Metamorphoses
Ovid
Ovid. Metamorphoses. More, Brookes, translator. Boston: Cornhill Publishing Co., 1922.
- Propitious deities accord her prayers:
- the mingled bodies of the pair unite
- and fashion in a single human form.
- So one might see two branches underneath
- a single rind uniting grow as one:
- so, these two bodies in a firm embrace
- no more are twain, but with a two-fold form
- nor man nor woman may be called—Though both
- in seeming they are neither one of twain.
- When that Hermaphroditus felt the change,
- so wrought upon him by the languid fount,
- considered that he entered it a man,
- and now his limbs relaxing in the stream
- he is not wholly male, but only half,—
- he lifted up his hands and thus implored,
- albeit with no manly voice; “Hear me
- O father! hear me mother! grant to me
- this boon; to me whose name is yours, your son;
- whoso shall enter in this fount a man
- must leave its waters only half a man.”
- Moved by the words of their bi-natured son
- both parents yield assent: they taint the fount
- with essences of dual-working powers.
- Now though the daughters of King Minyas
- have made an end of telling tales, they make
- no end of labour; for they so despise
- the deity, and desecrate his feast.
- While busily engaged, with sudden beat
- they hear resounding tambourines; and pipes
- and crooked horns and tinkling brass renew,
- unseen, the note; saffron and myrrh dissolve
- in dulcet odours; and, beyond belief,
- the woven webs, dependent on the loom,
- take tints of green, put forth new ivy leaves,
- or change to grape-vines verdant. There the thread
- is twisted into tendrils, there the warp
- is fashioned into many-moving leaves—
- the purple lends its splendour to the grape.
- And now the day is past; it is the hour
- when night ambiguous merges into day,
- which dubious owns nor light nor dun obscure;
- and suddenly the house begins to shake,
- and torches oil-dipped seem to flare around,
- and fires a-glow to shine in every room,
- and phantoms, feigned of savage beasts, to howl.—
- Full of affright amid the smoking halls
- the sisters vainly hide, and wheresoever
- they deem security from flaming fires,
- fearfully flit. And while they seek to hide,
- a membrane stretches over every limb,
- and light wings open from their slender arms.
- In the weird darkness they are unaware
- what measure wrought to change their wonted shape.
- No plumous vans avail to lift their flight,
- yet fair they balance on membraneous wing.
- Whenever they would speak a tiny voice,
- diminutive, apportioned to their size,
- in squeaking note complains. Adread the light,
- their haunts avoid by day the leafy woods,
- for sombre attics, where secure they rest
- till forth the dun obscure their wings may stretch
- at hour of Vesper;—this accords their name.