<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=475838" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Theseus requests the God to tell his woes,<br> Whence his maim'd brow, and whence his groans arose<br> Whence thus the Calydonian stream reply'd,<br> With twining reeds his careless tresses ty'd:<br> Ungrateful is the tale; for who can bear,<br> When conquer'd, to rehearse the shameful war?<br> Yet I'll the melancholy story trace;<br> So great a conqu'ror softens the disgrace:<br> Nor was it still so mean the prize to yield,<br> As great, and glorious to dispute the field.<br> The Story of Perhaps you've heard of Deianira's name,<br> Achelous and For all the country spoke her beauty's fame.<br> Hercules Long was the nymph by num'rous suitors woo'd,<br> Each with address his envy'd hopes pursu'd:<br> I joyn'd the loving band; to gain the fair,<br> Reveal'd my passion to her father's ear.<br> Their vain pretensions all the rest resign,<br> Alcides only strove to equal mine;<br> He boasts his birth from Jove, recounts his spoils,<br> His step-dame's hate subdu'd, and finish'd toils.<br> Can mortals then (said I), with Gods compare?<br> Behold a God; mine is the watry care:<br> Through your wide realms I take my mazy way,<br> Branch into streams, and o'er the region stray:<br> No foreign guest your daughter's charms adores,<br> But one who rises in your native shores.<br> Let not his punishment your pity move;<br> Is Juno's hate an argument for love?<br> Though you your life from fair Alcmena drew,<br> Jove's a feign'd father, or by fraud a true.<br> Chuse then; confess thy mother's honour lost,<br> Or thy descent from Jove no longer boast.<br> While thus I spoke, he look'd with stern disdain,<br> Nor could the sallies of his wrath restrain,<br> Which thus break forth. This arm decides our right;<br> Vanquish in words, be mine the prize in fight.<br> Bold he rush'd on. My honour to maintain,<br> I fling my verdant garments on the plain,<br> My arms stretch forth, my pliant limbs prepare,<br> And with bent hands expect the furious war.<br> O'er my sleek skin now gather'd dust he throws,<br> And yellow sand his mighty muscles strows.<br> Oft he my neck, and nimble legs assails,<br> He seems to grasp me, but as often fails.<br> Each part he now invades with eager hand;<br> Safe in my bulk, immoveable I stand.<br> So when loud storms break high, and foam and roar<br> Against some mole that stretches from the shore;<br> The firm foundation lasting tempests braves,<br> Defies the warring winds, and driving waves.<br> A-while we breathe, then forward rush amain,<br> Renew the combat, and our ground maintain;<br> Foot strove with foot, I prone extend my breast,<br> Hands war with hands, and forehead forehead prest.<br> Thus have I seen two furious bulls engage,<br> Inflam'd with equal love, and equal rage;<br> Each claims the fairest heifer of the grove,<br> And conquest only can decide their love:<br> The trembling herds survey the fight from far,<br> 'Till victory decides th' important war.<br> Three times in vain he strove my joints to wrest,<br> To force my hold, and throw me from his breast;<br> The fourth he broke my gripe, that clasp'd him<br> round,<br> Then with new force he stretch'd me on the ground;<br> Close to my back the mighty burthen clung,<br> As if a mountain o'er my limbs were flung.<br> Believe my tale; nor do I, boastful, aim<br> By feign'd narration to extol my fame.<br> No sooner from his grasp I freedom get,<br> Unlock my arms, that flow'd with trickling sweat,<br> But quick he seized me, and renew'd the strife,<br> As my exhausted bosom pants for life:<br> My neck he gripes, my knee to earth he strains;<br> I fall, and bite the sand with shame, and pains.<br> O'er-match'd in strength, to wiles, and arts I<br> take,<br> And slip his hold, in form of speckled snake;<br> Who, when I wreath'd in spires my body round,<br> Or show'd my forky tongue with hissing sound,<br> Smiles at my threats: Such foes my cradle knew,<br> He cries, dire snakes my infant hand o'erthrew;<br> A dragon's form might other conquests gain,<br> To war with me you take that shape in vain.<br> Art thou proportion'd to the Hydra's length,<br> Who by his wounds receiv'd augmented strength?<br> He rais'd a hundred hissing heads in air;<br> When one I lopt, up-sprung a dreadful pair.<br> By his wounds fertile, and with slaughter strong,<br> Singly I quell'd him, and stretch'd dead along.<br> What canst thou do, a form precarious, prone,<br> To rouse my rage with terrors not thy own?<br> He said; and round my neck his hands he cast,<br> And with his straining fingers wrung me fast;<br> My throat he tortur'd, close as pincers clasp,<br> In vain I strove to loose the forceful grasp.<br> Thus vanquish'd too, a third form still remains,<br> Chang'd to a bull, my lowing fills the plains.<br> Strait on the left his nervous arms were thrown<br> Upon my brindled neck, and tugg'd it down;<br> Then deep he struck my horn into the sand,<br> And fell'd my bulk among the dusty land.<br> Nor yet his fury cool'd; 'twixt rage and scorn,<br> From my maim'd front he tore the stubborn horn:<br> This, heap'd with flow'rs, and fruits, the Naiads<br> bear,<br> Sacred to plenty, and the bounteous year.<br> He spoke; when lo, a beauteous nymph appears,<br> Girt like Diana's train, with flowing hairs;<br> The horn she brings in which all Autumn's stor'd,<br> And ruddy apples for the second board.<br> Now morn begins to dawn, the sun's bright fire<br> Gilds the high mountains, and the youths retire;<br> Nor stay'd they, 'till the troubled stream<br> subsides,<br> And in its bounds with peaceful current glides.<br> But Achelous in his oozy bed<br> Deep hides his brow deform'd, and rustick head:<br> No real wound the victor's triumph show'd,<br> But his lost honours griev'd the watry God;<br> Yet ev'n that loss the willow's leaves o'erspread,<br> And verdant reeds, in garlands, bind his head.