 Book 10 part 2 of Ovid's Metamorphoses. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Shaleefa Mulliam. Metamorphoses by Publius Ovidius Nasser. Translated by Brooks Moore. Book 10 part 2. Pygmalian saws these women wasted their lives in wretched shame, and critical of thoughts which Nata had so deeply planted through their female hearts, he lived in preference for many years unmarried. But while he was single, with consummate skill, he carved a statue out of Snow White Ivory and gave to it exquisite beauty which no woman of the world has ever equalled. She was so beautiful, he fell in love with his creation. It appeared in truth a perfect virgin with grace of life, but in the expression of such modesty, all motion was restrained. And so his art concealed his art. Pygmalian gazed, inflamed with love and admiration for the form, in semblance of a woman he had carved. He lifts up both his hand to feel the work and wonders if it can be Ivory, because it seems to him more truly flesh, his mind refusing to conceive of it as Ivory, he kisses it, and feels his kisses are returned. And speaking love caresses it with loving hands that seem to make an impress on the parts of their touch so real that it fears he then may bruise her by his eager pressing. Softest tones are used each time he speaks to her. He brings to her such presence as are surely prized by sweet girls, such as smooths round pebbles, shells and birds, and fragrant flowers of thousand tints, lilies and painted balls, and amber tears of heliods, which it is still from far off trees. He drapes her in rich clothing and in gems, rings on her fingers, a rich necklace round her neck, pearl pendants on her graceful ears, and golden ornaments adawn her breast. All these are beautiful, and she appears most lovable if carefully attired. All perfect is a statue, unadawned. He lays her on a bed luxurious, spread with covelets of Tyrion purple dye, and naming her the concert of his couch, lays her reclining head on the most soft and downy pillows, trusting she could feel. The festival day of Venus, known throughout all Cyprus, now had come, and frongs were there to celebrate. Hyfers were spreading horns, all gall tipped, fell when given the stroke of death upon their snow-white necks, and frankincons were smoking on the altars. There, intent, Pygmalion stood before an altar when his offering had been made, and although he feared the result, he said, If it is true, O gods, that you can give all things, I pray to have as my wife, but he did not dare to add my ivory statue made, and said, one like my ivory. Gordon Venus heard, for she was present at her festival, and she knew clearly what the prayer had meant. She gave a sign that her divinity favoured his plea. She said, many times the flame leaped high and brightly in the air. When he returned, he went directly to his image-maid, bent over her, and kissed her many times while she was on her couch. And as he kissed, she seemed to get there some warmth from his lips. Again he kissed her, and he felt abreast. The ivory seemed to soften at the touch, and its firm texture yielded to his hand, and his anti-hematis turned to many shapes when handled in the sun. And surely, and surely, softened from each gentle touch. He is amazed, but stands rejoicing in his doubt, while fearful there is some mistake. Again and yet again, distrialled his hopes by touching with his hand. It must be flesh. The veins pulsate beneath a careful test of his directed finger. Then, indeed, the astonished hero poured out lavish thanks to Venus. Pressing was his raptured lips his stethious lips. Now real, true to life, the maiden felt the kisses given to her, and blushing lifted up her timid eyes, so that she saw the light in sky above, as well as a rapt lover, while he leaned gainsing beside her, and all this at once. The goddess graced a marriage she had weld, and when nine times aggression to moon had changed, increasing to the full, the stethia bride gave birth to her dear daughter, Parfos, from which famed event the island takes its name. The royal kinoras was sprung from her, and if he had been father of no child, might well have been accounted fortunate. But I must sing of horrible events, my daughters, parents, shun this tale. But if my verse has charmed your thoughts, do not give me such credit in this part, convince yourself it cannot be true life, or if against my wish you hear and must believe it, then be sure to notice how such wickedness gets certain punishment. And yet, if nature could permit such crimes as this to happen, I congratulate, is Marian people, and all of Gracie as well, and I congratulate for this nation, which we know is far away from the land where there is a vile abomination to occur. The land we call Pankaya, may be wretchenbalsam, cinnamon, and costume sweet for ointment, frankincense distilled from trees, with many flowers besides. All this large wealth combined could never compensate the land for this detestable one crime, even though the new marjorie advanced on that richer soil. Cupid declares his weapons never caused an injury to Myrra, and in nicest torches ever could have urged her crime, one of the three bad sisters kindled this, with fire brand from the sticks, and poisoned you with swollen vipers. It is criminal to hate a parent, but love such as hers is certainly more criminal than hate. The chosen princes of all lands desire you now, marriage, and young men throughout the Orient are vying for your hand. Choose, Myrra, one from all of these for your good husband, but exclude from such a thought your father only. She indeed is quite aware, and struggles bitterly against her vile desires, and argues in her heart, What am I tending to? O listening gods, I pray for aid, I pray to natural love. I have made a sacred right of parents to keep this vile desire from me, defend me from a crime so great. If it indeed is crime, I have not sure it is. I have not heard that any god of written law condemns a union of a parent and his child. All animals were made as their desire. A high for me endure his sire, and who condemns it? And the happy stud is not refused by his mere daughters. The he-goed consorts unthought of, with the flock of which he is to father, and the birth conceive of those from whom their words themselves begot. Pappy, are they who have such a privilege? Malignant men have given spiteful laws, and what is right in nature is decreed unnatural by jealous laws of men. But it is said there are some tribes today in which the mother marries her own son, the daughter takes a father, and by this the love, kind nature gives of them, is increased into a double bond. O wretched me, why was it not my fortune to be born in that love-blessed land? I must abide, oppressed by my misfortunes in this place. Why do I dwell on these forbidden hopes? Let me forget to think of lawless flame. My father is most worthy of my love, but only as a father. If I were not born the daughter of great Senoras, I might be joined to him, but as it stands, because he is mine he is never mine, because near to me is far from me. It would be better for me if we were but strangers to each other, for I then could wish to go and leave my native land and so escape temptation to this crime. But my unhappy passion holds me here, that I might see Senoras face to face and touch him, talk with him and even kiss him. The best of nothing else can be allowed. But what more could be asked for by the most depraved? Think of the many sacred tides and loved names, you are dragging to the mire. The rival of your mother, will you be the mistress of your father and be named the sister of your son and make yourself the mother of your brother? And will you not dread the sisters with black snakes for hair whom guilty creatures such as you can see brandish relentless flames before the rising faces? While your body has not sinned, you must not let sin creep into your heart and violate great nature's law with your unlawful rovings. If you have the right along for his endearment, it could not be possible. He is a verger's man and is regardful of the moral law. Oh, how I wish my passion could be his. And so she argued and declared her love, but Senoras, her father, who was urged by such a throng of suitors for her hand, that he could make no choice, at last inquired of her. So she might make a heart wish known. And as he named them over, asked her, which he fixed to gaze upon her father's face and doubt or agony what she could say, while hot tears filter eyes. The father, sure it all was of a virginal alarm, as he's telling her she need not weep, drives her wet cheeks and kisses her sweet lips. Too much delighted with his gentle words and kind and deamons. Mirror, when he asked again, which one might be her husband, said the one just like yourself. And he replied, not understanding what her heart would say, your answer as a loving daughter should. When she heard loving daughter said, the girl too conscious of a guilt looked on the ground. It was now midnight, peaceful sleep dissolved the world care of all mortals, but of her, who sleeplessly threw the night, burnt in the flame of her misplaced affection. First despair compels her to abandon every hope, and then she changes and resolved to try. And so she wavers from desire to shame, for she could not adhere to any plan. As grey tree cut by the swinging axe is chopped until the last blow has been struck, then sways and threatens danger to all sides, so does her weak mind, cut with many blows, waver unsteadily, this way and that, and turning back and forth it finds no rest from passion, save the rest that lies in death. The thought of death gave comfort to her heart. Resolved to hang herself, she set a fright. Then, as she tied a girdle to a beam, she said, Well, my beloved sinners, and may you know the cause of my sad death. And while she spoke those words, her fingers fixed the news rope close around her death's pale neck. They say the murmur of despairing words was heard by her retentive nurse who watched outside the room, and, fateful as of old, she opened the shut door. But when she saw the frightful preparations made for death, the old nurse screamed and beat and tore her breast, then seized and snatched a row from Mira's neck, and after she had torn the news apart, at last she had the time to weep, and time, while she embraced the girl to ask her why the halter had been fastened round her neck, the girl in stubborn silence only fixed her eyes upon the ground, said that her first attempt at death, because too slow, was foiled. The old nurse woman urged and urged and showed her grey hair and her wizard breasts, and begged her by the memory of her gradual days and baby nourishment to hide no more from her long trusted nurse what caused her grief. The girl turned from her questions with sigh. The nurse, still more determined to know all, promised fidelity and her best aid. Tell me, she said, and let me give you help. My old age offers means for your relief. If it be frantic passion, I have charms and healing herbs. Or if an evil spell was worked on you by someone, you shall be cured of your perfect self by magic rites. Or if your actions have enraged to the gods, a sacrifice will satisfy their wrath, what else could be the cause? Your family and you are prosperous, your mother dear and your loved father are alive and well. And when she heard her say the name of father, a sigh heaved up from her distracted heart. But even after that, the nurse could not conceive such evil in the girl's sick heart, and yet she had a feeling it must be only a love affair could cause a crime, and with persistent purpose beck'd the cause, she breasted the weeping girl against her breast, and as she held her in her feeble arms, she said, sweetheart, I know you are in love. In this affair I am entirely yours for your good service, you must have no fear, your father cannot learn of it from me. Just like a mad girl, mirror sprang away, and with her face deep buried in a couch, sobbed out, go from