Metamorphoses

Ovid

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

Then, recollecting how the Trojans had
derived their origin from Teucer's race,
they sailed to Crete but there could not endure
ills sent by Jove, and, having left behind
the hundred cities, they desired to reach
the western harbors of the Ausonian land.
Wintry seas then tossed the heroic band,
and in a treacherous harbor of those isles,
called Strophades, Aello frightened them.
They passed Dulichium's port, and Ithaca,
Samos, and all the homes of Neritos,—
the kingdom of the shrewd deceitful man,
Ulysses; and they reached Ambracia,
contended for by those disputing gods;
which is today renowned abroad, because
of Actian Apollo, and the stone
seen there conspicuous as a transformed judge;
they saw Dodona, vocal with its oaks;
and also, the well known Chaonian bays,
where sons of the Molossian king escaped
with wings attached, from unavailing flames.
They set their sails then for the neighboring land
of the Phaeacians, rich with luscious fruit:
then for Epirus and to Buthrotos,
and came then to a mimic town of Troy,
ruled by the Phrygian seer. With prophecies
which Helenus, the son of Priam, gave,
they came to Sicily, whose three high capes
jut outward in the sea. Of these three points
Pachynos faces towards the showery south;
and Lilybaeum is exposed to soft
delicious zephyrs; but Peloros looks
out towards the Bears which never touch the sea.
The Trojans came there. Favored by the tide,
and active oars, by nightfall all the fleet
arrived together on Zanclaean sands.
Scylla upon the right infests the shore,
Charybdis, restless on the left, destroys.
Charybdis swallows and then vomits forth
misfortuned ships that she has taken down;
Scylla's dark waist is girt with savage dogs.
She has a maiden's face, and, if we may believe
what poets tell, she was in olden time
a maiden. Many suitors courted her,
but she repulsed them; and, because she was
so much beloved by all the Nereids,
she sought these nymphs and used to tell
how she escaped from the love-stricken youths.
But Galatea, while her loosened locks
were being combed, said to her visitor,—
“Truly, O maiden, a gentle race of men
courts you, and so you can, and do, refuse
all with impunity. But I, whose sire
is Nereus, whom the azure Doris bore,
though guarded by so many sister nymphs,
escaped the Cyclops' love with tragic loss.”
And, sobbing, she was choked with tears.
When with her fingers, marble white and smooth,
Scylla had wiped away the rising tears
of sorrow and had comforted the nymph,
she said, “Tell me, dear goddess, and do not
conceal from me (for I am true to you)
the cause of your great sorrows.” And the nymph,
daughter of Nereus, thus replied to her:—

“Acis, the son of Faunus and the nymph
Symaethis, was a great delight to his
dear father and his mother, but even more
to me, for he alone had won my love.
Eight birthdays having passed a second time,
his tender cheeks were marked with softest down.
“While I pursued him with a constant love,
the Cyclops followed me as constantly.
And, should you ask me, I could not declare
whether my hatred of him, or my love
of Acis was the stronger.—They were equal.
“O gentle Venus! what power equals yours!
That savage, dreaded by the forest trees,
feared by the stranger who beholds his face
contemner of Olympus and the gods,
now he can feel what love is. He is filled
with passion for me. He burns hot for me,
forgetful of his cattle and his caves.
“Now, Polyphemus, wretched Cyclops, you
are careful of appearance, and you try
the art of pleasing. You have even combed
your stiffened hair with rakes: it pleases you
to trim your shaggy beard with sickles, while
you gaze at your fierce features in a pool
so earnest to compose them. Love of flesh,
ferocity and your keen thirst for blood
have ceased. The ships may safely come and go!
“While all this happened, Telemus arrived
at the Sicilian Aetna—Telemus,
the son of Eurymus, who never could
mistake an omen, met the dreadful fierce,
huge Cyclops, Polyphemus, and he said,
‘That single eye now midmost in your brow
Ulysses will take from you.’ In reply,
the Cyclops only laughed at him and said,
‘Most silly of the prophets! you are wrong,
a maiden has already taken it!’
So he made fun of Telemus, who warned
him vainly of the truth—and after that,
he either burdened with his bulk the shore,
by stalking back and forth with lengthy strides,
or came back weary to his shaded cave.
“A wedge-formed hill projects far in the sea
and either side there flow the salty waves.
To this the giant savage climbed and sat
upon the highest point. The wooly flock,
no longer guided by him, followed after.
There, after he had laid his pine tree down,
which served him for a staff, although so tall
it seemed best fitted for a ship's high mast,
he played his shepherd pipes—in them I saw
a hundred reeds. The very mountains felt
the pipings of that shepherd, and the waves
beneath him shook respondent to each note.
