Book XI

Rage of the Thracian women. Massacre of Orpheus. The womentransformed to trees by Bacchus. Midas' foolish wish to changeall things he touched into gold. Contest of skill between Pan andApollo. The ears of Midas transformed to asses ears. Troy builtby Apollo and Neptune. Laoemedon's perfidy. Hesione freed byHercules, and married to Telamon. Peleus and Thetis. Birth ofAchilles. Chione ravished by Mercury, and by Apollo. Slain byDiana. Her sire Daedalion changed into an hawk. A wolf changed byThetis to marble. Voyage of Ceyx to Delphos. Lost in a storm.Grief of Alcyone. Morpheus acquaints her with her husband'sdeath. Change of both to kingfishers. AEsacus into a cormorant.

While thus the Thracian bard the forests drew,And rocks, and furious beasts with strains divine;--Behold the Thracian dames! their madden'd breastsClad with the shaggy spoil of furious beasts,Espy'd him from an hillock's rising swell,As to his sounding strings he shap'd the song.When one, her tresses in the ruffling airWild streaming, cry'd--"Lo! him who spurns our ties!"--And full her dart 'gainst the harmonious mouthOf Phoebus' son she flung: entwisted roundWith leaves, a bruise without a wound appear'd.A stone another for a weapon seiz'd;The flying stone was even in air subdu'dBy harmony and song; and at his feetLow fell, as suppliant for its daring fault.But now the tumult swells more furious,--boundsIt knows not! mad Erinnys reigns around.Yet all their weapons had his music's powerSoften'd; but clamor, Berecynthian horns,Drums, clappings, bacchanalian shouts, and howls,Drown'd the soft lyre. Then were the stones distain'dWith silenc'd Orpheus' blood. The Bacchae firstDrove wide the crowding birds, the snakes, the beasts,In throngs collected by his tuneful voice;Glory of Orpheus' stage. From thence they turn'dTheir gory hands on Orpheus, and aroundCluster'd like fowls that in the day espyThe bird of darkness. Then as in the mornThe high-rais'd amphitheatre beholdsThe stag a prey to hounds; so they the bardAttack'd, and flung their Thyrsi twin'd with leaves;For different use first form'd. Those hurl huge clods:These branches torn from trees; and others stones.Lest to their fury arms were wanting, lo!A yoke of oxen with the ploughshare brokeThe ground, not distant far; with sinews thereOf nervous strength, the husbandmen upturn'dThe stubborn soil; with sweat producing fruit.These, when the troop they saw, affrighted fled,Quitting their instruments of toil. Their rakes,Their ponderous harrows, and their huge long spades,Were scatter'd left on the deserted field.These when their furious hands had seiz'd, and toreFrom the strong oxen's heads the threatening horns,Back they return'd to end the poet's fate;And sacrilegious, as he stretch'd his hands,They slaughter'd him! Then first in vain his wordsWere utter'd; nought could then his speech avail.Then, heavenly powers! his spirit was expell'dAnd breath'd in air, even through that mouth whose soundHard rocks had heard, and wildest beasts had own'd.For thee, O Orpheus! mourn'd the feather'd tribe,And crowds of savage monsters; flinty rocksBewail'd thee; forests, which thy tempting songSo oft had caus'd to follow, wept; the trees,Shorn of their pride, bewail'd with falling leaves.Each stream, 'tis said, with flowing tears increas'dIts current. Naiad nymphs and Dryads woreGarments of sable tinge, with streaming hair.Wide scatter'd lie his limbs. His head and lyreThou, Hebrus, dost receive; and while they glide,Wond'rous occurrence! down the floating stream,The lyre a mournful moan sends forth; the lips,Now lifeless, murmur plaintive; and the bankEchoes the lamentations. Borne alongTo ocean, now his native stream they leave,And reach Methymna on the Lesbian shore.

The head, expos'd thus on the foreign sand,And locks still dropping with the watery wave,A snake approach'd. But Phoebus gave his aid,And check'd the greedy bite; with open jawsThe serpent rears in stone congeal'd, as thenWidely he gap'd. The ghost from earth descends,And views the regions he had view'd before.Exploring through th' Elysian fields he meetsHis dear Eurydice; with longing armsHe clasps her. Here they walk, now side by side,With equal pace; now follows he, and nowA little space precedes her: Orpheus thereBack on Eurydice in safety looks.

But Bacchus suffer'd not the heinous deedUnpunish'd to remain; griev'd that the bardWho sung his praises, thus was snatch'd away,He bound the Thracian matrons, who the crimeHad perpetrated, fast by twisted rootsTo earth as trees. He stretch'd their feet and toes,Which follow'd him so swift, and struck their pointsDeep in the solid earth: A bird ensnar'dThus finds his leg imprison'd by the wiresHid by the crafty fowler, and his wingsBeats, while his fluttering draws more tight the noose.So each, as firmly fixt to earth she stood,Affrighted strove to fly, but strove in vain:The flexile roots detain'd them; and fast ty'd,Spite of their struggling bounds, while they exploreFor toes and nails, and while they seek for feet,They see the wood their taper legs conceal;Their grieving hands to beat their thighs are rais'd;Their hands strike solid wood: their shoulders, breasts,Are also wood become. Their outstretch'd armsExtended boughs appear'd, and boughs they were.

