BOOK THE SIXTH.

BOOK THE SIXTH.

FABLE I. [VI.1-145]

Arachne, vain-glorious of her ingenuity, challenges Minerva to a contest of skill in her art. The Goddess accepts the challenge, and, being enraged to see herself outdone, strikes her rival with her shuttle; upon which, Arachne, in her distress, hangs herself. Minerva, touched with compassion, transforms her into a spider.

Tritonia had {meanwhile} lent an ear to such recitals as these, and she approved of the songs of the Aonian maids, and their just resentment. Then {thus she says} to herself: “To commend is but a trifling matter; let us, too, deserve commendation, and let us not permit our divine majesty to be slighted without {due} punishment.” And {then} she turns her mind to the fate of the Mæonian Arachne; who, as she had heard, did not yield to her in the praises of the art of working in wool. She was renowned not for the place {of her birth}, nor for the origin of her family, but for her skill {alone}. Idmon, of Colophon,[1] her father, used to dye the soaking wool in Phocæan[2] purple.[3] Her mother was dead; but she, too, was of the lower rank, and of the same condition with her husband. Yet {Arachne}, by her skill, had acquired a memorable name throughout the cities of Lydia; although, born of a humble family, she used to live in the little {town} of Hypæpæ.[4] Often did the Nymphs desert the vineyards of their own Tymolus, that they might look at her admirable workmanship; {often} did the Nymphs of the {river} Pactolus[5] forsake their streams. And not only did it give them pleasure to look at the garments when made, but even, too, while they were being made, so much grace was there in her working. Whether it was that she was rolling the rough wool into its first balls, or whether she was unravelling the work with her fingers, and was softening the fleeces worked over again with long drawings out, equalling the mists {in their fineness}; or whether she was moving the {smooth} round spindle with her nimble thumb, or was embroidering with the needle, you might perceive that she had been instructed by Pallas.

This, however, she used to deny; and, being displeased with a mistress so famed, she said, “Let her contend with me. There is nothing which, if conquered, I should refuse {to endure}.” Pallas personates an old woman; she both places false gray hair on her temples, and supports as well her infirm limbs by a staff. Then thus she begins to speak: “Old age has not everything which we should avoid; experience comes from lengthened years. Do not despise my advice; let the greatest fame for working wool be sought by thee among mortals. {But} yield to the Goddess, and, rash woman, ask pardon for thy speeches with suppliant voice. She will grant pardon at my entreaty.” {The other} beholds her with scowling {eyes}, and leaves the threads she has begun; and scarcely restraining her hand, and discovering her anger by her looks, with such words as these does she reply to the disguised Pallas: “Thou comest {here} bereft of thy understanding, and worn out with prolonged old age; and it is thy misfortune to have lived too long. If thou hast any daughter-in-law, if thou hast any daughter {of thy own}, let her listen to these remarks. I have sufficient knowledge for myself in myself, and do not imagine that thou hast availed anything by thy advice; my opinion is {still} the same. Why does not she come herself? why does she decline this contest?”

Then the Goddess says, “Lo! she is come;” and she casts aside the figure of an old woman, and shows herself {as} Pallas. The Nymphs and the Mygdonian[6] matrons venerate the Goddess. The virgin alone is not daunted. But still she blushes, and a sudden flush marks her reluctant features, and again it vanishes; {just} as the sky is wont to become tinted with purple, when Aurora is first stirring, and after a short time to grow white from the influence of the Sun. She persists in her determination, and, from a desire for a foolish victory, she rushes upon her own destruction. Nor, indeed, does the daughter of Jupiter decline {it}, or advise her any further, nor does she now put off the contest. There is no delay; they both take their stand in different places, and stretch out two webs {on the loom} with a fine warp. The web is tied around the beam; the sley separates the warp; the woof is inserted in the middle with sharp shuttles, which the fingers hurry along, and being drawn within the warp, the teeth notched in the moving sley strike it. Both hasten on, and girding up their garments to their breasts, they move their skilful arms, their eagerness beguiling their fatigue. There both the purple is being woven, which is subjected to the Tyrian brazen vessel,[7] and fine shades of minute difference; just as the rainbow, with its mighty arch, is wont to tint a long tract of the sky by means of the rays reflected by the shower: in which, though a thousand different colors are shining, yet the very transition eludes the eyes that look upon it; to such a degree is that which is adjacent the same; and yet the extremes are different. There, too, the pliant gold is mixed with the threads, and ancient subjects are represented on the webs.

Pallas embroiders the rock of Mars[8] in {Athens}, the citadel of Cecrops, and the old dispute about the name of the country. Twice six[9] celestial Gods are sitting on lofty seats in august state, with Jupiter in the midst. His own proper likeness distinguishes each of the Gods. The form of Jupiter is that of a monarch. She makes the God of the sea to be standing {there}, and to be striking the rugged rocks with his long trident, and a wild {horse} to be springing forth[10] out of the midst of the opening of the rock; by which pledge {of his favor} he lays claim to the city. But to herself she gives the shield, she gives the lance with its sharp point; she gives the helmet to her head, {and} her breast is protected by the Ægis. She {there} represents, too, the earth struck by her spear, producing a shoot of pale olive with its berries, and the Gods admiring it. Victory is the end of her work. But that the rival of her fame may learn from precedents what reward to expect for an attempt so mad, she adds, in four {different} parts, four contests bright in their coloring, and distinguished by diminutive figures. One corner contains Thracian Rhodope and Hæmus, now cold mountains, formerly human bodies, who assumed to themselves the names of the supreme Gods. Another part contains the wretched fate of the Pygmæan matron.[11] Her, overcome in a contest, Juno commanded to be a crane, and to wage war against her own people. She depicts, too, Antigone,[12] who once dared to contend with the wife of the great Jupiter; {and} whom the royal Juno changed into a bird; nor did Ilion protect her, or her father Laomedon, from assuming wings, and {as} a white crane, from commending herself with her chattering beak. The only corner that remains, represents the bereft Cinyras;[13] and he, embracing the steps of a temple, {once} the limbs of his own daughters, and lying upon the stone, appears to be weeping. She surrounds the exterior borders with peaceful olive. That is the close; and with her own tree she puts an end to the work.

The Mæonian Nymph delineates Europa, deceived by the form of the bull; and you would think it a real bull, and real sea. She herself seems to be looking upon the land which she has left, and to be crying out to her companions, and to be in dread of the touch of the dashing waters, and to be drawing up her timid feet. She drew also Asterie,[14] seized by the struggling eagle; and made Leda, reclining beneath the wings of the swan. She added, how Jupiter, concealed under the form of a Satyr, impregnated {Antiope},[15] the beauteous daughter of Nycteus, with a twin offspring; {how} he was Amphitryon, when he beguiled thee, Tirynthian[16] dame; how, turned to gold, he deceived Danaë; {how}, changed into fire, the daughter of Asopus;[17] {how}, as a shepherd, Mnemosyne;[18] and as a speckled serpent, Deois.[19] She depicted thee too, Neptune, changed into a fierce bull, with the virgin daughter[20] of Æolus. Thou, seeming to be Enipeus,[21] didst beget the Aloïdæ; as a ram, thou didst delude {Theophane}, the daughter of Bisaltis.[22] Thee too the most bounteous mother of corn, with her yellow hair, experienced[23] as a steed; thee, the mother[24] of the winged horse, with her snaky locks, received as a bird; Melantho,[25] as a dolphin. To all these did she give their own likeness, and the {real} appearance of the {various} localities. There was Phœbus, under the form of a rustic; and how, {besides}, he was wearing the wings of a hawk at one time, at another the skin of a lion; how, too, as a shepherd, he deceived Isse,[26] the daughter of Macareus. How Liber deceived Erigone,[27] in a fictitious bunch of grapes; {and} how Saturn[28] begot the two-formed Chiron, in {the form of} a horse. The extreme part of the web, being enclosed in a fine border, had flowers interwoven with the twining ivy.

Pallas could not blame that work, nor could Envy {censure} it. The yellow-haired Virgin grieved at her success, and tore the web embroidered with the criminal acts of the Gods of heaven. And as she was holding her shuttle {made of boxwood} from Mount Cytorus, three or four times did she strike the forehead of Arachne, the daughter of Idmon. The unhappy creature could not endure it; and being of a high spirit, she tied up her throat in a halter. Pallas, taking compassion, bore her up as she hung; and thus she said: “Live on indeed, wicked one,[29] but still hang; and let the same decree of punishment be pronounced against thy race, and against thy latest posterity, that thou mayst not be free from care in time to come.” After that, as she departed, she sprinkled her with the juices of an Hecatean herb;[30] and immediately her hair, touched by the noxious drug, fell off, and together with it her nose and ears. The head of herself, {now} small as well throughout her whole body, becomes very small. Her slender fingers cleave to her sides as legs; her belly takes possession of the rest {of her}; but out of this she gives forth a thread; and {as} a spider, she works at her web as formerly.

[Footnote 1: _Colophon._--Ver. 8. Colophon was an opulent city of
Lydia, famous for an oracle of Apollo there.]

[Footnote 2: _Phocæan._--Ver. 9. Phocæa was a city of Æolia, in
Ionia, on the shores of the Mediterranean, famous for its purple
dye.]

[Footnote 3: _Purple._--Ver. 9. ‘Murex’ was a shell-fish, now
called ‘the purple,’ the juices of which were much used by the
ancients for dyeing a deep purple color. The most valuable kinds
were found near Tyre and Phocæa, mentioned in the text.]

[Footnote 4: _Hypæpæ._--Ver. 13. This was a little town of Lydia,
near the banks of the river Cayster. It was situate on the descent
of Mount Tymolus, or Tmolus, famed for its wines and saffron.]

