Alcithoe, daughter of King Minyas,consents not to the orgies of the God;denies that Bacchus is the son of Jove,and her two sisters join her in that crime.'Twas festal-day when matrons and their maids,keeping it sacred, had forbade all toil.—And having draped their bosoms with wild skins,they loosed their long hair for the sacred wreaths,and took the leafy thyrsus in their hands;—for so the priest commanded them. Austerethe wrath of Bacchus if his power be scorned.Mothers and youthful brides obeyed the priest;and putting by their wickers and their webs,dropt their unfinished toils to offer upfrankincense to the God; invoking himwith many names:—“O Bacchus! O Twice-born!O Fire-begot! Thou only child Twice-mothered!God of all those who plant the luscious grape!O Liber!” All these names and many more,for ages known—throughout the lands of Greece.“Thy youth is not consumed by wasting time;and lo, thou art an ever-youthful boy,most beautiful of all the Gods of Heaven,smooth as a virgin when thy horns are hid.—The distant east to tawny India's clime,where rolls remotest Ganges to the sea,was conquered by thy might.—O Most-revered!Thou didst destroy the doubting Pentheus,and hurled the sailors' bodies in the deep,and smote Lycurgus, wielder of the ax.“And thou dost guide thy lynxes, double-yoked,with showy harness.—Satyrs follow thee;and Bacchanals, and old Silenus, drunk,unsteady on his staff; jolting so roughon his small back-bent ass; and all the wayresounds a youthful clamour; and the screamsof women! and the noise of tambourines!And the hollow cymbals! and the boxwood flutes,—fitted with measured holes.—Thou art imploredby all Ismenian women to appearpeaceful and mild; and they perform thy rites.”Only the daughters of King Minyasare carding wool within their fastened doors,or twisting with their thumbs the fleecy yarn,or working at the web. So they corruptthe sacred festival with needless toil,keeping their hand-maids busy at the work.And one of them, while drawing out the threadwith nimble thumb, anon began to speak;“While others loiter and frequent these ritesfantastic, we the wards of Pallas, muchto be preferred, by speaking novel thoughtsmay lighten labour. Let us each in turn,relate to an attentive audience,a novel tale; and so the hours may glide.”it pleased her sisters, and they ordered herto tell the story that she loved the most.So, as she counted in her well-stored mindthe many tales she knew, first doubted shewhether to tell the tale of Derceto,—that Babylonian, who, aver the tribesof Palestine, in limpid ponds yet lives,—her body changed, and scales upon her limbs;or how her daughter, having taken wings,passed her declining years in whitened towers.Or should she tell of Nais, who with herbs,too potent, into fishes had transformedthe bodies of her lovers, till she metherself the same sad fate; or of that treewhich sometime bore white fruit, but now is changedand darkened by the blood that stained its roots.—Pleased with the novelty of this, at onceshe tells the tale of Pyramus and Thisbe;—and swiftly as she told it unto them,the fleecy wool was twisted into threads.
At non Alcithoe Minyeias orgia censetaccipienda dei, sed adhuc temeraria Bacchumprogeniem negat esse Iovis, sociasque sororesinpietatis habet. Festum celebrare sacerdosinmunesque operum famulas dominasque suorumpectora pelle tegi, crinales solvere vittas,serta coma, manibus frondentes sumere thyrsosiusserat, et saevam laesi fore numinis iramvaticinatus erat. Parent matresque nurusquetelasque calathosque infectaque pensa reponunt,turaque dant Bacchumque vocant Bromiumque Lyaeumqueignigenamque satumque iterum solumque bimatrem:additur his Nyseus indetonsusque Thyoneus,et cum Lenaeo genialis consitor uvae,Nycteliusque Eleleusque parens et Iacchus et Euhan,et quae praeterea per Graias plurima gentesnomina, Liber, habes. Tibi enim inconsumpta iuventa est,tu puer aeternus, tu formosissimus altoconspiceris caelo, tibi, cum sine cornibus adstas,virgineum caput est. Oriens tibi victus, adusquedecolor extremo qua tingitur India Gange:Penthea tu, venerande, bipenniferumque Lycurgumsacrilegos mactas, Tyrrhenaque mittis in aequorcorpora, tu biiugum pictis insignia freniscolla premis lyncum; bacchae satyrique sequuntur,quique senex ferula titubantes ebrius artussustinet et pando non fortiter haeret asello.Quacumque ingrederis, clamor iuvenalis et unafemineae voces inpulsaque tympana palmisconcavaque aera sonant longoque foramine buxus.“Placatus mitisque” rogant Ismenides “adsis,”iussaque sacra colunt. Solae Minyeides intusintempestiva turbantes festa Minervaaut ducunt lanas, aut stamina pollice versant,aut haerent telae famulasque laboribus urgent.E quibus una levi deducens pollice filum“dum cessant aliae commentaque sacra frequentant,nos quoque, quas Pallas, melior dea, detinet” inquit,“utile opus manuum vario sermone levemus:perque vices aliquid, quod tempora longa viderinon sinat, in medium vacuas referamus ad aures.”Dicta probant primamque iubent narrare sorores.Illa, quid e multis referat (nam plurima norat),cogitat et dubia est, de te, Babylonia, narret,Derceti, quam versa squamis velantibus artusstagna Palaestini credunt motasse figura;an magis, ut sumptis illius filia pennisextremos albis in turribus egerit annos;nais an ut cantu nimiumque potentibus herbisverterit in tacitos iuvenalia corpora pisces,donec idem passa est; an, quae poma alba ferebat,ut nunc nigra ferat contactu sanguinis arbor.Hoc placet, hanc, quoniam vulgaris fabula non est,talibus orsa modis, lana sua fila sequente:
When Pyramus and Thisbe, who were knownthe one most handsome of all youthful men,the other loveliest of all eastern girls,—lived in adjoining houses, near the wallsthat Queen Semiramis had built of brickaround her famous city, they grew fond,and loved each other—meeting often there—and as the days went by their love increased.They wished to join in marriage, but that joytheir fathers had forbidden them to hope;and yet the passion that with equal strengthinflamed their minds no parents could forbid.No relatives had guessed their secret love,for all their converse was by nods and signs;and as a smoldering fire may gather heat,the more 'tis smothered, so their love increased.Now, it so happened, a partition builtbetween their houses, many years ago,was made defective with a little chink;a small defect observed by none, althoughfor ages there; but what is hid from love?Our lovers found the secret opening,and used its passage to convey the soundsof gentle, murmured words, whose tuneful notepassed oft in safety through that hidden way.There, many a time, they stood on either side,thisbe on one and Pyramus the other,and when their warm breath touched from lip to lip,their sighs were such as this: “Thou envious wallwhy art thou standing in the way of thosewho die for love? What harm could happen theeshouldst thou permit us to enjoy our love?But if we ask too much, let us persuadethat thou wilt open while we kiss but once:for, we are not ungrateful; unto theewe own our debt; here thou hast left a waythat breathed words may enter loving ears.,”so vainly whispered they, and when the nightbegan to darken they exchanged farewells;made presence that they kissed a fond farewellvain kisses that to love might none avail.When dawn removed the glimmering lamps of night,and the bright sun had dried the dewy grassagain they met where they had told their love;and now complaining of their hapless fate,in murmurs gentle, they at last resolved,away to slip upon the quiet night,elude their parents, and, as soon as free,quit the great builded city and their homes.Fearful to wander in the pathless fields,they chose a trysting place, the tomb of Ninus,where safely they might hide unseen, beneaththe shadow of a tall mulberry tree,covered with snow-white fruit, close by a spring.All is arranged according to their hopes:and now the daylight, seeming slowly moved,sinks in the deep waves, and the tardy nightarises from the spot where day declines.Quickly, the clever Thisbe having firstdeceived her parents, opened the closed door.She flitted in the silent night away;and, having veiled her face, reached the great tomb,and sat beneath the tree; love made her bold.There, as she waited, a great lionessapproached the nearby spring to quench her thirst:her frothing jaws incarnadined with bloodof slaughtered oxen. As the moon was bright,Thisbe could see her, and affrighted fledwith trembling footstep to a gloomy cave;and as she ran she slipped and dropped her veil,which fluttered to the ground. She did not dareto save it. Wherefore, when the savage beasthad taken a great draft and slaked her thirst,and thence had turned to seek her forest lair,she found it on her way, and full of rage,tore it and stained it with her bloody jaws:but Thisbe, fortunate, escaped unseen.Now Pyramus had not gone out so soonas Thisbe to the tryst; and, when he sawthe certain traces of that savage beast,imprinted in the yielding dust, his facewent white with fear; but when he found the veilcovered with blood, he cried; “Alas, one nighthas caused the ruin of two lovers! Thouwert most deserving of completed days,but as for me, my heart is guilty! Idestroyed thee! O my love! I bade thee comeout in the dark night to a lonely haunt,and failed to go before. Oh! whatever lurksbeneath this rock, though ravenous lion, tearmy guilty flesh, and with most cruel jawsdevour my cursed entrails! What? Not so;it is a craven's part to wish for death!”So he stopped briefly; and took up the veil;went straightway to the shadow of the tree;and as his tears bedewed the well-known veil,he kissed it oft and sighing said, “Kissesand tears are thine, receive my blood as well.”And he imbrued the steel, girt at his side,deep in his bowels; and plucked it from the wound,a-faint with death. As he fell back to earth,his spurting blood shot upward in the air;so, when decay has rift a leaden pipea hissing jet of water spurts on high.—By that dark tide the berries on the treeassumed a deeper tint, for as the rootssoaked up the blood the pendent mulberrieswere dyed a purple tint.Thisbe returned,though trembling still with fright, for now she thoughther lover must await her at the tree,and she should haste before he feared for her.Longing to tell him of her great escapeshe sadly looked for him with faithful eyes;but when she saw the spot and the changed tree,she doubted could they be the same, for sothe colour of the hanging fruit deceived.While doubt dismayed her, on the ground she sawthe wounded body covered with its blood;—she started backward, and her face grew paleand ashen; and she shuddered like the sea,which trembles when its face is lightly skimmedby the chill breezes;—and she paused a space;—but when she knew it was the one she loved,she struck her tender breast and tore her hair.Then wreathing in her arms his loved form,she bathed the wound with tears, mingling her griefin his unquenched blood; and as she kissedhis death-cold features wailed; “Ah Pyramus,what cruel fate has taken thy life away?Pyramus! Pyramus! awake! awake!It is thy dearest Thisbe calls thee! Liftthy drooping head! Alas,”—At Thisbe's namehe raised his eyes, though languorous in death,and darkness gathered round him as he gazed.And then she saw her veil; and near it layhis ivory sheath—but not the trusty swordand once again she wailed; “Thy own right hand,and thy great passion have destroyed thee!—And I? my hand shall be as bold as thine—my love shall nerve me to the fatal deed—thee, I will follow to eternity—though I be censured for the wretched cause,so surely I shall share thy wretched fate:—alas, whom death could me alone bereave,thou shalt not from my love be reft by death!And, O ye wretched parents, mine and his,let our misfortunes and our pleadings meltyour hearts, that ye no more deny to thosewhom constant love and lasting death unite—entomb us in a single sepulchre.“And, O thou tree of many-branching boughs,spreading dark shadows on the corpse of one,destined to cover twain, take thou our fateupon thy head; mourn our untimely deaths;let thy fruit darken for a memory,an emblem of our blood.” No more she said;and having fixed the point below her breast,she fell on the keen sword, still warm with his red blood.But though her death was out of Nature's lawher prayer was answered, for it moved the Godsand moved their parents. Now the Gods have changedthe ripened fruit which darkens on the branch:and from the funeral pile their parents sealedtheir gathered ashes in a single urn.
