Chapter XXIV: Book THE SEVENTH: Fable I. Vii.1-158 (2)

[Footnote 69: _Pirenian Ephyre._--Ver. 391. Corinth was so called
from Ephyre, the daughter of Neptune, who was said to have lived
there. Its inhabitants were fabled to have sprung from mushrooms.]

[Footnote 70: _Titanian dragons._--Ver. 398. Her dragons are so
called, either because, as Pindar says, they had sprung from the
blood of the Titans, or because, according to the Greek tradition,
the chariot and winged dragons had been sent to Medea by the Sun,
one of whose names was Titan.]

[Footnote 71: _Phineus._--Ver. 399. Any further particulars of the
person here named are unknown. Some commentators suggest ‘Phini,’
and that some female of the name of Phinis is alluded to, making
the adjective ‘justissime’ of the feminine gender.]

[Footnote 72: _Periphas._--Ver. 400. He was a very ancient king of
Attica, before the time of Cecrops, and was said to have been
changed into an eagle by Jupiter, while his wife was transformed
into an osprey.]

[Footnote 73: _Polypemon._--Ver. 401. This was a name of the
robber Procrustes, who was slain by Theseus. Halcyone, the
daughter of his son Scyron, having been guilty of incontinence,
was thrown into the sea by her father, on which she was changed
into a kingfisher, which bore her name.]

EXPLANATION.

Jason being reconciled to the children of Pelias, gave the crown to
his son Acastus. Becoming tired of Medea, he married Glauce, or
Creüsa, the daughter of Creon, king of Corinth. Medea, hastening to
that place, left her two sons in the temple of Juno, and set fire to
Creon’s palace, where he and his daughter were consumed to ashes,
after which she killed her own children. Euripides, in his tragedy of
Medea, makes a chorus of Corinthian women say, that the Corinthians
themselves committed the murder, and that the Gods sent a plague on
the city, as a punishment for the deed. Pausanias also says, that the
tomb of Medea’s children, whom the Corinthians stoned to death, was
still to be seen in his time; and that the Corinthians offered
sacrifices there every year, to appease their ghosts, as the oracle
had commanded them.

Apollodorus relates this story in a different manner. He says, that
Medea sent her rival a crown, dipped in a sort of gum of a combustible
nature; and that when Glauce had put it on her head, it began to burn
so furiously, that the young princess perished in the greatest misery.
Medea afterwards retired to Thebes, where Hercules engaged to give her
assistance against Jason, which promise, however, he failed to
perform. Going thence to Athens, she married Ægeus.

The story of her winged dragons may, perhaps, be based on the fact,
that her ship was called ‘the Dragon.’ In recounting the particulars
of her flight, Ovid makes allusion to several stories by the way, the
most of which are entirely unknown to us. With regard to these
fictions, it may not be out of place to remark here, as affording a
key to many of them, that where a person escaped from any imminent
danger, it was published that he had been changed into a bird. If, to
avoid pursuit, a person hid himself in a cave, he was said to be
transformed into a serpent; and if he burst into tears, from excess of
grief, he was reported to have changed into a fountain; while, if a
damsel lost herself in a wood, she became a Nymph, or a Dryad. The
resemblance of names, also, gave rise to several fictions: thus,
Alopis was changed into a fox; Cygnus into a swan; Coronis into a
crow; and Cerambus into a horned beetle. As some few of the stories
here alluded to by Ovid, refer to historical events, it may be
remarked, that the account of the women of Cos being changed into
cows, is thought by some to have been founded on the cruel act of the
companions of Hercules, who sacrificed some of them to the Gods of the
country. The inhabitants of the Isle of Rhodes were said to have been
changed into rocks, because they perished in an inundation, which laid
a part of that island under water, and particularly the town of
Ialysus. The fruitfulness of the daughter of Alcidamas occasioned it
to be said, that she was changed into a dove. The rage of Mæra is
shown by her transformation into a bitch; and Arne was changed into a
daw, because, having sold her country, her avarice was well depicted
under the symbol of that bird, which, according to the popular
opinion, is fond of money. Phillyra, the mother of the Centaur Chiron,
was said to be changed into a linden-tree, probably because she
happened to bear the name of that tree, which in the Greek language is
called φιλύρα.

FABLE IV. [VII.402-468]

Hercules chains the dog Cerberus, the guardian of the gates of the
Infernal Regions. Theseus, after his exploits at Corinth, arrives at
Athens, where Medea prepares a cup of poison for him. The king,
however, recognizing his son, just as he is about to drink, snatches
away the cup from him, while Medea flies in her chariot. Ægeus then
makes a festival, to celebrate the arrival and preservation of
Theseus. In the mean time, Minos, the king of Crete, solicits several
princes to assist him in a war against Athens, to revenge the death of
his son Androgeus, who had been murdered there.

Ægeus, to be blamed for this deed alone, shelters her; and hospitality is not enough, he also joins her {to himself} by the ties of marriage. And now was Theseus, his son, arrived, unknown to his father, who, by his valor, had established peace in the Isthmus between the two seas. For his destruction Medea mingles the wolfsbane, which she once brought with her from the shores of Scythia. This, they say, sprang from the teeth of the Echidnean dog. There is a gloomy cave,[74] with a dark entrance, {wherein} there is a descending path, along which the Tirynthian hero dragged away Cerberus resisting, and turning his eyes sideways from the day and the shining rays {of the Sun}, in chains formed of adamant; he, filled with furious rage, filled the air with triple barkings at the same moment, and sprinkled the verdant fields with white foam. This, they suppose, grew solid, and, receiving the nourishment of a fruitful and productive soil, acquired the power of being noxious. Because, full of life, it springs up on the hard rock, the rustics call it aconite.[75]

This, by the contrivance of his wife, the father Ægeus himself presented to his son,[76] as though to an enemy. Theseus had received the presented cup with unsuspecting right hand, when his father perceived upon the ivory hilt of his sword the tokens of his race,[77] and struck the guilty {draught} from his mouth. She escaped death, having raised clouds by her enchantments.

