---
title: "Metamorphoses"
author: "Ovid"
translator: "Brookes More"
title_ru: "Метаморфозы"
author_ru: "Овидий"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
section: 14 of 30
url: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/14/
cite: "Ovid, tr. Brookes More, Metamorphoses, section 14. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/14/"
---

# Metamorphoses

*Ovid, tr. Brookes More*

Russian: Метаморфозы, Овидий

Bodies changed into new forms, from the creation of the world to the deification of Julius Caesar: Daphne, Narcissus, Pyramus and Thisbe, Icarus, Orpheus.

> Latin: ed. Hugo Magnus, from the Perseus Digital Library (canonical-latinLit, phi0959.phi006, CC BY-SA 4.0).

> English: Brookes More, from the Perseus Digital Library (phi0959.phi006.perseus-eng3). Notes are not included.

> Rows follow the references the two texts share (line numbers), cut where both reach the end of a sentence.

## 14. Book VII · lines 453–865

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/14/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/14/#p-N

[¶0] But pleasure always is alloyed with grief,
and sorrow mingles in the joyous hour.
While the king Aegeus and his son rejoiced,
Minos prepared for war. He was invincible
in men and ships—and stronger in his rage
to wreak due vengeance on the king who slew
his son Androgeus. But first he sought
some friends to aid his warfare; and he scoured
the sea with a swift fleet—which was his strength.
Anaphe and Astypalaea, both
agreed to join his cause—the first one moved
by promises, the second by his threats.
Level Myconus and the chalky fields
of Cimolus agreed to aid, and Syros
covered with wild thyme, level Seriphos,
Paros of marble cliffs, and that place which
Arne the impious Siphnian had betrayed,
who having got the gold which in her greed
she had demanded, was changed to a bird
which ever since that day imagines gold
its chief delight—a black-foot black-winged daw.
But Oliarus, Didymae, and Tenos,
Gyaros, Andros, and Peparethos
rich in its glossy olives, gave no aid
to the strong Cretan fleet. Sailing from them
Minos went to Oenopia, known realm
of the Aeacidae.—Men of old time
had called the place Oenopia; but Aeacus
styled it Aegina from his mother's name.
At his approach an eager rabble rushed
resolved to see and know so great a man.
Telamon met him, and his brother,
younger than Telamon, and Phocus who
was third in age. Even Aeacus appeared,
slow with the weight of years, and asked him what
could be a reason for his coming there.
The ruler of a hundred cities, sighed,
as he beheld the sons of Aeacus,
for they reminded him of his lost son;—
and heavy with his sorrow, he replied:
“I come imploring you to take up arms,
and aid me in the war against my foes;
for I must give that comfort to the shade
of my misfortuned son—whose blood they shed.”
But Aeacus replied to Minos, “Nay,
it is a vain request you make, for we
are bound in strict alliance to the land
and people of Cecropia.”
Full of rage,
because he was denied, the king of Crete,
Minos, as he departed from their shores
replied, “Let such a treaty be your bane.”
And he departed with his crafty threat,
believing it expedient not to waste
his power in wars until the proper time.
Before the ships of Crete had disappeared,
before the mist and blue of waves concealed
their fading outlines from the anxious throng
which gathered on Oenopian shores, a ship
of Athens covered with wide sails appeared,
and anchored safely by their friendly shore;
and, presently, the mighty Cephalus,
well known through all that nation for his deeds,
addressed them as he landed, and declared
the good will of his people. Him the sons
of Aeacus remembered well, although
they had not seen him for some untold years.
They led him to their father's welcome home;
and with him, also, his two comrades went,
Clytus and Butes.
Center of all eyes,
the hero still retained his charm,
the customary greetings were exchanged,
the graceful hero, bearing in his hands
a branch of olive from his native soil,
delivered the Athenian message, which
requested aid and offered for their thought
the treaty and the ancestral league between
their nations. And he added, Minos sought
not only conquest of the Athenian state
but sovereignty of all the states of Greece.
And when this eloquence had shown his cause;
with left hand on his gleaming sceptre's hilt,
King Aeacus exclaimed: “Ask not our aid,
but take it, Athens; and count boldly yours
all of the force this island holds, and all
things which the state of my affairs supplies.
My strength for this war is not light, and I
have many soldiers for myself and for
my enemy. Thanks to the Gods! the times
are happy, giving no excuse for my
refusal.” “May it prove so,” Cephalus
replied, “and may your city multiply
in men: just now as I was landing, I
rejoiced to meet youths, fair and matched in age.
And yet I miss among them many whom
I saw before when last I visited
your city.” Aeacus then groaned and with
sad voice replied: “With weeping we began,
but better fortune followed. Would that I
could tell the last of it, and not the first!
Giving my heart command that simple words
and briefly spoken may not long detain.
Those happy youths who waited at your need,
who smiled upon you and for whom you ask,
because their absence grieves your noble mind,
they've perished! and their bleaching bones
or scattered ashes, only may remain,
sad remnants, impotent, of vanished power,
so recently my hope and my resource.
“Because this island bears a rival's name,
a deadly pestilence was visited
on my confiding people, through the rage
of jealous Juno flaming for revenge.
This great calamity at first appeared
a natural disease—but soon its power
baffled our utmost efforts. Medicines
availing not, a reign of terror swept
from shore to shore and fearful havoc raged.
“Thick darkness, gathered from descending skies,
enveloped our devoted land with heat
and languid sickness, for the space of full
four moons.—Four times the Moon increased her size.
Hot south winds blew with pestilential breath
upon us. At the same time the diseased
infection reached our needed springs and pools,
thousands of serpents crawling over our
deserted fields, defiled our rivers with
their poison. The swift power of the disease
at first was limited to death of dogs
and birds and cattle, or among wild beasts.
The luckless plowman marvels when he sees
his strong bulls fall while at their task
and sink down in the furrow. Woolly flocks
bleat feebly while their wool falls off without
a cause, and while their bodies pine away.
The prized horse of high courage, and of great
renown when on the race-course, has now lost
victorious spirit, and forgetting his
remembered glory groans in his shut stall,
doomed for inglorious death. The boar forgets
to rage, the stag to trust his speed; and even
the famished bear to fight the stronger herd.
“Death seizes on the vitals of all life;
and in the woods, and in the fields and roads
the loathsome bodies of the dead corrupt
the heavy-hanging air. Even the dogs,
the vultures and the wolves refuse to touch
the putrid flesh, there in the sultry sun
rotting upon the earth; emitting steams,
and exhalations, with a baneful sweep
increasing the dread contagion's wide extent.

