Metamorphoses
Ovid
Ovid. Metamorphoses. More, Brookes, translator. Boston: Cornhill Publishing Co., 1922.
- While Perseus, the brave son of Jupiter,
- surrounded at the feast by Cepheus' lords,
- narrated this, a raging multitude
- with sudden outcry filled the royal courts—
- not with the clamours of a wedding feast
- but boisterous rage, portentous of dread war.
- As when the fury of a great wind strikes
- a tranquil sea, tempestuous billows roll
- across the peaceful bosom of the deep;
- so were the pleasures at the banquet changed
- to sudden tumult.
- Foremost of that throng,
- the rash ring-leader, Phineus, shook his spear,
- brass-tipped of ash, and shouted, “Ha, 'tis I!
- I come avenger of my ravished bride!
- Let now your flittering wings deliver you,
- or even Jupiter, dissolved in showers
- of imitation gold.” So boasted he,
- aiming his spear at Perseus.
- Thus to him
- cried Cepheus: “Hold your hand, and strike him not!
- What strange delusions, O my brother, have
- compelled you to this crime? Is it the just
- requital of heroic worth? A fair
- reguerdon for the life of her you loved?
- “If truth were known, not Perseus ravished her
- from you; but, either 'twas the awful God
- that rules the Nereides; or Ammon, crowned
- with crescent horns; or that monstrosity
- of Ocean's vast abyss, which came to glut
- his famine on the issue of my loins.
- Nor was your suit abandoned till the time
- when she must perish and be lost to you.
- So cruel are you, seeking my daughter's death,
- rejoicing lightly in our deep despair.—
- “And was it not enough for you to stand
- supinely by, while she was bound in chains,
- and offer no assistance, though you were
- her lover and betrothed? And will you grieve
- that she was rescued from a dreadful fate,
- and spoil her champion of his just rewards?
- Rewards that now may seem magnificent,
- but not denied to you if you had won
- and saved, when she was fettered to the rock.
- “Let him, whose strength to my declining years
- restored my child, receive the merit due
- his words and deeds; and know his suit was not
- preferred to yours, but granted to prevent
- her certain death.”
- not deigning to reply,
- against them Phineus stood; and glancing back
- from him to Perseus, with alternate looks,
- as doubtful which should feel his first attack,
- made brief delay. Then vain at Perseus hurled
- his spear, with all the force that rage inspired,
- but, missing him it quivered in a couch.
- Provoked beyond endurance Perseus leaped
- forth from the cushioned seats, and fiercely sent
- that outwrenched weapon back. It would have pierced
- his hostile breast had not the miscreant crouched
- behind the altars. Oh perverted good,
- that thus an altar should abet the wrong!
- But, though the craven Phineus escaped,
- not vainly flew the whizzing point, but struck
- in Rhoetus' forehead. As the barb was torn
- out of the bone, the victim's heels began
- to kick upon the floor, and spouting blood
- defiled the festal board. Then truly flame
- in uncontrolled rage the vulgar crowd,
- and hurl their harmful darts.
- And there are some
- who hold that Cepheus and his son-in-law
- deserved to die; but Cepheus had passed forth
- the threshold of his palace: having called
- on all the Gods of Hospitality
- and Truth and Justice to attest, he gave
- no comfort to the enemies of Peace.
- Unconquered Pallas is at hand and holds
- her Aegis to protect her brother's life;
- she lends him dauntless courage. At the feast
- was one from India's distant shores, whose name
- was Athis. It was said that Limnate,
- the daughter of the River Ganges, him
- in vitreous caverns bright had brought to birth;
- and now at sixteen summers in his prime,
- the handsome youth was clad in costly robes.
- A purple mantle with a golden fringe
- covered his shoulders, and a necklace, carved
- of gold, enhanced the beauty of his throat.
- His hair encompassed with a coronal,
- delighted with sweet myrrh. Well taught was he
- to hurl the javelin at a distant mark,
- and none with better skill could stretch the bow.
- No sooner had he bent the pliant horns
- than Perseus, with a smoking billet, seized
- from the mid-altar, struck him on the face,
- and smashed his features in his broken skull.
- And when Assyrian Lycabas had seen
- his dear companion, whom he truly loved,
- beating his handsome countenance in blood.
- And when he had bewailed his lost life,
- that ebbed away from that unpiteous wound,
- he snatched the bow that Athis used, and said;
- “Let us in single combat seek revenge;
- not long will you rejoice the stripling's fate;
- a deed most worthy shame.” So speaking, forth
- the piercing arrow bounded from the cord,
- which, though avoided, struck the hero's cloak
- and fastened in its folds.—
- Then Perseus turned
- upon him, with the trusted curving sword,
- cause of Medusa's death, and drove the blade
- deep in his breast. The dying victim's eyes,
- now swimming in a shadowous night, looked 'round
- for Athis, whom, beholding, he reclined
- upon, and ushered to the other world,—
- sad consolation of united death.