Metamorphoses

Ovid

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

Such was the prophesy
of Helenus, when great Aeneas took
away his guardian deities, and I
rejoice to see my kindred walls rise high
and realize how much the Trojans won
by that resounding victory of the Greeks!
“But, that we may not range afar with steeds
forgetful of the goal, the heavens and all
beneath them and the earth and everything
upon it change in form. We likewise change,
who are a portion of the universe,
and, since we are not only things of flesh
but winged souls as well, we may be doomed
to enter into beasts as our abode;
and even to be hidden in the breasts
of cattle. Therefore, should we not allow
these bodies to be safe which may contain
the souls of parents, brothers, or of those
allied to us by kinship or of men
at least, who should be saved from every harm?
Let us not gorge down a Thyestean feast!
“How greatly does a man disgrace himself,
how impiously does he prepare himself
for shedding human blood, who with u knife
cuts the calf's throat and offers a deaf ear
to its death-longings! who can kill the kid
while it is sending forth heart rending cries
like those of a dear child; or who can feed
upon the bird which he has given food.
How little do such deeds as these fall short
of actual murder? Yes, where will they lead?
“Let the ox plough, or let him owe his death
to weight of years; and let the sheep give us
defence against the cold of Boreas;
and let the well-fed she-goats give to man
their udders for the pressure of kind hands.
“Away with cruel nets and springs and snares
and fraudulent contrivances: deceive
not birds with bird-limed twigs: do not deceive
the trusting deer with dreaded feather foils:
do not conceal barbed hooks with treacherous bait:
if any beast is harmful, take his life,
but, even so, let killing be enough.
Taste not his flesh, but look for harmless food!”

They say that Numa with a mind well taught
by these and other precepts traveled back
to his own land and, being urged again,
assumed the guidance of the Latin state.
Blest with a nymph as consort, blest also with
the Muses for his guides, he taught the rites
of sacrifice and trained in arts of peace
a race accustomed long to savage war.
When, ripe in years, he ended reign and life,
the Latin matrons, the fathers of the state,
and all the people wept for Numa's death.
For the nymph, his widow, had withdrawn from Rome,
concealed within the thick groves of the vale
Aricia, where with groans and wailing she
disturbed the holy rites of Cynthia,
established by Orestes. Ah! how often
nymphs of the grove and lake entreated her
to cease and offered her consoling words.
How often the son of Theseus said to her
“Control your sorrow; surely your sad lot
is not the only one; consider now
the like calamities by others borne,
and you can bear your sorrow. To my grief
my own disaster was far worse than yours.
At least it can afford you comfort now.
“Is it not true, discourse has reached yours ears
that one Hippolytus met with his death
through the credulity of his loved sire,
deceived by a stepmother's wicked art?
It will amaze you much, and I may fail
to prove what I declare, but I am he!
Long since the daughter of Pasiphae
tempted me to defile my father's bed
and, failing, feigned that I had wished to do
what she herself had wished. Perverting truth—
either through fear of some discovery
or else through spite at her deserved repulse—
she charged me with attempting the foul crime.
“Though I was guiltless of all wrong,
my father banished me and, while I was
departing, laid on me a mortal curse.
Towards Pittheus and Troezen I fled aghast,
guiding the swift chariot near the shore
of the Corinthian Gulf, when all at once
the sea rose up and seemed to arch itself
and lift high as a white topped mountain height,
make bellowings, and open at the crest.
Then through the parting waves a horned bull
emerged with head and breast into the wind,
spouting white foam from his nostrils and his mouth.
“The hearts of my attendants quailed with fear,
yet I unfrightened thought but of my exile.
Then my fierce horses turned their necks to face
the waters, and with ears erect they quaked
before the monster shape, they dashed in flight
along the rock strewn ground below the cliff.
I struggled, but with unavailing hand,
to use the reins now covered with white foam;
and throwing myself back, pulled on the thongs
with weight and strength. Such effort might have checked
the madness of my steeds, had not a wheel,
striking the hub on a projecting stump,
been shattered and hurled in fragments from the axle.
