Book 5

While Perseus is continuing the relation of the adventures of Medusa, Phineus, to whom Andromeda has been previously promised in marriage, rushes into the palace, with his adherents, and attacks his rival. A furious combat is the consequence, in which Perseus gives signal proofs of his valor. At length, perceiving himself likely to be overpowered by the number of his enemies, he shows them the head of the Gorgon; on which Phineus and his followers are turned into statues of stone. After this victory, he takes Andromeda with him to Argos, his native city, where he turns the usurper Prœtus into stone, and re-establishes his grandfather Acrisius on the throne.

While Perseus is still telling the story of his adventures with Medusa, Phineus rushes into the palace with his followers. Andromeda had previously been promised to Phineus in marriage, and he attacks Perseus, his rival. A fierce battle follows, and Perseus shows great courage. At last, he sees that his enemies are likely to overpower him by sheer numbers. He shows them the head of the Gorgon, and Phineus and his followers turn to stone. After this victory, Perseus takes Andromeda to Argos, his native city. There he turns the usurper Prœtus to stone and restores his grandfather Acrisius to the throne.

And while the hero, the son of Danaë, is relating these things in the midst of the company of the subjects of Cepheus, the royal courts are filled with a raging multitude; nor is the clamor such as celebrates a marriage-feast, but one which portends dreadful warfare. You might compare the banquet, changed into a sudden tumult, to the sea, which, when calm, the boisterous rage of the winds disturbs by raising its waves.

While the hero, Danaë’s son, was telling these stories among Cepheus’s subjects, an angry crowd filled the royal halls. The shouting did not sound like a wedding celebration. It warned of a terrible battle. The banquet had erupted into turmoil, like a calm sea stirred into waves by raging winds.

Foremost among these, Phineus,⁴⁰³ the rash projector of the onslaught, shaking an ashen spear with a brazen point, cries, “Behold! now, behold! I am come, the avenger of my wife, ravished from me; neither shall thy wings nor Jupiter turned into fictitious gold, deliver thee from me.” As he is endeavoring to hurl his lance, Cepheus cries out, “What art thou doing? What fancy, my brother, impels thee, in thy madness, to this crime? Is this the due acknowledgment to return for deserts so great? Dost thou repay the life of her thus preserved, with this reward? ’Twas not Perseus, if thou wouldst know the truth, that took her away from thee; but the incensed majesty of the Nereids, and horned Ammon, and the monster of the sea, which came to be glutted with my bowels. She was snatched from thee at that moment, at which she was to have perished; unless it is that thou dost, in thy cruelty, insist upon that very thing, that she should perish, and wilt be appeased only by my affliction. It is not enough, forsooth, that in thy presence she was bound and that thou, both her uncle and her betrothed, didst give no assistance; wilt thou be grieving, besides, that she was saved by another, and wilt thou deprive him of his reward? If this appears great to thee, thou shouldst have recovered it from the rock to which it was fastened. Now, let him who has recovered it, through whom my old age is not childless, have what he stipulated for, both by his merits and his words; and know that he was preferred not before thee, but before certain death.”

Foremost among them was Phineus,⁴⁰³ the reckless instigator of the attack. Shaking an ash spear tipped with bronze, he cried, “Look! Now look! I have come to avenge my wife, who was stolen from me. Neither your wings nor Jupiter disguised as gold will save you from me.” As he tried to hurl his spear, Cepheus cried out, “What are you doing? My brother, what idea drives you to this crime in your madness? Is this how you repay such great deeds? Is this your reward for saving her life? If you want the truth, it was not Perseus who took her from you. It was the offended majesty of the Nereids, horned Ammon, and the sea monster that came to feast on my flesh. She was taken from you at the moment she was about to die. Unless, in your cruelty, you insist that she should die, and nothing but my grief will satisfy you. Was it not enough that she was bound before your eyes? You, her uncle and her betrothed, did nothing to help her. Must you also grieve that another man saved her and deprive him of his reward? If that reward seems too great to you, you should have claimed it from the rock where it was fastened. Now let the man who claimed it have what he asked for and earned. Thanks to him, I am not childless in my old age. And know that he was chosen not over you, but over certain death.”

Phineus said nothing, on the other hand; but viewing both him and Perseus, with alternate looks, he was uncertain whether he should first attack the one or the other; and, having paused a short time, he vainly threw his spear, hurled with all the force that rage afforded. As it stood fixed in the cushion,⁴⁰⁴ then, at length, Perseus leapt off from the couch, and in his rage would have pierced the breast of his enemy with the weapon, thrown back, had not Phineus gone behind an altar, and thus (how unworthily!) an altar⁴⁰⁵ protected a miscreant. However, the spear, not thrown in vain, stuck in the forehead of Rhœtus; who, after he fell, and the steel was wrenched from the skull, he still struggled, and besprinkled the laid tables with his blood. But then does the multitude burst forth into ungovernable rage, and hurl their weapons. Some there are, who say that Cepheus ought to die with his son-in-law; but Cepheus has gone out by the entrance of the house, calling right and good faith to witness, and the Gods of hospitality,⁴⁰⁶ that this disturbance is made contrary to his will. The warlike Pallas comes; and with her shield protects her brother Perseus, and gives him courage. There was an Indian, Athis by name,⁴⁰⁷ whom Limnate, the daughter of the river Ganges, is believed to have brought forth beneath the glassy waters; excelling in beauty, which he improved by his rich dress; in his prime, as yet but twice eight years of age, dressed in a purple tunic, which a golden fringe bordered; a gilded necklace graced his neck, and a curved hair-pin his hair wet with myrrh. He, indeed, had been taught to hit things, although at a distance, with his hurled javelin, but he was more skilled at bending the bow. Perseus struck him even then, as he was bending with his hands the flexible horns of a bow, with a billet, which, placed in the middle of the altar, was smoking, and he crushed his face into his broken skull.

Phineus said nothing in reply. He looked back and forth between the man and Perseus, unsure which one to attack first. After a brief pause, he hurled his spear with all the force his rage gave him, but missed. The spear stuck in the cushion.⁴⁰⁴ Then Perseus sprang from the couch. In his rage, he threw the spear back and would have pierced his enemy’s chest. But Phineus slipped behind an altar, and so, shamefully, an altar⁴⁰⁵ protected a wicked man. Yet the spear did not miss its mark. It struck Rhœtus in the forehead, and he fell. Even after the steel was pulled from his skull, he still struggled, spraying blood over the set tables. Then the crowd burst into uncontrolled rage and hurled their weapons. Some said that Cepheus should die along with his son-in-law. But Cepheus went out through the entrance of the house. He called on justice, good faith, and the Gods of hospitality⁴⁰⁶ to witness that the disturbance was against his will. The warlike Pallas came and protected her brother Perseus with her shield, giving him courage. There was an Indian named Athis,⁴⁰⁷ whom Limnate, daughter of the river Ganges, was believed to have borne beneath its glassy waters. He was exceptionally beautiful, and his rich clothes enhanced his beauty. He was in his prime, though only sixteen years old. He wore a purple tunic bordered with gold fringe. A gilded necklace adorned his neck, and a curved hairpin held his hair, which was wet with myrrh. He had learned to hit targets at a distance with a javelin, but he was more skilled with a bow. As he bent the flexible horns of a bow in his hands, Perseus struck him with a log. It had been smoking in the middle of the altar. The blow crushed Athis’s face and broke his skull.

When the Assyrian Lycabas, who was a most attached friend of his, and no concealer of his real affection, saw him rolling his features, the objects of such praises, in his blood; after he had bewailed Athis, breathing forth his life from this cruel wound, he seized the bow which he had bent, and said, “And now let the contest against thee be with me; not long shalt thou exult in the fate of the youth, by which thou acquirest more hatred than praise.” All this he had not yet said, when the piercing weapon darted from the string, and though avoided, still it hung in the folds of his garment. The grandson of Acrisius turned against him his falchion,⁴⁰⁸ already proved in the slaughter of Medusa, and thrust it into his breast. But he, now dying, with his eyes swimming in black night, looked around for Athis, and sank upon him, and carried to the shades the consolation of a united death. Lo! Phorbas of Syene,⁴⁰⁹ the son of Methion, and Amphimedon, the Libyan, eager to engage in the fight, fell down, slipping in the blood with which the earth was warm, soaked on every side; as they arose the sword met them, being thrust in the ribs of the one, and in the throat of Phorbas. But Perseus does not attack Erithus, the son of Actor, whose weapon is a broad battle-axe, by using his sword, but he takes up, with both hands, a huge bowl,⁴¹⁰ standing out with figures deeply embossed, and of vast mass in its weight, and hurls it against the man. The other vomits forth red blood, and, falling on his back, beats the ground with his dying head. Then he slays Polydæmon, sprung from the blood of Semiramis, and the Caucasian Abaris, and Lycetus, the son of Sperchius,⁴¹¹ and Elyces, with unshorn locks, and Phlegias, and Clytus; and he tramples upon the heaps of the dying, which he has piled up.

The Assyrian Lycabas was a devoted friend of Athis and did not hide his affection for him. He saw Athis rolling his much-praised face in his own blood. After mourning Athis, who was dying from this cruel wound, Lycabas seized the bow Athis had bent. “And now you must fight me,” he said. “You will not celebrate the youth’s death for long. It has earned you more hatred than praise.” Before he had finished speaking, when the piercing arrow flew from the string. Perseus dodged it, but it caught in the folds of his garment. The grandson of Acrisius turned his falchion⁴⁰⁸ against Lycabas. The weapon had already proved itself in the slaughter of Medusa. Perseus thrust it into his breast. As Lycabas died, his eyes filling with darkness, he looked around for Athis. He sank upon him, carrying to the shades the comfort of their shared death. Look! Phorbas of Syene,⁴⁰⁹ the son of Methion, and Amphimedon, the Libyan, were eager to join the fight. But they slipped and fell in the blood that soaked the ground on every side, still warm. As they rose, the sword met them, thrust into Amphimedon’s ribs and Phorbas’s throat. But Perseus did not use his sword against Erithus, the son of Actor, who carried a broad battle-axe. Instead, he picked up a huge bowl⁴¹⁰ with both hands. It was immensely heavy and covered with deeply embossed figures. He hurled it at Erithus, who vomited red blood and fell on his back. His head beat against the ground as he died. Then Perseus killed Polydæmon, descended from Semiramis, and the Caucasian Abaris. He killed Lycetus, the son of Sperchius,⁴¹¹ and Elyces, with his uncut hair, and Phlegias and Clytus. He trampled the heaps of dying men he had piled up.