“Pyramus et Thisbe, iuvenum pulcherrimus alter,altera, quas oriens habuit, praelata puellis,contiguas tenuere domos, ubi dicitur altamcoctilibus muris cinxisse Semiramis urbem.Notitiam primosque gradus vicinia fecit:tempore crevit amor. Taedae quoque iure coissent:sed vetuere patres. Quod non potuere vetare,ex aequo captis ardebant mentibus ambo.Conscius omnis abest: nutu signisque loquuntur,quoque magis tegitur, tectus magis aestuat ignis.Fissus erat tenui rima, quam duxerat olim,cum fieret paries domui communis utrique.Id vitium nulli per saecula longa notatum(quid non sentit amor?) primi vidistis amantes,et vocis fecistis iter; tutaeque per illudmurmure blanditiae minimo transire solebant.Saepe, ubi constiterant hinc Thisbe, Pyramus illinc,inque vices fuerat captatus anhelitus oris,“invide” dicebant “paries, quid amantibus obstas?quantum erat, ut sineres toto nos corpore iungi,aut hoc si nimium est, vel ad oscula danda pateres?Nec sumus ingrati: tibi nos debere fatemur,quod datus est verbis ad amicas transitus aures.”Talia diversa nequiquam sede locutisub noctem dixere ”vale” partique dedereoscula quisque suae non pervenientia contra.Postera nocturnos aurora removerat ignes,solque pruinosas radiis siccaverat herbas:ad solitum coiere locum. Tum murmure parvomulta prius questi, statuunt, ut nocte silentifallere custodes foribusque excedere temptent,cumque domo exierint, urbis quoque tecta relinquant;neve sit errandum lato spatiantibus arvo,conveniant ad busta Nini lateantque sub umbraarboris. Arbor ibi, niveis uberrima pomisardua morus, erat, gelido contermina fonti.Pacta placent. Et lux, tarde discedere visa,praecipitatur aquis, et aquis nox exit ab isdem.Callida per tenebras versato cardine Thisbeegreditur fallitque suos, adopertaque vultumpervenit ad tumulum, dictaque sub arbore sedit.Audacem faciebat amor. Venit ecce recenticaede leaena boum spumantes oblita rictus,depositura sitim vicini fontis in unda.Quam procul ad lunae radios Babylonia Thisbevidit et obscurum timido pede fugit in antrum,dumque fugit, tergo velamina lapsa reliquit.Ut lea saeva sitim multa conpescuit unda,dum redit in silvas, inventos forte sine ipsaore cruentato tenues laniavit amictus.Serius egressus vestigia vidit in altopulvere certa ferae totoque expalluit orePyramus: ut vero vestem quoque sanguine tinctamrepperit, “una duos” inquit “nox perdet amantes.E quibus illa fuit longa dignissima vita,nostra nocens anima est: ego te, miseranda, peremi,in loca plena metus qui iussi nocte venires,nec prior huc veni. Nostrum divellite corpus,et scelerata fero consumite viscera morsu,o quicumque sub hac habitatis rupe, leones.Sed timidi est optare necem.” Velamina Thisbestollit et ad pactae secum fert arboris umbram;utque dedit notae lacrimas, dedit oscula vesti,“accipe nunc” inquit “nostri quoque sanguinis haustus!”quoque erat accinctus, demisit in ilia ferrum,nec mora, ferventi moriens e vulnere traxit.Ut iacuit resupinus humo: cruor emicat alte,non aliter quam cum vitiato fistula plumboscinditur et tenui stridente foramine longaseiaculatur aquas atque ictibus aera rumpit.Arborei fetus adspergine caedis in atramvertuntur faciem, madefactaque sanguine radixpurpureo tingit pendentia mora colore.Ecce metu nondum posito, ne fallat amantem,illa redit iuvenemque oculis animoque requirit,quantaque vitarit narrare pericula gestit.Utque locum et visa cognoscit in arbore formam,sic facit incertam pomi color: haeret, an haec sit.Dum dubitat, tremebunda videt pulsare cruentummembra solum, retroque pedem tulit, oraque buxopallidiora gerens exhorruit aequoris instar,quod tremit, exigua cum summum stringitur aura.Sed postquam remorata suos cognovit amores,percutit indignos claro plangore lacertos,et laniata comas amplexaque corpus amatumvulnera supplevit lacrimis fletumque cruorimiscuit et gelidis in vultibus oscula figens“Pyrame” clamavit “quis te mihi casus ademit?Pyrame, responde: tua te carissima Thisbenominat: exaudi vultusque attolle iacentes!”Ad nomen Thisbes oculos iam morte gravatosPyramus erexit, visaque recondidit illa.Quae postquam vestemque suam cognovit et ensevidit ebur vacuum, “tua te manus” inquit “amorqueperdidit, infelix. Est et mihi fortis in unumhoc manus, est et amor: dabit hic in vulnera vires.Persequar exstinctum letique miserrima dicarcausa comesque tui; quique a me morte revelliheu sola poteras, poteris nec morte revelli.Hoc tamen amborum verbis estote rogati,o multum miseri meus illiusque parentes,ut quos certus amor, quos hora novissima iunxit,conponi tumulo non invideatis eodem.At tu quae ramis arbor miserabile corpusnunc tegis unius, mox es tectura duorum,signa tene caedis pullosque et luctibus aptossemper habe fetus, gemini monimenta cruoris.”Dixit, et aptato pectus mucrone sub imumincubuit ferro, quod adhuc a caede tepebat.Vota tamen tetigere deos, tetigere parentes:nam color in pomo est, ubi permaturuit, ater,quodque rogis superest, una requiescit in urna.”
