<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=475835" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Metamorphoses: Book The Fifth</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">WHILE Perseus entertain'd with this report<br> His father Cepheus, and the list'ning court,<br> Within the palace walls was heard aloud<br> The roaring noise of some unruly crowd;<br> Not like the songs which chearful friends prepare<br> For nuptial days, but sounds that threaten'd war;<br> And all the pleasures of this happy feast,<br> To tumult turn'd, in wild disorder ceas'd:<br> So, when the sea is calm, we often find<br> A storm rais'd sudden by some furious wind.<br> The Story of Chief in the riot Phineus first appear'd,<br> Perseus The rash ringleader of this boist'rous herd,<br> continu'd And brandishing his brazen-pointed lance,<br> Behold, he said, an injur'd man advance,<br> Stung with resentment for his ravish'd wife,<br> Nor shall thy wings, o Perseus, save thy life;<br> Nor Jove himself; tho' we've been often told<br> Who got thee in the form of tempting gold.<br> His lance was aim'd, when Cepheus ran, and said,<br> Hold, brother, hold; what brutal rage has made<br> Your frantick mind so black a crime conceive?<br> Are these the thanks that you to Perseus give?<br> This the reward that to his worth you pay,<br> Whose timely valour sav'd Andromeda?<br> Nor was it he, if you would reason right,<br> That forc'd her from you, but the jealous spight<br> Of envious Nereids, and Jove's high decree;<br> And that devouring monster of the sea,<br> That ready with his jaws wide gaping stood<br> To eat my child, the fairest of my blood.<br> You lost her then, when she seem'd past relief,<br> And wish'd perhaps her death, to ease your grief<br> With my afflictions: not content to view<br> Andromeda in chains, unhelp'd by you,<br> Her spouse, and uncle; will you grieve that he<br> Expos'd his life the dying maid to free?<br> And shall you claim his merit? Had you thought<br> Her charms so great, you shou'd have bravely sought<br> That blessing on the rocks, where fix'd she lay:<br> But now let Perseus bear his prize away,<br> By service gain'd, by promis'd faith possess'd;<br> To him I owe it, that my age is bless'd<br> Still with a child: Nor think that I prefer<br> Perseus to thee, but to the loss of her.<br> Phineus on him, and Perseus, roul'd about<br> His eyes in silent rage, and seem'd to doubt<br> Which to destroy; 'till, resolute at length,<br> He threw his spear with the redoubled strength<br> His fury gave him, and at Perseus struck;<br> But missing Perseus, in his seat it stuck.<br> Who, springing nimbly up, return'd the dart,<br> And almost plung'd it in his rival's heart;<br> But he for safety to the altar ran,<br> Unfit protection for so vile a man;<br> Yet was the stroke not vain, as Rhaetus found,<br> Who in his brow receiv'd a mortal wound;<br> Headlong he tumbled, when his skull was broke,<br> From which his friends the fatal weapon took,<br> While he lay trembling, and his gushing blood<br> In crimson streams around the table flow'd.<br> But this provok'd th' unruly rabble worse,<br> They flung their darts, and some in loud discourse<br> To death young Perseus, and the monarch doom;<br> But Cepheus left before the guilty room,<br> With grief appealing to the Gods above,<br> Who laws of hospitality approve,<br> Who faith protect, and succour injur'd right,<br> That he was guiltless of this barb'rous fight.<br> Pallas her brother Perseus close attends,<br> And with her ample shield from harm defends,<br> Raising a sprightly courage in his heart:<br> But Indian Athis took the weaker part,<br> Born in the chrystal grottoes of the sea,<br> Limnate's son, a fenny nymph, and she<br> Daughter of Ganges; graceful was his mein,<br> His person lovely, and his age sixteen.<br> His habit made his native beauty more;<br> A purple mantle fring'd with gold he wore;<br> His neck well-turn'd with golden chains was grac'd,<br> His hair with myrrh perfum'd, was nicely dress'd.<br> Tho' with just aim he cou'd the javelin throw,<br> Yet with more skill he drew the bending bow;<br> And now was drawing it with artful hand,<br> When Perseus snatching up a flaming brand,<br> Whirl'd sudden at his face the burning wood,<br> Crush'd his eyes in, and quench'd the fire with<br> blood;<br> Thro' the soft skin the splinter'd bones appear,<br> And spoil'd the face that lately was so fair.<br> When Lycabas his Athis thus beheld,<br> How was his heart with friendly horror fill'd!<br> A youth so noble, to his soul so dear,<br> To see his shapeless look, his dying groans to<br> hear!<br> He snatch'd the bow the boy was us'd to bend,<br> And cry'd, With me, false traytor, dare contend;<br> Boast not a conquest o'er a child, but try<br> Thy strength with me, who all thy pow'rs defy;<br> Nor think so mean an act a victory.<br> While yet he spoke he flung the whizzing dart,<br> Which pierc'd the plaited robe, but miss'd his<br> heart:<br> Perseus defy'd, upon him fiercely press'd<br> With sword, unsheath'd, and plung'd it in his<br> breast;<br> His eyes o'erwhelm'd with night, he stumbling<br> falls,<br> And with his latest breath on Athis calls;<br> Pleas'd that so near the lovely youth he lies,<br> He sinks his head upon his friend, and dies.<br> Next eager Phorbas, old Methion's son,<br> Came rushing forward with Amphimedon;<br> When the smooth pavement, slippery made with gore,<br> Trip'd up their feet, and flung 'em on the floor;<br> The sword of Perseus, who by chance was nigh,<br> Prevents their rise, and where they fall, they lye:<br> Full in his ribs Amphimedon he smote,<br> And then stuck fiery Phorbas in the throat.