Him Pentheus angry stopp'd. “Thy tedious tale,“Form'd to divert my rage, in vain is told.“Here, men, swift drag him hence!—dispatch his soul,“Driven from his body, down to Stygian night;“By pangs excruciating.” Straight close pent,In solid dungeon is Acœtes thrown,While they the instruments of death prepare;The cruel steel; the flames;—spontaneous flyWide ope the dungeon doors; spontaneous fallThe fetters from his arms, and freed he goes.Stubborn, the son of Echion still persists;But sends no messenger: himself proceeds,To where Cythæron, for the sacred ritesSelected, rings with Bacchanalian songs,And outcries shrill. As foams an high-bred steed,When through the speaking brass the warlike trump,Sounds the glad signal; and with ardor burnsFor battle: so the air, with howlings loudRe-echoing, Pentheus moves, and doubly flamesHis rage, to hear the clangor. Clear'd from trees,A plain extends, from every part fair seen,And near the mountain's centre: round its skirt,Thick groves grow shady. Here his mother sawHis eye unhallow'd view the sacred rites;And first,—by frantic madness urg'd,—she firstFurious the Thyrsus at her Pentheus flung:Exclaiming loud;—“Ho, sisters! hither haste!“Here stands the furious boar that wastes our grounds:“My hand has smote him.” Raging rush the crowd,In one united body. All close join,And all pursue the now pale trembling wretch.No longer fierce he storms; but grieving blamesHis rashness, and his obstinacy owns.Wounded,—“dear aunt, Autonoë!”—he cries,“Help me!—O, let your own Actæon's ghost“Move you to pity!” She, Actæon's nameNought heeding, tears his outstretcht arm away;The other, Ino from his body drags!And when his arms, unhappy wretch, he triesTo lift unto his mother, arms to liftWere none;—but stretching forth his mangled trunkOf limbs bereft;—“look, mother!”—he exclaims.Loud howl'd Agavé at the sight; his neckFierce grasping,—toss'd on high his streaming locks,Her bloody fingers twisted in his hair.Then clamor'd loudly;—“joy, my comrades, joy!“The victory is mine!” Not swifter sweepThe winds those leaves which early frosts have nipp'd,And lightly to the boughs attach'd remain,Than scatter'd flew his limbs by furious hands.
Feast of Bacchus. Impiety and infidelity of Alcithoë and her sisters. Story of Pyramus and Thisbe. Amour of Mars and Venus. The lovers caught by Vulcan in a net. Sol's love for Leucothoë, and her change to a tree of frankincense. Clytié transformed to a sunflower. Tale of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus. Transformation of Alcithoë and her sisters to bats. Juno's fury. Madness of Athamas; and deification of Ino and Melicertes. Change of the Theban women to rocks and birds. Cadmus and Hermione changed to serpents. Perseus. Transformation of Atlas to a mountain. Andromeda saved from the sea monster. Story of Medusa.
Feast of Bacchus. Impiety and infidelity of Alcithoë and her sisters. Story of Pyramus and Thisbe. Amour of Mars and Venus. The lovers caught by Vulcan in a net. Sol's love for Leucothoë, and her change to a tree of frankincense. Clytié transformed to a sunflower. Tale of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus. Transformation of Alcithoë and her sisters to bats. Juno's fury. Madness of Athamas; and deification of Ino and Melicertes. Change of the Theban women to rocks and birds. Cadmus and Hermione changed to serpents. Perseus. Transformation of Atlas to a mountain. Andromeda saved from the sea monster. Story of Medusa.
Warn'd by the dreadful admonition, allOf Thebes the new solemnities approve;Bring incense, and to Bacchus' altars bend.Alcithoë only, Minyäs' daughter, viewsHis orgies still with unbelieving eyes.Boldly, herself and sisters, partners allIn impious guilt, refuse the god to own,The progeny of Jove. The prophet bidsEach mistress with her maids, to join the feast:(Sacred the day from toil). Their breasts to clotheIn skins; the fillets from their heads to loose;With ivy wreathe their brows; and in their handsThe leafy Thyrsus grasp. Threatening, he spoke,In words prophetic, how th' affronted godWould wreak his ire. Matrons and virgins haste;Throw by their baskets; quit the loom, and leaveTh' unfinish'd threads: sweet incense they supplyInvoking Bacchus by his various names.Bromius! Lyæus! power in flames produc'd!—Produc'd a second time! god doubly born!Born of two mothers! Nyseus! they exclaim;Long-hair'd Thyoneus!—and the planter fam'dOf genial grapes! Lenæus! too, they sing;Nyctelius! Elelcus! and aloudIäcchus! Evan! with the numerous names,O Liber! in the Grecian land thou hold'st.Unwaning youth is thine, eternal boy!Most beauteous form in heaven! a virgin's faceThou seem'st to bear, when seen without thy horns.Stoops to thy arms the East, where Ganges boundsThe dusky India:—Deity rever'd!Thou impious Pentheus sacrific'd; and thou,The mad Lycurgus punish'd with his axe:By thee the Tyrrhene traitors, in the mainWere flung: Adorn'd with painted reins, thou curb'stThe lynxes in thy chariot yok'd abreast:Thy steps the Satyrs and Bacchantes tread;And old Silenus; who with wine o'ercharg'd,With a long staff his tottering steps sustains:Or on a crooked ass, unsteady sits:Where'er thou enterest shout the joyous youth,Females and males immingled: loud the drumsStruck by their hands resound;—and loudly clashThe brazen cymbals: soft the boxen flutesDeep and melodious sound!Now prays all ThebesThe god's approach in mildness; and performHis sacred rites as bidden. Sole remainAt home secluded, Minyäs' daughters,—theyWith ill-tim'd industry the feast prophane.Busy, they form the wool, and twirl the thread;Or to the loom stick close, and all their maidsUrge to strict labor. One with dexterous thumbThe slender thread extending, cries;—“while all,“Idly, those rites imaginary tend,“Let us, whom Pallas, deity more great,“Detains, our useful labors lighter make“By vary'd converse. Each in turn relate“Her tale, while others listen; thus the time“Less tedious shall appear.” All pleas'd applaudThe proposition; and her sisters begThat she the tales commence. Long she demurs,What story first, of those she knew, to tell;For numerous was her store. In doubt, thy tale,Dercetis Babylonian, to relate,Whose form, the Syrians think, with scales is cloth'd;The stagnant pools frequenting: or describeThy daughter's change, on waving pinions borne;Who lengthen'd age obtain'd, on lofty towersSafe dwelling: or of Naïs, who the youthsWith magic works, and potent witching wordsTo silent fishes turn'd; till she the sameVile transformation suffer'd: or the tree,Which once in clusters white its berries bore,Now blood besprinkled, growing black. This taleMost novel, pleas'd the most: and as she spunHer slender thread, the nymph the tale began.
“Thisbe, the brightest of the eastern maids;“And Pyramus, the pride of all the youths,“Contiguous dwellings held, in that fam'd town,“Where lofty walls of stone, we learn were rais'd,“By bold Semiramis. Their neighbouring scite,“Acquaintance first encourag'd,—primal step“To further intimacy: love, in time,“Grew from this chance connection; and they long'd“To join by lawful rites: but harsh forbade,“Their rigid sires the union fate had doom'd.“With equal ardor both their minds inflam'd,“Burnt fierce; and absent every watchful spy“By nods and signs they spoke; for close their love“Conceal'd they kept;—conceal'd it burn'd more fierce.“The severing wall a narrow chink contain'd,“Form'd when first rear'd;—what will not love espy?“This chink, by all for ages past unseen,“The lovers first espy'd.—This opening gave“A passage for their voices; safely through,“Their tender words were breath'd in whisperings soft.“Oft punctual at their posts,—on this side she,“And Pyramus on that;—each breathing sighs,—“By turns inhaling, have they mutual cry'd;—“Invidious wall! why lovers thus divide?“Much were it, did thy parts more wide recede,“And suffer us to join? were that too much“A little opening more, and we might meet“With lips at least. Yet grateful still we own“Thy kind indulgence, which a passage gives,“And amorous words conveys to loving ears.“Thus they loquacious, though on sides diverse,“Till night their converse stay'd;—then cry'd, adieu!“And each imprinted kisses, which the stones“Forbade to taste. Soon as Aurora's fires“Remov'd the shades of night, and Phœbus' rays“From the moist earth the dew exhal'd, they meet“As 'custom'd at the wall: lamenting deep,“As wont in murmuring whispers: bold they plan,“Their guards evading in the silent night,“To pass the outer gates. Then, when escap'd“From home, to leave the city's dangerous shade;“But lest, in wandering o'er the spacious plains“They miss to meet, at Ninus' sacred tomb“They fix their assignation,—hid conceal'd“Beneath th' umbrageous leaves. There grew a tree,“Close bordering on a cooling fountain's brink;“A stately mulberry;—snow-white fruit hung thick“On every branch. The plot pleas'd well the pair.
