Chapter XIII: Book THE NINTH: Fable I. Ix.1-100 (2)

The deliverance of Prometheus, as already mentioned; the death of
the two brothers, the Cercopes, famous robbers; the defeat of the
Bull of Marathon; the death of Lygis, who disputed the passage of
the Alps with him; that of the giant Alcyaneus, who hurled at him a
stone so vast that it crushed twenty-four men to death; that of
Eryx, king of Sicily, whom he killed with a blow of the cestus, for
refusing to deliver to him the oxen which he had stolen; the combat
with Cycnus, which was terminated by a peal of thunder, which
separated the combatants; another combat against the Giants in Gaul,
during which, as it was said, Jupiter rained down vast quantities of
stones; all these are also attributed to Hercules, besides many more
stories, which, if diligently collected, would swell to a large
volume.

The foregoing remarks on the history of Hercules, give us an insight
into the ideas which, based upon the explanations given by the
authors of antiquity, the Abbè Banier, one of the most accomplished
scholars of his age, entertained on this subject. We will conclude
with some very able and instructive remarks on this mythus, which we
extract from Mr. Keightley’s Mythology of Ancient Greece and Italy.
He says--

“Various theories have been formed respecting the mythus of
Hercules. It is evidently one of very remote antiquity, long
perhaps, anterior to the times of Homer. We confess that we cannot
see any very valid reason for supposing no such real personage to
have existed; for it will, perhaps, be found that mythology not
unfrequently prefers to absolute fiction, the assuming of some real
historic character, and making it the object of the marvels devised
by lively and exuberant imagination, in order thereby to obtain more
ready credence for the strange events which it creates. Such, then,
may the real Hercules have been,--a Dorian, a Theban, or an Argive
hero, whose feats of strength lived in the traditions of the people,
and whom national vanity raised to the rank of a son of Zeus
[Jupiter], and poetic fancy, as geographic knowledge extended, sent
on journies throughout the known world, and accumulated in his
person the fabled exploits of similar heroes of other regions.

“We may perceive, by the twelve tasks, that the astronomical theory
was applied to the mythus of the hero, and that he was regarded as a
personification of the Sun, which passes through the twelve signs of
the Zodiac. This, probably, took place during the Alexandrian
period. Some resemblance between his attributes and those of the
Deity, with whom the Egyptian priests were pleased to identify him,
may have given occasion to this notion; and he also bore some
similitude to the God whom the Phœnicians chiefly worshipped, and
who, it is probable, was the Sun. But we must steadily bear in mind,
that Hercules was a hero in the popular legend long before any
intercourse was opened between Greece and Egypt; and that, however
(which is certainly not very likely) a God might be introduced from
Phœnicia, the same could hardly be the case with a popular
hero.--A very ingenious theory on the mythus of Hercules is given by
Buttmann (Mythologus, vol. i., p. 246). Though acknowledging that
Perseus, Theseus, and Hercules may have been real persons, he is
disposed, from an attentive consideration of all the circumstances
in the mythus of the last, to regard him as one of those poetical
persons or personifications, who, as he says, have obtained such
firm footing in the dark periods of antiquity, as to have acquired
the complete air of historic personages.

“In his view of the life of Hercules, it is a mythus of extreme
antiquity and great beauty, setting forth the ideal of human
perfection, consecrated to the weal of mankind, or rather, in its
original form, to that of his own nation. This perfection, according
to the ideas of the heroic age, consists in the greatest bodily
strength, united with the advantages of mind and soul recognised by
that age. Such a hero is, he says, a man; but these noble qualities
in him are of divine origin. He is, therefore, the son of the king
of the Gods by a mortal mother. To render his perfection the more
manifest, the Poet makes him to have a twin brother, the child of a
mortal sire. As virtue is not to be learned, Hercules exhibits his
strength and courage in infancy; he strangles the snakes, which
fills his brother with terror. The character of the hero throughout
life, as that of the avenger of injustice and punisher of evil, must
exhibit itself in the boy as the wild instinct of nature; and the
mythus makes him kill his tutor Linus with a blow of the lyre. When
sent away by Amphitryon, he prepares himself, in the stillness and
solitude of the shepherd’s life, by feats of strength and courage,
for his future task of purifying the earth of violence.

“--The number of tasks may not originally have been twelve, though
most accounts agree in that number, but they were all of a nature
agreeable to the ideas of an heroic age--the destruction of
monsters, and bringing home to his own country the valuable
productions of other regions. These are, however, regarded by
Buttmann as being chiefly allegorical. The Hydra, for instance,
he takes to have been meant to represent the evils of democratic
anarchy, with its numerous heads, against which, though one may not
be able to effect anything, yet the union of even two may suffice to
become dominant over it.

“The toils of the hero conclude with the greatest and most rare of
all in the heroic age--the conquest over death. This is represented
by his descent into the under world, and dragging Cerberus to light
is a proof of his victory. In the old mythus, he was made to engage
with and wound Hades; and the Alcestis of Euripides exhibits him in
conflict with Death. But virtue, to be a useful example, must
occasionally succumb to human weakness in the power of the evil
principle. Hence, Hercules falls into fits of madness, sent on him
by Hera [Juno]; and hence--he becomes the willing slave of Omphale,
the fair queen of Lydia, and changes his club and lion’s skin for
the distaff and the female robe.

