---
title: "Metamorphoses"
author: "Ovid"
translator: "Brookes More"
title_ru: "Метаморфозы"
author_ru: "Овидий"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
section: 18 of 30
url: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/18/
cite: "Ovid, tr. Brookes More, Metamorphoses, section 18. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/18/"
---

# 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.

## 18. Book IX · lines 418–797

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/18/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/18/#p-N

[¶0] When Themis, prophesying future days,
had said these words, the Gods of Heaven complained
because they also could not grant the gift
of youth to many others in this way.
Aurora wept because her husband had
white hair; and Ceres then bewailed the age
of her Iasion, grey and stricken old;
and Mulciber demanded with new life
his Erichthonius might again appear;
and Venus, thinking upon future days,
said old Anchises' years must be restored.
And every god preferred some favorite,
until vexed with the clamor, Jupiter
implored, “If you can have regard for me,
consider the strange blessings you desire:
does any one of you believe he can
prevail against the settled will of Fate?
As Iolaus has returned by fate,
to those years spent by him; so by the Fates
Callirhoe's sons from infancy must grow
to manhood with no struggle on their part,
or force of their ambition. And you should
endure your fortune with contented minds:
I, also, must give all control to Fate.
“If I had power to change the course of Fate
I would not let advancing age break down
my own son Aeacus, nor bend his back
with weight of year; and Rhadamanthus should
retain an everlasting flower of youth,
together with my own son Minos, who
is now despised because of his great age,
so that his scepter has lost dignity.”
Such words of Jupiter controlled the Gods,
and none continued to complain, when they
saw Aeacus and Rhadamanthus old,
and Minos also, weary of his age.
And they remembered Minos in his prime,
had warred against great nations, till his name
if mentioned was a certain cause of fear.
But now, enfeebled by great age, he feared
Miletus, Deione's son, because
of his exultant youth and strength derived
from his great father Phoebus. And although
he well perceived Miletus' eye was fixed
upon his throne, he did not dare to drive
him from his kingdom.
But although not forced,
Miletus of his own accord did fly,
by swift ship, over to the Asian shore,
across the Aegean water, where he built
the city of his name.
Cyane, who
was known to be the daughter of the stream
Maeander, which with many a twist and turn
flows wandering there—Cyane said to be
indeed most beautiful, when known by him,
gave birth to two; a girl called Byblis, who
was lovely, and the brother Caunus—twins.
Byblis is an example that the love
of every maiden must be within law.
Seized with a passion for her brother, she
loved him, descendant of Apollo, not
as sister loves a brother; not in such
a manner as the law of man permits.
At first she thought it surely was not wrong
to kiss him passionately, while her arms
were thrown around her brother's neck, and so
deceived herself. And, as the habit grew,
her sister-love degenerated, till
richly attired, she came to see her brother,
with all endeavors to attract his eye;
and anxious to be seen most beautiful,
she envied every woman who appeared
of rival beauty. But she did not know
or understand the flame, hot in her heart,
though she was agitated when she saw
the object of her swiftly growing love.
Now she began to call him lord, and now
she hated to say brother, and she said,
“Do call me Byblis—never call me sister!”
And yet while feeling love so, when awake
she does not dwell upon impure desire;
but when dissolved in the soft arms of sleep,
she sees the very object of her love,
and blushing, dreams she is embraced by him,
till slumber has departed. For a time
she lies there silent, as her mind recalls
the loved appearance of her lovely dream,
until her wavering heart, in grief exclaims:—
“What is this vision of the silent night?
Ah wretched me! I cannot count it true.
And, if he were not my own brother, he
why is my fond heart tortured with this dream?
He is so handsome even to envious eyes,
it is not strange he has filled my fond heart;
so surely would be worthy of my love.
But it is my misfortune I am his
own sister. Let me therefore strive, awake,
to stand with honor, but let sleep return
the same dream often to me.—There can be
no fear of any witness to a shade
which phantoms my delight.—O Cupid, swift
of love-wing with your mother, and O my
beloved Venus! wonderful the joys
of my experience in the transport. All
as if reality sustaining, lifted me
up to elysian pleasure, while in truth
I lay dissolving to my very marrow:
the pleasure was so brief, and Night, headlong
sped from me, envious of my coming joys.
“If I could change my name, and join to you,
how good a daughter I would prove to your
dear father, and how good a son would you
be to my father. If the Gods agreed,
then everything would be possessed by us
in common, but this must exclude ancestors.
For I should pray, compared with mine yours might
be quite superior. But, oh my love,
some other woman by your love will be
a mother; but because, unfortunate,
my parents are the same as yours, you must
be nothing but a brother. Sorrows, then,
shall be to us in common from this hour.
What have my night-born vision signified?
What weight have dreams? Do dreams have any weight?
The Gods forbid! The Gods have sisters! Truth
declares even Saturn married Ops, his own
blood-kin, Oceanus his Tethys, Jove,
Olympian his Juno. But the Gods
are so superior in their laws, I should
not measure human custom by the rights
established in the actions of divinities.
This passion must be banished from my heart,
or, if it cannot be so, I must pray
that I may perish, and be laid out dead
upon my couch so my dear brother there
may kiss my lips. But then he must consent,
and my delight would seem to him a crime.