“I was thrown forward from my chariot
and with the reins entwined about my legs.
My palpitating entrails could be seen
dragged on, my sinews fastened on a stump.
My torn legs followed, but a part
remained behind me, caught by various snags.
The breaking bones gave out a crackling noise,
my tortured spirit soon had fled away,
no part of the torn body could be known—
all that was left was only one crushed wound—
how can, how dare you, nymph, compare your ills
to my disaster?
“I saw the Lower World
deprived of light: and I have bathed my flesh,
so tortured, in the waves of Phlegethon.
Life could not have been given again to me,
but through the remedies Apollo's son
applied to me. After my life returned—
by potent herbs and the Paeonian aid,
despite the will of Pluto—Cynthia then
threw heavy clouds around that I might not
be seen and cause men envy by new life:
and that she might be sure my life was safe
she made me seem an old man; and she changed
me so that I could not be recognized.
“A long time she debated whether she
would give me Crete or Delos for my home.
Delos and Crete abandoned, she then brought
me here, and at the same time ordered me
to lay aside my former name—one which
when mentioned would remind me of my steeds.
She said to me, ‘You were Hippolytus,
but now instead you shall be Virbius.’
And from that time I have inhabited
this grove; and, as one of the lesser gods,
I live concealed and numbered in her train.”
The grief of others could not ease the woe
of sad Egeria, and she laid herself
down at a mountain's foot, dissolved in tears,
till moved by pity for her faithful sorrow,
Diana changed her body to a spring,
her limbs into a clear continual stream.

This wonderful event surprised the nymphs,
and filled Hippolytus with wonder, just
as great as when the Etrurian ploughman saw
a fate-revealing clod move of its own
accord among the fields, while not a hand
was touching it, till finally it took
a human form, without the quality
of clodded earth, and opened its new mouth
and spoke, revealing future destinies.
The natives called him Tages. He was the first
who taught Etrurians to foretell events.
They were astonished even as Romulus,
when he observed the spear, which once had grown
high on the Palatine, put out new leaves
and stand with roots—not with the iron point
which he had driven in. Not as a spear
it then stood there, but as a rooted tree
with limber twigs for many to admire
while resting under that surprising shade.
Or, as when Cippus first observed his horns
in the clear stream (he truly saw them there).
Believing he had seen a falsity,
he often touched his forehead with his hand
and, so returning, touched the thing he saw.
Assured at last that he could trust his eyes,
he stood entranced, as if he had returned
victorious from the conquest of his foes:
and, raising eyes and hands toward heaven, he cried,
“You gods above! Whatever is foretold
by this great prodigy, if it means good,
then let it be auspicious to my land
and to the inhabitants of Quirinus,—
if ill, let that misfortune fall on me.”
He made an offering at new altars, built
of grassy thick green turf, with fragrant fires,
presenting wine in bowls. And he took note
of panting entrails from new-slaughtered sheep,
to learn the meaning of the event for him.
When an Etruscan seer examined them,
he found the evidence of great events,
as yet obscure, and, when he raised keen eyes
up from the entrails to the horns of Cippus,
“O king, all hail!” he cried, “For in future time
this country and the Latin towers will live
in homage to you, Cippus, and your horns.
But you must promptly put aside delay;
hasten to enter the wide open gates—
the fates command you. Once received within
the city, you shall be its chosen king
and safely shall enjoy a lasting reign.”
Cippus retreated, and he turned his grave
eyes from the city's walls and said, “O far,
O far away, the righteous gods should drive
such omens from me! Better it would be
that I should pass my life in exile than
be seen a king throned in the capitol.”
Such words he spoke and forthwith he convoked
the people and the grave and honored Senate.
