Chapter XVII: Book THE TENTH: Fable I. X.1-85 (3)

But still this rash warfare increases, and {all} moderation departs, and direful fury reigns {triumphant}. And {yet} all their weapons would have been conquered by his music; but the vast clamour, and the Berecynthian pipe[1] with the blown horns, and the tambourines, and the clapping of hands, and Bacchanalian yells, prevented the sound of the lyre from being heard. Then, at last, the stones became red with the blood of the bard, {now} no longer heard. But first the Mænades lay hands on innumerable birds, even yet charmed with his voice as he sang, and serpents, and a throng of wild beasts, the glory of {this} audience of Orpheus; and after that, they turn upon Orpheus with blood-stained right hands; and they flock together, as the birds, if at any time they see the bird of night strolling about by day; {and} as when the stag that is doomed to die[2] in the morning sand in the raised amphitheatre is a prey to the dogs; they both attack the bard, and hurl the thyrsi, covered with green leaves, not made for such purposes as these. Some throw clods, some branches torn from trees, others flint stones. And that weapons may not be wanting for their fury, by chance some oxen are turning up the earth with the depressed ploughshare; and not far from thence, some strong-armed peasants, providing the harvest with plenteous sweat, are digging the hard fields; they, seeing this {frantic} troop, run away, and leave the implements of their labour; and there lie, dispersed throughout the deserted fields, harrows and heavy rakes, and long spades.

After they, in their rage, have seized upon these, and have torn to pieces the oxen with their threatening horns, they return to the destruction of the bard; and they impiously murder him, extending his hands, and then for the first time uttering words in vain, and making no effect on them with his voice. And (Oh Jupiter!) through those lips listened to by rocks, and understood by the senses of wild beasts, his life breathed forth, departs into the breezes.[3] The mournful birds, the crowd of wild beasts, the hard stones, the woods that oft had followed thy song bewailed thee. Trees, {too}, shedding their foliage, mourned thee, losing their leaves. They say, too, that rivers swelled with their own tears; and the Naiads and Dryads had mourning garments of dark colour, and dishevelled hair. The limbs lie scattered[4] in various places. Thou, Hebrus, dost receive the head and the lyre; and (wondrous {to relate}!) while it rolls down the midst of the stream, the lyre complains in I know not what kind of mournful strain. His lifeless tongue, {too}, utters a mournful sound, {to which} the banks mournfully reply. And now, borne onward to the sea, they leave their native stream, and reach the shores of Methymnæan Lesbos.[5] Here an infuriated serpent attacks the head thrown up on the foreign sands, and the hair besprinkled with the oozing blood. At last Phœbus comes to its aid, and drives it away as it tries to inflict its sting, and hardens the open jaws of the serpent into stone, and makes solid its gaping mouth just as it is. His ghost descends under the earth, and he recognizes all the spots which he has formerly seen; and seeking Eurydice through the fields of the blessed, he finds her, and enfolds her in his eager arms. Here, one while, they walk together side by side,[6] and at another time he follows her as she goes before, and {again} at another time, walking in front, precedes her; and now, in safety, Orpheus looks back upon his own Eurydice.

Yet Lyæus did not suffer this wickedness to go unpunished; and grieving for the loss of the bard of his sacred rites, he immediately fastened down in the woods, by a twisting root, all the Edonian matrons who had committed this crime. For he drew out the toes of her feet, just as each one had pursued him, and thrust them by their sharp points into the solid earth. And, as when a bird has entangled its leg in a snare, which the cunning fowler has concealed, and perceives that it is held fast, it beats its wings, and, fluttering, tightens the noose with its struggles; so, as each one of these had stuck fast, fixed in the ground, in her alarm, she attempted flight in vain; but the pliant root held her fast, and confined her, springing forward[7] {to escape}. And while she is looking where her toes are, where, {too}, are her feet and her nails, she sees wood growing up upon her well-turned legs. Endeavouring, too, to smite her thigh, with grieving right hand, she strikes solid oak; her breast, too, becomes oak; her shoulders are oak. You would suppose that her extended arms are real boughs, and you would not be deceived in {so} supposing.

[Footnote 1: _Berecynthian pipe._--Ver. 16. This pipe, made of
box-wood, was much used in the rites of Cybele, or Berecynthia.]

[Footnote 2: _Doomed to die._--Ver. 26. The Romans were wont to
exhibit shows of hunting in the amphitheatre in the morning; and
at mid-day the gladiatorial spectacles commenced. The ‘arena’ was
the name given to the central open space, which derived its name
from the sand with which it was covered, chiefly for the purpose
of absorbing the blood of the wild beasts and of the combatants.
Caligula, Nero, and Carus showed their extravagant disposition by
using cinnabar and borax instead of sand. In the earlier
amphitheatres there were ditches, called ‘Euripi,’ between the
open space, or arena, and the seats, to defend the spectators from
the animals. They were introduced by Julius Cæsar, but were filled
up by Nero, to gain space for the spectators. Those who fought
with the beasts (as it will be remembered St. Paul did at Ephesus)
were either condemned criminals or captives, or persons who did so
for pay, being trained for the purpose. Lucius Metellus was the
first that we read of who introduced wild beasts in the theatre
for the amusement of the public. He exhibited in the Circus one
hundred and forty-two elephants, which he brought from Sicily,
after his victory over the Carthaginians, and which are said to
have been slain, more because the Romans did not know what to do
with them, than for the amusement of the public. Lions and
panthers were first exhibited by M. Fulvius, after the Ætolian
war. In the Circensian games, exhibited by the Curule Ædiles,
P. Cornelius Scipio Nasica, and P. Lentulus, B.C. 168, there were
sixty-three African panthers and forty bears and elephants. These
latter animals were sometimes introduced to fight with bulls.
Sylla, when Prætor, exhibited one hundred lions, which were
pierced with javelins. We also read of hippopotami and crocodiles
being introduced for the same purpose, while cameleopards were
also hunted in the games given by Julius Caesar in his third
consulship. He also introduced bull fights, and Augustus first
exhibited the rhinoceros, and a serpent, fifty cubits in length.
When Titus constructed his great amphitheatre, five thousand wild
beasts and four thousand tame animals were slain; while in the
games celebrated by Trajan, after his victories over the Dacians,
eleven thousand animals are said to have been killed. For further
information on this subject, the reader is referred to the article
‘Venatio,’ in Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities,
which valuable work contains a large quantity of interesting
matter on this barbarous practice of the Romans.]