But the father, although he rejoices at his son’s being safe, astonished that so great a wickedness can be committed with so narrow an escape from death, heats the altars with fires, and loads the Gods with gifts; and the axes strike the muscular necks of the oxen having their horns bound with wreaths. No day is said {ever} to have shone upon the people of Erectheus more famous than that--the senators and the common people keep up the festivity; songs, too, they sing, wine inspiring wit. “Thee, greatest Theseus,” said they, “Marathon[78] admired for {shedding} the blood of the Cretan bull; and that the husbandman ploughs Cromyon[79] in safety from the boar, is thy procurement and thy work. By thy means the country of Epidaurus saw the club-bearing son of Vulcan[80] fall; {and} the banks of the river Cephisus[81] saw the cruel Procrustes {fall by thee}. Eleusis, sacred to Ceres, beheld the death of Cercyon.[82] Sinnis[83] fell too, who barbarously used his great powers; who was able to bend {huge} beams, and used to pull pine trees from aloft to the earth, destined to scatter {human} bodies far and wide. The road to Alcathoë,[84] the Lelegeïan city, is now open in safety, Scyron[85] being laid low {in death}: {and} the earth denies a resting-place, the water, {too}, denies a resting-place to the bones of the robber scattered piecemeal; these, long tossed about, length of time is reported to have hardened into rocks. To {these} rocks the name of Scyron adheres. If we should reckon up thy glorious deeds, and thy years, thy actions would exceed thy years {in number}. For thee, bravest {hero}, we make public vows: in thy honor do we quaff the draughts of wine.” The palace rings with the acclamations of the populace, and the prayers of those applauding; and there is no place sorrowing throughout the whole city.

And yet (so surely is the pleasure of no one unalloyed, and some anxiety is {ever} interposing amid joyous circumstances), Ægeus does not have his joy undisturbed, on receiving back his son. Minos prepares for war; who, though he is strong in soldiers, strong in shipping, is still strongest of all in the resentment of a parent, and, with retributive arms, avenges the death of {his son} Androgeus. Yet, before the war, he obtains auxiliary forces, and crosses the sea with a swift fleet, in which he is accounted strong. On the one side, he joins Anaphe[86] to himself; and the realms of Astypale; Anaphe by treaty, the realms of Astypale by conquest; on the other side, the low Myconos, and the chalky lands of Cimolus,[87] and the flourishing Cythnos, Scyros, and the level Seriphos;[88] Paros, too, abounding in marble, and {the island} wherein the treacherous Sithonian[89] betrayed the citadel, on receiving the gold, which, in her covetousness, she had demanded. She was changed into a bird, which even now has a passion for gold, the jackdaw {namely}, black-footed, and covered with black feathers.

[Footnote 74: _A gloomy cave._--Ver. 409. This cavern was called
Acherusia. It was situate in the country of the Mariandyni, near
the city of Heraclea, in Pontus, and was said to be the entrance
of the Infernal Regions. Cerberus was said to have been dragged
from Tartarus by Hercules, through this cave, which circumstance
was supposed to account for the quantity of aconite, or wolfsbane,
that grew there.]

[Footnote 75: _Call it aconite._--Ver. 419. From the Greek ακόνη,
‘a whetstone.’]

[Footnote 76: _Presented to his son._--Ver. 420. Medea was anxious
to secure the succession to the throne of Athens to her son Medus,
and was therefore desirous to remove Theseus out of the way.]

[Footnote 77: _Tokens of his race._--Ver. 423. Ægeus, leaving
Æthra at Trœzen, in a state of pregnancy, charged her, if she bore
a son, to rear him, but to tell no one whose son he was. He placed
his own sword and shoes under a large stone, and directed her to
send his son to him when he was able to lift the stone, and to
take them from under it; and he then returned to Athens, where he
married Medea. When Theseus had grown to the proper age, his
mother led him to the stone under which his father had deposited
his sword and shoes, which he raised with ease, and took them out.
It was, probably, by means of this sword that Ægeus recognized his
son in the manner mentioned in the text.]

[Footnote 78: _Marathon._--Ver. 434. This was a town of Attica,
adjoining a plain of the same name, where the Athenians, under the
command of Miltiades, overthrew the Persians with immense
slaughter. The bull which Theseus slew there was presented by
Neptune to Minos. Being brought into Attica by Hercules, it laid
waste that territory until it was slain by Theseus.]

[Footnote 79: _Cromyon._--Ver. 435. This was a village of the
Corinthian territory, which was infested by a wild boar of
enormous size, that slew both men and animals. It was put to death
by Theseus.]

[Footnote 80: _Vulcan._--Ver. 437. By Antilia, Vulcan was the
father of Periphetes, a robber who infested Epidaurus, in the
Peloponnesus. He was so formidable with his club, that he was
called Corynetas, from κορύνη, the Greek for ‘a club.’]

[Footnote 81: _Cephisus._--Ver. 438. Procrustes was a robber of
such extreme cruelty that he used to stretch out, or lop off, the
extremities of his captives, according as they were shorter or
longer than his bedstead. He infested the neighborhood of Eleusis,
in Attica, which was watered by the Cephisus. He was put to death
by Theseus.]

[Footnote 82: _Cercyon._--Ver. 439. It was his custom to challenge
travellers to wrestle, and to kill them, if they declined the
contest, or were beaten in it. Theseus accepted his challenge; and
having overcome him, put him to death. Eleusis was especially
dedicated to Ceres; there the famous Eleusinian mysteries of that
Goddess were held.]