But first he veiled his horns with laurel, which
betokens peace. Then, standing on a mound
raised by the valiant troops, he made a prayer
after the ancient mode, and then he said,
“There is one here who will be king, if you
do not expel him from your city—I
will show him to you surely by a sign;
although I will not tell his name. He wears
horns on his head. The augur prophecies
that, if he enters this your city, he
will give you laws as if you were his slaves.
“He might have forced his way within your gates,
for they stand open, but I have hindered him,
although nobody is to him so close
as I myself. Good Romans, then, forbid
your city to this man; or, if you find
that he deserves still worse, then bind him fast
with heavy fetters; or else end your fears
by knowledge of the destined tyrant's death.”
As murmurs which arise among the groves
of pine trees thick above us, when the fierce
east wind is whistling in them, or as sound
produced by breaking waves, when it is heard
afar off, such the noise made by the crowd.
But in that angry stirring of the throng
one cry could be distinguished, “Which is he?”
And they examined foreheads, and they sought
predicted horns. Cippus then spoke again:
“The man whom you demand,” he said, “is here!”
And, fearless of the people, he threw back
the chaplet from his forehead, so that all
could see his temples plainly, wonderful
for their two horns. All then turned down their eyes
and uttered groans and (was it possible?)
they looked unwillingly upon that head
famed for its merit. They could not permit
him to remain there long, deprived
of honors, and they placed upon his head
the festive chaplet. And the Senate gave
you, Cippus, since you nevermore must come
within the walls, a proof of their esteem—
so much land as your oxen and their plow
could circle round from dawn to setting sun.
Moreover they engraved the shapely horns
on the bronze pillars of the city gate,
which for long ages kept his name revered.

Relate, O Muses, guardian deities
of poets (for you know, and the remote
antiquity conceals it not from you),
the reason why an island, which the deep stream
of Tiber closed about, has introduced
Coronis' child among the deities
guarding the city of famed Romulus.
A dire contagion had infested long
the Latin air, and men's pale bodies were
deformed by a consumption that dried up
the blood. When, frightened by so many deaths,
they found all mortal efforts could avail
them nothing, and physicians' skill had no
effect, they sought the aid of heaven. They sent
envoys to Delphi center of the world,
and they entreated Phoebus to give aid
in their distress, and by response renew
their wasting lives and end a city's woe.
While ground, and laurels and the quivers which
the god hung there all shook, the tripod gave
this answer from the deep recesses hid
within the shrine, and stirred with trembling their
astonished hearts—
“What you are seeking here,
O Romans, you should seek for nearer you.
Then seek it nearer, for you do not need
Apollo to relieve your wasting plague,
you need Apollo's son. Go then to him
with a good omen and invite his aid.”
After the prudent Senate had received
Phoebus Apollo's words, they took much pains
to learn what town the son of Phoebus might
inhabit. They despatched ambassadors
under full sail to the coast of Epidaurus.
When the curved ships had touched the shore, these men
in haste went to the Grecian elders there
and prayed that Rome might have the deity
whose presence would drive out the mortal ill
from their Ausonian nation; for they knew
response unerring had directed them.
The councillors dismayed, could not agree
on their reply: some thought that aid ought not
to be refused, but many more held back,
declaring it was wise to keep the god
for their own safety and not give away
a guardian deity. And, while they talked,
discussing it, the twilight had expelled
the waning day, and darkness on the earth
spread a thick mantle over the wide world.
Then in your sleep, the healing deity
appeared, O Roman leader, by your couch,
as in his temple he is used to stand,
holding in his left hand a rustic staff.
Stroking his long beard with his right, he seemed
to utter from his kindly breast these words:
“Forget your fears; for I will come to you,
and leave my altar. But now look well at
the serpent with its binding folds entwined
around this staff, and accurately mark
it with your eyes that you may recognize it.
I will transform myself into this shape
but of a greater size, I will appear
enlarged and of a magnitude to which
a heavenly being ought to be transformed.”
The god departed, when he said those words;
and sleep went, when the god and words were gone;
and genial light came, when the sleep had left.
The morning then dispersed fire-given stars.