“Tis known the sons of Aeolus embraced
their sisters —But why should I think of these?
Why should I take example from such lives?
Must I do as they did? Far from it! let
such lawless flames be quenched, until I feel
no evil love for him, although the pure
affection of a sister may be mine,
and cherished. If it should have happened first
that my dear brother had loved me—ah then,
I might have yielded love to his desire.
Why not now? I myself must woo him, since
I could not have rejected him, if he
had first wooed me. But is it possible
for me to speak of it, with proper words
describing such a strange confession? Love
will certainly compel and give me speech.
But, if shame seal my lips, then secret flame
in a sealed letter may be safely told.”

> Latin: Haec ubi faticano venturi praescia dixit
ore Themis, vario superi sermone fremebant,
et “cur non aliis eadem dare dona liceret”
murmur erat: queritur veteres Pallantias annos
coniugis esse sui, queritur canescere mitis
Iasiona Ceres, repetitum Mulciber aevum
poscit Erichthonio. Venerem quoque cura futuri
tangit et Anchisae renovare paciscitur annos.
Cui studeat, deus omnis habet, crescitque favore
turbida seditio, donec sua Iuppiter ora
solvit et “o nostri siqua est reverentia,” dixit
“quo ruitis? Tantumne aliquis sibi posse videtur,
fata quoque ut superet? Fatis Iolaus in annos,
quos egit, rediit, fatis iuvenescere debent
Callirhoe geniti, non ambitione nec armis.
Vos etiam, quoque hoc animo meliore feratis,
me quoque fata regunt. Quae si mutare valerem,
nec nostrum seri curvarent Aeacon anni,
perpetuumque aevi florem Rhadamanthus haberet
cum Minoe meo, qui propter amara senectae
pondera despicitur nec quo prius ordine regnat.”
Dicta Iovis movere deos, nec sustinet ullus,
cum videat fessos Rhadamanthon et Aeacon annis
et Minoa, queri. Qui, dum fuit integer aevi,
terruerat magnas ipso quoque nomine gentes.
Tunc erat invalidus Deionidenque iuventae
robore Miletum Phoeboque parente superbum
pertimuit credensque suis insurgere regnis,
haud tamen est patriis arcere penatibus ausus.
Sponte fugis, Milete, tua, celerique carina
Aegaeas metiris aquas et in Aside terra
moenia constituis positoris habentia nomen.
Hic tibi, dum sequitur patriae curvamina ripae,
filia Maeandri totiens redeuntis eodem
cognita Cyanee, praestantia corpora forma,
Byblida cum Cauno, prolem est enixa gemellam.
Byblis in exemplo est, ut ament concessa puellae:
Byblis Apollinei correpta cupidine fratris:
non soror ut fratrem, nec qua debebat, amabat.
Illa quidem primo nullos intellegit ignes
nec peccare putat, quod saepius oscula iungat,
quod sua fraterno circumdet bracchia collo,
mendacique diu pietatis fallitur umbra.
Paulatim declinat amor, visuraque fratrem
culta venit nimiumque cupit formosa videri
et siqua est illic formosior, invidet illi.
Sed nondum manifesta sibi est nullumque sub illo
igne facit votum: verumtamen aestuat intus.
Iam dominum appellat, iam nomina sanguinis odit:
Byblida iam mavult, quam se vocet ille sororem.
Spes tamen obscenas animo demittere non est
ausa suo vigilans: placida resoluta quiete
saepe videt, quod amat; visa est quoque iungere fratri
corpus et erubuit, quamvis sopita iacebat.
Somnus abit: silet illa diu repetitque quietis
ipsa suae speciem dubiaque ita mente profatur:
“Me miseram! tacitae quid vult sibi noctis imago?
Quam nolim rata sit! cur haec ego somnia vidi?
Ille quidem est oculis quamvis formosus iniquis
et placet, et possim, si non sit frater, amare,
et me dignus erat. Verum nocet esse sororem.—
Dummodo tale nihil vigilans committere temptem,
saepe licet simili redeat sub imagine somnus!
testis abest somno, nec abest imitata voluptas.
Pro! Venus et tenera volucer cum matre Cupido,
gaudia quanta tuli! quam me manifesta libido
contigit! ut iacui totis resoluta medullis!
ut meminisse iuvat! quamvis brevis illa voluptas
noxque fuit praeceps et coeptis invida nostris.
O ego, si liceat mutato nomine iungi,
quam bene, Caune, tuo poteram nurus esse parenti!
quam bene, Caune, meo poteras gener esse parenti!
Omnia, di facerent, essent communia nobis,
praeter avos: tu me vellem generosior esses!
Nescioquam facies igitur, pulcherrime, matrem:
at mihi, quae male sum quos tu sortita parentes,
nil nisi frater eris. Quod obest, id habebimus unum.
Quid mihi significant ergo mea visa?—quod autem
somnia pondus habent?—an habent et somnia pondus?
Di melius!—di nempe suas habuere sorores:
Sic Saturnus Opem iunctam sibi sanguine duxit,
Oceanus Tethyn, Iunonem rector Olympi.
Sunt superis sua iura! Quid ad caelestia ritus
exigere humanos diversaque foedera tempto?