All this time I was hidden by a rock,
reclining on the bosom of my own
dear Acis; and, although afar, I heard
such words as these, which I can not forget:—
‘O Galatea, fairer than the flower
of snow-white privet, and more blooming than
the meadows, and more slender than the tall
delightful alder, brighter than smooth glass,
more wanton than the tender skipping kid,
smoother than shells worn by continual floods,
more pleasing than the winter sun, or than
the summer shade, more beautiful than fruit
of apple trees, more pleasing to the sight
than lofty plane tree, clearer than pure ice,
and sweeter than the ripe grape, softer than
soft swan-down and the softest curdled milk;
alas, and if you did not fly from me,
I would declare you are more beautiful
than any watered garden of this world.
‘And yet, O Galatea; I must say,
that you are wilder than all untrained bullocks,
harder than seasoned oak, more treacherous
than tumbled waters, tougher than the twigs
of osier and the white vine, harder to move
than cliffs which front these waves, more violent
than any torrent, you are prouder than
the flattered peacock, fiercer than hot fire,
rougher than thistles, and more cruel than
the pregnant she-bear, deafer than the waves
of stormy seas, more deadly savage than
the trodden water-snake: and, (what I would
endeavor surely to deprive you of)
your speed is fleeter than the deer
pursued by frightful barkings, and more swift
than rapid storm-winds and the flitting air.
‘But Galatea, if you knew me well
you would regret your hasty flight from me,
and you would even blame your own delay,
and strive for my affection. I now hold
the choice part of this mountain for my cave,
roofed over with the native rock. The sun
is not felt in the heat of middle day,
nor is the winter felt there: apples load
the bending boughs and luscious grapes
hang on the lengthened vines, resembling gold,
and purple grapes as rich—I keep for you
those two delicious fruits. With your own hands,
you shall yourself uncover strawberries,
growing so soft beneath the woodland shade;
you shall pluck corners in the autumn ripe,
and plums, not only darkened with black juice
but larger kinds as yellow as new wax.
If I may be your mate, you shall have chestnuts,
fruits of the arbute shall be always near,
and every tree shall yield at your desire.
‘The ewes here all are mine, and many more
are wandering in the valleys; and the woods
conceal a multitude—and many more
are penned within my caves. If you perchance
should ask me, I could never even guess
or count the number; it is for the poor
to count their cattle. Do not trust my word,
but go yourself and see with your own eyes,
how they can hardly stand up on their legs
because of their distended udders' weight.
‘I have lambs also, as a future flock,
kept in warm folds, and kids of their same age
in other folds. I always have supplies
of snow-white milk for drinking, and much more
is hardened with good rennet liquefied.
‘The common joys of ordinary things
will not be all you should expect of me—
tame does and hares and she-goats or a pair
of doves, or even a nest from a tall tree—
for I have found upon a mountain top,
the twin cubs of a shaggy wild she-bear,
of such appearance you can hardly know
the one from other. They will play with you.
The very day I found them I declared,
these I will keep for my dear loved one's joy.
‘Do now but raise your shining head above
the azure sea: come Galatea come,
and do not scorn my presents. Certainly,
I know myself, for only recently
I saw my own reflection pictured clear
in limpid water, and my features pleased
and charmed me when I saw it. See how huge
I am. Not even Jove in his high heaven
is larger than my body: this I say
because you tell me how imperial Jove
surpasses.—Who is he? I never knew.
‘My long hair plentifully hangs to hide
unpleasant features; as a grove of trees
overshadowing my shoulders. Never think
my body is uncomely, although rough,
thick set with wiry bristles. Every tree
without leaves is unseemly; every horse,
unless a mane hangs on his tawny neck;
feathers must cover birds; and their soft wool
is ornamental on the best formed sheep:
therefore a beard, and rough hair spread upon
the body is becoming to all men.
I have but one eye centered perfectly
within my forehead, so it seems most like
a mighty buckler. Ha! does not the Sun
see everything from heaven? Yet it has
but one eye.—
‘Galatea, you must know,
my father is chief ruler in your sea,
and therefor I now offer him to you
as your own father-in-law—But oh, do take
some pity on a suppliant,— and hear his prayer,
for only unto you my heart is given.
‘I, who despise the power of Jove, his heavens
and piercing lightnings, am afraid of you—
your wrath more fearful than the lightning's flash—
but I should be more patient under slights,
if you avoided all men: why reject
the Cyclops for the love that Acis gives?
And why prefer his smiles to my embraces,
but let him please himself, and let him please
you, Galatea, though against my will.
‘If I am given an opportunity
he will be shown that I have every strength
proportioned to a body vast as mine:
I will pull out his palpitating entrails,
and scatter his torn limbs about the fields
and over and throughout your salty waves;
and then let him unite himself to you.—
I burn so, and my slighted passion raves
with greater fury and I seem to hold
and carry Aetna in my breast—transferred
there with its flames—Oh Galatea! can
you listen to my passion thus unmoved!’
