“My daughter, what further sorrow can be mine?My daughter you lie dead, I see your wounds—they are indeed my own. Lest I should loseone child of mine without a cruel sword,you have your wound. I thought, becauseyou were a woman, you were safe from swords.But you, a woman, felt the deadly steel.That same Achilles, who has given to deathso many of your brothers, caused your death,the bane of Troy and the serpent by my nest!When Paris and when Phoebus with their shaftshad laid him low, ‘Ah, now at least,’ I said,‘Achilles will no longer cause me dread.’Yet even then he still was to be feared.For him I have been fertile! Mighty Troynow lies in ruin, and the public woeis ended in one vast calamity.For me alone the woe of Troy still lives.“But lately on the pinnacle of fame,surrounded by my powerful sons-in-law,daughters, and daughters-in-law, and strongin my great husband, I am exiled now,and destitute, and forced from the sad tombsof those I love, to wretched slavery,serving Penelope: who showing meto curious dames of Ithaca, will pointand say, while I am bending to my task,‘Look at that woman who was widely known,the mother of great Hector, once the wifeof Priam!’ After so many have been lost,now you, last comfort of a mother's grief,must make atonement on the foeman's tomb.I bore a victim for my enemy.“Why do I live—an iron witted wretch?Why do I linger? Why does cruel agedetain me? Why, pernicious deities,thus hold me to this earth, unless you willthat I may weep at future funerals?After the fall of Troy, who would supposeKing Priam could be happy? Blest in death,he has not seen my daughter's dreadful fate.He lost at once his kingdom and his life.“Can I imagine you, a royal maid,will soon be honored with due funeral rites,and will be buried in our family tomb?Such fortune comes no more to your sad house.A drift of foreign sand will be your grave,the parting gift will be your mother's tears.We have lost everything! But no, there isone reason why I should endure a while.His mother's dearest, now her only child,once youngest of that company of sons,my Polydorus lives here on these shoresprotected by the friendly Thracian king.Then why delay to bathe these cruel wounds,her dear face spattered with the dreadful blood?”So Hecuba went wailing towards the shorewith aged step and tearing her gray hair.At last the unhappy mother said, “Give mean urn; O, Trojan women!” for, she wishedto dip up salt sea water. But just then,she saw the corpse of her last son, thrown outupon the shore; her Polydorus, killed,disfigured with deep wounds of Thracian swords.The Trojan women cried aloud, and shewas struck dumb with her agony, which quiteconsumed both voice and tears within her heart—rigid and still she seemed as a hard rock.And now she gazes at the earth in frontnow lifts her haggard face up toward the skies,now scans that body lying stark and dead,now scans his wounds and most of all the wounds.She arms herself and draws up all her wrath.It burned as if she still held regal powershe gave up all life to the single thoughtof quick revenge. Just as a lionessrages when plundered of her suckling cuband follows on his trail the unseen foe,so, Hecuba with rage mixed in her griefforgetful of her years, not her intent,went hastily to Polymnestor, whocontrived this dreadful murder, and desiredan interview, pretending it was her wishto show him hidden gold, for her lost son.The Odrysian king believed it all:accustomed to the love of gain, he wentwith her, in secret, to the spot she chose.Then craftily he said in his bland way:“Oh, Hecuba, you need not wait, give now,munificently to your son—and allyou give, and all that you have given,by the good gods, I swear, shall be his own.”She eyed him sternly as he spokeand swore so falsely.—Then her rage boiled over,and, seconded by all her captive train,she flew at him and drove her fingers deepin his perfidious eyes; and tore them fromhis face—and plunged her hands into the rawand bleeding sockets (passion made her strong),defiled with his bad blood. How could she tearhis eyes, gone from their seats? She wildly gougedthe sightless sockets of his bleeding face!The Thracians, angered by such violence doneupon their king, immediately attackedthe Trojan matron with their stones and dartsbut she with hoarse growling and snapping jawssprang at the stones, and, when she tried to speak,she barked like a fierce dog. The place still bearsa name suggested by her hideous change.And she, long mindful! of her old time woe,ran howling dismally in Thracian fields.Her sad fate moved the Trojans and the Greeks,her friends and foes, and all the heavenly gods.Yes all, for even the sister-wife of Jovedenied that Hecuba deserved such fate.
“Nata, tuae (quid enim superest?) dolor ultime matris,nata, iaces, videoque tuum, mea vulnera, pectus,et ne perdiderim quemquam sine caede meorum,tu quoque vulnus habes! At te, quia femina, rebara ferro tutam: cecidisti et femina ferro,totque tuos idem fratres, te perdidit idem,exitium Troiae nostrique orbator, Achilles.At postquam cecidit Paridis Phoebique sagittis,“nunc certe,” dixi, “non est metuendus Achilles!rsquo;Nunc quoque mi metuendus erat: cinis ipse sepultiin genus hoc saevit, tumulo quoque sensimus hostem.Aeacidae fecunda fui! Iacet Ilion ingens,eventuque gravi finita est publica clades, —sed finita tamen; soli mihi Pergama restant,in cursuque meus dolor est: modo maxima rerum,tot generis natisque potens nuribusque viroque,nunc trahor exul, inops, tumulis avulsa meorum,Penelopae munus; quae me data pensa trahentemmatribus ostendens Ithacis “haec Hectoris illa estclara parens, haec est” dicet “Priameia coniunx!”Postque tot amissos tu nunc, quae sola levabasmaternos luctus, hostilia busta piasti!Inferias hosti peperi! Quo ferrea resto?Quidve moror? Quo me servas, annosa senectus?Quo, di crudeles, nisi uti nova funera cernam,vivacem differtis anum? Quis posse putaretfelicem Priamum post diruta Pergama dici?Felix morte sua est, nec te, mea nata, peremptamadspicit et vitam pariter regnumque reliquit.At, puto, funeribus dotabere, regia virgo,condeturque tuum monumentis corpus avitis.Non haec est fortuna domus: tibi munera matriscontingent fletus peregrinaeque haustus harenae!Omnia perdidimus: superest, cur vivere tempusin breve sustineam, proles gratissima matri,nunc solus, quondam minimus de stirpe virili,has datus Ismario regi Polydorus in oras.Quid moror interea crudelia vulnera lymphisabluere et sparsos inmiti sanguine vultus?”Dixit et ad litus passu processit anili,albentes lacerata comas. “Date, Troades, urnam”dixerat infelix, liquidas hauriret ut undas:adspicit eiectum Polydori in litore corpusfactaque Threiciis