<br> The Death of This virgin too, thy love, O Nessus, found,<br> Nessus the To her alone you owe the fatal wound.<br> Centaur As the strong son of Jove his bride conveys,<br> Where his paternal lands their bulwarks raise;<br> Where from her slopy urn, Evenus pours<br> Her rapid current, swell'd by wintry show'rs,<br> He came. The frequent eddies whirl'd the tide,<br> And the deep rolling waves all pass deny'd.<br> As for himself, he stood unmov'd by fears,<br> For now his bridal charge employ'd his cares,<br> The strong-limb'd Nessus thus officious cry'd<br> (For he the shallows of the stream had try'd),<br> Swim thou, Alcides, all thy strength prepare,<br> On yonder bank I'll lodge thy nuptial care.<br> Th' Aonian chief to Nessus trusts his wife,<br> All pale, and trembling for her heroe's life:<br> Cloath'd as he stood in the fierce lion's hide,<br> The laden quiver o'er his shoulder ty'd<br> (For cross the stream his bow and club were cast),<br> Swift he plung'd in: These billows shall be past,<br> He said, nor sought where smoother waters glide,<br> But stem'd the rapid dangers of the tide.<br> The bank he reach'd; again the bow he bears;<br> When, hark! his bride's known voice alarms his<br> ears.<br> Nessus, to thee I call (aloud he cries)<br> Vain is thy trust in flight, be timely wise:<br> Thou monster double-shap'd, my right set free;<br> If thou no rev'rence owe my fame and me,<br> Yet kindred should thy lawless lust deny;<br> Think not, perfidious wretch, from me to fly,<br> Tho' wing'd with horse's speed; wounds shall<br> pursue;<br> Swift as his words the fatal arrow flew:<br> The centaur's back admits the feather'd wood,<br> And thro' his breast the barbed weapon stood;<br> Which when, in anguish, thro' the flesh he tore,<br> From both the wounds gush'd forth the spumy gore<br> Mix'd with Lernaean venom; this he took,<br> Nor dire revenge his dying breast forsook.<br> His garment, in the reeking purple dy'd,<br> To rouse love's passion, he presents the bride.<br> The Death of Now a long interval of time succeeds,<br> Hercules When the great son of Jove's immortal deeds,<br> And step-dame's hate, had fill'd Earth's utmost<br> round;<br> He from Oechalia, with new lawrels crown'd,<br> In triumph was return'd. He rites prepares,<br> And to the King of Gods directs his pray'rs;<br> When Fame (who falshood cloaths in truth's<br> disguise,<br> And swells her little bulk with growing lies)<br> Thy tender ear, o Deianira, mov'd,<br> That Hercules the fair Iole lov'd.<br> Her love believes the tale; the truth she fears<br> Of his new passion, and gives way to tears.<br> The flowing tears diffus'd her wretched grief,<br> Why seek I thus, from streaming eyes, relief?<br> She cries; indulge not thus these fruitless cares,<br> The harlot will but triumph in thy tears:<br> Let something be resolv'd, while yet there's time;<br> My bed not conscious of a rival's crime.<br> In silence shall I mourn, or loud complain?<br> Shall I seek Calydon, or here remain?<br> What tho', ally'd to Meleager's fame,<br> I boast the honours of a sister's name?<br> My wrongs, perhaps, now urge me to pursue<br> Some desp'rate deed, by which the world shall view<br> How far revenge, and woman's rage can rise,<br> When weltring in her blood the harlot dies.<br> Thus various passions rul'd by turns her breast,<br> She now resolves to send the fatal vest,<br> Dy'd with Lernaean gore, whose pow'r might move<br> His soul anew, and rouse declining love.<br> Nor knew she what her sudden rage bestows,<br> When she to Lychas trusts her future woes;<br> With soft endearments she the boy commands,<br> To bear the garment to her husband's hands.<br> Th' unwitting hero takes the gift in haste,<br> And o'er his shoulders Lerna's poison cast,<br> As first the fire with frankincense he strows,<br> And utters to the Gods his holy vows;<br> And on the marble altar's polish'd frame<br> Pours forth the grapy stream; the rising flame<br> Sudden dissolves the subtle pois'nous juice,<br> Which taints his blood, and all his nerves bedews.<br> With wonted fortitude he bore the smart,<br> And not a groan confess'd his burning heart.<br> At length his patience was subdu'd by pain,<br> He rends the sacred altar from the plain;<br> Oete's wide forests echo with his cries:<br> Now to rip off the deathful robe he tries.<br> Where-e'er he plucks the vest, the skin he tears,<br> The mangled muscles, and huge bones he bares<br> (A ghastful sight!), or raging with his pain,<br> To rend the sticking plague he tugs in vain.<br> As the red iron hisses in the flood,<br> So boils the venom in his curdling blood.<br> Now with the greedy flame his entrails glow,<br> And livid sweats down all his body flow;<br> The cracking nerves burnt up are burst in twain,<br> The lurking venom melts his swimming brain.<br> Then, lifting both his hands aloft, he cries,<br> Glut thy revenge, dread Empress of the skies;<br> Sate with my death the rancour of thy heart,<br> Look down with pleasure, and enjoy my smart.<br> Or, if e'er pity mov'd a hostile breast<br> (For here I stand thy enemy profest),<br> Take hence this hateful life, with tortures torn,<br> Inur'd to trouble, and to labours born.<br> Death is the gift most welcome to my woe,<br> And such a gift a stepdame may bestow.<br> Was it for this Busiris was subdu'd,<br> Whose barb'rous temples reek'd with strangers'<br> blood?<br> Press'd in these arms his fate Antaeus found,<br> Nor gain'd recruited vigour from the ground.<br> Did I not triple-form'd Geryon fell?<br> Or did I fear the triple dog of Hell?<br> Did not these hands the bull's arm'd forehead hold?<br> Are not our mighty toils in Elis told?<br> Do not Stymphalian lakes proclaim thy fame?