Metamorphoses

Ovid

Ovid. The XV bookes of P. Ouidius Naso, entytuled Metamorphosis. Golding, Arthur, translator. London: W. Seres (printer), 1567.

As Nestor all the processe of this battell did reherce
Betweene the valeant Lapithes and misshapen Centawres ferce,
Tlepolemus displeased sore that Hercules was past
With silence, could not hold his peace, but out theis woordes did cast:
My Lord, I muse you should forget my fathers prayse so quyght.
For often unto mee himself was woonted to recite,
How that the clowdbred folk by him were cheefly put to flyght.
Ryght sadly Nestor answerd thus: Why should you mee constreyne
To call to mynd forgotten greefs? and for to reere ageine
The sorrowes now outworne by tyme? or force mee to declare
The hatred and displeasure which I to your father bare?
In sooth his dooings greater were than myght bee well beleeved.
He fild the world with high renowme which nobly he atcheeved.
Which thing I would I could denye. For neyther set wee out
Deiphobus, Polydamas, nor Hector that most stout
And valeant knyght, the strength of Troy. For whoo will prayse his fo?
Your father overthrew the walles of Messen long ago,
And razed Pyle, and Ely townes unwoorthye serving so.
And feerce ageinst my fathers house hee usde bothe swoord and fyre.
And (not to speake of others whom he killed in his ire)
Twyce six wee were the sonnes of Nele all lusty gentlemen.
Twyce six of us (excepting mee) by him were murthred then.
The death of all the rest myght seeme a matter not so straunge:
But straunge was Periclymens death whoo had the powre to chaunge
And leave and take what shape he list (by Neptune to him given,
The founder of the house of Nele). For when he had beene driven
To try all shapes, and none could help: he last of all became
The fowle that in his hooked feete dooth beare the flasshing flame
Sent downe from heaven by Jupiter. He practising those birds,
With flapping wings, and bowwing beake, and hooked talants girds
At Hercle, and beescratcht his face. Too certeine (I may say)
Thy father amde his shaft at him. For as he towring lay
Among the clowdes, he hit him underneath the wing. The stroke
Was small: howbee't bycause therwith the sinewes being broke,
He wanted strength to maynteine flyght, he fell me to the ground,
Through weakenesse of his wing. The shaft that sticked in the wound,
By reason of the burthen of his bodye perst his syde,
And at the leftsyde of his necke all bloodye foorth did glyde.
Now tell mee, O thou beawtyfull Lord Amirall of the fleete
Of Rhodes, if mee to speake the prayse of Hercle it bee meete.
But lest that of my brothers deathes men think I doo desyre
A further vendge than silence of the prowesse of thy syre,
I love thee even with all my hart, and take thee for my freend.

When Nestor of his pleasant tales had made this freendly end,
They called for a boll of wyne, and from the table went,
And all the resdew of the nyght in sleeping soundly spent.
But Neptune like a father tooke the matter sore to hart
That Cygnet to a Swan he was constreyned to convert.
And hating feerce Achilles, he did wreake his cruell teene
Uppon him more uncourteously than had beseeming beene.
For when the warres well neere full twyce fyve yeeres had lasted, hee
Unshorne Apollo thus bespake: O nevew, unto mee
Most deere of all my brothers impes, who helpedst mee to lay
Foundation of the walles of Troy for which we had no pay,
And canst thou syghes forbeare to see the Asian Empyre fall?
And dooth it not lament thy hart when thou to mynd doost call
So many thousand people slayne in keeping Ilion wall?
Or (too th'entent particlerly I doo not speake of all)
Remembrest thou not Hectors Ghost whoo harryed was about
His towne of Troy? where nerethelesse Achilles that same stout
And farre in fyght more butcherly, whoo stryves with all his myght
To stroy the woorke of mee and thee, lives still in healthfull plyght?
If ever hee doo come within my daunger he shall feele
What force is in my tryple mace. But sith with swoord of steele
I may not meete him as my fo, I pray thee unbeeware
Go kill him with a sodeine shaft and rid mee of my care.
Apollo did consent: as well his uncle for to please,
As also for a pryvate grudge himself had for to ease.
And in a clowd he downe among the host of Troy did slyde,
Where Paris dribbling out his shaftes among the Greekes hee spyde:
And telling him what God he was, sayd: Wherfore doost thou waast
Thyne arrowes on the simple sort? If any care thou haste
Of those that are thy freendes, go turne ageinst Achilles head,
And like a man revendge on him thy brothers that are dead.
In saying this, he brought him where Achilles with his brond
Was beating downe the Trojane folk, and leveld so his hond
As that Achilles tumbled downe starke dead uppon the lond.
This was the onely thing wherof the old king Priam myght
Take comfort after Hectors death. That stout and valeant knyght
Achilles whoo had overthrowen so many men in fyght,
Was by that coward carpet knyght beereeved of his lyfe,
Whoo like a caytif stale away the Spartane princes wyfe.
But if of weapon womanish he had foreknowen it had
His destnye beene to lose his lyfe, he would have beene more glad
That Queene Penthesileas bill had slaine him out of hand.
Now was the feare of Phrygian folk, the onely glory, and
Defence of Greekes, that peerelesse prince in armes, Achilles turnd
To asshes. That same God that had him armd, him also burnd.
Now is he dust: and of that great Achilles bydeth still
A thing of nought, that scarcely can a little coffin fill.
Howbee't his woorthy fame dooth lyve, and spreadeth over all
The world, a measure meete for such a persone to beefall.
This matcheth thee, Achilles, full. And this can never dye.
His target also (too th'entent that men myght playnly spye
What wyghts it was) did move debate, and for his armour burst
Out deadly foode. Not Diomed, nor Ajax Oylye durst
Make clayme or chalendge to the same, nor Atreus yoonger sonne,
Nor yit his elder, though in armes much honour they had wonne.
Alone the sonnes of Telamon and Laert did assay
Which of them two of that great pryse should beare the bell away.
But Agamemnon from himself the hurthen putts, and cleeres
His handes of envye, causing all the Capteines and the Peeres
Of Greece to meete amid the camp togither in a place,
To whom he put the heering and the judgement of the cace.