ingentia vulnera telis!Troades exclamant: obmutuit illa dolore,et pariter vocem lacrimasque introrsus obortasdevorat ipse dolor, duroque simillima saxotorpet et adversa figit modo lumina terra,interdum torvos sustollit ad aethera vultus,nunc positi spectat vultum, nunc vulnera nativulnera praecipue, seque armat et instruit iram.”Qua simul exarsit, tamquam regina maneret,ulcisci statuit poenaeque in imagine tota est,utque furit catulo lactente orbata leaenasignaque nacta pedum sequitur, quem non videt, hostem,sic Hecube, postquam cum luctu miscuit iram,non oblita animorum, annorum oblita suorum,vadit ad artificem dirae, Polymestora, caedisconloquiumque petit: nam se monstrare relictumvelle latens illi, quod nato redderet, aurum.Credidit Odrysius praedaeque adsuetus amorein secreta venit. Tum blando callidus ore“tolle moras, Hecube,” dixit, “da munera nato!Omne fore illius quod das, quod et ante dedisti,per superos iuro.” Spectat truculenta loquentemfalsaque iurantem tumidaque exaestuat iraatque ita correpto captivarum agmina matruminvocat et digitos in perfida lumina conditexpellitque genis oculos (facit ira nocentem)immergitque manus, foedataque sanguine sontinon lumen (neque enim superest), loca luminis haurit.Clade sui Thracum gens inritata tyranniTroada telorum lapidumque incessere iactucoepit. At haec missum rauco cum murmure saxummorsibus insequitur, rictuque in verba paratolatravit, conata loqui: locus exstat et ex renomen habet, veterumque diu memor illa malorumtum quoque Sithonios ululavit maesta per agros.illius Troasque suos hostesque Pelasgos,illius fortuna deos quoque moverat omnes,sic omnes, ut et ipsa Iovis coniunxque sororqueeventus Hecubam meruisse negaverit illos.
Although Aurora had given aid to Troy,she had no heart nor leisure to be movedby fall of Troy or fate of Hecuba.At home she bore a greater grief and care;her loss of Memnon is afflicting her.Aurora, his rose-tinted mother, sawhim perish by Achilles' deadly spear,upon the Phrygian plain. She saw his death,and the loved rose that lights the dawning hourturned death-pale, and the sky was veiled in clouds.The parent could not bear to see his limbslaid on the final flames. Just as she was,with loose hair streaming round her, she did notdisdain to crouch down at the knees of Jove,and said these sad words added to her tears:“Beneath all those whom golden heaven sustains;(inferior, for see, through all the worldmy temples are so few) I have come nowa goddess, to you; not with any hopethat you may grant me temples, festivals,and altars, heated with devoted fires:but if you will consider the good deeds,which I, a woman, may yet do for you,when at the dawn I mark the edge of night;then you may think of some reward for me.But that is not my care; nor is it nowAurora's purpose here, that she should pleadfor honors, though deserved. I come bereaved,of my son Memnon, who in vain bore armsto aid his uncle and in prime of life(0, thus you willed it!) fell stricken by the swordof great Achilles. Give my son, I pray,O highest ruler of the gods, some honor,some comfort for his death, a little easehis mother's grief.” Jove nodded his assent.Immediately the high-wrought funeral-pileof Memnon fell down with its lofty fire,and volumes of black smoke obscured the day,as streams exhaling their dense rising fogs,exclude the bright sun from the land below.Black ashes fly and, rolling up a shape,retain a form and gather heat and lifeout of the fire. Their lightness gave them wings,first like a bird and then in fact a bird.The wings move whirring. In the neighboring airuncounted sisters, of one birth and growthtogether make one noise. Three times they flewaround the funeral pile; and thrice the soundaccordant of their fluttering wings went swiftupon the soft breeze. When they turned about,their fourth flight in the skies divided them.As two fierce races from two hostile camps,clash in their warfare, these bird-sisters withtheir beaks and crooked claws clashed, passionate,until their tired wings and opposing breastscould not sustain them. And those kindred-foesfell down a sacrifice, memorial,to Memnon's ashes buried in that place.Brave Memnon, author of their birth, has givenhis name to those birds, marvellously formed,—and from him they are called Memnonides.—now, always when the Sun has passed the twelvesigns of the Zodiac, they war again,to perish as a sacrifice for him.So others grieved, while Dymas' royal daughterwas barking: but Aurora overcomewith lasting sorrows, could not think of her:and even now, she sheds affectionate tears:and sprinkles them as dew on all the world.
Non vacat Aurorae, quamquam isdem faverat armis,cladibus et casu Troiaeque Hecubaeque moveri.Cura deam proprior luctusque domesticus angitMemnonis amissi, Phrygiis quem lutea campisvidit Achillea pereuntem cuspide mater:vidit, et ille rubor, quo matutina rubescunttempora, palluerat, latuitque in nubibus aether.At non impositos supremis ignibus artussustinuit spectare parens, sed crine soluto,sicut erat, magni genibus procumbere non estdedignata Iovis lacrimisque has addere voces:“Omnibus inferior, quas sustinet aureus aether(nam mihi sunt totum rarissima templa per orbem),diva tamen veni, non ut delubra diesquedes mihi sacrificos caliturasque ignibus aras.Si tamen adspicias, quantum tibi femina praestem,tum cum luce nova noctis confinia servo,praemia danda putes; sed non ea cura neque hic estnunc status Aurorae, meritos ut poscat honores:Memnonis orba mei venio, qui fortia frustrapro patruo tulit arma suo primisque sub annisoccidit a forti, sic vos voluistis, Achille.Da, precor, huic aliquem, solacia mortis, honorem,summe deum rector, maternaque vulnera leni.”Iuppiter adnuerat, cum Memnonis arduus altocorruit igne rogus nigrique volumine fumiinfecere diem (veluti cum flumina natasexhalant nebulas, nec sol admittitur infra);atra favilla volat glomerataque corpus in unumdensetur faciemque capit sumitque calorematque animam ex igni (levitas sua praebuit alas),et primo similis volucri, mox vera volucrisinsonuit pennis: pariter sonuere sororesinnumerae, quibus est eadem natalis origo,terque rogum lustrant, et consonus exit in auraster plangor: quarto seducunt castra volatu.Tam duo diversa populi de parte ferocesbella gerunt rostrisque et aduncis unguibus irasexercent alasque adversaque pectora iactantinferiaeque cadunt cineri cognata sepultocorpora seque viro forti meminere creatas.praepetibus subitis nomen facit auctor: ab illoMemnonides dictae, cum sol duodena peregitsigna, parentali moriturae voce rebellant.Ergo aliis latrasse Dymantida flebile visum est:luctibus est Aurora suis intenta, piasquenunc quoque dat lacrimas et toto rorat in orbe.
