---
title: "Metamorphoses"
author: "Ovid"
translator: "Brookes More"
title_ru: "Метаморфозы"
author_ru: "Овидий"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
section: 21 of 30
url: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/21/
cite: "Ovid, tr. Brookes More, Metamorphoses, section 21. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/21/"
---

# 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.

## 21. Book XI · lines 1–591

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/21/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/21/#p-N

[¶0] While with his songs, Orpheus, the bard of Thrace,
allured the trees, the savage animals,
and even the insensate rocks, to follow him;
Ciconian matrons, with their raving breasts
concealed in skins of forest animals,
from the summit of a hill observed him there,
attuning love songs to a sounding harp.
One of those women, as her tangled hair
was tossed upon the light breeze shouted, “See!
Here is the poet who has scorned our love!”
Then hurled her spear at the melodious mouth
of great Apollo's bard: but the spear's point,
trailing in flight a garland of fresh leaves,
made but a harmless bruise and wounded not.
The weapon of another was a stone,
which in the very air was overpowered
by the true harmony of his voice and lyre,
and so disabled lay before his feet,
as asking pardon for that vain attempt.
The madness of such warfare then increased.
All moderation is entirely lost,
and a wild Fury overcomes the right.—
although their weapons would have lost all force,
subjected to the power of Orpheus' harp,
the clamorous discord of their boxwood pipes,
the blaring of their horns, their tambourines
and clapping hands and Bacchanalian yells,
with hideous discords drowned his voice and harp.—
at last the stones that heard his song no more
fell crimson with the Thracian poet's blood.
Before his life was taken, the maenads turned
their threatening hands upon the many birds,
which still were charmed by Orpheus as he sang,
the serpents, and the company of beasts—
fabulous audience of that worshipped bard.
And then they turned on him their blood-stained hands:
and flocked together swiftly, as wild birds,
which, by some chance, may see the bird of night
beneath the sun. And as the savage dogs
rush on the doomed stag, loosed some bright fore-noon,
on blood-sand of the amphitheatre;
they rushed against the bard, with swift
hurled thyrsi which, adorned with emerald leaves
had not till then been used for cruelty.
And some threw clods, and others branches torn
from trees; and others threw flint stones at him,
and, that no lack of weapons might restrain
their savage fury then, not far from there
by chance they found some oxen which turned up
the soil with ploughshares, and in fields nearby
were strong-armed peasants, who with eager sweat
worked for the harvest as they dug hard fields;
and all those peasants, when they saw the troop
of frantic women, ran away and left
their implements of labor strown upon
deserted fields—harrows and heavy rakes
and their long spades
after the savage mob
had seized upon those implements, and torn
to pieces oxen armed with threatening horns,
they hastened to destroy the harmless bard,
devoted Orpheus; and with impious hate,
murdered him, while his out-stretched hands implored
their mercy—the first and only time his voice
had no persuasion. O great Jupiter!
Through those same lips which had controlled the rocks
and which had overcome ferocious beasts,
his life breathed forth, departed in the air.
The mournful birds, the stricken animals,
the hard stones and the weeping woods, all these
that often had followed your inspiring voice,
bewailed your death; while trees dropped their green leaves,
mourning for you, as if they tore their hair.
They say sad rivers swelled with their own tears—
naiads and dryads with dishevelled hair
wore garments of dark color.
His torn limbs
were scattered in strange places. Hebrus then
received his head and harp—and, wonderful!
While his loved harp was floating down the stream,
it mourned for him beyond my power to tell.
His tongue though lifeless, uttered a mournful sound
and mournfully the river's banks replied:
onward borne by the river to the sea
they left their native stream and reached the shore
of Lesbos at Methymna. Instantly,
a furious serpent rose to attack the head
of Orpheus, cast up on that foreign sand—
the hair still wet with spray. Phoebus at last
appeared and saved the head from that attack:
before the serpent could inflict a sting,
he drove it off, and hardened its wide jaws
to rigid stone.
Meanwhile the fleeting shade
of Orpheus had descended under earth:
remembering now those regions that he saw
when there before, he sought Eurydice
through fields frequented by the blest; and when
he found her, folded her in eager arms.
Then lovingly they wandered side by side,
or he would follow when she chose to lead,
or at another time he walked in front,
looking back, safely,—at Eurydice.
Bacchus would not permit the wickedness
of those who slaughtered Orpheus to remain
unpunished. Grieving for the loss of his
loved bard of sacred rites, at once he bound
with twisted roots the feet of everyone
of those Edonian women who had caused
the crime of Orpheus' death.
Their toes grew long.
He thrust the sharp points in the solid earth.
As when a bird entangled in a snare,
hid by the cunning fowler, knows too late
that it is held, then vainly beats its wings,
and fluttering only makes more tight the noose
with every struggle; so each woman-fiend
whose feet were sinking in the soil, when she
attempted flight, was held by deepening roots.
And while she looks down where her toes and nails
and feet should be, she sees wood growing up
from them and covering all her graceful legs.
Full of delirious grief, endeavoring
to smite with right hand on her changing thigh,
she strikes on solid oak. Her tender breast
and shoulders are transformed to rigid oak.
You would declare that her extended arms
are real branches of a forest tree,
and such a thought would be the very truth.

> Latin: Carmine dum tali silvas animosque ferarum
Threicius vates et saxa sequentia ducit,
ecce nurus Ciconum, tectae lymphata ferinis
pectora velleribus, tumuli de vertice cernunt
Orphea percussis sociantem carmina nervis.
E quibus una, leves iactato crine per auras,
“en,” ait “en hic est nostri contemptor!” et hastam
vatis Apollinei vocalia misit in ora,
quae foliis praesuta notam sine vulnere fecit;
alterius telum lapis est, qui missus in ipso
aere concentu victus vocisque lyraeque est
ac veluti supplex pro tam furialibus ausis
ante pedes iacuit. Sed enim temeraria crescunt
bella modusque abiit, insanaque regnat Erinys.
Cunctaque tela forent cantu mollita, sed ingens
clamor et infracto Berecyntia tibia cornu
tympanaque et plausus et Bacchei ululatus
obstrepuere sono citharae: tum denique saxa
non exauditi rubuerunt sanguine vatis.
Ac primum attonitas etiamnum voce canentis
innumeras volucres anguesque agmenque ferarum
Maenades, Orphei titulum, rapuere, theatri.
Inde cruentatis vertuntur in Orphea dextris
et coeunt ut aves, si quando luce vagantem
noctis avem cernunt. Structoque utrimque theatro
ceu matutina cervus periturus harena
praeda canum est, vatemque petunt et fronde virentes
coniciunt thyrsos non haec in munera factos.
Hae glaebas, illae direptos arbore ramos,
pars torquent silices. Neu desint tela furori,
forte boves presso subigebant vomere terram,
nec procul hinc multo fructum sudore parantes
dura lacertosi fodiebant arva coloni.
Agmine qui viso fugiunt operisque relinquunt
arma sui, vacuosque iacent dispersa per agros
sarculaque rastrique graves longique ligones.
Quae postquam rapuere ferae cornuque minaci
divulsere boves, ad vatis fata recurrunt
Tendentemque manus et in illo tempore primum
inrita dicentem nec quicquam voce moventem
sacrilegae perimunt. Perque os, pro Iuppiter! illud
auditum saxis intellectumque ferarum
sensibus in ventos anima exhalata recessit.
Te maestae volucres, Orpheu, te turba ferarum,
te rigidi silices, tua carmina saepe secutae
fleverunt silvae, positis te frondibus arbor
tonsa comas luxit. Lacrimis quoque flumina dicunt
increvisse suis, obstrusaque carbasa pullo
naides et dryades passosque habuere capillos.
Membra iacent diversa locis. Caput, Hebre, lyramque
excipis, et (mirum!) medio dum labitur amne,
flebile nescio quid queritur lyra, flebile lingua
murmurat exanimis, respondent flebile ripae.
Iamque mare invectae flumen populare relinquunt
et Methymnaeae potiuntur litore Lesbi.
Hic ferus expositum peregrinis anguis harenis
os petit et sparsos stillanti rore capillos.
Tandem Phoebus adest morsusque inferre parantem
arcet et in lapidem rictus serpentis apertos
congelat et patulos, ut erant, indurat hiatus.
Umbra subit terras et quae loca viderat ante,
cuncta recognoscit quaerensque per arva piorum
invenit Eurydicen cupidisque amplectitur ulnis.
Hic modo coniunctis spatiantur passibus ambo,
nunc praecedentem sequitur, nunc praevius anteit
Eurydicenque suam iam tutus respicit Orpheus.
Non impune tamen scelus hoc sinit esse Lyaeus,
amissoque dolens sacrorum vate suorum
protinus in silvis matres Edonidas omnes,
quae videre nefas, torta radice ligavit.
utque suum laqueis, quos callidus abdidit auceps,
crus ubi commisit volucris sensitque teneri,
plangitur ac trepidans adstringit vincula motu:
sic, ut quaeque solo defixa cohaeserat harum,
exsternata fugam frustra temptabat; at illam
lenta tenet radix exsultantemque coercet,
dumque ubi sint digiti, dum pes ubi, quaerit, et ungues,
adspicit in teretes lignum succedere suras,
et conata femur maerenti plangere dextra,
robora percussit: pectus quoque robora fiunt,
robora sunt umeri, porrectaque bracchia veros
esse putes ramos, et non fallere putando.