<br> Eurythus lifting up his ax, the blow<br> Was thus prevented by his nimble foe;<br> A golden cup he seizes, high embost,<br> And at his head the massy goblet tost:<br> It hits, and from his forehead bruis'd rebounds,<br> And blood, and brains he vomits from his wounds;<br> With his slain fellows on the floor he lies,<br> And death for ever shuts his swimming eyes.<br> Then Polydaemon fell, a Goddess-born;<br> Phlegias, and Elycen with locks unshorn<br> Next follow'd; next, the stroke of death he gave<br> To Clytus, Abanis, and Lycetus brave;<br> While o'er unnumber'd heaps of ghastly dead,<br> The Argive heroe's feet triumphant tread.<br> But Phineus stands aloof, and dreads to feel<br> His rival's force, and flies his pointed steel:<br> Yet threw a dart from far; by chance it lights<br> On Idas, who for neither party fights;<br> But wounded, sternly thus to Phineus said,<br> Since of a neuter thou a foe hast made,<br> This I return thee, drawing from his side<br> The dart; which, as he strove to fling, he dy'd.<br> Odites fell by Clymenus's sword,<br> The Cephen court had not a greater lord.<br> Hypseus his blade does in Protenor sheath,<br> But brave Lyncides soon reveng'd his death.<br> Here too was old Emathion, one that fear'd<br> The Gods, and in the cause of Heav'n appear'd,<br> Who only wishing the success of right,<br> And, by his age, exempted from the fight,<br> Both sides alike condemns: This impious war<br> Cease, cease, he cries; these bloody broils<br> forbear.<br> This scarce the sage with high concern had said,<br> When Chromis at a blow struck off his head,<br> Which dropping, on the royal altar roul'd,<br> Still staring on the crowd with aspect bold;<br> And still it seem'd their horrid strife to blame,<br> In life and death, his pious zeal the same;<br> While clinging to the horns, the trunk expires,<br> The sever'd head consumes amidst the fires.<br> Then Phineus, who from far his javelin threw,<br> Broteas and Ammon, twins and brothers, slew;<br> For knotted gauntlets matchless in the field;<br> But gauntlets must to swords and javelins yield.<br> Ampycus next, with hallow'd fillets bound,<br> As Ceres' priest, and with a mitre crown'd,<br> His spear transfix'd, and struck him to the ground.<br> O Iapetides, with pain I tell<br> How you, sweet lyrist, in the riot fell;<br> What worse than brutal rage his breast could fill,<br> Who did thy blood, o bard celestial! spill?<br> Kindly you press'd amid the princely throng,<br> To crown the feast, and give the nuptial song:<br> Discord abhorr'd the musick of thy lyre,<br> Whose notes did gentle peace so well inspire;<br> Thee, when fierce Pettalus far off espy'd,<br> Defenceless with thy harp, he scoffing cry'd,<br> Go; to the ghosts thy soothing lessons play;<br> We loath thy lyre, and scorn thy peaceful lay:<br> And, as again he fiercely bid him go,<br> He pierc'd his temples with a mortal blow.<br> His harp he held, tho' sinking on the ground,<br> Whose strings in death his trembling fingers found<br> By chance, and tun'd by chance a dying sound.<br> With grief Lycormas saw him fall, from far,<br> And, wresting from the door a massy bar,<br> Full in his poll lays on a load of knocks,<br> Which stun him, and he falls like a devoted ox.<br> Another bar Pelates would have snach'd,<br> But Corynthus his motions slily watch'd;<br> He darts his weapon from a private stand,<br> And rivets to the post his veiny hand:<br> When strait a missive spear transfix'd his side,<br> By Abas thrown, and as he hung, he dy'd.<br> Melaneus on the prince's side was slain;<br> And Dorylas, who own'd a fertile plain,<br> Of Nasamonia's fields the wealthy lord,<br> Whose crowded barns, could scarce contain their<br> board.<br> A whizzing spear obliquely gave a blow,<br> Stuck in his groin, and pierc'd the nerves below;<br> His foe behld his eyes convulsive roul,<br> His ebbing veins, and his departing soul;<br> Then taunting said, Of all thy spacious plain,<br> This spot thy only property remains.<br> He left him thus; but had no sooner left,<br> Than Perseus in revenge his nostrils cleft;<br> From his friend's breast the murd'ring dart he<br> drew,<br> And the same weapon at the murderer threw;<br> His head in halves the darted javelin cut,<br> And on each side the brain came issuing out.<br> Fortune his friend, in deaths around he deals,<br> And this his lance, and that his faulchion feels:<br> Now Clytius dies; and by a diff'rent wound,<br> The twin, his brother Clanis, bites the ground.<br> In his rent jaw the bearded weapon sticks,<br> And the steel'd dart does Clytius' thigh transfix.<br> With these Mendesian Celadon he slew:<br> And Astreus next, whose mother was a Jew,<br> His sire uncertain: then by Perseus fell<br> Aethion, who cou'd things to come foretell;<br> But now he knows not whence the javelin flies<br> That wounds his breast, nor by whose arm he dies.<br> The squire to Phineus next his valour try'd,<br> And fierce Agyrtes stain'd with paricide.<br> As these are slain, fresh numbers still appear,<br> And wage with Perseus an unequal war;<br> To rob him of his right, the maid he won,<br> By honour, promise, and desert his own.<br> With him, the father of the beauteous bride,<br> The mother, and the frighted virgin side;<br> With shrieks, and doleful cries they rend the air:<br> Their shrieks confounded with the din of war,<br> With dashing arms, and groanings of the slain,<br> They grieve unpitied, and unheard complain.<br> The floor with ruddy streams Bellona stains,<br> And Phineus a new war with double rage maintains.<br> Perseus begirt, from all around they pour<br> Their lances on him, a tempestuous show'r,<br> Aim'd all at him; a cloud of darts, and spears,<br> Or blind his eyes, or whistle round his ears.<br> Their numbers to resist, against the wall<br> He guards his back secure, and dares them all.