“I saw all this; and, after he in vain
had uttered such complaints, he stood up like
a raging bull whose heifer has been lost,
that cannot stand still, but must wander on
through brush and forests, that he knows so well:
when that fierce monster saw me and my Acis—
we neither knew nor guessed our fate—he roared:
‘I see you and you never will again
parade your love before me!’ In such a voice
as matched his giant size. All Aetna shook
and trembled at the noise; and I amazed
with horror, plunged into the adjoining sea.
“My loved one, Acis turned his back and fled
and cried out, ‘Help me Galatea, help!
0, let your parents help me, and admit
me safe within their realm; for I am now
near my destruction!’ But the Cyclops rushed
at him and hurled a fragment, he had torn
out from the mountain, and although the extreme
edge only of the rock could reach him there.
It buried him entirely.
“Then I did
the only thing the Fates permitted me:
I let my Acis take ancestral power
of river deities. The purple blood
flowed from beneath the rock, but soon
the sanguine richness faded and became
at first the color of a stream, disturbed
and muddied by a shower. And presently
it clarified.— The rock that had been thrown
then split in two, and through the cleft a reed,
stately and vigorous, arose to life.
And soon the hollow mouth in the great rock,
resounded with the waters gushing forth.
And wonderful to tell, a youth emerged,
the water flowing clear about his waist,
his new horns circled with entwining reeds,
and the youth certainly was Acis, though
he was of larger stature and his face
and features all were azure. Acis changed
into a stream which ever since that time
has flowed there and retained its former name.

So Galatea, after she had told
her sorrow, ceased; and, when the company
had gone from there, the Nereids swam again
in the calm and quiet waves. But Scylla soon
returned (because she did not trust herself
in deep salt waters) and she wandered there
naked of garments on the thirsty sand;
but, tired, by chance she found a lonely bay,
and cooled her limbs with its enclosing waves.
Then suddenly appeared a newly made
inhabitant of that deep sea, whose name
was Glaucus. Cleaving through the blue sea waves,
he swam towards her. His shape had been transformed
but lately for this watery life, while he
was living at Anthedon in Euboea.—
now he is lingering from desire for her
he saw there and speaks whatever words
he thought might stop her as she fled from him.
Yet still she fled from him, and swift through fear,
climbed to a mountain top above the sea.
Facing the waves, it rose in one huge peak,
parting the waters with a forest crown.
She stood on that high summit quite secure:
and, doubtful whether he might be a god
or monster, wondered at his flowing hair
which covered his broad shoulders and his back,—
and marvelled at the color of his skin
and at his waist merged into a twisted fish.
All this he noticed, and while leaning there
against a rock that stood near by, he said: —
“I am no monster, maiden, I am not
a savage beast; I am in truth a god
of waters, with such power upon the seas
as that of Proteus, Triton, or Palaemon—
reared on land the son of Athamas.
“Not long ago I was a mortal man,
yet even then my thought turned to the sea
and all my living came from waters deep,
for I would drag the nets that swept up fish,
or, seated on a rock, I flung the line
forth from the rod. The shore I loved was near
a verdant meadow. One side were the waves,
the other grass, which never had been touched
by horned, grazing cattle. Harmless sheep
and shaggy goats had never cropped it—no
industrious bee came there to harvest flowers;
no festive garlands had been gathered there,
adornments of the head; no mower's hands
had ever cut it. I was certainly
the first who ever sat upon that turf,—
while I was drying there the dripping nets.
And so that I might in due order count
the fish that I had caught, I laid out those
which by good chance were driven into my nets,
or credulous, were caught on my barbed hooks.
“It all seems like a fiction (but what good
can I derive from fictions?) just as soon
as any of my fish-prey touched the grass,
they instantly began to move and skip
as usual in sea water. While I paused
and wondered, all of them slid to the waves,
and left me, their late captor, and the shore.
“I was amazed and doubtful, a long time;
while I considered what could be the cause.
What god had done this? Or perhaps the juice
of some herb caused it? ‘But,’ I said, ‘what herb
can have such properties?’ and with my hand
I plucked the grass and chewed it with my teeth.
My throat had hardly time to swallow those
unheard of juices, when I suddenly
felt all my entrails throbbing inwardly,
and my entire mind also, felt possessed
by passions foreign to my life before.
“I could not stay in that place, and I said
with shouting, ‘Farewell! dry land! never more
shall I revisit you;’ and with those words
upon my lips, I plunged beneath the waves.
The gods of that deep water gave to me,
when they received me, kindred honors, while
they prayed Oceanus and Tethys both
to take from me such mortal essence as
might yet remain. So I was purified
by them and after a good charm had been
nine times repeated over me, which washed
away all guilt, I was commanded then
to put my breast beneath a hundred streams.
“So far I can relate to you all things
most worthy to be told; for all so far
I can remember; but from that time on
I was unconscious of the many things
that followed. When my mind returned to me,
I found myself entirely different
from what I was before; and my changed mind
was not the same as it had always been.
Then, for the first time I beheld this beard
so green in its deep color, and I saw
my flowing hair which now I sweep along
the spacious seas, and my huge shoulders with
their azure colored arms, and I observed
my leg extremities hung tapering
exactly perfect as a finny fish.