But Phineus, not daring to engage hand to hand with his enemy, hurls his javelin, which accident carries against Idas, who, in vain, has declined the warfare⁴¹² and has followed the arms of neither. He, looking at the cruel Phineus with stern eyes, says, “Since I am thus forced to take a side, take the enemy, Phineus, that thou hast made, and make amends for my wound with this wound.” And now, just about to return the dart drawn from his body, he falls sinking down upon his limbs void of blood. Here, too, Odytes, the next in rank among the followers of Cepheus, after the king, lies prostrate under the sword of Clymenus; Hypseus kills Protenor, and Lyncides Hypseus. There is, too, among them the aged Emathion, an observer of justice, and a fearer of the Gods; as his years prevent him from fighting, he engages by talking, and he condemns and utters imprecations against their accursed arms. As he clings to the altars⁴¹³ with trembling hands, Chromis cuts off his head with his sword, which straightway falls upon the altar, and there, with his dying tongue he utters words of execration, and breathes forth his soul in the midst of the fires. Upon this, two brothers, Broteas and Ammon invincible at boxing, if swords could only be conquered by boxing, fell by the hand of Phineus; Ampycus, too, the priest of Ceres, having his temples wreathed with a white fillet. Thou too, son of Iapetus, not to be employed for these services; but one who tuned the lyre, the work of peace, to thy voice, hadst been ordered to attend the banquet and festival with thy music. As thou art standing afar, and holding the unwarlike plectrum, Pettalus says, laughing, “Go sing the rest to the Stygian ghosts,” and fixes the point of the sword in his left temple. He falls, and with his dying fingers he touches once again the strings of the lyre; and in his fall he plays a mournful dirge.⁴¹⁴ The fierce Lycormas does not suffer him to fall unpunished; and tearing away a massive bar from the doorpost on the right, he dashes it against the bones of the middle of the neck of Pettalus; struck, he falls to the ground, just like a slaughtered bullock.

But Phineus does not dare fight his enemy hand to hand. He throws his javelin, and by chance it strikes Idas. Idas had tried in vain to stay out of the fighting⁴¹² and had joined neither side. He looks sternly at cruel Phineus and says, “Since I am thus forced to take a side, face the enemy you have made, Phineus. Pay for my wound with a wound of your own.” He pulls the dart from his body and is about to throw it back. But his bloodless limbs give way, and he falls. Here, too, Odytes lies dead under the sword of Clymenus. Among the followers of Cepheus, Odytes was next in rank after the king. Hypseus kills Protenor, and Lyncides kills Hypseus. Among them is the aged Emathion, who respects justice and fears the Gods. His age keeps him from fighting, so he joins the battle with words. He condemns their accursed weapons and calls down curses on them. As he clings to the altars⁴¹³ with trembling hands, Chromis cuts off his head. It falls at once upon the altar. There, with his dying tongue, he speaks words of cursing and breathes his last amid the fires. Then two brothers, Broteas and Ammon, fall at the hand of Phineus. They would have been unbeatable boxers, if only boxing could defeat swords. Phineus also kills Ampycus, the priest of Ceres, whose temples are wreathed with a white fillet. You too, son of Iapetus, were not meant for such work. You sang to the lyre, an instrument of peace, and had been ordered to provide music for the banquet and festival. As you stand at a distance, holding your peaceful plectrum, Pettalus laughs and says, “Go sing the rest to the Stygian ghosts.” He drives the point of his sword into your left temple. You fall, and your dying fingers touch the strings of the lyre once more. As you fall, you play a mournful dirge.⁴¹⁴ Fierce Lycormas does not let your death go unpunished. He tears a massive bar from the right doorpost and smashes it against the middle of Pettalus's neck. Pettalus falls to the ground like a slaughtered bullock.

The Cinyphian⁴¹⁵ Pelates, too, was trying to tear away the oaken bar of the doorpost on the left; as he was trying, his right hand was fastened thereto by the spear of Corythus, the son of Marmarus, and it stood riveted to the wood. Thus riveted, Abas pierced his side; he did not fall, however, but dying, hung from the post, which still held fast his hand. Melaneus, too, was slain, who had followed the camp of Perseus, and Dorylas, very rich in Nasamonian land.⁴¹⁶ Dorylas, rich in land, than whom no one possessed it of wider extent, or received thence so many heaps of corn. The hurled steel stood fixed obliquely in his groin; the hurt was mortal. When the Bactrian⁴¹⁷ Halcyoneus, the author of the wound, beheld him sobbing forth his soul, and rolling his eyes, he said, “Take for thine own this spot of earth which thou dost press, out of so many fields,” and he left his lifeless body. The descendant of Abas, as his avenger, hurls against Halcyoneus the spear torn from his wound yet warm, which, received in the middle of the nostrils, pierced through his neck, and projected on both sides. And while fortune is aiding his hand, he slays, with different wounds, Clytius and Clanis, born of one mother. For an ashen spear poised with a strong arm is driven through both the thighs of Clytius; with his mouth does Clanis bite the javelin. Celadon, the Mendesian,⁴¹⁸ falls, too; Astreus falls, born of a mother of Palestine, but of an uncertain father. Æthion, too, once sagacious at foreseeing things to come, but now deceived⁴¹⁹ by a false omen; and Thoactes, the armor-bearer of the king, and Agyrtes, infamous for slaying his father.

The Cinyphian⁴¹⁵ Pelates was also trying to tear away the oak bar from the left doorpost. As he struggled, Corythus, son of Marmarus, pinned his right hand to it with a spear. His hand remained fastened to the wood. While he was pinned there, Abas pierced his side. But Pelates did not fall. Dying, he hung from the post, which still held his hand fast. Melaneus, who had followed the camp of Perseus, was also killed. So was Dorylas, who owned a great deal of Nasamonian land.⁴¹⁶ No one owned more land than Dorylas or gathered so many heaps of grain from it. A thrown spear struck him at an angle in the groin and lodged there. The wound was fatal. The Bactrian⁴¹⁷ Halcyoneus, who had wounded him, saw him gasping out his life and rolling his eyes. He said, “Take as your own this patch of ground you lie on, out of all your fields.” Then he left the lifeless body. The descendant of Abas avenged Dorylas. He pulled the still-warm spear from Dorylas’s wound and hurled it at Halcyoneus. It struck between his nostrils, pierced his neck, and stuck out at both ends. While fortune favored him, he killed Clytius and Clanis, who were born of the same mother. Each died from a different wound. With a powerful throw, he drove an ash spear through both of Clytius’s thighs. Clanis bit the javelin with his mouth. Celadon, the Mendesian,⁴¹⁸ also fell. So did Astreus, whose mother was from Palestine, but whose father was unknown. Æthion fell too. He had once been skilled at foreseeing the future, but now a false omen had deceived⁴¹⁹ him. So did Thoactes, the king’s armor-bearer, and Agyrtes, infamous for killing his father.

More work still remains, than what is already done; for it is the intention of all to overwhelm one. The conspiring troops fight on all sides, for a cause that attacks both merit and good faith. The one side, the father-in-law, attached in vain, and the new-made wife, together with her mother, encourage; and these fill the halls with their shrieks. But the din of arms, and the groans of those that fall, prevail; and for once, Bellona⁴²⁰ is deluging the household Gods polluted with plenteous blood, and is kindling the combat anew. Phineus, and a thousand that follow Phineus, surround Perseus alone; darts are flying thicker than the hail of winter, on both his sides, past his eyes, and past his ears. On this, he places his shoulders against the stone of a large pillar, and, having his back secure, and facing the adverse throng, he withstands their attack. Chaonian⁴²¹ Molpeus presses on the left, Nabathæan Ethemon on the right. As a tiger, urged on by hunger, when it hears the lowings of two herds, in different valleys, knows not on which side in preference to rush out, and yet is eager to rush out on both; so Perseus, being in doubt whether to bear onward to the right or to the left, repulses Molpeus by a wound in the leg, which he runs through, and is contented with his flight. Nor, indeed, does Ethemon give him time, but fiercely attacks him; and, desirous to inflict a wound deep in his neck, he breaks his sword, wielded with incautious force; and against the extremity of a column which he has struck, the blade flies to pieces, and sticks in the throat of its owner; yet that blow has not power sufficient to effect his death. Perseus stabs him with his Cyllenian⁴²² falchion, trembling, and vainly extending his unarmed hands.

More work remains than has already been done, for all intend to overwhelm one man. The allied troops fight on every side for a cause that offends both merit and good faith. On the other side, his father-in-law, whose affection is of no help, encourages Perseus, as do his new wife and her mother. They fill the hall with their shrieks. But the clash of weapons and the groans of the dying drown them out. For once, Bellona⁴²⁰ drenches the household Gods in a flood of blood, defiling them, and rekindles the battle. Phineus and a thousand followers surround Perseus alone. Darts fly on both sides of him, past his eyes and ears, thicker than winter hail. He presses his shoulders against a large stone pillar, securing his back, and faces the hostile crowd. Then he holds off their attack. Chaonian⁴²¹ Molpeus presses him on the left, Nabathæan Ethemon on the right. A hungry tiger hears two herds lowing in separate valleys. It cannot decide which way to charge, and yet longs to charge in both directions. So Perseus hesitates, unsure whether to advance right or left. He drives his weapon through Molpeus's leg and is content to let him flee. But Ethemon gives him no time and attacks fiercely. Trying to wound Perseus deeply in the neck, Ethemon swings his sword recklessly and strikes the edge of a column. The blade shatters, and a piece lodges in Ethemon's throat. Yet the blow is not enough to cause his death. Trembling, Ethemon stretches out his empty hands in vain, and Perseus stabs him with his Cyllenian⁴²² sword.

