Metamorphoses (Books I-XIV)
The Transformation of Arachne into a Spider
6:1 Pallas, attending to the Muse's song,
6:2 Approv'd the just resentment of their
wrong;
6:3 And thus reflects: While tamely I
commend
6:4 Those who their injur'd deities defend,
6:5 My own divinity affronted stands,
6:6 And calls aloud for justice at my
hands;
6:7 Then takes the hint, asham'd to lag
behind,
6:8 And on Arachne' bends her vengeful
mind;
6:9 One at the loom so excellently skill'd,
6:10 That to the Goddess she refus'd
to yield.
6:11 Low was her birth, and small her
native town,
6:12 She from her art alone obtain'd
renown.
6:13 Idmon, her father, made it his
employ,
6:14 To give the spungy fleece a purple
dye:
6:15 Of vulgar strain her mother, lately
dead,
6:16 With her own rank had been content
to wed;
6:17 Yet she their daughter, tho' her
time was spent
6:18 In a small hamlet, and of mean
descent,
6:19 Thro' the great towns of Lydia
gain'd a name,
6:20 And fill'd the neighb'ring countries
with her fame.
6:21 Oft, to admire the niceness of her skill,
6:22 The Nymphs would quit their fountain,
shade, or hill:
6:23 Thither, from green Tymolus, they
repair,
6:24 And leave the vineyards, their
peculiar care;
6:25 Thither, from fam'd Pactolus' golden
stream,
6:26 Drawn by her art, the curious Naiads
came.
6:27 Nor would the work, when finish'd,
please so much,
6:28 As, while she wrought, to view
each graceful touch;
6:29 Whether the shapeless wool in balls
she wound,
6:30 Or with quick motion turn'd the
spindle round,
6:31 Or with her pencil drew the neat
design,
6:32 Pallas her mistress shone in every
line.
6:33 This the proud maid with scornful
air denies,
6:34 And ev'n the Goddess at her work
defies;
6:35 Disowns her heav'nly mistress ev'ry
hour,
6:36 Nor asks her aid, nor deprecates
her pow'r.
6:37 Let us, she cries, but to a tryal
come,
6:38 And, if she conquers, let her fix
my doom.
6:39 The Goddess then a beldame's form put on,
6:40 With silver hairs her hoary temples
shone;
6:41 Prop'd by a staff, she hobbles
in her walk,
6:42 And tott'ring thus begins her old
wives' talk.
6:43 Young maid attend, nor stubbornly despise
6:44 The admonitions of the old, and
wise;
6:45 For age, tho' scorn'd, a ripe experience
bears,
6:46 That golden fruit, unknown to blooming
years:
6:47 Still may remotest fame your labours
crown,
6:48 And mortals your superior genius
own;
6:49 But to the Goddess yield, and humbly
meek
6:50 A pardon for your bold presumption
seek;
6:51 The Goddess will forgive. At this
the maid,
6:52 With passion fir'd, her gliding
shuttle stay'd;
6:53 And, darting vengeance with an
angry look,
6:54 To Pallas in disguise thus fiercely
spoke.
6:55 Thou doating thing, whose idle babling tongue
6:56 But too well shews the plague of
living long;
6:57 Hence, and reprove, with this your
sage advice,
6:58 Your giddy daughter, or your aukward
neice;
6:59 Know, I despise your counsel, and
am still
6:60 A woman, ever wedded to my will;
6:61 And, if your skilful Goddess better
knows,
6:62 Let her accept the tryal I propose.
6:63 She does, impatient Pallas strait replies,
6:64 And, cloath'd with heavenly light,
sprung from her odd disguise.
6:65 The Nymphs, and virgins of the
plain adore
6:66 The awful Goddess, and confess
her pow'r;
6:67 The maid alone stood unappall'd;
yet show'd
6:68 A transient blush, that for a moment
glow'd,
6:69 Then disappear'd; as purple streaks
adorn
6:70 The opening beauties of the rosy
morn;
6:71 Till Phoebus rising prevalently
bright,
6:72 Allays the tincture with his silver
light.
