Tritonian Minerva had listened to every word, andapproved of theAonian Musess song, and their justified indignation.Then she said, to herself, To give praise is not enough, let me be praised aswell, and not allow my divine powers to be scorned without inflicting punishment.Her thoughts turned toArachne, ofMaeonia, whom she had heard would not giveher due credit, in the art of spinning. The girl was not known for her place ofbirth, or family, but for her skill. Her father,Idmon ofColophon, dyed the absorbent woolpurple, withPhocaean murex. Her mother wasdead. She too had been of humble birth, and the father the same. Nevertheless,though she lived in a modest home, in littleHypaepa,Arachne had gained a name for artistry, throughout the cities ofLydia.

Often the nymphsof MountTmolus deserted theirvine-covered slopes, and the nymphs of the RiverPactolus deserted their waves, to examineher wonderful workmanship. It was not only a joy to see the finished cloths,but also to watch them made: so much beauty added to art. Whether at first she was winding the roughyarn into a new ball, or working the stuff with her fingers, teasing out theclouds of wool, repeatedly, drawing them into long equal threads, twirling theslender spindle with practised thumb, or embroidering with her needle, youcould see she was taught byPallas. Yet shedenied it, and took offence at the idea of such a teacher. Contend with meshe said I will not disagree at all if I am beaten.

BkVI:26-69 Pallas Minerva challenges Arachne

Pallas Minerva took the shape of an old woman:adding grey hair to her temples, and ageing her limbs, which she supported witha stick. Then she spoke, to the girl, as follows. Not everything old age hasis to be shunned: knowledge comes with advancing years. Do not reject myadvice: seek great fame amongst mortals for your skill in weaving, but give wayto the goddess, and ask her forgiveness, rash girl, with a humble voice: shewill forgive if you will ask.Arachne lookedfiercely at her and left the work she was on: scarcely restraining her hands,and with dark anger in her face. Pallas, disguised it is true, received thisanswer. Weak-minded and worn out by tedious old age, you come here, and havinglived too long destroys you. Let your daughter-in-law if you have one, let yourdaughter if you have one, listen to your voice. I have wisdom enough of my own.You think your advice is never heeded: that is my feeling too. Why does she notcome herself? Why does she shirk this contest?

The goddess saidShe is here! and, relinquishing the old womans form, revealed PallasMinerva. The nymphs and thePhrygianwomen worshipped her godhead: the girl alone remained unafraid, yet she didblush, as the sky is accustomed to redden whenAurorafirst stirs, and, after a while, to whiten at the sun from the east. She isstubborn in her attempt, and rushes on to her fate, eager for a worthlessprize. Now,Jupiters daughter doesnot refuse, and does not give warning, or delay the contest a moment.Immediately they both position themselves, in separate places, and stretch outthe fine threads, for the warp, over twin frames. The frame is fastened to thecross-beam; the threads of the warp separated with the reed; the thread of theweft is inserted between, in the pointed shuttles that their fingers havereadied; and, drawn through the warp, the threads of the weft are beaten intoplace, struck by the combs notched teeth. They each work quickly, and, withtheir clothes gathered in tight, under their breasts, apply skilful arms, theirzeal not making it seem like work. There, shades of purple, dyed inTyrian bronze vessels, are woven into thecloth, and also lighter colours, shading off gradually. The threads that touchseem the same, but the extremes are distant, as when, often, after a rainstorm,the expanse of the sky, struck by the sunlight, is stained by a rainbow in onevast arch, in which a thousand separate colours shine, but the eye itself stillcannot see the transitions. There, are inserted lasting threads of gold, and anancient tale is spun in the web.

BkVI:70-102 Pallas weaves her web

Pallas Athene depicts the hill ofMars, and the court of the Aeropagus, inCecropss Athens, and the old disputebetweenNeptune and herself, as to whohad the right to the city and its name. There the twelve gods sit in greatmajesty, on their high thrones, withJupiterin the middle. She weaves the gods with their familiar attributes. The image ofJupiter is a royal one. There she portrays the Ocean god, standing and strikingthe rough stone, with his long trident, and seawater flowing from the centre ofthe shattered rock, a token of his claim to the city. She gives herself ashield, a sharp pointed spear, and a helmet for her head, while the aegisprotects her breast. She shows an olive-tree with pale trunk, thick with fruit,born from the earth at a blow from her spear, the gods marvelling: and Victorycrowns the work.

