<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=475844" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Metamorphoses: Book The Twelfth</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">PRIAM, to whom the story was unknown,<br> As dead, deplor'd his metamorphos'd son:<br> A cenotaph his name, and title kept,<br> And Hector round the tomb, with all his brothers,<br> wept.<br> This pious office Paris did not share;<br> Absent alone; and author of the war,<br> Which, for the Spartan queen, the Grecians drew<br> T' avenge the rape; and Asia to subdue.<br> The A thousand ships were mann'd, to sail the sea:<br> Trojan War Nor had their just resentments found delay,<br> Had not the winds, and waves oppos'd their way.<br> At Aulis, with united pow'rs they meet,<br> But there, cross-winds or calms detain'd the fleet.<br> Now, while they raise an altar on the shore,<br> And Jove with solemn sacrifice adore;<br> A boding sign the priests and people see:<br> A snake of size immense ascends a tree,<br> And, in the leafie summit, spy'd a nest,<br> Which o'er her callow young, a sparrow press'd.<br> Eight were the birds unfledg'd; their mother flew,<br> And hover'd round her care; but still in view:<br> 'Till the fierce reptile first devour'd the brood,<br> Then seiz'd the flutt'ring dam, and drunk her<br> blood.<br> This dire ostent, the fearful people view;<br> Calchas alone, by Phoebus taught, foreknew<br> What Heav'n decreed; and with a smiling glance,<br> Thus gratulates to Greece her happy chance:<br> O Argives, we shall conquer: Troy is ours,<br> But long delays shall first afflict our pow'rs:<br> Nine years of labour, the nine birds portend;<br> The tenth shall in the town's destruction end.<br> The serpent, who his maw obscene had fill'd,<br> The branches in his curl'd embraces held:<br> But, as in spires he stood, he turn'd to stone:<br> The stony snake retain'd the figure still his own.<br> Yet, not for this, the wind-bound navy weigh'd;<br> Slack were their sails; and Neptune disobey'd.<br> Some thought him loth the town should be destroy'd,<br> Whose building had his hands divine employ'd:<br> Not so the seer; who knew, and known foreshow'd,<br> The virgin Phoebe, with a virgin's blood<br> Must first be reconcil'd: the common cause<br> Prevail'd; and pity yielding to the laws,<br> Fair Iphigenia the devoted maid<br> Was, by the weeping priests, in linnen-robes<br> array'd;<br> All mourn her fate; but no relief appear'd;<br> The royal victim bound, the knife already rear'd:<br> When that offended Pow'r, who caus'd their woe,<br> Relenting ceas'd her wrath; and stop'd the coming<br> blow.<br> A mist before the ministers she cast,<br> And, in the virgin's room, a hind she plac'd.<br> Th' oblation slain, and Phoebe, reconcil'd,<br> The storm was hush'd, and dimpled ocean smil'd:<br> A favourable gale arose from shore,<br> Which to the port desir'd, the Graecian gallies<br> bore.<br> The House of Full in the midst of this created space,<br> Fame Betwixt Heav'n, Earth, and skies, there stands a<br> place,<br> Confining on all three, with triple bound;<br> Whence all things, tho' remote, are view'd around;<br> And thither bring their undulating sound.<br> The palace of loud Fame, her seat of pow'r,<br> Plac'd on the summet of a lofty tow'r;<br> A thousand winding entries long and wide,<br> Receive of fresh reports a flowing tide.<br> A thousand crannies in the walls are made;<br> Nor gate, nor bars exclude the busie trade.<br> 'Tis built of brass, the better to diffuse<br> The spreading sounds, and multiply the news:<br> Where eccho's in repeated eccho's play:<br> A mart for ever full, and open night and day.<br> Nor silence is within, nor voice express,<br> But a deaf noise of sounds, that never cease.<br> Confus'd and chiding, like the hollow roar<br> Of tides, receding from th' insulted shore,<br> Or like the broken thunder heard from far,<br> When Jove at distance drives the rouling war.<br> The courts are fill'd with a tumultuous din<br> Of crouds, or issuing forth, or entring in:<br> A thorough-fare of news: where some devise<br> Things never heard, some mingle truth with lies;<br> The troubled air with empty sounds they beat,<br> Intent to hear, and eager to repeat.<br> Error sits brooding there, with added train<br> Of vain credulity, and joys as vain:<br> Suspicion, with sedition join'd, are near,<br> And rumours rais'd, and murmurs mix'd, and panique<br> fear.<br> Fame sits aloft, and sees the subject ground,<br> And seas about, and skies above; enquiring all<br> around.<br> The Goddess gives th' alarm; and soon is known<br> The Grecian fleet descending on the town.<br> Fix'd on defence, the Trojans are not slow<br> To guard their shore, from an expected foe.<br> They meet in fight: by Hector's fatal hand<br> Protesilaus falls, and bites the strand:<br> Which with expence of blood the Grecians won;<br> And prov'd the strength unknown of Priam's son.<br> And to their cost the Trojan leaders felt<br> The Grecian heroes; and what deaths they dealt.