[Footnote 83: _Sinnis._--Ver. 440. He was a robber of Attica, to
whom reference is made in the Ibis, line 409.]

[Footnote 84: _Alcathoë._--Ver. 443. Megara, or Alcathoë, which
was founded by Lelex, was almost destroyed by Minos, and was
rebuilt by Alcathoüs, the son of Pelops. He, flying from his
father, on being accused of the murder of his brother Chrysippus,
retired to the city of Megara, where, having slain a lion which
was then laying waste that territory, he was held in the highest
veneration by the inhabitants.]

[Footnote 85: _Scyron._--Ver. 443. This robber haunted the rocks
in the neighborhood of Megara, and used to insist on those who
became his guests washing his feet. This being done upon the
rocks, Scyron used to kick the strangers into the sea while so
occupied, where a tortoise lay ready to devour the bodies. Theseus
killed him, and threw his body down the same rocks, which derived
their name of Saronic, or Scyronic, from this robber.]

[Footnote 86: _Anaphe._--Ver. 461. This, and the other islands
here named, were near the isle of Crete, and perhaps in those
times were subject to the sway of Minos.]

[Footnote 87: _Cimolus._--Ver. 463. Pliny the Elder tells us, that
this island was famous for producing a clay which seems to have
had much the properties of soap. It was of a grayish white color,
and was also employed for medicinal purposes.]

[Footnote 88: _Seriphos._--Ver. 464. Commentators are at a loss to
know why Seriphos should here have the epithet ‘plana,’ ‘level,’
inasmuch as it was a very craggy island. It is probably a corrupt
reading.]

[Footnote 89: _Sithonian._--Ver. 466. This was Arne, whose story
is referred to in the Explanation, p. 242 / p. 270.]

EXPLANATION.

If it is the fact, as many antiquarians suppose, that much of the
Grecian mythology was derived from that of the Egyptians, there can be
but little doubt that their system of the Elysian Fields and the
Infernal Regions was derived from the Egyptian notions on the future
state of man. The story too, of Cerberus is, perhaps, based upon the
custom of the Egyptians, who kept dogs to guard the fields or caverns
in which they kept their mummies.

It is, however, very possible that the story of Cerberus may have been
founded upon a fact, or what was believed to be such. There was a
serpent which haunted the cavern of Tænarus, in Laconia, and ravaged
the districts adjacent to that promontory. This cave, being generally
considered to be one of the avenues to the kingdom of Pluto, the poets
thence derived the notion that this serpent was the guardian of its
portals. Pausanias observes, that Homer was the first who said that
Cerberus was a dog; though, in reality, he was a serpent, whose name
in the Greek language signified ‘one that devours flesh.’ The story
that Cerberus, with his foam, poisoned the herbs that grew in
Thessaly, and that the aconite and other poisonous plants were ever
after common there, is probably based on the simple fact, that those
herbs were found in great quantities in that region.

Women, using these herbs in their pretended enchantments, gave ground
for the stories of the witches of Thessaly, and of their ability to
bring the moon down to the earth by their spells and incantations;
which latter notion was probably based on the circumstance, that these
women used to invoke the Night and the Moon as witnesses of their
magical operations.

FABLE V. [VII.469-613]

Minos, having engaged several powers in his interest, and having been
refused by others, goes to the island of Ægina, where Æacus reigns,
to endeavor to secure an alliance with that prince; but without
success. Upon his departure, Cephalus arrives, as ambassador, from
Athens, and obtains succors from the king; who gives him an account of
the desolation which a pestilence had formerly made in his country,
and of the surprising manner in which it had been re-peopled.

But Oliaros,[90] and Didyme, and Tenos,[91] and Andros,[92] and Gyaros,[93] and Peparethos, fruitful in the smooth olive,[94] do not aid the Gnossian ships. Then Minos makes for Œnopia,[95] the kingdom of Æacus, lying to the left. The ancients called it Œnopia, but Æacus himself called it Ægina, from the name of his mother. The multitude rushes forth, and desires greatly to know a man of so great celebrity. Both Telamon,[96] and Peleus, younger than Telamon, and Phocus, the {king’s} third son, go to meet him. Æacus himself, too, {though} slow through the infirmity of old age, goes forth, and asks him what is the reason of his coming? The ruler of a hundred cities, being put in mind of his fatherly sorrow {for his son}, sighs, and gives him this answer: “I beg thee to assist arms taken up on account of my son; and be a party in a war of affection. For his shades do I demand satisfaction.” To him the grandson of Asopus says, “Thou askest in vain, and for a thing not to be done by my city; for, indeed, there is no land more closely allied to the people of Cecropia. Such are {the terms of} our compact.” {Minos} goes away in sadness, and says, “This compact of thine will cost thee a dear price;” and he thinks it more expedient to threaten war than to wage it, and to waste his forces there prematurely.

