[Footnote 32: Sipylus.—Ver. 149. This was the name of both a city and a mountain of Lydia.]

[Footnote 33: Go all of you.—Ver. 159. Clarke renders the words 'Ismenides, ite frequentes,' 'Go, ye Theban ladies in general.']

[Footnote 34: Sister of the Pleiades.—Ver. 174. Taygete, one of the Pleiades, was the mother of Niobe.]

[Footnote 35: As my father-in-law.—Ver. 176. Because Jupiter was the father of her husband, Amphion.]

[Footnote 36: Seven daughters.—Ver. 182. Tzetzes enumerates fourteen daughters of Niobe, and gives their names.]

[Footnote 37: When in travail.—Ver. 187. She alludes to the occasion on which Latona fled from the serpent Python, which Juno, in her jealousy, had sent against her; and when Delos, which had hitherto been a floating island, became immovable, for the convenience of Latona, in labor with Apollo and Diana. That island was said to have received its name from the Greek, delos, 'manifest,' or 'appearing,' from having risen to the surface of the sea on that occasion.]

[Footnote 38: Like her father's.—Ver. 213. Latona alludes to one of the crimes of Tantalus, the father of Niobe, who was accused of having indiscreetly divulged the secrets of the Gods.]

[Footnote 39: Gives rein.—Ver. 230. This was done with the intention of making his escape.]

[Footnote 40: Glowing with oil.—Ver. 241. Clarke renders this line, 'Were gone to the juvenile work of neat wrestling.' It would be hard to say what 'neat' wrestling is. He seems not to have known, that the 'Palaestra' was called 'nitida,' as shining with the oil which the wrestlers used for making their limbs supple, and the more difficult for their antagonist to grasp. Juvenal gives the epithet 'ceromaticum' to the neck of the athlete, or wrestler, which word means 'rubbed with wrestler's oil.']

[Footnote 41: Now had they brought.—Ver. 243-4. Clarke thus translates 'Et jam contulerant arcto luctantia nexu Pectora pectoribus;' 'And now they had clapped breast to breast, struggling in a close hug.']

[Footnote 42: I have received my death-blow.—Ver. 283. 'Efferor' literally means, 'I am carried out.' 'Effero' was the term used to signify the carrying of the body out of the city walls, for the purposes of burial.]

[Footnote 43: Before the biers.—Ver. 289. The body of the deceased person was in ancient times laid out on a bed of the ordinary kind, with a pillow for supporting the head and back; among the Romans, it was placed in the vestibule of the house, with its feet towards the door, and was dressed in the best robe which the deceased had worn when alive. Among the better classes, the body was borne to the place of burial, or the funeral pile, on a couch, which was called 'feretrum,' or 'capulus.' This was sometimes made of ivory, and covered with gold and purple.]

[Footnote 44: Top of a mountain.—Ver. 311. This was Mount Sipylus, in Boeotia, which, as we learn from Pausanias, had on its summit a rock, which, at a distance, strongly resembled a female in an attitude of sorrow. This resemblance is said to exist even at the present day.]

EXPLANATION.

All the ancient historians agree with Diodorus Siculus and Apollodorus, that Niobe was the daughter of Tantalus, and the sister of Pelops; but she must not be confounded with a second Niobe, who was the daughter of Phoroneus, and the first mortal (Homer tells us) with whom Jupiter fell in love. Homer says that she was the mother of twelve children, six sons and six daughters. Herodotus says, that she had but two sons and three daughters. Diodorus Siculus makes her the mother of fourteen children, seven of each sex. Apollodorus, on the authority of Hesiod, says, that she had ten sons and as many daughters; but gives the names of fourteen only. The story of the destruction of her children is most likely based upon truth, and bears reference to a historical fact. The plague, which ravaged the city of Thebes, destroyed all the children of Niobe; and contagious distempers being attributed to the excessive heat of the sun, it was fabled that Apollo had killed them with his arrows; while women, who died of the plague, were said to owe their death to the anger of Diana. Thus, Homer says, that Laodamia and the mother of Andromache were killed by Diana. Valerius Flaccus relates the sorrow of Clytie, the wife of Cyzicus, on the death of her mother, killed by the same Goddess; so the Scholiast on Pindar (Pythia, ode iii.) says, on the authority of Pherecydes, that Apollo sent Diana to kill Coronis and several other women. Eustathius distinctly asserts, that the poets attributed the deaths of men, who died of the plague, to Apollo; and those of women, dying a similar death, to Diana.

This supposition is based upon rational and just grounds; since many contagious distempers may be clearly traced to the exhalations of the earth, acted on by the intense heat of the sun. Homer, most probably, means this, when he says that the plague came upon the Grecian camp, on the God, in his anger, discharging his arrows against it; or, in other words, when the extreme heat of his rays had caused a corruption of the atmosphere. It may be here observed, that arrows were the symbol of Apollo, when angry, and the harp when he was propitious. Diogenes Laertius tells us, that, during the prevalence of the plague, it was the custom to place branches of laurel on the doors of the houses, in the hope that the God, being reminded of Daphne, would spare the places which thereby claimed his protection.

Ovid says, that the sons of Niobe were killed while managing their horses; but Pausanias tells us that they died on Mount Cithaeron, while engaged in hunting, and that her daughters died at Thebes. Homer says, that her children remained nine days without burial, because the Gods changed the Thebans into stones, and that the offended Divinities themselves performed the funeral rites on the tenth day; the meaning probably, is, that, they dying of the plague, no one ventured to bury them, and all seemed insensible to the sorrows of Niobe, as each consulted his own safety. Ismenus, her eldest son, not being able to endure the pain of his malady, is said to have thrown himself into a river of Boeotia, which, from that circumstance, received his name. After the death of her husband and children, Niobe is said to have retired to Mount Sipylus, in Lydia, where she died. Here, as Pausanias informs us, was a rock, resembling, at a distance, a woman overwhelmed with grief; though according to the same author, who had visited it, the resemblance could not be traced on approaching it. On this ground, Ovid relates, that she was borne on a whirlwind to the top of a Lydian mountain, where she was changed into a rock.

Pausanias tells us, that Meliboea, or Chloris, and Amycle, two of her daughters, appeased Diana, who preserved their lives; or that, in other words, they recovered from the plague; though he inclines to credit the version of Homer, who says that all of her children died by the hands of Apollo and Diana. Meliboea received the surname of Chloris, from the paleness which ensued on her alarm at the sudden death of her sisters.

FABLE III. [VI.313-381]

Latona, fatigued with the burden of her two children, during a long journey, and parched with thirst, goes to drink at a pond, near which some countrymen are at work. These clowns, in a brutal manner, not only hinder her from drinking, but trouble the water to make it muddy; on which, the Goddess, to punish their brutality, transforms them into frogs.

But then, all, both women and men, dread the wrath of the divinity, {thus} manifested, and with more zeal {than ever} all venerate with {divine} worship the great godhead of the Deity who produced the twins; and, as {commonly} happens, from a recent fact they recur to the narration of former events.

One of them says, "Some countrymen of old, in the fields of fertile Lycia, {once} insulted the Goddess, {but} not with impunity. The thing, indeed, is but little known, through the obscure station of the individuals, still it is wonderful. I have seen upon the spot, the pool and the lake noted for the miracle. For my father being now advanced in years, and incapable of travel, ordered me to bring thence some choice oxen, and on my setting out, had given me a guide of that nation: with whom, while I was traversing the pastures, behold! an ancient altar, black with the ashes of sacrifices, was standing in the middle of a lake, surrounded with quivering reeds. My guide stood still, and said in a timid whisper, 'Be propitious to me;' and with a like whisper, I said, 'Be propitious.' However, I asked him whether it was an altar of the Naiads, or of Faunus, or of some native God; when the stranger answered me in such words; 'Young man, there is no mountain Divinity for this altar. She calls this her own, whom once the royal Juno banished from the world; whom the wandering Delos, at the time when it was swimming as a light island, hardly received at her entreaties. There Latona, leaning against a palm, together with the tree of Pallas, brought forth twins, in spite of their stepmother {Juno}. Hence, too, the newly delivered {Goddess} is said to have fled from Juno, and in her bosom to have carried the two divinities, her children. And now the Goddess, wearied with her prolonged toil, being parched with the heat of the season, contracted thirst in the country of Lycia, which bred the Chimaera[45] when the intense sun was scorching the fields; the craving children, too, had exhausted her suckling breasts. By chance she beheld a lake[46] of fine water, in the bottom of a valley; some countrymen were there, gathering bushy osiers, together with bulrushes, and sedge natural to fenny spots. The Titaness approached, and bending her knee, she pressed the ground, that she might take up the cool water to drink; the company of rustics forbade it. The Goddess thus addressed them, as they forbade her: 'Why do you deny me water? The use of water is common {to all}. Nature has made neither sun, nor air, nor the running stream, the property of any one. To her public bounty have I come, which yet I humbly beg of you to grant me. I was not intending to bathe my limbs here, and my wearied joints, but to relieve my thirst. My mouth, as I speak, lacks moisture, and my jaws are parched, and scarce is there a passage for my voice therein; a draught of water will be nectar to me, and I shall own, that, together with it, I have received my life {at your hands}. In {that} water you will be giving me life. Let these, too, move you, who hold out their little arms from my bosom'; and by chance the children were holding out their arms.

