The ship was tossed about in the wild storm:aloft as from a mountain peak it seemedto look down on the valley and the depthof Acheron; and, when sunk down in a troughof waves engulfing, it appeared to lookup at the zenith from infernal seas.Often the waves fell on the sides with crashas terrible as when a flying stoneor iron ram shatters a citadel.As lions, mustering up their strength anew,might hurl their breasts against the spearsand outstretched arms of huntsmen, so the waves,upon the rising of the winds, rushed forthagainst the battered sides of the tossed shipand rose much higher than the slanting masts.The ship-bolts lost their grip, the loosened planks,despoiled of covering wax, gave open seams,through which streamed water of the fatal waves.—vast sheets of rain pour from dissolving clouds,so suddenly, it seemed that all the heavenswere flung into the deep, while swelling seasascended to the emptied fields of heaven!The sails are drenched with rain, the salt sea wavesare mingled with the waters of the skies.The firmament is black without a star,and night is doubly dark with its own gloomand blackness of the storm. Quick lightning makesthe black skies glitter, and the waves are firedwith flames of thunder-bolts. Now floods leap upinto the very middle of the ship.Just as a soldier, more courageous thanthe rest of his brave fellows, after hehas often charged against the embattled wallsof a defended city, gains at lengththe place which he has fought for; all inflamedwith his desire of glory, scales the walland stands alone among a thousand foes;so, when destructive waves have beat againstthe ship's high sides, the tenth wave with known power,rushes more furious than the nine before,nor ceases to attack the failing ship,until dashed high above the captured wallsit surges in the hold. Part of the seais still attempting to get in the ship,and part is in it. All are panic stricken,like men within a doomed and shaken town;who see some foes attack the walls without,and others hold possession of the wallswithin the city. Every art has failed,their courage sinks. With every coming waveanother death seems rushing in upon them.One sailor yields in tears; another fallsdown, stupefied; another calls those blestwhom funeral rites await; another prays,addressing trusted gods, lifting his handsup to that heaven unseen, as vainly heimplores some aid divine, and one in frightrecalls his brothers and his parent, whileanother names his children and his home:each frightened sailor thinks of all he left.King Ceyx thinks only of Halcyone,no other name is on his lips but hers:and though he longs for her, yet he is gladthat she is safe at home. Ah, how he triedto look back to the shore of his loved land,to turn his last gaze towards his wife and home.But he has lost direction.—The tossed seais raging in a hurricane so vast,and all the sky is hidden by the gloomof thickened storm-clouds, doubled in pitch-black.The mast is shattered by the violenceof drenching tempests, and the useless helmis broken. One undaunted giant wavestands over wreck and spoil, and looks down likea conqueror upon the other waves:then falls as heavily as if some godshould hurl Mount Athos or Mount Pindus, tornfrom rock foundations, into that wide sea:so, with down-rushing weight and violenceit struck and plunged the ship to the lowest deeps.And as the ship sank, many of the crewsank overwhelmed in deep surrounding waves,never to rise from suffocating death:but some in desperation, clung for lifeto broken timbers and escaped that fate.King Ceyx clung to a fragment of the wreckwith that majestic hand which often beforehad proudly swayed the sceptre. And in vain,alas, he called upon his father's name,alas, he begged his father-in-law's support.But, while he swam, his lips most frequentlypronounced that dearest name, “Halcyone!”He longs to have his body carried by wavesto her dear gaze and have at last,entombment by the hands of his loved friends.Swimming, he called Halcyone—far off,as often as the billows would allowhis lips to open, and among the waveshis darling's name was murmured, till at lasta night-black arch of water swept abovethe highest waves and buried him beneathengulfing billows.Lucifer was dimpast recognition when the dawn appearedand, since he never