Metamorphoses

Ovid

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

Great Peleus' heart was filled with happiness;
because of his great son and Thetis his
dear wife: he was blest in everything, except
in killing Phocus. The Trachinian land
received him guilty of his brother's blood;
when he fled, banished from his native home.
There Ceyx, who had the fine countenance
of Lucifer his father, reigned as king,
without the cost of violence or blood.
Before this time his days had always given
him joy and comfort, but all now was changed,
for he was mourning a loved brother's death.
Peleus, outwearied with his journey's length.
Left his fine flock of sheep and all the herds
he had brought with him, not far from the walls
of that city, where Ceyx long had reigned.
He entered with an olive branch all swathed
in woolen fillets, symbol of good will,
and with a suppliant hand disclosed his name.
He told the monarch who he was, also
his father's name. But he concealed his crime,
giving untruthful reasons for his flight:
and begged a refuge either in town or field.
The king of Trachyn answered with kind words:
“Ah, Peleus, even the lowest ranks enjoy
our bounties and our hospitality,
and you bring with you powers which compell
attention and respect. Your name is so
illustrious, and is not Jupiter
your grandsire? Do not lose your time by such
entreaties. Everything you may desire
is yours as soon as known, and all you see
is partly yours, but in how sad a state!”
And then he wept. When Peleus and his friends
asked him the reason of his grief he said,
“Perchance you deem that bird which lives on prey,
which is the terror of all other birds,
had always feathered wings? It was a man.
And now the vigor of its courage is
as great as when well known by his man's name,
Daedalion, bold in wars and strong and harsh,
and not afraid to hazard violence.
His father was unequalled Lucifer,
star of the Morning, who at dawn brings forth
Aurora, and withdraws the last of all
the shining stars of heaven.—My brother named
daedalion, son of that great star, was fond
of cruel warfare, while I cherished peace
and loved the quiet of my married life.
This brother, powerful in the art of war,
subdued strong kings and nations.—And 'tis he
transformed from manhood, now a bird of prey,
that so relentlessly pursues the doves,
known as the pride of Thisbe's citizens.
“My brother had a daughter Chione
so beautiful she pleased a thousand men,
when she had reached the marriageable age
of twice seven years. It happened by some chance
that Phoebus and the son of Maia, who
returned—one from his Delphi, the other from
Cyllene's heights—beheld this lovely maid
both at the same time, and were both inflamed
with passion. Phoebus waited till the night.
Hermes could not endure delay and with
the magic of his wand, that causes sleep,
he touched the virgin's face; and instantly,
as if entranced, she lay there fast asleep,
and suffered violence from the ardent god.
When night bespangled the wide heaven with stars,
Phoebus became an aged crone and gained
the joy he had deferred until that hour.
“When her mature womb had completed time
Autolycus was born, a crafty son,
who certainly inherited the skill
of wingfoot Mereury, his artful sire,
notorious now; for every kind of theft.
In fact, Autolycus with Mercury's craft,
loved to make white of black, and black of white.
“But Phoebus' child, for Chione bore twins,
was named Philammon, like his sire, well known.
To all men for the beauty of his song.
And famous for his handling of the lyre.
“What benefit in life did she obtain
because she pleased! two gods and bore such twins?
Was she blest by good fortune then because
she was the daughter of a valiant father,
and even the grandchild of the Morning Star?
Can glory be a curse? Often it is.
“And surely it was so for Chione.
It was a prejudice that harmed her days
because she vaunted that she did surpass
Diana's beauty and decried her charms:
the goddess in hot anger answered her,
sarcastically, ‘If my face cannot
give satisfaction, let me try my deeds.’
“Without delay Diana bent her bow,
and from the string an arrow swiftly flew,
and pierced the vaunting tongue of Chione.
Her tongue was silenced, and she tried in vain
to speak or make a sound, and while she tried
her life departed with the flowing blood.
“Embracing her, I shared her father's grief.
I spoke consoling words to my dear brother,
he heard them as a cliff might hear the sea.
And he lamented bitterly the loss
of his dear daughter, snatched away from him.
“Ah! when he saw her burning, he was filled
with such an uncontrolled despair, he rushed
four times to leap upon the blazing pyre;
and after he had been four times repulsed,
he turned and rushed away in headlong flight
through trackless country, as a bullock flees,
his swollen neck pierced with sharp hornet-stings,
it seemed to me he ran beyond the speed
of any human being. You would think
his feet had taken wings, he left us far
behind and swift in his desire for death
he stood at last upon Parnassus' height.
“Apollo pitied him.—And when Daedalion
leaped over the steep cliff, Apollo's power
transformed him to a bird; supported him
while he was hovering in the air upon
uncertain wings, of such a sudden growth.