<br> And fair Parthenian woods resound thy name?<br> Who seiz'd the golden belt of Thermodon?<br> And who the dragon-guarded apples won?<br> Could the fierce centaur's strength my force<br> withstand,<br> Or the fell boar that spoil'd th' Arcadian land?<br> Did not these arms the Hydra's rage subdue,<br> Who from his wounds to double fury grew?<br> What if the Thracian horses, fat with gore,<br> Who human bodies in their mangers tore,<br> I saw, and with their barb'rous lord o'erthrew?<br> What if these hands Nemaea's lion slew?<br> Did not this neck the heav'nly globe sustain?<br> The female partner of the Thunderer's reign<br> Fatigu'd, at length suspends her harsh commands,<br> Yet no fatigue hath slack'd these valiant hands.<br> But now new plagues pursue me, neither force,<br> Nor arms, nor darts can stop their raging course.<br> Devouring flame thro' my rack'd entrails strays,<br> And on my lungs and shrivel'd muscles preys.<br> Yet still Eurystheus breathes the vital air.<br> What mortal now shall seek the Gods with pray'r?<br> The The hero said; and with the torture stung,<br> Transformation Furious o'er Oete's lofty hills he sprung.<br> of Lychas Stuck with the shaft, thus scours the tyger round,<br> into a Rock And seeks the flying author of his wound.<br> Now might you see him trembling, now he vents<br> His anguish'd soul in groans, and loud laments;<br> He strives to tear the clinging vest in vain,<br> And with up-rooted forests strows the plain;<br> Now kindling into rage, his hands he rears,<br> And to his kindred Gods directs his pray'rs.<br> When Lychas, lo, he spies; who trembling flew,<br> And in a hollow rock conceal'd from view,<br> Had shun'd his wrath. Now grief renew'd his pain,<br> His madness chaf'd, and thus he raves again.<br> Lychas, to thee alone my fate I owe,<br> Who bore the gift, the cause of all my woe.<br> The youth all pale, with shiv'ring fear was stung,<br> And vain excuses falter'd on his tongue.<br> Alcides snatch'd him, as with suppliant face<br> He strove to clasp his knees, and beg for grace:<br> He toss'd him o'er his head with airy course,<br> And hurl'd with more than with an engine's force;<br> Far o'er th' Eubaean main aloof he flies,<br> And hardens by degrees amid the skies.<br> So showry drops, when chilly tempests blow,<br> Thicken at first, then whiten into snow,<br> In balls congeal'd the rolling fleeces bound,<br> In solid hail result upon the ground.<br> Thus, whirl'd with nervous force thro' distant air,<br> The purple tide forsook his veins, with fear;<br> All moisture left his limbs. Transform'd to stone,<br> In ancient days the craggy flint was known;<br> Still in the Eubaean waves his front he rears,<br> Still the small rock in human form appears,<br> And still the name of hapless Lychas bears.<br> The Apotheosis But now the hero of immortal birth<br> of Hercules Fells Oete's forests on the groaning Earth;<br> A pile he builds; to Philoctetes' care<br> He leaves his deathful instruments of war;<br> To him commits those arrows, which again<br> Shall see the bulwarks of the Trojan reign.<br> The son of Paean lights the lofty pyre,<br> High round the structure climbs the greedy fire;<br> Plac'd on the top, thy nervous shoulders spread<br> With the Nemaean spoils, thy careless head<br> Rais'd on a knotty club, with look divine,<br> Here thou, dread hero, of celestial line,<br> Wert stretch'd at ease; as when a chearful guest,<br> Wine crown'd thy bowls, and flow'rs thy temples<br> drest.<br> Now on all sides the potent flames aspire,<br> And crackle round those limbs that mock the fire<br> A sudden terror seiz'd th' immortal host,<br> Who thought the world's profess'd defender lost.<br> This when the Thund'rer saw, with smiles he cries,<br> 'Tis from your fears, ye Gods, my pleasures rise;<br> Joy swells my breast, that my all-ruling hand<br> O'er such a grateful people boasts command,<br> That you my suff'ring progeny would aid;<br> Tho' to his deeds this just respect be paid,<br> Me you've oblig'd. Be all your fears forborn,<br> Th' Oetean fires do thou, great hero, scorn.<br> Who vanquish'd all things, shall subdue the flame.<br> That part alone of gross maternal frame<br> Fire shall devour; while what from me he drew<br> Shall live immortal, and its force subdue;<br> That, when he's dead, I'll raise to realms above;<br> May all the Pow'rs the righteous act approve.<br> If any God dissent, and judge too great<br> The sacred honours of the heav'nly seat,<br> Ev'n he shall own his deeds deserve the sky,<br> Ev'n he reluctant, shall at length comply.<br> Th' assembled Pow'rs assent. No frown 'till now<br> Had mark'd with passion vengeful Juno's brow,<br> Mean-while whate'er was in the pow'r of flame<br> Was all consum'd; his body's nervous frame<br> No more was known, of human form bereft,<br> Th' eternal part of Jove alone was left.<br> As an old serpent casts his scaly vest,<br> Wreathes in the sun, in youthful glory drest;<br> So when Alcides mortal mold resign'd,<br> His better part enlarg'd, and grew refin'd;<br> August his visage shone; almighty Jove<br> In his swift carr his honour'd offspring drove;<br> High o'er the hollow clouds the coursers fly,<br> And lodge the hero in the starry sky.<br> The Atlas perceiv'd the load of Heav'n's new guest.<br> Transformation Revenge still rancour'd in Eurystheus' breast<br> of Galanthis Against Alcides' race. Alcmena goes<br> To Iole, to vent maternal woes;<br> Here she pours forth her grief, recounts the spoils<br> Her son had bravely reap'd in glorious toils.<br> This Iole, by Hercules' commands,<br> Hyllus had lov'd, and joyn'd in nuptial bands.<br> Her swelling womb the teeming birth confess'd,<br> To whom Alcmena thus her speech address'd.<br> O, may the Gods protect thee, in that hour,<br> When, 'midst thy throws, thou call'st th' Ilithyan<br> Pow'r!