“And now slow seems the car of Sol to sink;“Slow from the ocean seems the night to rise;“Till Thisbe, cautious, by the darkness veil'd,“Soft turns the hinges, and her guards beguiles.“Her features veil'd, the tomb she reaches,—sits“Beneath th' appointed tree: love makes her bold.“Lo! comes a lioness,—her jaws besmear'd“With gory foam, fresh from the slaughter'd herd,“Deep in th' adjoining fount her thirst to slake.“Far off the Babylonian maid beheld“By Luna's rays the horrid foe,—quick fled“With trembling feet, and gain'd a darksome cave:“Flying, she dropp'd, and left her robe behind.
“Now had the savage beast her drought allay'd,“And backward to the forest roaming, found“The veiling robe;—its tender texture rent,“And smear'd the spoil with bloody jaws. The youth“(With later fortune his strict watch escap'd)“Spy'd the plain footsteps of a monster huge“Deep in the sand indented!—O'er his face“Pale terror spread: but when the robe he saw,“With blood besmear'd, and mangled; loud he cry'd,—“One night shall close two lovers' eyes in death!“She most deserving of a longer date.“Mine is the fault alone. Dear luckless maid!“I have destroy'd thee;—I, who bade thee keep“Nocturnal meetings in this dangerous place,“And came not first to shield thy steps from harm.“Ye lions, wheresoe'er within those caves“Ye lurk! haste hither,—tear me limb from limb!“Fierce ravaging devour, and make my tomb“Your horrid entrails. But for death to wish“A coward's turn may serve. The robe he takes,“Once Thisbe's, and beneath th' appointed tree“Bearing it, bath'd in tears; with ardent lips“Oft fondly kissing, thus he desperate cries;—“Now with my blood be also bath'd!—drink deep!“And in his body plung'd the sword, that round“His loins hung ready girt: then as he dy'd,“Hasty withdrew, hot reeking from the wound,“The steel; and backwards falling, press'd the earth.“High spouts the sanguine flood! thus forth a pipe,“(The lead decay'd, or damag'd) sends a stream“Contracted from the breach; upspringing high,“And loudly hissing, as the air it breaks“With jets repeated. Sprinkled with the blood,“The tree's white fruit a purple tinge receiv'd;“Deep soak'd with blood the roots convey the stain“Inly, and tinge each bough with Tyrian dye.
“Now Thisbe comes, with terror trembling still,“Fearful, she Pyramus expecting waits:“Him seek her beating bosom, and her eyes;“Anxious the peril she escap'd to tell.“Well mark'd her eyes the place,—and well the tree;“The berries chang'd in color, long she doubts“The same or no. While hesitating thus,“The panting members quivering she beholds,“Upon the sanguin'd turf; and back recoils!“Paler than box her features grow; her limbs“More tremble than when ocean fretful sounds,“Its surface briskly by the breezes swept.“Nor long the pause, her lover soon is known;“And now her harmless breast with furious blows“She punishes; her tresses wild she rends;“Clasps the lov'd body; and the gaping wound“Fills with her tears,—their droppings with the blood“Immingling. On his clay-cold face she press'd“Her kisses, crying;—Pyramus! what chance“Has torn thee from me thus? My Pyramus!“Answer me,—'tis thy dearest Thisbe speaks!“She calls thee,—hear me,—raise that dying face!“At Thisbe's name, his lids, with death hard weigh'd,“He rais'd—beheld her,—and forever clos'd.
“Him dying thus,—her lacerated veil;“The ivory scabbard empty'd of its sword;“She saw,—at once the truth upon her mind“Flash'd quick. Alas! thy hand, by love impell'd,“Has wrought thy ruin: but to me the hand,“In this, at least, shall equal force display,“For equal was my love; and love will grant“Sufficient strength the deadly wound to give.“In death I'll follow thee; with justice call'd“Thy ruin's wretched cause,—but comrade too.“Thou whom, but death seem'd capable to part“From me, shalt find ev'n death too weak will prove.“Ye wretched mourning parents, his and mine!“The dying prayers respect of him,—of me:“Grant that, entomb'd together, both may rest;“A pair by faithful love conjoined,—by death“United close. And thou fair tree which shad'st“Of one the miserable corse; and two“Soon with thy boughs wilt cover,—bear the mark“Of the sad deed eternal;—ting'd thy fruit“With mournful coloring: monumental type“Of double slaughter. Speaking thus, she plac'd“The steely point, while yet with blood it smok'd,“Beneath her swelling breast; and forward fell.“Her final prayer reach'd heaven; her parents reach'd:“Purple the berries blush, when ripen'd full;“And in one urn the lovers' ashes rest.”
She ceas'd: a silent interval, but short,Ensu'd; and next Leuconoë thus address'dHer listening sisters:—“Ev'n the sun himself,“Whose heavenly light so universal shines,“To love is subject: his amours I tell.“This deity's keen sight the first espy'd—“(For all things penetrating first he sees)“The crime of Mars and Venus; sore chagrin'd,“To Vulcan he th' adulterous theft display'd,“And told him where they lay. Appall'd he heard,—“And dropp'd the tools his dexterous hand contain'd;“But soon recover'd. Slender chains of brass,“And nets, and traps he form'd; so wonderous fine,“They mock'd the power of sight: for far less fine,“The smallest thread the distaff forms; or line,“Spun by the spider, pendent from the roof.“Curious he form'd it; at the lightest touch“It yielded; each momentum, slight howe'er,“Caus'd its recession: this he artful hung,“The couch enfolding. When the faithless wife,“And paramour upon the bed embrac'd,“Both in the lewd conjunction were ensnar'd;“Caught by the husband's skill, whose art the chains“In novel form had fram'd. The Lemnian god“Instant wide threw the ivory doors, and gave“Admittance free to every curious eye:“In shameful guise together bound they laid.“But some light gods, not blaming much the sight,“Would wish thus sham'd to lie: loud laugh'd the whole,“And long in heaven the tale jocose was told.