The Fates did not allow the hope of Troyto be destroyed entirely with her walls.Aeneas, the heroic son of Venus,bore on his shoulders holy imagesand still another holy weight, his sire,a venerable burden. From all his wealththe pious hero chose this for his caretogether with his child, Ascanius.Then with a fleet of exiles he sails forth,he leaves Antandrus, leaves the wicked realmand shore of Thrace now dripping with the bloodof Polydorus. With fair winds and tidehe and his comrades reach Apollo's isle.Good Anius, king of Delos, vigilantfor all his subjects' welfare, and as priestdevoted to Apollo, took him thereinto his temple and his home, and showedthe city, the famed shrines, and the two treeswhich once Latona, while in labor, held.They burned sweet incense, adding to it wine,and laid the flesh of cattle in the flames,an offering marked by custom for the god.Then in the palace and its kingly hall,reclining on luxurious couches, theydrank flowing wine with Ceres' gifts of food.But old Anchises asked: “O chosen priestof Phoebus, can I be deceived? When firstI saw these walls, did you not have a son,and twice two daughters? Is it possibleI am mistaken?” Anius replied,—shaking his temples wreathed with fillets white,—“It can be no mistake, great hero, youdid see the father of five children then,(so much the risk of fortune may affectthe best of men). You see me now, almostbereft of all. For what assistance canmy absent son afford, while he is king,the ruler over Andros—that land namedfor his name—over which he rules for me?“The Delian god gave to my son the artof augury; and likewise, Liber gavemy daughters precious gifts exceeding allmy wishes and belief: since, every thingmy daughters touched assumed the forms of corn,of sparkling wine, or gray-green olive oil.Most surely, wonderful advantages.“Soon as Atrides, he who conquered Troyhad heard of this (for you should not supposethat we, too, did not suffer from your storms)he dragged my daughters there with savage force,from my loved bosom to his hostile camp,and ordered them to feed the Argive fleet,by their divinely given power of touch.“Whichever way they could, they made escapetwo hastened to Euboea, and two soughttheir brother's island, Andros. Quickly thenan Argive squadron, following, threatened war,unless they were surrendered. The brother's lovegave way to fear. And there is reason whyyou should forgive a timid brother's fear:he had no warrior like Aeneas, nonelike Hector, by whose prowess you held Troyfrom its destruction through ten years of war.“Strong chains were brought to hold my daughters' arms.Both lifted suppliant hands, which still were free,to heaven and cried, ‘0, Father Bacchus! giveus needed aid!’ And he who had beforegiven them the power of touch, did give them aid—if giving freedom without human shapecan be called giving aid.—I never knewby what means they lost shape, and cannot tell;but their calamity is surely known:my daughters were transformed to snow-white doves,white birds of Venus, guardian of your days.”With this and other talk they shared the feast,then left the table and retired to sleep.They rose up with the day, and went at onceto hear the oracle of Phoebus speak.He counselled them to leave that land and findtheir ancient mother and their kindred shores.The king attended them, and gave them giftswhen ready to depart; a sceptre toAnchises, and a robe and quiver tohis grandson, and he gave a goblet toAeneas, that which formerly was sentto him by Therses, once his Theban guest.Therses had sent it from Aonian shores;but Alcon the Hylean should be named,for he had made the goblet and inscribeda pictured story on the polished side.There was a city shown with seven gates,from which the name could be derived by all.Outside the walls was a sad funeral,and tombs and fires and funeral pyres were shown,and many matrons with dishevelled hairand naked breasts, expressive of their grief,and many nymphs too, weeping mournfullybecause their streams were dry. Without a leafthe bare trees stood straight up and the she goatswere nibbling in dry, stony fields. And there he carvedOrion's daughters in the Theban square,one giving her bare throat a cruel cut,one with her shuttle making clumsy wounds;both dying for their people. Next they were borneout through the city with doe funeral pomp,and mourning crowds were gathered round their pyre.Then from the virgin ashes, lest the raceshould die. twin youths arose, whom famehas named Coroni and they sharedin all the rites becoming for their mothers' dust.Even so in shining figures all was showninscribed on ancient bronze. The top rim, madequite rough, was gilded with acanthus leaves.Presents of equal worth the Trojans gave:a maple incense casket for the priest,a bowl, a crown adorned with gold and gems.