[Footnote 5: _Pactolus._--Ver. 16. This was a river of Lydia,
which was said to have sands of gold.]

[Footnote 6: _Mygdonian._--Ver. 45. Mygdonia was a small territory
of Phrygia, bordering upon Lydia, and colonized by a people from
Thrace. Probably these persons had come from the neighboring
country, to see the exquisite works of Arachne. As the Poet tells
us, many were present when the Goddess discovered herself, and
professed their respect and veneration, while Arachne alone
remained unmoved.]

[Footnote 7: _Brazen vessel._--Ver. 60. It seems that brazen
cauldrons were used for the purposes of dyeing, in preference to
those of iron.]

[Footnote 8: _Rock of Mars._--Ver. 70. This was the spot called
Areiopagus, which was said to have received its name from the
trial there of Mars, when he was accused by Neptune of having
slain his son Halirrothius.]

[Footnote 9: _Twice six._--Ver. 72. These were the ‘Dii
consentes,’ mentioned before, in the note to Book i., l. 172. They
are thus enumerated in an Elegiac couplet, more consistent with
the rules of prosody than the two lines there quoted:--

  ‘Vulcanus, Mars, Sol, Neptunus, Jupiter, Hermes,
  Vesta, Diana, Ceres, Juno, Minerva, Venus.’]

[Footnote 10: _To be springing forth._--Ver. 76-7. Clarke renders
‘facit--e vulnere saxi Exsiluisse ferum,’ ‘she makes a wild horse
bounce out of the opening in the rock.’]

[Footnote 11: _Pygmæan matron._--Ver. 90. According to Ælian, the
name of this queen of the Pigmies was Gerane, while other writers
call her Pygas. She was worshipped by her subjects as a Goddess,
which raised her to such a degree of conceit, that she despised
the worship of the Deities, especially of Juno and Diana, on which
in their indignation, they changed her into a crane, the most
active enemy of the Pygmies. These people were dwarfs, living
either in India, Arabia, or Thrace, and they were said not to
exceed a cubit in height.]

[Footnote 12: _Antigone._--Ver. 93. She was the daughter of
Laomedon, king of Troy, and was remarkable for the extreme beauty
of her hair. Proud of this, she used to boast that she resembled
Juno; on which the Goddess, offended at her presumption, changed
her hair into serpents. In compassion, the Deities afterwards
transformed her into a stork.]

[Footnote 13: _Cinyras._--Ver. 98. Cinyras had several daughters
(besides Myrrha), remarkable for their extreme beauty. Growing
insolent upon the strength of their good looks, and pretending to
surpass even Juno herself in beauty, they incurred the resentment
of that Goddess, who changed them into the steps of a temple, and
transformed their father into a stone, as he was embracing the
steps.]

[Footnote 14: _Asterie._--Ver. 108. She was the daughter of Cæus,
the Titan, and of Phœbe, and was ravished by Jupiter under the
form of an eagle. She was the wife of Perses, and the mother of
Hecate. Flying from the wrath of Jupiter, she was first changed by
him into a quail; and afterwards into a stone.]

[Footnote 15: _Antiope._--Ver. 110. Antiope was the daughter of
Nycteus, a king of Bœotia. Being seduced by Jupiter under the form
of a Satyr, she bore two sons, Zethus and Amphion. On being
insulted by Dirce, she was seized with madness, and was cured by
Phocus, whom she is said to have afterwards married.]

[Footnote 16: _Tirynthian._--Ver. 112. Tirynthus was a city near
Argos, where Hercules was born and educated, and from which place
his mother, Alcmene, derived her present appellation.]

[Footnote 17: _Daughter of Asopus._--Ver. 113. Jupiter changed
himself into fire, or, according to some, into an eagle, to seduce
Ægina, the daughter of Asopus, king of Bœotia. By her he was the
father of Æacus.]

[Footnote 18: _Mnemosyne._--Ver. 114. This Nymph, as already
mentioned, became the mother of the Nine Muses, having been
seduced by Jupiter.]

[Footnote 19: _Deois._--Ver. 114. Proserpine was called Deois, or
Dêous Δηοῦς κόρη, from her mother Ceres, who was called Δηὼ by the
Greeks, from the verb δήω, ‘to find;’ because as it was said, when
seeking for her daughter, the universal answer of those who wished
her success in her search, was, δήεις, ‘You will find her.’]

[Footnote 20: _Virgin daughter._--Ver. 116. This was Canace, or
Arne, the daughter of Æolus, whom Neptune seduced under the form
of a bull.]

[Footnote 21: _Enipeus._--Ver. 116. Under the form of Enipeus,
a river of Thessaly, Neptune committed violence upon Iphimedeia,
the wife of the giant Aloëus, and by her was the father of the
giants Otus and Ephialtes.]

[Footnote 22: _Bisaltis._--Ver. 117. Theophane was the daughter of
Bisaltis. Changing her into a sheep, and himself into a ram,
Neptune begot the Ram with the golden fleece, that bore Phryxus to
Colchis.]

[Footnote 23: _Experienced._--Ver. 119. ‘Te sensit,’ repeated
twice in this line, Clarke translates, not in a very elegant
manner, ‘had a bout with thee,’ and ‘had a touch from thee.’ By
Neptune, Ceres became the mother of the horse Arion; or, according
to some, of a daughter, whose name it was not deemed lawful to
mention.]

[Footnote 24: _Thee the mother._--Ver. 119. This was Medusa, who,
according to some, was the mother of the horse Pegasus, by
Neptune, though it is more generally said that it sprang from her
blood, when she was slain by Perseus.]

[Footnote 25: _Melantho._--Ver. 120. Melantho was the daughter
either of Proteus, or of Deucalion, and was the mother of Delphus,
by Neptune.]

[Footnote 26: _Isse._--Ver. 124. She was a native of either
Lesbos, or Eubœa. Her father, Macareus, was the son of Jupiter and
Cyrene.]

[Footnote 27: _Erigone._--Ver. 125. She was the daughter of
Icarus, and was placed among the Constellations.]

[Footnote 28: _How Saturn._--Ver. 126. By Phillyra, Saturn was the
father of the Centaur Chiron. We may here remark, that Arachne was
not very complimentary to the Gods, in the choice of her subjects;
probably it was not her intention or wish to be so.]

[Footnote 29: _Wicked one._--Ver. 136. Clarke translates
‘improba,’ ‘thou wicked jade.’]

[Footnote 30: _An Hecatean Herb._--Ver. 139. This was aconite, or
wolfsbane, said to have been discovered by Hecate, the mother of
Medea. She was the first who sought after, and taught the
properties of poisonous herbs. Some accounts say, that the aconite
was produced from the foam of Cerberus, when dragged by Hercules
from the infernal regions.]

EXPLANATION.

The story of Arachne is most probably based upon the simple fact, that she was the most skilful artist of her time, at working in silk and wool. Pliny the Elder tells us, that Arachne, the daughter of Idmon, a Lydian by birth, and of low extraction, invented the art of making linen cloths and nets; which invention was also by some attributed to Minerva. This competition, then, for the merit of the invention, is the foundation of the challenge here described by the Poet. As, however, Arachne is said to have hanged herself in despair, she probably fell a prey to some cause of grief or discontent, the particulars of which, in their simple form, have not come down to us. Perhaps the similarity of her name and employment with those of the spider, as known among the Greeks, gave rise to the story of her alleged transformation; unless we should prefer to attribute the story to the fact of the Hebrew word “arag,” signifying to spin, and, in some degree, resembling her name.

In this story, Ovid takes the opportunity of touching upon several fables, the subjects whereof he states to have been represented in the works of Minerva and Arachne. He alludes, among other matters, to the dispute between Neptune and Minerva, about giving a name to the city of Athens. St. Augustine, on the authority of Varro, says, that Cecrops, in building that city, found an olive tree and a fountain, and that the oracle at Delphi, on being consulted, stating that both Minerva and Neptune had a right to name the city, the Senate decided in favor of the Goddess; and this circumstance, he says, gave rise to the story. According to some writers, it was based on the fact, that Cranaüs changed the name of the city from Poseidonius, which it was called after Neptune, to Athenæ, after his own daughter Athena: and as the Areiopagus sanctioned this change, it was fabled that Neptune had been overcome by the judgment of the Gods.

The Jesuit Tournemine suggests the following explanation of the story:--He says, that the aborigines of Attica, being conquered by the Pelasgians, learned from them the art of navigation, which they turned to account by becoming pirates. Cecrops, bringing a colony from Saïs, in Egypt, tried to abolish this barbarous custom, and taught them a more civilized mode of life; and, among other things, he showed them how to till the earth, and to raise the olive, for the cultivation of which he found the soil very favorable. He also introduced the worship of Minerva, or Athena, as she was called, a Goddess highly honored at Saïs, and to whom the olive tree was dedicated. Her the Athenians afterwards regarded as the patroness of their city, which they called after her name. Athens becoming famous for its olives, and, considerable profit arising from their cultivation, the new settlers attempted to wean the natives from piracy, by calling their attention to agricultural pursuits. To succeed in this, they composed a fable, in which Neptune was said to be overcome by Minerva; who, even in the judgment of the twelve greater deities, had found out something of more utility than he. This fable Tournemine supposes to have been composed in the ancient language of the country, which was the Phrygian, mingled with many Phœnician words; and, as in those languages the same word signifies either a ship or a horse, those who afterwards interpreted the fable, took the word in the latter signification, and spoke of a horse instead of a ship, which was really the original emblem employed in the fiction.