<br> The Story of From these first onsets, the Sigaean shore<br> Cygnus Was strew'd with carcasses, and stain'd with gore:<br> Neptunian Cygnus troops of Greeks had slain;<br> Achilles in his carr had scour'd the plain,<br> And clear'd the Trojan ranks: where-e'er he fought,<br> Cygnus, or Hector, through the fields he sought:<br> Cygnus he found; on him his force essay'd:<br> For Hector was to the tenth year delay'd.<br> His white-main'd steeds, that bow'd beneath the<br> yoke,<br> He chear'd to courage, with a gentle stroke;<br> Then urg'd his fiery chariot on the foe;<br> And rising shook his lance; in act to throw.<br> But first he cry'd, O youth, be proud to bear<br> Thy death, ennobled by Pelides' spear.<br> The lance pursu'd the voice without delay,<br> Nor did the whizzing weapon miss the way;<br> But pierc'd his cuirass, with such fury sent,<br> And sign'd his bosom with a purple dint.<br> At this the seed of Neptune: Goddess-born,<br> For ornament, not use, these arms are worn;<br> This helm, and heavy buckler, I can spare;<br> As only decorations of the war:<br> So Mars is arm'd for glory, not for need.<br> 'Tis somewhat more from Neptune to proceed,<br> Than from a daughter of the sea to spring:<br> Thy sire is mortal; mine is ocean's king.<br> Secure of death, I shou'd contemn thy dart,<br> Tho' naked; and impassible depart:<br> He said, and threw: the trembling weapon pass'd<br> Through nine bull-hides, each under other plac'd,<br> On his broad shield; and stuck within the last.<br> Achilles wrench'd it out; and sent again<br> The hostile gift: the hostile gift was vain.<br> He try'd a third, a tough well-chosen spear;<br> Th' inviolable body stood sincere,<br> Though Cygnus then did no defence provide,<br> But scornful offer'd his unshielded side.<br> Not otherwise th' impatient hero far'd,<br> Than as a bull incompass'd with a guard,<br> Amid the Circus roars, provok'd from far<br> By sight of scarlet, and a sanguine war:<br> They quit their ground, his bended horns elude;<br> In vain pursuing, and in vain pursu'd:<br> Before to farther fight he wou'd advance,<br> He stood considering, and survey'd his lance.<br> Doubts if he wielded not a wooden spear<br> Without a point: he look'd, the point was there.<br> This is my hand, and this my lance, he said;<br> By which so many thousand foes are dead,<br> O whither is their usual virtue fled!<br> I had it once; and the Lyrnessian wall,<br> And Tenedos, confess'd it in their fall.<br> Thy streams, Caicus, rowl'd a crimson-flood;<br> And Thebes ran red with her own natives' blood.<br> Twice Telephus employ'd their piercing steel,<br> To wound him first, and afterward to heal.<br> The vigour of this arm was never vain:<br> And that my wonted prowess I retain,<br> Witness these heaps of slaughter on the plain.<br> He said; and, doubtful of his former deeds,<br> To some new tryal of his force proceeds.<br> He chose Menoetes from among the rest;<br> At him he launch'd his spear, and pierc'd his<br> breast:<br> On the hard earth the Lycian knock'd his head,<br> And lay supine; and forth the spirit fled.<br> Then thus the hero: Neither can I blame<br> The hand, or jav'lin; both are still the same.<br> The same I will employ against this foe,<br> And wish but with the same success to throw.<br> So spoke the chief; and while he spoke he threw;<br> The weapon with unerring fury flew,<br> At his left shoulder aim'd: nor entrance found;<br> But back, as from a rock, with swift rebound<br> Harmless return'd: a bloody mark appear'd,<br> Which with false joy the flatter'd hero chear'd.<br> Wound there was none; the blood that was in view,<br> The lance before from slain Menoetes drew.<br> Headlong he leaps from off his lofty car,<br> And in close fight on foot renews the war.<br> Raging with high disdain, repeats his blows;<br> Nor shield, nor armour can their force oppose;<br> Huge cantlets of his buckler strew the ground,<br> And no defence in his bor'd arms is found,<br> But on his flesh, no wound or blood is seen;<br> The sword it self is blunted on the skin.<br> This vain attempt the chief no longer bears;<br> But round his hollow temples and his ears<br> His buckler beats: the son of Neptune, stunn'd<br> With these repeated buffets, quits his ground;<br> A sickly sweat succeeds, and shades of night;<br> Inverted Nature swims before his sight:<br> Th' insulting victor presses on the more,<br> And treads the steps the vanquish'd trod before,<br> Nor rest, nor respite gives. A stone there lay<br> Behind his trembling foe, and stopp'd his way:<br> Achilles took th' advantage which he found,<br> O'er-turn'd, and push'd him backward on the ground,<br> His buckler held him under, while he press'd,<br> With both his knees, above his panting breast.<br> Unlac'd his helm: about his chin the twist<br> He ty'd; and soon the strangled soul dismiss'd.<br> With eager haste he went to strip the dead:<br> The vanish'd body from his arms was fled.<br> His sea-God sire, t' immortalize his frame,<br> Had turn'd it to a bird that bears his name.<br> A truce succeeds the labours of this day,<br> And arms suspended with a long delay.<br> While Trojan walls are kept with watch and ward;<br> The Greeks before their trenches mount the guard;<br> The feast approach'd; when to the blue-ey'd maid<br> His vows for Cygnus slain the victor paid,<br> And a white heyfer on her altar laid.