---
title: "Metamorphoses"
author: "Ovid"
translator: "Brookes More"
title_ru: "Метаморфозы"
author_ru: "Овидий"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
section: 6 of 30
url: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/6/
cite: "Ovid, tr. Brookes More, Metamorphoses, section 6. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/6/"
---

# 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.

## 6. Book III · lines 435–733

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/6/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/ovid-metamorphoses/6/#p-N

[¶0] Nor food nor rest can draw him thence—outstretched
upon the overshadowed green, his eyes
fixed on the mirrored image never may know
their longings satisfied, and by their sight
he is himself undone. Raising himself
a moment, he extends his arms around,
and, beckoning to the murmuring forest; “Oh,
ye aisled wood was ever man in love
more fatally than I? Your silent paths
have sheltered many a one whose love was told,
and ye have heard their voices. Ages vast
have rolled away since your forgotten birth,
but who is he through all those weary years
that ever pined away as I? Alas,
this fatal image wins my love, as I
behold it. But I cannot press my arms
around the form I see, the form that gives
me joy. What strange mistake has intervened
betwixt us and our love? It grieves me more
that neither lands nor seas nor mountains, no,
nor walls with closed gates deny our loves,
but only a little water keeps us far
asunder. Surely he desires my love
and my embraces, for as oft I strive
to kiss him, bending to the limpid stream
my lips, so often does he hold his face
fondly to me, and vainly struggles up.
It seems that I could touch him. 'Tis a strange
delusion that is keeping us apart.
“Whoever thou art, Come up! Deceive me not!
Oh, whither when I fain pursue art thou?
Ah, surely I am young and fair, the Nymphs
have loved me; and when I behold thy smiles
I cannot tell thee what sweet hopes arise.
When I extend my loving arms to thee
thine also are extended me — thy smiles
return my own. When I was weeping, I
have seen thy tears, and every sign I make
thou cost return; and often thy sweet lips
have seemed to move, that, peradventure words,
which I have never heard, thou hast returned.
“No more my shade deceives me, I perceive
'Tis I in thee—I love myself—the flame
arises in my breast and burns my heart—
what shall I do? Shall I at once implore?
Or should I linger till my love is sought?
What is it I implore? The thing that I
desire is mine—abundance makes me poor.
Oh, I am tortured by a strange desire
unknown to me before, for I would fain
put off this mortal form; which only means
I wish the object of my love away.
Grief saps my strength, the sands of life are run,
and in my early youth am I cut off;
but death is not my bane—it ends my woe.—
I would not death for this that is my love,
as two united in a single soul
would die as one.”
He spoke; and crazed with love,
returned to view the same face in the pool;
and as he grieved his tears disturbed the stream,
and ripples on the surface, glassy clear,
defaced his mirrored form. And thus the youth,
when he beheld that lovely shadow go;
“Ah whither cost thou fly? Oh, I entreat
thee leave me not. Alas, thou cruel boy
thus to forsake thy lover. Stay with me
that I may see thy lovely form, for though
I may not touch thee I shall feed my eyes
and soothe my wretched pains.” And while he spoke
he rent his garment from the upper edge,
and beating on his naked breast, all white
as marble, every stroke produced a tint
as lovely as the apple streaked with red,
or as the glowing grape when purple bloom
touches the ripening clusters.
When as glass
again the rippling waters smoothed, and when
such beauty in the stream the youth observed,
no more could he endure. As in the flame
the yellow wax, or as the hoar-frost melts
in early morning 'neath the genial sun;
so did he pine away, by love consumed,
and slowly wasted by a hidden flame.
No vermeil bloom now mingled in the white
of his complexion fair; no strength has he,
no vigor, nor the comeliness that wrought
for love so long: alas, that handsome form
by Echo fondly loved may please no more.
But when she saw him in his hapless plight,
though angry at his scorn, she only grieved.
As often as the love-lore boy complained,
“Alas!” “Alas!” her echoing voice returned;
and as he struck his hands against his arms,
she ever answered with her echoing sounds.
And as he gazed upon the mirrored pool
he said at last, “Ah, youth beloved in vain!”
“In vain, in vain!” the spot returned his words;
and when he breathed a sad “farewell!” “Farewell!”
sighed Echo too. He laid his wearied head,
and rested on the verdant grass; and those
bright eyes, which had so loved to gaze, entranced,
on their own master's beauty, sad Night closed.
