---
title: "Metamorphoses"
author: "Ovid"
translator: "Brookes More"
title_ru: "Метаморфозы"
author_ru: "Овидий"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
section: 2 of 30
url: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/2/
cite: "Ovid, tr. Brookes More, Metamorphoses, section 2. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/2/"
---

# 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.

## 2. Book I · lines 416–779

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/2/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/2/#p-N

[¶0] And after this the Earth spontaneous
produced the world of animals, when all
remaining moistures of the mirey fens
fermented in the sun, and fruitful seeds
in soils nutritious grew to shapes ordained.
So when the seven streamed Nile from oozy fields
returneth duly to her ancient bed,
the sun's ethereal rays impregn the slime,
that haply as the peasants turn the soil
they find strange animals unknown before:
some in the moment of their birth, and some
deprived of limbs, imperfect; often part
alive and part of slime inanimate
are fashioned in one body. Heat combined
with moisture so conceives and life results
from these two things. For though the flames may be
the foes of water, everything that lives
begins in humid vapour, and it seems
discordant concord is the means of life.
When Earth, spread over with diluvian ooze,
felt heat ethereal from the glowing sun,
unnumbered species to the light she gave,
and gave to being many an ancient form,
or monster new created. Unwilling she
created thus enormous Python.—Thou
unheard of serpent spread so far athwart
the side of a vast mountain, didst fill with fear
the race of new created man. The God
that bears the bow (a weapon used till then
only to hunt the deer and agile goat)
destroyed the monster with a myriad darts,
and almost emptied all his quiver, till
envenomed gore oozed forth from livid wounds.
Lest in a dark oblivion time should hide
the fame of this achievement, sacred sports
he instituted, from the Python called
“The Pythian Games.” In these the happy youth
who proved victorious in the chariot race,
running and boxing, with an honoured crown
of oak leaves was enwreathed. The laurel then
was not created, wherefore Phoebus, bright
and godlike, beauteous with his flowing hair,
was wont to wreathe his brows with various leaves.

> Latin: Cetera diversis tellus animalia formis
sponte sua peperit, postquam vetus umor ab igne
percaluit solis, caenumque udaeque paludes
intumuere aestu, fecundaque semina rerum
vivaci nutrita solo ceu matris in alvo
creverunt faciemque aliquam cepere morando.
Sic ubi deseruit madidos septemfluus agros
Nilus et antiquo sua flumina reddidit alveo
aetherioque recens exarsit sidere limus,
plurima cultores versis animalia glaebis
inveniunt, et in his quaedam modo coepta per ipsum
nascendi spatium, quaedam inperfecta suisque
trunca vident numeris; et eodem in corpore saepe
altera pars vivit, rudis est pars altera tellus.
Quippe ubi temperiem sumpsere umorque calorque,
concipiunt, et ab his oriuntur cuncta duobus;
cumque sit ignis aquae pugnax, vapor umidus omnes
res creat, et discors concordia fetibus apta est.
Ergo ubi diluvio tellus lutulenta recenti
solibus aetheriis altoque recanduit aestu,
edidit innumeras species, partimque figuras
rettulit antiquas, partim nova monstra creavit.
Illa quidem nollet, sed te quoque, maxime Python,
tum genuit, populisque novis, incognite serpens,
terror eras: tantum spatii de monte tenebas.
Hunc deus arquitenens, et numquam talibus armis
ante nisi in dammis capreisque fugacibus usus,
mille gravem telis exhausta paene pharetra
perdidit effuso per vulnera nigra veneno.
Neve operis famam posset delere vetustas,
instituit sacros celebri certamine ludos,
Pythia perdomitae serpentis nomine dictos.
Hic iuvenum quicumque manu pedibusve rotave
vicerat, aesculeae capiebat frondis honorem:
nondum laurus erat, longoque decentia crine
tempora cingebat de qualibet arbore Phoebus.

[¶1] Daphne, the daughter of a River God
was first beloved by Phoebus, the great God
of glorious light. 'Twas not a cause of chance
but out of Cupid's vengeful spite that she
was fated to torment the lord of light.
For Phoebus, proud of Python's death, beheld
that impish god of Love upon a time
when he was bending his diminished bow,
and voicing his contempt in anger said;
“What, wanton boy, are mighty arms to thee,
great weapons suited to the needs of war?
The bow is only for the use of those
large deities of heaven whose strength may deal
wounds, mortal, to the savage beasts of prey;
and who courageous overcome their foes.—
it is a proper weapon to the use
of such as slew with arrows Python, huge,
whose pestilential carcase vast extent
covered. Content thee with the flames thy torch
enkindles (fires too subtle for my thought)
and leave to me the glory that is mine.”
to him, undaunted, Venus, son replied;
“O Phoebus, thou canst conquer all the world
with thy strong bow and arrows, but with this
small arrow I shall pierce thy vaunting breast!
And by the measure that thy might exceeds
the broken powers of thy defeated foes,
so is thy glory less than mine.” No more
he said, but with his wings expanded thence
flew lightly to Parnassus, lofty peak.
