Chapter 11

"Long were the tale to tell, what tracts of land "What tracts of sea, the wandering goddess pass'd. "Earth now no spot unsearch'd affording, back "To Sicily she turns; with close research "Each part exploring, till at length she comes "To Cyané; who all the tale had told "If still unchang'd: much as she wish'd to speak "Nor lips, nor tongue can aid her; nought remains "Speech to afford. Yet plain a sign she gives, "The zone of Proserpine upon her waves "Light floating; in the sacred stream it fell;-- "Dropt as she pass'd the place. Well Ceres knew "The sight, and then--as then her loss first known, "Tore her dishevell'd tresses, beat her breast "With blows on blows redoubled. Still unknown "The spot that holds her, every part of earth "Blaming, ungrateful, worthless of her fruits. "But chief Trinacria, in whose isle was found "The vestige of her loss. For this she breaks "With furious hand the glebe up-turning plough: "And angry, to an equal death she dooms, "The tiller and his ox: forbids the fields "Back to return th' entrusted grain; the seeds "All rotting. Now that fertile land, renown'd "Through the wide earth, lies useless; all the grain "Dies in the earliest shoots: now scorching rays; "Now floods of rain destroy it: noxious stars "Now harm; now blighting winds: and hungry birds "The scatter'd seed devour: the darnel springs, "The thistle, and the knot-grass thick, which choke "The sprouting wheat, and make the harvest void.

"Now Arethusa from th' Eleian waves "Exalts her head; her dropping tresses flung "Back from her forehead, parting shade her ears: "And thus;--O goddess! mother of the maid, "So sought through earth, mother of all earth's fruits! "Cease now thy toilsome labor; cease thine ire, "Against the land that prov'd to thee so true: "Thine ire unmerited; unwilling she, "Op'd for the spoil a passage. Hither I "No suppliant for my native isle approach; "An alien here sojourning. Pisa's land "My country; there near Elis first I sprung: "A stranger now in Sicily I dwell. "This soil, more grateful far than is my own; "This soil, where I my houshold gods have plac'd; "I, Arethusa, and have fix'd my seat, "Preserve, mild goddess! Why I chang'd my land, "Why to Ortygia, through the wide waves borne, "I came, a more appropriate hour will ask; "When you, from care reliev'd, can grant your ear "With brow unclouded. Through the opening earth "I flow; and borne through subterraneous depths, "Here lift again my head, again behold "The long-lost stars. Hence was my lot to see, "As pass'd my stream close by the Stygian gulph, "Your Proserpine;--sad still her face appear'd, "Nor fear had wholly left it. Yet she reigns "A queen; the mightiest in the realm of shade, "The powerful consort of th' infernal king.

"Like marble at the words the mother stands, "Stupid with grief; and long astounded seems: "Sorrow by heavier sorrow now surpass'd. "Then in her chariot mounts th' ethereal sky, "And stands indignant at th' imperial throne; "Her locks wild flowing, and her face in clouds. "Lo! here a suppliant, Jove,--she cry'd,--I come, "To beg for her, my daughter and thine own; "For if no favor may the mother find, "The daughter's claim may move. Let not thy child "Deserve thy care the less, as born of me. "Lo! my lost maid, so long, so vainly sought "At length is found; if finding we may call "A surer loss; if finding we may call "The knowledge where she is. Her ravish'd charms "I'll pardon; let him but my child restore. "What though a robber might my daughter wed, "Thine sure is worthy of a different mate! "Then Jove;--our daughter, our dear mutual pledge, "As yours, so mine, demands our mutual care. "But rightly still affairs if we design, "What you lament will no injustice prove; "Love only. Sure, a son-in-law like him, "Can ne'er degrade, will you consent but yield. "Grant nought beyond,--'tis no such trivial boast, "Jove's brother to be call'd! How then, if more "I claim pre-eminence from chance alone! "Still, if so obstinate your wish remains "For separation, go,--let Proserpine "To heaven return, on this condition strict, "Her lips no food have touch'd. So will the fates. "He ceas'd.--Glad Ceres, certain to regain "Her daughter, knew not what the fates forbade. "Her fast was broken; thoughtless as she stray'd "Around the garden, from a bending tree "She pluck'd a fair pomegranate, and seven seeds "From the pale rind she pick'd, and ate. None saw "Save one, Ascalaphus, the luckless deed; "Whom Orphné, fam'd Avernus' nymphs among, "To Acheron, long since, 'tis said, produc'd "Beneath a dusky cave. He, cruel, told; "And his discovery stay'd the hop'd return.