Nor sated yet was Bacchus; all their fieldsHe quits; attended by a worthier troop.To Tmolus' vineyards and Pactolus' streamHe hies: the stream not yet for gold was fam'd;Not yet so precious were its envy'd sands.Satyrs and Bacchant' nymphs, his 'custom'd choirAttend him, but Silenus was not found.Him drunken had the rustic Phrygians seiz'd,Reeling with wine, and tottering 'neath his years;With ivy crown'd; and fetter'd to their king,The royal Midas, brought him. Midas onceThe Thracian Orpheus Bacchus' orgies taught,With sage Eumolpus; and at once he knewHis old associate in the sacred rites;And joyful feasted with voluptuous fare,For twice five days, and twice five nights his guest.Th' eleventh time Phosphor' now the lofty hostOf stars had chas'd from heaven; the jovial kingWent forth to Lydia's fields, and there restor'dSilenus to the youth his foster-child.He, joy'd again his nursing sire to see,On him bestow'd his anxious sought desire,Though useless was the gift. Greedy he crav'dWhat only harm'd him,--saying--"Grant, O, power!"Whate'er I touch may straight to gold be chang'd"--Bacchus consents to what he wishes;--givesThe hurtful gift; but grieves to see his mindNo better wish demand. Joyful departsThe Berecynthian monarch, with ill-fateDelighted; and, each object touching, triesThe promis'd faith. Scarcely himself believ'd,When from a growing ilex down he toreA sprouting bough, straight gold the bough became:A stone from earth he lifted, pale the stoneIn gold appear'd: he touch'd a turfy clod,The clod quick harden'd with the potent touch:He pluck'd the ripen'd hoary ears of wheat,And golden shone the grain: he from the treeAn apple snatch'd, the fam'd Hesperian fruitHe seem'd to hold: where'er his fingers touch'dThe lofty pillars, all the pillars shone:Nay, where his hands he in the waters lav'd,The waters flowing from his hands seem'd suchAs Danae might deceive. Scarce can his breastHis towering projects hold; all fancy'd gold.Th' attendant slaves before their master, joy'dAt this great fortune, heap'd the table highWith dainties; nor was bread deficient there:But when his hands the Cerealian boonHad touch'd, the Cerealian boon grew hard:And when the dainty food with greedy toothHe strove to eat, the dainty food grew bright,In glittering plates, where'er his teeth had touch'd.He mixt pure water with his patron's wine,And fluid gold adown his cheeks straight flow'd.With panic seiz'd, the new-found plague to view,Rich, yet most wretched; from his wealthy hoardFain would he fly; and from his soul detestsWhat late he anxious pray'd. The plenteous goldAbates his hunger nought, and parching thirstBurns in his throat. He well deserves the curseCaus'd by now-hated gold. Lifting his handsAnd splendid arms to heaven, he cries,--"O sire"Lenaean! pardon my offence: my fault"Is evident; but pity me, I pray,"And from me move this fair deceitful curse."Bacchus, the gentlest of celestial powers,Reliev'd him, as he thus his error own'd:The compact first agreed dissolv'd, and voidThe grant became:--"Lest still thou shouldst remain"With gold"--he said,--"so madly wish'd, imbu'd,"Haste to the stream by mighty Sardis' town"Which flows; thy path along the mountain's ridge"Explore, opposing still the gliding waves,"Till thou the spring espy'st. Then deeply plunge"Beneath the foaming gush thy head, where full"It spouts its waters; and thy error cleanse,"As clean thy limbs thou washest."--To the streamThe king as bidden hastes. The golden charmTinges the river; from the monarch's limbsIt passes to the stream. And now the banksHarden in veins of gold to sight disclos'd;And the pale sands in glittering splendor shine.

Detesting riches, now in woods he lives,And rural dales; with Pan, who still resortsTo mountain caverns. Still his soul remainsStupidly dull; the folly of his breastWas doom'd to harm its owner as before.

High Tmolus rears with steep ascent his head,O'erlooking distant ocean; wide he spreadsHis bounds abrupt; confin'd by Sardis here,By small Hypaepe there. Upon his top,While Pan in boastful strain the tender nymphsPleas'd with his notes, and on his wax-join'd reedsA paltry ditty play'd; boldly he dar'dTo place his own above Apollo's song.The god to try th' unequal strife descends;Tmolus the umpire. On his mountain plac'd,The ancient judge from his attentive earsThe branches clear'd; save that his azure headWith oak was crown'd, and acorns dangling downHis hollow temples grac'd. The shepherd's godBeholding,--"no delay, your judge,"--he said--"Shall cause,"--and straight Pan sounds the rural reeds.His barbarous music much the judgment pleas'dOf Midas, who amidst the crowd approach'd.Now venerable Tmolus on the faceOf Phoebus turn'd his eyes; and with him turn'dTh' attentive woods. Parnassian laurel boundHis golden locks; deep dipt in Tyrian dye,His garment swept the ground; his left hand heldThe instrument with gems and ivory rich;The other grasp'd the bow: his posture shew'dThe skilful master's art: lightly he touch'dThe chords with thumb experienc'd. Justly charm'dWith melody so sweet, Tmolus decreedThe pipe of Pan to Phoebus' lute should yield.