The envoys met together in much doubt
within the temple of the long sought god.
They prayed the god to indicate for them,
by clear celestial tokens, in what spot
he wished to dwell.
Scarce had they ceased the prayer
for guidance, when the god all glittering
with gold and as a serpent, crest erect,
sent forth a hissing as to notify
a quick approach— and in his coming shook
his statue and the altars and the doors,
the marble pavement and the gilded roof.
Then up to his breast the serpent stood erect
within the temple. He gazed on all with eyes
that sparkled fire. The waiting multitude
was frightened; but the priest, his chaste hair bound
with a white fillet, knew the deity.
“Behold the god!” he cried, “It is the god.
Think holy thoughts and walk in reverent silence,
all who are present. Oh, most Beautiful,
let us behold you to our benefit,
and give aid to this people that performs
your sacred rites.”

All present then adored
the deity as bidden by the priest.
The multitude repeated his good words,
and the descendants of Aeneas gave
good omen, with their feelings and their speech.
Nodding well pleased and moving his great crest,
the god at once assured them of his favor
and hissed repeatedly with darting tongue.
And then he glided down the polished steps;
turned back his head; and, ready to depart,
gazed on the altars he had known for so long—
a last salute to the temple of his love.
While all the people strewed his way with flowers,
the great snake wound in sinuous course along
and, passing through the middle of their town,
came to the harbor and its curving wall.
He stopped there, and it seemed that he dismissed
his train and dutiful attendant crowd,
and with a placid countenance he placed
his mighty body in the Ausonian ship,
which plainly showed the great weight of the god.
The glad descendants of Aeneas all
rejoiced, and they sacrificed a bull beside
the harbor, wreathed the ship with flowers, and loosed
the twisted hawsers from the shore. As a soft breeze
impelled the ship, within her curving stern
the god reclined, his coils uprising high,
and gazed down on the blue Ionian waves.
So wafted by the favoring winds, they came
in six days to the shores of Italy.
There he was borne past the Lacinian Cape,
ennobled by the goddess Juno's shrine,
and Scylacean coasts. He left behind
Iapygia; then he shunned Amphrysian rocks
upon the left and on the other side
escaped Cocinthian crags. He passed, near by,
Romechium and Caulon and Naricia;
crossed the Sicilian sea; went through the strait;
sailed by Pelorus and the island home
of Aeolus and by the copper mines
of Temesa. He turned then toward Leucosia
and toward mild Paestum, famous for the rose.
He coasted by Capreae and around
Minerva's promontory and the hills
ennobled with Surrentine vines, from there
to Herculaneum and Stabiae
and then Parthenope built for soft ease.
He sailed near the Cumaean Sibyl's temple.
He passed the Warm Springs and Linternum, where
the mastick trees grow, and the river called
Volturnus, where thick sand whirls in the stream,
over to Sinuessa's snow-white doves;
and then to Antium and its rocky coast.
When with all sails full spread the ship came in
the harbor there (for now the seas grew rough),
the god uncoiled his folds, and, gliding out
with sinuous curves and all his mighty length,
entered the temple of his parent, where
it skirts that yellow shore. But, when the sea
was calm again, the Epidaurian god
departing from his father's shrine, where he
a while had shared the sacred residence
reared to a kindred deity, furrowed
the sandy shore with weight of crackling scales,
again he climbed into the lofty stern
and near the rudder laid his head at rest.
There he remained until the vessel passed
by Castrum and Lavinium's sacred homes
to where the Tiber flows into the sea
there all the people of Rome came rushing out—
mothers and fathers and even those who tend
your sacred fire, O Trojan goddess Vesta—
and joyous shouted welcome to the god.
Wherever the swift ship steered through the tide,
they built up many altars in a line,
so that perfuming frankincense with smoke
crackled along the banks on either hand,
and victims made the keen knives hot with blood.
The serpent-deity has entered Rome,
the world's new capital and, lifting up
his head above the summit of the mast,
looked far and near for a congenial home.