Non tamen eversam Troiae cum moenibus essespem quoque fata sinunt: sacra et, sacra altera, patremfert umeris, venerabile onus, Cythereius heros:de tantis opibus praedam pius eligit illamAscaniumque suum profugaque per aequora classefertur ab Antandro scelerataque limina Thracumet Polydoreo manantem sanguine terramlinquit et utilibus ventis aestuque secundointrat Apollineam sociis comitantibus urbem.Hunc Anius, quo rege homines, antistite Phoebusrite colebatur, temploque domoque recepiturbemque ostendit delubraque nota duasqueLatona quondam stirpes pariente retentas.Ture dato flammis vinoque in tura profusocaesarumque boum fibris de more crematisregia tecta petunt positisque tapetibus altismunera cum liquido capiunt Cerealia Baccho.Tum pius Anchises: “O Phoebi lecte sacerdos,fallor, an et natum, cum primum haec moenia vidi,bisque duas natas, quantum reminiscor, habebas?”Huic Anius niveis circumdata tempora vittisconcutiens et tristis ait: “Non falleris, herosmaxime: vidisti natorum quinque parentem,quem nunc (tanta homines rerum inconstantia versat!)paene vides orbum. Quod enim mihi filius absensauxilium, quem dicta suo de nomine tellusAndros habet pro patre locumque et regna tenentem?Delius augurium dedit huic, dedit altera Liberfemineae stirpi voto maiora fidequemunera: nam tactu natarum cuncta mearumin segetem laticemque meri canaeque Minervaetransformabantur, divesque erat usus in illis.Hoc ubi cognovit Troiae populator Atrides,ne non ex aliqua vestram sensisse procellamnos quoque parte putes, armorum viribus ususabstrahit invitas gremio genitoris, alantqueimperat Argolicam caelesti munere classem.Effugiunt, quo quaeque potest: Euboea duabus,et totidem natis Andros fraterna petita est.Miles adest et, ni dedantur, bella minatur.Victa metu pietas: consortia corpora poenaededidit (et timido possis ignoscere fratri:non hic Aeneas, non, qui defenderet Andron,Hector erat, per quem decimum durastis in annum);iamque parabantur captivis vincla lacertis:illae tollentes etiamnum libera caelobracchia “Bacche pater, fer opem!” dixere, tulitquemuneris auctor opem, — si miro perdere moreferre vocatur opem, nec qua ratione figuramperdiderint, potui scire aut nunc dicere possum;summa mali nota est: pennas sumpsere tuaequeconiugis in volucres, niveas abiere columbas.”Talibus atque aliis postquam convivia dictisimplerunt, mensa somnum petiere remota,cumque die surgunt adeuntque oracula Phoebi:qui petere antiquam matrem cognataque iussitlitora; prosequitur rex et dat munus ituris,Anchisae sceptrum, chlamydem pharetramque nepoti,cratera Aeneae, quem quondam transtulit illihospes ab Aoniis Therses Ismenius oris.Miserat hunc illi Therses, fabricaverat AlconHyleus et longo caelaverat argumento.Urbs erat, et septem posses ostendere portas:hae pro nomine erant et, quae foret illa, docebant.Ante urbem exequiae tumulique ignesque rogiqueeffusaeque comas et apertae pectora matressignificant luctum: nymphae quoque flere videntursiccatosque queri fontes, sine frondibus arbornuda riget, rodunt arentia saxa capellae.Ecce facit mediis natas Orione Thebis,agmen femineum, iugulo dare pectus aperto,illas demisso per inertia vulnera telopro populo cecidisse suo pulchrisque per urbemfuneribus ferri celebrique in parte cremari,tum de virginea geminos exire favilla,ne genus intereat, iuvenes, quos fama Coronosnominat, et cineri materno ducere pompam.Hactenus antiquo signis fulgentibus aere,summus inaurato crater erat asper acantho.Nec leviora datis Troiani dona remittuntdantque sacerdoti custodem turis acerram,dant pateram claramque auro gemmisque coronam.
Then, recollecting how the Trojans hadderived their origin from Teucer's race,they sailed to Crete but there could not endureills sent by Jove, and, having left behindthe hundred cities, they desired to reachthe western harbors of the Ausonian land.Wintry seas then tossed the heroic band,and in a treacherous harbor of those isles,called Strophades, Aello frightened them.They passed Dulichium's port, and Ithaca,Samos, and all the homes of Neritos,—the kingdom of the shrewd deceitful man,Ulysses; and they reached Ambracia,contended for by those disputing gods;which is today renowned abroad, becauseof Actian Apollo, and the stoneseen there conspicuous as a transformed judge;they saw Dodona, vocal with its oaks;and also, the well known Chaonian bays,where sons of the Molossian king escapedwith wings attached, from unavailing flames.They set their sails then for the neighboring landof the Phaeacians, rich with luscious fruit:then for Epirus and to Buthrotos,and came then to a mimic town of Troy,ruled by the Phrygian seer. With prophecieswhich Helenus, the son of Priam, gave,they came to Sicily, whose three high capesjut outward in the sea. Of these three pointsPachynos faces towards the showery south;and Lilybaeum is exposed to softdelicious zephyrs; but Peloros looksout towards the Bears which never touch the sea.The Trojans came there. Favored by the tide,and active oars, by nightfall all the fleetarrived together on Zanclaean sands.Scylla upon the right infests the shore,Charybdis, restless on the left, destroys.Charybdis swallows and then vomits forthmisfortuned ships that she has taken down;Scylla's dark waist is girt with savage dogs.She has a maiden's face, and, if we may believewhat poets tell, she was in olden timea maiden. Many suitors courted her,but she repulsed them; and, because she wasso much beloved by all the Nereids,she sought these nymphs and used to tellhow she escaped from the love-stricken youths.But Galatea, while her loosened lockswere being combed, said to her visitor,—“Truly, O maiden, a gentle race of mencourts you, and so you can, and do, refuseall with impunity. But I, whose sireis Nereus, whom the azure Doris bore,though guarded by so many sister nymphs,escaped the Cyclops' love with tragic loss.”And, sobbing, she was choked with tears.When with her fingers, marble white and smooth,Scylla had wiped away the rising tearsof sorrow and had comforted the nymph,she said, “Tell me, dear goddess, and do notconceal from me (for I am true to you)the cause of your great sorrows.” And the nymph,daughter of Nereus, thus replied to her:—“Acis, the son of Faunus and the nymphSymaethis, was a great delight to hisdear father and his mother, but even moreto me, for he alone had won my love.Eight birthdays having passed a second time,his tender cheeks were marked with softest down.“While I pursued him with a constant love,the Cyclops followed me as constantly.And, should you ask me, I could not declarewhether my hatred of him, or my loveof Acis was the stronger.—They were equal.“O gentle Venus! what power equals yours!That savage, dreaded by the forest trees,feared by the stranger who beholds his facecontemner of Olympus and the gods,now he can feel what love is. He is filledwith passion for me. He burns hot for me,forgetful of his cattle and his caves.“Now, Polyphemus, wretched Cyclops, youare careful of appearance, and you trythe art of pleasing. You have even combedyour stiffened hair with rakes: it pleases youto trim your shaggy beard with sickles, whileyou gaze at your fierce features in a poolso earnest to compose them. Love of flesh,ferocity and your keen thirst for bloodhave ceased. The ships may safely come and go!“While all this happened, Telemus arrivedat the Sicilian Aetna—Telemus,the son of Eurymus, who never couldmistake an omen, met the dreadful fierce,huge Cyclops, Polyphemus, and he said,‘That single eye now midmost in your browUlysses will take from you.’ In reply,the Cyclops only laughed at him and said,‘Most silly of the prophets! you are wrong,a maiden has already taken it!’So he made fun of Telemus, who warnedhim vainly of the truth—and after that,he either burdened with his bulk the shore,by stalking back and forth with lengthy strides,or came back weary to his shaded cave.