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THE STORY OF ACIS, POLYPHEMUS, AND GALATEA, FROM THE THIRTEENTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES

 
Acis, the lovely youth, whose loss I mourn,
From Faunus and the nymph Symethis born,
Was both his parents' pleasure; but to me
Was all that love could make a lover be.
The gods our minds in mutual bands did join;
I was his only joy, and he was mine.
Now sixteen summers the sweet youth had seen,
And doubtful down began to shade his chin;
When Polyphemus first disturbed our joy,
And loved me fiercely, as I loved the boy.
Ask not which passion in my soul was higher,
My last aversion, or my first desire;
Nor this the greater was, nor that the less,
Both were alike, for both were in excess.
Thee, Venus, thee both heaven and earth obey;
Immense thy power, and boundless is thy sway.
The Cyclops, who defied the ætherial throne,
And thought no thunder louder than his own,
The terror of the woods, and wilder far
Than wolves in plains, or bears in forests are;
The inhuman host, who made his bloody feasts
On mangled members of his butchered guests,
Yet felt the force of love, and fierce desire,
And burnt for me, with unrelenting fire;
Forgot his caverns, and his woolly care, }
Assumed the softness of a lover's air, }
And combed, with teeth of rakes, his rugged hair.}
Now with a crooked scythe his beard he sleeks,
And mows the stubborn stubble of his cheeks;
Now in the crystal stream he looks, to try
His simagres,³⁹ and rolls his glaring eye.
His cruelty and thirst of blood are lost;
And ships securely sail along the coast.
The prophet Telemus (arrived by chance
Where Ætna's summits to the seas advance,
Who marked the tracks of every bird that flew,
And sure presages from their flying drew,)
Foretold the Cyclops, that Ulysses' hand
In his broad eye should thrust a flaming brand.
The giant, with a scornful grin, replied,
Vain augur, thou hast falsely prophesied:
Already Love his flaming brand has tost;
Looking on two fair eyes, my sight I lost. —
Thus, warned in vain, with stalking pace he strode,
And stamped the margin of the briny flood
With heavy steps, and, weary, sought agen
The cool retirement of his gloomy den.
A promontory, sharpening by degrees,
Ends in a wedge, and overlooks the seas;
On either side, below, the water flows:
This airy walk the giant-lover chose;
Here on the midst he sate; his flocks, unled,
Their shepherd followed, and securely fed.
A pine so burly, and of length so vast,
That sailing ships required it for a mast,
He wielded for a staff, his steps to guide;
But laid it by, his whistle while he tried.
A hundred reeds, of a prodigious growth,
Scarce made a pipe proportioned to his mouth;
Which when he gave it wind, the rocks around,
And watery plains, the dreadful hiss resound.
I heard the ruffian shepherd rudely blow,
Where, in a hollow cave, I sat below.
On Acis' bosom I my head reclined;
And still preserve the poem in my mind.
O lovely Galatea, whiter far
Than falling snows, and rising lilies are;
More flowery than the meads, as crystal bright,
Erect as alders, and of equal height;
More wanton than a kid; more sleek thy skin,
Than orient shells, that on the shores are seen;
Than apples fairer, when the boughs they lade;
Pleasing, as winter suns, or summer shade;
More grateful to the sight than goodly plains,
And softer to the touch than down of swans,
Or curds new turned; and sweeter to the taste,
Than swelling grapes, that to the vintage haste;
More clear than ice, or running streams, that stray
Through garden plots, but ah! more swift than they.
Yet, Galatea, harder to be broke }
Than bullocks, unreclaimed to bear the yoke,}
And far more stubborn than the knotted oak; }
Like sliding streams, impossible to hold,
Like them fallacious, like their fountains cold;
More warping than the willow, to decline
My warm embrace; more brittle than the vine;
Immoveable, and fixt in thy disdain;
Rough, as these rocks, and of a harder grain;
More violent than is the rising flood;
And the praised peacock is not half so proud;
Fierce as the fire, and sharp as thistles are,
And more outrageous than a mother bear;
Deaf as the billows to the vows I make,
And more revengeful than a trodden snake;
In swiftness fleeter than the flying hind,
Or driven tempests, or the driving wind.
All other faults with patience I can bear;
But swiftness is the vice I only fear.
Yet, if you knew me well, you would not shun
My love, but to my wished embraces run;
Would languish in your turn, and court my stay,
And much repent of your unwise delay.
My palace, in the living rock, is made }
By nature's hand; a spacious pleasing shade, }
Which neither heat can pierce, nor cold invade.}
My garden filled with fruits you may behold,
And grapes in clusters, imitating gold;
Some blushing bunches of a purple hue;
And these, and those, are all reserved for you.
Red strawberries in shades expecting stand,
Proud to be gathered by so white a hand.
Autumnal cornels latter fruit provide,
And plumbs, to tempt you, turn their glossy side;
Not those of common kinds, but such alone,
As in Phæacian orchards might have grown.
