Metamorphoses (Books I-XIV)
The Story of Tereus, Procne, and Philomela
6:590 To Thebes the neighb'ring princes all repair,
6:591 And with condolance the misfortune
share.
6:592 Each bord'ring state in solemn
form address'd,
6:593 And each betimes a friendly grief
express'd.
6:594 Argos, with Sparta's, and Mycenae's
towns,
6:595 And Calydon, yet free from fierce
Diana's frowns.
6:596 Corinth for finest brass well
fam'd of old,
6:597 Orthomenos for men of courage
bold:
6:598 Cleonae lying in the lowly dale,
6:599 And rich Messene with its fertile
vale:
6:600 Pylos, for Nestor's City after
fam'd,
6:601 And Troezen, not as yet from
Pittheus nam'd.
6:602 And those fair cities, which
are hem'd around
6:603 By double seas within the Isthmian
ground;
6:604 And those, which farther from
the sea-coast stand,
6:605 Lodg'd in the bosom of the spacious
land.
6:606 Who can believe it? Athens was the last:
6:607 Tho' for politeness fam'd for
ages past.
6:608 For a strait siege, which then
their walls enclos'd,
6:609 Such acts of kind humanity oppos'd:
6:610 And thick with ships, from foreign
nations bound,
6:611 Sea-ward their city lay invested
round.
6:612 These, with auxiliar forces led from far,
6:613 Tereus of Thrace, brave, and
inur'd to war,
6:614 Had quite defeated, and obtain'd
a name,
6:615 The warrior's due, among the
sons of Fame.
6:616 This, with his wealth, and pow'r,
and ancient line,
6:617 From Mars deriv'd, Pandions's
thoughts incline
6:618 His daughter Procne with the
prince to joyn.
6:619 Nor Hymen, nor the Graces here preside,
6:620 Nor Juno to befriend the blooming
bride;
6:621 But Fiends with fun'ral brands
the process led,
6:622 And Furies waited at the Genial
bed:
6:623 And all night long the scrieching
owl aloof,
6:624 With baleful notes, sate brooding
o'er the roof.
6:625 With such ill Omens was the match
begun,
6:626 That made them parents of a hopeful
son.
6:627 Now Thrace congratulates their
seeming joy,
6:628 And they, in thankful rites,
their minds employ.
6:629 If the fair queen's espousals
pleas'd before,
6:630 Itys, the new-born prince, now
pleases more;
6:631 And each bright day, the birth,
and bridal feast,
6:632 Were kept with hallow'd pomp
above the rest.
6:633 So far true happiness may lye
conceal'd,
6:634 When, by false lights, we fancy
'tis reveal'd!
6:635 Now, since their nuptials, had the golden
sun
6:636 Five courses round his ample
zodiac run;
6:637 When gentle Procne thus her lord
address'd,
6:638 And spoke the secret wishes of
her breast:
6:639 If I, she said, have ever favour
found,
6:640 Let my petition with success
be crown'd:
6:641 Let me at Athens my dear sister
see,
6:642 Or let her come to Thrace, and
visit me.
6:643 And, lest my father should her
absence mourn,
6:644 Promise that she shall make a
quick return.
6:645 With thanks I'd own the obligation
due
6:646 Only, o Tereus, to the Gods,
and you.
6:647 Now, ply'd with oar, and sail at his command,
6:648 The nimble gallies reach'd th'
Athenian land,
6:649 And anchor'd in the fam'd Piraean
bay,
6:650 While Tereus to the palace takes
his way;
6:651 The king salutes, and ceremonies
past,
6:652 Begins the fatal embassy at last;
6:653 The occasion of his voyage he
declares,
6:654 And, with his own, his wife's
request prefers:
6:655 Asks leave that, only for a little
space,
6:656 Their lovely sister might embark
for Thrace.
6:657 Thus while he spoke, appear'd the royal maid,
6:658 Bright Philomela, splendidly
array'd;
6:659 But most attractive in her charming
face,
6:660 And comely person, turn'd with
ev'ry grace:
6:661 Like those fair Nymphs, that
are describ'd to rove
6:662 Across the glades, and op'nings
of the grove;
6:663 Only that these are dress'd for
silvan sports,
6:664 And less become the finery of
courts.
6:665 Tereus beheld the virgin, and admir'd,
6:666 And with the coals of burning
lust was fir'd:
6:667 Like crackling stubble, or the
summer hay,
6:668 When forked lightnings o'er the
meadows play.
6:669 Such charms in any breast might
kindle love,
6:670 But him the heats of inbred lewdness
move;
6:671 To which, tho' Thrace is naturally
prone,
6:672 Yet his is still superior, and
his own.
6:673 Strait her attendants he designs
to buy,
6:674 And with large bribes her governess
would try:
6:675 Herself with ample gifts resolves
to bend,
6:676 And his whole kingdom in th'
attempt expend:
6:677 Or, snatch'd away by force of
arms, to bear,
6:678 And justify the rape with open
war.
6:679 The boundless passion boils within
his breast,
6:680 And his projecting soul admits
no rest.
6:681 And now, impatient of the least delay,
6:682 By pleading Procne's cause, he
speeds his way:
6:683 The eloquence of love his tongue
inspires,
6:684 And, in his wife's, he speaks
his own desires;
6:685 Hence all his importunities arise,
6:686 And tears unmanly trickle from
his eyes.
6:687 Ye Gods! what thick involving darkness blinds
6:688 The stupid faculties of mortal
minds!
6:689 Tereus the credit of good-nature
gains
6:690 From these his crimes; so well
the villain feigns.
6:691 And, unsuspecting of his base
designs,
6:692 In the request fair Philomela
joyns;
6:693 Her snowy arms her aged sire
embrace,
6:694 And clasp his neck with an endearing
grace:
6:695 Only to see her sister she entreats,
6:696 A seeming blessing, which a curse
compleats.
6:697 Tereus surveys her with a luscious
eye,
6:698 And in his mind forestalls the
blissful joy:
6:699 Her circling arms a scene of
lust inspire,
6:700 And ev'ry kiss foments the raging
fire.
6:701 Fondly he wishes for the father's
place,
6:702 To feel, and to return the warm
embrace;
6:703 Since not the nearest ties of
filial blood
6:704 Would damp his flame, and force
him to be good.
6:705 At length, for both their sakes, the king
agrees;
6:706 And Philomela, on her bended
knees,
6:707 Thanks him for what her fancy
calls success,
6:708 When cruel fate intends her nothing
less.