So ended she; at once Leuconoetook the narrator's thread; and as she spokeher sisters all were silent.“Even the Sunthat rules the world was captive made of Love.My theme shall be a love-song of the Sun.'Tis said the Lord of Day, whose wakeful eyebeholds at once whatever may transpire,witnessed the loves of Mars and Venus. Grievedto know the wrong, he called the son of Juno,Vulcan, and gave full knowledge of the deed,showing how Mars and Venus shamed his love,as they defiled his bed. Vulcan amazed,—the nimble-thoughted Vulcan lost his wits,so that he dropped the work his right hand held.But turning from all else at once he setto file out chains of brass, delicate, fine,from which to fashion nets invisible,filmy of mesh and airy as the threadof insect-web, that from the rafter swings.—Implicit woven that they yielded softthe slightest movement or the gentlest touch,with cunning skill he drew them round the bedwhere they were sure to dally. Presentlyappeared the faithless wife, and on the couchlay down to languish with her paramour.—Meshed in the chains they could not thence arise,nor could they else but lie in strict embrace,—cunningly thus entrapped by Vulcan's wit.—At once the Lemnian cuckold opened widethe folding ivory doors and called the Gods,—to witness. There they lay disgraced and bound.I wot were many of the lighter Godswho wished themselves in like disgraceful bonds.—The Gods were moved to laughter: and the talewas long most noted in the courts of Heaven.The Cytherean Venus brooded onthe Sun's betrayal of her stolen joys,and thought to torture him in passion's pains,and wreak requital for the pain he caused.Son of Hyperion! what avails thy light?What is the profit of thy glowing heat?Lo, thou whose flames have parched innumerous lands,thyself art burning with another flame!And thou whose orb should joy the universeart gazing only on Leucothea's charms.Thy glorious eye on one fair maid is fixed,forgetting all besides. Too early thouart rising from thy bed of orient skies,too late thy setting in the western waves;so taking time to gaze upon thy love,thy frenzy lengthens out the wintry hour!And often thou art darkened in eclipse,dark shadows of this trouble in thy mind,unwonted aspect, casting man perplexedin abject terror. Pale thou art, though notbetwixt thee and the earth the shadowous moonbedims thy devious way. Thy passion givesto grief thy countenance—for her thy heartalone is grieving—Clymene and Rhodos,and Persa, mother of deluding Circe,are all forgotten for thy doting hope;even Clytie, who is yearning for thy love,no more can charm thee; thou art so foredone.Leucothea is the cause of many tears,Leucothea, daughter of Eurynome,most beauteous matron of Arabia's strand,where spicey odours blow. Eurynomein youthful prime excelled her mother's grace,and, save her daughter, all excelled besides.Leucothea's father, Orchamas was kingwhere Achaemenes whilom held the sway;and Orchamas from ancient Belus' deathmight count his reign the seventh in descent.The dark-night pastures of Apollo's steedsare hid below the western skies; when there,and spent with toil, in lieu of nibbling herbsthey take ambrosial food: it gives their limbsrestoring strength and nourishes anew.Now while these coursers eat celestial foodand Night resumes his reign, the god appearsdisguised, unguessed, as old Eurynometo fair Leucothea as she draws the threads,all smoothly twisted from her spindle. Thereshe sits with twice six hand-maids ranged around,and as the god beholds her at the doorhe kisses her, as if a child belovedand he her mother. And he spoke to her:“Let thy twelve hand-maids leave us undisturbed,for I have things of close import to tell,and seemly, from a mother to her child.”,so when they all withdrew the god began,“Lo, I am he who measures the long year;I see all things, and through me the wide worldmay see all things; I am the glowing eyeof the broad universe! Thou art to methe glory of the earth!” Filled with alarm,from her relaxed fingers she let fallthe distaff and the spindle, but, her fearso lovely in her beauty seemed, the Godno longer brooked delay: he changed his formback to his wonted beauty and resumedhis bright celestial. Startled at the sightthe maid recoiled a space; but presentlythe glory of the god inspired her love;and all her timid doubts dissolved away;without complaint she melted in his arms.So ardently the bright Apollo loved,that Clytie, envious of Leucothea's joy,where evil none was known, a scandal made;and having published wide their secret love,leucothea's father also heard the tale.Relentlessly and fierce, his cruel handburied his living daughter in the ground,who, while her arms implored the glowing Sun,complained. “For love of thee my life is lost.”And as she wailed her father sowed her there.Hyperion's Son began with piercing heatto scatter the loose sand, a way to open,that she might look with beauteous features forthtoo late! for smothered by the compact earth,thou canst not lift thy drooping head; alas!A lifeless corse remains.No sadder sightsince Phaethon was blasted by the bolt,down-hurled by Jove, had ever grieved the Godwho daily drives his winged steeds. In vainhe strives with all the magic of his raysto warm her limbs anew. — The deed is done—what vantage gives his might if fate deny?He sprinkles fragrant nectar on her grave,and lifeless corse, and as he wails exclaims,“But naught shall hinder you to reach the skies.”At once the maiden's body, steeped in dewsof nectar, sweet and odourate, dissolvesand adds its fragrant juices to the earth:slowly from this a sprout of Frankincensetakes root in riched soil, and bursting throughthe sandy hillock shows its top.No moreto Clytie comes the author of sweet light,for though her love might make excuse of grief,and grief may plead to pardon jealous words,his heart disdains the schemist of his woe;and she who turned to sour the sweet of love,from that unhallowed moment pined away.Envious and hating all her sister Nymphs,day after day,—and through the lonely nights,all unprotected from the chilly breeze,her hair dishevelled, tangled, unadorned,she sat unmoved upon the bare hard ground.Nine days the Nymph was nourished by the dews,or haply by her own tears' bitter brine;—all other nourishment was naught to her.