Nor chesnuts shall be wanting to your food,
Nor garden-fruits, nor wildings of the wood.
The laden boughs for you alone shall bear,
And yours shall be the product of the year.
The flocks you see are all my own, beside }
The rest that woods and winding vallies hide,}
And those that folded in the caves abide. }
Ask not the numbers of my growing store;
Who knows how many, knows he has no more.
Nor will I praise my cattle; trust not me,
But judge yourself, and pass your own decree.
Behold their swelling dugs; the sweepy weight
Of ewes, that sink beneath the milky freight;
In the warm folds their tender lambkins lie;
Apart from kids, that call with human cry.
New milk in nut-brown bowls is duly served
For daily drink, the rest for cheese reserved.
Nor are these household dainties all my store;}
The fields and forests will afford us more; }
The deer, the hare, the goat, the savage boar.}
All sorts of venison, and of birds the best;
A pair of turtles taken from the nest.
I walked the mountains, and two cubs⁴⁰ I found,
Whose dam had left them on the naked ground;
So like, that no distinction could be seen;
So pretty, they were presents for a queen;
And so they shall; I took them both away,
And keep, to be companions of your play.
Oh raise, fair nymph, your beauteous face above
The waves; nor scorn my presents, and my love.
Come, Galatea, come, and view my face; }
I late beheld it in the watery glass, }
And found it lovelier than I feared it was.}
Survey my towering stature, and my size:
Not Jove, the Jove you dream, that rules the skies,
Bears such a bulk, or is so largely spread.
My locks (the plenteous harvest of my head,)
Hang o'er my manly face, and dangling down,
As with a shady grove, my shoulders crown.
Nor think, because my limbs and body bear
A thick-set underwood of bristling hair,
My shape deformed; what fouler sight can be,
Than the bald branches of a leafless tree?
Foul is the steed without a flowing mane;
And birds, without their feathers, and their train:
Wool decks the sheep; and man receives a grace
From bushy limbs, and from a bearded face.
My forehead with a single eye is filled,
Round as a ball, and ample as a shield.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun,
Is Nature's eye; and she's content with one.
Add, that my father sways your seas, and I,
Like you, am of the watry family.
I make you his, in making you my own;
You I adore, and kneel to you alone;
Jove, with his fabled thunder, I despise,
And only fear the lightning of your eyes.
Frown not, fair nymph! yet I could bear to be
Disdained, if others were disdained with me.
But to repulse the Cyclops, and prefer
The love of Acis, – heavens! I cannot bear.
But let the stripling please himself; nay more,
Please you, though that's the thing I most abhor;
The boy shall find, if e'er we cope in fight,
These giant limbs endued with giant might.
His living bowels from his belly torn,
And scattered limbs, shall on the flood be borne,
Thy flood, ungrateful nymph; and fate shall find
That way for thee and Acis to be joined.
For oh! I burn with love, and thy disdain
Augments at once my passion, and my pain.
Translated Ætna flames within my heart,
And thou, inhuman, wilt not ease my smart. —
Lamenting thus in vain, he rose, and strode
With furious paces to the neigbouring wood;
Restless his feet, distracted was his walk,
Mad were his motions, and confused his talk;
Mad as the vanquished bull, when forced to yield
His lovely mistress, and forsake the field.
Thus far unseen I saw; when, fatal chance
His looks directing, with a sudden glance,
Acis and I were to his sight betrayed;
Where, nought suspecting, we securely played.
From his wide mouth a bellowing cry he cast, —
I see, I see, but this shall be your last. —
A roar so loud made Ætna to rebound,
And all the Cyclops laboured in the sound.
Affrighted with his monstrous voice, I fled, }
And in the neighbouring ocean plunged my head. }
Poor Acis turned his back, and, Help, he cried,}
Help, Galatea! help, my parent Gods,
And take me, dying, to your deep abodes! —
The Cyclops followed; but he sent before
A rib, which from the living rock he tore;
Though but an angle reached him of the stone,
The mighty fragment was enough alone,
To crush all Acis; 'twas too late to save,
But what the fates allowed to give, I gave;
That Acis to his lineage should return,
And roll among the river Gods his urn.
Straight issued from the stone a stream of blood,
Which lost the purple, mingling with the flood;
Then like a troubled torrent it appeared;
The torrent too, in little space, was cleared;
The stone was cleft, and through the yawning chink
New reeds arose, on the new river's brink.
The rock, from out its hollow womb, disclosed
A sound like water in its course opposed:
When (wonderous to behold!) full in the flood,
Up starts a youth, and navel-high he stood.
Horns from his temples rise; and either horn
Thick wreaths of reeds (his native growth) adorn.
Were not his stature taller than before,
His bulk augmented, and his beauty more,
His colour blue, for Acis he might pass;
And Acis, changed into a stream, he was.
But, mine no more, he rolls along the plains
With rapid motion, and his name retains.