<br> Here from the left Molpeus renews the fight,<br> And bold Ethemon presses on the right:<br> As when a hungry tyger near him hears<br> Two lowing herds, a-while he both forbears;<br> Nor can his hopes of this, or that renounce,<br> So strong he lusts to prey on both at once;<br> Thus Perseus now with that, or this is loth<br> To war distinct:, but fain would fall on both.<br> And first Chaonian Molpeus felt his blow,<br> And fled, and never after fac'd his foe;<br> Then fierce Ethemon, as he turn'd his back,<br> Hurried with fury, aiming at his neck,<br> His brandish'd sword against the marble struck<br> With all his might; the brittle weapon broke,<br> And in his throat the point rebounding stuck.<br> Too slight the wound for life to issue thence,<br> And yet too great for battel, or defence;<br> His arms extended in this piteous state,<br> For mercy he wou'd sue, but sues too late;<br> Perseus has in his bosom plung'd the sword,<br> And, ere he speaks, the wound prevents the word.<br> The crowds encreasing, and his friends<br> distress'd,<br> Himself by warring multitudes oppress'd:<br> Since thus unequally you fight, 'tis time,<br> He cry'd, to punish your presumptuous crime;<br> Beware, my friends; his friends were soon prepar'd,<br> Their sight averting, high the head he rear'd,<br> And Gorgon on his foes severely star'd.<br> Vain shift! says Thescelus, with aspect bold,<br> Thee, and thy bugbear monster, I behold<br> With scorn; he lifts his arm, but ere he threw<br> The dart, the heroe to a statue grew.<br> In the same posture still the marble stands,<br> And holds the warrior's weapons in its hands.<br> Amphyx, whom yet this wonder can't alarm,<br> Heaves at Lyncides' breast his impious arm;<br> But, while thus daringly he presses on,<br> His weapon and his arm are turn'd to stone.<br> Next Nileus, he who vainly said he ow'd<br> His origin to Nile's prolifick flood;<br> Who on his shield seven silver rivers bore,<br> His birth to witness by the arms he wore;<br> Full of his sev'n-fold father, thus express'd<br> His boast to Perseus, and his pride confess'd:<br> See whence we sprung; let this thy comfort be<br> In thy sure death, that thou didst die by me.<br> While yet he spoke, the dying accents hung<br> In sounds imperfect on his marble tongue;<br> Tho' chang'd to stone, his lips he seem'd to<br> stretch,<br> And thro' th' insensate rock wou'd force a speech.<br> This Eryx saw, but seeing wou'd not own;<br> The mischief by your selves, he cries, is done,<br> 'Tis your cold courage turns your hearts to stone.<br> Come, follow me; fall on the stripling boy,<br> Kill him, and you his magick arms destroy.<br> Then rushing on, his arm to strike he rear'd,<br> And marbled o'er his varied frame appear'd.<br> These for affronting Pallas were chastis'd,<br> And justly met the death they had despis'd.<br> But brave Aconteus, Perseus' friend, by chance<br> Look'd back, and met the Gorgon's fatal glance:<br> A statue now become, he ghastly stares,<br> And still the foe to mortal combat dares.<br> Astyages the living likeness knew,<br> On the dead stone with vengeful fury flew;<br> But impotent his rage, the jarring blade<br> No print upon the solid marble made:<br> Again, as with redoubled might he struck,<br> Himself astonish'd in the quarry stuck.<br> The vulgar deaths 'twere tedious to rehearse,<br> And fates below the dignity of verse;<br> Their safety in their flight two hundred found,<br> Two hundred, by Medusa's head were ston'd.<br> Fierce Phineus now repents the wrongful fight,<br> And views his varied friends, a dreadful sight;<br> He knows their faces, for their help he sues,<br> And thinks, not hearing him, that they refuse:<br> By name he begs their succour, one by one,<br> Then doubts their life, and feels the friendly<br> stone.<br> Struck with remorse, and conscious of his pride,<br> Convict of sin, he turn'd his eyes aside;<br> With suppliant mein to Perseus thus he prays,<br> Hence with the head, as far as winds and seas<br> Can bear thee; hence, o quit the Cephen shore,<br> And never curse us with Medusa more,<br> That horrid head, which stiffens into stone<br> Those impious men who, daring death, look on.<br> I warr'd not with thee out of hate or strife,<br> My honest cause was to defend my wife,<br> First pledg'd to me; what crime cou'd I suppose,<br> To arm my friends, and vindicate my spouse?<br> But vain, too late I see, was our design;<br> Mine was the title, but the merit thine.<br> Contending made me guilty, I confess;<br> But penitence shou'd make that guilt the less:<br> 'Twas thine to conquer by Minerva's pow'r;<br> Favour'd of Heav'n, thy mercy I implore;<br> For life I sue; the rest to thee I yield;<br> In pity, from my sight remove the shield.<br> He suing said; nor durst revert his eyes<br> On the grim head: and Perseus thus replies:<br> Coward, what is in me to grant, I will,<br> Nor blood, unworthy of my valour spill:<br> Fear not to perish by my vengeful sword,<br> From that secure; 'tis all the Fates afford.<br> Where I now see thee, thou shalt still be seen,<br> A lasting monument to please our queen;<br> There still shall thy betroth'd behold her spouse,<br> And find his image in her father's house.<br> This said; where Phineus turn'd to shun the shield<br> Full in his face the staring head he held;<br> As here and there he strove to turn aside,<br> The wonder wrought, the man was petrify'd:<br> All marble was his frame, his humid eyes<br> Drop'd tears, which hung upon the stone like ice.<br> In suppliant posture, with uplifted hands,<br> And fearful look, the guilty statue stands.<br> Hence Perseus to his native city hies,<br> Victorious, and rewarded with his prize.<br> Conquest, o'er Praetus the usurper, won,<br> He re-instates his grandsire in the throne.<br> Praetus, his brother dispossess'd by might,<br> His realm enjoy'd, and still detain'd his right:<br> But Perseus pull'd the haughty tyrant down,<br> And to the rightful king restor'd the throne.