[¶1] And not content with this, Bacchus resolved
to leave that land, and with a worthier train
went to the vineyards of his own Tmolus
and to Pactolus, though the river was
not golden, nor admired for precious sands.
His usual throng of Satyrs and of Bacchanals
surrounded him; but not Silenus, who
was then detained from him. The Phrygian folk
had captured him, as he was staggering, faint
with palsied age and wine. And after they
bound him in garlands, they led him to their king
Midas, to whom with the Cecropian
Eumolpus, Thracian Orpheus had shown all
the Bacchic rites. When Midas recognized
his old time friend Silenus, who had been
so often his companion in the rites
of Bacchus, he kept joyful festival,
with his old comrade, twice five days and nights.
Upon the eleventh day, when Lucifer
had dimmed the lofty multitude of stars,
King Midas and Silenus went from there
joyful together to the Lydian lands.
There Midas put Silenus carefully
under the care of his loved foster-child,
young Bacchus. He with great delight, because
he had his foster-father once again,
allowed the king to choose his own reward—
a welcome offer, but it led to harm.
And Midas made this ill-advised reply:
“Cause whatsoever I shall touch to change
at once to yellow gold.” Bacchus agreed
to his unfortunate request, with grief
that Midas chose for harm and not for good.
The Berecynthian hero, king of Phrygia,
with joy at his misfortune went away,
and instantly began to test the worth
of Bacchus' word by touching everything.
Doubtful himself of his new power, he pulled
a twig down from a holm-oak, growing on
a low hung branch. The twig was turned to gold.
He lifted up a dark stone from the ground
and it turned pale with gold. He touched a clod
and by his potent touch the clod became
a mass of shining gold. He plucked some ripe,
dry spears of grain, and all that wheat he touched
was golden. Then he held an apple which
he gathered from a tree, and you would think
that the Hesperides had given it.
If he but touched a lofty door, at once
each door-post seemed to glisten. When he washed
his hands in liquid streams, the lustrous drops
upon his hands might have been those which once
astonished Danae. He could not now
conceive his large hopes in his grasping mind,
as he imagined everything of gold.
And, while he was rejoicing in great wealth,
his servants set a table for his meal,
with many dainties and with needful bread:
but when he touched the gift of Ceres with
his right hand, instantly the gift of Ceres
stiffened to gold; or if he tried to bite
with hungry teeth a tender bit of meat,
the dainty, as his teeth but touched it, shone
at once with yellow shreds and flakes of gold.
And wine, another gift of Bacchus, when
he mixed it in pure water, can be seen
in his astonished mouth as liquid gold.
Confounded by his strange misfortune—rich
and wretched—he was anxious to escape
from his unhappy wealth. He hated all
he had so lately longed for. Plenty could
not lessen hunger and no remedy
relieved his dry, parched throat. The hated gold
tormented him no more than he deserved.
Lifting his hands and shining arms to heaven,
he moaned. “Oh pardon me, father Lenaeus!
I have done wrong, but pity me, I pray,
and save me from this curse that looked so fair.”
How patient are the gods! Bacchus forthwith,
because King Midas had confessed his fault,
restored him and annulled the promise given,
annulled the favor granted, and he said:
“That you may not be always cased in gold,
which you unhappily desired, depart
to the stream that flows by that great town of Sardis
and upward trace its waters, as they glide
past Lydian heights, until you find their source.
Then, where the spring leaps out from mountain rock,
plunge head and body in the snowy foam.
At once the flood will take away your curse.”
King Midas did as he was told and plunged
beneath the water at the river's source.
And the gold virtue granted by the god,
as it departed from his body, tinged
the stream with gold. And even to this hour
adjoining fields, touched by this ancient vein
of gold, are hardened where the river flows
and colored with the gold that Midas left.

> Latin: Nec satis hoc Baccho est: ipsos quoque deserit agros
cumque choro meliore sui vineta Timoli
Pactolonque petit, quamvis non aureus illo
tempore nec caris erat invidiosus harenis.
Hunc adsueta cohors satyri bacchaeque frequentant,
at Silenus abest: titubantem annisque meroque
ruricolae cepere Phryges vinctumque coronis
ad regem duxere Midan, cui Thracius Orpheus
orgia tradiderat cum Cecropio Eumolpo.
Quem simul agnovit socium comitemque sacrorum,
hospitis adventu festum genialiter egit
per bis quinque dies et iunctas ordine noctes.
Et iam stellarum sublime coegerat agmen
Lucifer undecimus, Lydos cum laetus in agros
rex venit et iuveni Silenum reddit alumno.
Huic deus optandi gratum, sed inutile, fecit
muneris arbitrium, gaudens altore recepto.
Ille male usurus donis ait “effice, quidquid
corpore contigero fulvum vertatur in aurum.”
Adnuit optatis nocituraque munera solvit
Liber, et indoluit, quod non meliora petisset.
Laetus abit gaudetque malo Berecyntius heros
pollicitique fidem tangendo singula temptat
Vixque sibi credens non alta fronde virentem
ilice detraxit virgam: virga aurea facta est.
Tollit humo saxum: saxum quoque palluit auro.
Contigit et glaebam: contactu glaeba potenti
massa fit. Arentes Cereris decerpsit aristas:
aurea messis erat. Demptum tenet arbore pomum:
Hesperidas donasse putes. Si postibus altis
admovit digitos, postes radiare videntur.
Ille etiam liquidis palmas ubi laverat undis,
unda fluens palmis Danaen eludere posset.
Vix spes ipse suas animo capit aurea fingens
omnia. Gaudenti mensas posuere ministri
exstructas dapibus nec tostae frugis egentes.
Tum vero, sive ille sua Cerealia dextra
munera contigerat, Cerealia dona rigebant,
sive dapes avido convellere dente parabat,
lammina fulva dapes admoto dente premebat.
Miscuerat puris auctorem muneris undis:
fusile per rictus aurum fluitare videres.
Attonitus novitate mali, divesque miserque,
effugere optat opes et, quae modo voverat, odit.
Copia nulla famem relevat; sitis arida guttur
urit, et inviso meritus torquetur ab auro
Ad caelumque manus et splendida bracchia tollens
“da veniam, Lenaee pater! peccavimus,” inquit,
“sed miserere, precor, speciosoque eripe damno.”
Mite deum numen: Bacchus peccasse fatentem
restituit factique fide data munera solvit
“Neve male optato maneas circumlitus auro,
vade” ait “ad magnis vicinum Sardibus amnem
perque iugum ripae labentibus obvius undis
carpe viam, donec venias ad fluminis ortus,
spumigeroque tuum fonti, qua plurimus exit,
subde caput corpusque simul, simul elue crimen.”
Rex iussae succedit aquae: vis aurea tinxit
flumen et humano de corpore cessit in amnem.
Nunc quoque iam veteris percepto semine venae
arva rigent auro madidis pallentia glaebis.