“But what avail is this new form to me.
Although it pleased the Ocean deities?
What benefit, although I am a god,
if you are not persuaded by these things?”
While he was telling wonders such as these—
quite ready to say more—Scylla arose
and left the god. Provoked at his repulse—
enraged, he hastened to the marvellous court
of Circe, well known daughter of the Sun.

Now the Euboean dweller in great waves,
Glaucus, had left behind the crest of Aetna,
raised upward from a giant's head; and left
the Cyclops' fields, that never had been torn
by harrow or by plough and never were
indebted to the toil of oxen yoked;
left Zancle, also, and the opposite walls
of Rhegium, and the sea, abundant cause
of shipwreck, which confined with double shores
bounds the Ausonian and Sicilian lands.
All these behind him, Glaucus, swimming on
with his huge hands through those Tyrrhenian seas,
drew near the hills so rich in magic herbs
and halls of Circe, daughter of the Sun,—
halls filled with men in guise of animals.
After due salutations had been given—
received by her as kindly—Glaucus said,
“You as a goddess, certainly should have
compassion upon me, a god; for you
alone (if I am worthy of it) can
relieve my passion. What the power of herbs
can be, Titania, none knows more than I,
for by their power I was myself transformed.
To make the cause of my strange madness known,
I have found Scylla on Italian shores,
directly opposite Messenian walls.
“It shames me to recount my promises,
entreaties, and caresses, and at last
rejection of my suit. If you have known
a power of incantation, I implore
you now repeat that incantation here,
with sacred lips—If herbs have greater power,
use the tried power of herbs. But I would not
request a cure—the healing of this wound.
Much better than an end of pain, let her
share, and feel with me my impassioned flame.”
But Circe was more quick than any other
to burn with passion's flame. It may have been
her nature or it may have been the work
of Venus, angry at her tattling sire.
“You might do better,” she replied, “to court
one who is willing, one who wants your love,
and feels a like desire. You did deserve
to win her love, yes, to be wooed yourself.
In fact you might be. If you give some hope,
you have my word, you shall indeed be wooed.
That you may have no doubt, and so retain
all confidence in your attraction's power—
behold! I am a goddess, and I am
the daughter also, of the radiant Sun!
And I who am so potent with my charms,
and I who am so potent with my herbs,
wish only to be yours. Despise her who
despises you, and her who is attached
to you repay with like attachment—so
by one act offer each her just reward.”
But Glaucus answered her attempt of love,
“The trees will sooner grow in ocean waves,
the sea-weed sooner grow on mountain tops,
than I shall change my love for graceful! Scylla.”
The goddess in her jealous rage could not
and would not injure him, whom she still loved,
but turned her wrath upon the one preferred.
She bruised immediately the many herbs
most infamous for horrid juices, which,
when bruised, she mingled with most artful care
and incantations given by Hecate.
Then, clothed in azure vestments, she passed through
her troop of fawning savage animals,
and issued from the center of her hall.
Pacing from there to Rhegium, opposite
the dangerous rocks of Zancle, she at once
entered the tossed waves boiling up with tides:
on these as if she walked on the firm shore,
she set her feet and, hastening on dry shod,
she skimmed along the surface of the deep.
Not far away there was an inlet curved,
round as a bent bow, which was often used
by Scylla as a favorite retreat.
There, she withdrew from heat of sea and sky
when in the zenith blazed the unclouded sun
and cast the shortest shadows on the ground.
Circe infected it before that hour,
polluting it with monster-breeding drugs.
She sprinkled juices over it, distilled
from an obnoxious root, and thrice times nine
she muttered over it with magic lips,
her most mysterious charm involved in words
of strangest import and of dubious thought.
Scylla came there and waded in waist deep,
then saw her loins defiled with barking shapes.
Believing they could be no part of her,
she ran and tried to drive them back and feared
the boisterous canine jaws. But what she fled
she carried with her. And, feeling for her thighs,
her legs, and feet, she found Cerberian jaws
instead. She rises from a rage of dogs,
and shaggy backs encircle her shortened loins.
The lover Glaucus wept. He fled the embrace
of Circe and her hostile power of herbs
and magic spells. But Scylla did not leave
the place of her disaster; and, as soon
as she had opportunity, for hate
of Circe, she robbed Ulysses of his men.
She would have wrecked the Trojan ships, if she
had not been changed beforehand to a rock
which to this day reveals a craggy rim.
And even the rock awakes the sailors' dread.

After the Trojan ships, pushed by their oars,
had safely passed by Scylla and the fierce
Charybdis, and with care had then approached
near the Ausonian shore, a roaring gale
bore them far southward to the Libyan coast.
And then Sidonian Dido, who was doomed
not calmly to endure the loss of her
loved Phrygian husband, graciously received
Aeneas to her home and her regard:
and on a pyre, erected with pretense
of holy rites, she fell upon the sword.