<br> Weak was th' usurper, as his cause was wrong;<br> Where Gorgon's head appears, what arms are strong?<br> When Perseus to his host the monster held,<br> They soon were statues, and their king expell'd.<br> Thence, to Seriphus with the head he sails,<br> Whose prince his story treats as idle tales:<br> Lord of a little isle, he scorns to seem<br> Too credulous, but laughs at that, and him.<br> Yet did he not so much suspect the truth,<br> As out of pride, or envy, hate the youth.<br> The Argive prince, at his contempt enrag'd,<br> To force his faith by fatal proof engag'd.<br> Friends, shut your eyes, he cries; his shield he<br> takes,<br> And to the king expos'd Medusa's snakes.<br> The monarch felt the pow'r he wou'd not own,<br> And stood convict of folly in the stone.<br> Minerva's Thus far Minerva was content to rove<br> Interview with With Perseus, offspring of her father Jove:<br> the Muses Now, hid in clouds, Seriphus she forsook;<br> And to the Theban tow'rs her journey took.<br> Cythnos and Gyaros lying to the right,<br> She pass'd unheeded in her eager flight;<br> And chusing first on Helicon to rest,<br> The virgin Muses in these words address'd:<br> Me, the strange tidings of a new-found spring,<br> Ye learned sisters, to this mountain bring.<br> If all be true that Fame's wide rumours tell,<br> 'Twas Pegasus discover'd first your well;<br> Whose piercing hoof gave the soft earth a blow,<br> Which broke the surface where these waters flow.<br> I saw that horse by miracle obtain<br> Life, from the blood of dire Medusa slain;<br> And now, this equal prodigy to view,<br> From distant isles to fam'd Boeotia flew.<br> The Muse Urania said, Whatever cause<br> So great a Goddess to this mansion draws;<br> Our shades are happy with so bright a guest,<br> You, Queen, are welcome, and we Muses blest.<br> What Fame has publish'd of our spring is true,<br> Thanks for our spring to Pegasus are due.<br> Then, with becoming courtesy, she led<br> The curious stranger to their fountain's head;<br> Who long survey'd, with wonder, and delight,<br> Their sacred water, charming to the sight;<br> Their ancient groves, dark grottos, shady bow'rs,<br> And smiling plains adorn'd with various flow'rs.<br> O happy Muses! she with rapture cry'd,<br> Who, safe from cares, on this fair hill reside;<br> Blest in your seat, and free your selves to please<br> With joys of study, and with glorious ease.<br> The Fate of Then one replies: O Goddess, fit to guide<br> Pyreneus Our humble works, and in our choir preside,<br> Who sure wou'd wisely to these fields repair,<br> To taste our pleasures, and our labours share,<br> Were not your virtue, and superior mind<br> To higher arts, and nobler deeds inclin'd;<br> Justly you praise our works, and pleasing seat,<br> Which all might envy in this soft retreat,<br> Were we secur'd from dangers, and from harms;<br> But maids are frighten'd with the least alarms,<br> And none are safe in this licentious time;<br> Still fierce Pyreneus, and his daring crime,<br> With lasting horror strikes my feeble sight,<br> Nor is my mind recover'd from the fright.<br> With Thracian arms this bold usurper gain'd<br> Daulis, and Phocis, where he proudly reign'd:<br> It happen'd once, as thro' his lands we went,<br> For the bright temple of Parnassus bent,<br> He met us there, and in his artful mind<br> Hiding the faithless action he design'd,<br> Confer'd on us (whom, oh! too well he knew)<br> All honours that to Goddesses are due.<br> Stop, stop, ye Muses, 'tis your friend who calls,<br> The tyrant said; behold the rain that falls<br> On ev'ry side, and that ill-boding sky,<br> Whose lowring face portends more storms are nigh.<br> Pray make my house your own, and void of fear,<br> While this bad weather lasts, take shelter here.<br> Gods have made meaner places their resort,<br> And, for a cottage, left their shining court.<br> Oblig'd to stop, by the united force<br> Of pouring rains, and complaisant discourse,<br> His courteous invitation we obey,<br> And in his hall resolve a-while to stay.<br> Soon it clear'd up; the clouds began to fly,<br> The driving north refin'd the show'ry sky;<br> Then to pursue our journey we began:<br> But the false traitor to his portal ran,<br> Stopt our escape, the door securely barr'd,<br> And to our honour, violence prepar'd.<br> But we, transform'd to birds, avoid his snare,<br> On pinions rising in the yielding air.<br> But he, by lust and indignation fir'd,<br> Up to his highest tow'r with speed retir'd,<br> And cries, In vain you from my arms withdrew,<br> The way you go your lover will pursue.<br> Then, in a flying posture wildly plac'd,<br> And daring from that height himself to cast,<br> The wretch fell headlong, and the ground bestrew'd<br> With broken bones, and stains of guilty blood.<br> The Story of The Muse yet spoke; when they began to hear<br> the Pierides A noise of wings that flutter'd in the air;<br> And strait a voice, from some high-spreading bough,<br> Seem'd to salute the company below.<br> The Goddess wonder'd, and inquir'd from whence<br> That tongue was heard, that spoke so plainly sense<br> (It seem'd to her a human voice to be,<br> But prov'd a bird's; for in a shady tree<br> Nine magpies perch'd lament their alter'd state,<br> And, what they hear, are skilful to repeat).<br> The sister to the wondring Goddess said,<br> These, foil'd by us, by us were thus repaid.<br> These did Evippe of Paeonia bring<br> With nine hard labour-pangs to Pella's king.<br> The foolish virgins of their number proud,<br> And puff'd with praises of the senseless crowd,<br> Thro' all Achaia, and th' Aemonian plains<br> Defy'd us thus, to match their artless strains;<br> No more, ye Thespian girls, your notes repeat,<br> Nor with false harmony the vulgar cheat;<br> In voice or skill, if you with us will vye,<br> As many we, in voice or skill will try.