Book 14

Circe becomes enamoured of Glaucus, who complains to her of his repulse by Scylla. She endeavours, without success, to make him desert Scylla for herself. In revenge, she poisons the fountain where the Nymph is wont to bathe, and communicates to her a hideous form; which is so insupportable to Scylla, that she throws herself into the sea, and is transformed into a rock.

Circe falls in love with Glaucus, who complains to her that Scylla has rejected him. Circe tries to persuade him to leave Scylla for her, but he refuses. In revenge, Circe poisons the spring where the Nymph usually bathes, giving her a hideous form. Scylla finds her new form unbearable, so she throws herself into the sea and turns into a rock.

And now Glaucus, the Eubœan plougher of the swelling waves, had left behind Ætna, placed upon the jaws of the Giant, and the fields of the Cyclops, that had never experienced the harrow or the use of the plough, and that were never indebted to the yoked oxen; he had left Zancle, too, behind, and the opposite walls of Rhegium,¹¹²⁴ and the sea, abundant cause of shipwreck, which, confined by the two shores, bounds the Ausonian and the Sicilian lands. Thence, swimming with his huge hands through the Etrurian seas, Glaucus arrived at the grass-clad hills, and the halls of Circe, the daughter of the Sun, filled with various wild beasts. Soon as he beheld her, after salutations were given and received, he said, “Do thou, a Goddess, have compassion on me a God; for thou alone (should I only seem deserving of it,) art able to relieve this passion of mine. Daughter of Titan, by none is it better known how great is the power of herbs, than by me, who have been transformed by their agency; and, that the cause of my passion may not be unknown to thee, Scylla has been beheld by me on the Italian shores, opposite the Messenian walls. I am ashamed to recount my promises, my entreaties, my caresses, and my rejected suit. But, do thou, if there is any power in incantations, utter the incantation with thy holy lips; or, if any herb is more efficacious, make use of the proved virtues of powerful herbs. But I do not request thee to cure me, and to heal these wounds; and there is no necessity for an end to them; but let her share in the flame.” But Circe, (for no one has a temper more susceptible of such a passion, whether it is that the cause of it originates in herself, or whether it is that Venus, offended¹¹²⁵ by her father’s discovery, causes this,) utters such words as these:—

By now, Glaucus, the Eubœan who plowed the swelling waves, had left Ætna behind. The mountain lay upon the jaws of the Giant. He had also left the fields of the Cyclops, which had never known a harrow or plough. Those fields had never depended on yoked oxen. He had left Zancle, too, and the walls of Rhegium¹¹²⁴ opposite it. He had passed through the sea between the Ausonian and Sicilian shores, a frequent cause of shipwreck. From there, Glaucus swam through the Etrurian seas with his huge hands. He reached the grassy hills and the halls of Circe, the daughter of the Sun. Her halls were filled with all kinds of wild beasts. When he saw her, they exchanged greetings. Then he said, “Goddess, have pity on me, a God. You alone can relieve this passion of mine, if I seem worthy of your help. Daughter of Titan, no one knows the power of herbs better than I do. I was transformed by their power. So that you may know the cause of my passion, I saw Scylla on the Italian shore, opposite the Messenian walls. I am ashamed to tell you of my promises, my pleas, my caresses, and my rejected suit. But if spells have any power, speak a spell with your sacred lips. Or, if any herb is more effective, use the proven powers of strong herbs. I do not ask you to cure me or heal these wounds. There is no need to end them. But let her share my flame.” Now no one was more susceptible to such a passion than Circe. Perhaps the cause lay in Circe herself, or perhaps Venus brought it about. Venus was offended¹¹²⁵ by the discovery Circe’s father had made. Circe spoke words like these:

“Thou wilt more successfully court her who is willing, and who entertains similar desires, and who is captivated with an equal passion. Thou art worthy of it, and assuredly thou oughtst to be courted spontaneously; and, if thou givest any hopes, believe me, thou shalt be courted¹¹²⁶ spontaneously. That thou mayst entertain no doubts, or lest confidence in thy own beauty may not exist, behold! I who am both a Goddess, and the daughter of the radiant Sun, and am so potent with my charms, and so potent with my herbs, wish to be thine. Despise her who despises thee; her, who is attached to thee, repay by like attachment, and, by one act, take vengeance on two individuals.”

“You will have more success courting a woman who is willing, who shares your desire and feels an equal passion. You deserve that, and surely you should be courted without having to ask. If you give any hope, believe me, you will be courted¹¹²⁶ without having to ask. So that you have no doubts or lack confidence in your beauty, look at me. I am a goddess, the daughter of the radiant Sun, and powerful in both my spells and my herbs. I want to be yours. Despise the woman who despises you. Return the affection of the woman who loves you, and take revenge on two people with one act.”

Glaucus answered her, making such attempts as these,— “Sooner shall foliage grow in the ocean, and sooner shall sea-weed spring up on the tops of the mountains, than my affections shall change, while Scylla is alive.” The Goddess is indignant; and since she is not able to injure him, and as she loves him she does not wish to do so, she is enraged against her, who has been preferred to herself; and, offended with these crosses in love, she immediately bruises herbs, infamous for their horrid juices, and, when bruised, she mingles with them the incantations of Hecate. She puts on azure vestments too, and through the troop of fawning wild beasts she issues from the midst of her hall; and making for Rhegium, opposite to the rocks of Zancle, she enters the waves boiling with the tides; on these, as though on the firm shore, she impresses her footsteps, and with dry feet she skims along the surface of the waves.

Glaucus answered her attempts to win him over: “Leaves will grow in the ocean, and seaweed will sooner grow on mountaintops, than my love will change while Scylla is alive.” The goddess was indignant. She could not harm him, and because she loved him, she did not want to do so. Instead, she was enraged at the woman he had chosen over her. Angered by this disappointment in love, she immediately crushed herbs known for their terrible juices. Then she mixed them with incantations to Hecate. She put on blue robes and left her hall, passing through a crowd of wild beasts that fawned over her. She headed for Rhegium, opposite the rocks of Zancle, and entered the waves churned by the tides. She stepped on them as if they were solid ground, skimming over their surface with dry feet.

There was a little bay, curving in the shape of a bent bow, a favourite retreat of Scylla, whither she used to retire from the influence both of the sea and of the weather, when the sun was at its height in his mid career, and made the smallest shadow from the head downwards. This the Goddess infects beforehand, and pollutes it with monster-breeding drugs; on it she sprinkles the juices distilled from the noxious root, and thrice nine times, with her magic lips, she mutters over the mysterious charm, enwrapt in the dubious language of strange words.¹¹²⁷ Scylla comes; and she has now gone in up to the middle of her stomach, when she beholds her loins grow hideous with barking monsters; and, at first believing that they are no part of her own body, she flies from them and drives them off, and is in dread of the annoying mouths of the dogs; but those that she flies from, she carries along with herself; and as she examines the substance of her thighs, her legs, and her feet, she meets with Cerberean jaws in place of those parts. The fury of the dogs still continues, and the backs of savage monsters lying beneath her groin, cut short, and her prominent stomach, still adhere to them.

There was a little bay, curved in the shape of a bent bow. It was a favorite retreat of Scylla. She used to go there for shelter from the sea and the weather. She came when the sun was highest in its course and cast the shortest shadow from her head downward. The Goddess poisons the bay beforehand, polluting it with drugs that breed monsters. She sprinkles it with juices drawn from a poisonous root. Then, with her magic lips, she repeats a mysterious charm twenty-seven times. The charm is wrapped in the unclear language of strange words.¹¹²⁷ Scylla comes and wades in up to the middle of her stomach. Then she sees that her loins have become hideous with barking monsters. At first, she believes they are no part of her own body. She runs from them and tries to drive them away, afraid of the dogs’ threatening mouths. But she carries those she is fleeing with her. She looks for her thighs, legs, and feet, but finds Cerberean jaws in their place. The dogs’ fury still continues. The backs of the savage monsters still cling beneath her shortened groin and her prominent stomach.

Glaucus, still in love, bewailed her, and fled from an alliance with Circe, who had thus too hostilely employed the potency of herbs. Scylla remained on that spot; and, at the first moment that an opportunity was given, in her hatred of Circe, she deprived Ulysses of his companions. Soon after, the same Scylla would have overwhelmed the Trojan ships, had she not been first transformed into a rock, which even now is prominent with its crags; this rock the sailor, too, avoids.

Glaucus, still in love, mourned her and fled from a union with Circe. She had thus used the power of herbs so cruelly. Scylla stayed in that spot. At the first opportunity, her hatred of Circe led her to take Ulysses’ companions from him. Soon after, the same Scylla would have destroyed the Trojan ships, but she was first transformed into a rock. Its jagged peaks still rise above the water, and sailors avoid this rock.

Dido entertains Æneas in her palace, and falls in love with him. He afterwards abandons her, on which she stabs herself in despair. Jupiter transforms the Cercopes into apes; and the islands which they inhabit are afterwards called ‘Pithecusæ,’ from the Greek word signifying ‘an ape.’

Dido welcomes Æneas into her palace and falls in love with him. He later abandons her, and she stabs herself in despair. Jupiter transforms the Cercopes into apes. The islands they inhabit are later called ‘Pithecusæ,’ from the Greek word meaning ‘an ape.’