6:73 Yet she persists, and obstinately
great,
6:74 In hopes of conquest hurries on
her fate.
6:75 The Goddess now the challenge waves
no more,
6:76 Nor, kindly good, advises as before.
6:77 Strait to their posts appointed
both repair,
6:78 And fix their threaded looms with
equal care:
6:79 Around the solid beam the web is
ty'd,
6:80 While hollow canes the parting
warp divide;
6:81 Thro' which with nimble flight
the shuttles play,
6:82 And for the woof prepare a ready
way;
6:83 The woof and warp unite, press'd
by the toothy slay.
6:84 Thus both, their mantles button'd to their
breast,
6:85 Their skilful fingers ply with
willing haste,
6:86 And work with pleasure; while they
chear the eye
6:87 With glowing purple of the Tyrian
dye:
6:88 Or, justly intermixing shades with
light,
6:89 Their colourings insensibly unite.
6:90 As when a show'r transpierc'd with
sunny rays,
6:91 Its mighty arch along the heav'n
displays;
6:92 From whence a thousand diff'rent
colours rise,
6:93 Whose fine transition cheats the
clearest eyes;
6:94 So like the intermingled shading
seems,
6:95 And only differs in the last extreams.
6:96 Then threads of gold both artfully
dispose,
6:97 And, as each part in just proportion
rose,
6:98 Some antique fable in their work
disclose.
6:99 Pallas in figures wrought the heav'nly Pow'rs,
6:100 And Mars's hill among th' Athenian
tow'rs.
6:101 On lofty thrones twice six celestials
sate,
6:102 Jove in the midst, and held their
warm debate;
6:103 The subject weighty, and well-known
to fame,
6:104 From whom the city shou'd receive
its name.
6:105 Each God by proper features was
exprest,
6:106 Jove with majestick mein excell'd
the rest.
6:107 His three-fork'd mace the dewy
sea-God shook,
6:108 And, looking sternly, smote the
ragged rock;
6:109 When from the stone leapt forth
a spritely steed,
6:110 And Neptune claims the city for
the deed.
6:111 Herself she blazons, with a glitt'ring spear,
6:112 And crested helm that veil'd
her braided hair,
6:113 With shield, and scaly breast-plate,
implements of war.
6:114 Struck with her pointed launce,
the teeming Earth
6:115 Seem'd to produce a new surprizing
birth;
6:116 When, from the glebe, the pledge
of conquest sprung,
6:117 A tree pale-green with fairest
olives hung.
6:118 And then, to let her giddy rival learn
6:119 What just rewards such boldness
was to earn,
6:120 Four tryals at each corner had
their part,
6:121 Design'd in miniature, and touch'd
with art.
6:122 Haemus in one, and Rodope of
Thrace
6:123 Transform'd to mountains, fill'd
the foremost place;
6:124 Who claim'd the titles of the
Gods above,
6:125 And vainly us'd the epithets
of Jove.
6:126 Another shew'd, where the Pigmaean
dame,
6:127 Profaning Juno's venerable name,
6:128 Turn'd to an airy crane, descends
from far,
6:129 And with her Pigmy subjects wages
war.
6:130 In a third part, the rage of
Heav'n's great queen,
6:131 Display'd on proud Antigone,
was seen:
6:132 Who with presumptuous boldness
dar'd to vye,
6:133 For beauty with the empress of
the sky.
6:134 Ah! what avails her ancient princely
race,
6:135 Her sire a king, and Troy her
native place:
6:136 Now, to a noisy stork transform'd,
she flies,
6:137 And with her whiten'd pinions
cleaves the skies.
6:138 And in the last remaining part
was drawn
6:139 Poor Cinyras that seem'd to weep
in stone;
6:140 Clasping the temple steps, he
sadly mourn'd
6:141 His lovely daughters, now to
marble turn'd.
