno smiles, and
says, “May thy foster-child66 do thee this service.”
There is a rock67 that hangs over the sea; the lowest part is worn hollow by
the waves, and defends the waters covered thereby from the rain. The
summit is rugged, and stretches out its brow over the open sea. This Ino
climbs (madness gives her strength), and, restrained by no fear, she casts
herself and her burden68 into the deep; the water, struck by her fall, is white
with foam. But Venus, pitying the misfortunes of her guiltless
granddaughter,69 in soothing words thus addresses her uncle: “O Neptune,
thou God of the waters, [IV. 534-556 to whom fell a power next after the
empire of heaven, great things indeed do I request; but do thou take
compassion on my kindred, whom thou seest being tossed upon the
boundless Ionian sea;70 and add them to thy Deities. I have surely some
interest with the sea, if, indeed, I once was foam formed in the hollowedB
deep, and my Grecian name is derived71 from that.” Neptune yields to her
request; and takes away from them all that is mortal, and gives them a
venerable majesty; and alters both their name and their shape, and IV. 542-562]
calls Palæmon a Divinity,72 together with his mother Leucothoë.
Her Sidonian attendants,73 so far as they could, tracing the prints of their
feet, saw the last of them on the edge of the rock; and thinking that there
was no doubt of their death, they lamented the house of Cadmus, with their
hands tearing their hair and their garments; and they threw the odium on the
Goddess, as being unjust and too severe against the concubine. Juno could
not endure their reproaches, and said, “I will make you yourselves
tremendous memorials of my displeasure.” Confirmation followed her
words. For the one who had been especially attached, said, “I will follow
the queen into the sea;” and about to give the leap, she could not be moved
any way, and adhering to the rock, there she stuck fast. Another, while she

was attempting to beat her breast with the accustomed blows, perceived in
the attempt that her arms had become stiff. One, as by chance she had
extended her [IV. 556-562 hands over the waters of the sea, becoming a rock,
held out her hands in those same waters. You might see the fingers of
another suddenly hardened in her hair, as she was tearing her locks seized
on the top of her head. In whatever posture each was found at the beginning
of the change, in the same she remained. Some became birds; which, sprung
from Ismenus, skim along the surface of the waves in those seas, with the
wings which they have assumed.
EXPLANATION.

The story of Ino, Athamas, and Melicerta appears to have been based
upon historical facts, as we are informed by Herodotus, Diodorus
Siculus, and Pausanias.
Athamas, the son of Æolus, and great-grandson of Deucalion, having,
on the death of Themisto, his first wife, married Ino, the daughter of
Cadmus, divorced her soon afterwards, to marry Nephele, by whom he
had Helle and Phryxus. She having been divorced in her turn, he took
Ino back again, and by her had Learchus and Melicerta. Ino, not being
able to endure the presence of the children of Nephele, endeavored to
destroy them. The city of Thebes being at that time afflicted with
famine, IV. 563-571] which was said to have been caused by Ino, who
ordered the seed to be parched before it was sown, Athamas ordered
the oracle of Delphi to be consulted. The priests, either having been
bribed, or the messengers having been corrupted, word was brought,
that, to remove this affliction, the children of Nephele must be
sacrificed.
Phryxus being warned of the designs of his stepmother, embarked in a
ship, with his sister Helle, and sailed for Colchis, where he met with a
kind reception from his kinsman Æetes. The young princess, however,
either becoming sea-sick, and leaning over the bulwarks of the vessel,
fell overboard and was drowned, or died a natural death in the passage
of the Hellespont, to which she gave its name from that circumstance.
Athamas, having discovered the deceitful conduct of Ino, in his rage
killed her son Learchus, and sought her, for the purpose of sacrificing

her to his vengeance. To avoid his fury, she fled with her son
Melicerta, and, being pursued, threw herself from a rock into the sea.
To console her relatives, the story was probably invented, that the
Gods had changed Ino and Melicerta into Sea Deities, under the names
of Leucothoë and Palæmon. Melicerta was afterwards worshipped in
the Isle of Tenedos, where children were offered to him in sacrifice. In
his honor, Glaucus established the Isthmian games, which were
celebrated for many ages at Corinth; and, being interrupted for a time,
were revived by Theseus, in honor of Neptune. Leucothoë was also
worshipped at Rome, and the Roman women used to offer up their
vows to her for their brothers’ children, not daring to supplicate the
Goddess for their own, because she had been unfortunate in hers. This
Ovid tells us in the Sixth Book of the Fasti. The Romans gave the
name of Matuta to Ino, and Melicerta, or Palæmon, was called
Portunus.
[IV. 565-587

The circumstance mentioned by Ovid, that some of Ino’s attendants
were changed into birds, and others into rocks, is, perhaps, only a
poetical method of saying that some of her attendants escaped, while
others perished with her.

FABLE VIII.
The misfortunes of his family oblige Cadmus to leave Thebes, and to retire
with his wife Hermione to Illyria, where they are changed into serpents.
The son of Agenor knows not that his daughter and his little grandson are
now Deities of the sea. Forced by sorrow, and a succession of calamities,
and the prodigies which, many in number, he had beheld, the founder flies
from his city, as though the ill-luck of the spot, and not his own, pressed
hard upon him, and driven, in a long series of wandering, he reaches the
coast of Illyria, with his exiled wife. And now, loaded with woes and with
years, while they are reflecting on the first disasters of their house, and in
their discourse are recounting their misfortunes, Cadmus says, “Was that
dragon a sacred one, that was pierced IV. 572-603] by my spear, at the time

when, setting out from Sidon, I sowed the teeth of the dragon in the ground,
a seed till then unknown? If the care of the Gods avenges this with
resentment so unerring, I pray that I myself, as a serpent, may be
lengthened out into an extended belly.” Thus he says; and, as a serpent, he is
lengthened out into an extended belly, and perceives scales growing on his
hardened skin, and his black body become speckled with azure spots; and
he falls flat on his breast, and his legs, joined into one, taper out by degrees
into a thin round point. His arms are still remaining; those arms which
remain he stretches out; and, as the tears are flowing down his face, still
that of a man, he says, “Come hither, wife, come hither, most unhappy one,
and, while something of me yet remains, touch me; and take my hand,
while it is still a hand, and while I am not a serpent all over.” He, indeed,
desires to say more, but, on a sudden, his tongue is divided into two parts.
Nor are words in his power when he offers to [IV. 588-603 speak; and as often
as he attempts to utter any complaints, he makes a hissing: this is the voice
that Nature leaves him. His wife, smiting her naked breast with her hand,
cries aloud, “Stay, Cadmus! and deliver thyself, unhappy one, from this
monstrous form. Cadmus, what means this? Where are thy feet? where are
both thy shoulders and thy hands? where is thy color and thy form, and,
while I speak, where all else besides? Why do ye not, celestial Gods, turn
me as well into a similar serpent?” Thus she spoke; he licked the face of his
wife, and crept into her dear bosom, as though he recognized her; and gave
her embraces, and reached her well-known neck.
Whoever is by, (some attendants are present), is alarmed; but the crested
snakes soothe them with their slippery necks, and suddenly they are two
serpents, and in joined folds they creep along, until they enter the covert of
an adjacent grove. Now, too, do they neither shun mankind, nor hurt them
with wounds, and the gentle serpents keep in mind what once they were.
EXPLANATION.

After Cadmus had reigned at Thebes many years, a conspiracy was
formed against him. Being driven from the throne, and his grandson
Pentheus assuming the crown, he and his wife Hermione retired into
Illyria, where, as Apollodorus says, he commanded the Illyrian army,
and at length was chosen king: on his death, the story here related by

Ovid was IV. 604-608] invented. It is possible that it may have been based
on the following grounds:—
The Phœnicians were anciently called ‘Achivi,’ which name they still
retained after their establishment in Greece. ‘Chiva’ being also the
Hebrew, and perhaps Phœnician word for ‘a serpent,’ the Greeks,
probably in reference to the Phœnician origin of Cadmus, reported
after his death, that he and his wife were serpents; and in time, that
transformation may have been stated to have happened at the end of
his life. According to Aulus Gellius, the ancient inhabitants of Illyria
had two eyelids to each eye, and with their looks, when angered, they
were able to kill those whom they beheld stedfastly. The Greeks hence
called them serpents and basilisks; and, it is not unlikely, that when
Cadmus retired among them, they said that he had become one of the
Illyrians, otherwise a dragon, or a serpent. All the ancient writers who
mention his history agree that Cadmus really did retire into Illyria,
where he first assisted the Enchelians in their war against the Illyrians.
The latter were defeated, and, to obtain a peace from the Enchelians,
they gave the crown to Cadmus; to which, on his death, his son Illyrus
succeeded. The historian Christodorus, quoted by Pausanias, [IV. 604-617
says that he built the city of Nygnis, in the country of the Enchelians.
Some writers have supposed, upon the authority of Euhemerus as
quoted by Eusebius that Cadmus was not the son of Agenor, but was
one of his officers, who eloped thence with Hermione, a singing girl.
Others suppose that Cadmus is not really a proper name, but that it
signifies a ‘leader,’ or ‘conductor;’ and that he received the name from
leading a colony into Greece. Bochart says that he was called Cadmus,
because he came from the eastern part of Phœnicia, which is called in
Scripture ‘Cadmonia,’ or ‘oriental;’ and that Hermione probably
received her name from Mount Hermon.

FABLE IX.
Perseus, the son of Jupiter and Danaë, having killed Medusa, carries her
head into Africa, where the blood that runs from it produces serpents.

Atlas, king of that country, terrified at the remembrance of an oracle,
which had foretold that his golden fruit should be taken by one of the
sons of Jupiter, not only orders him to depart, but even resorts to violence
to drive him away, on which Perseus shows him the Gorgon’s head, and
changes him into a mountain.
But yet their grandson, Bacchus gave them both a great consolation, under
this change of form; whom India, subdued by him, worshipped as a God,
and whom Achaia honored with erected temples. Acrisius the son of
Abas,74 descended IV. 608-644] of the same race,75 alone remained, to drive
him from the walls of the Argive city, and to bear arms against the God, and
to believe him not to be the offspring of Jove. Neither did he think Perseus
to be the offspring of Jupiter, whom Danaë had conceived in a shower of
gold; but soon (so great is the power of truth) Acrisius was sorry, both that
he had insulted the God, and that he had not acknowledged his grandson.
The one was now placed in heaven, while the other, bearing the memorable
spoil of the viperous monster, cut the yielding air with hissing wings; and
while the conqueror was hovering over the [IV. 617-652 Libyan sands, bloody
drops, from the Gorgon’s head, fell down, upon receiving which, the ground
quickened them into various serpents. For this cause, that region is filled
and infested with snakes.
Carried thence, by the fitful winds, through boundless space, he is borne
now here, now there, just like a watery cloud, and, from the lofty sky, looks
down upon the earth, removed afar; and he flies over the whole world.
Three times he saw the cold Bears, thrice did he see the claws of the Crab;
ofttimes he was borne to the West, many a time to the East. And now, the
day declining, afraid to trust himself to the night, he stopped in the Western
part of the world, in the kingdom of Atlas; and there he sought a little rest,
until Lucifer should usher forth the fires of Aurora, Aurora, the chariot of
the day. Here was Atlas, the son of Iapetus, surpassing all men in the
vastness of his body. Under this king was the extremity of the earth, and the
sea which holds its waters under the panting horses of the Sun, and receives
the wearied chariot. For him, a thousand flocks, and as many herds,
wandered over the pastures, and no neighboring places disturbed the land.
Leaves of the trees, shining with radiant gold, covered branches of gold,
and apples of gold. “My friend,” said Perseus to him, “if the glory of a

noble race influences thee, Jupiter is the author of my descent; or if thou art
an admirer of exploits, thou wilt admire mine. I beg of thee hospitality, and
a resting place.” The other was mindful of an ancient oracle. The Parnassian
Themis had given this response: “A time will come, IV. 644-662] Atlas, when
thy tree shall be stripped of its gold, and a son of Jove shall have the honor
of the prize.” Dreading this, Atlas had enclosed his orchard with solid walls,
and had given it to be kept by a huge dragon;76 and expelled all strangers
from his territories. To Perseus, too, he says, “Far hence begone, lest the
glory of the exploits, to which thou falsely pretendest, and Jupiter as well,
be far from protecting thee.” He adds violence as well to his threats, and
tries to drive him from his doors, as he hesitates and mingles resolute words
with [IV. 653-662 persuasive ones. Inferior in strength (for who could be a
match for Atlas in strength?), he says “Since my friendship is of so little
value to thee, accept this present;” and then, turning his face away, he
exposes on the left side the horrible features of Medusa. Atlas, great as he
is, becomes a mountain. Now his beard and his hair are changed into
woods; his shoulders and his hands become mountain ridges, and what was
formerly his head, is the summit on the top of the mountain. His bones
become stones; then, enlarged on every side, he grows to an immense
height (so you willed it, ye Gods), and the whole heaven, with so many
stars, rests upon him.
EXPLANATION.