[¶2] Abhorring riches he inhabited
the woods and fields, and followed Pan who dwells
always in mountain-caves: but still obtuse
remained, from which his foolish mind again,
by an absurd decision, harmed his life.
He followed Pan up to the lofty mount
Tmolus, which from its great height looks far
across the sea. Steep and erect it stands
between great Sardis and the small Hypaepa.
While Pan was boasting there to mountain nymphs
of his great skill in music, and while he
was warbling a gay tune upon the reeds,
cemented with soft wax, in his conceit
he dared to boast to them how he despised
Apollo's music when compared with his—.
At last to prove it, he agreed to stand
against Apollo in a contest which
it was agreed should be decided by
Tmolus as their umpire.
This old god
sat down on his own mountain, and first eased
his ears of many mountain growing trees,
oak leaves were wreathed upon his azure hair
and acorns from his hollow temples hung.
First to the Shepherd-god Tmolus spoke:
“My judgment shall be yours with no delay.
Pan made some rustic sounds on his rough reeds,
delighting Midas with his uncouth notes;
for Midas chanced to be there when he played.
When Pan had ceased, divine Tmolus turned
to Phoebus, and the forest likewise turned
just as he moved. Apollo's golden locks
were richly wreathed with fresh Parnassian laurel;
his robe of Tyrian purple swept the ground;
his left hand held his lyre, adorned with gems
and Indian ivory. His right hand held
the plectrum—as an artist he stood there
before Tmolus, while his skilful thumb
touching the strings made charming melody.
Delighted with Apollo's artful touch,
Tmolus ordered Pan to hold his reeds
excelled by beauty of Apollo's lyre.
That judgment of the sacred mountain god
pleased all those present, all but Midas, who
blaming Tmolus called the award unjust.
The Delian god forbids his stupid ears
to hold their native human shape;
and, drawing them out to a hideous length,
he fills them with gray hairs, and makes them both
unsteady, wagging at the lower part:
still human, only this one part condemned,
Midas had ears of a slow-moving ass.
Midas, careful to hide his long ears, wore
a purple turban over both, which hid
his foul disgrace from laughter. But one day
a servant, who was chosen to cut his hair
with steel, when it was long, saw his disgrace.
He did not dare reveal what he had seen,
but eager, to disclose the secret, dug
a shallow hole, and in a low voice told
what kind of ears were on his master's head.
All this he whispered in the hollow earth
he dug, and then he buried all he said
by throwing back the loose earth in the hole
so everything was silent when he left.
A grove thick set with quivering reeds
began to grow there, and when it matured,
about twelve months after that servant left,
the grove betrayed its planter. For, moved by
a gentle South Wind, it repeated all
the words which he had whispered, and disclosed
from earth the secret of his master's ears.

> Latin: Ille, perosus opes, silvas et rura colebat
Panaque montanis habitantem semper in antris.
Pingue sed ingenium mansit, nocituraque, ut ante,
rursus erant domino stultae praecordia mentis.
Nam freta prospiciens late riget arduus alto
Tmolus in adscensu, clivoque extensus utroque
Sardibus hinc, illinc parvis finitur Hypaepis.
Pan ibi dum teneris iactat sua carmina nymphis
et leve cerata modulatur harundine carmen,
ausus Apollineos prae se contemnere cantus,
iudice sub Tmolo certamen venit ad impar.
Monte suo senior iudex consedit et aures
liberat arboribus: quercu coma caerula tantum
cingitur, et pendent circum cava tempora glandes.
Isque deum pecoris spectans “in indice” dixit
“nulla mora est.” Calamis agrestibus insonat ille
barbaricoque Midan (aderat nam forte canenti)
carmine delenit. Post hunc sacer ora retorsit
Tmolus ad os Phoebi: vultum sua silva secuta est.
Ille caput flavum lauro Parnaside vinctus
verrit humum Tyrio saturata murice palla,
instrictamque fidem gemmis et dentibus Indis
sustinet a laeva; tenuit manus altera plectrum.
Artificis status ipse fuit. Tum stamina docto
pollice sollicitat, quorum dulcedine captus
Pana iubet Tmolus citharae submittere cannas.
Iudicium sanctique placet sententia montis
omnibus, arguitur tamen atque iniusta vocatur
unius sermone Midae; nec Delius aures
humanam stolidas patitur retinere figuram,
sed trahit in spatium villisque albentibus implet
instabilesque imas facit et dat posse moveri,
cetera sunt hominis: partem damnatur in unam
induiturque aures lente gradientis aselli.
Ille quidem celare cupit, turpisque pudore
tempora purpureis temptat velare tiaris.
Sed solitus longos ferro resecare capillos
viderat hoc famulus. Qui cum nec prodere visum
dedecus auderet, cupiens efferre sub auras,
nec posset reticere tamen, secedit humumque
effodit et, domini quales adspexerit aures,
voce refert parva terraeque inmurmurat haustae,
indiciumque suae vocis tellure regesta
obruit et scrobibus tacitus discedit opertis.
Creber harundinibus tremulis ibi surgere lucus
coepit et, ut primum pleno maturuit anno,
prodidit agricolam: leni nam motus ab austro
obruta verba refert dominique coarguit aures.

[¶3] His vengence now complete, Latona's son
borne through the liquid air, departed from
Tmolus, and then rested on the land
of Laomedon, this side the narrow sea
dividing Phrygia from the land of Thrace.
The promontory of Sigaeum right
and on the left Rhoetaeum loftily arose;
and at that place an ancient altar had
been dedicated to great Jove, the god
Panomphaean. And near that place he saw
laomedon, beginning then to build
the walls of famous Troy. He was convinced
the task exceeded all the power of man,
requiring great resource. Together with
the trident-bearing father of the deep,
he assumed a mortal form: and those two gods
agreed to labor for a sum of gold
and built the mighty wall. But that false king
refused all payment, adding perjury
to his false bargaining. Neptune, enraged,
said, “You shall not escape your punishment.”
And he drove all his waters high upon
the shores of Troy—built there through perfidy.
The sad land seemed a sea: the hard-earned wealth
of all its farmers was destroyed
and overwhelmed by furious waves.
This awful punishment was not enough.
The daughter of the king was soon required
as food for a sea-monster—. Hesione
was chained to rugged rocks. But Hercules
delivered from all harm the royal maid
and justly he demanded of the king,
her father, payment of the promised steeds;
but that perfidious king refused to keep
his promise. Hercules enraged, because
all payment was denied to him for his
great service, captured the twice-perjured walls
of conquered Troy. And as a fair reward,
he gave to Telamon, who fought for him,
Hesione, loved daughter of that king.
For Peleus had a goddess as his bride
and he was prouder of his father-in-law
than of his grandsire. Since not he alone
was grandson of great Jove, but he alone
was honored with a goddess for a wife.