6:709 Now Phoebus, hastning to ambrosial rest,
6:710 His fiery steeds drove sloping
down the west:
6:711 The sculptur'd gold with sparkling
wines was fill'd,
6:712 And, with rich meats, each chearful
table smil'd.
6:713 Plenty, and mirth the royal banquet
close,
6:714 Then all retire to sleep, and
sweet repose.
6:715 But the lewd monarch, tho' withdrawn
apart,
6:716 Still feels love's poison rankling
in his heart:
6:717 Her face divine is stamp'd within
his breast,
6:718 Fancy imagines, and improves
the rest:
6:719 And thus, kept waking by intense
desire,
6:720 He nourishes his own prevailing
fire.
6:721 Next day the good old king for Tereus sends,
6:722 And to his charge the virgin
recommends;
6:723 His hand with tears th' indulgent
father press'd,
6:724 Then spoke, and thus with tenderness
address'd.
6:725 Since the kind instances of pious love,
6:726 Do all pretence of obstacle remove;
6:727 Since Procne's, and her own,
with your request,
6:728 O'er-rule the fears of a paternal
breast;
6:729 With you, dear son, my daughter
I entrust,
6:730 And by the Gods adjure you to
be just;
6:731 By truth, and ev'ry consanguineal
tye,
6:732 To watch, and guard her with
a father's eye.
6:733 And, since the least delay will
tedious prove,
6:734 In keeping from my sight the
child I love,
6:735 With speed return her, kindly
to asswage
6:736 The tedious troubles of my lingring
age.
6:737 And you, my Philomel, let it
suffice,
6:738 To know your sister's banish'd
from my eyes;
6:739 If any sense of duty sways your
mind,
6:740 Let me from you the shortest
absence find.
6:741 He wept; then kiss'd his child;
and while he speaks,
6:742 The tears fall gently down his
aged cheeks.
6:743 Next, as a pledge of fealty,
he demands,
6:744 And, with a solemn charge, conjoyns
their hands;
6:745 Then to his daughter, and his
grandson sends,
6:746 And by their mouth a blessing
recommends;
6:747 While, in a voice with dire forebodings
broke,
6:748 Sobbing, and faint, the last
farewel was spoke.
6:749 Now Philomela, scarce receiv'd on board,
6:750 And in the royal gilded bark
secur'd,
6:751 Beheld the dashes of the bending
oar,
6:752 The ruffled sea, and the receding
shore;
6:753 When strait (his joy impatient
of disguise)
6:754 We've gain'd our point, the rough
Barbarian cries;
6:755 Now I possess the dear, the blissful
hour,
6:756 And ev'ry wish subjected to my
pow'r.
6:757 Transports of lust his vicious
thoughts employ,
6:758 And he forbears, with pain, th'
expected joy.
6:759 His gloting eyes incessantly
survey'd
6:760 The virgin beauties of the lovely
maid:
6:761 As when the bold rapacious bird
of Jove,
6:762 With crooked talons stooping
from above,
6:763 Has snatcht, and carry'd to his
lofty nest
6:764 A captive hare, with cruel gripes
opprest;
6:765 Secure, with fix'd, and unrelenting
eyes,
6:766 He sits, and views the helpless,
trembling prize.
6:767 Their vessels now had made th' intended land,
6:768 And all with joy descend upon
the strand;
6:769 When the false tyrant seiz'd
the princely maid,
6:770 And to a lodge in distant woods
convey'd;
6:771 Pale, sinking, and distress'd
with jealous fears,
6:772 And asking for her sister all
in tears.
6:773 The letcher, for enjoyment fully
bent,
6:774 No longer now conceal'd his base
intent;
6:775 But with rude haste the bloomy
girl deflow'r'd,
6:776 Tender, defenceless, and with
ease o'erpower'd.
6:777 Her piercing accents to her sire
complain,
6:778 And to her absent sister, but
in vain:
6:779 In vain she importunes, with
doleful cries,
6:780 Each unattentive godhead of the
skies.
6:781 She pants and trembles, like
the bleating prey,
6:782 From some close-hunted wolf just
snatch'd away;
6:783 That still, with fearful horror,
looks around,
6:784 And on its flank regards the
bleeding wound.
6:785 Or, as the tim'rous dove, the
danger o'er,
6:786 Beholds her shining plumes besmear'd
with gore,
6:787 And, tho' deliver'd from the
faulcon's claw,
6:788 Yet shivers, and retains a secret
awe.
6:789 But when her mind a calm reflection shar'd,
6:790 And all her scatter'd spirits
were repair'd:
6:791 Torn, and disorder'd while her
tresses hung,
6:792 Her livid hands, like one that
mourn'd, she wrung;
6:793 Then thus, with grief o'erwhelm'd
her languid eyes,
6:794 Savage, inhumane, cruel wretch!
she cries;
6:795 Whom not a parent's strict commands
could move,
6:796 Tho' charg'd, and utter'd with
the tears of love;
6:797 Nor virgin innocence, nor all
that's due
6:798 To the strong contract of the
nuptial vow:
6:799 Virtue, by this, in wild confusion's
laid,
6:800 And I compell'd to wrong my sister's
bed;
6:801 Whilst you, regardless of your
marriage oath,
6:802 With stains of incest have defil'd
us both.
6:803 Tho' I deserv'd some punishment
to find,
6:804 This was, ye Gods! too cruel,
and unkind.
6:805 Yet, villain, to compleat your
horrid guilt,
6:806 Stab here, and let my tainted
blood be spilt.
6:807 Oh happy! had it come, before
I knew
6:808 The curs'd embrace of vile perfidious
you;
6:809 Then my pale ghost, pure from
incestuous love,
6:810 Had wander'd spotless thro' th'
Elysian grove.
6:811 But, if the Gods above have pow'r
to know,
6:812 And judge those actions that
are done below;
6:813 Unless the dreaded thunders of
the sky,
6:814 Like me, subdu'd, and violated
lye;
6:815 Still my revenge shall take its
proper time,
6:816 And suit the baseness of your
hellish crime.
6:817 My self, abandon'd, and devoid
of shame,
6:818 Thro' the wide world your actions
will proclaim;
6:819 Or tho' I'm prison'd in this
lonely den,
6:820 Obscur'd, and bury'd from the
sight of men,
6:821 My mournful voice the pitying
rocks shall move,
6:822 And my complainings eccho thro'
the grove.