The story of the seduction of Danaë, the mother of Perseus, by Jupiter,
in the form of a shower of gold, has been thus explained by some of
the ancient writers. Acrisius, hearing of a prediction that Danaë, his
daughter, should bring forth a child that would kill him, caused her to
be shut in a tower with brazen gates, or, according to some, in a
subterraneous chamber, covered with plates of that metal; which place,
according to Pausanias, remained till the time of Perilaus, the king of
Argos, by whom it was destroyed. The precautions of Acrisius were,
however, made unavailing by his brother Prœtus; who, falling in love
with his niece, corrupted the guards with gold, and gained admission
into the tower. Danaë, being delivered of Perseus, her father caused
them to be exposed in a boat to the mercy of the waves. Being cast on

shore near Seriphus, the king, Polydectes, gave them a hospitable
reception, and took care of the education of Perseus.
Diodorus Siculus says that the Gorgons were female warriors, who
inhabited the neighborhood of Lake Tritonis, in Libya. Pausanias
explains the story of Medusa, by saying that she ruled the people in
that neighborhood, and laid waste the lands of the nations in her
vicinity. Perseus, having fled, with some companions, from
Peloponnesus, surprised her by night, and killed her, together with her
escort. The next morning, the beauty of her face appeared so
remarkable that he cut it off, and afterwards took it with him to
Greece, to show it to the people, who could not look on it without
being struck with astonishment. On this explanation we may remark,
that if it is true, Perseus must have had more skill than the surgeons of
our day, in being able to preserve the beauty of the features so long
after death.
Again, many of the ancient historians, with Pliny, Athenæus, and
Solinus, think that the Gorgons were wild women of a savage nature,
living in caves and forests, who, falling on wayfarers, committed
dreadful atrocities. Palæphatus and Fulgentius think that the Gorgons
really were three young women, possessed of great wealth, which they
employed in a very careful manner; Phorcus, their father, having left
them three islands, and a golden statue of Minerva, which they placed
in their common treasury. They had one minister in common for the
management of their affairs, who used to go for that purpose from one
island to another, whence arose the story that they had but one eye, and
that they lent it to one another alternately. Perseus, a fugitive from
Argos, hearing of the golden statue, determined to obtain it; and with
that view, seized their minister, or, in the allegorical language of the
poets, took their eye away from them. He then sent them word, that if
they would give him the statue, he would deliver up his captive, and
threatened, in case of refusal, to put him to death. Stheno and Euryale
consented to this; but Medusa resisting, she was killed by Perseus.
Upon his obtaining the statue, which was called the Gorgon, or
Gorgonian, he broke it in pieces, and placed the head on the prow of
his ship. As the sight of this, and the fame of the exploits of Perseus,

spread terror everywhere, and caused passive submission to him, the
fable originated, that with Medusa’s head he turned his enemies into
stone. Landing in the Isle of Seriphus, the king fled, with all his
subjects; and, on entering the chief city, finding nothing but the bare
stones there, he caused the report to be spread, that he had petrified the
inhabitants.
Servius, in his Commentary on the Æneid, quotes an opinion of
Ammonius Serenus, that the Gorgons were young women of such
beauty as to make a great impression on all that saw them; for which
reason they were said to turn them into statues. Le Clerc thinks that the
story bears reference to a voyage which the Phœnicians had made in
ancient times to the coast of Africa, whence they brought a great
number of horses; and that the name ‘Perseus’ comes from the
Phœnician word ‘pharscha,’ ‘a horseman;’ while the horse Pegasus was
so called from the Phœnician ‘pagsous,’ ‘a bridled horse,’ according to
the conjecture of Bochart. Alexander of Myndus, a historian quoted by
Athenæus, says that Libya had an animal which the natives called
‘gorgon;’ that it resembled a sheep, and with its breath killed all those
who approached it; that a tuft of hair fell over its eyes, which was so
heavy as to be removed with difficulty, for the purpose of seeing the
objects around it; but that when it was removed, by its looks it struck
dead any person whom it gazed upon. He says, that in the war with
Jugurtha, some of the soldiers of Marius were thus slain by it, and that
it was at last killed by means of arrows discharged from a great
distance.
The Gorgons are said to have inhabited the Gorgades, islands in the IV.
663-670] Æthiopian Sea, the chief of which was called Cerna, according
to Diodorus and Palæphatus. It is not improbable that the Cape Verde
Islands were called by this name. The fable of the transformation of
Atlas into the mountain of that name may possibly have been based
upon the simple fact, that Perseus killed him in the neighborhood of
that range, from which circumstance it derived the name which it has
borne ever since. The golden apples, which Atlas guarded with so
much care, were probably either gold mines, which Atlas had
discovered in the mountains of his country, and had secured with

armed men and watchful dogs; or sheep, whose fleeces were extremely
valuable for their fineness; or else oranges and lemons, and other fruits
peculiar to very hot climates, [IV. 663-673 for the production of which the
poets especially remarked the country of Tingitana (the modern
Tangier), as being very celebrated.

FABLE X.
Perseus, after his victory over Atlas, and his change into a mountain, arrives
in Æthiopia, at the time when Andromeda is exposed to be devoured by a
monster. He kills it, and hides the Gorgon’s head under the sand, covered
with sea-weed and plants; which are immediately turned into coral. He
then renders thanks to the Gods for his victory, and marries Andromeda.
At the marriage feast he relates the manner in which he had killed
Medusa; and the reason why Minerva had changed her hair into serpents.
The grandson of Hippotas77 had shut up the winds in their eternal prison;
and Lucifer, who reminds men of their work, was risen in the lofty sky, in
all his splendor. Resuming his wings, Perseus binds his feet with them on
either side, and is girt with his crooked weapon, and cleaves the liquid air
with his winged ankles. Nations innumerable being left behind, around and
below, he beholds the people of the Æthiopians and the lands of Cepheus.
There the unjust Ammon78 had ordered the innocent Andromeda to suffer
punishment for her mother’s tongue.79
IV. 671-700]

Soon as the descendant of Abas beheld her, with her arms bound to the hard
rock, but that the light breeze was moving her hair, and her eyes were
running [IV. 674-700 with warm80 tears, he would have thought her to be a
work of marble. Unconsciously he takes fire, and is astonished; captivated
with the appearance of her beauty, thus beheld, he almost forgets to wave
his wings in the air. When he has lighted on the ground, he says, “O thou,
undeserving of these chains, but rather of those by which anxious lovers are
mutually united, disclose to me, inquiring both the name of this land and of
thyself, and why thou wearest these chains.” At first she is silent, and,
a virgin, she does not dare address81 a man; and with her hands she would

have concealed her blushing features, if she had not been bound; her eyes,
’twas all she could do, she filled with gushing tears. Upon his often urging
her, lest she should seem unwilling to confess her offence, she told the
name both of her country and herself, and how great had been the
confidence of her mother in her beauty. All not yet being told, the waves
roared, and a monster approaching,82 appeared with its head raised out of
the boundless ocean, and covered the wide expanse with its breast. The
virgin shrieks aloud; her mournful father, and her distracted mother, are
there, both wretched, but the latter more justly so. Nor do they bring her any
help with them, but tears suitable to the occasion, and lamentations, and
they cling round her body, bound to the rock.
Then thus the stranger says: “Plenty of time will be left for your tears
hereafter, the season for giving aid is but short. If I were to demand her in
marriage, I, Perseus, the son of Jove, and of her whom, in prison, Jove
embraced in the impregnating shower of gold, Perseus, the conqueror of the
Gorgon with her serpent [IV. 700-726 locks, and who has dared, on waving IV.
700-729] wings, to move through the ætherial air, I should surely be preferred
before all as your son-in-law. To so many recommendations I endeavor to
add merit (if only the Deities favor me). I only stipulate that she may be
mine, if preserved by my valor.” Her parents embrace the condition, (for
who could hesitate?) and they entreat his aid, and promise as well, the
kingdom as a dowry. Behold! as a ship onward speeding, with the beak
fixed in its prow, plows the waters, impelled by the perspiring arms83 of
youths; so the monster, moving the waves by the impulse of its breast, was
as far distant from the rocks, as that distance in the mid space of air, which
a Balearic string can pass with the whirled plummet of lead; when suddenly
the youth, spurning the earth with his feet, rose on high into the clouds. As
the shadow of the hero was seen on the surface of the sea, the monster
vented its fury on the shadow so beheld. And as the bird of Jupiter,84 when
he has espied on the silent plain a serpent exposing its livid back to the sun,
seizes it behind; and lest it should turn upon him its raging mouth, fixes his
greedy talons in its scaly neck; so did the winged hero, in his rapid flight
through the yielding air, press the back of the monster, and the descendant
of Inachus thrust his sword up to the very hilt in its right shoulder, as it
roared aloud.

Tortured by the grievous wound, it sometimes raises itself aloft in the air,
sometimes it plunges beneath the waves, sometimes it wheels about, just
like a savage boar, which a pack of hounds in full cry around him affrights.
With swift wings he avoids the eager bites85 of the monster, and, with his
crooked sword, one while wounds its back covered with hollow shells,
where it is exposed, at another time the ribs of its sides, and now, [IV. 726-756
where its tapering tail terminates in that of a fish. The monster vomits forth
from its mouth streams mingled with red blood; its wings, made heavy by it,
are wet with the IV. 729-762] spray. Perseus, not daring any longer to trust
himself on his dripping pinions,86 beholds a rock, which with its highest top
projects from the waters when becalmed, but is now covered by the troubled
sea. Resting on that, and clinging to the upper ridge87 of the rock with his
left hand, three or four times he thrusts his sword through its entrails aimed
at by him. A shout, with applause, fills the shores and the lofty abodes of the
Gods. Cassiope and Cepheus, the father, rejoice, and salute him as their
son-in-law, and confess that he is the support and the preserver of their
house.
Released from her chains, the virgin walks along, both the reward and the
cause of his labors. He himself washes his victorious hands in water taken
from the sea; and that it may not injure the snake-bearing head with the bare
sand, he softens the ground with leaves; and strews some weeds produced
beneath the sea, and lays upon them the face of Medusa, the daughter of
Phorcys. The fresh weeds, being still alive, imbibed the poison of the
monster in their spongy pith, and hardened by its touch; and felt an
unwonted stiffness in their branches and their leaves. But the Nymphs of
the sea attempt the wondrous feat on many other weeds, and are pleased at
the same result; and raise seed again from them scattered on the waves.
Even now the same nature remains in the coral, that it receives hardness
from contact with the air; and what was a plant in the sea, out of the sea
becomes stone.
To three Deities he erects as many altars of turf; the left one to Mercury; the
right to thee, warlike Virgin; the altar of Jove is in the middle. A cow is
sacrificed to Minerva; a calf to the wing-footed God, and a bull to thee,
greatest of the Deities. Forthwith he takes [IV. 757-783 Andromeda, and the
reward of an achievement so great, without any dowry. Hymenæus and

Cupid wave their torches before them; the fires are heaped with abundant
perfumes. Garlands, too, are hanging from the houses: flageolets and lyres,
and pipes, and songs resound, the happy tokens of a joyous mind. The
folding-doors thrown open, IV. 762-787] the entire gilded halls are displayed,
and the nobles of king Cepheus sit down at a feast furnished with splendid
preparations. After they have done the feast, and have cheered their minds
with the gifts of the generous Bacchus, the grandson of Abas inquires the
customs and habits of the country. Immediately one of them, Lyncides, tells
him, on his inquiring, the manners and habits of the inhabitants. Soon as he
had told him these things, he said, “Now, most valiant Perseus, tell us,
I beseech thee, with how great valor and by what arts thou didst cut off the
head all hairy with serpents.” The descendant of Abas tells them that there
is a spot situate beneath cold Atlas, safe in its bulwark of a solid mass; that,
in the entrance of this, dwelt the two sisters, the daughters of Phorcys, who
shared the use of a single eye; that he stealthily, by sly craft, while it was
being handed over,88 obtained possession of this by putting his hand in the
way; and that through rocks far remote, and pathless, and bristling with
woods on their craggy sides, he had arrived at the abodes of the Gorgons,
and saw everywhere, along the fields and the roads, statues of men and wild
beasts turned into stone, from their natural form, at the sight of Medusa; yet
that he himself, from the reflection on the brass of the shield89 which his
left hand bore, beheld [IV. 783-803 the visage of the horrible Medusa; and that,
while a sound sleep held her and her serpents entranced, he took the head
from off the neck; and that Pegasus and his brother,90 fleet with wings, were
produced from the blood of her, their mother. He added, too, the dangers of
his lengthened IV. 787-803] journey, themselves no fiction;91 what seas, what
lands he had seen beneath him from on high, and what stars he had reached
with his waving wings.
Yet, before it was expected,92 he was silent; whereupon one of the nobles
rejoined, inquiring why she alone, of the sisters, wore snakes mingled
alternately with her hair. “Stranger,” said he, “since thou inquirest on a
matter worthy to be related, hear the cause of the thing thou inquirest after.
She was the most famed for her beauty, and the coveted hope of many
wooers; nor, in the whole of her person, was any part more worthy of notice
than her hair: I have met with some who said they had seen it. The

sovereign of the sea is said to have deflowered her in the Temple of
Minerva. The daughter of Jove turned away, and covered her chaste eyes
with her shield. And that this might not be unpunished, she changed the hair
of the Gorgon into hideous snakes. Now, too, that she may alarm her
surprised foes with terror, she bears in front upon her breast, those snakes
which she thus produced.”
EXPLANATION.