—She never raised herself from the bare ground,though on the god her gaze was ever fixed;—she turned her features towards him as he moved:they say that afterwhile her limbs took rootand fastened to the around.A pearly whiteoverspread her countenance, that turned as paleand bloodless as the dead; but here and therea blushing tinge resolved in violet tint;and something like the blossom of that namea flower concealed her face. Although a rootnow holds her fast to earth, the Heliotropeturns ever to the Sun, as if to provethat all may change and love through all remain.
Desierat, mediumque fuit breve tempus, et orsa estdicere Leuconoe: vocem tenuere sorores.“Hunc quoque, siderea qui temperat omnia luce,cepit amor Solem: Solis referemus amores.Primus adulterium Veneris cum Marte putaturhic vidisse deus: videt hic deus omnia primus.Indoluit facto, Iunonigenaeque maritofurta tori furtique locum monstravit. At illiet mens et quod opus fabrilis dextra tenebatexcidit. Extemplo graciles ex aere catenasretiaque et laqueos, quae lumina fallere possent,elimat (non illud opus tenuissima vincantstamina, non summo quae pendet aranea tigno),utque leves tactus momentaque parva sequanturefficit et lecto circumdata collocat arte.Ut venere torum coniunx et adulter in unum,arte viri vinclisque nova ratione paratisin mediis ambo deprensi amplexibus haerent.Lemnius extemplo valvas patefecit eburnasadmisitque deos: illi iacuere ligatiturpiter; atque aliquis de dis non tristibus optatsic fieri turpis: superi risere, diuquehaec fuit in toto notissima fabula caelo.Exigit indicii memorem Cythereia poenam,inque vices illum, tectos qui laesit amores,laedit amore pari. Quid nunc, Hyperione nate,forma colorque tibi radiataque lumina prosunt?Nempe tuis omnes qui terras ignibus uris,ureris igne novo; quique omnia cernere debes,Leucothoen spectas, et virgine figis in una,quos mundo debes oculos. Modo surgis Eootemperius caelo, modo serius incidis undis,spectandique mora brumales porrigis horas,deficis interdum, vitiumque in lumina mentistransit et obscurus mortalia pectora terres.Nec, tibi quod lunae terris propioris imagoobstiterit, palles: facit hunc amor iste colorem.Diligis hanc unam; nec te Clymeneque Rhodosquenec tenet Aeaeae genetrix pulcherrima Circes,quaeque tuos Clytie quamvis despecta petebatconcubitus ipsoque illo grave vulnus habebattempore: Leucothoe multarum oblivia fecit,gentis odoriferae quam formosissima partuedidit Eurynome. Sed postquam filia crevit,quam mater cunctas, tam matrem filia vicit.Rexit Achaemenias urbes pater Orchamus, isqueseptimus a prisco numeratur origine Belo.Axe sub Hesperio sunt pascua Solis equorum.Ambrosiam pro gramine habent: ea fessa diurnismembra ministeriis nutrit reparatque labori.Dumque ibi quadrupedes caelestia pabula carpunt,noxque vicem peragit, thalamos deus intrat amatos,versus in Eurynomes faciem genetricis, et interbis sex Leucothoen famulas ad lumina cernitlevia versato ducentem stamina fuso.Ergo ubi ceu mater carae dedit oscula natae,“res” ait “arcana est. Famulae, discedite neveeripite arbitrium matri secreta loquendi.”Paruerant: thalamoque deus sine teste relicto“ille ego sum” dixit, “qui longum metior annum,omnia qui video, per quem videt omnia tellus,mundi oculus. Mihi, crede, places.” Pavet illa, metuqueet colus et fusus digitis cecidere remissis.Ipse timor decuit. Nec longius ille moratusin veram rediit speciem solitumque nitorem:at virgo, quamvis inopino territa visu,victa nitore dei posita vim passa querella est.Invidit Clytie (neque enim moderatus in illaSolis amor fuerat), stimulataque paelicis iravulgat adulterium diffamatumque parentiindicat. Ille ferox inmansuetusque precantemtendentemque manus ad lumina Solis et “illevim tulit invitae” dicentem defodit altacrudus humo, tumulumque super gravis addit harenae.Dissipat hunc radiis Hyperione natus iterquedat tibi, qua possis defossos promere vultus.Nec tu iam poteras enectum pondere terraetollere, nympha, caput corpusque exsangue iacebas.Nil illo fertur volucrum moderator equorumpost Phaethonteos vidisse dolentius ignes.Ille quidem gelidos radiorum viribus artussi queat in vivum temptat revocare calorem:sed quoniam tantis fatum conatibus obstat,nectare odorato sparsit corpusque locumque,multaque praequestus “tanges tamen aethera” dixit.Protinus inbutum caelesti nectare corpusdilicuit terramque suo madefecit odore:virgaque per glaebas sensim radicibus actisturea surrexit tumulumque cacumine rupit.At Clytien, quamvis amor excusare dolorem,indiciumque dolor poterat, non amplius auctorlucis adit venerisque modum sibi fecit in illa.Tabuit ex illo dementer amoribus usanympha larum inpatiens, et sub Iove nocte diequesedit humo nuda, nudis incompta capillis,perque novem luces expers undaeque cibiquerore mero lacrimisque suis ieiunia pavitnec se movit humo: tantum spectabat euntisora dei vultusque suos flectebat ad illum.Membra ferunt haesisse solo, partemque colorisluridus exsangues pallor convertit in herbas;est in parte rubor, violaeque simillimus oraflos tegit. Illa suum, quamvis radice tenetur,vertitur ad Solem, mutataque servat amorem.”