Apollo, also, gave him a curved beak,
and to his slender toes gave crooked claws.
His former courage still remains, with strength
greater than usual in birds. He changed
to a fierce hawk; cruel to all, he vents
his rage on other birds. Grieving himself
he is a cause of grief to all his kind.”
While Ceyx, the royal son of Lucifer,
told these great wonders of his brother's life;
Onetor, who had watched the while those herds
which Peleus had assigned to him, ran up
with panting speed; and cried out as he ran,
“Peleus, Peleus! I bring you dreadful news!”
Peleus asked him to tell what had gone wrong
and with King Ceyx he listened in suspense.

“I drove the weary bullocks to the shore,”
Onetor then began, “About the time
when the high burning Sun in middle course,
could look back on as much as might be seen
remaining: and some cattle had then bent
their knees on yellow sand; and as they lay
might view the expanse of water stretched beyond.
Some with slow steps were wandering here and there,
and others swimming, stretched their lofty necks
above the waves. A temple near that sea
was fair to view, although 'twas not adorned
with gold nor marble. It was richly made
of beams, and shaded with an ancient grove.
“A sailor, while he dried his nets upon
the shore nearby, declared that aged Nereus
possessed it with his Nereids, as the gods
who ruled the neighboring waters. Very near
it is a marsh, made by the encroaching waves,
all thickly covered with low willow trees.
“From there a loud uncanny crashing sound
alarms the neighborhood. A monster-wolf!
All stained with mud he breaks forth from the marsh,
his thundering jaws thick-covered with vile foam
and clotted blood—his fierce eyes flashing flames
of crimson: and though he was raging, both
with fury and with hunger, the true cause
of his fierce passions was Ferocity.
“He never paused to sate his ravenous hunger
with the first cattle that he fell upon,
but mangled the whole herd, as if at war.
And some of us, while we defended them,
were wounded with his fatal bite and killed.—
the shore and nearest waves were red with blood,
and marshy fens were filled with mournful sounds—
the longings of our cattle.—This delay
is dangerous. We must not hesitate.
We must unite before all is destroyed!
Take up your arms. Arm! and unite, I say!
And bear our weapons for the cause of Right!”
So spoke the countryman, and yet the loss
had no effect on Peleus, though severe,
for he, remembering his red crime, believed
the Nereid had given him that loss—
a just misfortune, as an offering
to the departed Phocus. After this,
King Ceyx, while he put his armor on,
ordered his men to arm themselves with their
best weapons, and to follow his command.
But his fond wife, Halcyone, aroused
by such a tumult, ran to him in haste;
in such haste that her hair was still unfinished,
and such as had been done, she threw
in wild disorder.—Clinging to the neck
of her loved husband, she entreated him
with words and tears, to send his men along.
But keep himself at home and so to save
two lives in one.
But Peleus said “O queen,
'Tis sweet and commendable in you to fear
but needless. Though you promise generous aid,
my hope lies not in fighting with the beast,
I must appease a goddess of the sea.
And the divinity of ocean must
be properly adored.”
A lofty tower
is near there, and upon its extreme height
a signal-fire is burning night and day,
known to the grateful ships. They all went there;
and from its summit they beheld with sighs,
the mangled cattle scattered on the shore,
and saw the ravager among the herd,
his blood-stained jaws and long hair dripping blood.
Then Peleus stretched his arms out towards the sea,
and he implored the azure Psamathe
to lay aside her wrath and give him aid.
But she was deaf to any word of Peleus
entreating her, and would not offer aid,
till Thetis, interceding on behalf
of her afflicted husband, moved her will.
The monster-wolf persisted in his rage,
even when the sea nymph bade him turn aside.
His keen ferocity increased by taste
of new sweet blood; till Psamathe, while he
was seizing the last mangled heifer's neck,
transformed him to hard marble. Every part
of that ferocious monster's shape remained
but it was changed to marble colored stone,
which showed the monster was no more a wolf,
and should no longer be a cause of fear.
But still, the guiding Fates did not permit
the banished Peleus to continue there,
in this land governed by the friendly king.
A wandering exile, he proceeded north
into Magnesia; and was purified
of guilt by King Acastus of that land.

King Ceyx, disturbed by his loved brother's fate
and prodigies which happened since that time,
prepared to venture to the Clarian god,
that he might there consult the oracle,
so sanctified to consolation of distress:
for then the way to Delphi was unsafe
because of Phorbas and his Phlegyans.
Before he went he told his faithful queen,
his dear Halcyone. She felt at once
terror creep through the marrow of her bones,
pallor of boxwood overspread her face,
and her two cheeks were wet with gushing tears.