6:823 Hear me, o Heav'n! and, if a
God be there,
6:824 Let him regard me, and accept
my pray'r.
6:825 Struck with these words, the tyrant's guilty
breast
6:826 With fear, and anger, was, by
turns, possest;
6:827 Now, with remorse his conscience
deeply stung,
6:828 He drew the faulchion that beside
her hung,
6:829 And first her tender arms behind
her bound,
6:830 Then drag'd her by the hair along
the ground.
6:831 The princess willingly her throat
reclin'd,
6:832 And view'd the steel with a contented
mind;
6:833 But soon her tongue the girding
pinchers strain,
6:834 With anguish, soon she feels
the piercing pain:
6:835 Oh father! father! would fain
have spoke,
6:836 But the sharp torture her intention
broke;
6:837 In vain she tries, for now the
blade has cut
6:838 Her tongue sheer off, close to
the trembling root.
6:839 The mangled part still quiver'd
on the ground,
6:840 Murmuring with a faint imperfect
sound:
6:841 And, as a serpent writhes his
wounded train,
6:842 Uneasy, panting, and possess'd
with pain;
6:843 The piece, while life remain'd,
still trembled fast,
6:844 And to its mistress pointed to
the last.
6:845 Yet, after this so damn'd, and black a deed,
6:846 Fame (which I scarce can credit)
has agreed,
6:847 That on her rifled charms, still
void of shame,
6:848 He frequently indulg'd his lustful
flame,
6:849 At last he ventures to his Procne's
sight,
6:850 Loaded with guilt, and cloy'd
with long delight;
6:851 There, with feign'd grief, and
false, dissembled sighs,
6:852 Begins a formal narrative of
lies;
6:853 Her sister's death he artfully
declares,
6:854 Then weeps, and raises credit
from his tears.
6:855 Her vest, with flow'rs of gold
embroider'd o'er,
6:856 With grief distress'd, the mournful
matron tore,
6:857 And a beseeming suit of gloomy
sable wore.
6:858 With cost, an honorary tomb she
rais'd,
6:859 And thus th' imaginary ghost
appeas'd.
6:860 Deluded queen! the fate of her
you love,
6:861 Nor grief, nor pity, but revenge
should move.
6:862 Thro' the twelve signs had pass'd the circling
sun,
6:863 And round the compass of the
Zodiac run;
6:864 What must unhappy Philomela do,
6:865 For ever subject to her keeper's
view?
6:866 Huge walls of massy stone the
lodge surround,
6:867 From her own mouth no way of
speaking's found.
6:868 But all our wants by wit may
be supply'd,
6:869 And art makes up, what fortune
has deny'd:
6:870 With skill exact a Phrygian web
she strung,
6:871 Fix'd to a loom that in her chamber
hung,
6:872 Where in-wrought letters, upon
white display'd,
6:873 In purple notes, her wretched
case betray'd:
6:874 The piece, when finish'd, secretly
she gave
6:875 Into the charge of one poor menial
slave;
6:876 And then, with gestures, made
him understand,
6:877 It must be safe convey'd to Procne's
hand.
6:878 The slave, with speed, the queen's
apartment sought,
6:879 And render'd up his charge, unknowing
what he brought.
6:880 But when the cyphers, figur'd
in each fold,
6:881 Her sister's melancholy story
told
6:882 (Strange that she could!) with
silence, she survey'd
6:883 The tragick piece, and without
weeping read:
6:884 In such tumultuous haste her
passions sprung,
6:885 They choak'd her voice, and quite
disarm'd her tongue.
6:886 No room for female tears; the
Furies rise,
6:887 Darting vindictive glances from
her eyes;
6:888 And, stung with rage, she bounds
from place to place,
6:889 While stern revenge sits low'ring
in her face.
6:890 Now the triennial celebration came,
6:891 Observ'd to Bacchus by each Thracian
dame;
6:892 When, in the privacies of night
retir'd,
6:893 They act his rites, with sacred
rapture fir'd:
6:894 By night, the tinkling cymbals
ring around,
6:895 While the shrill notes from Rhodope
resound;
6:896 By night, the queen, disguis'd,
forsakes the court,
6:897 To mingle in the festival resort.
6:898 Leaves of the curling vine her
temples shade,
6:899 And, with a circling wreath,
adorn her head:
6:900 Adown her back the stag's rough
spoils appear,
6:901 Light on her shoulder leans a
cornel spear.
6:902 Thus, in the fury of the God conceal'd,
6:903 Procne her own mad headstrong
passion veil'd;
6:904 Now, with her gang, to the thick
wood she flies,
6:905 And with religious yellings fills
the skies;
6:906 The fatal lodge, as 'twere by
chance, she seeks,
6:907 And, thro' the bolted doors,
an entrance breaks;
6:908 From thence, her sister snatching
by the hand,
6:909 Mask'd like the ranting Bacchanalian
band,
6:910 Within the limits of the court
she drew,
6:911 Shading, with ivy green, her
outward hue.
6:912 But Philomela, conscious of the place,
6:913 Felt new reviving pangs of her
disgrace;
6:914 A shiv'ring cold prevail'd in
ev'ry part,
6:915 And the chill'd blood ran trembling
to her heart.
6:916 Soon as the queen a fit retirement found,
6:917 Stript of the garlands that her
temples crown'd,
6:918 She strait unveil'd her blushing
sister's face,
6:919 And fondly clasp'd her with a
close embrace:
6:920 But, in confusion lost, th' unhappy
maid,
6:921 With shame dejected, hung her
drooping head,
6:922 As guilty of a crime that stain'd
her sister's bed.
6:923 That speech, that should her
injur'd virtue clear,
6:924 And make her spotless innocence
appear,
6:925 Is now no more; only her hands,
and eyes
6:926 Appeal, in signals, to the conscious
skies.
6:927 In Procne's breast the rising
passions boil,
6:928 And burst in anger with a mad
recoil;
6:929 Her sister's ill-tim'd grief,
with scorn, she blames,
6:930 Then, in these furious words
her rage proclaims.
6:931 Tears, unavailing, but defer our time,
6:932 The stabbing sword must expiate
the crime;
6:933 Or worse, if wit, on bloody vengeance
bent,
6:934 A weapon more tormenting can
invent.
6:935 O sister! I've prepar'd my stubborn
heart,
6:936 To act some hellish, and unheard-of
part;
6:937 Either the palace to surround
with fire,
6:938 And see the villain in the flames
expire;
6:939 Or, with a knife, dig out his
cursed eyes,
6:940 Or, his false tongue with racking
engines seize;
6:941 Or, cut away the part that injur'd
you,
6:942 And, thro' a thousand wounds,
his guilty soul pursue.