But when Perseus saw his valor likely to yield to such numbers, he said, “Since you yourselves force me to do it, I will seek assistance from an enemy: turn away your faces, if any of my friends are here;” and then he produced the head of the Gorgon. “Go, seek some one else,” said Thescelus, “for thy miracles to affect;” and, as he was preparing to hurl his deadly javelin with his hand, he stood fast in that posture, a statue of marble. Ampyx, being next him, made a pass with his sword at the breast of Lyncidas, full of daring spirit, and, while making it, his right hand became stiff, moving neither to one side nor the other. But Nileus, who had falsely boasted that he was begotten by the seven-mouthed Nile, and who had engraved on his shield its seven channels, partly in silver, partly in gold, said, “Behold, Perseus, the origin of my race; thou shalt carry to the silent shades a great consolation for thy death, that thou wast killed by one so great.” The last part of his address was suppressed in the midst of the utterance; and you would think his half-open mouth was attempting to speak, but it gave no passage for his words. Eryx rebuked them,⁴²³ and said, “Ye are benumbed by the cowardice of your minds, not by the locks of the Gorgon; rush on with me, and strike to the ground this youth that wields his magic arms.” He was about to rush on, when the earth arrested his steps, and he remained an immovable stone, and an armed statue. But all these met with the punishment they had deserved: there was one man, however, Aconteus by name, a soldier of Perseus, for whom while he was fighting, on beholding the Gorgon, he grew hard with stone rising upon him. Astyages, thinking him still alive, struck him with his long sword; the sword resounded with a shrill ringing. While Astyages was in amazement, he took on himself the same nature: and the look of one in surprise remained on his marble features. It is a tedious task to recount the names of the men of the lower rank. Two hundred bodies were yet remaining for the fight: two hundred bodies, on beholding the Gorgon, grew stiff.

But when Perseus saw that his courage was likely to be overcome by such numbers, he said, “You have forced me to do this, so I will seek help from an enemy. If any of my friends are here, turn your faces away.” Then he brought out the head of the Gorgon. “Go, find someone else to impress with your miracles,” said Thescelus. As he raised his hand to throw his deadly javelin, he froze in that pose, a marble statue. Ampyx, who stood next to him, thrust his sword at the chest of the daring Lyncidas. But as he struck, his right hand stiffened and could not move in either direction. Nileus had falsely boasted that he was the son of the seven-mouthed Nile. He had engraved its seven channels on his shield, some in silver and some in gold. He said, “See where I come from, Perseus. When you reach the silent shades, it will be a great comfort to know you were killed by someone so great.” The last part of his speech was cut short. His half-open mouth looked as though it were trying to speak, but no words came out. Eryx scolded them,⁴²³ saying, “You are frozen by your own cowardice, not by the Gorgon’s locks. Charge with me and strike down this young man who uses magic weapons.” He was about to charge, when the earth stopped his steps. He remained there as an unmoving stone, an armed statue. All these men met the punishment they deserved. But one of Perseus’s soldiers, named Aconteus, saw the Gorgon while he was fighting. Stone spread over him, and he grew hard. Astyages thought Aconteus was still alive and struck him with his long sword. The sword rang out shrilly. While Astyages stood amazed, he too turned to stone. A look of surprise remained on his marble face. It would be tedious to list the names of the lower-ranking men. Two hundred men still remained to fight. When they saw the Gorgon, all two hundred bodies grew stiff.

Now at length Phineus repents of this unjust warfare. But what can he do? He sees statues varying in form, and he recognizes his friends, and demands help of them each, called by name; and not yet persuaded, he touches the bodies next him; they are marble. He turns away his eyes; and thus suppliant, and stretching forth his hands, that confessed his fault, and his arms obliquely extended, he says, “Perseus, thou hast conquered; remove the direful monster, and take away that stone-making face of thy Medusa, whatever she may be; take it away, I pray. It is not hatred, or the desire of a kingdom, that has urged me to war: for a wife I wielded arms. Thy cause was the better in point of merit, mine in point of time. I am not sorry to yield. Grant me nothing, most valiant man, beyond this life; the rest be thine.” Upon his saying such things, and not daring to look upon him, whom he is entreating with his voice, Perseus says, “What am I able to give thee, most cowardly Phineus, and, a great boon to a craven, that will I give; lay aside thy fears; thou shalt be hurt by no weapon. Moreover, I will give thee a monument to last forever, and in the house of my father-in-law thou shalt always be seen, that my wife may comfort herself with the form of her betrothed.” Thus he said, and he turned the daughter of Phorcys to that side, towards which Phineus had turned himself with trembling face. Then, even as he endeavored to turn away his eyes, his neck grew stiff, and the moisture of his eyes hardened in stone. But yet his timid features, and his suppliant countenance, and his hands hanging down, and his guilty attitude, still remained.

At last, Phineus regrets this unjust war. But what can he do? He sees statues in different poses and recognizes his friends. He calls each one by name and asks for help. Still not yet convinced, he touches the bodies nearest him. They are marble. He turns away his eyes and stretches out his hands and arms at an angle, pleading and admitting his fault. He says, “Perseus, you have won. Remove that dreadful monster. Take away Medusa’s face, which turns people to stone, whoever she may be. Please, take it away. It was not hatred or a desire for a kingdom that drove me to war. I took up arms for a wife. Your claim was stronger by merit, but mine came first. I do not regret yielding. Most valiant man, grant me nothing but my life. Everything else is yours.” As Phineus says this, he does not dare look at the man he is begging. Perseus replies, “I will give you what I can, cowardly Phineus. It is a great gift for a coward. Put aside your fears. No weapon will hurt you. I will also give you a monument that will last forever. You will always be on display in my father-in-law’s house. My wife can then take comfort in the image of the man she was betrothed to.” Thus he spoke, and turned the daughter of Phorcys toward Phineus, who had turned away, his face trembling. Even as Phineus tried to turn his eyes away, his neck grew stiff. The moisture in his eyes hardened into stone. But his fearful features, pleading face, lowered hands, and guilty posture remained.

The descendant of Abas, together with his wife, enters the walls of his native city; and as the defender and avenger of his innocent mother, he attacks Prœtus.⁴²⁴ For, his brother being expelled by force of arms, Prœtus had taken possession of the citadel of Acrisius; but neither by the help of arms, nor the citadel which he had unjustly seized, did he prevail against the stern eyes of the snake-bearing monster.

The descendant of Abas enters his native city with his wife. He attacks Prœtus to defend and avenge his innocent mother.⁴²⁴ Prœtus had driven his brother out by force and taken the citadel of Acrisius. But neither his weapons nor the citadel he had unjustly seized could save him from the stern gaze of the snake-bearing monster.

Polydectes continues his hatred against Perseus, and treats his victories and triumphs over Medusa as mere fictions, on which Perseus turns him into stone. Minerva leaves her brother, and goes to Mount Helicon to visit the Muses, who show the Goddess the beauties of their habitation, and entertain her with their adventure at the court of Pyreneus, and the death of that prince. They also repeat to her the song of the Pierides, who challenged them to sing.

Polydectes continues to hate Perseus and dismisses his victories and triumphs over Medusa as mere stories. In response, Perseus turns him to stone. Minerva leaves her brother and goes to Mount Helicon to visit the Muses. They show the goddess the beauty of their home. They also tell her about their adventure at the court of Pyreneus and the prince’s death. Then they repeat the song of the Pierides, who challenged them to a singing contest.

Yet, O Polydectes,⁴²⁵ the ruler of little Seriphus, neither the valor of the youth proved by so many toils, nor his sorrows have softened thee; but thou obstinately dost exert an inexorable hatred, nor is there any limit to thy unjust resentment. Thou also detractest from his praises, and dost allege that the death of Medusa is but a fiction. “We will give thee a proof of the truth,” says Perseus; “have a regard for your eyes, all besides;” and he makes the face of the king become stone, without blood, by means of the face of Medusa.

Yet, O Polydectes,⁴²⁵ ruler of little Seriphus, neither the young man's courage through so many trials nor his sorrows have softened you. Instead, you stubbornly hold on to your relentless hatred, and there is no limit to your unjust resentment. You also belittle his achievements and claim that Medusa's death is only a story. “We will give you proof of the truth,” says Perseus. “Everyone else, protect your eyes.” Then he uses Medusa's face to turn the king's face to stone, without shedding blood.