Then she addsfour scenes of contest in the four corners, each with miniature figures, intheir own clear colours, so that her rival might learn, from the examplesquoted, what prize she might expect, for her outrageous daring. One cornershowsThracian MountRhodope and MountHaemus, now icy peaks, once mortal beingswho ascribed the names of the highest gods to themselves. A second corner showsthe miserable fate of the queen of thePygmies:howJuno, having overcome her in acontest, ordered her to become a crane and make war on her own people. Also shepicturesAntigone, whom Queen Juno turnedinto a bird for having dared to compete withJupiters great consort: neither herfatherLaomedon, nor her cityIlium were of any use to her, but takingwing as a white stork she applauds herself with clattering beak. The onlycorner left showsCinyras,bereaved: and he is seen weeping as he clasps the stone steps of the templethat were once his daughters limbs. Minerva surrounded the outer edges withthe olive wreaths of peace (this was the last part) and so ended her work withemblems of her own tree.

BkVI:103-128 Arachne weaves hers in reply

TheMaeonian girl depictsEuropa deceived by the form of the bull:you would have thought it a real bull and real waves. She is seen looking backto the shore she has left, and calling to her companions, displaying fear atthe touch of the surging water, and drawing up her shrinking feet. AlsoArachneshowedAsterie, held by the eagle,struggling, andLeda lying beneath theswans wings. She addedJupiter who,hidden in the form of a satyr, filledAntiope,daughter of Nycteus with twin offspring;who, asAmphitryon, was charmed by you,Alcmena, of Tiryns; byDanaë, as a golden shower; byAegina, daughter ofAsopus, as a flame; byMnemosyne, as a shepherd; byProserpine,Ceressdaughter, as a spotted snake.

She wove you,Neptune, also, changed to a fierce bull forCanace,Aeolussdaughter. InEnipeuss form you begottheAloidae, and deceivedTheophane as a ram. The golden-haired,gentlest,mother of the cornfields, knewyou as a horse. Thesnake-haired mother ofthewinged horse, knew you as a wingedbird.Melantho knew you as a dolphin.She gave all these their own aspects, and the aspects of the place. Here isPhoebus like a countryman, and she shows himnow with the wings of a hawk, and now in a lions skin, and how as a shepherdhe trickedIsse,Macareuss daughter. She showed howBacchus ensnaredErigone with delusive grapes, and howSaturn as the double of a horse begotChiron. The outer edge of the web, surroundedby a narrow border, had flowers interwoven with entangled ivy.

BkVI:129-145 Arachne is turned into a spider

NeitherPallas nor Envy itself could fault that work.The golden-haired warrior goddess was grieved by its success, and tore thetapestry, embroidered with the gods crimes, and as she held her shuttle madeof boxwood from MountCytorus, shestruckIdmonian Arachne, three or four times, on the forehead.The unfortunate girl could not bear it, and courageously slipped a noose aroundher neck: Pallas, in pity, lifted her, as she hung there, and said these words,Live on then, and yet hang, condemned one, but, lest you are careless infuture, this same condition is declared, in punishment, against yourdescendants, to the last generation! Departing after saying this, shesprinkled her with the juice ofHecatesherb, and immediately at the touch of this dark poison, Arachnes hair fellout. With it went her nose and ears, her head shrank to the smallest size, andher whole body became tiny. Her slender fingers stuck to her sides as legs, therest is belly, from which she still spins a thread, and, as a spider, weavesher ancient web.

BkVI:146-203 Niobe rejects the worship of Latona

All ofLydia murmurs: the tale goes through the townsofPhrygia, and fills the whole world withtalk.Niobe had knownArachne. As a girl, before her marriage, shehad lived inMaeonia, near MountSipylus. Nevertheless she was notwarned by her countrywomans fate, to give the gods precedence, and use moremodest words. Many things swelled her pride, but neither her husbandAmphions marvellous art in music, nor both oftheir high lineages, nor the might of their great kingdom ofThebes, pleased her, though they didplease her, as much as her children did. And Niobe would have been spoken of asthe most fortunate of mothers, if she had not seemed so to herself.

NowManto, the daughter ofTiresias, prescient of the future,stirred by divine impulse, went through the middle of the streets, declaiming.Women of Thebes,Ismenides, go, as acrowd, and wreathe your hair with laurel, and bring incense with holy prayer toLatona, andLatonas children, Diana and Apollo.Latona commands it through my mouth. They obey: all theTheban women, as commanded, dresstheir temples with sweet-bay, and bring incense and words of prayer to thesacred flames.

Look, Niobecomes, followed by a crowded thong, visible, in her Phrygian robes woven withgold, and as beautiful as anger will let her be. Turning her lovely head withthe hair falling loose over both her shoulders, she pauses, and looks aroundwith pride in her eyes, from her full height, saying What madness, to preferthe gods you are told about to the ones you see? Why is Latona worshipped atthe altars, while as yet my godhead is without its incense?Tantalus is my father, who is theonly man to eat the food of the gods.My mother is one of the seven sisters, thePleiades.GreatAtlas, who carries the axis of theheavens on his shoulders, is one of my grandfathers. Jupiter is the other, andI glory in having him as my father-in-law as well. The peoples of Phrygia fearme. Cadmuss royal house is under my rule: and the walls, built to my husbandslyre, and Thebess people, will be ruled by his power and mine. Whichever partof the palace I turn my eyes on, I look at immense wealth. Augment it with mybeauty, worthy of a goddess, and add to this my seven daughters, as many sons,and soon my sons- and my daughters-in-law! Now, ask what the reason is for mypride, and then dare to prefer Latona to me, thatTitaness, daughter ofCoeus, whoever he is. Latona, whom the wideearth once refused even a little piece of ground to give birth on.