Vossius thinks that the fable originated in a dispute between the sailors of Athens, who acknowledged Neptune for their chief, and the people, who followed the Senate, governed by Minerva. The people prevailed, and a life of civilization, marked by attention to the pursuits of agriculture, was substituted for one of piracy; which gave occasion for the saying, that Minerva had overcome Neptune.

With reference to the intrigues and lustful actions attributed to the various Deities by Arachne in the delineations on her embroidery, we may here remark, by way of elucidating the origin of these stories in general, that, in early times, when the earth was sunk in ignorance and superstition, and might formed the only right in the heathen world, where a king or petty chieftain demanded the daughter of a neighbor in marriage, and met with a refusal, he immediately had recourse to arms, to obtain her by force. Their standards and ships, on these expeditions, carrying their ensigns, consisting of birds, beasts, or fabulous monsters, gave occasion to those who described their feats of prowess to say, that the ravisher had changed himself into a bull, an eagle, or a lion, for the purpose of effecting his object. The kings and potentates of those days, being frequently called Jupiter, Apollo, Neptune, etc., and the priests of the Gods so named often obtaining their ends by assuming the names of the Divinities they served, we can account the more easily for the number of intrigues and abominable actions, attended by changes and transformations, which the poets and mythologists attribute to many of the Deities.

Palæphatus suggests a very ingenious method of accounting for these stories; founded, however, it must be owned, on a very low estimate of female virtue in those times. He says, that these fabulous narratives originate in the figures of different animals which were engraved on the coins of those times; and that, when money was given to buy over or to procure the seduction of a female, it was afterward said that the lover had himself taken the figure which was represented on the coin, by means of which his object had been effected.

Ovid, in common with many of the ancient historians, geographers, and naturalists, mentions the Pygmies, of which, from the time of Homer downwards, a nation was supposed to exist, in a state of continual warfare with the Cranes. Aristotle, who believed in their existence, placed them in Æthiopia; Pliny, Solinus, and Philostratus in India, near the source of the Ganges; others again, in Scythia, on the banks of the Danube. Some of the moderns have attempted to explain the origin of this prevalent notion. Olaüs Magnus thinks the Samoeids and Laplanders to have been the Pygmies of Homer. Gesner and others fancy that they have found their originals in Thuringia; while Albertus Magnus supposed that the Pygmies were the monkeys, which are so numerous in the interior of Africa, and which were taken for human beings of diminutive stature. Vander Hart, who has written a most ingenious treatise on the subject, suggests that the fable originated in a war between two cities in Greece, Pagæ and Gerania, the similarity of whose names to those of the Pygmies and the Cranes, gave occasion to their neighbors, the Corinthians, to confer on them those nicknames. It is most probable, however, that the story was founded upon the diminutive stature of some of the native tribes of the interior of Africa.

As to the fable of Pygas being changed into a crane, Banier suggests, that the origin of it may be found in the work of Antoninus Liberalis, quoting from the Theogony of Bœus. That poet, whose works are lost, says, that among the Pygmies there was a very beautiful princess, named Œnoë, who greatly oppressed her subjects. Having married Nicodamas, she had by him a son, named Mopsus, whom her subjects seized upon, to educate him in their own way. She accordingly raised levies against her own subjects; and that circumstance, together with the name of Gerane, which, according to Ælian, she also bore, gave rise to the fable, which said that she was changed into a crane; the resemblance which it bore to ‘geranos,’ the Greek for ‘a crane,’ suggesting the foundation of the story.

FABLE II. [VI.146-312]

The Theban matrons, forming a solemn procession in honor of Latona, Niobe esteems herself superior to the Goddess, and treats her and her offspring with contempt; on which, Apollo and Diana, to avenge the affront offered to their mother, destroy all the children of Niobe; and she, herself, is changed into a statue.

All Lydia is in an uproar, and the rumor of the fact goes through the town of Phrygia, and fills the wide world with discourse {thereon}. Before her own marriage Niobe had known her,[31] at the time, when still single, she was inhabiting Mæonia and Sipylus.[32] And yet by the punishment of her countrywoman, Arachne, she was not warned to yield to the inhabitants of Heaven, and to use less boastful words. Many things augmented her pride; but yet, neither the skill of her husband, nor the descent of them both, nor the sovereignty of a mighty kingdom, pleased her so much (although all of them did please her) as her own progeny; and Niobe might have been pronounced the happiest of mothers, if she had not so seemed to herself.

For Manto, the daughter of Tiresias, foreknowing the future, urged by a divine impulse, had proclaimed through the middle of the streets, “Ye women of Ismenus, go all of you,[33] and give to Latona, and the two children of Latona, the pious frankincense, together with prayers, and wreathe your hair with laurel; by my mouth does Latona command {this}.” Obedience is paid; and all the Theban women adorn their temples with leaves {of laurel}, as commanded, and offer frankincense on the sacred fires, and words of supplication. Lo! Niobe comes, surrounded with a crowd of attendants, conspicuous for the gold interwoven in her Phrygian garments, and beautiful, so far as anger will allow; and tossing her hair, hanging down on both shoulders, with her graceful head, she stands still; and as she loftily casts around her haughty eyes, she says, “What madness is this to prefer the inhabitants of Heaven, that you have {only} heard of, to those who are seen? or why is Latona worshipped at the altars, {and} my Godhead is still without its {due} frankincense? Tantalus was my father, who alone was allowed to approach the tables of the Gods above. The sister of the Pleiades[34] is my mother; the most mighty Atlas is my grandsire, who bears the æthereal skies upon his neck. Jupiter is my other grandsire; of him, too, I boast as my father-in-law.[35] The Phrygian nations dread me; the palace of Cadmus is subject to me as its mistress; and the walls that were formed by the strings of my husband’s {lyre}, together with their people, are governed by me and my husband; to whatever part of the house I turn my eyes, immense wealth is seen. To this is added a face worthy of a Goddess. Add to this my seven daughters,[36] and as many sons, and, at a future day, sons-in-law and daughters-in-law. Now inquire what ground my pride has {for its existence}; and presume to prefer Latona the Titaness, the daughter of some obscure Cæus, to whom, when in travail,[37] the great earth once refused a little spot, to myself. Neither by heaven, nor by earth, nor by water, was your Goddess received; she was banished the world, till Delos, pitying the wanderer, said, “Thou dost roam a stranger on the land, I in the waves;” and gave her an unstable place {of rest}. She was made the mother of two children, that is {but} the seventh part of my issue. I am fortunate, and who shall deny it? and fortunate I shall remain; who, too, can doubt of that? Plenty has made me secure; I am too great for Fortune possibly to hurt; and, though she should take away many things from me, {even then} much more will she leave me: my {many} blessings have now risen superior to apprehensions. Suppose it possible for some part of this multitude of my children to be taken away {from me}; still, thus stripped, I shall not be reduced to two, the number of Latona; an amount, by the number of which, how far, {I pray}, is she removed from one that is childless? Go from the sacrifice; hasten away from the sacrifice, and remove the laurel from your hair!”

They remove it, and the sacrifice they leave unperformed; and what they can do, they adore the Divinity in gentle murmurs. The Goddess was indignant; and on the highest top of {Mount} Cynthus, she spoke to her two children in such words as these: “Behold! I, your mother, proud of having borne you, and who shall yield to no one of the Goddesses, except to Juno {alone}, am called in question whether I am a Goddess, and, for all future ages, I am driven from the altars devoted {to me}, unless you give me aid. Nor is this my only grief; the daughter of Tantalus has added abusive language to her shocking deeds, and has dared to postpone you to her own children, and (what {I wish} may fall upon herself), she has called me childless; and the profane {wretch} has discovered a tongue like her father’s.”[38] To this relation Latona was going to add entreaties, when Phœbus said, “Cease thy complaints, ’tis prolonging the delay of her punishment.” Phœbe said the same; and, by a speedy descent through the air, they arrived, covered with clouds, at the citadel of Cadmus.

There was near the walls a plain, level, and extending far and wide, trampled continually by horses, where multitudes of wheels and hard hoofs had softened the clods placed beneath them. There, part of the seven sons of Amphion are mounting upon their spirited steeds, and press their backs, red with the Tyrian dye, and wield the reins heavy with gold; of these, Ismenus, who had formerly been the first burden of his mother, while he is guiding the steps of the horses in a perfect circle, and is curbing their foaming mouths, cries aloud, “Ah, wretched me!” and, pierced through the middle of his breast, bears a dart {therein}; and the reins dropping from his dying hand, by degrees he falls on his side, over {the horse’s} shoulder. The next {to him}, Sipylus, on hearing the sound of a quiver in the air, gives rein[39] {to his horse}; as when the pilot, sensible of the storm {approaching}, flies on seeing a cloud, and unfurls the hanging sails on every side, that the light breeze may by no means escape them. He gives rein, {I said}; while thus giving it, the unerring dart overtakes him, and an arrow sticks quivering in the top of his neck, and the bare steel protrudes from his throat. He, as he is bending forward, rolls over the neck, {now} let loose, and {over} the mane, and stains the ground with his warm blood. The unhappy Phædimus, and Tantalus, the heir to the name of his grandsire, when they had put an end to their wonted exercise {of riding}, had turned to the youthful exercises of the palæstra, glowing with oil;[40] and now had they brought[41] breast to breast, struggling in a close grapple, when an arrow, sped onward from the stretched bow, pierced them both, just as they were united together. At the same instant they groaned aloud, and together they laid their limbs on the ground, writhing with pain; together as they lay, for the last time, they rolled their eyeballs, and together they breathed forth their life.