Deceived herself, she there deceived them all.
Aeneas, fleeing the new walls built on
that sandy shore, revisited the land
of Eryx and Acestes, his true friend.
There he performed a hallowed sacrifice
and paid due honor to his father's tomb.
And presently he loosened from that shore
the ships which Iris, Juno's minister,
had almost burned; and sailing, passed far off
the kingdom of the son of Hippotas,
in those hot regions smoking with the fumes
of burning sulphur, and he left behind
the rocky haunt of Achelous' daughters,
the Sirens. Then, when his good ship had lost
the pilot, he coasted near Inarime,
near Prochyta, and near the barren hill
which marks another island, Pithecusae,
an island named from strange inhabitants.
The father of the gods abhorred the frauds
and perjuries of the Cercopians
and for the crimes of that bad treacherous race,
transformed its men to ugly animals,
appearing unlike men, although like men.
He had contracted and had bent their limbs,
and flattened out their noses, bent back towards
their foreheads; he had furrowed every face
with wrinkles of old age, and made them live
in that spot, after he had covered all
their bodies with long yellow ugly hair.
Besides all that, he took away from them
the use of language and control of tongues,
so long inclined to dreadful perjury;
and left them always to complain of life
and their ill conduct in harsh jabbering.

After Aeneas had passed by all those
and seen to his right hand the distant walls
guarding the city of Parthenope,
he passed on his left hand a mound,
grave of the tuneful son of Aeolus.
Landing on Cumae's marshy shore, he reached
a cavern, home of the long lived Sibylla,
and prayed that she would give him at the lake,
Avernus, access to his father's shade.
She raised her countenance, from gazing on
the ground, and with an inspiration given
to her by influence of the god, she said,
“Much you would have, O man of famous deeds,
whose courage is attested by the sword,
whose filial piety is proved by flame.
But, Trojan, have no fear. I grant your wish,
and with my guidance you shall look upon
the latest kingdom of the world, shall see
Elysian homes and your dear father's shade,
for virtue there is everywhere a way.”
She spoke, and pointed out to him a branch
refulgent with bright gold, found in the woods
of Juno of Avernus, and commanded him
to pluck it from the stem. Aeneas did
what she advised him. Then he saw the wealth
of the dread Orcus, and he saw his own
ancestors, and beheld the aged ghost
of great Anchises. There he learned the laws
of that deep region, and what dangers must
be undergone by him in future wars.
Retracing with his weary steps the path
up to the light, he found relief from toil
in converse with the sage Cumaean guide.
While in thick dusk he trod the frightful way,
“Whether you are a deity,” he said,
“Or human and most favored by the gods,
to me you always will appear divine.
I will confess, too, my existence here
is due to your kind aid, for by your will
I visited the dark abodes of death,
and I escaped the death which I beheld.
For this great service, when I shall emerge
into the sunlit air, I will erect
for you a temple and will burn for you
sweet incense kindled at the altar flame.”
The prophetess looked on him and with sighs,
“I am no goddess,” she replied, “nor is
it well to honor any mortal head
with tribute of the holy frankincense.
And, that you may not err through ignorance,
I tell you life eternal without end
was;offered to me, if I would but yield
virginity to Phoebus for his love.
And, while he hoped for this and in desire
offered to bribe me for my virtue, first
with gifts, he said, ‘Maiden of Cumae choose
whatever you may wish, and you shall gain
all that you wish.’ I pointed to a heap
of dust collected there, and foolishly
replied, ‘As many birthdays must be given
to me as there are particles of sand.’
“For I forgot to wish them days of changeless youth.
He gave long life and offered youth besides,
if I would grant his wish. This I refused,
I live unwedded still. My happier time
has fled away, now comes with tottering step
infirm old age, which I shall long endure.
You find me ending seven long centuries,
and there remain for me, before my years
equal the number of those grains of sand,
three hundred harvests, three hundred vintages!
The time will come, when long increase of days
will so contract me from my present size
and so far waste away my limbs with age
that I shall dwindle to a trifling weight,
so trifling, it will never be believed
I once was loved and even pleased a god.
Perhaps, even Phoebus will not recognize me,
or will deny he ever bore me love.
But, though I change till eye would never know me,
my voice shall live, the fates will leave my voice.”

Sibylla with such words beguild their way
from Stygian realms up to the Euboean town.
Trojan Aeneas, after he had made
due sacrifice in Cumae, touched the shore
that had not yet been given his nurse's name.
There Macareus of Neritus had come,
companion of long tried Ulysses, there
he rested, weary of his lengthened toils.
He recognized one left in Aetna's cave,
greek Achaemenides, and, all amazed
to find him yet alive, he said to him,
“What chance, or what god, Achaemenides,
preserves you? Why is this barbarian ship
conveying you a Greek? What land is sought?”