Land, sea, andsky were no refuge for your goddess. She was exiled from the world, untilDelos, pitying the wanderer, gave her aprecarious place, saying Friend, you wander the earth, I the sea. There shegave birth to twins, only a seventh of my offspring. I am fortunate (indeed,who can deny it?) and I will stay fortunate (and who can doubt that too?). Myriches make me safe. I am greater than any whom Fortune can harm, and thoughshe could take much away, she would leave me much more. Surely my comfortsbanish fear. Imagine that some of this host of children could be taken from me,I would still not, bereaved, be reduced to the two of Latonas family. In thatstate, how far is she from childlessness? Go home enough of holy things andtake those laurel wreaths from your hair! They relinquish them, and leave therite unfinished, except what is their right, reverencing the goddess in asecret murmur.

BkVI:204-266 The gods vengeance: Niobes sons are killed

The goddess wasdeeply angered, and on the summit of MountCynthusshe spoke to her twin children. See, it will be doubted whether I, yourmother, proud to have borne you, and giving way to no goddess, except Juno, ama goddess, and worship will be prevented at my altars through all the ages,unless you help me, my children. Nor is this my only grief. Thisdaughter of Tantalus has added insultto injury, and has dared to put her children above you, and has called mechildless, may that recoil on her own head, and has shown she has her fatherstongue for wickedness.Latona would haveadded her entreaties to what she had related, butPhoebus cried Enough! Long complaint delaysher punishment!Phoebe said the same, andfalling swiftly through the air, concealed by clouds, they reached the house ofCadmus.

There was a broad,open plain near the walls, flattened by the constant passage of horses, wheremany wheels and hard hooves had levelled the turf beneath them. There, a numberofAmphions seven sons mounted on theirstrong horses, and sitting firmly on their backs, bright withTyrian purple, guided them using reinsheavy with gold. WhileIsmenus,one of these, who had been the first of his mothers burdens, was wheeling hishorses path around in an unerring circle, and hauling at the foaming bit, hecried out Oh, I am wounded! and revealed an arrow fixed in his chest, andloosing the reins from his dying hands, slipped gradually, sideways, over hismounts right shoulder.

NextSipylus, hearing the sound of a quiverin the empty air, let out the reins, just as a shipmaster sensing a storm runsfor it when he sees the cloud, and claps on all sail, so that not even theslightest breeze is lost. Still giving full rein, he was overtaken, by thearrow none can avoid, and the shaft stuck quivering in his neck, and the nakedtip protruded from his throat. Leaning forward, as he was, he rolled down overthe mane and the galloping hooves, and stained the ground with warm blood.

UnluckyPhaedimus, andTantalus, who carried hisgrandfathers name, at the end of the usual task imposed on them, had joinedthe exercise of the young men, and were gleaming with oil in the wrestlingmatch. And now they were fully engaged, in a tight hold, chest to chest, whenan arrow, loosed from the taut bow, pierced them both, as they were. Theygroaned as one, and fell as one, their limbs contorted with pain. As they laythere, they cast a last dying look, as one, and, as one, gave up the ghost.Alphenor saw them die, and striking at hisbreast in anguish, he ran to them to lift their cold bodies in his embrace. Inthis filial service he also fell, forDelian Apollo tore at his innermost parts withdeadly steel. As the shaft was removed, a section of his lung was drawn withit, caught on the barbs, and with his lifes blood his spirit rushed out intothe air.

But it was not asimple wound that longhairedDamasicthonsuffered. He was hit where the shin begins, and where the sinews of the kneeleave a soft place between. While he was trying to pull out the fatal shaftwith his hand, another arrow was driven into his throat as far as the feathers.The rush of blood expelled it, and gushing out, spurted high in the air, in along jet. The last son,Ilioneus,stretched out his arms in vain entreaty. O you company of all the gods, spareme! he cried, unaware that he need not ask them all. The archer god Apollo wasmoved, though already the dart could not be recalled: yet only a slight woundkilled the boy, the arrow not striking deeply in his heart.

Bk VI:267-312 Niobes daughters arekilled: Her fate.