It is extremely difficult to surmise what may have given rise to many
of the fabulous circumstances here narrated. It has been conjectured by
some, that Pegasus and his brother Chrysaor, the two horses produced
from the blood of Medusa, were really two ships in the harbor of the
island where that princess was residing at the time when she was slain
by Perseus; and that, on that event, they were seized by him. Perhaps
they had the figure of a winged horse on the prow; from which
circumstance the fable had its origin. Possibly, the story of the
production of coral from the blood of Medusa may have originated in
the fact, that on the defeat of the Gorgons, navigation became more
safe, and, consequently, the fishing for coral more common that it had
been before.
The story of the exposure of Andromeda may be founded on the fact,
that she was contracted by her parents against her will to some fierce,
piratical prince, who infested the adjacent seas with his depredations;
and that the betrothal was made, on condition that he should allow the
realms of her father, Cepheus, to be free and undisturbed; Perseus,
being informed of this, slew the pirate, and Phineus having been kept
in a state of inactivity through dread of the valor of Perseus, it was
fabled that he had been changed into a stone. This interpretation of the
story is the one suggested by Vossius.
Some writers think, that Phineus, the uncle of Andromeda, was the
enemy from which she was rescued by Perseus, and who is here
represented under the form of a monster; while others suggest that this
monster was the name of the ship in which the pirate before mentioned
was to have carried away Andromeda.

1. Minyas.]—Ver. 1. Alcithoë was the daughter of Minyas, who,
according to some, was the son of Orchomenus, according to others,
his father. Pausanias says that the Bœotians, over whom he reigned,
were called ‘Minyæ’ from him; but he makes no allusion to the
females who are here mentioned by Ovid.
2. Rites.]—Ver. 1. ‘Orgia:’ this was the original name of the Dionysia,
or festival of Bacchus; but in time the word came to be applied to any
occasion of festivity.
3. Her sisters.]—Ver. 3. The names of the sisters of Alcithoë,
according to Plutarch, were Aristippe and Leucippe. The names of the
three, according to Ælian, were Alcathoë, Leucippe, and Aristippe,
who is sometimes called Arsinoë. The latter author says, that the truth
of the case was, that they were decent women, fond of their husbands
and families, who preferred staying at home, and attending to their
domestic concerns, to running after the new rites; on which it was said,
by their enemies, that Bacchus had punished them.
4. Work-baskets.]—Ver. 10. The ‘calathus,’ which was called by the
Greeks κάλαθος, καλαθίσκος, and τάλαρος, generally signifies the
basket in which women placed their work, and especially the materials
used for spinning. They were generally made of osiers and reeds, but
sometimes of more valuable materials, such as silver, perhaps in
filagree work. ‘Calathi’ were also used for carrying fruits and flowers.
Virgil (Ecl. v. l. 71) speaks of cups for holding wine, under the name of
‘Calathi.’
5. Bromius.]—Ver. 11. Bacchus was called Bromius, from βρέμω, ‘to
cry out,’ or ‘shout,’ from the yells and noise made by his worshippers,
whose peculiar cries were, Εὐοῖ Βάκχε, ὦ Ἰακχε, Ιώ Βάκχε, Εὐοῖ
σαβοῖ.C ‘Evoë, Bacche! O, Iacche! Io, Bacche! Evoë sabæ!’
6. Lyæus.]—Ver. 11. Bacchus was called Lyæus, from the Greek word,
λύειν, ‘to loosen,’ or ‘relax,’ because wine dispels care.
7. That had two mothers.]—Ver. 12. The word ‘bimater’ seems to have
been fancied by Ovid as an appropriate epithet for Bacchus, Jupiter

having undertaken the duties of a mother for him, in the latter months
of gestation.
8. Thyoneus.]—Ver. 13. Bacchus was called Thyoneus, either from
Semele, his mother, one of whose names was Thyone, or from the
Greek, θύειν, ‘to be frantic,’ from which origin the Bacchanals also
received their name of Thyades.
9. Lenæus.]—Ver. 14. From the Greek word λῆνος, ‘a wine-press.’
10. Nyctelius.]—Ver. 15. From the Greek word νὺξ, ‘night,’ because
his orgies were celebrated by night. Eleleus is from the shout, or
‘huzza’ of the Greeks, which was ελελεῦ.
11. Iacchus.]—Ver. 15. From the Greek ἰαχὴ, ‘clamor,’ or ‘noise.’
12. Evan.]—Ver. 15. From the exclamation, Εὐοῖ, or ‘Evoë’ which the
Bacchanals used in performing his orgies.
13. Lycurgus.]—Ver. 22. He was a king of Thrace, who having slighted
the worship of Bacchus, was afflicted with madness, and hewed off his
own legs with a hatchet, and, according to Apollodorus, mistaking his
own son Dryas for a vine, destroyed him with the same weapon.
14. Unseasonable labor.]—Ver. 32. ‘Minerva;’ the name of the
Goddess Minerva is here used for the exercise of the art of spinning, of
which she was the patroness. The term ‘intempestiva’ is appropriately
applied, as the arts of industry and frugality, which were first invented
by Minerva, but ill accorded with the idle and vicious mode of
celebrating the festival of Bacchus.
15. Dercetis.]—Ver. 45. Lucian, speaking of Dercetis, or Derceto, says,
‘I have seen in Phœnicia a statue of this goddess, of a very singular
kind. From the middle upwards, it represents a woman, but below it
terminates in a fish. The statue of her, which is shown at Hieropolis,
represents her wholly as a woman.’ He further says, that the temple of
this last city was thought by some to have been built by Semiramis,
who consecrated it not to Juno, as is generally believed, but to her own
mother, Derceto. Atergatis was another name of this Goddess. She was
said, by an illicit amour, to have been the mother of Semiramis, and in

despair, to have thrown herself into a lake near Ascalon, on which she
was changed into a fish.
16. Palestine.]—Ver. 46. Palæstina, or Philistia, in which Ascalon was
situate, was a part of Syria, lying in its south-western extremity.
17. How a Naiad.]—Ver. 49. The Naiad here mentioned is supposed to
have been a Nymph of the Island of the Sun, called also Nosola,
between Taprobana (the modern Ceylon) and the coast of Carmania
(perhaps Coromandel), who was in the habit of changing such youths
as fell into her hands into fishes. As a reward for her cruelty, she
herself was changed into a fish by the Sun.
18. Most beauteous of youths.]—Ver. 55. Clarke translates ‘juvenum
pulcherrimus alter,’ ‘one of the most handsome of all the young
fellows.’
19. Her lofty city.]—Ver. 57. The magnificence of ancient Babylon has
been remarked by many ancient writers, from Herodotus downwards.
Its walls are said to have been 60 miles in compass, 87 feet in
thickness, and 350 feet in height.
20. Walls of brick.]—Ver. 58. The walls were built by Semiramis of
bricks dried in the sun, cemented together with layers of bitumen.
21. The tomb of Ninus.]—Ver. 88. According to Diodorus Siculus, the
sepulchre of Ninus, the first king of Babylon, was ten stadia in length,
and nine in depth; it had the appearance of a vast citadel, and was at a
considerable distance from the city of Babylon. Commentators have
expressed some surprise that Ovid here uses the word ‘busta,’ for
‘tomb,’ as the place of meeting for these chaste lovers, as the
prostitutes of Rome used to haunt the ‘busta,’ or ‘tombs;’ whence they
obtained the epithet of ‘bustuariæ.’
22. The lead decaying.]—Ver. 122. ‘Fistula’ here means ‘a water-pipe.’
Vitruvius speaks of three methods of conveying water; by channels of
masonry, earthen pipes, and leaden pipes. The latter were smaller, and
more generally used; to them reference is here made. They were
formed by bending plates of lead into a form, not cylindrical, but the
section of which was oblong, and tapering towards the top like a pear.

The description here given, though somewhat homely, is extremely
natural, and, as frequent experience shows us, depicts the results when
the soldering of a water-pipe has become decayed.
23. Paler than box-wood.]—Ver. 134. From the light color of
boxwood, the words ‘buxo pallidiora,’ ‘paler than boxwood,’ became a
proverbial expression among the Romans.
24. The sea which trembles.]—Ver. 136. The ripple, or shudder, which
runs along the surface of the sea, when a breath of wind is stirring in a
calm, is very beautifully described here, and is worthy of notice.
25. The ivory sheath.]—Ver. 148. The ‘vagina,’ or ‘sheath’ of the
sword, was often highly decorated; and we learn from Homer and
Virgil, as well as Ovid, that ivory was much used for that purpose. The
sheath was worn by the Greeks and Romans on the left side of the
body, so as to enable them to draw the sword from it, by passing the
right hand in front of the body, to take hold of the hilt, with the thumb
next to the blade.
26. Is black.]—Ver. 165. He thus accounts for the deep purple hue of
the mulberry which, before the event mentioned here, he says was
white.
27. Leuconoë began.]—Ver. 168. It is worthy of remark, how strongly
the affecting tale of Pyramus and Thisbe contrasts with the loose story
of the loves of Mars and Venus.
28. The son of Juno.]—Ver. 173. Vulcan is called ‘Junonigena,’
because, according to some, he was the son of Juno alone. Other
writers, however, say that he was the only son of Jupiter and Juno.
29. The folding doors.]—Ver. 185. The plural word ‘valvæ’ is often
used to signify a door, or entrance, because among the ancients each
doorway generally contained two doors folding together. The internal
doors even of private houses were bivalve; hence, as in the present
case, we often read of the folding doors of a bed-chamber. Each of
these doors or valves was usually wide enough to permit persons to
pass each other in egress and ingress without opening the other door as

well. Sometimes each valve was double, folding like our window-
shutters.
30. Cytherean.]—Ver. 190. Cythera was an island on the southern
coast of Laconia; where Venus was supposed to have landed, after she
had risen from the sea. It was dedicated to her worship.
31. Hyperion.]—Ver. 192. He was the son of Cœlus, or Uranus, and
the father of the Sun. The name of Hyperion is, however, often given
by the poets to the Sun himself.
32. Rhodos.]—Ver. 204. She was a damsel of the Isle of Rhodes, the
daughter of Neptune, and, according to some, of Venus. She was
greatly beloved by Apollo, to whom she bore seven children.
33. Beauteous mother.]—Ver. 205. This was Persa, the daughter of
Oceanus, and the mother of the enchantress Circe, who is here called
‘Ææa,’ from Ææa, a city and peninsula of Colchis. Circe is referred to
more at length in the 14th Book of the Metamorphoses.
34. Perfume-bearing.]—Ver. 209. Being born in Arabia, the producer
of all kinds of spices and perfumes, which were much in request
among the ancients, for the purposes of sacrifice.
35. Produced.]—Ver. 210. Eurynome was the wife of Orchamus, and
was the daughter of Oceanus and Tethys.
36. Achæmenian.]—Ver. 212. Persia is called Achæmenian, from
Achæmenes, one of its former kings.
37. Ancient Belus.]—Ver. 213. The order of descent is thus reckoned
from Belus; Abas, Acrisius, Danaë, Perseus, Bachæmon, Achæmenes,
and Orchamus.
38. Ambrosia.]—Ver. 215. Ambrosia was said to be the food of the
Deities, and nectar their drink.
39. Beauty of the God.]—Ver. 233. Clarke translates, ‘Virgo victa
nitore Dei.’ ‘The young lady—charmed with the spruceness of the
God.’

40. For the love of the Sun.]—Ver. 234. This remark is added, to show
that the God had not been sufficiently cautious in his courtship of her
sister to conceal it from the observation of Clytie.
41. Reach the skies.]—Ver. 251. That is to say, ‘You shall arise from
the earth as a tree bearing frankincense: the gums of which, burnt in
sacrifice to the Gods, shall reach the heavens with their sweet odors.’
Persia and Arabia have been celebrated by the poets, ancient and
modern, for their great fertility in frankincense and other aromatic
plants.
42. Like a violet.]—Ver. 268. This cannot mean the large yellow plant
which is called the sunflower. The small aromatic flower which we call
heliotrope, with its violet hue and delightful perfume, more nearly
answers the description. The larger flower probably derived its name
from the resemblance which it bears to the sun, surrounded with rays,
as depicted by the ancient painters.
43. Shepherd of Ida.]—Ver. 277. This may mean either Daphnis of
Crete, or of Phrygia; for in both those countries there was a mountain
named Ida.
44. The Curetes.]—Ver. 282. According to Dionysius of Halicarnassus,
the Curetes were the ancient inhabitants of Crete. We may here remark,
that the story of their springing from the earth after a shower of rain,
seems to have no other foundation than the fact of their having been of
the race of the Titans; that is, they were descended from Uranus, or
Cœlus and Tita, by which names were meant the heaven and the earth.
45. Smilax.]—Ver. 283. The dictionary meanings given for this word
are—1. Withwind, a kind of herb. 2. The yew tree. 3. A kind of oak.
The Nymph was probably supposed to have been changed into the
first.
46. Lycian.]—Ver. 296. Lycia was a province of Asia Minor, on the
shores of the Mediterranean Sea. Caria was another province,
adjoining to Lycia.
47. Citorian boxwood.]—Ver. 311. Citorus, or Cythorus, was a
mountain of Paphlagonia, famous for the excellence of the wood of the