"What person might not these kindly words of the Goddess have been able to influence? Still, they persist in hindering {the Goddess thus} entreating them; and moreover add threats and abusive language, if she does not retire to a distance. Nor is this enough. They likewise muddy the lake itself {with} their feet and hands; and they raise the soft mud from the very bottom of the water, by spitefully jumping to and fro. Resentment removes her thirst. For now no longer does the daughter of Caeus supplicate the unworthy {wretches}, nor does she any longer endure to utter words below {the majesty of} a Goddess; and raising her hands to heaven, she says, 'For ever may you live in that pool.' The wish of the Goddess comes to pass. They delight to go beneath the water, and sometimes to plunge the whole of their limbs in the deep pool; now to raise their heads, and now to swim on the top of the water; oft to sit on the bank of the pool, {and} often to leap back again into the cold stream. And even now do they exercise their offensive tongues in strife: and banishing {all} shame, although they are beneath the water, {still} beneath the water,[47] do they try to keep up their abuse. Their voice, too, is now hoarse, and their bloated necks swell out; and their very abuse dilates their extended jaws. Their backs are united to their heads: their necks seem as though cut off; their backbone is green; their belly, the greatest part of their body, is white; and {as} new-made frogs, they leap about in the muddy stream."

[Footnote 45: The Chimaera.—Ver. 339. The Chimaera, according to the poets, was a monster having the head of a lion, the body of a goat, and the tail of a dragon. It seems, however, that it was nothing more than a volcanic mountain of Lycia, in Asia Minor, whence there were occasional eruptions of flame. The top of it was frequented by lions; the middle afforded plentiful pasture for goats; and towards the bottom, being rocky, and full of caverns, it was infested by vast numbers of serpents, that harbored there.]

[Footnote 46: Beheld a lake.—Ver. 343. Probus, in his Commentary on the Second Book of the Georgics, says that the name of the spring was Mela, and that of the shepherd who so churlishly repulsed Latona, was Neocles. Antoninus Liberalis says, that the name of the stream was Melites, and that Latona required the water for the purpose of bathing her children. He further tells us, that on being repulsed, she carried her children to the river Xanthus, and returning thence, hurled stones at the peasants, and changed them into frogs.]

[Footnote 47: Beneath the water.—Ver. 376. Some commentators are so fanciful as to say, that the repetition of the words 'sub aqua,' in the line 'Quamvis sint sub aqua, sub aqua, maledicere tentant,' not inelegantly [non ineleganter] expresses the croaking noise of the frogs. A man's fancy must, indeed, be exuberant to find any such resemblance; more so, indeed, than that of Aristophanes, who makes his frogs say, by way of chorus, 'brekekekekex koaex koaex.' Possibly, however, that might have been the Attic dialect among frogs.]

EXPLANATION.

This story may possibly be based upon some current tradition of Latona having been subjected to such cruel treatment from some country clowns; or, which is more probable, it may have been originally invented as a satire on the rude manners and uncouth conduct of the peasantry of ancient times. The story may also have been framed, to account, in a poetical manner, for the origin of frogs.

FABLE IV. [VI.382-411]

The Satyr Marsyas, having challenged Apollo to a trial of skill on the flute, the God overcomes him, and then flays him alive for his presumption. The tears that are shed on the occasion of his death produce the river that bears his name.

When thus one, who, it is uncertain, had related the destruction of {these} men of the Lycian race, another remembers {that of} the Satyr;[48] whom, overcome {in playing} on the Tritonian reed, the son of Latona visited with punishment. "Why," said he, "art thou tearing me from myself? Alas! I {now} repent; alas," cried he, "the flute is not of so much value!" As he shrieked aloud, his skin was stript[49] off from the surface of his limbs, nor was he aught but {one entire} wound. Blood is flowing on every side; the nerves, exposed, appear, and the quivering veins throb without any skin. You might have numbered his palpitating bowels, and the transparent lungs within his breast. The inhabitants of the country, the Fauns, Deities of the woods, and his brothers the Satyrs, and Olympus,[50] even then renowned, and the Nymphs lamented him; and whoever {besides} on those mountains was feeding the wool-bearing flocks, and the horned herds.

The fruitful earth was moistened, and being moistened received the falling tears, and drank them up in her lowest veins, which, when she had turned into a stream, she sent forth into the vacant air. And then, as the clearest river in Phrygia, running towards the rapid sea within steep banks, it bears the name of Marsyas.

From narratives such as these the people return at once to the present events, and mourn Amphion extinct together with {all} his race. The mother is {an object} of hatred. Yet {her brother} Pelops is said alone to have mourned for her as well; and after he had drawn his clothes from his shoulder towards his breast, he discovered the ivory on his left shoulder. This shoulder, at the time of his birth, was of the same color with the right one, and {was} formed of flesh. They say that the Gods afterwards joined his limbs cut asunder by the hands of his father; and the rest of them being found, that part which is midway between the throat and the top of the arm, was wanting. Ivory was inserted there, in the place of the part that did not appear; and so by that means Pelops was made entire.

[Footnote 48: The Satyr.—Ver. 382. Herodotus tells this story of the Satyr Marsyas, under the name of Silenus. Fulgentius informs us, that in paintings, Marsyas was represented with the tail of a pig.]

[Footnote 49: His skin was stript.—Ver. 387. Apollo fastened him to a pine-tree, or, according to Pliny the Elder, a plane-tree, which was to be seen even in his day. The skin was afterwards suspended by Apollo in the city of Celenae. Hyginus says, that Apollo hewed Marsyas to pieces. The description here of the flaying is, perhaps, very natural; but it is all the more disgusting for being so. A commentator justly says, that it might suit a Roman, whose eyes were familiar with bloodshed, much better than the taste of the reader of modern times.]

[Footnote 50: Olympus.—Ver. 393. He was a Satyr, the brother and pupil of Marsyas. Pausanias describes a picture, painted by Polygnotus, in which Olympus was represented as sitting by Marsyas, clad as a youth, and learning to play on the flute. Euripides, in the Iphigenia in Aulis (l. 576) says that Olympus discovered some new measures for the 'tibia,' or flute. From Hyginus we learn, that Apollo delivered to him the body of Marsyas for burial.]

EXPLANATION.

Marsyas was the son of Hyagnis, the inventor of a peculiar kind of flute, and of the Phrygian measure. Livy and Quintus Curtius tell us, that the story of Apollo and Marsyas is an allegory; and that the river Marsyas gave rise to it. They say that the river, falling from a precipice, in the neighborhood of the town of Celenae, in Phrygia, made a very stunning and unpleasant noise; but that the smoothness of its course afterwards gave occasion for the saying, that the vengeance of Apollo had rendered it more tractable.

It is, however, not improbable that the story may have been based on historical facts. Having learned from his father, Hyagnis, the art of playing on the flute, and, proud of his skill, at a time when the musical art was yet in its infancy, Marsyas may have been rash enough to challenge either a priest of Apollo, or some prince who bore that name, and, for his presumption, to have received the punishment described by Ovid. Herodotus certainly credited the story; for he says that the skin of the unfortunate musician was to be seen, in his time, in the town of Celenae. Strabo, Pausanias, and Aulus Gellius also believe its truth. Suidas tells us, that Marsyas, mortified at his defeat, threw himself into the river that runs near Celenae, which, from that time, bore his name. Strabo says, that Marsyas had stolen the flute from Minerva, which proved so fatal to him, and had thereby drawn upon himself the indignation of that Divinity. Ovid, in the Sixth Book of the Fasti, and Pausanias, quoting from Apollodorus, tell us, that Minerva, having observed, by seeing herself in the river Meander, that, when she played on the flute, her cheeks were swelled out in an unseemly manner, threw aside the flute in her disgust, and Marsyas finding it, learned to play on it so skilfully, that he challenged Apollo to a trial of proficiency. Hyginus, in his 165th Fable, says that Marsyas was the son of Oeagrius, and not Hyagnis; perhaps, however, this is a corrupt reading.

FABLE V. [VI.412-586]

Tereus, king of Thrace, having married Progne, the daughter of Pandion, king of Athens, falls in love with her sister Philomela, whom he ravishes, and then, having cut out her tongue, he shuts her up in a strong place in a forest, to prevent a discovery. The unfortunate Philomela finds means to acquaint her sister with her misfortunes; for, weaving her story on a piece of cloth, she sends it to Progne by the hands of one of her keepers.

The neighboring princes met together; and the cities that were near, entreated their kings to go to console {Pelops, namely}, Argos and Sparta, and the Pelopean Mycenae, and Calydon,[51] not yet odious to the stern Diana, and fierce Orchomeneus, and Corinth famous for its brass,[52] and fertile Messene, and Patrae, and humble Cleonae,[53] and the Neleian Pylos, and Troezen not yet named from Pittheus;[54] and other cities which are enclosed by the Isthmus between the two seas, and those which, situated beyond, are seen from the Isthmus between the two seas. Who could have believed it? You, Athens, alone omitted it. A war prevented this act of humanity; and barbarous troops[55] brought {thither} by sea, were alarming the Mopsopian walls. The Thracian Tereus had routed these by his auxiliary forces, and by his conquest had acquired an illustrious name. Him, powerful both in riches and men, and, as it happened, deriving his descent from the mighty Gradivus, Pandion united to himself, by the marriage of {his daughter} Progne.