Hitherto Tritonia had presented herself as a companion to her brother,⁴²⁶ begotten in the golden shower. Now, enwrapped in an encircling cloud, she abandons Seriphus, Cythnus and Gyarus⁴²⁷ being left on the right. And where the way seems the shortest over the sea, she makes for Thebes and Helicon, frequented by the virgin Muses; having reached which mountain she stops, and thus addresses the learned sisters: “The fame of the new fountain⁴²⁸ has reached my ears, which the hard hoof of the winged steed sprung from the blood of Medusa has opened. That is the cause of my coming. I wished to see this wondrous prodigy; I saw him spring from the blood of his mother.” Urania⁴²⁹ replies, “Whatever, Goddess, is the cause of thy visiting these abodes, thou art most acceptable to our feelings. However, the report is true, and Pegasus is the originator of this spring;” and then she conducts Pallas to the sacred streams. She, long admiring the waters produced by the stroke of his foot, looks around upon the groves of the ancient wood, and the caves and the grass studded with flowers innumerable; and she pronounces the Mnemonian⁴³⁰ maids happy both in their pursuits and in their retreat; when one of the sisters thus addresses her:

Until now, Tritonia had accompanied her brother,⁴²⁶ who was conceived in the golden shower. Now, wrapped in a cloud, she leaves Seriphus, passing Cythnus and Gyarus⁴²⁷ on her right. She takes the shortest route across the sea toward Thebes and Helicon, where the virgin Muses often gather. When she reaches the mountain, she stops and addresses the learned sisters: “I have heard about the new fountain.⁴²⁸ The hard hoof of the winged steed born from Medusa’s blood opened it. That is why I have come. I wanted to see this wonder. I saw the steed spring from his mother’s blood.” Urania⁴²⁹ replies, “Goddess, whatever brings you to our home, you are most welcome. The report is true. Pegasus created this spring.” Then she leads Pallas to the sacred streams. Pallas spends a long time admiring the waters brought forth by the strike of his hoof. She looks around at the groves of the ancient wood, the caves, and the grass covered with countless flowers. She says the Mnemonian⁴³⁰ maids are fortunate in both their pursuits and their retreat. Then one of the sisters thus addresses her:

“O Tritonia, thou who wouldst have come to make one of our number, had not thy valor inclined thee to greater deeds, thou sayest the truth, and with justice thou dost approve both our pursuits and our retreat; and if we are but safe, happy do we reckon our lot. But (to such a degree is no denial borne by villany) all things affright our virgin minds, and the dreadful Pyreneus is placed before our eyes; and not yet have I wholly recovered my presence of mind. He, in his insolence, had taken the Daulian and Phocean⁴³¹ land with his Thracian troops, and unjustly held the government. We were making for the temple of Parnassus; he beheld us going, and adoring our Divinities⁴³² in a feigned worship he said (for he had recognized us), ‘O Mnemonian maids, stop, and do not scruple, I pray, under my roof to avoid the bad weather and the showers (for it was raining); oft have the Gods above entered more humble cottages.’ Moved by his invitation and the weather, we assented to the man, and entered the front part of his house. The rain had now ceased, and the South Wind now subdued by the North, the black clouds were flying from the cleared sky. It was our wish to depart. Pyreneus closed his house, and prepared for violence, which we escaped by taking wing. He himself stood aloft on the top of his abode, as though about to follow us, and said ‘Wherever there is a way for you, by the same road there will be one for me.’ And then, in his insanity, he threw himself from the height of the summit of the tower, and fell upon his face, and with the bones of his skull thus broken, he struck the ground stained with his accursed blood.”

“O Tritonia, you would have joined our number if your courage had not led you to greater deeds. You speak the truth, and you are right to approve of both our pursuits and our retreat. As long as we are safe, we count ourselves happy. But wickedness cannot bear to be denied. Everything frightens our virgin minds, and we see the dreadful Pyreneus before our eyes. I still have not fully recovered my composure. “With his Thracian troops, he had arrogantly seized the Daulian and Phocean⁴³¹ land and ruled it unjustly. We were on our way to the temple of Parnassus when he saw us. He recognized us and pretended to worship our Divinities⁴³². It was raining, so he said, ‘O Mnemonian maids, stop. Please do not hesitate to shelter under my roof from the bad weather and the rain. The Gods above have often entered humbler cottages.’ His invitation and the weather persuaded us, so we entered the front part of his house. “The rain had now stopped, and the South Wind had now been subdued by the North. The black clouds were fleeing from the clearing sky. We wanted to leave, but Pyreneus shut his house and prepared to use violence. We escaped by taking wing. He stood high on the roof of his house, as if he meant to follow us. ‘Wherever there is a way for you,’ he said, ‘there will be one for me along the same path.’ Then, in his madness, he threw himself from the top of the tower. He fell on his face and struck the ground, breaking the bones of his skull and staining it with his accursed blood.”

Thus spoke the Muse. Wings resounded through the air, and a voice of some saluting them⁴³³ came from the lofty boughs. The daughter of Jupiter looked up, and asked whence tongues that speak so distinctly made that noise, and thought that a human being had spoken. They were birds; and magpies that imitate everything, lamenting their fate, they stood perched on the boughs, nine in number. As the Goddess wondered, thus did the Goddess Urania commence: “Lately, too, did these being overcome in a dispute, increase the number of the birds. Pierus, rich in the lands of Pella,⁴³⁴ begot them; the Pæonian⁴³⁵ Evippe⁴³⁶ was their mother. Nine times did she invoke the powerful Lucina, being nine times in labor. This set of foolish sisters were proud of their number, and came hither through so many cities of Hæmonia, and through so many of Achaia,⁴³⁷ and engaged in a contest in words such as these: “Cease imposing upon the vulgar with your empty melody. If you have any confidence in your skill, ye Thespian Goddesses, contend with us; we will not be outdone in voice or skill; and we are as many in number. Either, if vanquished, withdraw from the spring formed by the steed of Medusa, and the Hyantean Aganippe,⁴³⁸ or we will retire from the Emathian plains, as far as the snowy Pæonians. Let the Nymphs decide the contest.” It was, indeed, disgraceful to engage, but to yield seemed even more disgraceful. The Nymphs that are chosen swear by the rivers, and they sit on seats made out of the natural rock. Then, without casting lots, she who had been the first to propose the contest, sings the wars of the Gods above, and gives the Giants honor not their due, and detracts from the actions of the great Divinities; and sings how that Typhœus, sent forth from the lowest realms of the earth, had struck terror into the inhabitants of Heaven; and how they had all turned their backs in flight, until the land of Egypt had received them in their weariness, and the Nile, divided into its seven mouths. She tells, how that Typhœus had come there, too, and the Gods above had concealed themselves under assumed shapes; and ‘Jupiter,’ she says, ‘becomes the leader of the flock, whence, even at the present day, the Libyan Ammon is figured with horns. Apollo, the Delian God, lies concealed as a crow, the son of Semele as a he-goat, the sister of Phœbus as a cat, Juno, the daughter of Saturn, as a snow-white cow, Venus as a fish,⁴³⁹ Mercury, the Cyllenian God, beneath the wings of an Ibis.’⁴⁴⁰

Thus spoke the Muse. Wings rustled through the air, and a voice from the high branches greeted them⁴³³. The daughter of Jupiter looked up and asked where such distinct speech was coming from. She thought a human had spoken. But there were nine birds perched on the branches, magpies that imitate everything, mourning their fate. As the Goddess wondered at them, the Goddess Urania began: “Recently, these sisters were defeated in a contest and added to the number of birds. Their father was Pierus, rich in the lands of Pella,⁴³⁴ and their mother was the Pæonian⁴³⁵ Evippe⁴³⁶. Nine times she called on the powerful Lucina, as she gave birth nine times. “These foolish sisters were proud of their number. They came here through many cities of Hæmonia and Achaia,⁴³⁷ and challenged us with these words: “Stop deceiving ordinary people with your empty songs. If you have any confidence in your skill, you Thespian Goddesses, compete with us. We will not be outdone in voice or skill, and we are equal in number. If you lose, leave the spring made by Medusa’s steed and the Hyantean Aganippe.⁴³⁸ Or, if we lose, we will leave the Emathian plains as far as the snowy Pæonians. Let the Nymphs judge the contest.” “It was shameful to accept the challenge, but it seemed even more shameful to give in. The Nymphs chosen as judges swore by the rivers and sat on seats of natural rock. Then, without drawing lots, the sister who had first proposed the contest sang. She sang of the wars of the Gods above, giving the Giants undeserved honor and belittling the deeds of the great Divinities. She sang how Typhœus, sent out from the lowest depths of the earth, had terrified the inhabitants of Heaven. They had all fled, she sang, until Egypt and the Nile with its seven mouths received them, weary from flight. “She tells how Typhœus came there too, and how the Gods above hid themselves in other shapes. ‘Jupiter,’ she says, ‘becomes the leader of the flock. That is why Libyan Ammon is still shown with horns. Apollo, the Delian God, hides as a crow, the son of Semele as a male goat, the sister of Phœbus as a cat, Juno, the daughter of Saturn, as a snow-white cow, Venus as a fish,⁴³⁹ and Mercury, the Cyllenian God, under the wings of an Ibis.’⁴⁴⁰

“Thus far she had exerted her noisy mouth to the sound of the lyre; we of Aonia⁴⁴¹ were then called upon; but perhaps thou hast not the leisure, nor the time to lend an ear to our strains.” Pallas says, “Do not hesitate, and repeat your song to me in its order;” and she takes her seat under the pleasant shade of the grove. The Muse then tells her story. “We assigned the management of the contest to one of our number. Calliope rises, and, having her long hair gathered up with ivy, tunes with her thumb the sounding chords; and then sings these lines in concert with the strings when struck.”

“So far, she had raised her noisy voice to the sound of the lyre. We of Aonia⁴⁴¹ were then called upon. But perhaps you do not have the time or leisure to listen to our songs.” Pallas says, “Please, do not hesitate. Sing your song to me from beginning to end.” She sits down in the pleasant shade of the grove. The Muse then tells her story. “We chose one of our number to conduct the contest. Calliope rises, her long hair gathered with ivy. She tunes the ringing strings with her thumb, then sings these lines to their music.”

One of the Muses repeats to Minerva the song of Calliope, in answer to the Pierides; in which she describes the defeat of the Giant Typhœus, and Pluto viewing the mountains of Sicily, where Venus persuades her son Cupid to pierce his heart with one of his arrows.

One of the Muses repeats Calliope’s song to Minerva. Calliope sang it in response to the Pierides. In it, she describes the defeat of the Giant Typhœus and Pluto looking at the mountains of Sicily. There, Venus persuades her son Cupid to pierce Pluto’s heart with one of his arrows.