box trees that grow there. The Greeks and Romans made their combs
of it. The Egyptians used them made of ivory and wood, and toothed
on one side only; those of the Greeks had teeth on both sides. Great
care was usually taken of the hair; to go with it uncombed was a sign
of affliction.
48. The aiding cymbals.]—Ver. 333. The witches and magicians, in
ancient times, and especially those of Thessaly, professed to be able,
with their charms and incantations, to bring the moon down from
heaven. The truth of these assertions being commonly believed, at the
period of an eclipse it was supposed by the multitude that the moon
was being subjected to the spells of these magicians, and that she was
struggling (laborabat) against them, on which the sound of drums,
trumpets, and cymbals was resorted to, to distract the attention of the
moon, and to drown the charms repeated by the enchanters, for which
reason, the instruments employed for the purpose were styled
‘auxiliares.’
49. As when the Sun.]—Ver. 349. Bailey gives this explanation of the
passage,— ‘The eyes of the Nymph seemed to sparkle and shine, just
as the rays of the sun in a clear sky when a looking-glass is placed
against them, for then they seem most splendid, and contract the fire.’
From the mention of the eyes of the Nymph burning ‘flagrant,’ we
might be almost justified in concluding that ‘speculum’ means here not
a mirror, but a burning-glass. The ‘specula,’ or looking-glasses, of the
ancients were usually made of metal, either a composition of tin and
copper, or silver; but in later times, alloy was mixed with the silver.
Pliny mentions the obsidian stone, or, as it is now called, the Icelandic
agate, as being used for this purpose. Nero is said to have used
emeralds for mirrors. Pliny the Elder says that mirrors were made in
the glass-houses of Sidon, which consisted of glass plates, with leaves
of metal at the back; they were probably of an inferior character. Those
of copper and tin were made chiefly at Brundisium. The white metal
formed from this mixture soon becoming dim, a sponge with powdered
pumice stone was usually fastened to the mirrors made of that
composition. They were generally small, of a round or oval shape, and
having a handle; and female slaves usually held them, while their

mistresses were performing the duties of the toilet. Sometimes they
were fastened to the walls, and they were occasionally of the length of
a person’s body. Venus was supposed often to use the mirror; but
Minerva repudiated the use of it.
50. Polypus.]—Ver. 366. This is a fish which entangles its prey, mostly
consisting of shell fish, in its great number of feet or feelers. Ovid here
calls them ‘flagella;’ but in the Halieuticon he styles them ‘brachia’
and ‘crines.’ Pliny the Elder calls them ‘crines’ and ‘cirri.’
51. Descendant of Atlas.]—Ver. 368. Hermaphroditus was the great-
grandson of Atlas; as the latter was the father of Maia, the mother of
Mercury, who begot Hermaphroditus.
52. The two are united.]—Ver. 374. Clarke translates, ‘nam mixta
duorum corpora junguntur,’ ‘for the bodies of both, being jumbled
together, are united.’
53. Derive their name.]—Ver. 415. In Greek they are called
νυκτερίδες, from νυξ, ‘night;’ and in Latin, ‘vespertiliones,’ from
‘vesper,’ ‘evening,’ on account of their habits.
54. She alone.]—Ver. 419. This was Ino, whose only sorrows hitherto
had been caused by the calamities which befell her sisters and their
offspring: Semele having died a shocking death, Autonoë having seen
her son Actæon changed into a stag, and then devoured by his dogs,
and Agave having assisted in tearing to pieces her own son Pentheus.
55. When they have enjoyed.]—Ver. 435. The spirits whose bodies had
not received the rites of burial, we learn from Homer and Virgil, were
not allowed to pass the river Styx, but wandered on its banks for a
hundred years.
56. So does that spot.]—Ver. 441. That is to say, whatever number of
ghosts arrives there, it receives them all with ease, and is not sensible
of the increase of number; either because the place itself is of such
immense extent, or because the souls of the dead do not occupy space.
57. The Sisters.]—Ver. 450. These were the Furies, fabled to be the
daughters of Night and Acheron. They were three in number,

Tisiphone, Alecto, and Megæra, and were supposed to be the avengers
of crime and wickedness.
58. Tityus.]—Ver. 456. Tityus was the son of Jupiter and Elara. On
account of his enormous size, the poets sometimes style him a son of
the earth. Attempting to commit violence upon Latona, he was slain by
the arrows of Apollo, and precipitated to the infernal regions, where he
was condemned to have his liver constantly devoured by a vulture, and
then renewed, to perpetuate his torments.
59. Tantalus.]—Ver. 457. He was the son of Jupiter, by the Nymph
Plote. The crime for which he was punished is differently related by
the poets. Some say, that he divulged the secrets of the Gods, that had
been entrusted to him; while others relate, that at an entertainment
which he gave to the Deities, he caused his own son, Pelops, to be
served up, on which Ceres inadvertently ate his shoulder. He was
doomed to suffer intense hunger and thirst, amid provisions of all
kinds within his reach, which perpetually receded from him.
60. Sisyphus.]—Ver. 459. Sisyphus, the son of Æolus, was a daring
robber, who infested Attica. He was slain by Theseus; and being sent
to the infernal regions, was condemned to the punishment of rolling a
great stone to the top of a mountain, which it had no sooner reached
than it fell down again, and renewed his labor.
61. Ixion.]—Ver. 461. Being advanced by Jupiter to heaven, he
presumed to make an attempt on Juno. Jupiter, to deceive him, formed
a cloud in her shape, on which Ixion begot the Centaurs. He was cast
into Tartarus, and was there fastened to a wheel, which turned round
incessantly.
62. Iris.]—Ver. 480. Iris was the daughter of Thaumas and Electra, and
the messenger of Juno. She was the Goddess of the Rainbow.
63. Tisiphone.]—Ver. 481. Clarke translates ‘Tisiphone importuna,’
‘the plaguy Tisiphone.’
64. Echidna.]—Ver. 501. This word properly means, ‘a female viper;’
but it here refers to the Hydra, or dragon of the marsh of Lerna, which
Hercules slew. It was fabled to be partly a woman, and partly a

serpent, and to have been begotten by Typhon. According to some
accounts, this monster had seven heads.
65. Dashes in pieces.]—Ver. 519. Euripides and Hyginus relate, that
Athamas slew his son while hunting; and Apollodorus says, that he
mistook him for a stag.
66. Thy foster-child.]—Ver. 524. Bacchus was the foster-child of Ino,
who was the sister of his mother Semele. The remaining portion of the
story of Ino and Melicerta is again related by Ovid in the sixth book of
the Fasti.
67. There is a rock.]—Ver. 525. Pausanias calls this the Molarian rock,
and says, that it was one of the Scironian rocks, near Megara, in Attica.
It was a branch of the Geranian mountain.
68. And her burden.]—Ver. 530. This was her son Melicerta, who,
according to Pausanias, was received by dolphins, and was landed by
them on the isthmus of Corinth.
69. Guiltless granddaughter.]—Ver. 531. Venus was the grandmother
of Ino, inasmuch as Hermione, or Harmonia, the wife of Cadmus, was
the daughter of Mars and Venus.
70. Boundless Ionian sea.]—Ver. 535. The Ionian sea must be merely
mentioned here as a general name for the broad expanse of waters, of
which the Saronic gulf, into which the Molarian rock projected,
formed part. Ovid may, however, mean to say that Ino threw herself
from some rock in the Ionian sea, and not from the Molarian rock;
following, probably, the account of some other writer, whose works are
lost.
71. Grecian name is derived.]—Ver. 538. Venus was called Aphrodite,
by the Greeks, from ἄφρος, ‘the foam of the sea,’ from which she was
said to have sprung.
72. A Divinity.]—Ver. 542. Ino and Melicerta were worshipped as
Divinities both in Greece and at Rome.
73. Sidonian attendants.]—Ver. 543. The Theban matrons are meant,
who had married the companions of Cadmus that accompanied him

from Phœnices.
74. Son of Abas.]—Ver. 608. Acrisius was the son of Abas, king of
Argos. He was the father of Danaë, by whom Jupiter was the father of
Perseus.
75. Of the same race.]—Ver. 607. Some suppose that by this it is
meant that as Belus, the father of Abas, and grandfather of Acrisius,
was the son of Jupiter, who was also the father of Bacchus, the latter
and Acrisius were consequently related.
76. A huge dragon.]—Ver. 647. The name of the dragon was Ladon.
77. Hippotas.]—Ver. 663. Æolus, the God of the Winds, was the son of
Jupiter, by Acesta, the daughter of Hippotas.
78. Ammon.]—Ver. 671. Jupiter, with the surname of Ammon, had a
temple in the deserts of Libya, where he was worshipped under the
shape of a ram; a form which he was supposed to have assumed, when,
in common with the other Deities, he fled from the attacks of the
Giants. The oracle of Jupiter Ammon being consulted relative to the
sea monster, which Neptune, at the request of the Nereids, had sent
against the Ethiopians, answered that Andromeda must be exposed to
be devoured by it; which Ovid here, not without reason, calls an unjust
demand.
79. Mother’s tongue.]—Ver. 670. Cassiope, the mother of Andromeda,
had dared to compare her own beauty with that of the Nereids.
Cepheus, the son of Phœnix, was the father of Andromeda.
80. Warm.]—Ver. 674. ‘Tepido,’ ‘warm,’ is decidedly preferable here
to ‘trepido,’ ‘trembling.’
81. Dare address.]—Ver. 682. Heinsius thinks that ‘appellare’ here is
not the correct reading; and suggests ‘aspectare,’ which seems to be
more consistent with the sense of the passage, which would then be,
‘and does not dare to look down upon the hero.’
82. Monster approaching.]—Ver. 689. Pliny the Elder and Solinus tell
us that the bones of this monster were afterwards brought from Joppa,

a seaport of Judæa, to Rome, and that the skeleton was forty feet in
length, and the spinal bone was six feet in circumference.
83. The perspiring arms.]—Ver. 707. ‘Juvenum sudantibus acta
lacertis’ is translated by Clarke, ‘forced forward by the arms of
sweating young fellows.’
84. Bird of Jupiter.]—Ver. 714. The eagle was the bird sacred to Jove.
The larger kinds of birds which afforded auguries from their mode of
flight, were called ‘præpetes.’
85. Avoids the eager bites.]—Ver. 723. Clarke translates this line, ‘He
avoids the monster’s eager snaps with his swift wings.’
86. His dripping pinions.]—Ver. 730. ‘Talaria’ were either wings fitted
to the ankles, or shoes having such wings fastened to them; they were
supposed to be usually worn by Mercury.
87. Clinging to the upper ridge.]—Ver. 733. ‘Tenens juga prima
sinistra’ is rendered by Clarke, ‘seizing the tip-top of it with his left
hand.’
88. Being handed over.]—Ver. 766. Of course, as they had but one eye
between them, they must have both been blind while it was passing
from one hand to another, so that Perseus could have had but little
difficulty in effecting the theft here mentioned.
89. Brass of the shield.]—Ver. 783. This reflecting shield Perseus is
said to have received from Minerva, and by virtue of it he was enabled
to see without being seen. Lucian says that Minerva herself held this
reflecting shield before him, and by that means afforded him the
opportunity of seeing the reflection of Medusa’s figure; and that
Perseus, seizing her by the hair with his left hand, and keeping his eye
fixed on the image reflected in the shield, took his sword in his right,
and cut off her head, and then, by the aid of his wings, flew away
before the other Gorgon sisters were aware of what he had done.
90. Pegasus and his brother.]—Ver. 786. Pegasus and Chrysaor were
two winged horses, which were fabled to have sprung up from the
blood of Medusa, when slain by Perseus.

91. Themselves no fiction.]—Ver. 787. His dangers were not false or
imaginary, inasmuch as he was pursued by Sthenyo and Euryale, the
sisters of Medusa, who were fabled to have wings, and claws of iron
on their hands. Ovid deals a sly hit in the words ‘non falsa pericula
cursus,’ at the tales of travellers, who, even in his day, seem to have
commenced dealing in the marvellous; as, indeed, we may learn for
ourselves, on turning to the pages of Herodotus, who seems to have
been often imposed upon.
92. Before it was expected.]—Ver. 790. Showing thereby how
delighted his audience was with his narrative.

Supplementary Notes (added by transcriber)
A. what madness can do: “madness” is the grammatical subject. Ovid
IV.429 “quidque furor valeat”.
B. the hollowed deep: Ovid IV.537 is variously read as “in medio ...
profundo”, “immenso ... profundo” and “in dīo ... profundo”. The Bell text
“the hallowed deep” can only be based on the rare “dio” reading.
C. Εὐοῖ Βάκχε, ὦ Ἰακχε, Ιώ Βάκχε, Εὐοῖ σαβοῖ: Text given as printed. The
exact form (with consistent capitalization) is probably Εὐοῖ Βάκχε, Ὦ
Ἴακχε, Ἰώ Βάκχε, Εὐοῖ σαβαῖ.

BOOK THE FIFTH.