me, you'll stop asking me my cause of grief, it is a crime of shame, I cannot tell it. Horrified, the nurse stretched forth her trembling hands, pulsed with age and fear. She fell down at the feet of a loved foster child, and goaxing her and frightening her, she threatened to disclose the knowledge of the halter, and of what she knew of her attempted suicide. And after all was said, she gave her word to help the girl and she had given to her a true confession of a sad hard love. The girl just lifted up her face and laid it, weeping on the bosom of her nurse. She tried so often to confess, and just as often checked her words, the shamed face hid deep in her garment. Oh! at last she groaned, oh mother, bless in your husband, oh! Only that much she said and groaned. The nurse felt a cold horror stealing through her heart and frame, for she now understood it all. And her white hair stood wrestling on her head, while with the utmost care of love and art she strove to use appropriate words and deeds to banish the mad passion of the girl. Though Myra knew that she was truly warned, she was resolved to die unless she could obtain the object of a wicked love. The nurse gave way at last and defeated and said, live and enjoy, but it did not dare to say, your father did not finish, though she promised and confirmed it with a note. It was a time when Maidren celebrate the annual festival of series, then all roped in decent garments of snow-wide, they bring garlands of freshest wheat, which are first fruit of worship, and for nine nights they must count forbidder every act of love and shun the touch of man. And in that frung, Cancri's, the king's wife, with constant care attended every sacred ride, and so while the king's bed was lacking his true wife, one of those nights, King Sinneris was drunk with too much wine, the scheming nurse informed him of a girl most beautiful, whose love for him was passionate. In a false tale she picked her to true passion. When he asked the maidens age, she answered, just the same as Mirras. Bidden by the king to go and fetch her, the officious old nurse, when she found the girl cried out, rejoice my dear, we have contrived it. The unhappy girl could not feel genuine joy in her remazed and startled body. Her dazed mind was filled to strange for bowdings, but she did believe her heart was joyful. Great excitement filled her wrecked heart with such inconsistencies. Now was a time when nature is addressed. Between the bears, boots turned his way down to the west, and the guilty mirror turns to her normity. The golden moon flies from the heaven, and black clouds cover the hiding styles and night has lost her fires. The first to hide were stars of Icarus and of Arigoni, into hallowed love devoted to her father. Mirror thrice was warned by omen of her stumbling foot. The funeral screech owl also warned her thrice, with dismal cry. Yet a mirror onward goes. It seems to her to black knight lessen shame. She holds fast to her nurse with a left hand, and with the other hand grobes to frood dark. And now they go until she finds the door. Now at the threshold of her father's room she softly pushes back at the door. Her nurse takes her within. The girl's knees trembling sink beneath her. Her drawn bloodless face had lost his colour, and while she moves to the crime, bad courage goes from her until afraid of her bald effort, she would gladly turn unrecognised. But as she hesitates, the aged crone still holds her by her hand, and leading her up to the high bed, their delivering mirror says, Now, Cynrus, you take her, she's yours, and leaves the pair doomed in their crime. The father to pollute his own flesh in his own bed, where he tries first to encourage her from made of fears, but gently talking to the timid girl. He chance to call her daughter, as a name best suited to her age, and she in turn, endearing, called him father, so no names might be omitted to complete their guilt. She staggered from his chamber with a crime of her own father hidden in her womb, and their guilt was repeated many nights, till Cynrus determined he must know his mistress after many meetings, brought her light and knew his crime had harmed his daughter. Speechless in shame, he drew forth his bright sword out from the scabbard, rode hung nearby. But fright and mirror fled, and so escaped death in the shadows of dark night. Groping her pathless way at random through the fields, she left Arabia, famed for spreading palms, and wandered through a panqueen lands. Until after nine months of aimers wandering days, she rested in Sabir, for she could not hold the burden she had borne so long. Not knowing what to pray for, moved alike by fear of death and rariness of life, her wishes were expressed in prayer. O gods, if you will listen to my prayer, I do not shun a dreadful punishment deserved, but now, because my life offends the living, and dying I offend the dead, drive me from both conditions, change me, and refuse my flesh both life and death. Some gods did listen to her unnatural prayer. Her last petition had answering gods, for even as she prayed, the earth closed over her legs, roads grew out, and stretching forth obliquely from her nails, gave strong support to a rub-grown trunk, her bones got harder, and her marrow still unchanged, kept to the centre, as her blood was changed to sap, as her round stretching arms became long branches, and her fingers twakes, and as her soft skin heartened into bark, and the far-growing tree had closely bound her womb still heavy, and had covered her soft bosom, and was spreading quickly up to her neck. She cannot endure the strain, and sinking down into the rising wood, her whole face soon was hidden in the bark. Although all sense of human life was gone, as quickly as she lost her human form, her weeping was continued, and warm drops distilled from her, the tree, she's not a fool. There is a virtue even in her tears, the valued mud distilling from the trunk keeps to her name, by which she still is known, and cannot be forgot of ageing time. The guilty-begotten child had growth while wood was growing, and endeavoured now to find a way of safe birth. The tree drunk was swelling and tightened against the mirror, who, unable to express her torture, could not call upon Lucina and use her words of travail. Then, just like a woman in great pain, the tree bends down, and while it groans, it uses itself with falling tears. Lucina stood in pity near the groaning branches, laid her hands on them, and uttered charms to aid the hindered birth. The tree cracked open then, the bark was rent asunder, and it gave forth its living weight, a wailing baby boy. The naeards laid him on soft leaves, and they anointed him with his own mother's tears. Even Envy would not fail to praise the child, as beautiful as naked Cupid's scene in chosen paintings. Only gifted him a polished quiver, or take this from them, and no keen eye could choose him from their midst. Time gliding by without our knowledge cheats us, and nothing can be twifter than the years. That son of sister and grandfather, who was lately hidden in his brown tree, just lately born, a lovely baby boy is now youth, now man more beautiful than during growth. He wins the love of Venus, and so avenges his own mother's passion. For while the goddess's son, with quiver held on shoulder, once was kissing his loved mother, a chance to unwittingly he graced a breast with a projecting arrow. Instantly the wounded goddess pushed her son away, but a scratch had pierced her deeper than she thought, and even Venus was at first deceived. Delighted with the beauty of youth, she does not think of her chytherian shores, and does not care for powerfuls, which is girth by the deep sea, nor needles hawns a fish, nor amateurs far famed for precious oals. Venus, neglecting heaven, prefers adonis to heaven, and so she holds close to his ways as his companion, and forgets to rest at noon-day in the shade, neglecting care of a sweet beauty. She goes through the woods and over mountain ridges and wild fields, rocky and thawnted, bare to her white knees after Diana's manner, and she cheers the hounds, intend to hunt for harmless prey, such as the leaping hare, or the wild stag, high crowned with branching antlers, or the doe. She keeps away from fierce wild boars, away from ravenous wolves, and she avoids the bears a frightful claws, and lines gluttered with the blood of slaughtered cattle. She warns you, adonis, to beware and fear them, if her fears for you were only heeded. O be brave, she says, against those timid animals which fly from you, but courage is not save against a bald. Dear boy, do not be rash, do not attack the wild beasts which are armed by nature, lest your glory may cost me great sorrow. Now the youth, nor beauty, nor the deed which have moved Venus, have effect on lions, bristling boars, and on the eyes and tempers of wild beasts. Boars have the force of lighting him their curved tusks, and a rate of tawny lions is unlimited. I fear and hate them all. When he inquires the reason, she says, I will tell it. You will be surprised to learn the bad result caused by an ancient crime. But I am wary with an accustomed toil. And see, a public convenient offers a delightful shade, and this lawn gives a good couch. Let us rest ourselves here on the grass. So, saying, she reclined upon the turf, and, peeling her head against his breast and mingling kisses with her words, she told him the following tale. End of book 10, part 2 Of Ovid's Metamorphosis This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Metamorphosis by Publius Ovidius Nazo. Translated by Brooks Moore. Book 10, part 3 Perhaps you may have heard of a swift maid who ran much faster than swift-footed men contesting in the race. What they have told is not an idle tale. She did excel them all, and you could not have said whether her swift speed or her beauty was more worthy of your praise. When this maid once consulted with an oracle of her fate after marriage, the god answered her, You, Atalanta, never will have need of husband who will only be your harm. For your best good you should avoid the tie, but surely you will not avoid your harm, and while yet living you will lose yourself. She was so frightened by the oracle she lived unwedded in far-shaded woods, and with harsh terms repulsed insistent throngs of suitors. I will not be one, she said, till I am conquered first in speed. Contest the race with me, a wife and couch shall both be given to reward the swift, but death must recompense the one who lags behind. This must be the condition of a race. Indeed she was that pitiless, but such the power of beauty, a rash multitude, agreed to her harsh terms. Hippominis had come, a stranger, to the cruel race with condemnation in his heart against the raising young men for their headstrong love, and said, Why seek a wife at such a risk? But when he saw her face, and perfect form disturbed for perfect running, such a form is mine, a doness, or as yours, if you were a woman, he was so astonished he raised up his hands and said, Oh pardon me brave men whom I was blaming, I could not then realise the value of the prize you strove for. And as he is praising her, his own heart leaping with love's fire, he hopes no young man may outstrip her in the race, and full of envy fears for the result. But why, he cries, is my chance in the race untried. Divinity helps those who dare. But while the hero weighed it in his mind, the virgin flew as if her feet had wings. Although she seemed to him in flight as swift as any Scythian arrow, he admired her beauty more, and her swift speed appeared in her most beautiful. The breeze bore back the streamers on her flying ankles, while her hair was tossed back over her white shoulders. The bright trimmed ribbons at her knees were fluttering, and over her white, grillish body came a pink flush, just as when a purple awning across a marble hall gives it a wealth of borrowed hues. And while hippominies in wonder dazed at her, the gold was reached, and Atalanta