“Ceres was the first to turn up the clods with the crooked plough; she first gave corn and wholesome food to the earth; she first gave laws; everything is the gift of Ceres. She is to be sung by me; I only wish that I could utter verses worthy of the Goddess, for doubtless she is a Goddess worthy of my song. The vast island of Trinacria⁴⁴² is heaped up on the limbs of the Giant, and keeps down Typhœus, that dared to hope for the abodes of Heaven, placed beneath its heavy mass. He, indeed, struggles, and attempts often to rise, but his right hand is placed beneath the Ausonian Pelorus,⁴⁴³ his left under thee, Pachynus;⁴⁴⁴ his legs are pressed down by Lilybœum;⁴⁴⁵ Ætna bears down his head; under it Typhœus, on his back, casts forth sand, and vomits flame from his raging mouth; often does he struggle to throw off the load of earth, and to roll away cities and huge mountains from his body. Then does the earth tremble, and the King of the shades himself is in dread, lest it may open, and the ground be parted with a wide chasm, and, the day being let in, may affright the trembling ghosts.

“Ceres was the first to break the soil with the curved plough. She first gave corn and wholesome food to the earth. She first gave laws. Everything is Ceres’s gift. I must sing of her. I only wish I could compose verses worthy of the Goddess, for she is certainly a Goddess worthy of my song. The vast island of Trinacria⁴⁴² lies heaped upon the limbs of the Giant Typhœus. Its heavy weight holds him down because he dared to hope for a place in Heaven. He struggles and often tries to rise, but his right hand lies beneath Ausonian Pelorus,⁴⁴³ and his left under you, Pachynus.⁴⁴⁴ His legs are pinned beneath Lilybœum,⁴⁴⁵ and Ætna weighs on his head. Lying on his back beneath Ætna, Typhœus spews sand and vomits flames from his raging mouth. He often struggles to throw off the earth and roll cities and huge mountains from his body. Then the earth trembles, and even the King of the shades fears it may split open. He fears a wide chasm may let in the daylight and frighten the trembling ghosts.

“Fearing this ruin, the Ruler had gone out from his dark abode; and, carried in his chariot by black horses, he cautiously surveyed the foundations of the Sicilian land. After it was sufficiently ascertained that no place was insecure, and fear was laid aside, Erycina,⁴⁴⁶ sitting down upon her mountain, saw him wandering; and, embracing her winged son, she said, Cupid, my son, my arms, my hands, and my might, take up those darts by which thou conquerest all, and direct the swift arrows against the breast of the God, to whom fell the last lot of the triple kingdom.⁴⁴⁷ Thou subduest the Gods above, and Jupiter himself; thou subduest the conquered Deities of the deep, and him who rules over the Deities of the deep. Why is Tartarus exempt? Why dost thou not extend the Empire of thy mother and thine own? A third part of the world is now at stake. And yet so great power is despised even in our own heaven, and, together with myself, the influence of Love becomes but a trifling matter. Dost thou not see how that Pallas, and Diana, who throws the javelin, have renounced me? The daughter of Ceres, too, will be a virgin, if we shall permit it, for she inclines to similar hopes. But do thou join the Goddess to her uncle, if I have any interest with thee in favor of our joint sway.

“Fearing this ruin, the Ruler had left his dark abode. In a chariot drawn by black horses, he cautiously surveyed the foundations of Sicily. Once he was satisfied that no part was unsafe, he set aside his fear. Erycina,⁴⁴⁶ sitting on her mountain, saw him wandering. She embraced her winged son and said, Cupid, my son, my arms, my hands, and my might, take up the darts with which you conquer all. Aim your swift arrows at the breast of the God who received the last share of the three-part kingdom.⁴⁴⁷ You subdue the Gods above, and Jupiter himself. You subdue the conquered Deities of the deep and the one who rules over them. Why is Tartarus exempt? Why do you not extend your mother's empire and your own? A third of the world is now at stake. And yet, even in our own heaven, such great power is scorned. My influence and the power of Love are treated as trifles. Do you not see how Pallas and Diana, who throws the javelin, have renounced me? The daughter of Ceres, too, will remain a virgin if we allow it, for she has similar hopes. But join the Goddess to her uncle, if you care at all for my wishes for our shared rule.

“Venus thus spoke. He opened his quiver, and, by the direction of his mother, set apart one out of his thousand arrows; but one, than which there is not any more sharp or less unerring, or which is more true to the bow. And he bent the flexible horn, by pressing his knee against it, and struck Pluto in the breast with the barbed arrow.”

“Venus thus spoke. He opened his quiver and, at his mother's direction, chose one of his thousand arrows. None was sharper, less likely to miss, or flew more true from the bow. He pressed his knee against the flexible horn bow to bend it, then struck Pluto in the chest with the barbed arrow.”

Pluto surprises Proserpina in the fields of Henna, and carries her away by force. The Nymph Cyane endeavors, in vain, to stop him in his passage, and through grief and anguish, dissolves into a fountain. Ceres goes everywhere in search of her daughter, and, in her journey, turns the boy Stellio into a newt.

Pluto surprises Proserpina in the fields of Henna and carries her away by force. The Nymph Cyane tries in vain to stop him as he passes. Overcome by grief and anguish, she dissolves into a fountain. Ceres searches everywhere for her daughter. During her journey, she turns the boy Stellio into a newt.

“Not far from the walls of Henna⁴⁴⁸ there is a lake of deep water, Pergus by name; Cayster does not hear more songs of swans, in his running streams, than that. A wood skirts the lake, surrounding it on every side, and with its foliage, as though with an awning, keeps out the rays of the sun. The boughs produce a coolness, the moist ground flowers of Tyrian hue. There the spring is perpetual. In this grove, while Proserpina is amusing herself, and is plucking either violets or white lilies, and while, with childlike eagerness, she is filling her baskets and her bosom, and is striving to outdo her companions of the same age in gathering, almost at the same instant she is beheld, beloved, and seized by Pluto;⁴⁴⁹ in such great haste is love. The Goddess, affrighted, with lamenting lips calls both her mother and her companions,⁴⁵⁰ but more frequently her mother;⁴⁵¹ and as she has torn her garment from the upper edge, the collected flowers fall from her loosened robes. So great, too, is the innocence of her childish years, this loss excites the maiden’s grief as well. The ravisher drives on his chariot, and encourages his horses, called, each by his name, along whose necks and manes he shakes the reins, dyed with swarthy rust. He is borne through deep lakes, and the pools of the Palici,⁴⁵² smelling strong of sulphur, and boiling fresh from out of the burst earth; and where the Bacchiadæ,⁴⁵³ a race sprung from Corinth, with its two seas,⁴⁵⁴ built a city⁴⁵⁵ between unequal harbors.

“Not far from the walls of Henna⁴⁴⁸ is a deep lake called Pergus. Cayster hears no more songs of swans in its flowing streams than Pergus does. A wood surrounds the lake on every side. Its leaves keep out the sun’s rays like an awning. The branches provide cool shade, and the damp ground produces flowers of Tyrian purple. There spring lasts forever. In this grove, Proserpina is playing and picking violets and white lilies. With childlike eagerness, she fills her baskets and the folds of her dress. She tries to gather more flowers than her companions of the same age. Almost at once, Pluto sees her, falls in love with her, and seizes her.⁴⁴⁹ Such is the haste of love. Frightened, the Goddess cries out in distress to her mother and her companions,⁴⁵⁰ but more often to her mother.⁴⁵¹ She has torn the top of her garment, and the flowers she gathered fall from her loosened robes. So innocent is the young girl that this loss grieves her too. Her abductor drives his chariot onward, urging each horse by name. He shakes the dark, rust-stained reins over their necks and manes. He travels past deep lakes and the pools of the Palici.⁴⁵² The pools smell strongly of sulfur and boil up from the broken earth. He passes the place where the Bacchiadæ,⁴⁵³ a race descended from Corinth, with its two seas,⁴⁵⁴ built a city⁴⁵⁵ between two unequal harbors.”

“There is a stream in the middle, between Cyane and the Pisæan Arethusa, which is confined within itself, being enclosed by mountain ridges at a short distance from each other. Here was Cyane,⁴⁵⁶ the most celebrated among the Sicilian Nymphs, from whose name the pool also was called, who stood up from out of the midst of the water, as far as the higher part of her stomach, and recognized the God, and said, ‘No further shall you go. Thou mayst not be the son-in-law of Ceres against her will. The girl should have been asked of her mother, not carried away. But if I may be allowed to compare little matters with great ones, Anapis⁴⁵⁷ also loved me. Yet I married him, courted, and not frightened into it, like her.’ She thus said, and stretching her arms on different sides, she stood in his way. The son of Saturn no longer restrained his rage; and encouraging his terrible steeds, he threw his royal sceptre, hurled with a strong arm, into the lowest depths of the stream. The earth, thus struck, made a way down to Tartarus, and received the descending chariot in the middle of the yawning space. But Cyane, lamenting both the ravished Goddess, and the slighted privileges of her spring, carries in her silent mind an inconsolable wound, and is entirely dissolved into tears, and melts away into those waters, of which she had been but lately the great guardian Divinity. You might see her limbs soften, her bones become subjected to bending, her nails lay aside their hardness: each, too, of the smaller extremities of the whole of her body melts away; both her azure hair, her fingers, her legs, and her feet; for easy is the change of those small members into a cold stream. After that, her back, her shoulders, her side, and her breast dissolve, vanishing into thin rivulets. Lastly, pure water, instead of live blood, enters her corrupted veins, and nothing remains which you can grasp in your hand.