<br> May no delays prolong thy racking pain,<br> As when I su'd for Juno's aid in vain.<br> When now Alcides' mighty birth drew nigh,<br> And the tenth sign roll'd forward on the sky,<br> My womb extends with such a mighty load,<br> As Jove the parent of the burthen show'd.<br> I could no more th' encreasing smart sustain,<br> My horror kindles to recount the pain;<br> Cold chills my limbs while I the tale pursue,<br> And now methinks I feel my pangs anew.<br> Seven days and nights amidst incessant throws,<br> Fatigu'd with ills I lay, nor knew repose;<br> When lifting high my hands, in shrieks I pray'd,<br> Implor'd the Gods, and call'd Lucina's aid.<br> She came, but prejudic'd, to give my Fate<br> A sacrifice to vengeful Juno's hate.<br> She hears the groaning anguish of my fits,<br> And on the altar at my door she sits.<br> O'er her left knee her crossing leg she cast,<br> Then knits her fingers close, and wrings them fast:<br> This stay'd the birth; in mutt'ring verse she<br> pray'd,<br> The mutt'ring verse th' unfinish'd birth delay'd.<br> Now with fierce struggles, raging with my pain,<br> At Jove's ingratitude I rave in vain.<br> How did I wish for death! such groans I sent,<br> As might have made the flinty heart relent.<br> Now the Cadmeian matrons round me press,<br> Offer their vows, and seek to bring redress;<br> Among the Theban dames Galanthis stands,<br> Strong limb'd, red hair'd, and just to my commands:<br> She first perceiv'd that all these racking woes<br> From the persisting hate of Juno rose.<br> As here and there she pass'd, by chance she sees<br> The seated Goddess; on her close-press'd knees<br> Her fast-knit hands she leans; with chearful voice<br> Galanthis cries, Whoe'er thou art, rejoyce,<br> Congratulate the dame, she lies at rest,<br> At length the Gods Alcmena's womb have blest.<br> Swift from her seat the startled Goddess springs,<br> No more conceal'd, her hands abroad she flings;<br> The charm unloos'd, the birth my pangs reliev'd;<br> Galanthis' laughter vex'd the Pow'r deceiv'd.<br> Fame says, the Goddess dragg'd the laughing maid<br> Fast by the hair; in vain her force essay'd<br> Her grov'ling body from the ground to rear;<br> Chang'd to fore-feet her shrinking arms appear:<br> Her hairy back her former hue retains,<br> The form alone is lost; her strength remains;<br> Who, since the lye did from her mouth proceed,<br> Shall from her pregnant mouth bring forth her<br> breed;<br> Nor shall she quit her long-frequented home,<br> But haunt those houses where she lov'd to roam.<br> The Fable of She said, and for her lost Galanthis sighs;<br> Dryope When the fair consort of her son replies;<br> Since you a servant's ravish'd form bemoan,<br> And kindly sigh for sorrows not your own,<br> Let me (if tears and grief permit) relate<br> A nearer woe, a sister's stranger fate.<br> No nymph of all Oechaloa could compare<br> For beauteous form with Dryope the fair;<br> Her tender mother's only hope and pride<br> (My self the offspring of a second bride),<br> This nymph, compress'd by him who rules the day,<br> Whom Delphi, and the Delian isle obey,<br> Andraemon lov'd; and blest in all those charms<br> That pleas'd a God, succeeded to her arms.<br> A lake there was, with shelving banks around,<br> Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles crown'd.<br> Those shades, unknowing of the fates, she sought;<br> And to the Naiads flow'ry garlands brought;<br> Her smiling babe (a pleasing charge) she prest<br> Between her arms, and nourish'd at her breast.<br> Not distant far a watry lotos grows;<br> The Spring was new, and all the verdant boughs,<br> Acorn'd with blossoms, promis'd fruits that vye<br> In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye.<br> Of these she cropt, to please her infant son,<br> And I my self the same rash act had done,<br> But, lo! I saw (as near her side I stood)<br> The violated blossoms drop with blood;<br> Upon the tree I cast a frightful look,<br> The trembling tree with sudden horror shook.<br> Lotis the nymph (if rural tales be true)<br> As from Priapus' lawless lust she flew,<br> Forsook her form; and fixing here became<br> A flow'ry plant, which still preserves her name.<br> This change unknown, astonish'd at the sight,<br> My trembling sister strove to urge her flight;<br> Yet first the pardon of the Nymphs implor'd,<br> And those offended Sylvan pow'rs ador'd:<br> But when she backward would have fled, she found<br> Her stiff'ning feet were rooted to the ground:<br> In vain to free her fasten'd feet she strove,<br> And as she struggles only moves above;<br> She feels th' incroaching bark around her grow,<br> By slow degrees, and cover all below:<br> Surpriz'd at this, her trembling hand she heaves<br> To rend her hair; her hand is fill'd with leaves;<br> Where late was hair, the shooting leaves are seen<br> To rise, and shade her with a sudden green.<br> The Child Amphisus, to her bosom prest,<br> Perceiv'd a colder and a harder breast,<br> And found the springs, that n'er 'till then deny'd<br> Their milky moisture, on a sudden dry'd.<br> I saw, unhappy, what I now relate,<br> And stood the helpless witness of thy fate;<br> Embrac'd thy boughs, the rising bark delay'd,<br> There wish'd to grow, and mingle shade with shade.<br> Behold Andraemon, and th' unhappy sire<br> Appear, and for their Dryope enquire;<br> A springing tree for Dryope they find,<br> And print warm kisses on the panting rind;<br> Prostrate, with tears their kindred plant bedew,<br> And close embrac'd, as to the roots they grew;<br> The face was all that now remain'd of thee;<br> No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree:<br> Thy branches hung with humid pearls appear,<br> From ev'ry leaf distills a trickling tear;<br> And strait a voice, while yet a voice remains,<br> Thus thro' the trembling boughs in sighs complains.