6:943 Tortures enough my passion has
design'd,
6:944 But the variety distracts my
mind.
6:945 A-while, thus wav'ring, stood the furious
dame,
6:946 When Itys fondling to his mother
came;
6:947 From him the cruel fatal hint
she took,
6:948 She view'd him with a stern remorseless
look:
6:949 Ah! but too like thy wicked sire,
she said,
6:950 Forming the direful purpose in
her head.
6:951 At this a sullen grief her voice
supprest,
6:952 While silent passions struggle
in her breast.
6:953 Now, at her lap arriv'd, the flatt'ring boy
6:954 Salutes his parent with a smiling
joy:
6:955 About her neck his little arms
are thrown,
6:956 And he accosts her in a pratling
tone.
6:957 Then her tempestuous anger was
allay'd,
6:958 And in its full career her vengeance
stay'd;
6:959 While tender thoughts, in spite
of passion, rise,
6:960 And melting tears disarm her
threat'ning eyes.
6:961 But when she found the mother's
easy heart,
6:962 Too fondly swerving from th'
intended part;
6:963 Her injur'd sister's face again
she view'd:
6:964 And, as by turns surveying both
she stood,
6:965 While this fond boy (she said)
can thus express
6:966 The moving accents of his fond
address;
6:967 Why stands my sister of her tongue
bereft,
6:968 Forlorn, and sad, in speechless
silence left?
6:969 O Procne, see the fortune of
your house!
6:970 Such is your fate, when match'd
to such a spouse!
6:971 Conjugal duty, if observ'd to
him,
6:972 Would change from virtue, and
become a crime;
6:973 For all respect to Tereus must
debase
6:974 The noble blood of great Pandion's
race.
6:975 Strait at these words, with big resentment
fill'd,
6:976 Furious her look, she flew, and
seiz'd her child;
6:977 Like a fell tigress of the savage
kind,
6:978 That drags the tender suckling
of the hind
6:979 Thro' India's gloomy groves,
where Ganges laves
6:980 The shady scene, and rouls his
streamy waves.
6:981 Now to a close apartment they
were come,
6:982 Far off retir'd within the spacious
dome;
6:983 When Procne, on revengeful mischief
bent,
6:984 Home to his heart a piercing
ponyard sent.
6:985 Itys, with rueful cries, but
all too late,
6:986 Holds out his hands, and deprecates
his fate;
6:987 Still at his mother's neck he
fondly aims,
6:988 And strives to melt her with
endearing names;
6:989 Yet still the cruel mother perseveres,
6:990 Nor with concern his bitter anguish
hears.
6:991 This might suffice; but Philomela
too
6:992 Across his throat a shining curtlass
drew.
6:993 Then both, with knives, dissect
each quiv'ring part,
6:994 And carve the butcher'd limbs
with cruel art;
6:995 Which, whelm'd in boiling cauldrons
o'er the fire,
6:996 Or turn'd on spits, in steamy
smoak aspire:
6:997 While the long entries, with
their slipp'ry floor,
6:998 Run down in purple streams of
clotted gore.
6:999 Ask'd by his wife to this inhuman feast,
6:1000 Tereus unknowingly is made
a guest:
6:1001 Whilst she her plot the better
to disguise,
6:1002 Styles it some unknown mystick
sacrifice;
6:1003 And such the nature of the
hallow'd rite,
6:1004 The wife her husband only could
invite,
6:1005 The slaves must all withdraw,
and be debarr'd the sight.
6:1006 Tereus, upon a throne of antique
state,
6:1007 Loftily rais'd, before the
banquet sate;
6:1008 And glutton like, luxuriously
pleas'd,
6:1009 With his own flesh his hungry
maw appeas'd.
6:1010 Nay, such a blindness o'er
his senses falls,
6:1011 That he for Itys to the table
calls.
6:1012 When Procne, now impatient
to disclose
6:1013 The joy that from her full
revenge arose,
6:1014 Cries out, in transports of
a cruel mind,
6:1015 Within your self your Itys
you may find.
6:1016 Still, at this puzzling answer,
with surprise,
6:1017 Around the room he sends his
curious eyes;
6:1018 And, as he still inquir'd,
and call'd aloud,
6:1019 Fierce Philomela, all besmear'd
with blood,
6:1020 Her hands with murder stain'd,
her spreading hair
6:1021 Hanging dishevel'd with a ghastly
air,
6:1022 Stept forth, and flung full
in the tyrant's face
6:1023 The head of Itys, goary as
it was:
6:1024 Nor ever so much to use her
tongue,
6:1025 And with a just reproach to
vindicate her wrong.
6:1026 The Thracian monarch from the table flings,
6:1027 While with his cries the vaulted
parlour rings;
6:1028 His imprecations eccho down
to Hell,
6:1029 And rouze the snaky Furies
from their Stygian cell.
6:1030 One while he labours to disgorge
his breast,
6:1031 And free his stomach from the
cursed feast;
6:1032 Then, weeping o'er his lamentable
doom,
6:1033 He styles himself his son's
sepulchral tomb.
6:1034 Now, with drawn sabre, and
impetuous speed,
6:1035 In close pursuit he drives
Pandion's breed;
6:1036 Whose nimble feet spring with
so swift a force
6:1037 Across the fields, they seem
to wing their course.
6:1038 And now, on real wings themselves
they raise,
6:1039 And steer their airy flight
by diff'rent ways;
6:1040 One to the woodland's shady
covert hies,
6:1041 Around the smoaky roof the
other flies;
6:1042 Whose feathers yet the marks
of murder stain,
6:1043 Where stampt upon her breast,
the crimson spots remain.
6:1044 Tereus, through grief, and
haste to be reveng'd,
6:1045 Shares the like fate, and to
a bird is chang'd:
6:1046 Fix'd on his head, the crested
plumes appear,
6:1047 Long is his beak, and sharpen'd
like a spear;
6:1048 Thus arm'd, his looks his inward
mind display,
6:1049 And, to a lapwing turn'd, he
fans his way.
6:1050 Exceeding trouble, for his children's fate,
6:1051 Shorten'd Pandion's days, and
chang'd his date;
6:1052 Down to the shades below, with
sorrow spent,
6:1053 An earlier, unexpected ghost
he went.