<br> The reeking entrails on the fire they threw,<br> And to the Gods the grateful odour flew.<br> Heav'n had its part in sacrifice: the rest<br> Was broil'd, and roasted for the future feast.<br> The chief-invited guests were set around!<br> And hunger first asswag'd, the bowls were crown'd,<br> Which in deep draughts their cares, and labours<br> drown'd.<br> The mellow harp did not their ears employ:<br> And mute was all the warlike symphony:<br> Discourse, the food of souls, was their delight,<br> And pleasing chat prolong'd the summer's night.<br> The subject, deeds of arms; and valour shown,<br> Or on the Trojan side, or on their own.<br> Of dangers undertaken, fame atchiev'd,<br> They talk'd by turns; the talk by turns reliev'd.<br> What things but these could fierce Achilles tell,<br> Or what cou'd fierce Achilles hear so well?<br> The last great act perform'd, of Cygnus slain,<br> Did most the martial audience entertain:<br> Wondring to find a body free by Fate<br> From steel; and which cou'd ev'n that steel rebate:<br> Amaz'd, their admiration they renew;<br> And scarce Pelides cou'd believe it true.<br> The Story of Then Nestor thus: what once this age has known,<br> Caeneus In fated Cygnus, and in him alone,<br> These eyes have seen in Caeneus long before;<br> Whose body not a thousand swords cou'd bore.<br> Caeneus, in courage, and in strength, excell'd;<br> And still his Othrys with his fame is fill'd:<br> But what did most his martial deeds adorn<br> (Though since he chang'd his sex) a woman born.<br> A novelty so strange, and full of Fate,<br> His list'ning audience ask'd him to relate.<br> Achilles thus commends their common sute:<br> O father, first for prudence in repute,<br> Tell, with that eloquence, so much thy own,<br> What thou hast heard, or what of Caeneus known:<br> What was he, whence his change of sex begun,<br> What trophies, join'd in wars with thee, he won?<br> Who conquer'd him, and in what fatal strife<br> The youth, without a wound, cou'd lose his life?<br> Neleides then: Though tardy age, and time,<br> Have shrunk my sinews, and decay'd my prime;<br> Though much I have forgotten of my store,<br> Yet not exhausted, I remember more.<br> Of all that arms atchiev'd, or peace design'd,<br> That action still is fresher in my mind,<br> Than ought beside. If reverend age can give<br> To faith a sanction, in my third I live.<br> 'Twas in my second cent'ry, I survey'd<br> Young Caenis, then a fair Thessalian maid:<br> Caenis the bright, was born to high command;<br> A princess, and a native of thy land,<br> Divine Achilles; every tongue proclaim'd<br> Her beauty, and her eyes all hearts inflam'd.<br> Peleus, thy sire, perhaps had sought her bed,<br> Among the rest; but he had either led<br> Thy mother then; or was by promise ty'd;<br> But she to him, and all, alike her love deny'd.<br> It was her fortune once to take her way<br> Along the sandy margin of the sea:<br> The Pow'r of ocean view'd her as she pass'd,<br> And, lov'd as soon as seen, by force embrac'd.<br> So Fame reports. Her virgin-treasure seiz'd,<br> And his new joys, the ravisher so pleas'd,<br> That thus, transported, to the nymph he cry'd;<br> Ask what thou wilt, no pray'r shall be deny'd.<br> This also Fame relates: the haughty fair,<br> Who not the rape ev'n of a God cou'd bear,<br> This answer, proud, return'd: To mighty wrongs<br> A mighty recompence, of right, belongs.<br> Give me no more to suffer such a shame;<br> But change the woman, for a better name;<br> One gift for all: she said; and while she spoke,<br> A stern, majestick, manly tone she took.<br> A man she was: and as the Godhead swore,<br> To Caeneus turn'd, who Caenis was before.<br> To this the lover adds, without request,<br> No force of steel shou'd violate his breast.<br> Glad of the gift, the new-made warrior goes;<br> And arms among the Greeks, and longs for equal<br> foes.<br> The Skirmish Now brave Perithous, bold Ixion's son,<br> between the The love of fair Hippodame had won.<br> Centaurs and The cloud-begotten race, half men, half beast,<br> Lapithites Invited, came to grace the nuptial feast:<br> In a cool cave's recess the treat was made,<br> Whose entrance, trees with spreading boughs<br> o'er-shade<br> They sate: and summon'd by the bridegroom, came,<br> To mix with those, the Lapythaean name:<br> Nor wanted I: the roofs with joy resound:<br> And Hymen, Io Hymen, rung around.<br> Rais'd altars shone with holy fires; the bride,<br> Lovely her self (and lovely by her side<br> A bevy of bright nymphs, with sober grace),<br> Came glitt'ring like a star, and took her place.<br> Her heav'nly form beheld, all wish'd her joy;<br> And little wanted; but in vain, their wishes all<br> employ.<br> For one, most brutal, of the brutal brood,<br> Or whether wine, or beauty fir'd his blood,<br> Or both at once, beheld with lustful eyes<br> The bride; at once resolv'd to make his prize.<br> Down went the board; and fastning on her hair,<br> He seiz'd with sudden force the frighted fair.<br> 'Twas Eurytus began: his bestial kind<br> His crime pursu'd; and each as pleas'd his mind,<br> Or her, whom chance presented, took: the feast<br> An image of a taken town express'd.