Metamorphoses (Books I-XIV)
The Story of Alcithoe and her Sisters
4:1 Yet still Alcithoe perverse remains,
4:2 And Bacchus still, and all his rites,
disdains.
4:3 Too rash, and madly bold, she bids
him prove
4:4 Himself a God, nor owns the son of
Jove.
4:5 Her sisters too unanimous agree,
4:6 Faithful associates in impiety.
4:7 Be this a solemn feast, the priest
had said;
4:8 Be, with each mistress, unemploy'd
each maid.
4:9 With skins of beasts your tender
limbs enclose,
4:10 And with an ivy-crown adorn your
brows,
4:11 The leafy Thyrsus high in triumph
bear,
4:12 And give your locks to wanton in
the air.
4:13 These rites profan'd, the holy seer foreshow'd
4:14 A mourning people, and a vengeful
God.
4:15 Matrons and pious wives obedience show,
4:16 Distaffs, and wooll, half spun,
away they throw:
4:17 Then incense burn, and, Bacchus,
thee adore,
4:18 Or lov'st thou Nyseus, or Lyaeus
more?
4:19 O! doubly got, O! doubly born,
they sung,
4:20 Thou mighty Bromius, hail, from
light'ning sprung!
4:21 Hail, Thyon, Eleleus! each name
is thine:
4:22 Or, listen parent of the genial
vine!
4:23 Iachus! Evan! loudly they repeat,
4:24 And not one Grecian attribute forget,
4:25 Which to thy praise, great Deity,
belong,
4:26 Stil'd justly Liber in the Roman
song.
4:27 Eternity of youth is thine! enjoy
4:28 Years roul'd on years, yet still
a blooming boy.
4:29 In Heav'n thou shin'st with a superior
grace;
4:30 Conceal thy horns, and 'tis a virgin's
face.
4:31 Thou taught'st the tawny Indian
to obey,
4:32 And Ganges, smoothly flowing, own'd
thy sway.
4:33 Lycurgus, Pentheus, equally profane,
4:34 By thy just vengeance equally were
slain.
4:35 By thee the Tuscans, who conspir'd
to keep
4:36 Thee captive, plung'd, and cut
with finns the deep.
4:37 With painted reins, all-glitt'ring
from afar,
4:38 The spotted lynxes proudly draw
thy car.
4:39 Around, the Bacchae, and the satyrs
throng;
4:40 Behind, Silenus, drunk, lags slow
along:
4:41 On his dull ass he nods from side
to side,
4:42 Forbears to fall, yet half forgets
to ride.
4:43 Still at thy near approach, applauses
loud
4:44 Are heard, with yellings of the
female crowd.
4:45 Timbrels, and boxen pipes, with
mingled cries,
4:46 Swell up in sounds confus'd, and
rend the skies.
4:47 Come, Bacchus, come propitious,
all implore,
4:48 And act thy sacred orgies o'er
and o'er.
4:49 But Mineus' daughters, while these rites were
pay'd,
4:50 At home, impertinently busie, stay'd.
4:51 Their wicked tasks they ply with
various art,
4:52 And thro' the loom the sliding
shuttle dart;
4:53 Or at the fire to comb the wooll
they stand,
4:54 Or twirl the spindle with a dext'rous
hand.
4:55 Guilty themselves, they force the
guiltless in;
4:56 Their maids, who share the labour,
share the sin.
4:57 At last one sister cries, who nimbly
knew
4:58 To draw nice threads, and winde
the finest clue,
4:59 While others idly rove, and Gods
revere,
4:60 Their fancy'd Gods! they know not
who, or where;
4:61 Let us, whom Pallas taught her
better arts,
4:62 Still working, cheer with mirthful
chat our hearts,
4:63 And to deceive the time, let me
prevail
4:64 With each by turns to tell some
antique tale.
4:65 She said: her sisters lik'd the
humour well,
4:66 And smiling, bad her the first
story tell.
4:67 But she a-while profoundly seem'd
to muse,
4:68 Perplex'd amid variety to chuse:
4:69 And knew not, whether she should
first relate
4:70 The poor Dircetis, and her wond'rous
fate.
4:71 The Palestines believe it to a
man,
4:72 And show the lake, in which her
scales began.
4:73 Or if she rather should the daughter
sing,
4:74 Who in the hoary verge of life
took wing;
4:75 Who soar'd from Earth, and dwelt
in tow'rs on high,
4:76 And now a dove she flits along
the sky.
4:77 Or how lewd Nais, when her lust
was cloy'd,
4:78 To fishes turn'd the youths, she
had enjoy'd,
4:79 By pow'rful verse, and herbs; effect
most strange!
4:80 At last the changer shar'd herself
the change.
4:81 Or how the tree, which once white
berries bore,
4:82 Still crimson bears, since stain'd
with crimson gore.
4:83 The tree was new; she likes it,
and begins
4:84 To tell the tale, and as she tells,
she spins.