Metamorphoses (Books I-XIV)
The Story of Tereus, Procne, and Philomela
6:590 To Thebes the neighb'ring princes all repair,
6:591 And with condolance the misfortune
share.
6:592 Each bord'ring state in solemn
form address'd,
6:593 And each betimes a friendly grief
express'd.
6:594 Argos, with Sparta's, and Mycenae's
towns,
6:595 And Calydon, yet free from fierce
Diana's frowns.
6:596 Corinth for finest brass well
fam'd of old,
6:597 Orthomenos for men of courage
bold:
6:598 Cleonae lying in the lowly dale,
6:599 And rich Messene with its fertile
vale:
6:600 Pylos, for Nestor's City after
fam'd,
6:601 And Troezen, not as yet from
Pittheus nam'd.
6:602 And those fair cities, which
are hem'd around
6:603 By double seas within the Isthmian
ground;
6:604 And those, which farther from
the sea-coast stand,
6:605 Lodg'd in the bosom of the spacious
land.
6:606 Who can believe it? Athens was the last:
6:607 Tho' for politeness fam'd for
ages past.
6:608 For a strait siege, which then
their walls enclos'd,
6:609 Such acts of kind humanity oppos'd:
6:610 And thick with ships, from foreign
nations bound,
6:611 Sea-ward their city lay invested
round.
6:612 These, with auxiliar forces led from far,
6:613 Tereus of Thrace, brave, and
inur'd to war,
6:614 Had quite defeated, and obtain'd
a name,
6:615 The warrior's due, among the
sons of Fame.
6:616 This, with his wealth, and pow'r,
and ancient line,
6:617 From Mars deriv'd, Pandions's
thoughts incline
6:618 His daughter Procne with the
prince to joyn.
6:619 Nor Hymen, nor the Graces here preside,
6:620 Nor Juno to befriend the blooming
bride;
6:621 But Fiends with fun'ral brands
the process led,
6:622 And Furies waited at the Genial
bed:
6:623 And all night long the scrieching
owl aloof,
6:624 With baleful notes, sate brooding
o'er the roof.
6:625 With such ill Omens was the match
begun,
6:626 That made them parents of a hopeful
son.
6:627 Now Thrace congratulates their
seeming joy,
6:628 And they, in thankful rites,
their minds employ.
6:629 If the fair queen's espousals
pleas'd before,
6:630 Itys, the new-born prince, now
pleases more;
6:631 And each bright day, the birth,
and bridal feast,
6:632 Were kept with hallow'd pomp
above the rest.
6:633 So far true happiness may lye
conceal'd,
6:634 When, by false lights, we fancy
'tis reveal'd!
6:635 Now, since their nuptials, had the golden
sun
6:636 Five courses round his ample
zodiac run;
6:637 When gentle Procne thus her lord
address'd,
6:638 And spoke the secret wishes of
her breast:
6:639 If I, she said, have ever favour
found,
6:640 Let my petition with success
be crown'd:
6:641 Let me at Athens my dear sister
see,
6:642 Or let her come to Thrace, and
visit me.
6:643 And, lest my father should her
absence mourn,
6:644 Promise that she shall make a
quick return.
6:645 With thanks I'd own the obligation
due
6:646 Only, o Tereus, to the Gods,
and you.
6:647 Now, ply'd with oar, and sail at his command,
6:648 The nimble gallies reach'd th'
Athenian land,
6:649 And anchor'd in the fam'd Piraean
bay,
6:650 While Tereus to the palace takes
his way;
6:651 The king salutes, and ceremonies
past,
6:652 Begins the fatal embassy at last;
6:653 The occasion of his voyage he
declares,
6:654 And, with his own, his wife's
request prefers:
6:655 Asks leave that, only for a little
space,
6:656 Their lovely sister might embark
for Thrace.
6:657 Thus while he spoke, appear'd the royal maid,
6:658 Bright Philomela, splendidly
array'd;
6:659 But most attractive in her charming
face,
6:660 And comely person, turn'd with
ev'ry grace:
6:661 Like those fair Nymphs, that
are describ'd to rove
6:662 Across the glades, and op'nings
of the grove;
6:663 Only that these are dress'd for
silvan sports,
6:664 And less become the finery of
courts.
6:665 Tereus beheld the virgin, and admir'd,
6:666 And with the coals of burning
lust was fir'd:
6:667 Like crackling stubble, or the
summer hay,
6:668 When forked lightnings o'er the
meadows play.
6:669 Such charms in any breast might
kindle love,
6:670 But him the heats of inbred lewdness
move;
6:671 To which, tho' Thrace is naturally
prone,
6:672 Yet his is still superior, and
his own.
6:673 Strait her attendants he designs
to buy,
6:674 And with large bribes her governess
would try:
6:675 Herself with ample gifts resolves
to bend,
6:676 And his whole kingdom in th'
attempt expend:
6:677 Or, snatch'd away by force of
arms, to bear,
6:678 And justify the rape with open
war.
6:679 The boundless passion boils within
his breast,
6:680 And his projecting soul admits
no rest.
6:681 And now, impatient of the least delay,
6:682 By pleading Procne's cause, he
speeds his way:
6:683 The eloquence of love his tongue
inspires,
6:684 And, in his wife's, he speaks
his own desires;
6:685 Hence all his importunities arise,
6:686 And tears unmanly trickle from
his eyes.
6:687 Ye Gods! what thick involving darkness blinds
6:688 The stupid faculties of mortal
minds!
6:689 Tereus the credit of good-nature
gains
6:690 From these his crimes; so well
the villain feigns.
6:691 And, unsuspecting of his base
designs,
6:692 In the request fair Philomela
joyns;
6:693 Her snowy arms her aged sire
embrace,
6:694 And clasp his neck with an endearing
grace:
6:695 Only to see her sister she entreats,
6:696 A seeming blessing, which a curse
compleats.
6:697 Tereus surveys her with a luscious
eye,
6:698 And in his mind forestalls the
blissful joy:
6:699 Her circling arms a scene of
lust inspire,
6:700 And ev'ry kiss foments the raging
fire.
6:701 Fondly he wishes for the father's
place,
6:702 To feel, and to return the warm
embrace;
6:703 Since not the nearest ties of
filial blood
6:704 Would damp his flame, and force
him to be good.
6:705 At length, for both their sakes, the king
agrees;
6:706 And Philomela, on her bended
knees,
6:707 Thanks him for what her fancy
calls success,
6:708 When cruel fate intends her nothing
less.