After the Trojan ships, with their oars, had passed by her and the ravening Charybdis; when now they had approached near the Ausonian shores, they were carried back by the winds¹¹²⁸ to the Libyan coasts. The Sidonian Dido, she who was doomed not easily to endure the loss of her Phrygian husband, received Æneas, both in her home and her affection; on the pile, too, erected under the pretext of sacred rites, she fell upon the sword; and, herself deceived, she deceived all. Again, flying from the newly erected walls of the sandy regions, and being carried back to the seat of Eryx and the attached Acestes, he performs sacrifice, and pays honour¹¹²⁹ to the tomb of his father. He now loosens from shore the ships which Iris, the minister of Juno, has almost burned; and passes by the realms of the son of Hippotas, and the regions that smoke with the heated sulphur, and leaves behind him the rocks of the Sirens,¹¹³⁰ daughters of Acheloüs; and the ship, deprived of its pilot,¹¹³¹ coasts along Inarime¹¹³² and Prochyta,¹¹³³ and Pithecusæ, situate on a barren hill, so called from the name of its inhabitants.

After the Trojan ships passed her and the ravenous Charybdis under oar, they neared the Ausonian shores. But the winds¹¹²⁸ carried them back to the Libyan coasts. There, the Sidonian Dido welcomed Æneas into her home and her heart. She was doomed to suffer greatly from the loss of her Phrygian husband. She built a pyre under the pretext of sacred rites and fell upon a sword on it. Herself deceived, she deceived everyone. Æneas fled again from the newly built walls of the sandy lands. Carried back to the home of Eryx and his kinsman Acestes, he offered sacrifice and paid honour¹¹²⁹ to his father's tomb. He then released from shore the ships that Iris, Juno's messenger, had nearly burned. He sailed past the realm of the son of Hippotas and the lands smoking with hot sulphur. He left behind the rocks of the Sirens,¹¹³⁰ daughters of Acheloüs. Deprived of its pilot,¹¹³¹ the ship sailed along Inarime,¹¹³² Prochyta,¹¹³³ and Pithecusæ. Pithecusæ stands on a barren hill and is named after its inhabitants.

For the father of the Gods, once abhorring the frauds and perjuries of the Cercopians, and the crimes of the fraudulent race, changed these men into ugly animals; that these same beings might be able to appear unlike men, and yet like them. He both contracted their limbs, and flattened their noses; bent back from their foreheads; and he furrowed their faces with the wrinkles of old age. And he sent them into this spot, with the whole of their bodies covered with long yellow hair. Moreover, he first took away from them the use of language, and of their tongues, made for dreadful perjury; he only allowed them to be able to complain with a harsh jabbering.

The father of the Gods once grew to hate the frauds and false oaths of the Cercopians and the crimes of that deceitful race. He changed these men into ugly animals, so that they would look both like and unlike men. He shortened their limbs and flattened their noses, bending them back toward their foreheads. He covered their faces with the wrinkles of old age. Then he sent them to this place, their whole bodies covered with long yellow hair. Before sending them, he took away their power of speech, along with the use of their tongues, which had been made for dreadful false oaths. He allowed them only to complain in harsh, chattering sounds.

Apollo is enamoured of the Sibyl, and, to engage her affection, offers her as many years as she can grasp grains of sand. She forgets to ask that she may always continue in the bloom of youth, and consequently becomes gray and decrepit.

Apollo falls in love with the Sibyl. To win her affection, he offers her one year of life for each grain of sand she can hold. She forgets to ask to remain young, so she grows gray and frail.

After he has passed by these, and has left the walls of Parthenope¹¹³⁴ on the right hand, on the left side he approaches the tomb of the tuneful son of Æolus¹¹³⁵; and he enters the shores of Cumæ, regions abounding in the sedge of the swamp, and the cavern of the long-lived Sibyl¹¹³⁶, and entreats her, that through Avernus, he may visit the shade of his father. But she raises her countenance, a long time fixed on the ground; and at length, inspired by the influence of the God, she says, “Thou dost request a great thing, O hero, most renowned by thy achievements, whose right hand has been proved by the sword, whose affection has been proved by the flames. Yet, Trojan, lay aside all apprehension, thou shalt obtain thy request; and under my guidance thou shalt visit the abodes of Elysium, the most distant realms of the universe, and the beloved shade of thy parent. To virtue, no path is inaccessible.”

After he passes these places, he leaves the walls of Parthenope¹¹³⁴ on his right. On his left, he approaches the tomb of the tuneful son of Æolus¹¹³⁵. He reaches the shores of Cumæ, a region rich in swamp sedge, and the cave of the long-lived Sibyl¹¹³⁶. He begs her to let him visit his father’s shade through Avernus. But she lifts her face, which has long been fixed on the ground. At last, inspired by the God, she says, “You ask a great thing, O hero, renowned above all for your deeds. Your right hand has been tested by the sword, and your love has been tested by the flames. Yet, Trojan, put aside all fear. You shall have what you ask. Under my guidance, you shall visit the homes of Elysium, the farthest realms of the universe, and your beloved father’s shade. No path is closed to virtue.”

Thus she spoke, and she pointed out a branch refulgent with gold, in the woods of the Juno of Avernus¹¹³⁷, and commanded him to pluck it from its stem. Æneas obeyed; and he beheld the power of the dread Orcus, and his own ancestors, and the aged ghost of the magnanimous Anchises; he learned, too, the ordinances of those regions, and what dangers would have to be undergone by him in his future wars. Tracing back thence his weary steps along the path, he beguiled his labour in discourse with his Cumæan guide. And while he was pursuing his frightful journey along darkening shades, he said, “Whether thou art a Goddess personally, or whether thou art but a woman most favoured by the Deities, to me shalt thou always be equal to a Divinity; I will confess, too, that I exist through thy kindness, who hast willed that I should visit the abodes of death, and that I should escape those abodes of death when beheld by me. For this kindness, when I have emerged into the breezes of the air, I will erect a temple to thee, and I will give thee the honours of frankincense.”

Thus she spoke, pointing out a branch shining with gold in the woods of the Juno of Avernus¹¹³⁷. She commanded him to pluck it from its stem. Æneas obeyed. He saw the power of dread Orcus, his own ancestors, and the aged ghost of the noble Anchises. He also learned the laws of those regions and the dangers he would face in his future wars. He retraced his weary steps along the path, easing his labor by talking with his Cumæan guide. As he continued his frightening journey through the darkening shadows, he said, “Whether you are a Goddess yourself, or whether you are only a woman most favored by the Deities, you will always be equal to a Divinity in my eyes. I will also declare that I owe my life to your kindness. You allowed me to visit the abodes of death and to escape them after I had seen them. For this kindness, when I return to the open air, I will build you a temple, and I will honor you with frankincense.”

The prophetess looks upon him, and, with heaving sighs, she says, “Neither am I a Goddess, nor do thou honour a human being with the tribute of the holy frankincense. And, that thou mayst not err in ignorance, life eternal and without end was offered me, had my virginity but yielded to Phœbus, in love with me. But while he was hoping for this, while he was desiring to bribe me beforehand with gifts, he said: ‘Maiden of Cumæ, choose whatever thou mayst wish, thou shalt gain thy wish.’ I, pointing to a heap of collected dust, inconsiderately asked that as many birth-days might be my lot, as the dust contained particles. It escaped me to desire as well, at the same time, years vigorous with youth. But yet he offered me these, and eternal youth, had I submitted to his desires. Having rejected the offers of Phœbus, I remain unmarried. But now my more vigorous years have passed by, and crazy old age approaches with its trembling step, and this must I long endure.

The prophetess looks at him and says with deep sighs, “I am not a Goddess. Do not honor a human being with the offering of holy frankincense. So that you will not be mistaken, I was offered eternal life if I surrendered my virginity to Phœbus, who was in love with me. While he hoped for this, he tried to win me over with gifts. He said: ‘Maiden of Cumæ, choose whatever you wish, and you shall have it.’ I pointed to a heap of dust. Without thinking, I asked for as many birthdays as there were grains of dust. I forgot to ask for those years to be filled with youthful vigor as well. Yet he offered me that too, and eternal youth, if I gave in to his desires. I rejected Phœbus’s offers and remain unmarried. But now my vigorous years have passed, and frail old age approaches with trembling steps. I must endure it for a long time.”

“For thou beholdest me, having now lived seven ages; it remains for me to equal the number of particles of the dust; yet to behold three hundred harvests, and three hundred vintages. The time will come, when length of days will make me diminutive from a person so large; and when my limbs, wasted by old age, will be reduced to the most trifling weight. Then I shall not seem to have once been beloved, nor once to have pleased a God. Even Phœbus himself will, perhaps, not recognize me; or, perhaps, he will deny that he loved me. To that degree shall I be said to be changed; and though perceived by none, I shall still be recognized by my voice. My voice the Destinies will leave me.”

“You see me now, after I have lived seven ages. I must live as many years as there were grains of dust, yet I must see three hundred harvests and three hundred vintages. The time will come when my long life will shrink my once large body. Old age will waste my limbs until they weigh almost nothing. Then I will not seem to have once been loved or once to have pleased a God. Perhaps even Phœbus himself will not recognize me, or perhaps he will deny that he loved me. People will say I have changed that much. Though no one will see me, they will still recognize my voice. The Destinies will leave me my voice.”

Æneas arrives at Caieta, in Italy. Achæmenides, an Ithacan, who is on board his ship, meets his former companion Macareus there; and relates to him his escape from being devoured by Polyphemus. Macareus afterwards tells him how Ulysses had received winds from Æolus in a hide, and by that means had a prosperous voyage; till, on the bag being opened by the sailors in their curiosity, the winds rushed out, and raised a storm that drove them back to Æolia, and afterwards upon the coast of the Læstrygons.