And now although among the nether shades
his sad sprite roams, he ever loves to gaze
on his reflection in the Stygian wave.
His Naiad sisters mourned, and having clipped
their shining tresses laid them on his corpse:
and all the Dryads mourned: and Echo made
lament anew. And these would have upraised
his funeral pyre, and waved the flaming torch,
and made his bier; but as they turned their eyes
where he had been, alas he was not there!
And in his body's place a sweet flower grew,
golden and white, the white around the gold.

> Latin: nil habet ista sui; tecum venitque manetque,
tecum discedet, si tu discedere possis.
Non illum Cereris, non illum cura quietis
abstrahere inde potest, sed opaca fusus in herba
spectat inexpleto mendacem lumine formam,
perque oculos perit ipse suos; paulumque levatus
ad circumstantes tendens sua bracchia silvas
“ecquis, io silvae, crudelius” inquit “amavit?
Scitis enim, et multis latebra opportuna fuistis.
Ecquem, cum vestrae tot agantur saecula vitae,
qui sic tabuerit, longo meministis in aevo?
Et placet et video; sed quod videoque placetque,
non tamen invenio: tantus tenet error amantem.
Quoque magis doleam, nec nos mare separat ingens,
nec via nec montes nec clausis moenia portis:
exigua prohibemur aqua. Cupit ipse teneri:
nam quotiens liquidis porreximus oscula lymphis,
hic totiens ad me resupino nititur ore.
Posse putes tangi: minimum est, quod amantibus obstat.
Quisquis es, huc exi! quid me, puer unice, fallis,
quove petitus abis? certe nec forma nec aetas
est mea quam fugias, et amarunt me quoque nymphae.
Spem mihi nescio quam vultu promittis amico,
cumque ego porrexi tibi bracchia, porrigis ultro:
cum risi, adrides; lacrimas quoque saepe notavi
me lacrimante tuas, nutu quoque signa remittis,
et quantum motu formosi suspicor oris,
verba refers aures non pervenientia nostras.
Iste ego sum: sensi, nec me mea fallit imago.
Uror amore mei, flammas moveoque feroque.
Quid faciam? roger, anne rogem? quid deinde rogabo?
quod cupio mecum est: inopem me copia fecit.
O utinam a nostro secedere corpore possem!
Votum in amante novum: vellem quod amamus abesset! —
Iamque dolor vires adimit, nec tempora vitae
longa meae superant, primoque exstinguor in aevo.
Nec mihi mors gravis est posituro morte dolores:
hic, qui diligitur, vellem diuturnior esset.
Nunc duo concordes anima moriemur in una.”
Dixit et ad faciem rediit male sanus eandem
et lacrimis turbavit aquas, obscuraque moto
reddita forma lacu est. Quam cum vidisset abire,
“quo refugis? remane, nec me, crudelis, amantem
desere!” clamavit: “liceat, quod tangere non est,
adspicere et misero praebere alimenta furori.”
Dumque dolet, summa vestem deduxit ab ora
nudaque marmoreis percussit pectora palmis.
Pectora traxerunt tenuem percussa ruborem,
non aliter quam poma solent, quae candida parte,
parte rubent, aut ut variis solet uva racemis
ducere purpureum nondum matura colorem.
Quae simul adspexit liquefacta rursus in unda,
non tulit ulterius, sed ut intabescere flavae
igne levi cerae matutinaeque pruinae
sole tepente solent, sic attenuatus amore
liquitur et tecto paulatim carpitur igni.
Et neque iam color est mixto candore rubori,
nec vigor et vires et quae modo visa placebant,
nec corpus remanet, quondam quod amaverat Echo.
Quae tamen ut vidit, quamvis irata memorque,
indoluit, quotiensque puer miserabilis “eheu”
dixerat, haec resonis iterabat vocibus “eheu”;
cumque suos manibus percusserat ille lacertos,
haec quoque reddebat sonitum plangoris eundem.
Ultima vox solitam fuit haec spectantis in undam,
“heu frustra dilecte puer!” totidemque remisit
verba locus, dictoque vale “vale!” inquit et Echo.
Ille caput viridi fessum submisit in herba;
lumina mors clausit domini mirantia formam.