<br> Surrender you to us, if we excell,<br> Fam'd Aganippe, and Medusa's well.<br> The conquest yours, your prize from us shall be<br> The Aemathian plains to snowy Paeone;<br> The nymphs our judges. To dispute the field,<br> We thought a shame; but greater shame to yield.<br> On seats of living stone the sisters sit,<br> And by the rivers swear to judge aright.<br> The Song of Then rises one of the presumptuous throng,<br> the Pierides Steps rudely forth, and first begins the song;<br> With vain address describes the giants' wars,<br> And to the Gods their fabled acts prefers.<br> She sings, from Earth's dark womb how Typhon rose,<br> And struck with mortal fear his heav'nly foes.<br> How the Gods fled to Egypt's slimy soil,<br> And hid their heads beneath the banks of Nile:<br> How Typhon, from the conquer'd skies, pursu'd<br> Their routed godheads to the sev'n-mouth'd flood;<br> Forc'd every God, his fury to escape,<br> Some beastly form to take, or earthly shape.<br> Jove (so she sung) was chang'd into a ram,<br> From whence the horns of Libyan Ammon came.<br> Bacchus a goat, Apollo was a crow,<br> Phaebe a cat; die wife of Jove a cow,<br> Whose hue was whiter than the falling snow.<br> Mercury to a nasty Ibis turn'd,<br> The change obscene, afraid of Typhon, mourn'd;<br> While Venus from a fish protection craves,<br> And once more plunges in her native waves.<br> She sung, and to her harp her voice apply'd;<br> Then us again to match her they defy'd.<br> But our poor song, perhaps, for you to hear,<br> Nor leisure serves, nor is it worth your ear.<br> That causeless doubt remove, O Muse rehearse,<br> The Goddess cry'd, your ever-grateful verse.<br> Beneath a chequer'd shade she takes her seat,<br> And bids the sister her whole song repeat.<br> The sister thus: Calliope we chose<br> For the performance. The sweet virgin rose,<br> With ivy crown'd she tunes her golden strings,<br> And to her harp this composition sings.<br> The Song of First Ceres taught the lab'ring hind to plow<br> the Muses The pregnant Earth, and quickning seed to sow.<br> She first for Man did wholsome food provide,<br> And with just laws the wicked world supply'd:<br> All good from her deriv'd, to her belong<br> The grateful tributes of the Muse's song.<br> Her more than worthy of our verse we deem,<br> Oh! were our verse more worthy of the theme.<br> Jove on the giant fair Trinacria hurl'd,<br> And with one bolt reveng'd his starry world.<br> Beneath her burning hills Tiphaeus lies,<br> And, strugling always, strives in vain to rise.<br> Down does Pelorus his right hand suppress<br> Tow'rd Latium, on the left Pachyne weighs.<br> His legs are under Lilybaeum spread,<br> And Aetna presses hard his horrid head.<br> On his broad back he there extended lies,<br> And vomits clouds of ashes to the skies.<br> Oft lab'ring with his load, at last he tires,<br> And spews out in revenge a flood of fires.<br> Mountains he struggles to o'erwhelm, and towns;<br> Earth's inmost bowels quake, and Nature groans.<br> His terrors reach the direful king of Hell;<br> He fears his throws will to the day reveal<br> The realms of night, and fright his trembling<br> ghosts.<br> This to prevent, he quits the Stygian coasts,<br> In his black carr, by sooty horses drawn,<br> Fair Sicily he seeks, and dreads the dawn.<br> Around her plains he casts his eager eyes,<br> And ev'ry mountain to the bottom tries.<br> But when, in all the careful search, he saw<br> No cause of fear, no ill-suspected flaw;<br> Secure from harm, and wand'ring on at will,<br> Venus beheld him from her flow'ry hill:<br> When strait the dame her little Cupid prest<br> With secret rapture to her snowy breast,<br> And in these words the flutt'ring boy addrest.<br> O thou, my arms, my glory, and my pow'r,<br> My son, whom men, and deathless Gods adore;<br> Bend thy sure bow, whose arrows never miss'd,<br> No longer let Hell's king thy sway resist;<br> Take him, while stragling from his dark abodes<br> He coasts the kingdoms of superior Gods.<br> If sovereign Jove, if Gods who rule the waves,<br> And Neptune, who rules them, have been thy slaves;<br> Shall Hell be free? The tyrant strike, my son,<br> Enlarge thy mother's empire, and thy own.<br> Let not our Heav'n be made the mock of Hell,<br> But Pluto to confess thy pow'r compel.<br> Our rule is slighted in our native skies,<br> See Pallas, see Diana too defies<br> Thy darts, which Ceres' daughter wou'd despise.<br> She too our empire treats with aukward scorn;<br> Such insolence no longer's to be born.<br> Revenge our slighted reign, and with thy dart<br> Transfix the virgin's to the uncle's heart.<br> She said; and from his quiver strait he drew<br> A dart that surely wou'd the business do.<br> She guides his hand, she makes her touch the test,<br> And of a thousand arrows chose the best:<br> No feather better pois'd, a sharper head<br> None had, and sooner none, and surer sped.<br> He bends his bow, he draws it to his ear,<br> Thro' Pluto's heart it drives, and fixes there.<br> The Rape of Near Enna's walls a spacious lake is spread,<br> Proserpine Fam'd for the sweetly-singing swans it bred;<br> Pergusa is its name: and never more<br> Were heard, or sweeter on Cayster's shore.<br> Woods crown the lake; and Phoebus ne'er invades<br> The tufted fences, or offends the shades:<br> Fresh fragrant breezes fan the verdant bow'rs,<br> And the moist ground smiles with enamel'd flow'rs<br> The chearful birds their airy carols sing,<br> And the whole year is one eternal spring.<br> Here, while young Proserpine, among the maids,<br> Diverts herself in these delicious shades;<br> While like a child with busy speed and care<br> She gathers lillies here, and vi'lets there;<br> While first to fill her little lap she strives,<br> Hell's grizly monarch at the shade arrives;<br> Sees her thus sporting on the flow'ry green,<br> And loves the blooming maid, as soon as seen.