Carmen LXIV: Marriage of Peleus and Thetis

Pine-trees gendered whilome upon soaring Peliac summitSwam (as the tale is told) through liquid surges of NeptuneFar as the Phasis-flood and frontier-land AEetean;Whenas the youths elect, of Argive vigour the oak-heart,Longing the Golden Fleece of the Colchis-region to harry,Dared in a poop swift-paced to span salt seas and their shallows,Sweeping the deep blue seas with sweeps a-carven of fir-wood.She, that governing Goddess of citadels crowning the cities,Builded herself their car fast-flitting with lightest of breezes,Weaving plants of the pine conjoined in curve of the kelson;Foremost of all to imbue rude Amphitrite with ship-lore.Soon as her beak had burst through wind-rackt spaces of ocean,While th'oar-tortured wave with spumy whiteness was blanching,Surged from the deep abyss and hoar-capped billows the facesSeaborn, Nereids eyeing the prodigy wonder-smitten.There too mortal orbs through softened spendours regardedOcean-nymphs who exposed bodies denuded of raimentBare to the breast upthrust from hoar froth capping the sea-depths.Then Thetis Peleus fired (men say) a-sudden with love-lowe,Then Thetis nowise spurned to mate and marry wi' mortal,Then Thetis' Sire himself her yoke with Peleus sanctioned.Oh, in those happier days now fondly yearned-for, ye heroesBorn; (all hail!) of the Gods begotten, and excellent issueBred by your mothers, all hail! and placid deal me your favour.Oft wi' the sound of me, in strains and spells I'll invoke you;Thee too by wedding-torch so happily, highly augmented,Peleus, Thessaly's ward, whomunto Jupiter's self deignedYield of the freest gree his loves though gotten of Godheads.Thee Thetis, fairest of maids Nereian, vouchsafed to marry?Thee did Tethys empower to woo and wed with her grandchild;Nor less Oceanus, with water compassing th' Earth-globe?But when ended the term, and wisht-for light of the day-tideUprose, flocks to the house in concourse mighty convened,Thessaly all, with glad assembly the Palace fulfilling:Presents afore they bring, and joy in faces declare they.Scyros desert abides: they quit Phthiotican Tempe,Homesteads of Crannon-town, eke bulwarkt walls of Larissa;Meeting at Pharsalus, and roof Pharsalian seeking.None will the fields now till; soft wax all necks of the oxen,Never the humble vine is purged by curve of the rake-tooth,Never a pruner's hook thins out the shade of the tree-tufts,Never a bull up-plows broad glebe with bend of the coulter,Over whose point unuse displays the squalor of rust-stain.But in the homestead's heart, where'er that opulent palaceHides a retreat, all shines with splendour of gold and of silver.Ivory blanches the seats, bright gleam the flagons a-table,All of the mansion joys in royal riches and grandeur.But for the Diva's use bestrewn is the genial bedstead,Hidden in midmost stead, and its polisht framework of IndianTusk underlies its cloth empurpled by juice of the dye-shell.This be a figured cloth with forms of manhood primevalShowing by marvel-art the gifts and graces of heroes.Here upon Dia's strand wave-resonant, ever-regardingTheseus borne from sight outside by fleet of the fleetest,Stands Ariadne with heart full-filled with furies unbated,Nor can her sense as yet believe she 'spies the espied,When like one that awakes new roused from slumber deceptive,Sees she her hapless self lone left on loneliest sandbank:While as the mindless youth with oars disturbeth the shallows,Casts to the windy storms what vows he vainly had vowed.Him through the sedges afar the sad-eyed maiden of Minos,Likest a Bacchant-girl stone-carven, (O her sorrow!)'Spies, a-tossing the while on sorest billows of love-care.Now no more on her blood-hued hair fine fillets retains she,No more now light veil conceals her bosom erst hidden,Now no more smooth zone contains her milky-hued paplets:All gear dropping adown from every part of her personThrown, lie fronting her feet to the briny wavelets a sea-toy.But at such now no more of her veil or her fillet a-floatingHad she regard: on thee, O Theseus! all of her heart-strength,All of her sprite, her mind, forlorn, were evermore hanging.Ah, sad soul, by grief and grievance driven beside thee,Sowed Erycina first those brambly cares in thy bosom,What while issuing fierce with will enstarkened, TheseusForth from the bow-bent shore Piraean putting a-seawardsReacht the Gortynian roofs where dwelt th' injurious Monarch.For 'twas told of yore how forced by pestilence cruel,Eke as a blood rite due for th' Androgeonian murthur,Many a chosen youth and the bloom of damsels unmarriedFood for the Minotaur, Cecropia was wont to befurnish.Seeing his narrow walls in such wise vexed with evils,Theseus of freest will for dear-loved Athens his bodyOffered a victim so that no more to Crete be deportedLives by Cecropia doomed to burials burying nowise;Then with a swifty ship and soft breathed breezes