“The well-remember'd deed, the Cyprian queen“Retorting, made the god remember too:“And him who her conceal'd amours disclos'd,“In turn betray'd. What now, Hyperion's son,“Avails thy beauty!—or thy radiant flames?“For thou, whose fires warm all the wide-spread world,“Burn'st with a new-felt heat! Thou, whose wide view,“Should every object grasp, with partial ken“Leucothoë only see'st! that nymph alone,“Attracts those eyes, whose lustre all the world“Expect to view. Oft in the eastern skies,“More early rising, art thou seen; and oft“More tardy 'neath the waves thou sinkest: long“The wintry days thou stretchest, with delay“Thy object lov'd to see. Meantime pale gloom“O'ercasts thy orb; the dullness of thy mind“Obstructs thy brightness; and thy rays obscure,“Terror in mortal breasts inspire. Not pale“Thou fadest, as, when nearer whirl'd to earth,“Faint Luna's shadow o'er thy surface glooms:“But love, and only love the paleness gives.“Her only, now thy amorous soul pursues;“Rhodos, nor Clymené, nor Persé fair,“Of Colchian Circé mother, tempt thee now;“Nor Clytié, whom thy cold neglect still spurns;“Yet still she burns to clasp thee: deep she mourns,“Stung more acutely by this fresh amour.“Now in Leucothoë, every former love“Is lost. Leucothoë, whom the beauteous nymph,“Eurynomé, in odoriferous climes“Of Araby brought forth. Full-grown, matur'd,“Leucothoë's beauteous form no less surpass'd“Her mother's, than her mother's all beside.“Her sire, the royal Orchamus (who claim'd“A seventh descent from ancient Belus) rul'd“The Achæmenian towns. The rapid steeds“Of Phœbus pasture 'neath the western sky;“Not grass, ambrosia, eating; heavenly food,“Which nerves their limbs, faint with diurnal toil,“Restoring all their ardor. Whilst the steeds,“This their celestial nourishment enjoy;“And night, as 'custom'd, governs in her turn;“The god the close apartments of his nymph“Beloved, enters;—form'd to outward view,“Eurynomé her mother. Her he saw“The slender threads from spindle twirling fine,“Illumin'd by the lamp; and circled round“By twice six female helpers. Warm he gave“As a lov'd daughter, his maternal kiss,“And said;—our converse secrecy demands.—“Th' attendant maids depart,—nor hinderance give,“Loitering, a mother's secret words to hear.“When he, the chamber free from spy or guard,“Exclaims,—no female I! behold the god,“The lengthen'd year who spaces! who beholds“Each object earth contains! the world's great eye“By which it all surveys. My tender words“Believe, I dearly love thee. Pale she look'd,“While thus he spoke;—started, and trembling dropp'd“Her distaff, and her spindle from her hand“Nerveless. But ev'n her terror seem'd to add“Fresh beauty to her features. Longer he“Delay'd not, but his wonted form assum'd;“In heavenly splendor shining. Mild the maid,“Won by his beauteous brightness, (though at first,“His sudden shape surpriz'd her) sunk beneath“The force he urg'd, with unresisting power.
“The jealous Clytié (who with amorous flame“Burn'd for Apollo) urg'd by harlot's rage,“Straight to the sire, Leucothoë's crime betray'd;“Painting the nymph's misdeed with heighten'd glow.“Fierce rag'd the father,—merciless inhum'd“Her living body deep in earth! Outstretcht“High to the sun her arms, and praying warm“For mercy;—he by force, she cry'd, prevail'd!“O'er her untimely grave a lofty mound“Of sand, her sire uprear'd. Hyperion's son“Through this an opening with his beams quick form'd,“Full wide for her, her head intomb'd to lift,“Once to the light again. Thy bury'd corse“No more thou now couldst raise; the ponderous load“Of earth prevents thee; and a bloodless mass,“Exanimate, thou ly'st! Not deeper grief“'Tis said, the ruler of the swift-wing'd steeds,“Display'd, when o'er the earth the hapless flames“By Phaëton were thrown. Arduous he strives,“Her gelid limbs, with all his powerful rays“To vivid heat recal: stern fate withstands“His utmost urg'd endeavours: bathing then“Her pallid corse, and all the earth around“With odorous nectar, sorrowing sad he cries;—“Yet, shalt thou reach the heavens! And soon began“Her limbs, soft melting in celestial dew,“With moistening drops of strong perfume to flow:“Slowly a frankincense's rooted twigs“Spread in the earth,—its top the hillock burst.
“Angry the god (though violent love the pain“Of jealousy might well excuse,—the pain“Of jealousy the tale) from Clytié now“Abstains; no more in amorous mood they meet.“Rash now the deed her burning love had caus'd,“Too late she found;—she flies her sister-nymphs;“And pining, on the cold bare turf she sits;“By day,—by night,—sole shelter'd by the sky;“Her dripping tresses matted round her brows:“Food,—drink, abhorring. Nine long days she bore“Sharp famine, bath'd with dew, bath'd with her tears;“Still on the ground prone lying. Yet the god“In circling motion still she ardent view'd;“Turning her face to his. Tradition tells,“Her limbs to earth grew fasten'd: ghastly pale“Her color; chang'd to bloodless leaves she stood,“Streak'd ruddy here and there;—a violet flower“Her face o'erspreading. Still that face she turns,“To meet the sun;—though binding roots retain“Her feet, her love unalter'd still remains.”
She ended; all their listening ears, well pleas'd,The wonderous story heard. Some hard of faithIts truth, its probability deny.To true divinities such power some grant;And power to compass more;—to Bacchus noneSuch potence own. The sisters, silent now,Alcithoë beg to speak: she shooting swiftHer shuttle through th' extended threads, exclaims;—“Of Daphnis' love, so known, on Ida's hill,“His flocks who tended, whom his angry nymph,“To stone transform'd (such fury fires the breast“Of those who desperate love!) I shall not tell:“Nor yet of Scython, of ambiguous form,“Now male, now female; nature's wonted laws“Inconstant proving: thee, O Celmis! too“I pass; once faithful nurse to infant Jove,“Now chang'd to adamant: Curetes! sprung“From showery floods: Crocus, and Smilax, both“To blooming flowers transform'd: unnotic'd these,“My tale from novelty itself shall please:“How Salmacis so infamous became,“Then list; whose potent waves, the luckless limbs“Enerve, of those they bathe. Conceal'd the cause;“Yet far and wide the fountain's power is known.
“Deep in the sheltering caves of Ida's hill,“The Naiäd nymphs a beauteous infant nurs'd;“Whom Cyprus' goddess unto Hermes bore.“His father's beauty, and his mother's, shone“In every feature; in his name conjoin'd“He bore their appellations. When matur'd“By fifteen summers, from paternal hills“Straying, he wander'd from his nursing Idé:“In lands unknown he joy'd, and joy'd to see“Strange rivers,—pleasure lessening every toil.“Through Lycia's towns he stray'd; and further still,“To bordering Caria, where a pool he spy'd,“Whose lowest depth a gleam transparent shew'd:“No marshy canes,—no filthy barren weeds,“Nor pointed bulrush near the margin grew:“Full on the eye the water shone, yet round“Its brink a border smil'd of verdant turf,“And plants forever green. Here dwelt a nymph,“But one who never join'd the active chace;“The bow who never bent; who never strove“To conquer in the race: of all the nymphs,“Alone no comrade of Diana fleet.“Oft, as 'tis said, her sister-nymphs exclaim'd;—“Come, Salmacis, thy painted quiver take;“Or take thy javelin;—with soft pleasures mix“Laborious sporting: but nor javelin she,“Nor painted quiver took;—with sportive toil,“Soft pleasures mingling: sole intent to bathe,“Her beauteous limbs amidst her own clear waves;“And through her flowing tresses oft to draw“The boxen comb, while o'er the fountain bent,“She studies all her graces: now, her form“Clad in a robe transparent, stretcht she lies,“Or on the yielding leaves, or bending grass;“Now flowers she culls;—and so it chanc'd to fall,“Flowers she was gathering, when she first beheld“The charming youth; no sooner seen than lov'd.“Not forth she rush'd at first, though strongly urg'd,“Forward to spring, but all adjusted fair:“Closely survey'd her robe; her features form'd;“And every part in beauteous shape compos'd.“Then thus address'd him;—O, most godlike youth!“And if a god, the lovely Cupid sure!“But if of mortal mould, blest is thy sire!“Blest is thy brother! and thy sister blest!—“If sister hast thou;—and the fostering breast“Which fed thy infant growth: but far 'bove all“In rapturous bliss, is she who calls thee spouse;“Should nymph exist thou deem'st that bliss deserves!“If wedded, grant a stol'n embrace to me;“If not, let me thy nuptial couch ascend.“The Naiäd ceas'd: a bashful glow suffus'd“His face, for nought of love to him was known:“Yet blushing seem'd he lovely: thus warm glows“The apple, to the ripening sun expos'd;“Or teinted ivory; or the redden'd moon,“Whom brazen cymbals clash to help in vain.“To her, warm praying for at least a kiss,“A chaste, a sister's kiss,—her arms firm claspt“Around his ivory neck;—desist! he cries,“Desist! or sole to thee the place I'll leave.“His flight she dreaded, and reply'd,—I go,“Dear youth, and freely yield the spot to thee.“And seems indeed, her steps from him to turn;“But still in sight she kept him; lurking close“Shelter'd by shadowy shrubs, on bended knees.“Of spy unconscious, he in boyish play“Frisks sportive here and there; dips first his feet,“Then ancles deeper in the wantoning waves;“Pleas'd with the temper of the lucid pool:“Till hasty stript from off his tender limbs“His garments soft he flings. More deeply struck“Stood Salmacis; more fiercely flam'd her love,“His naked beauty seen. Her gloating eyes“Sparkled no less than seem bright Phœbus' rays,“When shining splendid, midst a cloudless sky,“A mirror's face reflecting gives them back.“Delay ill brooking, hardly she contains“Her swelling joy; frantic for his embrace,“She pants, and hard from rushing forth refrains.“His sides he claps, and agile in the steam“Quick plunges, moving with alternate arms.“Bright through the waves he shines; thus white appears“The sculptur'd ivory, or the lily fair,“Seen through a crystal veil. The Naiäd cries;—“Lo! here I come;—he's mine,—the youth's my own!“And instant far was every garment flung.“Midst of the waves she leaps;—the struggling youth“Clasps close; and on his cold reluctant lips,“Forces her kisses; down she girds his arms;“And close to hers hugs his unwilling breast:“Final, around the youth who arduous strives“In opposition, and escape essays,“Her limbs she twines: so twines a serpent huge,“Seiz'd by the bird of Jove, and borne on high,“Twisting his head, the feet close-bracing holds;“The wide-spread wings entangled with his tail:“So twines the ivy round the lengthen'd bough:“So numerous Polypus his foe confines,“Seiz'd in the deep, with claws on every side“Firm graspt. But Hermes' son persisting still,“The Naiäd's wish denies; she presses close,“And as she cleaves, their every limb close join'd“Exclaims;—ungallant boy! but strive thy most,“Thou shalt not fly me. Grant me, O ye gods!“No time may ever sunder him from me,“Or me from him.—Her prayer was granted straight;—“For now, commingling, both their bodies join'd;“And both their faces melted into one.“So, when in growth we boughs ingrafted see,“The bark inclosing both at once, they sprout.“Thus were their limbs, in strong embrace comprest,“Wrapp'd close; no longer two in form, yet two“In feature; nor a nymph-like face remain'd,“Nor yet a boy's: it both and neither seem'd.