6:142 With her own tree the finish'd
piece is crown'd,
6:143 And wreaths of peaceful olive
all the work surround.
6:144 Arachne drew the fam'd intrigues of Jove,
6:145 Chang'd to a bull to gratify
his love;
6:146 How thro' the briny tide all
foaming hoar,
6:147 Lovely Europa on his back he
bore.
6:148 The sea seem'd waving, and the
trembling maid
6:149 Shrunk up her tender feet, as
if afraid;
6:150 And, looking back on the forsaken
strand,
6:151 To her companions wafts her distant
hand.
6:152 Next she design'd Asteria's fabled
rape,
6:153 When Jove assum'd a soaring eagle's
shape:
6:154 And shew'd how Leda lay supinely
press'd,
6:155 Whilst the soft snowy swan sate
hov'ring o'er her breast,
6:156 How in a satyr's form the God
beguil'd,
6:157 When fair Antiope with twins
he fill'd.
6:158 Then, like Amphytrion, but a
real Jove,
6:159 In fair Alcmena's arms he cool'd
his love.
6:160 In fluid gold to Danae's heart
he came,
6:161 Aegina felt him in a lambent
flame.
6:162 He took Mnemosyne in shepherd's
make,
6:163 And for Deois was a speckled
snake.
6:164 She made thee, Neptune, like a wanton steer,
6:165 Pacing the meads for love of
Arne dear;
6:166 Next like a stream, thy burning
flame to slake,
6:167 And like a ram, for fair Bisaltis'
sake.
6:168 Then Ceres in a steed your vigour
try'd,
6:169 Nor cou'd the mare the yellow
Goddess hide.
6:170 Next, to a fowl transform'd,
you won by force
6:171 The snake-hair'd mother of the
winged horse;
6:172 And, in a dolphin's fishy form,
subdu'd
6:173 Melantho sweet beneath the oozy
flood.
6:174 All these the maid with lively features drew,
6:175 And open'd proper landskips to
the view.
6:176 There Phoebus, roving like a
country swain,
6:177 Attunes his jolly pipe along
the plain;
6:178 For lovely Isse's sake in shepherd's
weeds,
6:179 O'er pastures green his bleating
flock he feeds,
6:180 There Bacchus, imag'd like the
clust'ring grape,
6:181 Melting bedrops Erigone's fair
lap;
6:182 And there old Saturn, stung with
youthful heat,
6:183 Form'd like a stallion, rushes
to the feat.
6:184 Fresh flow'rs, which twists of
ivy intertwine,
6:185 Mingling a running foliage, close
the neat design.
6:186 This the bright Goddess passionately mov'd,
6:187 With envy saw, yet inwardly approv'd.
6:188 The scene of heav'nly guilt with
haste she tore,
6:189 Nor longer the affront with patience
bore;
6:190 A boxen shuttle in her hand she
took,
6:191 And more than once Arachne's
forehead struck.
6:192 Th' unhappy maid, impatient of
the wrong,
6:193 Down from a beam her injur'd
person hung;
6:194 When Pallas, pitying her wretched
state,
6:195 At once prevented, and pronounc'd
her fate:
6:196 Live; but depend, vile wretch,
the Goddess cry'd,
6:197 Doom'd in suspence for ever to
be ty'd;
6:198 That all your race, to utmost
date of time,
6:199 May feel the vengeance, and detest
the crime.
6:200 Then, going off, she sprinkled her with juice,
6:201 Which leaves of baneful aconite
produce.
6:202 Touch'd with the pois'nous drug,
her flowing hair
6:203 Fell to the ground, and left
her temples bare;
6:204 Her usual features vanish'd from
their place,
6:205 Her body lessen'd all, but most
her face.
6:206 Her slender fingers, hanging
on each side
6:207 With many joynts, the use of
legs supply'd:
6:208 A spider's bag the rest, from
which she gives
6:209 A thread, and still by constant
weaving lives.