<br> His urgent flame impatient of delay,<br> Swift as his thought he seiz'd the beauteous prey,<br> And bore her in his sooty carr away.<br> The frighted Goddess to her mother cries,<br> But all in vain, for now far off she flies;<br> Far she behind her leaves her virgin train;<br> To them too cries, and cries to them in vain,<br> And, while with passion she repeats her call,<br> The vi'lets from her lap, and lillies fall:<br> She misses 'em, poor heart! and makes new moan;<br> Her lillies, ah! are lost, her vi'lets gone.<br> O'er hills, the ravisher, and vallies speeds,<br> By name encouraging his foamy steeds;<br> He rattles o'er their necks the rusty reins,<br> And ruffles with the stroke their shaggy manes.<br> O'er lakes he whirls his flying wheels, and comes<br> To the Palici breathing sulph'rous fumes.<br> And thence to where the Bacchiads of renown<br> Between unequal havens built their town;<br> Where Arethusa, round th' imprison'd sea,<br> Extends her crooked coast to Cyane;<br> The nymph who gave the neighb'ring lake a name,<br> Of all Sicilian nymphs the first in fame,<br> She from the waves advanc'd her beauteous head,<br> The Goddess knew, and thus to Pluto said:<br> Farther thou shalt not with the virgin run;<br> Ceres unwilling, canst thou be her son?<br> The maid shou'd be by sweet perswasion won.<br> Force suits not with the softness of the fair;<br> For, if great things with small I may compare,<br> Me Anapis once lov'd; a milder course<br> He took, and won me by his words, not force.<br> Then, stretching out her arms, she stopt his way;<br> But he, impatient of the shortest stay,<br> Throws to his dreadful steeds the slacken'd rein,<br> And strikes his iron sceptre thro' the main;<br> The depths profound thro' yielding waves he<br> cleaves,<br> And to Hell's center a free passage leaves;<br> Down sinks his chariot, and his realms of night<br> The God soon reaches with a rapid flight.<br> Cyane dissolves But still does Cyane the rape bemoan,<br> to a Fountain And with the Goddess' wrongs laments her own;<br> For the stoln maid, and for her injur'd spring,<br> Time to her trouble no relief can bring.<br> In her sad heart a heavy load she bears,<br> 'Till the dumb sorrow turns her all to tears.<br> Her mingling waters with that fountain pass,<br> Of which she late immortal Goddess was;<br> Her varied members to a fluid melt,<br> A pliant softness in her bones is felt;<br> Her wavy locks first drop away in dew,<br> And liquid next her slender fingers grew.<br> The body's change soon seizes its extreme,<br> Her legs dissolve, and feet flow off in stream.<br> Her arms, her back, her shoulders, and her side,<br> Her swelling breasts in little currents glide,<br> A silver liquor only now remains<br> Within the channel of her purple veins;<br> Nothing to fill love's grasp; her husband chaste<br> Bathes in that bosom he before embrac'd.<br> A Boy Thus, while thro' all the Earth, and all the<br> transform'd to main,<br> an Eft Her daughter mournful Ceres sought in vain;<br> Aurora, when with dewy looks she rose,<br> Nor burnish'd Vesper found her in repose,<br> At Aetna's flaming mouth two pitchy pines<br> To light her in her search at length she tines.<br> Restless, with these, thro' frosty night she goes,<br> Nor fears the cutting winds, nor heeds the snows;<br> And, when the morning-star the day renews,<br> From east to west her absent child pursues.<br> Thirsty at last by long fatigue she grows,<br> But meets no spring, no riv'let near her flows.<br> Then looking round, a lowly cottage spies,<br> Smoaking among the trees, and thither hies.<br> The Goddess knocking at the little door,<br> 'Twas open'd by a woman old and poor,<br> Who, when she begg'd for water, gave her ale<br> Brew'd long, but well preserv'd from being stale.<br> The Goddess drank; a chuffy lad was by,<br> Who saw the liquor with a grutching eye,<br> And grinning cries, She's greedy more than dry.<br> Ceres, offended at his foul grimace,<br> Flung what she had not drunk into his face,<br> The sprinklings speckle where they hit the skin,<br> And a long tail does from his body spin;<br> His arms are turn'd to legs, and lest his size<br> Shou'd make him mischievous, and he might rise<br> Against mankind, diminutives his frame,<br> Less than a lizzard, but in shape the same.<br> Amaz'd the dame the wondrous sight beheld,<br> And weeps, and fain wou'd touch her quondam child.<br> Yet her approach th' affrighted vermin shuns,<br> And fast into the greatest crevice runs.<br> A name they gave him, which the spots exprest,<br> That rose like stars, and varied all his breast.<br> What lands, what seas the Goddess wander'd o'er,<br> Were long to tell; for there remain'd no more.<br> Searching all round, her fruitless toil she mourns,<br> And with regret to Sicily returns.<br> At length, where Cyane now flows, she came,<br> Who cou'd have told her, were she still the same<br> As when she saw her daughter sink to Hell;<br> But what she knows she wants a tongue to tell.<br> Yet this plain signal manifestly gave,<br> The virgin's girdle floating on a wave,<br> As late she dropt it from her slender waste,<br> When with her uncle thro' the deep she past.<br> Ceres the token by her grief confest,<br> And tore her golden hair, and beat her breast.<br> She knows not on what land her curse shou'd fall,<br> But, as ingrate, alike upbraids them all,<br> Unworthy of her gifts; Trinacria most,<br> Where the last steps she found of what she lost.<br> The plough for this the vengeful Goddess broke,<br> And with one death the ox, and owner struck,<br> In vain the fallow fields the peasant tills,<br> The seed, corrupted ere 'tis sown, she kills.<br> The fruitful soil, that once such harvests bore,<br> Now mocks the farmer's care, and teems no more.