> Latin: Ultus abit Tmolo liquidumque per aera vectus
angustum citra pontum Nepheleidos Helles
Laomedonteis Latoius adstitit arvis.
Dextera Sigei, Rhoetei laeva profundi
ara Panomphaeo vetus est sacrata Tonanti.
Inde novae primum moliri moenia Troiae
Laomedonta videt susceptaque magna labore
crescere difficili nec opes exposcere parvas
cumque tridentigero tumidi genitore profundi
mortalem induitur formam Phrygiaeque tyranno
aedificat muros, pactus pro moenibus aurum.
Stabat opus: pretium rex infitiatur et addit,
perfidiae cumulum, falsis periuria verbis.
“Non impune feres” rector maris inquit et omnes
inclinavit aquas ad avarae litora Troiae,
inque freti formam terras complevit opesque
abstulit agricolis et fluctibus obruit agros.
Poena neque haec satis est: regis quoque filia monstro
poscitur aequoreo; quam dura ad saxa revinctam
vindicat Alcides promissaque munera, dictos
poscit equos, tantique operis mercede negata
bis periura capit superatae moenia Troiae.
Nec pars militiae, Telamon, sine honore recessit,
Hesioneque data potitur. Nam coniuge Peleus
clarus erat diva: nec avi magis ille superbus
nomine, quam soceri, siquidem Iovis esse nepoti
contigit haud uni, coniunx dea contigit uni.

[¶4] To Thetis, aged Proteus once had said,
“Oh goddess of the waves, you shall conceive,
and you shall be the mother of a youth
who by heroic actions will surpass
the deeds of his own father, and your son
shall be superior to his father's power.”
So Jupiter, although the flame of love
for Thetis burned his breast, would not embrace
the lovely daughter of the sea, and urged
his grandson Peleus, son of Aeacus,
to wed the green haired maid without delay.
There is a curved bay of Haemonia,
where like an arch, two bending arms
project out in the waves, as if to form
a harbor; but the water is not deep—
although enough to hide a shoal of sand.
It has a firm shore which will not retain
a foot's impression, nor delay the step—
no seaweeds grow in that vicinity.
There is a grove of myrtle near that place
thick-hung with berries, blended of twin shades.
A cave within the middle of that grove
is found, and whether it was formed by art
or nature is not known, although it seems
a work of art. There Thetis often went,
quite naked, seated on her dolphin, which
was harnessed. Peleus seized her there when she
was fast asleep: and after he had tried
to win her by entreaties, while she long
continued to resist him, he resolved
to conquer her by violence, and seized
her neck with both arms. She resorted then
to all her usual art, and often changed:
her shape as it was known, so that he failed
in his attempt. At first she was a bird,
but while she seemed a bird he held her fast;
and then she changed herself to a large tree,
and Peleus clung with ardor to the tree;
her third disguise was as a spotted tigress,
which frightened him so that he lost his hold.
Then, as he poured wine on the heaving sea,
he prayed unto the sea green gods and gave
them sacrifice of sheep entrails, and smoke
of frankincense. He ceased not, till at last
the prophet of Carpathia, as he rose
up from a deep wave, said, “Hark unto me,
O son of Aeacus! and you shall have
the bride your heart desires: when she at rest
lies sleeping in the cool wave, you must bind
her while she is unwary, with strong cords
and complicated bonds, And never let
her arts deceive you when she imitates
a hundred varied forms, but hold her fast,
whatever she may seem, until she shall
at length assume the shape she had at first.”
So Proteus cautioned him, and hid his face
beneath the waves as his last words were said.
Now Titan was descending and the pole
of his bright chariot as it downward bent
illuminated the Hesperian main;
and at that time the lovely Nereid,
Thetis, departing from her ocean wave,
entered the cavern for desired repose.
Peleus was waiting there. Immediately,
just as he seized upon the virgin's limbs,
she changed her shape and perservered
until convinced she could not overcome
his hold—for her two arms were forced apart—
she groaned and said, “You could not overcome
me in this way, but some divinity
has given you the power.” Then she appeared
as Thetis: and, when Peleus saw her now
deprived of all deceptions, he embraced
her and was father of the great Achilles.

> Latin: Namque senex Thetidi Proteus “dea” dixerat “undae,
concipe: mater eris iuvenis, qui fortibus annis
acta patris vincet maiorque vocabitur illo.”
Ergo, ne quicquam mundus Iove maius haberet,
quamvis haud tepidos sub pectore senserat ignes,
Iuppiter aequoreae Thetidis conubia fugit
in suaque Aeaciden succedere vota nepotem
iussit et amplexus in virginis ire marinae.
Est sinus Haemoniae curvos falcatus in arcus:
bracchia procurrunt, ubi, si foret altior unda,
portus erat (summis inductum est aequor harenis);
litus habet solidum, quod nec vestigia servet
nec remoretur iter, nec opertum pendeat alga.
Myrtea silva subest bicoloribus obsita bacis
et specus in medio (natura factus an arte,
ambiguum, magis arte tamen), quo saepe venire
frenato delphine sedens, Theti, nuda solebas.
Illic te Peleus, ut somno vincta iacebas,
occupat: et quoniam precibus temptata repugnas,
vim parat, innectens ambobus colla lacertis.
Quod nisi venisses variatis saepe figuris
ad solitas artes, auso foret ille potitus.
Sed modo tu volucris (volucrem tamen ille tenebat),
nunc gravis arbor eras (haerebat in arbore Peleus),
tertia forma fuit maculosae tigridis: illa
territus Aeacides a corpore bracchia solvit.
Isque deos pelagi vino super aequora fuso
et pecoris fibris et fumo turis adorat,
donec Carpathius medio de gurgite vates
“Aeacide,” dixit, “thalamis potiere petitis!
Tu modo, cum rigido sopita quiescit in antro,
ignaram laqueis vincloque innecte tenaci.
Nec te decipiat centum mentita figuras,
sed preme, quidquid erit, dum, quod fuit ante, reformet!”
Dixerat haec Proteus et condidit aequore vultum
admisitque suos in verba novissima fluctus.
Pronus erat Titan inclinatoque tenebat
Hesperium temone fretum, cum pulchra relecto
Nereis ingreditur consueta cubilia saxo.
Vix bene virgineos Peleus invaserat artus,
illa novat formas, donec sua membra teneri
sentit et in partes diversas bracchia tendi.
Tum demum ingemuit, “neque” ait “sine numine vincis”
exhibita estque Thetis. Confessam amplectitur heros
et potitur votis ingentique implet Achille.