crowned victorious with festal wreath, and all the vanquished youth spayed the death penalty with sighs and groans, according to the stipulated bond. Not frightened by the fate of those young men, he stood up boldly in the midst of all, and fixing his strong eyes upon the maiden, said, Where is the glory in an easy victory over such weaklings? Cry your fate with me. If fortune failed to favour you, how could it shame you to be conquered by a man? Magarius of Oncestus is my father, his grand sire Neptune, god of all disease. I'm descendant of the king of waves, and add to this, my name for manly worth has not disgraced the fame of my descent. If you should prove victorious against this combination, you will have achieved a great enduring name, the only one who ever bested great hippominies. While he was speaking, Atalanta's grace grew softer in her vacillating hopes to conquer and be conquered, till at last her heart, unbalanced, argued in this way. It must be some god envious of Ywb, wishing to spoil this one, prompts him to seek wedlock with me and risk his own dear life. I am not worth the price if I may judge. His beauty does not touch me, but I could be moved by it. I must consider he is but a boy. It is not he himself who moves me but his youth. Sufficient cause for thought are his great courage and his soul fearless of death. What of his high descent, great grandson of the king of all the seas? What of his love for me that has such great importance he would perish if his fate denied my marriage to him? O, strange boy, go from me while you can. Abandoned hope of this alliance stained with blood. A match with me is fatal. Other maids will not refuse to wed you and a wiser girl will gladly seek your love. But what concern is it of mine when I but think of those who have already perished? Let him look to it himself and let him die. Since he is not warned by his knowledge of the fate of many other suitors, he declares quite plainly he is weary of his life. Shall he then die because it must be his one hope to live with me and suffer death though undeserved for me because he loves? My victory will not ward off the hate, the odium of the deed, but it is not a fault of mine. O, ffond, ffond, man, I would that you had never seen me. But you were so madly set upon it I could wish you may prove much the swifter. O, how dear, how lovable is his young girlish face. Ah, doomed hippominies, I only wish Miss Chance had never let you see me. You're truly worthy of a life on earth if I had been more fortunate and not denied a happy marriage day. I would not share my bed with any man but you. All this the virgin Atalanta said and knowing nothing of the power of love she is so ignorant of what she does. She loves and does not know she is in love. Meanwhile her father and the people all loudly demanded the accustomed race. A supliant, the young hippominies, invoked me with his anxious voice. I pray to you, O Venus, queen of love, be near and help my daring. Smile upon the love you have inspired. The breeze, not envious, wafted this prayer to me. And I confess it was so tender it did move my heart. I had but little time to give him aid. There is a field there which the natives call the fields tamasas. The most prized of all the fertile lands of Cyprus. This rich field in ancient days was set apart for me by chosen elders who decreed to venture my temples yearly. In this field there grows a tree with gleaming golden leaves and all its branches crackle with bright gold. Since I was coming from there by some chance I had three golden apples in my hand which I had plucked. With them I planned to aid hippominies. While quite invisible to all but him, I taught him how to use those golden apples for his benefit. The trumpet soon gave signal for the race and both of them crouching, flashed quickly for it and skinned the surface of the sandy course with flying feet. You might even think those two could graze a sea with unwet feet and pass over the ripened heads of standing grain. Shouts of applause gave courage to the youth. The cheering multitude cried out to him. Now is the time to use your strength. Go on, hippominies, bend to the work. You're sure to win. It must be doubted who was most rejoiced by those brave words. Megaria's son or Shonious's daughter. Oh, how often when she could have passed him she delayed her speed and after gazing long upon his face reluctantly again would pass him. Now dry panting breath came from his weary throat. The gold still far away. Then nettooned seons through one of three golden apples. Adolanta, with wonder, saw it. Eager to possess the shining fruit she turned out of her coast, picked up the rolling gold. Hippominies passed by her while spectators roared applause. Increasing speed she overcame delay, made up for time lost, and again she left the youth behind. She was delayed again because he tossed another golden apple. She followed him and passed him in the race. The last part of the course remained. He cried, be near me, goddess, while I use your gift. With youthful might he threw the shining gold in an oblique direction to the side so that pursuit would mean a slow return. The virgin seemed to hesitate, in doubt whether to follow after his third prize. I forced her to turn for it, take it up, and adding weight to the gold fruit she held impeded her with weight and loss of time. For fear my narrative may stretch beyond the race itself, the maiden was outstripped. Hippominies then led his prize away. Adonis, did I not deserve his thanks with tribute of sweet incense? But he was ungrateful, and forgetful of my help, he gave me neither frank incense nor thanks. Such contact threw me into sudden rub, and fretting at the slight, I felt I must not be despised at any future time. I told myself it was only right to make a just example of them. There were near a temple hidden in the forest, which glorious Echion, and remember, time had built to rear mother of gods in payment of a vow. So, worried from the distance travelled, they were glad to have a needed rest. Hippominies, while there, were seized with love his heart could not control, a passion caused by my divinity. Quite near the temple was a cave-like place covered with pumice. It was hallowed by religious veneration of the past. Within the shadows of that place, a priest had stationed many wooden images of golden gods. The lovers entered there and desecrated it. The images were scandalised and turned their eyes away. The tower-crowned mother, Sibley, at first, prepared to plunge the guilty pair beneath the waves of sticks, but such a punishment seemed light, and so their necks that had been smooth were covered instantly with tawny mains. Their fingers bent to claws, their arms were changed to forelegs, and their bosums held their weight, and with their tails they swept the sandy ground. Their casual glances anger, and instead of words, they utter growls. They haunt the words a bridled room to their ferocious taste, and now fierce lions they are terrible to all of life, except to Sibley, whose harness has subdued their champing jaws. My dear Adonis, keep away from all such savage animals. Avoid all those who did not turn their fearful backs in flight, but offer their bold press to your attack. Nest courage should be fatal to us both. Indeed she warned him, harnessing her swans, she travelled swiftly through the yielding air, but his rash courage would not heed advice. By chance his dogs, which followed a sure track, harassed a wild boar from his hiding place, and as he rushed out from his forest lair, Adonis pierced him with a glancing stroke. Infuriated, the fierce boars curved snout first struck the spare shaft from his bleeding side, and while the trembling youth was seeking where to find a safe retreat, the savage beast raced after him, while at last he sank his deadly tusk deep in Adonis's groin and stretched him dying on the yellow sand. And now sweet Aphrodite, born through air in her light chariot, had not yet arrived at Cyprus on the wings of her white swans. afar she recognised his dying groans and turned her white birds towards the sound, and went down looking from the lofty sky, she saw him nearly dead, his body bathed in blood, she leaped down, tore her garment, tore her hair and beat her bosom with distracted hands. And blaming fate, said, but not everything is at the mercy of your cruel power. My sorrow for Adonis will remain enduring as a lasting monument. Each passing year the memory of his death shall cause an imitation of my grief. Your blood, Adonis, will become a flower perineal. Was it not allowed to you, Persephone, to transfer menthi slims into sweet, fragrant mint? And can this change of my beloved hero be denied to me? Her grief declared, she sprinkled his blood with sweet-smelling nectar, and his blood, as soon as touched by it, began to effervise just as transparent bubbles always rise in rainy weather. Nor was there a pause more than an hour when from Adonis's blood exactly of its colour, a loved flower sprang up, such as pomegranates gift to us, small trees which later hide their seeds beneath a tough rind. But the joy it gives to man is chocolate, for the winds which give the flower its name, and the morning shake it right down, because its slender hold, always so weak, lets it fall to the ground from its frail stem. End of Book 10, Part 3 Book 11, Part 1 of Ovid's Metamorphoses. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Drew Altschull. Metamorphoses by Publius Ovidius Nazo. Translated by Brooks Moore. Book 11, Part 1. While with his songs, Orpheus, the bard of Thrace allured the trees, the savage animals, and even the insensate rocks to follow him. Syconian matrons with their raving beasts concealed in skins of forest animals from the summit of a hill, observed him there attuning love songs to a sounding harp. One of these women, as her tangled hair was tossed upon the light breeze, shouted, See, here is the poet who has scorned our love. Then hurled her spear at the melodious mouth of great Apollo's bard. But the spear's point, trailing in flight, the fresh leaves made but a harmless bruise and wounded knot. The weapon of another was a stone, which in the very air was overpowered by the true harmony of his voice and lyre, and so disabled lay before his feet as asking pardon for that vain attempt. The madness of such warfare then increased, all moderation was entirely lost, and a wild fury overcomes the right. Although their weapons would have lost all force and objected to the power of Orpheus's harp, the clamour's discord of their boxwood pipes, the blaring of their horns, their tambourines and clapping hands and bacanalian yells, with hideous discords drowned his voice and harp. At last the stones that heard his song no more fell crimson with the Thracian poet's blood. Before his life was taken, the manheads turned their threatening hands upon the many birds, by Orpheus as he sang, the serpents and the company of beasts, fabulous audience of the worship bard. And then they turned on him their blood-stained hands and flocked together swiftly as wild birds, which by some chance may see the bird of night beneath the sun, and as the savage dogs rush on the doomed stag, loosed some bright forenoon on blood sand of the amphitheater, they rushed against the bard with swift hurled Thracii, which adorned with emerald leaves, had not till then been used for cruelty. And some through clods and others branches torn from trees, and others through flint stones at him, and that no lack of weapons might restrain their savage fury then. Not far from there by chance they found some oxen, which turned up the soil with plowshares and in fields nearby were strong armed peasants, who with eager sweat worked for the harvest as they dug hard fields, and all those peasants, when they saw the troop of frantic women, ran away and left their implements of labour thrown upon deserted fields, harrows and heavy rakes, and their long spades after the savage mob had seized upon those implements and