Metamorphoses (Books I-XIV)
The Transformation of Arachne into a Spider
6:1 Pallas, attending to the Muse's song,
6:2 Approv'd the just resentment of their
wrong;
6:3 And thus reflects: While tamely I
commend
6:4 Those who their injur'd deities defend,
6:5 My own divinity affronted stands,
6:6 And calls aloud for justice at my
hands;
6:7 Then takes the hint, asham'd to lag
behind,
6:8 And on Arachne' bends her vengeful
mind;
6:9 One at the loom so excellently skill'd,
6:10 That to the Goddess she refus'd
to yield.
6:11 Low was her birth, and small her
native town,
6:12 She from her art alone obtain'd
renown.
6:13 Idmon, her father, made it his
employ,
6:14 To give the spungy fleece a purple
dye:
6:15 Of vulgar strain her mother, lately
dead,
6:16 With her own rank had been content
to wed;
6:17 Yet she their daughter, tho' her
time was spent
6:18 In a small hamlet, and of mean
descent,
6:19 Thro' the great towns of Lydia
gain'd a name,
6:20 And fill'd the neighb'ring countries
with her fame.
6:21 Oft, to admire the niceness of her skill,
6:22 The Nymphs would quit their fountain,
shade, or hill:
6:23 Thither, from green Tymolus, they
repair,
6:24 And leave the vineyards, their
peculiar care;
6:25 Thither, from fam'd Pactolus' golden
stream,
6:26 Drawn by her art, the curious Naiads
came.
6:27 Nor would the work, when finish'd,
please so much,
6:28 As, while she wrought, to view
each graceful touch;
6:29 Whether the shapeless wool in balls
she wound,
6:30 Or with quick motion turn'd the
spindle round,
6:31 Or with her pencil drew the neat
design,
6:32 Pallas her mistress shone in every
line.
6:33 This the proud maid with scornful
air denies,
6:34 And ev'n the Goddess at her work
defies;
6:35 Disowns her heav'nly mistress ev'ry
hour,
6:36 Nor asks her aid, nor deprecates
her pow'r.
6:37 Let us, she cries, but to a tryal
come,
6:38 And, if she conquers, let her fix
my doom.
6:39 The Goddess then a beldame's form put on,
6:40 With silver hairs her hoary temples
shone;
6:41 Prop'd by a staff, she hobbles
in her walk,
6:42 And tott'ring thus begins her old
wives' talk.
6:43 Young maid attend, nor stubbornly despise
6:44 The admonitions of the old, and
wise;
6:45 For age, tho' scorn'd, a ripe experience
bears,
6:46 That golden fruit, unknown to blooming
years:
6:47 Still may remotest fame your labours
crown,
6:48 And mortals your superior genius
own;
6:49 But to the Goddess yield, and humbly
meek
6:50 A pardon for your bold presumption
seek;
6:51 The Goddess will forgive. At this
the maid,
6:52 With passion fir'd, her gliding
shuttle stay'd;
6:53 And, darting vengeance with an
angry look,
6:54 To Pallas in disguise thus fiercely
spoke.
6:55 Thou doating thing, whose idle babling tongue
6:56 But too well shews the plague of
living long;
6:57 Hence, and reprove, with this your
sage advice,
6:58 Your giddy daughter, or your aukward
neice;
6:59 Know, I despise your counsel, and
am still
6:60 A woman, ever wedded to my will;
6:61 And, if your skilful Goddess better
knows,
6:62 Let her accept the tryal I propose.
6:63 She does, impatient Pallas strait replies,
6:64 And, cloath'd with heavenly light,
sprung from her odd disguise.
6:65 The Nymphs, and virgins of the
plain adore
6:66 The awful Goddess, and confess
her pow'r;
6:67 The maid alone stood unappall'd;
yet show'd
6:68 A transient blush, that for a moment
glow'd,
6:69 Then disappear'd; as purple streaks
adorn
6:70 The opening beauties of the rosy
morn;
6:71 Till Phoebus rising prevalently
bright,
6:72 Allays the tincture with his silver
light.