[¶5] Great Peleus' heart was filled with happiness;
because of his great son and Thetis his
dear wife: he was blest in everything, except
in killing Phocus. The Trachinian land
received him guilty of his brother's blood;
when he fled, banished from his native home.
There Ceyx, who had the fine countenance
of Lucifer his father, reigned as king,
without the cost of violence or blood.
Before this time his days had always given
him joy and comfort, but all now was changed,
for he was mourning a loved brother's death.
Peleus, outwearied with his journey's length.
Left his fine flock of sheep and all the herds
he had brought with him, not far from the walls
of that city, where Ceyx long had reigned.
He entered with an olive branch all swathed
in woolen fillets, symbol of good will,
and with a suppliant hand disclosed his name.
He told the monarch who he was, also
his father's name. But he concealed his crime,
giving untruthful reasons for his flight:
and begged a refuge either in town or field.
The king of Trachyn answered with kind words:
“Ah, Peleus, even the lowest ranks enjoy
our bounties and our hospitality,
and you bring with you powers which compell
attention and respect. Your name is so
illustrious, and is not Jupiter
your grandsire? Do not lose your time by such
entreaties. Everything you may desire
is yours as soon as known, and all you see
is partly yours, but in how sad a state!”
And then he wept. When Peleus and his friends
asked him the reason of his grief he said,
“Perchance you deem that bird which lives on prey,
which is the terror of all other birds,
had always feathered wings? It was a man.
And now the vigor of its courage is
as great as when well known by his man's name,
Daedalion, bold in wars and strong and harsh,
and not afraid to hazard violence.
His father was unequalled Lucifer,
star of the Morning, who at dawn brings forth
Aurora, and withdraws the last of all
the shining stars of heaven.—My brother named
daedalion, son of that great star, was fond
of cruel warfare, while I cherished peace
and loved the quiet of my married life.
This brother, powerful in the art of war,
subdued strong kings and nations.—And 'tis he
transformed from manhood, now a bird of prey,
that so relentlessly pursues the doves,
known as the pride of Thisbe's citizens.
“My brother had a daughter Chione
so beautiful she pleased a thousand men,
when she had reached the marriageable age
of twice seven years. It happened by some chance
that Phoebus and the son of Maia, who
returned—one from his Delphi, the other from
Cyllene's heights—beheld this lovely maid
both at the same time, and were both inflamed
with passion. Phoebus waited till the night.
Hermes could not endure delay and with
the magic of his wand, that causes sleep,
he touched the virgin's face; and instantly,
as if entranced, she lay there fast asleep,
and suffered violence from the ardent god.
When night bespangled the wide heaven with stars,
Phoebus became an aged crone and gained
the joy he had deferred until that hour.
“When her mature womb had completed time
Autolycus was born, a crafty son,
who certainly inherited the skill
of wingfoot Mereury, his artful sire,
notorious now; for every kind of theft.
In fact, Autolycus with Mercury's craft,
loved to make white of black, and black of white.
“But Phoebus' child, for Chione bore twins,
was named Philammon, like his sire, well known.
To all men for the beauty of his song.
And famous for his handling of the lyre.
“What benefit in life did she obtain
because she pleased! two gods and bore such twins?
Was she blest by good fortune then because
she was the daughter of a valiant father,
and even the grandchild of the Morning Star?
Can glory be a curse? Often it is.
“And surely it was so for Chione.
It was a prejudice that harmed her days
because she vaunted that she did surpass
Diana's beauty and decried her charms:
the goddess in hot anger answered her,
sarcastically, ‘If my face cannot
give satisfaction, let me try my deeds.’
“Without delay Diana bent her bow,
and from the string an arrow swiftly flew,
and pierced the vaunting tongue of Chione.
Her tongue was silenced, and she tried in vain
to speak or make a sound, and while she tried
her life departed with the flowing blood.
“Embracing her, I shared her father's grief.
I spoke consoling words to my dear brother,
he heard them as a cliff might hear the sea.
And he lamented bitterly the loss
of his dear daughter, snatched away from him.
“Ah! when he saw her burning, he was filled
with such an uncontrolled despair, he rushed
four times to leap upon the blazing pyre;
and after he had been four times repulsed,
he turned and rushed away in headlong flight
through trackless country, as a bullock flees,
his swollen neck pierced with sharp hornet-stings,
it seemed to me he ran beyond the speed
of any human being. You would think
his feet had taken wings, he left us far
behind and swift in his desire for death
he stood at last upon Parnassus' height.
“Apollo pitied him.—And when Daedalion
leaped over the steep cliff, Apollo's power
transformed him to a bird; supported him
while he was hovering in the air upon
uncertain wings, of such a sudden growth.
Apollo, also, gave him a curved beak,
and to his slender toes gave crooked claws.
His former courage still remains, with strength
greater than usual in birds. He changed
to a fierce hawk; cruel to all, he vents
his rage on other birds. Grieving himself
he is a cause of grief to all his kind.”
While Ceyx, the royal son of Lucifer,
told these great wonders of his brother's life;
Onetor, who had watched the while those herds
which Peleus had assigned to him, ran up
with panting speed; and cried out as he ran,
“Peleus, Peleus! I bring you dreadful news!”
Peleus asked him to tell what had gone wrong
and with King Ceyx he listened in suspense.

> Latin: Felix et nato, felix et coniuge Peleus
et cui, si demas iugulati crimina Phoci,
omnia contigerant. Fraterno sanguine sontem
expulsumque domo patria Trachinia tellus
accipit. Hic regnum sine vi, sine caede regebat
Lucifero genitore satus patriumque nitorem
ore ferens Ceyx, illo qui tempore maestus
dissimilisque sui fratrem lugebat ademptum.
Quo postquam Aeacides fessus curaque viaque
venit et intravit paucis comitantibus urbem,
quosque greges pecorum, quae secum armenta trahebat,
haud procul a muris sub opaca valle reliquit,
copia cum facta est adeundi prima tyranni,
velamenta manu praetendens supplice, qui sit
se quoque satus, memorat, tantum sua crimina celat
mentiturque fugae causam: petit, urbe vel agro
se iuvet. Hunc contra placido Trachinius ore
talibus adloquitur: “Mediae quoque commoda plebi
nostra patent, Peleu, nec inhospita regna tenemus.
Adicis huic animo momento potentia, clarum
nomen avumque Iovem. Ne tempora perde precando!
Quod petis, omne feres tuaque haec pro parte vocato,
qualiacumque vides! Utinam meliora videres!'
Et flebat: moveat tantos quae causa dolores,
Peleusque comitesque rogant. Quibus ille profatur:
“Forsitan hanc volucrem, rapto quae vivit et omnes
terret aves, semper pennas habuisse putetis:
acer erat belloque ferox ad vimque paratus,
nomine Daedalion. Illo genitore creatis,
qui vocat auroram caeloque novissimus exit,
(cura mihi pax est) pacis mihi cura tenendae
coniugiique fuit, fratri fera bella placebant:
illius virtus reges gentesque subegit,
quae nunc Thisbaeas agitat mutata columbas.
Nata erat huic Chione. Quae dotatissima forma
mille procos habuit, bis septem nubilis annis.
Forte revertentes Phoebus Maiaque creatus,
ille suis Delphis, hic vertice Cylleneo,
videre hanc pariter, pariter traxere calorem.
Spem veneris differt in tempora noctis Apollo,
non fert ille moras virgaque movente soporem
virginis os tangit: tactu iacet illa potenti
vimque dei patitur. Nox caelum sparserat astris:
Phoebus anum simulat praereptaque gaudia sumit.
Ut sua maturus complevit tempora venter,
alipedis de stirpe dei versuta propago
nascitur, Autolycus, furtum ingeniosus ad omne,
candida de nigris et de candentibus atra
qui facere adsuerat, patriae non degener artis;
nascitur e Phoebo (namque est enixa gemellos)
carmine vocali clarus citharaque Philammon.
Quid peperisse duos et dis placuisse duobus
et forti genitore et progenitore Tonanti
esse satam prodest? An obest quoque gloria? multis
Offuit, huic certe! Quae se praeferre Dianae
sustinuit faciemque deae culpavit. At illi
ira ferox mota est “factis” que “placebimus” inquit.
Nec mora, curvavit cornu nervoque sagittam
impulit et meritam traiecit harundine linguam.
Lingua tacet, nec vox temptataque verba sequuntur,
conantemque loqui cum sanguine vita reliquit.
Quo miser amplexus ego tum patriumque dolorem
corde tuli fratrique pio solacia dixi!
Quae pater haud aliter quam cautes murmura ponti
accipit et natam delamentatur ademptam.
Ut vero ardentem vidit, quater impetus illi
in medios fuit ire rogos; quater inde repulsus
concita membra fugae mandat similisque iuvenco
spicula crabronum pressa cervice gerenti,
qua via nulla, ruit. Iam tum mihi currere visus
plus homine est, alasque pedes sumpsisse putares.
Effugit ergo omnes veloxque cupidine leti
vertice Parnasi potitur. Miseratus Apollo,
cum se Daedalion saxo misisset ab alto,
fecit avem et subitis pendentem sustulit alis
oraque adunca dedit, curvos dedit unguibus hamos,
virtutem antiquam, maiores corpore vires.
Et nunc accipiter, nulli satis aequus, in omnes
saevit aves aliisque dolens fit causa dolendi.”
Quae dum Lucifero genitus miracula narrat
de consorte suo, cursu festinus anhelo
advolat armenti custos Phoceus Onetor
et “Peleu, Peleu! magnae tibi nuntius adsum
cladis” ait. Quodcumque ferat, iubet edere Peleus,
pendet et ipse metu trepidi Trachinius oris.