Much did the judgment of the sacred hill,And much his sentence all delight, save one:For Midas blames him, and unjust declaresThe arbitration. Human shape no moreThe god permits his foolish ears to wear;But long extends them, and with hoary hairsFills them within; and grants them power to move,From their foundation flexile. All besideWas man, one part felt his revenge alone;A slowly pacing asses ears he bears.His head, weigh'd heavy with his load of shame,He strove in purple turban to enfold;Thus his disgrace to hide. But when as wontHis slave his hairs, unseemly lengthen'd, cropp'd,He saw the change; the tale he fear'd to tell,Of what he witness'd, though he anxious wish'dIn public to proclaim it: yet to holdSacred the trust surpass'd his power. He wentForth, and digg'd up the earth; with whispering voiceThere he imparted of his master's earsWhat he had seen; and murmur'd to the sod:But bury'd close the confidential wordsBeneath the turf again: then, all fill'd up,Silently he departed. From the spotBegan a thick-grown tuft of trembling reedsTo spring, which ripening with the year's full round,Betray'd their planter. By the light south windWhen agitated, they the bury'd wordsDisclos'd, betraying what the monarch's ears.Latona's son, aveng'd, high Tmolus leaves,And cleaving liquid air, lights in the realmLaoemedon commands: on the strait sea,Nephelian Helle names, an altar standsSacred to Panomphaean Jove, where seenLofty Rhaetaeum rises to the left,Sigaeum to the right. From thence he sawLaoemedon, as first he toil'd to buildThe walls of infant Troy; with toil immenseThe undertaking in progression grew,And mighty sums he saw the work would ask.A mortal shape he takes; a mortal shapeClothes too the trident-bearing sire, who rulesThe swelling deep. The Phrygian monarch's wallsThey raise, a certain treasure for their toilAgreed on first. The work is finished. Base,The king disowns the compact, and his liesPerfidious, backs with perjury.--"Boast not"This treatment calmly borne," the ocean's godExclaim'd; and o'er the sordid Trojan's shoresPour'd all his flood of billows; and transform'dThe land to sheets of water; swept awayThe tiller's treasure; bury'd all the meads.Nor sated with this ruin, he demandsThe monarch's daughter should be given a preyTo an huge monster of the main; whom, chain'dTo the hard rock, Alcides' arm set free,And claim'd the boon his due; the promis'd steeds.Refus'd the prize his valorous deed deserv'd,He sack'd the walls of doubly-perjur'd Troy,Nor thence did Telamon, whose powerful armThe hero aided, unrewarded go;Hesione was by Alcides given.

Peleus was famous for his goddess-spouse:Proud not more justly of his grandsire's fame,Than of his consort's father; numbers moreMight boast them grandsons of imperial Jove;To him alone a goddess-bride belong'd.For aged Proteus had to Thetis said,--"O, goddess of the waves, a child conceive!"Thou shalt be mother of a youth, whose deeds"Will far the bravest of his sire's transcend:"And mightier than his sire's shall be his name."Hence, lest the world than Jove a mightier godShould know, though Jove with amorous flames fierce burn'd,He shunn'd th' embraces of the watery dame:And bade his grandson Peleus to his hopesSucceed, and clasp the virgin in his arms.

Haemonia's coast a bay possesses, curv'dLike a bent bow; whose arms enclosing stretchFar in the sea; where if more deep the wavesAn haven would be form'd: the waters spreadJust o'er the sand. Firm is the level shore;Such as would ne'er the race retard, nor holdThe print of feet; no seaweed there was spread.Nigh sprung a grove of myrtle, cover'd thickWith double-teinted berries: in the midstA cave appear'd, by art or nature form'd;But art most plain was seen. Here, Thetis! oft,Plac'd unattir'd on thy rein'd dolphin's back,Thou didst delight to come. There, as thou laid'stIn slumbers bound, did Peleus on thee seize.And when his most endearing prayers were spurn'd,Force he prepar'd; both arms around thy neckClose clasp'd. And then to thy accustom'd arts,Of often-varied-form, hadst thou not fled,He might have prosper'd in his daring hope.But now a bird thou wert; the bird he held:Now an huge tree; Peleus the tree grasp'd firm:A spotted tiger then thy third-chang'd shape;Frighted at that, AEaecides his holdQuit from her body. Then the ocean powersHe worshipp'd, pouring wine upon the waves,And bleating victims slew, and incense burn'd:Till from the gulf profound the prophet spokeOf Carpathus. "O, Peleus! gain thou shalt"The wish'd-for nuptials; only when she rests"In the cool cavern sleeping, thou with cords"And fetters strong her, unsuspecting, bind;"Nor let an hundred shapes thy soul deceive;"Still hold her fast whatever form she wears,"Till in her pristine looks she shines again."This Proteus said, and plung'd his head beneathThe waves, while scarce his final words were heard.

Prone down the west was Titan speeding now;And to th' Hesperian waves his car inclin'd,When the fair Nereid from the wide deep came,And sought her 'custom'd couch. Scarce Peleus seiz'dHer virgin limbs, when straight a thousand formsShe try'd, till fast she saw her members ty'd;And her arms fetter'd close in every part:Then sigh'd, and said; "thou conquerest by some god:"And the fair form of Thetis was display'd.The hero clasp'd her, and his wishes gain'd;And great Achilles straight the nymph conceiv'd.

Now blest was Peleus in his son and bride;And blest in all which can to man belong;Save in the crime of murder'd Phocus. DrivenFrom his paternal home, of brother's bloodGuilty, Trachinia's soil receiv'd him first.Here Ceyx, Phosphor's offspring, who retain'dHis father's splendor on his forehead, rul'dThe land; which knew not bloodshed, knew not force.At that time gloomy, sad, himself unlike,He mourn'd a brother's loss. To him, fatigu'dWith travel, and with care worn out, the sonOf AEaecus arriv'd; and in the townEnter'd with followers few: the flocks and herdsThat journey'd with him, just without the walls,In a dark vale were left. When the first grantT'approach the monarch was obtain'd, he rais'dThe olive in his suppliant hand; then toldHis name, and lineage, but his crime conceal'd.His cause of flight dissembling, next he beg'd,For him and his, some pastures and a town.Then thus Trachinia's king with friendly brow:"To all, the very meanest of mankind,"Are our possessions free; nor do I rule"A realm inhospitable: add to these"Inducements strong, thine own illustrious name,"And grandsire Jove. In praying lose not time."Whate'er thou wouldst, thou shalt receive; and all,"Such as it is, with me most freely share;"Would it were better." Speaking thus, he wept:His cause of grief to Peleus and his friends,Anxious enquiring, then the monarch told.