<br> And the rich grain which fills the furrow'd glade,<br> Rots in the seed, or shrivels in the blade;<br> Or too much sun burns up, or too much rain<br> Drowns, or black blights destroy the blasted plain;<br> Or greedy birds the new-sown seed devour,<br> Or darnel, thistles, and a crop impure<br> Of knotted grass along the acres stand,<br> And spread their thriving roots thro' all the land.<br> Then from the waves soft Arethusa rears<br> Her head, and back she flings her dropping hairs.<br> O mother of the maid, whom thou so far<br> Hast sought, of whom thou canst no tidings hear;<br> O thou, she cry'd, who art to life a friend,<br> Cease here thy search, and let thy labour end.<br> Thy faithful Sicily's a guiltless clime,<br> And shou'd not suffer for another's crime;<br> She neither knew, nor cou'd prevent the deed;<br> Nor think that for my country thus I plead;<br> My country's Pisa, I'm an alien here,<br> Yet these abodes to Elis I prefer,<br> No clime to me so sweet, no place so dear.<br> These springs I Arethusa now possess,<br> And this my seat, o gracious Goddess, bless:<br> This island why I love, and why I crost<br> Such spacious seas to reach Ortygia's coast,<br> To you I shall impart, when, void of care,<br> Your heart's at ease, and you're more fit to hear;<br> When on your brow no pressing sorrow sits,<br> For gay content alone such tales admits.<br> When thro' Earth's caverns I a-while have roul'd<br> My waves, I rise, and here again behold<br> The long-lost stars; and, as I late did glide<br> Near Styx, Proserpina there I espy'd.<br> Fear still with grief might in her face be seen;<br> She still her rape laments; yet, made a queen,<br> Beneath those gloomy shades her sceptre sways,<br> And ev'n th' infernal king her will obeys.<br> This heard, the Goddess like a statue stood,<br> Stupid with grief; and in that musing mood<br> Continu'd long; new cares a-while supprest<br> The reigning of her immortal breast.<br> At last to Jove her daughter's sire she flies,<br> And with her chariot cuts the chrystal skies;<br> She comes in clouds, and with dishevel'd hair,<br> Standing before his throne, prefers her pray'r.<br> King of the Gods, defend my blood and thine,<br> And use it not the worse for being mine.<br> If I no more am gracious in thy sight,<br> Be just, o Jove, and do thy daughter right.<br> In vain I sought her the wide world around,<br> And, when I most despair'd to find her, found.<br> But how can I the fatal finding boast,<br> By which I know she is for ever lost?<br> Without her father's aid, what other Pow'r<br> Can to my arms the ravish'd maid restore?<br> Let him restore her, I'll the crime forgive;<br> My child, tho' ravish'd, I'd with joy receive.<br> Pity, your daughter with a thief shou'd wed,<br> Tho' mine, you think, deserves no better bed.<br> Jove thus replies: It equally belongs<br> To both, to guard our common pledge from wrongs.<br> But if to things we proper names apply,<br> This hardly can be call'd an injury.<br> The theft is love; nor need we blush to own<br> The thief, if I can judge, to be our son.<br> Had you of his desert no other proof,<br> To be Jove's brother is methinks enough.<br> Nor was my throne by worth superior got,<br> Heav'n fell to me, as Hell to him, by lot:<br> If you are still resolv'd her loss to mourn,<br> And nothing less will serve than her return;<br> Upon these terms she may again be yours<br> (Th' irrevocable terms of fate, not ours),<br> Of Stygian food if she did never taste,<br> Hell's bounds may then, and only then, be past.<br> The The Goddess now, resolving to succeed,<br> Transformation Down to the gloomy shades descends with speed;<br> of Ascalaphus But adverse fate had otherwise decreed.<br> into an Owl For, long before, her giddy thoughtless child<br> Had broke her fast, and all her projects spoil'd.<br> As in the garden's shady walk she stray'd,<br> A fair pomegranate charm'd the simple maid,<br> Hung in her way, and tempting her to taste,<br> She pluck'd the fruit, and took a short repast.<br> Seven times, a seed at once, she eat the food;<br> The fact Ascalaphus had only view'd;<br> Whom Acheron begot in Stygian shades<br> On Orphne, fam'd among Avernal maids;<br> He saw what past, and by discov'ring all,<br> Detain'd the ravish'd nymph in cruel thrall.<br> But now a queen, she with resentment heard,<br> And chang'd the vile informer to a bird.<br> In Phlegeton's black stream her hand she dips,<br> Sprinkles his head, and wets his babling lips.<br> Soon on his face, bedropt with magick dew,<br> A change appear'd, and gawdy feathers grew.<br> A crooked beak the place of nose supplies,<br> Rounder his head, and larger are his eyes.<br> His arms and body waste, but are supply'd<br> With yellow pinions flagging on each side.<br> His nails grow crooked, and are turn'd to claws,<br> And lazily along his heavy wings he draws.<br> Ill-omen'd in his form, the unlucky fowl,<br> Abhorr'd by men, and call'd a scrieching owl.<br> The Daughters Justly this punishment was due to him,<br> of Achelous And less had been too little for his crime;<br> transform'd to But, o ye nymphs that from the flood descend,<br> Sirens What fault of yours the Gods cou'd so offend,<br> With wings and claws your beauteous forms to spoil,<br> Yet save your maiden face, and winning smile?<br> Were you not with her in Pergusa's bow'rs,<br> When Proserpine went forth to gather flow'rs?<br> Since Pluto in his carr the Goddess caught,<br> Have you not for her in each climate sought?<br> And when on land you long had search'd in vain,<br> You wish'd for wings to cross the pathless main;<br> That Earth and Sea might witness to your care:<br> The Gods were easy, and return'd your pray'r;<br> With golden wing o'er foamy waves you fled,<br> And to the sun your plumy glories spread.