Metamorphoses (Books I-XIV)
The Story of Alcithoe and her Sisters
4:1 Yet still Alcithoe perverse remains,
4:2 And Bacchus still, and all his rites,
disdains.
4:3 Too rash, and madly bold, she bids
him prove
4:4 Himself a God, nor owns the son of
Jove.
4:5 Her sisters too unanimous agree,
4:6 Faithful associates in impiety.
4:7 Be this a solemn feast, the priest
had said;
4:8 Be, with each mistress, unemploy'd
each maid.
4:9 With skins of beasts your tender
limbs enclose,
4:10 And with an ivy-crown adorn your
brows,
4:11 The leafy Thyrsus high in triumph
bear,
4:12 And give your locks to wanton in
the air.
4:13 These rites profan'd, the holy seer foreshow'd
4:14 A mourning people, and a vengeful
God.
4:15 Matrons and pious wives obedience show,
4:16 Distaffs, and wooll, half spun,
away they throw:
4:17 Then incense burn, and, Bacchus,
thee adore,
4:18 Or lov'st thou Nyseus, or Lyaeus
more?
4:19 O! doubly got, O! doubly born,
they sung,
4:20 Thou mighty Bromius, hail, from
light'ning sprung!
4:21 Hail, Thyon, Eleleus! each name
is thine:
4:22 Or, listen parent of the genial
vine!
4:23 Iachus! Evan! loudly they repeat,
4:24 And not one Grecian attribute forget,
4:25 Which to thy praise, great Deity,
belong,
4:26 Stil'd justly Liber in the Roman
song.
4:27 Eternity of youth is thine! enjoy
4:28 Years roul'd on years, yet still
a blooming boy.
4:29 In Heav'n thou shin'st with a superior
grace;
4:30 Conceal thy horns, and 'tis a virgin's
face.
4:31 Thou taught'st the tawny Indian
to obey,
4:32 And Ganges, smoothly flowing, own'd
thy sway.
4:33 Lycurgus, Pentheus, equally profane,
4:34 By thy just vengeance equally were
slain.
4:35 By thee the Tuscans, who conspir'd
to keep
4:36 Thee captive, plung'd, and cut
with finns the deep.
4:37 With painted reins, all-glitt'ring
from afar,
4:38 The spotted lynxes proudly draw
thy car.
4:39 Around, the Bacchae, and the satyrs
throng;
4:40 Behind, Silenus, drunk, lags slow
along:
4:41 On his dull ass he nods from side
to side,
4:42 Forbears to fall, yet half forgets
to ride.
4:43 Still at thy near approach, applauses
loud
4:44 Are heard, with yellings of the
female crowd.
4:45 Timbrels, and boxen pipes, with
mingled cries,
4:46 Swell up in sounds confus'd, and
rend the skies.
4:47 Come, Bacchus, come propitious,
all implore,
4:48 And act thy sacred orgies o'er
and o'er.
4:49 But Mineus' daughters, while these rites were
pay'd,
4:50 At home, impertinently busie, stay'd.
4:51 Their wicked tasks they ply with
various art,
4:52 And thro' the loom the sliding
shuttle dart;
4:53 Or at the fire to comb the wooll
they stand,
4:54 Or twirl the spindle with a dext'rous
hand.
4:55 Guilty themselves, they force the
guiltless in;
4:56 Their maids, who share the labour,
share the sin.
4:57 At last one sister cries, who nimbly
knew
4:58 To draw nice threads, and winde
the finest clue,
4:59 While others idly rove, and Gods
revere,
4:60 Their fancy'd Gods! they know not
who, or where;
4:61 Let us, whom Pallas taught her
better arts,
4:62 Still working, cheer with mirthful
chat our hearts,
4:63 And to deceive the time, let me
prevail
4:64 With each by turns to tell some
antique tale.
4:65 She said: her sisters lik'd the
humour well,
4:66 And smiling, bad her the first
story tell.
4:67 But she a-while profoundly seem'd
to muse,
4:68 Perplex'd amid variety to chuse:
4:69 And knew not, whether she should
first relate
4:70 The poor Dircetis, and her wond'rous
fate.
4:71 The Palestines believe it to a
man,
4:72 And show the lake, in which her
scales began.
4:73 Or if she rather should the daughter
sing,
4:74 Who in the hoary verge of life
took wing;
4:75 Who soar'd from Earth, and dwelt
in tow'rs on high,
4:76 And now a dove she flits along
the sky.
4:77 Or how lewd Nais, when her lust
was cloy'd,
4:78 To fishes turn'd the youths, she
had enjoy'd,
4:79 By pow'rful verse, and herbs; effect
most strange!
4:80 At last the changer shar'd herself
the change.
4:81 Or how the tree, which once white
berries bore,
4:82 Still crimson bears, since stain'd
with crimson gore.
4:83 The tree was new; she likes it,
and begins
4:84 To tell the tale, and as she tells,
she spins.