Metamorphoses (Books I-XIV)
A Boy transform'd to an Eft
5:666 Thus, while thro' all the Earth, and all
the main,
5:667 Her daughter mournful Ceres sought
in vain;
5:668 Aurora, when with dewy looks
she rose,
5:669 Nor burnish'd Vesper found her
in repose,
5:670 At Aetna's flaming mouth two
pitchy pines
5:671 To light her in her search at
length she tines.
5:672 Restless, with these, thro' frosty
night she goes,
5:673 Nor fears the cutting winds,
nor heeds the snows;
5:674 And, when the morning-star the
day renews,
5:675 From east to west her absent
child pursues.
5:676 Thirsty at last by long fatigue she grows,
5:677 But meets no spring, no riv'let
near her flows.
5:678 Then looking round, a lowly cottage
spies,
5:679 Smoaking among the trees, and
thither hies.
5:680 The Goddess knocking at the little
door,
5:681 'Twas open'd by a woman old and
poor,
5:682 Who, when she begg'd for water,
gave her ale
5:683 Brew'd long, but well preserv'd
from being stale.
5:684 The Goddess drank; a chuffy lad
was by,
5:685 Who saw the liquor with a grutching
eye,
5:686 And grinning cries, She's greedy
more than dry.
5:687 Ceres, offended at his foul grimace,
5:688 Flung what she had not drunk
into his face,
5:689 The sprinklings speckle where
they hit the skin,
5:690 And a long tail does from his
body spin;
5:691 His arms are turn'd to legs,
and lest his size
5:692 Shou'd make him mischievous,
and he might rise
5:693 Against mankind, diminutives
his frame,
5:694 Less than a lizzard, but in shape
the same.
5:695 Amaz'd the dame the wondrous
sight beheld,
5:696 And weeps, and fain wou'd touch
her quondam child.
5:697 Yet her approach th' affrighted
vermin shuns,
5:698 And fast into the greatest crevice
runs.
5:699 A name they gave him, which the
spots exprest,
5:700 That rose like stars, and varied
all his breast.
5:701 What lands, what seas the Goddess wander'd
o'er,
5:702 Were long to tell; for there
remain'd no more.
5:703 Searching all round, her fruitless
toil she mourns,
5:704 And with regret to Sicily returns.
5:705 At length, where Cyane now flows,
she came,
5:706 Who cou'd have told her, were
she still the same
5:707 As when she saw her daughter
sink to Hell;
5:708 But what she knows she wants
a tongue to tell.
5:709 Yet this plain signal manifestly
gave,
5:710 The virgin's girdle floating
on a wave,
5:711 As late she dropt it from her
slender waste,
5:712 When with her uncle thro' the
deep she past.
5:713 Ceres the token by her grief
confest,
5:714 And tore her golden hair, and
beat her breast.
5:715 She knows not on what land her
curse shou'd fall,
5:716 But, as ingrate, alike upbraids
them all,
5:717 Unworthy of her gifts; Trinacria
most,
5:718 Where the last steps she found
of what she lost.
5:719 The plough for this the vengeful
Goddess broke,
5:720 And with one death the ox, and
owner struck,
5:721 In vain the fallow fields the
peasant tills,
5:722 The seed, corrupted ere 'tis
sown, she kills.
5:723 The fruitful soil, that once
such harvests bore,
5:724 Now mocks the farmer's care,
and teems no more.
5:725 And the rich grain which fills
the furrow'd glade,
5:726 Rots in the seed, or shrivels
in the blade;
5:727 Or too much sun burns up, or
too much rain
5:728 Drowns, or black blights destroy
the blasted plain;
5:729 Or greedy birds the new-sown
seed devour,
5:730 Or darnel, thistles, and a crop
impure
5:731 Of knotted grass along the acres
stand,
5:732 And spread their thriving roots
thro' all the land.
5:733 Then from the waves soft Arethusa rears
5:734 Her head, and back she flings
her dropping hairs.
5:735 O mother of the maid, whom thou
so far
5:736 Hast sought, of whom thou canst
no tidings hear;
5:737 O thou, she cry'd, who art to
life a friend,
5:738 Cease here thy search, and let
thy labour end.
5:739 Thy faithful Sicily's a guiltless
clime,
5:740 And shou'd not suffer for another's
crime;
5:741 She neither knew, nor cou'd prevent
the deed;
5:742 Nor think that for my country
thus I plead;
5:743 My country's Pisa, I'm an alien
here,
5:744 Yet these abodes to Elis I prefer,
5:745 No clime to me so sweet, no place
so dear.
5:746 These springs I Arethusa now
possess,
5:747 And this my seat, o gracious
Goddess, bless:
5:748 This island why I love, and why
I crost
5:749 Such spacious seas to reach Ortygia's
coast,
5:750 To you I shall impart, when,
void of care,
5:751 Your heart's at ease, and you're
more fit to hear;
5:752 When on your brow no pressing
sorrow sits,
5:753 For gay content alone such tales
admits.