[¶6] “I drove the weary bullocks to the shore,”
Onetor then began, “About the time
when the high burning Sun in middle course,
could look back on as much as might be seen
remaining: and some cattle had then bent
their knees on yellow sand; and as they lay
might view the expanse of water stretched beyond.
Some with slow steps were wandering here and there,
and others swimming, stretched their lofty necks
above the waves. A temple near that sea
was fair to view, although 'twas not adorned
with gold nor marble. It was richly made
of beams, and shaded with an ancient grove.
“A sailor, while he dried his nets upon
the shore nearby, declared that aged Nereus
possessed it with his Nereids, as the gods
who ruled the neighboring waters. Very near
it is a marsh, made by the encroaching waves,
all thickly covered with low willow trees.
“From there a loud uncanny crashing sound
alarms the neighborhood. A monster-wolf!
All stained with mud he breaks forth from the marsh,
his thundering jaws thick-covered with vile foam
and clotted blood—his fierce eyes flashing flames
of crimson: and though he was raging, both
with fury and with hunger, the true cause
of his fierce passions was Ferocity.
“He never paused to sate his ravenous hunger
with the first cattle that he fell upon,
but mangled the whole herd, as if at war.
And some of us, while we defended them,
were wounded with his fatal bite and killed.—
the shore and nearest waves were red with blood,
and marshy fens were filled with mournful sounds—
the longings of our cattle.—This delay
is dangerous. We must not hesitate.
We must unite before all is destroyed!
Take up your arms. Arm! and unite, I say!
And bear our weapons for the cause of Right!”
So spoke the countryman, and yet the loss
had no effect on Peleus, though severe,
for he, remembering his red crime, believed
the Nereid had given him that loss—
a just misfortune, as an offering
to the departed Phocus. After this,
King Ceyx, while he put his armor on,
ordered his men to arm themselves with their
best weapons, and to follow his command.
But his fond wife, Halcyone, aroused
by such a tumult, ran to him in haste;
in such haste that her hair was still unfinished,
and such as had been done, she threw
in wild disorder.—Clinging to the neck
of her loved husband, she entreated him
with words and tears, to send his men along.
But keep himself at home and so to save
two lives in one.
But Peleus said “O queen,
'Tis sweet and commendable in you to fear
but needless. Though you promise generous aid,
my hope lies not in fighting with the beast,
I must appease a goddess of the sea.
And the divinity of ocean must
be properly adored.”
A lofty tower
is near there, and upon its extreme height
a signal-fire is burning night and day,
known to the grateful ships. They all went there;
and from its summit they beheld with sighs,
the mangled cattle scattered on the shore,
and saw the ravager among the herd,
his blood-stained jaws and long hair dripping blood.
Then Peleus stretched his arms out towards the sea,
and he implored the azure Psamathe
to lay aside her wrath and give him aid.
But she was deaf to any word of Peleus
entreating her, and would not offer aid,
till Thetis, interceding on behalf
of her afflicted husband, moved her will.
The monster-wolf persisted in his rage,
even when the sea nymph bade him turn aside.
His keen ferocity increased by taste
of new sweet blood; till Psamathe, while he
was seizing the last mangled heifer's neck,
transformed him to hard marble. Every part
of that ferocious monster's shape remained
but it was changed to marble colored stone,
which showed the monster was no more a wolf,
and should no longer be a cause of fear.
But still, the guiding Fates did not permit
the banished Peleus to continue there,
in this land governed by the friendly king.
A wandering exile, he proceeded north
into Magnesia; and was purified
of guilt by King Acastus of that land.

> Latin: Ille refert: “Fessos ad litora curva iuvencos
adpuleram, medio cum Sol altissimus orbe
tantum respiceret, quantum superesse videret;
parsque boum fulvis genua inclinarat harenis
latarumque iacens campos spectabat aquarum,
pars gradibus tardis illuc errabat et illuc,
nant alii celsoque exstant super aequora collo.
Templa mari subsunt nec marmore clara neque auro,
sed trabibus densis lucoque umbrosa vetusto.
Nereides Nereusque tenent: hos navita ponti
edidit esse deos, dum retia litore siccat.
Iuncta palus huic est, densis obsessa salictis,
quam restagnantis fecit maris unda paludem.
Inde fragore gravi strepitus loca proxima terret
belua vasta, lupus! Udisque paludibus exit,
oblitus et spumis et sparsus sanguine rictus,
fulmineus, rubra suffusus lumina flamma.
Qui quamquam saevit pariter rabieque fameque,
acrior est rabie: neque enim ieiunia curat
caede boum diramque famem finire, sed omne
vulnerat armentum sternitque hostiliter omne.
Pars quoque de nobis funesto saucia morsu,
dum defensamus, leto est data. Sanguine litus
undaque prima rubet demugitaeque paludes. —
Sed mora damnosa est, nec res dubitare remittit:
dum superest aliquid, cuncti coeamus et arma,
arma capessamus coniunctaque tela feramus!”
Dixerat agrestis; nec Pelea damna movebant,
sed, memor admissi, Nereida conligit orbam
damna sua inferias exstincto mittere Phoco.
Induere arma viros violentaque sumere tela
rex iubet Oetaeus; cum quis simul ipse parabat
ire, sed Alcyone coniunx excita tumultu
prosilit et, nondum totos ornata capillos,
disicit hos ipsos, colloque infusa mariti,
mittat ut auxilium sine se, verbisque precatur
et lacrimis, animasque duas ut servet in una.
Aeacides illi: “Pulchros, regina, piosque
pone metus! Plena est promissi gratia vestri.
Non placet arma mihi contra nova monstra moveri:
numen adorandum pelagi est.” Erat ardua turris
arce focus summa, fessis loca grata carinis.
Adscendunt illuc stratosque in litore tauros
cum gemitu adspiciunt vastatoremque cruento
ore ferum, longos infectum sanguine villos.
Inde manus tendens in aperti litora ponti
caeruleam Peleus Psamathen, ut finiat iram,
orat, opemque ferat; nec vocibus illa rogantis
flectitur Aeacidae: Thetis hanc pro coniuge supplex
accepit veniam. Sed enim revocatus ab acri
caede lupus perstat, dulcedine sanguinis asper,
donec inhaerentem lacerae cervice iuvencae
marmore mutavit. Corpus praeterque colorem
omnia servavit: lapidis color indicat illum
iam non esse lupum, iam non debere timeri.
Nec tamen hac profugum consistere Pelea terra
fata sinunt: Magnetas adit vagus exul et illic
sumit ab Haemonio purgamina caedis Acasto.