Alphenor sees this, and, beating his torn breast, flies to them, to lift up their cold limbs in his embrace, and falls in this affectionate duty. For the Delian God pierces the inner part of his midriff with the fatal steel. Soon as it is pulled out, a part of his lungs is dragged forth on the barbs, and his blood is poured forth, with his life, into the air; but no single wound reaches the unshaven Damasicthon. He is struck where the leg commences, and where the sinewy ham makes the space between the joints soft; and while he is trying with his hand to draw out the fatal weapon, another arrow is driven through his neck, up to the feathers. The blood drives this out, and itself starting forth, springs up on high, and, piercing the air, spouts forth afar. The last {of them}, Ilioneus, had raised his unavailing arms in prayer, and had said, “O, all ye Gods, in common, (not knowing that all were not to be addressed) spare me!” The {God}, the bearer of the bow, was moved, when now his arrow could not be recalled; yet he died with the slightest wound {of all}, his heart not being struck deep by the arrow.

The report of this calamity, and the grief of the people, and the tears of her family, made the mother acquainted with a calamity so sudden, wondering that it could have happened, and enraged that the Gods above had dared this, {and} that they enjoyed a privilege so great. For Amphion the father, thrusting his sword through his breast, dying, had ended his grief together with his life. Alas! how different is this Niobe from that Niobe who had lately driven the people from the altars of Latona, and, with lofty head, had directed her steps through the midst of the city, envied by her own people, but now to be pitied even by an enemy! She falls down upon the cold bodies, and with no distinction she distributes her last kisses among all her sons. Raising her livid arms from these towards heaven, she says, “Glut thyself, cruel Latona, with my sorrow; glut thyself, and satiate thy breast with my mourning; satiate, too, thy relentless heart with seven deaths. I have received my death-blow;[42] exult and triumph, my victorious enemy. But why victorious? More remains to me, in my misery, than to thee, in thy happiness. Even after so many deaths, I am the conqueror.” {Thus} she spoke; {when} the string twanged from the bent bow, which affrighted all but Niobe alone; she {became} bold by her misfortunes.

The sisters were standing in black array, with their hair dishevelled, before the biers[43] of their brothers. One of these, drawing out the weapon sticking in her entrails, about to die, swooned away, with her face placed upon her brother. Another, endeavoring to console her wretched parent, was suddenly silent, and was doubled together with an invisible wound; and did not close her mouth, until after the breath had departed. Another, vainly flying, falls down; another dies upon her sister; another lies hid; another you might see trembling. And {now} six being put to death, and having received different wounds, the last {only} remains; her mother covering her with all her body, {and} with all her garments, cries, “Leave me but one, and that the youngest; the youngest only do I ask out of so many, and {that but} one.” And while she was entreating, she, for whom she was entreating, was slain. Childless, she sat down among her dead sons and daughters and husband, and became hardened by her woes. The breeze moves no hair {of hers}; in her features is a color without blood; her eyes stand unmoved in her sad cheeks; in her form there is no {appearance} of life. Her tongue itself, too, congeals within, together with her hardened palate, and the veins cease to be able to be moved. Her neck can neither be bent, nor can her arms give any motion, nor her feet move. Within her entrails, too, it is stone.

Still did she weep on; and, enveloped in a hurricane of mighty wind, she was borne away to her native land. There, fixed on the top of a mountain,[44] she dissolves; and even yet does the marble distil tears.

[Footnote 31: _Had known her._--Ver. 148. This was the more
likely, as Tantalus, the father of Niobe, was king of both Phrygia
and Lydia.]

[Footnote 32: _Sipylus._--Ver. 149. This was the name of both a
city and a mountain of Lydia.]

[Footnote 33: _Go all of you._--Ver. 159. Clarke renders the words
‘Ismenides, ite frequentes,’ ‘Go, ye Theban ladies in general.’]

[Footnote 34: _Sister of the Pleiades._--Ver. 174. Taygete, one of
the Pleiades, was the mother of Niobe.]

[Footnote 35: _As my father-in-law._--Ver. 176. Because Jupiter
was the father of her husband, Amphion.]

[Footnote 36: _Seven daughters._--Ver. 182. Tzetzes enumerates
fourteen daughters of Niobe, and gives their names.]

[Footnote 37: _When in travail._--Ver. 187. She alludes to the
occasion on which Latona fled from the serpent Python, which Juno,
in her jealousy, had sent against her; and when Delos, which had
hitherto been a floating island, became immovable, for the
convenience of Latona, in labor with Apollo and Diana. That island
was said to have received its name from the Greek, δῆλος,
‘manifest,’ or ‘appearing,’ from having risen to the surface of
the sea on that occasion.]

[Footnote 38: _Like her father’s._--Ver. 213. Latona alludes to
one of the crimes of Tantalus, the father of Niobe, who was
accused of having indiscreetly divulged the secrets of the Gods.]

[Footnote 39: _Gives rein._--Ver. 230. This was done with the
intention of making his escape.]

[Footnote 40: _Glowing with oil._--Ver. 241. Clarke renders this
line, ‘Were gone to the juvenile work of neat wrestling.’ It would
be hard to say what ‘neat’ wrestling is. He seems not to have
known, that the ‘Palæstra’ was called ‘nitida,’ as shining with
the oil which the wrestlers used for making their limbs supple,
and the more difficult for their antagonist to grasp. Juvenal
gives the epithet ‘ceromaticum’ to the neck of the athlete, or
wrestler, which word means ‘rubbed with wrestler’s oil.’]

[Footnote 41: _Now had they brought._--Ver. 243-4. Clarke thus
translates ‘Et jam contulerant arcto luctantia nexu Pectora
pectoribus;’ ‘And now they had clapped breast to breast,
struggling in a close hug.’]

[Footnote 42: _I have received my death-blow._--Ver. 283.
‘Efferor’ literally means, ‘I am carried out.’ ‘Effero’ was the
term used to signify the carrying of the body out of the city
walls, for the purposes of burial.]

[Footnote 43: _Before the biers._--Ver. 289. The body of the
deceased person was in ancient times laid out on a bed of the
ordinary kind, with a pillow for supporting the head and back;
among the Romans, it was placed in the vestibule of the house,
with its feet towards the door, and was dressed in the best robe
which the deceased had worn when alive. Among the better classes,
the body was borne to the place of burial, or the funeral pile, on
a couch, which was called ‘feretrum,’ or ‘capulus.’ This was
sometimes made of ivory, and covered with gold and purple.]

[Footnote 44: _Top of a mountain._--Ver. 311. This was Mount
Sipylus, in Bœotia, which, as we learn from Pausanias, had on its
summit a rock, which, at a distance, strongly resembled a female
in an attitude of sorrow. This resemblance is said to exist even
at the present day.]

EXPLANATION.

All the ancient historians agree with Diodorus Siculus and Apollodorus, that Niobe was the daughter of Tantalus, and the sister of Pelops; but she must not be confounded with a second Niobe, who was the daughter of Phoroneus, and the first mortal (Homer tells us) with whom Jupiter fell in love. Homer says that she was the mother of twelve children, six sons and six daughters. Herodotus says, that she had but two sons and three daughters. Diodorus Siculus makes her the mother of fourteen children, seven of each sex. Apollodorus, on the authority of Hesiod, says, that she had ten sons and as many daughters; but gives the names of fourteen only. The story of the destruction of her children is most likely based upon truth, and bears reference to a historical fact. The plague, which ravaged the city of Thebes, destroyed all the children of Niobe; and contagious distempers being attributed to the excessive heat of the sun, it was fabled that Apollo had killed them with his arrows; while women, who died of the plague, were said to owe their death to the anger of Diana. Thus, Homer says, that Laodamia and the mother of Andromache were killed by Diana. Valerius Flaccus relates the sorrow of Clytie, the wife of Cyzicus, on the death of her mother, killed by the same Goddess; so the Scholiast on Pindar (Pythia, ode iii.) says, on the authority of Pherecydes, that Apollo sent Diana to kill Coronis and several other women. Eustathius distinctly asserts, that the poets attributed the deaths of men, who died of the plague, to Apollo; and those of women, dying a similar death, to Diana.

This supposition is based upon rational and just grounds; since many contagious distempers may be clearly traced to the exhalations of the earth, acted on by the intense heat of the sun. Homer, most probably, means this, when he says that the plague came upon the Grecian camp, on the God, in his anger, discharging his arrows against it; or, in other words, when the extreme heat of his rays had caused a corruption of the atmosphere. It may be here observed, that arrows were the symbol of Apollo, when angry, and the harp when he was propitious. Diogenes Laertius tells us, that, during the prevalence of the plague, it was the custom to place branches of laurel on the doors of the houses, in the hope that the God, being reminded of Daphne, would spare the places which thereby claimed his protection.

Ovid says, that the sons of Niobe were killed while managing their horses; but Pausanias tells us that they died on Mount Cithæron, while engaged in hunting, and that her daughters died at Thebes. Homer says, that her children remained nine days without burial, because the Gods changed the Thebans into stones, and that the offended Divinities themselves performed the funeral rites on the tenth day; the meaning probably, is, that, they dying of the plague, no one ventured to bury them, and all seemed insensible to the sorrows of Niobe, as each consulted his own safety. Ismenus, her eldest son, not being able to endure the pain of his malady, is said to have thrown himself into a river of Bœotia, which, from that circumstance, received his name. After the death of her husband and children, Niobe is said to have retired to Mount Sipylus, in Lydia, where she died. Here, as Pausanias informs us, was a rock, resembling, at a distance, a woman overwhelmed with grief; though according to the same author, who had visited it, the resemblance could not be traced on approaching it. On this ground, Ovid relates, that she was borne on a whirlwind to the top of a Lydian mountain, where she was changed into a rock.