Æneas arrives at Caieta in Italy. Achæmenides, an Ithacan aboard his ship, meets his former companion Macareus there. He tells Macareus how he escaped being devoured by Polyphemus. Macareus then tells him how Æolus gave Ulysses winds in a hide, allowing him to sail safely. But the sailors grew curious and opened the bag. The winds rushed out and raised a storm that drove them back to Æolia, then to the coast of the Læstrygons.

While the Sibyl was relating such things as these, during the steep ascent, the Trojan Æneas emerged from the Stygian abodes to the Eubœan city,¹¹³⁸ and the sacrifice being performed, after the usual manner, he approached the shores that not yet bore the name of his nurse;¹¹³⁹ here, too, Macareus of Neritos, the companion of the experienced Ulysses, had rested, after the prolonged weariness of his toils. He recognized Achæmenides, once deserted in the midst of the crags of Ætna; and astonished that, thus unexpectedly found again, he was yet alive, he said, “What chance, or what God, Achæmenides, preserves thee? why is a barbarian¹¹⁴⁰ vessel carrying thee, a Greek? What land is sought by thy bark?”

As they climbed the steep slope, the Sibyl told Æneas these things. The Trojan Æneas emerged from the Stygian abodes into the Eubœan city.¹¹³⁸ After performing the customary sacrifice, he approached the shores that did not yet bear his nurse’s name.¹¹³⁹ Here, too, Macareus of Neritos, a companion of the experienced Ulysses, had rested after his long and exhausting labors. He recognized Achæmenides, who had once been abandoned among the crags of Ætna. Astonished to find him alive so unexpectedly, Macareus said, “What chance or God has kept you alive, Achæmenides? Why is a barbarian¹¹⁴⁰ ship carrying you, a Greek? What land is your ship heading for?”

No longer ragged in his clothing, but now his own master,¹¹⁴¹ and wearing clothes tacked together with no thorns, Achæmenides says, “Again may I behold Polyphemus, and those jaws streaming with human blood, if my home and Ithaca be more delightful to me than this bark; if I venerate Æneas any less than my own father. And, though I were to do everything possible, I could never be sufficiently grateful. ’Tis he that has caused that I speak, and breathe, and behold the heavens and the luminary of the sun; and can I be ungrateful, and forgetful of this? ’Tis through him that this life of mine did not fall into the jaws of the Cyclop; and though I were, even now, to leave the light of life, I should either be buried in a tomb, or, at least, not in that paunch of his. What were my feelings at that moment (unless, indeed, terror deprived me of all sense and feeling), when, left behind, I saw you making for the open sea? I wished to shout aloud, but I was fearful of betraying myself to the enemy; the shouts of Ulysses were very nearly causing¹¹⁴² the destruction of even your ship. I beheld him when, having torn up a mountain, he hurled the immense rock in the midst of the waves; again I beheld him hurling huge stones, with his giant arms, just as though impelled by the powers of the engine of war. And, forgetful that I was not in it, I was now struck with horror lest the waves or the stones might overwhelm the ship.

No longer dressed in rags, but now his own master,¹¹⁴¹ Achæmenides wears clothes held together without thorns. He says, “May I see Polyphemus again, and those jaws streaming with human blood, if my home and Ithaca are dearer to me than this ship. May I see him again if I honor Æneas any less than my own father. Even if I did everything possible, I could never thank him enough. He is the reason I can speak, breathe, and see the heavens and the light of the sun. How could I be ungrateful and forget that? It is thanks to him that my life did not end in the Cyclop’s jaws. Even if I died now, I would be buried in a tomb, or at least not in his belly. “What did I feel at that moment, when I was left behind and saw you sailing for the open sea? Perhaps terror had robbed me of all sense and feeling. I wanted to shout, but I was afraid of revealing myself to the enemy. Ulysses’ shouts nearly caused¹¹⁴² the destruction of your ship too. I saw Polyphemus tear up a mountain and hurl the immense rock into the waves. Then I saw him throw huge stones with his giant arms, as though a war engine had launched them. I forgot I was not aboard, and I was terrified that the waves or stones would overwhelm the ship.

“But when your flight had saved you from a cruel death, he, indeed, roaring with rage, paced about all Ætna, and groped out the woods with his hands, and, deprived of his eye, stumbled against the rocks; and stretching out his arms, stained with gore, into the sea, he cursed the Grecian race, and he said, ‘Oh! that any accident would bring back Ulysses to me, or any one of his companions, against whom my anger might find vent, whose entrails I might devour, whose living limbs I might mangle with my right hand, whose blood might drench my throat, whose crushed members might quiver beneath my teeth: how insignificant, or how trifling, then, would be the loss of my sight, that has been taken from me!’ This, and more, he said in his rage. Ghastly horror took possession of me, as I beheld his features, streaming even yet with blood, and the ruthless hands, and the round space deprived of the eye, and his limbs, and his beard matted with human blood. Death was before my eyes, and yet that was the least of my woes. I imagined that¹¹⁴³ now he was about to seize hold of me, and that now he was on the very point of swallowing my vitals within his own; in my mind was fixed the impress of that time when I beheld two bodies of my companions three or four times dashed against the ground. Throwing himself on the top of them, just like a shaggy lion, he stowed away their entrails, their flesh, their bones with the white marrow, and their quivering limbs, in his ravenous paunch. A trembling seized me; in my alarm I stood without blood in my features, as I beheld him both chewing and belching out his bloody banquet from his mouth, and vomiting pieces mingled with wine; and I fancied that such a doom was in readiness for wretched me.

“But when your flight had saved you from a cruel death, he roared with rage and paced all over Ætna. He felt his way through the woods with his hands. Blind, he stumbled against the rocks. He stretched his bloodstained arms over the sea and cursed the Grecian race. He said, ‘Oh, if only some chance would bring Ulysses back to me, or one of his companions! Then I could vent my anger on him. I could devour his entrails and tear his living limbs apart with my right hand. His blood could drench my throat, and his crushed limbs could quiver beneath my teeth. How insignificant, how trivial, then, would be the loss of the sight taken from me!’ He said this and more in his rage. Ghastly horror seized me as I looked at his face, still streaming with blood, and his ruthless hands. I saw the empty socket where his eye had been, his limbs, and his beard matted with human blood. Death was before my eyes, and yet it was the least of my troubles. I imagined that¹¹⁴³ he was about to seize me and swallow my insides. The memory of what I had seen was fixed in my mind. He had dashed the bodies of two of my companions against the ground three or four times. Then he threw himself on top of them like a shaggy lion. He packed their entrails, flesh, bones with their white marrow, and quivering limbs into his ravenous belly. I trembled and stood pale with fear. I watched him chew his bloody meal and belch it out of his mouth. He vomited pieces of it mixed with wine. And I imagined that the same fate awaited wretched me.

“Concealing myself for many a day, and trembling at every sound, and both fearing death and yet desirous to die, satisfying hunger with acorns, and with grass mixed with leaves, alone, destitute, desponding, abandoned to death and destruction, after a length of time, I beheld a ship not far off; by signs I prayed for deliverance, and I ran down to the shore; I prevailed; and a Trojan ship received me, a Greek. Do thou too, dearest of my companions, relate thy adventures, and those of thy chief, and of the company, which, together with thee, entrusted themselves to the ocean.”

“I hid for many days, trembling at every sound. I feared death and yet longed to die. I fed myself on acorns and grass mixed with leaves. I was alone, destitute, despairing, and abandoned to death and destruction. After a long time, I saw a ship nearby. I signaled for help and ran down to the shore. My plea succeeded, and a Trojan ship took me, a Greek, aboard. Now you too, dearest companion, tell me about your adventures and those of your chief and your company. They entrusted themselves to the ocean along with you.”

The other relates how that Æolus rules over the Etrurian seas; Æolus, the grandson of Hippotas, who confines the winds in their prison, which the Dulichean chief had received, shut up in a leather bag, a wondrous gift; how, with a favouring breeze, he had proceeded for nine days, and had beheld the land he was bound for; and how, when the first morning after the ninth had arrived, his companions, influenced by envy and a desire for booty, supposing it to be gold, had cut the fastenings of the winds; and how, through these, the ship had gone back along the waves through which it had just come, and had returned to the harbour of the Æolian king.

The other tells how Æolus rules the Etrurian seas. Æolus, the grandson of Hippotas, keeps the winds shut up in a prison. He had given the Dulichean chief the winds in a leather bag, a wondrous gift. With a favorable breeze, the chief sailed for nine days and saw the land he was heading for. And how, on the morning after the ninth day, his companions cut open the bag. Driven by envy and a desire for treasure, they thought it contained gold. And how, because of the winds, the ship was driven back over the waves it had just crossed and returned to the Æolian king’s harbor.

“Thence,” said he, “we came to the ancient city¹¹⁴⁴ of Lamus, the Læstrygon. Antiphates was reigning in that land. I was sent to him, two in number accompanying me; and with difficulty was safety procured by me and one companion, by flight; the third of us stained the accursed jaws of the Læstrygon with his blood. Antiphates pursued us as we fled, and called together his followers; they flocked together, and, without intermission, they showered both stones and beams, and they overwhelmed men, and ships, too, did they overwhelm; yet one, which carried us and Ulysses himself, escaped. A part of our companions thus lost, grieving and lamenting much we arrived at those regions which thou perceivest afar hence. Look! afar hence thou mayst perceive an island,¹¹⁴⁵ that has been seen by me; and do thou, most righteous of the Trojans, thou son of a Goddess, (for, since the war is ended, thou art not, Æneas, to be called an enemy) I warn thee—avoid the shores of Circe.”