The rumour oftrouble, the peoples sorrow, and the tears of her own family, confirmingsudden disaster to the mother, left her astounded that the gods could have doneit, and angered that they had such power, and dared to use it. Now, she learnedthat the father,Amphion, driving the ironblade through his heart, had, in dying, ended pain and life together. Alas, howdifferent thisNiobe from that Niobe, theone, who a moment ago chased the people fromLatonasaltar, and made her way through the city with head held high, enviable to herfriends, and now more to be pitied by her enemies. She threw herself on the cold bodies, and without regard for dueceremony, gave all her sons a last kiss. Turning from them she lifted herbruised arms to the sky, and cried out Feed your heart, cruel one, Latona, onmy pain, feed your heart, and be done! Be done, savage spirit! I am buriedseven times. Exult and triumph over your enemy! But where is the victory? Evenin my misery I have more than you in your happiness. After so many deaths, Istill outdo you!

She spoke, andthe twang of a taut bowstring sounded, terrifying all of them, except Niobe.Pain gave her courage. The sisters, with black garments, and loosened hair,were standing by their brothers bodies. One, grasping at an arrow piercing herside, falling, fainted in death beside her brothers face. A second, attemptingto comfort her grieving mother, fell silent, and was bent in agony with ahidden wound. She pressed her lips together, but life had already fled. Onefell trying in vain to run, and her sister fell across her. One tried to hide,while another trembled in full view. Now six had been dealt death, sufferingtheir various wounds: the last remained. The mother, with all her robes andwith her body, protected her, and cried out Leave me just one, the youngest! Ionly ask for one, the youngest of all! While she prayed, she, for whom sheprayed, was dead. Childless, she sat among the bodies of her sons, herdaughters, and her husband, frozen in grief.

The breeze stirsnot a hair, the colour of her cheeks is bloodless, and her eyes are fixedmotionless in her sad face: nothing in that likeness is alive. Inwardly hertongue is frozen to the solid roof of her mouth, and her veins cease theirpower to throb. Her neck cannot bend, nor her arms recall their movement, norher feet lead her anywhere. Inside, her body is stone. Yet she weeps, and,enclosed in a powerful whirlwind, she is snatched away to her own country:there, set on a mountain top, she wears away, and even now tears flow from themarble.

BkVI:313-381 The story of Latona and the Lycians

Now all men andwomen are indeed afraid of the anger manifested by divine being, and all paymore respect to the great power of the goddess, the mother of the twins. Asoften happens, because of recent events they tell old stories, and one says InLycias fertile fields, in ancient times,also, the farmers spurned the goddess, and not without suffering for it. Thething is not well known, it is true, because the men were unknown,nevertheless, it was wonderful. I myself saw the place, and the lake madenotable by the strangeness of it, since my father, getting old, and unable toendure the journey, had ordered me to collect some choice cattle from there,and one of the men of that country had offered himself as a guide. While Icrossed the pastureland with him, there was an old altar, black with ashes,standing in the middle of a lake, surrounded by trembling reeds. My guidestopped and, shivering with fear, said in a murmur Have mercy on me! and I,similarly, said in a murmur Have mercy!

Then I asked himwhether it was an altar to theNaiads,Faunus, or a local god, and my friendreplied Young man, it is no mountain spirit in this altar. She calls it hers,whom the queen of heaven once banned from the world, and whom vagrantDelos, a lightly floating island, would barelyaccept, at her prayer. There, betweenPallassolive tree and a date-palm,Latona boreher twins, against their step-motherJunoswill. Having endured her labour, even then she fled Juno, carrying the divinetwins clasped to her breast.

Then, inside theborders of Lycia, home of theChimaera,as the fierce sun scorched the fields, the goddess, weary from her longstruggle, and parched by the radiant heat, felt her thirst: also her hungrychildren had drunk all her rich milk. By chance she saw a smallish lake in adeep valley. Countrymen were there, gathering bushy osiers, rushes, and thefine marsh sedges. TheTitans daughterapproached, and putting her knee to the ground, rested, to enjoy a drink of thecool water. The group of rustics denied it to her. The goddess, denied, spoke.Why do you forbid me your waters? The use of water is everyones right. Naturehas not made the sun, or the air, or the clear waves, private things. I comefor a public gift, and yet I beg you to grant it to me as a suppliant. I wasnot preparing to bathe my limbs and my weary body here, only to quench mythirst. My mouth lacks moisture from speaking, my throat is dry, and theresscarcely a path here for speech. A drink of water would be nectar to me, and Iwould bear witness to accepting life from it, as well: you will be giving lifefrom your waves. Let these children move you, also, who stretch their littlearms out from my breast.