<br> But, lest the soft enchantment of your songs,<br> And the sweet musick of your flat'ring tongues<br> Shou'd quite be lost (as courteous fates ordain),<br> Your voice and virgin beauty still remain.<br> Jove some amends for Ceres lost to make,<br> Yet willing Pluto shou'd the joy partake,<br> Gives 'em of Proserpine an equal share,<br> Who, claim'd by both, with both divides the year.<br> The Goddess now in either empire sways,<br> Six moons in Hell, and six with Ceres stays.<br> Her peevish temper's chang'd; that sullen mind,<br> Which made ev'n Hell uneasy, now is kind,<br> Her voice refines, her mein more sweet appears,<br> Her forehead free from frowns, her eyes from tears,<br> As when, with golden light, the conqu'ring day<br> Thro' dusky exhalations clears a way.<br> Ceres her daughter's rape no longer mourn'd,<br> But back to Arethusa's spring return'd;<br> And sitting on the margin, bid her tell<br> From whence she came, and why a sacred well.<br> The Story of Still were the purling waters, and the maid<br> Arethusa From the smooth surface rais'd her beauteous head,<br> Wipes off the drops that from her tresses ran,<br> And thus to tell Alpheus' loves began.<br> In Elis first I breath'd the living air,<br> The chase was all my pleasure, all my care.<br> None lov'd like me the forest to explore,<br> To pitch the toils, and drive the bristled boar.<br> Of fair, tho' masculine, I had the name,<br> But gladly wou'd to that have quitted claim:<br> It less my pride than indignation rais'd,<br> To hear the beauty I neglected, prais'd;<br> Such compliments I loath'd, such charms as these<br> I scorn'd, and thought it infamy to please.<br> Once, I remember, in the summer's heat,<br> Tir'd with the chase, I sought a cool retreat;<br> And, walking on, a silent current found,<br> Which gently glided o'er the grav'ly ground.<br> The chrystal water was so smooth, so clear,<br> My eye distinguish'd ev'ry pebble there.<br> So soft its motion, that I scarce perceiv'd<br> The running stream, or what I saw believ'd.<br> The hoary willow, and the poplar, made<br> Along the shelving bank a grateful shade.<br> In the cool rivulet my feet I dipt,<br> Then waded to the knee, and then I stript;<br> My robe I careless on an osier threw,<br> That near the place commodiously grew;<br> Nor long upon the border naked stood,<br> But plung'd with speed into the silver flood.<br> My arms a thousand ways I mov'd, and try'd<br> To quicken, if I cou'd, the lazy tide;<br> Where, while I play'd my swimming gambols o'er,<br> I heard a murm'ring voice, and frighted sprung to<br> shore.<br> Oh! whither, Arethusa, dost thou fly?<br> From the brook's bottom did Alpheus cry;<br> Again, I heard him, in a hollow tone,<br> Oh! whither, Arethusa, dost thou run?<br> Naked I flew, nor cou'd I stay to hide<br> My limbs, my robe was on the other side;<br> Alpheus follow'd fast, th' inflaming sight<br> Quicken'd his speed, and made his labour light;<br> He sees me ready for his eager arms,<br> And with a greedy glance devours my charms.<br> As trembling doves from pressing danger fly,<br> When the fierce hawk comes sousing from the sky;<br> And, as fierce hawks the trembling doves pursue,<br> From him I fled, and after me he flew.<br> First by Orchomenus I took my flight,<br> And soon had Psophis and Cyllene in sight;<br> Behind me then high Maenalus I lost,<br> And craggy Erimanthus scal'd with frost;<br> Elis was next; thus far the ground I trod<br> With nimble feet, before the distanc'd God.<br> But here I lagg'd, unable to sustain<br> The labour longer, and my flight maintain;<br> While he more strong, more patient of the toil,<br> And fir'd with hopes of beauty's speedy spoil,<br> Gain'd my lost ground, and by redoubled pace,<br> Now left between us but a narrow space.<br> Unweary'd I 'till now o'er hills, and plains,<br> O'er rocks, and rivers ran, and felt no pains:<br> The sun behind me, and the God I kept,<br> But, when I fastest shou'd have run, I stept.<br> Before my feet his shadow now appear'd;<br> As what I saw, or rather what I fear'd.<br> Yet there I could not be deceiv'd by fear,<br> Who felt his breath pant on my braided hair,<br> And heard his sounding tread, and knew him to be<br> near.<br> Tir'd, and despairing, O celestial maid,<br> I'm caught, I cry'd, without thy heav'nly aid.<br> Help me, Diana, help a nymph forlorn,<br> Devoted to the woods, who long has worn<br> Thy livery, and long thy quiver born.<br> The Goddess heard; my pious pray'r prevail'd;<br> In muffling clouds my virgin head was veil'd,<br> The am'rous God, deluded of his hopes,<br> Searches the gloom, and thro' the darkness gropes;<br> Twice, where Diana did her servant hide<br> He came, and twice, O Arethusa! cry'd.<br> How shaken was my soul, how sunk my heart!<br> The terror seiz'd on ev'ry trembling part.<br> Thus when the wolf about the mountain prowls<br> For prey, the lambkin hears his horrid howls:<br> The tim'rous hare, the pack approaching nigh,<br> Thus hearkens to the hounds, and trembles at the<br> cry;<br> Nor dares she stir, for fear her scented breath<br> Direct the dogs, and guide the threaten'd death.<br> Alpheus in the cloud no traces found<br> To mark my way, yet stays to guard the ground,<br> The God so near, a chilly sweat possest<br> My fainting limbs, at ev'ry pore exprest;<br> My</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ovid">Ovid</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=475835" data-title="Metamorphoses: Book The Fifth de Ovid" data-description="WHILE Perseus entertain'd with this report His father Cepheus, and the list'ning court, Within the palace walls was heard aloud The roaring noise of some unruly crowd; Not like the songs which chearful friends prepare For nuptial days, b..."></div> </div> </div>

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