Even yet may the Lyctian[97] fleet be beheld from the Œnopian walls, when an Attic ship, speeding onward with full sail, appears, and enters the friendly harbor, which is carrying Cephalus, and together {with him} the request of his native country. The youthful sons of Æacus recognize Cephalus, although seen but after a long period, and give their right hands, and lead him into the house of their father. The graceful hero, even still retaining some traces of his former beauty, enters; and, holding a branch of his country’s olive, being the elder, he has on his right and left hand the two younger in age, Clytus and Butes, the sons of Pallas.[98] After their first meeting has had words suitable {thereto}, Cephalus relates the request of the people of Cecrops, and begs assistance, and recounts the treaties and alliances of their forefathers; and he adds, that the subjection of the whole of Achaia is aimed at. After the eloquence {of Cephalus} has thus promoted the cause entrusted to him, Æacus, leaning with his left hand on the handle of his sceptre, says--

“Ask not for assistance, O Athens, but take it, and consider, beyond doubt, the resources which this island possesses, as thy own, and let all the forces of my kingdom go {along with thee}. Strength is not wanting. I have soldiers enough both for my defence, and for {opposing} the enemy. Thanks to the Gods; this is a prosperous time, and one that can excuse no refusal of mine.” “Yes, {and} be it so,” says Cephalus:[99] “and I pray that thy power may increase along with thy citizens. Indeed, as I came along just now, I received {much} pleasure, when a number of youths, so comely and so equal in their ages, came forward to meet me. Yet I miss many from among them, whom I once saw when I was formerly entertained in this city.” Æacus heaves a sigh, and thus he says, with mournful voice: “A better fortune will be following a lamentable beginning; I {only} wish I could relate this to you. I will now tell it you without any order, that I may not be detaining you by any long preamble.[100] They are {now} lying as bones and ashes, for whom thou art inquiring with tenacious memory. And how great a part were they of my resources that perished! A dreadful pestilence fell upon my people, through the anger of the vengeful Juno, who hated a country named[101] from her rival. While the calamity seemed natural, and the baneful cause of so great destruction was unknown, it was opposed by the resources of medicine. {But} the havoc exceeded {all} help, which {now} lay baffled. At first the heaven encompassed the earth with a thick darkness, and enclosed within its clouds a drowsy heat. And while the Moon was four times filling her orb by joining her horns, {and}, four times decreasing, was diminishing her full orb, the hot South winds were blowing with their deadly blasts. It is known for a fact that the infection came even into fountains and lakes, and that many thousands of serpents were wandering over the uncultivated fields, and were tainting the rivers with their venom. The violence of this sudden distemper was first discovered by the destruction of dogs, and birds, and sheep, and oxen, and among the wild beasts. The unfortunate ploughman wonders that strong oxen fall down at their work, and lie stretched in the middle of the furrow. {And} while the wool-bearing flocks utter weakly bleatings, both their wool falls off spontaneously, and their bodies pine away. The horse, once of high mettle, and of great fame on the course, degenerates for the {purposes of} victory; and, forgetting his ancient honors, he groans at the manger, doomed to perish by an inglorious distemper. The boar remembers not to be angry, nor the hind to trust to her speed, nor the bears to rush upon the powerful herds.

“A faintness seizes all {animals}; both in the woods, in the fields, and in the roads, loathsome carcases lie strewed. The air is corrupted with the smell {of them}. I am relating strange events. The dogs, and the ravenous birds, and the hoary wolves, touch them not; falling away, they rot, and, by their exhalations, produce baneful effects, and spread the contagion far and wide. With more dreadful destruction the pestilence reaches the wretched husbandmen, and riots within the walls of the extensive city. At first, the bowels are scorched,[102] and a redness, and the breath drawn with difficulty, is a sign of the latent flame. The tongue, {grown} rough, swells; and the parched mouth gapes, with its throbbing veins; the noxious air, too, is inhaled by the breathing. {The infected} cannot endure a bed, or any coverings; but they lay their hardened breasts upon the earth, and their bodies are not made cool by the ground, but the ground is made hot by their bodies. There is no physician at hand; the cruel malady breaks out upon even those who administer remedies; and {their own} arts become an injury to their owners. The nearer at hand any one is, and the more faithfully he attends on the sick, the sooner does he come in for his share of the fatality. And when the hope of recovery is departed, and they see the end of their malady {only} in death, they indulge their humors, and there is no concern as to what is to their advantage; for, {indeed}, nothing is to their advantage. All sense, too, of shame being banished, they lie {promiscuously} close to the fountains and rivers, and deep wells; and their thirst is not extinguished by drinking, before their life {is}. Many, overpowered {with the disease}, are unable to arise thence, and die amid the very water; and yet another even drinks that {water}. So great, too, is the irksomeness for the wretched {creatures} of their hated beds, {that} they leap out, or, if their strength forbids them standing, they roll their bodies upon the ground, and every man flies from his own dwelling; each one’s house seems fatal to him: and since the cause of the calamity is unknown, the place that is known is blamed. You might see persons, half dead, wandering about the roads, as long as they were able to stand; others, weeping and lying about on the ground, and rolling their wearied eyes with the dying movement. They stretch, too, their limbs towards the stars of the overhanging heavens, breathing forth their lives here and there, where death has overtaken them.

“What were my feelings then? Were they not such as they ought to be, to hate life, and to desire to be a sharer with my people? On whichever side my eyes were turned, there was the multitude strewed {on the earth}, just as when rotten apples fall from the moved branches, and acorns from the shaken holm-oak. Thou seest[103] a lofty temple, opposite {thee}, raised on high with long steps: Jupiter has it {as his own}. Who did not offer incense at those altars in vain? how often did the husband, while he was uttering words of entreaty for his wife, {or} the father for his son, end his life at the altars without prevailing? in his hand, too, was part of the frankincense found unconsumed! How often did the bulls, when brought to the temples, while the priest was making his supplications, and pouring the pure wine between their horns, fall without waiting for the wound! While I myself was offering sacrifice to Jupiter, for myself, and my country, and my three sons, the victim sent forth dismal lowings, and suddenly falling down without any blow, stained the knives thrust into it, with its scanty blood; the diseased entrails, too, had lost {all} marks of truth, and the warnings of the Gods. The baneful malady penetrated to the entrails. I have seen the carcases lying, thrown out before the sacred doors; before the very altars, {too}, that death might become more odious[104] {to the Gods}. Some finish their lives with the halter, and by death dispel the apprehension of death, and voluntarily invite approaching fate. The bodies of the dead are not borne out with any funeral rites, according to the custom; for the {city} gates cannot receive {the multitude of} the processions. Either unburied they lie upon the ground, or they are laid on the lofty pyres without the usual honors. And now there is no distinction, and they struggle for the piles; and they are burnt on fires that belong to others. They who should weep are wanting; and the souls of sons, and of husbands, of old and of young, wander about unlamented: there is not room sufficient for the tombs, nor trees for the fires.”