[¶7] King Ceyx, disturbed by his loved brother's fate
and prodigies which happened since that time,
prepared to venture to the Clarian god,
that he might there consult the oracle,
so sanctified to consolation of distress:
for then the way to Delphi was unsafe
because of Phorbas and his Phlegyans.
Before he went he told his faithful queen,
his dear Halcyone. She felt at once
terror creep through the marrow of her bones,
pallor of boxwood overspread her face,
and her two cheeks were wet with gushing tears.
Three times she tried to speak while tears and sobs
delayed her voice, until at last she said:—
“What fault of mine, my dearest, has so changed
your usual thoughts? Where is that care for me
that always has stood first? Can you leave me
for this long journey with no anxious fear—
Halcyone, forsaken in these halls?
Will this long journey be a pleasant change
because far from you I should be more dear?
Perhaps you think you will go there by land,
and I shall only grieve, and shall not fear
the sea affrights me with its tragic face.
Just lately I observed some broken planks
upon our seashore, and I've read and read
the names of seamen on their empty tombs!
“Oh, let no false assurance fill your mind
because your father-in-law is Aeolus.
Who in a dungeon shuts the stormful winds
and smoothes at will the troubled ocean waves
soon as the winds get freedom from his power,
they take entire possession of the deep,
and nothing is forbidden their attack;
and all the rights of every land and sea
are disregarded by them. They insult
even the clouds of heaven and their wild
concussions urge the lightnings to strike fires.
The more I know of them, for I knew
them in my childhood and I often saw
them from my father's home, the more I fear.
“But, O dear husband! if this new resolve
can not be altered by my prayers and fears,
and if you are determined, take me, too:
some comfort may be gained, if in the storms
we may be tossed together. I shall fear
only the ills that really come to us,
together we can certainly endure
discomforts till we gain that distant land.”
Such words and tears of the daughter of Aeolus
gave Ceyx, famed son of the Morning Star,
much thought and sorrow; for the flame of love
burned in his heart as strongly as in hers.
Reluctant to give up the voyage, even more
to make Halcyone his partner on
the dangerous sea, he answered her complaints
in many ways to pacify her breast,
but could not comfort her until at last
he said, “This separation from your love
will be most sorrowful; and so I swear
to you, as witnessed by the sacred fire
of my Star-father, if the fates permit
my safe return, I will come back to you
before the moon has rounded twice her orb.”
These promises gave hope of his return.
Without delay he ordered a ship should
be drawn forth from the dock, launched in the sea,
and properly supplied against the needs
of travel.—Seeing this, Halcyone,
as if aware of future woe, shuddered,
wept, and embraced him, and in extreme woe
said with a sad voice, “Ah—Farewell!” and then,
her nerveless body sank down to the ground.
While Ceyx longed for some pretext to delay,
the youthful oarsmen, chosen for their strength,
in double rows began to draw the oars
back towards their hardy breasts, cutting the waves
with equal strokes. She raised her weeping eyes
and saw her husband on the high-curved stern.
He by his waving hand made signs to her,
and she returned his signals. Then the ship
moved farther from the shore until her eyes
could not distinguish his loved countenance.
Still, while she could, she followed with her gaze
the fading hull; and, when that too was lost
far in the distance, she remained and gazed
at the white topsails, waving from the mast.
But, when she could no longer see the sails,
with anxious heart she sought her lonely couch
and laid herself upon it. Couch and room
renewed her sorrow and reminded her
how much of life was absent on the sea.
The ship had left the harbor, and the breeze
shook the taut rigging. Now the captain bade
the idle oars be drawn up to the sides.
They ran the pointed sailyards up the mast
and with spread canvas caught the coming breeze.
Perhaps the ship had not sailed half her course,
on every side the land was out of sight
in fact at a great distance, when, towards dark
the sea grew white with its increasing waves,
while boisterous east winds blew with violence.—
prompt in his duty, the captain warns his crew,
“Lower the top sails—quick—furl all the sails
tight to the yards!”—He ordered, but the storm
bore all his words away, his voice could not
be heard above the roaring of the sea.
But of their own accord some sailors rushed
to draw the oars in, others to secure
the sides from danger, and some strove to pull
the sails down from the wind. One pumps the waves
up from the hold, and pours the rushing sea
again into the sea; another takes
the yards off.—While such things are being done
without command or order, the wild storm
increases, and on every side fierce winds
wage a destructive warfare, which stirs up
the furious waters to their utmost power.
Even the captain, terrified, confessed
he did not know the status of the ship,
and could not order nor forbid the men—
so great the storm, so far beyond his skill.
Then he gave up control, while frightened men
shouted above the rattled cordage shocks,
and heavy waves were dashed against huge waves,
and ail the sky reverberated with
terrific thunders. The deep sea upturned
tremendous billows, which appeared to reach
so near the heaven they touched the heavy clouds
with foam of their tossed waters.—At one time,
while the great billows churned up yellow sand
from off the bottom, the wild rolling waves
were of that color. At another time
they were more black than water of the Styx.
Sometimes they levelled, white with lashing foam.