“The mythus concludes most nobly with the assumption of the hero
into Olympus. His protecting Deity abandons him to the power of his
persevering enemy; his mortal part is consumed by fire, the fiercest
of elements; his shade (εἴδωλον), like those of other men, descends
to the realms of Hades, while the divine portion himself (αὐτὸς)
mounts from the pyre in a thunder-cloud, and the object of Hera’s
persecution being now accomplished, espouses youth, the daughter of
his reconciled foe.

“Muller (Dorians, vol. i. part ii. ch. 11, 12) is also disposed to
view in Hercules a personification of the highest powers of man in
the heroic age. He regards him as having been the national hero of
the Dorian race, and appropriates to him all the exploits of the
hero in Thessaly, Ætolia, and Epirus, which last place he supposes
to have been the original scene of the Geryoneia, which was
afterwards transformed to the western stream of the ocean. He
thinks, however, that the Argives had an ancient hero of perhaps the
same name, to whom the Peloponnesus adventures belong, and whom the
Dorians combined with their own hero. The servitude to Eurystheus,
and the enmity of Hera, he looks on as inventions of the Dorians to
justify their own invasion of the Peloponnesus. This critic also
proves that the Theban Hercules had nothing to do with the Gods and
traditions of the Cadmeians; and he thinks that it was the Dorian
Heracleides who introduced the knowledge of him into Thebes, or that
he came from Delphi with the worship of Apollo, a Deity with whom,
as the tutelar God of the Dorians, he supposes their national hero
to have been closely connected.”

FABLE IV. [IX.324-425]

The Nymph Lotis, pursued by Priapus, in her flight, is changed into
a tree. Dryope, going to sacrifice to the Naiads at the same spot,
and ignorant of the circumstance, breaks a branch off the tree for
her child, which she is carrying with her, and is subjected to a
similar transformation. While Iole is relating these circumstances
to Alcmena, she is surprised to see her brother Iolaüs restored to
youth. The Poet here introduces the prediction of Themis concerning
the children of Calirrhoë.

Thus she said; and, moved by the remembrance of her old servant, she heaved a deep sigh. Her daughter-in-law[36] addressed her, thus grieving. “Even her form being taken away from one that was an alien to thy blood, affects thee, O mother. What if I were to relate to thee the wondrous fate of my own sister? although tears and sorrow hinder me, and forbid me to speak. Dryope, the most remarkable for her beauty of the Œchalian maids, was the only daughter of her mother ({for} my father had me by another {wife}). Deprived of her virginity, and having suffered violence from the God that owns Delphi and Delos, Andræmon married her, and he was esteemed fortunate in his wife.

“There is a lake that gives the appearance of a sloping shore, by its shelving border; groves of myrtle crown the upper part. Hither did Dryope come, unsuspecting of her fate; and, that thou mayst be the more indignant {at her lot}, she was about to offer garlands to the Nymphs. In her bosom, too, she was bearing her son, who had not yet completed his first year, a pleasing burden; and she was nursing him, with the help of {her} warm milk. Not far from the lake was blooming a watery lotus that vied with the Tyrian tints, in hope of {future} berries. Dryope had plucked thence some flowers, which she might give as playthings to her child; and I, too, was just on the point of doing the same; for I was present. I saw bloody drops fall from the flower, and the boughs shake with a tremulous quivering; for, as the swains say, now, at length, too late {in their information}, the Nymph Lotis, flying from the lust of Priapus,[37] had transferred her changed form into this {plant}, her name being {still} preserved.

“Of this my sister was ignorant. When, in her alarm, she is endeavouring to retire and to depart, having adored the Nymphs, her feet are held fast by a root. She strives hard to tear them up, but she moves nothing except her upper parts. From below, a bark slowly grows up, and, by degrees, it envelopes the whole of her groin. When she sees this, endeavouring to tear her hair with her hands, she fills her hand with leaves, {for} leaves are covering all her head. But the boy Amphissos (for his grandfather Eurytus gave him this name) feels his mother’s breast growing hard; nor does the milky stream follow upon his sucking. I was a spectator of thy cruel destiny, and I could give thee no help, my sister; and {yet}, as long as I could, I delayed the growing trunk and branches by embracing them; and, I confess it, I was desirous to be hidden beneath the same bark. Behold! her husband Andræmon and her most wretched father[38] appear, and inquire for Dryope: on their inquiring for Dryope, I show them the lotus. They give kisses to the wood {still} warm {with life}, and, extended {on the ground}, they cling to the roots of their own tree. {And} now, dear sister, thou hadst nothing except thy face, that was not tree. Tears drop upon the leaves made out of thy changed body; and, while she can, and {while} her mouth gives passage to her voice, she pours forth such complaints {as these} into the air:--

“‘If any credit {is to be given} to the wretched, I swear by the Deities that I merited not this cruel usage. I suffer punishment without a crime. I lived in innocence; if I am speaking false, withered away, may I lose the leaves which I bear, and, cut down with axes, may I be burnt. Yet take this infant away from the branches of his mother, and give him to his nurse; and often, beneath my tree, make him drink milk, and beneath my tree let him play; and, when he shall be able to speak, make him salute his mother, and let him in sadness say, ‘Beneath this trunk is my mother concealed.’ Yet let him dread the ponds, and let him not pluck flowers from the trees; and let him think that all shrubs are the bodies of Goddesses. Farewell, dear husband; and thou, sister; and, {thou} my father; in whom, if there is any affection {towards me}, protect my branches from the wounds of the sharp pruning-knife, {and} from the bite of the cattle. And since it is not allowed me to bend down towards you, stretch your limbs up hither, and come near for my kisses, while they can {still} be reached, and lift up my little son. More I cannot say. For the soft bark is now creeping along my white neck, and I am being enveloped at the top of my head. Remove your hands from my eyes;[39] {and}, without your help, let the bark, closing over them, cover my dying eyes.’ Her mouth ceased at once to speak, at once to exist; and long after her body was changed, were her newly formed branches {still} warm.”