And it chancedthat they did stretch out their arms. Who would not have been moved by thegoddesss winning words? Yet, despite her prayers they persisted in denyingher, with threats, if she did not take herself off, and added insults besides.Not content with that, they also stirred the pool with their hands and feet,and churned up the soft mud from the depths, by leaping about, maliciously.Anger forgot thirst, for now the daughter ofCoeuscould not bear to beg from the unworthy, nor speak in words inferior to thoseof a goddess, and stretching her palms to the heavens, she said Live in thatswamp for ever! It happened as the goddess wished: It is their delight to beunder the water, now to submerge their bodies completely in the deep pool, nowto show their heads, now to swim on the surface. Often they squat on the edgesof the marsh, often retreat to the cool lake, but now as before they employtheir ugly voices in quarrelling, and shamefully, even though they are underthe water, from under the water they try out their abuse. Now their voices arealso hoarse, their inflated throats are swollen, and their croaking distendstheir wide mouths. Their shoulders and heads meet, and their necks appear tohave vanished. Their backs are green; their bellies, the largest part of theirbody, are white, and, as newly made frogs, they leap in their muddy pool.

BkVI:382-400 The tale of Marsyas

When whoever itwas had finished relating the ruin of the men of Lycia, another storytellerremembered thesatyr,Marsyas, whomApollo,Latonasson, had defeated, playing on theflute, that TritonianMinerva invented. He had exacted punishment.Marsyas cried Why do you peel me out of myself? Aah! I repent, he screamed inagony. Aah! Music is not worth this pain! As he screams, the skin is flayedfrom the surface of his body, no part is untouched. Blood flows everywhere, theexposed sinews are visible, and the trembling veins quiver, without skin tohide them: you can number the internal organs, and the fibres of the lungs,clearly visible in his chest. The woodland gods, and the fauns of thecountryside, wept, and his brother satyrs, Olympus his friend and pupil, stilldear to him then, and the nymphs, and all who pastured their fleecy sheep andhorned cattle on those mountains. The fertile soil was drenched, and thedrenched earth caught the falling tears, and absorbed them into its deep veins.It formed a stream then, and sent it into the clear air. From there it ranwithin sloping banks, quickly, to the sea, the clearest river ofPhrygia, taking Marsyass name.

BkVI:401-438 The marriage of Procne and Tereus

From such talesas these the company turns immediately to the present, and mourns the loss ofAmphion and his children. The mother wasblamed, though even then one man, her brotherPelops,is said to have wept for her and, after taking off his tunic, to have shown theivory, of his left shoulder. This was of flesh, and the same colour as hisright shoulder, at the time of his birth. Later, when he had been cut in pieces,by his father, it is said that the gods fitted his limbs together again. Theyfound the pieces, but one was lost, between the upper arm and the neck. Ivorywas used in place of the missing part, and by means of that Pelops was madewhole.

The princes, ofcountries to the southwest, near neighbours ofThebes, gathered, and the cities relatedto Thebes urged their kings to go and offer sympathy.Argos andSparta,andPeloponnesian Mycenae,Calydonnot yet cursed for rejectingDiana, fertileOrchomenos, andCorinth famous for bronze; warlikeMessene,Patrae,and low-lyingCleonae,Nelean Pylos, andTroezen not yet ruled byPittheus; and whichever of the other citieswere southwest of theIsthmus, lyingbetween its two seas, or seen to the northeast of the Isthmus, lying betweenits two seas. But who can believe this?Athens,alone, did nothing. War prevented them doing so. A Barbarian army had crossedthe sea and brought terror to the walls of the city ofMopsopius.

Tereus ofThrace routed these Barbarians, with hisarmy of auxiliaries, and won a great name by his victory. Since Tereus was amaster of men and riches, and happened to trace his descent from mightyMars himself,Pandion, king of Athens, made them allies, bygiving him his daughterProcne in marriage.NeitherJuno, who attends on brides, norHymen, nor the threeGraces, was there. TheEumenides, theFuries, held torches snatched from afuneral. The Eumenides, the Furies, prepared their marriage bed, and the unholyscreech owl brooded over their house, and sat on the roof of their chamber. Bythis bird-omen, Procne and Tereus were joined. By this bird-omen, they weremade parents. Thrace of course rejoiced with them, and they themselves gavethanks to the gods, and the day when Pandions daughter married her illustriousking, and the day on whichItys their sonwas born, they commanded to be celebrated as festivals: so, always, our realadvantages escape us.

BkVI:438-485 Tereuss passion for Procnes sister Philomela

Now,Titan, the sun, had guided the turningyear through five autumns whenProcne said,coaxingly to her husband, If any thanks are due me, either send me to see mysister, or let my sister come here. You can promise my father she will returnafter a brief stay. It would be worth a great deal to me, if you allowed me toseePhilomela.Tereus ordered his ship to sea, and withsail and oar reached the harbour ofCecrops,and landed on the shore ofPiraeus.