“When Hermes' son beheld the liquid stream,“Where masculine he plung'd, the power possess“To enervate his body, and his limbs“Effeminately soften; high he rais'd“His arms, and pray'd (but not with manly voice)“O, sire! O, mother dear! indulge your son,“Your double appellation bearing, this“Sole-urg'd petition. Whoso in these waves“In strong virility, like me, shall plunge,“Hence let him go, like me enervate made;“Spoilt by the stream his strength. Each parent god“Nodding, confirm'd their alter'd son's request;“And ting'd the fountain with the changing power.”
She ceas'd: the nymphs Minyeian still persistTheir toil to urge, despising still the god;His festival prophaning. Sudden heard,The rattling sounds of unseen timbrels burstFull on their ears! the pipe; the crooked horn;And brazen cymbals loudly clash; perfumesOf myrrh and saffron blended smell:—but more,And what belief surpasses, straight their loomsVirid to sprout begin; the pendent threadsBranch into shoots like ivy: part becomesThe vine: what now were threads, curl'd tendrils seem:Shot from the folded web, the branches climb;And the bright red in purpling grapes appears.
Now was the sun declining, and approach'dThe twilight season, when nor day it seems,Nor night confirm'd; but a gray mixture forms;Of each an indetermin'd compound. DeepThe roof appear'd to shade; the oily lamps,Ardent to glow; the torches bright to burn,With reddening flames; while round them seem'd to howl,Figures of beast ferocious. Fill'd with smokeThe room,—th' affrighted maidens seek to hide;And each in different corners tries to shunThe fires and flaming light. But while they seekA lurking shelter, o'er their shorten'd limbsA webby membrane spreading, binds their armsIn waving wings. The gloom conceal'd the mode,Of transformation from their former shape.Light plumage bears them not aloft,—yet rais'dOn wings transparent, through the air they skim,To speak they strive, but utter forth a soundFeeble and weak; then, screeching shrill, they plain:Men's dwellings they frequent,—nor try the woods;And, cheerful day avoiding, skim by night;Their name from that untimely hour deriv'd.
Now were the deeds of heaven-born Bacchus fam'dThrough every part of Thebes; and all around,His aunt proud boasts the new-made god's great power:She, of the sisters all, from sorrow spar'd,Save what to view her sisters' sorrowing gave.Juno beheld her lofty thus, her breastElate to view her sons; her nuptial fruitsWith Athamas; and her great foster child,The mighty Bacchus. More the furious queenBore not, but thus exclaim'd;—“Has the whore's son“Power to transform the Tyrrhene crew, and plunge“Them headlong in the deep? Can he impel“The mother's hands to seize her bleeding son“And tear his entrails? Dares he then to clothe“The Minyëid sisters with un'custom'd wings?“And is Saturnia's utmost power confin'd“Wrongs unreveng'd to weep? Suffices such“For me? Is this a goddess' utmost might?“But he instructs me;—wisdom may be taught“Ev'n by a foe. The wretched Pentheus' fate,“Shews all-sufficient, what may madness do.“Why should not Ino, stung with frantic rage,“The well-known track her sisters trode pursue?”
A path declivitous, with baleful yewDark shaded, leads, a dreary silent road,Down to th' infernal regions: sluggish StyxDank mists exhales: here travel new-made ghosts,With rites funereal blest: pale winter's gloomWide rules the squalid place: the stranger shadesWander, unknowing which the path to tread,Straight to the infernal city, where is heldBlack Pluto's savage court. A thousand gates,Wide ope, surround the town on every side.As boundless ocean every stream receives,From earth pour'd numerous,—so each wandering soulFlocks to this city; whose capacious boundsFull space for all affords; nor ever feelsTh' increasing crowd: of flesh depriv'd, and bones,The bloodless shadows wander. Some frequentThe forum; some th' infernal monarch's court;Some various arts employ, resembling muchTheir former daily actions; numbers groanIn punishments severe. Here Juno came,Braving the region's horrors, from her throneCelestial,—so did ire and hatred goadHer bosom with their stings! Sacred she press'dThe groaning threshold,—instant as she stepp'd,Fierce Cerberus his triple head uprais'd,And howl'd with triple throat. The goddess callsThe night-born sisters, fierce, implacable:Before the close-barr'd adamantine gatesThey sit; their tresses twisting round with snakes.The queen through clouds of midnight gloom they see,And instant rise. Here dwell the suffering damn'd.Here Tityus, stretcht o'er nine wide acres, yieldsHis entrails to be torn. Thou, Tantalus,Art seen, the stream forbid to taste;—the fruitThy lips o'erhanging, flies! Thou, Sisyphus,Thy stone pursuing downwards; or its weightStraining aloft, with oft exerted power!Ixion whirling, too; with swift pursuit,Thou follow'st, and art follow'd! Belides!Your husband-cousins who in death dar'd steep,And ceaseless draw the unavailing streams!All Juno view'd with unrelenting brow;But, view'd Ixion sterner far than all:And when on Sisyphus again she castHer eyes, behind Ixion, angry cry'd;—“What justice this?—of all the brethren he“Sharp torture suffers! Shall proud Athamas“A regal dwelling boast,—whose scornful taunts,“And scornful spouse have still my power contemn'd?”Then straight her hatred's cause disclos'd. They seeHer journey's object, and revenge's aim.This her desire, that Cadmus' regal housePerish'd should sink; and Athamas, fierce urg'dBy madness should some dreadful vengeance claim.Commands, solicitations, prayers,—at onceThe goddesses besiege: and as she speaks,Angrily mov'd, Tisiphoné replies,—(Shaking her hoary locks,—the twining snakesBack from her mouth repelling) hasty thus;—“A tedious tale we need not; what thou wilt“Believe accomplish'd. Fly this hateful gloom;—“Up to the wholesome breeze of heaven repair.”Glad, Juno left the spot;—when near approach'dHeaven's entrance, there Thaumantian Iris met,And with her sprinklings purify'd the queen.