6:73 Yet she persists, and obstinately
great,
6:74 In hopes of conquest hurries on
her fate.
6:75 The Goddess now the challenge waves
no more,
6:76 Nor, kindly good, advises as before.
6:77 Strait to their posts appointed
both repair,
6:78 And fix their threaded looms with
equal care:
6:79 Around the solid beam the web is
ty'd,
6:80 While hollow canes the parting
warp divide;
6:81 Thro' which with nimble flight
the shuttles play,
6:82 And for the woof prepare a ready
way;
6:83 The woof and warp unite, press'd
by the toothy slay.
6:84 Thus both, their mantles button'd to their
breast,
6:85 Their skilful fingers ply with
willing haste,
6:86 And work with pleasure; while they
chear the eye
6:87 With glowing purple of the Tyrian
dye:
6:88 Or, justly intermixing shades with
light,
6:89 Their colourings insensibly unite.
6:90 As when a show'r transpierc'd with
sunny rays,
6:91 Its mighty arch along the heav'n
displays;
6:92 From whence a thousand diff'rent
colours rise,
6:93 Whose fine transition cheats the
clearest eyes;
6:94 So like the intermingled shading
seems,
6:95 And only differs in the last extreams.
6:96 Then threads of gold both artfully
dispose,
6:97 And, as each part in just proportion
rose,
6:98 Some antique fable in their work
disclose.
6:99 Pallas in figures wrought the heav'nly Pow'rs,
6:100 And Mars's hill among th' Athenian
tow'rs.
6:101 On lofty thrones twice six celestials
sate,
6:102 Jove in the midst, and held their
warm debate;
6:103 The subject weighty, and well-known
to fame,
6:104 From whom the city shou'd receive
its name.
6:105 Each God by proper features was
exprest,
6:106 Jove with majestick mein excell'd
the rest.
6:107 His three-fork'd mace the dewy
sea-God shook,
6:108 And, looking sternly, smote the
ragged rock;
6:109 When from the stone leapt forth
a spritely steed,
6:110 And Neptune claims the city for
the deed.
6:111 Herself she blazons, with a glitt'ring spear,
6:112 And crested helm that veil'd
her braided hair,
6:113 With shield, and scaly breast-plate,
implements of war.
6:114 Struck with her pointed launce,
the teeming Earth
6:115 Seem'd to produce a new surprizing
birth;
6:116 When, from the glebe, the pledge
of conquest sprung,
6:117 A tree pale-green with fairest
olives hung.
6:118 And then, to let her giddy rival learn
6:119 What just rewards such boldness
was to earn,
6:120 Four tryals at each corner had
their part,
6:121 Design'd in miniature, and touch'd
with art.
6:122 Haemus in one, and Rodope of
Thrace
6:123 Transform'd to mountains, fill'd
the foremost place;
6:124 Who claim'd the titles of the
Gods above,
6:125 And vainly us'd the epithets
of Jove.
6:126 Another shew'd, where the Pigmaean
dame,
6:127 Profaning Juno's venerable name,
6:128 Turn'd to an airy crane, descends
from far,
6:129 And with her Pigmy subjects wages
war.
6:130 In a third part, the rage of
Heav'n's great queen,
6:131 Display'd on proud Antigone,
was seen:
6:132 Who with presumptuous boldness
dar'd to vye,
6:133 For beauty with the empress of
the sky.
6:134 Ah! what avails her ancient princely
race,
6:135 Her sire a king, and Troy her
native place:
6:136 Now, to a noisy stork transform'd,
she flies,
6:137 And with her whiten'd pinions
cleaves the skies.
6:138 And in the last remaining part
was drawn
6:139 Poor Cinyras that seem'd to weep
in stone;
6:140 Clasping the temple steps, he
sadly mourn'd
6:141 His lovely daughters, now to
marble turn'd.