As soon as hegained access to his father-in-law, right hand was joined to right hand, andthey began by wishing each other favourable omens. Tereus had started to tellof the reason for his visit, his wifes request, and promise a speedy return ifshe were sent back with him, when, see, Philomela entered, dressed in richrobes, and richer beauty, walking as we are used to being told the naiads anddryads of the deep woods do, if only one were to give them, like her, cultureand dress. Seeing the girl, Tereus took fire, just as if someone touched aflame to corn stubble, or burned the leaves, or hay stored in a loft. Herbeauty was worthy of it, but he was driven by his natural passion, and theinclination of the people of his region is towards lust: he burnt with his ownvice and his nations. His impulse was to erode her attendants care, and hernurses loyalty, even seduce the girl herself with rich gifts, to the extent ofhis kingdom, or rape her and defend the rape in savage war. There was nothinghe would not dare, possessed by unbridled desire, nor could he contain theflame in his heart.

Now he sufferedfrom impatience, and eagerly returned to Procnes request, pursuing his ownwishes as hers. Desire made him eloquent, and whenever he petitioned morestrongly than was seemly, he would make out that Procne wished it so. He evenembellished his speeches with tears, as though she had commissioned him to dothat too. You gods, what secret darknesses human hearts hide! Due to hisefforts, Tereus is viewed as faithful, in his deceit, and is praised for hiscrime. Moreover Philomela wishes his request granted, and resting her forearmson her fathers shoulders, coaxing him to let her go to visit her sister, sheurges it, in her own interest, and against it. Tereus gazes at her, andimagining her as already his, watching her kisses, and her arms encircling herfathers neck, it all spurs him on, food and fuel to his frenzy. Whenever sheembraces her father, he wishes he were that father: though of course hisintentions would be no less wicked. The father is won over by the twinentreaties. The girl is overjoyed, and thanks her father, and thinks, poorwretch, that what will bring sorrow to both sisters is actually a success forboth.

BkVI:486-548 Tereus forces Philomela

Now little wasleft ofPhoebuss daily labour, and hishorses were treading the spaces of the westernsky.A royal feast was served at Pandions table, withwine in golden goblets. Then their bodiessated, they gave themselves to quiet sleep. But though theThracian king retired to bed, he wasdisturbed by thoughts of her, and remembering her features, her gestures, herhands, he imagined the rest that he had not yet seen, as he would wish, andfuelled his own fires, in sleepless restlessness. Day broke, andPandion, clasping his son-in-laws righthand, in parting, with tears welling in his eyes, entrusted his daughter tohim. Dear son, since affectionate reasons compel it, and both of them desireit (you too have desired it,Tereus),I give her over to you, and by your honour, by the entreaty of a heart joinedto yours, and by the gods above, I beg you, protect her with a fathers love,and send back to me, as soon as is possible (it will be all too long a wait forme), this sweet comfort of my old age. You too, as soon as is possible (it is enough that your sister is so faraway), if you are at all dutiful,Philomela,return to me!

So he commandedhis daughter and kissed her, and soft tears mingled with his commands. As atoken of their promise he took their two right hands and linked them together,and asked them, with a prayer, to remember to greet his absent daughter, andgrandson, for him. His mouth sobbing, he could barely say a last farewell, andhe feared the forebodings in his mind.

As soon asPhilomela was on board the brightly painted ship, and the sea was churned bythe oars, and the land left behind them, the barbarian king cried I have won!I carry with me what I wished for! He exults, and his passion can scarcelywait for its satisfaction. He never turns his eyes away from her, nodifferently than whenJupiters eagledeposits a hare, caught by the curved talons, in its high eyrie: there is noescape for the captive, and the raptor gazes at its prize.

Now they hadcompleted their journey, and disembarked from the wave-worn ship, on the shoresof his country. The king took her to a high-walled building, hidden in anancient forest, and there he locked her away, she, pale and trembling, fearingeverything, in tears now, begging to know where her sister was. Then,confessing his evil intent, he overcame her by force, she a virgin and alone,as she called out, again and again, in vain, to her father, her sister, andmost of all to the great gods. She quivered like a frightened lamb, that failsto realise it is free, wounded and discarded by a grey wolf, or like a dovetrembling, its feathers stained with its blood, still fearing the rapaciousclaws that gripped it. After a brief while, when she had come to her senses,she dragged at her dishevelled hair, and like a mourner, clawed at her arms,beating them against her breasts. Hands outstretched, she shouted Oh, yousavage. Oh, what an evil, cruel, thing you have done. Did you care nothing formy fathers trust, sealed with holy tears, my sisters affection, my ownvirginity, your marriage vows? You have confounded everything. I have beenforced to become my sisters rival. You are joined to both. Now Procne will bemy enemy! Why not rob me of life as well, you traitor, so that no crime escapesyou? If only you had done it before that impious act. Then my shade would havebeen free of guilt. Yet, if the gods above witness such things, if the powersof heaven mean anything, if all is not lost, as I am, then one day you will payme for this! I, without shame, will tell what you have done. If I get thechance it will be in front of everyone. If I am kept imprisoned in these woods,I will fill the woods with it, and move the stones, that know of my guilt, topity. The skies will hear of it, and any god that may be there!