<br> If to the wretched any faith be giv'n,<br> I swear by all th' unpitying Pow'rs of Heav'n,<br> No wilful crime this heavy vengeance bred,<br> In mutual innocence our lives we led.<br> If this be false, let these new greens decay,<br> Let sounding axes lop my limbs away,<br> And crackling flames on all my honours prey.<br> Now from my branching arms this infant bear,<br> Let some kind nurse supply a mother's care;<br> Yet to his mother let him oft be led,<br> Sport in her shades, and in her shades be fed;<br> Teach him, when first his infant voice shall frame<br> Imperfect words, and lisp his mother's name,<br> To hail this tree, and say with weeping eyes,<br> Within this plant my hapless parent lies;<br> And when in youth he seeks the shady woods,<br> Oh, let him fly the chrystal lakes and floods,<br> Nor touch the fatal flow'rs; but warn'd by me,<br> Believe a Goddess shrin'd in ev'ry tree.<br> My sire, my sister, and my spouse farewel!<br> If in your breasts or love, or pity, dwell,<br> Protect your plant, nor let my branches feel<br> The browzing cattle, or the piercing steel.<br> Farewel! and since I cannot bend to join<br> My lips to yours, advance at least to mine.<br> My son, thy mother's parting kiss receive,<br> While yet thy mother has a kiss to give.<br> I can no more; the creeping rind invades<br> My closing lips, and hides my head in shades:<br> Remove your hands; the bark shall soon suffice,<br> Without their aid, to seal these dying eyes.<br> She ceas'd at once to speak, and ceas'd to be;<br> And all the nymph was lost within the tree:<br> Yet latent life thro' her new branches reign'd,<br> And long the plant a human heat retain'd.<br> Iolaus restor'd While Iole the fatal change declares,<br> to Youth Alcmena's pitying hand oft wip'd her tears.<br> Grief too stream'd down her cheeks; soon sorrow<br> flies,<br> And rising joy the trickling moisture dries,<br> Lo Iolaus stands before their eyes.<br> A youth he stood; and the soft down began<br> O'er his smooth chin to spread, and promise man.<br> Hebe submitted to her husband's pray'rs,<br> Instill'd new vigour, and restor'd his years.<br> The Prophecy of Now from her lips a solemn oath had past,<br> Themis That Iolaus this gift alone shou'd taste,<br> Had not just Themis thus maturely said<br> (Which check'd her vow, and aw'd the blooming<br> maid).<br> Thebes is embroil'd in war. Capaneus stands<br> Invincible, but by the Thund'rer's hands.<br> Ambition shall the guilty brothers fire,<br> Both rush to mutual wounds, and both expire.<br> The reeling Earth shall ope her gloomy womb,<br> Where the yet breathing bard shall find his tomb.<br> The son shall bath his hands in parents' blood,<br> And in one act be both unjust, and good.<br> Of home, and sense depriv'd, where-e'er he flies,<br> The Furies, and his mother's ghost he spies.<br> His wife the fatal bracelet shall implore,<br> And Phegeus stain his sword in kindred gore.<br> Callirhoe shall then with suppliant pray'r<br> Prevail on Jupiter's relenting ear.<br> Jove shall with youth her infant sons inspire,<br> And bid their bosoms glow with manly fire.<br> The Debate of When Themis thus with prescient voice had spoke,<br> the Gods Among the Gods a various murmur broke;<br> Dissention rose in each immortal breast,<br> That one should grant, what was deny'd the rest.<br> Aurora for her aged spouse complains,<br> And Ceres grieves for Jason's freezing veins;<br> Vulcan would Erichthonius' years renew,<br> Her future race the care of Venus drew,<br> She would Anchises' blooming age restore;<br> A diff'rent care employ'd each heav'nly Pow'r:<br> Thus various int'rests did their jars encrease,<br> 'Till Jove arose; he spoke, their tumults cease.<br> Is any rev'rence to our presence giv'n,<br> Then why this discord 'mong the Pow'rs of Heav'n?<br> Who can the settled will of Fate subdue?<br> 'Twas by the Fates that Iolaus knew<br> A second youth. The Fates' determin'd doom<br> Shall give Callirhoe's race a youthful bloom.<br> Arms, nor ambition can this pow'r obtain;<br> Quell your desires; ev'n me the Fates restrain.<br> Could I their will controul, no rolling years<br> Had Aeacus bent down with silver hairs;<br> Then Rhadamanthus still had youth possess'd,<br> And Minos with eternal bloom been bless'd.<br> Jove's words the synod mov'd; the Pow'rs give o'er,<br> And urge in vain unjust complaint no more.<br> Since Rhadamanthus' veins now slowly flow'd,<br> And Aeacus, and Minos bore the load;<br> Minos, who in the flow'r of youth, and fame,<br> Made mighty nations tremble at his name,<br> Infirm with age, the proud Miletus fears,<br> Vain of his birth, and in the strength of years,<br> And now regarding all his realms as lost,<br> He durst not force him from his native coast.<br> But you by choice, Miletus, fled his reign,<br> And thy swift vessel plow'd th' Aegean main;<br> On Asiatick shores a town you frame,<br> Which still is honour'd with the founder's name.<br> Here you Cyanee knew, the beauteous maid,<br> As on her father's winding banks she stray'd:<br> Caunus and Byblis hence their lineage trace,<br> The double offspring of your warm embrace.<br> The Passion of Let the sad fate of wretched Byblis prove<br> of Byblis A dismal warning to unlawful love;<br> One birth gave being to the hapless pair,<br> But more was Caunus than a sister's care;<br> Unknown she lov'd, for yet the gentle fire<br> Rose not in flames, nor kindled to desire,<br> 'Twas thought no sin to wonder at his charms,<br> Hang on his neck, and languish in his arms;<br> Thus wing'd with joy, fled the soft hours away,<br> And all the fatal guilt on harmless Nature lay.<br> But love (too soon from piety declin'd)<br> Insensibly deprav'd her yielding mind.