Three times she tried to speak while tears and sobs
delayed her voice, until at last she said:—
“What fault of mine, my dearest, has so changed
your usual thoughts? Where is that care for me
that always has stood first? Can you leave me
for this long journey with no anxious fear—
Halcyone, forsaken in these halls?
Will this long journey be a pleasant change
because far from you I should be more dear?
Perhaps you think you will go there by land,
and I shall only grieve, and shall not fear
the sea affrights me with its tragic face.
Just lately I observed some broken planks
upon our seashore, and I've read and read
the names of seamen on their empty tombs!
“Oh, let no false assurance fill your mind
because your father-in-law is Aeolus.
Who in a dungeon shuts the stormful winds
and smoothes at will the troubled ocean waves
soon as the winds get freedom from his power,
they take entire possession of the deep,
and nothing is forbidden their attack;
and all the rights of every land and sea
are disregarded by them. They insult
even the clouds of heaven and their wild
concussions urge the lightnings to strike fires.
The more I know of them, for I knew
them in my childhood and I often saw
them from my father's home, the more I fear.
“But, O dear husband! if this new resolve
can not be altered by my prayers and fears,
and if you are determined, take me, too:
some comfort may be gained, if in the storms
we may be tossed together. I shall fear
only the ills that really come to us,
together we can certainly endure
discomforts till we gain that distant land.”
Such words and tears of the daughter of Aeolus
gave Ceyx, famed son of the Morning Star,
much thought and sorrow; for the flame of love
burned in his heart as strongly as in hers.
Reluctant to give up the voyage, even more
to make Halcyone his partner on
the dangerous sea, he answered her complaints
in many ways to pacify her breast,
but could not comfort her until at last
he said, “This separation from your love
will be most sorrowful; and so I swear
to you, as witnessed by the sacred fire
of my Star-father, if the fates permit
my safe return, I will come back to you
before the moon has rounded twice her orb.”
These promises gave hope of his return.
Without delay he ordered a ship should
be drawn forth from the dock, launched in the sea,
and properly supplied against the needs
of travel.—Seeing this, Halcyone,
as if aware of future woe, shuddered,
wept, and embraced him, and in extreme woe
said with a sad voice, “Ah—Farewell!” and then,
her nerveless body sank down to the ground.
While Ceyx longed for some pretext to delay,
the youthful oarsmen, chosen for their strength,
in double rows began to draw the oars
back towards their hardy breasts, cutting the waves
with equal strokes. She raised her weeping eyes
and saw her husband on the high-curved stern.
He by his waving hand made signs to her,
and she returned his signals. Then the ship
moved farther from the shore until her eyes
could not distinguish his loved countenance.
Still, while she could, she followed with her gaze
the fading hull; and, when that too was lost
far in the distance, she remained and gazed
at the white topsails, waving from the mast.
But, when she could no longer see the sails,
with anxious heart she sought her lonely couch
and laid herself upon it. Couch and room
renewed her sorrow and reminded her
how much of life was absent on the sea.
The ship had left the harbor, and the breeze
shook the taut rigging. Now the captain bade
the idle oars be drawn up to the sides.
They ran the pointed sailyards up the mast
and with spread canvas caught the coming breeze.
Perhaps the ship had not sailed half her course,
on every side the land was out of sight
in fact at a great distance, when, towards dark
the sea grew white with its increasing waves,
while boisterous east winds blew with violence.—
prompt in his duty, the captain warns his crew,
“Lower the top sails—quick—furl all the sails
tight to the yards!”—He ordered, but the storm
bore all his words away, his voice could not
be heard above the roaring of the sea.
But of their own accord some sailors rushed
to draw the oars in, others to secure
the sides from danger, and some strove to pull
the sails down from the wind. One pumps the waves
up from the hold, and pours the rushing sea
again into the sea; another takes
the yards off.—While such things are being done
without command or order, the wild storm
increases, and on every side fierce winds
wage a destructive warfare, which stirs up
the furious waters to their utmost power.
Even the captain, terrified, confessed
he did not know the status of the ship,
and could not order nor forbid the men—
so great the storm, so far beyond his skill.
Then he gave up control, while frightened men
shouted above the rattled cordage shocks,
and heavy waves were dashed against huge waves,
and ail the sky reverberated with
terrific thunders. The deep sea upturned
tremendous billows, which appeared to reach
so near the heaven they touched the heavy clouds
with foam of their tossed waters.—At one time,
while the great billows churned up yellow sand
from off the bottom, the wild rolling waves
were of that color. At another time
they were more black than water of the Styx.
Sometimes they levelled, white with lashing foam.

The ship was tossed about in the wild storm:
aloft as from a mountain peak it seemed
to look down on the valley and the depth
of Acheron; and, when sunk down in a trough
of waves engulfing, it appeared to look
up at the zenith from infernal seas.
