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