There, from his quiver he plucked arrows twain,
most curiously wrought of different art;
one love exciting, one repelling love.
The dart of love was glittering, gold and sharp,
the other had a blunted tip of lead;
and with that dull lead dart he shot the Nymph,
but with the keen point of the golden dart
he pierced the bone and marrow of the God.
Immediately the one with love was filled,
the other, scouting at the thought of love,
rejoiced in the deep shadow of the woods,
and as the virgin Phoebe (who denies
the joys of love and loves the joys of chase)
a maiden's fillet bound her flowing hair,—
and her pure mind denied the love of man.
Beloved and wooed she wandered silent paths,
for never could her modesty endure
the glance of man or listen to his love.
Her grieving father spoke to her, “Alas,
my daughter, I have wished a son in law,
and now you owe a grandchild to the joy
of my old age.” But Daphne only hung
her head to hide her shame. The nuptial torch
seemed criminal to her. She even clung,
caressing, with her arms around his neck,
and pled, “My dearest father let me live
a virgin always, for remember Jove
did grant it to Diana at her birth.”
But though her father promised her desire,
her loveliness prevailed against their will;
for, Phoebus when he saw her waxed distraught,
and filled with wonder his sick fancy raised
delusive hopes, and his own oracles
deceived him.—As the stubble in the field
flares up, or as the stacked wheat is consumed
by flames, enkindled from a spark or torch
the chance pedestrian may neglect at dawn;
so was the bosom of the god consumed,
and so desire flamed in his stricken heart.
He saw her bright hair waving on her neck;—
“How beautiful if properly arranged!”
He saw her eyes like stars of sparkling fire,
her lips for kissing sweetest, and her hands
and fingers and her arms; her shoulders white
as ivory;—and whatever was not seen
more beautiful must be.
Swift as the wind
from his pursuing feet the virgin fled,
and neither stopped nor heeded as he called;
“O Nymph! O Daphne! I entreat thee stay,
it is no enemy that follows thee—
why, so the lamb leaps from the raging wolf,
and from the lion runs the timid faun,
and from the eagle flies the trembling dove,
all hasten from their natural enemy
but I alone pursue for my dear love.
Alas, if thou shouldst fall and mar thy face,
or tear upon the bramble thy soft thighs,
or should I prove unwilling cause of pain!
“The wilderness is rough and dangerous,
and I beseech thee be more careful—I
will follow slowly.—Ask of whom thou wilt,
and thou shalt learn that I am not a churl—
I am no mountain dweller of rude caves,
nor clown compelled to watch the sheep and goats;
and neither canst thou know from whom thy feet
fly fearful, or thou wouldst not leave me thus.
“The Delphic Land, the Pataraean Realm,
Claros and Tenedos revere my name,
and my immortal sire is Jupiter.
The present, past and future are through me
in sacred oracles revealed to man,
and from my harp the harmonies of sound
are borrowed by their bards to praise the Gods.
My bow is certain, but a flaming shaft
surpassing mine has pierced my heart—
untouched before. The art of medicine
is my invention, and the power of herbs;
but though the world declare my useful works
there is no herb to medicate my wound,
and all the arts that save have failed their lord.,”

> Latin: Primus amor Phoebi Daphne Peneia, quem non
fors ignara dedit, sed saeva Cupidinis ira.
Delius hunc, nuper victa serpente superbus,
viderat adducto flectentem cornua nervo
“quid” que “tibi, lascive puer, cum fortibus armis?”
dixerat, “ista decent umeros gestamina nostros,
qui dare certa ferae, dare vulnera possumus hosti,
qui modo pestifero tot iugera ventre prementem
stravimus innumeris tumidum Pythona sagittis.
Tu face nescio quos esto contentus amores
inritare tua, nec laudes adsere nostras.”
Filius huic Veneris “figat tuus omnia, Phoebe,
te meus arcus:” ait “quantoque animalia cedunt
cuncta deo tanto minor est tua gloria nostra.”
Dixit et eliso percussis aere pennis
inpiger umbrosa Parnasi constitit arce
eque sagittifera prompsit duo tela pharetra
diversorum operum: fugat hoc, facit illud amorem.
Quod facit, auratum est et cuspide fulget acuta;
quod fugat, obtusum est et habet sub harundine plumbum.
Hoc deus in nympha Peneide fixit, at illo
laesit Apollineas traiecta per ossa medullas.
Protinus alter amat, fugit altera nomen amantis
silvarum tenebris captivarumque ferarum
exuviis gaudens innuptaeque aemula Phoebes.
Vitta coercebat positos sine lege capillos.
Multi illam petiere, illa aversata petentes
inpatiens expersque viri nemora avia lustrat,
nec quid Hymen, quid Amor, quid sint conubia curat.