could depart from heaven,soon hid his grieving countenance in clouds.Meanwhile, Halcyone, all unawareof his sad wreck, counts off the passing nightsand hastens to prepare for him his clothesthat he may wear as soon as he returns to her;and she is choosing what to wear herself,and vainly promises his safe return—all this indeed, while she in hallowed prayeris giving frankincense to please the gods:and first of loving adorations, shepaid at the shrine of Juno. There she prayedfor Ceyx—after he had suffered death,that he might journey safely and returnand might love her above all other women,this one last prayer alone was granted to herbut Juno could not long accept as hersthese supplications on behalf of onethen dead; and that she might persuade Halcyoneto turn her death-polluted hands awayfrom hallowed altars, Juno said in haste,“O, Iris, best of all my messengers,go quickly to the dreadful court of Sleep,and in my name command him to despatcha dream in the shape of Ceyx, who is dead,and tell Halcyone the woeful truth.”So she commanded.—Iris instantlyassumed a garment of a thousand tints;and as she marked the high skies with her arch,went swiftly thence as ordered, to the placewhere Sleep was then concealed beneath a rock.
Est prope Cimmerios longo spelunca recessu,mons cavus, ignavi domus et penetralia Somni:quo numquam radiis oriens mediusve cadensvePhoebus adire potest. Nebulae caligine mixtaeexhalantur humo dubiaeque crepuscula lucis.Non vigil ales ibi cristati cantibus orisevocat auroram, nec voce silentia rumpuntsollicitive canes canibusve sagacior anser.Non fera, non pecudes, non moti flamine ramihumanaeve sonum reddunt convicia linguae:muta quies habitat; saxo tamen exit ab imorivus aquae Lethes, per quem cum murmure labensinvitat somnos crepitantibus unda lapillis.Ante fores antri fecunda papavera florentinnumeraeque herbae, quarum de lacte soporemnox legit et spargit per opacas umida terras.Ianua nec verso stridores cardine reddit:nulla domo tota, custos in limine nullus.At medio torus est ebeno sublimis in antro,plumeus, unicolor, pullo velamine tectus:quo cubat ipse deus membris languore solutis.Hunc circa passim varias imitantia formassomnia vana iacent totidem, quot messis aristas,silva gerit frondes, eiectas litus harenas.Quo simul intravit manibusque obstantia virgosomnia dimovit, vestis fulgore reluxitsacra domus, tardaque deus gravitate iacentesvix oculos tollens iterumque iterumque relabenssummaque percutiens nutanti pectora mento,excussit tandem sibi se; cubitoque levatus,quid veniat (cognovit enim), scitatur. At illa:“Somne, quies rerum, placidissime, Somne, deorum,pax animi, quem cura fugit, qui corpora durisfessa ministeriis mulces reparasque labori,somnia, quae veras aequent imitantia formas,Herculea Trachine iube sub imagine regisAlcyonen adeant simulacraque naufraga fingant.Imperat hoc Iuno.” Postquam mandata peregit,Iris abit (neque enim ulterius tolerare soporisvim poterat), labique ut somnum sensit in artus,effugit et remeat per quos modo venerat arcus.At pater e populo natorum mille suorumexcitat artificem simulatoremque figuraeMorphea: non illic quisquam sollertius alterexprimit incessus vultumque sonumque loquendi.Adicit et vestes et consuetissima cuiqueverba; sed hic solos homines imitatur, at alterfit fera, fit volucris, fit longo corpore serpens:hunc Icelon superi, mortale Phobetora vulgusnominat. Est etiam diversae tertius artisPhantasos: ille in humum saxumque undamque trabemquequaeque vacant anima, fallaciter omnia transit.Regibus hi ducibusque suos ostendere vultusnocte solent, populos alii plebemque pererrant.Praeterit hos senior cunctisque e fratribus unumMorphea, qui peragat Thaumantidos edita, Somnuseligit: et rursus molli languore solutusdeposuitque caput stratoque recondidit alto.Ille volat nullos strepitus facientibus alisper tenebras intraque morae breve tempus in urbempervenit Haemoniam positisque e corpore pennisin faciem Ceycis abit sumptaque figuraluridus, exanimi similis, sine vestibus ullis,coniugis ante torum miserae stetit: uda videturbarba viri, madidisque gravis fluere unda capillis.Tum lecto incumbens, fletu super ora profuso,haec ait: “Agnoscis Ceyca, miserrima coniunx?An mea mutata est facies? Nunc respice! noscesinveniesque tuo pro coniuge coniugis umbram.Nil