"Much wept the queen of Pluto, but she chang'd "The vile informer to an hideous shape: "Sprinkled with streams of Phlegethon, his head "Feather'd appears, with beak, and monstrous eyes; "Spoil'd of his shape, with yellow feathers cloth'd: "Large grows his head; bent are his lengthen'd nails; "Scarcely he moves the pinions which are shot "Light from his lazy arms. A filthy bird "Becoming;--constant presager of woe; "An owl inactive; omen dire to man.

"Well he by his informing tongue deserv'd, "His doom, but Acheloïdes, from whence "Your wings, and bird-like feet, whilst still you bear "Your virgin features? Was it that you mix'd, "When Proserpine the vernal flowers would cull, "Amidst her numerous train? The nymph you sought "Through earth's extent in vain; that ocean too "Your anxious search might scape not, straight you pray'd "For waving wings to winnow o'er the deep; "And favouring gods you found. Of golden hue "Quick-shooting wings your arms you saw bespread; "But lest your inbred song, which every ear "Had charm'd; and lest your highly-gifted voice, "Your tongue should fail to use;--a virgin face, "And speech yet human are indulg'd you still.

"Now Jove as umpire 'twixt the angry pair "His mourning sister, and his brother, bids "The year revolving either side oblige: "Now will the goddess, mutual in each realm, "Six months with Ceres dwell in heaven; and six "Reign with her spouse in hell. Straight were perceiv'd "The goddess' countenance, and demeanour chang'd. "For now her forehead, which had still retain'd, "(To Pluto even) a sad and sorrowing gloom, "Gladden'd: so Phoebus long in cloudy shade "Envelop'd, shines, their umbrous veil dispers'd. "Now Ceres calm, her daughter safe regain'd, "Enquires:--O Arethusa! say the cause, "Which hither brought thee; why a sacred fount? "Hush'd were the waves; and from the lowest depths "The goddess rais'd her head; and as she told, "The old amours the flood of Elis knew, "Press'd out the water from her tresses green.

"Once with the nymphs, that on Achaïa's hills "Rove, was I seen; none closer beat than I "The thickets; none than I more skilful spread "Th' ensnaring net. Yet though no fame I sought "For beauty; though robust, I bore the name "Of beauteous. Whilst the constant theme of praise, "My features fair, to me no pleasure gave; "What other nymphs inspire with joyful pride, "Corporeal charms, did but my blushes raise. "To please I thought a crime. Once tir'd with sport, "The Stymphalidian forest I had left: "Warm was the day; I with redoubled heat, "Glow'd from my toil. A gliding stream I found "By ripplings undisturb'd; silent and smooth "It flow'd; so clear, that every stone was seen "On the deep bottom; gently crept the waves; "To creep scarce seeming; o'er the shelving banks "The stream-fed poplar, and the willow hoar, "A grateful shadow cast. The brink I reach'd "Dipp'd first my feet, then waded to my knee; "Not yet content, I loos'd my zone, and hung "Upon a bending osier my soft robe: "Then naked plung'd amid the stream; the waves "Beating, and sporting in a thousand shapes; "My arms around in every posture flung; "A strange unusual murmur seem'd to sound, "Deep from the bottom; terror-struck I gain'd "The nearest brink;--when,--whither dost thou fly? "O, Arethusa? whither dost thou fly? "Alphæus, from his waters, hoarse exclaim'd! "Vestless I fled, for on th' opposing bank "My garment hung. Fiercer the god pursu'd; "Fiercer he burn'd, all naked as I ran: "Prepar'd more ready for his force I seem'd. "Such was my flight, and such was his pursuit; "As when on trembling wings, before the hawk "Fly the mild doves: as when the hawk fierce drives "The trembling doves before him. Long the chase "I bore; Orchomenus, and Psophis soon "I pass'd, and pass'd Cyllené, and the caves "Of Mænalus, and Erymanthus' frosts, "To Elis, ere his speed could cope with mine. "In strength unequal, I sustain'd no more "The toilsome race; he stouter flagg'd less soon. "But still o'er plains I ran; o'er mountains thick "With forests clad; o'er stones, and rugged rocks; "And pathless spots. Behind me Phoebus shone. "I saw, if fear deceiv'd me not, far spread "His shade before me. What could less deceive, "I heard his footsteps; and his breath full strong "Blew on my banded tresses. Weary'd, faint "With the long flight, I cry'd;--Dictynna, chaste! "Lost am I,--help a quiver-bearing nymph, "One who thy bow has oft entrusted borne; "And oft thy quiver, loaded full with darts. "Mov'd was the goddess; from the darkest clouds "She one selected, and around me threw. "The river-god, about the misty veil "Pry'd anxious; and unwitting deeply grop'd "Within the hollow cloud! Unconscious, twice "The spot he compass'd, where Diana thought "My safety surest; twice he then aloud "Ho! Arethusa,--Arethusa! call'd:-- "What terror seiz'd my soul! not less the dread "Of lambs, when round the sheltering fold they hear "The wolves loud howling: or the trembling hare "Close in a bramble hid, who sees approach "The wide-mouth'd, hostile hounds, and fears to move. "Further he pass'd not, for beyond the place "No footsteps he discern'd, but guarding watch'd "Around the mist. So closely thus besieg'd, "My limbs a cold sweat seiz'd; cerulean drops "Fell from my body; when my feet I mov'd, "A pool remain'd; fast dropp'd my hair in dew; "And speedier than the wonderous tale I tell, "Chang'd to a stream I flow'd. But soon the god, "Knew his lov'd waters; laid the man aside, "And straight assum'd his proper watery form; "With mine to mingle. Dian' cleft the ground; "Sinking, through caverns dark I held my way; "And reach'd Ortygia, from the goddess nam'd; "There first ascending view'd the upper skies.