<br> The cave resounds with female shrieks; we rise,<br> Mad with revenge to make a swift reprise:<br> And Theseus first, What phrenzy has possess'd,<br> O Eurytus, he cry'd, thy brutal breast,<br> To wrong Perithous, and not him alone,<br> But while I live, two friends conjoyn'd in one?<br> To justifie his threat, he thrusts aside<br> The crowd of centaurs; and redeems the bride:<br> The monster nought reply'd: for words were vain,<br> And deeds cou'd only deeds unjust maintain;<br> But answers with his hand, and forward press'd,<br> With blows redoubled, on his face, and breast.<br> An ample goblet stood, of antick mold,<br> And rough with figures of the rising gold;<br> The hero snatch'd it up, and toss'd in air<br> Full at the front of the foul ravisher.<br> He falls; and falling vomits forth a flood<br> Of wine, and foam, and brains, and mingled blood.<br> Half roaring, and half neighing through the hall,<br> Arms, arms, the double-form'd with fury call;<br> To wreak their brother's death: a medley-flight<br> Of bowls, and jars, at first supply the fight,<br> Once instruments of feasts; but now of Fate;<br> Wine animates their rage, and arms their hate.<br> Bold Amycus, from the robb'd vestry brings<br> The chalices of Heav'n; and holy things<br> Of precious weight: a sconce that hung on high,<br> With tapers fill'd, to light the sacristy,<br> Torn from the cord, with his unhallow'd hand<br> He threw amid the Lapythaean band.<br> On Celadon the ruin fell; and left<br> His face of feature, and of form bereft:<br> So, when some brawny sacrificer knocks,<br> Before an altar led, an offer'd ox,<br> His eyes-balls rooted out, are thrown to ground;<br> His nose, dismantled, in his mouth is found;<br> His jaws, cheeks, front, one undistinguish'd wound.<br> This, Belates, th' avenger, cou'd not brook;<br> But, by the foot, a maple board he took;<br> And hurl'd at Amycus; his chin it bent<br> Against his chest, and down the centaur sent:<br> Whom sputtring bloody teeth, the second blow<br> Of his drawn sword, dispatch'd to shades below.<br> Grineus was near; and cast a furious look<br> On the side-altar, cens'd with sacred smoke,<br> And bright with flaming fires; The Gods, he cry'd,<br> Have with their holy trade our hands supply'd:<br> Why use we not their gifts? Then from the floor<br> An altar stone he heav'd, with all the load it<br> bore:<br> Altar, and altar's freight together slew,<br> Where thickest throng'd the Lapythaean crew:<br> And, at once, Broteas and Oryus flew.<br> Oryus' mother, Mycale, was known<br> Down from her sphere to draw the lab'ring moon.<br> Exadius cry'd, Unpunish'd shall not go<br> This fact, if arms are found against the foe.<br> He look'd about, where on a pine were spread<br> The votive horns of a stag's branching head:<br> At Grineus these he throws; so just they fly,<br> That the sharp antlers stuck in either eye:<br> Breathless, and blind he fell; with blood<br> besmear'd;<br> His eye-balls beaten out, hung dangling on his<br> beard.<br> Fierce Rhoetus, from the hearth a burning brand<br> Selects, and whirling waves; 'till, from his hand<br> The fire took flame; then dash'd it from the right,<br> On fair Charaxus' temples, near the sight:<br> The whistling pest came on, and pierc'd the bone,<br> And caught the yellow hair, that shrivel'd while it<br> shone.<br> Caught, like dry stubble fir'd; or like seerwood;<br> Yet from the wound ensu'd no purple flood;<br> But look'd a bubbling mass of frying blood.<br> His blazing locks sent forth a crackling sound;<br> And hiss'd, like red hot ir'n within the smithy<br> drown'd.<br> The wounded warrior shook his flaming hair,<br> Then (what a team of horse could hardly rear)<br> He heaves the threshold stone, but could not throw;<br> The weight itself forbad the threaten'd blow;<br> Which dropping from his lifted arms, came down<br> Full on Cometes' head; and crush'd his crown.<br> Nor Rhoetus then retain'd his joy; but said,<br> So by their fellows may our foes be sped;<br> Then, with redoubled strokes he plies his head:<br> The burning lever not deludes his pains:<br> But drives the batter'd skull within the brains.<br> Thus flush'd, the conqueror, with force renew'd,<br> Evagrus, Dryas, Corythus, pursu'd:<br> First, Corythus, with downy cheeks, he slew;<br> Whose fall, when fierce Evagrus had in view,<br> He cry'd, What palm is from a beardless prey?<br> Rhoetus prevents what more he had to say;<br> And drove within his mouth the fi'ry death,<br> Which enter'd hissing in, and choak'd his breath.<br> At Dryas next he flew: but weary chance,<br> No longer wou'd the same success advance.<br> For while he whirl'd in fiery circles round<br> The brand, a sharpen'd stake strong Dryas found;<br> And in the shoulder's joint inflicts the wound.<br> The weapon stuck; which, roaring out with pain,<br> He drew; nor longer durst the fight maintain,<br> But turn'd his back, for fear; and fled amain.<br> With him fled Orneus, with like dread possess'd,<br> Thaumas, and Medon wounded in the breast;<br> And Mermeros, in the late race renown'd,<br> Now limping ran, and tardy with his wound.