[Footnote 90: _Oliaros._--Ver. 469. This was one of the Cyclades,
in the Ægean sea; it was colonized by the Sidonians.]

[Footnote 91: _Tenos._--Ver. 469. This island was famous for a
temple there, sacred to Neptune.]

[Footnote 92: _Andros._--Ver. 469. This was an island in the Ægean
Sea, near Eubœa. It received its name from Andros, the son of
Anius. The Andrian slave, who gives his name to one of the
comedies of Terence, was supposed to be a native of this island.]

[Footnote 93: _Gyaros._--Ver. 470. This was a sterile island among
the Cyclades; in later times, the Romans made it a penal
settlement for their criminals. The mice of this island were said
to be able to gnaw iron; perhaps, because they were starved by
reason of its unfruitfulness.]

[Footnote 94: _Smooth olive._--Ver. 470. Clarke translates ‘nitidæ
olivæ’ ‘the neat olive.’ ‘Nitidus’ here means ‘smooth and
shining.’]

[Footnote 95: _Œnopia._--Ver. 473. This was the ancient name of
the isle of Ægina, in the Saronic Gulf, famous as being the native
place of the family of the Æacidæ. It obtained its later name from
Ægina, the daughter of Asopus, and the mother of Æacus, whom
Jupiter carried thither.]

[Footnote 96: _Telamon._--Ver. 476. Telamon, Peleus, and Phocus,
were the three sons of Æacus.]

[Footnote 97: _Lyctian._--Ver. 490. Lyctus was the name of one of
the cities of Crete.]

[Footnote 98: _Pallas._--Ver. 500. This was either Pallas the son
of Pandion, king of Athens, or of Neleus, the brother of Theseus.
This Pallas, together with his sons, was afterwards slain by
Theseus.]

[Footnote 99: _Cephalus._--Ver. 512. He was the son of Deioneus,
or according to some writers, of Mercury and Herse, the daughter
of Cecrops.]

[Footnote 100: _Long preamble._--Ver. 520. Clarke translates ‘neu
longâ ambage morer vos,’ ‘that I may not detain you with a
long-winded detail of it.’]

[Footnote 101: _Country named._--Ver. 524. This was the island of
Ægina, so called from the Nymph who was carried thither by
Jupiter.]

[Footnote 102: _Bowels are scorched._--Ver. 554. Clarke quaintly
renders the words ‘viscera torrentur primo.’ ‘first people’s
bowels are searched;’ perhaps, however, the latter word is a
misprint for ‘scorched.’]

[Footnote 103: _Thou seest._--Ver. 587. As Æacus says this, he
must be supposed to point with his finger towards the temple.]

[Footnote 104: _More odious._--Ver. 603. Dead bodies were supposed
to be particularly offensive to the Gods.]

EXPLANATION.

Minos (most probably the second prince that bore that name), upon his
accession to the throne, after the death of his father, Lycastus, made
several conquests in the islands adjoining Crete, where he reigned,
and, at last, became master of those seas. The strength of his fleet
is particularly remarked by Thucydides, Apollodorus, and Diodorus
Siculus.

The Feast of the Panathenæa being celebrated at Athens, Minos sent his
son Androgeus to it, who joined as a combatant in the games, and was
sufficiently skilful to win all the prizes. The glory which he thereby
acquired, combined with his polished manners, obtained him the
friendship of the sons of Pallas, the brother of Ægeus. This
circumstance caused Ægeus to entertain jealous feelings, the more
especially as he knew that his nephews were conspiring against him.
Being informed that Androgeus was about to take a journey to Thebes,
he caused him to be assassinated near Œnoë, a town on the confines of
Attica. Apollodorus, indeed, says that he was killed by the Bull of
Marathon, which was then making great ravages in Greece; but it is
very possible that the Athenians encouraged this belief, with the view
of screening their king from the infamy of an action so inhuman and
unjust. Diodorus Siculus and Plutarch agree in stating that Ægeus
himself caused Androgeus to be murdered.

On hearing the news of his son’s death, Minos resolved on revenge. He
ordered a strong fleet to be fitted out, and went in person to several
courts, to contract alliances, and engage other powers to assist him;
and this, with the history of the plague at Ægina, forms the subject
of the present narrative.

FABLE VI. [VII.614-660]

Jupiter, at the prayer of his son Æacus, transforms the ants that are
in the hollow of an old oak into men; these, from the Greek name of
those insects, are called Myrmidons.