<br> Dress'd she appears, with nicest art adorn'd,<br> And ev'ry youth, but her lov'd brother, scorn'd;<br> For him alone she labour'd to be fair,<br> And curst all charms that might with hers compare.<br> 'Twas she, and only she, must Caunus please,<br> Sick at her heart, yet knew not her disease:<br> She call'd him lord, for brother was a name<br> Too cold, and dull for her aspiring flame;<br> And when he spoke, if sister he reply'd,<br> For Byblis change that frozen word, she cry'd.<br> Yet waking still she watch'd her strugling breast,<br> And love's approaches were in vain address'd,<br> 'Till gentle sleep an easy conquest made,<br> And in her soft embrace the conqueror was laid.<br> But oh too soon the pleasing vision fled,<br> And left her blushing on the conscious bed:<br> Ah me! (she cry'd) how monstrous do I seem?<br> Why these wild thoughts? and this incestuous dream?<br> Envy herself ('tis true) must own his charms,<br> But what is beauty in a sister's arms?<br> Oh were I not that despicable she,<br> How bless'd, how pleas'd, how happy shou'd I be!<br> But unregarded now must bear my pain,<br> And but in dreams, my wishes can obtain.<br> O sea-born Goddess! with thy wanton boy!<br> Was ever such a charming scene of joy?<br> Such perfect bliss! such ravishing delight!<br> Ne'er hid before in the kind shades of night.<br> How pleas'd my heart! in what sweet raptures tost!<br> Ev'n life it self in the soft combat lost,<br> While breathless he on my heav'd bosom lay,<br> And snatch'd the treasures of my soul away.<br> If the bare fancy so affects my mind,<br> How shou'd I rave if to the substance join'd?<br> Oh, gentle Caunus! quit thy hated line,<br> Or let thy parents be no longer mine!<br> Oh that in common all things were enjoy'd,<br> But those alone who have our hopes destroy'd.<br> Were I a princess, thou an humble swain,<br> The proudest kings shou'd rival thee in vain.<br> It cannot be, alas! the dreadful ill<br> Is fix'd by Fate, and he's my brother still.<br> Hear me, ye Gods! I must have friends in Heav'n,<br> For Jove himself was to a sister giv'n:<br> But what are their prerogatives above,<br> To the short liberties of human love?<br> Fantastick thoughts! down, down, forbidden fires,<br> Or instant death extinguish my desires.<br> Strict virtue, then, with thy malicious leave,<br> Without a crime I may a kiss receive:<br> But say shou'd I in spight of laws comply,<br> Yet cruel Caunus might himself deny,<br> No pity take of an afflicted maid<br> (For love's sweet game must be by couples play'd).<br> Yet why shou'd youth, and charms like mine,<br> despair?<br> Such fears ne'er startled the Aeolian pair;<br> No ties of blood could their full hopes destroy,<br> They broke thro' all, for the prevailing joy;<br> And who can tell but Caunus too may be<br> Rack'd and tormented in his breast for me?<br> Like me, to the extreamest anguish drove,<br> Like me, just waking from a dream of love?<br> But stay! Oh whither wou'd my fury run!<br> What arguments I urge to be undone!<br> Away fond Byblis, quench these guilty flames;<br> Caunus thy love but as brother claims;<br> Yet had he first been touch'd with love of me,<br> The charming youth cou'd I despairing see?<br> Oppress'd with grief, and dying by disdain?<br> Ah no! too sure I shou'd have eas'd his pain!<br> Since then, if Caunus ask'd me, it were done;<br> Asking my self, what dangers can I run?<br> But canst thou ask? and see that right betray'd,<br> From Pyrrha down to thy whole sex convey'd?<br> That self-denying gift we all enjoy,<br> Of wishing to be won, yet seeming to be coy.<br> Well then, for once, let a fond mistress woo;<br> The force of love no custom can subdue;<br> This frantick passion he by words shall know,<br> Soft as the melting heart from whence they flow.<br> The pencil then in her fair hand she held,<br> By fear discourag'd, but by love compell'd<br> She writes, then blots, writes on, and blots again,<br> Likes it as fit, then razes it as vain:<br> Shame, and assurance in her face appear,<br> And a faint hope just yielding to despair;<br> Sister was wrote, and blotted as a word<br> Which she, and Caunus too (she hop'd) abhorr'd;<br> But now resolv'd to be no more controul'd<br> By scrup'lous virtue, thus her grief she told.<br> Thy lover (gentle Caunus) wishes thee<br> That health, which thou alone canst give to me.<br> O charming youth! the gift I ask bestow,<br> Ere thou the name of the fond writer know;<br> To thee without a name I would be known,<br> Since knowing that, my frailty I must own.<br> Yet why shou'd I my wretched name conceal?<br> When thousand instances my flames reveal:<br> Wan looks, and weeping eyes have spoke my pain,<br> And sighs discharg'd from my heav'd heart in vain;<br> Had I not wish'd my passion might be seen,<br> What cou'd such fondness and embraces mean?<br> Such kisses too! (Oh heedless lovely boy)<br> Without a crime no sister cou'd enjoy:<br> Yet (tho' extreamest rage has rack'd my soul,<br> And raging fires in my parch'd bosom roul)<br> Be witness, Gods! how piously I strove,<br> To rid my thoughts of this enchanting love.<br> But who cou'd scape so fierce, and sure a dart,<br> Aim'd at a tender, and defenceless heart?<br> Alas! what maid cou'd suffer, I have born,<br> Ere the dire secret from my breast was torn;<br> To thee a helpless vanquish'd wretch I come,<br> 'Tis you alone can save, or give my doom;<br> My life, or death this moment you may chuse.<br> Yet think, oh think, no hated stranger sues,<br> No foe; but one, alas! too near ally'd,<br> And wishing still much nearer to be ty'd.<br> The forms of decency let age debate,<br> And virtue's rules by their cold morals state;<br> Their ebbing joys give leisure to enquire,<br> And blame those noble flights our youth inspire:<br> Where Nature kindly summons let us go,<br> Our sprightly years no bounds in love shou'd know,<br> Shou'd feel no check of guilt, and fear no ill;<br> Lovers, and Gods act all things at their will:<br> We gain one blessing from our hated kin,<br> Since our paternal freedom hides the sin;<br> Uncensur'd in each other's arms we lye,<br> Think then how easie to compleat our joy.