 

OF THE PYTHAGOREAN PHILOSOPHY. FROM THE FIFTEENTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES

The fourteenth book concludes with the death and deification of Romulus; the fifteenth begins with the election of Numa to the crown of Rome. On this occasion, Ovid, following the opinion of some authors, makes Numa the scholar of Pythagoras, and to have begun his acquaintance with that philosopher at Crotona, a town in Italy; from thence he makes a digression to the moral and natural philosophy of Pythagoras; on both which our author enlarges; and which are the most learned and beautiful parts of the Metamorphoses.

 
A king is sought to guide the growing state,}
One able to support the public weight, }
And fill the throne where Romulus had sate. }
Renown, which oft bespeaks the public voice,
Had recommended Numa to their choice;
A peaceful, pious prince; who, not content
To know the Sabine rites, his study bent
To cultivate his mind; to learn the laws
Of nature, and explore their hidden cause.
Urged by this care, his country he forsook,
And to Crotona thence his journey took.
Arrived, he first enquired the founder's name
Of this new colony; and whence he came.
Then thus a senior of the place replies,
Well read, and curious of antiquities. —
'Tis said, Alcides hither took his way
From Spain, and drove along his conquered prey;
Then, leaving in the fields his grazing cows,
He sought himself some hospitable house.
Good Croton entertained his godlike guest;
While he repaired his weary limbs with rest.
The hero, thence departing, blessed the place;
And here, he said, in time's revolving race,
A rising town shall take its name from thee. —
Revolving time fulfilled the prophecy;
For Myscelos, the justest man on earth,
Alemon's son, at Argos had his birth;
Him Hercules, armed with his club of oak,
O'ershadowed in a dream, and thus bespoke;
Go, leave thy native soil, and make abode }
Where Æsaris rolls down his rapid flood; – }
He said; and sleep forsook him, and the God. }
Trembling he waked, and rose with anxious heart;
His country laws forbad him to depart,
What should he do? 'Twas death to go away,
And the God menaced if he dared to stay.
All day he doubted, and, when night came on,
Sleep, and the same forewarning dream, begun;
Once more the God stood threatening o'er his head,
With added curses if he disobeyed.
Twice warned, he studied flight; but would convey,
At once, his person and his wealth away.
Thus while he lingered, his design was heard;
A speedy process formed, and death declared.
Witness there needed none of his offence,
Against himself the wretch was evidence;
Condemned, and destitute of human aid,
To him, for whom he suffered, thus he prayed.
O Power, who hast deserved in heaven a throne,
Not given, but by thy labours made thy own,
Pity thy suppliant, and protect his cause,
Whom thou hast made obnoxious to the laws! —
A custom was of old, and still remains,
Which life or death by suffrages ordains;
White stones and black within an urn are cast,
The first absolve, but fate is in the last.
The judges to the common urn bequeath
Their votes, and drop the sable signs of death:
The box receives all black; but, poured from thence,
The stones came candid forth, the hue of innocence.
Thus Alimonides his safety won,
Preserved from death by Alcumena's son.
Then to his kinsman God his vows he pays,
And cuts with prosperous gales the Ionian seas;
He leaves Tarentum, favoured by the wind,
And Thurine bays, and Temises, behind;
Soft Sibaris, and all the capes that stand
Along the shore, he makes in sight of land;
Still doubling, and still coasting, till he found
The mouth of Æsaris, and promised ground;
Then saw where, on the margin of the flood,
The tomb that held the bones of Croton stood;
Here, by the God's command, he built and walled
The place predicted, and Crotona called.
Thus fame, from time to time, delivers down
The sure tradition of the Italian town.
Here dwelt the man divine whom Samos bore,
But now self-banished from his native shore,
Because he hated tyrants, nor could bear
The chains which none but servile souls will wear.
He, though from heaven remote, to heaven could move,
With strength of mind, and tread the abyss above;
And penetrate, with his interior light,
Those upper depths, which Nature hid from sight;
And what he had observed, and learnt from thence,
Loved in familiar language to dispense.
The crowd with silent admiration stand,
And heard him, as they heard their god's command;
While he discoursed of heaven's mysterious laws,
The world's original, and nature's cause;
And what was God, and why the fleecy snows
In silence fell, and rattling winds arose;
What shook the stedfast earth, and whence begun
The dance of planets round the radiant sun;
If thunder was the voice of angry Jove,
Or clouds, with nitre pregnant, burst above;
Of these, and things beyond the common reach,
He spoke, and charmed his audience with his speech.
He first the taste of flesh from tables drove,
And argued well, if arguments could move. —
O mortals! from your fellows' blood abstain,
Nor taint your bodies with a food profane;
While corn and pulse by nature are bestowed,
And planted orchards bend their willing load;
While laboured gardens wholsome herbs produce,
And teeming vines afford their generous juice;
Nor tardier fruits of cruder kind are lost,
But tamed with fire, or mellowed by the frost;
While kine to pails distended udders bring,
And bees their honey, redolent of spring;
While earth not only can your needs supply,
But, lavish of her store, provides for luxury;
A guiltless feast administers with ease,
And without blood is prodigal to please.