Tunc quoque se, postquam est inferna sede receptus,
in Stygia spectabat aqua. Planxere sorores
naides et sectos fratri posuere capillos,
planxerunt dryades: plangentibus adsonat Echo.
Iamque rogum quassasque faces feretrumque parabant:

[¶1] Narcissus' fate, when known throughout the land
and cities of Achaia, added fame
deserved, to blind Tiresias,—mighty seer.
Yet Pentheus, bold despiser of the Gods,
son of Echion, scoffed at all his praise,
and, sole of man deriding the great seer,
upbraided him his hapless loss of sight.
And shaking his white temples, hoar with age.
Tiresias of Pentheus prophesied,
“Oh glad the day to thee, if, light denied,
thine eyes, most fortunate, should not behold
the Bacchanalian rites! The day will come,
and soon the light will dawn, when Bacchus, born
of Semele, shall make his advent known—
all hail the new god Bacchus! Either thou
must build a temple to this Deity,
or shalt be torn asunder; thy remains,
throughout the forest scattered, will pollute
the wood with sanguinary streams; and thy
life-blood bespatter with corrupting blots
thy frenzied mother and her sisters twain.
And all shall come to pass, as I have told,
because thou wilt not honour the New God.
And thou shalt wail and marvel at the sight
of blind Tiresias, though veiled in night.”
And as he spoke, lo, Pentheus drove the seer:
but all his words, prophetic, were fulfilled,
and confirmation followed in his steps.—
Bacchus at once appears, and all the fields
resound with shouts of everybody there.—
men, brides and matrons, and a howling rout—
nobles and commons and the most refined—
a motley multitude—resistless borne
to join those rites of Bacchus, there begun.
Then Pentheus cries; “What madness, O ye brave
descendants of the Dragon! Sons of Mars!
What frenzy has confounded you? Can sounds
of clanging brass prevail; and pipes and horns,
and magical delusions, drunkenness,
and yelling women, and obscene displays,
and hollow drums, overcome you, whom the sword,
nor troops of war, nor trumpet could affright?
“How shall I wonder at these ancient men,
who, crossing boundless seas from distant Tyre,
hither transferred their exiled Household Gods,
and founded a new Tyre; but now are shorn,
and even as captives would be led away
without appeal to Mars? And, O young men,
of active prime whose vigor equals mine!
Cast down your ivy scepters; take up arms;
put on your helmets; strip your brows of leaves;
be mindful of the mighty stock you are,
and let your souls be animated with
the spirit of that dauntless dragon, which,
unaided, slew so many, and at last
died to defend his fountain and his lake.—
so ye may conquer in the hope of fame.
“He gave the brave to death, but with your arms
ye shall expel the worthless, and enhance
the glory of your land. If Fate decree
the fall of Thebes, Oh, let the engines
of war and men pull down its walls, and let
the clash of steel and roaring flames resound.
Thus, blameless in great misery, our woes
would be the theme of lamentations, known
to story; and our tears would shame us not.
“But now an unarmed boy will conquer Thebes:
a lad whom neither weapons, wars nor steeds
delight; whose ringlets reek with myrrh; adorned
with chaplets, purple and embroidered robes
of interwoven gold. Make way for me!
And I will soon compel him to confess
his father is assumed and all his rites
are frauds.
“If in days gone Acrisius
so held this vain god in deserved contempt,
and shut the Argive gates against his face,
why, therefore, should not Pentheus close the gates
of Thebes, with equal courage—Hence! Away!
Fetch the vile leader of these rioters
in chains! Let not my mandate be delayed.”
Him to restrain his grandsire, Cadmus, strove;
and Athamas, and many of his trusted friends
united in vain efforts to rebuke
his reckless rage; but greater violence
was gained from every admonition.—
his rage increased the more it was restrained,
and injury resulted from his friends.
So have I seen a stream in open course,
run gently on its way with pleasant noise,
but whensoever logs and rocks detained,
it foamed, with violence increased, against
obstruction.
Presently returning came
his servants stained with blood, to whom he said,
“What have ye done with Bacchus?” And to him
they made reply; “Not Bacchus have we seen,
but we have taken his attendant lad,
the chosen servant of his sacred rites.”
And they delivered to the noble king,
a youth whose hands were lashed behind his back.