And {now}, while Iole was relating the wretched fate of her sister, and while Alcmena was drying away the tears of the daughter of Eurytus, with her fingers applied {to her face}, and still she herself was weeping, a novel event hushed all their sorrow; for Iolaüs[40] stood at the lofty threshold, almost a boy {again}, and covering his cheeks with a down almost imperceptible, having his visage changed to {that of} the first years {of manhood}. Hebe, the daughter of Juno had granted him this favour, overcome by the solicitations of her husband. When she was about to swear that she would hereafter grant such favours to no one, Themis did not allow her. “For now,” said she, “Thebes is commencing civil warfare,[41] and Capaneus will not be able to be overcome, except by Jupiter, and the two brothers will engage in bloody combat, and the earth dividing, the prophet {Amphiaraüs} will see his {destined} shades, while he still lives;[42] and the son avenging one parent, by {the death of} the {other} parent, will be dutiful and wicked in the same action; and confounded by his misfortunes, deprived both of his reason and of his home, he will be persecuted both by the features of the Eumenides, and by the ghost of his mother; until his wife shall call upon him for the fatal gold, and the Phegeïan sword shall stab the side of their kinsman. Then, at last, shall Calirrhoë, the daughter of Acheloüs, suppliantly ask of mighty Jupiter these years {of youth} for her infant sons. Jupiter, concerned {for them}, will prescribe for them the {peculiar} gift of her who is {both} his step-daughter and his daughter-in-law,[43] and will make them men in their years of childhood.”

When Themis, foreseeing the future, had said these words with prophetic voice, the Gods above murmured in varying discourse; and the complaint was,[44] why it might not be allowed others to grant the same gifts. {Aurora}, the daughter of Pallas, complained of the aged years of her husband; the gentle Ceres complained that Iäsion[45] was growing grey; Mulciber demanded for Ericthonius a life to live over again; a concern for the future influenced Venus, too, and she made an offer to renew the years of Anchises.

[Footnote 36: _Her daughter-in-law._--Ver. 325. Iole was the wife
of Hyllus, the son of Deïanira, by Hercules.]

[Footnote 37: _Lust of Priapus._--Ver. 347. ‘Fugiens obscœna
Priapi,’ is rendered by Clarke, ‘Flying from the nasty attempts of
Priapus upon her.’]

[Footnote 38: _Most wretched father._--Ver. 363. Eurytus was the
father of Dryope.]

[Footnote 39: _From my eyes._--Ver. 390. This alludes to the
custom among the ancients of closing the eyes of the dying, which
duty was performed by the nearest relations, who, closing the eyes
and mouth, called upon the dying person by name, and exclaimed
‘Vale,’ ‘farewell.’]

[Footnote 40: _Iolaüs._--Ver. 399. He was the son of Iphiclus, the
brother of Hercules. See the Explanation in the next page.]

[Footnote 41: _Civil warfare._--Ver. 404. This alludes to the
Theban war, carried on between Eteocles and Polynices, the sons of
Œdipus and Jocasta. Agreeing to reign in alternate years, Eteocles
refused to give place to his brother when his year had terminated,
on which Polynices fled to the court of Adrastus, king of Argos,
and raised troops against his brother.]

[Footnote 42: _While he still lives._--Ver. 407. This was
Amphiaraüs, the son of Œcleus, and Hypermnestra, who was betrayed
by his wife Eriphyle.]

[Footnote 43: _Daughter-in-law._--Ver. 415. Hebe, the Goddess of
Youth, was the daughter of Juno alone, without the participation
of Jupiter; and from this circumstance she is styled the
step-daughter of Jupiter. She was also his daughter-in-law on
becoming the wife of Hercules.]

[Footnote 44: _The complaint was._--Ver. 420. ‘Murmur erat,’ is
rendered by Clarke, ‘The grumbling was, why, &c.’]

[Footnote 45: _Iäsion._--Ver. 422. Iäsius, or Iäsion, was the son
of Jupiter and Electra, and was the father of Plutus, the God of
Riches, by the Goddess Cybele.]

EXPLANATION.

The adventure of Dryope is one of those narratives which have no
connexion with the main story which the Poet is relating, and, if
really founded on fact, it would almost baffle any attempt to guess
at its origin. It is, most probably, built entirely upon the name of
the damsel who was said to have met with the untimely and unnatural
fate so well depicted by the Poet.

The name of Dryope comes, very probably, from the Greek word Δρῦς,
‘an oak,’ which tree has a considerable resemblance to the lotus
tree. If we seek for an historical solution, perhaps Dryope was
punished for attempting to profane a tree consecrated to the Gods,
a crime of which Erisicthon was guilty, and for which he was so
signally punished. All the particulars that we know of Dryope are,
that she was the daughter of Eurytus, and the sister of Iole; and
that she was the wife of Andræmon.

Ovid says, that while Iole was relating this adventure to Alcmena,
Iolaüs, who, according to some, was the son of Hercules, by Hebe,
after his apotheosis, and, according to others, was the son of
Iphiclus, the brother of Hercules, became young, at the intercession
of that Goddess, who had appeased Juno. This was, probably, no other
than a method of accounting for the great age to which and
individual of the name of Iolaüs had lived.