Quick now Tisiphoné, the savage fiend,Seizes her torch, with gory droppings wet;Flings round her limbs a garment, deeply dy'dWith streaming blood; a twisting snake suppliesA girdle:—thus array'd she sallies forth,Follow'd by loud lament, by terror, fear,And quivering-featur'd madness. When she press'dThe threshold, fame declares the pillars shook;The maple doors, with terror mov'd, grew pale:Back shrunk the sun! Ino, with trembling dreadBeheld these wonders;—Athamas beheld;And both prepar'd the haunted place to fly.Escape the fury hinders: fierce she stands,Blocking the entrance: wide her arms she spreads,With viperous twistings bound; and threatening shakesHer tresses: loud the serpents noise, disturb'd;Sprawl o'er her shoulders some; some, lower fall'n,Twine hissing round her breasts, with brandish'd tongue,Black poison vomiting. With furious gripe,Two from her locks she tore;—her deadly handHurl'd them straight on; the breasts of Athamas,And Ino, hungry, with their fangs they seiz'd;Fierce pains infixing, but external woundsTheir limbs betray'd not: mental was the blow,So direly struck. Venoms most mortal, too,From Tartarus she bore:—the foam high-churn'dFrom jaws of Cerberus; the poisonous juiceOf Hydra; urgent wish for roaming wide;Oblivion mental-blinded; wicked deeds;Weeping; and furious fierceness, slaughter fond.On these commingled, fresh-drawn gore she pour'd,And warm'd them bubbling in a brazen vase;Stirr'd by a sprouting hemlock. Trembling, theyShudder, while in their breasts the poison fierceShe pours: both bosoms feel it deep instill'd;—Their inmost vitals feel it. Then her torch,Whirl'd flaming round and round, in triumph glares,Fires from the circling gathering. Powerful thus;Victorious in her aims, and deeds desir'd,To mighty Pluto's shadowy realm she speeds;And from her loins untwists the girding snakes.
Mad bounded Athamas amid the hall,“Ho! friends,” exclaiming;—“here spread wide your toils,“Here, in this thicket, where ev'n now I saw“With young twin cubs, a lioness!”—and mad,Pursu'd his consort for a savage beast;Snatching Learchus, who with playful smile,Outstretch'd his infant hands to meet him. TorneRough from his mother's bosom, round in airAnd round, sling-like he whirl'd; then savage dash'dUpon a rugged rock the tender bones.
Loud howls the frantic mother; frantic madeBy grief, or by the scatter'd poison's power:And, raving, with dishevell'd tresses spreadWide o'er her shoulders, flies. Her naked armsYoung Melicertes bear; madly she shrieks;—“Evoë, Bacchus!”—Loud at Bacchus' nameRevengeful Juno laugh'd, and said;—“Such boon“Thy foster-son upon his nurse confers!”A lofty rock the foaming waves o'erhangs,Whose dashing force deep in its base have scoop'dA cavern, safely sheltering from the showers:The adamantine summit high extends,And o'er the wide main stretches. Swift this height,Active and strong with madness, Ino gain'dAnd fearless, with the infant in her arms,Sprung from the cliff, and sunk beneath the waves.White foam'd the surge around her!Venus, griev'd,Such sufferings, undeserv'd, her race should bear,Thus with bland coaxings Ocean's god address'd:“Lord of the azure deep, whose high command“Sways next to heaven's,—a vast demand I ask;—“But pity my poor offspring, whom thou see'st“Plung'd in th' Ionian billows;—with their forms“Thy deities increase. Some influence sure,“In ocean I should hold, from thence produc'd;“Sprung from the froth that on the deep main swims:“Whence Grecian poets name me.” Neptune nods,Assenting to her prayer; and from their limbsAbstracts the mortal portion; on their formsBreathes majesty; and with their alter'd mien,Their names he changes too; Palæmon he,Now stil'd, his mother as Leucothoë known.
The princess' anxious comrades trac'd her stepsWith care; the last with arduous search they found,Just on the giddy brink, nor dubious deem'dHer fate a moment. Cadmus' house they wail;With beating hands their tresses tear, and robes;And highly Juno blame, as one unjust:Too ireful for the hapless sister's fault.Juno, fierce flaming, these reproaches stung;—“Ye too,” she cry'd, “shall monuments become“Of the fierce ire ye blame!” Deeds words pursu'd.The nymph who most her hapless queen held dear,Exclaim'd;—“deep in the roaring main I'll plunge,“To join her fate,”—and sprung to take the leap;But motionless she stood,—fixt to the rock!Her wounding blows, upon her bosom oneStrives to renew, as wont; her striving armsStiffen'd to stone she sees. This tow'rd the wavesHer hands extends; a rocky mass she stands,In the same waves far stretching. Lifted high,The locks to rend, the fingers might be seenStiffen'd, and rigid with the hair become.In posture whatsoever caught, each nymph,In that same posture stands. Thus part are chang'd:The rest, to birds transform'd, by wings upborne,Skim o'er the surface of the neighbouring sea.
Cadmus, the wond'rous change which rais'd his child,And his young grandson to the rank of gods,Yet knew not. By his load of grief o'erwhelm'd;A chain of woes; and supernatural scenes,So numerous which he sees; the founder quitsHis town, suspicious that the city's fate,And not his own, misfortune on him showers.Borne o'er the main, his lengthen'd wanderings end,When with his exil'd consort, safe he gainsIllyria's shores. Opprest with grief and age,The primal fortunes of their house, with careThey scan, and in their converse all their woesAgain recounting, Cadmus thus exclaims;—“Was then that serpent, by my javelin pierc'd,“When driven from Tyre; whose numerous teeth I sow'd,“Sacred to some divinity?—If he“Thus, vengeful for the deed, his anger pours,“May I a serpent stretcht at length become.”He said,—and serpent-like extended lies!Scales he perceives, upon his harden'd skin;And sees green spots on his black body form;Prone on his breast he falls; together twin'd,His legs commingling stretch, and gradual endLessen'd in rounded point; his arms remainStill, and those arms remaining he extends;While down his face yet human tears flow fast.“O, hapless wife! approach,” he cries, “approach,“And touch me now, while ought of me remains;“Receive my hand, while yet a hand I bear;“Ere to a serpent wholly turns my form.”—More he prepar'd to utter, but his tongue,Cleft sudden, to his wishes words refus'd:And often when his sorrows sad he try'dTo wail anew, he hiss'd!—that sound alone,Nature permitted. While her naked breastWith blows resounded, loud his wife exclaim'd;—“Stay,—O, my Cadmus! hapless man, shake off“This monstrous figure! Cadmus what is this?“Where are thy feet,—and where thy arms and hands?“Where are thy features,—thy complexion? Where,“Whilst I bewail, art thou? Celestial powers!“Why not this transformation work on me?”She ended; he advancing, lick'd her face,And creep'd, as custom'd, to her bosom dear,And round her wonted neck embracing twin'd.Now draw their servants nigh, and as they comeWith terror start. The crested serpents play,Smooth on their necks,—now two; and cordial slide,In spires conjoin'd; then in the darksome shadesTh' adjoining woods afford them, close they hide.Mankind they fly not, nor deep wounds inflict;Harmless, their pristine form is ne'er forgot.
Still, though in alter'd shapes, the pair rejoic'dTheir grandson's fame to hear; whom vanquish'd Ind'Low bending worshipp'd; Greece adoring prais'd,In lofty temples. Sole Acrisius stands,Like Bacchus sprung from Jove's celestial seed,Opposing; and from Argos' gates propelsThe god;—his birth deny'd, against him arms.Nor Perseus would he own from heaven deriv'd;Conceiv'd by Danaë, from a golden shower:Yet soon,—so mighty is the force of truth,—Acrisius grieves he e'er so rashly brav'dThe god; his grandson driving from his court,Disown'd. Now one in heaven is glorious plac'd;The other, laden with the well-known spoilOf the fierce snaky monster, cleaves the air,On sounding pinions. High the victor sailsO'er Lybia's desarts, and the gory dropsFall from the gorgon's head; the Ground receivesThe blood, and warms it into writhing snakes.Hence does the country with the pest still swarm.