<br> Pholus, and Melaneus from fight withdrew,<br> And Abas maim'd, who boars encountring slew:<br> And Augur Asbolos, whose art in vain,<br> From fight dissuaded the four-footed train,<br> Now beat the hoof with Nessus on the plain;<br> But to his fellow cry'd, Be safely slow,<br> Thy death deferr'd is due to great Alcides' bow.<br> Mean-time strong Dryas urg'd his chance so well,<br> That Lycidas, Areos, Imbreus fell;<br> All, one by one, and fighting face to face:<br> Crenaeus fled, to fall with more disgrace:<br> For, fearful, while he look'd behind, he bore,<br> Betwixt his nose, and front, the blow before.<br> Amid the noise, and tumult of the fray,<br> Snoring, and drunk with wine, Aphidas lay.<br> Ev'n then the bowl within his hand he kept,<br> And on a bear's rough hide securely slept.<br> Him Phorbas with his flying dart transfix'd;<br> Take thy next draught, with Stygian waters mix'd,<br> And sleep thy fill, th' insulting victor cry'd;<br> Surpriz'd with death unfelt, the centaur dy'd;<br> The ruddy vomit, as he breath'd his soul<br> Repass'd his throat, and fill'd his empty bowl.<br> I saw Petraeus' arms employ'd around<br> A well-grown oak, to root it from the ground.<br> This way, and that, he wrench'd the fibrous bands;<br> The trunk was like a sappling, in his hands,<br> And still obey'd the bent: while thus he stood,<br> Perithous' dart drove on; and nail'd him to the<br> wood;<br> Lycus, and Chromis fell, by him oppress'd:<br> Helops, and Dictis added to the rest<br> A nobler palm: Helops, through either ear<br> Transfix'd, receiv'd the penetrating spear.<br> This Dictis saw; and, seiz'd with sudden fright,<br> Leapt headlong from the hill of steepy height;<br> And crush'd an ash beneath, that cou'd not bear his<br> weight.<br> The shatter'd tree receives his fall; and strikes,<br> Within his full-blown paunch, the sharpen'd spikes.<br> Strong Aphareus had heav'd a mighty stone,<br> The fragment of a rock; and wou'd have thrown;<br> But Theseus, with a club of harden'd oak,<br> The cubit-bone of the bold centaur broke;<br> And left him maim'd; nor seconded the stroke.<br> Then leapt on tall Bianor's back (who bore<br> No mortal burden but his own, before);<br> Press'd with his knees his sides; the double man,<br> His speed with spurs increas'd, unwilling ran.<br> One hand the hero fastn'd on his locks;<br> His other ply'd him with repeated strokes.<br> The club rung round his ears, and batter'd brows;<br> He falls; and lashing up his heels, his rider<br> throws.<br> The same Herculean arms, Nedymnus wound;<br> And lay by him Lycotas on the ground,<br> And Hippasus, whose beard his breast invades;<br> And Ripheus, haunter of the woodland shades:<br> And Thereus, us'd with mountain-bears to strive,<br> And from their dens to draw th' indignant beasts<br> alive.<br> Demoleon cou'd not bear this hateful sight,<br> Or the long fortune of th' Athenian knight:<br> But pull'd with all his force, to disengage<br> From Earth a pine, the product of an age:<br> The root stuck fast: the broken trunk he sent<br> At Theseus; Theseus frustrates his intent,<br> And leaps aside; by Pallas warn'd, the blow<br> To shun (for so he said; and we believ'd it so).<br> Yet not in vain th' enormous weight was cast;<br> Which Crantor's body sunder'd at the waist:<br> Thy father's 'squire, Achilles, and his care;<br> Whom conquer'd in the Polopeian war,<br> Their king, his present ruin to prevent,<br> A pledge of peace implor'd, to Peleus sent.<br> Thy sire, with grieving eyes, beheld his Fate;<br> And cry'd, Not long, lov'd Crantor, shalt thou wait<br> Thy vow'd revenge. At once he said, and threw<br> His ashen-spear; which quiver'd, as it flew;<br> With all his force, and all his soul apply'd;<br> The sharp point enter'd in the centaur's side:<br> Both hands, to wrench it out, the monster join'd;<br> And wrench'd it out; but left the steel behind;<br> Stuck in his lungs it stood: inrag'd he rears<br> His hoofs, and down to ground thy father bears.<br> Thus trampled under foot, his shield defends<br> His head; his other hand the lance portends.<br> Ev'n while he lay extended on the dust,<br> He sped the centaur, with one single thrust.<br> Two more his lance before transfix'd from far;<br> And two, his sword had slain, in closer war.<br> To these was added Dorylas, who spread<br> A bull's two goring horns around his head.<br> With these he push'd; in blood already dy'd,<br> Him fearless, I approach'd; and thus defy'd:<br> Now, monster, now, by proof it shall appear,<br> Whether thy horns are sharper, or my spear.<br> At this, I threw: for want of other ward,<br> He lifted up his hand, his front to guard.<br> His hand it pass'd; and fix'd it to his brow:<br> Loud shouts of ours attend the lucky blow.<br> Him Peleus finish'd, with a second wound,<br> Which thro' the navel pierc'd: he reel'd around;<br> And dragg'd his dangling bowels on the ground.<br> Trod what he drag'd; and what he trod, he crush'd:<br> And to his mother-Earth, with empty belly, rush'd.<br> The Story of Nor cou'd thy form, o Cyllarus, foreflow<br> Cyllarus and Thy Fate (if form to monsters men allow):<br> Hylonome Just bloom'd thy beard: thy beard of golden hue:<br> Thy locks, in golden waves, about thy shoulders<br> flew.