Aut nostro vetitus de corde fugabitur ardor,
aut hoc si nequeo, peream, precor, ante toroque
mortua conponar, positaeque det oscula frater.—
Et tamen arbitrium quaerit res ista duorum.
Finge placere mihi: scelus esse videbitur illi!
At non Aeolidae thalamos timuere sororum!
Unde sed hos novi? Cur haec exempla paravi?
Quo feror? Obscenae procul hinc discedite flammae,
nec, nisi qua fas est germanae, frater ametur!—
Si tamen ipse mei captus prior esset amore,
forsitan illius possem indulgere furori.
Ergo ego, quae fueram non reiectura petentem,
ipsa petam! Poterisne loqui? poterisne fateri?
Coget amor: potero! vel, si pudor ora tenebit,
littera celatos arcana fatebitur ignis:
hoc placet, haec dubiam vicit sententia mentem.”

[¶1] And after all this wavering, her mind
at last was satisfied; and as she leaned
on her left elbow, partly raised from her
half-dream position, she said, “Let him see:
let me at once confess my frantic passion
without repression! O my wretched heart!
What hot flame burns me!” But while speaking so,
she took an iron pen in her right hand,
and trembling wrote the heart-words as she could,
all on a clean wax tablet which she held
in her limp left hand. She begins and stops,
and hesitates—she loves and hates her hot
confession—writes, erases, changes here
and there, condemns, approves, disheartened throws
her tablets down and takes them up again:
her mind refuses everything she does,
and moves against each action as begun:
shame, fear and bold assurance mingled showed
upon her face, as she began to write,
“Your sister” but at once decided she
could not say sister, and commenced instead,
with other words on her amended wax.
“A health to you, which she who loves you fails
to have, unless you grant the same to her.
It shames me, oh I am ashamed to tell
my name to you, and so without my name,
I would I might plead well until the hopes
of my desires were realized, and then
you might know safely, Byblis is my name.
“You might have knowledge of my wounded heart,
because my pale, drawn face and down-cast eyes
so often tearful, and my sighs without
apparent cause have shown it — and my warm
embraces, and my frequent kisses, much
too tender for a sister. All of this
has happened, while with agitated heart
and in hot passion, I have tried all ways,
(I call upon the Gods to witness it!)
that I might force myself to sanity.
And I have struggled, wretched nights and days,
to overcome the cruelties of love,
too dreadful for a frail girl to endure,
for they most surely are all Cupid's art.
“I have been overborne and must confess
my passion, while with timid prayers I plead;
for only you can save me. You alone
may now destroy the one who loves you best:
so you must choose what will be the result.
The one who prays is not your enemy;
but one most closely joined to you, yet asks
to knit the tie more firmly. Let old men
be governed by propriety, and talk
of what is right and wrong, and hold to all
the nice distinctions of strict laws. But Love,
has no fixed law for those whose age is ours,
is heedless and compliant. And we have
not yet discovered what is right or wrong,
and all we should do is to imitate
the known example of the Gods. We have
no father's harsh rule, and we have no care
for reputation, and no fear that keeps
us from each other. But there may be cause
for fear, and we may hide our stolen love,
because a sister is at liberty
to talk with her dear brother—quite apart:
we may embrace and kiss each other, though
in public. What is wanting? Pity her
whose utmost love compels her to confess;
and let it not be written on her tomb,
her death was for your sake and love denied.”
Here when she dropped the tablet from her hand,
it was so full of fond words, which were doomed
to disappointment, that the last line traced
the edge: and without thinking of delay,
she stamped the shameful letter with her seal,
and moistened it with tears (her tongue failed her
for moisture). Then, hot-blushing, she called one
of her attendants, and with timid voice
said, coaxing, “My most trusted servant, take
these tablets to my—” after long delay
she said, “my brother.” While she gave the tablets
they suddenly slipped from her hands and fell.
Although disturbed by this bad omen, she
still sent the letter, which the servant found
an opportunity to carry off.
He gave the secret love-confession. This
her brother, grandson of Maeander, read
but partly, and with sudden passion threw
the tablets from him. He could barely hold
himself from clutching on the throat of her
fear-trembling servant; as, enraged, he cried,
“Accursed pander to forbidden lust,
be gone!—before the knowledge of your death
is added to this unforeseen disgrace!”
The servant fled in terror, and told all
her brother's actions and his fierce reply
to Byblis: and when she had heard her love
had been repulsed, her startled face went pale,
and her whole body trembled in the grip
of ice-chills. Quickly as her mind regained
its usual strength, her maddening love returned,
came back with equal force, and while she choked
with her emotion, gasping she said this:
“I suffer only from my folly! why did I
so rashly tell him of my wounded heart?
And why did I so hastily commit
to tablets all I should have kept concealed?
I should have edged my way by feeling first,
obscurely hinting till I knew his mind
and disposition towards me. And so that
my first voyage might get favorable wind,
I should have tested with a close-reefed sail,
and, knowing what the wind was, safely fared.
But now with sails full spread I have been tossed
by unexpected winds. And so my ship
is on the rocks; and, overwhelmed with all
the power of Ocean, I have not the strength
to turn back and recover what is lost.
“Surely clear omens warned me not to tell
my love so soon, because the tablets fell
just when I would have put them in the hand
of my picked servant — certainly a sign
my hasty hopes were destined to fall down.