“There is a stream between Cyane and the Pisæan Arethusa. Mountain ridges close together enclose its waters. Cyane,⁴⁵⁶ the most celebrated of the Sicilian Nymphs, lived there, and the pool was named after her. She rose from the middle of the water to her upper belly. Recognizing the God, she said, ‘You will go no further. You cannot become Ceres’s son-in-law against her will. The girl should have been asked for from her mother, not carried away. But if I may compare small matters with great ones, Anapis⁴⁵⁷ also loved me. Yet I married him because he courted me, not because he frightened me, as you have frightened her.’ She spoke and stretched out her arms on either side, blocking his way. The son of Saturn could no longer restrain his rage. He urged on his terrible horses and hurled his royal sceptre with a strong arm into the stream’s depths. The blow opened a path through the earth to Tartarus. The chariot descended into the middle of the opening. But Cyane mourned both the abducted Goddess and the violation of her spring’s rights. She bore an inconsolable wound in her silent heart. She dissolved completely into tears, melting into the waters she had so recently guarded as their great Divinity. You could see her limbs soften, her bones become flexible, and her nails lose their hardness. The smaller parts of her body melted away too: her azure hair, her fingers, her legs, and her feet. Such small parts change easily into a cold stream. After that, her back, shoulders, side, and breast dissolved into thin rivulets. Finally, pure water entered her altered veins in place of living blood. Nothing remained that you could grasp in your hand.

“In the mean time, throughout all lands and in every sea, the daughter is sought in vain by her anxious mother. Aurora, coming with her ruddy locks does not behold her taking any rest, neither does Hesperus. She, with her two hands, sets light to some pines at the flaming Ætna, and giving herself no rest, bears them through the frosty darkness. Again, when the genial day has dulled the light of the stars, she seeks her daughter from the rising of the sun to the setting thereof. Fatigued by the labor, she has now contracted thirst, and no streams have washed her mouth, when by chance she beholds a cottage covered with thatch, and knocks at its humble door, upon which an old woman⁴⁵⁸ comes out and sees the Goddess, and gives her, asking for water, a sweet drink which she has lately distilled⁴⁵⁹ from parched pearled barley. While she is drinking it thus presented, a boy⁴⁶⁰ of impudent countenance and bold, stands before the Goddess, and laughs, and calls her greedy. She is offended; and a part being not yet quaffed, the Goddess sprinkles him, as he is thus talking, with the barley mixed with the liquor.

“Meanwhile, her anxious mother searched for her daughter in vain across all lands and every sea. Aurora, arriving with her rosy hair, never saw her resting, nor did Hesperus. With both hands, she lit pine torches at flaming Ætna. Giving herself no rest, she carried them through the frosty darkness. When the kindly daylight dimmed the stars, she searched from sunrise to sunset. Worn out by her labor, she was now thirsty, and she had found no stream to drink from. By chance, she saw a thatched cottage and knocked at its humble door. An old woman⁴⁵⁸ came out and saw the Goddess. When the Goddess asked for water, the woman gave her a sweet drink. She had recently made it⁴⁵⁹ from roasted pearl barley. As the Goddess drank what she had been given, a bold boy⁴⁶⁰ with a cheeky face stood before her. He laughed and called her greedy. Offended, the Goddess sprinkled him with the barley and liquid she had not yet drunk, while he was still speaking.”

“His face contracts the stains, and he bears legs where just now he was bearing arms; a tail is added to his changed limbs; and he is contracted into a diminutive form, that no great power of doing injury may exist; his size is less than that of a small lizard. He flies from the old woman, astounded and weeping, and trying to touch the monstrosity; and he seeks a lurking place, and has a name suited to his color, having his body speckled with various spots.”

“His face takes on the stains, and his arms become legs. A tail grows from his changed limbs. He shrinks so that he may not have much power to do harm. He is smaller than a small lizard. He flees from the old woman, who is stunned and weeping and tries to touch the monstrosity. He seeks a hiding place. His body is speckled with various spots, and he has a name suited to his color.”

Ceres proceeds in a fruitless search for her daughter over the whole earth, until the Nymph Arethusa acquaints her with the place of her ravisher’s abode. The Goddess makes her complaint to Jupiter, and obtains his consent for her daughter’s return to the upper world, provided she has not eaten anything since her arrival in Pluto’s dominions. Ascalaphus, however, having informed that she has eaten some seeds of a pomegranate, Ceres is disappointed, and Proserpine, in her wrath, metamorphoses the informer into an owl. The Sirens have wings given them by the Gods, to enable them to be more expeditious in seeking for Proserpine. Jupiter, to console Ceres for her loss, decides that her daughter shall remain six months each year with her mother upon earth, and the other six with her husband, in the Infernal Regions.

Ceres searches the whole earth for her daughter without success. Then the Nymph Arethusa tells her where her abductor lives. Ceres complains to Jupiter and wins his consent for her daughter to return to the upper world. But Proserpine may return only if she has eaten nothing since arriving in Pluto’s realm. Ascalaphus reports that she has eaten some pomegranate seeds, and Ceres is disappointed. In her anger, Proserpine transforms the informer into an owl. The Gods give the Sirens wings so they can search for Proserpine more quickly. To console Ceres for her loss, Jupiter decides that Proserpine will spend six months each year with her mother on earth. She will spend the other six months with her husband in the Underworld.

“It were a tedious task⁴⁶¹ to relate through what lands and what seas the Goddess wandered; for her search the world was too limited. She returns to Sicily; and while, in her passage, she views all places, she comes, too, to Cyane; she, had she not been transformed, would have told her everything. But both mouth and tongue were wanting to her, thus desirous to tell, and she had no means whereby to speak. Still, she gave unmistakable tokens, and pointed out, on the top of the water, the girdle⁴⁶² of Proserpine, well known to her parent, which by chance had fallen off in that place into the sacred stream.

“It would be tedious⁴⁶¹ to recount all the lands and seas the Goddess wandered through. The world was too small for her search. She returns to Sicily and, while looking over all places along the way, comes to Cyane. If Cyane had not been transformed, she would have told her everything. But though she wanted thus to tell her, she had no mouth or tongue and could not speak. Still, she gave unmistakable signs. She pointed to Proserpine’s girdle⁴⁶² on the surface of the water. Her mother knew it well. By chance, it had fallen off there into the sacred stream.

“Soon as she recognized this, as if then, at last, she fully understood that her daughter had been carried away⁴⁶³ the Goddess tore her unadorned hair, and struck her breast again and again with her hands. Not as yet does she know where she is, yet she exclaims against all countries, and calls them ungrateful, and not worthy of the gifts of corn; and Trinacria before all others, in which she has found the proofs of her loss. Wherefore, with vengeful hand, she there broke the ploughs that were turning up the clods, and, in her anger, consigned to a similar death both the husbandmen and the oxen that cultivated the fields, and ordered the land to deny a return of what had been deposited therein, and rendered the seed corrupted. The fertility of the soil, famed over the wide world, lies in ruin, the corn dies in the early blade, and sometimes excessive heat of the sun, sometimes excessive showers, spoil it. Both the Constellations and the winds injure it, and the greedy birds pick up the seed as it is sown; darnel, and thistles, and unconquerable weeds, choke the crops of wheat.

“As soon as she recognized this, the Goddess tore her loose hair and beat her breast again and again with her hands. It was as if she had finally understood that her daughter had been carried away⁴⁶³. She still did not know where her daughter was. Yet she cursed all countries, calling them ungrateful and unworthy of her gifts of grain. And she cursed Trinacria above all others, for there she had found proof of her loss. So, with a vengeful hand, she broke the ploughs that were turning the soil there. In her anger, she condemned both the farmers and the oxen that worked the fields to the same death. She ordered the land to yield nothing in return for what had been sown in it and made the seed rot. The soil, famous for its fertility throughout the world, lies ruined. The grain dies while still a young shoot. Now too much sun, now too much rain destroys it. The Constellations and the winds damage it, and greedy birds pick up the seed as it is sown. Darnel, thistles, and weeds that cannot be overcome choke the wheat.

“Then the Alpheian Nymph⁴⁶⁴ raised her head from out of the Elean waters, and drew back her dripping hair from her forehead to her ears, and said, “O thou mother of the virgin sought over the whole world, and of the crops as well, cease at length thy boundless toil, and in thy wrath be not angered with a region that is faithful to thee. This land does not deserve it; and against its will it gave a path for the commission of the outrage. Nor am I now a suppliant for my own country; a stranger I am come hither. Pisa is my native place, and from Elis do I derive my birth. As a stranger do I inhabit Sicily, but this land is more pleasing to me than any other soil. I, Arethusa, now have this for my abode, this for my habitation; which, do thou, most kindly Goddess, preserve. Why I have been removed from my native place, and have been carried to Ortygia, through the waters of seas so spacious, a seasonable time will come for my telling thee, when thou shalt be eased of thy cares, and wilt be of more cheerful aspect. The pervious earth affords me a passage, and, carried beneath its lowest caverns, here I lift my head again, and behold the stars which I have not been used to see. While, then, I was running under the earth, along the Stygian stream, thy Proserpine was there beheld by my eyes.⁴⁶⁵ She indeed was sad, and not as yet without alarm in her countenance, but still she is a queen, and the most ennobled female in the world of darkness; still, too, is she the powerful spouse of the Infernal King.”

“Then the Alpheian Nymph⁴⁶⁴ raised her head from the Elean waters. She swept her dripping hair back from her forehead to her ears and said, “Mother of the virgin sought throughout the world, and of the crops as well, finally end your endless toil. In your wrath, do not turn your anger on a region that is faithful to you. This land does not deserve it. Against its will, it opened a path for the commission of the outrage. Nor am I pleading for my own country. I came here as a stranger. Pisa is my native place, and I was born in Elis. I live in Sicily as a stranger, but I love this land more than any other. I, Arethusa, now make my home here. Please protect it, most kind Goddess. “The time will come for me to tell you why I left my native place and traveled to Ortygia through vast seas. I will tell you when your cares have eased and you are more cheerful. The earth opens a passage for me through its deepest caverns. Here I raise my head again and see stars I am not used to seeing. As I flowed beneath the earth along the Stygian stream, I saw your Proserpine there.⁴⁶⁵ She was indeed sad, and her face still showed fear. But she is a queen, the noblest woman in the world of darkness. She is also the powerful wife of the Infernal King.”