“A wedge-formed hill projects far in the seaand either side there flow the salty waves.To this the giant savage climbed and satupon the highest point. The wooly flock,no longer guided by him, followed after.There, after he had laid his pine tree down,which served him for a staff, although so tallit seemed best fitted for a ship's high mast,he played his shepherd pipes—in them I sawa hundred reeds. The very mountains feltthe pipings of that shepherd, and the wavesbeneath him shook respondent to each note.All this time I was hidden by a rock,reclining on the bosom of my owndear Acis; and, although afar, I heardsuch words as these, which I can not forget:—‘O Galatea, fairer than the flowerof snow-white privet, and more blooming thanthe meadows, and more slender than the talldelightful alder, brighter than smooth glass,more wanton than the tender skipping kid,smoother than shells worn by continual floods,more pleasing than the winter sun, or thanthe summer shade, more beautiful than fruitof apple trees, more pleasing to the sightthan lofty plane tree, clearer than pure ice,and sweeter than the ripe grape, softer thansoft swan-down and the softest curdled milk;alas, and if you did not fly from me,I would declare you are more beautifulthan any watered garden of this world.‘And yet, O Galatea; I must say,that you are wilder than all untrained bullocks,harder than seasoned oak, more treacherousthan tumbled waters, tougher than the twigsof osier and the white vine, harder to movethan cliffs which front these waves, more violentthan any torrent, you are prouder thanthe flattered peacock, fiercer than hot fire,rougher than thistles, and more cruel thanthe pregnant she-bear, deafer than the wavesof stormy seas, more deadly savage thanthe trodden water-snake: and, (what I wouldendeavor surely to deprive you of)your speed is fleeter than the deerpursued by frightful barkings, and more swiftthan rapid storm-winds and the flitting air.‘But Galatea, if you knew me wellyou would regret your hasty flight from me,and you would even blame your own delay,and strive for my affection. I now holdthe choice part of this mountain for my cave,roofed over with the native rock. The sunis not felt in the heat of middle day,nor is the winter felt there: apples loadthe bending boughs and luscious grapeshang on the lengthened vines, resembling gold,and purple grapes as rich—I keep for youthose two delicious fruits. With your own hands,you shall yourself uncover strawberries,growing so soft beneath the woodland shade;you shall pluck corners in the autumn ripe,and plums, not only darkened with black juicebut larger kinds as yellow as new wax.If I may be your mate, you shall have chestnuts,fruits of the arbute shall be always near,and every tree shall yield at your desire.‘The ewes here all are mine, and many moreare wandering in the valleys; and the woodsconceal a multitude—and many moreare penned within my caves. If you perchanceshould ask me, I could never even guessor count the number; it is for the poorto count their cattle. Do not trust my word,but go yourself and see with your own eyes,how they can hardly stand up on their legsbecause of their distended udders' weight.‘I have lambs also, as a future flock,kept in warm folds, and kids of their same agein other folds. I always have suppliesof snow-white milk for drinking, and much moreis hardened with good rennet liquefied.‘The common joys of ordinary thingswill not be all you should expect of me—tame does and hares and she-goats or a pairof doves, or even a nest from a tall tree—for I have found upon a mountain top,the twin cubs of a shaggy wild she-bear,of such appearance you can hardly knowthe one from other. They will play with you.The very day I found them I declared,these I will keep for my dear loved one's joy.‘Do now but raise your shining head abovethe azure sea: come Galatea come,and do not scorn my presents. Certainly,I know myself, for only recentlyI saw my own reflection pictured clearin limpid water, and my features pleasedand charmed me when I saw it. See how hugeI am. Not even Jove in his high heavenis larger than my body: this I saybecause you tell me how imperial Jovesurpasses.—Who is he? I never knew.‘My long hair plentifully hangs to hideunpleasant features; as a grove of treesovershadowing my shoulders. Never thinkmy body is uncomely, although rough,thick set with wiry bristles. Every treewithout leaves is unseemly; every horse,unless a mane hangs on his tawny neck;feathers must cover birds; and their soft woolis ornamental on the best formed sheep:therefore a beard, and rough hair spread uponthe body is becoming to all men.I have but one eye centered perfectlywithin my forehead, so it seems most likea mighty buckler. Ha! does not the Sunsee everything from heaven? Yet it hasbut one eye.—‘Galatea, you must know,my father is chief ruler in your sea,and therefor I now offer him to youas your own father-in-law—But oh, do takesome pity on a suppliant,— and hear his prayer,for only unto you my heart is given.‘I, who despise the power of Jove, his heavensand piercing lightnings, am afraid of you—your wrath more fearful than the lightning's flash—but I should be more patient under slights,if you avoided all men: why rejectthe Cyclops for the love that Acis gives?And why prefer his smiles to my embraces,but let him please himself, and let him pleaseyou, Galatea, though against my will.‘If I am given an opportunityhe will be shown that I have every strengthproportioned to a body vast as mine:I will pull out his palpitating entrails,and scatter his torn limbs about the fieldsand over and throughout your salty waves;and then let him unite himself to you.—I burn so, and my slighted passion raveswith greater fury and I seem to holdand carry Aetna in my breast—transferredthere with its flames—Oh Galatea! canyou listen to my passion thus unmoved!’“I saw all this; and, after he in vainhad uttered such complaints, he stood up likea raging bull whose heifer has been lost,that cannot stand still, but must wander onthrough brush and forests, that he knows so well:when that fierce monster saw me and my Acis—we neither knew nor guessed our fate—he roared:‘I see you and you never will againparade your love before me!’ In such a voiceas matched his giant size. All Aetna shookand trembled at the noise; and I amazedwith horror, plunged into the adjoining sea.“My loved one, Acis turned his back and fledand cried out, ‘Help me Galatea, help!0, let your parents help me, and admitme safe within their realm; for I am nownear my destruction!’ But the Cyclops rushedat him and hurled a fragment, he had tornout from the mountain, and although the extremeedge only of the rock could reach him there.It buried him entirely.“Then I didthe only thing the Fates permitted me:I let my Acis take ancestral powerof river deities. The purple bloodflowed from beneath the rock, but soonthe sanguine richness faded and becameat first the color of a stream, disturbedand muddied by a shower. And presentlyit clarified.— The rock that had been thrownthen split in two, and through the cleft a reed,stately and vigorous, arose to life.And soon the hollow mouth in the great rock,resounded with the waters gushing forth.And wonderful to tell, a youth emerged,the water flowing clear about his waist,his new horns circled with entwining reeds,and the youth certainly was Acis, thoughhe was of larger stature and his faceand features all were azure. Acis changedinto a stream which ever since that timehas flowed there and retained its former name.