Thence borne by adverse winds, he sweeps along,Through boundless ether driven; now here, now there,As watery clouds are swept. From lofty skies,The earth far distant viewing, round the globeHe skimm'd: three times he saw the Arctic poleAnd thrice the warmer Crab. Oft to the west,Th' adventurous youth was borne; back to the east,As often. Now the day in darkness sank,When he, nocturnal flight mistrusting, lightsIn Atlas' kingdom 'neath th' Hesperian sky;A short repose requests, till Phosphor' bright,Should call Aurora forth;—she ushering inThe chariot of the day. Japetus' sonAll men in huge corporeal bulk surpass'd.He to th' extremest confines of the land,And o'er the ocean sway'd, whose waves receiveApollo's panting steeds, and weary'd car.A thousand bleating flocks; a thousand herds,Stray'd through the royal pastures. Neighbouring lordsNot near him plough'd their lands. Trees grew, whose leavesWith splendor glittering, threw a golden shadeO'er golden branches, and o'er fruit of gold.Thus Perseus;—“Friendly host, if glorious birth“Thee pleases, here one born of Jove behold.“If deeds of merit more attraction move,“Mine thy applause may claim. At present grant“An hospitable shelter here, and rest.”But Atlas, fearing these oraculous words,—(Long since by Themis on Parnassus given)“The time, O king! will come, thy golden tree“Shall lose its fruit. The glory of the spoil“A son of Jove shall boast:” and dreading sore;Around his orchards massy walls he rears;A dragon huge and fierce the guard maintains.“Whatever strangers to his realm approach,Far thence he drives; and thus to Perseus too;—“Haste, quickly haste from hence, lest soon I prove“Thy glorious deeds but feign'd,—feign'd as thy birth.”Then force to threats he added,—strove to thrustThe hero forth; who struggling, efforts urg'dResisting, while he begg'd with softening words.Proving in strength inferior (who in strengthCould vie with Atlas?) “Since my fame,” he cries,“Such small desert obtains, a gift accept.”And, back his face averting, holds display'd,On his left side Medusa's ghastly head.A mountain now the mighty Atlas stands!His hair and beard as lofty forests wave;His arms and hands high hilly summits rear;O'er-topp'd above, by what was once his head:His bones are rocks; then, so the gods decree,Enlarg'd to size immense in every part,The weight of heaven, and all the stars he bears.
His blustering vassals Æolus had pent,In ever-during prisons. Phosphor' bright,Most splendid 'midst the starry host of heaven;Admonitor of labor, now was risen;When Perseus bound again on either foot,His winnowing wings; girt on his crooked sword;And cleft the air, on waving pinions borne.O'er numerous nations, far beneath him spread,He sail'd, till Ethiopia's realms he saw;Where Cepheus rul'd. There Ammon, power unjust,Andromeda had sentenc'd,—guiltless maid,To what her mother's boastful tongue deserv'd.Her soon as Perseus spy'd, fast by the armsChain'd to the rugged rock;—where but her locksWav'd lightly to the breeze; and but her eyesTrickled a tepid stream; she might be deem'dA sculptur'd marble: him the unknown sightAstonish'd, dazzled, and enflam'd with love.His senses in the beauteous view sole wrapt,Scarce he remembers on his wings to wave:—Alights, exclaiming;—“O, whom chains like these“Should never bind, nor other chains than such,“As lovers intertwist! declare thy name;“Thy country tell; and why thou bear'st those bonds.”Silent awhile the virgin stood; abash'd,Converse with man to hold: her blushing face,Her hands, if free, had long before conceal'd.Quick starting tears, 'twas all she could, her eyesVeil'd swimming: then her name and country told;And all the conscious pride her mother's charmsInspir'd, in full acknowledg'd; lest for crimesHer own, just suffering, Perseus might conceive.All yet untold, when loud the billows roar'd;Upheav'd the monster's bulk: far 'bove the wavesHe stood uprear'd, and then right onward plung'd;His ample bosom covering half the main.
Loud shrieks the virgin! Sad her father comes;And sad her raving mother, wretched both,The mother most deserv'dly. Help in vainFrom them she seeks; with tears, and bosoms torn,Her fetter'd limbs they clasp, they can no more.Then Perseus thus;—“for tears and loud laments,“Long may the time be: but effective aid“To give, the time is short. Suppose the nymph“I ask;—I, Perseus! sprung from mighty Jove,“By her whose prison in a golden shower“Fecundative, he enter'd. Perseus, who“The Gorgon snaky-hair'd o'ercame; who bold“On waving pinions winnows through the air.“Him for a son in preference should ye chuse,“Arduous he'll strive to these high claims to add,“If heaven permits, some merits more his own.“Agree she's mine, if by my arm preserv'd.”The parents promise;—(who in such a caseWould waver) beg his help; and promise, more,That all their kingdom shall her dower become.Lo! as a vessel's sharpen'd prow quick cleavesThe waves, by strenuous sweating arms impell'd,The monster comes! his mighty bosom wideThe waters sideway breasting; distant now,Not more than what the Balearic slingCould with the bullet gain, when high in air,The sod repelling, upward springs the youth.Soon as the main reflected Perseus' form,The ocean-savage rag'd: as Jove's swift birdWhen in the open fields a snake he spiesBasking, his livid back to Phœbus' raysExpos'd, behind attacks him; plunges deep,His hungry talons in his scaly neck,To curb the twisting of his sanguine teeth.With rapid flight, thus Perseus shooting cleavesThe empty air; lights on the monster's back;Burying his weapon to the crooked hilt,Full in the shoulder of the raging beast.Mad with the deepen'd wound, now rears aloftThe savage high in air; now plunges low,Beneath the waters; now he furious turns,As turns the boar ferocious, when the crowdOf barking dogs beset him fiercely round.With rapid waft the venturous hero shunsHis greedy jaws: now on his back, thick-arm'dWith shells, he strikes where opening space he sees;Now on his sides; now where his tapering tailIn fish-like form is finish'd, bites the steel.High spouts the wounded monster from his mouth;The waves with gore deep purpling: drench'd, the wingsDroop nagging; and no longer Perseus daresTo trust their dripping aid. A rock he spiesWhose summit o'er the peaceful waters rose,But deep was hid when tempests mov'd the main.Supported here, his left hand firmly graspsThe craggy edge; while through his sides, and through,The dying savage feels the weapon drove.
Loud shouts and plaudits fill the shore, the noiseResounding echoes to the heavenly thrones.Cassiopé and Cepheus joyful greetTheir son, and grateful own him chief support,And saviour. From her rugged fetters freed,The virgin walks; the cause, the great rewardOf all his toil. His victor hands he lavesIn the pure stream: then with soft leaves defendsA spot, to rest the serpent-bearing head,Lest the bare sand should harm it. Twigs marineHe likewise strews, and rests Medusa there.The fresh green twigs as though with life endow'd,Felt the dire Gorgon's power; their spongy pithHard to the touch became, the stiffness spreadThrough every twig and leaf. The Nereïd nymphsMore branches bring, and try the wonderous changeOn all, and joy to see the change succeed:Spreading the transformation from the seeds,With them throughout the waves. This nature stillRetains the coral: hardness still assumesFrom contact with the air; beneath the wavesA bending twig; an harden'd stone above.
Three turfy altars to three heavenly godsHe builds: to Hermes sacred stands the left;The right to warlike Pallas; in the midstThe mighty Jove's is rear'd: (To Pallas bleedsAn heifer: to the plume-heel'd god a calf:Almighty Jove accepts a lordly bull)Then claims Andromeda, the rich reward,without a dower, of all his valorous toil.