<br> Oh, pardon and oblige a blushing maid,<br> Whose rage the pride of her vain sex betray'd;<br> Nor let my tomb thus mournfully complain,<br> Here Byblis lies, by her lov'd Caunus slain.<br> Forc'd here to end, she with a falling tear<br> Temper'd the pliant wax, which did the signet bear:<br> The curious cypher was impress'd by art,<br> But love had stamp'd one deeper in her heart;<br> Her page, a youth of confidence, and skill,<br> (Secret as night) stood waiting on her will;<br> Sighing (she cry'd): Bear this, thou faithful boy,<br> To my sweet partner in eternal joy:<br> Here a long pause her secret guilt confess'd,<br> And when at length she would have spoke the rest,<br> Half the dear name lay bury'd in her breast.<br> Thus as he listned to her vain command,<br> Down fell the letter from her trembling hand.<br> The omen shock'd her soul. Yet go, she cry'd;<br> Can a request from Byblis be deny'd?<br> To the Maeandrian youth this message's born,<br> The half-read lines by his fierce rage were torn;<br> Hence, hence, he cry'd, thou pandar to her lust,<br> Bear hence the triumph of thy impious trust:<br> Thy instant death will but divulge her shame,<br> Or thy life's blood shou'd quench the guilty flame.<br> Frighted, from threatning Caunus he withdrew,<br> And with the dreadful news to his lost mistress<br> flew.<br> The sad repulse so struck the wounded fair,<br> Her sense was bury'd in her wild despair;<br> Pale was her visage, as the ghastly dead;<br> And her scar'd soul from the sweet mansion fled;<br> Yet with her life renew'd, her love returns,<br> And faintly thus her cruel fate she mourns:<br> 'Tis just, ye Gods! was my false reason blind?<br> To write a secret of this tender kind?<br> With female craft I shou'd at first have strove,<br> By dubious hints to sound his distant love;<br> And try'd those useful, tho' dissembled, arts,<br> Which women practise on disdainful hearts:<br> I shou'd have watch'd whence the black storm might<br> rise;<br> Ere I had trusted the unfaithful skies.<br> Now on the rouling billows I am tost,<br> And with extended sails, on the blind shelves am<br> lost.<br> Did not indulgent Heav'n my doom foretell,<br> When from my hand the fatal letter fell?<br> What madness seiz'd my soul? and urg'd me on<br> To take the only course to be undone?<br> I cou'd my self have told the moving tale<br> With such alluring grace as must prevail;<br> Then had his eyes beheld my blushing fears,<br> My rising sighs, and my descending tears;<br> Round his dear neck these arms I then had spread,<br> And, if rejected, at his feet been dead:<br> If singly these had not his thoughts inclin'd,<br> Yet all united would have shock'd his mind.<br> Perhaps, my careless page might be in fault,<br> And in a luckless hour the fatal message brought;<br> Business, and worldly thoughts might fill his<br> breast,<br> Sometimes ev'n love itself may be an irksome guest:<br> He cou'd not else have treated me with scorn,<br> For Caunus was not of a tygress born;<br> Nor steel, nor adamant has fenc'd his heart;<br> Like mine, 'tis naked to the burning dart.<br> Away false fears! he must, he shall be mine;<br> In death alone I will my claim resign;<br> 'Tis vain to wish my written crime unknown,<br> And for my guilt much vainer to atone.<br> Repuls'd and baffled, fiercer still she burns,<br> And Caunus with disdain her impious love returns.<br> He saw no end of her injurious flame,<br> And fled his country to avoid the shame.<br> Forsaken Byblis, who had hopes no more;<br> Burst out in rage, and her loose robes she tore;<br> With her fair hands she smote her tender breast,<br> And to the wond'ring world her love confess'd;<br> O'er hills and dales, o'er rocks and streams she<br> flew,<br> But still in vain did her wild lust pursue:<br> Wearied at length, on the cold earth she fell,<br> And now in tears alone could her sad story tell.<br> Relenting Gods in pity fix'd her there,<br> And to a fountain turn'd the weeping fair.<br> The Fable of The fame of this, perhaps, thro' Crete had flown:<br> Iphis and But Crete had newer wonders of her own,<br> Ianthe In Iphis chang'd; for, near the Gnossian bounds<br> (As loud report the miracle resounds),<br> At Phaestus dwelt a man of honest blood,<br> But meanly born, and not so rich as good;<br> Esteem'd, and lov'd by all the neighbourhood;<br> Who to his wife, before the time assign'd<br> For child-birth came, thus bluntly spoke his mind.<br> If Heav'n, said Lygdus, will vouchsafe to hear,<br> I have but two petitions to prefer;<br> Short pains for thee, for me a son and heir.<br> Girls cost as many throes in bringing forth;<br> Beside, when born, the titts are little worth;<br> Weak puling things, unable to sustain<br> Their share of labour, and their bread to gain.<br> If, therefore, thou a creature shalt produce,<br> Of so great charges, and so little use<br> (Bear witness, Heav'n, with what reluctancy),<br> Her hapless innocence I doom to die.<br> He said, and common tears the common grief display,<br> Of him who bad, and her who must obey.<br> Yet Telethusa still persists, to find<br> Fit arguments to move a father's mind;<br> T' extend his wishes to a larger scope,<br> And in one vessel not confine his hope.<br> Lygdus continues hard: her time drew near,<br> And she her heavy load could scarcely bear;<br> When slumbring, in the latter shades of night,<br> Before th' approaches of returning light,<br> She saw, or thought she saw, before her bed,<br> A glorious train, and Isis at their head:<br> Her moony horns were on her forehead plac'd,<br> And yellow shelves her shining temples grac'd:<br> A mitre, for a crown, she wore on high;<br> The dog, and dappl'd bull were waiting by;<br> Osyris, sought along the banks of Nile;<br> The silent God: the sacred crocodile;<br> And, last, a long procession moving on,<br> With timbrels, that assist the lab'ring moon.