FABLE I.
While Perseus is continuing the relation of the adventures of Medusa,
Phineus, to whom Andromeda has been previously promised in marriage,
rushes into the palace, with his adherents, and attacks his rival. A furious
combat is the consequence, in which Perseus gives signal proofs of his
valor. At length, perceiving himself likely to be overpowered by the
number of his enemies, he shows them the head of the Gorgon; on which
Phineus and his followers are turned into statues of stone. After this
victory, he takes Andromeda with him to Argos, his native city, where he
turns the usurper Prœtus into stone, and re-establishes his grandfather
Acrisius on the throne.
And while the hero, the son of Danaë, is relating these things in the midst of
the company of the subjects of Cepheus, the royal courts are filled with a
raging multitude; nor is the clamor such as celebrates a marriage-feast, but
one which portends dreadful warfare. You might compare the banquet,
changed into a sudden tumult, to the sea, which, when calm, the boisterous
rage of the winds disturbs by raising its waves.
Foremost among these, Phineus,1 the rash projector of the onslaught,
shaking an ashen spear with a brazen point, cries, “Behold! now, behold!
I am come, the avenger of my wife, ravished from me; neither shall thy
wings nor Jupiter turned into fictitious gold, deliver thee from me.” As he is
endeavoring to hurl his lance, Cepheus cries out, “What art thou doing?
What fancy, my brother, impels thee, in thy madness, to this crime? Is this
the due acknowledgment to return [V. 14-39 for deserts so great? Dost thou
repay the life of her thus preserved, with this reward? ’Twas not Perseus, if
thou wouldst know the truth, that took her away from thee; but the incensed

V. 16-45] majesty of the Nereids, and horned Ammon, and the monster of the
sea, which came to be glutted with my bowels. She was snatched from thee
at that moment, at which she was to have perished; unless it is that thou
dost, in thy cruelty, insist upon that very thing, that she should perish, and
wilt be appeased only by my affliction. It is not enough, forsooth, that in thy
presence she was bound and that thou, both her uncle and her betrothed,
didst give no assistance; wilt thou be grieving, besides, that she was saved
by another, and wilt thou deprive him of his reward? If this appears great to
thee, thou shouldst have recovered it from the rock to which it was fastened.
Now, let him who has recovered it, through whom my old age is not
childless, have what he stipulated for, both by his merits and his words; and
know that he was preferred not before thee, but before certain death.”
Phineus said nothing, on the other hand; but viewing both him and Perseus,
with alternate looks, he was uncertain whether he should first attack the one
or the other; and, having paused a short time, he vainly threw his spear,
hurled with all the force that rage afforded. As it stood fixed in the cushion,2
then, at length, Perseus leapt off from the couch, and in his rage would have
pierced the breast of his enemy with the weapon, thrown back, had not
Phineus gone behind an altar, and thus (how unworthily!) an altar3
protected a miscreant. However, the spear, not thrown in vain, stuck in the
forehead of Rhœtus; who, after he fell, and the steel was wrenched from the
skull, he [V. 40-68 still struggled, and besprinkled the laid tables with his
blood. But then does the multitude burst forth into ungovernable rage, and
hurl their weapons. Some there are, who say that Cepheus ought to die with
his son-in-law; but Cepheus has gone out by the entrance of the house,
calling right and good faith to witness, and the Gods of hospitality,4 that this
disturbance is V. 45-77] made contrary to his will. The warlike Pallas comes;
and with her shield protects her brother Perseus, and gives him courage.
There was an Indian, Athis by name,5 whom Limnate, the daughter of the
river Ganges, is believed to have brought forth beneath the glassy waters;
excelling in beauty, which he improved by his rich dress; in his prime, as
yet but twice eight years of age, dressed in a purple tunic, which a golden
fringe bordered; a gilded necklace graced his neck, and a curved hair-pin
his hair wet with myrrh. He, indeed, had been taught to hit things, although
at a distance, with his hurled javelin, but he was more skilled at bending the

bow. Perseus struck him even then, as he was bending with his hands the
flexible horns of a bow, with a billet, which, placed in the middle of the
altar, was smoking, and he crushed his face into his broken skull.
When the Assyrian Lycabas, who was a most attached friend of his, and no
concealer of his real affection, saw him rolling his features, the objects of
such praises, in his blood; after he had bewailed Athis, breathing forth his
life from this cruel wound, he seized the bow which he had bent, and said,
“And now let the contest against thee be with me; not long shalt thou exult
in the fate of the youth, by which thou acquirest more hatred than praise.”
All this he had not yet said, when the piercing weapon darted from the
string, and though avoided, still it hung in the folds of his garment. The
grandson of Acrisius turned against [V. 69-94 him his falchion,6 already
proved in the slaughter of Medusa, and thrust it into his breast. But he, now
dying, with his eyes swimming in black night, looked around for Athis, and
sank upon him, and carried to the shades the consolation of a united death.
Lo! Phorbas of Syene,7 the son of Methion, and Amphimedon, the Libyan,
eager to engage in the fight, fell down, slipping in the blood with which the
earth was warm, soaked on every side; as they V. 77-107] arose the sword met
them, being thrust in the ribs of the one, and in the throat of Phorbas. But
Perseus does not attack Erithus, the son of Actor, whose weapon is a broad
battle-axe, by using his sword, but he takes up, with both hands, a huge
bowl,8 standing out with figures deeply embossed, and of vast mass in its
weight, and hurls it against the man. The other vomits forth red blood, and,
falling on his back, beats the ground with his dying head. Then he slays
Polydæmon, sprung from the blood of Semiramis, and the Caucasian
Abaris, and Lycetus, the son of Sperchius,9 and Elyces, with unshorn locks,
and Phlegias, and Clytus; and he tramples upon the heaps of the dying,
which he has piled up.
But Phineus, not daring to engage hand to hand with his enemy, hurls his
javelin, which accident carries against Idas, who, in vain, has declined the
warfare10 and has followed the arms of neither. He, looking at the cruel
Phineus with stern eyes, says, “Since I am thus forced to take a side, take
the enemy, Phineus, that thou hast made, and make amends for my wound
with this wound.” And now, just about to return the [V. 95-123 dart drawn
from his body, he falls sinking down upon his limbs void of blood. Here,

too, Odytes, the next in rank among the followers of Cepheus, after the
king, lies prostrate under the sword of Clymenus; Hypseus kills Protenor,
and Lyncides Hypseus. There is, too, among them the aged Emathion, an
observer of justice, and a fearer of the Gods; as his years prevent him from
fighting, he engages by talking, and he condemns and utters imprecations
against their accursed arms. As he clings to the altars11 with trembling
hands, Chromis cuts off his head with his sword, which straightway falls
upon the altar, and there, with his dying tongue he utters words of
execration, and breathes forth his soul in the midst of the fires. Upon this,
two brothers, Broteas and V. 107-138] Ammon invincible at boxing, if swords
could only be conquered by boxing, fell by the hand of Phineus; Ampycus,
too, the priest of Ceres, having his temples wreathed with a white fillet.
Thou too, son of Iapetus, not to be employed for these services; but one
who tuned the lyre, the work of peace, to thy voice, hadst been ordered to
attend the banquet and festival with thy music. As thou art standing afar,
and holding the unwarlike plectrum, Pettalus says, laughing, “Go sing the
rest to the Stygian ghosts,” and fixes the point of the sword in his left
temple. He falls, and with his dying fingers he touches once again the
strings of the lyre; and in his fall he plays a mournful dirge.12 The fierce
Lycormas does not suffer him to fall unpunished; and tearing away a
massive bar from the doorpost on the right, he dashes it against the bones of
the middle of the neck of Pettalus; struck, he falls to the ground, just like a
slaughtered bullock.
The Cinyphian13 Pelates, too, was trying to tear away the oaken bar of the
doorpost on the left; as he was [V. 123-151 trying, his right hand was fastened
thereto by the spear of Corythus, the son of Marmarus, and it stood riveted
to the wood. Thus riveted, Abas pierced his side; he did not fall, however,
but dying, hung from the post, which still held fast his hand. Melaneus, too,
was slain, who had followed the camp of Perseus, and Dorylas, very rich in
Nasamonian land.14 Dorylas, rich in land, than whom no one possessed it of
wider extent, or received thence so many heaps of corn. The hurled steel
stood fixed obliquely in his groin; the hurt was mortal. When the Bactrian15
Halcyoneus, the author of the wound, beheld him sobbing forth his soul,
and rolling his eyes, he said, “Take for thine own this spot of earth which
thou dost press, out of so many fields,” and he left his lifeless body. The

descendant of Abas, as his avenger, hurls against Halcyoneus the spear torn
from his wound yet warm, which, received in the middle of the nostrils, V.
139-167] pierced through his neck, and projected on both sides. And while
fortune is aiding his hand, he slays, with different wounds, Clytius and
Clanis, born of one mother. For an ashen spear poised with a strong arm is
driven through both the thighs of Clytius; with his mouth does Clanis bite
the javelin. Celadon, the Mendesian,16 falls, too; Astreus falls, born of a
mother of Palestine, but of an uncertain father. Æthion, too, once sagacious
at foreseeing things to come, but now deceived17 by a false omen; and
Thoactes, the armor-bearer of the king, and Agyrtes, infamous for slaying
his father.
More work still remains, than what is already done; for it is the intention of
all to overwhelm one. The conspiring troops fight on all sides, for a cause
that [V. 151-176 attacks both merit and good faith. The one side, the father-in-
law, attached in vain, and the new-made wife, together with her mother,
encourage; and these fill the halls with their shrieks. But the din of arms,
and the groans of those that fall, prevail; and for once, Bellona18 is deluging
the household Gods polluted with plenteous blood, and is kindling the
combat anew. Phineus, and a thousand that follow Phineus, surround
Perseus alone; darts are flying thicker than the hail of winter, on both his
sides, past his eyes, and past his ears. On this, he places his shoulders
against the stone of a large pillar, and, having his back secure, and facing
the adverse throng, he withstands their attack. Chaonian19 Molpeus presses
on the left, Nabathæan Ethemon on the right. As a tiger, urged on by
hunger, when it hears the lowings of two herds, in different valleys, knows
not on which side in preference to rush out, and yet is eager to rush out on
both; so Perseus, being in doubt whether to bear onward to the right V. 167-
203] or to the left, repulses Molpeus by a wound in the leg, which he runs
through, and is contented with his flight. Nor, indeed, does Ethemon give
him time, but fiercely attacks him; and, desirous to inflict a wound deep in
his neck, he breaks his sword, wielded with incautious force; and against
the extremity of a column which he has struck, the blade flies to pieces, and
sticks in the throat of its owner; yet that blow has not power sufficient to
effect his death. Perseus stabs him with his Cyllenian20 falchion, trembling,
and vainly extending his unarmed hands.

But when Perseus saw his valor likely to yield to such [V. 177-209 numbers, he
said, “Since you yourselves force me to do it, I will seek assistance from an
enemy: turn away your faces, if any of my friends are here;” and then he
produced the head of the Gorgon. “Go, seek some one else,” said Thescelus,
“for thy miracles to affect;” and, as he was preparing to hurl his deadly
javelin with his hand, he stood fast in that posture, a statue of marble.
Ampyx, being next him, made a pass with his sword at the breast of
Lyncidas, full of daring spirit, and, while making it, his right hand became
stiff, moving neither to one side nor the other. But Nileus, who had falsely
boasted that he was begotten by the seven-mouthed Nile, and who had
engraved on his shield its seven channels, partly in silver, partly in gold,
said, “Behold, Perseus, the origin of my race; thou shalt carry to the silent
shades a great consolation for thy death, that thou wast killed by one so
great.” The last part of his address was suppressed in the midst of the
utterance; and you would think his half-open mouth was attempting to
speak, but it gave no passage for his words. Eryx rebuked them,21 and said,
“Ye are benumbed by the cowardice of your minds, not by the locks of the
Gorgon; rush on with me, and strike to the ground this youth that wields his
magic arms.” He was about to rush on, when the earth arrested his steps,
and he remained an immovable stone, and an armed statue. But all these
met with the punishment they had deserved: there was one man, however,
Aconteus by name, a soldier of Perseus, for whom while he was fighting, on
beholding the Gorgon, he grew hard with stone rising upon him. Astyages,
V. 203-239] thinking him still alive, struck him with his long sword; the sword
resounded with a shrill ringing. While Astyages was in amazement, he took
on himself the same nature: and the look of one in surprise remained on his
marble features. It is a tedious task to recount the names of the men of the
lower rank. Two hundred bodies were yet remaining for the fight: two
hundred bodies, on beholding the Gorgon, grew stiff.
[V. 210-240 Now at length Phineus repents of this unjust warfare. But what
can he do? He sees statues varying in form, and he recognizes his friends,
and demands help of them each, called by name; and not yet persuaded, he
touches the bodies next him; they are marble. He turns away his eyes; and
thus suppliant, and stretching forth his hands, that confessed his fault, and
his arms obliquely extended, he says, “Perseus, thou hast conquered;

remove the direful monster, and take away that stone-making face of thy
Medusa, whatever she may be; take it away, I pray. It is not hatred, or the
desire of a kingdom, that has urged me to war: for a wife I wielded arms.
Thy cause was the better in point of merit, mine in point of time. I am not
sorry to yield. Grant me nothing, most valiant man, beyond this life; the rest
be thine.” Upon his saying such things, and not daring to look upon him,
whom he is entreating with his voice, Perseus says, “What am I able to give
thee, most cowardly Phineus, and, a great boon to a craven, that will I give;
lay aside thy fears; thou shalt be hurt by no weapon. Moreover, I will give
thee a monument to last forever, and in the house of my father-in-law thou
shalt always be seen, that my wife may comfort herself with the form of her
betrothed.” Thus he said, and he turned the daughter of Phorcys to that side,
towards which Phineus had turned himself with trembling face. Then, even
as he endeavored to turn away his eyes, his neck grew stiff, and the
moisture of his eyes hardened in stone. But yet his timid features, and his
suppliant countenance, and his hands hanging down, and his guilty attitude,
still remained.
The descendant of Abas, together with his wife, enters the walls of his
native city; and as the defender and avenger of his innocent mother, he
attacks Prœtus.22 For, his brother being expelled by force of arms, Prœtus
had taken possession V. 239-243] of the citadel of Acrisius; but neither by the
help of arms, nor the citadel which he [V. 240-242 had unjustly seized, did he
prevail against the stern eyes of the snake-bearing monster.
EXPLANATION.