6:709 Now Phoebus, hastning to ambrosial rest,
6:710 His fiery steeds drove sloping
down the west:
6:711 The sculptur'd gold with sparkling
wines was fill'd,
6:712 And, with rich meats, each chearful
table smil'd.
6:713 Plenty, and mirth the royal banquet
close,
6:714 Then all retire to sleep, and
sweet repose.
6:715 But the lewd monarch, tho' withdrawn
apart,
6:716 Still feels love's poison rankling
in his heart:
6:717 Her face divine is stamp'd within
his breast,
6:718 Fancy imagines, and improves
the rest:
6:719 And thus, kept waking by intense
desire,
6:720 He nourishes his own prevailing
fire.
6:721 Next day the good old king for Tereus sends,
6:722 And to his charge the virgin
recommends;
6:723 His hand with tears th' indulgent
father press'd,
6:724 Then spoke, and thus with tenderness
address'd.
6:725 Since the kind instances of pious love,
6:726 Do all pretence of obstacle remove;
6:727 Since Procne's, and her own,
with your request,
6:728 O'er-rule the fears of a paternal
breast;
6:729 With you, dear son, my daughter
I entrust,
6:730 And by the Gods adjure you to
be just;
6:731 By truth, and ev'ry consanguineal
tye,
6:732 To watch, and guard her with
a father's eye.
6:733 And, since the least delay will
tedious prove,
6:734 In keeping from my sight the
child I love,
6:735 With speed return her, kindly
to asswage
6:736 The tedious troubles of my lingring
age.
6:737 And you, my Philomel, let it
suffice,
6:738 To know your sister's banish'd
from my eyes;
6:739 If any sense of duty sways your
mind,
6:740 Let me from you the shortest
absence find.
6:741 He wept; then kiss'd his child;
and while he speaks,
6:742 The tears fall gently down his
aged cheeks.
6:743 Next, as a pledge of fealty,
he demands,
6:744 And, with a solemn charge, conjoyns
their hands;
6:745 Then to his daughter, and his
grandson sends,
6:746 And by their mouth a blessing
recommends;
6:747 While, in a voice with dire forebodings
broke,
6:748 Sobbing, and faint, the last
farewel was spoke.
6:749 Now Philomela, scarce receiv'd on board,
6:750 And in the royal gilded bark
secur'd,
6:751 Beheld the dashes of the bending
oar,
6:752 The ruffled sea, and the receding
shore;
6:753 When strait (his joy impatient
of disguise)
6:754 We've gain'd our point, the rough
Barbarian cries;
6:755 Now I possess the dear, the blissful
hour,
6:756 And ev'ry wish subjected to my
pow'r.
6:757 Transports of lust his vicious
thoughts employ,
6:758 And he forbears, with pain, th'
expected joy.
6:759 His gloting eyes incessantly
survey'd
6:760 The virgin beauties of the lovely
maid:
6:761 As when the bold rapacious bird
of Jove,
6:762 With crooked talons stooping
from above,
6:763 Has snatcht, and carry'd to his
lofty nest
6:764 A captive hare, with cruel gripes
opprest;
6:765 Secure, with fix'd, and unrelenting
eyes,
6:766 He sits, and views the helpless,
trembling prize.
6:767 Their vessels now had made th' intended land,
6:768 And all with joy descend upon
the strand;
6:769 When the false tyrant seiz'd
the princely maid,
6:770 And to a lodge in distant woods
convey'd;
6:771 Pale, sinking, and distress'd
with jealous fears,
6:772 And asking for her sister all
in tears.
6:773 The letcher, for enjoyment fully
bent,
6:774 No longer now conceal'd his base
intent;
6:775 But with rude haste the bloomy
girl deflow'r'd,
6:776 Tender, defenceless, and with
ease o'erpower'd.
6:777 Her piercing accents to her sire
complain,
6:778 And to her absent sister, but
in vain:
6:779 In vain she importunes, with
doleful cries,
6:780 Each unattentive godhead of the
skies.
6:781 She pants and trembles, like
the bleating prey,
6:782 From some close-hunted wolf just
snatch'd away;
6:783 That still, with fearful horror,
looks around,
6:784 And on its flank regards the
bleeding wound.
6:785 Or, as the tim'rous dove, the
danger o'er,
6:786 Beholds her shining plumes besmear'd
with gore,
6:787 And, tho' deliver'd from the
faulcon's claw,
6:788 Yet shivers, and retains a secret
awe.
6:789 But when her mind a calm reflection shar'd,
6:790 And all her scatter'd spirits
were repair'd:
6:791 Torn, and disorder'd while her
tresses hung,
6:792 Her livid hands, like one that
mourn'd, she wrung;
6:793 Then thus, with grief o'erwhelm'd
her languid eyes,
6:794 Savage, inhumane, cruel wretch!
she cries;
6:795 Whom not a parent's strict commands
could move,
6:796 Tho' charg'd, and utter'd with
the tears of love;
6:797 Nor virgin innocence, nor all
that's due
6:798 To the strong contract of the
nuptial vow:
6:799 Virtue, by this, in wild confusion's
laid,
6:800 And I compell'd to wrong my sister's
bed;
6:801 Whilst you, regardless of your
marriage oath,
6:802 With stains of incest have defil'd
us both.
6:803 Tho' I deserv'd some punishment
to find,
6:804 This was, ye Gods! too cruel,
and unkind.
6:805 Yet, villain, to compleat your
horrid guilt,
6:806 Stab here, and let my tainted
blood be spilt.
6:807 Oh happy! had it come, before
I knew
6:808 The curs'd embrace of vile perfidious
you;
6:809 Then my pale ghost, pure from
incestuous love,
6:810 Had wander'd spotless thro' th'
Elysian grove.
6:811 But, if the Gods above have pow'r
to know,
6:812 And judge those actions that
are done below;
6:813 Unless the dreaded thunders of
the sky,
6:814 Like me, subdu'd, and violated
lye;
6:815 Still my revenge shall take its
proper time,
6:816 And suit the baseness of your
hellish crime.
6:817 My self, abandon'd, and devoid
of shame,
6:818 Thro' the wide world your actions
will proclaim;
6:819 Or tho' I'm prison'd in this
lonely den,
6:820 Obscur'd, and bury'd from the
sight of men,
6:821 My mournful voice the pitying
rocks shall move,
6:822 And my complainings eccho thro'
the grove.