Neither Juno, the guardian of marriage rites, nor yet Hymeneus, nor the Graces,[56] attended those nuptials. {On that occasion}, the Furies brandished torches, snatched from the funeral pile. The Furies prepared the nuptial couch, and the ill-boding owl hovered over the abode, and sat on the roof of the bridal chamber. With these omens were Progne and Tereus wedded; with these omens were they made parents. Thrace, indeed, congratulated them, and they themselves returned thanks to the Gods, and they commanded the day, upon which the daughter of Pandion was given to the renowned prince, and that upon which Itys was born, to be considered as festivals. So much does our true interest lie concealed {from us}. Now Titan had drawn the seasons of the repeated year through five autumns, when Progne, in gentle accents, said to her husband, "If I have any influence {with thee}, either send me to see my sister, or let my sister come hither. Thou shalt promise thy father-in-law that she shall return in a short time. As good as a mighty God {wilt thou be} to me, if thou shalt allow me to see my sister."

He {thereupon} ordered ships to be launched;[57] and with sails and oars he entered the Cecropian harbor, and landed upon the shores of the Piraeus.[58] As soon as ever an opportunity was given of {addressing} his father-in-law, and right hand was joined to right hand, with evil omen their discourse began. He had commenced to relate the occasion of his coming, {and} the request of his wife, and to promise a speedy return for {Philomela, if} sent. {When} lo! Philomela comes, richly adorned in costly apparel; richer {by far} in her charms; such as we hear {of} the Naiads and Dryads {as they} haunt the middle of the forests, if you were only to give them the like ornaments and dress. Tereus was inflamed upon seeing the virgin, no otherwise than if one were to put fire beneath the whitening ears of corn, or were to burn leaves and {dry} grass laid up in stacks. Her beauty, indeed, is worthy {of love}; but inbred lust, as well, urges him on, and the people in those regions are {naturally} much inclined to lustfulness. He burns, both by his own frailty and that of his nation. He has a desire to corrupt the care of her attendants, and the fidelity of her nurse, and {besides}, to tempt herself with large presents, and to spend his whole kingdom {in so doing}; or else, to seize her, and, when seized, to secure her by a cruel war. And there is nothing which, being seized by an unbridled passion, he may not dare; nor does his breast contain the internal flame. And now he ill bears with delay; and with eager mouth returns to {urge} the request of Progne, and under it he pleads his own wishes; passion makes him eloquent. As oft as he presses beyond what is becoming, he pretends that Progne has thus desired. He adds tears as well, as though she had enjoined them too. O ye Gods above, how much of dark night do the breasts of mortals contain! Through his very attempt at villany, Tereus is thought to be affectionate, and from his crime does he gather praise.

And how is it, too, that Philomela desires the same thing? and fondly embracing the shoulders of her father with her arms, she begs, even by her own safety (and against it too), that she may visit her sister. Tereus views her, and, while viewing her, is embracing her beforehand in imagination; and, as he beholds her kisses, and her arms around {her father's} neck, he receives them all as incentives, and fuel, and the food of his furious passion; and, as often as she embraces her father, he could wish to be {that} father, and, even then, he would have been not the less impious. The father is overcome by the entreaties of them both. She rejoices, and returns thanks to her parent, and, to her misfortune, deems that the success of both, which will be the cause of sorrow to them both. Now but little of his toil was remaining for Phoebus, and his steeds were beating with their feet the descending track of Olympus; a regal banquet was set on the tables, and wine in golden {vessels}; after this, their bodies were given up to gentle sleep. But the Odrysian king,[59] though he was withdrawn, still burned for her; and, recalling her form, her movements, her hands, fancies that which he has not yet seen, to be such as he wishes; and he himself feeds his own flames, his anxiety preventing sleep.

It was {now} day; and Pandion, grasping the right hand of his son-in-law, about to depart, with tears bursting forth, recommended his companion {to his care}. "I commit her, my dear son-in-law, to thee, because reasons, grounded on affection, have compelled me, and both {my daughters} have desired it, and thou as well, Tereus, hast wished it; and I entreat thee, begging by thy honor, by thy breast {thus} allied to us, {and} by the Gods above, to protect her with the love of a father; and do send back to me, as soon as possible, this sweet comfort of my anxious old age, {for} all delay will be tedious to me, and do thou, too, Philomela, if thou hast any affection for me, return as soon as possible: 'tis enough that thy sister is so far away." {Thus} did he enjoin, and at the same time he gave kisses to his daughter, and his affectionate tears fell amid his instructions. He {then} demanded the right hands of them both, as a pledge of their fidelity, and joined them together when given, and bade them, with mindful lips, to salute for him his absent daughter and grandson, and with difficulty[60] uttered the last farewell, his mouth being filled with sobs; and he shuddered at the presages of his own mind. But as soon as Philomela was put on board of the painted ship, and the sea was urged by the oars, and the land was left behind, he exclaimed, "I have gained my point; the object of my desires is borne along with me." The barbarian exults, too, and with difficulty defers his joy in his intention, and turns not his eyes anywhere away from her. No otherwise than when the ravenous bird of Jupiter, with crooked talons, has placed a hare in his lofty nest; there is no escape for the captive; the plunderer keeps his eye on his prey. And now the voyage is ended, and now they have gone forth from the wearied ship, upon his own shore; when the king drags the daughter of Pandion into a lofty dwelling, concealed in an ancient wood, and there he shuts her up, pale and trembling, and dreading everything, and now with tears inquiring where her sister is; and confessing his baseness, he masters by force her a maiden, and but one, while she often vainly calls on her father, often on her sister, and on the great Gods above all. She trembles like a frightened lamb, which, wounded, being snatched from the mouth of a hoary wolf, does not as yet seem to itself in safety; and as a dove, its feathers soaked with its own blood, still trembles, and dreads the ravening talons wherein it has been {lately} held. {But} soon, when consciousness returned, tearing her dishevelled hair like one mourning, and beating her arms in lamentation, stretching out her hands, she said, "Oh, barbarous {wretch}, for thy dreadful deeds; oh, cruel {monster}! have neither the requests of my father, with his affectionate tears, moved thee, nor a regard for my sister, nor my virgin state, nor the laws of marriage? Thou hast confounded all. I am become the supplanter of my sister; thou, the husband of both of us. This punishment was not my due. Why dost thou not take away this life, that no villany, perfidious {wretch}, may remain {unperpetrated} by thee? and would that thou hadst done it before thy criminal embraces! {then} I might have had a shade void of {all} crime. Yet, if the Gods above behold these things, if the majesty of the Gods be anything; if, with myself, all things are not come to ruin; one time or other thou shalt give me satisfaction. I myself, having cast shame aside, will declare thy deeds. If opportunity is granted me, I will come among the people; if I shall be kept imprisoned in the woods, I will fill the woods, and will move the conscious rocks. Let Heaven hear these things, and the Gods, if there are any in it."

After the wrath of the cruel tyrant was aroused by such words, and his fear was not less than it, urged on by either cause, he drew the sword, with which he was girt, from the sheath, and seizing her by the hair, her arms being bent behind her back, he compelled her to submit to chains. Philomela was preparing her throat, and, on seeing the sword, had conceived hopes of her death. He cut away, with his cruel weapon, her tongue seized with pincers, while giving vent to her indignation, and constantly calling on the name of her father, and struggling to speak. The extreme root of the tongue {still} quivers. {The tongue} itself lies, and faintly murmurs, quivering upon the black earth; and as the tail of a mangled snake is wont to writhe about, {so} does it throb, and, as it dies, seeks the feet of its owner. It is said, too, that often after this crime (I could hardly dare believe it) he satisfied his lust upon her mutilated body.

He has the effrontery, after such deeds, to return to Progne, who, on seeing her husband, inquires for her sister; but he heaves feigned sighs, and tells a fictitious story of her death; and his tears procure him credit. Progne tears from her shoulders her robes, shining with broad gold, and puts on black garments, and erects an honorary sepulchre, and offers expiation to an imaginary shade; and laments the death of a sister not thus to be lamented.

The God {Apollo}, the year being completed, had run through the twice six signs {of the Zodiac}. What can Philomela do? A guard prevents her flight; the walls of the house are hard, built of solid stone: her speechless mouth is deprived of the means of discovering the crime. But in grief there is extreme ingenuity, and inventive skill arises in misfortunes. She skilfully suspends the warp in a web of Barbarian design,[61] and interweaves purple marks with white, as a mode of discovering the villany {of Tereus}; and delivers it, when finished, to one {of her attendants}, and begs her, by signs, to carry it to her mistress. As desired, she carries it to Progne, and does not know what she is delivering in it. The wife of the savage tyrant unfolds the web, and reads the mournful tale[62] of her sister, and (wondrous that she can be so!) she is silent. 'Tis grief that stops her utterance, and words sufficiently indignant fail her tongue, in want of them; nor is there room for weeping. But she rushes onward, about to confound both right and wrong, and is wholly {occupied} in the contrivance of revenge.

[Footnote 51: Calydon.—Ver. 415. This was a city of AEtolia, which derived its name from Calydon, the son of Endymion. Diana, being incensed against Oeneus, its king, because he omitted her when offering the first fruits to the other Deities, sent an immense boar to ravage its fields, which was slain by Meleager. Ovid recounts these circumstances in the eighth book of the Metamorphoses. Argos, Sparta, and Mycenae, are also included in one line, by Homer, as having been under the particular tutelage of Juno.]