[Footnote 3: _Into the breezes._--Ver. 43. ‘In ventos anima
exhalata recessit’ is rendered by Clarke-- ‘his life breathed out,
marches off into the wind.’]

[Footnote 4: _Limbs lie scattered._--Ver. 50. The limbs of Orpheus
were collected by the Muses, and, according to Pausanias, were
buried by them in Dium in Macedonia, while his head was carried to
Lesbos.]

[Footnote 5: _Methymnæan Lesbos._--Ver. 55. Methymna was a town in
the isle of Lesbos, famed for its wines.]

[Footnote 6: _Side by side._--Ver. 64. ‘Conjunctis passibus’ means
‘at an equal pace, and side by side.’]

[Footnote 7: _Springing forward._--Ver. 78. ‘Exsultantem’ is
rendered by Clarke, ‘bouncing hard to get away.’]

EXPLANATION.

Some of the ancient mythologists say that the story of the serpent,
changed into stone for insulting the head of Orpheus, was founded on
the history of a certain inhabitant of the isle of Lesbos, who was
punished for attacking the reputation of Orpheus. This critic
excited contempt, as a malignant and ignorant person, who
endeavoured, as it were, to sting the character of the deceased
poet, and therefore, by way of exposing his spite and stupidity, he
was said to have been changed from a serpent into a stone. According
to Philostratus, the poet’s head was preserved in the temple of
Apollo at Lesbos; and he tells us that Diomedes, and Neoptolemus,
the son of Achilles, brought Philoctetes to Troy, after having
explained to him the oracular response which the head of Orpheus had
given to him from the bottom of a cave at Lesbos.

The harp of Orpheus was preserved in the same temple; and so many
wonders were reported of it, that Neanthus, the son of the tyrant
Pytharus, purchased it of the priests of Apollo, believing that its
sound would be sufficient to put rocks and trees in motion; but,
according to Lucian, he succeeded so ill, that on his trying the
harp, the dogs of the neighbouring villages fell upon him and tore
him to pieces.

The transformation of the women of Thrace into trees, for the murder
of Orpheus, is probably an allegory intended to show that these
furious and ill-conditioned females did not escape punishment for
their misdeeds; and that they were driven by society to pass the
rest of their lives in woods and caverns.

FABLE II. [XI.85-145]

Bacchus, having punished the Thracian women for the murder of
Orpheus, leaves Thrace. His tutor, Silenus, having become
intoxicated, loses his companions, and is brought by some Phrygian
peasants to Midas. He sends him to Bacchus, on which the God, in
acknowledgment of his kindness, promises him whatever favour he may
desire. Midas asks to be able to turn everything that he touches
into gold. This power is granted; but, soon convinced of his folly,
Midas begs the God to deprive him of it, on which he is ordered to
bathe in the river Pactolus. He obeys the God, and communicates the
power which he possesses to the stream; from which time that river
has golden sands.

And this is not enough for Bacchus. He resolves to forsake the country itself, and, with a superior train, he repairs to the vineyards of his own Tymolus, and Pactolus; although it was not golden at that time, nor to be coveted for its precious sands. The usual throng, {both} Satyrs and Bacchanals, surround him, but Silenus is away. The Phrygian rustics took him, as he was staggering with age and wine, and, bound with garlands, they led him to {their} king, Midas, to whom, together with the Cecropian Eumolpus,[8] the Thracian Orpheus had intrusted the {mysterious} orgies {of Bacchus}. Soon as he recognized this associate and companion of these rites, he hospitably kept a festival on the coming of this guest, for twice five days, and {as many} nights joined in succession.

“And now the eleventh Lucifer had closed the lofty host of the stars, when the king came rejoicing to the Lydian lands, and restored Silenus to the youth, his foster-child. To him the God, being glad at the recovery of his foster-father, gave the choice of desiring a favour, pleasing, {indeed}, but useless, {as it turned out}. He, destined to make a foolish use of the favour, says, ‘Cause that whatever I shall touch with my body shall be turned into yellow gold.’ Liber assents to his wish, and grants him the hurtful favour, and is grieved that he has not asked for something better. The Berecynthian hero[9] departs joyful, and rejoices in his own misfortune, and tries the truth of his promise by touching everything. And, hardly believing himself, he pulls down a twig from a holm-oak, growing on a bough not lofty; the twig becomes gold. He takes up a stone from the ground; the stone, too, turns pale with gold. He touches a clod, also; by his potent touch the clod becomes a mass {of gold}. He plucks some dry ears of corn, that wheat is golden. He holds an apple taken from a tree, you would suppose that the Hesperides had given it. If he places his fingers upon the lofty door-posts, {then} the posts are seen to glisten. When, too, he has washed his hands in the liquid stream, the water flowing from his hands might have deceived Danaë. He scarcely can contain his own hopes in his mind, imagining everything to be of gold. As he is {thus} rejoicing, his servants set before him a table supplied with dainties, and not deficient in parched corn. But then, whether he touches the gifts of Ceres with his right hand, the gifts of Ceres, {as gold}, become hard; or if he attempts to bite the dainties with hungry teeth, those dainties, upon the application of his teeth, shine as yellow plates of gold. {Bacchus}, the grantor of this favour, he mingles with pure water; you could see liquid gold flowing through his jaws.