“From there,” he said, “we came to the ancient city¹¹⁴⁴ of Lamus, the Læstrygon. Antiphates ruled that land. I was sent to him with two companions. One companion and I barely escaped by running away. The third stained the Læstrygon’s cursed jaws with his blood. Antiphates pursued us and summoned his followers. They gathered and showered us with stones and beams without stopping. They overwhelmed both men and ships. Yet one ship escaped, carrying us and Ulysses himself. We had lost some of our companions, and we grieved and lamented as we reached the lands you see in the distance. Look! Far away you can see an island¹¹⁴⁵ I have seen. And you, most righteous of the Trojans, son of a Goddess, I warn you to avoid the shores of Circe. For now that the war is over, Æneas, you are no longer to be called an enemy.”

Achæmenides lands in the isle of Circe, and is sent to her palace with some of his companions. Giving them a favourable reception, she makes them drink of a certain liquor; and, on her touching them with a wand, they are immediately transformed into swine. Eurylochus, who has refused to drink, informs Ulysses, who immediately repairs to the palace, and obliges Circe to restore to his companions their former shape.

Achæmenides lands on the island of Circe and is sent to her palace with some of his companions. Circe welcomes them and gives them a drink. When she touches them with a wand, they immediately turn into pigs. Eurylochus refuses to drink and tells Ulysses what happened. Ulysses goes straight to the palace and forces Circe to restore his companions to their original form.

“We, too, having fastened our ships to the shores of Circe, remembering Antiphates and the cruel Cyclop, refused to go and enter her unknown abode. By lot were we chosen; that lot sent both me and the faithful Polytes, and Eurylochus, and Elpenor, too much addicted¹¹⁴⁶ to wine, and twice nine¹¹⁴⁷ companions, to the walls of Circe. Soon as we reached them, and stood at the threshold of her abode; a thousand wolves, and bears and lionesses mixed with the wolves, created fear through meeting them; but not one of them needed to be feared, and not one was there to make a wound on our bodies. They wagged their caressing tails in the air, and fawning, they attended our footsteps, until the female servants received us, and led us, through halls roofed with marble, to their mistress.

“We, too, had moored our ships on Circe’s shore. Remembering Antiphates and the cruel Cyclop, we refused to enter her unfamiliar home. We drew lots to decide who would go. The lot chose me, faithful Polytes, Eurylochus, Elpenor, who was too fond¹¹⁴⁶ of wine, and eighteen¹¹⁴⁷ companions. It sent us to Circe’s walls. When we reached the threshold of her home, we were frightened by the animals we met. There were a thousand wolves, along with bears and lionesses. But none of them was to be feared, and none was there to wound us. They wagged their tails and followed us affectionately. At last, the female servants welcomed us and led us through marble-roofed halls to their mistress.

“She is sitting in a beautiful alcove, on her wonted throne, and clad in a splendid robe; over it she is arrayed in a garment of gold tissue. The Nereids and the Nymphs, together, who tease no fleeces with the motion of their fingers nor draw out the ductile threads, are placing the plants in due order, and arranging in baskets the flowers confusedly scattered, and the shrubs variegated in their hues. She herself prescribes the tasks that they perform; she herself is aware what is the use of every leaf; what combined virtue there is in them when mixed; and giving attention, she examines each herb as weighed.¹¹⁴⁸ When she beheld us, having given and received a salutation, she gladdened her countenance, and granted every thing to our wishes. And without delay, she ordered the grains of parched barley to be mingled, and honey, and the strength of wine, and curds with pressed milk. Secretly, she added drugs to be concealed beneath this sweetness. We received the cups presented by her sacred right hand. Soon as, in our thirst, we quaffed them with parching mouth, and the ruthless Goddess, with her wand, touched the extremity of our hair (I am both ashamed, and yet I will tell of it), I began to grow rough with bristles, and no longer to be able to speak; and, instead of words, to utter a harsh noise, and to grovel on the ground with all my face. I felt, too, my mouth receive a hard skin, with its crooked snout, and my neck swell with muscles; and with the member with which, the moment before, I had received the cup, with the same did I impress my footsteps.

“She sits in a beautiful alcove on her usual throne, dressed in a splendid robe with a cloth of gold over it. The Nereids and the Nymphs are with her. They do not use their fingers to tease wool or draw out pliant threads. Instead, they sort the plants and arrange the scattered flowers and multicolored shrubs in baskets. She herself assigns their tasks. She knows the use of every leaf and the combined power of the leaves when mixed. She carefully examines each herb as it is weighed.¹¹⁴⁸ When she saw us, we exchanged greetings. Her face brightened, and she granted everything we wished for. Without delay, she ordered a mixture of roasted barley, honey, strong wine, and curds with pressed milk. Secretly, she added drugs, hiding them beneath the sweetness. We took the cups she offered us with her sacred right hand. Thirsty, we drank from the cups, our mouths parched. Then the ruthless Goddess touched the ends of our hair with her wand. I am ashamed, and yet I will tell of it. Bristles began to grow on my skin, and I could no longer speak. Instead of words, I made a harsh noise and grovelled on the ground with my whole face. I felt hard skin grow around my mouth as it formed a crooked snout. My neck swelled with muscle. With the same limb that had received the cup a moment before, I now made footprints on the ground.

“With the rest who had suffered the same treatment (so powerful are enchanted potions) I was shut up in a pig-sty; and we perceived that Eurylochus, alone, had not the form of a swine; he, alone, escaped the proffered draught. And had he not escaped it, I should even, at this moment, have still been one of the bristle-clad animals; nor would Ulysses, having been informed by him of so direful a disaster, have come to Circe as our avenger. The Cyllenian peace-bearer had given him a white flower; the Gods above call it ‘Moly;’¹¹⁴⁹ it is supported by a black root. Protected by that, and at the same time by the instruction of the inhabitants of heaven, he entered the dwelling of Circe, and being invited to the treacherous draughts, he repelled her, while endeavouring to stroke his hair with her wand, and prevented her, in her terror, with his drawn sword. Upon that, her promise was given, and right hands were exchanged; and, being received into her couch, he required the bodies of his companions as his marriage gift.

“The enchanted potions were so powerful that I was shut in a pigsty with the others who had suffered the same fate. We saw that Eurylochus alone had not taken the form of a pig. He alone had escaped the drink Circe offered. If he had not escaped it, I would still be one of those bristly animals. Nor would Ulysses have learned from him of our terrible fate and come to Circe as our avenger. The Cyllenian peace-bearer had given Ulysses a white flower. The gods above call it ‘Moly;’¹¹⁴⁹ it grows from a black root. Protected by the flower and guided by the gods’ instructions, Ulysses entered Circe’s house. When she offered him the treacherous drink and tried to stroke his hair with her wand, he pushed her away. He drew his sword and stopped her, terrifying her. Then her promise was given, and they clasped right hands. After she welcomed him to her bed, he demanded the bodies of his companions as his marriage gift.

“We are then sprinkled with the more favouring juices of harmless plants, and are smitten on the head with a blow from her inverted wand; and charms are repeated, the converse of the charms that had been uttered. The longer she chaunts them, the more erect are we raised from the ground; and the bristles fall off, and the fissure leaves our cloven feet; our shoulders return; our arms become attached¹¹⁵⁰ to their upper parts. In tears, we embrace him also in tears; and we cling to the neck of our chief; nor do we utter any words before those that testify that we are grateful.

“We are then sprinkled with the gentler juices of harmless plants. She strikes us on the head with her wand turned upside down. She repeats spells that reverse the ones she spoke before. The longer she chants, the more upright we rise from the ground. Our bristles fall off, and the splits in our cloven feet disappear. Our shoulders return, and our arms are attached¹¹⁵⁰ to their upper parts again. We embrace him in tears, and he is weeping also. We cling to our chief’s neck. The first words we speak are words of thanks.”

“The space of a year detained us there; and, as I was present for such a length of time, I saw many things; and many things I heard with my ears. This, too, among many other things I heard, which one of the four handmaids appointed for such rites, privately informed me of. For while Circe was passing her time apart with my chief, she pointed out to me a youthful statue made of snow-white marble, carrying a woodpecker on its head, erected in the hallowed temple, and bedecked with many a chaplet. When I asked, and desired to know who he was, and why he was venerated in the sacred temple, and why he carried that bird; she said:— ‘Listen, Macareus, learn hence, too, what is the power of my mistress, and give attention to what I say.’”

“We stayed there for a year. During that long time, I was there to see many things and hear many things with my own ears. Among the many things I heard was a story told to me privately by one of the four handmaids appointed for such rites. While Circe was spending time alone with my chief, the handmaid pointed out a statue to me. It was a statue of a young man, made of snow-white marble, with a woodpecker on its head. It stood in the sacred temple and was decorated with many garlands. I asked who he was, why he was honored in the temple, and why he had that bird on his head. She said: ‘Listen, Macareus, and learn from this, too, how powerful my mistress is. Pay attention to what I say.’”

Circe, being enamoured of Picus, and being unable to shake his constancy to his wife Canens, transforms him into a woodpecker, and his retinue into various kinds of animals. Canens pines away with grief at the loss of her husband, and the place where she disappears afterwards bears her name.