Now Love and Hymen wave their torches high,Precursive of their joys: each hearth is heap'dWith odorous incense: every roof is hungWith flowery garlands: pipes, and harps, and lyres,And songs which indicate their festive souls,Resound aloud. Each portal open thrown,Display'd appears the golden palace wide.By every lord of Cepheus' court, array'dIn splendid pomp, the nuptial feast is grac'd.The banquet ended, while the generous giftOf Bacchus circles; and each soul dilates,Perseus, the modes and customs of the landCurious enquires. Lyncides full relatesThe habits, laws, and manners of the clime.His information ended;—“now,”—he cry'd,—“Relate, O Perseus! boldest of mankind,—“By what fierce courage, and what skilful arts,”“The snaky locks in thy possession came.”Then Perseus tells, how lies a lonely valeBeneath cold Atlas; every side strong fenc'dBy lofty hills, whose only pass is held,By Phorcus' twin-born daughters. Mutual theyOne eye possess'd, in turns by either us'd.His hand deceiving seiz'd it, as it pass'd'Twixt them alternate; dexterous was the wile.Through devious paths, and deep-sunk ways he went;And craggy woods, dark-frowning, till he reach'dThe Gorgon's dwelling: passing then the fields,And beaten roads, there forms of men he saw,And shapes of savage beasts; but all to stoneBy dire Medusa's petrifying faceTransform'd. He then the horrid countenance mark'd,Bright from the brazen targe his left arm bore,Reflected. While deep slumber safe weigh'd down,The Gorgon and her serpents, he divorc'dHer shoulders from her head. He adds how sprung,Chrysaör, and wing'd Pegasus the swift,From the prolific Gorgon's streaming gore.Relates the perils of his lengthen'd flight;What seas, what kingdoms from the lofty sky,Beneath him he had view'd; what sparkling starsHis waving wings had brush'd;—thus ceas'd his tale:All more desiring. Then uprose a peer,—And why Medusa, of the sisters soleThe serpent-twisted tresses wore, enquir'd.The youth:—“The story that you ask, full well“Attention claims;—I what you seek recite.“For matchless beauty fam'd, with envying hope“Her, crowds of suitors follow'd: nought surpass'd“'Mongst all her beauties, her bright lovely hair:“Those who had seen her thus, have this averr'd.“But in Minerva's temple Ocean's god“The maid defil'd. The virgin goddess shock'd,“Her eyes averted, and her forehead chaste“Veil'd with the Ægis. Then with vengeful power“Chang'd the Gorgonian locks to writhing snakes.“The snakes, thus form'd, fixt on her shield she bears;“The horrid sight her trembling foes appals.”
Attack of Phineus and his friends on Perseus. Defeat of the former, and their change to statues. Atchievements of Perseus in Argos, and Seriphus. Minerva's visit to the Muses. Fate of Pyreneus. Song of the Pierides. Song of the Muses. Rape of Proserpine. Change of Cyané, to a fountain. Search of Ceres. Transformation of a boy to an eft. Of Ascalaphus to an owl. Change of the companions of Proserpine to Sirens. Story of Arethusa. Journey of Triptolemus. Transformation of Lyncus to a lynx. The Pierides transformed to magpies.
Attack of Phineus and his friends on Perseus. Defeat of the former, and their change to statues. Atchievements of Perseus in Argos, and Seriphus. Minerva's visit to the Muses. Fate of Pyreneus. Song of the Pierides. Song of the Muses. Rape of Proserpine. Change of Cyané, to a fountain. Search of Ceres. Transformation of a boy to an eft. Of Ascalaphus to an owl. Change of the companions of Proserpine to Sirens. Story of Arethusa. Journey of Triptolemus. Transformation of Lyncus to a lynx. The Pierides transformed to magpies.
These wonders, while the son of Danaë tells,Circled around by Cepheus' noble troop;Sudden th' imperial hall with tumults loudResounds. Not clamor such as oft we hear,The bridal feasts, in songs of joy attend:But what stern war announces. Much the change,(The peaceful feast to instant riot turn'd)Seem'd like the placid main, when the fierce rageOf sudden tempests lash its surges high.
First Phineus stepp'd, the leader of the crowd;Soul of the riot; and his ashen spear,Arm'd with a brazen point, he brandish'd high;—“Lo, here!” he shouts, “lo, here I vengeful come“On him who claims my spouse! Not thy swift wings;“Nor cheating Jove, chang'd to a golden shower,“Shall save thee from my arm,”—and pois'd to fling,The dart was held, but Cepheus loud exclaim'd,—“Brother! what dost thou? what dire madness sways“To wicked acts thy soul? Is this the meed“His gallant deeds deserve? Is this the dower,“We for the valued life he sav'd bestow?“List but to truth,—not Perseus of thy wife“Bereft thee, but the angry Nereïd nymphs,—“The horned Ammon,—and the monster huge!“Prepar'd to glut his hunger with my child.“Then was thy spouse snatch'd from thee, when remain'd“Of help no hope; to all she lost appear'd.“Thy savage heart perhaps had ev'n rejoic'd“To see her perish, that our greater grief“Might lighten part of thine. Couldst thou her see“Fast chain'd before thee? uncle! spouse betroth'd!“And yet no aid afford! And storm'st thou thus?“She to another now her safety owes;“And would'st thou snatch the prize? So high if seems“To thee her precious value, thy bold arm“Should on the rock where chain'd she lay, have sought“And have deserv'd her. Now permit that he“Who sought her there; through whom my failing age“Is not now childless, grant that he enjoy“Peaceful, what through his merits he no less,“Than our firm compact claims: not him to thee,“But him to certain loss I preference gave.”
Nought Phineus answer'd, but his furious eyesNow Perseus, now the king alternate view;Doubtful or this to pierce, or that: his pauseWas short; his powerful arm, by fury nerv'd,At Perseus hurl'd the quivering spear,—in vain!Fixt in the couch it stood. Quick bounded upTh' indignant youth, and deep in Phineus' breast,Had plung'd the point returning, but he shrunkBehind an altar; which, O shame! preserv'dThe impious villain. Yet not harmless spedThe weapon;—full in Rhætus' front it stuck;Who lifeless dropp'd; broke in the bone the steel;He spurn'd, and sprinkled all the feast with gore.Then rag'd with ire ungovern'd all the crowd,And hurl'd in showers their weapons; some fierce cry'd,Cepheus, no less than Perseus, death deserv'd.But Cepheus left the hall, adjuring loud,The hospitable gods; justice; and faith;That he was guiltless of the sanguine fray.
Minerva comes; her sheltering Ægis shieldsHer brother's body; in his breast she breathesRedoubled valor. Atys, Indian bred,Whom fair Limnaté, Ganges' daughter, bore,'Tis told, amid the waters' crystal caves,Scarce sixteen years had seen. His beauteous form,In gorgeous dress more beauteous still appear'd.A purple garment fring'd around with gold,Enwrapp'd him; round his neck were golden beads;And pins and combs of gold his lovely locks,With myrrh sweet-smelling, held. Well skill'd the youthTo hurl the javelin to its distant mark;But more to bend the bow. Him Perseus smote,The flexile bow just bending, with a brandSnatch'd flaming from the altar; crush'd, his faceA horrid mass of fractur'd bones appears.His beauteous features Lycabas beheldIn blood convuls'd: his dearest comrade he,And one who proud his ardent love display'd.Griev'd to behold the last expiring breath,Of Atys parting from the furious wound,He seiz'd the bow the youth had bent, and cry'd;—“The battle try with me!—not long thy boast“Of conquest o'er a boy; a conquest more“By hate than fame attended.” Railing thus,The piercing weapon darted from the string.