“Astonished at the novelty of his misfortune, being both rich and wretched, he wishes to escape from his wealth, and {now} he hates what but so lately he has wished for; no plenty relieves his hunger, dry thirst parches his throat, and he is deservedly tormented by the {now} hated gold; and raising his hands towards heaven, and his shining arms, he says, “Grant me pardon, father Lenæus; I have done wrong, but have pity on me, I pray, and deliver me from this specious calamity!” Bacchus, the gentle Divinity among the Gods, restored him, as he confessed that he had done wrong, {to his former state}, and annulled his given promise, and the favour that was granted: “And that thou mayst not remain overlaid with thy gold, so unhappily desired, go,” said he, “to the river adjoining to great Sardis,[10] and trace thy way, meeting the waters as they fall from the height of the mountain, until thou comest to the rise of the stream. And plunge thy head beneath the bubbling spring, where it bursts forth most abundantly, and at once purge thy body, at once thy crime.” The king placed himself beneath the waters prescribed; the golden virtue tinged the river, and departed from the human body into the stream. And even now, the fields, receiving the ore of this ancient vein {of gold}, are hard, growing of pallid colour, from their clods imbibing the gold.

[Footnote 8: _Eumolpus._--Ver. 93. There were three celebrated
persons of antiquity named Eumolpus. The first was a Thracian, the
son of Neptune and Chione, who lived in the time of Erectheus,
king of Athens, against whom he led the people of Eleusis, and who
established the Eleusinian mysteries. Some of his posterity
settling at Athens, the Eumolpus here named was born there. He was
the son of Musæus and the disciple of Orpheus. The third Eumolpus
is supposed to have lived between the times of the two already
named.]

[Footnote 9: _Berecynthian hero._--Ver. 106. Midas is so called
from mount Berecynthus in Phrygia.]

[Footnote 10: _Sardis._--Ver. 137. The city of Sardis was the
capital of Lydia, where Crœsus had his palace. The river Pactolus
flowed through it.]

EXPLANATION.

The ancients divided the Divinities into several classes, and in the
last class, which Ovid calls the populace, or commonalty of the
Gods, were the Satyrs and Sileni. The latter, according to
Pausanias, were no other than Satyrs of advanced age. There seems,
however, to have been one among them, to whom the name of Silenus
was especially given, and to him the present story relates.
According to Pindar and Pausanias he was born at Malea, in Laconia;
while Theopompus, quoted by Ælian, represents him as being the son
of a Nymph. He was inferior to the higher Divinities, but superior
to man, in not being subject to mortality. He was represented as
bald, flat-nosed, and red-faced, a perfect specimen of a drunken old
man. He is often introduced either sitting on an ass, or reeling
along on foot, with a thyrsus to support him.

He was said to have tended the education of the infant Bacchus, and
indeed, according to the author whose works are quoted as those of
Orpheus, he was an especial favourite of the Gods; while some
writers represent him not as a drunken old man, but as a learned
philosopher and a skilful commander. Lucian combines the two
characters, and describes him as an aged man with large straight
ears and a huge belly, wearing yellow clothes, and generally mounted
on an ass, or supported by a staff, but, nevertheless, as being a
skilful general. Hyginus says, that the Phrygian peasants found
Midas near a fountain, into which, according to Xenophon, some one
had put wine, which had made him drunk. In his interview with Midas,
according to Theopompus, as quoted by Ælian, they had a conversation
concerning that unknown region of the earth, to which Plato refers
under the name of the New Atlantis, and which, after long employing
the speculations of the ancient philosophers, was realized to the
moderns in the discovery of America. The passage is sufficiently
curious to deserve to be quoted. He says, “Asia, Europe, and Libya,
are but three islands, surrounded by the ocean; but beyond that
ocean there is a vast continent, whose bounds are entirely unknown
to us. The men and the animals of that country are much larger, and
live much longer than those of this part of the world. Their towns
are fine and magnificent; their customs are different from ours; and
they are governed by different laws. They have two cities, one of
which is called ‘the Warlike,’ and the other ‘the Devout.’ The
inhabitants of the first city are much given to warfare, and make
continual attacks upon their neighbours, whom they bring under their
subjection. Those who inhabit the other city are peaceable, and
blessed with plenty; the earth without toil or tillage furnishing
them with abundance of the necessaries of life. Except their sick,
they all live in the midst of riches and continual festivity and
pleasure; but they are so just and righteous that the Gods
themselves delight to go frequently and pass their time among them.

“The warlike people of the first city having extended their
conquests in their own vast continent, made an irruption into ours,
with a million of men, as far as the country of the Hyperboreans;
but when they saw their mode of living, they deemed them to be
unworthy of their notice, and returned home. These warriors rarely
die of sickness; they delight in warfare, and generally lose their
lives in battle. There is also in this new world another numerous
people called Meropes; and in their country is a place called
‘Anostus,’ that is to say, ‘not to be repassed,’ because no one ever
comes back from thence. It is a dreadful abyss, having no other than
a reddish sort of light. There are two rivers in that place; one
called the River of Sorrow, and the other the River of Mirth. Trees
as large as planes grow about these rivers. Those who eat of the
fruit of the trees growing near the River of Sorrow, pass their
lives in affliction, weeping continually, even to their last breath;
but such as eat of the fruit of the other trees, forget the past,
and revert through the different stages of their life, and then
die.”