a-stirring,Sought he Minos the Haughty where homed in proudest of Mansions.Him as with yearning glance forthright espied the royalMaiden, whom pure chaste couch aspiring delicate odoursCherisht, in soft embrace of a mother comforted all-whiles,(E'en as the myrtles begot by the flowing floods of Eurotas,Or as the tincts distinct brought forth by breath of the springtide)Never the burning lights of her eyes from gazing upon himTurned she, before fierce flame in all her body conceived sheDown in its deepest depths and burning amiddle her marrow.Ah, with unmitigate heart exciting wretchedmost furies,Thou, Boy sacrosanct! man's grief and gladness commingling,Thou too of Golgos Queen and Lady of leafy Idalium,Whelm'd ye in what manner waves that maiden phantasy-fired,All for a blond-haired youth suspiring many a singulf!Whiles how dire was the dread she dreed in languishing heart-strings;How yet more, ever more, with golden splendour she paled!Whenas yearning to mate his might wi' the furious monsterTheseus braved his death or sought the prizes of praises.Then of her gifts to gods not ingrate, nor profiting naught,Promise with silent lip, addressed she timidly vowing.For as an oak that shakes on topmost summit of TaurusIts boughs, or cone-growing pine from bole bark resin exuding,Whirlwind of passing might that twists the stems with its storm-blasts,Uproots, deracinates, forthright its trunk to the farthest,Prone falls, shattering wide what lies in line of its downfall,--Thus was that wildling flung by Theseus and vanquisht of body,Vainly tossing its horns and goring the wind to no purpose.Thence with abounding praise returned he, guiding his footsteps,Whiles did a fine drawn thread check steps in wander abounding,Lest when issuing forth of the winding maze labyrinthineBaffled become his track by inobservable error.But for what cause should I, from early subject digressing,Tell of the daughter who the face of her sire unseeing,Eke her sister's embrace nor less her mother's endearments,Who in despair bewept her hapless child that so gladlyChose before every and each the lively wooing of Theseus?Or how borne by the ship to the yeasting shore-line of DiaCame she? or how when bound her eyes in bondage of slumberLeft her that chosen mate with mind unmindful departing?Often (they tell) with heart inflamed by fiery furyPoured she shrilling of shrieks from deepest depths of her bosom;Now she would sadly scale the broken faces of mountains,Whence she might overglance the boundless boiling of billows,Then she would rush to bestem the salt-plain's quivering waveletAnd from her ankles bare the dainty garment uplifting,Spake she these words ('tis said) from sorrow's deepest abysses,Whiles from her tear-drencht face outburst cold shivering singulfs."Thus fro' my patrial shore, O traitor, hurried to exile,Me on a lonely strand hast left, perfidious Theseus?Thus wise farest, despite the godhead of Deities spurned,(Reckless, alas!) to thy home convoying perjury-curses?Naught, then, ever availed that mind of cruelest counselAlter? No saving grace in thee was evermore ready,That to have pity on me vouchsafed thy pitiless bosom?Natheless not in past time such were the promises wordyLavished; nor such hopes to me the hapless were bidden;But the glad married joys, the longed-for pleasures of wedlock.All now empty and vain, by breath of the breezes bescattered!Now, let woman no more trust her to man when he sweareth,Ne'er let her hope to find or truth or faith in his pleadings,Who whenas lustful thought forelooks to somewhat attaining,Never an oath they fear, shall spare no promise to promise.Yet no sooner they sate all lewdness and lecherous fancy,Nothing remember of words and reck they naught of fore-swearing.Certes, thee did I snatch from midmost whirlpool of ruinDeadly, and held it cheap loss of a brother to sufferRather than fail thy need (O false!) at hour the supremest.Therefor my limbs are doomed to be torn of birds, and of feralsPrey, nor shall upheapt Earth afford a grave to my body.Say me, what lioness bare thee 'neath lone rock of the desert?What sea spued thee conceived from out the spume of his surges!What manner Syrt, what ravening Scylla, what vasty Charybdis?Thou who for sweet life saved such meeds art lief of returning!If never willed thy breast with me to mate thee in marriage,Hating the savage law decreed by primitive parent,Still of your competence 'twas within your household to home me,Where I might serve as slave in gladsome service familiar,Laving thy snow-white feet in clearest chrystalline watersOr with its purpling gear thy couch in company strewing.Yet for what cause should I 'plain in vain to the winds that unknow me,(I so beside me with grief!) which ne'er of senses enduedHear not the words sent forth nor aught avail they to answer?Now be his course well-nigh engaged in midway of ocean,Nor any mortal shape appears in barrens