opis, Alcyone, nobis tua vota tulerunt:occidimus! Falso tibi me promittere noli!Nubilus Aegaeo deprendit in aequore navemauster et ingenti iactatam flamine solvit,oraque nostra, tuum frustra clamantia nomen,implerunt fluctus. Non haec tibi nuntiat auctorambiguus, non ista vagis rumoribus audis:ipse ego fata tibi praesens mea naufragus edo.Surge, age, da lacrimas lugubriaque indue nec meindeploratum sub inania Tartara mitte.”Adicit his vocem Morpheus, quam coniugis illacrederet esse sui: fletus quoque fundere verosvisus erat, gestumque manus Ceycis habebat.Ingemit Alcyone, lacrimas movet atque lacertosper somnum, corpusque petens amplectitur aurasexclamatque “mane! quo te rapis? ibimus una!”Voce sua specieque viri turbata soporemexcutit et primo, si sit, circumspicit, illic,qui modo visus erat: nam moti voce ministriintulerant lumen. Postquam non invenit usquam,percutit ora manu laniatque a pectore vestespectoraque ipsa ferit, nec crines solvere curat:scindit et altrici, quae luctus causa, roganti“nulla est Alcyone, nulla est!” ait. “Occidit unacum Ceyce suo! Solantia tollite verba!Naufragus interiit! Vidi agnovique manusquead discedentem cupiens retinere, tetendi.Umbra fuit, — sed et umbra tamen manifesta viriquevera mei! Non ille quidem, si quaeris, habebatadsuetos vultus, nec quo prius, ore nitebat:pallentem nudumque et adhuc umente capilloinfelix vidi. Stetit hoc miserabilis ipseecce loco!” (et quaerit, vestigia siqua supersint)“Hoc erat, hoc, animo quod divinante timebam,et ne me fugeres, ventos sequerere, rogabam.At certe vellem, quoniam periturus abibas,me quoque duxisses! Multum fuit utile tecumire mihi: neque enim de vitae tempore quicquamnon simul egissem, nec mors discreta fuisset.Nunc absens perii, iactor quoque fluctibus absens,et sine me me pontus habet. Crudelior ipsosit mihi mens pelago, si vitam ducere nitarlongius et tanto pugnem superesse dolori.Sed neque pugnabo, nec te, miserande, relinquamet tibi nunc saltem veniam comes, inque sepulcrosi non urna, tamen iunget nos littera: si nonossibus ossa meis, at nomen nomine tangam.”
Near the Cimmerian Land there is a cave,with a long entrance, in a hallowed mountain,the home of slothful Sleep. To that dark cavethe Sun, when rising or in middle skies,or setting, never can approach with light.There dense fogs, mingled with the dark, exhaledarkness from the black soil—and all that placeis shadowed in a deep mysterious gloom.No wakeful bird with visage crested highcalls forth the morning's beauty in clear notes;nor do the watchful dogs, more watchful geese,nor wild beasts, cattle, nor the waving trees,make sound or whisper; and the human voiceis never heard there—silent Rest is there.But, from the bottom of a rock beneath,Lethean waters of a stream ooze forth,sounds of a rivulet, which trickle withsoft murmuring amid the pebbles andinvite soft sleep. Before the cavern doorsmost fertile poppies and a wealth of herbsbloom in abundance, from the juice of whichthe humid night-hours gather sleep and spreadit over darkened Earth. No door is inthat cavern-home and not a hinge's noisenor guarding porter's voice disturbs the calm.But in the middle is a resting-couch,raised high on night-black ebony and softwith feathered cushions, all jet black, concealedby a rich coverlet as dark as night,on which the god of sleep, dissolved in slothlies with unmoving limbs. Around him therein all directions, unsubstantial dreamsrecline in imitation of all shapes—as many as the uncounted ears of cornat harvest—as the myriad leaves of trees—or tiny sand grains spread upon the shore.As soon as Iris entered that dread gloom,she pushed aside the visions in her waywith her fair glowing hands; and instantly,that sacred cavern of the god of Sleepwas all illuminated with the glowand splendor of her garment.—Out of himselfthe god with difficulty lifted uphis lanquid eyes. From this small sign of liferelapsing many times to languid sloth,while nodding, with his chin he struck his breastagain and again. At last he roused himselffrom gloom and slumber; and, while raised uponhis elbow, he enquired of Iris whyshe came to him.