Pausanias tells us, that Melibœa, or Chloris, and Amycle, two of her daughters, appeased Diana, who preserved their lives; or that, in other words, they recovered from the plague; though he inclines to credit the version of Homer, who says that all of her children died by the hands of Apollo and Diana. Melibœa received the surname of Chloris, from the paleness which ensued on her alarm at the sudden death of her sisters.

FABLE III. [VI.313-381]

Latona, fatigued with the burden of her two children, during a long journey, and parched with thirst, goes to drink at a pond, near which some countrymen are at work. These clowns, in a brutal manner, not only hinder her from drinking, but trouble the water to make it muddy; on which, the Goddess, to punish their brutality, transforms them into frogs.

But then, all, both women and men, dread the wrath of the divinity, {thus} manifested, and with more zeal {than ever} all venerate with {divine} worship the great godhead of the Deity who produced the twins; and, as {commonly} happens, from a recent fact they recur to the narration of former events.

One of them says, “Some countrymen of old, in the fields of fertile Lycia, {once} insulted the Goddess, {but} not with impunity. The thing, indeed, is but little known, through the obscure station of the individuals, still it is wonderful. I have seen upon the spot, the pool and the lake noted for the miracle. For my father being now advanced in years, and incapable of travel, ordered me to bring thence some choice oxen, and on my setting out, had given me a guide of that nation: with whom, while I was traversing the pastures, behold! an ancient altar, black with the ashes of sacrifices, was standing in the middle of a lake, surrounded with quivering reeds. My guide stood still, and said in a timid whisper, ‘Be propitious to me;’ and with a like whisper, I said, ‘Be propitious.’ However, I asked him whether it was an altar of the Naiads, or of Faunus, or of some native God; when the stranger answered me in such words; ‘Young man, there is no mountain Divinity for this altar. She calls this her own, whom once the royal Juno banished from the world; whom the wandering Delos, at the time when it was swimming as a light island, hardly received at her entreaties. There Latona, leaning against a palm, together with the tree of Pallas, brought forth twins, in spite of their stepmother {Juno}. Hence, too, the newly delivered {Goddess} is said to have fled from Juno, and in her bosom to have carried the two divinities, her children. And now the Goddess, wearied with her prolonged toil, being parched with the heat of the season, contracted thirst in the country of Lycia, which bred the Chimæra[45] when the intense sun was scorching the fields; the craving children, too, had exhausted her suckling breasts. By chance she beheld a lake[46] of fine water, in the bottom of a valley; some countrymen were there, gathering bushy osiers, together with bulrushes, and sedge natural to fenny spots. The Titaness approached, and bending her knee, she pressed the ground, that she might take up the cool water to drink; the company of rustics forbade it. The Goddess thus addressed them, as they forbade her: ‘Why do you deny me water? The use of water is common {to all}. Nature has made neither sun, nor air, nor the running stream, the property of any one. To her public bounty have I come, which yet I humbly beg of you to grant me. I was not intending to bathe my limbs here, and my wearied joints, but to relieve my thirst. My mouth, as I speak, lacks moisture, and my jaws are parched, and scarce is there a passage for my voice therein; a draught of water will be nectar to me, and I shall own, that, together with it, I have received my life {at your hands}. In {that} water you will be giving me life. Let these, too, move you, who hold out their little arms from my bosom’; and by chance the children were holding out their arms.

“What person might not these kindly words of the Goddess have been able to influence? Still, they persist in hindering {the Goddess thus} entreating them; and moreover add threats and abusive language, if she does not retire to a distance. Nor is this enough. They likewise muddy the lake itself {with} their feet and hands; and they raise the soft mud from the very bottom of the water, by spitefully jumping to and fro. Resentment removes her thirst. For now no longer does the daughter of Cæus supplicate the unworthy {wretches}, nor does she any longer endure to utter words below {the majesty of} a Goddess; and raising her hands to heaven, she says, ‘For ever may you live in that pool.’ The wish of the Goddess comes to pass. They delight to go beneath the water, and sometimes to plunge the whole of their limbs in the deep pool; now to raise their heads, and now to swim on the top of the water; oft to sit on the bank of the pool, {and} often to leap back again into the cold stream. And even now do they exercise their offensive tongues in strife: and banishing {all} shame, although they are beneath the water, {still} beneath the water,[47] do they try to keep up their abuse. Their voice, too, is now hoarse, and their bloated necks swell out; and their very abuse dilates their extended jaws. Their backs are united to their heads: their necks seem as though cut off; their backbone is green; their belly, the greatest part of their body, is white; and {as} new-made frogs, they leap about in the muddy stream.”

[Footnote 45: _The Chimæra._--Ver. 339. The Chimæra, according to
the poets, was a monster having the head of a lion, the body of a
goat, and the tail of a dragon. It seems, however, that it was
nothing more than a volcanic mountain of Lycia, in Asia Minor,
whence there were occasional eruptions of flame. The top of it was
frequented by lions; the middle afforded plentiful pasture for
goats; and towards the bottom, being rocky, and full of caverns,
it was infested by vast numbers of serpents, that harbored there.]

[Footnote 46: _Beheld a lake._--Ver. 343. Probus, in his
Commentary on the Second Book of the Georgics, says that the name
of the spring was Mela, and that of the shepherd who so churlishly
repulsed Latona, was Neocles. Antoninus Liberalis says, that the
name of the stream was Melites, and that Latona required the water
for the purpose of bathing her children. He further tells us, that
on being repulsed, she carried her children to the river Xanthus,
and returning thence, hurled stones at the peasants, and changed
them into frogs.]

[Footnote 47: _Beneath the water._--Ver. 376. Some commentators
are so fanciful as to say, that the repetition of the words ‘sub
aqua,’ in the line ‘Quamvis sint sub aquâ, sub aquâ, maledicere
tentant,’ not inelegantly [non ineleganter] expresses the croaking
noise of the frogs. A man’s fancy must, indeed, be exuberant to
find any such resemblance; more so, indeed, than that of
Aristophanes, who makes his frogs say, by way of chorus,
‘brekekekekex koäx koäx.’ Possibly, however, that might have been
the Attic dialect among frogs.]

EXPLANATION.

This story may possibly be based upon some current tradition of Latona having been subjected to such cruel treatment from some country clowns; or, which is more probable, it may have been originally invented as a satire on the rude manners and uncouth conduct of the peasantry of ancient times. The story may also have been framed, to account, in a poetical manner, for the origin of frogs.

FABLE IV. [VI.382-411]

The Satyr Marsyas, having challenged Apollo to a trial of skill on the flute, the God overcomes him, and then flays him alive for his presumption. The tears that are shed on the occasion of his death produce the river that bears his name.

When thus one, who, it is uncertain, had related the destruction of {these} men of the Lycian race, another remembers {that of} the Satyr;[48] whom, overcome {in playing} on the Tritonian reed, the son of Latona visited with punishment. “Why,” said he, “art thou tearing me from myself? Alas! I {now} repent; alas,” cried he, “the flute is not of so much value!” As he shrieked aloud, his skin was stript[49] off from the surface of his limbs, nor was he aught but {one entire} wound. Blood is flowing on every side; the nerves, exposed, appear, and the quivering veins throb without any skin. You might have numbered his palpitating bowels, and the transparent lungs within his breast. The inhabitants of the country, the Fauns, Deities of the woods, and his brothers the Satyrs, and Olympus,[50] even then renowned, and the Nymphs lamented him; and whoever {besides} on those mountains was feeding the wool-bearing flocks, and the horned herds.

The fruitful earth was moistened, and being moistened received the falling tears, and drank them up in her lowest veins, which, when she had turned into a stream, she sent forth into the vacant air. And then, as the clearest river in Phrygia, running towards the rapid sea within steep banks, it bears the name of Marsyas.

From narratives such as these the people return at once to the present events, and mourn Amphion extinct together with {all} his race. The mother is {an object} of hatred. Yet {her brother} Pelops is said alone to have mourned for her as well; and after he had drawn his clothes from his shoulder towards his breast, he discovered the ivory on his left shoulder. This shoulder, at the time of his birth, was of the same color with the right one, and {was} formed of flesh. They say that the Gods afterwards joined his limbs cut asunder by the hands of his father; and the rest of them being found, that part which is midway between the throat and the top of the arm, was wanting. Ivory was inserted there, in the place of the part that did not appear; and so by that means Pelops was made entire.

[Footnote 48: _The Satyr._--Ver. 382. Herodotus tells this story
of the Satyr Marsyas, under the name of Silenus. Fulgentius
informs us, that in paintings, Marsyas was represented with the
tail of a pig.]

[Footnote 49: _His skin was stript._--Ver. 387. Apollo fastened
him to a pine-tree, or, according to Pliny the Elder,
a plane-tree, which was to be seen even in his day. The skin was
afterwards suspended by Apollo in the city of Celenæ. Hyginus
says, that Apollo hewed Marsyas to pieces. The description here of
the flaying is, perhaps, very natural; but it is all the more
disgusting for being so. A commentator justly says, that it might
suit a Roman, whose eyes were familiar with bloodshed, much better
than the taste of the reader of modern times.]

[Footnote 50: _Olympus._--Ver. 393. He was a Satyr, the brother
and pupil of Marsyas. Pausanias describes a picture, painted by
Polygnotus, in which Olympus was represented as sitting by
Marsyas, clad as a youth, and learning to play on the flute.
Euripides, in the Iphigenia in Aulis (l. 576) says that Olympus
discovered some new measures for the ‘tibia,’ or flute. From
Hyginus we learn, that Apollo delivered to him the body of Marsyas
for burial.]

EXPLANATION.