[Footnote 52: Famous for its brass.—Ver. 416. According to some writers, the Corinthian brass became famous after the fall of Corinth, when it was taken and burnt by the Consul Mummius. On that occasion, they say, that from the immense number of statues melted in the conflagration, a stream of metal poured through the streets, consisting of melted gold, silver, and copper; in which, of course, the latter would be predominant. If that was the ground on which the Corinthian brass was so much commended, Ovid is here guilty of an anachronism.]

[Footnote 53: Cleonae.—Ver. 417. This was a little town, situate between Argos and Corinth. It is called 'humilis,' not from its situation, but from the small number of its inhabitants. Patrae was a city of Achaia.]

[Footnote 54: Pittheus.—Ver. 418. He was the uncle of Theseus; and was (after the time here mentioned) the king of Troezen, in Peloponnesus.]

[Footnote 55: Barbarous troops.—Ver. 423. Some suggest that it is here meant that Attica was invaded by the Amazons at this time; and they rely on a passage of Justin in support of the position. The story is, however, very improbable.]

[Footnote 56: The Graces.—Ver. 429. The Graces, who were the attendants of Venus, were three in number, Aglaia, Thalia, and Euphrosyne.]

[Footnote 57: To be launched.—Ver. 445. The ships were launched into the sea by means of rollers placed beneath them, from which circumstance they were said 'deduci,' 'to be led down.']

[Footnote 58: Shores of the Piraeus.—Ver. 446. The Piraeus was the arsenal and the harbor of the Athenians, and owed its magnificence to the vast conceptions of Themistocles.]

[Footnote 59: The Odrysian king.—Ver. 490. Tereus is thus called, from the Odrysae, a people of Thrace.]

[Footnote 60: With difficulty.—Ver. 510. Clarke translates 'vix,' 'with much ado.']

[Footnote 61: Barbarian design.—Ver. 576. Probably of a Phrygian design.]

[Footnote 62: The mournful tale.—Ver. 582. This line is translated by Clarke, 'And reads the miserable ditty of her sister.']

EXPLANATION.

The gravest authors among the ancients, such as Strabo and Pausanias, speaking of this tragical story, agree that the narrative, divested of its poetical ornaments, is strictly conformable to truth; though, of course, the sequel bears evident marks of embellishment either by the fancy of the Poet, or the superstition of the vulgar.

FABLE VI. [VI.587-676]

Progne delivers her sister Philomela from captivity, and brings her to the court of Tereus, where she revolves in her mind her different projects of revenge. Her son Itys, in the meantime, comes into her apartment, and is murdered by his mother and aunt. Progne afterwards serves him up at a feast, which she prepares for her husband; on which, being obliged to fly from the fury of the enraged king, she is changed into a swallow, Philomela into a nightingale, and Tereus himself into a lapwing.

It is {now} the time[63] when the Sithonian[64] matrons are wont to celebrate the triennial festival of Bacchus. Night is conscious of their rites; by night Rhodope resounds with the tinklings of the shrill cymbal. By night the queen goes out of her house, and is arrayed according to the rites of the God, and carries the arms of the frantic solemnity. Her head is covered with vine leaves; from her left side hang down the skins of a deer;[65] upon her shoulder rests a light spear. {Then} the terrible Progne rushing through the woods, a multitude of her followers attending her, and agitated by the fury of her resentment, pretends, Bacchus, that it is {inspired} by thee.

She comes at length to the lonely dwelling, and howls aloud, and cries "Evoe!" and breaks open the gates, and seizes her sister, and puts upon her, {so} seized, the badges of Bacchus, and conceals her countenance under the foliage of ivy; and dragging her along, full of amazement, leads her within her threshold. When Philomela perceives that she has arrived at that accursed house,[66] the wretched woman shudders, and paleness spreads over her whole face. Progne having {now} got a {fitting} place {for so doing}, takes away the symbols of the rites,[67] and unveils the blushing face of her wretched sister; and holds her in her embraces. But she, on the other hand, cannot endure to lift up her eyes; seeming to herself the supplanter of her sister, and fixing her looks on the ground, her hand is in the place of voice to her, as she desires to swear and to call the Gods to witness that this disgrace has been brought upon her by violence. Progne burns {with rage}, and contains not her anger; and checking the grief of her sister, she says, "We must not act in this matter with tears, but with the sword, {and even} with anything, if {such} thou hast, that can possibly outdo the sword. I have, sister, prepared myself for every crime! Either, when I shall have set fire to the royal palace with torches, I will throw the artful Tereus into the midst of the flames, or with the steel will I cut away his tongue or his eyes, or the members that have deprived thee of thy chastity, or by a thousand wounds will I expel his guilty soul {from his body}. Something tremendous am I prepared for; what it is, I am still in doubt."

While Progne was uttering such expressions, Itys came to his mother. By him she was put in mind of what she might do; and looking at him with vengeful eyes, she said, "Ah! how like thou art to thy father!" And saying no more, she prepared for a horrible deed, and burned with silent rage. Yet when her son came to her, and saluted his mother and drew her neck {towards him} with his little arms, and added kisses mingled with childish endearments, the mother, in truth, was moved, and her anger abated, and her eyes, in spite of her, became wet with tears {thus} forced {from her}. But soon as she found the mother {in her} shrinking from excess of affection, from him again did she turn towards the features of her sister; and looking at them both by turns, she said, "Why does the one employ endearments, {while} the other is silent with her tongue torn from her? Why does she not call her sister, whom he calls mother? Consider to what kind of husband thou art married, daughter of Pandion. Thou dost grow degenerate. Tenderness in the wife of Tereus is criminality." No {more} delay {is there}; she drags Itys along, just as the tigress of the banks of the Ganges {does} the suckling offspring of the hind, through the shady forests. And when they are come to a remote part of the lofty house, Progne strikes[68] him with the sword, extending his hands, and as he beholds his fate, crying now "Alas!" and now "My mother!" and clinging to her neck, where his breast joins his side; nor does she turn away her face. Even one wound {alone} is sufficient for his death; Philomela cuts his throat with the sword; and they mangle his limbs, still quivering and retaining somewhat of life. Part of them boils,[69] in the hollow cauldrons; part hisses on spits; the inmost recesses stream with gore. His wife sets Tereus, in his unconsciousness, before this banquet; and falsely pretending rites after the manner of her country, at which it is allowed one man only to be present, she removes his attendants and servants. Tereus himself, sitting aloft on the throne of his forefathers, eats and heaps his own entrails into his own stomach. And so great is the blindness of his mind, {that} he says, "Send for Itys." Progne is unable to conceal her cruel joy; and now, desirous to be the discoverer of her having murdered him, she says, "Thou hast within {thee}, that for which thou art asking." He looks around, and inquires where he is; as he inquires, and calls him again, Philomela springs forth, just as she is, with her hair disordered by the infernal murder, and throws the bloody head of Itys in the face of his father; nor at any time has she more longed to be able to speak, and to testify her joy by words such as are deserved.

The Thracian pushes from him the table with a loud cry, and summons the Viperous sisters[70] from the Stygian valley; and at one moment he desires, if he {only} can, by opening his breast to discharge thence the horrid repast, and the half-digested entrails. And then he weeps, and pronounces himself the wretched sepulchre of his own son; and then he follows the daughters of Pandion with his drawn sword. You would have thought the bodies of the Cecropian[71] Nymphs were supported by wings; {and} they were supported by wings. The one of them makes for the woods, the other takes her place beneath the roofs {of houses}. Nor {even} as yet have the marks of murder withdrawn from her breast; and her feathers are {still} stained with blood. He, made swift by his grief, and his desire for revenge, is turned into a bird, upon whose head stands a crested {plume}; a prolonged bill projects in place of the long spear. The name of the bird is 'epops' [{lapwing}]; its face appears to be armed. This affliction dispatched Pandion to the shades of Tartarus before his day, and the late period of protracted old age.

[Footnote 63: Now the time.—Ver. 587. This was the festival of Bacchus, before mentioned as being celebrated every three years, in memory of his Indian expedition.]

[Footnote 64: Sithonian.—Ver. 588. Sithonia was a region of Thrace, which lay between Mount Haemus and the Euxine sea. The word, however, is often used to signify the whole of Thrace.]

[Footnote 65: Skins of a deer.—Ver. 593. These were the 'nebrides,' or skins of fawns and deer, which the Bacchanals wore when celebrating the orgies. The lance mentioned here was, no doubt, the thyrsus.]

[Footnote 66: That accursed house.—Ver. 601. Clarke translates this line, 'As soon as Philomela perceived she had got into the wicked rogue's house.']

[Footnote 67: Symbols of the rites.—Ver. 603. These were the ivy, the deer-skins, and the thyrsus.]

[Footnote 68: Progne strikes.—Ver. 641. 'Ense ferit Progne' is translated by Clarke, 'Progne strikes with the sword poor Itys.']

[Footnote 69: Part of them boils.—Ver. 645-6. Clarke gives this comical translation: 'Then part of them bounces about in hollow kettles; part hisses upon spits; the parlor runs down with gore.']