Ælian regards the passage as a mere fable, and the latter part is
clearly allegorical. The mention of the two cities, ‘the Warlike’
and ‘the Devout,’ can hardly fail to remind us of Japan, with its
spiritual and temporal capitals.

Some writers say, that Silenus was the king of Caria, and was the
contemporary and friend of Midas, to whom his counsel proved of
considerable service, in governing his dominions. He was probably
called the foster-father or tutor, of Bacchus, because he introduced
his worship into Phrygia and the neighbouring countries.

FABLE III. [XI.146-193]

Pan is so elated with the praises of some Nymphs who hear the music
of his pipe, that he presumes to challenge Apollo to play with him.
The mountain God, Tmolus, who is chosen umpire of the contest,
decides in favour of Apollo, and the whole company approve of his
judgment except Midas, who, for his stupidity in preferring Pan,
receives a pair of asses’ ears. He carefully conceals them till they
are discovered by his barber, who publishes his deformity in a very
singular manner.

He, abhorring riches, inhabited the woods and the fields, and {followed} Pan, who always dwells in caves of the mountains; but his obtuse understanding[11] still remained, and the impulse of his foolish mind was fated again, as before, to be an injury to its owner. For the lofty Tmolus, looking far and wide over the sea, stands erect, steep with its lofty ascent; and extending in its descent on either side, is bounded on the one side by Sardis, on the other by the little Hypæpæ.

While Pan is there boasting of his strains to the charming Nymphs, and is warbling a little tune upon the reeds joined with wax, daring to despise the playing of Apollo in comparison with his own, he comes to the unequal contest under the arbitration of Tmolus.[12] The aged umpire seats himself upon his own mountain, and frees his ears of the {incumbering} trees. His azure-coloured hair is only covered with oak, and acorns hang around his hollow temples. And looking at the God of the flocks, he says, “there is no delay in {me}, your umpire.” He sounds his rustic reeds, and delights Midas with his uncouth music; for he, by chance, is present as he plays. After this the sacred Tmolus turns his face towards the countenance of Apollo; his words follow {the direction of} his face. He, having his yellow head wreathed with Parnassian laurel, sweeps the ground with his robe, soaked in Tyrian purple,[13] and supports with his left hand his lyre, adorned with gems and Indian ivory; the other hand holds the plectrum. The very posture is that of an artist. He then touches the strings with a skilful thumb; charmed by the sweetness of which, Tmolus bids Pan to hold his reeds in submission to the lyre; and the judgment and decision of the sacred mountain pleases them all. Yet it is blamed, and is called unjust by the voice of Midas alone. But the Delian {God} does not allow his stupid ears to retain their human shape: but draws them out to a {great} length, and he fills them with grey hairs, and makes them unsteady at the lower part, and gives them the power of moving. The rest {of his body} is that of a man; in one part alone is he condemned {to punishment}; and he assumes the ears of the slowly moving ass.

He, indeed, concealed them, and endeavoured to veil his temples, laden with this foul disgrace, with a purple turban. But a servant, who was wont to cut his hair, when long, with the steel {scissars}, saw it; who, when he did not dare disclose the disgraceful thing he had seen, though desirous to publish it, and yet could not keep it secret, retired, and dug up the ground, and disclosed, in a low voice, what kind of ears he had beheld on his master, and whispered it to the earth cast up. And {then} he buried this discovery of his voice with the earth thrown in again, and, having covered up the ditch, departed in silence.

There, a grove, thick set with quivering reeds, began to rise; and as soon as it came to maturity, after a complete year, it betrayed its planter. For, moved by the gentle South wind, it repeated the words {there} buried, and disclosed the ears of his master.

[Footnote 11: _Obtuse understanding._--Ver. 148. ‘Pingue sed
ingenium mansit,’ is rendered by Clarke, ‘but he continued a
blockhead still.’]

[Footnote 12: _Tmolus._--Ver. 156. This was the tutelary divinity
of the mountain of Tmolus, or Tymolus.]

[Footnote 13: _Soaked in Tyrian purple._--Ver. 166. Being
saturated with Tyrian purple, the garment would be ‘dibaphus,’ or
‘twice dipt;’ being first dyed in the grain, and again when woven.
Of course, these were the most valuable kind of cloths.]

EXPLANATION.

Midas, according to Pausanias, was the son of Gordius and Cybele,
and reigned in the Greater Phrygia. Strabo says that he and his
father kept their court near the river Sangar, in cities which, in
the time of that author had become mean villages. As Midas was very
rich, and at the same time very frugal, it was reported that
whatever he touched was at once turned into gold; and Bacchus was
probably introduced into his story, because Midas had favoured the
introduction of his worship, and was consequently supposed to have
owed his success to the good offices of that Divinity. He was
probably the first who extracted gold from the sands of the river
Pactolus, and in that circumstance the story may have originated.
Strabo says that Midas found the treasures which he possessed in the
mines of Mount Bermius. It was said that in his infancy some ants
were seen to creep into his cradle, and to put grains of wheat in
his mouth, which was supposed to portend that he would be rich and
frugal.

As he was very stupid and ignorant, the fable of his preference of
the music of Pan to that of Apollo was invented, to which was added,
perhaps, as a mark of his stupidity, that the God gave him a pair of
asses’ ears. The scholiast of Aristophanes, to explain the story,
says either it was intended to shew that Midas, like the ass, was
very quick of hearing, or in other words, had numerous spies in all
parts of his dominions; or, it was invented, because his usual place
of residence was called Onouta, ὄνου ὦτα, ‘the ears of an ass.’
Strabo says that he took a draught of warm bullock’s blood, from the
effects of which he died; and, according to Plutarch, he did so to
deliver himself from the frightful dreams with which he was
tormented.