The scene of this story is supposed by some to have been in Æthiopia,
but it is more probably on the coast of Africa. Josephus and Strabo
assert that this event happened near the city of Joppa, or Jaffa: indeed,
Josephus says that the marks of the chains with which Andromeda was
fastened, were remaining on the rock in his time. Pomponius Mela
says, that Cepheus, the father of Andromeda, was king of Joppa, and
that the memory of that prince and of his brother Phineus was honored
there with religious services. He says, too, that the inhabitants used to
show the bones of the monster which was to have devoured
Andromeda. Pliny tells us the same, and that Scaurus carried these

bones with him to Rome. He calls the monster ‘a Goddess,’ ‘Dea
Cete.’ Vossius believes that he means the God Dagon, worshipped
among the Syrians under the figure of a fish, or sea-monster. Some
authors have suggested that the story of the creature which was to have
devoured Andromeda, was a confused version of that of the prophet
Jonah.
The alleged power of Perseus, to turn his enemies into stone, was
probably, a metaphorical mode of describing his heroism, and the
terror which everywhere followed the fame of his victory over the
Gorgons. This probably caused such consternation, that it was reported
that he petrified his enemies by showing them the head of Medusa.
Bochart supposes that the rocky nature of the island of Seriphus, where
Polydectes reigned, was the ground of the various stories of the alleged
metamorphoses into stone, effected by means of the Gorgon’s head.

FABLE II.
Polydectes continues his hatred against Perseus, and treats his victories and
triumphs over Medusa as mere fictions, on which Perseus turns him into
stone. Minerva leaves her brother, and goes to Mount Helicon to visit the
Muses, who show the Goddess the beauties of their habitation, and
entertain her with their adventure at the court of Pyreneus, and the death
of that prince. They also repeat to her the song of the Pierides, who
challenged them to sing.
Yet, O Polydectes,23 the ruler of little Seriphus, [V. 243-264 neither the V. 243-
266] valor of the youth proved by so many toils, nor his sorrows have
softened thee; but thou obstinately dost exert an inexorable hatred, nor is
there any limit to thy unjust resentment. Thou also detractest from his
praises, and dost allege that the death of Medusa is but a fiction. “We will
give thee a proof of the truth,” says Perseus; “have a regard for your eyes,
all besides;” and he makes the face of the king become stone, without
blood, by means of the face of Medusa.
Hitherto Tritonia had presented herself as a companion to her brother,24
begotten in the golden shower. Now, enwrapped in an encircling cloud, she

abandons Seriphus, Cythnus and Gyarus25 being left on the right. And
where the way seems the shortest over the sea, she makes for Thebes and
Helicon, frequented by the virgin Muses; having reached which mountain
she stops, and thus addresses the learned sisters: “The fame of the new
fountain26 has reached my ears, which the hard hoof of the winged steed
sprung from the blood of Medusa has opened. That is the cause of my
coming. I wished to see this wondrous prodigy; I saw him spring from the
blood of his mother.” Urania27 replies, “Whatever, Goddess, is the cause of
thy visiting these abodes, thou art most acceptable to our feelings. However,
the report is true, and Pegasus is the originator of this spring;” and then she
conducts Pallas to the sacred [V. 265-290 streams. She, long admiring the
waters produced by the stroke of his foot, looks around upon the groves of
the ancient wood, and the caves and the grass V. 266-295] studded with
flowers innumerable; and she pronounces the Mnemonian28 maids happy
both in their pursuits and in their retreat; when one of the sisters thus
addresses her:
“O Tritonia, thou who wouldst have come to make one of our number, had
not thy valor inclined thee to greater deeds, thou sayest the truth, and with
justice thou dost approve both our pursuits and our retreat; and if we are but
safe, happy do we reckon our lot. But (to such a degree is no denial borne
by villany) all things affright our virgin minds, and the dreadful Pyreneus is
placed before our eyes; and not yet have I wholly recovered my presence of
mind. He, in his insolence, had taken the Daulian and Phocean29 land with
his Thracian troops, and unjustly held the government. We were making for
the temple of Parnassus; he beheld us going, and adoring our Divinities30 in
a feigned worship he said (for he had recognized us), ‘O Mnemonian maids,
stop, and do not scruple, I pray, under my roof to avoid the bad weather and
the showers (for it was raining); oft have the Gods above entered more
humble cottages.’ Moved by his invitation and the weather, we assented to
the man, and entered the front part of his house. The rain had now ceased,
and the South Wind now subdued by the North, the black clouds were
flying from the cleared sky. It was our wish to depart. Pyreneus closed his
house, and prepared for violence, which we escaped by taking wing. He
himself stood aloft on the top of his abode, as though about to follow us,
and said ‘Wherever there is a way for you, by the same road there will be

one for me.’ [V. 292-312 And then, in his insanity, he threw himself from the
height of the summit of the tower, and fell upon his face, and with the bones
of his skull thus broken, he struck the ground stained with his accursed
blood.”
Thus spoke the Muse. Wings resounded through the air, and a voice of some
saluting them31 came from the lofty V. 293-321] boughs. The daughter of
Jupiter looked up, and asked whence tongues that speak so distinctly made
that noise, and thought that a human being had spoken. They were birds;
and magpies that imitate everything, lamenting their fate, they stood
perched on the boughs, nine in number. As the Goddess wondered, thus did
the Goddess Urania commence: “Lately, too, did these being overcome in a
dispute, increase the number of the birds. Pierus, rich in the lands of Pella,32
begot them; the Pæonian33 Evippe34 was their mother. Nine times did she
invoke the powerful Lucina, being nine times in labor. This set of foolish
sisters were proud of their number, and came hither through so many cities
of Hæmonia, and through so many of Achaia,35 and engaged in a contest in
words such as these: “Cease imposing upon the vulgar with your empty
melody. If you have any confidence in your skill, ye Thespian Goddesses,
contend with us; we will not be outdone in voice or skill; and we are as
many in number. Either, if vanquished, withdraw from the spring formed by
the steed of Medusa, and the Hyantean Aganippe,36 or we [V. 313-339 will
retire from the Emathian plains, as far as the snowy Pæonians. Let the
Nymphs decide the contest.” It was, indeed, disgraceful to engage, but to
yield seemed even more disgraceful. The Nymphs that are chosen swear by
the rivers, and they sit on seats made out of the natural rock. Then, without
casting lots, she who had been the first to propose the contest, sings the
wars of the Gods above, and gives the Giants honor not their due, and
detracts from the actions of the great Divinities; and sings how that
Typhœus, sent forth from the lowest realms of V. 321-340] the earth, had
struck terror into the inhabitants of Heaven; and how they had all turned
their backs in flight, until the land of Egypt had received them in their
weariness, and the Nile, divided into its seven mouths. She tells, how that
Typhœus had come there, too, and the Gods above had concealed
themselves under assumed shapes; and ‘Jupiter,’ she says, ‘becomes the
leader of the flock, whence, even at the present day, the Libyan Ammon is

figured with horns. Apollo, the Delian God, lies concealed as a crow, the
son of Semele as a he-goat, the sister of Phœbus as a cat, Juno, the daughter
of Saturn, as a snow-white cow, Venus as a fish,37 Mercury, the Cyllenian
God, beneath the wings of an Ibis.’38
“Thus far she had exerted her noisy mouth to the sound of the lyre; we of
Aonia39 were then called upon; but perhaps thou hast not the leisure, nor the
time to lend an ear to our strains.” Pallas says, “Do not hesitate, and repeat
your song to me in its order;” and she takes her seat under the pleasant
shade of the grove. The Muse then tells her story. “We assigned the
management of the contest to one of our number. Calliope rises, and,
having her long hair gathered up with ivy, tunes with her thumb the
sounding chords; and then [V. 340-350 sings these lines in concert with the
strings when struck.”
EXPLANATION.

According to Plutarch, the adventure of the Muses with Pyreneus, and
of their asking wings of the Gods to save themselves, is a metaphor,
which shows that he, when reigning in Phocis, was no friend to
learning. As he had caused all the institutions in which it was taught to
be destroyed, it was currently reported, that he had offered violence to
the Muses, and that he lost his life in pursuing them. Ovid is the only
writer that mentions him by name.
The challenge given by the Pierides to the Muses is not mentioned by
any writer before the time of Ovid. By way of explaining it, it is said,
that Pierus was a very bad poet, whose works were full of stories
injurious to the credit of the Gods. Hence, in time, it became
circulated, that his V. 341-358] daughters, otherwise his works, were
changed into magpies, thereby meaning that they were full of idle
narratives, tiresome and unmeaning. It is not improbable that the story
of Typhœus, who forces the Gods to conceal themselves in Egypt,
under the forms of various animals, was a poem which Pierus
composed on the war of the Gods with the Giants.

FABLE III.

One of the Muses repeats to Minerva the song of Calliope, in answer to the
Pierides; in which she describes the defeat of the Giant Typhœus, and
Pluto viewing the mountains of Sicily, where Venus persuades her son
Cupid to pierce his heart with one of his arrows.
“Ceres was the first to turn up the clods with the crooked plough; she first
gave corn and wholesome food to the earth; she first gave laws; everything
is the gift of Ceres. She is to be sung by me; I only wish that I could utter
verses worthy of the Goddess, for doubtless she is a Goddess worthy of my
song. The vast island of Trinacria40 is heaped up on the limbs of the Giant,
and keeps down Typhœus, that dared to hope for the abodes of Heaven,
placed beneath its heavy mass. He, indeed, struggles, and attempts often to
rise, but his right hand is placed beneath the Ausonian [V. 350-373 Pelorus,41
his left under thee, Pachynus;42 his legs are pressed down by Lilybœum;43
Ætna bears down his head; under it Typhœus, on his back, casts forth sand,
and vomits flame from his raging mouth; often does he struggle to throw off
the load of earth, and to roll away cities and huge mountains from his body.
Then does the earth tremble, and the King of the shades himself is in dread,
lest it may open, and the ground be parted with a wide chasm, and, the day
being let in, may affright the trembling ghosts.
V. 359-384]

“Fearing this ruin, the Ruler had gone out from his dark abode; and, carried
in his chariot by black horses, he cautiously surveyed the foundations of the
Sicilian land. After it was sufficiently ascertained that no place was
insecure, and fear was laid aside, Erycina,44 sitting down upon her
mountain, saw him wandering; and, embracing her winged son, she said,
Cupid, my son, my arms, my hands, and my might, take up those darts by
which thou conquerest all, and direct the swift arrows against the breast of
the God, to whom fell the last lot of the triple kingdom.45 Thou subduest the
Gods above, and Jupiter himself; thou subduest the conquered Deities of the
deep, and him who rules over the Deities of the deep. Why is Tartarus
exempt? Why dost thou not extend the Empire of thy mother and thine
own? A third part of the world is now at stake. And yet so great power is
despised even in our own heaven, and, together with myself, the influence
[V. 374-385 of Love becomes but a trifling matter. Dost thou not see how that
Pallas, and Diana, who throws the javelin, have renounced me? The

daughter of Ceres, too, will be a virgin, if we shall permit it, for she inclines
to similar hopes. But do thou join the Goddess to her uncle, if I have any
interest with thee in favor of our joint sway.
“Venus thus spoke. He opened his quiver, and, by the direction of his
mother, set apart one out of his thousand arrows; but one, than which there
is not any more sharp or less unerring, or which is more true to the bow.
And he bent the flexible horn, by pressing his knee against it, and struck
Pluto in the breast with the barbed arrow.”
EXPLANATION.

The ancients frequently accounted for natural phænomena on fabulous
grounds: and whatever they found difficult to explain, from their
ignorance of the principles of natural philosophy, they immediately
attributed to the agency of a supernatural cause. Ætna was often seen
to emit flames, and the earth was subjected to violent shocks from the
forces of its internal V. 385-390] fires when struggling for a vent. Instead
of looking for the source of these eruptions in the sulphur and
bituminous matter in which the mountain abounds, they fabled, that
the Gods, having vanquished the Giant Typhœus, or, according to
some authors, Enceladus, threw Mount Ætna on his body; and that the
attempts he made to free himself from the superincumbent weight
were the cause of those fires and earthquakes.