5:754 When thro' Earth's caverns I
a-while have roul'd
5:755 My waves, I rise, and here again
behold
5:756 The long-lost stars; and, as
I late did glide
5:757 Near Styx, Proserpina there I
espy'd.
5:758 Fear still with grief might in
her face be seen;
5:759 She still her rape laments; yet,
made a queen,
5:760 Beneath those gloomy shades her
sceptre sways,
5:761 And ev'n th' infernal king her
will obeys.
5:762 This heard, the Goddess like a statue stood,
5:763 Stupid with grief; and in that
musing mood
5:764 Continu'd long; new cares a-while
supprest
5:765 The reigning of her immortal
breast.
5:766 At last to Jove her daughter's
sire she flies,
5:767 And with her chariot cuts the
chrystal skies;
5:768 She comes in clouds, and with
dishevel'd hair,
5:769 Standing before his throne, prefers
her pray'r.
5:770 King of the Gods, defend my blood and thine,
5:771 And use it not the worse for
being mine.
5:772 If I no more am gracious in thy
sight,
5:773 Be just, o Jove, and do thy daughter
right.
5:774 In vain I sought her the wide
world around,
5:775 And, when I most despair'd to
find her, found.
5:776 But how can I the fatal finding
boast,
5:777 By which I know she is for ever
lost?
5:778 Without her father's aid, what
other Pow'r
5:779 Can to my arms the ravish'd maid
restore?
5:780 Let him restore her, I'll the
crime forgive;
5:781 My child, tho' ravish'd, I'd
with joy receive.
5:782 Pity, your daughter with a thief
shou'd wed,
5:783 Tho' mine, you think, deserves
no better bed.
5:784 Jove thus replies: It equally belongs
5:785 To both, to guard our common
pledge from wrongs.
5:786 But if to things we proper names
apply,
5:787 This hardly can be call'd an
injury.
5:788 The theft is love; nor need we
blush to own
5:789 The thief, if I can judge, to
be our son.
5:790 Had you of his desert no other
proof,
5:791 To be Jove's brother is methinks
enough.
5:792 Nor was my throne by worth superior
got,
5:793 Heav'n fell to me, as Hell to
him, by lot:
5:794 If you are still resolv'd her
loss to mourn,
5:795 And nothing less will serve than
her return;
5:796 Upon these terms she may again
be yours
5:797 (Th' irrevocable terms of fate,
not ours),
5:798 Of Stygian food if she did never
taste,
5:799 Hell's bounds may then, and only
then, be past.
Metamorphoses (Books I-XIV)
A Boy transform'd to an Eft
5:666 Thus, while thro' all the Earth, and all
the main,
5:667 Her daughter mournful Ceres sought
in vain;
5:668 Aurora, when with dewy looks
she rose,
5:669 Nor burnish'd Vesper found her
in repose,
5:670 At Aetna's flaming mouth two
pitchy pines
5:671 To light her in her search at
length she tines.
5:672 Restless, with these, thro' frosty
night she goes,
5:673 Nor fears the cutting winds,
nor heeds the snows;
5:674 And, when the morning-star the
day renews,
5:675 From east to west her absent
child pursues.
5:676 Thirsty at last by long fatigue she grows,
5:677 But meets no spring, no riv'let
near her flows.
5:678 Then looking round, a lowly cottage
spies,
5:679 Smoaking among the trees, and
thither hies.
5:680 The Goddess knocking at the little
door,
5:681 'Twas open'd by a woman old and
poor,
5:682 Who, when she begg'd for water,
gave her ale
5:683 Brew'd long, but well preserv'd
from being stale.
5:684 The Goddess drank; a chuffy lad
was by,
5:685 Who saw the liquor with a grutching
eye,
5:686 And grinning cries, She's greedy
more than dry.
5:687 Ceres, offended at his foul grimace,
5:688 Flung what she had not drunk
into his face,
5:689 The sprinklings speckle where
they hit the skin,
5:690 And a long tail does from his
body spin;
5:691 His arms are turn'd to legs,
and lest his size
5:692 Shou'd make him mischievous,
and he might rise
5:693 Against mankind, diminutives
his frame,
5:694 Less than a lizzard, but in shape
the same.
5:695 Amaz'd the dame the wondrous
sight beheld,
5:696 And weeps, and fain wou'd touch
her quondam child.
5:697 Yet her approach th' affrighted
vermin shuns,
5:698 And fast into the greatest crevice
runs.
5:699 A name they gave him, which the
spots exprest,
5:700 That rose like stars, and varied
all his breast.
5:701 What lands, what seas the Goddess wander'd
o'er,
5:702 Were long to tell; for there
remain'd no more.
5:703 Searching all round, her fruitless
toil she mourns,
5:704 And with regret to Sicily returns.
5:705 At length, where Cyane now flows,
she came,
5:706 Who cou'd have told her, were
she still the same
5:707 As when she saw her daughter
sink to Hell;
5:708 But what she knows she wants
a tongue to tell.