Tmolus, the king of Lydia, according to Clitophon, was the son of
Mars and the Nymph Theogene, or, according to Eustathius, of Sipylus
and Eptonia. Having violated Arriphe, a Nymph of Diana, he was, as a
punishment, tossed by a bull, and falling on some sharp pointed
stakes, he lost his life, and was buried on the mountain that
afterwards bore his name.

FABLE IV. [XI.194-220]

Apollo and Neptune build the walls of Troy for king Laomedon, who
refuses to give the Gods the reward which he has promised: on which
Neptune punishes his perjury by an inundation of his country.
Laomedon is then obliged to expose his daughter to a sea monster,
in order to appease the God. Hercules delivers her; and Laomedon
defrauds him likewise of the horses which he has promised him.
In revenge, Hercules plunders the city of Troy, and carries off
Hesione, whom he gives in marriage to his companion Telamon.

The son of Latona, having {thus} revenged himself, departs from Tmolus, and, borne through the liquid air, rests on the plains of Laomedon, on this side of the narrow sea of Helle, the daughter of Nephele. On the right hand of Sigæum and on the left of the lofty Rhœtæum,[14] there is an ancient altar dedicated to the Panomphæan[15] Thunderer. Thence, he sees Laomedon {now} first building the walls of rising Troy, and that this great undertaking is growing up with difficult labour, and requires no small resources. And {then}, with the trident-bearing father of the raging deep, he assumes a mortal form, and for the Phrygian king they build the walls,[16] a sum of gold being agreed on for the defences.

The work is {now} finished; the king refuses the reward, and, as a completion of his perfidy, adds perjury to his false words. “Thou shalt not escape unpunished,” says the king of the sea; and he drives all his waters towards the shores of covetous Troy. He turns the land, too, into the form of the sea, and carries off the wealth of the husbandmen, and overwhelms the fields with waves. Nor is this punishment sufficient: the daughter of the king, is also demanded for a sea monster. Chained to the rugged rocks, Alcides delivers her, and demands the promised reward, the horses agreed upon; and the recompense of so great a service being denied him, he captures the twice-perjured walls of conquered Troy. Nor does Telamon, a sharer in the warfare, come off without honour; and he obtains Hesione, who is given to him.

But Peleus was distinguished by a Goddess for his wife; nor was he more proud of the name of his grandfather than that of his father-in-law.[17] Since, not to his lot alone did it fall to be the grandson of Jove; to him alone, was a Goddess given for a wife.

[Footnote 14: _Rhœtæum._--Ver. 197. Sigæum and Rhœtæum were two
promontories, near Troy, between which was an altar dedicated to
Jupiter Panomphæus.]

[Footnote 15: _Panomphæan._--Ver. 198. Jupiter had the title
‘Panomphæus,’ from πᾶν, ‘all,’ and ὀμφὴ, ‘the voice,’ either
because he was worshipped by the voices of all, or because he was
the author of all prophecy.]

[Footnote 16: _Build the walls._--Ver. 204. It has been suggested
that the story of Laomedon obtaining the aid of Neptune in
building the walls of Troy, only meant that he built it of bricks
made of clay mixed with water, and dried in the sun.]

[Footnote 17: _His father-in-law._--Ver. 219. Nereus, the father
of Thetis; was a Divinity of the sea, and was gifted with the
power of prophecy.]

EXPLANATION.

Laomedon, being King of Troy, and the city being open and
defenceless, he undertook to enclose it with walls, and succeeded so
well, that the work was attributed to Apollo. The strong banks which
he was obliged to raise to keep out the sea and to prevent
inundations, were regarded as the work of Neptune. In time, these
banks being broken down by tempests, it was reported that the God of
the sea had thus revenged himself on Laomedon, for refusing him the
reward which had been agreed upon between them. This story received
the more ready credit from the circumstance mentioned by Herodotus
and Eustathius, that this king used the treasure belonging to the
temple of Neptune, in raising these embankments, and building the
walls of his city; having promised the priests to restore it when he
should be in a condition to do so; which promise he never performed.
Homer says that Neptune and Apollo tended the flocks while all the
subjects of Laomedon were engaged in building the walls.

When these embankments were laid under water, and a plague began to
rage within the city, the Trojans were told by an oracle that to
appease the God of the sea, they must sacrifice a virgin of the
royal blood. The lot fell upon Hesione, and she was exposed to the
fury of a sea-monster. Hercules offered to deliver her for a reward
of six horses, and having succeeded, was refused his recompense by
Laomedon; whom he slew, and then plundered his city. He then gave
the kingdom to Podarces, the son of Laomedon, and Hesione to his
companion Telamon, who had assisted him. This monster was probably
an allegorical representation of the inundations of the sea; and
Hesione having been made the price of him that could succeed in
devising a remedy, she was said to have been exposed to the fury of
a monster. The six horses promised by Laomedon were perhaps so many
ships, which Hercules demanded for his recompense; and this is the
more likely, as the ancients said that these horses were so light
and swift, that they ran upon the waves, which story seems to point
at the qualities of a galley or ship under sail.

Lycophron gives a more wonderful version of the story. He says that
the monster, to which Hesione was exposed, devoured Hercules, and
that he was three days in its belly, and came out, having lost all
his hair. This is, probably, a way of telling us that Hercules and
his assistants were obliged to work in the water, which incommoded
them very much. Palæphatus gives another explanation: he says that
Hesione was about to be delivered up to a pirate, and that Hercules,
on boarding his ship, was wounded, although afterwards victorious.