"Perchance this bird, which by fierce rapine lives,"Dread of the feather'd tribe, you think still wings"Possess'd. Once man, he bore a noble soul;"Though stern, and rough in war, and fond of blood."His name Daedalion: from the sire produc'd"Who calls Aurora forth, and last of stars"Relinquishes the sky. Peace my delight;"Peace to preserve was still my care: my joys"I shar'd in Hymen's bonds. Fierce wars alone,"My brother pleas'd. His valor then o'erthrew"Monarchs and nations, who, in alter'd form,"Drives now Thisbaean pigeons through the air."His daughter Chione, in beauty rich,"For marriage ripe, now fourteen years had seen;"And numerous suitors with her charms were fir'd."It chanc'd that Phoebus once, and Maiae's son,"Returning from his favorite Delphos this,"That from Cyllene's top, together saw"The nymph,--together felt the amorous flame."Apollo his warm hopes till night defers;"But Hermes brooks delay not: with his rod,"Compelling sleep, he strokes the virgin's face;"Beneath the potent touch she sinks, and yields"Without resistance to his amorous force."Night spread o'er heaven the stars, when Phoebus took"A matron's form, and seiz'd fore-tasted joys."When its full time the womb matur'd had seen,"Autolycus was born; the crafty seed"Of the wing'd-footed god; acute of thought"To every shade of theft; from his sire's art"Degenerate nought; white he was wont to make"Appear as black; and black from white produce."Philammon, famous with the lyre and song,"Was born to Phoebus (twins the nymph brought forth)."But where the benefit that two she bears?"Where that the favorite of two gods she boasts?"What that a valiant sire she claims? and claims"As ancestor the mighty thundering god?"Is it that glory such as this still harms?"Certain it hurtful prov'd to her, who dar'd"Herself prefer to Dian', and despise"The goddess' beauty; fierce in ire she cry'd,--"At least I'll try to make my actions please.--"Nor stay'd; the bow she bent, and from the cord"Impell'd the dart; through her deserving tongue"The reed was sent. Mute straight that tongue became;"Nor sound, nor what she try'd to utter, heard:"Striving to speak, life flow'd with flowing blood."What woe (O hapless piety!) oppress'd"My heart! What solace to her tender sire"I spoke; my solace just the same he heard,"As rocks hear murmuring waves. But still he moan'd"For his lost child; but when the flames he saw"Ascending, four times 'mid the funeral fires"He strove to plunge; four times from thence repuls'd,"His rapid limbs address'd for flight, and rush'd"Like a young bullock, when the hornet's sting"Deep in his neck he bears, in pathless ways."Ev'n now more swift than man he seem'd to run:"His feet seem'd wings to wear, for all behind"He left far distant. Through desire of death,"Rapid he gain'd Parnassus' loftiest ridge."Apollo, pitying, when Daedalion flung"From the high rock his body, to a bird"Transform'd him, and on sudden pinions bore"Him floating: bended hooks he gave his claws,"And gave a crooked beak; valor as wont;"And strength more great than such a body shews."Now as an hawk, to every bird a foe,"He wages war on all; and griev'd himself,"He constant cause for others grief affords."

While these miraculous deeds bright Phosphor's sobTells of his brother, Peleus' herdsman comes,Phocian Anetor, flying, and, with speedBreathless, "O Peleus! Peleus!" he exclaims,"Of horrid slaughter messenger I come!"Him Peleus bids, whate'er he brings, to speak;Trachinia's monarch even with friendly dreadTrembles the news to hear. When thus the man:"The weary cattle to the curving shore"I'd driv'n, when Sol from loftiest heaven might view"His journey half perform'd, while half remain'd."Part of the oxen on the yellow sand,"On their knees bending view'd the spacious plain"Of wide-spread waters; part with loitering pace"Stray'd here, and thither; others swam and rear'd"Their lofty necks above the waves. There stood"Close to the sea a temple, where nor gold,"Nor polish'd marble shone; but rear'd with trees"Thick-pil'd, it gloom'd within an ancient grove."This, Nereus and the Nereid nymphs possess."A fisherman, as on the shore he dry'd"His nets, inform'd us these the temple own'd."A marsh joins near the fane, with willows thick"Beset, which waves o'erflowing first has form'd."A wolf from thence, a beast of monstrous bulk,"Thundering with mighty clash, with terror struck"The neighbouring spots: then from the marshy woods"Sprung out; his jaws terrific, smear'd with foam"And clotted gore; his eyes with red flames glar'd."Mad though he rag'd with ire and famine both,"Famine less strong appear'd; for his dire maw"And craving hunger, he not car'd to fill"With the slain oxen; wounding all the herd:"All hostile overthrowing. Some of us,"Ranch'd by his deadly tooth, to death were sent"Defence attempting. The shore and marsh"With bellowings echoing, and the ocean's edge"Redden with blood. But ruinous, delay!"For hesitation leisure is not now."While ought remains, let all together join;"Arm! arm! and on him hurl united spears."The herdsman ceas'd, Peleus the loss not mov'd;But conscious of his fault, infers the plagueSent by the childless Nereid to avengeHer slaughter'd Phocus' loss. Yet Ceyx bidsHis warriors arm, and take their forceful darts;With them prepar'd to issue: but his spouseAlcyoene, rous'd by the tumult, sprungForth from her chamber; unadorn'd her locks,Which scatter'd hung around her. Ceyx' neckClasping, she begg'd with moving words and tears,Aid he would send, but go not; thus preserveTwo lives in one. Then Peleus to the queen;"Banish your laudable and duteous fears."For what the king intended, thanks are due."Arms 'gainst this novel plague I will not take:"Prayers must the goddess of the deep appease."