torn to pieces oxen marmed, with threatening horns they hastened to destroy the harmless bard devoted Orpheus, and with impious hate murdered him while his outstretched hands implored their mercy. The first and only time his voice had no persuasion. Oh great Jupiter, through those same lips which had controlled the rock which had overcome ferocious beasts, his life breathed forth, departed in the air. The mournful birds, the stricken animals, the hard stones and the weeping woods, all these that often had followed your inspiring voice bewailed your death. While trees dropped their green leaves mourning for you as if they tore their hair, they say sad rivers swell with their own tears. Nayads and dryads with disheveled hair wore garments of dark colour. His torn limbs were scattered in strange places. Hebrews then received his head in harp, and wonderful, while his loved harp was floating down the stream, it mourned for him beyond my power to tell. His tongue, though lifeless, uttered a mournful sound and mournfully the rivers banked or plied. Onward, born by the river to the sea, they left their native stream and reached the shore of Lesbos at Methymna. Instantly a furious serpent rose to attack the head of Orpheus, cast up on that foreign sand the hair still wet with spray. Phoebus at last appeared and saved the head from that attack before the serpent could inflict a sting. He drove it off and hardened its wide jaws to rigid stone. Meanwhile, the fleeting shade of Orpheus had descended under earth, remembering now those regions that he saw when there before, he saw euridice through fields frequented by the blast and when he found her and folded her in eager arms. Then lovingly they wandered side by side or he would follow when she chose to lead. Or at another time he walked in front, looking back safely at euridice. Bacchus would not permit the wickedness of those who slaughtered Orpheus to remain unpunished, grieving for the loss of his loved bard of sacred rites and once he bound with twisted fruits the feet of everyone of those Edonian women who had caused the crime of Orpheus's death. Their toes grew long, he thrust the sharp points in the solid earth as when a bird entangled in a snare hid by the cunning fowler knows too late that it is held then vainly beats its wings and fluttering only makes more tight the noose with every struggle. So each woman fiend whose feet were sinking in the soil when she attempted flight was held by deepening roots and while she looks down there her toes and nails and feet should be she sees wood growing up from them and covering all her graceful legs full of delirious grief endeavoring to smite with right hand on her changing thigh she strikes on solid oak her tender breast and shoulders are transformed to rigid oak you would declare that her extended arms are real branches of a forest tree and such a thought would be the truth. And not content with this Bacchus resolved to leave that land and with a worthier train went to the vineyards of his own to Molus and to Pactolus though the river was not golden nor admired for precious sands. His usual throng of satyrs and of bacchanales surrounded him but not Salenus who was then detained from him. The Phrygian folk had captured him as he was staggering faint with palceid age and wine and after they bound him in garlands they led him to their king Midas to whom with the sacropion Eumolpus Thracian Orpheus had shown all the Bacchus rites when Midas recognized his old time friend Salenus who had been so often his companion in the rites of Bacchus he kept a joyful festival and with his old comrade twice five days and nights upon the eleventh day when Lucifer had dimmed the lofty multitude of stars King Midas and Salenus went from there joyful together to the Lydian lands there Midas put Salenus carefully under the care of his loved foster child young Bacchus he with great delight because he had his foster father once again allowed the king to choose his own reward a welcome offer but it led to harm and Midas made this ill-advised reply cause whatever I shall touch to change it once to yellow gold Bacchus agreed to his unfortunate request with grief that Midas chose for harm and not for good the better Synthian hero king of Phrydia with joy at his misfortune went away and instantly began to test the worth of Bacchus' word by touching everything doubtful himself of his new power he pulled a twig down from a home oak growing on a low lung branch the twig was turned to gold he lifted up a dark stone from the ground and it turned pale with gold he touched a clod and by his potent touch that clod became a mass of shining gold he plucked some ripe dry spears of grain and all that wheat we touched was golden then he held an apple which he gathered from a tree and you would think that his spherides had given it if he but touched a lofty door at once each door posts seemed to glisten when he washed his handed liquid streams the luster's drops upon his hands might have been those which once astonished Denne he could not now conceive his large hopes in his grasping mind as he imagined everything of gold and while he was rejoicing in great wealth his servant set a table for his meal with many dainties and with needful bread but when he touched the gift of Ceres with his right hand instantly the gift of Ceres stiffened to gold or if he tried to bite with hungry teeth a tender bit of meat the dainty as his teeth but touched it shown at once with yellow shreds and flakes of gold and wine another gift of Bacchus when he mixed it in pure water can be seen in his astonished mouth as liquid gold confounded by his strange misfortune rich and wreckish he was anxious to escape from his unhappy wealth he hated all he had so lately longed for he could not lessen hunger and no remedy relieved his dry parts throat the hated gold tormented him no more than he deserved lifting his hands and shining arms to heaven he moaned O pardon me Father Linnaeus I have done wrong but pity me I pray and save me from this curse that looks so fair O patient are the gods Bacchus forthwith because King Midas had confessed his fault restored him and annulled the promise given that you may not be always cased in gold which you unhappily desired depart to the stream that flows by the great town of Sardis and upward trace its waters that they glide past Lydian heights until you find their source then where the spring leaps out from mountain rock plunge head and body in the snowy foam at once the flood will take away your curse King Midas did as he was told and plunged beneath the water at the river source and the gold virtue granted by the god as it departed from his body tinged the stream with gold and even to this hour a joining fields touched by this ancient vein of gold are hardened with the river flows and colored with the gold that Midas left a pouring riches he inhabited the woods and fields and followed Pan who dwells always in mountain caves but still too surmain from which his foolish mind again by an absurd decision harmed his life he followed Pan up to the lofty Mount Tumullus which from its great height looks far across the sea steep and erected stands between great Sardis and the small Hipepa while Pan was boasting there to the mountain nymphs of his great skill in music and while he was warbling a gay tune upon the reeds cemented with soft wax in his conceit he dared to boast to them how he despised Apollo's music when compared with his at last to prove it he agreed stand against Apollo in a contest which it was agreed should be decided by Tumullus as their empire this old god sat down on his own mountain and first eased his ears of many mountain growing trees oak leaves were wreathed upon his azure hair and acorns from his hollow temples hung first to the shepherd god Tumullus spoke my judgement shall be yours with no delay Pan made some rustic sound on his rough reeds delighting Midas with his uncouth notes for Midas' chance to be there when he played when Pan had ceased divine Tumullus turned Phoebus and the forest likewise turned just as he moved Apollo's golden locks were richly wreathed with fresh Parnasian laurel his robe of Tyrion purple swept the ground his left hand held his lyre adorned with gems and Indian ivory his right hand held Plectrum as an artist he stood there before Tumullus while his skillful thumb touching the strings made charming melody delighted with Apollo's artful touch Tumullus ordered Pan to hold his reeds excelled by beauty of Apollo's lyre that judgement of the sacred mountain God pleased all those present all but Midas who blaming Tumullus called the award unjust the delian god forbids his stupid ears to hold their native human shape and drawing them out to a hideous length he fills them with grey hairs and makes them both unsteady wagging at the lower part still human only this one part condemned Midas had ears of a slow moving ass Midas careful to hide his long ears or purple turban over both which hid his foul disgrace from laughter but one day a servant who was chosen to cut his hair with steel when it was long saw his disgrace he did not dare reveal what he had seen but eager to disclose the secret dug a shallow hole and in a low voice told what kind of ears were on his master's head all this he whispered in the hollow earth he dug and then buried all he had said by throwing back the loose earth in the hole so everything was silent when he left a grove thick set with quivering reeds began to grow there and when it matured about 12 months after that servant left the grove betrayed its planter for moved by a gentle south wind it repeated all the words which he had whispered and disclosed from earth the secret of his master's ears his vengeance now complete Latona's son born through the liquid air departed from Timullus and then rested on the land of Leo Mellon this side the narrow sea dividing frigia from the land of Thrace the promontory of Sighim right and on the left of Reotim roughly arise and at that place an ancient altar had been dedicated to great jove the god Panam fan and near that place he saw Leo Mellon beginning then to build the walls of famous Troy he was convinced the task exceeded all the power of man requiring great resource together with the trident-bearing father of the deep he assumed a mortal form and those two gods agreed to labor for some of gold and built the mighty wall but that false king refused all payment adding perjury to his false bargaining Neptune in rage said you shall not escape your punishment and he drove all his waters high upon the shores of Troy built there through perfidy the sad land seemed to see the hard earned wealth of all its farmers was destroyed and overwhelmed by furious waves this awful punishment was not enough the daughter of the king was soon required as food for sea monster Hesione was chained to rugged rocks but Hercules delivered from all harm the royal maid and justly he demanded of the king her father payment of the promised seeds but that perfidious king refused to keep his promise Hercules enraged because all payment was denied to him for his great service captured the twice perjured walls of conquered Troy and as a fair reward he gave Telemann who fought for him Hesione love daughter of that king for Pellius had a god as his bride and he was prouder of his father-in-law than of his grandsire since not he alone was grandson of the great jove alone was honored with a goddess for a wife to Thetis aged Proteus once had said oh goddess of the waves you shall conceive and you shall be the mother of a youth who by heroic actions will surpass the deed of his own father and your son shall be superior towards father's power so Jupiter although the flame of love for Thetis burned his breast would not embrace the lovely daughter of the sea and urged his grandson Pellius son of Eicus to wed the green haired maid without delay there is a curved bay of hemonia where like an arch two bending arms project out in the waves as if to form a harbor