No longer ragged in the clothes he wore
and his own master, wearing clothes not tacked
with sharp thorns, Achaemenides replied,
“Again may I see Polyphemus' jaws
out-streaming with their slaughtered human blood;
if my own home and Ithaca give more
delight to me than this barbarian bark,
or if I venerate Aeneas less
than my own father. If I should give my all,
it never could express my gratitude,
that I can speak and breath, and see the heavens
illuminated by the gleaming sun—
how can I be ungrateful and forget all this?
Because of him these limbs of mine were spared
the Cyclops' jaws; and, though I were even now
to leave the light of life, I should at worst
be buried in a tomb—not in his maw.
“What were my feelings when (unless indeed
my terror had deprived me of all sense) left there,
I saw you making for the open sea?
I wished to shout aloud, but was afraid
it would betray me to the enemy.
The shoutings of Ulysses nearly caused
destruction of your ship and there I saw
the Cyclops, when he tore a crag away
and hurled the huge rock in the whirling waves;
I saw him also throw tremendous stones
with his gigantic arms. They flew afar,
as if impelled by catapults of war,
I was struck dumb with terror lest
the waves or stones might overwhelm the ship,
forgetting that I still was on the shore!
“But when your flight had saved you from that death
of cruelty, the Cyclops, roaring rage,
paced all about Mount Aetna, groping through
its forests with his outstretched arms. Deprived
of sight, he stumbled there against the rocks,
until he reached the sea; and stretching out
his gore stained arms into its waters there,
he cursed all of the Grecian race, and said,
‘Oh! that some accident would carry back
Ulysses to me, or but one of his
companions; against whom my rage
might vent itself, whose joints my hand might tear
whose blood might drench my throat, whose living limbs
might quiver in my teeth. How trifling then,
how insignificant would be the loss,
of my sight which he took from me!’
“All this
and more he said. A ghastly horror took
possession of me when I saw his face
and every feature streaming yet with blood,
his ruthless hands, and the vile open space
where his one eye had been, and his coarse limbs,
and his beard matted through with human blood.
“It seemed as if Death were before my eyes,
yet that was but the least part of my woe.
I seemed upon the point of being caught,
my flesh about to be the food of his.
Before my mind was fixed the time I saw
two bodies of my loved companions
dashed three or four times hard against the ground,
when he above them, like a lion, crouched,
devouring quickly in his hideous jaws,
their entrails and their flesh and their crushed bones,
white marrowed, and their mangled quivering limbs.
A trembling fear seized on me as I stood
pallid and without power to move from there,
while I recalled him chewing greedily,
and belching out his bloody banquet from
his huge mouth—vomiting crushed pieces mixed
with phlegmy wine—and I feared such a doom
in readiness, awaited wretched me.
“Most carefully concealed for many days,
trembling at every sound and fearing death,
although desiring death; I fed myself
on grass and acorns, mixed with leaves; alone
and destitute, despondent unto death,
awaiting my destruction I lost hope.
In that condition a long while, at last
I saw a ship not far off, and by signs
prayed for deliverance, as I ran in haste,
down to the shore. My prayers prevailed on them.
A Trojan ship took in and saved a Greek!
“And now, O dearest to me of all men,
tell me of your adventures, of your chief
and comrades, when you sailed out on the sea.”

Then Macareus told him of Aeolus,
the son of Hippotas, whose kingdom is
the Tuscan sea, whose prison holds the winds,
and how Ulysses had received the winds
tied in a bull's hide bag, an awesome gift,
how nine days with a favoring breeze they sailed
and saw afar their longed for native land.
How, as the tenth day dawned, the crew was moved
by envy and a lust for gold, which they
imagined hidden in that leathern bag
and so untied the thong which held the winds.
These, rushing out, had driven the vessel back
over the waves which they had safely passed,
back to the harbor of King Aeolus.
“From there,” he said, “we sailed until we reached
the ancient city of Lamus, Laestrygon.—
Antiphates was reigning in that land,
and I was sent with two men of our troop,
ambassadors to see him. Two of us
escaped with difficulty, but the third
stained the accursed Lestrygonian's jaws
with his devoted blood. Antiphates
pursued us, calling out his murderous horde.
They came and, hurling stones and heavy beams,
they overwhelmed and sank both ships and men.
One ship escaped, on which Ulysses sailed.
“Grieving, lamenting for companions lost,
we finally arrived at that land which
you may discern far off, and, trust my word,
far off it should be seen—I saw it near!
And oh most righteous Trojan, Venus' son,
Aeneas, whom I call no more a foe,
I warn you now: avoid the shores of Circe.
“We moored our ship beside that country too;
but, mindful of the dangers we had run
with Laestrygons and cruel Polyphemus,
refused to go ashore. Ulysses chose
some men by lot and told them to seek out
a roof which he had seen among the trees.
The lot took me, then staunch Polytes next,
Eurylochus, Elpenor fond of wine,
and eighteen more and brought us to the walls
of Circe's dwelling.
“As we drew near and stood
before the door, a thousand wolves rushed out
from woods near by, and with the wolves there ran
she bears and lionesses, dread to see.