“Stupefied by so great an outburst of misery, I said, ‘O Jupiter! if stories do not falsely say that thou didst come into the embraces of Ægina, the daughter of Asopus, and thou art not ashamed, great Father, to be the parent of myself; either restore my people to me, or else bury me, as well, in the sepulchre.’ He gave a signal by lightnings, and by propitious thunders. I accepted {the omen}, and I said, ‘I pray that these may be happy signs of thy intentions: the omen which thou givest me, I accept as a pledge.’ By chance there was close by, an oak sacred to Jupiter, of seed from Dodona,[105] but thinly covered with wide-spreading boughs. Here we beheld some ants, the gatherers of corn, in a long train, carrying a heavy burden in their little mouths, and keeping their track in the wrinkled bark. While I was wondering at their numbers, I said, ‘Do thou, most gracious Father, give me citizens as many in number, and replenish my empty walls.’ The lofty oak trembled, and made a noise in its boughs, moving without a breeze. My limbs quivered, with trembling fear, and my hair stood on an end; yet I gave kisses to the earth and to the oak, nor did I confess that I had any hopes; {and} yet I did hope, and I cherished my own wishes in my mind. Night came on, and sleep seized my body wearied with anxiety. Before my eyes the same oak seemed to be present, and to bear as many branches, and as many animals in its branches, and to be trembling with a similar motion, and to be scattering the grain-bearing troop on the fields below. These suddenly grew, and seemed greater and greater, and raised themselves from the ground, and stood with their bodies upright; and laid aside their leanness, and the {former} number of their feet, and their sable hue, and assumed in their limbs the human shape.

“Sleep departs. When {now} awake, I censured the vision, and complained that there was no help for me from the Gods above. But within my palace there was a great murmur, and I seemed to be hearing the voices of men, to which I had now become unaccustomed. While I was supposing that these, too, were {a part} of my dream, lo! Telamon came in haste, and, opening the door, said, ‘Father, thou wilt see things beyond thy hopes or expectations. Do come out.’ I did go out, and I beheld and recognized such men, each in his turn, as I had seemed to behold in the vision of my sleep. They approached, and saluted me as their king. I offered up vows to Jupiter, and divided the city and the lands void of their former tillers, among this new-made people, and I called them Myrmidons,[106] and did not deprive their name {of the marks} of their origin. Thou hast beheld their persons. Even still do they retain the manners which they formerly had; and they are a thrifty race, patient of toil, tenacious of what they get, and what they get they lay up. These, alike in years and in courage, will attend thee to the war, as soon as the East wind, which brought thee prosperously hither (for the East wind had brought him), shall have changed to the South.”

[Footnote 105: _From Dodona._--Ver. 623. Dodona was a town of
Chaonia, in Epirus, so called from Dodone, the daughter of Jupiter
and Europa. Near it was a temple and a wood sacred to Jupiter,
which was famous for the number and magnitude of its oaks. Doves
were said to give oracular responses there, probably from the
circumstance that the female soothsayers of Thessaly were called
πελειαδαι. Some writers, however, say that the oaks had the gift
of speech, combined with that of prophesying.]

[Footnote 106: _Myrmidons._--Ver. 654. From the Greek word μύρμηξ,
‘an ant;’ according to this version of the story.]

EXPLANATION.

This fable, perhaps, has no other foundation than the retreat of the
subjects of Æacus into woods and caverns, whence they returned, when
the contagion had ceased with which their country had been afflicted,
and when he had nearly lost all hopes of seeing them again. It is
probable that the old men were carried off by the plague, while the
young, who had more strength, resisted its power, which circumstance
would fully account for the active habits of the remaining subjects of
Æacus. Some writers, however, suppose that the Myrmidons were a
barbarous, but industrious people of Thessaly, who usually dwelt in
caves, and who were brought thence by Æacus to people his island,
which had been made desolate by a pestilence. The similarity of their
name to the Greek word μύρμηξ, signifying ‘an ant,’ most probably
gave occasion to the report that Jupiter had changed ants into men.

FABLE VII. [VII.661-793]

Cephalus, having resisted the advances of Aurora, who has become
enamoured of him while hunting, returns in disguise to his wife,
Procris, to try if her affection for him is sincere. She, discovering
his suspicions, flies to the woods, and becomes a huntress, with the
determination not to see him again. Afterwards, on becoming reconciled
to him, she bestows on him a dog and a dart, which Diana had once
given her. The dog is turned into stone, while hunting a wild beast,
which Themis has sent to ravage the territories of Thebes, after the
interpretation of the riddle of the Sphinx, by Œdipus.

In these and other narratives they passed the day. The last part of the day was spent in feasting, and the night in sleep. The golden Sun had {now} shed his beams, {when} the East wind was still blowing, and detained the sails about to return. The sons of Pallas repair to Cephalus, who was stricken in years. Cephalus and the sons of Pallas, together {with him}, {come} to the king; but a sound sleep still possessed the monarch. Phocus, the son of Æacus, received them at the threshold; for Telamon and his brother were levying men for the war. Phocus conducted the citizens of Cecrops into an inner room, and a handsome apartment. Soon as he had sat down with them, he observed that the grandson of Æolus[107] was holding in his hand a javelin made of an unknown wood, the point of which was of gold.