but the water is not deep although enough to hide a shoal of sand it is a firm shore which will not retain a foot's impression nor delay the step no seaweeds grow in that vicinity there is a grove of myrtle near that place thick hung with berries blended of twin shades a cave within the middle of that grove is found and whether it was formed by art or nature is not known although it seems a work of art there Thetis often went quite naked seated on her dolphin which was harnest Pellius seized her there when she was fast asleep and after he had tried to win her by in treaties while she'd long continued to resist him he resolved to conquer her by violence and seized her neck with both arms she resorted then to all her usual art and often changed her shape as it was known so that he failed in his attempt at first she was a bird but while she seemed a bird he held her fast and then she changed herself to a large tree and Pellius clung with ardor to the tree her third disguise was a spotted tigress which frightened him so that he lost his hold then as he poured wine on the heaving sea he prayed unto the sea green gods and gave them sacrifice of sheep entrails and smoke of frankincense he ceased not till it last the prophet of Carpathia as he rose up from a deep wave said Hark unto me, O son of aecus you shall have the bride your heart desires when she at rest lies sleeping in the cool wave you must bind her while she is unwary with strong cords and complicated bonds and never let her art deceive you when she imitates a hundred varied forms but hold her fast whatever she may see until she shall at length assume the shape she had at first so Pellius cautioned him and hid his face beneath the waves as his last words were said now Titan was descending and the pole of his bright chariot as it downward bent illuminated the Hesperian main and at that time the lovely narrative Thetis departing from her ocean wave entered the cavern for desired repose Pellius was waiting there immediately just as he seized upon the virgin's limbs she changed her shape and persevered until convinced she could not overcome his hold for her two arms were forced apart she groaned and said you could not overcome me in this way but some divinity has given you the power then she appeared as Thetis and when Pellius saw her now deprived of all deceptions he embraced her and was father of the great Achilles end of book 11 part 1 book 11 part 2 of Ovid's Metamorphoses this is a Librivox recording all Librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit Librivox.org recording by Drew Alchill Metamorphoses by Publius Ovidius Nazo translated by Brooks Moore book 11 part 2 great Pellius's heart was filled with happiness because of his great son and Thetis's dear wife he was blessed in everything except in killing focus the Trachinian land received him guilty of his brother's blood when he fled banished from his native home there sex who had defined a countenance of Lucifer his father reigned his king without the cost of violence or blood before this time his days had always given him joy and comfort but all now has changed for he was mourning a loved brother's death Pellius outweired with his journey's length left his fine flock of sheep and all the herds he had brought with him not far from the walls of the house where sex long had reigned he entered with an olive branch all swathed in woollenfileth symbol of goodwill and with a suppliant hands closed his name he told the monarch who he was also his father's name but he concealed his crime giving untruthful reasons for his flight and begged a refuge either in town or field the king of Trachin answered with kind words aw Pellius even the lowest ranks enjoy our bounties and our hospitality and you bring with you powers which compel attention and respect your name is so lustrous and is not Jupiter your grand sire do not lose your time by such entreaties everything you may desire is yours as soon as known and all you see is partly yours but in how sad a state and then he wept and his friends asked him the reason of his grief he said perchants you deem that bird which lives on prey which is a terror of all other birds had always feathered wings it was a man and now the vigor of its courage is as great as when all well known by his man's name Daedalian bold in wars and strong and harsh and not afraid to hazard violence his father was unequaled Lucifer star of mourning who at dawn brings forth Aurora and withdraws the last of all the shining stars of heaven my brother named Daedalian son of that great star was fond of cruel warfare while I cherished peace and loved the quiet of my married life this brother powerful in the art of war subdued strong kings and nations and his he transformed from manhood now a bird of prey that so relentlessly pursues the doves known as the pride of Thisby's citizens my brother had a daughter Coyoni so beautiful she pleased a thousand men and when she had reached the marriageable age of twice seven years it happened by some chance that Phoebus the son of Maya who returned one from his Delphi the other from Silini's Heights beheld this lovely maid both at the same time and were both inflamed with passion Phoebus waited till the night Hermes could not endure delay and with the magic of his wand that causes sleep he touched the virgin's face and instantly as if entranced she lay there fast asleep and suffered violence from the ardent god when night bespangled the wide heaven with stars Phoebus became an aged crone and gained the joy he had deferred until that hour when her mature womb had completed time Autolicus was born a crafty son who certainly inherited the skill of Wingfoot Mercury his artful sire notorious now for every kind of theft in fact Autolicus with Mercury's craft loved to make white of black and black of white but Phoebus' child for Cionebore twins was named Philemon like his sire well known to all men for the beauty of his song and famous for his handling of the lyre what benefit in life did she obtain because she pleased two gods and bore such twins was she blessed by good fortune then because she was the daughter of a valiant father and even the grandchild of the morning star can glory be a curse often it is and surely it was so for Cionebore it was a prejudice that harmed her days because she wanted that she did not surpass Diana's beauty and decried her charms the goddess in hot anger answered her sarcastically if my face cannot give satisfaction let me try my deeds without delay Diana bent her bow and from the string an arrow swiftly flew and pierced the wanting tongue of Cione her tongue was silenced and she tried in vain to speak or make a sound and while she tried her life departed with the flowing blood embracing her I shared her father's grief I spoke consoling words to my dear brother he heard them as a cliff might hear the sea and he lamented bitterly the loss of his dear daughter snatched away from him when he saw her burning he was filled with such an uncontrolled despair he rushed four times to leap upon the blazing pyre and after he had been four times repulsed he to me ran beyond the speed of any human being you would think his feet had taken wings he left us far behind and swift in his desire for death he stood at last upon Parnassus sight Apollo pitied him and when the Dalian leaped over the steep cliff Apollo's power transformed him to a bird slender toes gave crooked claws his former courage still remains with strength greater than usual in birds he changed to a fierce hawk cruel to all he fenced his rage on other birds grieving himself he is a cause of grief to all his kind well sex the royal son of Lucifer told these great wonders of his brother's life Onator who had watched the wild those herds which Pellius had assigned to him ran up with panting speed and cried out as he ran Pellius! Pellius! I bring you dreadful news! Pellius asked him to tell what had gone wrong and with king sex he listened in suspense I drove the weary bollocks to the shore Onator then began about the time when the high burning sun in the middle course could look back on as much as might be seen remaining and some cattle that had then bent their knees on yellow sand and as they lay might view the expanse of water stretched beyond some with slow steps were wandering here and there another swimming stretched their lofty necks above the waves a temple near that sea was fair to view although it was not adorned with gold nor marble it was richly made of beams and shaded with an ancient grove a sailor while he dried his nets upon the shore nearby declared that aged Narius possessed it with his narids as the gods who ruled the neighboring waters very near it is a marsh made by the encroaching waves all thickly covered with low willow trees from there a loud uncanny crashing sound alarms the neighborhood a monster wolf all stained with mud he breaks forth from the marsh his thundering jaws thick covered with vile foam and clotted blood his fierce eyes flashing flames of crimson and though he was raging both with fury and with hunger the true cause of his fierce passions was ferocity he never paused to sate his ravenous hunger with the first cattle that he fell upon but mangled the whole herd as if it were and some of us while we defended them were wounded with his fatal bite and killed the shore and nearest waves were red with blood and marshy ffends were filled with mournful sounds the longings of our cattle this delay is dangerous we must not hesitate we must unite before all is destroyed take up your arms arm and unite I say and bear our weapons for the cause of right so spoke the countrymen and yet the loss had no effect on Pellius though severe for he remembering his red crime believed that Nerid had given him that loss a justice fortune as an offering to the departed focus after this King Seix while he put his armour on ordered his men to arm themselves with their best weapons and to follow his command but his fond wife Helsainey a grouse by such a tumult ran to him in hast in such hast that her hair was still unfinished and such as had been done she threw in wild disorder cling to the neck of her loved husband she entreated him with the words and tears to send his men along but keep himself at home and so to save two lives in one but Pellius said O Queen to sweet and commendable in you to fear but needless though you promised generous aid my hope lies not in fighting with the beast I must appease a goddess of the sea and the divinity of ocean must be properly adored a lofty tower is near there and upon its extreme height a signal fire is burning night and day known to the great ships they all went there and from its summit they beheld with sighs the mangled cattle scattered on the shore and saw the ravager among the herd his bloodstained jaws and long hair dripping blood then Pellius stretched his arms out towards the sea and he implored the azure of Samantha to lay aside her wrath and give him aid but she was deaf to any word of Pellius in treating her and would not offer aid till Thetis interceding on behalf of her afflicted husband moved her will the monster wolf persisted in his rage even when the sea nymph bade him turn aside his keen ferocity increased by taste of new sweet blood till Samantha while she was seizing the last mangled heifer's neck transformed him to hard marble every part of that ferocious monster's shape remained but it was changed to marble colored stone which showed the monster was no more than a wolf and should no longer be a cause of fear but still the guiding fate did not permit the banished Pellius to continue there in his land governed by the friendly king a wandering exile he proceeded north into Magnesia and was purified of guilt by King Acastus of that land End of book 11 part 2 we allege which happen since that time prepared to venture to the Clarion God that he might there consult the oracle so sanctified a consolation of distress for then the way to Delphi was unsafe because of Forbus and his