FABLES V. AND VI. [XI.221-409]

Proteus foretells that Thetis shall have a son, who shall be more
powerful than his father, and shall exceed him in valour. Jupiter,
who is in love with Thetis, is alarmed at this prediction, and
yields her to Peleus. The Goddess flies from his advances by
assuming various shapes, till, by the advice of Proteus, he holds
her fast, and then having married her, she bears Achilles. Peleus
goes afterwards to Ceyx, king of Trachyn, to expiate the death of
his brother Phocus, whom he has killed. Ceyx is in a profound
melancholy, and tells him how his brother Dædalion, in the
transports of his grief for his daughter Chione, who had been slain
for vying with Diana, has been transformed into a hawk. During this
relation, Peleus is informed that a wolf which Psamathe has sent to
revenge the death of Phocus, is destroying his herds. He endeavours
to avert the wrath of the Goddess, but she is deaf to his
entreaties, till, by the intercession of Thetis, she is appeased,
and she turns the wolf into stone.

For the aged Proteus had said to Thetis, “Goddess of the waves, conceive; thou shalt be the mother of a youth, who by his gallant actions shall surpass the deeds of his father, and shall be called greater than he.” Therefore, lest the world might contain something greater than Jove, although he had felt no gentle flame in his breast, Jupiter avoided the embraces of Thetis,[18] {the Goddess} of the sea, and commanded his grandson, the son of Æacus,[19] to succeed to his own pretensions, and rush into the embraces of the ocean maid. There is a bay of Hæmonia, curved into a bending arch; its arms project out; there, were the water {but} deeper, there would be a harbour, {but} the sea is {just} covering the surface of the sand. It has a firm shore, which retains not the impression of the foot, nor delays the step {of the traveller}, nor is covered with sea-weeds. There is a grove of myrtle at hand, planted with particoloured berries. In the middle there is a cave, whether formed by nature or art, it is doubtful; still, by art rather. To this, Thetis, thou wast wont often to come naked, seated on thy harnessed dolphin. There Peleus seized upon thee, as thou wast lying fast bound in sleep; and because, being tried by entreaties, thou didst resist, he resolved upon violence, clasping thy neck with both his arms. And, unless thou hadst had recourse to thy wonted arts, by frequently changing thy shape, he would have succeeded in his attempt. But, at one moment, thou wast a bird (still, as a bird he held thee fast); at another time a large tree: to {that} tree did Peleus cling. Thy third form was that of a spotted tiger; frightened by that, the son of Æacus loosened his arms from thy body.

Then pouring wine upon its waters,[20] he worshipped the Gods of the sea, both with the entrails of sheep and with the smoke of frankincense; until the Carpathian[21] prophet said, from the middle of the waves, “Son of Æacus, thou shalt gain the alliance desired by thee. Do thou only, when she shall be resting fast asleep in the cool cave, bind her unawares with cords and tenacious bonds. And let her not deceive thee, by imitating a hundred forms; but hold her fast, whatever she shall be, until she shall reassume the form which she had before.” Proteus said this, and hid his face in the sea, and received his own waves at his closing words. Titan was {now} descending, and, with the pole of his chariot bent downward, was taking possession of the Hesperian main; when the beautiful Nereid, leaving the deep, entered her wonted place of repose. Hardly had Peleus well seized the virgin’s limbs, {when} she changed her shape, until she perceived her limbs to be held fast, and her arms to be extended different ways. Then, at last, she sighed, and said, “Not without {the aid of} a Divinity, dost thou overcome me;” and then she appeared {as} Thetis {again}. The hero embraced her {thus} revealed, and enjoyed his wish, and by her was the father of great Achilles.

And happy was Peleus in his son, happy, too, in his wife, and one to whose lot all {blessings} had fallen, if you except the crime of his killing Phocus. The Trachinian land[22] received him guilty of his brother’s blood, and banished from his native home. Here Ceyx, sprung from Lucifer for his father, and having the comeliness of his sire in his face, held the sway without violence and without bloodshed, who, being sad at that time and unlike his {former} self, lamented the loss of his brother. After the son of Æacus, wearied, both with troubles and the length of the journey, has arrived there, and has entered the city with a few attending him, and has left the flocks of sheep and the herds which he has brought with him, not far from the walls, in a shady valley; when an opportunity is first afforded him of approaching the prince, extending the symbols of peace[23] with his suppliant hand, he tells him who he is, and from whom descended. He only conceals his crime, and, dissembling as to the {true} reason of his banishment, he entreats {him} to aid him {by a reception} either in his city or in his territory. On the other hand, the Trachinian {prince} addresses him with gentle lips, in words such as these: “Peleus, our bounties are open even to the lowest ranks, nor do I hold an inhospitable sway. To this my inclination, thou bringest in addition as powerful inducements, an illustrious name, and Jupiter as thy grandsire. And do not lose thy time in entreaty; all that thou askest thou shalt have. Look upon all these things, whatever thou seest, as in part thy own: would that thou couldst behold them in better condition!” and {then} he weeps. Pelcus and his companions enquire what it is that occasions grief so great. To them he {thus} speaks:--