Circe falls in love with Picus, but she cannot make him abandon his faithfulness to his wife, Canens. So she turns him into a woodpecker and his attendants into various animals. Canens wastes away in grief over the loss of her husband. The place where she disappears is later named after her.

“‘Picus, the son of Saturn, was a king in the regions of Ausonia, an admirer of horses useful in warfare. The form of this person was such as thou beholdest. Thou thyself here mayst view his comeliness, and thou mayst approve of his real form from this feigned resemblance of it. His disposition was equal to his beauty; and not yet, in his age, could he have beheld four times the Olympic contest celebrated each fifth year in the Grecian Elis. He had attracted, by his good looks, the Dryads, born in the hills of Latium; the Naiads, the fountain Deities, wooed him; Nymphs, which Albula,¹¹⁵¹ and which the waters of Numicus, and which those of Anio, and Almo but very short¹¹⁵² in its course, and the rapid Nar,¹¹⁵³ and Farfarus,¹¹⁵⁴ with its delightful shades, produced, and those which haunt the forest realms of the Scythian¹¹⁵⁵ Diana, and the neighbouring streams.

“‘Picus, the son of Saturn, was a king in the regions of Ausonia. He admired horses useful in war. He looked like the figure you see here. You can see its beauty for yourself, and judge his true appearance from this likeness. His character was as fine as his looks. He was not yet old enough to have seen four Olympic contests, held every fifth year in Grecian Elis. His good looks had attracted the Dryads born in the hills of Latium. The Naiads, the fountain deities, courted him. So did the Nymphs born of Albula,¹¹⁵¹ the waters of Numicus and Anio, the very short Almo,¹¹⁵² the rapid Nar,¹¹⁵³ and Farfarus,¹¹⁵⁴ with its delightful shade. So did those who haunt the forest realms of Scythian¹¹⁵⁵ Diana and the neighboring streams.

“‘Yet, slighting all these, he was attached to one Nymph, whom, on the Palatine hill, Venilia is said once to have borne to the Ionian Janus.¹¹⁵⁶ Soon as she was ripe with marriageable years, she was presented to Laurentine Picus, preferred by her before all others; wondrous, indeed, was she in her beauty, but more wondrous still, through her skill in singing; thence she was called Canens.¹¹⁵⁷ She was wont, with her voice, to move the woods and the rocks, and to tame the wild beasts, and to stop the course of the long rivers, and to detain the fleeting birds. While she was singing her songs with her feminine voice, Picus had gone from his dwelling into the Laurentine fields, to pierce the wild boars there bred; and he was pressing the back of his spirited horse, and was carrying two javelins in his left hand, having a purple cloak fastened with yellow gold. The daughter of the Sun, too, had come into the same wood; and that she might pluck fresh plants on the fruitful hills, she had left behind the Circæan fields, so called after her own name.

“‘Yet, though he disregarded all the others, he loved one Nymph. Venilia is said to have borne her to the Ionian Janus on the Palatine hill.¹¹⁵⁶ When she was old enough to marry, she was given in marriage to Laurentine Picus, whom she preferred above all others. She was wonderfully beautiful, but her singing was even more wonderful. For this reason, she was called Canens.¹¹⁵⁷ Her voice could move woods and rocks, tame wild beasts, stop the flow of long rivers, and hold birds in flight. While she sang in her woman’s voice, Picus had gone from his home to the Laurentine fields to hunt the wild boars bred there. He rode a spirited horse and carried two javelins in his left hand. He wore a purple cloak fastened with yellow gold. The daughter of the Sun had also come into the same wood. She had left the Circæan fields, which were named after her, to gather fresh plants on the fertile hills.

“‘Hidden by the shrubs, soon as she beheld the youth, she was astounded; the plants which she had gathered fell from her bosom, and a flame seemed to pervade her entire marrow. As soon as she regained her presence of mind from so powerful a shock, she was about to confess what she desired; the speed of his horse, and the surrounding guards, caused that she could not approach. ‘And yet thou shalt not escape me,’ she said, ‘even shouldst thou be borne on the winds, if I only know myself, if all potency in herbs has not vanished, and if my charms do not deceive me.’ Thus she said; and she formed the phantom of a fictitious wild boar, with no substance, and commanded it to run past the eyes of the king, and to seem to go into a forest, thick set with trees, where the wood is most dense, and where the spot is inaccessible to a horse. There is no delay; Picus, forthwith, unconsciously follows the phantom of the prey; hastily too, he leaves the reeking back of his steed, and, in pursuit of a vain hope, wanders on foot in the lofty forest. She repeats prayers to herself, and utters magical incantations, and adores strange Gods in strange verses, with which she is wont both to darken the disk of the snow-white moon, and to draw the clouds that suck up the moisture, over the head of her father. Then does the sky become lowering at the repeating of the incantation, and the ground exhales its vapours; and his companions wander along the darkened paths, and his guards are separated from the king.

“‘Hidden among the shrubs, she was stunned as soon as she saw the young man. The plants she had gathered fell from her bosom, and a flame seemed to fill her very marrow. As soon as she recovered from so powerful a shock, she was ready to confess her desire. But his horse was too swift, and the guards around him kept her from approaching. ‘And yet you shall not escape me,’ she said, ‘even if you are carried on the winds. Not if I know myself, if herbs have not lost all their power, and if my charms do not deceive me.’ Thus she spoke, and created the phantom of a wild boar, with no substance. She commanded it to run past the king and seem to enter a forest thick with trees. It went where the woods were densest and a horse could not follow. At once, Picus pursued the phantom, unaware that it was not real. He quickly dismounted from his steaming horse and wandered on foot through the tall forest, chasing an illusion. She whispered prayers and spoke magic incantations, worshipping strange gods in strange verses. With these verses, she often darkened the face of the snow-white moon. She also drew moisture-laden clouds over her father’s head. Now, as she spoke the incantation, the sky grew dark, and the ground gave off mist. His companions wandered along the darkened paths, and his guards became separated from the king.

“‘She, having now gained a favourable place and opportunity, says, ‘O, most beauteous youth! by thy eyes, which have captivated mine, and by this graceful person, which makes me, though a Goddess, to be thy suppliant, favour my passion, and receive the Sun, that beholds all things, as thy father-in-law, and do not in thy cruelty despise Circe, the daughter of Titan.’ Thus she says. He roughly repels her and her entreaties: and he says, ‘Whoever thou art, I am not for thee; another female holds me enthralled, and for a long space of time, I pray, may she so hold me. I will not pollute the conjugal ties with the love of a stranger, while the Fates shall preserve for me Canens, the daughter of Janus.’ The daughter of Titan, having often repeated her entreaties in vain, says, ‘Thou shalt not depart with impunity, nor shalt thou return to Canens; and by experience shalt thou learn what one slighted, what one in love, what a woman, can do; but that one in love, and slighted, and a woman, is Circe.’

“‘She had now found a favorable place and opportunity. She said, ‘O, most beautiful youth! Your eyes have captivated mine. Your graceful figure makes even me, a goddess, plead with you. Please return my love and accept the Sun, who sees all things, as your father-in-law. Do not cruelly reject Circe, the daughter of Titan.’ Thus she spoke. He harshly rejected her and her pleas. He said, ‘Whoever you are, I am not for you. Another woman holds me captive, and I pray she may hold me for a long time. I will not betray my marriage vows by loving another woman. I will remain faithful as long as the Fates preserve Canens, the daughter of Janus, for me.’ The daughter of Titan repeated her pleas many times, but in vain. Then she said, ‘You will not escape punishment, nor will you return to Canens. You will learn firsthand what a scorned lover, a woman, can do. And that scorned lover, that woman, is Circe.’

“‘Then twice did she turn herself to the West, and twice to the East; thrice did she touch the youth with her wand; three charms did she repeat. He fled; wondering that he sped more swiftly than usual, he beheld wings on his body; and indignant that he was added suddenly as a strange bird to the Latian woods, he struck the wild oaks with his hard beak, and, in his anger, inflicted wounds¹¹⁵⁸ on the long branches. His wings took the purple colour of his robe. The piece of gold that had formed a buckle, and had fastened his garment, became feathers, and his neck was encompassed with the colour of yellow gold; and nothing now remained to Picus of his former self, beyond the name.

“‘Then she turned twice to the West and twice to the East. She touched the young man three times with her wand and repeated three charms. He fled, wondering why he was moving faster than usual. Then he saw wings on his body. Angry at being suddenly turned into a strange bird in the Latian woods, he struck the wild oaks with his hard beak. In his anger, he inflicted wounds¹¹⁵⁸ on their long branches. His wings took on the purple color of his robe. The gold buckle that had fastened his garment became feathers, and his neck was ringed with the color of yellow gold. Nothing now remained to Picus of his former self except his name.

“‘In the meantime his attendants, having, often in vain, called on Picus throughout the fields, and, having found him in no direction, meet with Circe, (for now she has cleared the air, and has allowed the clouds to be dispersed by the woods and the sun); and they charge her with just accusations, and demand back their king, and are using violence, and are preparing to attack her with ruthless weapons. She scatters noxious venom and poisonous extracts; and she summons together Night, and the Gods of Night, from Erebus and from Chaos, and she invokes Hecate in magic howlings. Wondrous to tell, the woods leap from their spot; the ground utters groans, the neighbouring trees become pallid, the grass becomes moist, besprinkled with drops of blood; the stones seem to send forth harsh lowings, the dogs seem to bark, and the ground to grow loathsome with black serpents, and unsubstantial ghosts of the departed appear to flit about. The multitude trembles, astonished at these prodigies; she touches their astonished faces, as they tremble, with her enchanted wand. From the touch of this, the monstrous forms of various wild beasts come upon the young men; his own form remains to no one of them.