Inde recordati Teucros a sanguine Teucriducere principium, Cretam tenuere lociqueferre diu nequiere Iovem, centumque relictisurbibus Ausonios optant contingere portus:saevit hiems iactatque viros, Strophadumque receptosportubus infidis exterruit ales Aello.Et iam Dulichios portus Ithacamque SamonqueNeritiasque domus, regnum fallacis Ulixis,praeter erant vecti: certatam lite deorumAmbraciam versique vident sub imagine saxumiudicis, Actiaco quae nunc ab Apolline nota est,vocalemque sua terram Dodonida quercuChaoniosque sinus, ubi nati rege Molossoinpia subiectis fugere incendia pennis.Proxima Phaeacum felicibus obsita pomisrura petunt, Epiros ab his regnataque vatiButhrotos Phrygio simulataque Troia tenetur.Inde futurorum certi, quae cuncta fideliPriamides Helenus monitu praedixerat, intrantSicaniam: tribus haec excurrit in aequora pinnis,e quibus imbriferos est versa Pachynos ad austros,mollibus expositum zephyris Lilybaeon, ad arctosaequoris expertes spectat boreamque Peloros.Hac subeunt Teucri, et remis aestuque secundosub noctem potitur Zanclaea classis harena.Scylla latus dextrum, laevum inrequieta Charybdisinfestat: vorat haec raptas revomitque carinas,illa feris atram canibus succingitur alvum,virginis ora gerens, et, si non omnia vatesficta reliquerunt aliquo quoque tempore virgo.Hanc multi petiere proci; quibus illa repulsisad pelagi nymphas, pelagi gratissima nymphis,ibat et elusos iuvenum narrabat amores.Quam, dum pectendos praebet Galatea capillos,talibus adloquitur, referens suspiria, dictis:“Te tamen, o virgo, genus haud inmite virorumexpetit, utque facis, potes his impune negare;At mihi, cui pater est Nereus, quam caerula Dorisenixa est, quae sum turba quoque tuta sororum,non nisi per luctus licuit Cyclopis amoremeffugere,” — et lacrimae vocem impediere loquentis.Quas ubi marmoreo detersit pollice virgoet solata deam est, “refer, o carissima,” dixit.“neve tui causam tege (sic sum fida) doloris!”Nereis his contra resecuta Crataeide natam est:“Acis erat Fauno nymphaque Symaethide cretus,magna quidem patrisque sui matrisque voluptas,nostra tamen maior: nam me sibi iunxerat uni.Pulcher et octonis iterum natalibus actissignarat teneras dubia lanugine malas.Hunc ego, me Cyclops nulla cum fine petebat.En si quaesieris, odium Cyclopis, amorneAcidis in nobis fuerit praesentior, edam:par utrumque fuit. Pro quanta potentia regniest, Venus alma, tui! Nempe ille inmitis et ipsishorrendus silvis et visus ab hospite nulloimpune et magni cum dis contemptor Olympi,quid sit amor, sensit validaque cupidine captusuritur, oblitus pecorum antrorumque suorum.Iamque tibi formae, iamque est tibi cura placendi,iam rigidos pectis rastris, Polypheme, capillos,iam libet hirsutam tibi falce recidere barbamet spectare feros in aqua et componere vultus.Caedis amor feritasque sitisque inmensa cruoriscessant, et tutae veniunt abeuntque carinae.Telemus interea Siculam delatus ad Aetnen,Telemus Eurymides, quem nulla fefellerat ales,terribilem Polyphemon adit “lumen” que, “quod unumfronte geris media, rapiet tibi” dixit “Ulixes!”Risit et “o vatum stolidissime, falleris,” inquit,“altera iam rapuit!” Sic frustra vera monentemspernit et aut gradiens ingenti litora passudegravat aut fessus sub opaca revertitur antra.Prominet in pontum cuneatus acumine longocollis utrumque latus circumfluit aequoris unda;huc ferus ascendit Cyclops mediusque resedit,lanigerae pecudes nullo ducente secutae.Cui postquam pinus, baculi quae praebuit usum,ante pedes posita est, antemnis apta ferendis,sumptaque harundinibus compacta est fistula centum,senserunt toti pastoria sibila montes,senserunt undae; latitans ego rupe meiqueAcidis in gremio residens procul auribus hausitalia dicta meis auditaque verba notavi:“Candidior folio nivei, Galatea, ligustri,floridior pratis, longa procerior alno,splendidior vitro, tenero lascivior haedo,levior adsiduo detritis aequore conchis,solibus hibernis, aestiva gratior umbra,nobilior pomis, platano conspectior alta,lucidior glacie, matura dulcior uva,mollior et cygni plumis et lacte coactosaevior indomitis eadem Galatea iuvencis,durior annosa quercu, fallacior undis,lentior et salicis virgis et vitibus albis,his inmobilior scopulis, violentior amne,laudato pavone