"Here Arethusa ceas'd. Then Ceres yokes "The coupled dragons to her car, their mouths "Curb'd by the reins; and through the air is borne, "Midway 'twixt heaven and earth. At Pallas' town "Arriv'd, Triptolemus the car ascends, "By her commission'd;--bade to spread the seed "Entrusted: part on ground untill'd before; "And part on land which long had fallow laid. "O'er Europe now, and Asia's lands, the youth "Sublimely sails, and reaches Scythia's clime, "Where Lyncus rul'd. Beneath the monarch's roof, "Here enter'd; and to him, who curious sought "How there he journey'd; what his journey's cause; "His name, and country; thus the youth reply'd.-- "Athens the fam'd, my country; and my name "Triptolemus: but neither o'er the main, "Borne in a ship, nor travelling slow by land, "I hither came; my path was through the air. "I bring the gift of Ceres; scatter'd wide "Through all your spacious fields, quickly restor'd "In fruitful crops the wholesome food will spring. "The barbarous monarch, envious he should bear "So great a blessing, takes him for his guest, "And when with sleep weigh'd down attacks him. Rais'd "To pierce his bosom, was the sword;--just then "The wretch, by Ceres, to a lynx was turn'd. "Then mounts again the youth, and through the air "Bids him once more the sacred dragons steer.

"Our chosen champion ended here her lays, "And all the nymphs unanimous, exclaim'd;-- "The Heliconian goddesses have gain'd. "Vanquish'd, the others rail'd. When she resum'd:-- "Is not your punishment enough deserv'd? "Foil'd in the contest, must you swell your crime, "With base revilings? Patient now no more, "To punish we begin; what anger bids, "We now perform.--Loud laugh'd the scornful maids, "Our threatening words despis'd, and strove to speak, "And clapp'd with outcries menacing, their hands. "When from their fingers shooting plumes they spy; "And feathers shade their arms; her sister's face, "Each sees to harden in an horny beak; "To beat their bosoms trying with rais'd arms, "In air suspended, on those arms they move; "The new-shap'd birds the sylvan tribes increase: "Magpies, the scandal of the grove. Thus chang'd, "Their former eloquence they still maintain, "In hoarse garrulity, and empty noise."

*The Sixth Book.*

Trial of skill betwixt Pallas and Arachné. Transformation of Arachné to a spider. Pride of Niobé. Her children slain by Apollo and Diana. Her change to marble. The Lycian peasants changed to frogs. Fate of Marsyas. Pelops. Story of Tereus, Procné, and Philomela. Their change to birds. Boreas and Orithyïa. Birth of Zethes and Calaïs.

THE *Sixth Book* OF THE METAMORPHOSES OF OVID.