And yet we had no cause to fear, for none
would harm us with the smallest scratch.
Why, they in friendship even wagged their tails
and fawned upon us, while we stood in doubt.
“Then handmaids took us in and led us on
through marble halls to the presence of their queen.
She, in a beautiful recess, sat on her throne,
clad richly in a shining purple robe,
and over it she wore a golden veil.
Nereids and nymphs, who never carded fleece
with motion of their fingers, nor drew out
a ductile thread, were setting potent herbs
in proper order and arranging them
in baskets—a confusing wealth of flowers
were scattered among leaves of every hue:
and she prescribed the tasks they all performed.
“She knew the natural use of every leaf
and combinations of their virtues, when
mixed properly; and, giving them her close
attention, she examined every herb
as it was weighed. When she observed us there,
and had received our greetings and returned them,
she smiled, as if we should be well received.
At once she had her maidens bring a drink
of parched barley, of honey and strong wine,
and curds of milk. And in the nectarous draught
she added secretly her baleful drugs.
“We took the cups presented to us by
her sacred right hand; and, as soon as we,
so thirsty, quaffed them with our parching mouths,
that ruthless goddess with her outstretched wand
touched lightly the topmost hair upon our heads.
(Although I am ashamed, I tell you this)
stiff bristles quickly grew out over me,
and I could speak no more. Instead of words
I uttered hoarse murmurs and towards the ground
began to bend and gaze with all my face.
I felt my mouth take on a hardened skin
with a long crooked snout, and my neck swell
with muscles. With the very member which
a moment earlier had received the cup
I now made tracks in sand of the palace court.
Then with my friends, who suffered a like change
(charms have such power!) I was prisoned in a stye.
“We saw Eurylochus alone avoid
our swinish form, for he refused the cup.
If he had drained it, I should still remain
one of a bristly herd. Nor would his news
have made Ulysses sure of our disaster
and brought a swift avenger of our fate.
“Peace bearing Hermes gave him a white flower
from a black root, called Moly by the gods.
With this protection and the god's advice
he entered Circe's hall and, as she gave
the treacherous cup and with her magic wand
essayed to touch his hair, he drove her back
and terrified her with his quick drawn sword.
She gave her promise, and, right hands exchanged,
he was received unharmed into her couch,
where he required the bodies of his friends
awarded him, as his prized marriage gift.
“We then were sprinkled with more favored juice
of harmless plants, and smitten on the head
with the magic wand reversed. And new charms were
repeated, all conversely to the charms
which had degraded us. Then, as she sings,
more and yet more we raise ourselves erect,
the bristles fall off and the fissures leave
our cloven feet, our shoulders overcome
their lost shape and our arms become attached,
as they had been before. With tears of joy
we all embrace him, also weeping tears;
and we cling fondly to our chieftain's neck;—
not one of us could say a single word
till thus we had attested gratitude.”
“The full space of a year detained us there,
and I, remaining that long stretch of time,
saw many things and heard as much besides:
and this among the many other things,
was told me secretly by one of the four
handmaidens of those rites. While Circe passed
her time from all apart except my chief,
she brought me to a white marble shape, a youth
who bore a woodpecker upon his head.
It stood erected in a hallowed place,
adorned with many wreaths. When I had asked
the statue's name and why he stood revered
in that most sacred temple, and what caused
that bird he carried on his head; she said:—
‘Listen, Macareus, and learn from this tale too
the power of Circe, and weigh the knowledge well!’

“Picus, offspring of Saturn, was the king
of the Ausonian land, one very fond
of horses raised for war. The young man's form
was just what you now see, and had you known
him as he lived, you would not change a line.
His nature was as noble as his shape.
He could not yet have seen the steeds contend
four times in races held with each fifth year
at Grecian Elis. But his good looks had charmed
the dryads born on Latin hills, Naiads
would pine for him—both goddesses of spring
and goddesses of fountains, pined for him,
and nymphs that live in streaming Albula,
Numicus, Anio's course, brief flowing Almo,
and rapid Nar and Farfarus, so cool
in its delightful shades; all these and those
which haunt the forest lake of Scythian
Diana and the other nearby lakes.
“ ‘But, heedless of all these, he loved a nymph
whom on the hill, called Palatine, 'tis said,
Venilia bore to Janus double faced.
When she had reached the age of marriage, she
was given to Picus Laurentine, preferred
by her above all others—wonderful
indeed her beauty, but more wonderful
her skill in singing, from which art they called
her Canens. The fascination of her voice
would move the woods and rocks and tame wild beasts,
and stay long rivers, and it even detained
the wandering bird. Once, while she sang a lay
with high, clear voice, Picus on his keen horse
rode in Laurentian fields to hunt the boar,
two spears in his left hand, his purple cloak
fastened with gold. The daughter of the Sun
wandered in woods near by to find new herbs
growing on fertile hills, for she had left
Circaean fields called so from her own name.