<br> Sprightly thy look: thy shapes in ev'ry part<br> So clean, as might instruct the sculptor's art;<br> As far as man extended: where began<br> The beast, the beast was equal to the man.<br> Add but a horse's head and neck; and he,<br> O Castor, was a courser worthy thee.<br> So was his back proportion'd for the seat:<br> So rose his brawny chest; so swiftly mov'd his<br> feet.<br> Coal-black his colour, but like jett it shone;<br> His legs, and flowing tail were white alone.<br> Belov'd by many maidens of his kind;<br> But fair Hylonome possess'd his mind;<br> Hylonome, for features, and for face,<br> Excelling all the nymphs of double race:<br> Nor less her blandishments, than beauty, move;<br> At once both loving, and confessing love.<br> For him she dress'd: for him, with female care<br> She comb'd, and set in curls, her auburn hair.<br> Of roses, violets, and lillies mix'd,<br> And sprigs of flowing rosemary betwixt,<br> She form'd the chaplet, that adorn'd her front:<br> In waters of the Pegasaean fount,<br> And in the streams that from the fountain play,<br> She wash'd her face; and bath'd her twice a-day.<br> The scarf of furs, that hung below her side,<br> Was ermin, or the panther's spotted pride;<br> Spoils of no common beast: with equal flame<br> They lov'd: their silvan pleasures were the same:<br> All day they hunted: and when day expir'd,<br> Together to some shady cave retir'd:<br> Invited to the nuptials, both repair:<br> And, side by side, they both engage in war.<br> Uncertain from what hand, a flying dart<br> At Cyllarus was sent; which pierc'd his heart.<br> The jav'lin drawn from out the mortal wound,<br> He faints with stagg'ring steps; and seeks the<br> ground:<br> The fair within her arms receiv'd his fall,<br> And strove his wand'ring spirits to recall:<br> And while her hand the streaming blood oppos'd,<br> Join'd face to face, his lips with hers she clos'd.<br> Stifled with kisses, a sweet death he dies;<br> She fills the fields with undistinguish'd cries;<br> At least her words were in her clamour drown'd;<br> For my stunn'd ears receiv'd no vocal sound.<br> In madness of her grief, she seiz'd the dart<br> New-drawn, and reeking from her lover's heart;<br> To her bare bosom the sharp point apply'd;<br> And wounded fell; and falling by his side,<br> Embrac'd him in her arms; and thus embracing dy'd.<br> Ev'n still methinks, I see Phaeocomes;<br> Strange was his habit, and as odd his dress.<br> Six lions' hides, with thongs together fast,<br> His upper part defended to his waist:<br> And where man ended, the continued vest,<br> Spread on his back, the houss and trappings of a<br> beast.<br> A stump too heavy for a team to draw<br> (It seems a fable, tho' the fact I saw);<br> He threw at Pholon; the descending blow<br> Divides the skull, and cleaves his head in two.<br> The brains, from nose, and mouth, and either ear,<br> Came issuing out, as through a colendar<br> The curdled milk; or from the press the whey,<br> Driv'n down by weight above, is drain'd away.<br> But him, while stooping down to spoil the slain,<br> Pierc'd through the paunch, I tumbled on the plain.<br> Then Chthonyus, and Teleboas I slew:<br> A fork the former arm'd; a dart his fellow threw.<br> The jav'lin wounded me (behold the scar,<br> Then was my time to seek the Trojan war;<br> Then I was Hector's match in open field;<br> But he was then unborn; at least a child:<br> Now, I am nothing). I forbear to tell<br> By Periphantas how Pyretus fell;<br> The centaur by the knight: nor will I stay<br> On Amphix, or what deaths he dealt that day:<br> What honour, with a pointless lance, he won,<br> Stuck in the front of a four-footed man.<br> What fame young Macareus obtain'd in fight:<br> Or dwell on Nessus, now return'd from flight.<br> How prophet Mopsus not alone divin'd,<br> Whose valour equal'd his foreseeing mind.<br> Caeneus Already Caeneus, with his conquering hand,<br> transform'd to Had slaughter'd five the boldest of their band.<br> an Eagle Pyrachmus, Helymus, Antimachus,<br> Bromus the brave, and stronger Stiphelus,<br> Their names I number'd, and remember well,<br> No trace remaining, by what wounds they fell.<br> Laitreus, the bulki'st of the double race,<br> Whom the spoil'd arms of slain Halesus grace,<br> In years retaining still his youthful might,<br> Though his black hairs were interspers'd with<br> white,<br> Betwixt th' imbattled ranks began to prance,<br> Proud of his helm, and Macedonian lance;<br> And rode the ring around; that either hoast<br> Might hear him, while he made this empty boast:<br> And from a strumpet shall we suffer shame?<br> For Caenis still, not Caeneus, is thy name:<br> And still the native softness of thy kind<br> Prevails; and leaves the woman in thy mind;<br> Remember what thou wert; what price was paid<br> To change thy sex; to make thee not a maid:<br> And but a man in shew; go, card and spin;<br> And leave the business of the war to men.