Flegions before he went he told his faithful queen his dear Halkaianni she felt at once terror creeped through the marrow of her bones pallor of boxwood overspread her face and her two cheeks were wet with gushing tears three times she tried to speak while tears and sobs delayed her voice o'r holl, dwi'n cael ei wneud hynny. What fault of mine, my dearest, has so changed your usual thoughts? Where is the care for me that always has stood first? Can you leave me for this long journey with no anxious fear? How can he forsaken in these halls? Will this long journey be a pleasant change, because far from you I should be more dear? Perhaps you think you will go there by land, and I shall only grieve, and shall not fear the sea of frights me with its tragic face. Just lately I observed some broken planks upon our seashore, and I've read and read the names of seamen on their empty tombs. O let no false assurance fill your mind because your father-in-law is Eolus, who in a dungeon shuts the stormful winds and smooths at will the troubled ocean waves. Soon as the winds get freedom from his power they take entire possession of the deep, and nothing is forbidden their attack, and all the rites of every land and sea are disregarded by them. They insult even the clouds of heaven, and their wild concussions urge the lightnings to strike fires. The more I know of them, for I knew them in my childhood, and I often saw them from my father's home, the more I fear. But oh, dear husband, if this new resolve cannot be altered by my prayers and fears, and if you are determined, take me too. Some comfort may be gained if in the storms we may be tossed together. I shall fear only the ills that really come to us. Either we can certainly endure discomforts till we gain that distant land. Such words and tears of the daughter of Eolus gave Caex famed son of the morning star much thought and sorrow, for the flame of love burned in his heart as strongly as in hers. Reluctant to give up the voyage, even more to make Halkaianni his partner on the dangerous sea, he answered her complaints in many ways to pacify her breast, but could not comfort her until at last he said, This separation from your love will be most sorrowful, and so I swear to you, as witnessed by the sacred fire of my star father, if the fates permit my safe return I will come back to you before the moon has rounded twice her orb. These promises gave hope of his return. Without delay he ordered a ship should be drawn forth from the dock, launched in the sea, and properly supplied against the needs of travel. Doing this, Halkaianni, as if aware of future woe, shuddered, wept, and embraced him, and in extreme woe said with a sad voice, ah, farewell, and then her nervous body sank down to the ground. While Caex longed for some pretext to delay, the youthful oresmen, chosen for their strength, in double rows began to draw the ores back towards their hearty breasts, cutting the waves with equal strokes. She raised her weeping eyes and saw her husband on the high-curved stern. He by his waving hand made signs to her, and she returned his signals. Then the ship moved farther from the shore until her eyes could not distinguish his loved countenance. Still while she could, she followed with her gaze the fading hull, and when that too was lost far in the distance, she remained and gazed at the white topsoils waving from the mast. But when she could no longer see the sails, with anxious heart she sought her lonely couch and laid herself upon it. Couch and room renewed her sorrow, and reminded her how much of life was absent on the sea. The ship had left the harbour, and the breeze shook the taut rigging. Now the captain bade the idle ores be drawn up to the sides. They ran the pointed sailyards up the mast, and with a spread canvas caught the coming breeze. Perhaps the ship had not sailed half her course. On every side the land was out of sight, in fact, in a great distance. Then towards dark the sea grew white with its increasing waves, while boisterous east winds blew with violence. Prompt in his duty the captain warns the crew, lower the topsoils quick, furl all the sails tight to the yards. He ordered, but the storm bore all his words away, his voice could not be heard above the roaring of the sea. But of their own accord some sailors rushed to draw the ores in, others to secure the sides from danger, and some strove to pull the sails down from the wind. One pumps the waves up from the hold, and pours the rushing sea again into the sea. Another takes the yards off. While such things are being done without command or order, the wild storm increases, and on every side fierce winds wage a destructive warfare which stirs up the furious waters to their utmost power. Even the captain, terrified, confessed he did not know the status of the ship and could not order nor forbid the men. So great the storm, so far beyond his skill. Then he gave up control, while frightened men shouted above the rattled corded shocks, and heavy waves were dashed against huge waves, and all the sky reverberated with terrific thunders. The deep sea upturned tremendous billows, which appeared to reach so near the heaven they touched the heavy clouds with foam of their tossed waters. At one time, while the great billows churned up yellow sand from off the bottom, the wild rolling waves were of that color. At another time they were more black than the water of the sticks. Sometimes they leveled, white with lashing foam. The ship was tossed about in the wild storm aloft, as if from a mountain peak it seemed to look down on the valley in the depth of Acheron, and when sunk down in a trough of waves engulfing it appeared to look up at the zenith from infernal seas. Often the waves fell on the sides with crash as terrible as when a flying stone or iron ram shatters a citadel. As lions, mustering up their strength anew, might hurl their breasts against the spears and outstretched arms of huntsmen. So the waves upon the rising of the winds rushed forth against the battered sides of the tossed ship, and rose much higher than the slanting masts. The ship bolts lost their grip, the loosened planks despoiled of covering wax gave open seams through which streamed water of the fatal waves. Sheets of rain pour from dissolving clouds, so suddenly it seemed that all the heavens were flung into the deep, while swelling seas ascended to the emptied fields of heaven. The sails are drenched with rain, the salt sea waves are mingled with the waters of the skies. The firmament is black without a star, and night is doubly dark with its own gloom and blackness of the storm. Quick lightning makes the black skies glitter, and the waves are fired with flames of thunderbolts. Now floods leap up into the very middle of the ship. Just as a soldier, more courageous than the rest of his brave fellows, after he has often charged against the embattled walls of a defended city, gains at length the place which he has fought for. All inflamed with his desire of glory scales the wall and stands alone among a thousand foes. So when destructive waves have beat against the ship's high sides, the tenth wave, with known power, rushes more furious than the nine before, nor ceases to attack the failing ship, until dashed high above the captured walls at surges in the hold. Part of the sea is still attempting to get in the ship, and part is in it. All are panic-stricken, like men within a doomed and shaken town, who see some foes attack the walls without and others hold possession of the walls within the city. Every art has failed, their courage sinks. With every coming wave, another death seems rushing in upon them. One sailor yields in tears, another falls down stupefied, another calls those blessed whom funeral rites await. Another prays, addressing trusted gods, lifting his hands up to that heaven unseen, as vainly he implores some aid divine, and one in fright recalls his brothers and his parent, while another names his children and his home. Each frightened sailor thinks of all he left. One of them thinks only of Halkiani. No other name is on his lips but hers, and though he longs for her, yet he is glad that she is safe at home. Ah, how he tried to look back to the shore of his loved land, to turn his last gaze towards his wife and home, but he has lost direction. The tossed sea is raging in a hurricane so vast, and all the sky is hidden by the gloom of thickened storm clouds doubled in pitch black. The mast is shattered by the violence of drenching tempests and the useless helm is broken. One undaunted giant wave stands over Wreck and Spoil and looks down like a conqueror upon the other waves, then falls as heavily as if some god should hurl Mount Athos or Mount Pindus torn from rock foundations into that wide sea. So with downrushing weight and violence it struck and plunged the ship to the lowest deeps. And as the ship sank, many of the crew sank overwhelmed in deep surrounding waves, never to rise from suffocating death, but some in desperation clung for life to broken timbers and escaped that fate. King Caggs clung to a fragment of the wreck with that majestic hand which often before had proudly swayed the scepter. And in vain, alas, he called upon his father's name, alas, he begged his father-in-law's support. But while he swam, his lips most frequently pronounced that dearest name, Halkiani. He longs to have his body carried by waves to her dear gaze, and have at last entwmpment by the hands of his loved friends. Swimming he called Halkiani, far off, as often as the billows would allow his lips to open, and among the waves his darling's name was murmured, till at last a night black arch of water swept above the highest waves and buried him beneath engulfing billows. Lucifer was dim past recognition when the dawn appeared, and since he never could depart from heaven, soon hid his grieving countenance in clouds. Meanwhile, Halkiani, all unaware of his sad wreck, counts off the passing nights and hastens to prepare for him his clothes that he may wear as soon as he returns to her, and she is choosing what to wear herself and vainly promises his safe return. All this indeed while she and hallowed prayer is giving frankincense to please the gods, and first of loving adorations she paid at the shrine of Juno. There she prayed for Cax, after he had suffered death that he might journey safely and return and might love her above all other women. This one last prayer alone was granted to her, but Juno could not long accept as hers these supplications on behalf of one then dead, and that she might persuade Halkiani to turn her death-polluted hands away from hallowed altars. Juno said in haste, O Iris, best of all my messengers, go quickly to the dreadful court of sleep, and in my name command him to dispatch a dream in the shape of Cax, who is dead, and tell Halkiani the woeful truth. So she commanded. Iris instantly assumed a garment of a thousand tints, and as she marked the high skies with her arch, went swiftly thence as ordered to the place where sleep was then concealed beneath a rock. Near the Camarian land there is a cave with a long entrance, in a hallowed mountain, the home of slothful sleep. To that dark cave, the sun when rising or in middle skies or setting never can approach with light. There dense fogs, mingled with the dark, exhale darkness from the black soil, and all that place is shadowed in a deep mysterious gloom. No wakeful bird with visage crested high, calls forth the morning's beauty in clear notes. Nor do the watchful dogs more watchful geese, nor wild beasts cattle nor the waving trees make sound or whisper, and the human voice is never heard there. Silent rest is there. But from the bottom of a rock beneath, lethean waters of a stream ooze forth, sounds of a rivulet which trickle with soft murmuring amid the pebbles and invite soft sleep. Before the cavern doors most fertile poppies and a wealth of herbs bloom in abundance, from the juice of which the humid night-hours gather sleep and