“ ‘From a concealing thicket she observed
the youth with wonder. All the gathered herbs
dropped from her hands, forgotten, to the ground
and a hot fever-flame seemed to pervade
her marrow. When she could collect her thought
she wanted to confess her great desire,
but the swift horse and his surrounding guards
prevented her approach. “Still you shall not
escape me,” she declared, “although you may
be borne on winds, if I but know myself,
and if some potency in herbs remains,
and if my art of charms does not deceive.”
“ ‘Such were her;thoughts, and then she formed
an image of a bodiless wild swine
and let it cross the trail before the king
and rush into a woodland dense with trees,
which fallen trunks made pathless for his horse.
Picus at once, unconscious of all harm,
followed the phantom-prey and, hastily
quitting the reeking back of his good steed,
he wandered in pursuit of a vain hope,
on foot through that deep wood. She seized the chance
and by her incantation called strange gods
with a strange charm, which had the power to hide
the white moon's features and draw thirsty clouds
about her father's head. The changing sky
then lowered more black at each repeated tone
of incantation, and the ground exhaled
its vapours, while his people wandered there
along the darkened paths until no guard
was near to aid the imperiled king.
“ ‘Having now gained an opportunity
and place, she said, “ O, youth most beautiful!
By those fine eyes, which captivated mine,
and by that graceful person, which brings me,
even me, a goddess, suppliant to you,
have pity on my passion; let the Sun,
who looks on all things, be your father-in-law;
do not despise Circe, the Titaness.”
“But fiercely he repelled her and her prayer,
“Whoever you may be, you are not mine,”
he said. “Another lady has my heart.
I pray that for a lengthening space of time
she may so hold me. I will not pollute
conjugal ties with the unhallowed loves
of any stranger, while the Fates preserve
to me the child of Janus, my dear Canens.”
“‘Titan's daughter, when many pleas had failed,
said angrily, “You shall not leave me with
impunity, and you shall not return
to Canens; and by your experience
you shall now learn what can be done by her
so slighted—what a woman deep in love
can do— and Circe is that slighted love.”
“ ‘Then twice she turned herself to face the west
and twice to face the East; and three times then
she touched the young man with her wand,
and sang three incantations. Picus fled,
but, marvelling at his unaccustomed speed,
he saw new wings, that spread on either side
and bore him onward. Angry at the thought
of transformation—all so suddenly
added a strange bird to the Latian woods,
he struck the wild oaks with his hard new beak,
and in his rage inflicted many wounds
on the long waving branches his wings took
the purple of his robe. The piece of gold
which he had used so nicely in his robe
was changed to golden feathers, and his neck
was rich as yellow gold. Nothing remained
of Picus as he was except the name.
“ ‘While all this happened his attendants called
on Picus often but in vain throughout
surrounding fields, and finding not a trace
of their young king, at length by chance they met
with Circe, who had cleared the darkened air
and let the clouds disperse before the wind
and clear rays of the sun. Then with good cause
they blamed her, they demanded the return
of their lost king, and with their hunting spears
they threatened her. She, sprinkling baleful drugs
and poison juices over them, invoked
the aid of Night and all the gods of Night
from Erebus and Chaos, and desired
the aid of Hecat with long, wailing cries.
“ ‘Most wonderful to tell, the forests leaped
from fixed localities and the torn soil
uttered deep groans, the trees surrounding changed
from life-green to sick pallor, and the grass
was moistened with besprinkling drops of blood;
the stones sent forth harsh longings, unknown dogs
barked loudly, and the ground became a mass
of filthy snakes, and unsubstantial hosts
of the departed flitted without sound.
The men all quaked appalled. With magic rod
she touched their faces, pale and all amazed,
and at her touch the youths took on strange forms
of wild animals. None kept his proper shape.
“ ‘The setting sun is resting low upon
the far Tartessian shores, and now in vain
her husband is expected by the eyes
of longing Canens. Her slaves and people run
about through all the forest, holding lights
to meet him. Nor is it enough for that
dear nymph to weep and frenzied tear her hair
and beat her breast—she did all that and more.
Distracted she rushed forth and wandered through
the Latin fields. Six nights, six brightening dawns
found her quite unrefreshed with food or sleep
wandering at random over hill and dale.
The Tiber saw her last, with grief and toil
wearied and lying on his widespread bank.
In tears she poured out words with a faint voice,
lamenting her sad woe, as when the swan
about to die sings a funereal dirge.
Melting with grief at last she pined away;
her flesh, her bones, her marrow liquified
and vanished by degrees as formless air
and yet the story lingers near that place,
fitly named Canens by old-time Camenae!.’
“Such things I heard and saw through a long year.
Sluggish, inactive through our idleness,
we were all ordered to embark again
out on the deep, again to set our sails.
The Titaness explained the doubtful paths,
the great extent and peril, of wild seas.
I was alarmed, I will confess to you;
so, having reached these shores, I have remained.”