> Latin: Nec tamen (usque adeo nulla est sincera voluptas,
sollicitumque aliquid laetis intervenit) Aegeus
gaudia percepit nato secura recepto.
Bella parat Minos. Qui quamquam milite, quamquam
classe valet, patria tamen est firmissimus ira
Androgeique necem iustis ulciscitur armis.
Ante tamen bello vires adquirit amicas,
quaque potens habitus, volucri freta classe pererrat.
Hinc Anaphen sibi iungit et Astypaleia regna,
promissis Anaphen, regna Astypaleia bello;
hinc humilem Myconum cretosaque rura Cimoli
florentemque thymo Cythnum parvamque Seriphon
marmoreamque Paron, quaque impia prodidit Arnen
Sithonis (accepto, quod avara poposcerat, auro
mutata est in avem, quae nunc quoque diligit aurum,
nigra pedes, nigris velata monedula pennis).
At non Oliaros Didymaeque et Tenos et Andros
et Gyaros nitidaeque ferax Peparethos olivae
Gnosiacas iuvere rates. Latere inde sinistro
Oenopiam Minos petit, Aeacideia regna:
Oenopiam veteres appellavere, sed ipse
Aeacus Aeginam genetricis nomine dixit.
Turba ruit tantaeque virum cognoscere famae
expetit. Occurrunt illi Telamonque, minorque
quam Telamon Peleus, et proles tertia Phocus.
Ipse quoque egreditur tardus gravitate senili
Aeacus, et quae sit veniendi causa requirit.
Admonitus patrii luctus suspirat et illi
dicta refert rector populorum talia centum:
“Arma iuves oro pro gnato sumpta piaeque
pars sis militiae; tumulo solacia posco.”
Huic Asopiades “petis inrita” dixit “et urbi
non facienda meae: neque enim coniunctior ulla
Cecropidis hac est tellus: ea foedera nobis.”
Tristis abit “stabunt” que “tibi tua foedera magno”
dixit et utilius bellum putat esse minari
quam gerere atque suas ibi praeconsumere vires.
Classis ab Oenopiis etiamnum Lyctia muris
spectari poterat, cum pleno concita velo
Attica puppis adest in portusque intrat amicos,
quae Cephalum patriaeque simul mandata ferebat.
Aeacidae longo iuvenes post tempore visum
agnovere tamen Cephalum dextrasque dedere
inque patris duxere domum. Spectabilis heros
et veteris retinens etiamnum pignera formae
ingreditur ramumque tenens popularis olivae
a dextra laevaque duos aetate minores
maior habet, Clyton et Buten, Pallante creatos.
Postquam congressus primi sua verba tulerunt,
Cecropidae Cephalus peragit mandata rogatque
auxilium foedusque refert et iura parentum
imperiumque peti totius Achaidos addit.
Sic ubi mandatam iuvit facundia causam,
Aeacus, in capulo sceptri nitente sinistra,
“ne petite auxilium, sed sumite”, dixit “Athenae;
nec dubie vires, quas haec habet insula, vestras
ducite; et omnia habet (rerum status iste mearum).
Robora non desunt, superat mihi miles et hosti:
gratia dis, felix et inexcusabile tempus.”
“Immo ita sit,” Cephalus,”crescat tua civibus opto
urbs!” ait. “Adveniens equidem modo gaudia cepi,
cum tam pulchra mihi, tam par aetate iuventus
obvia processit. Multos tamen inde requiro,
quos quondam vidi vestra prius urbe receptus.”
Aeacus ingemuit tristique ita voce locutus:”Flebile principium melior fortuna secuta est.
Hanc utinam possem vobis memorare sine illo!
Ordine nunc repetam. Neu longa ambage morer vos:
ossa cinisque iacent, memori quos mente requiris.
Et quota pars illi rerum periere mearum!
Dira lues ira populis Iunonis iniquae
incidit exosae dictas a paelice terras.
Dum visum mortale malum tantaeque latebat
causa nocens cladis, pugnatum est arte medendi:
exitium superabat opem, quae victa iacebat.
Principio caelum spissa caligine terras
pressit et ignavos inclusit nubibus aestus;
dumque quater iunctis explevit cornibus orbem
luna, quater plenum tenuata retexuit orbem,
letiferis calidi spirarunt aestibus austri.
Constat et in fontes vitium venisse lacusque,
miliaque incultos serpentum multa per agros
errasse atque suis fluvios temerasse venenis.
Strage canum primo volucrumque oviumque boumque,
inque feris subiti deprensa potentia morbi.
Concidere infelix validos miratur arator
inter opus tauros medioque recumbere sulco;
lanigeris gregibus balatus dantibus aegros
sponte sua lanaeque cadunt et corpora tabent.
Acer equus quondam magnaeque in pulvere famae
degenerat palmas veterumque oblitus honorum
ad praesepe gemit leto moriturus inerti.
Non aper irasci meminit, non fidere cursu
cerva, nec armentis incurrere fortibus ursi.
Omnia languor habet; silvisque agrisque viisque
corpora foeda iacent, vitiantur odoribus aurae.
Mira loquar: non illa canes avidaeque volucres,
non cani tetigere lupi; dilapsa liquescunt
adflatuque nocent et agunt contagia late.