of seawrack.Thus at the latest hour with insults over-sufficientE'en to my plaints fere Fate begrudges ears that would hear me.Jupiter! Lord of All-might, Oh would in days that are bygoneNe'er had Cecropian poops toucht ground at Gnossian foreshore,Nor to th' unconquered Bull that tribute direful conveyingHad the false Seaman bound to Cretan island his hawser,Nor had yon evil wight, 'neath shape the softest hard purposeHiding, enjoyed repose within our mansion beguested!Whither can wend I now? What hope lends help to the lost one?Idomenean mounts shall I scale? Ah, parted by whirlpoolsWidest, yon truculent main where yields it power of passage?Aid of my sire can I crave? Whom I willing abandoned,Treading in tracks of a youth bewrayed with blood of a brother!Can I console my soul wi' the helpful love of a helpmateWho flies me with pliant oars, flies overbounding the sea-depths?Nay, an this Coast I quit, this lone isle lends me no roof-tree,Nor aught issue allows begirt by billows of Ocean:Nowhere is path for flight: none hope shows: all things are silent:All be a desolate waste: all makes display of destruction.Yet never close these eyne in latest languor of dying,Ne'er from my wearied frame go forth slow-ebbing my senses,Ere from the Gods just doom implore I, treason-betrayed,And with my breath supreme firm faith of Celestials invoke I.Therefore, O ye who 'venge man's deed with penalties direful,Eumenides! aye wont to bind with viperous hair-locksForeheads,--Oh, deign outspeak fierce wrath from bosom outbreathing,Hither, Oh hither, speed, and lend ye all ear to my grievance,Which now sad I (alas!) outpour from innermost vitalsMaugre my will, sans help, blind, fired with furious madness.And, as indeed all spring from veriest core of my bosom,Suffer ye not the cause of grief and woe to evanish;But wi' the Will wherewith could Theseus leave me in loneness,Goddesses! bid that Will lead him, lead his, to destruction."E'en as she thus poured forth these words from anguish of bosom,And for this cruel deed, distracted, sued she for vengeance,Nodded the Ruler of Gods Celestial, matchless of All-might,When at the gest earth-plain and horrid spaces of oceanTrembled, and every sphere rockt stars and planets resplendent.Meanwhile Theseus himself, obscured in blindness of darknessAs to his mind, dismiss'd from breast oblivious all thingsErewhile enjoined and held hereto in memory constant,Nor for his saddened sire the gladness-signals uphoistingHeralded safe return within sight of the Erechthean harbour.For 'twas told of yore, when from walls of the Virginal DeessAEgeus speeding his son, to the care of breezes committed,Thus with a last embrace to the youth spake words of commandment:"Son! far nearer my heart (sole thou) than life of the longest,Son, I perforce dismiss to doubtful, dangerous chances,Lately restored to me when eld draws nearest his ending,Sithence such fortune in me, and in thee such boiling of valourTear thee away from me so loath, whose eyne in their languorNever are sated with sight of my son, all-dearest of figures.Nor will I send thee forth with joy that gladdens my bosom,Nor will I suffer thee show boon signs of favouring Fortune,But fro' my soul I'll first express an issue of sorrow,Soiling my hoary hairs with dust and ashes commingled;Then will I hang stained sails fast-made to the wavering yard-arms,So shall our mourning thought and burning torture of spiritShow by the dark sombre-dye of Iberian canvas spread.But, an grant me the grace Who dwells in Sacred Itone,(And our issue to guard and ward the seats of ErechtheusSware She) that be thy right besprent with blood of the Man-Bull,Then do thou so-wise act, and stored in memory's heart-coreDwell these mandates of me, no time their traces untracing.Dip, when first shall arise our hills to gladden thy eye-glance,Down from thine every mast th'ill-omened vestments of mourning,Then let the twisten ropes upheave the whitest of canvas,Wherewith splendid shall gleam the tallest spars of the top-mast, 235bThese seeing sans delay with joy exalting my spiritWell shall I wot boon Time sets thee returning before me."Such were the mandates which stored at first in memory constantFaded from Theseus' mind like mists, compelled by the whirlwind,Fleet from aeerial crests of mountains hoary with snow-drifts.But as the sire had sought the citadel's summit for outlook,Wasting his anxious eyes with tear-floods evermore flowing,Forthright e'en as he saw the sail-gear darkened with dye-stain,Headlong himself flung he from the sea-cliff's pinnacled summitHolding his Theseus lost by doom of pitiless Fortune.Thus as he came to the home funest, his roof-tree paternal,Theseus (vaunting the death), what dule to the maiden of MinosDealt with unminding mind so dree'd he similar dolour.She too gazing in grief at the kelson vanishing slowly,Self-wrapt, manifold cares revolved, in spirit perturbed.