“The mother, on hearing these words, stood amazed, as though she had been made of stone, and for a long time was like one stupefied; and when her intense bewilderment was dispelled by the weight of her grief, she departed in her chariot into the ætherial air, and there, with her countenance all clouded, she stood before Jupiter, much to his discredit, with her hair dishevelled; and she said, “I have come, Jupiter, as a suppliant to thee, both for my own offspring and for thine. If thou hast no respect for the mother, still let the daughter move her father; and I pray thee not to have the less regard for her, because she was brought forth by my travail. Lo! my daughter, so long sought for, has been found by me at last; if you call it finding⁴⁶⁶ to be more certain of one’s loss; or if you call it finding, to know where she is. I will endure the fact, that she has been carried off, if he will only restore her. For, indeed, a daughter of thine is not deserving of a ravisher for a husband, if now my own daughter is.” Jupiter replied, “Thy daughter is a pledge and charge, in common to me and thee; but, should it please thee only to give right names to things, this deed is not an injury, but it is a mark of affection, nor will he, as a son-in-law, be any disgrace to us, if thou only, Goddess, shouldst give thy consent. Although other recommendations were wanting, how great a thing is it to be the brother of Jupiter! and besides, is it not because other points are not wanting, and because he is not my inferior, except by the accident of his allotment of the Stygian abodes? But if thy eagerness is so great for their separation, let Proserpine return to heaven; still upon this fixed condition, if she has touched no food there with her lips; for thus has it been provided by the law of the Destinies.”

“When the mother heard these words, she stood amazed, as though she had been turned to stone. For a long time she seemed stunned. Then the weight of her grief drove away her bewilderment. She rose in her chariot into the heavenly air and stood before Jupiter. Her face was clouded and her hair disheveled, to his great discredit. She said, “I have come to beg you, Jupiter, for my child and yours. If you have no regard for the mother, still let your daughter move you as her father. Please do not care less for her because I bore her. Look, I have found my daughter at last, after searching so long. That is, if you call it finding⁴⁶⁶ to be more certain of your loss, or to know where she is. I will endure the fact that she was carried off, if he will only restore her. Surely your daughter does not deserve a husband who abducted her, even if mine does.” Jupiter replied, “Your daughter is a shared pledge and responsibility to us both. But if you would only call things by their right names, this act is not an injury. It is a sign of love. And he will be no disgrace to us as a son-in-law, Goddess, if you will only consent. Even if he had no other merits, how great a thing it is to be Jupiter’s brother! And he does have other merits. He is not my inferior, except by the accident of his being assigned the Stygian realms. But if you are so eager to separate them, let Proserpine return to heaven. There is one firm condition, however. She must not have touched any food there with her lips, for the law of the Destinies has so decreed.”

“Thus he spoke; still Ceres is now resolved to fetch away her daughter; but not so do the Fates permit. For the damsel had broke her fast; and, while in her innocence she was walking about the finely-cultivated garden, she had plucked a pomegranate⁴⁶⁷ from the bending tree, and had chewed in her mouth seven grains⁴⁶⁸ taken from the pale rind. Ascalaphus⁴⁶⁹ alone, of all persons, had seen this, whom Orphne, by no means the most obscure among the Nymphs of Avernus,⁴⁷⁰ is said once to have borne to her own Acheron within his dusky caves. He beheld this, and cruelly prevented her return by his discovery. The Queen of Erebus grieved, and changed the informer into an accursed bird, and turned his head, sprinkled with the waters of Phlegethon,⁴⁷¹ into a beak, and feathers, and great eyes. He, thus robbed of his own shape, is clothed with tawny wings, his head becomes larger, his long nails bend inwards, and with difficulty can he move the wings that spring through his sluggish arms. He becomes an obscene bird, the foreboder of approaching woe, a lazy owl, a direful omen to mortals.

“Thus he spoke. Ceres was now determined to take her daughter away, but the Fates would not allow it. The girl had eaten. While walking innocently through the carefully tended garden, she had picked a pomegranate⁴⁶⁷ from a bending tree. She had taken seven seeds⁴⁶⁸ from its pale rind and chewed them. Ascalaphus⁴⁶⁹ alone had seen her do it. His mother, Orphne, was by no means the least known of the Nymphs of Avernus.⁴⁷⁰ She was said to have borne him to her own Acheron in his dark caves. Ascalaphus saw this, and by revealing it, cruelly prevented her return. The Queen of Erebus grieved and changed the informer into a cursed bird. She sprinkled his head with the waters of Phlegethon⁴⁷¹ and gave him a beak, feathers, and great eyes. Robbed of his own shape, he is covered with tawny wings. His head grows larger, his long nails curve inward, and he can barely move the wings that grow from his sluggish arms. He becomes a loathsome bird, a foreboder of approaching sorrow, a lazy owl, a dreadful omen to mortals.

“But he, by his discovery, and his talkativeness, may seem to have merited punishment. Whence have you, daughters of Acheloüs,⁴⁷² feathers and the feet of birds, since you have the faces of maidens? Is it because, when Proserpine was gathering the flowers of spring, you were mingled in the number of her companions? After you had sought her in vain throughout the whole world, immediately, that the waters might be sensible of your concern, you wished to be able, on the support of your wings, to hover over the waves, and you found the Gods propitious, and saw your limbs grow yellow with feathers suddenly formed. But lest the sweetness of your voice, formed for charming the ear, and so great endowments of speech, should lose the gift of a tongue, your virgin countenance and your human voice still remained.”

“But he may seem to have deserved punishment for what he discovered and for talking about it. Daughters of Acheloüs,⁴⁷² why do you have feathers and birds’ feet, yet the faces of young women? Is it because you were among Proserpine’s companions when she was gathering spring flowers? You searched the whole world for her in vain. Then you wished for wings to hover over the waves, so the waters might know of your concern. The gods granted your wish, and you saw your limbs turn yellow with new feathers. But your maiden faces and human voices still remained. This was so your sweet voices, made to charm the ear, and your great gifts of speech would not lose the use of a tongue.”

The Muse continues her song, in which Ceres, being satisfied with the decision of Jupiter relative to her daughter, returns to Arethusa, to learn the history of her adventures. The Nymph entertains the Goddess with the Story of the passion of Alpheus, and his pursuit of her; to avoid which, she implores the assistance of Diana, who changes her into a fountain.

The Muse continues her song. Satisfied with Jupiter’s decision about her daughter, Ceres returns to Arethusa to hear about her adventures. The Nymph tells the Goddess about Alpheus’s passion for her and how he pursued her. To escape him, she begs Diana for help, and Diana turns her into a fountain.

“But Jupiter being the mediator between his brother and his disconsolate sister, divides the rolling year equally between them. For now, the Goddess, a common Divinity of two kingdoms, is so many months with her mother, and just as many with her husband. Immediately the appearance of both her mind and her countenance is changed; for the brow of the Goddess, which, of late, might appear sad, even to Pluto, himself, is full of gladness; as the Sun, which has lately been covered with watery clouds, when he comes forth from the clouds, now dispersed. The genial Ceres, now at ease on the recovery of her daughter, thus asks, ‘What was the cause of thy wanderings? Why art thou, Arethusa, a sacred spring?’ The waters are silent, and, the Goddess raises her head from the deep fountain; and, having dried her green tresses with her hand, she relates the old amours of the stream of Elis.⁴⁷³

“But Jupiter mediates between his brother and his grief-stricken sister. He divides the passing year equally between them. For now, the Goddess belongs to both kingdoms. She spends as many months with her mother as she does with her husband. At once, both her mood and her face change. Until recently, her expression might have seemed sad even to Pluto himself. Now it is full of joy, like the Sun emerging from rain clouds that have dispersed. Gentle Ceres, now at ease after recovering her daughter, asks, ‘What caused your wanderings? Why are you, Arethusa, a sacred spring?’ The waters fall silent, and the Goddess raises her head from the deep spring. She dries her green hair with her hand. Then she tells the old story of the love affairs of the stream of Elis.⁴⁷³

“‘I was,’ says she, ‘one of the Nymphs which exist in Achaia, nor did any one more eagerly skim along the glades than myself, nor with more industry set the nets. But though the reputation for beauty was never sought by me, although, too, I was of robust make, still I had the name of being beautiful. But my appearance, when so much commended, did not please me; and I, like a country lass, blushed at those endowments of person in which other females are wont to take a pride, and I deemed it a crime to please. I remember, I was returning weary from the Stymphalian⁴⁷⁴ wood; the weather was hot, and my toil had redoubled the intense heat. I found a stream gliding on without any eddies, without any noise, and clear to the bottom; through which every pebble, at so great a depth, might be counted, and which you could hardly suppose to be in motion. The hoary willows⁴⁷⁵ and poplars, nourished by the water, furnished a shade, spontaneously produced, along the shelving banks. I approached, and, at first, I dipped the soles of my feet, and then, as far as the knee. Not content with that, I undressed, and I laid my soft garments upon a bending willow; and, naked, I plunged into the waters.

“‘I was,’ she says, ‘one of the Nymphs of Achaia. No one raced through the glades more eagerly than I did, or set nets more diligently. I never sought a reputation for beauty, and I was also strongly built. Still, people said I was beautiful. But their praise of my appearance did not please me. Like a country girl, I blushed at the physical gifts other women usually take pride in. I thought it a crime to be pleasing. I remember returning tired from the Stymphalian⁴⁷⁴ wood. The weather was hot, and my exertion had made the intense heat twice as bad. I found a stream flowing without eddies or a sound. It was so clear that I could have counted every pebble on its deep bed. You could hardly tell that the water was moving. The pale willows⁴⁷⁵ and poplars fed by the stream cast natural shade along its sloping banks. I came closer and dipped my feet in, then waded in up to my knees. That was not enough, so I undressed and laid my soft clothes on a bending willow. Then I plunged naked into the water.