[¶1] So spreading, with renewed destruction gained
from its own poison, the fierce pestilence
appeared to leap from moulding carcases
of all the brute creation, till it struck
the wretched tillers of the soil, and then
extended its dominion over all
this mighty city.
“Always it began
as if the patient's bowels were scorched with flames;
red blotches on the body next appeared,
and sharp pains in the lungs prevented breath.
The swollen tongue would presently loll out,
rough and discolored from the gaping mouth,
wide-gasping to inhale the noxious air—
and show red throbbing veins. The softest bed.
And richest covering gave to none relief;
but rather, the diseased would bare himself
to cool his burning breast upon the ground,
only to heat the earth—and no relief
returned. And no physician could be found;
for those who ministered among the sick
were first to suffer from the dread disease—
the cruel malady broke out upon
the very ones who offered remedies.
The hallowed art of medicine became
a deadly snare to those who knew it best.
“The only safety was in flight; and those
who were the nearest to the stricken ones,
and who most faithfully observed their wants,
were always first to suffer as their wards.
“And many, certain of approaching death,
indulged their wicked passions—recklessly
abandoned and without the sense of shame,
promiscuously huddled by the wells,
and rivers and cool fountains; but their thirst
no water could assuage, and death alone
was able to extinguish their desire.
Too weak to rise, they die in water they
pollute, while others drink its death.
“A madness seizing on them made their beds
become most irksome to their tortured nerves.
Demented they could not endure the pain,
and leaped insanely forth. Or if too weak,
the wretches rolled their bodies on the ground,
insistent to escape from hated homes—
imagined sources of calamity;
for, since the cause was hidden and unknown,
the horrible locality was blamed.
Suspicion seizes on each frail presence
as proof of what can never be resolved.
“And many half-dead wretches staggered out
on sultry roads as long as they could stand;
and others weeping, stretched out on the ground,
died in convulsions, as their rolling eyes
gazed upwards at the overhanging clouds;
under the sad stars they breathed out their souls.
“And oh, the deep despair that seized on me,
the sovereign of that wretched people! I
was tortured with a passionate desire
to die the same death—And I hated life.
“No matter where my shrinking eyes were turned,
I saw a multitude of gruesome forms
in ghastly attitudes bestrew the ground,
scattered as rotten apples that have dropped
from moving branches, or as acorns thick
around a gnarled oak.
“Lift up your eyes!
Behold that holy temple! unto Jove
long dedicated!—What availed the prayers
of frightened multitudes, or incense burned
on those devoted altars?—In the midst
of his most fervent supplications,
the husband as he pled for his dear wife,
or the fond father for his stricken son,
would suddenly, before a word prevailed,
die clutching at the altars of his Gods,
while holding in his stiffened hand, a spray
of frankincense still waiting for the fire.
How often sacrificial bulls have been
brought to those temples, and while white-robed priest
was pouring offered wine between their horns,
have fallen without waiting for the stroke.
“While I prepared a sacrifice to Jove,
for my behalf, my country and three sons,
the victim, ever moaning dismal sounds,
before a blow was struck, fell suddenly
beside the altar; and his scanty blood
ran thinly from the knives that slaughtered him.
His entrails, wanting all the marks of truth
were so diseased, the warnings of the Gods
could not be read—the baneful malady
had penetrated to the heart of life.
“And I have seen the carcases of men
lie rotting at the sacred temple gates,
or by the very altars, where they fell,
making death odious to the living Gods.
And often I have seen some desperate man
end life by his own halter, and so cheat
by voluntary death his fear of death,
in mad haste to outrun approaching fate.
“The bodies of the dead, indecently
were cast forth, lacking sacred funeral rites
as hitherto the custom. All the gates
were crowded with processions of the dead.
Unburied, they might lie upon the ground,
or else, deserted, on their lofty pyres
with no one to lament their dismal end,
dissolve in their dishonored ashes. All
restraint forgotten, a mad rabble fought
and took possession of the burning pyres,
and even the dead were ravished of their rest.—
And who should mourn them wanting, all the souls
of sons and husbands, and of old and young,
must wander unlamented: and the land
sufficed not for the crowded sepulchers:
and the dense forest was denuded of all trees.
“Heart-broken at the sight of this great woe,
I wailed, ‘O Jupiter! if truth were told
of your sweet comfort in Aegina's arms,
if you were not ashamed of me, your son,
restore my people, or entomb my corpse,
that I may suffer as the ones I love.’—
Great lightning flashed around me, and the sound
of thunder proved that my complaint was heard.
Accepting it, I cried, ‘Let these, Great Jove,
the happy signs of your assent, be shown
good omens given as a sacred pledge.’
“Near by, a sacred oak tree grown from seed
brought thither from Dodona, spread abroad
its branches thinly covered with green leaves;
and creeping as an army, on the tree
we saw a train of ants that carried grain,
half-hidden in the deep and wrinkled bark.
And while I wondered at the endless line
I said, ‘Good father, give me citizens
of equal number for my empty walls.’
Soon as I said those words, though not a wind
was moving nor a breeze,—the lofty tree
began to tremble, and I heard a sound
of motion in its branches. Wonder not
that sudden fear possessed me; and my hair
began to rise; and I could hardly stand
for so my weak knees tottered!—As I made
obeisance to the soil and sacred tree,
perhaps I cherished in my heart a thought,
that, not acknowledged, cheered me with some hope.