Often the waves fell on the sides with crash
as terrible as when a flying stone
or iron ram shatters a citadel.
As lions, mustering up their strength anew,
might hurl their breasts against the spears
and outstretched arms of huntsmen, so the waves,
upon the rising of the winds, rushed forth
against the battered sides of the tossed ship
and rose much higher than the slanting masts.
The ship-bolts lost their grip, the loosened planks,
despoiled of covering wax, gave open seams,
through which streamed water of the fatal waves.—
vast sheets of rain pour from dissolving clouds,
so suddenly, it seemed that all the heavens
were flung into the deep, while swelling seas
ascended to the emptied fields of heaven!
The sails are drenched with rain, the salt sea waves
are mingled with the waters of the skies.
The firmament is black without a star,
and night is doubly dark with its own gloom
and blackness of the storm. Quick lightning makes
the black skies glitter, and the waves are fired
with flames of thunder-bolts. Now floods leap up
into the very middle of the ship.
Just as a soldier, more courageous than
the rest of his brave fellows, after he
has often charged against the embattled walls
of a defended city, gains at length
the place which he has fought for; all inflamed
with his desire of glory, scales the wall
and stands alone among a thousand foes;
so, when destructive waves have beat against
the ship's high sides, the tenth wave with known power,
rushes more furious than the nine before,
nor ceases to attack the failing ship,
until dashed high above the captured walls
it surges in the hold. Part of the sea
is still attempting to get in the ship,
and part is in it. All are panic stricken,
like men within a doomed and shaken town;
who see some foes attack the walls without,
and others hold possession of the walls
within the city. Every art has failed,
their courage sinks. With every coming wave
another death seems rushing in upon them.
One sailor yields in tears; another falls
down, stupefied; another calls those blest
whom funeral rites await; another prays,
addressing trusted gods, lifting his hands
up to that heaven unseen, as vainly he
implores some aid divine, and one in fright
recalls his brothers and his parent, while
another names his children and his home:
each frightened sailor thinks of all he left.
King Ceyx thinks only of Halcyone,
no other name is on his lips but hers:
and though he longs for her, yet he is glad
that she is safe at home. Ah, how he tried
to look back to the shore of his loved land,
to turn his last gaze towards his wife and home.
But he has lost direction.—The tossed sea
is raging in a hurricane so vast,
and all the sky is hidden by the gloom
of thickened storm-clouds, doubled in pitch-black.
The mast is shattered by the violence
of drenching tempests, and the useless helm
is broken. One undaunted giant wave
stands over wreck and spoil, and looks down like
a conqueror upon the other waves:
then falls as heavily as if some god
should hurl Mount Athos or Mount Pindus, torn
from rock foundations, into that wide sea:
so, with down-rushing weight and violence
it struck and plunged the ship to the lowest deeps.
And as the ship sank, many of the crew
sank overwhelmed in deep surrounding waves,
never to rise from suffocating death:
but some in desperation, clung for life
to broken timbers and escaped that fate.
King Ceyx clung to a fragment of the wreck
with that majestic hand which often before
had proudly swayed the sceptre. And in vain,
alas, he called upon his father's name,
alas, he begged his father-in-law's support.
But, while he swam, his lips most frequently
pronounced that dearest name, “Halcyone!”
He longs to have his body carried by waves
to her dear gaze and have at last,
entombment by the hands of his loved friends.
Swimming, he called Halcyone—far off,
as often as the billows would allow
his lips to open, and among the waves
his darling's name was murmured, till at last
a night-black arch of water swept above
the highest waves and buried him beneath
engulfing billows.
Lucifer was dim
past recognition when the dawn appeared
and, since he never could depart from heaven,
soon hid his grieving countenance in clouds.
Meanwhile, Halcyone, all unaware
of his sad wreck, counts off the passing nights
and hastens to prepare for him his clothes
that he may wear as soon as he returns to her;
and she is choosing what to wear herself,
and vainly promises his safe return—
all this indeed, while she in hallowed prayer
is giving frankincense to please the gods:
and first of loving adorations, she
paid at the shrine of Juno. There she prayed
for Ceyx—after he had suffered death,
that he might journey safely and return
and might love her above all other women,
this one last prayer alone was granted to her
but Juno could not long accept as hers
these supplications on behalf of one
then dead; and that she might persuade Halcyone
to turn her death-polluted hands away
from hallowed altars, Juno said in haste,
“O, Iris, best of all my messengers,
go quickly to the dreadful court of Sleep,
and in my name command him to despatch
a dream in the shape of Ceyx, who is dead,
and tell Halcyone the woeful truth.”
So she commanded.—Iris instantly
assumed a garment of a thousand tints;
and as she marked the high skies with her arch,
went swiftly thence as ordered, to the place
where Sleep was then concealed beneath a rock.