Marsyas was the son of Hyagnis, the inventor of a peculiar kind of flute, and of the Phrygian measure. Livy and Quintus Curtius tell us, that the story of Apollo and Marsyas is an allegory; and that the river Marsyas gave rise to it. They say that the river, falling from a precipice, in the neighborhood of the town of Celenæ, in Phrygia, made a very stunning and unpleasant noise; but that the smoothness of its course afterwards gave occasion for the saying, that the vengeance of Apollo had rendered it more tractable.

It is, however, not improbable that the story may have been based on historical facts. Having learned from his father, Hyagnis, the art of playing on the flute, and, proud of his skill, at a time when the musical art was yet in its infancy, Marsyas may have been rash enough to challenge either a priest of Apollo, or some prince who bore that name, and, for his presumption, to have received the punishment described by Ovid. Herodotus certainly credited the story; for he says that the skin of the unfortunate musician was to be seen, in his time, in the town of Celenæ. Strabo, Pausanias, and Aulus Gellius also believe its truth. Suidas tells us, that Marsyas, mortified at his defeat, threw himself into the river that runs near Celenæ, which, from that time, bore his name. Strabo says, that Marsyas had stolen the flute from Minerva, which proved so fatal to him, and had thereby drawn upon himself the indignation of that Divinity. Ovid, in the Sixth Book of the Fasti, and Pausanias, quoting from Apollodorus, tell us, that Minerva, having observed, by seeing herself in the river Meander, that, when she played on the flute, her cheeks were swelled out in an unseemly manner, threw aside the flute in her disgust, and Marsyas finding it, learned to play on it so skilfully, that he challenged Apollo to a trial of proficiency. Hyginus, in his 165th Fable, says that Marsyas was the son of Œagrius, and not Hyagnis; perhaps, however, this is a corrupt reading.

FABLE V. [VI.412-586]

Tereus, king of Thrace, having married Progne, the daughter of Pandion, king of Athens, falls in love with her sister Philomela, whom he ravishes, and then, having cut out her tongue, he shuts her up in a strong place in a forest, to prevent a discovery. The unfortunate Philomela finds means to acquaint her sister with her misfortunes; for, weaving her story on a piece of cloth, she sends it to Progne by the hands of one of her keepers.

The neighboring princes met together; and the cities that were near, entreated their kings to go to console {Pelops, namely}, Argos and Sparta, and the Pelopean Mycenæ, and Calydon,[51] not yet odious to the stern Diana, and fierce Orchomeneus, and Corinth famous for its brass,[52] and fertile Messene, and Patræ, and humble Cleonæ,[53] and the Neleian Pylos, and Trœzen not yet named from Pittheus;[54] and other cities which are enclosed by the Isthmus between the two seas, and those which, situated beyond, are seen from the Isthmus between the two seas. Who could have believed it? You, Athens, alone omitted it. A war prevented this act of humanity; and barbarous troops[55] brought {thither} by sea, were alarming the Mopsopian walls. The Thracian Tereus had routed these by his auxiliary forces, and by his conquest had acquired an illustrious name. Him, powerful both in riches and men, and, as it happened, deriving his descent from the mighty Gradivus, Pandion united to himself, by the marriage of {his daughter} Progne.

Neither Juno, the guardian of marriage rites, nor yet Hymeneus, nor the Graces,[56] attended those nuptials. {On that occasion}, the Furies brandished torches, snatched from the funeral pile. The Furies prepared the nuptial couch, and the ill-boding owl hovered over the abode, and sat on the roof of the bridal chamber. With these omens were Progne and Tereus wedded; with these omens were they made parents. Thrace, indeed, congratulated them, and they themselves returned thanks to the Gods, and they commanded the day, upon which the daughter of Pandion was given to the renowned prince, and that upon which Itys was born, to be considered as festivals. So much does our true interest lie concealed {from us}. Now Titan had drawn the seasons of the repeated year through five autumns, when Progne, in gentle accents, said to her husband, “If I have any influence {with thee}, either send me to see my sister, or let my sister come hither. Thou shalt promise thy father-in-law that she shall return in a short time. As good as a mighty God {wilt thou be} to me, if thou shalt allow me to see my sister.”

He {thereupon} ordered ships to be launched;[57] and with sails and oars he entered the Cecropian harbor, and landed upon the shores of the Piræus.[58] As soon as ever an opportunity was given of {addressing} his father-in-law, and right hand was joined to right hand, with evil omen their discourse began. He had commenced to relate the occasion of his coming, {and} the request of his wife, and to promise a speedy return for {Philomela, if} sent. {When} lo! Philomela comes, richly adorned in costly apparel; richer {by far} in her charms; such as we hear {of} the Naiads and Dryads {as they} haunt the middle of the forests, if you were only to give them the like ornaments and dress. Tereus was inflamed upon seeing the virgin, no otherwise than if one were to put fire beneath the whitening ears of corn, or were to burn leaves and {dry} grass laid up in stacks. Her beauty, indeed, is worthy {of love}; but inbred lust, as well, urges him on, and the people in those regions are {naturally} much inclined to lustfulness. He burns, both by his own frailty and that of his nation. He has a desire to corrupt the care of her attendants, and the fidelity of her nurse, and {besides}, to tempt herself with large presents, and to spend his whole kingdom {in so doing}; or else, to seize her, and, when seized, to secure her by a cruel war. And there is nothing which, being seized by an unbridled passion, he may not dare; nor does his breast contain the internal flame. And now he ill bears with delay; and with eager mouth returns to {urge} the request of Progne, and under it he pleads his own wishes; passion makes him eloquent. As oft as he presses beyond what is becoming, he pretends that Progne has thus desired. He adds tears as well, as though she had enjoined them too. O ye Gods above, how much of dark night do the breasts of mortals contain! Through his very attempt at villany, Tereus is thought to be affectionate, and from his crime does he gather praise.

And how is it, too, that Philomela desires the same thing? and fondly embracing the shoulders of her father with her arms, she begs, even by her own safety (and against it too), that she may visit her sister. Tereus views her, and, while viewing her, is embracing her beforehand in imagination; and, as he beholds her kisses, and her arms around {her father’s} neck, he receives them all as incentives, and fuel, and the food of his furious passion; and, as often as she embraces her father, he could wish to be {that} father, and, even then, he would have been not the less impious. The father is overcome by the entreaties of them both. She rejoices, and returns thanks to her parent, and, to her misfortune, deems that the success of both, which will be the cause of sorrow to them both. Now but little of his toil was remaining for Phœbus, and his steeds were beating with their feet the descending track of Olympus; a regal banquet was set on the tables, and wine in golden {vessels}; after this, their bodies were given up to gentle sleep. But the Odrysian king,[59] though he was withdrawn, still burned for her; and, recalling her form, her movements, her hands, fancies that which he has not yet seen, to be such as he wishes; and he himself feeds his own flames, his anxiety preventing sleep.

It was {now} day; and Pandion, grasping the right hand of his son-in-law, about to depart, with tears bursting forth, recommended his companion {to his care}. “I commit her, my dear son-in-law, to thee, because reasons, grounded on affection, have compelled me, and both {my daughters} have desired it, and thou as well, Tereus, hast wished it; and I entreat thee, begging by thy honor, by thy breast {thus} allied to us, {and} by the Gods above, to protect her with the love of a father; and do send back to me, as soon as possible, this sweet comfort of my anxious old age, {for} all delay will be tedious to me, and do thou, too, Philomela, if thou hast any affection for me, return as soon as possible: ’tis enough that thy sister is so far away.” {Thus} did he enjoin, and at the same time he gave kisses to his daughter, and his affectionate tears fell amid his instructions. He {then} demanded the right hands of them both, as a pledge of their fidelity, and joined them together when given, and bade them, with mindful lips, to salute for him his absent daughter and grandson, and with difficulty[60] uttered the last farewell, his mouth being filled with sobs; and he shuddered at the presages of his own mind. But as soon as Philomela was put on board of the painted ship, and the sea was urged by the oars, and the land was left behind, he exclaimed, “I have gained my point; the object of my desires is borne along with me.” The barbarian exults, too, and with difficulty defers his joy in his intention, and turns not his eyes anywhere away from her. No otherwise than when the ravenous bird of Jupiter, with crooked talons, has placed a hare in his lofty nest; there is no escape for the captive; the plunderer keeps his eye on his prey. And now the voyage is ended, and now they have gone forth from the wearied ship, upon his own shore; when the king drags the daughter of Pandion into a lofty dwelling, concealed in an ancient wood, and there he shuts her up, pale and trembling, and dreading everything, and now with tears inquiring where her sister is; and confessing his baseness, he masters by force her a maiden, and but one, while she often vainly calls on her father, often on her sister, and on the great Gods above all. She trembles like a frightened lamb, which, wounded, being snatched from the mouth of a hoary wolf, does not as yet seem to itself in safety; and as a dove, its feathers soaked with its own blood, still trembles, and dreads the ravening talons wherein it has been {lately} held. {But} soon, when consciousness returned, tearing her dishevelled hair like one mourning, and beating her arms in lamentation, stretching out her hands, she said, “Oh, barbarous {wretch}, for thy dreadful deeds; oh, cruel {monster}! have neither the requests of my father, with his affectionate tears, moved thee, nor a regard for my sister, nor my virgin state, nor the laws of marriage? Thou hast confounded all. I am become the supplanter of my sister; thou, the husband of both of us. This punishment was not my due. Why dost thou not take away this life, that no villany, perfidious {wretch}, may remain {unperpetrated} by thee? and would that thou hadst done it before thy criminal embraces! {then} I might have had a shade void of {all} crime. Yet, if the Gods above behold these things, if the majesty of the Gods be anything; if, with myself, all things are not come to ruin; one time or other thou shalt give me satisfaction. I myself, having cast shame aside, will declare thy deeds. If opportunity is granted me, I will come among the people; if I shall be kept imprisoned in the woods, I will fill the woods, and will move the conscious rocks. Let Heaven hear these things, and the Gods, if there are any in it.”

