Metamorphoses

Ovid

Ovid. Metamorphoses. More, Brookes, translator. Boston: Cornhill Publishing Co., 1922.

And now his thunder bolts
would Jove wide scatter, but he feared the flames,
unnumbered, sacred ether might ignite
and burn the axle of the universe:
and he remembered in the scroll of fate,
there is a time appointed when the sea
and earth and Heavens shall melt, and fire destroy
the universe of mighty labour wrought.
Such weapons by the skill of Cyclops forged,
for different punishment he laid aside—
for straightway he preferred to overwhelm
the mortal race beneath deep waves and storms
from every raining sky. And instantly
he shut the Northwind in Aeolian caves,
and every other wind that might dispel
the gathering clouds. He bade the Southwind blow:—
the Southwind flies abroad with dripping wings,
concealing in the gloom his awful face:
the drenching rain descends from his wet beard
and hoary locks; dark clouds are on his brows
and from his wings and garments drip the dews:
his great hands press the overhanging clouds;
loudly the thunders roll; the torrents pour;
Iris, the messenger of Juno, clad
in many coloured raiment, upward draws
the steaming moisture to renew the clouds.
The standing grain is beaten to the ground,
the rustic's crops are scattered in the mire,
and he bewails the long year's fruitless toil.
The wrath of Jove was not content with powers
that emanate from Heaven; he brought to aid
his azure brother, lord of flowing waves,
who called upon the Rivers and the Streams:
and when they entered his impearled abode,
Neptune, their ancient ruler, thus began;
“A long appeal is needless; pour ye forth
in rage of power; open up your fountains;
rush over obstacles; let every stream
pour forth in boundless floods.” Thus he commands,
and none dissenting all the River Gods
return, and opening up their fountains roll
tumultuous to the deep unfruitful sea.
And Neptune with his trident smote the Earth,
which trembling with unwonted throes heaved up
the sources of her waters bare; and through
her open plains the rapid rivers rushed
resistless, onward bearing the waving grain,
the budding groves, the houses, sheep and men,—
and holy temples, and their sacred urns.
The mansions that remained, resisting vast
and total ruin, deepening waves concealed
and whelmed their tottering turrets in the flood
and whirling gulf. And now one vast expanse,
the land and sea were mingled in the waste
of endless waves—a sea without a shore.
One desperate man seized on the nearest hill;
another sitting in his curved boat,
plied the long oar where he was wont to plow;
another sailed above his grain, above
his hidden dwelling; and another hooked
a fish that sported in a leafy elm.
Perchance an anchor dropped in verdant fields,
or curving keels were pushed through tangled vines;
and where the gracile goat enjoyed the green,
unsightly seals reposed. Beneath the waves
were wondering Nereids, viewing cities, groves
and houses. Dolphins darting mid the trees,
meshed in the twisted branches, beat against
the shaken oak trees. There the sheep, affrayed,
swim with the frightened wolf, the surging waves
float tigers and lions: availeth naught
his lightning shock the wild boar, nor avails
the stag's fleet footed speed. The wandering bird,
seeking umbrageous groves and hidden vales,
with wearied pinion droops into the sea.
The waves increasing surge above the hills,
and rising waters dash on mountain tops.
Myriads by the waves are swept away,
and those the waters spare, for lack of food,
starvation slowly overcomes at last.
A fruitful land and fair but now submerged
beneath a wilderness of rising waves,
'Twixt Oeta and Aonia, Phocis lies,
where through the clouds Parnassus' summits twain
point upward to the stars, unmeasured height,
save which the rolling billows covered all:
there in a small and fragile boat, arrived,
Deucalion and the consort of his couch,
prepared to worship the Corycian Nymphs,
the mountain deities, and Themis kind,
who in that age revealed in oracles
the voice of fate. As he no other lived
so good and just, as she no other feared
the Gods.
When Jupiter beheld the globe
in ruin covered, swept with wasting waves,
and when he saw one man of myriads left,
one helpless woman left of myriads lone,
both innocent and worshiping the Gods,
he scattered all the clouds; he blew away
the great storms by the cold northwind.