Is it not clear I should have changed the day;
and even my intention? Rather say
should not the day have been postponed at once?
The god himself gave me unerring signs,
if I had not been so deranged with love.
I should have spoken to him, face to face;
and with my own lips have confessed it all;
and then my passion had been seen by him,
and, as my face was bathed in tears, I could
have told him so much more than words engraved
on tablets; and, while I was telling him
I could have thrown my arms around his neck,
and if rejected could have seemed almost
at point of death; as I embraced his feet,
while prostrate, even might have begged for life.
I could have tried so many plans, and they
together would have won his stubborn heart.
“Perhaps my stupid servant, in mistake,
did not approach him at a proper time,
and even sought an hour his mind was full
of other things.
“All this has harmed my case;
there is no other reason; he was not
born of a tigress, and his heart is not
of flint or solid iron, or of adamant;
and no she-lion suckled him. He shall
be won to my affection; and I must
attempt again, again, nor ever cease
so long as I have breath. If it were not
too late already to undo what has
been done, 'twere wiser not begun at all.
But since I have begun, it now is best
to end it with success. How can he help
remembering what I dared, although I should
abandon my design! In such a case,
because I gave up, I must be to him
weak, fickle-minded; or perhaps he may
believe I tried to tempt him with a snare.
But come what may, he will not think of me
as overcome by some god who inflames
and rules the heart. He surely will believe
I was so actuated by my lust.
“If I do nothing more, my innocence
is gone forever. I have written him
and wooed him also, in a way so rash
and unmistakable, that if I should
do nothing more than this, I should be held
completely guilty in my brother's sight—
but I have hope, and nothing worse to fear.”

> Latin: In latus erigitur cubitoque innixa sinistro
“viderit: insanos” inquit “fateamur amores.
Ei mihi! quo labor? quem mens mea concipit ignem?”
et meditata manu componit verba trementi:
dextra tenet ferrum, vacuam tenet altera ceram.
Incipit et dubitat, scribit damnatque tabellas
et notat et delet, mutat culpatque probatque,
inque vicem sumptas ponit positasque resumit.
Quid velit ignorat; quidquid factura videtur,
displicet. In vultu est audacia mixta pudori.
Scripta “soror” fuerat, visum est delere sororem
verbaque correctis incidere talia ceris:
“Quam, nisi tu dederis, non est habitura salutem,
hanc tibi mittit amans: pudet, a! pudet edere nomen.
Et si, quid cupiam, quaeris, sine nomine vellem
posset agi mea causa meo, nec cognita Byblis
ante forem, quam spes votorum certa fuisset.
Esse quidem laesi poterat tibi pectoris index
et color et macies et vultus et umida saepe
lumina nec causa suspiria mota patenti
et crebri amplexus, et quae, si forte notasti,
oscula sentiri non esse sororia possent:
ipsa tamen, quamvis animo grave vulnus habebam,
quamvis intus erat furor igneus, omnia feci
(sunt mihi di testes), ut tandem sanior essem,
pugnavique diu violenta Cupidinis arma
effugere infelix et plus, quam ferre puellam
posse putes, ego dura tuli. Superata fateri
cogor opemque tuam timidis exposcere votis.
Tu servare potes, tu perdere solus amantem:
elige, utrum facias! Non hoc inimica precatur,
sed quae, cum tibi sit iunctissima, iunctior esse
expetit et vinclo tecum propiore ligari.
Iura senes norint et, quid liceatque nefasque
fasque sit, inquirant legumque examina servent:
conveniens Venus est annis temeraria nostris!
Quid liceat, nescimus adhuc et cuncta licere
credimus et sequimur magnorum exempla deorum.
Nec nos aut durus pater aut reverentia famae
aut timor impediet (tantum sit causa timendi!).
Dulcia fraterno sub nomine furta tegemus:
est mihi libertas tecum secreta loquendi,
et damus amplexus et iungimus oscula coram,
quantum est, quod desit? Miserere fatentis amores
et non fassurae, nisi cogeret ultimus ardor,
neve merere meo subscribi causa sepulcro!”
Talia nequiquam perarantem plena reliquit
cera manum, summusque in margine versus adhaesit.
Protinus inpressa signat sua crimina gemma,
quam tinxit lacrimis (linguam defecerat umor),
deque suis unum famulis pudibunda vocavit
et pavidum blandita “fer has, fidissime, nostro”—
dixit, et adiecit longo post tempore “fratri.”
Cum daret, elapsae manibus cecidere tabellae.
Omine turbata est: misit tamen. Apta minister
tempora nactus adit traditque latentia verba.
Attonitus subita iuvenis Maeandrius ira
proicit acceptas lecta sibi parte tabellas
vixque manus retinens trepidantis ab ore ministri
“dum licet, o vetitae scelerate libidinis auctor,
effuge!” ait: “qui, si nostrum tua fata pudorem
non traherent secum, poenas mihi morte dedisses.”
Ille fugit pavidus dominaeque ferocia Cauni
dicta refert. Palles audita, Bybli, repulsa,
et pavet obsessum glaciali frigore corpus.
Mens tamen ut rediit, pariter rediere furores,
linguaque vix tales icto dedit aere voces:
“Et merito! quid enim temeraria vulneris huius
indicium feci? Quid, quae celanda fuerunt,
tam cito commisi properatis verba tabellis?