“‘Meanwhile, Picus’s attendants had repeatedly called for him throughout the fields, but in vain. Unable to find him anywhere, they came upon Circe. By then, she had cleared the air, letting the woods and the sun disperse the clouds. They rightly accused her and demanded their king back. They began to use force and prepared to attack her with deadly weapons. She scattered harmful venom and poisonous extracts. She summoned Night and the Gods of Night from Erebus and Chaos, and called on Hecate with magical howls. Marvelous to tell, the woods leaped from their places, and the ground groaned. The nearby trees turned pale, and the grass grew damp with drops of blood. The stones seemed to bellow, dogs seemed to bark, and the ground seemed covered with loathsome black serpents. Faint ghosts of the dead appeared to flit about. The crowd trembled, stunned by these wonders. As they shook, Circe touched their astonished faces with her enchanted wand. At its touch, the young men took on the monstrous shapes of various wild beasts. Not one of them kept his own form.

“‘The setting Sun has now borne down upon the Tartessian shores;¹¹⁵⁹ and in vain is her husband expected, both by the eyes and the longings of Canens. Her servants and the people run about through all the woods, and carry lights to meet him. Nor is it enough for the Nymph to weep, and to tear her hair, and to beat her breast; though all this she does, she rushes forth, and, in her distraction, she wanders through the Latian fields. Six nights, and as many returning lights of the Sun, beheld her, destitute of sleep and of food, going over hills and valleys, wherever chance led her. Tiber, last of all, beheld her, worn out with weeping and wandering, and reposing her body on his cold banks. There, with tears, she poured forth words attuned, lamenting, in a low voice, her very woes, as when the swan, now about to die, sings his own funereal dirge.

“‘The setting Sun has now reached the Tartessian shores;¹¹⁵⁹ and Canens watches and longs in vain for her husband to return. Her servants and the people run through all the woods, carrying lights to meet him. The Nymph weeps, tears her hair, and beats her breast, but that is not enough. She rushes out and wanders, distraught, through the Latian fields. For six nights and six returning days, she goes without sleep or food. She travels over hills and valleys, wherever chance leads her. At last, Tiber sees her lying on his cold banks, worn out by weeping and wandering. There, in tears, she gives voice to her sorrows in a soft, mournful song. She sings as a dying swan sings its own funeral song.

“‘At last, melting with grief, even to her thin marrow, she pined away, and by degrees vanished into light air. Yet the Fame of it became attached to the spot, which the ancient Muses have properly called Canens, after the name of the Nymph.’ During that long year, many such things as these were told me and were seen by me. Sluggish and inactive through idleness, we were ordered again to embark on the deep, again to set our sails. The daughter of Titan had said that dangerous paths, and a protracted voyage, and the perils of the raging sea were awaiting us. I was alarmed, I confess; and having reached these shores, here I remained.”

“‘At last, consumed by grief, even to the depths of her thin marrow, she wasted away. Little by little, she vanished into thin air. Yet the story of her fate became attached to the place. The ancient Muses rightly named it Canens, after the Nymph.’ During that long year, I heard many such stories and saw many such things myself. We had grown sluggish and inactive from idleness. Then we were ordered to sail out to sea again and set our sails once more. The daughter of Titan had said that dangerous paths, a long voyage, and the dangers of a raging sea awaited us. I admit I was afraid. When I reached these shores, I stayed here.”

Turnus having demanded succour from Diomedes against Æneas, the Grecian prince, fearing the resentment of Venus, refuses to send him assistance; and relates how some of his followers have been transformed by Venus into birds. An Apulian shepherd surprising some Nymphs, insults them, on which he is changed into a wild olive tree.

Turnus asks Diomedes for help against Æneas. The Greek prince refuses because he fears Venus’s anger. He tells how Venus transformed some of his followers into birds. An Apulian shepherd comes upon some Nymphs and insults them. As a result, he is changed into a wild olive tree.

Macareus had concluded. And the nurse of Æneas, now buried in a marble urn, had this short inscription on her tomb:— “My foster-child, of proved piety, here burned me, Caieta, preserved from the Argive flames, with that fire which was my due.” The fastened cable is loosened from the grassy bank, and they leave far behind the wiles and the dwelling of the Goddess, of whom so ill a report has been given, and seek the groves where the Tiber, darkened with the shade of trees, breaks into the sea with his yellow sands. Æneas, too, gains the house and the daughter of Latinus, the son of Faunus;¹¹⁶⁰ but not without warfare. A war is waged with a fierce nation, and Turnus is indignant on account of the wife that had been betrothed to him.¹¹⁶¹ All Etruria meets in battle with Latium, and long is doubtful victory struggled for with ardent arms. Each side increases his strength with foreign forces, and many take the part of the Rutulians, many that of the Trojan side. Nor had Æneas arrived in vain at the thresholds of Evander,¹¹⁶² but Venulus came in vain to the great city, of the exiled Diomedes. He, indeed, had founded a very great city under the Iapygian Daunus, and held the lands given to him in dower.

Macareus had finished his story. Æneas’s nurse, now buried in a marble urn, had this short inscription on her tomb: “My foster child, whose devotion has been proven, burned me here, Caieta, with the fire I was owed. He had saved me from the Argive flames.” They untie the cable from the grassy bank and sail away. They leave far behind the tricks and home of the Goddess, whose reputation was so bad. They seek the groves where the Tiber, darkened by the shade of trees, enters the sea over yellow sands. Æneas also gains the home and daughter of Latinus, the son of Faunus,¹¹⁶⁰ but not without war. A war is fought against a fierce nation. Turnus is outraged over the wife who had been promised to him.¹¹⁶¹ All Etruria meets Latium in battle, and both sides fight fiercely for a long time with victory uncertain. Each side strengthens its forces with foreign troops. Many join the Rutulians, and many join the Trojans. Æneas had not gone to Evander’s door in vain,¹¹⁶² but Venulus came in vain to the great city of the exiled Diomedes. Diomedes had founded a very great city under Iapygian Daunus and held the lands given to him as a dowry.

But after Venulus had executed the commands of Turnus, and had asked for aid, the Ætolian hero pleaded his resources as an excuse: that he was not wishful to commit the subjects of his father-in-law to a war, and that he had no men to arm of the nation of his own countrymen; “And that ye may not think this a pretext, although my grief be renewed at the bitter recollection, yet I will endure the recital of it. After lofty Ilion was burnt, and Pergamus had fed the Grecian flames, and the Narycian hero,¹¹⁶³ having ravished the virgin, distributed that vengeance upon all, which he alone merited, on account of the virgin; we were dispersed and driven by the winds over the hostile seas; we Greeks had to endure lightning, darkness, rain, and the wrath both of the heavens and of the sea, and Caphareus, the completion of our misery. And not to detain you by relating these sad events in their order, Greece might then have appeared even to Priam, worthy of a tear. Yet the care of the armed universe preserved me, rescued from the waves.

After Venulus carried out Turnus’s orders and asked for help, the Ætolian hero offered his lack of resources as an excuse. He did not want to draw his father-in-law’s subjects into a war. Nor did he have any men of his own countrymen to arm. “I do not want you to think this is a pretext. Though the bitter memory renews my grief, I will bear the pain of telling of it. After lofty Ilion was burned and Pergamus had fed the Grecian flames, the Narycian hero¹¹⁶³ raped the virgin. He alone deserved vengeance for the rape, but he brought it upon us all. We were scattered and driven by the winds over hostile seas. We Greeks had to endure lightning, darkness, rain, and the anger of both heaven and sea. Caphareus completed our misery. I will not hold you up by telling these sad events in order. Even Priam might then have thought Greece worthy of a tear. Yet the care of the armed universe preserved me, and I was rescued from the waves.

“But again was I driven from Argos, the land of my fathers; and genial Venus exacted satisfaction in vengeance for her former wound: and so great hardships did I endure on the deep ocean, so great amid arms on shore, that many a time were they pronounced happy by me, whom the storm, common to all, and Caphareus, swallowed up in the threatening¹¹⁶⁴ waves; and I wished that I had been one of them. My companions having now endured the utmost extremities, both in war and on the ocean, lost courage, and demanded an end of their wanderings. But Agmon, of impetuous temper, and then embittered as well by misfortunes, said, ‘What does there remain now, ye men, for your patience to refuse to endure? What has Cytherea, (supposing her to desire it), that she can do beyond this? For so long as greater evils are dreaded, there is room for prayers; but where one’s lot is the most wretched possible, fear is trampled under foot, and the extremity of misfortune is free from apprehensions. Let Venus herself hear it, if she likes; let her hate, as she does hate, all the men under the rule of Diomedes. Yet all of us despise her hate, and this our great power is bought by us at great price.’

“But once again I was driven from Argos, the land of my fathers. And gracious Venus took revenge for her earlier wound. I suffered such hardships on the deep ocean and in battle on shore that I often called others happy. They were the men swallowed up by Caphareus and the storm we all faced, beneath the threatening¹¹⁶⁴ waves. I wished I had been one of them. My companions had endured the worst of both war and the ocean. They lost courage and demanded an end to their wanderings. But Agmon, who had a fierce temper and was now embittered by misfortune, said, ‘Men, what is left that you cannot bear? What more can Cytherea do, even if she wishes to? As long as we fear worse evils, there is room for prayer. But when our lot is as wretched as possible, fear is trampled underfoot. The very worst misfortune leaves us with nothing to dread. Let Venus herself hear this, if she likes. Let her hate all the men under Diomedes’ command, as she does. Yet we all despise her hatred, and we have paid dearly for this great power of ours.’