Once more
the earth appeared to heaven and the skies
appeared to earth. The fury of the main
abated, for the Ocean ruler laid
his trident down and pacified the waves,
and called on azure Triton.—Triton arose
above the waving seas, his shoulders mailed
in purple shells.—He bade the Triton blow,
blow in his sounding shell, the wandering streams
and rivers to recall with signal known:
a hollow wreathed trumpet, tapering wide
and slender stemmed, the Triton took amain
and wound the pearly shell at midmost sea.
Betwixt the rising and the setting suns
the wildered notes resounded shore to shore,
and as it touched his lips, wet with the brine
beneath his dripping beard, sounded retreat:
and all the waters of the land and sea
obeyed. Their fountains heard and ceased to flow;
their waves subsided; hidden hills uprose;
emerged the shores of ocean; channels filled
with flowing streams; the soil appeared; the land
increased its surface as the waves decreased:
and after length of days the trees put forth,
with ooze on bending boughs, their naked tops.
And all the wasted globe was now restored,
but as he viewed the vast and silent world
Deucalion wept and thus to Pyrrha spoke;
“O sister! wife! alone of woman left!
My kindred in descent and origin!
Dearest companion of my marriage bed,
doubly endeared by deepening dangers borne,—
of all the dawn and eve behold of earth,
but you and I are left—for the deep sea
has kept the rest! And what prevents the tide
from overwhelming us? Remaining clouds
affright us. How could you endure your fears
if you alone were rescued by this fate,
and who would then console your bitter grief?
Oh be assured, if you were buried in the waves,
that I would follow you and be with you!
Oh would that by my father's art I might
restore the people, and inspire this clay
to take the form of man. Alas, the Gods
decreed and only we are living!”, Thus
Deucalion's plaint to Pyrrha;—and they wept.
And after he had spoken, they resolved
to ask the aid of sacred oracles,—
and so they hastened to Cephissian waves
which rolled a turbid flood in channels known.
Thence when their robes and brows were sprinkled well,
they turned their footsteps to the goddess' fane:
its gables were befouled with reeking moss
and on its altars every fire was cold.
But when the twain had reached the temple steps
they fell upon the earth, inspired with awe,
and kissed the cold stone with their trembling lips,
and said; “If righteous prayers appease the Gods,
and if the wrath of high celestial powers
may thus be turned, declare, O Themis! whence
and what the art may raise humanity?
O gentle goddess help the dying world!”
Moved by their supplications, she replied;
“Depart from me and veil your brows; ungird
your robes, and cast behind you as you go,
the bones of your great mother.” Long they stood
in dumb amazement: Pyrrha, first of voice,
refused the mandate and with trembling lips
implored the goddess to forgive—she feared
to violate her mother's bones and vex
her sacred spirit. Often pondered they
the words involved in such obscurity,
repeating oft: and thus Deucalion
to Epimetheus' daughter uttered speech
of soothing import; “ Oracles are just
and urge not evil deeds, or naught avails
the skill of thought. Our mother is the Earth,
and I may judge the stones of earth are bones
that we should cast behind us as we go.”
And although Pyrrha by his words was moved
she hesitated to comply; and both amazed
doubted the purpose of the oracle,
but deemed no harm to come of trial. They,
descending from the temple, veiled their heads
and loosed their robes and threw some stones
behind them. It is much beyond belief,
were not receding ages witness, hard
and rigid stones assumed a softer form,
enlarging as their brittle nature changed
to milder substance,—till the shape of man
appeared, imperfect, faintly outlined first,
as marble statue chiseled in the rough.
The soft moist parts were changed to softer flesh,
the hard and brittle substance into bones,
the veins retained their ancient name. And now
the Gods supreme ordained that every stone
Deucalion threw should take the form of man,
and those by Pyrrha cast should woman's form
assume: so are we hardy to endure
and prove by toil and deeds from what we sprung.

And after this the Earth spontaneous
produced the world of animals, when all
remaining moistures of the mirey fens
fermented in the sun, and fruitful seeds
in soils nutritious grew to shapes ordained.
So when the seven streamed Nile from oozy fields
returneth duly to her ancient bed,
the sun's ethereal rays impregn the slime,
that haply as the peasants turn the soil
they find strange animals unknown before:
some in the moment of their birth, and some
deprived of limbs, imperfect; often part
alive and part of slime inanimate
are fashioned in one body. Heat combined
with moisture so conceives and life results
from these two things. For though the flames may be
the foes of water, everything that lives
begins in humid vapour, and it seems
discordant concord is the means of life.
When Earth, spread over with diluvian ooze,
felt heat ethereal from the glowing sun,
unnumbered species to the light she gave,
and gave to being many an ancient form,
or monster new created. Unwilling she
created thus enormous Python.—Thou
unheard of serpent spread so far athwart
the side of a vast mountain, didst fill with fear
the race of new created man. The God
that bears the bow (a weapon used till then
only to hunt the deer and agile goat)
destroyed the monster with a myriad darts,
and almost emptied all his quiver, till
envenomed gore oozed forth from livid wounds.
Lest in a dark oblivion time should hide
the fame of this achievement, sacred sports
he instituted, from the Python called
“The Pythian Games.” In these the happy youth
who proved victorious in the chariot race,
running and boxing, with an honoured crown
of oak leaves was enwreathed. The laurel then
was not created, wherefore Phoebus, bright
and godlike, beauteous with his flowing hair,
was wont to wreathe his brows with various leaves.