Ante erat ambiguis animi sententia dictis
praetemptanda mihi. Ne non sequeretur euntem,
parte aliqua veli, qualis foret aura, notare
debueram tutoque mari decurrere, quae nunc
non exploratis inplevi lintea ventis.
Auferor in scopulos igitur subversaque toto
obruor oceano, neque habent mea vela recursus.
Quid quod et ominibus certis prohibebar amori
indulgere meo, tum cum mihi ferre iubenti
excidit et fecit spes nostras cera caducas?
Nonne vel illa dies fuerat vel tota voluntas,
sed potius mutanda dies? Deus ipse monebat
signaque certa dabat, si non male sana fuissem.
Et tamen ipsa loqui, nec me committere cerae
debueram praesensque meos aperire furores
(vidisset lacrimas, vultum vidisset amantis!),
plura loqui poteram, quam quae cepere tabellae.
Invito potui circumdare bracchia collo
et, si reicerer, potui moritura videri
amplectique pedes adfusaque poscere vitam.
Omnia fecissem, quorum si singula duram
flectere non poterant, potuissent omnia, mentem.
Forsitan et missi sit quaedam culpa ministri:
non adiit apte nec legit idonea, credo,
tempora nec petiit horamque animumque vacantem.
Haec nocuere mihi. Neque enim est de tigride natus
nec rigidas silices solidumve in pectore ferrum
aut adamanta gerit nec lac bibit ille leaenae.
Vincetur! Repetendus erit, nec taedia coepti
ulla mei capiam, dum spiritus iste manebit.
Nam primum, si facta mihi revocare liceret,
non coepisse fuit: coepta expugnare secundum est.
Quippe nec ille potest, ut iam mea vota relinquam,
non tamen ausorum semper memor esse meorum,
et, quia desierim, leviter voluisse videbor
aut etiam temptasse illum insidiisque petisse;
vel certe non hoc, qui plurimus urget et urit
pectora nostra, deo, sed victa libidine credar.
Denique iam nequeo nil commisisse nefandum.
Et scripsi et petii: temerata est nostra voluntas;
ut nihil adiciam, non possum innoxia dici.
Quod superest, multum est in vota, in crimina parvum.”

[¶2] Then back and forth she argues; and so great
is her uncertainty, she blames herself
for what she did, and is determined just
as surely to succeed.
She tries all arts,
but is repeatedly repulsed by him,
until unable to control her ways,
her brother in despair, fled from the shame
of her designs: and in another land
he founded a new city.
Then, they say,
the wretched daughter of Miletus lost
control of reason. She wrenched from her breast
her garments, and quite frantic, beat her arms,
and publicly proclaims unhallowed love.
Grown desperate, she left her hated home,
her native land, and followed the loved steps
of her departed brother. Just as those
crazed by your thyrsus, son of Semele!
The Bacchanals of Ismarus, aroused,
howl at your orgies, so her shrieks were heard
by the shocked women of Bubassus, where
the frenzied Byblis howled across the fields,
and so through Caria and through Lycia,
over the mountain Cragus and beyond
the town, Lymira, and the flowing stream
called Xanthus, and the ridge where dwelt
Chimaera, serpent-tailed and monstrous beast,
fire breathing from its lion head and neck.
She hurried through the forest of that ridge—
and there at last worn out with your pursuit,
O Byblis, you fell prostrate, with your hair
spread over the hard ground, and your wan face
buried in fallen leaves. Although the young,
still tender-hearted nymphs of Leleges,
advised her fondly how to cure her love,
and offered comfort to her heedless heart,
and even lifted her in their soft arms;
without an answer Byblis fell from them,
and clutched the green herbs with her fingers, while
her tears continued to fall on the grass.
They say the weeping Naiads gave to her
a vein of tears which always flows there from
her sorrows—nothing better could be done.
Immediately, as drops of pitch drip forth
from the gashed pine, or sticky bitumen
distils out from the rich and heavy earth,
or as the frozen water at the approach
of a soft-breathing wind melts in the sun;
so Byblis, sad descendant of the Sun,
dissolving in her own tears, was there changed
into a fountain; which to this late day,
in all those valleys has no name but hers,
and issues underneath a dark oak-tree.

> Latin: Dixit, et (incertae tanta est discordia mentis)
cum pigeat temptasse, libet temptare: modumque
exit et infelix committit saepe repelli.
Mox ubi finis abest, patriam fugit ille nefasque
inque peregrina ponit nova moenia terra.
Tum vero maestam tota Miletida mente
defecisse ferunt, tum vero a pectore vestem
diripuit planxitque suos furibunda lacertos.
Iamque palam est demens inconcessamque fatetur
spem veneris, siquidem patriam invisosque penates
deserit et profugi sequitur vestigia fratris.
Utque tuo motae, proles Semeleia, thyrso
Ismariae celebrant repetita triennia bacchae,
Byblida non aliter latos ululasse per agros
Bubasides videre nurus. Quibus illa relictis
Caras et armiferos Lelegas Lyciamque pererrat.