<br> Her slumbers seem'd dispell'd, and, broad awake,<br> She heard a voice, that thus distinctly spake.<br> My votary, thy babe from death defend,<br> Nor fear to save whate'er the Gods will send.<br> Delude with art thy husband's dire decree:<br> When danger calls, repose thy trust on me:<br> And know thou hast not serv'd a thankless deity.<br> This promise made, with night the Goddess fled;<br> With joy the woman wakes, and leaves her bed;<br> Devoutly lifts her spotless hands on high,<br> And prays the Pow'rs their gift to ratifie.<br> Now grinding pains proceed to bearing throes,<br> 'Till its own weight the burden did disclose.<br> 'Twas of the beauteous kind, and brought to light<br> With secrecy, to shun the father's sight.<br> Th' indulgent mother did her care employ,<br> And past it on her husband for a boy.<br> The nurse was conscious of the fact alone;<br> The father paid his vows as for a son;<br> And call'd him Iphis, by a common name,<br> Which either sex with equal right may claim.<br> Iphis his grandsire was; the wife was pleas'd,<br> Of half the fraud by Fortune's favour eas'd:<br> The doubtful name was us'd without deceit,<br> And truth was cover'd with a pious cheat.<br> The habit show'd a boy, the beauteous face<br> With manly fierceness mingled female grace.<br> Now thirteen years of age were swiftly run,<br> When the fond father thought the time drew on<br> Of settling in the world his only son.<br> Ianthe was his choice; so wondrous fair,<br> Her form alone with Iphis cou'd compare;<br> A neighbour's daughter of his own degree,<br> And not more bless'd with Fortune's goods than he.<br> They soon espous'd; for they with ease were<br> join'd,<br> Who were before contracted in the mind.<br> Their age the same, their inclinations too;<br> And bred together, in one school they grew.<br> Thus, fatally dispos'd to mutual fires,<br> They felt, before they knew, the same desires.<br> Equal their flame, unequal was their care;<br> One lov'd with hope, one languish'd in despair.<br> The maid accus'd the lingring day alone:<br> For whom she thought a man, she thought her own.<br> But Iphis bends beneath a greater grief;<br> As fiercely burns, but hopes for no relief.<br> Ev'n her despair adds fuel to her fire;<br> A maid with madness does a maid desire.<br> And, scarce refraining tears, Alas, said she,<br> What issue of my love remains for me!<br> How wild a passion works within my breast,<br> With what prodigious flames am I possest!<br> Could I the care of Providence deserve,<br> Heav'n must destroy me, if it would preserve.<br> And that's my fate, or sure it would have sent<br> Some usual evil for my punishment:<br> Not this unkindly curse; to rage, and burn,<br> Where Nature shews no prospect of return.<br> Nor cows for cows consume with fruitless fire;<br> Nor mares, when hot, their fellow-mares desire:<br> The father of the fold supplies his ewes;<br> The stag through secret woods his hind pursues;<br> And birds for mates the males of their own species<br> chuse.<br> Her females Nature guards from female flame,<br> And joins two sexes to preserve the game:<br> Wou'd I were nothing, or not what I am!<br> Crete, fam'd for monsters, wanted of her store,<br> 'Till my new love produc'd one monster more.<br> The daughter of the sun a bull desir'd,<br> And yet ev'n then a male a female fir'd:<br> Her passion was extravagantly new,<br> But mine is much the madder of the two.<br> To things impossible she was not bent,<br> But found the means to compass her intent.<br> To cheat his eyes she took a different shape;<br> Yet still she gain'd a lover, and a leap.<br> Shou'd all the wit of all the world conspire,<br> Shou'd Daedalus assist my wild desire,<br> What art can make me able to enjoy,<br> Or what can change Ianthe to a boy?<br> Extinguish then thy passion, hopeless maid,<br> And recollect thy reason for thy aid.<br> Know what thou art, and love as maidens ought,<br> And drive these golden wishes from thy thought.<br> Thou canst not hope thy fond desires to gain;<br> Where hope is wanting, wishes are in vain.<br> And yet no guards against our joys conspire;<br> No jealous husband hinders our desire;<br> My parents are propitious to my wish,<br> And she herself consenting to the bliss.<br> All things concur to prosper our design;<br> All things to prosper any love but mine.<br> And yet I never can enjoy the fair;<br> 'Tis past the pow'r of Heav'n to grant my pray'r.<br> Heav'n has been kind, as far as Heav'n can be;<br> Our parents with our own desires agree;<br> But Nature, stronger than the Gods above,<br> Refuses her assistance to my love;<br> She sets the bar that causes all my pain;<br> One gift refus'd, makes all their bounty vain.<br> And now the happy day is just at hand,<br> To bind our hearts in Hymen's holy band:<br> Our hearts, but not our bodies: thus accurs'd,<br> In midst of water I complain of thirst.<br> Why com'st thou, Juno, to these barren rites,<br> To bless a bed defrauded of delights?<br> But why shou'd Hymen lift his torch on high,<br> To see two b</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=475838" data-title="Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth de Ovid" data-description="Theseus requests the God to tell his woes, Whence his maim'd brow, and whence his groans arose Whence thus the Calydonian stream reply'd, With twining reeds his careless tresses ty'd: Ungrateful is the tale; for who can bear, When conque..."></div> </div> </div>

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