Wild beasts their maws with their slain brethren fill,
And yet not all, for some refuse to kill;
Sheep, goats, and oxen, and the nobler steed,
On browz, and corn, the flowery meadows feed.
Bears, tigers, wolves, the lion's angry brood,
Whom heaven endued with principles of blood,
He wisely sundered from the rest, to yell
In forests, and in lonely caves to dwell,
Where stronger beasts oppress the weak by might,
And all in prey and purple feasts delight.
O impious use! to Nature's laws opposed,
Where bowels are in other bowels closed;
Where, fattened by their fellows' fat, they thrive;
Maintained by murder, and by death they live.
'Tis then for nought that mother earth provides
The stores of all she shows, and all she hides,
If men with fleshly morsels must be fed,
And chew with bloody teeth the breathing bread.
What else is this but to devour our guests,
And barbarously renew Cyclopean feasts!
We, by destroying life, our life sustain,
And gorge the ungodly maw with meats obscene.
Not so the golden age, who fed on fruit,
Nor durst with bloody meals their mouths pollute.
Then birds in airy space might safely move,
And timorous hares on heaths securely rove;
Nor needed fish the guileful hooks to fear,
For all was peaceful, and that peace sincere.
Whoever was the wretch (and cursed be he!)
That envied first our food's simplicity,
The essay of bloody feasts on brutes began,
And, after, forged the sword to murder man.
Had he the sharpened steel alone employed
On beasts of prey, that other beasts destroyed,
Or men invaded with their fangs and paws,
This had been justified by Nature's laws,
And self-defence; but who did feasts begin
Of flesh, he stretched necessity to sin.
To kill man-killers man has lawful power,
But not the extended licence, to devour.
Ill habits gather by unseen degrees,
As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
The sow, with her broad snout for rooting up }
The intrusted seed, was judged to spoil the crop,}
And intercept the sweating farmer's hope; }
The covetous churl, of unforgiving kind,
The offender to the bloody priest resigned:
Her hunger was no plea; for that she died.
The goat came next in order, to be tried:
The goat had cropt the tendrils of the vine;}
In vengeance laity and clergy join, }
Where one had lost his profit, one his wine.}
Here was, at least, some shadow of offence;}
The sheep was sacrificed on no pretence, }
But meek and unresisting innocence. }
A patient, useful creature, born to bear
The warm and woolly fleece, that cloathed her murderer,
And daily to give down the milk she bred,
A tribute for the grass on which she fed.
Living, both food and raiment she supplies,
And is of least advantage when she dies.
How did the toiling ox his death deserve,
A downright simple drudge, and born to serve?
O tyrant! with what justice canst thou hope
The promise of the year, a plenteous crop,
When thou destroyest thy labouring steer, who tilled,
And plowed, with pains, thy else ungrateful field?
From his yet reeking neck to draw the yoke,
(That neck with which the surly clods he broke,)
And to the hatchet yield thy husbandman,
Who finished autumn, and the spring began!
Nor this alone; but, heaven itself to bribe,
We to the gods our impious acts ascribe;
First recompense with death their creatures' toil,
Then call the blessed above to share the spoil:
The fairest victim must the powers appease;
So fatal 'tis, sometimes, too much to please!
A purple fillet his broad brows adorns,
With flowery garlands crowned, and gilded horns;
He hears the murderous prayer the priest prefers,
But understands not, 'tis his doom he hears;
Beholds the meal betwixt his temples cast,
The fruit and product of his labours past;
And in the water views, perhaps, the knife
Uplifted, to deprive him of his life;
Then, broken up alive, his entrails sees
Torn out, for priests to inspect the gods' decrees.
From whence, O mortal men, this gust of blood
Have you derived, and interdicted food?
Be taught by me this dire delight to shun,
Warned by my precepts, by my practice won;
And when you eat the well-deserving beast,
Think, on the labourer of your field you feast!
Now since the God inspires me to proceed,
Be that whate'er inspiring Power obeyed.
For I will sing of mighty mysteries, }
Of truths concealed before from human eyes, }
Dark oracles unveil, and open all the skies.}
Pleased as I am to walk along the sphere
Of shining stars, and travel with the year,
To leave the heavy earth, and scale the height
Of Atlas, who supports the heavenly weight;
To look from upper light, and thence survey
Mistaken mortals wandering from the way,
And, wanting wisdom, fearful for the state
Of future things, and trembling at their fate!
Those I would teach; and by right reason bring
To think of death, as but an idle thing.
Why thus affrighted at an empty name,
A dream of darkness, and fictitious flame?
Vain themes of wit, which but in poems pass,
And fables of a world, that never was!
What feels the body when the soul expires,
By time corrupted, or consumed by fires?
Nor dies the spirit, but new life repeats
In other forms, and only changes seats.
Even I, who these mysterious truths declare,
Was once Euphorbus in the Trojan war;
My name and lineage I remember well,
And how in fight by Sparta's king I fell.