spread it over darkened earth. No door is in that cavern home, and not a hinge's noise nor guarding porter's voice deserbs the calm. But in the middle is a resting couch, raised high on night-black ebony and soft with feathered cushions all jet black, concealed by a rich coverlet as dark as night on which the god of sleep, dissolved in sloth, lies with unmoving limbs. And him there, in all directions, unsubstantial dreams recline in imitation of all shapes, as many as the uncounted ears of corn at harvest, as the myriad leaves of trees or tiny sand grains spread upon the shore. As soon as Iris entered that dread gloom, she pushed aside the visions in her way with her fair glowing hands, and instantly that sacred cavern of the god of sleep was all illuminated with the glow and splendour of her garment. God of himself, the god with difficulty, lifted up his languid eyes. From this small sign of life relapsing many times to languid sloth, while nodding, with his chin he struck his breast again and again. At last he roused himself from gloom and slumber, and while raised upon his elbow he inquired of Iris why she came to him. He knew her by her name. She answered him, O sleep, divine repose of all things, gentlest of the deities, to the troubled mind from which you drive the cares of life, Restorer of men's strength when wearied by the toils of day, command a vision that shall seem the actual form of royal cagues, to visit Traykin, famed for hercules, and tell Halkiani his death by shipwreck. It is Juno's wish. Iris departed after this was said, for she no longer could endure the effect of slumber vapour, and as soon as she knew sleep was creeping over her tired limbs she flew from there, and she departed by the rainbow over which she came before. Out of the multitude his thousand sons, the God of sleep raised Morpheus by his power, most skillful of his sons who had the art of imitating any human shape, and dexterously could imitate in men the gate and countenance and every mode of speaking. He could simulate the dress and customary words of any man he chose to represent, but he could not have assumed the form of anything but man. Such was his art. Another of sleep's sons could imitate all kinds of animals, such as a wild beast or a flying bird, or even a serpent with its twisted shape, and that son by the gods above was called Ikelos, but the inhabitants of earth called him Phobitor, and a third son named Phantasos cleverly could change himself into the forms of earth that have no life, into a statue, water, or a tree. It was the habit of these three to show themselves at night to kings and generals, and other sons would frequently appear among the people of the common class. All such the aged God of sleep passed by, selecting only Morpheus from among the many brothers to accomplish this and execute what Iras had desired. And after all that work he dropped his head and sank again in languid drowsiness, shrinking to sloth within his lofty couch. Morpheus at once flew through night of darkness on his wings that make no sound, and in brief space of intervening time arrived at the heimonian city of walls, and there he laid aside his wings and took the face and form of kayaks. In that form, as one deprived of life, devoid of clothes, won and ghastly, he stood beside the bed of the sad wife. The hero's beard seemed dripping, sea water streamed down from his drenching hair. Then leaning on the bed while dropping tears were running down his cheeks he said these words. Most wretched wife, can you still recognize your own loved kayaks, or have my looks changed so much with death you cannot? Look at me and you will be assured I am your own, but here instead of your dear husband you will find only his ghost. Your faithful prayers did not avail Halkianni and I have perished. Give up all deluding hopes of my return. The stormy south wind caught my ship while sailing the Aegean sea, and there, tossed by the mighty wind, my ship was dashed to pieces. While I vainly called upon your name the angry waters closed above my drowning head, and it is no uncertain messenger that tells you this, and nothing from vague rumours has been told, but it is I myself come from the wreck now telling you my fate. Come then, arise, shed tears, and put on mourning. Do not send me unlamented down to Tartarus." Morthias added to these words a voice which she would certainly believe was her beloved husband's, and he seemed to be shedding fond human tears, and even his hands were moved in gestures that kayaks often used. Halkianni shed tears and groaned aloud, and as she moved her arms and caught at his dear body, she embraced the vacant air. She cried out loudly, Stay, oh, stay with me! Why do you hurry from me? We will go together! By her own excited voice, and by what seemed to be her own dear husband, she awoke from sleep, and first looked all about her to persuade herself that he whom she had lately seen must yet be with her, for she had aroused the servants who in haste brought lights desired. When she could find him nowhere in despair, she struck her face and tore her garment from her breast, and beat her breast with mourning hands. She did not wait to loosen her long hair but tore it with her hands, and to her nurse who asked the cause of her wild grief, she cried. Alas! Halkianni is no more, no more! With her own kayaks she is dead, is dead! Away with words of comfort, he is lost by shipwreck. I have seen him, and I knew him surely, as a ghost he came to me, and when desirous to detain him, I stretched forth my arms to him, his ghost left me, it vanished from me. But it surely was the ghost of my dead husband. If you ask description of it, I must truly say he did not have his well-known features. He was not so cheerful as he was in life. Alas! I saw him pale and naked with his hair still dripping. His ghost from the waves stood on this very spot, and while she moaned, she saw his footprints on the floor. Alas! This was my fear. This is what my mind shuddered to think of when I begged that you would not desert me for the wind's control. But how I wish, since you were sailing forth to Parish, that you had but taken me with you. If I had gone with you it would have been advantage to me, for I should have shared the whole course of my life with you, and you would not have met a separate death. I linger here, but I have met my death. I toss on waves and adrift upon the sea. My heart would be more cruel than the waves if it should ask me to endure this life. If I should struggle to survive such grief, I will not strive nor leave you sore forlorn. At least I'll follow you to death. If not the urn, at least the lettered stone shall keep us still together. If your bones are not united with my bones, tis sure our names must be united. Overcome with grief she could not say another word, but she continued wailing, and her crones were heaved up from her sorrow-stricken breast. At early dawn she went from her to Bode down to the seashore, where most wretchedly she stood upon the spot from which she sailed, and sadly said, he lingered here while he was loosening the cables, and kissed me on this seashore when he left me here. And while she called to recollection all that she had seen when standing there, and while she looked far out on flowing waves from there, she noticed floating on the distant sea, what shall I say? At first even she could not be sure of what she saw. But presently, although still distant, it was certainly a floating corpse. She could not see what man he might be, but because it seemed to her it surely was a shipwrecked body. She was moved as at an omen, and began to weep. And moaning as she stood there said, ah wretched one, whoever it may be, ah wretched is the wife whom you have left. As driven by the waves the body came still nearer to her, she was less and less the mistress of herself the more she looked upon it. And when it was close enough for her to see its features, she beheld her husband. It is he, she cried, and then she tore her face, her hair, her royal robe, and then extending both her trembling hands towards Cax. So, dearest one, so do you come to me again, she cried, oh luckless mate. A mole, made by the craft of man, adjoins the sea and breaks the shoreward rush of waves. To this she leaped it seemed impossible. And then, while beating the light air with wings that instant formed upon her, she flew on, a morning bird, and skimmed above the waves. And while she lightly flew across the sea, her clacking mouth with its long slender bill, full of complaining uttered moaning sounds. But when she touched the still and pallid form, embracing his dear limbs with her new wings, she gave cold kisses with her hardened bill. All those who saw it doubted whether Cax could feel her kisses, and it seemed to them the moving waves had raised his countenance. But he was truly conscious of her grief, and through the pity of the gods above, at last they both were changed to flying birds, together in their fate. Their love lived on, nor in these birds were marriage bonds dissolved, and they soon coupled and were parent birds. Each winter, during seven full days of calm, Halkaiani broods on her floating nest, her nest that sails upon a Halcyon sea. The passage of the deep is free from storms throughout those seven full days, and Aeolus restraining harmful winds within their cave, for his descendants' sake gives Halcyon seas. An old man saw the two birds fly across the wide extended sea, and praised their love and dying to the end. His old friend who stood near him said, There is another bird, which you can see skimming above the waves with folded legs drawn up. And as he spoke he pointed at a dive dapper, which had a long throat, and continued, It was the first son of a great king as Kex was, and if you wish to know his ancestry I can assure you he descended from Illas, Asarakus, and Ganymede, taken by Jupiter, and old Laomedon and Priam, ruler at the fall of Troy. Isacus was the brother of the great illustrious Hector, and if he had not been victimised by a strange fate in youth he would have equaled Hector's glorious fame. Hector was child of Hecuba, who was daughter of Demas. The daughter of the two-horned Granicus, so rumour has it, secretly brought forth Isacus, hidden under Ida's shade. He loathed the city and away from court frequented lonely mountains in the fields of unambitious peasants. Rarely he was seen among the throngs of Illiam. Yet neither churlish nor impregnable to love's appeal, he saw Hesperia, the daughter of Cybrenus, while she was once resting on the velvet shaded banks of her sire's cherished stream. Isacus had so often sought for her through the woods. Just when he saw her while she rested there, her hair spread on her shoulders to the sun, she saw him, and without delay she fled, even as the frightened deer runs from the wolf or as the water-duck when she has left her favoured stream, surprised, flies from the hawk. Isacus followed her as swift with love as she was swift with fear. But in the grass a lurking snake struck at her rosy heel and left its venom in her flesh, and so her flight was ended by untimely death. Oh, frantic! he embraced her breathless foreman, cried. Alas! alas that I pursued! I did not dream of such a dreadful fate! Success was not worth such a price. I and the snake together caused your death. The serpent gave the wound. I was the cause. Mine is the greater guilt, and by my death I'll give you consolation for your death. He said those words and leaped on a high rock, which years of sounding waves had undermined, and hurled himself into the sea below. Tethys was moved with pity for his fall and received him softly, and then covered him with feathers as he swam among the waves. The death he sought for was not granted him. At this the lover was wroth. Against his will he was obliged to live in his distress, with opposition to his spirit that desired departure from the wretched pain of life. As he assumed upon his shoulders, wings new formed, he flew aloft, and