Saepe pater dixit “generum mihi, filia, debes,”
saepe pater dixit “debes mihi nata, nepotes:”
illa, velut crimen taedas exosa iugales,
pulchra verecundo suffunditur ora rubore,
inque patris blandis haerens cervice lacertis
“da mihi perpetua, genitor carissime,” dixit
“virginitate frui: dedit hoc pater ante Dianae.”
Ille quidem obsequitur, sed te decor iste quod optas
esse vetat. Votoque tuo tua forma repugnat:
Phoebus amat visaeque cupit conubia Daphnes,
quodque cupit, sperat, suaque illum oracula fallunt.
Utque leves stipulae demptis adolentur aristis,
ut facibus saepes ardent, quas forte viator
vel nimis admovit vel iam sub luce reliquit,
sic deus in flammas abiit, sic pectore toto
uritur et sterilem sperando nutrit amorem.
Spectat inornatos collo pendere capillos
et “quid, si comantur?” ait. Videt igne micantes
sideribus similes oculos, videt oscula, quae non
est vidisse satis; laudat digitosque manusque
bracchiaque et nudos media plus parte lacertos.
Siqua latent, meliora putat. Fugit ocior aura
illa levi neque ad haec revocantis verba resistit:
“Nympha, precor, Penei, mane! Non insequor hostis:
nympha, mane! sic agna lupum, sic cerva leonem,
sic aquilam penna fugiunt trepidante columbae,
hostes quaeque suos: amor est mihi causa sequendi.
Me miserum! ne prona cadas indignave laedi
crura notent sentes et sim tibi causa doloris.
Aspera, qua properas, loca sunt. Moderatius, oro,
curre fugamque inhibe; moderatius insequar ipse.
Cui placeas, inquire tamen. Non incola montis,
non ego sum pastor, non hic armenta gregesque
horridus observo. Nescis, temeraria, nescis
quem fugias, ideoque fugis. Mihi Delphica tellus
et Claros et Tenedos Patareaque regia servit,
Iuppiter est genitor; per me quod eritque fuitque
estque patet; per me concordant carmina nervis.
Certa quidem nostra est, nostra tamen una sagitta
certior, in vacuo quae vulnera pectore fecit.
Inventum medicina meum est, opiferque per orbem
dicor, et herbarum subiecta potentia nobis:
ei mihi, quod nullis amor est sanabilis herbis
nec prosunt domino, quae prosunt omnibus, artes.”

[¶2] But even as he made his plaint, the Nymph
with timid footsteps fled from his approach,
and left him to his murmurs and his pain.
Lovely the virgin seemed as the soft wind
exposed her limbs, and as the zephyrs fond
fluttered amid her garments, and the breeze
fanned lightly in her flowing hair. She seemed
most lovely to his fancy in her flight;
and mad with love he followed in her steps,
and silent hastened his increasing speed.
As when the greyhound sees the frightened hare
flit over the plain:—With eager nose outstretched,
impetuous, he rushes on his prey,
and gains upon her till he treads her feet,
and almost fastens in her side his fangs;
but she, whilst dreading that her end is near,
is suddenly delivered from her fright;
so was it with the god and virgin: one
with hope pursued, the other fled in fear;
and he who followed, borne on wings of love,
permitted her no rest and gained on her,
until his warm breath mingled in her hair.
Her strength spent, pale and faint, with pleading eyes
she gazed upon her father's waves and prayed,
“Help me my father, if thy flowing streams
have virtue! Cover me, O mother Earth!
Destroy the beauty that has injured me,
or change the body that destroys my life.”
Before her prayer was ended, torpor seized
on all her body, and a thin bark closed
around her gentle bosom, and her hair
became as moving leaves; her arms were changed
to waving branches, and her active feet
as clinging roots were fastened to the ground—
her face was hidden with encircling leaves.—
Phoebus admired and loved the graceful tree,
(For still, though changed, her slender form remained)
and with his right hand lingering on the trunk
he felt her bosom throbbing in the bark.
He clung to trunk and branch as though to twine.
His form with hers, and fondly kissed the wood
that shrank from every kiss.
And thus the God;
“Although thou canst not be my bride, thou shalt
be called my chosen tree, and thy green leaves,
O Laurel! shall forever crown my brows,
be wreathed around my quiver and my lyre;
the Roman heroes shall be crowned with thee,
as long processions climb the Capitol
and chanting throngs proclaim their victories;
and as a faithful warden thou shalt guard
the civic crown of oak leaves fixed between
thy branches, and before Augustan gates.
And as my youthful head is never shorn,
so, also, shalt thou ever bear thy leaves
unchanging to thy glory.,”
Here the God,
Phoebus Apollo, ended his lament,
and unto him the Laurel bent her boughs,
so lately fashioned; and it seemed to him
her graceful nod gave answer to his love.
There is a grove in Thessaly, enclosed
on every side with crags, precipitous,—
on which a forest grows—and this is called
the Vale of Tempe—through this valley flows
the River Peneus, white with foaming waves,
that issue from the foot of Pindus, whence
with sudden fall up gather steamy clouds
that sprinkle mist upon the circling trees,
and far away with mighty roar resound.