In Argive Juno's fane I late beheld
My buckler hung on high, and owned my former shield.
Then death, so called, is but old matter dressed
In some new figure, and a varied vest;
Thus all things are but altered, nothing dies,
And here and there the unbodied spirit flies,
By time, or force, or sickness dispossest,
And lodges, where it lights, in man or beast;
Or hunts without, till ready limbs it find,
And actuates those according to their kind;
From tenement to tenement is tossed;
The soul is still the same, the figure only lost:
And as the softened wax new seals receives,
This face assumes, and that impression leaves;
Now called by one, now by another name,
The form is only changed, the wax is still the same:
So death, so called, can but the form deface;}
The immortal soul flies out in empty space, }
To seek her fortune in some other place. }
Then let not piety be put to flight,
To please the taste of glutton appetite;
But suffer inmate souls secure to dwell,
Lest from their seats your parents you expel;
With rabid hunger feed upon your kind,
Or from a beast dislodge a brother's mind.
And since, like Tiphys, parting from the shore,
In ample seas I sail, and depths untried before,
This let me further add, that nature knows
No stedfast station, but, or ebbs, or flows;
Ever in motion, she destroys her old,
And casts new figures in another mould.
Even times are in perpetual flux, and run,
Like rivers from their fountain, rolling on.
For time, no more than streams, is at a stay;
The flying hour is ever on her way;
And as the fountain still supplies her store,
The wave behind impels the wave before,
Thus in successive course the minutes run,
And urge their predecessor minutes on,
Still moving, ever new; for former things
Are set aside, like abdicated kings;
And every moment alters what is done,
And innovates some act till then unknown.
Darkness, we see, emerges into light,
And shining suns descend to sable night;
Even heaven itself receives another die,
When wearied animals in slumbers lie
Of midnight ease; another, when the gray
Of morn preludes the splendour of the day.
The disk of Phœbus, when he climbs on high,
Appears at first but as a bloodshot eye;
And when his chariot downward drives to bed,
His ball is with the same suffusion red;
But, mounted high in his meridian race,
All bright he shines, and with a better face;
For there, pure particles of æther flow,
Far from the infection of the world below.
Nor equal light the unequal moon adorns,
Or in her wexing, or her waning horns;
For, every day she wanes, her face is less,
But, gathering into globe, she fattens at increase.
Perceiv'st thou not the process of the year, }
How the four seasons in four forms appear, }
Resembling human life in every shape they wear?}
Spring first, like infancy, shoots out her head,}
With milky juice requiring to be fed; }
Helpless, though fresh, and wanting to be led. }
The green stem grows in stature and in size,
But only feeds with hope the farmer's eyes;
Then laughs the childish year, with flowerets crowned,
And lavishly perfumes the fields around;
But no substantial nourishment receives,
Infirm the stalks, unsolid are the leaves.
Proceeding onward whence the year began,
The Summer grows adult, and ripens into man.
This season, as in men, is most replete
With kindly moisture, and prolific heat.
Autumn succeeds, a sober tepid age,
Not froze with fear, nor boiling into rage;
More than mature, and tending to decay,
When our brown locks repine to mix with odious grey.
Last, Winter creeps along with tardy pace;
Sour is his front, and furrowed is his face.
His scalp if not dishonoured quite of hair,
The ragged fleece is thin, and thin is worse than bare.
Even our own bodies daily change receive;
Some part of what was theirs before they leave,
Nor are to-day what yesterday they were;
Nor the whole same to-morrow will appear.
Time was, when we were sowed, and just began,
From some few fruitful drops, the promise of a man;
Then Nature's hand (fermented as it was)
Moulded to shape the soft, coagulated mass;
And when the little man was fully formed,
The breathless embryo with a spirit warmed;
But when the mother's throes begin to come,
The creature, pent within the narrow room,
Breaks his blind prison, pushing to repair
His stifled breath, and draw the living air;
Cast on the margin of the world he lies,
A helpless babe, but by instinct he cries.
He next essays to walk, but, downward pressed,
On four feet imitates his brother beast:
By slow degrees he gathers from the ground
His legs, and to the rolling chair is bound;
Then walks alone: a horseman now become,
He rides a stick, and travels round the room:
In time he vaunts among his youthful peers,
Strong-boned, and strung with nerves, in pride of years:
He runs with mettle his first merry stage, }
Maintains the next, abated of his rage, }
But manages his strength, and spares his age.}
Heavy the third, and stiff, he sinks apace,
And, though 'tis down-hill all, but creeps along the race.
Now sapless on the verge of death he stands,
Contemplating his former feet, and hands;
And, Milo-like, his slackened sinews sees, }
And withered arms, once fit to cope with Hercules,}
Unable now to shake, much less to tear, the trees.}
So Helen wept, when her too faithful glass
Reflected to her eyes the ruins of her face;
Wondering what charms her ravishers could spy,
To force her twice, or even but once enjoy!