“Perhaps you may think that this bird, which lives upon prey, and affrights all the birds, always had wings. It was a man; and as great is the vigour of its courage, as he {who was} Dædalion by name was active, and bold in war, and ready for violence; {he was} sprung from him, for his father, who summons forth[24] Aurora, and withdraws the last from the heavens. Peace was cherished by me; the care of maintaining peace and my marriage contract was mine; cruel warfare pleased my brother; that prowess of his subdued both kings and nations, which, changed, now chases the Thisbean doves.[25] Chione was his daughter, who, highly endowed with beauty, was pleasing to a thousand suitors, when marriageable at the age of twice seven years. By chance Phœbus, and the son of Maia, returning, the one from his own Delphi, the other from the heights of Cyllene, beheld her at the same moment, and at the same moment were inspired with passion. Apollo defers his hope of enjoyment until the hours of night; the other brooks no delay, and with his wand, that causes sleep, touches the maiden’s face. At the potent touch she lies entranced, and suffers violence from the God. Night has {now} bespangled the heavens with stars; Phœbus personates an old woman, and takes those delights before enjoyed {in imagination}. When her mature womb had completed the {destined} time, Autolycus was born, a crafty offspring of the stock of the God with winged feet, ingenious at every kind of theft, {and} who used, not degenerating from his father’s skill,[26] to make white out of black, and black out of white. From Phœbus was born (for she brought forth twins) Philammon, famous for his tuneful song, and for his lyre.

“{But} what avails it for her to have brought forth two children, and to have been pleasing to two Gods, and to have sprung from a valiant father, and the Thunderer as her ancestor?[27] Is even glory {thus} prejudicial to many? To her, at least, it was a prejudice; who dared to prefer herself to Diana, and decried the charms of the Goddess. But violent wrath was excited in her, and she said, ‘We will please her by our deeds.’[28] And there was no delay: she bent her bow, and let fly an arrow from the string, and pierced with the reed the tongue that deserved it. The tongue was silent; nor did her voice, and the words which she attempted {to utter, now} follow; and life, with her blood, left her, as she endeavoured to speak. Oh hapless affection! What pain did I {then} endure in my heart, as her uncle, and what consolations did I give to my affectionate brother? These the father received no otherwise than rocks do the murmurs of the ocean, and he bitterly lamented his daughter {thus} snatched from him. But when he beheld her burning, four times had he an impulse to rush into the midst of the pile; thence repulsed, four times did he commit his swift limbs to flight, and, like an ox, bearing upon his galled neck the stings of hornets, he rushed where there was no path. Already did he seem to me to run faster than a human being, and you would have supposed that his feet had assumed wings. Therefore he outran all; and, made swift by the desire for death, he gained the heights of Parnassus.

“Apollo pitying him, when Dædalion would have thrown himself from the top of the rock, made him into a bird, and supported him, hovering {in the air} upon {these} sudden wings; and he gave him a curved beak, and crooked claws on his talons, his former courage, and strength greater {in proportion} than his body; and, now {become} a hawk, sufficiently benignant to none, he rages {equally} against all birds; and grieving {himself}, becomes the cause of grief to others.”

While the son of Lucifer is relating these wonders about his brother, hastening with panting speed, Phocæan Antenor, the keeper of his herds, runs up to him. “Alas, Peleus! Peleus!” says he, “I am the messenger to thee of a great calamity;” and {then} Peleus bids him declare whatever news it is that he has brought; and the Trachinian hero himself is in suspense, and trembles through apprehension. The other tells {his story:} “I had driven the weary bullocks to the winding shore, when the Sun at his height, in the midst of his course, could look back on as much of it as he could see to be {now} remaining; and a part of the oxen had bent their knees on the yellow sands, and, as they lay, viewed the expanse of the wide waters; some, with slow steps, were wandering here and there; others were swimming, and appearing with their lofty necks above the waves. A temple is hard by the sea, adorned neither with marble nor with gold, but {made} of solid beams, and shaded with an ancient grove; the Nereids and Nereus possess it. A sailor, while he was drying his nets upon the shore, told us that these were the Gods of the temple. Adjacent to this is a marsh, planted thickly with numerous willows, which the water of the stagnating waves of the sea has made into a swamp. From that spot, a huge monster, a wolf, roaring with a loud bellowing, alarms the neighbouring places, and comes forth from the thicket of the marsh, {both} having his thundering jaws covered with foam and with clotted blood, {and} his eyes suffused with red flame. Though he was raging both with fury and with hunger, still was he more excited by fury; for he did not care to satisfy his hunger by the slaughter of the oxen, and to satiate his dreadful appetite, but he mangled the whole herd, and, like a true foe, pulled each {to the ground}. Some, too, of ourselves, while we were defending them, wounded with his fatal bite, were killed. The shore and the nearest waves were red with blood, and the fens were filled with the lowings {of the herd}. But delay is dangerous, and the case does not allow us to hesitate: while anything is {still} left, let us all unite, and let us take up arms, arms, {I say}, and in a body let us bear weapons.”

{Thus} speaks the countryman. And the loss does not affect Peleus; but, remembering his crime, he considers that the bereaved Nereid has sent these misfortunes of his, as an offering to the departed Phocus. The Œtæan king[29] commands his men to put on their armour, and to take up stout weapons; together with whom, he himself is preparing to go. But Halcyone, his wife, alarmed at the tumult, runs out, and not yet having arranged all her hair, even that which is {arranged} she throws in disorder; and clinging to the neck of her husband, she entreats him, both with words and tears, to send assistance without himself, and {so} to save two lives in one. The son of Æacus says to her, “O queen, lay aside thy commendable and affectionate fears; the kindness of thy proposal is {too} great {for me}. It does not please me, that arms should be employed against this new monster. The Divinity of the sea must be adored.” There is a lofty tower; a fire {is} upon the extreme summit,[30] a place grateful to wearied ships. They go up there, and with sighs they behold the bulls lying scattered upon the sea shore, and the cruel ravager with blood-stained mouth, having his long hair stained with gore. Peleus, thence extending his hands towards the open sea, entreats the azure Psamathe to lay aside her wrath, and to give him her aid. But she is not moved by the words of the son of Æacus, thus entreating. Thetis, interceding on behalf of her husband, obtains that favour {for him}.