The river there, dividing, flows about
a place known as the Island, on both sides
an equal stream glides past dry middle ground.
And here the serpent child of Phoebus left
the Roman ship, took his own heavenly form,
and brought the mourning city health once more

Apollo's son came to us from abroad,
but Caesar is a god in his own land.
The first in war and peace, he rose by wars,
which closed in triumphs, and by civic deeds
to glory quickly won, and even more
his offspring's love exalted him as a new,
a heavenly, sign and brightly flaming star.
Of all the achievements of great Julius Caesar
not one is more ennobling to his fame
than being father of his glorious son.
Was it more glorious for him to subdue
the Britons guarded by their sheltering sea
or lead his fleet victorious up the stream
seven mouthed of the papyrus hearing Nile;
to bring beneath the Roman people s rule
rebel Numidia, Libyan Juba, and
strong Pontus, proud of Mithridates' fame;
to have some triumphs and deserve far more;
than to be father of so great a man,
with whom as ruler of the human race,
O gods, you bless us past all reckoning?
And, lest that son should come from mortal seed,
Julius Caesar must change and be a god.
When the golden mother of Aeneas was
aware of this and saw a grievous end
plotted against her high priest, saw the armed
conspiracy preparing for his death,
with pallid face she met each god and said:
“Look with what might this plot prepares itself
against my cause; with how much guile it dooms
the head which is the last that I have left
from old-time Iulus, prince and heir of Troy.
Shall I alone be harassed through all time
by fear well grounded? First the son of Tydeus
must wound me with his Calydonian spear;
and then I tremble at the tottering walls
of ill defended Troy; I watch my son
driven in long wanderings, tossed upon the sea,
descending to the realm of silent shades,
and waging war with Turnus—or, if I should speak
the truth, with Juno! Why do I recall
disasters of my race from long ago?
The present dread forbids my looking back
at ills now past. See how the wicked swords
are whetted for the crime! Forbid it now,
I pray you, and prevent the deed,
let not the priest's warm blood quench vestal fires!”
Such words as these, full of her anxious thoughts,
Venus proclaimed through all the heavens, in vain.
The gods were moved, and, since they could not break
the ancient sisters' iron decree, they gave
instead clear portents of approaching woe.
It is declared, resounding arms heard from
the black clouds and unearthly trumpet blasts
and clarions heard through all the highest heavens,
forewarned men of the crime. The sad sun's face
gave to the frightened world a livid light;
and in the night-time torches seemed to burn
amid the stars, and often drops of blood
fell in rain-showers. Then Lucifer shone blue
with all his visage stained by darksome rust.
The chariot of the moon was sprinkled with
red blood. The Stygian owl gave to the world
ill omens. In a thousand places, tears
were shed by the ivory statues. Dirges, too,
are said to have been heard, and threatening words
by unknown speakers in the sacred groves.
No victim gave an omen of good life:
the fibers showed great tumults imminent,
the liver's cut-off edge was found among
the entrails. In the Forum, it is said,
and round men's homes and temples of the gods
dogs howled all through the night, and silent shades
wandered abroad, and earthquakes shook the city.
But portents of the gods could not avert
the plots of men and stay approaching fate.
Into a temple naked swords were brought—
into the Senate House. No other place
in all our city was considered fit
for perpetrating such a dreadful crime!
With both hands Cytherea beat her breast,
and in a cloud she strove to hide the last
of great Aeneas' line, as in times past
she had hid Paris from fierce Menelaus
Aeneas from the blade of Diomed.
But Jove, her father, cautioned her and said,
“Do you my daughter, without aid, alone,
attempt to change the fixed decrees of Fate?
Unaided you may enter the abode
of the three sisters and can witness there
a register of deeds the future brings.
These, wrought of brass and solid iron with
vast labor, are unchangeable through all
eternity; and have no weakening fears
of thunder-shocks from heaven, nor from the rage
of lightnings they are perfectly secure
from all destruction. You will surely find
the destinies of your descendants there,
engraved in everlasting adamant.