After the wrath of the cruel tyrant was aroused by such words, and his fear was not less than it, urged on by either cause, he drew the sword, with which he was girt, from the sheath, and seizing her by the hair, her arms being bent behind her back, he compelled her to submit to chains. Philomela was preparing her throat, and, on seeing the sword, had conceived hopes of her death. He cut away, with his cruel weapon, her tongue seized with pincers, while giving vent to her indignation, and constantly calling on the name of her father, and struggling to speak. The extreme root of the tongue {still} quivers. {The tongue} itself lies, and faintly murmurs, quivering upon the black earth; and as the tail of a mangled snake is wont to writhe about, {so} does it throb, and, as it dies, seeks the feet of its owner. It is said, too, that often after this crime (I could hardly dare believe it) he satisfied his lust upon her mutilated body.

He has the effrontery, after such deeds, to return to Progne, who, on seeing her husband, inquires for her sister; but he heaves feigned sighs, and tells a fictitious story of her death; and his tears procure him credit. Progne tears from her shoulders her robes, shining with broad gold, and puts on black garments, and erects an honorary sepulchre, and offers expiation to an imaginary shade; and laments the death of a sister not thus to be lamented.

The God {Apollo}, the year being completed, had run through the twice six signs {of the Zodiac}. What can Philomela do? A guard prevents her flight; the walls of the house are hard, built of solid stone: her speechless mouth is deprived of the means of discovering the crime. But in grief there is extreme ingenuity, and inventive skill arises in misfortunes. She skilfully suspends the warp in a web of Barbarian design,[61] and interweaves purple marks with white, as a mode of discovering the villany {of Tereus}; and delivers it, when finished, to one {of her attendants}, and begs her, by signs, to carry it to her mistress. As desired, she carries it to Progne, and does not know what she is delivering in it. The wife of the savage tyrant unfolds the web, and reads the mournful tale[62] of her sister, and (wondrous that she can be so!) she is silent. ’Tis grief that stops her utterance, and words sufficiently indignant fail her tongue, in want of them; nor is there room for weeping. But she rushes onward, about to confound both right and wrong, and is wholly {occupied} in the contrivance of revenge.

[Footnote 51: _Calydon._--Ver. 415. This was a city of Ætolia,
which derived its name from Calydon, the son of Endymion. Diana,
being incensed against Œneus, its king, because he omitted her
when offering the first fruits to the other Deities, sent an
immense boar to ravage its fields, which was slain by Meleager.
Ovid recounts these circumstances in the eighth book of the
Metamorphoses. Argos, Sparta, and Mycenæ, are also included in one
line, by Homer, as having been under the particular tutelage of
Juno.]

[Footnote 52: _Famous for its brass._--Ver. 416. According to some
writers, the Corinthian brass became famous after the fall of
Corinth, when it was taken and burnt by the Consul Mummius. On
that occasion, they say, that from the immense number of statues
melted in the conflagration, a stream of metal poured through the
streets, consisting of melted gold, silver, and copper; in which,
of course, the latter would be predominant. If that was the ground
on which the Corinthian brass was so much commended, Ovid is here
guilty of an anachronism.]

[Footnote 53: _Cleonæ._--Ver. 417. This was a little town, situate
between Argos and Corinth. It is called ‘humilis,’ not from its
situation, but from the small number of its inhabitants. Patræ was
a city of Achaia.]

[Footnote 54: _Pittheus._--Ver. 418. He was the uncle of Theseus;
and was (after the time here mentioned) the king of Trœzen, in
Peloponnesus.]

[Footnote 55: _Barbarous troops._--Ver. 423. Some suggest that it
is here meant that Attica was invaded by the Amazons at this time;
and they rely on a passage of Justin in support of the position.
The story is, however, very improbable.]

[Footnote 56: _The Graces._--Ver. 429. The Graces, who were the
attendants of Venus, were three in number, Aglaia, Thalia, and
Euphrosyne.]

[Footnote 57: _To be launched._--Ver. 445. The ships were launched
into the sea by means of rollers placed beneath them, from which
circumstance they were said ‘deduci,’ ‘to be led down.’]

[Footnote 58: _Shores of the Piræus._--Ver. 446. The Piræus was
the arsenal and the harbor of the Athenians, and owed its
magnificence to the vast conceptions of Themistocles.]

[Footnote 59: _The Odrysian king._--Ver. 490. Tereus is thus
called, from the Odrysæ, a people of Thrace.]

[Footnote 60: _With difficulty._--Ver. 510. Clarke translates
‘vix,’ ‘with much ado.’]

[Footnote 61: _Barbarian design._--Ver. 576. Probably of a
Phrygian design.]

[Footnote 62: _The mournful tale._--Ver. 582. This line is
translated by Clarke, ‘And reads the miserable ditty of her
sister.’]

EXPLANATION.

The gravest authors among the ancients, such as Strabo and Pausanias, speaking of this tragical story, agree that the narrative, divested of its poetical ornaments, is strictly conformable to truth; though, of course, the sequel bears evident marks of embellishment either by the fancy of the Poet, or the superstition of the vulgar.

FABLE VI. [VI.587-676]

Progne delivers her sister Philomela from captivity, and brings her to the court of Tereus, where she revolves in her mind her different projects of revenge. Her son Itys, in the meantime, comes into her apartment, and is murdered by his mother and aunt. Progne afterwards serves him up at a feast, which she prepares for her husband; on which, being obliged to fly from the fury of the enraged king, she is changed into a swallow, Philomela into a nightingale, and Tereus himself into a lapwing.

It is {now} the time[63] when the Sithonian[64] matrons are wont to celebrate the triennial festival of Bacchus. Night is conscious of their rites; by night Rhodope resounds with the tinklings of the shrill cymbal. By night the queen goes out of her house, and is arrayed according to the rites of the God, and carries the arms of the frantic solemnity. Her head is covered with vine leaves; from her left side hang down the skins of a deer;[65] upon her shoulder rests a light spear. {Then} the terrible Progne rushing through the woods, a multitude of her followers attending her, and agitated by the fury of her resentment, pretends, Bacchus, that it is {inspired} by thee.

She comes at length to the lonely dwelling, and howls aloud, and cries “Evoë!” and breaks open the gates, and seizes her sister, and puts upon her, {so} seized, the badges of Bacchus, and conceals her countenance under the foliage of ivy; and dragging her along, full of amazement, leads her within her threshold. When Philomela perceives that she has arrived at that accursed house,[66] the wretched woman shudders, and paleness spreads over her whole face. Progne having {now} got a {fitting} place {for so doing}, takes away the symbols of the rites,[67] and unveils the blushing face of her wretched sister; and holds her in her embraces. But she, on the other hand, cannot endure to lift up her eyes; seeming to herself the supplanter of her sister, and fixing her looks on the ground, her hand is in the place of voice to her, as she desires to swear and to call the Gods to witness that this disgrace has been brought upon her by violence. Progne burns {with rage}, and contains not her anger; and checking the grief of her sister, she says, “We must not act in this matter with tears, but with the sword, {and even} with anything, if {such} thou hast, that can possibly outdo the sword. I have, sister, prepared myself for every crime! Either, when I shall have set fire to the royal palace with torches, I will throw the artful Tereus into the midst of the flames, or with the steel will I cut away his tongue or his eyes, or the members that have deprived thee of thy chastity, or by a thousand wounds will I expel his guilty soul {from his body}. Something tremendous am I prepared for; what it is, I am still in doubt.”

While Progne was uttering such expressions, Itys came to his mother. By him she was put in mind of what she might do; and looking at him with vengeful eyes, she said, “Ah! how like thou art to thy father!” And saying no more, she prepared for a horrible deed, and burned with silent rage. Yet when her son came to her, and saluted his mother and drew her neck {towards him} with his little arms, and added kisses mingled with childish endearments, the mother, in truth, was moved, and her anger abated, and her eyes, in spite of her, became wet with tears {thus} forced {from her}. But soon as she found the mother {in her} shrinking from excess of affection, from him again did she turn towards the features of her sister; and looking at them both by turns, she said, “Why does the one employ endearments, {while} the other is silent with her tongue torn from her? Why does she not call her sister, whom he calls mother? Consider to what kind of husband thou art married, daughter of Pandion. Thou dost grow degenerate. Tenderness in the wife of Tereus is criminality.” No {more} delay {is there}; she drags Itys along, just as the tigress of the banks of the Ganges {does} the suckling offspring of the hind, through the shady forests. And when they are come to a remote part of the lofty house, Progne strikes[68] him with the sword, extending his hands, and as he beholds his fate, crying now “Alas!” and now “My mother!” and clinging to her neck, where his breast joins his side; nor does she turn away her face. Even one wound {alone} is sufficient for his death; Philomela cuts his throat with the sword; and they mangle his limbs, still quivering and retaining somewhat of life. Part of them boils,[69] in the hollow cauldrons; part hisses on spits; the inmost recesses stream with gore. His wife sets Tereus, in his unconsciousness, before this banquet; and falsely pretending rites after the manner of her country, at which it is allowed one man only to be present, she removes his attendants and servants. Tereus himself, sitting aloft on the throne of his forefathers, eats and heaps his own entrails into his own stomach. And so great is the blindness of his mind, {that} he says, “Send for Itys.” Progne is unable to conceal her cruel joy; and now, desirous to be the discoverer of her having murdered him, she says, “Thou hast within {thee}, that for which thou art asking.” He looks around, and inquires where he is; as he inquires, and calls him again, Philomela springs forth, just as she is, with her hair disordered by the infernal murder, and throws the bloody head of Itys in the face of his father; nor at any time has she more longed to be able to speak, and to testify her joy by words such as are deserved.