A lofty tower there stood, whose summit boreA beacon; grateful object to the sightOf weary mariners. Thither they mount,And see with sighs the herd strew'd o'er the beach;The monster ravaging with gory jaw,And his long shaggy hairs in blood bedy'd.Thence Peleus, stretching to the wide sea shoreHis arms, to Psamathe cerulean pray'd,To finish there her rage, and grant relief.Unmov'd she heard AEaecides implore:But Thetis, suppliant, from the goddess gain'dThe favor for her spouse. Uncheck'd, the wolfThe furious slaughter quits not, fierce the moreFrom the sweet taste of blood, till to a stoneTransform'd, as on a bull's torn neck he hung.His form remains; and, save his color, all;The color only shews him wolf no more:And shews no terror he shall now inspire.

Still in this realm the angry fates deny'dPeleus to stay; exil'd, he wander'd on,And reach'd Magnesia: from Acastus thereThessalian, expiation he receiv'd.

Ceyx meantime, with anxious doubts disturb'd;First with the prodigy, his brother's change,Then those which follow'd; to the Clarian godPrepar'd to go, the oracles to seek,Which sweetly solace men's uneasy minds.Delphos was inaccessible; the roadPhorbas prophane, with all his Phlegians barr'd.Yet first Alcyoene, most faithful spouse!He tells thee of his purpose. Instant seiz'dA death-like coldness on her inmost heart:A boxen paleness o'er her features spread;And down her cheeks the tears in torrents roll'd.Thrice she attempted words, but thrice her tearsHer words prevented; then her pious plaints,Broken by interrupted sobs, she spoke."My dearest lord! what hapless fault of mine"Thy soul has alter'd? Where that love for me"Thou wont'st to shew? Canst thou now unconcern'd"Depart, and leave Alcyoene behind?"Glads thee this tedious journey? Am I lov'd"Most dearly farthest absent? Yet by land"Was all thy journey, then I should but grieve,"Not tremble: sighs would then of fears take place."The sea, the dread appearance of the main,"Me terrifies. But lately I beheld"Torn planks bestrew the shore: and oft I've read"On empty tombs, the names of dead inscrib'd."Let not fallacious confidence thy mind"Mislead, that AEoelus I call my sire;"Who binds the furious winds in caves, and smoothes"At will the ocean. No! when issu'd once,"They sweep the main, no power of his can rule:"And uncontroll'd they ravage all the land:"Nor checks them aught on ocean. Clouds of heaven,"They clash; and ruddy lightnings hurl along"In fierce encounter. More their force I know,"(For well I knew, and oft have mark'd their power,"While yet an infant at my sire's abode,)"The more I deem them such as should be fear'd."Yet dearest spouse, if thy firm-fixt resolve"No prayers can change, and obstinate thou stand'st"For sailing, let me also with thee go:"Together then the buffeting we'll bear."Then shall I fear but what I suffer; then"Whate'er we suffer we'll together feel:"Together sailing o'er the boundless main."

Her words and tears the star-born husband mov'd;For less of love he felt not. Yet his schemeTo voyage o'er the deep he could not change;Nor yet consent Alcyoene should shareHis peril: and with soothing soft replies,He try'd to calm her timid breast. Nor yetHimself approv'd the arguments he try'd,His consort to persuade consent to yieldTo his departure. This at length he addsAs solace, which alone her bosom mov'd."All absence tedious seems; but by the fires"My father bears, I swear, if fates permit,"Returning, thou shalt see me, ere the moon"Shall twice have fill'd her orb." Hope in her breastThus rais'd by promise of a quick return,Instant the vessel, from the dock drawn forth,He bids them launch in ocean, and completeIn all her stores and tackling. This beheldAlcyoene; and, presaging againWoes of the future, trembled, and a floodOf tears again gush'd forth; again she clasp'dHis neck; at length, as, wretched wife, she cry'd,--"Farewell" she, swooning, lifeless sunk to earth.

The rowers now, while Ceyx sought delays,To their strong breasts the double-ranking oarsDrew back, and cleft with equal stroke the surge.Her humid eyes she rais'd, and first beheldHer husband standing on the crooked poop,Waving his hand as signal; she his signReturn'd. When farther from the land they shot,Her straining eyes no more indulg'd to knowHis features; still, while yet they could, her eyesPursu'd the flying vessel. This at lengthIncreasing distance her forbade to see;Still she perceiv'd the floating sails, which spreadFrom the mast's loftiest summit. Sails at lengthWere also lost in distance: then she soughtAnxious her widow'd chamber; and her limbsThrew on the couch. The bed, the vacant space,Renew'd her tears, reminding of her loss.