[Footnote 70: Viperous sisters.—Ver. 662. Tereus invokes the Furies, who are thus called from having their hair wreathed with serpents. Clarke translates, 'ingenti clamore,' in line 661, 'with a huge cry.']

[Footnote 71: Cecropian.—Ver. 667. The Cecropian or Athenian Nymphs are Progne and Philomela, the daughters of Pandion, king of Athens.]

EXPLANATION.

By the symbolical changes of Philomela, Progne, and Tereus, those who framed this termination of the story intended to depict the different characters of the persons whose actions are there represented. As the lapwing delights in filth and impurity, the ancients thereby portrayed the unscrupulous character of Tereus; and, as the flight of that bird is but slow, it shows that he was not able to overtake his wife and her sister. The nightingale, concealed in the woods and thickets, seems there to be concealing her misfortunes and sorrows; and the swallow, which frequents the abodes of man, shows the restlessness of Progne, who seeks in vain for her son, whom, in her frantic fit, she has so barbarously murdered.

Anacreon and Apollodorus, however, reverse the story, saying that Philomela was changed into a swallow, and Progne into a nightingale. This event is said by some writers to have happened not in Thrace, but at Daulis, a town of Phocis, where Tereus is supposed to have gone to settle. Pausanias tells us, that the tomb of Tereus was to be seen near Athens, so that it is probable that he died at a distance from Thrace, his native country. Homer alludes to the story of Philomela in somewhat different terms; speaking of the grounds of the grief of Penelope, he says, that 'she made her complaints to be heard like the inconsolable Philomela, the daughter of Pandarus, always hidden among the leaves and branches of trees. When the Spring arrives, she makes her voice echo through the woods, and laments her dear Itylus, whom she killed by an unhappy mistake; varying, in her continued plaints, the mournful melody of her notes.' By this, Homer seems to have known nothing of Tereus or of Progne, and to have followed a tradition, which was to the following effect:—Pandarus had three daughters, AEdon, Mecrope, and Cleothera. AEdon, the eldest, was married to Zethus, the brother of Amphion, by whom she had one son, who was named Itylus. Envying the more numerous family of Niobe, her sister-in-law, she resolved to despatch the eldest of her nephews; and, as her son was brought up with his cousin, and was his bedfellow, she bade him change his place in the bed, on the night on which she intended to commit the crime. Itylus forgot her commands, and consequently his mother killed him by mistake for her nephew.

FABLE VII. [VI.677-721]

Boreas, not obtaining the consent of Erectheus, king of Athens, for the marriage of his daughter, Orithyia, takes that princess in his arms, and carries her away into Thrace. By her he has two sons, Calais and Zethes, who have wings, like their father, and afterwards embark with Jason in search of the Golden Fleece.

Erectheus[72] received the sceptre of {that} country, and the government of the state; it is a matter of doubt whether he was more powerful through his justice, or by his mighty arms. He had, indeed, begotten four sons, and as many of the female sex: but the beauty of two {of them} was equal. Of these, Cephalus,[73] the son of AEolus, was blessed with thee, Procris, for his wife; Tereus and the Thracians were an obstacle to Boreas; and long was {that} God without his much-loved Orithyia, while he was entreating, and choosing rather to use prayers than force. But when nothing was effected by blandishments, terrible with that rage which is his wont, and but too natural with that wind, he said, "And {this is} deservedly {done}; for why did I relinquish my own weapons, my violence, my strength, my anger, and my threatening spirit, and turn to prayers, the employment of which ill becomes me? Violence is suitable for me; by violence do I dispel the lowering clouds, by violence do I arouse the seas, and overthrow the knotted oaks, and harden the snow, and beat the earth with hail. I too, when I have met with my brothers in the open air (for that is {peculiarly} my field), struggle with efforts so great, that the intermediate sky thunders again with our onset, and fires flash, struck forth from the hollow clouds. I too, when I have descended into the hollow recesses of the earth, and in my rage have placed my back against its lowest depths, disturb the shades below, and the whole globe with earthquakes. By these means should I have sought this alliance; and Erectheus ought not to have been entreated {to be} my father-in-law, but made so by force."

Boreas, having said these words, or some not less high-sounding than these, shakes his wings, by the motion of which all the earth is fanned, and the wide sea becomes ruffled; and the lover, drawing his dusty mantle over the high tops {of mountains}, sweeps the ground, and, wrapt in darkness, embraces with his tawny wings Orithyia, as she trembles with fear. As she flies, his flame, being agitated, burns more fiercely. Nor does the ravisher check the reins of his airy course, before he reaches the people and the walls of the Ciconians.[74] There, too, is the Actaean damsel made the wife of the cold sovereign, and {afterwards} a mother, bringing forth twins at a birth, who have the wings of their father, the rest {like} their mother. Yet they say that these {wings} were not produced together with their bodies; and while their long beard, with its yellow hair, was away, the boys Calais and Zethes were without feathers. {But} soon after, at once wings began to enclose both their sides, after the manner of birds, and at once their cheeks {began} to grow yellow {with down}. When, therefore, the boyish season of youth was passed, they sought,[75] with the Minyae, along the sea {before} unmoved,[76] in the first ship {that existed}, the fleece that glittered with shining hair {of gold}.

[Footnote 72: Erectheus.—Ver. 677. This personage really was king of Athens before Pandion, the father of Progne and Philomela, and not after him, as Ovid here states; at least, such is the account given by Pausanias and Eusebius: the order of succession being Actaeus, Cecrops, Cranaues, Amphictyon, Erecthonius, Pandion, Erectheus, Cecrops II., Pandion II., AEgeus, Theseus.]

[Footnote 73: Cephalus.—Ver. 681. He was the son of Deioneus, and the grandson of AEolus. According to some writers, he was the son of Mercury; in and the Art of Love (Book iii. l. 725) he is called 'Cyllenia proles.' Strabo says that he was the son-in-law of Deioneus. His story is related at length in the next Book.]

[Footnote 74: The Ciconians.—Ver. 710. The Cicones were a people of Thrace, living near Mount Ismarus, and the Bistonian lake.]

[Footnote 75: They sought.—Ver. 720. This was the fleece of the ram that carried Phryxus along the Hellespont to Colchis, which is mentioned again in the next Book.]

[Footnote 76: Before unmoved.—Ver. 721. This passage may mean that that part of the sea had not been navigated before; though many of the poets assert that the Argo was the first ship that was ever built. It is more probable that it was the first vessel that was ever fitted out as a ship of war.]

EXPLANATION.

Plato tells us that the story of the rape of Orithyia is but an allegory, which signifies that, by accident, she was blown by the wind into the sea, where she was drowned. Apollodorus and Pausanias, however, assert that this story is based on historical facts, and that Boreas, king of Thrace, seized Orithyia, the daughter of Erectheus, king of Athens, and sister of Procris, as she was passing the river Ilissus, and carried her into his dominions, where she became the mother of twins, Calais and Zethes. In the Argonautic expedition, these chiefs delivered Phineus, the king of Bithynia, from the persecution of the Harpies, which were in the habit of snatching away the victuals served up at his table.



BOOK THE SEVENTH.

FABLE I. [VII.1-158]

Jason, after having met with various adventures, arrives with the Argonauts in Colchis, and demands the Golden Fleece. Medea falls in love with Jason, and by the power of her enchantments preserves him from the dangers he has to encounter in obtaining it. He obtains the prize, and carrying off Medea, returns in triumph to Thessaly.

And now the Minyae[1] were ploughing the sea in the Pagasaean ship;[2] and Phineus prolonging a needy old age under perpetual night, had been visited, and the youthful sons of the North wind had driven the birds with the faces of virgins from {before} the mouth of the distressed old man;[3] and having suffered many things under the famous Jason, had reached at length the rapid waters of the muddy Phasis.