Iam Cragon et Limyren Xanthique reliquerat undas,
quoque Chimaera iugo mediis in partibus ignem,
pectus et ora leae, caudam serpentis habebat;
deficiunt silvae, cum tu lassata sequendo
concidis et dura positis tellure capillis,
Bybli, iaces frondesque tuo premis ore caducas.
Saepe etiam nymphae teneris Lelegeides ulnis
tollere conantur; saepe, ut medeatur amori,
praecipiunt surdaeque adhibent solacia menti:
muta iacet viridesque suis tenet unguibus herbas
Byblis, et umectat lacrimarum gramina rivus.
Naidas his venam, quae numquam arescere posset,
subposuisse ferunt: quid enim dare maius habebant?
Protinus, ut secto piceae de cortice guttae,
utve tenax gravida manat tellure bitumen,
utve sub adventu spirantis lene favoni
sole remollescit, quae frigore constitit, unda,
sic lacrimis consumpta suis Phoebeia Byblis
vertitur in fontem, qui nunc quoque vallibus illis
nomen habet dominae nigraque sub ilice manat.

[¶3] The tale of this unholy passion would
perhaps, have filled Crete's hundred cities then,
if Crete had not a wonder of its own
to talk of, in the change of Iphis. Once,
there lived at Phaestus, not far from the town
of Gnossus, a man Ligdus, not well known;
in fact obscure, of humble parentage,
whose income was no greater than his birth;
but he was held trustworthy and his life
had been quite blameless. When the time drew near
his wife should give birth to a child, he warned
her and instructed her, with words we quote:—
“There are two things which I would ask of Heaven:
that you may be delivered with small pain,
and that your child may surely be a boy.
Girls are such trouble, fair strength is denied
to them.—Therefore (may Heaven refuse the thought)
if chance should cause your child to be a girl,
(gods pardon me for having said the word!)
we must agree to have her put to death.”
And all the time he spoke such dreaded words,
their faces were completely bathed in tears;
not only hers but also his while he
forced on her that unnatural command.
Ah, Telethusa ceaselessly implored
her husband to give way to fortune's cast;
but Ligdus held his resolution fixed.
And now the expected time of birth was near,
when in the middle of the night she seemed
to see the goddess Isis, standing by
her bed, in company of serious spirit forms;
Isis had crescent horns upon her forehead,
and a bright garland made of golden grain
encircled her fair brow. It was a crown
of regal beauty: and beside her stood
the dog Anubis, and Bubastis, there
the sacred, dappled Apis, and the God
of silence with pressed finger on his lips;
the sacred rattles were there, and Osiris, known
the constant object of his worshippers' desire,
and there the Egyptian serpent whose quick sting
gives long-enduring sleep. She seemed to see
them all, and even to hear the goddess say
to her, “O Telethusa, one of my
remembered worshippers, forget your grief;
your husband's orders need not be obeyed;
and when Lucina has delivered you,
save and bring up your child, if either boy
or girl. I am the goddess who brings help
to all who call upon me; and you shall
never complain of me—that you adored
a thankless deity.” So she advised
by vision the sad mother, and left her.
The Cretan woman joyfully arose
from her sad bed, and supplicating, raised
ecstatic hands up towards the listening stars,
and prayed to them her vision might come true.
Soon, when her pains gave birth, the mother knew
her infant was a girl (the father had
no knowledge of it, as he was not there).
Intending to deceive, the mother said,
“Feed the dear boy.” All things had favored her
deceit—no one except the trusted nurse,
knew of it. And the father paid his vows,
and named the child after its grandfather, whose
name was honored Iphis. Hearing it so called,
the mother could not but rejoice, because
her child was given a name of common gender,
and she could use it with no more deceit.
She took good care to dress it as a boy,
and either as a boy or girl, its face
must always be accounted lovable.
And so she grew,—ten years and three had gone,
and then your father found a bride for you
O Iphis—promised you should take to wife
the golden-haired Ianthe, praised by all
the women of Phaestus for the dower
of her unequalled beauty, and well known,
the daughter of a Cretan named Telestes.
Of equal age and equal loveliness,
they had received from the same teachers, all
instruction in their childish rudiments.
So unsuspected love had filled their hearts
with equal longing—but how different!
Ianthe waits in confidence and hope
the ceremonial as agreed upon,
and is quite certain she will wed a man.
But Iphis is in love without one hope
of passion's ecstasy, the thought of which
only increased her flame; and she a girl
is burnt with passion for another girl!
She hardly can hold back her tears, and says:
“O what will be the awful dreaded end,
with such a monstrous love compelling me?
If the Gods should wish to save me, certainly
they should have saved me; but, if their desire
was for my ruin, still they should have given
some natural suffering of humanity.
The passion for a cow does not inflame a cow,
no mare has ever sought another mare.
The ram inflames the ewe, and every doe
follows a chosen stag; so also birds
are mated, and in all the animal world
no female ever feels love passion for
another female—why is it in me?
“Monstrosities are natural to Crete,
the daughter of the Sun there loved a bull—
it was a female's mad love for the male—
but my desire is far more mad than hers,
in strict regard of truth, for she had hope
of love's fulfillment. She secured the bull
by changing herself to a heifer's form;
and in that subtlety it was the male
deceived at last. Though all the subtleties
of all the world should be collected here;—
if Daedalus himself should fly back here
upon his waxen wings, what could he do?