Now Phineus, fearful hand to hand to meetThe foe, his javelin hurl'd, the point ill-aim'dOn Idas glanc'd, who vainly kept aloofWith neutral weapon. Phineus, stern he view'd,“With threatening frown, exclaiming;—”though no share“In this mad broil I took, now, Phineus, feel“The power of him whom thou hast forc'd a foe;“And take reciprocally wound for wound.”Then from his side the weapon tore to hurl;But fast the life-stream gush'd, he instant fell.Here, by the sword of Clymenus was slain,Odites, noblest lord in Cepheus' court;Protenor fell by Hypseus; Hypseus sunkBeneath Lyncides' arm. Amid the throngWas old Emathion too, friend to the just,And fearer of the gods; though ancient yearsForbade his wielding arms, what aid his wordsCould give, he spar'd not: curs'd the impious war,In loud upbraidings. As with trembling arms,He grasp'd the altar, Chromis' gory swordHis neck divided; on the altar dropp'dThe head; and there the trembling, dying tongue,Faint imprecations utter'd; 'midst the flamesHe breath'd his spirit forth. By Phineus' hand,Broteas and Ammon fell: the brother-twinsUnconquer'd in the fight, the cæstus shower'd;Could but the cæstus make the falchion yield:But Perseus felt it not,—its point hung fixtAmidst his garments' folds. On him he turn'd,The falchion, glutted with Medusa's gore,And plung'd it in his breast. Dying, he looksAround, with eyes rolling in endless night,For Atys, and upon him drops: then pleas'd,Thus join'd in death, he seeks the shades below.Methion's son, Syenian Phorbas, nowAnd fierce Amphimedon, in Lybia born,Rush in the fight to mingle; both fall prone,The slippery earth wide spread with smoking blood.The sword attacks them rising; in his throatPhorbas receives it, and the other's side.But Erythis, of Actor born, whd rear'dAn axe tremendous, not the waving swordOf Perseus meets: a cup of massive bulk,With both his hands high-heaving, fierce he hurlsFull on his foe: he vomits gory floods;Falls back, and strikes with dying head the earth.Then Polydæmon falls, sprung from the bloodOf queen Semiramis; Lycetes brave,The son of Spercheus; Abaris, who dweltOn frozen Caucasus; and HelicenWith unshorn tresses; Phlegias; Clitus too;Those with the rest beneath his weapon fall;And on the rising heaps of dead he stands.And fell Ampycus; Ceres' sacred priest,His temples with a snow-white fillet bound.Thou, O, Japetides! whose string to soundSuch discord knew not; but whose harp still tun'd,The works of peace, in concord with thy voice;Wast bidden here to celebrate the feast:And cheer the nuptial banquet with thy song!Him, when at distance Pettalus beheld,Handling his peaceful instrument, he cry'dIn mocking laughter;—“go, and end thy song,“Amid the Stygian ghosts,”—and instant plung'dThrough his left temple, his too deadly sword.Sinking, his dying fingers caught the strings,And, chance-directed, gave a mournful sound.Not long the fierce Lycormas saw his fallWithout revenge: a massy bar of oakFrom the right gate he tore, and on the bonesBehind the neck, the furious blow was aim'd:Prone on the earth, like a crush'd ox he fell.Pelates of Cinypheus, strove to rendA like strong fastening from th' opposing door;The dart of Corythus his tugging handTransfix'd, and nail'd him to the wood confin'd:Here Abas, with his spear, deep pierc'd his side:Nor dying fell he;—by the hand retain'd,Firm to the post he hung. Melaneus fell.The arms of Perseus aiding; Dorilas,The wealthiest lord in Nasamonia's land,Fell too beside him: rich was he in fields;In wide extent no lands with his could vie;Nor equal his in hoarded heaps of grain.Obliquely in his groin, the missive spearStuck deep,—a mortal spot: his Bactrian foeHis rolling eyes beheld, and dying breathIn sobs convulsive flitting, and exclaim'd;—“This spot thou pressest, now of all thy lands,“Possess,”—and turning left the lifeless corse.Avenging Perseus hurls at him the spear,Torn from the smoking wound; the point, receiv'dFull in the nostrils, pierces through the neck:Before, behind, expos'd the weapon stands.
Now fortune aids his blows, the brother pair,Clanis, and Clytius fall, by different wounds.Hurl'd by his nervous arm, the ashen spearTransfix'd the thighs of Clytius: Clanis dy'dBiting the steel that pierc'd his mouth. Now fellMendesian Celadon; and Astreus borneBy Hebrew mother, to a doubtful sire.Now dy'd Ethion, once deep skill'd to seeThe future fates; now by his skill deceiv'd.Thoactes, who the monarch's armor bore;And base Agyrtes, murderer of his sire.Crowds though he conquers, thickening crowds remain;For all united wage on him the war.In every quarter fight the press, conspir'dTo aid a cause to worth and faith oppos'd.The sire, with useless piety,—the queen,And new-made bride, the hero's party take;And fill the hall with screams. The clang of arms,And groans of dying men their screamings drown.The houshold deities, polluted once,The fierce Bellona bathes with gore again;With double fury lighting up the war.
Now Phineus, followed by a furious throngSurrounds him single; thicker fly their dartsThan wintry hail, on every side; his sightThey cloud, and deafening, whiz his ears around.By crowds opprest, retreating, Perseus leansHis shoulders 'gainst a massive pillar's height;And, safe behind, dares all the furious fight.Chaonian Molpeus rushes on his left;Ethemon, Nabathæan, on his right:Thus a fierce tiger, urg'd by famine, hearsCombin'd the lowings of two different herds,Far distant in the vale; in doubt he stands,On this, or that to rush; and furious burnsOn both at once to thunder. Perseus so,To left and right inclin'd at once to bear,Plerc'd first the thigh of Molpeus,—straight he fledUnfollow'd; for Ethemon fiercely press'd.He, furious aiming at the hero's neck,With ill-directed strength, his weapon brokeAgainst a column;—back the shiver'd pointSprung, and his throat transfix'd: slight was the wound;To doom to death unable. Perseus plung'dHis mortal falchion, as the trembling wretchHis helpless arms extended, in his breast.But now his valor Perseus found oppress'dBy crowds unequal, and aloud exclaim'd;—“Since thus you force me, from my very foe“More aid I'll ask;—my friends avert your eyes!”Then shew'd the Gorgon's head. “Go, elsewhere seek,”Said Thescelus,—“for those such sights may move:”—The deadly javelin poising in his hand,In act to throw, a marble form he stands,In the same posture. Near him Ampyx rear'd,Against the brave Lyncides' breast his sword;His uprais'd hand was harden'd; here, or there,To wave unable. Nileus now display'dSeven argent streams upon a shield of gold;False boasting offspring from the seven-mouth'd Nile;And cry'd;—“Lo! Perseus, whence my race deriv'd;“Down to the silent shades this solace bear“By such a hand to die.” The final wordsWere lost; his sounding voice abrupt was stay'd;His open'd mouth still seem'd the words to form,Incapable to utter. Eryx storm'dAt these, exclaiming;—-“not the Gorgon's hairs“Freeze ye, but your own trembling, dastard souls:“Rush forth with me, and on the earth lay low,“The youth who battles thus with magic arms.”Fierce had he rush'd, but firmly fixt his feetHeld him to earth, a rigid, fasten'd stone;A statue arm'd. These well their fate deserv'd,But one, Aconteus, while in aid he foughtOf Perseus, sudden stood to stone congeal'd;As star'd the Gorgon luckless in his face.Him saw Astyages, but thought he liv'd;And fierce attack'd him with a mighty sword.Shrill tinkling sounds the blow: astonish'd standsAstyages;—astonish'd seems the stone;For while he stares, he too to marble turns.Long were the tale, of each plebeïan deathTo tell; two hundred still unhurt remain;By Gorgon's head two hundred stiffen'd stand:When Phineus seems the strife unjust to mourn.But what to act remains? Around him crowd,The forms of numerous friends: his friends he knows,Their aid intreats, and calls on each by name:Still doubting, seizes those his grasp can reachAnd finds them stone! Averse he turns his eyes;Raises his conscious arms and hands oblique,And suppliant begs;—“go Perseus,—conqueror, go!“Remove that dreadful monster,—bear away“That stone-creating visage, Gorgon's head!“Whate'er it be, I pray thee bear it hence.“Nor hate, nor lust of empire, rais'd our arms“Against thee;—for my wife alone we warr'd.“Thy cause, by merit best; mine, but by time.“Bravest of men, me much it grieves I e'er,“Thy claim oppos'd: existence only give,“All else be thine.” To him, as thus he begg'd,Fearing his eyes, to whom he suppliant spokeTo turn;—“thou dastard, Phineus!” Perseus cry'd,—“What I can grant, I will; and what I grant“To souls like thine a mighty boon must seem.“Dispel thy terror; rest from steel secure.“Yet must a during monument remain,“Still in the dwelling of my spouse's sire,“Conspicuous. So my bride may daily see“Her imag'd husband.” Speaking thus, he heldThe Gorgon's head, where pallid, Phineus turn'd;So turning stiffen'd stood the neck; so turn'dAppear'd th' inverted eyes; the humid ballsTo stone concreted. Still the timid look,And suppliant face, and tame-petitioning arms,And guilty awe-struck look, in stone remain'd.