BkVI:549-570 Philomela is mutilated

The kings angerwas stirred by these words, and his fear also. Goaded by both, he freed thesword from its sheath by his side, and seizing her hair gathered it together,to use as a tie, to tether her arms behind her back.Philomela, seeing the sword, and hopingonly for death, offered up her throat. But he severed her tongue with hissavage blade, holding it with pincers, as she struggled to speak in herindignation, calling out her fathers name repeatedly. Her tongues root wasleft quivering, while the rest of it lay on the dark soil, vibrating andtrembling, and, as though it were the tail of a mutilated snake moving, itwrithed, as if, in dying, it was searching for some sign of her. They say(though I scarcely dare credit it) that even after this crime, he stillassailed her wounded body, repeatedly, in his lust.

He controlledhimself sufficiently to return toProcne,who, seeing him returned, asked where her sister was. He, with false mourning,told of a fictitious funeral, and tears gave it credence. Procne tore herglistening clothes, with their gold hems, from her shoulders, and put on blackrobes, and built an empty tomb, and mistakenly brought offerings, and lamentedthe fate of a sister, not yet due to be lamented in that way.

BkVI:571-619 The truth is revealed

The sun-god hascircled the twelve signs, and a year is past. What canPhilomela do? A guard prevents her escape;the thick walls of the building are made of solid stone; her mute mouth canyield no token of the facts. Great trouble is inventive, and ingenuity arisesin difficult times. Cleverly, she fastens her thread to a barbarians loom, andweaves purple designs on a white background, revealing the crime. She entrustsit, when complete, to a servant, and asks her, by means of gestures, to take itto her mistress. She, as she is asked, takes it toProcne, not knowing what it carries inside.The wife of the savage king unrolls the cloth, and reads her sisters terriblefate, and by a miracle keeps silent. Grief restrains her lips, her tongueseeking to form words adequate to her indignation, fails. She has no time fortears, but rushes off, in a confusion of right and wrong, her mind filled withthoughts of vengeance.

It was the timewhen the youngThracian women usedto celebrate the triennial festival ofBacchus.(Night knew their holy rites: by night, MountRhodope rang with the high-pitchedclashing of bronze). By night the queen left her palace, prepared herself forthe rites of the god, and took up the weapons of that frenzied religion.Tendrils of vine wreathed her head; a deerskin was draped over her left side; alight javelin rested on her shoulder. Hurtling through the woods with a crowdof her companions, terrifying, driven by maddening grief, Procne embodies you,Bacchus. She comes at last to the building in the wilderness, and howls outloud, giving the ecstatic cry ofEuhoe,breaks the door down, seizes hersister, disguises her with the tokens of a wild Bacchante, hides her face withivy leaves, and dragging her along with her, frightened out of her wits, leadsher inside the palace walls.

When Philomelarealised that she had reached that accursed house, the wretched girl shudderedin horror, and her whole face grew deathly pale. Procne, once there, took offthe religious trappings; uncovered the downcast face of her unhappy sister, andclutched her in her arms. But Philomela could not bear to lift her eyes, seeingherself as her sisters betrayer. With her face turned towards the ground,wanting to swear by the gods, and call them to witness, that her shame had beenvisited on her by force, she made signs with her hands in place of speech.Procne burned, and could not control her anger, reproaching her sister forweeping, saying Now is not the time for tears, but for the sword, or for whatovercomes the sword, if you know of such a thing. I am prepared for anywickedness, sister; to set the palace alight with a torch, and throw Tereus,the author of this, into the midst of the flames; or to cut out his eyes andtongue, and the parts which brought shame to you; or to force out his guiltyspirit through a thousand wounds! I am ready for any enormity: but what itshould be, I still do not know yet.

BkVI:619-652 The pitiless feast

WhileProcne was going over these things,Itys came to his mother. His arrivalsuggested what she might do, and regarding him with a cold gaze, she said Ah!How like your father you are! Without speaking further, seething in silentindignation, she began to conceive her tragic plan. Yet, when the boyapproached, and greeted his mother, and put his little arms round her neck, andkissed her with childish endearments, she was moved, her anger was checked, andher eyes were wet with the tears that gathered against her will. But, realisingthat her mind was wavering through excess affection, she turned away from him,and turned to look at her sisters face again, till, gazing at both in turn,she said Why should the one be able to speak his endearments, while the otheris silent, her tongue torn out? Though he calls me mother, why can she not callme sister? Look at the husband you are bride to,Pandions daughter! This is unworthy of you!Affection is criminal in a wife ofTereus

Without delay,she dragged Itys off, as a tigress does an un-weaned fawn, in the dark forestsof theGanges. As they reached a remotepart of the great palace, Procne, with an unchanging expression, struck himwith a knife, in the side close to the heart, while he stretched out his hands,knowing his fate at the last, crying out Mother! Mother!, and reaching outfor her neck. That one wound wasprobably enough to seal his fate, butPhilomelaopened his throat with the knife. While the limbs were still warm, and retainedsome life, they tore them to pieces. Part bubble in bronze cauldrons, part hisson the spit: and the distant rooms drip with grease.