Thus was the story ended. All were charmedto hear recounted such mysterious deeds.While some were doubting whether such were trueothers affirmed that to the living Godsis nothing to restrain their wondrous works,though surely of the Gods, immortal, noneaccorded Bacchus even thought or place.When all had made an end of argument,they bade Alcithoe take up the word:she, busily working on the pendent web,still shot the shuttle through the warp and said;“The amours of the shepherd Daphnis, knownto many of you, I shall not relate;the shepherd Daphnis of Mount Ida, whowas turned to stone obdurate, for the Nymphwhose love he slighted—so the rivalryof love neglected rouses to revenge:neither shall I relate the story toldof Scython, double-sexed, who first was man,then altered to a woman: so I passthe tale of Celmus turned to adamant,who reared almighty Jove from tender youth:so, likewise the Curetes whom the rainbrought forth to life: Smilax and Crocus, too,transpeciated into little flowers:all these I pass to tell a novel tale,which haply may resolve in pleasant thoughts.Learn how the fountain, Salmacis, becameso infamous; learn how it enervatesand softens the limbs of those who chance to bathe.Although the fountain's properties are known,the cause is yet unknown. The Naiads nursedan infant son of Hermes, surely hisof Aphrodite gotten in the cavesof Ida, for the child resembled boththe god and goddess, and his name was theirs.The years passed by, and when the boy had reachedthe limit of three lustrums, he forsookhis native mountains; for he loved to roamthrough unimagined places, by the banksof undiscovered rivers; and the joyof finding wonders made his labour light.Leaving Mount Ida, where his youth was spent,he reached the land of Lycia, and from thencethe verge of Caria, where a pretty poolof soft translucent water may be seen,so clear the glistening bottom glads the eye:no barren sedge, no fenny reeds annoy,no rushes with their sharpened arrow-points,but all around the edges of that poolthe softest grass engirdles with its green.A Nymph dwells there, unsuited to the chase,unskilled to bend the bow, slothful of foot,the only Naiad in the world unknownto rapid-running Dian. Whensoeverher Naiad sisters pled in winged words,“Take up the javelin, sister Salmacis,take up the painted quiver and uniteyour leisure with the action of the chase;”she only scorned the javelin and the quiver,nor joined her leisure to the active chase.Rather she bathes her smooth and shapely limbs;or combs her tresses with a boxwood comb,Citorian; or looking in the poolconsults the glassed waters of effectsincreasing beauty; or she decks herselfin gauzy raiment, and reposing lollson cushioned leaves, or grass-enverdured beds;or gathers posies from the spangled lawns.Now, haply as she culled the sweetest flowersshe saw the youth, and longing in her heartmade havoc as her greedy eyes beheld.Although her love could scarcely brook delay,she waited to enhance her loveliness,in beauty hoping to allure his love.All richly dight she scanned herself and robes,to know that every charm should fair appear,and she be worthy: wherefore she began:“O godlike youth! if thou art of the skies,thou art no other than the god of Love;if mortal, blest are they who gave thee birth;happy thy brother; happy, fortunatethy sister; happy, fortunate and blestthe nurse that gave her bosom; but the joyssurpassing all, dearest and tenderest,are hers whom thou shalt wed. So, let it beif thou so young have deigned to marry, letmy joys be stolen; if unmarried, joinwith me in wedlock.” So she spoke, and stoodin silence waiting for the youth's reply.He knows nor cares for love—with lovelinessthe mounting blushes tinge his youthful cheeks,as blush-red tint of apples on the tree,ripe in the summer sun, or as the hueof painted ivory, or the round moonred-blushing in her splendour, when the clashof brass resounds in vain. And long the Nymphimplored; almost clung on his neck, as smoothand white as ivory; unceasinglyimploring him to kiss her, though as chasteas kisses to a sister; but the youthoutwearied, thus:“I do beseech you makean end of this; or must I fly the placeand leave you to your tears?” Affrighted thensaid Salmacis, “To you I freely give—good stranger here remain.” Although she madefair presence to retire, she hid herself,that from a shrub-grown covert, on her kneesshe might observe unseen.As any boythat heedless deems his mischief unobserved,now here now there, he rambled on the green;now in the bubbly ripples dipped his feet,now dallied in the clear pool ankle-deep;—the warm-cool feeling of the liquid then,so pleased him, that without delay he doffedhis fleecy garments from his tender limbs.Ah, Salmacis, amazement is thy meed!Thou art consumed to know his naked grace!As the hot glitters of the round bright suncollected, sparkle from the polished plate,thine eyes are glistened with delirious fires.Delay she cannot; panting for his joy,languid for his caressing, crazed, distract,her passion difficult is held in check.—He claps his body with his hollow palmsand lightly vaults into the limped wave,and darting through the water hand over handshines in the liquid element, as thoughshould one enhance a statue's ivorine,or glaze the lily in a lake of glass.And thus the Naiad, “I have gained my suit;his love is mine,—is mine!” Quickly disrobed,she plunged into the yielding wave—seized him,caressed him, clung to him a thousand ways,kissed him, thrust down her hands and touched his breast:reluctant and resisting he endeavoursto make escape, but even as he strugglesshe winds herself about him, as entwinesthe serpent which the royal bird on highholds in his talons; —as it hangs, it coilsin sinuous folds around the eagle's feet;—twisting its coils around his head and wings:or as the ivy clings to sturdy oaks;or as the polypus beneath the waves,by pulling down, with suckers on all sides,tenacious holds its prey. And yet the youth,descendant of great Atlas, not relentsnor gives the Naiad joy. Pressing her suitshe winds her limbs around him and exclaims,“You shall not scape me, struggle as you will,perverse and obstinate! Hear me, ye Gods!Let never time release the youth from me;time never let me from the youth release!”