Now far from port they'd sail'd, when the strong ropesThe breeze began to strain; the rowers turnTheir oars, and lash them to the vessel's side;Hoist to the mast's extremest height their yards;And loose their sails to catch the coming breeze.Scarce half, not more than half, the sea's extentThe vessel now had plough'd; and either landWas distant far; when, as dim night approach'd,The sea seem'd foaming white with rising waves;And the strong East more furious 'gan to blow.Long had the master cry'd,--"Lower down your yards,"And close furl every sail!"--he bids; the stormAdverse, impedes the sound; the roaring wavesDrown every voice in noise. Yet some, untold,Haste to secure the oars; part bind the sails;Part fortify the sides: this water laves,Ejecting seas on seas; that lowers the yards.While thus they toil unguided, rough the stormIncreases; from each quarter furious windsWage warfare, and with mounting billows join.Trembles the ruler of the bark, and ownsHis state; he knows not what he should command,Nor what forbid; so swift the sudden storm;So much more strong the tempest than his skill.Men clamorous shout; cords rattle; mighty wavesRoar, on waves rushing; thunders roll through air;In billows mounts the ocean, and appearsTo meet the sky, and o'er the hanging cloudsSprinkles its foam. Now from the lowest depths,As yellow sands they turn, the billows shine;Now blacker seem they than the Stygian waves;Now flatten'd, all with spumy froth is spread.The ship Trachinian too, each rapid changeIn agitation heaves; now rais'd sublimeThe deepen'd vale she views as from a ridgeSo lofty: down to Acheron's low depths,Now in the hollow of the wave she falls,And views th' o'erhanging heaven from hell's deep gulf.Oft bursting on her side with loud reportThe billows sound; nor with less fury beatThan the balista, or huge battering ram,Driv'n on the tottering fort: or lions fierce,Whose strength and rage increasing with their speed,Rush on the armour'd breast and outstretch'd spear.So rush'd the waves with wind-propelling powerHigh o'er the decks; and 'bove the rigging rose.

Now shook the wedges; open rents appear'd,The pitchy covering gone, and wide-display'd,A passage opens to the deadly flood.Then from the breaking clouds fell torrent showers;All heaven seem'd sweeping down to swell the main;And the swol'n main, ascending to invadeCelestial regions, soak'd with floods each sail:And ocean's briny waters mix'd with rain.No light the firmament possess'd, and nightFrown'd blacker through the tempest. Lightning oftReft the thick gloom, and gave a brilliant blaze;And while the lightnings flame the waters burn.

Now o'er the vessel's cover'd deck the wavesHigh tower; and as a soldier, braver farThan all his fellows, urg'd by thirst of fame,(The well-defended walls to scale oft try'd,)At length his hope obtains, and singly keepsHis post, by foes on every side assail'd:So when the furious billows raging beatThe lofty side, the tenth impetuous rearsAbove the rest, and forceful rushes on;The battery ceasing not on the spent bark,Till o'er the wall, as of a captur'd town,Downward it rushes. Part without invade,And part are lodg'd within. In terror allIn trembling panic stand: not more the crowdWhich fill a city's walls, when foes withoutMine their foundations; while an entrance gain'dWithin, part rage already. Art no moreCan aid; all courage droops; as many deathsSeem rapid rushing as the billows break.This wails in tears his fate; that stupid stands;This calls those blest whom funeral rites await:One to his deity rich offerings vows,And vainly stretching forth to heaven his arms,The heaven he sees not, begs for aid: his friends,Brethren and parents, fill of this the mind;Of that his children, or whate'er he leaves.

Alcyoene, alone in Ceyx' soulFound place; and but Alcyoene, his lipsNought utter'd. Her alone he wish'd to see;Yet joy'd she far was absent. Much he long'dTo view once more his dear paternal shores;And turn his last looks tow'rd his regal dome:But where to turn he knows not; in a whirlSo boils the sea; and all the heaven is hidIn shade, by more than pitchy clouds produc'd:Night doubly darken'd. Now the whirlwind's forceShivers the mast, and tears the helm away:And like a victor, proud to view his spoils,Mounts an high wave, and scornfully beholdsThe lower billows; thundering down it sweeps,Impell'd by force that Athos might o'erturn,Or Pindus, from their roots; and plunge in sea.Down in the lowest depths, the weight and blowBury'd the vessel; with her most the crewSunk in the raging gulf: some met their fate,Ne'er to return to air: some floated still;To splinter'd fragments of the bark they clung.Ceyx himself, grasp'd only in that handA shatter'd plank, which once a sceptre held;And AEoelus and Phosphor' call'd in vain:But chiefly from his lips was, as he swam,Alcyoene resounded; that lov'd nameRemember'd constant, and repeated most.He prays the billows may his body bearTo meet her eyes; and prays her friendly handsHis burial may perform. While thus he swims,Alcyoene he names, whene'er the wavesTo gasp for breath permit him; and beneathThe billows, tries Alcyoene to sound.Lo! a black towering arch of waters brokeMidst of the surges; in the boiling foamInvolv'd, o'erwhelm'd he sunk. That mournful nightWas Phosphor' dark, impalpable to view:And since stern fate to heaven his post fast bound,He veil'd in densest clouds his grieving face.