Then Pentheus, terrible in anger, turned
his awful gaze upon the lad, and though
he scarce deferred his doom, addressed him thus;
“Doomed to destruction, thou art soon to give
example to my people by thy death:
tell me thy name; what are thy parents called;
where is thy land; and wherefore art thou found
attendant on these Bacchanalian rites.”

> Latin: nusquam corpus erat; croceum pro corpore florem
inveniunt, foliis medium cingentibus albis.
Cognita res meritam vati per Achaidas urbes
attulerat famam, nomenque erat auguris ingens.
Spernit Echionides tamen hunc ex omnibus unus,
contemptor superum, Pentheus, praesagaque ridet
verba senis tenebrasque et cladem lucis ademptae
obicit. Ille movens albentia tempora canis
“quam felix esses, si tu quoque luminis huius
orbus” ait “fieres, ne Bacchica sacra videres!
Namque dies aderit, quam non procul auguror esse,
qua novus huc veniat, proles Semeleia, Liber;
quem nisi templorum fueris dignatus honore,
mille lacer spargere locis et sanguine silvas
foedabis matremque tuam matrisque sorores.
Evenient; neque enim dignabere numen honore,
meque sub his tenebris nimium vidisse quereris.”
Talia dicentem proturbat Echione natus.
Dicta fides sequitur, responsaque vatis aguntur:
Liber adest, festisque fremunt ululatibus agri;
turba ruit, mixtaeque viris matresque nurusque
vulgusque proceresque ignota ad sacra feruntur.
“Quis furor, anguigenae, proles Mavortia, vestras
attonuit mentes?” Pentheus ait: “aerane tantum
aere repulsa valent et adunco tibia cornu
et magicae fraudes, ut, quos non bellicus ensis,
non tuba terruerit, non strictis agmina telis,
femineae voces et mota insania vino
obscenique greges et inania tympana vincant?
Vosne, senes, mirer, qui longa per aequora vecti
hac Tyron, hac profugos posuistis sede penates,
nunc sinitis sine Marte capi? vosne, acrior aetas,
o iuvenes, propiorque meae, quos arma tenere,
non thyrsos, galeaque tegi, non fronde, decebat?
Este, precor, memores, qua sitis stirpe creati,
illiusque animos, qui multos perdidit unus,
sumite serpentis! Pro fontibus ille lacuque
interiit: at vos pro fama vincite vestra!
Ille dedit leto fortes, vos pellite molles
et patrium retinete decus. Si fata vetabant
stare diu Thebas, utinam tormenta virique
moenia diruerent, ferrumque ignisque sonarent!
Essemus miseri sine crimine, sorsque querenda,
non celanda foret, lacrimaeque pudore carerent.
At nunc a puero Thebae capientur inermi,
quem neque bella iuvant nec tela nec usus equorum,
sed madidi murra crines mollesque coronae
purpuraque et pictis intextum vestibus aurum.
Quem quidem ego actutum (modo vos absistite) cogam
adsumptumque patrem commentaque sacra fateri.
An satis Acrisio est animi contemnere vanum
numen et Argolicas venienti claudere portas,
Penthea terrebit cum totis advena Thebis?
Ite citi” (famulis hoc imperat), “ite ducemque
attrahite huc vinctum! iussis mora segnis abesto.”
Hunc avus, hunc Athamas, hunc cetera turba suorum
corripiunt dictis frustraque inhibere laborant.
Acrior admonitu est, inritaturque retenta
et crescit rabies, remoraminaque ipsa nocebant.
Sic ego torrentem, qua nil obstabat eunti,
lenius et modico strepitu decurrere vidi:
at quacumque trabes obstructaque saxa tenebant,
spumeus et fervens et ab obice saevior ibat.
Ecce cruentati redeunt et, Bacchus ubi esset,
quaerenti domino Bacchum vidisse negarunt;
“hunc” dixere “tamen comitem famulumque sacrorum
cepimus”; et tradunt manibus post terga ligatis
sacra dei quondam Tyrrhena gente secutum.
Adspicit hunc Pentheus oculis, quos ira tremendos
fecerat, et quamquam poenae vix tempora differt,
“o periture tuaque aliis documenta dature

[¶2] But fearless he replied; “They call my name
Acoetes; and Maeonia is the land
from whence I came. My parents were so poor,
my father left me neither fruitful fields,
tilled by the lusty ox, nor fleecy sheep,
nor lowing kine; for, he himself was poor,
and with his hook and line was wont to catch
the leaping fishes, landed by his rod.