It is the abode, the solitary home,
that mighty River loves, where deep in gloom
of rocky cavern, he resides and rules
the flowing waters and the water nymphs
abiding there. All rivers of that land
now hasten thither, doubtful to console
or flatter Daphne's parent: poplar crowned
Sperchios, swift Enipeus and the wild
Amphrysos, old Apidanus and Aeas,
with all their kindred streams that wandering maze
and wearied seek the ocean. Inachus
alone is absent, hidden in his cave
obscure, deepening his waters with his tears—
most wretchedly bewailing, for he deems
his daughter Io lost. If she may live
or roam a spirit in the nether shades
he dares not even guess but dreads
for Jove not long before had seen her while
returning from her father's stream, and said;
“O virgin, worthy of immortal Jove,
although some happy mortal's chosen bride,—
behold these shades of overhanging trees,
and seek their cool recesses while the sun
is glowing in the height of middle skies—”
and as he spoke he pointed out the groves—
“But should the dens of wild beasts frighten you,
with safety you may enter the deep woods,
conducted by a God—not with a God
of small repute, but in the care of him
who holds the heavenly scepter in his hand
and fulminates the trackless thunder bolts.—
forsake me not!” For while he spoke she fled,
and swiftly left behind the pasture fields
of Lerna, and Lyrcea's arbours, where
the trees are planted thickly. But the God
called forth a heavy shadow which involved
the wide extended earth, and stopped her flight
and ravished in that cloud her chastity.
Meanwhile, the goddess Juno gazing down
on earth's expanse, with wonder saw the clouds
as dark as night enfold those middle fields
while day was bright above. She was convinced
the clouds were none composed of river mist
nor raised from marshy fens. Suspicious now,
from oft detected amours of her spouse,
she glanced around to find her absent lord,
and quite convinced that he was far from heaven,
she thus exclaimed; “This cloud deceives my mind,
or Jove has wronged me.” From the dome of heaven
she glided down and stood upon the earth,
and bade the clouds recede. But Jove had known
the coming of his queen. He had transformed
the lovely Io, so that she appeared
a milk white heifer—formed so beautiful
and fair that envious Juno gazed on her.
She queried: “Whose? what herd? what pasture fields?”
As if she guessed no knowledge of the truth.
And Jupiter, false hearted, said the cow
was earth begotten, for he feared his queen
might make inquiry of the owner's name.
Juno implored the heifer as a gift.—
what then was left the Father of the Gods?
'Twould be a cruel thing to sacrifice
his own beloved to a rival's wrath.
Although refusal must imply his guilt
the shame and love of her almost prevailed;
but if a present of such little worth
were now denied the sharer of his couch,
the partner of his birth, 'twould prove indeed
the earth born heifer other than she seemed—
and so he gave his mistress up to her.
Juno regardful of Jove's cunning art,
lest he might change her to her human form,
gave the unhappy heifer to the charge
of Argus, Aristorides, whose head
was circled with a hundred glowing eyes;
of which but two did slumber in their turn
whilst all the others kept on watch and guard.
Whichever way he stood his gaze was fixed
on Io—even if he turned away
his watchful eyes on Io still remained.
He let her feed by day; but when the sun
was under the deep world he shut her up,
and tied a rope around her tender neck.
She fed upon green leaves and bitter herbs
and on the cold ground slept—too often bare,
she could not rest upon a cushioned couch.
She drank the troubled waters. Hoping aid
she tried to stretch imploring arms to Argus,
but all in vain for now no arms remained;
the sound of bellowing was all she heard,
and she was frightened with her proper voice.
Where former days she loved to roam and sport,
she wandered by the banks of Inachus:
there imaged in the stream she saw her horns
and, startled, turned and fled. And Inachus
and all her sister Naiads knew her not,
although she followed them, they knew her not,
although she suffered them to touch her sides
and praise her.
When the ancient Inachus
gathered sweet herbs and offered them to her,
she licked his hands, kissing her father's palms,
nor could she more restrain her falling tears.
If only words as well as tears would flow,
she might implore his aid and tell her name
and all her sad misfortune; but, instead,
she traced in dust the letters of her name
with cloven hoof; and thus her sad estate
was known.

> Latin: Plura locuturum timido Peneia cursu
fugit cumque ipso verba inperfecta reliquit,
tum quoque visa decens. Nudabant corpora venti,
obviaque adversas vibrabant flamina vestes,
et levis inpulsos retro dabat aura capillos,
auctaque forma fuga est. Sed enim non sustinet ultra
perdere blanditias iuvenis deus, utque monebat
ipse Amor, admisso sequitur vestigia passu.
Ut canis in vacuo leporem cum Gallicus arvo
vidit, et hic praedam pedibus petit, ille salutem:
alter inhaesuro similis iam iamque tenere
sperat et extento stringit vestigia rostro,
alter in ambiguo est, an sit conprensus, et ipsis
morsibus eripitur tangentiaque ora relinquit:
sic deus et virgo est hic spe celer, illa timore.