> Latin: Pervenit ad miseros damno graviore colonos
pestis et in magnae dominatur moenibus urbis.
Viscera torrentur primo, flammaeque latentis
indicium rubor est et ductus anhelitus ingens.
Aspera lingua tumet, tepidisque arentia ventis
ora patent, auraeque graves captantur hiatu.
Non stratum, non ulla pati velamina possunt,
dura sed in terra ponunt praecordia; nec fit
corpus humo gelidum, sed humus de corpore fervet.
Nec moderator adest, inque ipsos saeva medentes
erumpit clades, obsuntque auctoribus artes:
quo propior quisque est servitque fidelius aegro,
in partem leti citius venit. Utque salutis
spes abiit finemque vident in funere morbi,
indulgent animis et nulla, quid utile, cura est:
utile enim nihil est. Passim positoque pudore
fontibus et fluviis puteisque capacibus haerent,
nec sitis est exstincta prius quam vita bibendo.
Inde graves multi nequeunt consurgere et ipsis
inmoriuntur aquis: aliquis tamen haurit et illas.
Tantaque sunt miseris invisi taedia lecti:
prosiliunt, aut si prohibent consistere vires,
corpora devolvunt in humum: fugiuntque penates
quisque suos, sua cuique domus funesta videtur,
et quia causa latet, locus est in crimine parvus
Semianimes errare viis, dum stare valebant,
adspiceres, flentes alios terraque iacentes
lassaque versantes supremo lumina motu:
membraque pendentis tendunt ad sidera caeli,
hic illic, ubi mors deprenderat, exhalantes.
Quid mihi tunc animi fuit? an quod debuit esse,
ut vitam odissem et cuperem pars esse meorum?
Quo se cumque acies oculorum flexerat, illic
vulgus erat stratum, veluti cum putria motis
poma cadunt ramis agitataque ilice glandes.
Templa vides contra gradibus sublimia longis:
Iuppiter illa tenet. Quis non altaribus illis
inrita tura dedit? Quotiens pro coniuge coniunx,
pro gnato genitor dum verba precantia dicit,
non exoratis animam finivit in aris,
inque manu turis pars inconsumpta reperta est!
Admoti quotiens templis, dum vota sacerdos
concipit et fundit purum inter cornua vinum,
haud exspectato ceciderunt vulnere tauri!
Ipse ego sacra Iovi pro me patriaque tribusque
cum facerem natis, mugitus victima diros
edidit et subito conlapsa sine ictibus ullis
exiguo tinxit subiectos sanguine cultros.
Exta quoque aegra notas veri monitusque deorum
perdiderant: tristes penetrant ad viscera morbi.
Ante sacros vidi proiecta cadavera postes,
ante ipsas, quo mors foret invidiosior, aras.
Pars animam laqueo claudunt mortisque timorem
morte fugant ultroque vocant venientia fata.
Corpora missa neci nullis de more feruntur
funeribus: neque enim capiebant funera portae.
Aut inhumata premunt terras aut dantur in altos
indotata rogos. Et iam reverentia nulla est,
deque rogis pugnant alienisque ignibus ardent.
Qui lacriment, desunt; indefletaeque vagantur
matrumque nuruumque animae iuvenumque senumque:
nec locus in tumulos, nec sufficit arbor in ignes.
Attonitus tanto miserarum turbine rerum,
“Iuppiter o!” dixi “si te non falsa loquuntur
dicta sub amplexus Aeginae Asopidos isse,
nec te, magne pater, nostri pudet esse parentem,
aut mihi redde meos aut me quoque conde sepulcro.”
Ille notam fulgore dedit tonitruque secundo.
“Accipio, sintque ista, precor, felicia mentis
signa tuae” dixi. “Quod das mihi, pigneror omen.”
Forte fuit iuxta patulis rarissima ramis
sacra Iovi quercus de semine Dodonaeo:
hic nos frugilegas adspeximus agmine longo
grande onus exiguo formicas ore gerentes
rugosoque suum servantes cortice callem.
Dum numerum miror, “totidem, pater optime” dixi,
“tu mihi da cives et inania moenia supple.”
Intremuit ramisque sonum sine flamine motis
alta dedit quercus. Pavido mihi membra timore
horruerant, stabantque comae. Tamen oscula terrae
roboribusque dedi; nec me sperare fatebar:
sperabam tamen atque animo mea vota fovebam.

[¶2] “At night I lay exhausted by such thoughts,
a deep sleep seized my body, but the tree
seemed always present—to my gaze distinct
with all its branches—I could even see
the birds among its leaves; and from its boughs,
that trembled in the still air, moving ants
were scattered to the ground in troops below;
and ever, as they touched the soil, they grew
larger and larger.—As they raised themselves,
they stood with upright bodies, and put off
their lean shapes; and absorbed their many feet:
and even as their dark brown color changed,
their rounded forms took on a human shape.
“When my strange dream departed, I awoke,
the vision vanished, I complained to Heaven
against the idle comfort of such dreams;
but as I voiced my own lament, I heard
a mighty murmur echoing through the halls
of my deserted palace, and a multitude
of voices in confusion; where the sound
of scarce an echo had disturbed the still
deserted chambers for so many days.
“All this I thought the fancy of my dream,
until my brave son Telamon, in haste
threw open the closed doorway, as he called,
‘Come quickly father, and behold a sight
beyond the utmost of your fondest dreams!’
I did go out, and there I saw such men
each in his turn, as I had seen transformed
in that weird vision of the moving ants.
“They all advanced, and hailed me as their king.
So soon as I had offered vows to Jove,
I subdivided the deserted farms,
and dwellings in the cities to these men
miraculously raised —which now are called
my Myrmidons, —the living evidence
of my strange vision. You have seen these men;
and since that day, their name has been declared,
‘Decisive evidence.’ They have retained
the well-known customs of the days before
their transformation. Patiently they toil;
they store the profits of their labor; which
they guard with valiant skill. They'll follow you
to any war, well matched in years and courage,
and I do promise, when this east wind turns,
this wind that favored you and brought you here,
and when a south wind favors our design,
then my brave Myrmidons will go with you.”