'Tis certain. I myself, have read them there:
and I, with care have marked them in my mind.
I will repeat them so that you may have
unerring knowledge of those future days.
“Venus, the man on whose behalf you are
so anxious, already has completed his
alloted time. The years are ended which
he owed to life on earth. You with his son,
who now as heir to his estate must bear
the burden of that government, will cause
him, as a deity, to reach the heavens,
and to be worshipped in the temples here.
“The valiant son will plan revenge on those
who killed his father and will have our aid
in all his battles. The defeated walls
of scarred Mutina, which he will besiege,
shall sue for peace. Pharsalia's plain will dread
his power and Macedonian Philippi
be drenched with blood a second time, the name
of one acclaimed as ‘Great’ shall be subdued
in the Sicilian waves. Then Egypt's queen,
wife of the Roman general, Antony,
shall fall, while vainly trusting in his word,
while vainly threatening that our Capitol
must be submissive to Canopus' power.
“Why should I mention all the barbarous lands
and nations east and west by ocean's rim?
Whatever habitable earth contains
shall bow to him, the sea shall serve his will!
“With peace established over all the lands,
he then will turn his mind to civil rule
and as a prudent legislator will
enact wise laws. And he will regulate
the manners of his people by his own
example. Looking forward to the days
of future time and of posterity,
he will command the offspring born of his
devoted wife, to assume the imperial name
and the burden of his cares. Nor till his age
shall equal Nestor's years will he ascend
to heavenly dwellings and his kindred stars.
Meanwhile transform the soul, which shall be reft
from this doomed body, to a starry light,
that always god-like Julius may look down
in future from his heavenly residence
upon our Forum and our Capitol.”
Jupiter hardly had pronounced these words,
when kindly Venus, although seen by none,
stood in the middle of the Senate-house,
and caught from the dying limbs and trunk
of her own Caesar his departing soul.
She did not give it time so that it could
dissolve in air, but bore it quickly up,
toward all the stars of heaven; and on the way,
she saw it gleam and blaze and set it free.
Above the moon it mounted into heaven,
leaving behind a long and fiery trail,
and as a star it glittered in the sky.
There, wondering at the younger Caesar's deeds,
Julius confessed they were superior
to all of his, and he rejoiced because
his son was greater even than himself.
Although the son forbade men to regard
his own deeds as the: mightier! Fame, that moves
free and untrammelled by the laws of men,
preferred him even against his own desire
and in that one point disobeyed his will.
And so great Atreus yields to greater fame
of Agamemnon, Aegeus yields to Theseus,
and Peleus to Achilles, or, to name
a parallel befitting these two gods,
so Saturn yields to Jove. Now Jupiter
rules in high heavens and is the suzerain
over the waters and the world of shades,
and now Augustus rules in all the lands—
so each is both a father and a god.
Gods who once guarded our Aeneas, when
both swords and fire gave way, and native gods
of Italy, and Father Quirinus—
patron of Rome, and you Gradivus too—
the sire of Quirinus the invincible,
and Vesta hallowed among Caesar's gods,
and Phoebus ever worshipped at his hearth,
and Jupiter who rules the citadel
high on Tarpeia's cliff, and other gods—
all gods to whom a poet rightfully
and with all piety may make appeal;
far be that day—postponed beyond our time,
when great Augustus shall foresake the earth
which he now governs, and mount up to heaven,
from that far height to hear his people's prayers!
And now, I have completed a great work,
which not Jove's anger, and not fire nor steel,
nor fast-consuming time can sweep away.
Whenever it will, let the day come, which has
dominion only over this mortal frame,
and end for me the uncertain course of life.
Yet in my better part I shall be borne
immortal, far above the stars on high,
and mine shall be a name indelible.
Wherever Roman power extends her sway
over the conquered lands, I shall be read
by lips of men. If Poets' prophecies
have any truth, through all the coming years
of future ages, I shall live in fame.