But still the wolf persists, not recalled from the furious slaughter, {and} keenly urged by the sweetness of the blood; until she changes him into marble, as he is fastening on the neck of a mangled heifer. His body preserves every thing except its colour. The colour of the stone shows that he is not now a wolf, and ought not now to be feared. Still, the Fates do not permit the banished Peleus to settle in this land: the wandering exile goes to the Magnetes,[31] and there receives from the Hæmonian Acastus[32] an expiation of the murder.

[Footnote 18: _Embraces of Thetis._--Ver. 226. Fulgentius
suggests, that the meaning of this is, that Jupiter, or fire, will
not unite with Thetis, who represents water.]

[Footnote 19: _Son of Æacus._--Ver. 227. Peleus was the son of
Æacus, who was the son of Jupiter, by Ægina, the daughter of
Æsopus.]

[Footnote 20: _Upon its waters._--Ver. 247. While libations were
made to the other Divinities, either on their altars, or on the
ground, the marine Deities were so honoured by pouring wine on the
waves of the sea.]

[Footnote 21: _Carpathian._--Ver. 249. The Carpathian sea was so
called from the Isle of Carpathus, which lay between the island of
Rhodes and the Egyptian coast.]

[Footnote 22: _Trachinian land._--Ver. 269. Apollodorus says, that
Peleus, when exiled, repaired to Phthia, and not to the city of
Trachyn.]

[Footnote 23: _Symbols of peace._--Ver. 276. The ‘velamenta’ were
branches of olive, surrounded with bandages of wool, which were
held in the hands of those who begged for mercy or pardon. The
wool covering the hand was emblematical of peace, the hand being
thereby rendered powerless to effect mischief.]

[Footnote 24: _Who summons forth._--Ver. 296. This is a
periphrasis for Lucifer, or the Morning Star, which precedes, and
appears to summon the dawn.]

[Footnote 25: _Thisbean doves._--Ver. 300. Thisbe was a town of
Bœotia, so called from Thisbe, the daughter of Æsopus. It was
famous for the number of doves which it produced.]

[Footnote 26: _Father’s skill._--Ver. 314. Being the son of
Mercury, who was noted for his thieving propensities.]

[Footnote 27: _Her ancestor._--Ver. 319. Jupiter was the
great-grandfather of Chione, being the father of Lucifer, and the
grandfather of Dædalion.]

[Footnote 28: _By our deeds._--Ver. 323. This is said
sarcastically, as much as to say, ‘If I do not please her by my
looks, at least I will by my actions.’]

[Footnote 29: _The Œtæan king._--Ver. 383. Namely, Ceyx, the king
of Trachyn, which city Hercules had founded, at the foot of Mount
Œta.]

[Footnote 30: _The extreme summit._--Ver. 393. The upper stories
of the ancient light-houses had windows looking towards the sea;
and torches, or fires (probably in cressets, or fire-pans, at the
end of poles), were kept burning on them by night, to guide
vessels. ‘Pharos,’ or ‘Pharus,’ the name given to light-houses,
is derived from the celebrated one built on the island of Pharos,
at the entrance of the port of Alexandria. It was erected by
Sostratus, of Cnidos, at the expense of one of the Ptolemies, and
cost 800 talents. It was of huge dimensions, square, and
constructed of white stone. It contained many stories, and
diminished in width from below upwards. There were ‘phari,’ or
‘light-houses,’ at Ostia, Ravenna, Capreæ, and Brundisium.]

[Footnote 31: _The Magnetes._--Ver. 408. The Magnetes were the
people of Magnesia, a district of Thessaly. They were famed for
their skill in horsemanship.]

[Footnote 32: _Hæmonian Acastus._--Ver. 409. Acastus was the son
of Pelias. His wife Hippolyta, being enamoured of Peleus, and he
not encouraging her advances, she accused him of having made an
attempt on her virtue. On this, Acastus determined upon his death;
and having taken him to Mount Pelion, on the pretext of hunting,
he took away his arms, and left him there, to be torn to pieces by
the wild beasts. Mercury, or, according to some, Chiron, came to
his assistance, and gave him a sword made by Vulcan, with which he
slew Acastus and his wife.]

EXPLANATION.

Thetis being a woman of extraordinary beauty, it is not improbable,
that in the Epithalamia that were composed on her marriage, it was
asserted, that the Gods had contended for her hand, and had been
forced to give way, in obedience to the superior power of destiny.
Hyginus says that Prometheus was the only person that was acquainted
with the oracle; and that he imparted it to Jupiter, on condition
that he would deliver him from the eagle that tormented him:
whereupon the God sent Hercules to Mount Caucasus, to perform his
promise. It was on the occasion of this marriage that the Goddess
Discord presented the golden apple, the dispute for which occasioned
the Trojan war. The part of the story which relates how she assumed
various forms, to avoid the advances of Peleus, is perhaps an
ingenious method of stating, that having several suitors, she was
originally disinclined to Peleus, and used every pretext to avoid
him, until, by the advice of a wise friend, he found means to remove
all the difficulties which opposed his alliance with her.

Some writers state that Thetis was the daughter of Chiron; but
Euripides, in a fragment of his Iphigenia, tells us that Achilles,
who was the son of this marriage, took a pride in carrying the
figure of a Nereid on his shield. The three sons of Æacus were
Peleus, Telamon, and Phocus; while they were playing at quoits, the
latter accidentally received a blow from Peleus, which killed him.
Ovid, however, seems here to imply that Peleus killed his brother
purposely.