> Latin: Nox subit, et curis exercita corpora somnus
occupat: ante oculos eadem mihi quercus adesse
et ramos totidem totidemque animalia ramis
ferre suis visa est pariterque tremiscere motu
graniferumque agmen subiectis spargere in arvis;
crescere quod subito et maius maiusque videri
ac se tollere humo rectoque adsistere trunco
et maciem numerumque pedum nigrumque colorem
ponere et humanam membris inducere formam.
Somnus abit: damno vigilans mea visa querorque
in superis opis esse nihil. At in aedibus ingens
murmur erat, vocesque hominum exaudire videbar
iam mihi desuetas. Dum suspicor has quoque somni
esse, venit Telamon properus, foribusque reclusis
“speque fideque, pater” dixit, “maiora videbis:
egredere!” Egredior, qualesque in imagine somni
visus eram vidisse viros, ex ordine tales
adspicio noscoque. Adeunt regemque salutant.
Vota Iovi solvo populisque recentibus urbem
partior et vacuos priscis cultoribus agros,
Myrmidonasque voco, nec origine nomina fraudo.
Corpora vidisti; mores quos ante gerebant,
nunc quoque habent: parcum genus est patiensque laborum
quaesitique tenax et quod quaesita reservet.
Hi te ad bella pares annis animisque sequentur,
cum primum qui te feliciter attulit, eurus”
(eurus enim attulerat) “fuerit mutatus in austros.”

[¶3] This narrative and many other tales
had occupied the day. As twilight fell,
festivities were blended in the night—
the night, in turn, afforded sweet repose.
Soon as the golden Sun had shown his light,
the east wind blowing still, the ships were stayed
from sailing home. The sons of Pallas came
to Cephalus, who was the elder called;
and Cephalus together with the sons
of Pallas, went to see the king. Deep sleep
still held the king; and Phocus who was son
of Aeacus, received them at the gate,
instead of Telamon and Peleus who
were marshalling the men for war. Into
the inner court and beautiful apartments
Phocus conducted the Athenians,
and they sat down together. Phocus then
observed that Cephalus held in his hand
a curious javelin with golden head,
and shaft of some rare wood. And as they talked,
he said; “It is my pleasure to explore
the forest in the chase of startled game,
and so I've learned the nature of rare woods,
but never have I seen the match of this
from which was fashioned this good javelin;
it lacks the yellow tint of forest ash,
it is not knotted like all corner-wood;
although I cannot name the kind of wood,
my eyes have never seen a javelin-shaft
so beautiful as this.”
To him replied
a friend of Cephalus; “But you will find
its beauty is not equal to its worth,
for whatsoever it is aimed against,
its flight is always certain to the mark,
nor is it subject to the shift of chance;
and after it has struck, although no hand
may cast it back, it certainly returns,
bloodstained with every victim.”
Then indeed,
was Phocus anxious to be told, whence came
and who had given such a precious gift.
And Cephalus appeared to tell him all;
but craftily was silent on one strange
condition of the fatal gift. As he
recalled the mournful fate of his dear wife,
his eyes filled up with tears. “Ah, pity me,”
he said, “If Fate should grant me many years,
I must weep every time that I regard
this weapon which has been my cause of tears;
the unforgiven death of my dear wife—
ah, would that I had never handled it!
“My sweet wife, Procris!—if you could compare
her beauty with her sister's—Orithyia's,
(ravished by the blustering Boreas)
you would declare my wife more beautiful.
“'Tis she her sire Erectheus joined to me,
'Tis she the god Love also joined to me.
They called me happy, and in truth I was,
and all pronounced us so until the Gods
decreed it otherwise. Two joyful months
of our united love were almost passed,
when, as the grey light of the dawn dispelled,
upon the summit of Hymettus green,
Aurora, glorious in her golden robes,
observed me busy with encircling nets,
trapping the antlered deer.
“Against my will
incited by desire, she carried me
away with her. Oh, let me not increase
her anger, for I tell you what is true,
I found no comfort in her lovely face!
And, though she is the very queen of light,
and reigns upon the edge of shadowy space
where she is nourished on rich nectar-wine,
adding delight to beauty, I could give
no heed to her entreaties, for the thought
of my beloved Procris intervened;
and only her sweet name was on my lips.
“I told Aurora of our wedding joys
and all refreshing joys of love — and my
first union of my couch deserted now:
“Enraged against me, then the goddess said:
‘Keep to your Procris, I but trouble you,
ungrateful clown! but, if you can be warned,
you will no longer wish for her!’ And so,
in anger, she returned me to my wife.
“Alas, as I retraced the weary way,
long-brooding over all Aurora said,
suspicion made me doubtful of my wife,
so faithful and so fair.—But many things
reminding me of steadfast virtue, I
suppressed all doubts; until the dreadful thought
of my long absence filled my jealous mind:
from which I argued to the criminal
advances of Aurora; for if she,
so lovely in appearance, did conceal
such passion in the garb of innocence
until the moment of temptation, how
could I be certain of the purity
of even the strongest when the best are frail?
“So brooding—every effort I devised
to cause my own undoing. By the means
of bribing presents, favored by disguise,
I sought to win her guarded chastity.
Aurora had disguised me, and her guile
determined me to work in subtle snares.
“Unknown to all my friends, I paced the streets
of sacred Athens till I reached my home.
I hoped to search out evidence of guilt:
but everything seemed waiting my return;
and all the household breathed an air of grief.
“With difficulty I, disguised, obtained
an entrance to her presence by the use
of artifices many: and when I
there saw her, silent in her grief,—amazed,
my heart no longer prompted me to test
such constant love. An infinite desire
took hold upon me. I could scarce restrain
an impulse to caress and kiss her. Pale
with grief that I was gone, her lovely face
in sorrow was more beautiful—the world
has not another so divinely fair.
“Ah, Phocus, it is wonderful to think
of beauty so surpassing fair it seems
more lovable in sorrow! Why relate
to you how often she repulsed my feigned
attempts upon her virtue? To each plea
she said: ‘I serve one man: no matter where
he may be I will keep my love for one.’
“Who but a man insane with jealousy,
would doubt the virtue of a loving wife,
when tempted by the most insidious wiles,
whose hallowed honor was her husband's love?
But I, not satisfied with proof complete,
would not abandon my depraved desire
to poison the pure fountain I should guard;—
increasing my temptations, I caused her
to hesitate, and covet a rich gift.
“Then, angered at my own success I said,
discarding all disguise, ‘Behold the man
whose lavish promise has established proof,
the witness of your shameful treachery;
your absent husband has returned to this!’
“Unable to endure a ruined home,
where desecration held her sin to view,
despairing and in silent shame she fled;
and I, the author of that wickedness
ran after: but enraged at my deceit
and hating all mankind, she wandered far
in wildest mountains; hunting the wild game.
“I grieved at her desertion; and the fires
of my neglected love consumed my health;
with greater violence my love increased,
until unable to endure such pain,
I begged forgiveness and acknowledged fault:
nor hesitated to declare that I
might yield, the same way tempted, if such great
gifts had been offered to me. When I had made
abject confession and she had avenged
her outraged feelings, she came back to me
and we spent golden years in harmony.
“She gave to me the hound she fondly loved,
the very one Diana gave to her
when lovingly the goddess had declared,
‘This hound all others shall excel in speed.’
Nor was that gift the only one was given
by kind Diana when my wife was hers,
as you may guess—this javelin I hold forth,
no other but a goddess could bestow.
“Would you be told the story of both gifts
attend my words and you shall be amazed,
for never such another sad event
has added sorrow to the grieving world.