superbior, acrior igni,asperior tribulis, feta truculentior ursa,surdior aequoribus, calcato inmitior hydro,et, quod praecipue vellem tibi demere possem.Non tantum cervo claris latratibus acto,verum etiam ventis volucrique fugacior aura!At bene si noris, pigeat fugisse morasqueipsa tuas damnes et me retinere labores.Sunt mihi, pars montis, vivo pendentia saxoantra, quibus nec sol medio sentitur in aestunec sentitur hiems; sunt poma gravantia ramos,sunt auro similes longis in vitibus uvae,sunt et purpureae: tibi et has servamus et illas.Ipsa tuis manibus silvestri nata sub umbramollia fraga leges, ipsa autumnalia cornaprunaque, non solum nigro liventia suco,verum etiam generosa novasque imitantia ceras.Nec tibi castaneae me coniuge, nec tibi deeruntarbutei fetus: omnis tibi serviet arbor.Hoc pecus omne meum est, multae quoque vallibus errant,multas silva tegit, multae stabulantur in antris.Nec, si forte roges, possim tibi dicere, quot sint:pauperis est numerare pecus! De laudibus harumnil mihi credideris: praesens potes ipse videre,ut vix circueant distentum cruribus uber.Sunt, fetura minor, tepidis in ovilibus agni,sunt quoque, par aetas, aliis in ovilibus haedi.Lac mihi semper adest niveum: pars inde bibendaservatur, partem liquefacta coagula durant.Nec tibi deliciae faciles vulgataque tantummunera contingent, dammae leporesque caperqueparve columbarum demptusve cacumine nidus:inveni geminos, qui tecum ludere possint,inter se similes, vix ut dignoscere possis,villosae catulos in summis montibus ursae,inveni et dixi “dominae servabimus istos!”Iam modo caeruleo nitidum caput exsere ponto,iam, Galatea, veni, nec munera despice nostra.Certe ego me novi liquidaeque in imagine vidinuper aquae, placuitque mihi mea forma videnti.Adspice, sim quantus! Non est hoc corpore maiorIuppiter in caelo: nam vos narrare soletis,nescio quem regnare Iovem. Coma plurima torvosprominet in vultus umerosque, ut lucus, obumbrat.Nec mea quod rigidis horrent densissima saetiscorpora, turpe puta turpis sine frondibus arbor,turpis equus, nisi colla iubae flaventia velent;barba viros hirtaeque decent in corpore saetae.Unum est in media lumen mihi fronte, sed instaringentis clipei. Quid? non haec omnia magnusSol videt e caelo? Soli tamen unicus orbis!Adde, quod in vestro genitor meus aequore regnat:hunc tibi do socerum; tantum miserere precesquesupplicis exaudi! tibi enim succumbimus uni.Quique Iovem et caelum sperno et penetrabile fulmen,Nerei, te veneror: tua fulmine saevior ira est. —Atque ego contemptus essem patientior huius,si fugeres omnes; sed cur Cyclope repulsoAcin amas praefersque meis complexibus Acin?Ille tamen placeatque sibi placeatque licebit,quod nollem, Galatea, tibi; modo copia detur,sentiet esse mihi tanto pro corpore vires!Viscera viva traham divisaque membra per agrosperque tuas spargam (sic se tibi misceat!) undas.Uror enim, laesusque exaestuat acrior ignis,cumque suis videor translatam viribus Aetnampectore ferre meo: nec tu, Galatea, moveris.”Talia nequiquam questus (nam cuncta videbam)surgit et ut taurus vacca furibundus adempta,stare nequit silvaque et notis saltibus errat:cum ferus ignaros nec quicquam tale timentesme videt atque Acin “video” que exclamat “et istaultima sit, faciam, veneris concordia vestrae!”Tantaque vox, quantam Cyclops iratus haberedebuit, illa fuit: clamore perhorruit Aetne.Ast ego vicino pavefacta sub aequore mergor,terga fugae dederat conversa Symaethius heroset “fer opem, Galatea, precor, mihi! ferte, parentes”dixerat “et vestris periturum admittite regnis!”Insequitur Cyclops partemque e monte revulsammittit, et extremus quamvis pervenit ad illum,angulus is molis totum tamen obruit Acin.At nos, quod fieri solum per fata licebat,fecimus, ut vires adsumeret Acis avitas.Puniceus de mole cruor manabat, et intratemporis exiguum rubor evanescere coepitfitque color primo turbati fluminis imbrepurgaturque mora; tum moles tacta dehiscit,vivaque per rimas proceraque surgit harundo,osque cavum saxi sonat exsultantibus undis:miraque res, subito media tenus exstitit alvoincinctus iuvenis flexis nova cornua cannis,qui, nisi quod maior, quod toto caerulus ore,Acis erat. Sed sic quoque erat tamen Acis, in amnemversus, et antiquum tenuerunt flumina nomen.”