FABLE IV.
Pluto surprises Proserpina in the fields of Henna, and carries her away by
force. The Nymph Cyane endeavors, in vain, to stop him in his passage,
and through grief and anguish, dissolves into a fountain. Ceres goes
everywhere in search of her daughter, and, in her journey, turns the boy
Stellio into a newt.
“Not far from the walls of Henna46 there is a lake [V. 386-400 of deep water,
Pergus by name; Cayster does not hear more songs of swans, in his running
streams, than that. A wood skirts the lake, surrounding it on every side, and
with its foliage, as though with an awning, keeps out the rays of the sun.
The boughs produce a coolness, the moist ground flowers of Tyrian V. 390-

407] hue. There the spring is perpetual. In this grove, while Proserpina is
amusing herself, and is plucking either violets or white lilies, and while,
with childlike eagerness, she is filling her baskets and her bosom, and is
striving to outdo her companions of the same age in gathering, almost at the
same instant she is beheld, beloved, and seized by Pluto;47 in such great
haste is love. The Goddess, affrighted, with lamenting lips calls both her
mother and her companions,48 but more frequently her mother;49 and as she
has torn her garment from the upper edge, the collected flowers fall from
her loosened robes. So great, too, is the innocence of her [V. 400-414 childish
years, this loss excites the maiden’s grief as well. The ravisher drives on his
chariot, and encourages his horses, called, each by his name, along whose
necks and manes he shakes the reins, dyed with swarthy rust. He is borne
through deep lakes, and the pools of the Palici,50 smelling strong of sulphur,
and boiling fresh from out of the burst earth; and where the Bacchiadæ,51 V.
407-432] a race sprung from Corinth, with its two seas,52 built a city53
between unequal harbors.
“There is a stream in the middle, between Cyane and the Pisæan Arethusa,
which is confined within itself, being enclosed by mountain ridges at a short
distance from each other. Here was Cyane,54 the most celebrated among the
Sicilian Nymphs, from whose name the pool also was called, who stood up
from out of the midst of the water, as far as the higher part of her stomach,
and recognized the God, and said, ‘No further [V. 415-444 shall you go. Thou
mayst not be the son-in-law of Ceres against her will. The girl should have
been asked of her mother, not carried away. But if I may be allowed to
compare little matters with great ones, Anapis55 also loved me. Yet I
married him, courted, and not frightened into it, like her.’ She thus said, and
stretching her arms on different sides, she stood in his way. The son of
Saturn no longer restrained his rage; and encouraging his terrible steeds, he
threw his royal sceptre, hurled with a strong arm, into the lowest depths of
the stream. The earth, thus struck, made a way down to Tartarus, and
received the descending chariot in the middle of the yawning space. But
Cyane, lamenting both the ravished Goddess, and the slighted privileges of
her spring, carries in her silent mind an inconsolable wound, and is entirely
dissolved into tears, and melts away into those waters, of which she had
been but lately the great guardian Divinity. You might see her limbs soften,

her bones become subjected to bending, her nails lay aside their hardness:
each, too, of the smaller extremities of the whole of her body melts away;
both her azure hair, her fingers, her V. 432-460] legs, and her feet; for easy is
the change of those small members into a cold stream. After that, her back,
her shoulders, her side, and her breast dissolve, vanishing into thin rivulets.
Lastly, pure water, instead of live blood, enters her corrupted veins, and
nothing remains which you can grasp in your hand.
“In the mean time, throughout all lands and in every sea, the daughter is
sought in vain by her anxious mother. Aurora, coming with her ruddy locks
does not behold her taking any rest, neither does Hesperus. She, with her
two hands, sets light to some pines at the flaming Ætna, and giving herself
no rest, bears them through the frosty darkness. Again, when the genial day
has dulled the light of the stars, she [V. 444-461 seeks her daughter from the
rising of the sun to the setting thereof. Fatigued by the labor, she has now
contracted thirst, and no streams have washed her mouth, when by chance
she beholds a cottage covered with thatch, and knocks at its humble door,
upon which an old woman56 comes out and sees the Goddess, and gives her,
asking for water, a sweet drink which she has lately distilled57 from parched
pearled barley. While she is drinking it thus presented, a boy58 of impudent
countenance and bold, stands before the Goddess, and laughs, and calls her
greedy. She is offended; and a part being not yet quaffed, the Goddess
sprinkles him, as he is thus talking, with the barley mixed with the liquor.
“His face contracts the stains, and he bears legs where just now he was
bearing arms; a tail is added to his changed limbs; and he is contracted into
a diminutive form, that no great power of doing injury may exist; his size is
less than that of a small lizard. He flies from the old woman, astounded and
weeping, and trying to touch the monstrosity; and V. 460-461] he seeks a
lurking place, and has a name suited to his color, having his body speckled
with various spots.”
EXPLANATION.

The story of the rape of Proserpine has caused much inquiry among
writers, both ancient and modern, as to the facts on which it was
founded. Some have grounded it on principles of natural philosophy;

while others have supposed it to contain some portion of ancient
history, defaced and blemished in lapse of time.
The antiquarian Pezeron is of opinion, that in the partition of the world
among the Titan kings, Pluto had the west for his share; and that he
carried a colony to the further end of Spain, where he caused the gold
and silver mines of that region to be worked. The situation of his
kingdom, which lay very low, comparatively with Greece, and which
the ancients believed to be covered with eternal darkness, gave rise to
the fable, that Pluto had got Hell for his share; and this notion was
much encouraged by the subterranean nature of the mines which he
caused to be worked. He thinks that the river Tartarus, so famed in the
realms of Pluto, was no other than the Tartessa, or Guadalquivir of the
present day, which runs through the centre of Spain. Lethe, too, he
thinks to have been the Guadalaviar, in the same country. Pluto, he
suggests, had heard of the beauty of Proserpine, the daughter of Ceres,
queen of Sicily, and carried her thence, which gave rise to the tradition
that she had been carried to the Infernal Regions.
Le Clerc, on the other hand, thinks that it was not Pluto that carried
away Proserpine, but Aidoneus, king of Epirus, or Orcus king of the
Molossians. Aidoneus is supposed to have wrought mines in his
kingdom, and, as the entrance into it was over a river called Acheron,
that prince has often been confounded with Pluto; Epirus too, which
was situate very low, may have been figuratively described as the
Infernal Regions; for which reason, the journeys of Theseus and
Hercules into Epirus may have been spoken of as descents into the
Stygian abodes. Le Clerc supposes that Ceres was reigning in Sicily at
the time when Aidoneus was king of Epirus, and that she took great
care to instruct her subjects in the art of tilling the ground and sowing
corn, and established laws for regulating civil government and the
preservation of private property; for which reasons she was afterward
deemed to be the Goddess of the Earth, and of Corn. Cicero and
Diodorus Siculus tell us that Ceres made her residence at Enna, or
Henna, in Sicily, which name, according to Bochart, signifies
‘agreeable fountain.’ Cicero and Strabo agree with Ovid in telling us
that Proserpine, the only daughter of Ceres, whom other writers name

Pherephata, was walking in the adjacent meadows, and gathering
flowers with her companions; upon which, certain pirates seized her,
and, placing her in a chariot, carried her to the seaside, whence they
embarked for Epirus. As Pausanias tells us, it was immediately spread
abroad, that Aidoneus, or Pluto, as he was called, had done it, the act
having been really committed by others, according to his orders. As
those who carried her off concealed themselves in the caverns of
Mount Ætna, awaiting their opportunity to escape, it was afterwards
fabled that Pluto came out of the Infernal Regions at that place; as that
mountain, from its nature, was always deemed one of the outlets of
Hell. Upon this, Ceres went to Greece, in search of her daughter; and,
resting at Eleusis, in Attica, she heard that the ship in which her
daughter was carried away had sailed westward. On this, she
complained to Jupiter, one of the Titan kings, but could obtain no
further satisfaction than that her daughter should be permitted to visit
her occasionally, whereby, at length, her grief was mitigated.
Banier does not agree with these suggestions of Pezeron and Le Clerc,
and thinks that Ceres is no other personage than the Isis of the
Egyptians, supposing that the story is founded on the following [V. 462-
463 circumstance:—Greece, he says, was afflicted with famine in the
reign of Erectheus, who was obliged to send to Egypt for corn, when
those who went for it brought back the worship of the Deity who
presided over agriculture. The evils which the Athenians had suffered
by the famine, and the dread of again incurring the same calamity,
made them willingly embrace the rites of a Goddess whom they
believed able to protect them from it. Triptolemus established her
worship in Eleusis, and there instituted the mysteries which he had
brought over from Egypt. These had been previously introduced into
Sicily, which was the reason why it was said that Ceres came from
Sicily to Athens. Her daughter was said to have been taken away,
because corn and fruit had not been produced in sufficient quantities,
for some time, to furnish food for the people. Pluto was said to have
carried her to the Infernal regions, because the grain and seeds at that
time remained buried, as it were, at the very center of the earth. Jupiter

was said to have decided the difference between Ceres and Pluto,
because the earth again became covered with crops.
This appears to be an ingenious allegorical explanation of the story;
but it is not at all improbable that it may have been founded upon
actual facts, and that, having lost her daughter, and going to Attica to
seek her, Ceres taught Triptolemus the mysteries of Isis; and that, in
process of time, Ceres, having become enrolled among the Divinities
of Greece, her worship became confounded with that of Isis.
It is very possible that the story of the transformation of Stellio into a
newt may have had no other foundation than the Poet’s fancy.

FABLE V.
Ceres proceeds in a fruitless search for her daughter over the whole earth,
until the Nymph Arethusa acquaints her with the place of her ravisher’s
abode. The Goddess makes her complaint to Jupiter, and obtains his
consent for her daughter’s return to the upper world, provided she has not
eaten anything since her arrival in Pluto’s dominions. Ascalaphus,
however, having informed that she has eaten some seeds of a
pomegranate, Ceres is disappointed, and Proserpine, in her wrath,
metamorphoses the informer into an owl. The Sirens have wings given
them by the Gods, to enable them to be more expeditious in seeking for
Proserpine. V. 462-479] Jupiter, to console Ceres for her loss, decides that
her daughter shall remain six months each year with her mother upon
earth, and the other six with her husband, in the Infernal Regions.
“It were a tedious task59 to relate through what lands and what seas the
Goddess wandered; for her search the world was too limited. She returns to
[V. 464-483 Sicily; and while, in her passage, she views all places, she comes,
too, to Cyane; she, had she not been transformed, would have told her
everything. But both mouth and tongue were wanting to her, thus desirous
to tell, and she had no means whereby to speak. Still, she gave
unmistakable tokens, and pointed out, on the top of the water, the girdle60
of Proserpine, well known to her parent, which by chance had fallen off in
that place into the sacred stream.

“Soon as she recognized this, as if then, at last, she fully understood that her
daughter had been carried away61 the Goddess tore her unadorned hair, and
struck her breast again and again with her hands. Not as yet does she know
where she is, yet she exclaims against all countries, and calls them
ungrateful, and not worthy of the gifts of corn; and Trinacria before all
others, in which she has found the proofs of her loss. Wherefore, with
vengeful hand, she there broke the ploughs that were turning up the clods,
and, in her anger, consigned to a similar death both the husbandmen and the
oxen that cultivated the V. 479-508] fields, and ordered the land to deny a
return of what had been deposited therein, and rendered the seed corrupted.
The fertility of the soil, famed over the wide world, lies in ruin, the corn
dies in the early blade, and sometimes excessive heat of the [V. 483-508 sun,
sometimes excessive showers, spoil it. Both the Constellations and the
winds injure it, and the greedy birds pick up the seed as it is sown; darnel,
and thistles, and unconquerable weeds, choke the crops of wheat.
“Then the Alpheian Nymph62 raised her head from out of the Elean waters,
and drew back her dripping hair from her forehead to her ears, and said, “O
thou mother of the virgin sought over the whole world, and of the crops as
well, cease at length thy boundless toil, and in thy wrath be not angered
with a region that is faithful to thee. This land does not deserve it; and
against its will it gave a path for the commission of the outrage. Nor am I
now a suppliant for my own country; a stranger I am come hither. Pisa is my
native place, and from Elis do I derive my birth. As a stranger do I inhabit
Sicily, but this land is more pleasing to me than any other soil. I, Arethusa,
now have this for my abode, this for my habitation; which, do thou, most
kindly Goddess, preserve. Why I have been removed from my native place,
and have been carried to Ortygia, through the waters of seas so spacious,
a seasonable time will come for my telling thee, when thou shalt be eased of
thy cares, and wilt be of more cheerful aspect. The pervious earth affords
me a passage, and, carried beneath its lowest caverns, here I lift my head
again, and behold the stars which I have not been used to see. While, then,
I was running under the earth, along the Stygian stream, thy Proserpine was
there beheld by my eyes.63 She indeed was sad, and not as yet without
alarm in her countenance, but still she is a queen, and the most ennobled

female in the world of darkness; still, too, is she the powerful spouse of the
Infernal King.”
V. 509-538] [V. 509-534