Qui tamen insequitur pennis adiutus Amoris,
ocior est requiemque negat tergoque fugacis
inminet et crinem sparsum cervicibus adflat.
Viribus absumptis expalluit illa citaeque
victa labore fugae spectans Peneidas undas
“fer pater” inquit “opem si flumina numen habetis.
Qua nimium placui, mutando perde figuram!”
Vix prece finita torpor gravis occupat artus:
mollia cinguntur tenui praecordia libro,
in frondem crines, in ramos bracchia crescunt,
pes modo tam velox pigris radicibus haeret,
ora cacumen habet; remanet nitor unus in illa.
Hanc quoque Phoebus amat, positaque in stipite dextra
sentit adhuc trepidare novo sub cortice pectus
conplexusque suis ramos, ut membra, lacertis
oscula dat ligno: refugit tamen oscula lignum.
Cui deus “at quoniam coniunx mea non potes esse,
arbor eris certe” dixit “mea. Semper habebunt
te coma, te citharae, te nostrae, laure, pharetrae:
tu ducibus Latiis aderis, cum laeta triumphum
vox canet et visent longas Capitolia pompas:
postibus Augustis eadem fidissima custos
ante fores stabis mediamque tuebere quercum,
utque meum intonsis caput est iuvenale capillis,
tu quoque perpetuos semper gere frondis honores.”
Finierat Paean: factis modo laurea ramis
adnuit utque caput visa est agitasse cacumen.
Est nemus Haemoniae, praerupta quod undique claudit
silva: vocant Tempe. Per quae Peneus ab imo
effusus Pindo spumosis volvitur undis,
deiectuque gravi tenues agitantia fumos
nubila conducit summisque adspergine silvis
inpluit et sonitu plus quam vicina fatigat.
Haec domus, haec sedes, haec sunt penetralia magni
amnis; in his residens facto de cautibus antro,
undis iura dabat nymphisque colentibus undas.
Conveniunt illuc popularia flumina primum,
nescia, gratentur consolenturne parentem,
populifer Sperchios et inrequietus Enipeus
Apidanusque senex lenisque Amphrysos et Aeas,
moxque amnes alii, qui, qua tulit impetus illos,
in mare deducunt fessas erroribus undas.
Inachus unus abest imoque reconditus antro
fletibus auget aquas natamque miserrimus Io
luget ut amissam. Nescit, vitane fruatur,
an sit apud manes; sed quam non invenit usquam.
esse putat nusquam atque animo peiora veretur.
Viderat a patrio redeuntem Iuppiter illam
flumine et “o virgo Iove digna tuoque beatum
nescio quem factura toro, pete” dixerat “umbras
altorum nemorum” (et nemorum monstraverat umbras),
“dum calet et medio sol est altissimus orbe.
Quodsi sola times latebras intrare ferarum,
praeside tuta deo nemorum secreta subibis,
nec de plebe deo, sed qui caelestia magna
sceptra manu teneo, sed qui vaga fulmina mitto.
Ne fuge me!”—fugiebat enim. Iam pascua Lernae
consitaque arboribus Lyrcea reliquerat arva,
cum deus inducta latas caligine terras
occuluit tenuitque fugam rapuitque pudorem.
Interea medios Iuno despexit in agros
et noctis faciem nebulas fecisse volucres
sub nitido mirata die, non fluminis illas
esse, nec umenti sensit tellure remitti;
atque suus coniunx ubi sit circumspicit, ut quae
deprensi totiens iam nosset furta mariti.
Quem postquam caelo non repperit, “aut ego fallor,
aut ego laedor” ait, delapsaque ab aethere summo
constitit in terris nebulasque recedere iussit.
Coniugis adventum praesenserat inque nitentem
Inachidos vultus mutaverat ille iuvencam.
Bos quoque formosa est. Speciem Saturnia vaccae,
quamquam invita, probat, nec non et cuius et unde
quove sit armento, veri quasi nescia quaerit.
Iuppiter e terra genitam mentitur, ut auctor
desinat inquiri. Petit hanc Saturnia munus.
Quid faciat? crudele suos addicere amores,
non dare suspectum est. Pudor est qui suadeat illinc,
hinc dissuadet amor. Victus pudor esset amore;
sed leve si munus sociae generisque torique
vacca negaretur, poterat non vacca videri.
Paelice donata non protinus exuit omnem
diva metum timuitque Iovem et fuit anxia furti,
donec Arestoridae servandam tradidit Argo.
Centum luminibus cinctum caput Argus habebat:
inde suis vicibus capiebant bina quietem,
cetera servabant atque in statione manebant.
Constiterat quocumque modo, spectabat ad Io:
ante oculos Io, quamvis aversus, habebat.
Luce sinit pasci; cum sol tellure sub alta est,
claudit et indigno circumdat vincula collo.
frondibus arboreis et amara pascitur herba,
proque toro terrae non semper gramen habenti
incubat infelix limosaque flumina potat.