<br> While thus the boaster exercis'd his pride,<br> The fatal spear of Caeneus reach'd his side:<br> Just in the mixture of the kinds it ran;<br> Betwixt the neather beast, and upper man:<br> The monster mad with rage, and stung with smart,<br> His lance directed at the hero's heart:<br> It struck; but bounded from his harden'd breast,<br> Like hail from tiles, which the safe house invest.<br> Nor seem'd the stroke with more effect to come,<br> Than a small pebble falling on a drum.<br> He next his fauchion try'd, in closer fight;<br> But the keen fauchion had no pow'r to bite.<br> He thrust; the blunted point return'd again:<br> Since downright blows, he cry'd, and thrusts are<br> vain,<br> I'll prove his side; in strong embraces held<br> He prov'd his side; his side the sword repell'd:<br> His hollow belly eccho'd to the stroke,<br> Untouch'd his body, as a solid rock;<br> Aim'd at his neck at last, the blade in shivers<br> broke.<br> Th' impassive knight stood idle, to deride<br> His rage, and offer'd oft his naked side;<br> At length, Now monster, in thy turn, he cry'd,<br> Try thou the strength of Caeneus: at the word<br> He thrust; and in his shoulder plung'd the sword.<br> Then writh'd his hand; and as he drove it down,<br> Deep in his breast, made many wounds in one.<br> The centaurs saw, inrag'd, th' unhop'd success;<br> And rushing on in crowds, together press;<br> At him, and him alone, their darts they threw:<br> Repuls'd they from his fated body flew.<br> Amaz'd they stood; 'till Monichus began,<br> O shame, a nation conquer'd by a man!<br> A woman-man! yet more a man is he,<br> Than all our race; and what he was, are we.<br> Now, what avail our nerves? th' united force,<br> Of two the strongest creatures, man and horse;<br> Nor Goddess-born; nor of Ixion's seed<br> We seem (a lover built for Juno's bed);<br> Master'd by this half man. Whole mountains throw<br> With woods at once, and bury him below.<br> This only way remains. Nor need we doubt<br> To choak the soul within; though not to force it<br> out:<br> Heap weights, instead of wounds. He chanc'd to see<br> Where southern storms had rooted up a tree;<br> This, rais'd from Earth, against the foe he threw;<br> Th' example shewn, his fellow-brutes pursue.<br> With forest-loads the warrior they invade;<br> Othrys, and Pelion soon were void of shade;<br> And spreading groves were naked mountains made.<br> Press'd with the burden, Caeneus pants for breath;<br> And on his shoulders bears the wooden death.<br> To heave th' intolerable weight he tries;<br> At length it rose above his mouth and eyes:<br> Yet still he heaves; and, strugling with despair,<br> Shakes all aside, and gains a gulp of air:<br> A short relief, which but prolongs his pain;<br> He faints by fits; and then respires again:<br> At last, the burden only nods above,<br> As when an earthquake stirs th' Idaean grove.<br> Doubtful his death: he suffocated seem'd,<br> To most; but otherwise our Mopsus deem'd,<br> Who said he saw a yellow bird arise<br> From out the piles, and cleave the liquid skies:<br> I saw it too, with golden feathers bright;<br> Nor e'er before beheld so strange a sight.<br> Whom Mopsus viewing, as it soar'd around<br> Our troop, and heard the pinions' rattling sound,<br> All hail, he cry'd, thy country's grace and love!<br> Once first of men below, now first of birds above.<br> Its author to the story gave belief:<br> For us, our courage was increas'd by grief:<br> Asham'd to see a single man, pursu'd<br> With odds, to sink beneath a multitude,<br> We push'd the foe: and forc'd to shameful flight,<br> Part fell, and part escap'd by favour of the night.<br> The Fate of This tale, by Nestor told, did much displease<br> Periclymenos Tlepolemus, the seed of Hercules:<br> For, often he had heard his father say,<br> That he himself was present at the fray;<br> And more than shar'd the glories of the day.<br> Old Chronicle, he said, among the rest,<br> You might have nam'd Alcides at the least:<br> Is he not worth your praise? The Pylian prince<br> Sigh'd ere he spoke; then made this proud defence.<br> My former woes in long oblivion drown'd,<br> I wou'd have lost; but you renew the wound:<br> Better to pass him o'er, than to relate<br> The cause I have your mighty sire to hate.<br> His fame has fill'd the world, and reach'd the sky<br> (Which, oh, I wish, with truth, I cou'd deny!);<br> We praise not Hector; though his name, we know,<br> Is great in arms; 'tis hard to praise a foe.<br> He, your great father, levell'd to the ground<br> Messenia's tow'rs: nor better fortune found<br> Elis, and Pylos; that a neighb'ring state,<br> And this my own: both guiltless of their fate.<br> To pass the rest, twelve, wanting one, he slew;<br> My brethren, who their birth from Neleus drew,<br> All youths of early promise, had they liv'd;<br> By him they perish'd: I alone surviv'd.<br> The rest were easie conquest: but the fate<br> Of Periclymenos, is wondrous to relate.<br> To him, our common grandsire of the main<br> Had giv'n to change his form, and chang'd, resume<br> again.<br> Vary'd at pleasure, every shape he try'd;<br> And in all beasts, Alcides still defy'd:<br> Vanquish'd on Earth, at length he soar'd above;<br> Chang'd to the bird, that bears the bolt of Jove:<br> The new-dissembled eagle, now endu'd<br> With beak, and pounces, Hercules pursu'd,<br> And cuff'd his manly cheeks, and tore his face;<br> Then, safe retir'd, and tour'd in empty space.