“With such expressions does the Pleuronian¹¹⁶⁵ Agmon provoke Venus against her will, and revive her former anger. His words are approved of by a few. We, the greater number of his friends, rebuke Agmon: and as he is preparing to answer, his voice and the passage of his voice together become diminished; his hair changes into feathers; his neck newly formed, his breast and his back are covered with down; his arms assume longer feathers; and his elbows curve out into light wings. A great part of his foot receives toes; his mouth becomes stiff and hardened with horn, and has its end in a point. Lycus and Idas, and Nycteus, together with Rhetenor, and Abas, are all astounded at him; and while they are astounded, they assume a similar form; and the greater portion of my company fly off, and resound around the oars with the flapping of their wings. Shouldst thou inquire what was the form of these birds so suddenly made; although it was not that of swans, yet it was approaching to that of white swans. With difficulty, for my part, do I, the son-in-law of the Iapygian Daunus, possess these abodes and the parched fields with a very small remnant of my companions.”

“With words like these, the Pleuronian¹¹⁶⁵ Agmon provokes Venus against her will and rekindles her old anger. A few approve of his words. The rest of us, the greater number of his friends, rebuke him. As he prepares to answer, both his voice and his throat shrink. His hair turns to feathers. Down covers his newly formed neck, his breast, and his back. Longer feathers grow on his arms, and his elbows curve into light wings. Much of his foot turns into toes. His mouth hardens into a hornlike beak with a pointed tip. Lycus, Idas, Nycteus, Rhetenor, and Abas are all astonished at him. As they stare in astonishment, they take on the same form. Most of my companions fly off, their wings flapping noisily around the oars. If you ask what these suddenly transformed birds looked like, they were not swans, though they resembled white swans. As for me, the son-in-law of the Iapygian Daunus, I hold these lands and parched fields with difficulty. Only a very small number of my companions remain with me.”

Thus far the grandson of Œneus. Venulus leaves the Calydonian¹¹⁶⁶ realms and the Peucetian¹¹⁶⁷ bays, and the Messapian¹¹⁶⁸ fields. In these he beholds a cavern, which, overshadowed by a dense grove, and trickling with a smooth stream, the God Pan, the half goat, occupies; but once on a time the Nymphs possessed it. An Apulian shepherd alarmed them, scared away from that spot; and, at first, he terrified them with a sudden fear; afterwards, when their presence of mind returned, and they despised him as he followed, they formed dances, moving their feet to time. The shepherd abused them; and imitating them with grotesque capers, he added rustic abuse in filthy language. Nor was he silent, before the growing tree closed his throat. But from this tree and its sap you may understand what were his manners. For the wild olive, by its bitter berries, indicates the infamy of his tongue; the coarseness of his words passed into them.

So spoke the grandson of Œneus. Venulus leaves the Calydonian¹¹⁶⁶ realms, the Peucetian¹¹⁶⁷ bays, and the Messapian¹¹⁶⁸ fields. There he sees a cave shaded by a dense grove, with a gentle stream trickling through it. Pan, the half-goat god, lives there, but the Nymphs once possessed it. An Apulian shepherd frightened the Nymphs away from the cave. At first, he startled them. But when they regained their composure, they scorned him as he followed them. They began to dance, moving their feet in time. The shepherd mocked them, imitating them with grotesque leaps and shouting filthy, rustic insults. He did not fall silent until the growing tree closed his throat. But from this tree and its sap, you can understand what his manners were like. The wild olive’s bitter berries reveal the infamy of his tongue. The coarseness of his words passed into the berries.

Turnus sets fire to the fleet of Æneas: but Cybele transforms the ships into sea Nymphs. After the death of Turnus, his capital, Ardea, is burnt, and a bird arises out of the flames. Venus obtains of Jupiter that her son, after so many heroic deeds, shall be received into the number of the Gods.

Turnus sets fire to the fleet of Æneas, but Cybele transforms the ships into sea Nymphs. After Turnus dies, his capital, Ardea, is burned, and a bird rises from the flames. Venus persuades Jupiter to make her son a god after all his heroic deeds.

When the ambassador had returned thence, bringing word that the Ætolian arms had been refused them, the Rutulians carried on the warfare prepared for, without their forces; and much blood was shed on either side. Lo! Turnus bears the devouring torches against the ships, fabrics of pine; and those, whom the waves have spared, are now in dread of fire. And now the flames were burning the pitch and the wax, and the other elements of flame, and were mounting the lofty mast to the sails, and the benches of the curved ships were smoking; when the holy Mother of the Gods, remembering that these pines were cut down on the heights of Ida, filled the air with the tinkling of the clashing cymbal, and with the noise of the blown boxwood pipe. Borne through the yielding air by her harnessed lions, she said: “Turnus, in vain dost thou hurl the flames with thy sacrilegious right hand; I will save the ships, and the devouring flames shall not, with my permission, burn a portion, and the very limbs of my groves.”

The ambassador returned with word that the Ætolian forces had been refused them. So the Rutulians fought the war they had prepared for without those forces, and much blood was shed on both sides. Look! Turnus carries devouring torches against the ships, built of pine. Those whom the waves spared now fear fire. The flames were already burning the pitch, wax, and other things that fed them. They were climbing the tall masts toward the sails, and the benches of the curved ships were smoking. Then the holy Mother of the Gods remembered that these pines had been cut down on the heights of Ida. She filled the air with the tinkling of clashing cymbals and the sound of a boxwood pipe. Carried through the open air by her harnessed lions, she said: “Turnus, you throw flames with your sacrilegious right hand in vain. I will save the ships. I will not let the devouring flames burn a part, the very limbs, of my groves.”

As the Goddess speaks, it thunders; and following the thunder, heavy showers fall, together with bounding hailstones; the brothers, sons of Astræus, arouse both the air and the swelling waves with sudden conflicts, and rush to the battle. The genial Mother, using the strength of one of these, first bursts the hempen cables of the Phrygian fleet, and carries the ships headlong, and buries them beneath the ocean. Their hardness being now softened, and their wood being changed into flesh, the crooked sterns are changed into the features of the head; the oars taper off in fingers and swimming feet; that which has been so before, is still the side; and the keel, laid below in the middle of the ship, is changed, for the purposes of the back bone. The cordage becomes soft hair, the yards become arms. Their colour is azure, as it was before. As Naiads of the ocean, with their virgin sports they agitate those waves, which before they dreaded; and, born on the rugged mountains, they inhabit the flowing sea; their origin influences them not. And yet, not forgetting how many dangers they endured on the boisterous ocean, often do they give a helping hand to the tossed ships; unless any one is carrying men of the Grecian race.

As the Goddess speaks, thunder sounds, followed by heavy rain and bouncing hailstones. The brothers, sons of Astræus, rush into battle. Their sudden clashes stir up the air and the swelling waves. The kindly Mother uses the strength of one brother to snap the hemp cables of the Phrygian fleet. Then she sends the ships plunging beneath the ocean. Their hard wood softens and turns to flesh. Their curved sterns become heads, and their oars taper into fingers and swimming feet. What was once the side of each ship is still its side, and the keel beneath it becomes its backbone. The ropes become soft hair, and the yards become arms. Their color remains azure, as it was before. Now Naiads of the ocean, they play like maidens and stir the waves they once feared. Though born on rugged mountains, they live in the flowing sea. Their origins do not affect them. Yet they do not forget the many dangers they endured on the stormy ocean. They often help ships tossed by the waves, unless a ship is carrying men of the Grecian race.

Still keeping in mind the Phrygian catastrophe, they hated the Pelasgians; and, with joyful countenances, they looked upon the fragments of the ship of him of Neritos; and with pleasure did they see the ship of Alcinoüs¹¹⁶⁹ become hard upon the breakers, and stone growing over the wood.

Still remembering the Phrygian catastrophe, they hated the Pelasgians. They looked joyfully at the wreckage of the ship belonging to the man from Neritos. They also watched with pleasure as the ship of Alcinoüs¹¹⁶⁹ hardened on the breakers and stone grew over the wood.

There is a hope that, the fleet having received life in the form of sea Nymphs, the Rutulian may desist from the war through fear, on account of this prodigy. He persists, however, and each side has its own Deities;¹¹⁷⁰ and they have courage, equal to the Gods. And now they do not seek kingdoms as a dower, nor the sceptre of a father-in-law, nor thee, virgin Lavinia, but only to conquer; and they wage the war through shame at desisting. At length, Venus sees the arms of her son victorious, and Turnus falls; Ardea falls, which, while Turnus lived, was called ‘the mighty.’ After ruthless flames consumed it, and its houses sank down amid the heated embers, a bird, then known for the first time, flew aloft from the midst of the heap, and beat the ashes with the flapping of its wings. The voice, the leanness, the paleness, and every thing that befits a captured city, and the very name of the city, remain in that bird; and Ardea itself is bewailed by the beating of its wings.