> Latin: Talibus atque aliis longum sermonibus illi
implevere diem. Lucis pars ultima mensae
est data, nox somnis. Iubar aureus extulerat Sol
(flabat adhuc eurus redituraqua vela tenebat):
ad Cephalum Pallante sati, cui grandior aetas,
ad regem Cephalus simul et Pallante creati
conveniunt. Sed adhuc regem sopor altus habebat.
Excipit Aeacides illos in limine Phocus:
nam Telamon fraterque viros ad bella legebant.
Phocus in interius spatium pulchrosque recessus
Cecropidas ducit, cum quis simul ipse resedit.
Adspicit Aeoliden ignota ex arbore factum
ferre manu iaculum, cuius fuit aurea cuspis.
Pauca prius mediis sermonibus ille locutus
“sum nemorum studiosus” ait “caedisque ferinae:
qua tamen e silva teneas hastile recisum,
iamdudum dubito. Certe si fraxinus esset,
fulva colore foret; si cornus, nodus inesset.
Unde sit, ignoro. Sed non formosius isto
viderunt oculi telum iaculabile nostri.”
Excipit Actaeis e fratribus alter, et “usum
maiorem specie mirabere” dixit “in isto.
Consequitur quodcumque petit, fortunaque missum
non regit, et revolat nullo referente cruentum.”
Tum vero iuvenis Nereius omnia quaerit,
cur sit et unde datum, quis tanti muneris auctor.
Quae petit, ille refert. Sed enim (narrare pudori est!),
qua tulerit mercede silet; tactusque dolore
coniugis amissae lacrimis ita fatur obortis:
“Hoc me, nate dea, (quis possit credere?) telum
flere facit facietque diu, si vivere nobis
fata diu dederint. Hoc me cum coniuge cara
perdidit: hoc utinam caruissem munere semper!
Procris erat (si forte magis pervenit ad aures
Orithyia tuas, raptae soror Orithyiae),
si faciem moresque velis conferre duarum,
dignior ipsa rapi. Pater hanc mihi iunxit Erechtheus,
hanc mihi iunxit amor. Felix dicebar eramque.
Non ita dis visum est, aut nunc quoque forsitan essem.
Alter agebatur post sacra iugalia mensis,
cum me cornigeris tendentem retia cervis
vertice de summo semper florentis Hymetti
lutea mane videt pulsis Aurora tenebris
invitumque rapit. Liceat mihi vera referre
pace deae. Quod sit roseo spectabilis ore,
quod teneat lucis, teneat confinia noctis,
nectareis quod alatur aquis, ego —Procrin amabam:
pectore Procris erat, Procris mihi semper in ore.
Sacra tori coitusque novos thalamosque recentes
primaque deserti referebam foedera lecti.
Mota dea est et “siste tuas, ingrate, querellas:
Procrin habe!” dixit. “Quodsi mea provida mens est,
non habuisse voles.” Meque illi irata remisit.
Dum redeo mecumque deae memorata retracto,
esse metus coepit, ne iura iugalia coniunx
non bene servasset. Facies aetasque iubebat
credere adulterium; prohibebant credere mores.
Sed tamen afueram, sed et haec erat unde redibam,
criminis exemplum, sed cuncta timemus amantes.
Quaerere quod doleam statuo donisque pudicam
sollicitare fidem. Favet huic Aurora timori
inmutatque meam (videor sensisse) figuram.
Palladias ineo non cognoscendus Athenas
ingrediorque domum. Culpa domus ipsa carebat
castaque signa dabat dominoque erat anxia rapto:
vix aditus per mille dolos ad Erechthida factus.
Ut vidi, obstipui meditataque paene reliqui
temptamenta fide. Male me, quin vera faterer,
continui, male, quin, ut oportuit, oscula ferrem.
Tristis erat (sed nulla tamen formosior illa
esse potest tristi) desiderioque calebat
coniugis abrepti. Tu conlige, qualis in illa,
Phoce, decor fuerit, quam sic dolor ipse decebat.
Quid referam, quotiens temptamina nostra pudici
reppulerint mores, quotiens “ego” dixerit “uni
servor; ubicumque est, uni mea gaudia servo!”
Cui non ista fide satis experientia sano
magna foret? Non sum contentus et in mea pugno
vulnera, dum census dare me pro nocte loquendo
muneraque augendo tandem dubitare coegi.
Exclamo: “Male (fictor adest!), male fictus adulter
verus eram coniunx! me, perfida, teste teneris!”
Illa nihil. Tacito tantummodo victa pudore
insidiosa malo cum coniuge limina fugit;
offensaque mei genus omne perosa virorum
montibus errabat, studiis operata Dianae.
Tum mihi deserto violentior ignis ad ossa
pervenit. Orabam veniam et peccasse fatebar
et potuisse datis simili succumbere culpae
me quoque muneribus, si munera tanta darentur.
Haec mihi confesso, laesum prius ulta pudorem,
redditur et dulces concorditer exigit annos.
Dat mihi praeterea, tamquam se parva dedisset
dona, canem munus, quem cum sua traderet illi
Cynthia, “currendo superabit” dixerat “omnes.”
Dat simul et iaculum, manibus quod (cernis) habemus.
Muneris alterius quae sit fortuna, requiris?
Accipe mirandum: novitate movebere facti.