The Thracian pushes from him the table with a loud cry, and summons the Viperous sisters[70] from the Stygian valley; and at one moment he desires, if he {only} can, by opening his breast to discharge thence the horrid repast, and the half-digested entrails. And then he weeps, and pronounces himself the wretched sepulchre of his own son; and then he follows the daughters of Pandion with his drawn sword. You would have thought the bodies of the Cecropian[71] Nymphs were supported by wings; {and} they were supported by wings. The one of them makes for the woods, the other takes her place beneath the roofs {of houses}. Nor {even} as yet have the marks of murder withdrawn from her breast; and her feathers are {still} stained with blood. He, made swift by his grief, and his desire for revenge, is turned into a bird, upon whose head stands a crested {plume}; a prolonged bill projects in place of the long spear. The name of the bird is ‘epops’ [{lapwing}]; its face appears to be armed. This affliction dispatched Pandion to the shades of Tartarus before his day, and the late period of protracted old age.

[Footnote 63: _Now the time._--Ver. 587. This was the festival of
Bacchus, before mentioned as being celebrated every three years,
in memory of his Indian expedition.]

[Footnote 64: _Sithonian._--Ver. 588. Sithonia was a region of
Thrace, which lay between Mount Hæmus and the Euxine sea. The
word, however, is often used to signify the whole of Thrace.]

[Footnote 65: _Skins of a deer._--Ver. 593. These were the
‘nebrides,’ or skins of fawns and deer, which the Bacchanals wore
when celebrating the orgies. The lance mentioned here was, no
doubt, the thyrsus.]

[Footnote 66: _That accursed house._--Ver. 601. Clarke translates
this line, ‘As soon as Philomela perceived she had got into the
wicked rogue’s house.’]

[Footnote 67: _Symbols of the rites._--Ver. 603. These were the
ivy, the deer-skins, and the thyrsus.]

[Footnote 68: _Progne strikes._--Ver. 641. ‘Ense ferit Progne’ is
translated by Clarke, ‘Progne strikes with the sword poor Itys.’]

[Footnote 69: _Part of them boils._--Ver. 645-6. Clarke gives this
comical translation: ‘Then part of them bounces about in hollow
kettles; part hisses upon spits; the parlor runs down with gore.’]

[Footnote 70: _Viperous sisters._--Ver. 662. Tereus invokes the
Furies, who are thus called from having their hair wreathed with
serpents. Clarke translates, ‘ingenti clamore,’ in line 661, ‘with
a huge cry.’]

[Footnote 71: _Cecropian._--Ver. 667. The Cecropian or Athenian
Nymphs are Progne and Philomela, the daughters of Pandion, king of
Athens.]

EXPLANATION.

By the symbolical changes of Philomela, Progne, and Tereus, those who framed this termination of the story intended to depict the different characters of the persons whose actions are there represented. As the lapwing delights in filth and impurity, the ancients thereby portrayed the unscrupulous character of Tereus; and, as the flight of that bird is but slow, it shows that he was not able to overtake his wife and her sister. The nightingale, concealed in the woods and thickets, seems there to be concealing her misfortunes and sorrows; and the swallow, which frequents the abodes of man, shows the restlessness of Progne, who seeks in vain for her son, whom, in her frantic fit, she has so barbarously murdered.

Anacreon and Apollodorus, however, reverse the story, saying that Philomela was changed into a swallow, and Progne into a nightingale. This event is said by some writers to have happened not in Thrace, but at Daulis, a town of Phocis, where Tereus is supposed to have gone to settle. Pausanias tells us, that the tomb of Tereus was to be seen near Athens, so that it is probable that he died at a distance from Thrace, his native country. Homer alludes to the story of Philomela in somewhat different terms; speaking of the grounds of the grief of Penelope, he says, that ‘she made her complaints to be heard like the inconsolable Philomela, the daughter of Pandarus, always hidden among the leaves and branches of trees. When the Spring arrives, she makes her voice echo through the woods, and laments her dear Itylus, whom she killed by an unhappy mistake; varying, in her continued plaints, the mournful melody of her notes.’ By this, Homer seems to have known nothing of Tereus or of Progne, and to have followed a tradition, which was to the following effect:--Pandarus had three daughters, Ædon, Mecrope, and Cleothera. Ædon, the eldest, was married to Zethus, the brother of Amphion, by whom she had one son, who was named Itylus. Envying the more numerous family of Niobe, her sister-in-law, she resolved to despatch the eldest of her nephews; and, as her son was brought up with his cousin, and was his bedfellow, she bade him change his place in the bed, on the night on which she intended to commit the crime. Itylus forgot her commands, and consequently his mother killed him by mistake for her nephew.

FABLE VII. [VI.677-721]

Boreas, not obtaining the consent of Erectheus, king of Athens, for the marriage of his daughter, Orithyïa, takes that princess in his arms, and carries her away into Thrace. By her he has two sons, Calaïs and Zethes, who have wings, like their father, and afterwards embark with Jason in search of the Golden Fleece.

Erectheus[72] received the sceptre of {that} country, and the government of the state; it is a matter of doubt whether he was more powerful through his justice, or by his mighty arms. He had, indeed, begotten four sons, and as many of the female sex: but the beauty of two {of them} was equal. Of these, Cephalus,[73] the son of Æolus, was blessed with thee, Procris, for his wife; Tereus and the Thracians were an obstacle to Boreas; and long was {that} God without his much-loved Orithyïa, while he was entreating, and choosing rather to use prayers than force. But when nothing was effected by blandishments, terrible with that rage which is his wont, and but too natural with that wind, he said, “And {this is} deservedly {done}; for why did I relinquish my own weapons, my violence, my strength, my anger, and my threatening spirit, and turn to prayers, the employment of which ill becomes me? Violence is suitable for me; by violence do I dispel the lowering clouds, by violence do I arouse the seas, and overthrow the knotted oaks, and harden the snow, and beat the earth with hail. I too, when I have met with my brothers in the open air (for that is {peculiarly} my field), struggle with efforts so great, that the intermediate sky thunders again with our onset, and fires flash, struck forth from the hollow clouds. I too, when I have descended into the hollow recesses of the earth, and in my rage have placed my back against its lowest depths, disturb the shades below, and the whole globe with earthquakes. By these means should I have sought this alliance; and Erectheus ought not to have been entreated {to be} my father-in-law, but made so by force.”

Boreas, having said these words, or some not less high-sounding than these, shakes his wings, by the motion of which all the earth is fanned, and the wide sea becomes ruffled; and the lover, drawing his dusty mantle over the high tops {of mountains}, sweeps the ground, and, wrapt in darkness, embraces with his tawny wings Orithyïa, as she trembles with fear. As she flies, his flame, being agitated, burns more fiercely. Nor does the ravisher check the reins of his airy course, before he reaches the people and the walls of the Ciconians.[74] There, too, is the Actæan damsel made the wife of the cold sovereign, and {afterwards} a mother, bringing forth twins at a birth, who have the wings of their father, the rest {like} their mother. Yet they say that these {wings} were not produced together with their bodies; and while their long beard, with its yellow hair, was away, the boys Calaïs and Zethes were without feathers. {But} soon after, at once wings began to enclose both their sides, after the manner of birds, and at once their cheeks {began} to grow yellow {with down}. When, therefore, the boyish season of youth was passed, they sought,[75] with the Minyæ, along the sea {before} unmoved,[76] in the first ship {that existed}, the fleece that glittered with shining hair {of gold}.

[Footnote 72: _Erectheus._--Ver. 677. This personage really was
king of Athens before Pandion, the father of Progne and Philomela,
and not after him, as Ovid here states; at least, such is the
account given by Pausanias and Eusebius: the order of succession
being Actæus, Cecrops, Cranaüs, Amphictyon, Erecthonius, Pandion,
Erectheus, Cecrops II., Pandion II., Ægeus, Theseus.]

[Footnote 73: _Cephalus._--Ver. 681. He was the son of Deioneus,
and the grandson of Æolus. According to some writers, he was the
son of Mercury; in and the Art of Love (Book iii. l. 725) he is
called ‘Cyllenia proles.’ Strabo says that he was the son-in-law
of Deioneus. His story is related at length in the next Book.]

[Footnote 74: _The Ciconians._--Ver. 710. The Cicones were a
people of Thrace, living near Mount Ismarus, and the Bistonian
lake.]

[Footnote 75: _They sought._--Ver. 720. This was the fleece of the
ram that carried Phryxus along the Hellespont to Colchis, which is
mentioned again in the next Book.]

[Footnote 76: _Before unmoved._--Ver. 721. This passage may mean
that that part of the sea had not been navigated before; though
many of the poets assert that the Argo was the first ship that was
ever built. It is more probable that it was the first vessel that
was ever fitted out as a ship of war.]

EXPLANATION.

Plato tells us that the story of the rape of Orithyïa is but an allegory, which signifies that, by accident, she was blown by the wind into the sea, where she was drowned. Apollodorus and Pausanias, however, assert that this story is based on historical facts, and that Boreas, king of Thrace, seized Orithyïa, the daughter of Erectheus, king of Athens, and sister of Procris, as she was passing the river Ilissus, and carried her into his dominions, where she became the mother of twins, Calaïs and Zethes. In the Argonautic expedition, these chiefs delivered Phineus, the king of Bithynia, from the persecution of the Harpies, which were in the habit of snatching away the victuals served up at his table.