Daphne, the daughter of a River God
was first beloved by Phoebus, the great God
of glorious light. 'Twas not a cause of chance
but out of Cupid's vengeful spite that she
was fated to torment the lord of light.
For Phoebus, proud of Python's death, beheld
that impish god of Love upon a time
when he was bending his diminished bow,
and voicing his contempt in anger said;
“What, wanton boy, are mighty arms to thee,
great weapons suited to the needs of war?
The bow is only for the use of those
large deities of heaven whose strength may deal
wounds, mortal, to the savage beasts of prey;
and who courageous overcome their foes.—
it is a proper weapon to the use
of such as slew with arrows Python, huge,
whose pestilential carcase vast extent
covered. Content thee with the flames thy torch
enkindles (fires too subtle for my thought)
and leave to me the glory that is mine.”
to him, undaunted, Venus, son replied;
“O Phoebus, thou canst conquer all the world
with thy strong bow and arrows, but with this
small arrow I shall pierce thy vaunting breast!
And by the measure that thy might exceeds
the broken powers of thy defeated foes,
so is thy glory less than mine.” No more
he said, but with his wings expanded thence
flew lightly to Parnassus, lofty peak.
There, from his quiver he plucked arrows twain,
most curiously wrought of different art;
one love exciting, one repelling love.
The dart of love was glittering, gold and sharp,
the other had a blunted tip of lead;
and with that dull lead dart he shot the Nymph,
but with the keen point of the golden dart
he pierced the bone and marrow of the God.
Immediately the one with love was filled,
the other, scouting at the thought of love,
rejoiced in the deep shadow of the woods,
and as the virgin Phoebe (who denies
the joys of love and loves the joys of chase)
a maiden's fillet bound her flowing hair,—
and her pure mind denied the love of man.
Beloved and wooed she wandered silent paths,
for never could her modesty endure
the glance of man or listen to his love.
Her grieving father spoke to her, “Alas,
my daughter, I have wished a son in law,
and now you owe a grandchild to the joy
of my old age.” But Daphne only hung
her head to hide her shame. The nuptial torch
seemed criminal to her. She even clung,
caressing, with her arms around his neck,
and pled, “My dearest father let me live
a virgin always, for remember Jove
did grant it to Diana at her birth.”
But though her father promised her desire,
her loveliness prevailed against their will;
for, Phoebus when he saw her waxed distraught,
and filled with wonder his sick fancy raised
delusive hopes, and his own oracles
deceived him.—As the stubble in the field
flares up, or as the stacked wheat is consumed
by flames, enkindled from a spark or torch
the chance pedestrian may neglect at dawn;
so was the bosom of the god consumed,
and so desire flamed in his stricken heart.
He saw her bright hair waving on her neck;—
“How beautiful if properly arranged! ”
He saw her eyes like stars of sparkling fire,
her lips for kissing sweetest, and her hands
and fingers and her arms; her shoulders white
as ivory;—and whatever was not seen
more beautiful must be.
Swift as the wind
from his pursuing feet the virgin fled,
and neither stopped nor heeded as he called;
“O Nymph! O Daphne! I entreat thee stay,
it is no enemy that follows thee—
why, so the lamb leaps from the raging wolf,
and from the lion runs the timid faun,
and from the eagle flies the trembling dove,
all hasten from their natural enemy
but I alone pursue for my dear love.
Alas, if thou shouldst fall and mar thy face,
or tear upon the bramble thy soft thighs,
or should I prove unwilling cause of pain!
“The wilderness is rough and dangerous,
and I beseech thee be more careful—I
will follow slowly.—Ask of whom thou wilt,
and thou shalt learn that I am not a churl—
I am no mountain dweller of rude caves,
nor clown compelled to watch the sheep and goats;
and neither canst thou know from whom thy feet
fly fearful, or thou wouldst not leave me thus.
“The Delphic Land, the Pataraean Realm,
Claros and Tenedos revere my name,
and my immortal sire is Jupiter.
The present, past and future are through me
in sacred oracles revealed to man,
and from my harp the harmonies of sound
are borrowed by their bards to praise the Gods.
My bow is certain, but a flaming shaft
surpassing mine has pierced my heart—
untouched before. The art of medicine
is my invention, and the power of herbs;
but though the world declare my useful works
there is no herb to medicate my wound,
and all the arts that save have failed their lord.,”