Metamorphoses
Ovid
Ovid. Metamorphoses. More, Brookes, translator. Boston: Cornhill Publishing Co., 1922.
- But even as he made his plaint, the Nymph
- with timid footsteps fled from his approach,
- and left him to his murmurs and his pain.
- Lovely the virgin seemed as the soft wind
- exposed her limbs, and as the zephyrs fond
- fluttered amid her garments, and the breeze
- fanned lightly in her flowing hair. She seemed
- most lovely to his fancy in her flight;
- and mad with love he followed in her steps,
- and silent hastened his increasing speed.
- As when the greyhound sees the frightened hare
- flit over the plain:—With eager nose outstretched,
- impetuous, he rushes on his prey,
- and gains upon her till he treads her feet,
- and almost fastens in her side his fangs;
- but she, whilst dreading that her end is near,
- is suddenly delivered from her fright;
- so was it with the god and virgin: one
- with hope pursued, the other fled in fear;
- and he who followed, borne on wings of love,
- permitted her no rest and gained on her,
- until his warm breath mingled in her hair.
- Her strength spent, pale and faint, with pleading eyes
- she gazed upon her father's waves and prayed,
- “Help me my father, if thy flowing streams
- have virtue! Cover me, O mother Earth!
- Destroy the beauty that has injured me,
- or change the body that destroys my life.”
- Before her prayer was ended, torpor seized
- on all her body, and a thin bark closed
- around her gentle bosom, and her hair
- became as moving leaves; her arms were changed
- to waving branches, and her active feet
- as clinging roots were fastened to the ground—
- her face was hidden with encircling leaves.—
- Phoebus admired and loved the graceful tree,
- (For still, though changed, her slender form remained)
- and with his right hand lingering on the trunk
- he felt her bosom throbbing in the bark.
- He clung to trunk and branch as though to twine.
- His form with hers, and fondly kissed the wood
- that shrank from every kiss.
- And thus the God;
- “Although thou canst not be my bride, thou shalt
- be called my chosen tree, and thy green leaves,
- O Laurel! shall forever crown my brows,
- be wreathed around my quiver and my lyre;
- the Roman heroes shall be crowned with thee,
- as long processions climb the Capitol
- and chanting throngs proclaim their victories;
- and as a faithful warden thou shalt guard
- the civic crown of oak leaves fixed between
- thy branches, and before Augustan gates.
- And as my youthful head is never shorn,
- so, also, shalt thou ever bear thy leaves
- unchanging to thy glory.,”
- Here the God,
- Phoebus Apollo, ended his lament,
- and unto him the Laurel bent her boughs,
- so lately fashioned; and it seemed to him
- her graceful nod gave answer to his love.