Metamorphoses

Ovid

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

  1. Unwitting that his daughter and his son
  2. are Ocean deities, Agenor's son,—
  3. depressed by sorrow and unnumbered woes,
  4. calamities, and prodigies untold,—
  5. the founder fled the city he had built,
  6. as though fatalities that gathered round
  7. that city grieved him deeper than the fate
  8. of his own family; and thence, at last
  9. arrived the confines of Illyria;
  10. in exile with his wife.—
  11. Weighted with woe,
  12. bowed down with years, their minds recalled the time
  13. when first disaster fell upon their House:—
  14. relating their misfortunes, Cadmus spoke;
  15. “Was that a sacred dragon that my spear
  16. impaled, when on the way from Sidon's gates
  17. I planted in the earth those dragon-teeth,
  18. unthought-of seed? If haply 'tis the Gods,
  19. (whose rage unerring, gives me to revenge)
  20. I only pray that I may lengthen out,
  21. as any serpent.” Even as he spoke,
  22. he saw and felt himself increase in length.
  23. His body coiled into a serpent's form;
  24. bright scale's enveloped his indurate skin,
  25. and azure macules in speckled pride,
  26. enriched his glowing folds; and as he fell
  27. supinely on his breast, his legs were joined,
  28. and gradually tapered as a serpent's tail.—
  29. Some time his arms remained, which stretching forth
  30. while tears rolled down his human face, not changed
  31. as yet, he said; “Hither, O hapless one!
  32. Come hither my unhappy wife, while aught
  33. is left of manhood; touch me, take my hand,
  34. unchanged as yet—ah, soon this serpent-form
  35. will cover me!”
  36. So did he speak, nor thought
  37. to make an end; but suddenly his tongue
  38. became twin-forked. As often as he tried,
  39. a hissing sound escaped; the only voice
  40. that Nature left him. —
  41. And his wife bewailed,
  42. and smote her breast, “Ah, Cadmus, ah!
  43. Most helpless one, put off that monster-shape!
  44. Your feet, your shoulders and your hands are gone;
  45. your manly form, your very colour gone; all—all
  46. is changed!—Oh, why not, ye celestial Gods,
  47. me likewise, to a serpent-shape transform!”—
  48. So ended her complaint. Cadmus caressed
  49. her gently with his tongue; and slid to her
  50. dear bosom, just as if he knew his wife;
  51. and he embraced her, and he touched her neck.
  52. All their attendants, who had seen the change,
  53. were filled with fear; but when as crested snakes
  54. the twain appeared in brightly glistening mail,
  55. their grief was lightened: and the pair, enwreathed
  56. in twisting coils, departed from that place,
  57. and sought a covert in the nearest grove.—
  58. There, then, these gentle serpents never shun
  59. mankind, nor wound, nor strike with poisoned fangs;
  60. for they are always conscious of the past.