6:142 With her own tree the finish'd
piece is crown'd,
6:143 And wreaths of peaceful olive
all the work surround.
6:144 Arachne drew the fam'd intrigues of Jove,
6:145 Chang'd to a bull to gratify
his love;
6:146 How thro' the briny tide all
foaming hoar,
6:147 Lovely Europa on his back he
bore.
6:148 The sea seem'd waving, and the
trembling maid
6:149 Shrunk up her tender feet, as
if afraid;
6:150 And, looking back on the forsaken
strand,
6:151 To her companions wafts her distant
hand.
6:152 Next she design'd Asteria's fabled
rape,
6:153 When Jove assum'd a soaring eagle's
shape:
6:154 And shew'd how Leda lay supinely
press'd,
6:155 Whilst the soft snowy swan sate
hov'ring o'er her breast,
6:156 How in a satyr's form the God
beguil'd,
6:157 When fair Antiope with twins
he fill'd.
6:158 Then, like Amphytrion, but a
real Jove,
6:159 In fair Alcmena's arms he cool'd
his love.
6:160 In fluid gold to Danae's heart
he came,
6:161 Aegina felt him in a lambent
flame.
6:162 He took Mnemosyne in shepherd's
make,
6:163 And for Deois was a speckled
snake.
6:164 She made thee, Neptune, like a wanton steer,
6:165 Pacing the meads for love of
Arne dear;
6:166 Next like a stream, thy burning
flame to slake,
6:167 And like a ram, for fair Bisaltis'
sake.
6:168 Then Ceres in a steed your vigour
try'd,
6:169 Nor cou'd the mare the yellow
Goddess hide.
6:170 Next, to a fowl transform'd,
you won by force
6:171 The snake-hair'd mother of the
winged horse;
6:172 And, in a dolphin's fishy form,
subdu'd
6:173 Melantho sweet beneath the oozy
flood.
6:174 All these the maid with lively features drew,
6:175 And open'd proper landskips to
the view.
6:176 There Phoebus, roving like a
country swain,
6:177 Attunes his jolly pipe along
the plain;
6:178 For lovely Isse's sake in shepherd's
weeds,
6:179 O'er pastures green his bleating
flock he feeds,
6:180 There Bacchus, imag'd like the
clust'ring grape,
6:181 Melting bedrops Erigone's fair
lap;
6:182 And there old Saturn, stung with
youthful heat,
6:183 Form'd like a stallion, rushes
to the feat.
6:184 Fresh flow'rs, which twists of
ivy intertwine,
6:185 Mingling a running foliage, close
the neat design.
6:186 This the bright Goddess passionately mov'd,
6:187 With envy saw, yet inwardly approv'd.
6:188 The scene of heav'nly guilt with
haste she tore,
6:189 Nor longer the affront with patience
bore;
6:190 A boxen shuttle in her hand she
took,
6:191 And more than once Arachne's
forehead struck.
6:192 Th' unhappy maid, impatient of
the wrong,
6:193 Down from a beam her injur'd
person hung;
6:194 When Pallas, pitying her wretched
state,
6:195 At once prevented, and pronounc'd
her fate:
6:196 Live; but depend, vile wretch,
the Goddess cry'd,
6:197 Doom'd in suspence for ever to
be ty'd;
6:198 That all your race, to utmost
date of time,
6:199 May feel the vengeance, and detest
the crime.
6:200 Then, going off, she sprinkled her with juice,
6:201 Which leaves of baneful aconite
produce.
6:202 Touch'd with the pois'nous drug,
her flowing hair
6:203 Fell to the ground, and left
her temples bare;
6:204 Her usual features vanish'd from
their place,
6:205 Her body lessen'd all, but most
her face.
6:206 Her slender fingers, hanging
on each side
6:207 With many joynts, the use of
legs supply'd:
6:208 A spider's bag the rest, from
which she gives
6:209 A thread, and still by constant
weaving lives.