His skill was all his wealth. And when to me
he gave his trade, he said, ‘You are the heir
of my employment, therefore unto you
all that is mine I give,’ and, at his death,
he left me nothing but the running waves. —
they are the sum of my inheritance.
“And, afterwhile, that I might not be bound
forever to my father's rocky shores,
I learned to steer the keel with dextrous hand;
and marked with watchful gaze the guiding stars;
the watery Constellation of the Goat,
Olenian, and the Bear, the Hyades,
the Pleiades, the houses of the winds,
and every harbour suitable for ships.
“So chanced it, as I made for Delos, first
I veered close to the shores of Chios: there
I steered, by plying on the starboard oar,
and nimbly leaping gained the sea-wet strand.
“Now when the night was past and lovely dawn
appeared, I, rose from slumber, and I bade
my men to fetch fresh water, and I showed
the pathway to the stream. Then did I climb
a promontory's height, to learn from there
the promise of the winds; which having done,
I called the men and sought once more my ship.
Opheltes, first of my companions, cried,
‘Behold we come!’ And, thinking he had caught
a worthy prize in that unfruitful land,
he led a boy, of virgin-beauty formed,
across the shore.
“Heavy with wine and sleep
the lad appeared to stagger on his way,—
with difficulty moving. When I saw
the manner of his dress, his countenance
and grace, I knew it was not mortal man,
and being well assured, I said to them;
‘What Deity abideth in that form
I cannot say; but 'tis a god in truth.—
O whosoever thou art, vouchsafe to us
propitious waters; ease our toils, and grant
to these thy grace.’
“At this, the one of all
my mariners who was the quickest hand,
who ever was the nimblest on the yards,
and first to slip the ropes, Dictys exclaimed;
‘Pray not for us!’ and all approved his words.
The golden haired, the guardian of the prow,
Melanthus, Libys and Alcimedon
approved it; and Epopeus who should urge
the flagging spirits, and with rhythmic chants
give time and measure to the beating oars,
and all the others praised their leader's words,—
so blind is greed of gain.—Then I rejoined,
‘Mine is the greatest share in this good ship,
which I will not permit to be destroyed,
nor injured by this sacred freight:’ and I
opposed them as they came.
“Then Lycabas,
the most audacious of that impious crew,
began to rage. He was a criminal,
who, for a dreadful murder, had been sent
in exile from a Tuscan city's gates.
Whilst I opposed he gripped me by the throat,
and shook me as would cast me in the deep,
had I not firmly held a rope, half stunned:
and all that wicked crew approved the deed.
“Then Bacchus (be assured it was the God)
as though the noise disturbed his lethargy
from wine, and reason had regained its power,
at last bespake the men, ‘What deeds are these?
What noise assails my ears? What means decoyed
my wandering footsteps? Whither do ye lead?’
‘Fear not,’ the steersman said, ‘but tell us fair
the haven of your hope, and you shall land
whereso your heart desires.’ ‘To Naxos steer,’
Quoth Bacchus, ‘for it is indeed my home,
and there the mariner finds welcome cheer.’
Him to deceive, they pledged themselves, and swore
by Gods of seas and skies to do his will:
and they commanded me to steer that way.
“The Isle of Naxos was upon our right;
and when they saw the sails were set that way,
they all began to shout at once, ‘What, ho!
Thou madman! what insanity is this,
Acoetes? Make our passage to the left.’
And all the while they made their meaning known
by artful signs or whispers in my ears.
“I was amazed and answered, ‘Take the helm.’
And I refused to execute their will,
atrocious, and at once resigned command.
Then all began to murmur, and the crew
reviled me. Up Aethalion jumped and said,
‘As if our only safety is in you!’
With this he swaggered up and took command;
and leaving Naxos steered for other shores.
“Then Bacchus, mocking them,—as if but then
he had discovered their deceitful ways,—
looked on the ocean from the rounded stern,
and seemed to sob as he addressed the men;
‘Ah mariners, what alien shores are these?