6:823 Hear me, o Heav'n! and, if a
God be there,
6:824 Let him regard me, and accept
my pray'r.
6:825 Struck with these words, the tyrant's guilty
breast
6:826 With fear, and anger, was, by
turns, possest;
6:827 Now, with remorse his conscience
deeply stung,
6:828 He drew the faulchion that beside
her hung,
6:829 And first her tender arms behind
her bound,
6:830 Then drag'd her by the hair along
the ground.
6:831 The princess willingly her throat
reclin'd,
6:832 And view'd the steel with a contented
mind;
6:833 But soon her tongue the girding
pinchers strain,
6:834 With anguish, soon she feels
the piercing pain:
6:835 Oh father! father! would fain
have spoke,
6:836 But the sharp torture her intention
broke;
6:837 In vain she tries, for now the
blade has cut
6:838 Her tongue sheer off, close to
the trembling root.
6:839 The mangled part still quiver'd
on the ground,
6:840 Murmuring with a faint imperfect
sound:
6:841 And, as a serpent writhes his
wounded train,
6:842 Uneasy, panting, and possess'd
with pain;
6:843 The piece, while life remain'd,
still trembled fast,
6:844 And to its mistress pointed to
the last.
6:845 Yet, after this so damn'd, and black a deed,
6:846 Fame (which I scarce can credit)
has agreed,
6:847 That on her rifled charms, still
void of shame,
6:848 He frequently indulg'd his lustful
flame,
6:849 At last he ventures to his Procne's
sight,
6:850 Loaded with guilt, and cloy'd
with long delight;
6:851 There, with feign'd grief, and
false, dissembled sighs,
6:852 Begins a formal narrative of
lies;
6:853 Her sister's death he artfully
declares,
6:854 Then weeps, and raises credit
from his tears.
6:855 Her vest, with flow'rs of gold
embroider'd o'er,
6:856 With grief distress'd, the mournful
matron tore,
6:857 And a beseeming suit of gloomy
sable wore.
6:858 With cost, an honorary tomb she
rais'd,
6:859 And thus th' imaginary ghost
appeas'd.
6:860 Deluded queen! the fate of her
you love,
6:861 Nor grief, nor pity, but revenge
should move.
6:862 Thro' the twelve signs had pass'd the circling
sun,
6:863 And round the compass of the
Zodiac run;
6:864 What must unhappy Philomela do,
6:865 For ever subject to her keeper's
view?
6:866 Huge walls of massy stone the
lodge surround,
6:867 From her own mouth no way of
speaking's found.
6:868 But all our wants by wit may
be supply'd,
6:869 And art makes up, what fortune
has deny'd:
6:870 With skill exact a Phrygian web
she strung,
6:871 Fix'd to a loom that in her chamber
hung,
6:872 Where in-wrought letters, upon
white display'd,
6:873 In purple notes, her wretched
case betray'd:
6:874 The piece, when finish'd, secretly
she gave
6:875 Into the charge of one poor menial
slave;
6:876 And then, with gestures, made
him understand,
6:877 It must be safe convey'd to Procne's
hand.
6:878 The slave, with speed, the queen's
apartment sought,
6:879 And render'd up his charge, unknowing
what he brought.
6:880 But when the cyphers, figur'd
in each fold,
6:881 Her sister's melancholy story
told
6:882 (Strange that she could!) with
silence, she survey'd
6:883 The tragick piece, and without
weeping read:
6:884 In such tumultuous haste her
passions sprung,
6:885 They choak'd her voice, and quite
disarm'd her tongue.
6:886 No room for female tears; the
Furies rise,
6:887 Darting vindictive glances from
her eyes;
6:888 And, stung with rage, she bounds
from place to place,
6:889 While stern revenge sits low'ring
in her face.
6:890 Now the triennial celebration came,
6:891 Observ'd to Bacchus by each Thracian
dame;
6:892 When, in the privacies of night
retir'd,
6:893 They act his rites, with sacred
rapture fir'd:
6:894 By night, the tinkling cymbals
ring around,
6:895 While the shrill notes from Rhodope
resound;
6:896 By night, the queen, disguis'd,
forsakes the court,
6:897 To mingle in the festival resort.
6:898 Leaves of the curling vine her
temples shade,
6:899 And, with a circling wreath,
adorn her head:
6:900 Adown her back the stag's rough
spoils appear,
6:901 Light on her shoulder leans a
cornel spear.
6:902 Thus, in the fury of the God conceal'd,
6:903 Procne her own mad headstrong
passion veil'd;
6:904 Now, with her gang, to the thick
wood she flies,
6:905 And with religious yellings fills
the skies;
6:906 The fatal lodge, as 'twere by
chance, she seeks,
6:907 And, thro' the bolted doors,
an entrance breaks;
6:908 From thence, her sister snatching
by the hand,
6:909 Mask'd like the ranting Bacchanalian
band,
6:910 Within the limits of the court
she drew,
6:911 Shading, with ivy green, her
outward hue.
6:912 But Philomela, conscious of the place,
6:913 Felt new reviving pangs of her
disgrace;
6:914 A shiv'ring cold prevail'd in
ev'ry part,
6:915 And the chill'd blood ran trembling
to her heart.
6:916 Soon as the queen a fit retirement found,
6:917 Stript of the garlands that her
temples crown'd,
6:918 She strait unveil'd her blushing
sister's face,
6:919 And fondly clasp'd her with a
close embrace:
6:920 But, in confusion lost, th' unhappy
maid,
6:921 With shame dejected, hung her
drooping head,
6:922 As guilty of a crime that stain'd
her sister's bed.
6:923 That speech, that should her
injur'd virtue clear,
6:924 And make her spotless innocence
appear,
6:925 Is now no more; only her hands,
and eyes
6:926 Appeal, in signals, to the conscious
skies.
6:927 In Procne's breast the rising
passions boil,
6:928 And burst in anger with a mad
recoil;
6:929 Her sister's ill-tim'd grief,
with scorn, she blames,
6:930 Then, in these furious words
her rage proclaims.
6:931 Tears, unavailing, but defer our time,
6:932 The stabbing sword must expiate
the crime;
6:933 Or worse, if wit, on bloody vengeance
bent,
6:934 A weapon more tormenting can
invent.
6:935 O sister! I've prepar'd my stubborn
heart,
6:936 To act some hellish, and unheard-of
part;
6:937 Either the palace to surround
with fire,
6:938 And see the villain in the flames
expire;
6:939 Or, with a knife, dig out his
cursed eyes,
6:940 Or, his false tongue with racking
engines seize;
6:941 Or, cut away the part that injur'd
you,
6:942 And, thro' a thousand wounds,
his guilty soul pursue.