[¶4] “After the son of Laius,—Oedipus,—
had solved the riddle of the monster-sphinx,
so often baffling to the wits of men,
and after she had fallen from her hill,
mangled, forgetful of her riddling craft;
not unrevenged the mighty Themis brooked
her loss. Without delay that goddess raised
another savage beast to ravage Thebes,
by which the farmer's cattle were devoured,
the land was ruined and its people slain.
“Then all the valiant young men of the realm,
with whom I also went, enclosed the field
(where lurked the monster) in a mesh
of many tangled nets: but not a strand
could stay its onrush, and it leaped the crest
of every barrier where the toils were set.
“Already they had urged their eager dogs,
which swiftly as a bird it left behind,
eluding all the hunters as it fled.
“At last all begged me to let slip the leash
of straining Tempest; such I called the hound,
my dear wife's present. As he tugged and pulled
upon the tightened cords, I let them slip:
no sooner done, then he was lost to sight;
although, wherever struck his rapid feet
the hot dust whirled. Not swifter flies the spear,
nor whizzing bullet from the twisted sling,
nor feathered arrow from the twanging bow!
“A high hill jutted from a rolling plain,
on which I mounted to enjoy the sight
of that unequalled chase. One moment caught,
the next as surely free, the wild beast seemed
now here now there, elusive in its flight;
swiftly sped onward, or with sudden turn
doubled in circles to deceive or gain.
With equal speed pursuing at each turn,
the rapid hound could neither gain nor lose.
Now springing forward and now doubling back,
his great speed foiled, he snapped at empty air.
“I then turned to my javelin's aid; and while
I poised it in my right hand, turned away
my gaze a moment as I sought to twine
my practiced fingers in the guiding thongs;
but when again I lifted up my eyes,
to cast the javelin where the monster sped,
I saw two marble statues standing there,
transformed upon the plain. One statue seemed
to strain in attitude of rapid flight,
the other with wide-open jaws was changed,
just in the act of barking and pursuit.
Surely some God—if any god controls—
decreed both equal, neither could succeed.”
Now after these miraculous events,
it seemed he wished to stop, but Phocus said.
“What charge have you against the javelin?”
And Cephalus rejoined; “I must relate
my sorrows last; for I would tell you first
the story of my joys—'Tis sweet to think,
upon the gliding tide of those few years
of married life, when my dear wife and I
were happy in our love and confidence.
No woman could allure me then from her;
and even Venus could not tempt my love;
all my great passion for my dearest wife
was equalled by the passion she returned.
“As early as the sun, when golden rays
first glittered on the mountains, I would rise
in youthful ardor, to explore the fields
in search of game. With no companions, hounds,
nor steeds nor nets, this javelin was alone
my safety and companion in my sport.
“And often when my right hand felt its weight,
a-wearied of the slaughter it had caused,
I would come back to rest in the cool shade,
and breezes from cool vales—the breeze I wooed,
blowing so gently on me in the heat;
the breeze I waited for; she was my rest
from labor. I remember, ‘Aura come,’
I used to say, ‘Come soothe me, come into
my breast most welcome one, and yes indeed,
you do relieve the heat with which I burn.’
“And as I felt the sweet breeze of the morn,
as if in answer to my song, my fate impelled
me further to declare my joy in song;
“‘You are my comfort, you are my delight!
Refresh me, cherish me, breathe on my face!
I love you child of lonely haunts and trees!’
“Such words I once was singing, not aware
of some one spying on me from the trees,
who thought I sang to some beloved Nymph,
or goddess by the name of Aura—so
I always called the breeze.—Unhappy man!
The meddling tell-tale went to Procris with
a story of supposed unfaithfulness,
and slyly told in whispers all he heard.
True love is credulous; (and as I heard
the story) Procris in a swoon fell down.
When she awakened from her bitter swoon,
she ceased not wailing her unhappy fate,
and, wretched, moaned for an imagined woe.
“So she lamented what was never done!
Her woe incited by a whispered tale,
she feared the fiction of a harmless name!
But hope returning soothed her wretched state;
and now, no longer willing to believe
such wrong, unless her own eyes saw it, she
refused to think her husband sinned.
“When dawn
had banished night, and I, rejoicing, ranged
the breathing woods, victorious in the hunt
paused and said, ‘Come Aura—lovely breeze—
relieve my panting breast!’ It seemed I heard
the smothered moans of sorrow as I spoke:
but not conceiving harm, I said again;
“‘Come here, oh my delight!’ And as those words
fell from my lips, I thought I heard a soft
sound in the thicket, as of moving leaves;
and thinking surely 'twas a hidden beast,
I threw this winged javelin at the spot.—
“It was my own wife, Procris, and the shaft
was buried in her breast—‘Ah, wretched me!’
She cried; and when I heard her well-known voice,
distracted I ran towards her,—only to find
her bathed in blood, and dying from the wound
of that same javelin she had given to me:
and in her agony she drew it forth,—
ah me! alas! from her dear tender side.
“I lifted her limp body to my own,
in these blood-guilty arms, and wrapped the wound
with fragments of my tunic, that I tore
in haste to staunch her blood; and all the while
I moaned, ‘Oh, do not now forsake me—slain
by these accursed hands!’
“Weak with the loss
of blood, and dying, she compelled herself
to utter these few words, ‘It is my death;
but let my eyes not close upon this life
before I plead with you! — By the dear ties
of sacred marriage; by your god and mine;
and if my love for you can move your heart;
and even by the cause of my sad death,—
my love for you increasing as I die,—
ah, put away that Aura you have called,
that she may never separate your soul,—
your love from me.’
“So, by those dying words
I knew that she had heard me call the name
of Aura, when I wished the cooling breeze,
and thought I called a goddess,—cause of all
her jealous sorrow and my bitter woe
“Alas, too late, I told her the sad truth;
but she was sinking, and her little strength
swiftly was ebbing with her flowing blood.
As long as life remained her loving gaze
was fixed on mine; and her unhappy life
at last was breathed out on my grieving face.
It seemed to me a look of sweet content
was in her face, as if she feared not death.”
In tears he folds these things; and, as they wept
in came the aged monarch, Aeacus,
and with the monarch his two valiant sons,
and troops, new-levied, trained to glorious arms.