Minerva pleas'd attention to the muse, While thus she spoke afforded; prais'd the song, And prais'd the just resentment of the maids. Then to herself;--"the vengeance others take, "Merely to praise were mean. I too should claim "Like praise, for like revenge; nor longer bear "My power contemn'd, by who unpunish'd live." And on Arachné, fair Mæönian maid, She turns her vengeful mind; whose skill she heard Rivall'd her own in labors of the loom. No fame her natal town, no fame her sire On her bestow'd; her skill conferr'd renown. Idmon of Colophon, her humble sire Soak'd in the Phocian dye the spongy wool. Her mother, late deceas'd, from lowest stock, Had sprung; and wedded with an equal mate. Yet had she gain'd through all the Lydian towns For skill a mighty fame. Though born so low, Though small Hypæpe was her sole abode, Oft would the nymphs the vine-clad Tmolus leave To view her wonderous work. Oft would the nymphs In admiration quit Pactolus' waves. Nor pleasure only gave the finish'd robe, When view'd; but while she work'd she gave delight; Such comely grace in every turn appear'd. Whether she rounded into balls the wool; Or with her fingers mollify'd the fleece; And comb'd it floating light in cloudy waves; Or her smooth spindle twirl'd with agile thumb; Or with her needle painted: plain was seen Her skill from Pallas learnt. This to concede Unwilling, she ev'n such a tutor scorn'd Exclaiming:--"come let her the contest try; "If vanquish'd, let her fix my well-earn'd fate."

Pallas, an ancient matron's form conceals; Grey hairs thin strew her temples, and a staff Supports her tottering limbs; while thus she speaks:-- "Old age though little priz'd, much good attends; "Experience always grows with lengthen'd years: "Spurn not my admonition. Great thy fame, "Midst mortals, for the wonders of the loom. "Great may it be, but to immortals yield: "Bold nymph retract, and pardon for thy words, "With suppliant voice require; Pallas will grant." Sternly the damsel views her; quits the threads Unfinish'd; scarce her hand from force restrains: And rage in all her features flushing fierce, Thus to the goddess, well-disguis'd, she speaks:-- "Weak dotard, spent with too great gift of years, "Curst with too long existence, hence, begone! "Such admonition to thy daughters give, "If daughters hast thou; or thy sons have wives: "Enough for me my inbred wisdom serves. "Hope not, that ought thy vain advice has sway'd "My purpose; still my challenge holds the same. "Why comes your goddess not? why shuns she still "The trying contest?" Then the goddess,--"Lo! "She comes,"--and flung her aged form aside, Minerva's form displaying. Every nymph, And every dame Mygdonian, lowly bent In veneration. While Arachné sole Stood stedfast, unalarm'd; but yet she blush'd. A sudden flush her angry face deep ting'd, But sudden faded pale. A ruddy glow Thus teints the early sky, when first the morn Arises; quickly from the solar ray Paling to brightness. On her purpos'd boast Still stubborn bent, she obstinately courts Her sure destruction, for the empty hope Of conquest in the strife so madly urg'd. No more Jove's maid refuses, gives no more Her empty admonitions, nor delays The contest: each her station straight assumes, Tighten each web; each slender thread prepare. Firm to the beam the cloth is fix'd; the reed The warp divides, with pointed shuttle, swift Gliding between; which quick their fingers throw, Quick extricate, and with the toothy comb Firm press'd between the warp, the threads unite. Both hasten now; their garments round them girt, Their skilful hands they ply: their toil forgot In anxious wish for conquest. There appear'd, The wool of Tyrian dye, and softening teints Lost imperceptible. So seems the arch Coloring a spacious portion of the sky; Struck by the rays of Phoebus, when the showers Recede, a thousand varying tinges shine; The soft transition mocks the straining eye, So like the shades which join, though far distinct Their distant teints. In slender threads they twist The pliant gold, and in the web display, Each as she works, an ancient story fair. Minerva paints the rock of Mars so fam'd In Cecrops' city, and the well-known strife To name the town. Twice six celestials sate On their high thrones, great Jupiter around In gravity majestic; every god Bore his celestial features. Jove appear'd In royal dignity. The Ocean power Standing she pictur'd, with his trident huge Smiting the rugged rock; from the cleft stone Leap'd forth a steed; and thence the town to name The privilege he claim'd. Herself she paints Shielded, and arm'd with keenly-pointed spear. Helm'd was her head; her breast the Ægis bore. Struck by her spear, the earth a hoary tree She shews producing, loaded thick with fruit. The wondering gods the gift admire; the prize To her awarded, ends the glorious work.