What skillful art of his could change my sex,
a girl into a boy—or could he change
Ianthe? What a useless thought! Be bold
take courage Iphis, and be strong of soul.
This hopeless passion stultifies your heart;
so shake it off, and hold your memory
down to the clear fact of your birth: unless
your will provides deception for yourself:
do only what is lawful, and confine
strictly, your love within a woman's right.
“Hope of fulfillment can beget true love,
and hope keeps it alive. You are deprived
of this hope by the nature of your birth.
No guardian keeps you from her dear embrace,
no watchful jealous husband, and she has
no cruel father: she does not deny
herself to you. With all that liberty,
you can not have her for your happy wife,
though Gods and men should labor for your wish.
None of my prayers has ever been denied;
the willing Deities have granted me
whatever should be, and my father helps
me to accomplish everything I plan:
she and her father also, always help.
But Nature is more powerful than all,
and only Nature works for my distress.
“The wedding-day already is at hand;
the longed-for time is come; Ianthe soon
will be mine only—and yet, not my own:
with water all around me I shall thirst!
O why must Juno, goddess of sweet brides,
and why should Hymen also, favor us
when man with woman cannot join in wedlock,
but both are brides?” And so she closed her lips.

> Latin: Fama novi centum Cretaeas forsitan urbes
implesset monstri, si non miracula nuper
Iphide mutata Crete propiora tulisset.
Proxima Cnosiaco nam quondam Phaestia regno
progenuit tellus ignotum nomine Ligdum,
ingenua de plebe virum. Nec census in illo
nobilitate sua maior, sed vita fidesque
inculpata fuit. Gravidae qui coniugis aures
vocibus his monuit, cum iam prope partus adesset:
“Quae voveam, duo sunt; minimo ut relevere dolore,
utque marem parias; onerosior altera sors est,
et vires fortuna negat. Quod abominor, ergo
edita forte tuo fuerit si femina partu,
(invitus mando: pietas, ignosce!) necetur.”
Dixerat, et lacrimis vultus lavere profusis,
tam qui mandabat, quam cui mandata dabantur.
Sed tamen usque suum vanis Telethusa maritum
sollicitat precibus, ne spem sibi ponat in arto.
Certa sua est Ligdo sententia. Iamque ferendo
vix erat illa gravem maturo pondere ventrem,
cum medio noctis spatio sub imagine somni
Inachis ante torum, pompa comitata sacrorum,
aut stetit aut visa est. Inerant lunaria fronti
cornua cum spicis nitido flaventibus auro
et regale decus. Cum qua latrator Anubis
sanctaque Bubastis variusque coloribus Apis,
quique premit vocem digitoque silentia suadet,
sistraque erant numquamque satis quaesitus Osiris
plenaque somniferis serpens peregrina venenis.
Tum velut excussam somno et manifesta videntem
sic adfata dea est: “Pars o Telethusa mearum,
pone graves curas mandataque falle mariti.
Nec dubita, cum te partu Lucina levarit,
tollere quidquid erit. Dea sum auxiliaris opemque
exorata fero, nec te coluisse quereris
ingratum numen.” Monuit thalamoque recessit.
Laeta toro surgit purasque ad sidera supplex
Cressa manus tollens, rata sint sua visa, precatur.
Ut dolor increvit, seque ipsum pondus in auras
expulit et nata est ignaro femina patre,
iussit ali mater puerum mentita: fidemque
res habuit, neque erat ficti nisi conscia nutrix.
Vota pater solvit nomenque inponit avitum:
Iphis avus fuerat. Gavisa est nomine mater,
quod commune foret nec quemquam falleret illo.
Inde incepta pia mendacia fraude latebant:
cultus erat pueri, facies, quam sive puellae,
sive dares puero, fuerat formosus uterque.
Tertius interea decimo successerat annus,
cum pater, Iphi, tibi flavam despondet Ianthen,
inter Phaestiadas quae laudatissima formae
dote fuit virgo, Dictaeo nata Teleste.
Par aetas, par forma fuit, primasque magistris
accepere artes, elementa aetatis, ab isdem.
Hinc amor ambarum tetigit rude pectus et aequum
vulnus utrique dedit. Sed erat fiducia dispar:
coniugium pactaeque exspectat tempora taedae
quamque virum putat esse, virum fore credit Ianthe;
Iphis amat, qua posse frui desperat, et auget
hoc ipsum flammas, ardetque in virgine virgo;
vixque tenens lacrimas “quis me manet exitus” inquit,
“cognita quam nulli, quam prodigiosa novaeque
cura tenet Veneris? Si di mihi parcere vellent,
naturale malum saltem et de more dedissent.
Nec vaccam vaccae, nec equas amor urit equarum:
urit oves aries, sequitur sua femina cervum.
Sic et aves coeunt, interque animalia cuncta
femina femineo conrepta cupidine nulla est.
Vellem nulla forem! Ne non tamen omnia Crete
monstra ferat, taurum dilexit filia Solis,
femina nempe marem: meus est furiosior illo,
si verum profitemur, amor! Tamen illa secuta est
spem Veneris, tamen illa dolis et imagine vaccae
passa bovem est, et erat, qui deciperetur adulter!