> Latin: Carmina Laiades non intellecta priorum
solverat ingeniis, et praecipitata iacebat
inmemor ambagum vates obscura suarum.
Protinus Aoniis inmittitur altera Thebis
pestis, et exitio multi pecorumque suoque
rurigenae pavere feram. Vicina iuventus
venimus et latos indagine cinximus agros.
Illa levi velox superabat retia saltu
summaque transibat positarum lina plagarum.
Copula detrahitur canibus: quos illa sequentes
effugit et celeri non segnior alite ludit.
Poscor et ipse meum consensu Laelapa magno
(muneris hoc nomen). Iamdudum vincula pugnat
exuere ipse sibi colloque morantia tendit.
Vix bene missus erat, nec iam poteramus, ubi esset,
scire. Pedum calidus vestigia pulvis habebat,
ipse oculis ereptus erat. Non ocior illo
hasta nec exutae contorto verbere glandes,
nec Gortyniaco calamus levis exit ab arcu.
Collis apex medii subiectis inminet arvis:
tollor eo capioque novi spectacula cursus,
quo modo deprendi, modo se subducere ab ipso
vulnere visa fera est. Nec limite callida recto
in spatiumque fugit, sed decipit ora sequentis
et redit in gyrum, ne sit suus impetus hosti.
Inminet hic sequiturque parem similisque tenenti
non tenet et vanos exercet in aera morsus.
Ad iaculi vertebar opem. Quod dextera librat
dum mea, dum digitos amentis addere tempto,
lumina deflexi. Revocataque rursus eodem
rettuleram: in medio (mirum) duo marmora campo
adspicio: fugere hoc, illud captare putares.
Scilicet invictos ambo certamine cursus
esse deus voluit, siquis deus adfuit illis.”
Hactenus, et tacuit. “Iaculo quod crimen in ipso est?”
Phocus ait. Iaculi sic crimina reddidit ille:
“Gaudia principium nostri sunt, Phoce, doloris:
illa prius referam. Iuvat o meminisse beati
temporis, Aeacida, quo primos rite per annos
coniuge eram felix, felix erat illa marito.
Mutua cura duos et amor socialis habebat;
nec Iovis illa meo thalamos praeferret amori,
nec, me quae caperet, non si Venus ipsa veniret,
ulla erat: aequales urebant pectora flammae.
Sole fere radiis feriente cacumina primis
venatum in silvas iuvenaliter ire solebam.
Nec mecum famuli nec equi nec naribus acres
ire canes, nec lina sequi nodosa solebant:
tutus eram iaculo. Sed cum satiata ferinae
dextera caedis erat, repetebam frigus et umbras
et quae de gelidis exibat vallibus aura.
Aura petebatur medio mihi lenis in aestu,
auram exspectabam, requies erat illa labori.
“Aura” (recordor enim) “venias” cantare solebam,
“meque iuves intresque sinus, gratissima, nostros,
utque facis, relevare velis, quibus urimur, aestus.”
Forsitan addiderim (sic me mea fata trahebant)
blanditias plures et “tu mihi magna voluptas,”
dicere sim solitus, “tu me reficisque fovesque,
tu facis, ut silvas, ut amem loca sola; meoque
spiritus iste tuus semper captatur ab ore.”
Vocibus ambiguis deceptam praebuit aurem
nescio quis, nomenque aurae tam saepe vocatum
esse putat nymphae: nympham mihi credit amari.
Criminis extemplo ficti temerarius index
Procrin adit linguaque refert audita susurra.
Credula res amor est: subito conlapsa dolore,
ut mihi narratur, cecidit; longoque refecta
tempore se miseram, se fati dixit iniqui,
deque fide questa est; et crimine concita vano
quod nihil est, metuit, metuit sine corpore nomen
et dolet infelix veluti de paelice vera.
Saepe tamen dubitat speratque miserrima falli
indicioque fidem negat et, nisi viderit ipsa,
damnatura sui non est delicta mariti.
Postera depulerant Aurorae lumina noctem:
egredior silvamque peto, victorque per herbas
“Aura veni” dixi, “nostroque medere labori.”
Et subito gemitus inter mea verba videbar
nescio quos audisse: “veni” tamen “optima!” dicens
fronde levem rursus strepitum faciente caduca
sum ratus esse feram telumque volatile misi.
Procris erat; medioque tenens in pectore vulnus
“ei mihi” conclamat. Vox est ubi cognita fidae
coniugis, ad vocem praeceps amensque cucurri.
Semianimem et sparsas foedantem sanguine vestes
et sua (me miserum!) de vulnere dona trahentem
invenio, corpusque meo mihi carius ulnis
mollibus attollo scissaque a pectore veste
vulnera saeva ligo conorque inhibere cruorem,
neu me morte sua sceleratum deserat, oro.
Viribus illa carens et iam moribunda coegit
haec se pauca loqui: “Per nostri foedera lecti
perque deos supplex oro superosque meosque,
per siquid merui de te bene perque manentem
nunc quoque, cum pereo, causam mihi mortis, amorem,
ne thalamis Auram patiare innubere nostris.”
Dixit, et errorem tum denique nominis esse
et sensi et docui. Sed quid docuisse iuvabat?
Labitur, et parvae fugiunt cum sanguine vires.
Dumque aliquid spectare potest, me spectat et in me
infelicem animam nostroque exhalat in ore;
sed vultu meliore mori secura videtur.”
Flentibus haec lacrimans heros memorabat: et ecce
Aeacus ingreditur duplici cum prole novoque
milite, quem Cephalus cum fortibus accipit armis.