More, that the daring rival of her art, Should learn experimental, what reward Her mad attempt might hope, four parts she adds; And every part a test of power presents: Bright the small figures in her colors shine. This angle Thracian Rhodopé contains, With Hæmus; both their mortal bodies now, To frozen mountains chang'd; whose lofty pride Assum'd the titles of celestial powers. Another corner held the wretched fate Felt by Pygmæa's matron; Juno bade Her vanquish'd rival soar aloft a crane; And on her people wage continual war. Antigoné, she paints;--audacious she With Jove's imperial consort durst contend; By Jove's imperial queen she flits a bird: Nor aids her Ilium ought; nor aids her sire, Laömedon;--upborne on snowy wings, A stork she rises; loud with chattering bill She noises. In the sole remaining part, Was childless Cynaras, in close embrace, Grasping the temple's steps, his daughters once; And as he lies extended on the stone, In marble seems to weep. Around the piece She spreads the peaceful olive: all complete Her work is ended with her favorite tree.

Arachné paints Europa, by a bull Deceiv'd; the god a real bull appears; And real seem the waves. She, backward turn'd, Views the receding shore, and seems to shriek Loud to her lost companions; seems to dread The dashing waves, and timid shrinks her feet. She draws Asteria, by the god o'er-power'd, Cloth'd in an eagle. Leda, fair she lays Beneath his wings, when he a swan appears. She adds how Jove beneath a Satyr's shape Conceal'd, the beauteous child of Nycteus fill'd, With a twin-offspring. In Amphytrion's form Alcmena, thou wert press'd. A golden shower Danaë deceiv'd. A flame Ægina caught. A shepherd's shape Mnemosyné beguil'd. And fair Deöis trusts a speckled snake. Thee, Neptune, too she painted, for the maid Æolian, to a threatening bull transform'd. Thou, as Enipeus, didst the Aloïd twins Beget. Beneath the semblance of a ram, Theophané was cheated. Ceres mild, Of grain inventress, with her yellow locks, In shape a courser felt thy ardent love. Medusa, mother of the flying steed, Nymph of the snaky tresses, in a bird Conceal'd, you forc'd. Melantho in a fish. To these the damsel, all well-suiting forms Dispens'd, and all well-suiting scenes attend. And there Apollo in a herdsman's guise Wanders. And now he soars a plumy hawk: Now stalks a lordly lion. As a swain Macarean Isse, felt his amorous guile, Erigoné to Bacchus' flame was dup'd Beneath a well-seem'd grape. Saturn produc'd The Centaur doubly-shap'd, in form a steed. Her web's extremes a slender border girt, Where flowery wreathes, and twining ivy blend.

Not Pallas,--not even envy's rankling soul Could blame the work. The bright immortal griev'd To view her rival's merit, angry tore The picture glowing with celestial crimes. A boxen shuttle, grasping in her hand, Thrice on the forehead of th' Idmonian maid She struck. No more Arachné, hapless bore, But twisted round her neck with desperate pride A cord. The deed Minerva pitying saw And check'd her rash suspension.--"Impious wretch! "Still live," she cry'd, "but still suspended hang; "Curs'd to futurity, for all thy race, "Thy sons and grandsons, to the latest day "Alike shall feel the sentence." Speaking thus, The juice of Hecat's baleful plant she throws: Instant besprinkled by the noxious drops, Her tresses fall; her nose and ears are lost; Her body shrinks; her head is lessen'd more; Her slender fingers root within her sides, Serving as legs; her belly forms the rest; From whence her thread she still derives and spins: Her art pursuing in the spider's shape.

All Lydia rung; the wonderous rumor spread Through every Phrygian town; the tale employ'd The tongues of all mankind. The nymph was known, Ere yet Amphion's nuptial bed she press'd, To Niobé. She, when a virgin dwelt In Lydian Sipylus. She still unmov'd, Arachné's neighboring fate not heeded, still Proudly refus'd before the gods to bend; And spoke in haughty boasting. Much her pride By favoring gifts was swol'n. Not the fine skill Amphion practis'd; not the lofty birth Each claim'd; not all their mighty kingdom's power, So rais'd her soul (of all though justly proud) As her bright offspring. Justly were she call'd Most blest of mothers; but her bliss too great Seem'd to herself, and caus'd a dread reverse.