Illa etiam supplex Argo cum bracchia vellet
tendere, non habuit, quae bracchia tenderet Argo,
et conata queri mugitus edidit ore
pertimuitque sonos propriaque exterrita voce est.
Venit et ad ripas, ubi ludere saepe solebat,
Inachidas ripas; novaque ut conspexit in unda
cornua, pertimuit seque exsternata refugit.
Naides ignorant, ignorat et Inachus ipse,
quae sit; at illa patrem sequitur sequiturque sorores
et patitur tangi seque admirantibus offert.
Decerptas senior porrexerat Inachus herbas:
illa manus lambit patriisque dat oscula palmis
nec retinet lacrimas et, si modo verba sequantur,
oret opem nomenque suum casusque loquatur.
Littera pro verbis, quam pes in pulvere duxit,

[¶3] “Ah wretched me!” her father cried;
and as he clung around her horns and neck
repeated while she groaned, “Ah wretched me!
Art thou my daughter sought in every clime?
When lost I could not grieve for thee as now
that thou art found; thy sighs instead of words
heave up from thy deep breast, thy longings give
me answer. I prepared the nuptial torch
and bridal chamber, in my ignorance,
since my first hope was for a son in law;
and then I dreamed of children from the match:
but now the herd may furnish thee a mate,
and all thy issue of the herd must be.
Oh that a righteous death would end my grief!—
it is a dreadful thing to be a God!
Behold the lethal gate of death is shut
against me, and my growing grief must last
throughout eternity.”
While thus he moaned
came starry Argus there, and Io bore
from her lamenting father. Thence he led
his charge to other pastures; and removed
from her, upon a lofty mountain sat,
whence he could always watch her, undisturbed.
The sovereign god no longer could endure
to witness Io's woes. He called his son,
whom Maia brightest of the Pleiades
brought forth, and bade him slay the star eyed guard,
argus. He seized his sleep compelling wand
and fastened waving wings on his swift feet,
and deftly fixed his brimmed hat on his head:—
lo, Mercury, the favoured son of Jove,
descending to the earth from heaven's plains,
put off his cap and wings,— though still retained
his wand with which he drove through pathless wilds
some stray she goats, and as a shepherd fared,
piping on oaten reeds melodious tunes.
Argus, delighted with the charming sound
of this new art began; “Whoever thou art,
sit with me on this stone beneath the trees
in cooling shade, whilst browse the tended flock
abundant herbs; for thou canst see the shade
is fit for shepherds.” Wherefore, Mercury
sat down beside the keeper and conversed
of various things—passing the laggard hours.—
then soothly piped he on the joined reeds
to lull those ever watchful eyes asleep;
but Argus strove his languor to subdue,
and though some drowsy eyes might slumber, still
were some that vigil kept. Again he spoke,
(for the pipes were yet a recent art)
“I pray thee tell what chance discovered these.”
To him the God, “A famous Naiad dwelt
among the Hamadryads, on the cold
Arcadian summit Nonacris, whose name
was Syrinx. Often she escaped the Gods,
that wandered in the groves of sylvan shades,
and often fled from Satyrs that pursued.
Vowing virginity, in all pursuits
she strove to emulate Diana's ways:
and as that graceful goddess wears her robe,
so Syrinx girded hers that one might well
believe Diana there. Even though her bow
were made of horn, Diana's wrought of gold,
vet might she well deceive.
“Now chanced it Pan.
Whose head was girt with prickly pines, espied
the Nymph returning from the Lycian Hill,
and these words uttered he:”—But Mercury
refrained from further speech, and Pan's appeal
remains untold. If he had told it all,
the tale of Syrinx would have followed thus:—
but she despised the prayers of Pan, and fled
through pathless wilds until she had arrived
the placid Ladon's sandy stream, whose waves
prevented her escape. There she implored
her sister Nymphs to change her form: and Pan,
believing he had caught her, held instead
some marsh reeds for the body of the Nymph;
and while he sighed the moving winds began
to utter plaintive music in the reeds,
so sweet and voice like that poor Pan exclaimed;
“Forever this discovery shall remain
a sweet communion binding thee to me.”—
and this explains why reeds of different length,
when joined together by cementing wax,
derive the name of Syrinx from the maid.

> Latin: corporis indicium mutati triste peregit.
“Me miserum!” exclamat pater Inachus inque gementis
cornibus et niveae pendens cervice iuvencae
“me miserum!” ingeminat, “tune es quaesita per omnes
nata, mihi terras? tu non inventa reperta
luctus eras levior. Retices nec mutua nostris
dicta refers, alto tantum suspiria ducis
pectore, quodque unum potes, ad mea verba remugis.
At tibi ego ignarus thalamos taedasque parabam,
spesque fuit generi mihi prima, secunda nepotum.
De grege nunc tibi vir, nunc de grege natus habendus.
Nec finire licet tantos mihi morte dolores,
sed nocet esse deum, praeclusaque ianua leti
aeternum nostros luctus extendit in aevum?”