Ovid then passes on to the surprising change in the children of
Calirrhoë, the outline of which the story may be thus
explained:--Amphiaraüs, foreseeing, (by the aid of the prophetic
art, as we learn from Homer, Diodorus Siculus, Pliny and Statius),
that the civil wars of Thebes, his native country, would prove fatal
to him, retired from the court of Adrastus, King of Argos, whose
sister he had married, to conceal himself in some place of safety.
The Argives, to whom the oracle had declared, that Thebes could not
be taken unless they had Amphiaraüs with their troops, searched for
him in every direction; but their labour would have been in vain, if
Eriphyle, his wife, gained by a necklace of great value, which her
brother Adrastus gave her, had not discovered where he was.
Discovered in his retreat, Amphiaraüs accompanied the Argives, and
while, according to the rules of the soothsaying art, he was
observing a flight of birds, in order to derive an augury from it,
his horses fell down a precipice, and he lost his life. Statius and
other writers, to describe this event in a poetical manner, say that
the earth opened and swallowed up him and his chariot.

Amphiaraüs had engaged his son Alcmæon, in case he lost his life in
the war, to kill Eriphyle; which injunction he performed as soon as
he heard of the death of his father. Alcmæon, going to the court of
Phegeus, to receive expiation for his crime, and to deliver himself
from the persecution of the Furies, or, in other words, by the
ceremonial of expiation, to tranquillize his troubled conscience,
that prince received him with kindness, and gave him his daughter
Alphesibæa in marriage. Alcmæon made her a present of his mother
Eriphyle’s necklace; but, having afterwards repudiated her to marry
Calirrhoë, or Arsinoë, the daughter of Acheloüs, he went to demand
the necklace from his brothers-in-law, who assassinated him.
Amphiterus and Acarnanus, who were his sons by Calirrhoë, revenged
the death of their father when they were very young; and this it is,
possibly, which is meant by the Poet when he says that the Goddess
Hebe augmented the number of their years, the purpose being, to put
them speedily in a position to enable them to avenge the death of
their father.

Thus we see, that Iolaüs was, like Æson, who also renewed his youth,
a person who, in his old age, gave marks of unusual vigour; while in
Amphiterus and Arcananus, to whom Hebe added years, are depicted two
young men, who, by a deed of blood, exacted retribution for the
death of their father, at a time when they were in general only
looked upon as mere children.

FABLE V. [IX.426-665]

Byblis falls in love with her brother Caunus, and her passion is
inflamed to such a degree, that he is obliged to leave his native
country, to avoid any encouragement of her incestuous flame. On
this, she follows him; and, in her way through Caria, she is changed
into a fountain.

Every God has[46] some one to favour; and their jarring discord is increasing by their {various} interests, until Jupiter opens his mouth, and says, “O, if you have any regard for me, to what rash steps are you proceeding? Does any one {of you} seem to himself so powerful as to overcome even the Fates? By the Fates has Iolaüs returned to those years which he has spent; by the Fates ought the sons of Calirrhoë to become young men, {and} not by ambition or by dint of arms. And do you, too, endure this as well with more contented mind, {for} even me do the Fates govern; could I but change them, declining years should not be making my {son} Æacus to bend {beneath them}; and Rhadamanthus should have the everlasting flower of age, together with my {son}, Minos, who is {now} looked down upon on account of the grievous weight of old age, and does not reign with the dignity with which once {he did}.”

The words of Jupiter influenced the Divinities; and no one continued to complain when they saw Rhadamanthus and Æacus, and Minos, weary with years; {Minos}, who, when he was in the prime of life, had alarmed great nations with his very name. Then, {however}, he was enfeebled by age, and was alarmed by Miletus, the son of Deione,[47] exulting in the strength of youth, and in Phœbus as his sire; and {though} believing that he was aiming at his kingdom, still he did not dare to drive him away from his native home. Of thy own accord, Miletus, thou didst fly, and in the swift ship thou didst pass over the Ægean waters, and in the land of Asia didst build a city, bearing the name of its founder. Here Cyane, the daughter of {the river} Mæander, that so often returns to the same place, while she was following the windings of her father’s bank, of a body excelling in beauty, being known by thee, brought forth a double offspring, Byblis, with Caunus, {her brother}.

Byblis is an example that damsels {only} ought to love what it is allowed them {to love}; Byblis, seized with a passion for her brother, the descendant of Apollo, loved him not as a sister {loves} a brother, nor in such manner as she ought. At first, indeed, she understands nothing of the flame, and she does not think[48] that she is doing wrong in so often giving him kisses, {and} in throwing her arms round the neck of her brother; and for a long time she {herself} is deceived, by this resemblance of natural affection. By degrees this affection degenerates, and decked out, she comes to see her brother, and is too anxious to appear beautiful; and if there is any woman there more beautiful, she envies her. But, as yet she is not fully discovered to herself, and under that flame conceives no wishes; but still, inwardly she is agitated. At one moment she calls him sweetheart,[49] at another, she hates the mention of his relationship; and now she prefers that he should call her Byblis, rather than sister. Still, while awake, she does not dare admit any criminal hopes into her mind; {but} when dissolved in soft sleep, she often sees the {object} which she is in love with. She seems to be even embracing her brother, and she blushes, though she is lying buried in sleep. Slumber departs; for a long time she is silent, and she recalls to {memory} the appearance of her dream, and thus she speaks with wavering mind:

“Ah, wretched me! What means this vision of the silent night? How far am I from wishing it real. Why have I seen this dream? He is, indeed, beautiful, even to envious eyes. He pleases me, too; and were he not my brother, I could love him, and he would be worthy of me. But it is my misfortune that I am his sister. So long as I strive, while awake, to commit no such {attempt}, let sleep often return with the like appearance. No witness is there in sleep; and yet there is the resemblance of the delight. O Venus and winged Cupid, together with thy voluptuous mother, how great the joys I experienced! how substantial the transport which affected me! How I lay dissolved {in delight} throughout my whole marrow! How pleasing to remember it; although short-lived was that pleasure, and the night sped onward rapidly, and was envious of my attempts {at bliss}. Oh, could I only be united {to thee}, by changing my name, how happily, Caunus, could I become the daughter-in-law of thy father! how happily, Caunus, couldst thou become the son-in-law of my father! O, that the Gods would grant that all things were in common with us, except our ancestors. Would that thou wast more nobly born than myself. For this reason then, most beauteous one, thou wilt make some stranger, whom I know not, a mother; but to me, who have unhappily got the same parents as thyself, thou wilt be nothing {more} than a brother. That {tie} alone we shall have, which bars all else. What, then, do my visions avail me? And what weight have dreams? And do dreams have any weight? The Gods {fare} better; for the Gods have their own sisters {in marriage}. Thus Saturn married Ops,[50] related to him by blood; Ocean Tethys, the ruler of Olympus Juno. The Gods above have their privileges. Why do I attempt to reduce human customs to the rule of divine ordinances, and those so different? Either this forbidden flame shall be expelled from my heart, or if I cannot effect that, I pray that I may first perish, and that when dead I may be laid out on my bed, and that my brother may give me kisses as I lie. And besides, this matter requires the inclination of us both; suppose it pleases me; to him it will seem to be a crime. But the sons of Æolus[51] did not shun the embraces of their sisters. But whence have I known of these? Why have I furnished myself with these precedents? Whither am I hurried onward? Far hence begone, ye lawless flames! and let not my brother be loved by me, but as it is lawful for a sister {to love him}. But yet, if he had been first seized with a passion for me, perhaps I might have indulged his desires. Am I then, myself, to court him, whom I would not have rejected, had he courted me? And canst thou speak out? And canst thou confess it? Love will compel me. I can. Or if shame shall restrain my lips, a private letter shall confess the latent flame.”

This thought pleases her, this determines her wavering mind. She raises herself on her side, and leaning on her left elbow, she says, “He shall see it; let me confess my frantic passion. Ah, wretched me! How am I degrading myself! What flame is my mind {now} kindling!” And {then}, with trembling hand, she puts together the words well weighed. Her right hand holds the iron {pen}, the other, clean wax tablets.[52] She begins, and {then} she hesitates; she writes, and {then} corrects what is written; she marks, and {then} scratches out; she alters, and condemns, and approves; and one while she throws them down when taken up, and at another time, she takes them up again, when thrown aside. What she would have, she knows not. Whatever she seems on the point of doing, is not to her taste. In her features are assurance mingled with shame. {The word} ‘sister’ is written; it seems {as well} to efface {the word} ‘sister,’ and {then} to write such words as these upon the smoothed wax: “Thy lover wishes thee that health which she, herself, is not to enjoy, unless thou shalt grant it. I am ashamed! Oh, I am ashamed to disclose my name! and shouldst thou inquire what it is I wish; without my name[53] could I wish my cause to be pleaded, and that I might not be known as Byblis, until the hopes of {enjoying} my desires were realized. There might have been as a proof to thee of my wounded heart, my {pale} complexion, my falling away, my {downcast} looks, and my eyes often wet with tears, sighs, too, fetched without any seeming cause; frequent embraces too, and kisses, which, if perchance thou didst observe, could not be deemed to be those of a sister. Still I, myself, though I had a grievous wound in my soul, {and} although there was a raging fire within, have done everything, as the Gods are my witnesses, that at last I might be cured; and long, in my wretchedness, have I struggled to escape the ruthless weapon of Cupid; and I have endured more hardships than thou wouldst believe that a maiden could endure.

“Vanquished {at length}, I am forced to own {my passion}; and with timorous prayers, to entreat thy aid. Thou alone canst save, thou destroy, one who loves thee. Choose which thou wilt do. She is not thy enemy who begs this; but one who, though most nearly connected with thee, desires to be still more closely connected, and to be united to thee in a nearer tie. Let aged men be acquainted with ordinances, and make inquiry what is lawful, and what is wicked, and what is proper; and let them employ themselves in considering the laws. A passion that dares all consequences is suited to our years. As yet, we know not what is lawful, and we believe that all things are lawful, and {so} follow the example of the great Gods. Neither a severe father, nor regard for character, nor fear, shall restrain us, {if} only the cause for fearing is removed. Under a brother’s name will we conceal our stolen joys {so} sweet. I have the liberty of conversing with thee in private; and {even} before others do we give embraces, and exchange kisses. How little is it that is wanting! do have pity on the love of her who confesses it, and who would not confess it, did not extreme passion compel her; and merit not to be inscribed on my tomb as the cause {of my death}.”