Having first spoken a few words in promiscuous conversation, he said, “I am fond of the forests, and of the chase of wild beasts; still, from what wood the shaft of the javelin, which thou art holding, is cut, I have been for some time in doubt; certainly, if it were of wild ash, it would be of brown color; if of cornel-wood, there would be knots in it. Whence it comes I am ignorant, but my eyes have not looked upon a weapon used for a javelin, more beautiful than this.” One of the Athenian brothers replied, and said, “In it, thou wilt admire its utility, {even} more than its beauty. Whatever it is aimed at, it strikes; chance does not guide it when thrown, and it flies back stained with blood, no one returning it.” Then, indeed, does the Nereian youth[108] inquire into all particulars, why it was given, and whence {it came}? who was the author of a present of so great value? What he asks, {Cephalus} tells him; but as to what he is ashamed to tell, {and} on what condition he received it, he is silent; and, being touched with sorrow for the loss of his wife, he thus speaks, with tears bursting forth: “Son of a Goddess, this weapon (who could have believed it?) makes me weep, and long will make me do so, if the Fates shall grant me long to live. ’Twas this that proved the destruction of me and of my dear wife. Would that I had ever been without this present! Procris was (if perchance {the fame of} Orithyïa[109] may have more probably reached thy ears) the sister of Orithyïa, the victim of violence. If you should choose to compare the face and the manners of the two, she was the more worthy to be carried off. Her father Erectheus united her to me; love, {too}, united her to me. I was pronounced happy, and {so} I was. Not thus did it seem {good} to the Gods; or even now, perhaps, I should be {so}. The second month was now passing, after the marriage rites, when the saffron-colored Aurora, dispelling the darkness in the morn, beheld me, as I was planting nets for the horned deer, from the highest summit of the ever-blooming Hymettus,[110] and carried me off against my will. By the permission of the Goddess, let me relate what is true; though she is comely with her rosy face, {and} though she possesses the confines of light, and possesses {the confines} of darkness, though she is nourished with the draughts of nectar, {still} I loved Procris; Procris was {ever} in my thoughts, Procris was ever on my lips. I alleged the sacred ties of marriage, our late embraces, and our recent union, and the prior engagements of my forsaken bed. The Goddess was provoked, and said, ‘Cease thy complaints, ungrateful man; keep thy Procris; but, if my mind is gifted with foresight, thou wilt wish that thou hadst not had her;’” and {thus}, in anger, she sent me back to her.

“While I was returning, and was revolving the sayings of the Goddess within myself, there began to be apprehensions that my wife had not duly observed the laws of wedlock. Both her beauty and her age bade me be apprehensive of her infidelity; {yet} her virtue forbade me to believe it. But yet, I had been absent; and besides, she, from whom I was {just} returning, was an example of {such} criminality: but we that are in love, apprehend all {mishaps}. I {then} endeavored to discover that, by reason of which I must feel anguish, and by bribes to make attempts[111] upon her chaste constancy. Aurora encouraged this apprehension, and changed my shape, {as} I seemed {then} to perceive. I entered Athens, the city of Pallas, unknown {to any one}, and I went into my own house. The house itself was without fault, and gave indications of chastity, and was in concern for the carrying off of its master.

“Having, with difficulty, made my way to the daughter of Erectheus by means of a thousand artifices, soon as I beheld her, I was amazed, and was nearly abandoning my projected trial of her constancy; with difficulty did I restrain myself from telling the truth, with difficulty from giving her the kisses which I ought. She was in sorrow; but yet no one could be more beautiful than she, {even} in her sadness; and she was consuming with regret for her husband, torn from her. {Only} think, Phocus, how great was the beauty of her, whom even sorrow did so much become. Why should I tell how often her chaste manners repulsed {all} my attempts? How often she said, ‘I am reserved for {but} one, wherever he is; for that one do I reserve my joys.’ For whom, in his senses, would not that trial of her fidelity have been sufficiently great? {Yet} I was not content; and I strove to wound myself, while I was promising to give vast sums for {but one} night, and forced her at last to waver, by increasing the reward. {On this} I cried out, ‘Lo! I, the gallant in disguise, to my sorrow, {and} lavish in promises, to my misery, am thy real husband; thou treacherous woman! thou art caught, {and} I the witness.’ She said nothing: only, overwhelmed with silent shame, she fled from the house of treachery, together with her wicked husband; and from her resentment against me, abhorring the whole race of men, she used to wander[112] on the mountains, employed in the pursuits of Diana. Then, a more violent flame penetrated to my bones, thus deserted. I begged forgiveness, and owned myself in fault; and that I too might have yielded to a similar fault, on presents being made; if presents so large had been offered. Upon my confessing this, having first revenged her offended modesty, she was restored to me, and passed the pleasant years in harmony with me. She gave me, besides, as though in herself she had given me but a small present, a dog as a gift, which when her own Cynthia had presented to her, she had said, ‘He will excel all dogs in running.’ She gave her, too, a javelin, which, as thou seest, I am carrying in my hand.

“Dost thou inquire what was the fortune of the other present--hear {then}. Thou wilt be astonished at the novelty of the wondrous fact. The son of Laius[113] had solved the verses not understood by the wit of others before him; and the mysterious propounder lay precipitated, forgetful of her riddle. But the genial Themis,[114] forsooth, did not leave such things unrevenged. Immediately another plague was sent forth against Aonian Thebes; and many of the peasants fed the savage monster, both by the destruction of their cattle, and their own as well. We, the neighboring youth, came together, and enclosed the extensive fields with toils. With a light bound it leaped over the nets, and passed over the topmost barriers of the toils that were set. The couples were taken off the dogs, from which, as they followed, it fled, and eluded them, no otherwise than as a winged bird. I myself, too, was requested, with eager demands, for my {dog} Lælaps [{Tempest}]; that was the name of {my wife’s} present. For some time already had he been struggling to get free from the couples, and strained them with his neck, as they detained him. Scarce was he well let loose; and {yet} we could not now tell where he was; the warm dust had the prints of his feet, {but} he himself was snatched from our eyes. A spear does not fly swifter than he {did}, nor pellets whirled from the twisted sling, nor the light arrow from the Gortynian bow.[115] The top of a hill, {standing} in the middle, looks down upon the plains below. Thither I mount, and I enjoy the sight of an unusual chase; wherein the wild beast[116] one while seemed to be caught, at another to elude his very bite; and it does not fly in a direct course, and straight onward, but deceives his mouth, as he pursues it, and returns in circles, that its enemy may not have his full career against it. He keeps close to it, and pursues it, a match for him; and {though} like as if he has caught it, {still} he fails to catch it, and vainly snaps at the air. I was {now} turning to the resources of my javelin; while my right hand was poising it, {and} while I was attempting to insert my fingers in the thongs {of it}, I turned away my eyes; and again I had directed them, recalled to the same spot, when, {most} wondrous, I beheld two marble statues in the middle of the plain; you would think the one was flying, the other barking {in pursuit}. Some God undoubtedly, if any God {really} did attend to them, desired them both to remain unconquered in this contest of speed.”