5:709 Yet this plain signal manifestly
gave,
5:710 The virgin's girdle floating
on a wave,
5:711 As late she dropt it from her
slender waste,
5:712 When with her uncle thro' the
deep she past.
5:713 Ceres the token by her grief
confest,
5:714 And tore her golden hair, and
beat her breast.
5:715 She knows not on what land her
curse shou'd fall,
5:716 But, as ingrate, alike upbraids
them all,
5:717 Unworthy of her gifts; Trinacria
most,
5:718 Where the last steps she found
of what she lost.
5:719 The plough for this the vengeful
Goddess broke,
5:720 And with one death the ox, and
owner struck,
5:721 In vain the fallow fields the
peasant tills,
5:722 The seed, corrupted ere 'tis
sown, she kills.
5:723 The fruitful soil, that once
such harvests bore,
5:724 Now mocks the farmer's care,
and teems no more.
5:725 And the rich grain which fills
the furrow'd glade,
5:726 Rots in the seed, or shrivels
in the blade;
5:727 Or too much sun burns up, or
too much rain
5:728 Drowns, or black blights destroy
the blasted plain;
5:729 Or greedy birds the new-sown
seed devour,
5:730 Or darnel, thistles, and a crop
impure
5:731 Of knotted grass along the acres
stand,
5:732 And spread their thriving roots
thro' all the land.
5:733 Then from the waves soft Arethusa rears
5:734 Her head, and back she flings
her dropping hairs.
5:735 O mother of the maid, whom thou
so far
5:736 Hast sought, of whom thou canst
no tidings hear;
5:737 O thou, she cry'd, who art to
life a friend,
5:738 Cease here thy search, and let
thy labour end.
5:739 Thy faithful Sicily's a guiltless
clime,
5:740 And shou'd not suffer for another's
crime;
5:741 She neither knew, nor cou'd prevent
the deed;
5:742 Nor think that for my country
thus I plead;
5:743 My country's Pisa, I'm an alien
here,
5:744 Yet these abodes to Elis I prefer,
5:745 No clime to me so sweet, no place
so dear.
5:746 These springs I Arethusa now
possess,
5:747 And this my seat, o gracious
Goddess, bless:
5:748 This island why I love, and why
I crost
5:749 Such spacious seas to reach Ortygia's
coast,
5:750 To you I shall impart, when,
void of care,
5:751 Your heart's at ease, and you're
more fit to hear;
5:752 When on your brow no pressing
sorrow sits,
5:753 For gay content alone such tales
admits.
5:754 When thro' Earth's caverns I
a-while have roul'd
5:755 My waves, I rise, and here again
behold
5:756 The long-lost stars; and, as
I late did glide
5:757 Near Styx, Proserpina there I
espy'd.
5:758 Fear still with grief might in
her face be seen;
5:759 She still her rape laments; yet,
made a queen,
5:760 Beneath those gloomy shades her
sceptre sways,
5:761 And ev'n th' infernal king her
will obeys.
5:762 This heard, the Goddess like a statue stood,
5:763 Stupid with grief; and in that
musing mood
5:764 Continu'd long; new cares a-while
supprest
5:765 The reigning of her immortal
breast.
5:766 At last to Jove her daughter's
sire she flies,
5:767 And with her chariot cuts the
chrystal skies;
5:768 She comes in clouds, and with
dishevel'd hair,
5:769 Standing before his throne, prefers
her pray'r.
5:770 King of the Gods, defend my blood and thine,
5:771 And use it not the worse for
being mine.
5:772 If I no more am gracious in thy
sight,
5:773 Be just, o Jove, and do thy daughter
right.
5:774 In vain I sought her the wide
world around,
5:775 And, when I most despair'd to
find her, found.
5:776 But how can I the fatal finding
boast,
5:777 By which I know she is for ever
lost?
5:778 Without her father's aid, what
other Pow'r
5:779 Can to my arms the ravish'd maid
restore?
5:780 Let him restore her, I'll the
crime forgive;
5:781 My child, tho' ravish'd, I'd
with joy receive.
5:782 Pity, your daughter with a thief
shou'd wed,
5:783 Tho' mine, you think, deserves
no better bed.
5:784 Jove thus replies: It equally belongs
5:785 To both, to guard our common
pledge from wrongs.
5:786 But if to things we proper names
apply,
5:787 This hardly can be call'd an
injury.
5:788 The theft is love; nor need we
blush to own
5:789 The thief, if I can judge, to
be our son.
5:790 Had you of his desert no other
proof,
5:791 To be Jove's brother is methinks
enough.
5:792 Nor was my throne by worth superior
got,
5:793 Heav'n fell to me, as Hell to
him, by lot:
5:794 If you are still resolv'd her
loss to mourn,
5:795 And nothing less will serve than
her return;
5:796 Upon these terms she may again
be yours
5:797 (Th' irrevocable terms of fate,
not ours),
5:798 Of Stygian food if she did never
taste,
5:799 Hell's bounds may then, and only
then, be past.