Meantime Alcyoene her height of woeUnknown, counts each sad night, and now with hasteThe garments he should wear prepares; and nowThose to adorn herself when him she meets;Cherishing emptiest hopes of his return.Devoutest offerings to the heavenly powersShe bore; but incense far before the restOn Juno's altar burn'd; and oft she pray'dFor him who was not. For his safety pray'd;For his return; and that his love might stillWithout a rival hers remain: the lastOf all her ardent prayers indulgence found.But longer bore the goddess not to hearSuch vain petitions for the dead; these handsPolluted, from her altars to remove,To Iris thus she spoke:--"O, faithful maid!"Most trusty messenger, with speed repair"To Somnus' drowsy hall; him bid to send"A vision form'd in lifeless Ceyx' shape"To tell Alcyoene her woes' extent."She ended: in her various-teinted robeAttir'd, and spreading o'er the spacious heavenHer sweeping arch, Iris the dwelling soughtThe goddess order'd. Hid beneath a steepNear the Cimmerians, in a deep dug cave,Form'd in a hollow mountain, stands the hallAnd secret dwelling of inactive sleep;Where Phoebus rising, or in mid-day height,Or setting-radiance, ne'er can dart his beams.Clouds with dim darkness mingled, from the groundExhale, and twilight makes a doubtful day.The watchful bird, with crested head, ne'er callsAurora with his song; no wakeful dog,Nor goose more wakeful, e'er the silence breaks;No savage beasts, no pastur'd flocks, no boughsShook by the breeze; no brawl of human voiceThere sounds: but death-like silence reigns around.Yet from the rock's foundation, gently flowsA stream of Lethe's water, whose dull wavesIn gentle murmuring o'er the pebbles purl,Tempting to slumber. At the cavern doorThe fruitful poppy, and ten thousand plants,From which moist night the drowsy juices drains,Then scatters o'er the shady earth, grew thick.Round all the house no gate was seen, which, turn'dOn the dry hinge should creak; no centry strictThe threshold to protect. But in the midstThe lofty bed of ebon form'd, was plac'd.Black were the feathers; all the coverings black,And stretch'd at length the god was seen; his limbsWith lassitude relax'd. Around him throng'dIn every part, vain dreams, in various forms,In number more than what the harvest bearsOf bearded grains; the woods of verdant leaves;Or shore of yellow sands. Here came the nymph;Th' opposing dreams push'd sideways with her hands,And through the sacred mansion from her robeScatter'd refulgent light. With pain the god,His eyelids weigh'd with slothful torpor, rais'd;But at each effort down they sunk again:And on his breast his nodding chin still smote.At length he rous'd him from his drowsy state;And, on his elbow resting, ask'd the nymph,For well he knew her, why she thither came.Then she--"O Somnus! peaceful rest of all!"Somnus! most placid of immortal powers;"Calm of the soul; whom care for ever flies;"Who soothest bosoms, with diurnal toil"Fatigu'd; and renovat'st for toil again;"Dispatch a vision to Trachinia's town,"(By great Alcides founded,) in the form"Its hapless monarch bore: let it display"The lively image of her husband's wreck,"To sad Alcyoene. This Juno bids."--Iris, her message thus deliver'd, turn'd:For more the soporific mist, which roseAround, she bore not; soon as sleep she feltStealing upon her limbs, abrupt she fled,Mounting the bow by which she glided down.

The drowsy sire, from 'midst a thousand sons,Calls Morpheus forth, an artful god, who wellAll shapes can feign. None copies else so closeThe bidden gait, the features, and the modeOf converse; vesture too the same he wears,And language such as most they wont to speak.Mankind alone he imitates. To seemFierce beasts, and birds, and long-extended snakesAnother claims: this Icelos the godsHave nam'd; by mortals as Photebor known.A third is Phantasus of different skill;His change is happiest when he earth becomes,Or rocks, or waves, or trees, or substance aughtThat animation lacks. These shew their formsBy night to mighty heroes and to kings;The rest before th' ignobler crowd perform.All these the ancient Somnus pass'd, and choseMorpheus alone from all his brethren crowd,The deed Thaumantian Iris bade, to do;Then, weigh'd with slumber, dropp'd again his head,And shrunk once more within the sable couch.

He flies through darkness on unrustling wings,And short the space, ere in Trachinia's townHe lights; and from his shoulders lays asideHis pinions; when he Ceyx' form assumes.In Ceyx' ghastly shape pallid he stood,Despoil'd of garments, at the widow'd bedOf the sad queen: soak'd was his beard, and streamsSeem'd from his heavy dripping locks to flow.Then leaning o'er the couch, while gushing tearsO'erspread his cheeks, he thus his wife bespoke;--"Know'st thou thy Ceyx, wretched, wretched wife?"Or are my features chang'd by death? Again"View me, and here behold thy husband's shade,"Instead of husband: all thy pious prayers"For me, Alcyoene, were vain. I'm lost!"No more false hopes encourage, me to see."The showery southwind, on th' AEgean main,"Seiz'd on our vessel, and with mighty blast"Shiver'd it wide in fragments; and the waves"Rush'd in my throat as loud thy name I call'd;"But call'd in vain. No doubtful author brings"To thee these tidings; no vague rumor this,"In person I relate it. Shipwreck'd I,"My fate to thee detail. Rise, and assist!"Pour forth thy tears; in sable garments clothe;"Nor send my ghost to wander undeplor'd,"In shady Tartarus." Thus Morpheus spoke;And in such accents, that the queen, deceiv'd,Believ'd her husband spoke. Adown his cheeksSeem'd real tears to flow; and even his handWith Ceyx' motion mov'd. Deeply she groan'd,Ev'n in her sleep, and rais'd her longing armsTo clasp his body; empty air she clasp'd:Exclaiming;--"stay; O whither dost thou fly?"Together let us hence!"--Rous'd with the noise,And spectre of her spouse; sleep fled her eyes,And round she cast her gaze for that to seekWhich she but now beheld. Wak'd by her voice,Her slaves approach'd with lights; but when in vainShe search'd for what she lack'd, her face she struck;Rent from her breasts her garments; beat her breastsThemselves: nor stay'd her twisted hair to loose,But tore the bands away; then to her nurseAnxious the subject of her grief to learn--"Alcyoene,"--she cries--"is now no more!"She with her Ceyx in one moment fell."Hence with your soothing words; shipwreck'd he dy'd."I saw; I knew him; as he fled me, stretch'd"My arms to hold the fugitive.--Ah! no!"The shadow fled, 'twas but his ghost; but shade"My husband mere resembling ne'er was form'd."Yet had he not his wonted looks, nor shone"In former brightness his beloved face."I saw him, hapless stand with pallid cheek,"Naked, with tresses dropping still. Lo! here"Wretched he stood, just on the spot I point:"--Then anxious try'd his footmarks there to trace.--"This did my mind foreboding fear; I pray'd"When me thou fled'st, the winds thou would'st not trust:"But since to sure destruction forth thou went'st,"Would that by me companion'd thou had'st gone."With thee my bliss had been;--with thee to go."Unwasted then one moment of the space"For life allow'd; not ev'n in death disjoin'd."But now I perish, and upon the waves,"Though absent, float; the main me overwhelms,"Though from the main far distant. Mental storms"To me more cruel were than ocean's waves,"Should I but longer seek to spin out life,"And combat such deep grief? I will not strive"Nor wretched thee desert; but now, though late,"Now will I join thee; and the funeral verse"Shall us unite; not in the self-same urn,"Yet in the self-same tomb; bones join'd with bones,"Allow'd not, yet shall name with name be seen."--The rest by grief was chok'd, and sounding blowsEach sentence interrupted; while deep groansBurst from her raving bosom. Morning shone,And forth she issu'd to the shore, and soughtIn grief the spot, where last his face she view'dDeparting. "Here,"--she said,--"as slow he went,"As slow he loos'd his cables; on this beach"The parting kiss he gave." While her mind's eyeRetraces every circumstance, she looks,And something sees far floating on the waves,Not much unlike a man: dubious at firstWhat it may be, she views it: nearer nowThe billows drive it; and though distant still,Plain to the eye a body was descry'd.Whose body, witless, still a shipwreck'd wretchWith boding omen mov'd her; and in tearsShe wail'd him as a stranger in these plaints.--"Unhappy wretch! whoe'er thou art; and she"Thy wife, if wife thou had'st"--but now the surgeMore near the body bore. The more she viewsNearer the corps; the more her senses fly.And now close driven to shore it floats, and nowWell she discern'd it was, it was--her spouse!"'Tis he!"--she loudly shriek'd, and tore her face,Her hair, her garments. Then her trembling armsTo Ceyx stretching; "Dearest husband!"--cry'd."Art thou restor'd thus to my wretched breast?"