The filled tablets fall short for her hand, as it vainly inscribes such words as these, and the last line is placed in the margin.[54] At once she seals up her own condemnation, with the impress of a signet, which she wets with her tears, {for} the moisture has deserted her tongue. Filled with shame, she {then} calls one of her male domestics, and gently addressing him in timorous tones, she said, “Carry these, most trusty one, to my,” and, after a long pause, she added, “brother.” While she was delivering them, the tablets, slipping from her hands, fell down. She was shocked by this omen, but still she sent them. The servant, having got a fit opportunity, goes {to her brother} and delivers the secret writing. The Mæandrian youth,[55] seized with sudden anger, throws away the tablets {so} received, when he has read a part; and, with difficulty withholding his hands from the face of the trembling servant, he says, “Fly hence, O thou accursed pander to forbidden lust, who shouldst have given me satisfaction by thy death, if {it was} not {that} thy destruction would bring disgrace on my character.” Frightened, he hastens away, and reports to his mistress the threatening expressions of Caunus. Thou, Byblis, on hearing of his refusal, turnest pale, and thy breast, beset with an icy chill, is struck with alarm; yet when thy senses return, so, too, does thy frantic passion return, and thy tongue with difficulty utters such words as these, the air being struck {by thy accents}:

“And deservedly {am I thus treated}; for why, in my rashness, did I make the discovery of this wound? why have I so speedily committed words to a hasty letter, which ought {rather} to have been concealed? The feelings of his mind ought first to have been tried beforehand by me, with ambiguous expressions. Lest he should not follow me in my course, I ought, with some part of my sail[56] {only}, to have observed what kind of a breeze it was, and to have scudded over the sea in safety; {whereas}, now, I have filled my canvass with winds {before} untried. I am driven upon rocks in consequence; and sunk, I am buried beneath the whole ocean, and my sails have {now} no retreat. And besides, was I not forbidden, by unerring omens, to indulge my passion, at the time when the waxen {tablets} fell, as I ordered him to deliver them, and made my hopes sink to the ground? and ought not either the day to have been changed, or else my whole intentions; but rather, {of the two},[57] the day? {Some} God himself warned me, and gave me unerring signs, if I had not been deranged; and yet I ought to have spoken out myself, and not to have committed myself to writing, and personally {I ought} to have discovered my passion; {then} he would have seen my tears, {then} he would have seen the features of her who loved him; I might have given utterance to more than what the letter contained. I might have thrown my arms around his reluctant neck, and have embraced his feet, and lying {on the ground}, I might have begged for life; and if I had been repelled, I might have seemed on the point of death. All this, {I say}, I might {then} have done; if each of these things could not {singly} have softened his obdurate feelings, {yet} all of them might.

“Perhaps, too, there may be some fault in the servant that was sent. He did not wait on him at a convenient moment; he did not choose, I suppose, a fitting time; nor did he request both the hour and his attention to be disengaged. ’Tis this that has undone me; for he was not born of a tigress, nor does he carry in his breast hard flints, or solid iron, or adamant; nor yet did he suck the milk of a lioness. He will {yet} be won. Again must he be attacked.[58] And no weariness will I admit of in {the accomplishment of} my design, so long as this breath {of mine} shall remain. For the best thing (if I could {only} recall what has been destined) would have been, not to have made the attempt; the next best thing is, to urge the accomplishment of what is begun; for he cannot (suppose I were to relinquish my design) ever be unmindful of this my attempt; and because I have desisted, I shall appear to have desired for but an instant, or even to have been trying him, and to have solicited him with the intention to betray; or, at least, I shall be thought not to have been overcome by this God, who with such intensity {now} burns, and has burnt my breast, but rather by lust. In fine, I cannot now be guiltless of a wicked deed; I have both written {to him}, and I have solicited {him}; my inclination has been defiled. Though I were to add nothing more, I cannot be pronounced innocent: as to what remains, {’twill add} much to {the gratifying of} my wishes, {but} little to my criminality.”

{Thus} she says; and (so great is the unsteadiness of her wavering mind) though she is loath to try him, she has a wish to try him, and she exceeds {all} bounds, and, to her misery, exposes herself to be often repulsed. At length, when there is {now} no end {to this}, he flies from his country and {the commission of} this crime, and founds a new city[59] in a foreign land. But then, they say that the daughter of Miletus, in her sadness, was bereft of all understanding. Then did she tear her garments away from her breast, and in her frenzy beat her arms. And now she is openly raving, and she proclaims the unlawful hopes of {unnatural} lust. Deprived of these {hopes}, she deserts her native land, and her hated home, and follows the steps of her flying brother. And as the Ismarian[60] Bacchanals, son of Semele, aroused by thy thyrsus, celebrate thy triennial festivals, as they return, no otherwise did the Bubasian matrons[61] see Byblis howling over the wide fields; leaving which, she wandered through {the country of} the Carians, and the warlike Leleges,[62] and Lycia.

And now she has left behind Cragos,[63] and Lymira,[64] and the waves of Xanthus, and the mountain in which the Chimæra had fire in its middle parts, the breast and the face of a lioness, and the tail of a serpent. The woods {at length} fail thee; when thou, Byblis, wearied with following him, dost fall down, and laying thy tresses upon the hard ground, art silent, and dost press the fallen leaves with thy face. Often, too, do the Lelegeïan Nymphs endeavour to raise her in their tender arms; often do they advise her to curb her passion, and they apply consolation to a mind insensible {to their advice}. Silent does Byblis lie, and she tears the green herbs with her nails, and waters the grass with the stream of her tears. They say that the Naiads placed beneath these {tears} a channel which could never become dry; and what greater gift had they to bestow? Immediately, as drops from the cut bark of the pitch tree, or as the viscid bitumen distils from the impregnated earth, or as water which has frozen with the cold, at the approach of Favonius, gently blowing, melts away in the sun, so is Byblis, the descendant of Phœbus, dissolving in her tears, changed into a fountain, which even now, in those vallies, bears the name of its mistress, and flows beneath a gloomy oak.