Thy teeth, devouring time, thine, envious age,
On things below still exercise your rage;
With venomed grinders you corrupt your meat,
And then, at lingering meals, the morsels eat.
Nor those, which elements we call, abide,
Nor to this figure, nor to that, are tied;
For this eternal world is said of old
But four prolific principles to hold,
Four different bodies; two to heaven ascend,
And other two down to the centre tend.
Fire, first, with wings expanded mounts on high,
Pure, void of weight, and dwells in upper sky;
Then Air, because unclogged in empty space,
Flies after fire, and claims the second place;
But weighty Water, as her nature guides,
Lies on the lap of Earth; and mother Earth subsides.
All things are mixt with these, which all contain,
And into these are all resolved again.
Earth rarifies to dew; expanded more,
The subtle dew in air begins to soar,
Spreads as she flies, and, weary of her name,
Extenuates still, and changes into flame;
Thus having by degrees perfection won,
Restless, they soon untwist the web they spun;
And fire begins to lose her radiant hue,
Mixed with gross air, and air descends to dew;
And dew, condensing, does her form forego,
And sinks, a heavy lump of earth, below.
Thus are their figures never at a stand,
But changed by Nature's innovating hand;
All things are altered, nothing is destroyed,
The shifted scene for some new show employed.
Then, to be born, is to begin to be
Some other thing we were not formerly;
And what we call to die, is not to appear,
Or be the thing that formerly we were.
Those very elements, which we partake
Alive, when dead, some other bodies make;
Translated grow, have sense, or can discourse;
But death on deathless substance has no force.
That forms are changed I grant, that nothing can
Continue in the figure it began:
The golden age to silver was debased;
To copper that; our metal came at last.
The face of places, and their forms, decay,
And that is solid earth, that once was sea;
Seas, in their turn, retreating from the shore,
Make solid land what ocean was before;
And far from strands are shells of fishes found,
And rusty anchors fixed on mountain ground;
And what were fields before, now washed and worn
By falling floods from high, to valleys turn,
And, crumbling still, descend to level lands;
And lakes, and trembling bogs, are barren sands;
And the parched desert floats in streams unknown,
Wondering to drink of waters not her own.
Here nature living fountains opes; and there
Seals up the wombs where living fountains were;
Or earthquakes stop their ancient course, and bring
Diverted streams to feed a distant spring.
So Lycus, swallowed up, is seen no more,
But, far from thence, knocks out another door.
Thus Erasinus dives; and blind in earth
Runs on, and gropes his way to second birth,
Starts up in Argos meads, and shakes his locks
Around the fields, and fattens all the flocks.
So Mysus by another way is led,
And, grown a river, now disdains his head;
Forgets his humble birth, his name forsakes,
And the proud title of Caicus takes.
Large Amenane, impure with yellow sands,
Runs rapid often, and as often stands;
And here he threats the drunken fields to drown,
And there his dugs deny to give their liquor down.
Anigros once did wholesome draughts afford,
But now his deadly waters are abhorred;
Since, hurt by Hercules, as fame resounds,
The Centaur⁴¹ in his current washed his wounds.
The streams of Hypanis are sweet no more,
But, brackish, lose their taste they had before.
Antissa, Pharos, Tyre, in seas were pent,
Once isles, but now increase the continent;
While the Leucadian coast, main-land before,
By rushing seas is severed from the shore.
So Zancle to the Italian earth was tied,
And men once walked where ships at anchor ride;
Till Neptune overlooked the narrow way,
And in disdain poured in the conquering sea.
Two cities that adorned the Achaian ground, }
Buris and Helice, no more are found, }
But, whelmed beneath a lake, are sunk and drowned;}
And boatmen through the crystal water show,
To wondering passengers, the walls below.
Near Træzen stands a hill, exposed in air
To winter winds, of leafy shadows bare:
This once was level ground; but (strange to tell)
The included vapours, that in caverns dwell
Labouring with cholic pangs, and close confined,
In vain sought issue from the rumbling wind;
Yet still they heaved for vent, and, heaving still,
Enlarged the concave, and shot up the hill;
As breath extends a bladder, or the skins
Of goats are blown to inclose the hoarded wines.
The mountain yet retains a mountain's face,
And gathered rubbish heals the hollow space.
Of many wonders, which I heard or knew,
Retrenching most, I will relate but few.
What, are not springs with qualities opposed
Endued at seasons, and at seasons lost?
Thrice in a day, thine, Ammon, change their form,
Cold at high noon, at morn and evening warm;
Thine, Athaman, will kindle wood, if thrown
On the piled earth, and in the waning moon.
The Thracians have a stream, if any try
The taste, his hardened bowels petrify;
Whate'er it touches it converts to stones,
And makes a marble pavement where it runs.
Grathis, and Sibaris her sister flood,
That slide through our Calabrian neighbour wood,
With gold and amber die the shining hair,
And thither youth resort; for who would not be fair?
But stranger virtues yet in streams we find;
Some change not only bodies, but the mind.
Who has not heard of Salmacis obscene,
Whose waters into women soften men?