'Tis not the land you promised nor the port
my heart desires. For what have I deserved
this cruel wrong? What honour can accrue
if strong men mock a boy; a lonely youth
if many should deceive?’ And as he spoke,
I, also, wept to see their wickedness.
“The impious gang made merry at our tears,
and lashed the billows with their quickening oars.
By Bacchus do I swear to you (and naught
celestial is more potent) all the things
I tell you are as true as they surpass
the limit of belief. The ship stood still
as if a dry dock held it in the sea.—
“The wondering sailors laboured at the oars,
and they unfurled the sails, in hopes to gain
some headway, with redoubled energies;
but twisting ivy tangled in the oars,
and interlacing held them by its weight.
And Bacchus in the midst of all stood crowned
with chaplets of grape-leaves, and shook a lance
covered with twisted fronds of leafy vines.
Around him crouched the visionary forms
of tigers, lynxes, and the mottled shapes
of panthers.
“Then the mariners leaped out,
possessed by fear or madness. Medon first
began to turn a swarthy hue, and fins
grew outward from his flattened trunk,
and with a curving spine his body bent.—
then Lycabas to him, ‘What prodigy
is this that I behold?’ Even as he spoke,
his jaws were broadened and his nose was bent;
his hardened skin was covered with bright scales.
And Libys, as he tried to pull the oars,
could see his own hands shrivel into fins;
another of the crew began to grasp
the twisted ropes, but even as he strove
to lift his arms they fastened to his sides;—
with bending body and a crooked back
he plunged into the waves, and as he swam
displayed a tail, as crescent as the moon.
“Now here, now there, they flounce about the ship;
they spray her decks with brine; they rise and sink;
they rise again, and dive beneath the waves;
they seem in sportive dance upon the main;
out from their nostrils they spout sprays of brine;
they toss their supple sides. And I alone,
of twenty mariners that manned that ship,
remained. A cold chill seized my limbs,—
I was so frightened; but the gracious God
now spake me fair, ‘Fear not and steer for Naxos.’
And when we landed there I ministered
on smoking altars Bacchanalian rites.”

> Latin: morte” ait, “ede tuum nomen nomenque parentum
et patriam, morisque novi cur sacra frequentes.”
Ille metu vacuus “nomen mihi” dixit “Acoetes,
patria Maeonia est, humili de plebe parentes.
Non mihi quae duri colerent pater arva iuvenci,
lanigerosve greges, non ulla armenta reliquit;
pauper et ipse fuit, linoque solebat et hamis
decipere et calamo salientes ducere pisces.
Ars illi sua census erat. Cum traderet artem,
“accipe quas habeo, studii successor et heres,”
dixit “opes.” Moriensque mihi nil ille reliquit
praeter aquas: unum hoc possum appellare paternum.
Mox ego, ne scopulis haererem semper in isdem,
addidici regimen dextra moderante carinae
flectere et Oleniae sidus pluviale capellae
Taygetenque hyadasque oculis arctonque notavi
ventorumque domos et portus puppibus aptos.
Forte petens Delum Chiae telluris ad oras
applicor et dextris adducor litora remis,
doque leves saltus udaeque inmittor harenae.
Nox ubi consumpta est (aurora rubescere prima
coeperat), exsurgo, laticesque inferre recentes
admoneo monstroque viam, quae ducat ad undas.
Ipse, quid aura mihi tumulo promittat ab alto
prospicio comitesque voco repetoque carinam.
“Adsumus en!” inquit sociorum primus Opheltes,
utque putat, praedam deserto nactus in agro,
virginea puerum ducit per litora forma.
Ille mero somnoque gravis titubare videtur
vixque sequi. Specto cultum faciemque gradumque:
nil ibi quod credi posset mortale videbam.
Et sensi et dixi sociis: “Quod numen in isto
corpore sit, dubito; sed corpore numen in isto est.
Quisquis es, o faveas nostrisque laboribus adsis.
His quoque des veniam.” — “Pro nobis mitte precari”
Dictys ait, quo non alius conscendere summas
ocior antemnas prensoque rudente relabi.
Hoc Libys, hoc flavus, prorae tutela, Melanthus,
hoc probat Alcimedon, et qui requiemque modumque
voce dabat remis, animorum hortator Epopeus,
hoc omnes alii: praedae tam caeca cupido est.