—He knew her by her name.She answered him, “O, Sleep, divine reposeof all things! Gentlest of the deities!Peace to the troubled mind, from which you drivethe cares of life, restorer of men's strengthwhen wearied with the toils of day, commanda vision that shall seem the actual formof royal Ceyx to visit Trachin famedfor Hercules and tell Halcyonehis death by shipwreck. It is Juno's wish.”Iris departed after this was said.For she no longer could endure the effectof slumber-vapor; and as soon as sheknew sleep was creeping over her tired limbsshe flew from there—and she departed bythe rainbow, over which she came before.Out of the multitude—his thousand sons—the god of sleep raised Morpheus by his power.Most skillful of his sons, who had the artof imitating any human shape;and dexterously could imitate in menthe gait and countenance, and every modeof speaking. He could simulate the dressand customary words of any manhe chose to represent—but he could notassume the form of anything but man.Such was his art. Another of Sleep's sonscould imitate all kinds of animals;such as a wild beast or a flying bird,or even a serpent with its twisted shape;and that son, by the gods above was calledIcelos—but the inhabitants of earthcalled him Phobetor—and a third son, namedPhantasos, cleverly could change himselfinto the forms of earth that have no life;into a statue, water, or a tree.It was the habit of these three to showthemselves at night to kings and generals;and other sons would frequently appearamong the people of the common class.All such the aged god of Sleep passed by.Selecting only Morpheus from amongthe many brothers to accomplish this,and execute what Iris had desired.And after all that work, he dropped his head,and sank again in languid drowsiness,shrinking to sloth within his lofty couch.Morpheus at once flew through the nightof darkness, on his wings that make no sound,and in brief space of intervening time,arrived at the Haemonian city walls;and there he laid aside his wings, and tookthe face and form of Ceyx. In that formas one deprived of life, devoid of clothes,wan and ghastly, he stood beside the bedof the sad wife. The hero's beard seemed dripping,sea water streamed down from his drenching hair.Then leaning on the bed, while dropping tearswere running down his cheeks, he said these words:“Most wretched wife, can you still recognizeyour own loved Ceyx, or have my looks changed:so much with death you can not?—Look at me,and you will be assured I am your own:but here instead of your dear husband, youwill find only his ghost. Your faithful prayersdid not avail, Halcyone, and Ihave perished. Give up all deluding hopesof my return. The stormy Southwind caughtmy ship while sailing the Aegean sea;and there, tossed by the mighty wind, my shipwas dashed to pieces. While I vainly calledupon your name, the angry waters closedabove my drowning head and it is nouncertain messenger that tells you thisand nothing from vague rumors has been told.But it is I myself, come from the wreck,now telling you my fate. Come then, ariseshed tears, and put on mourning; do not sendme unlamented, down to Tartarus.”And Morpheus added to these words a voicewhich she would certainly believe was herbeloved husband's; and he seemed to beshedding fond human tears; and even his handswere moved in gestures that Ceyx often used.Halcyone shed tears and groaned aloud,and, as she moved her arms and caught at hisdear body, she embraced the vacant airshe cried out loudly, “Stay, oh stay with me!Why do you hurry from me? We will gotogether!” Agitated by her ownexcited voice; and by what seemed to beher own dear husband, she awoke from sleep.And first looked all about her to persuadeherself that he whom she had lately seenmust yet be with her, for she had arousedthe servants who in haste brought lights desired.When she could find him nowhere, in despairshe struck her face and tore her garment fromher breast and beat her breast with mourning hands.She did not wait to loosen her long hair;but tore it with her hands and to her nurse,who asked the cause of her wild grief, she cried:“Alas, Halcyone is no more! no more!with her own Ceyx she is dead! is dead!Away with words of comfort, he is lostby shipwreck! I have seen him, and I knewhim surely—as a ghost he came to me;and when desirous to detain him, Istretched forth my arms to him, his ghost left me—it vanished from me; but it surely wasthe ghost of my dead husband. If you