[Footnote 46: _Every God has._--Ver. 425-6. ‘Cui studeat, Deus
omnis habet crescitque favore Turbida seditio.’ Clarke thus
renders these words, ‘Every God has somebody to stickle for, and a
turbulent sedition arises by their favours for their darlings.’]

[Footnote 47: _Son of Deione._--Ver. 442. According to some
writers, Miletus was the son of Apollo and Deione, though others
say that Thia was the name of his mother. He was the founder of
the celebrated city of Miletus, in Caria, a country of Asia
Minor.]

[Footnote 48: _Does not think._--Ver. 457. Clarke translates this
line, ‘Nor does she think she does amiss that she so often tips
him a kiss.’ Antoninus Liberalis says, that Eidothea, the daughter
of the king of Paria, and not Cyane, was the mother of Byblis and
Caunus.]

[Footnote 49: _Sweetheart._--Ver. 465. The word ‘dominus’ was
often used as a term of endearment between lovers.]

[Footnote 50: _Married Ops._--Ver. 497. Ops, the daughter of Cœlus
or Uranus, who was also called Cybele, Rhea, and ‘the great
Mother,’ was fabled to have been the wife of her brother Saturn;
while Oceanus, the son of Cœlus and Vesta, married his sister
Tethys.]

[Footnote 51: _Sons of Æolus._--Ver. 506. Æolus had six sons, to
whom he was said to have given their sisters for wives. In the
case, however, of his daughter Canace, who was pregnant by her
brother Macareus, Æolus was more severe, as he sent her a sword,
with which to put herself to death.]

[Footnote 52: _Clean wax tablets._--Ver. 521. Before the tablet
was written upon, the wax was ‘vacua,’ empty; or, as we say of
writing-paper, ‘clean.’ There was a blunt end to the upper part of
the ‘stylus,’ or iron pen, with which the wax was smoothed down
when any writing was erased.]

[Footnote 53: _Without my name._--Ver. 531-2. ‘Sine nomine vellem
Posset agi mea causa meo,’ is rendered by Clarke, ‘I could wish my
business might be transacted without my name.’]

[Footnote 54: _In the margin._--Ver. 564. Clarke translates,
‘Summusque in margine versus adhæsit,’ ‘And the last line was
clapped into the margin.’]

[Footnote 55: _Meandrian youth._--Ver. 573. Caunus was the
grandson of the river Mæander.]

[Footnote 56: _Part of my sail._--Ver. 589. She borrows this
metaphor from sailors, who, before setting out, sometimes unfurl a
little portion of the sail, to see how the wind blows.]

[Footnote 57: _Rather of the two._--Ver. 598. Willing to believe
anything in the wrong rather than herself; she is sure that the
day was an unlucky one.]

[Footnote 58: _Be attacked._--Ver. 615. ‘Repeteudas erit,’ Clarke
translates, ‘I must at him again.’]

[Footnote 59: _Founds a new city._--Ver. 633. This was Caunus,
a city of Caria.]

[Footnote 60: _Ismarian._--Ver. 641. Ismarus was a mountain of
Thrace. The festival here alluded to was the ‘trieterica,’ or
triennial feast of Bacchus.]

[Footnote 61: _Bubasian matrons._--Ver. 643. We learn from Pliny
the Elder that Bubasus was a region of Caria.]

[Footnote 62: _Leleges._--Ver. 644. The Leleges were a warlike
people of Caria, in Asia Minor, who were supposed to have sprung
from Grecian emigrants, who first inhabited the adjacent island,
and afterwards the continent. They were said to have their name
from the Greek word λελεγμένοι ‘gathered,’ because they were
collected from various places.]

[Footnote 63: _Cragos._--Ver. 645. Cragos was a mountain of
Lycia.]

[Footnote 64: _Lymira._--Ver. 645. This was a city of Lycia, near
Cragos.]

EXPLANATION.

This shocking story has been also recounted by Antoninus Liberalis
and both he and Ovid have embellished it with circumstances, which
are the fruit of a lively imagination. They make Byblis travel over
several countries in search of her brother, who flies from her
extravagant passion, and they both agree in tracing her to Caria.
There, according to Antoninus Liberalis, she was transformed into a
Hamadryad, just as she was on the point of throwing herself from the
summit of a mountain. Ovid, on the other hand, says that she was
changed into a fountain, which afterwards bore her name.

It is, however, most probable, that if the story is founded on
truth, the whole of the circumstances happened in Caria; since we
learn, both from Apollodorus and Pausanias, that Miletus, her
father, went from the island of Crete to lead a colony into Caria,
when he conquered a city, to which he gave his own name. Pausanias
says, that all the men of the city being killed during the siege,
the conquerors married their wives and daughters. Cyanea, the
daughter of Mæander, fell to the share of Miletus, and Caunus and
Byblis were the offspring of that marriage. Byblis, having conceived
a criminal passion for her brother, he was obliged to leave his
father’s court, that he might avoid her importunities; upon which
she died of grief. As she often went to weep by a fountain, which
was outside of the town, those who related the adventure, magnified
it, by stating that she was changed into the fountain, which, after
her death, bore her name. We are informed by Photius, on the
authority of the historian Conon, that it was Caunus who fell in
love with Byblis, and that she hanged herself upon a walnut tree.
Ovid also, in his ‘Art of Love,’ follows the tradition that she
hanged herself. ‘Arsit et est laqueo fortiter ulta nefas.’ Miletus
lived in the time of the first Minos, and, according to some
writers, married his daughter Acallis; but, having disagreed with
his father-in-law, he was obliged to leave Crete, and retired to
Caria.