The wife invitesthe unsuspecting Tereus to the feast, and giving out that it is a sacred rite,practised in her country, where it is only lawful for the husband to bepresent, she sends away their followers and servants. Tereus eats by himself,seated in his tall ancestral chair, and fills his belly with his own child. Andin the darkness of his understanding cries Fetch Itys here.

BkVI:653-674 They are transformed into birds

Procne cannot hide her cruel exultation, andnow, eager to be, herself, the messenger of destruction, she cries You havehim there, inside, the one you ask for. He looks around and questions wherethe boy is. And then while he is calling out and seeking him,Philomela, springs forward, her hair wetwith the dew of that frenzied murder, and hurls the bloodstained head ofItys in his fathers face. Nor was there atime when she wished more strongly to have the power of speech, and to declareher exultation in fitting words.

The Thracian kingpushed back the table with a great cry, calling on theFuries, the snake-haired sisters of thevale ofStyx. Now if he could, he wouldtear open his body, and reveal the dreadful substance of the feast, and hishalf-consumed child. Then he weeps, and calls himself the sepulchre of hisunhappy son, and now pursues, with naked sword, the daughters of Pandion.

You might thinkthe Athenian women have taken wing: they have taken wings. One of them, anightingale, Procne, makes for the woods. The other, a swallow, Philomela,flies to the eaves of the palace, and even now her throat has not lost thestain of that murder, and the soft down bears witness to the blood.Tereus swift in his grief and desire forrevenge, is himself changed to a bird, with a feathered crest on its head. Animmoderate, elongated, beak juts out, like a long spear. The name of the birdis the hoopoe, and it looks as though it is armed.

BkVI:675-721 Boreas and Orithyia

This tragedy sentPandion down to the shadows of Tartarusbefore his time, before the last years of old age. His rule over the kingdom,and his wealth passed toErectheus,whose ability for sound government, and superiority in warfare, was never indoubt. He had four sons and the same number of daughters, and two of thedaughters were rivals in beauty. Of these two,Procrismade you happy in marriage,Cephalus,grandson of Aeolus. But you,Boreas, god of the north wind, were longdenied your beloved,Orithyia, harmed byyour origins, withTereus, among theThracians.

This was so while Boreas wooed her, and preferred prayers toforce. But when charm got him nowhere, he bristled with anger, which is hisusual mood for too much of the time, and said I deserve it! Why have Irelinquished my own weapons, force and ferocity, and anger and menacing moods,and turned to prayers, that are unbecoming for me to use? Force is fitting forme. By force, I drive forward the mists, by force move the sea. I overturnknotted oaks, harden the snow, and strike earth with hail. And, when I meet mybrothers under the open sky (since that is my battleground) I struggle sofiercely with them that the midst of the heavens echoes with our collisions,and lightning leaps, hurled from the vaulted clouds. So, when I penetrate thehollow openings of the earth, and apply my proud back to the deepest caveroofs, I trouble the shades, and the whole world with the tremors. That is howI should have sought a wife, and not become Erectheuss son-in-law by prayerbut by action.

With these, or other equallyforceful words, Boreas unfurled his wings, by whose beating the whole world isstirred, and made the wide ocean tremble. Trailing his cloak of dust over themountain summits, he swept the land, and, shrouded in darkness, the loverembraced his Orithyia, with his dusky wings, as she shivered with fear. As heflew, his own flames of passion were fanned, and burned fiercer. Nor did thethief halt in his flight through the air, till he reached the walls of the cityand people of Thrace, theCicones.

There the girl fromAttica married the chilly tyrant, and became amother, giving birth to twin brothers, who took after their mother, ineverything else but their fathers wings. Yet they say the wings were notpresent, on their bodies, when they were born, but while they still werelacking beards, to match their red hair,Calais,andZetes, as boys, were wingless. Butboth alike, soon after, began to sprout the pinions of birds on theirshoulders, and both their jaws and cheeks grew tawny. And, when their boyhoodwas over, the youths sailed, asArgonauts,with theMinyans, in that first ship,through unknown seas, to seek the glittering wool of a golden fleece.

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Movatterモバイル変換

BkVI:1-25Arachnerejects Minerva