But fro' the further side came flitting bright-faced IacchusGirded by Satyr-crew and Nysa-reared SileniBurning wi' love unto thee (Ariadne!) and greeting thy presence.Who flocking eager to fray did rave with infuriate spirit,"Evoe" phrensying loud, with heads at "Evoe" rolling.Brandisht some of the maids their thyrsi sheathed of spear-point,Some snatcht limbs and joints of sturlings rended to pieces,These girt necks and waists with writhing bodies of vipers,Those wi' the gear enwombed in crates dark orgies ordained--Orgies that ears prophane must vainly lust for o'er hearing--Others with palms on high smote hurried strokes on the cymbal,Or from the polisht brass woke thin-toned tinkling music,While from the many there boomed and blared hoarse blast of thehorn-trump,And with its horrid skirl loud shrilled the barbarous bag-pipe,Showing such varied forms, that richly-decorate couch-clothFolded in strait embrace the bedding drapery-veiled.This when the Thessalan youths had eyed with eager inspectionFulfilled, place they began to provide for venerate Godheads,Even as Zephyrus' breath, seas couching placid at dawn-tide,Roughens, then stings and spurs the wavelets slantingly fretted--Rising Aurora the while 'neath Sol the wanderer's threshold--Tardy at first they flow by the clement breathing of breezesUrged, and echo the shores with soft-toned ripples of laughter,But as the winds wax high so waves wax higher and higher,Flashing and floating afar to outswim morn's purpurine splendours,--So did the crowd fare forth, the royal vestibule leaving,And to their house each wight with vaguing paces departed.After their wending, the first, foremost from Pelion's summit,Chiron came to the front with woodland presents surcharged:Whatso of blooms and flowers bring forth Thessalian uplandsMighty with mountain crests, whate'er of riverine lea flowersReareth Favonius' air, bud-breeding, tepidly breathing,All in his hands brought he, unseparate in woven garlands,Whereat laughed the house as soothed by pleasure of perfume.Presently Peneus appears, deserting verdurous Tempe--Tempe girt by her belts of greenwood ever impending,Left for the Mamonides with frequent dances to worship--Nor is he empty of hand, for bears he tallest of beechesDeracinate, and bays with straight boles lofty and stately,Not without nodding plane-tree nor less the flexible sisterFire-slain Phaeton left, and not without cypresses airy.These in a line wide-broke set he, the Mansion surrounding,So by the soft leaves screened, the porch might flourish in verdure.Follows hard on his track with active spirit Prometheus,Bearing extenuate sign of penalties suffer'd in bygones.Paid erewhiles what time fast-bound as to every member,Hung he in carkanet slung from the Scythian rock-tor.Last did the Father of Gods with his sacred spouse and his offspring,Proud from the Heavens proceed, thee leaving (Phoebus) in loneness,Lone wi' thy sister twin who haunteth mountains of Idrus:For that the Virgin spurned as thou the person of Peleus,Nor Thetis' nuptial torch would greet by act of her presence.When they had leaned their limbs upon snowy benches reposing,Tables largely arranged with various viands were garnisht.But, ere opened the feast, with infirm gesture their semblanceShaking, the Parcae fell to chaunting veridique verses.Robed were their tremulous frames all o'er in muffle of garmentsBright-white, purple of hem enfolding heels in its edges;Snowy the fillets that bound heads aged by many a year-tide,And, as their wont aye was, their hands plied labour unceasing.Each in her left upheld with soft fleece clothed a distaff,Then did the right that drew forth thread with upturn of fingersGently fashion the yarn which deftly twisted by thumb-ballSpeeded the spindle poised by thread-whorl perfect of polish;Thus as the work was wrought, the lengths were trimmed wi' thefore-teeth,While to their thin, dry lips stuck wool-flecks severed by biting,Which at the first outstood from yarn-hanks evenly fine-drawn.Still at their feet in front soft fleece-flecks white as the snow-flakeLay in the trusty guard of wickers woven in withies.Always a-carding the wool, with clear-toned voices resoundingTold they such lots as these in song divinely directed,Chaunts which none after-time shall 'stablish falsehood-convicted.