Talia maerentem stellatus submovet Argus
ereptamque patri diversa in pascua natam
abstrahit. Ipse procul montis sublime cacumen
occupat, unde sedens partes speculatur in omnes.
Nec superum rector mala tanta Phoronidos ultra
ferre potest natumque vocat, quem lucida partu
Pleias enixa est, letoque det imperat Argum.
Parva mora est alas pedibus virgamque potenti
somniferam sumpsisse manu tegimenque capillis.
Haec ubi disposuit, patria Iove natus ab arce
desilit in terras. Illic tegimenque removit
et posuit pennas, tantummodo virga retenta est.
Hac agit, ut pastor, per devia rura capellas,
dum venit, adductas et structis cantat avenis.
Voce nova captus custos Iunonius “at tu,
quisquis es, hoc poteras mecum considere saxo,”
Argus ait, “neque enim pecori fecundior ullo
herba loco est, aptamque vides pastoribus umbram.”
Sedit Atlantiades et euntem multa loquendo
detinuit sermone diem iunctisque canendo
vincere harundinibus servantia lumina temptat.
Ille tamen pugnat molles evincere somnos
et, quamvis sopor est oculorum parte receptus,
parte tamen vigilat. Quaerit quoque (namque reperta
fistula nuper erat), qua sit ratione reperta.
Tum deus “Arcadiae gelidis in montibus” inquit
“inter hamadryadas celeberrima Nonacrinas
naias una fuit; nymphae Syringa vocabant.
Non semel et satyros eluserat illa sequentes
et quoscumque deos umbrosaque silva feraxque
rus habet. Ortygiam studiis ipsaque colebat
virginitate deam. Ritu quoque cincta Dianae
falleret et posset credi Latonia, si non
corneus huic arcus, si non foret aureus illi.
Sic quoque fallebat. Redeuntem colle Lycaeo
Pan videt hanc pinuque caput praecinctus acuta
talia verba refert”—restabat verba referre
et precibus spretis fugisse per avia nympham,
donec harenosi placidum Ladonis ad amnem
venerit. Hic illam cursum inpedientibus undis,
ut se mutarent liquidas orasse sorores,
Panaque, cum prensam sibi iam Syringa putaret,
corpore pro nymphae calamos tenuisse palustres.
Dumque ibi suspirat, motos in harundine ventos
effecisse sonum tenuem similemque querenti.
Arte nova vocisque deum dulcedine captum
“hoc mihi concilium tecum” dixisse “manebit!“
atque ita disparibus calamis conpagine cerae

[¶4] Such words the bright god Mercury would say;
but now perceiving Argus' eyes were dimmed
in languorous doze, he hushed his voice and touched
the drooping eyelids with his magic wand,
compelling slumber. Then without delay
he struck the sleeper with his crescent sword,
where neck and head unite, and hurled his head,
blood dripping, down the rocks and rugged cliff.
Low lies Argus: dark is the light of all
his hundred eyes, his many orbed lights
extinguished in the universal gloom
that night surrounds; but Saturn's daughter spread
their glister on the feathers of her bird,
emblazoning its tail with starry gems.
Juno made haste, inflamed with towering rage,
to vent her wrath on Io; and she raised
in thought and vision of the Grecian girl
a dreadful Fury. Stings invisible,
and pitiless, she planted in her breast,
and drove her wandering throughout the globe.
The utmost limit of her laboured way,
O Nile, thou didst remain. Which, having reached,
and placed her tired knees on that river's edge,
she laid her there, and as she raised her neck
looked upward to the stars, and groaned and wept
and mournfully bellowed: trying thus to plead,
by all the means she had, that Jupiter
might end her miseries. Repentant Jove
embraced his consort, and entreated her
to end the punishment: “Fear not,” he said,
“For she shall trouble thee no more.” He spoke,
and called on bitter Styx to hear his oath.
And now imperial Juno, pacified,
permitted Io to resume her form,—
at once the hair fell from her snowy sides;
the horns absorbed, her dilate orbs decreased;
the opening of her jaws contracted; hands
appeared and shoulders; and each transformed hoof
became five nails. And every mark or form
that gave the semblance of a heifer changed,
except her fair white skin; and the glad Nymph
was raised erect and stood upon her feet.
But long the very thought of speech, that she
might bellow as a heifer, filled her mind
with terror, till the words so long forgot
for some sufficient cause were tried once more.
and since that time, the linen wearing throng
of Egypt have adored her as a God;
for they believe the seed of Jove prevailed;
and when her time was due she bore to him
a son called Epaphus; who also dwells
in temples with his mother in that land.
Now Phaethon, whose father was the Sun,
was equal to his rival, Epaphus,
in mind and years; and he was glad to boast
of wonders, nor would yield to Epaphus
for pride of Phoebus, his reputed sire.