And while they go to the king, and ask the fleece that once belonged to Phryxus, and conditions are offered them, dreadful for the number of mighty labors; in the meantime, the daughter of AEetes[4] conceives a violent flame; and having long struggled {against it}, after she is unable to conquer her frenzy by reason, she says: "In vain, Medea, dost thou resist; some God, who, I know not, is opposing thee. It is a wonder too, if it is not this, or at least something like this, which is called 'love.' For why do the commands of my father appear too rigid for me? and yet too rigid they are. Why am I in dread, lest he whom I have seen {but} so lately, should perish? What is the cause of alarm so great? Banish the flames conceived in thy virgin breast, if thou canst, unhappy {creature}. If I could, I would be more rational. But a new power draws me on, against my will; and Cupid persuades one thing, reason another. I see which is the more proper {course}, and I approve of it, {while} I follow the wrong one. Why, royal maiden, art thou burning for a stranger, and why coveting the nuptial ties of a strange country? This land, too, may give thee something which thou mayst love. Whether he shall live, or whether die, is in {the disposal of} the Gods. Yet he may survive; and that I may pray for, even without love. For what {fault} has Jason committed? Whom, but one of hard heart, would not the {youthful} age of Jason affect? his descent too, and his valor? Whom, though these other points were wanting, would not his beauty move? at least, he has moved my breast. But unless I shall give him aid, he will be breathed upon by the mouths of the bulls; and will engage with his own {kindred} crops, an enemy sprung from the earth; or he will be given as a cruel prey to the ravenous dragon. If I allow this, then I will confess that I was born of a tigress; then, {too}, that I carry steel and stone in my heart. Why do I not as well behold him perish? Why not, too, profane my eyes by seeing it? Why do I not stimulate the bulls against him, and the fierce sons of the earth, and the never-sleeping dragon? May the Gods award better things. And yet these things are not to be prayed for, but must be effected by myself. Shall I {then} betray the kingdom of my father? and by my aid shall some stranger, I know not who, be saved; that being delivered by my means, he may spread his sails to the winds without me, and be the husband of another; and I, Medea, be left for punishment? If he can do this, and if he is capable of preferring another to me, let him perish in his ingratitude. But not such is his countenance, not such that nobleness of soul, that gracefulness of person, that I should fear treachery, and forgetfulness of what I deserve. Besides, he shall first pledge his faith, and I will oblige the Gods to be witnesses of our compact. What then dost thou dread, {thus} secure? Haste {then},[5] and banish {all} delay. Jason will ever be indebted to thee for his preservation; thee will he unite to himself in the rites of marriage, and throughout the Pelasgian cities[6] thou wilt be celebrated by crowds of matrons, as the preserver {of their sons}. And shall I then, borne away by the winds, leave my sister[7] and my brother,[8] and my father, and my Gods, and my native soil? My father is cruel, forsooth; my country, too, is barbarous;[9] my brother is still {but} an infant; the wishes of my sister are in my favor. The greatest of the Gods is in possession of me. I shall not be relinquishing anything great; I shall be pursuing what is great; the credit of saving the youth of Greece,[10] acquaintance with a better country, and cities, whose fame is flourishing even here, and the politeness and the arts of their inhabitants; and the son of AEson, whom I could be ready to take in exchange for {all} the things that the whole world contains; with whom for my husband I shall both be deemed dear to the Gods, and shall reach the stars with my head. Why say that I know not what mountains[11] are reported to arise in the midst of the waves, and that Charybdis, an enemy to ships, one while sucks in the sea, at another discharges it; and how that Scylla, begirt with furious dogs, is said to bark in the Sicilian deep? Yet holding him whom I love, and clinging to the bosom of Jason, I shall be borne over the wide seas; embracing him, naught will I dread; or if I fear anything, for my husband alone will I fear. And dost thou, Medea, call this a marriage, and dost thou give a plausible name to thy criminality? Do but consider how great an offence thou art meditating, and, while {still} thou mayst, fly from guilt."

{Thus} she said, and before her eyes stood Virtue, Affection, and Modesty; and now Cupid turned his vanquished back. She was going to the ancient altars of Hecate,[12] the daughter of Perses, which a shady grove and the recesses of a wood concealed. And now she was resolved, and her passion being checked, had subsided; when she beheld the son of AEson, and the extinguished flame revived. Her cheeks were covered with blushes, and her whole face was suffused with a glow. As a spark is wont to derive nourishment from the winds, which, but small when it lay concealed beneath the ashes cast over it, {is wont} to increase, and aroused, to rise again to its original strength, so her love, now declining, which you would suppose was now growing languid, when she beheld the youth, was rekindled with the appearance of him before her eyes. And by chance, on that day, the son of AEson was more beauteous than usual. You might forgive her loving him. She gazes; and keeps her eyes fixed upon his countenance, as though but now seen for the first time; and in her frenzy she thinks she does not behold the face of a mortal; nor does she turn away from him. But when the stranger began to speak, and seized her right hand, and begged her assistance with a humble voice, and promised her marriage; she said, with tears running down, "I see what I ought to do; and it will not be ignorance of the truth, but love that beguiles me. By my agency thou shalt be saved; when saved, grant what thou hast promised."

He swears by the rites of the Goddess of the triple form, and the Deity which is in that grove, and by the sire[13] of his future father-in-law, who beholds all things, and by his own adventures, and by dangers so great. Being believed {by her}, he immediately received some enchanted herbs, and thoroughly learned the use of them, and went away rejoicing to his abode. The next morning had {now} dispersed the twinkling stars, {when} the people repaired to the sacred field of Mavors, and ranged themselves on the hills. In the midst of the assembly sat the king himself, arrayed in purple, and distinguished by a sceptre of ivory. Behold! the brazen-footed bulls breathe forth flames[14] from their adamantine nostrils; and the grass touched by the vapors is on fire. And as the forges filled {with fire} are wont to roar, or when flints[15] dissolved in an earthen furnace receive intense heat by the sprinkling of flowing water; so do their breasts rolling forth the flames enclosed within, and their scorched throats, resound. Yet the son of AEson goes forth to meet them. The fierce {bulls} turn their terrible features, and their horns pointed with iron, towards his face as he advances, and with cloven hoofs they spurn the dusty ground, and fill the place with lowings, that send forth clouds of smoke. The Minyae are frozen with horror. He comes up, and feels not the flames breathed forth by them, so great is the power of the incantations. He even strokes their hanging dewlaps with a bold right hand, and, subjected to the yoke, he obliges them to draw the heavy weight of a plough, and to turn up with the share the plain {till now} unused to it.[16]

The Colchians are astonished; the Minyae fill {the air} with their shouts, and give him {fresh} courage. Then in a brazen helmet he takes the dragon's teeth,[17] and strews them over the ploughed up fields. The ground, impregnated beforehand with a potent drug, softens the seed; and the teeth that were sown grow up, and become new bodies. And as the infant receives the human form in the womb of the mother, and is there formed in all its parts, and comes not forth into the common air until at maturity, so when the figure of man is ripened in the bowels of the pregnant earth, it arises in the fruitful plain; and, what is still more surprising, it brandishes arms produced at the same time. When the Pelasgians saw them preparing to hurl their spears with sharp points at the head of the Haemonian youth, they lowered their countenances and their courage, {quailing} with fear. She, too, became alarmed, who had rendered him secure; and when she saw the youth, being but one, attacked by so many enemies, she turned pale, and suddenly chilled {with fear}, sat down without blood {in her cheeks}. And, lest the herbs that had been given by her, should avail him but little, she repeats an auxiliary charm, and summons {to her aid} her secret arts. He, hurling a heavy stone into the midst of his enemies, turns the warfare, now averted from himself, upon themselves. The Earth-born brothers perish by mutual wounds, and fall in civil fight. The Greeks congratulate him, and caress the conqueror, and cling to him in hearty embraces. And thou too, barbarian maiden, wouldst fain have embraced him; 'twas modesty that opposed the design; otherwise thou wouldst have embraced him; but regard for thy reputation restrained thee from doing so. What thou mayst do, {thou dost do}; thou rejoicest with a silent affection, and thou givest thanks to thy charms, and to the Gods, the authors of them.

It {still} remains to lay asleep with herbs the watchful dragon, who, distinguished by his crest and his three tongues, and terrible with his hooked teeth, is the keeper of the Golden Fleece. After he has sprinkled him with herbs of Lethaean juice,[18] and has thrice repeated words that cause placid slumbers, which {would even calm} the boisterous ocean, {and} which would stop the rapid rivers, sleep creeps upon the eyes that were strangers to it, and the hero, the son of AEson, gains the gold; and proud of the spoil and bearing with him the giver of the prize as a second spoil, he arrives victorious, with his wife, at the port of Iolcos.[19]

[Footnote 1: The Minyae.—Ver. 1. The Argonauts. The Minyae were a people of Thessaly, so called from Minyas, the son of Orchomenus.]

[Footnote 2: Pagasaean ship.—Ver. 1. Pagasae was a seaport of Thessaly, at the foot of Mount Pelion, where the ship Argo was built.]

[Footnote 3: Distressed old man.—Ver. 4. Clarke translates 'miseri senis ore,' 'from the mouth of the miserable old fellow.']

[Footnote 4: Daughter of AEetes.—Ver. 9. Medea was the daughter of AEetes, the king of Colchis. Juno, favoring Jason, had persuaded Venus to inspire Medea with love for him.]

[Footnote 5: Haste then.—Ver. 47. Clarke translates 'accingere,' more literally than elegantly, 'buckle to.']

[Footnote 6: Pelasgian cities.—Ver. 49. Pelasgia was properly that part of Greece which was afterwards called Thessaly. The province of Pelasgiotis, in Thessaly, afterwards retained its name, which was derived from the Pelasgi, an early people of Greece. Pliny informs us that Peloponnesus at first had the names of 'Apia' and 'Pelasgia.' Some suppose that the Pelasgi derived their name from Pelasgus, the son of Jupiter; while other writers assert that they were so called from pelargoi, 'storks,' from their wandering habits. The name is frequently used, as in the present instance, to signify the whole of the Greeks.]

[Footnote 7: My sister.—Ver. 51. Her sister was Chalciope, who had married Phryxus, after his arrival in Colchis. Her children being found by Jason, in the isle of Dia, they came with him to Colchis, and presented him to their mother, who afterwards commended him to the care of Medea.]

[Footnote 8: And my brother.—Ver. 51. Her brother was Absyrtus, whose tragical death is afterwards mentioned.]

[Footnote 9: Is barbarous.—Ver. 53. It was certainly 'barbara' in the eyes of a Greek; but the argument sounds rather oddly in the mouth of Medea, herself a native of the country.]

[Footnote 10: The youth of Greece.—Ver. 56. These were the Argonauts, who were selected from the most noble youths of Greece.]