askdescription of it, I must truly sayhe did not have his well known features—hewas not so cheerful as he was in life!Alas, I saw him pale and naked, withhis hair still dripping—his ghost from the wavesstood on this very spot:” and while she moanedshe sought his footprints on the floor. “Alas,this was my fear, and this is what my mindshuddered to think of, when I begged that youwould not desert me for the wind's control.But how I wish, since you were sailing forthto perish, that you had but taken mewith you. If I had gone with you, it wouldhave been advantage to me, for I shouldhave shared the whole course of my life with youand you would not have met a separate death.I linger here but I have met my death,I toss on waves, and drift upon the sea.“My heart would be more cruel than the waves,if it should ask me to endure this life—if I should struggle to survive such grief.I will not strive nor leave you so forlorn,at least I'll follow you to death. If notthe urn at least the lettered stoneshall keep us still together. If your bonesare not united with my bones, 'tis sureour names must be united.”Overcomewith grief, she could not say another word—but she continued wailing, and her groanswere heaved up from her sorrow-stricken breast.At early dawn, she went from her abodedown to the seashore, where most wretchedly,she stood upon the spot from which he sailed,and sadly said; “He lingered here while hewas loosening the cables, and he kissedme on this seashore when he left me here.”And while she called to recollection allthat she had seen when standing there, and whileshe looked far out on flowing waves from there,she noticed floating on the distant sea—what shall I say? At first even she could notbe sure of what she saw. But presentlyalthough still distant—it was certainlya floating corpse. She could not see what manhe might be, but because it seemed to herit surely was a shipwrecked body, shewas moved as at an omen and beganto weep; and, moaning as she stood there, said:—“Ah wretched one, whoever it may be,ah, wretched is the wife whom you have left!”As driven by the waves the body camestill nearer to her, she was less and lessthe mistress of herself, the more she lookedupon it; and, when it was close enoughfor her to see its features, she beheldher husband. “It is he,” she cried and thenshe tore her face, her hair, her royal robeand then, extending both her trembling handstowards Ceyx, “So dearest one! So do you cometo me again?” She cried, “O luckless mate.”A mole, made by the craft of man, adjoinsthe sea and breaks the shoreward rush of waves.To this she leaped—it seemed impossible—and then, while beating the light air with wingsthat instant formed upon her, she flew on,a mourning bird, and skimmed above the waves.And while she lightly flew across the seaher clacking mouth with its long slender bill,full of complaining, uttered moaning sounds:but when she touched the still and pallied form,embracing his dear limbs with her new wings,she gave cold kisses with her hardened bill.All those who saw it doubted whether Ceyxcould feel her kisses; and it seemed to themthe moving waves had raised his countenance.But he was truly conscious of her grief;and through the pity of the gods above,at last they both were changed to flying birds,together in their fate. Their love lived on,nor in these birds were marriage bonds dissolved,and they soon coupled and were parent birds.Each winter during seven full days of calmHalcyone broods on her floating nest—her nest that sails upon a halcyon sea:the passage of the deep is free from storms,throughout those seven full days; and Aeolusrestraining harmful winds, within their cave,for his descendants' sake gives halcyon seas.An old man saw the two birds fly acrossthe wide extended sea and praised their love,undying to the end. His old friend whostood near him, said, “There is another bird,which you can see skimming above the waveswith folded legs drawn up;” and as he spoke,he pointed at a divedapper, which hada long throat, and continued, “It was firstthe son of a great king, as Ceyx, was:and if you wish to know his ancestry,I can assure you he descended fromIlus, Assaracus, and Ganymede—taken by Jupiter, and old Laomedon,and Priam, ruler at the fall of Troy.