from that height again he plunged his body in the waves. His feathers broke all danger of that fall, and this new bird, Issacus, plunged headlong into the deep, and tried incessantly that method of destruction. His great love, unsatisfied, made his sad body lean, till even the space is fixed between the joints of his legs have grown long, his neck is long so that his head is far away from his lean body. Still he hunts the sea and takes his name from diving in the waves. Bwch 12. Part 1 Sadly, his father Priam mourned for him not knowing that young Issacus had assumed wings on his shoulders and was yet alive. Then also Hector with his brothers made complete but unavailing sacrifice upon a tomb which bore his carved name. Paris was absent, but soon afterwards he brought into that land a ravished wife, Helen, the cause of a disastrous war, together with a thousand ships, and all the great Pallasgian nation. Vengeans would not long have been delayed, but the fierce winds raged overseas impossible and held the ships at Fishi Aulus. They could not be moved from the Boeishan land. Here when a sacrifice had been prepared to Jove, according to the custom of their land, and when the ancient altar glowed with fire, the Greeks observed an azure coloured snake crawling up in a plain tree near the place where they had just begun their sacrifice. Among the highest branches was a nest, with twice four birds, and those the serpent seized together with a mother bird as she was fluttering round her loss, and every bird the serpent buried in his greedy moor. All stood amazed, but Calcas, who perceived the truth, exclaimed, Rejoice Pallasgian men, for we shall conquer, Troy will fall, although the toil of war must long continue so the nine birds equal nine long years of war. And while he prophesied, the serpent, coiled about the tree, was transformed to a stone, curled crooked as a snake. But neary has stormed in those Aeonian waves, and not a ship moved forward. Some declare that Neptune thus was aiding Troy because he built the walls of that great city. Not so Calcas, son of Thestor. He knew all the truth, and told them plainly that a virgin's blood alone might end a virgin goddess's wrath. The public good at last prevailed above affection, and the duty of a king at last proved stronger than a father's love, when Iphigenia as a sacrifice stood by the altar with her weeping maids, and was about to offer her chaste blood, the goddess, moved by pity, spread a mist before their eyes, amid the sacred rites and mournful supplications. It is said she left a hind there in the maiden's place and carried Iphigenia away. The hind, as it was fitting, calmed Diana's rage, and also calmed the anger of the sea. The thousand ships received the winds of stern and gained the frigent shore. There is a spot convenient in the centre of the world between the land and sea and the wide heavens, the meeting of the threefold universe. From there is seen all things that anywhere exist, although in distant regions far. And there all sounds of earth and space are heard. Fame is possessor of this chosen place, and has her habitation in a tower which aids her view from that exalted highs. And she has fixed there numerous avenues and openings a thousand to a tower, and no gates with closed entrance, for the house is open night and day, of sounding brass re-echoing the tones of every voice. It must repeat whatever it may hear. And there is no rest and silence in no part. There is no clamour. But the murmuring sound of subdued voices, such as may arise from waves of a far sea, which one may hear who listens at a distance. Or the sound which ends a thunder-clap when Jupiter's clashed black clouds together. Fickle crowds are always in that hall that come and go, and myriad rumours, false tales mixed with true, are circulated in confusing words. Some fill their empty ears with all this talk, and some spread elsewhere all that's told to them. The volume of wild fiction grows apace, and each narrator adds to what he hears. Credulity is there and rash mistake, and empty joy, and coward fear alarmed by quick sedition, and soft whisper all of doubtful life. Fame sees what things are done in heaven and on the sea and on the earth. She spies all things in the wide universe. When now had spread the tidings, a great fleet of Greek ships was at that time on its way, an army of brave men. The Trojan stood all ready to prevent the hostile Greeks from landing on their shores. By the decree of fate, the first man killed of the invader's force was strong Protocellaeus, by the spear of valiant hecta, whose unthought-of power at that time was discovered by the Greeks to their great cost. The Phrygians also learned, at no small cost of blood, what war-like strength came from the Grecian land. The Sygyn shores grew red with death-blood. Cygnus, Neptune's son, there slew a thousand men, for which, in wrath, Achilles pressed his rapid chariot straight through the Trojan army, making a lane with his great spear, shaped from a peleon tree. And as he sought through the fierce battle's press, either for Cygnus, or for Hector, he met Cygnus and engaged once with him. Fate had preserved great Hector from such fo till ten years from that day. Cheering his steeds, their white necks pressed upon the straining yoke, he steared the chariot towards his fo and brandishing the spear with his strong arm, he cried. Whoever you may be, you have the consolation of a glorious death you die by me, hemonian Achilles. His heavy spear flew after the fierce words, although the spear was world-direct and true, yet nothing it availed with sharpened point. It only bruised as with a blunted stroke the breast of Cygnus. By report when you of you before this battle, God is born? The other answered him, but why are you surprised that I escaped the threatened wound? Achilles was surprised. This helmet crowned, with its tawny horse-hair and this shield, broad hollowed, and my left arm are not held for help and war. They are but ornament as Mars wears armour. All of them shall be put off, and I will fight with you unhurt. It is a privilege that I was born not as you of Neread, but of him whose powerful rule is over Nereas, his daughters and their ocean. So he spoke. Immediately he threw his spear against Achilles, destined to pierce the curving shield through brass and through nine folds of tough balls hide. It stopped there, for it could not pierce the tenth. The hero wrenched it out and hurled again a quivering spear at Cygnus, with great strength. The Trojan stood unwounded and unharmed. Nor did a third spear injure Cygnus, though he stood there with his body all exposed. Achilles raged at this as a wild bull in open circus, when with dreadful horns he butts against the hanging purple robes which stir his wrath, and there observes how they evade him quite unharmed by his attack. Achilles then examined his good spear to see if by some chance the iron point was broken from it, but the point was firm, fixed on the wooden shaft. My hand is weak, he said, but is it possible its strength for succ me, though it never has before? For surely I had my accustomed strength when first I overthrew Lannesus walls, or when I won the Isle of Tenedos, or Thebes, then under King Aetion, and I drenched both with their own people's blood, or when the river Caecus ran red with slaughter of its people, or when twice Telethys felt the virtue of my spear. On this field also was such heaps like slain my right hand surely has proved its true might, and it is mighty. So he spoke of strength, remembered. But as if in proof against his own distrust, he hurled a spear against Minuites, a soldier in the Lysian ranks. The sharp spear tore the victim's coat of mail and pierced his breast beneath. Achilles, when he saw his dying head strike on the earth, wrenched the same spear from out the reeking wound and said, This is the hand, and this the spear I conquered with, and I will use the same against him who in luck escaped their power, and the result should favour as I pray the helpful guards. And as he said such words, in haste he hurled his ashen spear again at Cygnus. It went straight and struck unshunned. Resounding on the shoulder of that foe, it bounced back as if it hit a wall or solid cliff. Yet when Achilles saw just where the spear struck, Cygnus there was stained with blood. He instantly rejoiced, but vainly, for it was Minuites' blood. Then in a sudden rage Achilles lept down headlong from his lofty chariot, and seeking his guard-favoured foe, he struck in conflict fiercely with his gleaming sword. Although he saw that he had pierced both shield and helmet through, he did not harm the foe, his sword was even blunted on the flesh. Achilles could not hold himself for rage, but furious, with his sword hilt in the shield, he batted wildly the uncovered face and hollow temples of his trojan foe. Cygnus gave way. Achilles rushed on him, comforting fiercely, so that he could not recover from the shock. Fear seized upon Cygnus and darkness swam before his eyes. Then as he moved back with retreating steps, a large stone hindered him and blocked his way. His back pushed against this. Achilles seized and dashed him violently to the ground. Then pressing with buckler and hard knees the breast of Cygnus, he unlaced the helmet thongs, wound them about the foe's neck and drew them tightly under his chin till Cygnus' throat could take no breath of life. Achilles rose eager to strip his conquered foe but found his empty armour, for the guard of ocean had changed the victim into that white bird whose name he'd lately bore. There was a truce for many days after this opening fight while both sides resting laid aside their arms. A watchful guard patrolled the frigent walls. The Grecian trenches had their watchful guard. Then, on a festal day, Achilles gave the blood of a slain heffa to obtain the favour of Athena for their cause. The entrails burned upon the altar while the odour, grateful to the deities, was mounting to the skies. When sacred rites were done, a banquet for the heroes was served on their tables. There the Grecian chiefs reclined on couches, while they satisfied themselves with roasted flesh and banished cares, and thirst with wine. Nor harp, nor singing voice nor long pipe made of boxwood pierced with holes, delighted them. They talked of their own deans in valour, all that thrilling night, and even the strength of enemies whom they had met and overcome. What else could they admit or think of, while the great Achilles spoke or listened to them? But especially the recent victory over Cygnus held them ardent. Wonderful it seemed to them that such a youth could be composed of flesh not penetrable by the sharpest spear, of flesh which blunted even hardened steel, and never could be wounded. All the Greeks and even Achilles wondered at the thought. Then Nestor said to them, During your time Cygnus has been the only man you knew who could despise all the weapons, and whose flesh could not be pierced by thrust of sword or spear. But long ago I saw another man able to bear unharmed a thousand strokes. Cinius of Thessaly. Cinius who lived upon Mount Othras. He was famed in war yet strange to say, by birth he was a woman. Then all expressed the greatest wonderment and begged to hear the story of his life. Achilles cried, O eloquent old man, the wisdom of our age, all of us wish to hear who was this Cinius. Why was he changed to the other sex, in what campaigns, and in what wars was he so known to you? Who conquered him, if any ever did? The aged man replied to them with care. Although my great age is a harm to me, and many actions of my early days escape my memory, yet most of them are well remembered. Nothing of old days amid so many deeds of war and peace can be more firmly fixed upon my mind than the strange story I shall tell of him. If long extensive years made any one a witness of most wonderful events, and many truly I may say to you that I've lived two hundred years, and now have entered my third century.