[Footnote 11: What mountains.—Ver. 63. These were the Cyanean rocks, or Symplegades, at the mouth of the Euxine sea.]

[Footnote 12: Hecate.—Ver. 74. Ancient writers seem to have been much divided in opinion who Hecate was. Ovid here follows the account which made her to be the daughter of Perses, who, according to Diodorus Siculus, was the son of Phoebus, and the brother of AEetes. Marrying her uncle AEetes, she is said to have been the mother of Circe, Medea, and Absyrtus. By some writers she is confounded with the Moon and with Proserpine; as identical with the Moon, she has the epithets 'Triceps' and 'Triformis,' often given to her by the poets, because the Moon sometimes is full, sometimes disappears, and often shows but part of her disk.]

[Footnote 13: And by the sire.—Ver. 96. Allusion is made to the Sun, who was said to be the father of AEetes, the destined father-in-law of Jason.]

[Footnote 14: Breathe forth flames.—Ver. 104. The name of the God of fire is here used to signify that element. Apollodorus says, that Medea gave Jason a drug (pharmakon) to rub over himself and his armor.]

[Footnote 15: Or when flints.—Ver. 107. It is difficult to determine whether 'silices' here means 'flint-stones,' or 'lime-stone;' probably the latter, from the mention of water sprinkled over them. If the meaning is 'flint-stones,' the passage may refer to the manufacture of glass, with the art of making which the ancients were perfectly acquainted.]

[Footnote 16: Unused to it.—Ver. 119. Because, being sacred to Mars, it was not permitted to be ploughed.]

[Footnote 17: Dragon's teeth.—Ver. 122. These were a portion of the teeth of the dragon slain by Cadmus, which Mars and Minerva had sent to AEetes.]

[Footnote 18: Lethaean juice.—Ver. 152. Lethe was a river of the infernal regions, whose waters were said to produce sleep and forgetfulness.]

[Footnote 19: Port of Iolcos.—Ver. 158. Iolcos was a city of Thessaly, of which country Jason was a native.]

EXPLANATION.

To understand this story, one of the most famous in the early history of Greece, we must go back to the origin of it, and examine the fictions which the poets have mingled with the history of the expedition of the Argonauts, one of the most remarkable events of the fabulous ages.

Athamas, the son of AEolus, grandson of Hellen, and great-grandson of Deucalion, having married Ino, the daughter of Cadmus, was obliged to divorce her, on account of the madness with which she was attacked. He afterwards married Nephele, by whom he had a son and daughter, Phryxus and Helle; but on his taking his first wife again, she brought him two sons, Learchus and Melicerta. Ino, hating the children of Nephele, sought to destroy them. Phryxus being informed thereof, ordered a ship to be privately prepared; and taking his father's treasures, sailed with his sister Helle, to seek a retreat in the court of AEetes, his kinsman. Helle died on the voyage, but Phryxus arrived in Colchis, where he dedicated the prow of his ship to Neptune, or Jupiter. He there married Chalciope, by whom he had four sons, Argos, Phrontes, Molas, and Cylindus. Some years after, AEetes caused him to be assassinated; and his sons fleeing to the court of their grandfather, Athamas, were shipwrecked on an island, where they remained until found there by Jason, who took them back to their mother. Having mourned them as dead, she was transported with joy on finding them, and used every exertion to aid Jason in promoting his addresses to Medea. AEetes having seized the treasures of Athamas on the death of Phryxus, the Greeks prepared an expedition to recover them, and to avenge his death. Pelias, who had driven his brother AEson from the throne of Iolcos, desiring to procure the absence of his son Jason, took this opportunity of engaging him in an enterprise, which promised both glory, profit, and a large amount of personal exertion. The uneasiness which Pelias felt was caused by the prediction of an oracle, that he should be killed by a prince of the family of AEolus, and which warned him to beware of a person who should have but one shoe. Just at that period, Jason, returning from the school of Chiron, lost one of his shoes in crossing a river. On this, his uncle was desirous to destroy him; but not daring to do so publicly, he induced him to embark with the Argonauts, expecting that he would perish in an undertaking of so perilous a nature. Many young nobles of Greece repaired to the court of Iolcos, and joined in the undertaking, when they chose Jason for their leader, and embarked in a ship, the name of which was Argo, and from which the adventurers received the name of Argonauts.

Diodorus Siculus says, that the ship was so named from its swiftness; while others say, that it was so called from Argus, the name of its builder, or from the Argives, or Greeks, on board of it. Bochart, however, supposes, that the name is derived from the Phoenician word 'arco,' which signifies 'long,' and suggests, that before that time the Greeks sailed in vessels of a rounder form, Jason being the first who sailed in a ship built in the form of a galley. After many adventures, on arriving at the Isle of Lemnos, they found that the women had killed their husbands in a fit of jealousy, on which the Argonauts took wives from their number, and Jason received for his companion Hypsipyle, the daughter of Thoas. Putting to sea again, they were driven on the coast of Bithynia, where they delivered Phineus, its king, from the persecution of the Harpies, who were in the habit of snatching away the victuals from his table. These monsters, of hideous form, with crooked beaks and talons, huge wings, and the faces of women, the Argonauts, and especially Calais and Zethes, pursued as far as the islands called Strophades, in the Ionian sea, where Iris appearing to them, enjoined them to pursue the Harpies no further, promising that Phineus should no longer be persecuted by them. To explain this story, some suppose that the Harpies were the daughters of Phineus, who by their dissipation and extravagance, had ruined him in his old age, which occasioned the saying, that they snatched the victuals out of his mouth. Le Clerc thinks, that the Harpies were vast swarms of grasshoppers, which ravaged all Paphlagonia, and caused a famine in the dominions of Phineus; the word 'arbati,' whence the term 'Harpy' is derived, signifying 'a grasshopper;' and that the North wind blowing them into the Ionian sea, it gave rise to the saying, that the sons of Boreas pursued them so far. Diodorus Siculus does not mention the Harpies, though he speaks of the arrival of the Argonauts at the court of Phineus.

After some other adventures, the Argonauts arrived at Colchis. AEetes, or AEeta, the king, having been forewarned by an oracle, that a stranger should deprive him of his crown and life, had established a custom of sacrificing all strangers found in his dominions. His daughter Medea, falling in love with Jason, promised him her assistance in preserving them from the dangers to which they were exposed, on the condition of his marrying her. Having engaged to do so, she conducted him by night to the royal palace, and gave him a false key, by means whereof he found the royal treasures, and carrying them off, embarked with Medea and his companions. By way of explaining the miraculous portion of the story, we may, perhaps, not err in supposing, that the account of it was originally written in the Phoenician language; and through not understanding it, the Greeks invented the fiction of the Fleece, the Dragon, and the Fiery Bulls. Bochart and Le Clerc have observed, that the Syriac word 'gaza,' signifies either 'a treasure,' or 'a fleece.' 'Saur,' which means 'a wall,' also means 'a bull;' and in the same language the same word, 'nachas,' signifies both 'brass,' 'iron,' and 'a dragon.' Hence, instead of the simple narrative, that Jason, by the aid of Medea, carried away the treasures which AEetes kept within walls, with bolts, or locks of metal, and which Phryxus had carried to Colchis in a ship with the figure of a ram at the prow, it was published, and circulated by the ignorant, that the Gods, to save Phryxus from his stepmother, sent him a sheep with a golden fleece, which bore him to Colchis; that its fleece became the object of the ambition of the leading men of Greece; and that whoever wished to bear it away was obliged to contend with bulls and dragons. Some historians, by way of interpreting the story, affirm, that the keeper of the treasures was named 'Draco,' or 'Dragon,' and that the garrison of the stronghold of AEetes was brought from the 'Tauric' Chersonesus. They say also, that the fleece was the skin of the sheep which Phryxus had sacrificed to Neptune, which he had caused to be gilt. It is not, however, very likely, that an object so trifling could have excited the avarice of the Greeks, and caused them to undertake an expedition accompanied with so many dangers. The dragon's teeth most probably bear reference to some foreign troops which Jason, in the same way as Cadmus had done, found means to alienate from AEetes, and to bring over to his own side. Homer makes but very slight allusion to the adventures of the Argonauts.

FABLE II. [VII.159-349]

Jason, after his return home, requests Medea to restore his father AEson to youth, which she performs; then, going to the court of Pelias, she avenges the injuries which he had done to the family of Jason, by making him the victim of the credulity of his own daughters, who, in compliance with her pretended regard for them, stab him to death. Medea, having executed her design, makes her escape in her chariot.

The Haemonian mothers and aged fathers bring presents, for receiving their sons {safe home}; and frankincense dissolves, piled on the flames, and the devoted victim falls, having its horns gilded. But AEson is not among those congratulating, being now near death, and worn out with the years of old age; when thus the son of AEson {addresses Medea}: "O wife, to whom I confess that I owe my safety, although thou hast granted me everything, and the sum of thy favors exceeds {all} belief; {still}, if {thy enchantments} can effect this (and what can enchantments not effect?), take away from my own years, and, when taken, add them to {those of} my father."