“Aesacus was the brother of the greatillustrious Hector; and, if he had notbeen victimized by a strange fate in youth,he would have equalled Hector's glorious fame,Hector was child of Hecuba, who wasdaughter of Dymas. Alexirhoe,the daughter of the two-horned Granicus,so rumor has it, secretly brought forthAesacus, hidden under Ida's shade.“He loathed the city and away from court,frequented lonely mountains and the fieldsof unambitious peasants. Rarely hewas seen among the throngs of Ilium.—yet, neither churlish nor impregnableto love's appeal, he saw Hesperia,the daughter of Cebrenus, while she wasonce resting on the velvet-shaded banksof her sire's cherished stream. Aesacus hadso often sought for her throughout the woods.“Just when he saw her, while she rested there,her hair spread on her shoulders to the sun,she saw him, and without delay she fled,even as the frightened deer runs from the wolfor as the water-duck, when she has lefther favored stream, surprised, flies from the hawk.Aesacus followed her, as swift with loveas she was swift with fear. But in the grassa lurking snake struck at her rosy heeland left its venom in her flesh.—And so,her flight was ended by untimely death.“Oh, frantic, he embraced her breathless form,and cried: ‘Alas, alas, that I pursued!I did not dream of such a dreadful fate!Success was not worth such a priceI and the snake together caused your death—the serpent gave the wound, I was the cause.Mine is the greater guilt, and by my deathI'll give you consolation for your death!’ ”“He said those words and leaped on a high rock,which years of sounding waves had undermined,and hurled himself into the sea below.“Tethys was moved with pity for his fall,received him softly, and then covered himwith feathers, as he swam among the waves.The death he sought for was not granted him.At this the lover was wroth. Against his will,he was obliged to live in his distress,with opposition to his spirit that desireddeparture from the wretched pain of life.“As he assumed upon his shoulders wingsnewformed, he flew aloft and from that heightagain he plunged his body in the waveshis feathers broke all danger of that fall—and this new bird, Aesacus, plunged headlonginto the deep, and tried incessantlythat method of destruction. His great loveunsatisfied, made his sad body lean,till even the spaces fixed between the jointsof his legs have grown long; his neck is long;so that his head is far away from hislean body. Still he hunts the seaand takes his name from diving in the waves.Sadly his father, Priam, mourned for him,not knowing that young Aesacus had assumedwings on his shoulders, and was yet alive.Then also Hector with his brothers madecomplete but unavailing sacrifice,upon a tomb which bore his carved name.Paris was absent. But soon afterwards,he brought into that land a ravished wife,Helen, the cause of a disastrous war,together with a thousand ships, and allthe great Pelasgian nation.Vengeance wouldnot long have been delayed, but the fierce windsraged over seas impassable, and heldthe ships at fishy Aulis. They could notbe moved from the Boeotian land. Here, whena sacrifice had been prepared to Jove,according to the custom of their land,and when the ancient altar glowed with fire,the Greeks observed an azure colored snakecrawling up in a plane tree near the placewhere they had just begun their sacrifice.Among the highest branches was a nest,with twice four birds—and those the serpent seizedtogether with the mother-bird as shewas fluttering round her loss. And every birdthe serpent buried in his greedy maw.All stood amazed: but Calchas, who perceivedthe truth, exclaimed, “Rejoice Pelasgian men,for we shall conquer; Troy will fall; althoughthe toil of war must long continue—sothe nine birds equal nine long years of war.”And while he prophesied, the serpent, coiledabout the tree, was transformed to a stone,curled crooked as a snake.but Nereus stormedin those Aonian waves, and not a shipmoved forward. Some declared that Neptune thuswas aiding Troy, because he built the wallsof that great city. Not so Calchas, sonof Thestor! He knew all the truth, and toldthem plainly that a virgin's bloodalone might end a virgin goddess' wrath.The public good at last prevailed aboveaffection, and the duty of a kingat last proved stronger than a father's love:when