“Non tamen hanc sacro violari pondere pinum
perpetiar” dixi: “pars hic mihi maxima iuris”;
inque aditu obsisto. Furit audacissimus omni
de numero Lycabas, qui Tusca pulsus ab urbe
exsilium dira poenam pro caede luebat.
Is mihi, dum resto, iuvenali guttura pugno
rupit et excussum misisset in aequora, si non
haesissem, quamvis amens, in fune retentus.
Impia turba probat factum. Tum denique Bacchus
(Bacchus enim fuerat), veluti clamore solutus
sit sopor aque mero redeant in pectora sensus,
“quid facitis? quis clamor?” ait “qua, dicite, nautae,
huc ope perveni? quo me deferre paratis?”
“Pone metum”, Proreus “et quos contingere portus
ede velis” dixit: “terra sistere petita.” —
“Naxon” ait Liber “cursus advertite vestros.
Illa mihi domus est, vobis erit hospita tellus.”
Per mare fallaces perque omnia numina iurant
sic fore, meque iubent pictae dare vela carinae.
Dextera Naxos erat. Dextra mihi lintea danti
“quid facis, o demens? quis te furor—?” inquit Opheltes.
Pro se quisque timet: “laevam pete” maxima nutu
pars mihi significat, pars quid velit aure susurrat.
Obstipui “capiat” que “aliquis moderamina” dixi
meque ministerio scelerisque artisque removi.
Increpor a cunctis, totumque inmurmurat agmen.
E quibus Aethalion “te scilicet omnis in uno
nostra salus posita est” ait, et subit ipse meumque
explet opus, Naxoque petit diversa relicta.
Tum deus inludens, tamquam modo denique fraudem
senserit, e puppi pontum prospectat adunca
et flenti similis “non haec mihi litora, nautae,
promisistis” ait, “non haec mihi terra rogata est.
Quo merui poenam facto? quae gloria vestra est,
si puerum iuvenes, si multi fallitis unum?”
Iamdudum flebam: lacrimas manus impia nostras
ridet et impellit properantibus aequora remis.
Per tibi nunc ipsum (nec enim praesentior illo
est deus) adiuro, tam me tibi vera referre,
quam veri maiora fide: stetit aequore puppis
haud aliter quam si siccum navale teneret.
Illi admirantes remorum in verbere perstant
velaque deducunt geminaque ope currere temptant.
Impediunt hederae remos nexuque recurvo
serpunt et gravidis distinguunt vela corymbis.
Ipse racemiferis frontem circumdatus uvis
pampineis agitat velatam frondibus hastam.
Quem circa tigres simulacraque inania lyncum
pictarumque iacent fera corpora pantherarum.
Exsiluere viri, sive hoc insania fecit,
sive timor, primusque Medon nigrescere coepit
corpore et expresso spinae curvamine flecti.
Incipit huic Lycabas: “In quae miracula” dixit
“verteris?” et lati rictus et panda loquenti
naris erat, squamamque cutis durata trahebat.
At Libys obstantes dum vult obvertere remos,
in spatium resilire manus breve vidit et illas
iam non esse manus, iam pinnas posse vocari.
Alter, ad intortos cupiens dare bracchia funes,
bracchia non habuit, truncoque repandus in undas
corpore desiluit: falcata novissima cauda est,
qualia dimidiae sinuantur cornua lunae.
Undique dant saltus multaque adspergine rorant
emerguntque iterum redeuntque sub aequora rursus
inque chori ludunt speciem lascivaque iactant
corpora et acceptum patulis mare naribus efflant.
De modo viginti (tot enim ratis illa ferebat)
restabam solus. Pavidum gelidumque trementi
corpore vixque meum firmat deus “excute” dicens

[¶3] But Pentheus answered him: “A parlous tale,
and we have listened to the dreary end,
hoping our anger might consume its rage;—
away with him! hence drag him, hurl him out,
with dreadful torture, into Stygian night.”
Quickly they seized and dragged Acoetes forth,
and cast him in a dungeon triple-strong.
And while they fixed the instruments of death,
kindled the fires, and wrought the cruel irons,
the legend says, though no one aided him,
the chains were loosened and slipped off his arms;
the doors flew open of their own accord.
But Pentheus, long-persisting in his rage,
not caring to command his men to go,
himself went forth to Mount Cithaeron, where
resound with singing and with shrilly note
the votaries of Bacchus at their rites.