Huc licet e toto sollertia confluat orbe,
ipse licet revolet ceratis Daedalus alis,
quid faciet? Num me puerum de virgine doctis
artibus efficiet? num te mutabit, Ianthe?
Quin animum firmas, teque ipsa reconligis, Iphi,
consiliique inopes et stultos excutis ignes?
Quid sis nata, vide, nisi te quoque decipis ipsa,
et pete quod fas est, et ama quod femina debes!
Spes est, quae capiat, spes est, quae pascit amorem:
hanc tibi res adimit. Non te custodia caro
arcet ab amplexu nec cauti cura mariti,
non patris asperitas, non se negat ipsa roganti:
nec tamen est potienda tibi, nec, ut omnia fiant,
esse potes felix, ut dique hominesque laborent.
Nunc quoque votorum nulla est pars vana meorum,
dique mihi faciles, quidquid valuere, dederunt;
quodque ego, vult genitor, vult ipsa socerque futurus.
At non vult natura, potentior omnibus istis,
quae mihi sola nocet. Venit ecce optabile tempus,
luxque iugalis adest, et iam mea fiet Ianthe—
nec mihi continget: mediis sitiemus in undis.
Pronuba quid Iuno, quid ad haec, Hymenaee, venitis
sacra, quibus qui ducat abest, ubi nubimus ambae?”

[¶4] The other maiden flamed with equal love,
and often prayed for Hymen to appear.
But Telethusa, fearing that event,
the marriage which Ianthe keenly sought,
procrastinated, causing first delay
by some pretended illness; and then gave
pretence of omens and of visions seen,
sufficient for delay, until she had
exhausted every avenue of excuse,
and only one more day remained before
the fateful time, it was so near at hand.
Despairing then of finding other cause
which might prevent the fated wedding-day,
the mother took the circled fillets from
her own head, and her daughter's head, and prayed,
as she embraced the altar—her long hair
spread out upon the flowing breeze—and said:
“O Isis, goddess of Paraetonium,
the Mareotic fields, Pharos, and Nile
of seven horns divided—oh give help!
Goddess of nations! heal us of our fears!
I saw you, goddess, and your symbols once,
and I adored them all, the clashing sounds
of sistra and the torches of your train,
and I took careful note of your commands,
for which my daughter lives to see the sun,
and also I have so escaped from harm;—
all this is of your counsel and your gift;
oh, pity both of us—and give us aid!”
Tears emphasized her prayer; the goddess seemed
to move—in truth it was the altar moved;
the firm doors of the temple even shook—
and her horns, crescent, flashed with gleams of light,
and her loud sistrum rattled noisily.
Although not quite free of all fear, yet pleased
by that good omen, gladly the mother left
the temple with her daughter Iphis, who
beside her walked, but with a lengthened stride.
Her face seemed of a darker hue, her strength
seemed greater, and her features were more stern.
Her hair once long, was unadorned and short.
There is more vigor in her than she showed
in her girl ways. For in the name of truth,
Iphis, who was a girl, is now a man!
Make offerings at the temple and rejoice
without a fear!—They offer at the shrines,
and add a votive tablet, on which this
inscription is engraved:
these gifts are paid
by Iphis as a man which as a maid
he vowed to give.
The morrow's dawn
revealed the wide world; on the day agreed,
Venus, Juno and Hymen, all have met
our happy lovers at the marriage fires;
and Iphis, a new man, gained his Ianthe.

> Latin: Pressit ab his vocem. Nec lenius altera virgo
aestuat, utque celer venias, Hymenaee, precatur.
Quod petit haec, Telethusa timens modo tempora differt,
nunc ficto languore moram trahit, omina saepe
visaque causatur. Sed iam consumpserat omnem
materiam ficti, dilataque tempora taedae
institerant, unusque dies restabat. At illa
crinalem capiti vittam nataeque sibique
detrahit et passis aram complexa capillis
“Isi, Paraetonium Mareoticaque arva Pharonque
quae colis et septem digestum in cornua Nilum:
fer, precor” inquit “opem nostroque medere timori!
Te, dea, te quondam tuaque haec insignia vidi
cunctaque cognovi, sonitum comitantiaque aera
sistrorum, memorique animo tua iussa notavi.
Quod videt haec lucem, quod non ego punior, ecce
consilium munusque tuum est. Miserere duarum
auxilioque iuva!” Lacrimae sunt verba secutae.
Visa dea est movisse suas (et moverat) aras,
et templi tremuere fores, imitataque lunam
cornua fulserunt, crepuitque sonabile sistrum.
Non secura quidem, fausto tamen omine laeta
mater abit templo: sequitur comes Iphis euntem,
quam solita est, maiore gradu, nec candor in ore
permanet, et vires augentur, et acrior ipse est
vultus, et incomptis brevior mensura capillis,
plusque vigoris adest, habuit quam femina. Nam quae
femina nuper eras, puer es. Date munera templis
nec timida gaudete fide! Dant munera templis,
addunt et titulum; titulus breve carmen habebat:
DONA PUER SOLVIT QUAE FEMINA VOVERAT IPHIS
Postera lux radiis latum patefecerat orbem,
cum Venus et Iuno sociosque Hymenaeus ad ignes
conveniunt, potiturque sua puer Iphis Ianthe.