Iphigenia as a sacrifice,stood by the altar with her weeping maidsand was about to offer her chaste blood,the goddess, moved by pity, spread a mistbefore their eyes, amid the sacred ritesand mournful supplications. It is saidshe left a hind there in the maiden's placeand carried Iphigenia away. The hind,as it was fitting, calmed Diana's rageand also calmed the anger of the sea.The thousand ships received the winds asternand gained the Phrygian shore.There is a spotconvenient in the center of the world,between the land and sea and the wide heavens,the meeting of the threefold universe.From there is seen all things that anywhereexist, although in distant regions far;and there all sounds of earth and space are heard.Fame is possessor of this chosen place,and has her habitation in a tower,which aids her view from that exalted highs.And she has fixed there numerous avenues,and openings, a thousand, to her towerand no gates with closed entrance, for the houseis open, night and day, of sounding brass,reechoing the tones of every voice.It must repeat whatever it may hear;and there's no rest, and silence in no part.There is no clamor; but the murmuring soundof subdued voices, such as may arisefrom waves of a far sea, which one may hearwho listens at a distance; or the soundwhich ends a thunderclap, when Jupiterhas clashed black clouds together. Fickle crowdsare always in that hall, that come and go,and myriad rumors—false tales mixed with true—are circulated in confusing words.Some fill their empty ears with all this talk,and some spread elsewhere all that's told to them.The volume of wild fiction grows apace,and each narrator adds to what he hears.Credulity is there and rash Mistake,and empty Joy, and coward Fear alarmedby quick Sedition, and soft Whisper—allof doubtful life. Fame sees what things are donein heaven and on the sea, and on the earth.She spies all things in the wide universe.
Plura dolor prohibet, verboque intervenit omniplangor, et attonito gemitus a corde trahuntur.Mane erat, egreditur tectis ad litus et illummaesta locum repetit, de quo spectarat euntem.Dumque moratur ibi, dumque “hic retinacula solvit,hoc mihi discedens dedit oscula litore” dicit,prospicit: in liquida, spatio distante, tueturnescio quid quasi corpus, aqua. Primoque, quid illudesset, erat dubium; postquam paulum appulit unda,et, quamvis aberat, corpus tamen esse liquebat,qui foret, ignorans, quia naufragus, omine mota estet, tamquam ignoto lacrimam daret, “heu! miser” inquit“quisquis es, et siqua est coniunx tibi!” Fluctibus actumfit propius corpus; quod quo magis illa tuetur,hoc minus et minus est mentis sua, iamque propinquaeadmotum terrae, iam quod cognoscere posset,cernit: erat coniunx. “Ille est!” exclamat et unaora, comas, vestem lacerat tendensque trementesad Ceyca manus “sic, o carissime coniunx,sic ad me, miserande, redis?” ait. Adiacet undisfacta manu moles, quae primas aequoris undasfrangit et incursus quae praedelassat aquarum.Insilit huc, mirumque fuit potuisse: volabatpercutiensque levem modo natis aera pennisstringebat summas ales miserabilis undas.Dumque volat, maesto similem plenumque querellaeora dedere sonum tenui crepitantia rostro.Ut vero tetigit mutum et sine sanguine corpus,dilectos artus amplexa recentibus alisfrigida nequiquam duro dedit oscula rostro.Senserit hoc Ceyx, an vultum motibus undaetollere sit visus, populus dubitabat: at illesenserat, et tandem superis miserantibus, amboalite mutantur. Fatis obnoxius isdemtunc quoque mansit amor, nec coniugiale solutum estfoedus in alitibus: coeunt fiuntque parentes,perque dies placidos hiberno tempore septemincubat Alcyone pendentibus aequore nidis.Tunc iacet unda maris: ventos custodit et arcetAeolus egressu praestatque nepotibus aequor.Hos aliquis senior iunctim freta lata volantesspectat et ad finem servatos laudat amores;proximus, aut idem, si fors tulit, “hic quoque,” dixit“quem mare carpentem substrictaque crura gerentemadspicis” (ostendens spatiosum in guttura mergum),“regia progenies: sunt si descendere ad ipsumordine perpetuo quaeris, sunt huius origoIlus et Assaracus raptusque Iovi GanymedesLaomedonque senex Priamusque novissima Troiaetempora sortitus. Frater fuit Hectoris iste:qui nisi sensisset prima nova fata iuventa,forsitan inferius non Hectore nomen