As when with sounding brass the trumpeter
alarms of war, the mettled charger neighs
and scents the battle; so the clamored skies
resounding with the dreadful outcries fret
the wrath of Pentheus and his rage enflame.
About the middle of the mount (with groves
around its margin) was a treeless plain,
where nothing might conceal. Here as he stood
to view the sacred rites with impious eyes,
his mother saw him first. She was so wrought
with frenzy that she failed to know her son,
and cast her thyrsus that it wounded him;
and shouted, “Hi! come hither, Ho!
Come hither my two sisters! a great boar
hath strayed into our fields; come! see me strike
and wound him!”
As he fled from them in fright
the raging multitude rushed after him;
and, as they gathered round; in cowardice
he cried for mercy and condemned himself,
confessing he had sinned against a God.
And as they wounded him he called his aunt;
“Autonoe have mercy! Let the shade
of sad Actaeon move thee to relent!”
No pity moved her when she heard that name;
in a wild frenzy she forgot her son.
While Pentheus was imploring her, she tore
his right arm out; her sister Ino wrenched
the other from his trunk. He could not stretch
his arms out to his mother, but he cried,
“Behold me, mother!” When Agave saw,
his bleeding limbs, torn, scattered on the ground,
she howled, and tossed her head, and shook her hair
that streamed upon the breeze; and when his head
was wrenched out from his mangled corpse,
she clutched it with her blood-smeared fingers, while
she shouted, “Ho! companions! victory!
The victory is ours!” So when the wind
strips from a lofty tree its leaves, which touched
by autumn's cold are loosely held, they fall
not quicker than the wretch's bleeding limbs
were torn asunder by their cursed hands.
Now, frightened by this terrible event,
the women of Ismenus celebrate
the new Bacchantian rites; and they revere
the sacred altars, heaped with frankincense.

> Latin: “corde metum Diamque tene.” Delatus in illam
accessi sacris Baccheaque sacra frequento.”
“Praebuimus longis” Pentheus “ambagibus aures”
inquit “ut ira mora vires absumere posset.
Praecipitem famuli rapite hunc cruciataque diris
corpora tormentis Stygiae demittite nocti.”
Protinus abstractus solidis Tyrrhenus Acoetes
clauditur in tectis; et dum crudelia iussae
instrumenta necis ferrumque ignesque parantur,
sponte sua patuisse fores lapsasque lacertis
sponte sua fama est nullo solvente catenas.
Perstat Echionides. Nec iam iubet ire, sed ipse
vadit, ubi electus facienda ad sacra Cithaeron
cantibus et clara bacchantum voce sonabat.
Ut fremit acer equus, cum bellicus aere canoro
signa dedit tubicen, pugnaeque adsumit amorem,
Penthea sic ictus longis ululatibus aether
movit, et audito clamore recanduit ira.
Monte fere medio est, cingentibus ultima silvis,
purus ab arboribus, spectabilis undique campus.
Hic oculis illum cernentem sacra profanis
prima videt, prima est insano concita cursu,
prima suum misso violavit Penthea thyrso
mater. “Io, geminae” clamavit “adeste sorores!
ille aper, in nostris errat qui maximus agris,
ille mihi feriendus aper.” Ruit omnis in unum
turba furens; cunctae coeunt trepidumque sequuntur,
iam trepidum, iam verba minus violenta loquentem,
iam se damnantem, iam se peccasse fatentem.
Saucius ille tamen “fer opem, matertera” dixit
“Autonoë! moveant animos Actaeonis umbrae.”
Illa, quis Actaeon, nescit dextramque precantis
abstulit: Inoo lacerata est altera raptu.
Non habet infelix quae matri bracchia tendat,
trunca sed ostendens deiectis vulnera membris
“adspice, mater!” ait. Visis ululavit Agaue
collaque iactavit movitque per aera crinem
avulsumque caput digitis complexa cruentis
clamat “io comites, opus haec victoria nostrum est!”
Non citius frondes autumni frigore tactas
iamque male haerentes alta rapit arbore ventus,
quam sunt membra viri manibus direpta nefandis.
Talibus exemplis monitae nova sacra frequentant
turaque dant sanctasque colunt Ismenides aras.