“‘While I was striking them, and drawing them towards me, moving in a thousand ways, and was sending forth my extended arms, I perceived a most unusual murmuring noise beneath the middle of the stream; and, alarmed, I stood on the edge of the nearer bank. ‘Whither dost thou hasten, Arethusa?’ said Alpheus from his waves. ‘Whither dost thou hasten?’ again he said to me, in a hollow tone. Just as I was, I fled without my clothes; for the other side had my garments. So much the more swiftly did he pursue, and become inflamed; and, because I was naked, the more tempting to him did I appear. Thus was I running; thus unrelentingly was he pursuing me; as the doves are wont to fly from the hawk with trembling wings, and as the hawk is wont to pursue the trembling doves, I held out in my course even as far as Orchomenus,⁴⁷⁶ and Psophis,⁴⁷⁷ and Cyllene, and the Mænalian valleys, and cold Erymanthus and Elis. Nor was he swifter than I, but unequal to him in strength, I was unable, any longer, to keep up the chase; for he was able to endure prolonged fatigue. However, I ran over fields and over mountains covered with trees, rocks too, and crags, and where there was no path. The sun was upon my back; I saw a long shadow advancing before my feet, unless, perhaps, it was my fear that saw it. But, at all events, I was alarmed at the sound of his feet, and his increased hardness of breathing was now fanning the fillets of my hair. Wearied with the exertion of my flight, I said, ‘Give aid, Dictynna, to thy armor-bearer, or I am overtaken; I, to whom thou hast so often given thy bow to carry, and thy darts enclosed in a quiver.’ The Goddess was moved, and, taking one of the dense clouds, she threw it over me. The river looked about for me, concealed in the darkness, and, in his ignorance sought about the encircling cloud and twice, unconsciously did he go around the place where the Goddess had concealed me, and twice did he cry, ‘Ho, Arethusa!⁴⁷⁸ Ho, Arethusa!’ What, then, were my feelings in my wretchedness? Were they not just those of the lamb, as it hears the wolves howling around the high sheep-folds? Or of the hare, which, lurking in the bush, beholds the hostile noses of the dogs, and dares not make a single movement with her body? Yet he does not depart; for no further does he trace any prints of my feet. He watches the cloud and the spot. A cold perspiration takes possession of my limbs thus besieged, and azure colored drops distil from all my body. Wherever I move my foot, there flows a lake; drops trickle from my hair, and, in less time than I take in acquainting thee with my fate, I was changed into a stream. But still the river recognized the waters, the objects of his love; and, having laid aside the shape of a mortal, which he had assumed, he was changed into his own waters, that he might mingle with me. Thereupon, the Delian Goddess cleaved the ground. Sinking, I was carried through dark caverns to Ortygia,⁴⁷⁹ which, being dear to me, from the surname of my own Goddess, was the first to introduce me to the upper air.’”

“‘As I stroked the water, pulling it toward me, I moved in a thousand ways and stretched out my arms. Then I heard a strange murmuring beneath the middle of the stream. Alarmed, I stood at the edge of the nearer bank. ‘Where are you hurrying, Arethusa?’ Alpheus called from his waves. ‘Where are you hurrying?’ he asked me again, in a hollow voice. I fled just as I was, without my clothes, for I had left them on the other bank. He pursued me all the faster and grew more inflamed with desire. Because I was naked, I seemed even more tempting to him. So I ran, and he pursued me without mercy. I fled like a dove trembling before a hawk, and he pursued me as a hawk pursues trembling doves. I kept running as far as Orchomenus,⁴⁷⁶ Psophis,⁴⁷⁷ Cyllene, the Mænalian valleys, cold Erymanthus and Elis. He was no faster than I was, but I was weaker than he was and could no longer keep running. He could endure the effort for much longer. Still, I ran over fields and wooded mountains, over rocks and crags, and through places without a path. The sun was at my back, and I saw a long shadow advancing before my feet. Or perhaps it was only my fear that saw it. In any case, the sound of his footsteps frightened me. His growing, labored breath was now stirring the ribbons in my hair. Exhausted from running, I cried, ‘Help your armor-bearer, Dictynna, or he will catch me. I am the one you have so often entrusted with your bow and your arrows in their quiver.’ The Goddess took pity on me. She took a thick cloud and threw it over me. Hidden in the darkness, I watched as the river looked around for me. Not knowing I was inside, he searched around the cloud. Twice he unknowingly circled the place where the Goddess had hidden me. Twice he cried, ‘Ho, Arethusa!⁴⁷⁸ Ho, Arethusa!’ How did I feel then, in my misery? Did I not feel like a lamb hearing wolves howl around the high sheepfolds? Or like a hare hiding in a bush, seeing the hostile noses of dogs and not daring to move? Yet he did not leave, because my footprints went no farther. He watched the cloud and the place beneath it. Trapped there, I broke out in a cold sweat. Blue drops ran from my whole body. Wherever I moved my foot, there a pool formed. Drops trickled from my hair. In less time than it takes to tell you what happened, I had become a stream. But the river recognized my waters, the waters he loved. He gave up the mortal form he had taken and became his own waters again, so he could mingle with me. Then the Delian Goddess split the ground. I sank and was carried through dark caverns to Ortygia.⁴⁷⁹ The place was dear to me because it shared my Goddess’s surname. There I first came back into the open air.’”

Ceres entrusts her chariot to Triptolemus, and orders him to go everywhere, and cultivate the earth. He obeys her, and, at length, arrives in Scythia, where Lyncus, designing to kill him, is changed into a lynx. The Muse then finishes her song, on which the daughters of Pierus are changed into magpies.

Ceres gives her chariot to Triptolemus and orders him to travel everywhere and cultivate the earth. He obeys her and eventually reaches Scythia. There, Lyncus plans to kill him and is turned into a lynx. The Muse then finishes her song, and the daughters of Pierus are turned into magpies.

“Thus far Arethusa. The fertile Goddess yoked⁴⁸⁰ two dragons to her chariot, and curbed their mouths with bridles; and was borne through the mid air of heaven and of earth, and guided her light chariot to the Tritonian citadel, to Triptolemus; and she ordered him to scatter the seeds that were entrusted to him partly in the fallow ground, and partly in the ground restored to cultivation after so long a time. Now had the youth been borne on high over Europe and the lands of Asia,⁴⁸¹ and he arrived at the coast of Scythia: Lyncus was the king there. He entered the house of the king. Being asked whence he came, and the occasion of his coming, and his name, and his country, he said, ‘My country is the famous Athens, my name is Triptolemus. I came neither in a ship through the waves, nor on foot by land; the pervious sky made a way for me. I bring the gifts of Ceres, which, scattered over the wide fields, are to yield you the fruitful harvests, and wholesome food.’ The barbarian envies him; and that he himself may be deemed the author of so great a benefit, he receives him with hospitality, and, when overpowered with sleep, he attacks him with the sword. But, while attempting to pierce his breast, Ceres made him a lynx; and again sent the Mopsopian⁴⁸² youth to drive the sacred drawers of her chariot through the air.

“Thus ended Arethusa’s tale. The fertile Goddess yoked⁴⁸⁰ two dragons to her chariot and bridled them. She flew through the air between heaven and earth, guiding her light chariot to Triptolemus at the Tritonian citadel. She ordered him to scatter the seeds entrusted to him, partly on fallow ground and partly on ground brought back into cultivation after so long. The youth flew high over Europe and the lands of Asia,⁴⁸¹ and arrived at the coast of Scythia, where Lyncus was king. He entered the king’s house. The king asked where he came from, why he had come, and what his name and country were. He said, ‘My country is the famous Athens, and my name is Triptolemus. I did not come by ship over the waves or on foot over land. The open sky provided my path. I bring the gifts of Ceres. Scattered over the wide fields, they will yield you fruitful harvests and wholesome food.’ The barbarian envied him and wanted to be seen as the source of such a great gift. So he welcomed Triptolemus into his home and attacked him with a sword when sleep had overcome him. But as Lyncus tried to stab him in the chest, Ceres turned Lyncus into a lynx. She then sent the Mopsopian⁴⁸² youth to drive the sacred dragons of her chariot through the air once more.

“The greatest of us⁴⁸³ had now finished her learned song. But the Nymphs, with unanimous voice, pronounced that the Goddesses who inhabit Helicon had proved the conquerors. Then the others, thus vanquished, began to scatter their abuse: ‘Since,’ said she, ‘it is a trifling matter for you to have merited punishment by this contest, you add abuse, too, to your fault, and endurance is not permitted us: we shall proceed to punishment, and whither our resentment calls, we shall follow.’ The Emathian sisters smiled, and despised our threatening language; and endeavoring to speak, and to menace with their insolent hands amid great clamor, they beheld quills growing out of their nails, and their arms covered with feathers. And they each see the face of the other shooting out into a hard beak, and new birds being added to the woods. And while they strive to beat their breasts elevated by the motion of their arms, they hang poised in the air, as magpies, the scandal of the groves. Even then their original talkativeness remains in them as birds, and their jarring garrulity, and their enormous love of chattering.”

“The greatest of us⁴⁸³ had now finished her skilled song. The Nymphs unanimously declared that the Goddesses who live on Helicon had won. Then the defeated sisters, thus beaten, began to hurl insults. ‘You have earned punishment by holding this contest,’ she said, ‘but you think that is not enough. Now you add insults to your offense, and we cannot bear it. We shall punish you, following wherever our anger leads us.’ The Emathian sisters smiled and scorned our threats. Amid a great uproar, they tried to speak and wave their hands at us in defiance. Then they saw quills growing from their nails and feathers covering their arms. Each saw the others’ faces grow into hard beaks. New birds were appearing in the woods. They tried to beat their breasts, but the motion of their arms lifted them into the air. They hung there as magpies, the scandal of the groves. Even as birds, they retained their old talkativeness, their harsh chatter, and their enormous love of talking.”