So Galatea, after she had toldher sorrow, ceased; and, when the companyhad gone from there, the Nereids swam againin the calm and quiet waves. But Scylla soonreturned (because she did not trust herselfin deep salt waters) and she wandered therenaked of garments on the thirsty sand;but, tired, by chance she found a lonely bay,and cooled her limbs with its enclosing waves.Then suddenly appeared a newly madeinhabitant of that deep sea, whose namewas Glaucus. Cleaving through the blue sea waves,he swam towards her. His shape had been transformedbut lately for this watery life, while hewas living at Anthedon in Euboea.—now he is lingering from desire for herhe saw there and speaks whatever wordshe thought might stop her as she fled from him.Yet still she fled from him, and swift through fear,climbed to a mountain top above the sea.Facing the waves, it rose in one huge peak,parting the waters with a forest crown.She stood on that high summit quite secure:and, doubtful whether he might be a godor monster, wondered at his flowing hairwhich covered his broad shoulders and his back,—and marvelled at the color of his skinand at his waist merged into a twisted fish.All this he noticed, and while leaning thereagainst a rock that stood near by, he said: —“I am no monster, maiden, I am nota savage beast; I am in truth a godof waters, with such power upon the seasas that of Proteus, Triton, or Palaemon—reared on land the son of Athamas.“Not long ago I was a mortal man,yet even then my thought turned to the seaand all my living came from waters deep,for I would drag the nets that swept up fish,or, seated on a rock, I flung the lineforth from the rod. The shore I loved was neara verdant meadow. One side were the waves,the other grass, which never had been touchedby horned, grazing cattle. Harmless sheepand shaggy goats had never cropped it—noindustrious bee came there to harvest flowers;no festive garlands had been gathered there,adornments of the head; no mower's handshad ever cut it. I was certainlythe first who ever sat upon that turf,—while I was drying there the dripping nets.And so that I might in due order countthe fish that I had caught, I laid out thosewhich by good chance were driven into my nets,or credulous, were caught on my barbed hooks.“It all seems like a fiction (but what goodcan I derive from fictions?) just as soonas any of my fish-prey touched the grass,they instantly began to move and skipas usual in sea water. While I pausedand wondered, all of them slid to the waves,and left me, their late captor, and the shore.“I was amazed and doubtful, a long time;while I considered what could be the cause.What god had done this? Or perhaps the juiceof some herb caused it? ‘But,’ I said, ‘what herbcan have such properties?’ and with my handI plucked the grass and chewed it with my teeth.My throat had hardly time to swallow thoseunheard of juices, when I suddenlyfelt all my entrails throbbing inwardly,and my entire mind also, felt possessedby passions foreign to my life before.“I could not stay in that place, and I saidwith shouting, ‘Farewell! dry land! never moreshall I revisit you;’ and with those wordsupon my lips, I plunged beneath the waves.The gods of that deep water gave to me,when they received me, kindred honors, whilethey prayed Oceanus and Tethys bothto take from me such mortal essence asmight yet remain. So I was purifiedby them and after a good charm had beennine times repeated over me, which washedaway all guilt, I was commanded thento put my breast beneath a hundred streams.“So far I can relate to you all thingsmost worthy to be told; for all so farI can remember; but from that time onI was unconscious of the many thingsthat followed. When my mind returned to me,I found myself entirely differentfrom what I was before; and my changed mindwas not the same as it had always been.Then, for the first time I beheld this beardso green in its deep color, and I sawmy flowing hair which now I sweep alongthe spacious seas, and my huge shoulders withtheir azure colored arms, and I observedmy leg extremities hung taperingexactly perfect as a finny fish.“But what avail is this new form to me.Although it pleased the Ocean deities?What benefit, although I am a god,if you are not persuaded by these things?”While he was telling wonders such as these—quite ready to say more—Scylla aroseand left the god. Provoked at his repulse—enraged, he hastened to the marvellous courtof Circe, well known daughter of the Sun.
Desierat Galatea loqui, coetuque solutodiscedunt placidisque natant Nereides undis.Scylla redit (neque enim medio se credere pontoaudet) et aut bibula sine vestibus errat harena,aut, ubi lassata est, seductos nacta recessusgurgitis, inclusa sua membra refrigerat unda.Ecce fretum scindens alti novus incola ponti,nuper in Euboica versis Anthedone membris,Glaucus adest visaeque cupidine virginis haeretet quaecumque putat fugientem posse morariverba refert; fugit illa tamen veloxque timorepervenit in summum positi prope litora montis.Ante fretum est ingens, apicem conlectus in unum,longa sub arboribus convexus in aequora vertex:constitit hic, et tuta loco, monstrumne deusneille sit, ignorans, admiraturque coloremcaesariemque umeros subiectaque terga tegentem,ultimaque excipiat quod tortilis inguina piscis.Sensit et innitens, quae stabat proxima, moli,“non ego prodigium nec sum fera belua, virgo,sed deus” inquit “aquae: nec maius in aequore Proteusius habet et Triton Athamantiadesque Palaemon.Ante tamen mortalis eram, sed, scilicet altisdeditus aequoribus, tantum exercebar in illis.Nam modo ducebam ducentia retia pisces,nunc in mole sedens moderabar harundine linum.Sunt viridi prato confinia litora, quorumaltera pars undis, pars altera cingitur herbis,quas neque cornigerae morsu laesere iuvencae,nec placidae carpsistis oves hirtaeve capellae;non apis inde tulit conlectos semine flores,non data sunt capiti genialia serta, neque umquamfalciferae secuere manus; ego primus in illocaespite consedi, dum lina madentia sicco,utque recenserem captivos ordine pisces,insuper exposui, quos aut in retia casusaut sua credulitas in aduncos egerat hamos.Res similis fictae (sed quid mihi fingere prodest?):gramine contacto coepit mea praeda moveriet mutare latus terraque, ut in aequore, niti.Dumque moror mirorque simul, fugit omnis in undasturba suas dominumque novum litusque relinquunt.Obstipui dubitoque diu causamque requiro,num deus hoc aliquis, num sucus fecerit herbae.“Quae” tamen “has” inquam “vires habet herba?”,manuquepabula decerpsi decerptaque dente momordi.Vix bene combiberant ignotos guttura sucos,cum subito trepidare intus praecordia sensialteriusque rapi naturae pectus amore,nec potui restare diu “repetenda” que “numquamterra, vale!” dixi corpusque sub aequora mersi.Di maris exceptum socio dignantur honore,utque mihi quaecumque feram mortalia, demant,Oceanum Tethynque rogant: ego lustror ab illis,et purgante nefas noviens mihi carmine dictopectora fluminibus iubeor supponere centum;nec mora, diversis lapsi de partibus amnestotaque vertuntur supra caput aequora nostrum.Hactenus acta tibi possum memoranda referre,hactenus haec memini, nec mens mea cetera sensit.Quae postquam rediit, alium me corpore totoac fueram nuper, neque eundem mente recepi.Hanc ego tum primum viridem ferrugine barbamcaesariemque meam, quam longa per aequora verro,ingentesque umeros et caerula bracchia vidicruraque pinnigero curvata novissima pisce.Quid tamen haec species, quid dis placuisse marinis,quid iuvat esse deum, si tu non tangeris istis?”Talia dicentem, dicturum plura, reliquitScylla deum; furit ille inritatusque repulsaprodigiosa petit Titanidos atria Circes.