Dixerat, et factum mirabile ceperat aures.Pars fieri potuisse negant, pars omnia verosposse deos memorant: sed non et Bacchus in illis.Poscitur Alcithoe, postquam siluere sorores.Quae radio stantis percurrens stamina telae“vulgatos taceo” dixit “pastoris amoresDaphnidis Idaei, quem nymphe paelicis iracontulit in saxum (tantus dolor urit amantes).Nec loquor, ut quondam naturae iure novatoambiguus fuerit modo vir, modo femina Sithon.Te quoque, nunc adamas, quondam fidissime parvo,Celmi, Iovi, largoque satos Curetas ab imbriet Crocon in parvos versum cum Smilace florespraetereo, dulcique animos novitate tenebo.Unde sit infamis, quare male fortibus undisSalmacis enervet tactosque remolliat artus,discite. Causa latet, vis est notissima fontis.Mercurio puerum diva Cythereide natumnaides Idaeis enutrivere sub antris;cuius erat facies, in qua materque paterquecognosci possent; nomen quoque traxit ab illis.Is tria cum primum fecit quinquennia, montesdeseruit patrios, Idaque altrice relictaignotis errare locis, ignota videreflumina gaudebat, studio minuente laborem.Ille etiam Lycias urbes Lyciaeque propinquosCaras adit. Videt hic stagnum lucentis ad imumusque solum lymphae. Non illic canna palustrisnec steriles ulvae nec acuta cuspide iunci:perspicuus liquor est; stagni tamen ultima vivocaespite cinguntur semperque virentibus herbis.Nympha colit, sed nec venatibus apta, nec arcusflectere quae soleat nec quae contendere cursu,solaque naiadum celeri non nota Dianae.Saepe suas illi fama est dixisse sorores:“Salmaci, vel iaculum vel pictas sume pharetras,et tua cum duris venatibus otia misce.”Nec iaculum sumit nec pictas illa pharetras,nec sua cum duris venatibus otia miscet,sed modo fonte suo formosos perluit artus,saepe Cytoriaco deducit pectine crineset, quid se deceat, spectatas consulit undas;nunc perlucenti circumdata corpus amictumollibus aut foliis aut mollibus incubat herbis;saepe legit flores. Et tunc quoque forte legebat,cum puerum vidit visumque optavit habere.Nec tamen ante adiit, etsi properabat adire,quam se conposuit, quam circumspexit amictus,et finxit vultum et meruit formosa videri.Tum sic orsa loqui: “Puer o dignissime crediesse deus, seu tu deus es, potes esse Cupido,sive es mortalis, qui te genuere, beati,et frater felix, et fortunata profecto,siqua tibi soror est, et quae dedit ubera nutrix:sed longe cunctis longeque beatior illa,siqua tibi sponsa est, siquam dignabere taeda.Haec tibi sive aliqua est, mea sit furtiva voluptas,seu nulla est, ego sim, thalamumque ineamus eundem.”Nais ab his tacuit. Pueri rubor ora notavit(nescit enim, quid amor), sed et erubuisse decebat.Hic color aprica pendentibus arbore pomisaut ebori tincto est, aut sub candore rubenti,cum frustra resonant aera auxiliaria, lunae.Poscenti nymphae sine fine sororia saltemoscula iamque manus ad eburnea colla ferenti“desinis? aut fugio, tecumque” ait “ista relinquo.”Salmacis extimuit “loca” que “haec tibi libera trado,hospes” ait, simulatque gradu discedere verso,tunc quoque respiciens, fruticumque recondita silvadelituit, flexuque genu submisit. At ille,scilicet ut vacuis et inobservatus in herbis,huc it et hinc illuc, et in adludentibus undissumma pedum taloque tenus vestigia tingit;nec mora, temperie blandarum captus aquarummollia de tenero velamina corpore ponit.Tum vero placuit, nudaeque cupidine formaeSalmacis exarsit: flagrant quoque lumina nymphae,non aliter quam cum puro nitidissimus orbeopposita speculi referitur imagine Phoebus.Vixque moram patitur, vix iam sua gaudia differt,iam cupit amplecti, iam se male continet amens.Ille cavis velox adplauso corpore palmisdesilit in latices, alternaque bracchia ducensin liquidis translucet aquis, ut eburnea siquissigna tegat claro vel candida lilia vitro.“Vicimus et meus est!” exclamat nais et omniveste procul iacta mediis inmittitur undis,pugnantemque tenet luctantiaque oscula carpit,subiectatque manus invitaque pectora tangit,et nunc hac iuveni, nunc circumfunditur illac;denique nitentem contra elabique volenteminplicat, ut serpens, quam regia sustinet alessublimemque rapit: pendens caput illa pedesqueadligat et cauda spatiantes inplicat alas:utve solent hederae longos intexere truncos,utque sub aequoribus deprensum polypus hostemcontinet, ex omni dimissis parte flagellis.Perstat Atlantiades, sperataque gaudia nymphaedenegat. Illa premit, commissaque corpore totosicut inhaerebat, “pugnes licet, inprobe” dixit,“non tamen effugies. Ita di iubeatis! et istumnulla dies a me nec me diducat ab isto.”