The Persians had certain state ordinances, by which their monarchs
were enjoined to marry their own sisters; and, as Asia Minor was
overrun by them at the time when Crœsus was conquered by Cyrus, it
is possible that the story of Byblis and Caunus may have originated
in the disgust which the natives felt for their conquerors, and as a
covert reproach to them for sanctioning alliances of so incestuous a
nature. While Ovid enters into details in the story, which trench on
the rules of modesty and decorum, the moral of the tale, aided by
some of his precepts, is not uninstructive as a warning to youth to
learn betimes how to regulate the passions.

FABLE VI. [IX.666-797]

Ligdus commands his wife Telethusa, who is pregnant, to destroy the
infant, should it prove to be a girl; on which, the Goddess Isis
appears to her in a dream, and, forbidding her to obey, promises her
her protection. Telethusa is delivered of a daughter, who is called
Iphis, and passes for a son. Iphis is afterwards married to Ianthe,
on which, Isis, to reward her mother’s piety, transforms her into a
man.

The fame of this new prodigy would, perhaps, have filled the hundred cities of Crete, if Crete had not lately produced a nearer wonder {of her own}, in the change of Iphis.

For once on a time the Phæstian land[65] adjoining to the Gnossian kingdom produced one Ligdus, of obscure name, a man of the freeborn class of common people. Nor were his means any greater than his rank, but his life and his honour were untainted. He startled the ears of his wife in her pregnancy, with these words, when her lying-in was near at hand: “Two things there are which I wish for; that thou mayst be delivered with very little pain, and that thou mayst bring forth a male child. The other alternative is a cause of greater trouble, and providence has denied us means {for bringing up a female}. The thing I abominate; but if a female should, by chance, be brought forth at thy delivery, (I command it with reluctance, forgive me, natural affection) let it be put to death.” {Thus} he said, and they bathed their faces with tears streaming down; both he who commanded, and she to whom the commands were given. But yet Telethusa incessantly urged her husband, with fruitless entreaties, not to confine his hopes within a compass so limited. {But} Ligdus’s resolution was fixed.

And now was she hardly {able} to bear her womb big with the burden ripe for birth; when in the middle of the night, under the form of a vision, the daughter of Inachus, attended by a train of her votaries, either stood, or seemed to stand, before her bed. The horns of the moon were upon her forehead, with ears of corn with their bright golden colour, and the royal ornament {of the diadem}; with her was the barking Anubis,[66] and the holy Bubastis,[67] and the particoloured Apis;[68] he, too, who suppresses[69] his voice, and with his finger enjoins silence. There were the sistra too, and Osiris,[70] never enough sought for; and the foreign serpent,[71] filled with soporiferous poison. When thus the Goddess addressed her, as though roused from her sleep, and seeing {all} distinctly: “O Telethusa, one of my votaries, lay aside thy grievous cares, and evade the commands of thy husband; and do not hesitate, when Lucina shall have given thee ease by delivery, to bring up {the child}, whatever it shall be. I am a befriending Goddess,[72] and, when invoked, I give assistance; and thou shalt not complain that thou hast worshipped an ungrateful Divinity.”

{Thus} she advises her, and {then} retires from her chamber. The Cretan matron arises joyful from her bed; and suppliantly raising her pure hands towards the stars {of heaven}, prays that her vision may be fulfilled. When her pains increased, and her burden forced itself into the light, and a girl was born to the father unaware of it, the mother ordered it to be brought up, pretending it was a boy; and the thing gained belief, nor was any one but the nurse acquainted with the fact. The father performed his vows, and gave {the child} the name of its grandfather. The grandfather had been called Iphis. The mother rejoiced in that name because it was common {to both sexes}, nor would she be deceiving[73] any one by it. Her deception lay unperceived under this fraud, the result of natural affection. The {child’s} dress was that of a boy; the face such, that, whether you gave it to a girl or to a boy, either would be beautiful. In the meantime the third year had {now} succeeded the tenth, when her father, O Iphis, promised to thee, in marriage, the yellow-haired Iänthe, who was a virgin the most commended among all the women of Phæstus, for the endowments of her beauty; the daughter of the Dictæan Telestes. Equal was their age, their beauty equal; and they received their first instruction, the elements {suited} to their age, from the same preceptor.

Love, in consequence, touches the inexperienced breasts of them both, and inflicts on each an equal wound; but {how} different are their hopes! Iänthe awaits the time of their union, and of the ceremonial agreed upon, and believes that she, whom she thinks to be a man, will be {her husband}. Iphis is in love with her whom she despairs to be able to enjoy, and this very thing increases her flame; and, {herself} a maid, she burns with passion for a maid. And, with difficulty, suppressing her tears, she says, “What issue {of my love} awaits me, whom the anxieties unknown to any {before}, and {so} unnatural, of an unheard-of passion, have seized upon? if the Gods would spare me, (they ought to have destroyed me, and if they would not have destroyed me), at least they should have inflicted some natural evil, and {one} common {to the human race}. Passion for a cow does not inflame a cow, nor does that for mares {inflame} the mares. The ram inflames the ewes; its own female follows the buck. And so do birds couple; and among all animals, no female is seized with passion for a female. Would that I did not exist.