Metamorphoses
Ovid
Ovid. Metamorphoses. More, Brookes, translator. Boston: Cornhill Publishing Co., 1922.
- An old man saw the two birds fly across
- the wide extended sea and praised their love,
- undying to the end. His old friend who
- stood near him, said, “There is another bird,
- which you can see skimming above the waves
- with folded legs drawn up;” and as he spoke,
- he pointed at a divedapper, which had
- a long throat, and continued, “It was first
- the son of a great king, as Ceyx, was:
- and if you wish to know his ancestry,
- I can assure you he descended from
- Ilus, Assaracus, and Ganymede—
- taken by Jupiter, and old Laomedon,
- and Priam, ruler at the fall of Troy.
- “Aesacus was the brother of the great
- illustrious Hector; and, if he had not
- been victimized by a strange fate in youth,
- he would have equalled Hector's glorious fame,
- Hector was child of Hecuba, who was
- daughter of Dymas. Alexirhoe,
- the daughter of the two-horned Granicus,
- so rumor has it, secretly brought forth
- Aesacus, hidden under Ida's shade.
- “He loathed the city and away from court,
- frequented lonely mountains and the fields
- of unambitious peasants. Rarely he
- was seen among the throngs of Ilium.—
- yet, neither churlish nor impregnable
- to love's appeal, he saw Hesperia,
- the daughter of Cebrenus, while she was
- once resting on the velvet-shaded banks
- of her sire's cherished stream. Aesacus had
- so often sought for her throughout the woods.
- “Just when he saw her, while she rested there,
- her hair spread on her shoulders to the sun,
- she saw him, and without delay she fled,
- even as the frightened deer runs from the wolf
- or as the water-duck, when she has left
- her favored stream, surprised, flies from the hawk.
- Aesacus followed her, as swift with love
- as she was swift with fear. But in the grass
- a lurking snake struck at her rosy heel
- and left its venom in her flesh.—And so,
- her flight was ended by untimely death.
- “Oh, frantic, he embraced her breathless form,
- and cried: ‘Alas, alas, that I pursued!
- I did not dream of such a dreadful fate!
- Success was not worth such a price
- I and the snake together caused your death—
- the serpent gave the wound, I was the cause.
- Mine is the greater guilt, and by my death
- I'll give you consolation for your death!’ ”
- “He said those words and leaped on a high rock,
- which years of sounding waves had undermined,
- and hurled himself into the sea below.
- “Tethys was moved with pity for his fall,
- received him softly, and then covered him
- with feathers, as he swam among the waves.
- The death he sought for was not granted him.
- At this the lover was wroth. Against his will,
- he was obliged to live in his distress,
- with opposition to his spirit that desired
- departure from the wretched pain of life.
- “As he assumed upon his shoulders wings
- newformed, he flew aloft and from that height
- again he plunged his body in the waves
- his feathers broke all danger of that fall—
- and this new bird, Aesacus, plunged headlong
- into the deep, and tried incessantly
- that method of destruction. His great love
- unsatisfied, made his sad body lean,
- till even the spaces fixed between the joints
- of his legs have grown long; his neck is long;
- so that his head is far away from his
- lean body. Still he hunts the sea
- and takes his name from diving in the waves.