haberet,quamvis est illum proles enixa Dymantis,Aesacon umbrosa furtim peperisse sub Idafertur Alexirhoe, Granico nata bicorni.Oderat hic urbes nitidaque remotus ab aulasecretos montes et inambitiosa colebatrura nec Iliacos coetus nisi rarus adibat.Non agreste tamen nec inexpugnabile amoripectus habens silvas captatam saepe per omnesadspicit Hesperien patria Cebrenida ripainiectos umeris siccantem sole capillos.Visa fugit nymphe, veluti perterrita fulvumcerva lupum longeque lacu deprensa relictoaccipitrem fluvialis anas; quam Troius herosinsequitur celeremque metu celer urget amore:ecce latens herba coluber fugientis aduncodente pedem strinxit virusque in corpore liquit;cum vita suppressa fuga est: amplectitur amensexanimem clamatque “piget, piget esse secutum!Sed non hoc timui, neque erat mihi vincere tanti.Perdidimus miseram nos te duo: vulnus ab angue,a me causa data est. Ego sum sceleratior illo,qui tibi morte mea mortis solacia mittam.”Dixit et e scopulo, quem rauca subederat unda,decidit in pontum. Tethys miserata cadentemmolliter excepit nantemque per aequora pennistexit, et optatae non est data copia mortis.Indignatur amans invitum vivere cogiobstarique animae misera de sede volentiexire. Utque novas umeris adsumpserat alas,subvolat atque iterum corpus super aequora mittit.Pluma levat casus: furit Aesacos inque profundumpronus abit letique viam sine fine retemptat.Fecit amor maciem: longa internodia crurum,longa manet cervix, caput est a corpore longe;aequor amat nomenque manet, quia mergitur, illi.”Nescius adsumptis Priamus pater Aesacon alisvivere lugebat, tumulo quoque nomen habentiinferias dederat cum fratribus Hector inani.Defuit officio Paridis praesentia tristi,postmodo qui rapta longum cum coniuge bellumattulit in patriam; coniurataeque sequunturmille rates gentisque simul commune Pelasgae.Nec dilata foret vindicta, nisi aequora saeviinvia fecissent venti Boeotaque tellusAulide piscosa puppes tenuisset ituras.Hic patrio de more Iovi cum sacra parassent,ut vetus accensis incanduit ignibus ara,serpere caeruleum Danai videre draconemin platanum, coeptis quae stabat proxima sacris.Nidus erat volucrum bis quattuor arbore summa:quas simul et matrem circum sua damna volantemcorripuit serpens avidoque recondidit ore.Obstipuere omnes. At veri providus augurThestorides “vincemus” ait, “gaudete, Pelasgi!Troia cadet, sed erit nostri mora longa laboris,”atque novem volucres in belli digerit annos.Ille, ut erat virides amplexus in arbore ramos,fit lapis et servat serpentis imagine saxum.Permanet Aoniis Nereus violentus in undisbellaque non transfert; et sunt qui parcere TroiaeNeptunum credant, quia moenia fecerat urbi.At non Thestorides: nec enim nescitve tacetvesanguine virgineo placandam virginis iramesse deae. Postquam pietatem publica causarexque patrem vicit castumque datura cruoremflentibus ante aram stetit Iphigenia ministris,victa dea est nubemque oculis obiecit et interofficium turbamque sacri vocesque precantumsupposita fertur mutasse Mycenida cerva.Ergo ubi, qua decuit, lenita est caede Diana,et pariter Phoebes, pariter maris ira recessit,accipiunt ventos a tergo mille carinaemultaque perpessae Phrygia potiuntur harena.Orbe locus medio est inter terrasque fretumquecaelestesque plagas, triplicis confinia mundi,unde quod est usquam, quamvis regionibus absit,inspicitur, penetratque cavas vox omnis ad aures.Fama tenet summaque domum sibi legit in arce,innumerosque aditus ac mille foramina tectisaddidit et nullis inclusit limina portis:nocte dieque patet. Tota est ex aere sonanti,tota fremit vocesque refert iteratque quod audit.Nulla quies intus nullaque silentia parte,nec tamen est clamor, sed parvae murmura vocis,qualia de pelagi, siquis procul audiat, undisesse solent, qualemve sonum, cum Iuppiter atrasincrepuit nubes, extrema tonitrua reddunt.Atria turba tenet: veniunt, leve vulgus, euntquemixtaque cum veris passim commenta vaganturmilia rumorum confusaque verba volutant.E quibus hi vacuas inplent sermonibus aures,hi narrata ferunt alio; mensuraque ficticrescit, et auditis aliquid novus adicit auctor.Illic Credulitas, illic temerarius Errorvanaque Laetitia est consternatique TimoresSeditioque recens dubioque auctore Susurri.Ipsa, quid in caelo rerum pelagoque geraturet tellure, videt totumque inquirit in orbem.