Unable to endure it, Io's son
thus mocked him; “Poor, demented fellow, what
will you not credit if your mother speaks,
you are so puffed up with the fond conceit
of your imagined sire, the Lord of Day.”
shame crimsoned in his cheeks, but Phaethon
withholding rage, reported all the taunts
of Epaphus to Clymene his mother:
“'Twill grieve you, mother, I, the bold and free,
was silent; and it shames me to report
this dark reproach remains unchallenged. Oh,
if I am born of race divine, give proof
of that illustrious descent and claim
my right to Heaven.” Around his mother's neck
he drew his arms, and by the head of Merops,
and by his own, and by the nuptial torch
of his beloved sisters, he implored
for some true token of his origin.
Or moved by Phaethon's importuned words,
or by the grievous charge, who might declare?
She raised her arms to Heaven, and gazing full
upon the broad sun said; “I swear to you
by yonder orb, so radiant and bright,
which both beholds and hears us while we speak,
that you are his begotten son.—You are
the child of that great light which sways the world:
and if I have not spoken what is true,
let not mine eyes behold his countenance,
and let this fatal moment be the last
that I shall look upon the light of day!
Nor will it weary you, my son, to reach
your father's dwelling; for the very place
where he appears at dawn is near our land.
Go, if it please you, and the very truth
learn from your father.” Instantly sprang forth
exultant Phaethon. Overjoyed with words
so welcome, he imagined he could leap
and touch the skies. And so he passed his land
of Ethiopia, and the Indies, hot
beneath the tawny sun, and there he turned
his footsteps to his father's Land of Dawn.

> Latin: inter se iunctis nomen tenuisse puellae.
Talia dicturus vidit Cyllenius omnes
succubuisse oculos adopertaque lumina somno.
Supprimit extemplo vocem firmatque soporem
languida permulcens medicata lumina virga.
Nec mora, falcato nutantem vulnerat ense
qua collo est confine caput, saxoque cruentum
deicit et maculat praeruptam sanguine rupem.
Arge, iaces, quodque in tot lumina lumen habebas,
exstinctum est, centumque oculos nox occupat una.
Excipit hos volucrisque suae Saturnia pennis
collocat et gemmis caudam stellantibus inplet.
Protinus exarsit nec tempora distulit irae
horriferamque oculis animoque obiecit Erinyn
paelicis Argolicae stimulosque in pectore caecos
condidit et profugam per totum terruit orbem.
Ultimus inmenso restabas, Nile, labori.
Quem simul ac tetigit, positis in margine ripae
procubuit genibus resupinoque ardua collo,
quos potuit solos, tollens ad sidera vultus
et gemitu et lacrimis et luctisono mugitu
cum Iove visa queri finemque orare malorum.
Coniugis ille suae conplexus colla lacertis,
finiat ut poenas tandem, rogat “in” que “futurum
pone metus” inquit; “numquam tibi causa doloris
haec erit:” et Stygias iubet hoc audire paludes.
Ut lenita dea est, vultus capit illa priores
fitque quod ante fuit: fugiunt e corpore saetae,
cornua decrescunt, fit luminis artior orbis,
contrahitur rictus, redeunt umerique manusque,
ungulaque in quinos dilapsa absumitur ungues:
de bove nil superest formae nisi candor in illa.
Officioque pedum nymphe contenta duorum
erigitur metuitque loqui, ne more iuvencae
mugiat, et timide verba intermissa retemptat.
Nunc dea linigera colitur celeberrima turba,
nunc Epaphus magni genitus de semine tandem
creditur esse Iovis, perque urbes iuncta parenti
templa tenet. Fuit huic animis aequalis et annis
Sole satus Phaethon. Quem quondam magna loquentem
nec sibi cedentem Phoeboque parente superbum
non tulit Inachides, “matri” que ait “omnia demens
credis et es tumidus genitoris imagine falsi.”
Erubuit Phaethon iramque pudore repressit
et tulit ad Clymenen Epaphi convicia matrem;
“quo” que “magis doleas genetrix,” ait “ille ego liber,
ille ferox tacui. Pudet haec opprobria nobis
et dici potuisse et non potuisse refelli.
At tu, si modo sum caelesti stirpe creatus,
ede notam tanti generis meque adsere caelo.”
Dixit et inplicuit materno bracchia collo
perque suum Meropisque caput taedasque sororum
traderet oravit veri sibi signa parentis.
Ambiguum, Clymene, precibus Phaethontis an ira
mota magis dicti sibi criminis utraque caelo
bracchia porrexit spectansque ad lumina solis
“per iubar hoc” inquit “radiis insigne coruscis,
nate, tibi iuro, quod nos auditque videtque,
hoc te, quem spectas, hoc te, qui temperat orbem,
Sole satum. Si ficta loquor, neget ipse videndum
se mihi, sitque oculis lux ista novissima nostris.
Nec longus patrios labor est tibi nosse penates:
unde oritur, domus est terrae contermina nostrae.
Si modo fert animus, gradere et scitabere ab ipso.”
Emicat extemplo laetus post talia matris
dicta suae Phaethon et concipit aethera mente,
Aethiopasque suos positosque sub ignibus Indos
sidereis transit patriosque adit inpiger ortus.