6:943 Tortures enough my passion has
design'd,
6:944 But the variety distracts my
mind.
6:945 A-while, thus wav'ring, stood the furious
dame,
6:946 When Itys fondling to his mother
came;
6:947 From him the cruel fatal hint
she took,
6:948 She view'd him with a stern remorseless
look:
6:949 Ah! but too like thy wicked sire,
she said,
6:950 Forming the direful purpose in
her head.
6:951 At this a sullen grief her voice
supprest,
6:952 While silent passions struggle
in her breast.
6:953 Now, at her lap arriv'd, the flatt'ring boy
6:954 Salutes his parent with a smiling
joy:
6:955 About her neck his little arms
are thrown,
6:956 And he accosts her in a pratling
tone.
6:957 Then her tempestuous anger was
allay'd,
6:958 And in its full career her vengeance
stay'd;
6:959 While tender thoughts, in spite
of passion, rise,
6:960 And melting tears disarm her
threat'ning eyes.
6:961 But when she found the mother's
easy heart,
6:962 Too fondly swerving from th'
intended part;
6:963 Her injur'd sister's face again
she view'd:
6:964 And, as by turns surveying both
she stood,
6:965 While this fond boy (she said)
can thus express
6:966 The moving accents of his fond
address;
6:967 Why stands my sister of her tongue
bereft,
6:968 Forlorn, and sad, in speechless
silence left?
6:969 O Procne, see the fortune of
your house!
6:970 Such is your fate, when match'd
to such a spouse!
6:971 Conjugal duty, if observ'd to
him,
6:972 Would change from virtue, and
become a crime;
6:973 For all respect to Tereus must
debase
6:974 The noble blood of great Pandion's
race.
6:975 Strait at these words, with big resentment
fill'd,
6:976 Furious her look, she flew, and
seiz'd her child;
6:977 Like a fell tigress of the savage
kind,
6:978 That drags the tender suckling
of the hind
6:979 Thro' India's gloomy groves,
where Ganges laves
6:980 The shady scene, and rouls his
streamy waves.
6:981 Now to a close apartment they
were come,
6:982 Far off retir'd within the spacious
dome;
6:983 When Procne, on revengeful mischief
bent,
6:984 Home to his heart a piercing
ponyard sent.
6:985 Itys, with rueful cries, but
all too late,
6:986 Holds out his hands, and deprecates
his fate;
6:987 Still at his mother's neck he
fondly aims,
6:988 And strives to melt her with
endearing names;
6:989 Yet still the cruel mother perseveres,
6:990 Nor with concern his bitter anguish
hears.
6:991 This might suffice; but Philomela
too
6:992 Across his throat a shining curtlass
drew.
6:993 Then both, with knives, dissect
each quiv'ring part,
6:994 And carve the butcher'd limbs
with cruel art;
6:995 Which, whelm'd in boiling cauldrons
o'er the fire,
6:996 Or turn'd on spits, in steamy
smoak aspire:
6:997 While the long entries, with
their slipp'ry floor,
6:998 Run down in purple streams of
clotted gore.
6:999 Ask'd by his wife to this inhuman feast,
6:1000 Tereus unknowingly is made
a guest:
6:1001 Whilst she her plot the better
to disguise,
6:1002 Styles it some unknown mystick
sacrifice;
6:1003 And such the nature of the
hallow'd rite,
6:1004 The wife her husband only could
invite,
6:1005 The slaves must all withdraw,
and be debarr'd the sight.
6:1006 Tereus, upon a throne of antique
state,
6:1007 Loftily rais'd, before the
banquet sate;
6:1008 And glutton like, luxuriously
pleas'd,
6:1009 With his own flesh his hungry
maw appeas'd.
6:1010 Nay, such a blindness o'er
his senses falls,
6:1011 That he for Itys to the table
calls.
6:1012 When Procne, now impatient
to disclose
6:1013 The joy that from her full
revenge arose,
6:1014 Cries out, in transports of
a cruel mind,
6:1015 Within your self your Itys
you may find.
6:1016 Still, at this puzzling answer,
with surprise,
6:1017 Around the room he sends his
curious eyes;
6:1018 And, as he still inquir'd,
and call'd aloud,
6:1019 Fierce Philomela, all besmear'd
with blood,
6:1020 Her hands with murder stain'd,
her spreading hair
6:1021 Hanging dishevel'd with a ghastly
air,
6:1022 Stept forth, and flung full
in the tyrant's face
6:1023 The head of Itys, goary as
it was:
6:1024 Nor ever so much to use her
tongue,
6:1025 And with a just reproach to
vindicate her wrong.
6:1026 The Thracian monarch from the table flings,
6:1027 While with his cries the vaulted
parlour rings;
6:1028 His imprecations eccho down
to Hell,
6:1029 And rouze the snaky Furies
from their Stygian cell.
6:1030 One while he labours to disgorge
his breast,
6:1031 And free his stomach from the
cursed feast;
6:1032 Then, weeping o'er his lamentable
doom,
6:1033 He styles himself his son's
sepulchral tomb.
6:1034 Now, with drawn sabre, and
impetuous speed,
6:1035 In close pursuit he drives
Pandion's breed;
6:1036 Whose nimble feet spring with
so swift a force
6:1037 Across the fields, they seem
to wing their course.
6:1038 And now, on real wings themselves
they raise,
6:1039 And steer their airy flight
by diff'rent ways;
6:1040 One to the woodland's shady
covert hies,
6:1041 Around the smoaky roof the
other flies;
6:1042 Whose feathers yet the marks
of murder stain,
6:1043 Where stampt upon her breast,
the crimson spots remain.
6:1044 Tereus, through grief, and
haste to be reveng'd,
6:1045 Shares the like fate, and to
a bird is chang'd:
6:1046 Fix'd on his head, the crested
plumes appear,
6:1047 Long is his beak, and sharpen'd
like a spear;
6:1048 Thus arm'd, his looks his inward
mind display,
6:1049 And, to a lapwing turn'd, he
fans his way.
6:1050 Exceeding trouble, for his children's fate,
6:1051 Shorten'd Pandion's days, and
chang'd his date;
6:1052 Down to the shades below, with
sorrow spent,
6:1053 An earlier, unexpected ghost
he went.