And {thus saying}, he could not check his tears. She was moved with the affection of the petitioner; and {her father}, AEetes, left behind, recurred to her mind, unlike {that of Jason}; yet she did not confess any such feelings. "What a piece of wickedness, husband," said she, "has escaped thy affectionate lips! Can I, then, seem capable of transferring to any one a portion of thy life? May Hecate not allow of this; nor dost thou ask what is reasonable; but, Jason, I will endeavor to grant thee a favor {still} greater than that which thou art asking. By my arts we will endeavor to bring back the long years of my father-in-law, and not by means of thy years; if the Goddess of the triple form[20] do but assist, and propitiously aid {so} vast an undertaking." Three nights were {now} wanting that the horns {of the Moon} might meet entirely, and might form a {perfect} orb. After the Moon shone in her full, and looked down upon the Earth, with her disk complete, {Medea} went forth from the house, clothed in garments flowing loose, with bare feet,[21] and having her unadorned hair hanging over her shoulders, and unattended, directed her wandering steps through the still silence of midnight. Sound sleep has {now} relaxed {the nerves of both} men, and birds, and beasts; the hedges and the motionless foliage are still, without any noise, the dewy air is still; the stars alone are twinkling; towards which, holding up her arms, three times she turns herself about, three times she besprinkles her hair with water taken from the stream; with three yells she opens her mouth, and, her knee bending upon the hard ground, she says, "O Night, most faithful to these my mysteries, and ye golden Stars, who, with the Moon, succeed the fires of the day, and thou, three-faced Hecate,[22] who comest conscious of my design, and ye charms and arts of the enchanters, and thou, too, Earth, that dost furnish the enchanters with powerful herbs; ye breezes, too, and winds, mountains, rivers, and lakes, and all ye Deities of the groves, and all ye Gods of night, attend here; through whose aid, whenever I will, the rivers run back from their astonished banks to their sources, {and} by my charms I calm the troubled sea, and rouse it when calm; I disperse the clouds, and I bring clouds {upon the Earth}; I both allay the winds, and I raise them; and I break the jaws of serpents with my words and my spells; I move, too, the solid rocks, and the oaks torn up with their own {native} earth, and the forests {as well}. I command the mountains, too, to quake, and the Earth to groan, and the ghosts to come forth from their tombs. Thee, too, O Moon, do I draw down, although the Temesaean[23] brass relieves thy pangs. By my spells, also, the chariot of my grandsire is rendered pale; Aurora, too, is pale through my enchantments. For me did ye blunt the flames of the bulls, and with the curving plough you pressed the necks that never before bore the yoke. You raised a cruel warfare for those born of the dragon among themselves, and you lulled to sleep the keeper {of the golden fleece}, that had never known sleep; and {thus}, deceiving the guardian, you sent the treasure into the Grecian cities. Now there is need of juices, by means of which, old age, being renewed, may return to the bloom {of life}, and may receive back again its early years; and {this} ye will give me; for not in vain did the stars {just now} sparkle; nor yet in vain is the chariot come, drawn by the necks of winged dragons."

A chariot sent down from heaven was come; which, soon as she had mounted, and had stroked the harnessed necks of the dragons, and had shaken the light reins with her hands, she was borne aloft, and looked down upon Thessalian Tempe below her, and guided her dragons towards the chalky regions;[24] and observed the herbs which Ossa, and which the lofty Pelion bore, Othrys, too, and Pindus, and Olympus {still} greater than Pindus; and part she tore up by the root gently worked, part she cut down with the bend of a brazen sickle.[25] Many a herb, too, that grew on the banks of Apidanus[26] pleased her; many, too, {on the banks} of Amphrysus; nor, Enipeus, didst thou escape. The Peneian waters, and the Spercheian as well, contributed something, and the rushy shores of Boebe.[27] She plucks, too, enlivening herbs by the Euboean Anthedon,[28] not yet commonly known by the change of the body of Glaucus.[29] And now the ninth day,[30] and the ninth night had seen her visiting all the fields in her chariot, and upon the wings of the dragons, when she returned; nor had the dragons been fed, but with the odors {of the plants}: and yet they cast the skin of old age full of years. On her arrival she stood without the threshold and the gates, and was canopied by the heavens alone, and avoided the contact of her husband, and erected two altars of turf; on the right hand, one to Hecate, but on the left side one to Youth.[31] After she had hung them round with vervain and forest boughs, throwing up the earth from two trenches not far off, she performed the rites, and plunged a knife into the throat of a black ram, and besprinkled the wide trenches with blood. Then pouring thereon goblets[32] of flowing wine, and pouring brazen goblets of warm milk; she at the same time utters words, and calls upon the Deities of the earth, and entreats the king of the shades[33] below, together with his ravished wife, that they will not hasten to deprive the aged limbs of life. When she had rendered them propitious both by prayers and prolonged mutterings, she commanded the exhausted body of AEson to be brought out to the altars, and stretched it cast into a deep sleep by her charms, {and} resembling one dead, upon the herbs laid beneath him.

She orders the son of AEson to go far thence, and the attendants, too, to go afar; and warns them to withdraw their profane eyes from her mysteries. At her order, they retire. Medea, with dishevelled hair, goes round the blazing altars like a worshipper of Bacchus, and dips her torches, split into many parts, in the trench, black with blood, and lights them, {thus} dipt, at the two altars. And thrice does she[34] purify the aged man with flames, thrice with water, and thrice with sulphur. In the meantime the potent mixture[35] is boiling and heaving in the brazen cauldron, placed {on the flames}, and whitens with swelling froth. There she boils roots cut up in the Haemonian valleys, and seeds and flowers and acrid juices. She adds stones fetched from the most distant East, and sand, which the ebbing tide of the ocean has washed. She adds, too, hoar-frost gathered at night by the light of the moon, and the ill-boding wings of a screech owl,[36] together with its flesh; and the entrails of an ambiguous wolf, that was wont to change its appearance of a wild beast into {that of} a man. Nor is there wanting there the thin scaly slough of the Cinyphian water-snake,[37] and the liver of the long-lived stag;[38] to which, besides, she adds the bill and head of a crow that had sustained {an existence of} nine ages. When, with these and a thousand other things without a name, the barbarian {princess} has completed the medicine prepared for the mortal {body}, with a branch of the peaceful olive long since dried up, she stirs them all up, and blends the lowest {ingredients} with the highest. Behold! the old branch, turned about in the heated cauldron, at first becomes green; and after no long time assumes foliage, and is suddenly loaded with heavy olives. Besides, wherever the fire throws the froth from out of the hollow cauldron, and the boiling drops fall upon the earth, the ground becomes green, and flowers and soft grass spring up.

Soon as Medea sees this, she opens the throat[39] of the old man with a drawn sword; and allowing the former blood to escape, replenishes {his veins} with juices. Soon as AEson has drunk them in, either received in his mouth or in his wound, his beard and his hair[40] laying aside their hoariness, assume a black hue. His leanness flies, being expelled; his paleness and squalor are gone. His hollow veins are supplied with additional blood, and his limbs become instinct with vigor. AEson is astonished, and calls to recollection that he was such four times ten years before.

Liber had beheld from on high the miraculous operations of so great a prodigy; and taught {thereby} that youthful years can be restored to his nurses,[41] he requests this present from the daughter of AEetes.[42]

And that her arts[43] may not cease, the Phasian feigns a counterfeited quarrel with her husband, and flies as a suppliant to the threshold of Pelias[44] and (as he himself is oppressed with old age) his daughters receive her; whom, after a short time, the crafty Colchian engages to herself by the appearance of a pretended friendship. And while among the greatest of her merits, she relates that the infirmities of AEson have been removed, and is dwelling upon that part {of the story}, a hope is suggested to the damsels, the daughters of Pelias, that by the like art their parent may become young again; and this they request {of her}, and repeatedly entreat her to name her own price. For a short time she is silent, and appears to be hesitating, and keeps their mind in suspense, as they ask, with an affected gravity.

Afterwards, when she has promised them, she says, "That there may be the greater confidence in this my skill, the leader of the flock among your sheep, which is the most advanced in age, shall become a lamb by this preparation." Immediately, a fleecy {ram}, enfeebled by innumerable years, is brought, with his horns bending around his hollow temples; whose withered throat, when she has cut with the Haemonian knife, and stained the steel with its scanty blood, the enchantress plunges the limbs of the sheep, and her potent juices together, into the hollow copper. The limbs of his body are lessened, and he puts off his horns, and his years together with his horns; and in the midst of the kettle a low bleating is heard. And without any delay, while they are wondering at the bleating, a lamb springs forth, and gambols in its course, and seeks the suckling dugs. The daughters of Pelias are amazed; and after her promises have obtained her credit, then, indeed, they urge her still more strongly. Phoebus had thrice taken the yoke off his horses sinking in the Iberian sea;[45] and upon the fourth night the radiant stars were twinkling, when the deceitful daughter of AEetes set pure water upon a blazing fire, and herbs without any virtue. And now sleep like to death, their bodies being relaxed, had seized the king, and the guards together with their king, which her charms and the influence of her enchanting tongue had caused. The daughters {of the king}, {as} ordered, had entered the threshold, together with the Colchian, and had surrounded the bed; "Why do you hesitate now, in your indolence? Unsheathe your swords," says she, "and exhaust the ancient gore, that I may replenish his empty veins with youthful blood. The life and the age of your father is now in your power. If you have any affection and cherish not vain hopes, perform your duty to your father, and drive away old age with your weapons, and, thrusting in the steel, let out his corrupted blood."