[Footnote 107: _Æolus._--Ver. 672. Apollodorus reckons Deioneus,
the parent of Cephalus, among the children of Apollo.]

[Footnote 108: _Nereian youth._--Ver. 685. Phocus, who was the son
of Æacus, by Psamathe, the daughter of Nereus.]

[Footnote 109: _Orithyïa._--Ver. 695. She was the daughter of
Erectheus, king of Athens, and was carried off by Boreas, as
already stated.]

[Footnote 110: _Hymettus._--Ver. 702. This was a mountain of
Attica, famous for its honey and its marble.]

[Footnote 111: _To make attempts._--Ver. 721. Tzetzes informs us
that she was found by her husband in company with a young man
named Pteleon, who had made her a present of a golden wreath.
Antoninus Liberalis says, that her husband tried her fidelity by
offering her a bribe, through the medium of a slave.]

[Footnote 112: _Used to wander._--Ver. 746. Some writers say that
she fled to Crete, on which, Diana, who was aware of the
attachment of Aurora for her husband, made her a present of a
javelin, which no person could escape; and gave her the dog
Lælaps, which no wild beast could outrun. Such is the version
given by Hyginus. But Apollodorus and Antoninus Liberalis say,
that she fled to Minos, who, prevailing over her virtue, made her
a present of the dog and the javelin. Afterwards, presenting
herself before her husband, disguised as a huntress, she gave him
proofs of the efficacy of them; and upon his requesting her to
give them to him, she exacted, as a condition, what must,
apparently, have resulted in a breach of the laws of conjugal
fidelity. On his assenting to the proposal, she discovered
herself, and afterwards made him the presents which he desired.]

[Footnote 113: _The son of Laius._--Ver. 759. Œdipus was the son
of Laius, king of Thebes. The Sphinx was a monster, the offspring
of Typhon and Echidna, which haunted a mountain near Thebes. Œdipus
solved the riddle which it proposed for solution, on which the
monster precipitated itself from a rock. It had the face of a
woman, the wings of a bird, and the extremities of a lion.]

[Footnote 114: _Genial Themis._--Ver. 762. Themis had a very
ancient oracle in Bœotia.]

[Footnote 115: _Gortynian bow._--Ver. 778. Crete was called
Gortynian, from Gortys or Gortyna, one of its cities, which was
famous for the skill of its inhabitants in archery.]

[Footnote 116: _The wild beast._--Ver. 782. Antoninus Liberalis
and Apollodorus say that this was a fox, which was called ‘the
Teumesian,’ from Teumesus, a mountain of Bœotia, and that the
Thebans, to appease its voracity, were wont to give it a child to
devour every month. Palæphatus says that it was not a wild beast,
but a man called Alopis.]

EXPLANATION.

There were two princes of the name of Cephalus; one, the son of
Mercury and Herse, the daughter of Cecrops; the other, the son of
Deïoneus, king of Phocis, and Diomeda, the daughter of Xuthus. The
first was carried off by Aurora, and went to live with her in Syria;
the second married Procris, the daughter of Erectheus, king of Athens.
Though Apollodorus seems, in the first instance, to follow this
genealogy, in his third book he confounds the actions of those two
princes. Ovid and other writers have spoken only of the son of
Deïoneus, who was carried off by Aurora, and having left her,
according to them, returned to Procris.

FABLE VIII. [VII.794-865]

Procris, jealous of Cephalus, in her turn, goes to the forest, which
she supposes to be the scene of his infidelity, to surprise him.
Hearing the rustling noise which she makes in the thicket, where she
lies concealed, he imagines it is a wild beast, and, hurling the
javelin, which she has formerly given to him, he kills her.

Thus far {did he speak}; and {then} he was silent. “But,” said Phocus, “what fault is there in that javelin?” {whereupon} he thus informed him of the demerits of the javelin. “Let my joys, Phocus, be the first portion of my sorrowful story. These will I first relate. O son of Æacus, I delight to remember the happy time, during which, for the first years {after my marriage}, I was completely blessed in my wife, {and} she was happy in her husband. A mutual kindness and social love possessed us both. Neither would she have preferred the bed of Jupiter before my love; nor was there any woman that could have captivated me, not {even} if Venus herself had come. Equal flames fired the breasts {of us both}. The Sun striking the tops of the mountains with his early rays, I was wont generally to go with youthful ardor into the woods, to hunt; but I neither suffered my servants, nor my horses, nor my quick-scented hounds to go {with me}, nor the knotty nets to attend me; I was safe with my javelin. But when my right hand was satiated with the slaughter of wild beasts, I betook myself to the cool spots and the shade, and the breeze which was breathing forth from the cool valleys. The gentle breeze was sought by me, in the midst of the heat. For the breeze was I awaiting; that was a refreshment after my toils: ‘Come, breeze,’ I was wont to sing, for I remember it {full well}, ‘and, most grateful, refresh me, and enter my breast; and, as thou art wont, be willing to assuage the heat with which I am parched.’ Perhaps I may have added ({for} so my destiny prompted me) many words of endearment, and I may have been accustomed to say, ‘Thou art my great delight; thou dost refresh and cherish me; thou makest me to love the woods and lonely haunts, and thy breath is ever courted by my face.’ I was not aware that some one was giving an ear, deceived by these ambiguous words; and thinking the name of the breeze, so often called upon by me, to be that of a Nymph, he believed some Nymph was beloved by me.