Metamorphoses

Ovid

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

  1. But even as he made his plaint, the Nymph
  2. with timid footsteps fled from his approach,
  3. and left him to his murmurs and his pain.
  4. Lovely the virgin seemed as the soft wind
  5. exposed her limbs, and as the zephyrs fond
  6. fluttered amid her garments, and the breeze
  7. fanned lightly in her flowing hair. She seemed
  8. most lovely to his fancy in her flight;
  9. and mad with love he followed in her steps,
  10. and silent hastened his increasing speed.
  11. As when the greyhound sees the frightened hare
  12. flit over the plain:—With eager nose outstretched,
  13. impetuous, he rushes on his prey,
  14. and gains upon her till he treads her feet,
  15. and almost fastens in her side his fangs;
  16. but she, whilst dreading that her end is near,
  17. is suddenly delivered from her fright;
  18. so was it with the god and virgin: one
  19. with hope pursued, the other fled in fear;
  20. and he who followed, borne on wings of love,
  21. permitted her no rest and gained on her,
  22. until his warm breath mingled in her hair.
  23. Her strength spent, pale and faint, with pleading eyes
  24. she gazed upon her father's waves and prayed,
  25. “Help me my father, if thy flowing streams
  26. have virtue! Cover me, O mother Earth!
  27. Destroy the beauty that has injured me,
  28. or change the body that destroys my life.”
  29. Before her prayer was ended, torpor seized
  30. on all her body, and a thin bark closed
  31. around her gentle bosom, and her hair
  32. became as moving leaves; her arms were changed
  33. to waving branches, and her active feet
  34. as clinging roots were fastened to the ground—
  35. her face was hidden with encircling leaves.—
  36. Phoebus admired and loved the graceful tree,
  37. (For still, though changed, her slender form remained)
  38. and with his right hand lingering on the trunk
  39. he felt her bosom throbbing in the bark.
  40. He clung to trunk and branch as though to twine.
  41. His form with hers, and fondly kissed the wood
  42. that shrank from every kiss.
  43. And thus the God;
  44. “Although thou canst not be my bride, thou shalt
  45. be called my chosen tree, and thy green leaves,
  46. O Laurel! shall forever crown my brows,
  47. be wreathed around my quiver and my lyre;
  48. the Roman heroes shall be crowned with thee,
  49. as long processions climb the Capitol
  50. and chanting throngs proclaim their victories;
  51. and as a faithful warden thou shalt guard
  52. the civic crown of oak leaves fixed between
  53. thy branches, and before Augustan gates.
  54. And as my youthful head is never shorn,
  55. so, also, shalt thou ever bear thy leaves
  56. unchanging to thy glory.,”
  57. Here the God,
  58. Phoebus Apollo, ended his lament,
  59. and unto him the Laurel bent her boughs,
  60. so lately fashioned; and it seemed to him
  61. her graceful nod gave answer to his love.