> Latin: Interea fratrisque sui fratremque secutis
anxia prodigiis turbatus pectora Ceyx,
consulat ut sacras, hominum oblectamina, sortes,
ad Clarium parat ire deum; nam templa profanus
invia cum Phlegyis faciebat Delphica Phorbas.
Consilii tamen ante sui, fidissima, certam
te facit, Alcyone; cui protinus intima frigus
ossa receperunt, buxoque simillimus ora
pallor obit, lacrimisque genae maduere profusis.
Ter conata loqui ter fletibus ora rigavit,
singultuque pias interrumpente querellas
“quae mea culpa tuam,” dixit “carissime, mentem
vertit? Ubi est quae cura mei prior esse solebat?
Iam potes Alcyone securus abesse relicta?
Iam via longa placet? Iam sum tibi carior absens?
At, puto, per terras iter est, tantumque dolebo,
non etiam metuam, curaeque timore carebunt.
Aequora me terrent et ponti tristis imago:
et laceras nuper tabulas in litore vidi,
et saepe in tumulis sine corpore nomina legi.
Neve tuum fallax animum fiducia tangat,
quod socer Hippotades tibi sit, qui carcere fortes
contineat ventos et, cum velit, aequora placet!
Cum semel emissi tenuerunt aequora venti,
nil illis vetitum est, incommendataque tellus
omnis et omne fretum est. Caeli quoque nubila vexant
excutiuntque feri rutilos concursibus ignes.
Quo magis hos novi (nam novi et saepe paterna
parva domo vidi), magis hos reor esse timendos.
Quod tua si flecti precibus sententia nullis,
care, potest, coniunx, nimiumque es certus eundi,
me quoque tolle simul. Certe iactabimur una,
nec nisi quae patiar, metuam: pariterque feremus,
quidquid erit, pariter super aequora lata feremur.”
Talibus Aeolidis dictis lacrimisque movetur
sidereus coniunx: neque enim minor ignis in ipso est.
Sed neque propositos pelagi dimittere cursus,
nec vult Alcyonen in partem adhibere pericli,
multaque respondit timidum solantia pectus.
Non tamen idcirco causam probat; addidit illis
hoc quoque lenimen, quo solo flexit amantem:
“Longa quidem est nobis omnis mora: sed tibi iuro
per patrios ignes, si me modo fata remittant,
ante reversurum, quam luna bis impleat orbem.”
His ubi promissis spes est admota recursus,
protinus eductam navalibus aequore tingi
armarique suis pinum iubet armamentis.
Qua rursus visa, veluti praesaga futuri,
horruit Alcyone lacrimasque emisit obortas
amplexusque dedit, tristique miserrima tandem
ore “vale” dixit conlapsaque corpore toto est.
Ast iuvenes, quaerente moras Ceyce, reducunt
ordinibus geminis ad fortia pectora remos
aequalique ictu scindunt freta. Sustulit illa
umentes oculos, stantemque in puppe relicta
concussaque manu dantem sibi signa maritum
prima videt redditque notas; ubi terra recessit
longius atque oculi nequeunt cognoscere vultus,
dum licet, insequitur fugientem lumine pinum.
Haec quoque ut haud poterat, spatio submota, videri,
vela tamen spectat summo fluitantia malo;
ut nec vela videt, vacuum petit anxia lectum
seque toro ponit; renovat lectusque locusque
Alcyonae lacrimas et, quae pars, admonet, absit.
Portibus exierant, et moverat aura rudentes:
obvertit lateri pendentes navita remos
cornuaque in summa locat arbore totaque malo
carbasa deducit venientesque accipit auras.
Aut minus, aut certe medium non amplius aequor
puppe secabatur, longeque erat utraque tellus,
cum mare sub noctem tumidis albescere coepit
fluctibus et praeceps spirare valentius eurus.
“Ardua iamdudum demittite cornua” rector
clamat “et antemnis totum subnectite velum.”
Hic iubet: impediunt adversae iussa procellae,
nec sinit audiri vocem fragor aequoris ullam.
Sponte tamen properant alii subducere remos,
pars munire latus, pars ventis vela negare.
Egerit hic fluctus aequorque refundit in aequor,
hic rapit antemnas. Quae dum sine lege geruntur,
aspera crescit hiems, omnique e parte feroces
bella gerunt venti fretaque indignantia miscent.
Ipse pavet nec se, qui sit status, ipse fatetur
scire ratis rector, nec, quid iubeatve velitve:
tanta mali moles tantoque potentior arte est.
Quippe sonant clamore viri, stridore rudentes,
undarum incursu gravis unda, tonitribus aether.
Fluctibus erigitur caelumque aequare videtur
pontus et inductas adspergine tangere nubes;
et modo, cum fulvas ex imo vertit harenas,
concolor est illis, Stygia modo nigrior unda,
sternitur interdum spumisque sonantibus albet.
Ipsa quoque his agitur vicibus Trachinia puppis,
et nunc sublimis veluti de vertice montis
despicere in valles imumque Acheronta videtur,
nunc, ubi demissam curvum circumstetit aequor,
suspicere inferno summum de gurgite caelum.
Saepe dat ingentem fluctu latus icta fragorem
nec levius pulsata sonat, quam ferreus olim
cum laceras aries ballistave concutit arces.
Utque solent sumptis incursu viribus ire
pectore in arma feri protentaque tela leones,
sic ubi se ventis admiserat unda coortis,
ibat in arma ratis multoque erat altior illis.
Iamque labant cunei, spoliataque tegmine cerae
rima patet praebetque viam letalibus undis.
Ecce cadunt largi resolutis nubibus imbres,
inque fretum credas totum descendere caelum,
inque plagas caeli tumefactum adscendere pontum.
Vela madent nimbis, et cum caelestibus undis
aequoreae miscentur aquae; caret ignibus aether,
caecaque nox premitur tenebris hiemisque suisque.
Discutiunt tamen has praebentque micantia lumen
fulmina: fulmineis ardescunt ignibus ignes.
Dat quoque iam saltus intra cava texta carinae
fluctus; et ut miles, numero praestantior omni,
cum saepe adsiluit defensae moenibus urbis,
spe potitur tandem laudisque accensus amore
inter mille viros murum tamen occupat unus,
sic, ubi pulsarunt noviens latera ardua fluctus,
vastius insurgens decimae ruit impetus undae;
nec prius absistit fessam oppugnare carinam,
quam velut in captae descendat moenia navis.
Pars igitur temptabat adhuc invadere pinum,
pars maris intus erat. Trepidant haud segnius omnes,
quam solet urbs, aliis murum fodientibus extra
atque aliis murum, trepidare, tenentibus intus.
Deficit ars animique cadunt, totidemque videntur,
quot veniunt fluctus, ruere atque inrumpere mortes.
Non tenet hic lacrimas, stupet hic, vocat ille beatos,
funera quos maneant: hic votis numen adorat
bracchiaque ad caelum, quod non videt, inrita tollens
poscit opem, subeunt illi fraterque parensque,
huic cum pignoribus domus et quodcumque relictum est.
Alcyone Ceyca movet, Ceycis in ore
nulla nisi Alcyone est; et cum desideret unam,
gaudet abesse tamen. Patriae quoque vellet ad oras
respicere inque domum supremos vertere vultus,
verum ubi sit, nescit; tanta vertigine pontus
fervet, et inducta piceis e nubibus umbra
omne latet caelum, duplicataque noctis imago est.
Frangitur incursu nimbosi turbinis arbor,
frangitur et regimen, spoliisque animosa superstes
unda, velut victrix, sinuataque despicit undas,
nec levius, quam siquis Athon Pindumve revulsos
sede sua totos in apertum everterit aequor,
praecipitata cadit pariterque et pondere et ictu
mergit in ima ratem; cum qua pars magna virorum,
gurgite pressa gravi neque in aera reddita, fato
functa suo est: alii partes et membra carinae
trunca tenent: tenet ipse manu, qua sceptra solebat,
fragmina navigii Ceyx socerumque patremque
invocat heu! frustra. Sed plurima nantis in ore
Alcyone coniunx: illam meminitque refertque,
illius ante oculos ut agant sua corpora fluctus,
optat et exanimis manibus tumuletur amicis.
Dum natat, absentem, quotiens sinit hiscere fluctus,
nominat Alcyonen ipsisque inmurmurat undis.
Ecce super medios fluctus niger arcus aquarum
frangitur et rupta mersum caput obruit unda.
Lucifer obscurus nec quem cognoscere posses
illa luce fuit, quoniamque excedere caelo
non licuit, densis texit sua nubibus ora.
Aeolis interea tantorum ignara malorum
dinumerat noctes, et iam, quas induat ille
festinat vestes, iam quas, ubi venerit ille,
ipsa gerat, reditusque sibi promittit inanes.
Omnibus illa quidem superis pia tura ferebat,
ante tamen cunctos Iunonis templa colebat
proque viro, qui nullus erat, veniebat ad aras
utque foret sospes coniunx suus utque rediret,
optabat, nullamque sibi praeferret; at illi
hoc de tot votis poterat contingere solum.
At dea non ultra pro functo morte rogari
sustinet; utque manus funestas arceat aris,
“Iri, meae” dixit “fidissima nuntia vocis,
vise soporiferam Somni velociter aulam
exstinctique iube Ceycis imagine mittat
somnia ad Alcyonen veros narrantia casus.”
Dixerat: induitur velamina mille colorum
Iris, et arcuato caelum curvamine signans
tecta petit iussi sub nube latentia regis.