“The mother, on hearing these words, stood amazed, as though she had
been made of stone, and for a long time was like one stupefied; and when
her intense bewilderment was dispelled by the weight of her grief, she
departed in her chariot into the ætherial air, and there, with her countenance
all clouded, she stood before Jupiter, much to his discredit, with her hair
dishevelled; and she said, “I have come, Jupiter, as a suppliant to thee, both
for my own offspring and for thine. If thou hast no respect for the mother,
still let the daughter move her father; and I pray thee not to have the less
regard for her, because she was brought forth by my travail. Lo! my
daughter, so long sought for, has been found by me at last; if you call it
finding64 to be more certain of one’s loss; or if you call it finding, to know
where she is. I will endure the fact, that she has been carried off, if he will
only restore her. For, indeed, a daughter of thine is not deserving of a
ravisher for a husband, if now my own daughter is.” Jupiter replied, “Thy
daughter is a pledge and charge, in common to me and thee; but, should it
please thee only to give right names to things, this deed is not an injury, but
it is a mark of affection, nor will he, as a son-in-law, be any disgrace to us,
if thou only, Goddess, shouldst give thy consent. Although other
recommendations were wanting, how great a thing is it to be the brother of
Jupiter! and besides, is it not because other points are not wanting, and
because he is not my inferior, except by the accident of his allotment of the
Stygian abodes? But if thy eagerness is so great for their separation, let
Proserpine return to heaven; still upon this fixed condition, if she has
touched no food there with her lips; for thus has it been provided by the law
of the Destinies.”
“Thus he spoke; still Ceres is now resolved to fetch away her daughter; but
not so do the Fates permit. For the damsel had broke her fast; and, while in
her [V. 535-551 innocence she was walking about the finely-cultivated garden,
she had plucked a pomegranate65 from the bending tree, and had chewed in
her V. 538-557] mouth seven grains66 taken from the pale rind. Ascalaphus67
alone, of all persons, had seen this, whom Orphne, by no means the most
obscure among the Nymphs of Avernus,68 is said once to have borne to her

own Acheron within his dusky caves. He beheld this, and cruelly prevented
her return by his discovery. The Queen of Erebus grieved, and changed the
informer into an accursed bird, and turned his head, sprinkled with the
waters of Phlegethon,69 into a beak, and feathers, and great eyes. He, thus
robbed of his own shape, is clothed with tawny wings, his head becomes
larger, his long nails bend inwards, and with difficulty can he move the
wings that spring through his sluggish arms. He becomes an obscene bird,
the foreboder of approaching woe, a lazy owl, a direful omen to mortals.
“But he, by his discovery, and his talkativeness, may seem to have merited
punishment. Whence have [V. 552-563 you, daughters of Acheloüs,70 feathers
and the feet of birds, since you have the faces of maidens? Is it because,
when Proserpine was gathering the flowers of spring, you were mingled in
the number of her companions? After you had sought her in vain throughout
the whole world, immediately, that the waters might be V. 557-563] sensible of
your concern, you wished to be able, on the support of your wings, to hover
over the waves, and you found the Gods propitious, and saw your limbs
grow yellow with feathers suddenly formed. But lest the sweetness of your
voice, formed for charming the ear, and so great endowments of speech,
should lose the gift of a tongue, your virgin countenance and your human
voice still remained.”
EXPLANATION.

Apollodorus says, that the terms of the treaty respecting Proserpine
were, that she should stay on earth nine months with Ceres, and three
with Pluto, in the Infernal Regions. Other writers divide the time
equally; six months to Ceres, and six to Pluto. They also tell us that the
story of Ascalaphus is founded on the fact, that he was one of the
courtiers of Pluto, who, having advised his master to carry away
Proserpine, did all that lay in his power to obstruct the endeavors of
Ceres, and hinder the restoration of her daughter, on which Proserpine
had him privately destroyed; to screen which deed the Fable was
invented; the pernicious counsels which he gave his master being
signified by the seeds of the pomegranate. It has also been suggested
that the story of his change into an owl was based on the circumstance
that he was the overseer of the mines of Pluto, in which he perished,

removed from the light of day. Perhaps he was there crushed to death
by the fall of a rock, which caused the poets to say that Proserpine had
covered him with a large stone, as Apollodorus informs us, who also
says that it was Ceres who inflicted the punishment upon him. The
name ‘Ascalaphus’ signifies, ‘one that breaks stones,’ and, very
probably, that name was only given him to denote his employment.
Some writers state that he was changed into a lizard, which the Greeks
call ‘Ascalabos,’ and, probably, the resemblance between the names
gave rise to this version of the story.
Probably, the story of the Nymph Cyane reproaching Pluto with his
treatment of Proserpine, and being thereupon changed by him into a
fountain, has no other foundation than the propinquity of the place
where Pluto’s emissaries embarked to a stream of that [V. 564-580 name
near the city of Syracuse; which was, perhaps, overflowing at that
time, and may have impeded their passage.
Ovid, probably, feigned that the Sirens begged the Gods to change
them into birds, that they might seek for Proserpine, on the ground of
some existing tradition, that living on the coast of Italy, near the island
of Sicily, and having heard of the misfortune that had befallen her, they
ordered a ship with sails to be equipped to go in search of her. Further
reference to the Sirens will be made, on treating of the adventures of
Ulysses.

V. 564-588]

FABLE VI.
The Muse continues her song, in which Ceres, being satisfied with the
decision of Jupiter relative to her daughter, returns to Arethusa, to learn
the history of her adventures. The Nymph entertains the Goddess with the
Story of the passion of Alpheus, and his pursuit of her; to avoid which,
she implores the assistance of Diana, who changes her into a fountain.
“But Jupiter being the mediator between his brother and his disconsolate
sister, divides the rolling year equally between them. For now, the Goddess,

a common Divinity of two kingdoms, is so many months with her mother,
and just as many with her husband. Immediately the appearance of both her
mind and her countenance is changed; for the brow of the Goddess, which,
of late, might appear sad, even to Pluto, himself, is full of gladness; as the
Sun, which has lately been covered with watery clouds, when he comes
forth from the clouds, now dispersed. The genial Ceres, now at ease on the
recovery of her daughter, thus asks, ‘What was the cause of thy
wanderings? Why art thou, Arethusa, a sacred spring?’ The waters are
silent, and, the Goddess raises her head from the deep fountain; and, having
dried her green tresses with her hand, she relates the old amours of the
stream of Elis.71
“‘I was,’ says she, ‘one of the Nymphs which exist in Achaia, nor did any
one more eagerly skim along the glades than myself, nor with more industry
set the [V. 581-606 nets. But though the reputation for beauty was never
sought by me, although, too, I was of robust make, still I had the name of
being beautiful. But my appearance, when so much commended, did not
please me; and I, like a country lass, blushed at those endowments of person
in which other females are wont to take a pride, and I deemed it a crime to
please. I remember, I was returning weary from the Stymphalian72 wood;
the weather was hot, and my toil had redoubled the intense heat. I found a
stream gliding on without any eddies, without any noise, and V. 588-615] clear
to the bottom; through which every pebble, at so great a depth, might be
counted, and which you could hardly suppose to be in motion. The hoary
willows73 and poplars, nourished by the water, furnished a shade,
spontaneously produced, along the shelving banks. I approached, and, at
first, I dipped the soles of my feet, and then, as far as the knee. Not content
with that, I undressed, and I laid my soft garments upon a bending willow;
and, naked, I plunged into the waters.
“‘While I was striking them, and drawing them towards me, moving in a
thousand ways, and was sending forth my extended arms, I perceived a
most unusual murmuring noise beneath the middle of the stream; and,
alarmed, I stood on the edge of the nearer bank. ‘Whither dost thou hasten,
Arethusa?’ said Alpheus from his waves. ‘Whither dost thou hasten?’ again
he said to me, in a hollow tone. Just as I was, I fled without my clothes; for
the other side had my garments. So much the more swiftly did he pursue,

and become inflamed; and, because I was naked, the more tempting to him
did I appear. Thus was I running; thus unrelentingly was he pursuing me; as
the doves are wont to fly from the hawk with trembling wings, and as the
hawk is wont to pursue the trembling doves, I held out in my course even as
far as Orchomenus,74 [V. 607-634 and Psophis,75 and Cyllene, and the
Mænalian valleys, and cold Erymanthus and Elis. Nor was he swifter than I,
but unequal to him in strength, I was unable, any longer, to keep up the
chase; for he was able to endure prolonged fatigue. However, I ran over
fields and over mountains covered with trees, rocks too, and crags, and
where there was no path. The sun was upon my back; I saw a long shadow
advancing before my feet, unless, perhaps, it was my fear that V. 615-641] saw
it. But, at all events, I was alarmed at the sound of his feet, and his
increased hardness of breathing was now fanning the fillets of my hair.
Wearied with the exertion of my flight, I said, ‘Give aid, Dictynna, to thy
armor-bearer, or I am overtaken; I, to whom thou hast so often given thy
bow to carry, and thy darts enclosed in a quiver.’ The Goddess was moved,
and, taking one of the dense clouds, she threw it over me. The river looked
about for me, concealed in the darkness, and, in his ignorance sought about
the encircling cloud and twice, unconsciously did he go around the place
where the Goddess had concealed me, and twice did he cry, ‘Ho,
Arethusa!76 Ho, Arethusa!’ What, then, were my feelings in my
wretchedness? Were they not just those of the lamb, as it hears the wolves
howling around the high sheep-folds? Or of the hare, which, lurking in the
bush, beholds the hostile noses of the dogs, and dares not make a single
movement with her body? Yet he does not depart; for no further does he
trace any prints of my feet. He watches the cloud and the spot. A cold
perspiration takes possession of my limbs thus besieged, and azure colored
drops distil from all my body. Wherever I move my foot, there [V. 634-641
flows a lake; drops trickle from my hair, and, in less time than I take in
acquainting thee with my fate, I was changed into a stream. But still the
river recognized the waters, the objects of his love; and, having laid aside
the shape of a mortal, which he had assumed, he was changed into his own
waters, that he might mingle with me. Thereupon, the Delian Goddess
cleaved the ground. Sinking, I was carried through dark caverns to
Ortygia,77 which, being dear to me, from the surname of my own Goddess,
was the first to introduce me to the upper air.’”

EXPLANATION.

Bochart tells us that the story of the fountain Arethusa and the river
Alpheus, her lover, who traversed so many countries in pursuit of her,
has no other foundation than an equivocal expression in the language
of the first inhabitants of Sicily. The Phœnicians, who went to settle in
V. 642-651] that island, finding the fountain surrounded with willows,
gave it the name of ‘Alphaga,’ or ‘the fountain of the willows.’ Others,
again, gave it the name of ‘Arith,’ signifying ‘a stream.’ The Greeks,
arriving there in after ages, not understanding the signification of these
words, and remembering their own river Alpheus, in Elis, imagined
that since the river and the fountain had nearly the same name,
Alpheus had crossed the sea, to arrive in Sicily.
This notion appearing, probably, to the poets not devoid of ingenuity,
they accordingly founded on it the romantic story of the passion of the
river God Alpheus for the Nymph Arethusa. Some of the ancient
historians appear, however, in their credulity, really to have believed,
at least, a part of the story, as they seriously tell us, that the river
Alpheus passes under the bed of the sea, and rises again in Sicily, near
the fountain of Arethusa. Even among the more learned, this fable
gained credit; for we find the oracle of Delphi ordering Archias to
conduct a colony of Corinthians to Syracuse, and the priestess giving
the following directions:—‘Go into that island where the river Alpheus
mixes his waters with the fair Arethusa.’
Pausanias avows, that he regards the story of Alpheus and Arethusa as
a mere fable; but, not daring to dispute a fact established by the
response of an oracle, he does not contradict the fact of the river
running through the sea, though he is at a loss to understand how it can
happen.
[V. 642-661

FABLE VII.
Ceres entrusts her chariot to Triptolemus, and orders him to go everywhere,
and cultivate the earth. He obeys her, and, at length, arrives in Scythia,

where Lyncus, designing to kill him, is changed into a lynx. The Muse
then finishes her song, on which the daughters of Pierus are changed into
magpies.
“Thus far Arethusa. The fertile Goddess yoked78 two dragons to her chariot,
and curbed their mouths with bridles; and was borne through the mid air of
heaven and of earth, and guided her light chariot to the Tritonian citadel, to
Triptolemus; and she ordered him to scatter the seeds that were entrusted to
him partly in the fallow ground, and partly in the ground restored to
cultivation after so long a time. Now had the youth been borne on high over
Europe and the lands of Asia,79 and he arrived at the coast of Scythia:
Lyncus was the king there. He entered the house of the king. Being asked
whence he came, V. 651-678] and the occasion of his coming, and his name,
and his country, he said, ‘My country is the famous Athens, my name is
Triptolemus. I came neither in a ship through the waves, nor on foot by
land; the pervious sky made a way for me. I bring the gifts of Ceres, which,
scattered over the wide fields, are to yield you the fruitful harvests, and
wholesome food.’ The barbarian envies him; and that he himself may be
deemed the author of so great a benefit, he receives him with hospitality,
and, when overpowered with sleep, he attacks him with the sword. But,
while attempting to pierce his breast, Ceres made him a lynx; and again sent
the Mopsopian80 youth to drive the sacred drawers of her chariot through
the air.
[V. 662-678 “The greatest of us81 had now finished her learned song. But the
Nymphs, with unanimous voice, pronounced that the Goddesses who
inhabit Helicon had proved the conquerors. Then the others, thus
vanquished, began to scatter their abuse: ‘Since,’ said she, ‘it is a trifling
matter for you to have merited punishment by this contest, you add abuse,
too, to your fault, and endurance is not permitted us: we shall proceed to
punishment, and whither our resentment calls, we shall follow.’ The
Emathian sisters smiled, and despised our threatening language; and
endeavoring to speak, and to menace with their insolent hands amid great
clamor, they beheld quills growing out of their nails, and their arms covered
with feathers. And they each see the face of the other shooting out into a
hard beak, and new birds being added to the woods. And while they strive
to beat their breasts elevated by the motion of their arms, they hang poised