Of Æthiopian lakes, which turn the brain
To madness, or in heavy sleep constrain?
Clytorean streams the love of wine expel,
(Such is the virtue of the abstemious well,)
Whether the colder nymph, that rules the flood,
Extinguishes, and baulks the drunken God;
Or that Melampus (so have some assured)
When the mad Prœtides with charms he cured,
And powerful herbs, both charms and simples cast
Into the sober spring, where still their virtues last.
Unlike effects Lyncestis will produce;
Who drinks his waters, though with moderate use,
Reels as with wine, and sees with double sight,
His heels too heavy, and his head too light.
Ladon, once Pheneos, an Arcadian stream,
(Ambiguous in the effects, as in the name,)
By day is wholesome beverage; but is thought
By night infected, and a deadly draught.
Thus running rivers, and the standing lake,
Now of these virtues, now of those partake.
Time was (and all things time and fate obey)
When fast Ortygia floated on the sea;
Such were Cyanean isles, when Typhis steered
Betwixt their straits, and their collision feared;
They swam where now they sit; and, firmly joined,
Secure of rooting up, resist the wind.
Nor Ætna, vomiting sulphureous fire,
Will ever belch; for sulphur will expire,
The veins exhausted of the liquid store;
Time was she cast no flames; in time will cast no more.
For, whether earth's an animal, and air
Imbibes, her lungs with coolness to repair,
And what she sucks remits, she still requires
Inlets for air, and outlets for her fires;
When tortured with convulsive fits she shakes,
That motion chokes the vent, till other vent she makes;
Or when the winds in hollow caves are closed,
And subtile spirits find that way opposed,
They toss up flints in air; the flints that hide
The seeds of fire, thus tossed in air, collide,
Kindling the sulphur, till, the fuel spent,
The cave is cooled, and the fierce winds relent.
Or whether sulphur, catching fire, feeds on
Its unctuous parts, till, all the matter gone,
The flames no more ascend; for earth supplies
The fat that feeds them; and when earth denies
That food, by length of time consumed, the fire,
Famished for want of fuel, must expire.
A race of men there are, as fame has told,
Who, shivering, suffer Hyperborean cold,
Till, nine times bathing in Minerva's lake,
Soft feathers to defend their naked sides they take.
'Tis said, the Scythian wives (believe who will)
Transform themselves to birds by magic skill;
Smeared over with an oil of wonderous might,
That adds new pinions to their airy flight.
But this by sure experiment we know,
That living creatures from corruption grow:
Hide in a hollow pit a slaughtered steer,
Bees from his putrid bowels will appear;
Who, like their parents, haunt the fields, and bring
Their honey-harvest home, and hope another spring.
The warlike steed is multiplied, we find,
To wasps and hornets of the warrior kind.
Cut from a crab his crooked claws, and hide
The rest in earth, a scorpion thence will glide,
And shoot his sting; his tail, in circles tossed,
Refers⁴² the limbs his backward father lost;
And worms, that stretch on leaves their filmy loom,
Crawl from their bags, and butterflies become.
Even slime begets the frogs' loquacious race;
Short of their feet at first, in little space
With arms and legs endued, long leaps they take,
Raised on their hinder part, and swim the lake,
And waves repel: for nature gives their kind,
To that intent, a length of legs behind.
The cubs of bears a living lump appear,
When whelped, and no determined figure wear.
Their mother licks them into shape, and gives
As much of form, as she herself receives.
The grubs from their sexangular abode
Crawl out unfinished, like the maggots' brood,
Trunks without limbs; till time at leisure brings
The thighs they wanted, and their tardy wings.
The bird who draws the car of Juno, vain
Of her crowned head, and of her starry train;
And he that bears the artillery of Jove,
The strong-pounced eagle, and the billing dove,
And all the feathered kind; – who could suppose }
(But that from sight, the surest sense, he knows) }
They from the included yolk, not ambient white, arose?}
There are who think the marrow of a man,
Which in the spine, while he was living, ran;
When dead, the pith corrupted, will become
A snake, and hiss within the hollow tomb.
All these receive their birth from other things,
But from himself the phœnix only springs:
Self-born, begotten by the parent flame
In which he burned, another and the same:
Who not by corn or herbs his life sustains,
But the sweet essence of Amomum drains;
And watches the rich gums Arabia bears,
While yet in tender dew they drop their tears.
He, (his five centuries of life fulfilled)
His nest on oaken boughs begins to build,
Or trembling tops of palm: and first he draws
The plan with his broad bill, and crooked claws,
Nature's artificers; on this the pile
Is formed, and rises round; then with the spoil
Of Casia, Cynamon, and stems of Nard,
(For softness strewed beneath,) his funeral bed is reared,
Funeral and bridal both; and all around
The borders with corruptless myrrh are crowned:
On this incumbent, till ætherial flame
First catches, then consumes, the costly frame;
Consumes him too, as on the pile he lies;
He lived on odours, and in odours dies.