<br> Alcides bore not long his flying foe;<br> But bending his inevitable bow,<br> Reach'd him in air, suspended as he stood;<br> And in his pinion fix'd the feather'd wood.<br> Light was the wound; but in the sinew hung<br> The point, and his disabled wing unstrung.<br> He wheel'd in air, and stretch'd his vans in vain;<br> His vans no longer cou'd his flight sustain:<br> For while one gather'd wind, one unsupply'd<br> Hung drooping down, nor pois'd his other side.<br> He fell: the shaft that slightly was impress'd,<br> Now from his heavy fall with weight increas'd,<br> Drove through his neck, aslant, he spurns the<br> ground,<br> And the soul issues through the weazon's wound.<br> Now, brave commander of the Rhodian seas,<br> What praise is due from me, to Hercules?<br> Silence is all the vengeance I decree<br> For my slain brothers; but 'tis peace with thee.<br> Thus with a flowing tongue old Nestor spoke:<br> Then, to full bowls each other they provoke:<br> At length, with weariness, and wine oppress'd,<br> They rise from table; and withdraw to rest.<br> The Death of The sire of Cygnus, monarch of the main,<br> Achilles Mean-time, laments his son, in battel slain,<br> And vows the victor's death; nor vows in vain.<br> For nine long years the smother'd pain he bore<br> (Achilles was not ripe for Fate before):<br> Then when he saw the promis'd hour was near,<br> He thus bespoke the God, that guides the year:<br> Immortal offspring of my brother Jove;<br> My brightest nephew, and whom best I love,<br> Whose hands were join'd with mine, to raise the<br> wall<br> Of tott'ring Troy, now nodding to her fall,<br> Dost thou not mourn our pow'r employ'd in vain;<br> And the defenders of our city slain?<br> To pass the rest, could noble Hector lie<br> Unpity'd, drag'd around his native Troy?<br> And yet the murd'rer lives: himself by far<br> A greater plague, than all the wasteful war:<br> He lives; the proud Pelides lives, to boast<br> Our town destroy'd, our common labour lost.<br> O, could I meet him! But I wish too late:<br> To prove my trident is not in his Fate!<br> But let him try (for that's allow'd) thy dart,<br> And pierce his only penetrable part.<br> Apollo bows to the superior throne;<br> And to his uncle's anger, adds his own.<br> Then in a cloud involv'd, he takes his flight,<br> Where Greeks, and Trojans mix'd in mortal fight;<br> And found out Paris, lurking where he stood,<br> And stain'd his arrows with plebeian blood:<br> Phoebus to him alone the God confess'd,<br> Then to the recreant knight, he thus address'd.<br> Dost thou not blush, to spend thy shafts in vain<br> On a degenerate, and ignoble train?<br> If fame, or better vengeance be thy care,<br> There aim: and, with one arrow, end the war.<br> He said; and shew'd from far the blazing shield<br> And sword, which, but Achilles, none cou'd wield;<br> And how he mov'd a God, and mow'd the standing<br> field.<br> The deity himself directs aright<br> Th' invenom'd shaft; and wings the fatal flight.<br> Thus fell the foremost of the Grecian name;<br> And he, the base adult'rer, boasts the fame.<br> A spectacle to glad the Trojan train;<br> And please old Priam, after Hector slain.<br> If by a female hand he had foreseen<br> He was to die, his wish had rather been<br> The lance, and double ax of the fair warriour<br> queen.<br> And now the terror of the Trojan field,<br> The Grecian honour, ornament, and shield,<br> High on a pile, th' unconquer'd chief is plac'd,<br> The God that arm'd him first, consum'd at last.<br> Of all the mighty man, the small remains<br> A little urn, and scarcely fill'd, contains.<br> Yet great in Homer, still Achilles lives;<br> And equal to himself, himself survives.<br> His buckler owns its former lord; and brings<br> New cause of strife, betwixt contending kings;<br> Who worthi'st after him, his sword to wield,<br> Or wear his armour, or sustain his shield.<br> Ev'n Diomede sat mute, with down-cast eyes;<br> Conscious of wanted worth to win the prize:<br> Nor Menelaus presum'd these arms to claim,<br> Nor he the king of men, a greater name.<br> Two rivals only rose: Laertes' son,<br> And the vast bulk of Ajax Telamon:<br> The king, who cherish'd each with equal love,<br> And from himself all envy wou'd remove,<br> Left both to be determin'd by the laws;<br> And to the Graecian chiefs transferr'd the cause.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The End of the Twelfth Book.<br> <br> <br> Translated into English verse under the direction of<br> Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,<br> William Congreve and other eminent hands</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=475844" data-title="Metamorphoses: Book The Twelfth de Ovid" data-description="PRIAM, to whom the story was unknown, As dead, deplor'd his metamorphos'd son: A cenotaph his name, and title kept, And Hector round the tomb, with all his brothers, wept. This pious office Paris did not share; Absent alone; and author..."></div> </div> </div>

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