Propitious deities accord her prayers:the mingled bodies of the pair uniteand fashion in a single human form.So one might see two branches underneatha single rind uniting grow as one:so, these two bodies in a firm embraceno more are twain, but with a two-fold formnor man nor woman may be called—Though bothin seeming they are neither one of twain.When that Hermaphroditus felt the change,so wrought upon him by the languid fount,considered that he entered it a man,and now his limbs relaxing in the streamhe is not wholly male, but only half,—he lifted up his hands and thus implored,albeit with no manly voice; “Hear meO father! hear me mother! grant to methis boon; to me whose name is yours, your son;whoso shall enter in this fount a manmust leave its waters only half a man.”Moved by the words of their bi-natured sonboth parents yield assent: they taint the fountwith essences of dual-working powers.Now though the daughters of King Minyashave made an end of telling tales, they makeno end of labour; for they so despisethe deity, and desecrate his feast.While busily engaged, with sudden beatthey hear resounding tambourines; and pipesand crooked horns and tinkling brass renew,unseen, the note; saffron and myrrh dissolvein dulcet odours; and, beyond belief,the woven webs, dependent on the loom,take tints of green, put forth new ivy leaves,or change to grape-vines verdant. There the threadis twisted into tendrils, there the warpis fashioned into many-moving leaves—the purple lends its splendour to the grape.And now the day is past; it is the hourwhen night ambiguous merges into day,which dubious owns nor light nor dun obscure;and suddenly the house begins to shake,and torches oil-dipped seem to flare around,and fires a-glow to shine in every room,and phantoms, feigned of savage beasts, to howl.—Full of affright amid the smoking hallsthe sisters vainly hide, and wheresoeverthey deem security from flaming fires,fearfully flit. And while they seek to hide,a membrane stretches over every limb,and light wings open from their slender arms.In the weird darkness they are unawarewhat measure wrought to change their wonted shape.No plumous vans avail to lift their flight,yet fair they balance on membraneous wing.Whenever they would speak a tiny voice,diminutive, apportioned to their size,in squeaking note complains. Adread the light,their haunts avoid by day the leafy woods,for sombre attics, where secure they resttill forth the dun obscure their wings may stretchat hour of Vesper;—this accords their name.
Vota suos habuere deos: nam mixta duorumcorpora iunguntur, faciesque inducitur illisuna, velut, siquis conducat cortice ramos,crescendo iungi pariterque adolescere cernit.Sic ubi conplexu coierunt membra tenaci,nec duo sunt et forma duplex, nec femina dicinec puer ut possit: neutrumque et utrumque videntur.Ergo ubi se liquidas, quo vir descenderat, undassemimarem fecisse videt, mollitaque in illismembra, manus tendens, sed non iam voce virili,Hermaphroditus ait: “Nato date munera vestro,et pater et genetrix, amborum nomen habenti:quisquis in hos fontes vir venerit, exeat indesemivir et tactis subito mollescat in undis.”Motus uterque parens nati rata verba biformisfecit et incesto fontem medicamine tinxit.”Finis erat dictis. Sed adhuc Minyeia prolesurget opus spernitque deum festumque profanat,tympana cum subito non adparentia raucisobstrepuere sonis, et adunco tibia cornutinnulaque aera sonant; redolent murraeque crocique,resque fide maior, coepere virescere telaeinque hederae faciem pendens frondescere vestis.Pars abit in vites, et quae modo fila fuerunt,palmite mutantur; de stamine pampinus exit;purpura fulgorem pictis adcommodat uvis.Iamque dies exactus erat, tempusque subibat,quod tu nec tenebras nec possis dicere lucem,sed cum luce tamen dubiae confinia noctis:tecta repente quati pinguesque ardere videnturlampades et rutilis conlucere ignibus aedesfalsaque saevarum simulacra ululare ferarum.Fumida iamdudum latitant per tecta sorores,diversaeque locis ignes ac lumina vitant;dumque petunt tenebras, parvos membrana per artusporrigitur tenuique includit bracchia pinna.Nec qua perdiderint veterem ratione figuramscire sinunt tenebrae. Non illas pluma levavit,sustinuere tamen se perlucentibus alis;conataeque loqui minimam et pro corpore vocememittunt, peraguntque leves stridore querellas.Tectaque, non silvas celebrant lucemque perosaenocte volant, seroque tenent a vespere nomen.