An infant-phœnix from the former springs,
His father's heir, and from his tender wings
Shakes off his parent dust; his method he pursues,
And the same lease of life on the same terms renews.
When, grown to manhood, he begins his reign,
And with stiff pinions can his flight sustain,
He lightens of its load the tree that bore
His father's royal sepulchre before,
And his own cradle; this with pious care
Placed on his back, he cuts the buxom air,
Seeks the sun's city, and his sacred church,
And decently lays down his burden in the porch.
A wonder more amazing would we find?
The Hyæna shews it, of a double kind,
Varying the sexes in alternate years,
In one begets, and in another bears.
The thin cameleon, fed with air, receives
The colour of the thing to which he cleaves.
India, when conquered, on the conquering God
For planted vines the sharp-eyed lynx bestowed,
Whose urine, shed before it touches earth,
Congeals in air, and gives to gems their birth.
So coral, soft and white in ocean's bed,
Comes hardened up in air, and glows with red.
All changing species should my song recite,
Before I ceased, would change the day to night.
Nations and empires flourish and decay,
By turns command, and in their turns obey;
Time softens hardy people, time again
Hardens to war a soft, unwarlike train.
Thus Troy for ten long years her foes withstood,
And daily bleeding bore the expence of blood;
Now for thick streets it shows an empty space, }
Or only filled with tombs of her own perished race;}
Herself becomes the sepulchre of what she was. }
Mycene, Sparta, Thebes of mighty fame,
Are vanished out of substance into name,
And Dardan Rome, that just begins to rise
On Tiber's banks, in time shall mate the skies;
Widening her bounds, and working on her way,
Even now she meditates imperial sway:
Yet this is change, but she by changing thrives,
Like moons new born, and in her cradle strives
To fill her infant-horns; an hour shall come,
When the round world shall be contained in Rome.
For thus old saws foretel, and Helenus
Anchises' drooping son enlivened thus,
When Ilium now was in a sinking state,
And he was doubtful of his future fate.
O goddess born, with thy hard fortune strive,
Troy never can be lost, and thou alive;
Thy passage thou shalt free through fire and sword,
And Troy in foreign lands shall be restored.
In happier fields a rising town I see, }
Greater than what e'er was, or is, or e'er shall be; }
And heaven yet owes the world a race derived from thee.}
Sages and chiefs, of other lineage born,
The city shall extend, extended shall adorn;
But from Iulus he must draw his birth,
By whom thy Rome shall rule the conquered earth;
Whom heaven will lend mankind on earth to reign,
And late require the precious pledge again. —
This Helenus to great Æneas told,
Which I retain, e'er since in other mould
My soul was clothed; and now rejoice to view
My country walls rebuilt, and Troy revived anew;
Raised by the fall; decreed by loss to gain;
Enslaved but to be free, and conquered but to reign.
'Tis time my hard-mouthed coursers to controul,
Apt to run riot, and transgress the goal,
And therefore I conclude: whatever lies
In earth, or flits in air, or fills the skies,
All suffer change; and we, that are of soul
And body mixed, are members of the whole.
Then when our sires, or grandsires, shall forsake
The forms of men, and brutal figures take,
Thus housed, securely let their spirits rest,
Nor violate thy father in the beast,
Thy friend, thy brother, any of thy kin;
If none of these, yet there's a man within.
O spare to make a Thyestean meal,
To inclose his body, and his soul expel.
Ill customs by degrees to habits rise,
Ill habits soon become exalted vice:
What more advance can mortals make in sin,
So near perfection, who with blood begin?
Deaf to the calf that lies beneath the knife,
Looks up, and from her butcher begs her life;
Deaf to the harmless kid, that, ere he dies,}
All methods to procure thy mercy tries, }
And imitates in vain thy children's cries. }
Where will he stop, who feeds with household bread,
Then eats the poultry, which before he fed?
Let plough thy steers; that, when they lose their breath,
To nature, not to thee, they may impute their death.
Let goats for food their loaded udders lend,
And sheep from winter-cold thy sides defend;
But neither springes, nets, nor snares employ,
And be no more ingenious to destroy.
Free as in air, let birds on earth remain,
Nor let insidious glue their wings constrain;
Nor opening hounds the trembling stag affright,
Nor purple feathers intercept his flight;
Nor hooks concealed in baits for fish prepare,
Nor lines to heave them twinkling up in air.
Take not away the life you cannot give;
For all things have an equal right to live.
Kill noxious creatures, where 'tis sin to save;
This only just prerogative we have:
But nourish life with vegetable food,
And shun the sacrilegious taste of blood. —
These precepts by the Samian sage were taught,
Which godlike Numa to the Sabines brought,
And thence transferred to Rome, by gift his own;
A willing people, and an offered throne.
O happy monarch, sent by heaven to bless
A savage nation with soft arts of peace;
To teach religion, rapine to restrain,
Give laws to lust, and sacrifice ordain:
Himself a saint, a goddess was his bride,
And all the muses o'er his acts preside.