O who by virtues great all highmost honours enhancest,Guard of Emathia-land, most famous made by thine offspring,Take what the Sisters deign this gladsome day to disclose thee,Oracles soothfast told,--And ye, by Destiny followed,Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles.

Soon to thy sight shall rise, their fond hopes bringing to bridegrooms,Hesperus: soon shall come thy spouse with planet auspicious,Who shall thy mind enbathe with a love that softens the spirit,And as thyself shall prepare for sinking in languorous slumber,Under thy neck robust, soft arms dispreading as pillow.Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles.

Never a house like this such loves as these hath united,Never did love conjoin by such-like covenant lovers,As th'according tie Thetis deigned in concert wi' Peleus.Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles.

Born of yon twain shall come Achilles guiltless of fear-sense,Known by his forceful breast and ne'er by back to the foeman,Who shall at times full oft in doubtful contest of race-courseConquer the fleet-foot doe with slot-tracks smoking and burning.Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles.

None shall with him compare, howe'er war-doughty a hero,Whenas the Phrygian rills flow deep with bloodshed of Teucer,And beleaguering the walls of Troy with longest of warfareHe shall the works lay low, third heir of Pelops the perjured.Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles.

His be the derring-do and deeds of valour egregious,Often mothers shall own at funeral-rites of their children,What time their hoary hairs from head in ashes are loosened,And wi' their hands infirm they smite their bosoms loose dugged.Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles.

For as the toiling hind bestrewing denseness of corn-stalksUnder the broiling sun mows grain-fields yellow to harvest,So shall his baneful brand strew earth with corpses of Troy-born.Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles.

Aye to his valorous worth attest shall wave of ScamanderWhich unto Helle-Sea fast flowing ever dischargeth,Straiter whose course shall grow by up-heaped barrage of corpses,While in his depths runs warm his stream with slaughter commingled.Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles.

Witness in fine shall be the victim rendered to death-stroke,Whenas the earthern tomb on lofty tumulus buildedShall of the stricken maid receive limbs white as the snow-flake.Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles.

For when at last shall Fors to weary Achaians her fiatDeal, of Dardanus-town to burst Neptunian fetters,Then shall the high-reared tomb stand bathed with Polyxena's life-blood,Who, as the victim doomed to fall by the double-edged falchion,Forward wi' hams relaxt shall smite a body beheaded.Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles.

Wherefore arise, ye pair, conjoin loves ardently longed-for,Now doth the groom receive with happiest omen his goddess,Now let the bride at length to her yearning spouse be delivered.Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles.

Neither the nurse who comes at dawn to visit her nurslingE'er shall avail her neck to begird with yesterday's ribband.Nor shall the mother's soul for ill-matcht daughter a-grievingLose by a parted couch all hopes of favourite grandsons.Speed ye, the well-spun woof out-drawing, speed ye, O Spindles.

Thus in the bygone day Peleus' fate foretellingChaunted from breasts divine prophetic verse the Parcae.For that the pure chaste homes of heroes to visit in personOft-tide the Gods, and themselves to display where mortals were gathered,Wont were the Heavenlies while none human piety spurned.Often the Deities' Sire, in fulgent temple a-dwelling,Whenas in festal days received he his annual worship,Looked upon hundreds of bulls felled prone on pavement before him.Full oft Liber who roamed from topmost peak of ParnassusHunted his howling host, his Thyiads with tresses dishevelled.Then with contending troops from all their city outflockingGladly the Delphians hailed their God with smoking of altars.Often in death-full war and bravest of battle, or MavorsOr rapid Triton's Queen or eke the Virgin Rhamnusian,Bevies of weaponed men exhorting, proved their presence.But from the time when earth was stained with unspeakable scandalsAnd forth fro' greeding breasts of all men justice departed,Then did the brother drench his hands in brotherly bloodshed,Stinted the son in heart to mourn decease of his parents,Longed the sire to sight his first-born's funeral convoySo more freely the flower of step-dame-maiden to rifle;After that impious Queen her guiltless son underlying,Impious, the household gods with crime ne'er dreading to sully--All things fair and nefand being mixt in fury of evilTurned from ourselves avert the great goodwill of the Godheads.Wherefor they nowise deign our human assemblies to visit,Nor do they suffer themselves be met in light of the day-tide.