High-rais'd by art, adjoining to the beachA mole was form'd, which broke the primal strengthOf ocean's fury, and the fierce waves tir'd.Hither she sprung, and, wond'rous that she could!She flew; the light air winnowing with her wingsNew-sprung; a mournful bird she skimm'd alongThe water's surface. As she flies, her beakSlender and small, a creaking noise sends forth,Of mournful sound, and full of sad complaint.Soon as the silent bloodless corse she reach'd,Around his dear-lov'd limbs her wings she clasp'd,And gave cold kisses with her horny bill.If Ceyx felt them, or his head was rais'dTo meet her by the waves, th' unlearned doubt.But sure he felt them. Both at length, the godsCommisserating, chang'd to feather'd birds.The same their love remains, and subject stillTo the same fates; and in the plumag'd pairThe nuptial bond is sacred; join'd in oneParents they soon become; and Halcyon sitsSev'n peaceful days 'mid winter's keenest ruleUpon her floating nest. Safe then the main:For AEoelus with watchful care the windsGuards, and prevents their egress; and the seasSmooths for the offspring, with a grandsire's care.

These, as they skimm'd the surface of the main,An ancient sire beheld, and prais'd their love:Constant in death: his neighbour or himselfAlso repeats;--the bird which there you see,Brushing the ocean with his slender legs,(And shews a corm'rant with his spacious maw)A monarch's offspring was; would you descendThrough the long series, 'till to him you reach;Ilus; Assaracus; and Ganymede,Borne up to heaven by Jove, supply'd the stockFrom whence he sprung; Laoemedon the old;And Priam doom'd to end his days with Troy.Hector his brother; but in spring of youthHe felt this strange adventure, he perchanceAs Hector's might have left a towering name:Though from old Dymas' daughter Hector sprung.Fair Alixirrhoe, so fame reports,Daughter of two-horn'd Granicus, brought forth,By stealth, AEsacus 'neath thick Ida's shade.Wall'd cities he detested; and remoteFrom glittering palaces, secluded hillsInhabited, and unambitious plains;And scarce at Troy's assemblies e'er was seen.Yet had he not a clownish heart, nor breastTo love impregnable. By chance he sawCebrenus' daughter, fair Hesperie--oftBy him through every shady wood pursu'd--As on her father's banks her tresses, spreadAdown her back, in Phoebus' rays she dry'd.The nymph, discover'd, fled. So rapid fliesTh' affrighted stag to 'scape the tawny Wolf;Or duck, stream-loving, from the hawk, when caught,Far from her wonted lakes. The Trojan youthQuick follows, swift through hope; she swift through fear.Lo! in the herbage hid, her flying footWith crooked fang a serpent bit, and pour'dO'er all her limbs the poison: with her flightHer life was stopp'd. Frantic, he clasps her formNow lifeless, and exclaims--"how grieve I now,"That e'er I thee pursu'd; not this I fear'd!"How mean my conquest, bought at such a price!"Both, hapless nymph! in thy destruction join'd:"I gave the cause, the serpent but the wound."I guiltier far than he, unless my death"Shall thine avenge."--He said, and in the main,From an high rock, by hoarsely-roaring wavesDeep-worn beneath, prepar'd to plunge. Receiv'dBy pitying Tethys softly in his fall,She clothes him, as he swims the main, with wings;And death, so much desir'd, denies him still.The lover, furious at th' unwelcome giftOf life upon him forc'd, and his pent soul,Bent on escaping from its hated seatConfin'd, soon as the new-shot plumes he feltSpring from his shoulders, up he flew, and plungedAgain his body in the depths below:His feathers broke his fall. AEsacus rav'd,And deeply div'd; with headlong fury still,And endless perseverance death he sought.Love keeps him meagre still; from joint to jointHis legs still longer grow; his outstretch'd neckIs long; and distant far his head is plac'd.He loves the ocean, and the name he bears,From constant diving, seems correctly giv'n.