There is hope that the Rutulian may fear this wonder and give up the war. For the fleet has come to life as sea Nymphs. However, he fights on, and each side has its own Gods.¹¹⁷⁰ Both sides have courage equal to that of the Gods. Now they no longer seek kingdoms as a dowry, a father-in-law’s scepter, or you, virgin Lavinia. They seek only victory and fight on because they are ashamed to stop. At last, Venus sees her son’s forces win, and Turnus falls. Ardea, which was called ‘the mighty’ while Turnus lived, falls too. Merciless flames consume the city, and its houses collapse into the hot ashes. From the ruins, a bird never seen before flies up and beats the ashes with its wings. Its voice, its thinness, and its paleness all suit a conquered city. The bird bears the city’s very name, and by beating its wings, it mourns Ardea itself.

And now the merit of Æneas had obliged all the Deities, and Juno herself, to put an end to their former resentment; when, the power of the rising Iülus being now well established, the hero, the son of Cytherea, was ripe for heaven, Venus, too, had solicited the Gods above; and hanging round the neck of her parent had said: “My father, who hast never proved unkind to me at any time, I beseech thee now to be most indulgent to me; and to grant, dearest father, to my Æneas, who, born of my blood, has made thee a grandsire, a godhead, even though of the lowest class; so that thou only grant him one. It is enough to have once beheld the unsightly realms, enough to have once passed over the Stygian streams.” The Gods assented; nor did his royal wife keep her countenance unmoved; but, with pleased countenance, she nodded assent. Then her father said; “You are worthy of the gift of heaven; both thou who askest, and he, for whom thou askest: receive, my daughter, what thou dost desire.” Thus he decrees. She rejoices, and gives thanks to her parent; and, borne by her harnessed doves through the light air, she arrives at the Laurentine shores; where Numicius,¹¹⁷¹ covered with reeds, winds to the neighbouring sea with the waters of his stream. Him she bids to wash off from Æneas whatever is subject to death, and to bear it beneath the ocean in his silent course.

By now, Æneas’s merit had persuaded all the gods, even Juno herself, to put aside their former resentment. The power of the rising Iülus was firmly established, and the hero, son of Cytherea, was ready for heaven. Venus had also pleaded with the gods above. With her arms around her father’s neck, she had said: “My father, who has never been unkind to me, I beg you to be especially generous to me now. Dearest father, grant my Æneas the rank of a god. He is born of my blood and has made you a grandfather. Let him be a god even of the lowest rank, as long as you grant him that. It is enough that he has seen those dreadful realms once, enough that he has crossed the Stygian streams once.” The gods agreed. His royal wife did not remain unmoved, but nodded her approval with a pleased expression. Then Venus’s father said: “You both deserve the gift of heaven, both you who ask and he for whom you ask. Receive what you desire, my daughter.” Thus he gave his decree. Venus rejoiced and thanked her father. Then she traveled through the light air in a chariot drawn by her doves and reached the Laurentine shores. There Numicius,¹¹⁷¹ covered with reeds, winds toward the nearby sea. She ordered him to wash away whatever was mortal in Æneas and carry it beneath the ocean in his silent stream.

The horned river performed the commands of Venus; and with his waters washed away from Æneas whatever was mortal, and sprinkled him. His superior essence remained. His mother anointed his body thus purified with divine odours, and touched his face with ambrosia, mingled with sweet nectar, and made him a God. Him the people of Quirinus, called Indiges,¹¹⁷² and endowed with a temple and with altars.

The horned river obeyed Venus’s commands. With his waters, he washed away everything mortal from Æneas and sprinkled him. His divine essence remained. His mother anointed his thus purified body with divine fragrances. She touched his face with ambrosia mixed with sweet nectar and made him a God. The people of Quirinus called him Indiges,¹¹⁷² and gave him a temple and altars.

Vertumnus, enamoured of Pomona, assumes several shapes for the purpose of gaining her favour; and having transformed himself into an old woman, succeeds in effecting his object.

Vertumnus falls in love with Pomona and takes on several forms to win her favor. He succeeds after transforming himself into an old woman.

From that time Alba and the Latin state were under the sway of Ascanius with the two names;¹¹⁷³ Sylvius¹¹⁷⁴ succeeded him; sprung of whom, Latinus had a renewed name, together with the ancient sceptre. Alba succeeded the illustrious Latinus; Epitos sprang from him; and next to him were Capetus, and Capys; but Capys was the first of these. Tiberinus received the sovereignty after them; and, drowned in the waves of the Etrurian river, he gave his name to the stream. By him Remulus and the fierce Acrota were begotten; Remulus, who was the elder, an imitator of the lightnings, perished by the stroke¹¹⁷⁵ of a thunder-bolt. Acrota, more moderate than his brother in his views, handed down the sceptre to the valiant Aventinus, who lies buried on the same mount over which he had reigned; and to that mountain he gave his name. And now Proca held sway over the Palatine nation.

From then on, Ascanius, who had two names,¹¹⁷³ ruled Alba and the Latin state. Sylvius¹¹⁷⁴ succeeded him. His descendant Latinus received an old name again, along with the ancient scepter. Alba succeeded the illustrious Latinus, and Epitos came from him. Then came Capetus and Capys, but Capys was the first of the two. Tiberinus took the throne after them. He drowned in the Etrurian river, giving the stream his name. He fathered Remulus and the fierce Acrota. Remulus, who was the elder, imitated lightning and died when a thunderbolt struck¹¹⁷⁵ him. Acrota, who was more moderate than his brother in his views, passed the scepter to the brave Aventinus. Aventinus was buried on the same mountain he had ruled, and he gave it his name. And now Proca ruled the Palatine nation.

Under this king Pomona lived; than her, no one among the Hamadryads of Latium more skilfully tended her gardens, and no one was more attentive to the produce of the trees; thence she derives her name. She cares not for woods, or streams; but she loves the country, and the boughs that bear the thriving fruit. Her right hand is not weighed down with a javelin, but with a curved pruning-knife, with which, at one time she crops the too luxuriant shoots, and reduces the branches that straggle without order; at another time, she is engrafting the sucker in the divided bark, and is so finding nourishment for a stranger nursling. Nor does she suffer them to endure thirst; she waters, too, the winding fibres of the twisting root with the flowing waters. This is her delight, this her pursuit; and no desire has she for love. But fearing the violence of the rustics, she closes her orchard within a wall, and both forbids and flies from the approach of males.

Pomona lived under this king. No Hamadryad in Latium tended her gardens more skillfully or paid closer attention to the fruit of her trees. From this she gets her name. She does not care for woods or streams, but loves the countryside and branches heavy with thriving fruit. She carries no javelin in her right hand, but a curved pruning knife. With it, she sometimes cuts back overly luxuriant shoots and trims branches that grow out of order. At other times, she grafts a shoot into split bark, thus finding nourishment for a young plant from elsewhere. She does not let the trees go thirsty. She also waters the winding fibers of their twisting roots. This is her delight and her pursuit, and she has no desire for love. But she fears violence from the country folk, so she encloses her orchard with a wall. She forbids males to approach and flees from them.

What did not the Satyrs do, a youthful crew expert at the dance, and the Pans with their brows wreathed with pine, and Sylvanus, ever more youthful than his years, and the God who scares the thieves either with his pruning-hook or with his groin, in order that they might gain her? But yet Vertumnus exceeded even these in his love, nor was he more fortunate than the rest. O! how often did he carry the ears of corn in a basket, under the guise of a hardy reaper; and he was the very picture of a reaper! Many a time, having his temples bound with fresh bay, he would appear to have been turning over the mowed grass. He often bore a whip in his sturdy hand, so that you would have sworn that he had that instant been unyoking the wearied oxen. A pruning-knife being given him, he was a woodman, and the pruner of the vine. Now he was carrying a ladder, and you would suppose he was going to gather fruit. Sometimes he was a soldier, with a sword, and sometimes a fisherman, taking up the rod; in fact, by means of many a shape, he often obtained access for himself, that he might enjoy the pleasure of gazing on her beauty.

What did they not do to win her? The Satyrs, a youthful band skilled in dancing, the Pans with pine wreaths on their brows, Sylvanus, who always seemed younger than his years, and the God who frightens thieves with either his pruning hook or his groin, all pursued her. But Vertumnus loved her even more than they did, and he was no more successful. How often he carried ears of corn in a basket, disguised as a sturdy reaper! He looked every bit the part. Many times, with fresh bay leaves around his temples, he appeared to have been turning over the cut grass. He often held a whip in his strong hand. You would have sworn he had just unyoked the tired oxen. With a pruning knife, he was a woodcutter and vine pruner. Now he carried a ladder, and you would think he was going to pick fruit. Sometimes he was a soldier with a sword, and sometimes a fisherman with a rod. By taking many forms, he often gained access to her, so he could enjoy looking at her beauty.

He, too, having bound his brows with a coloured cap,¹¹⁷⁶ leaning on a stick, with white hair placed around his temples, assumed the shape of an old woman, and entered the well-cultivated gardens, and admired the fruit; and he said, “So much better off art thou!” and then he gave her, thus commended, a few kisses, such as no real old woman ever could have given; and stooping, seated himself upon the grass, looking up at the branches bending under the load of autumn. There was an elm opposite, widely spread with swelling grapes; after he had praised it, together with the vine united to it, he said, “Aye, but if this trunk stood unwedded,¹¹⁷⁷ without the vine, it would have nothing to attract beyond its leaves; this vine, too, while it finds rest against the elm, joined to it, if it were not united to it, would lie prostrate on the ground; and yet thou art not influenced by the example of this tree, and thou dost avoid marriage, and dost not care to be united. I only wish that thou wouldst desire it: Helen would not then be wooed by more suitors, nor she who caused the battles of the Lapithæ, nor the wife of Ulysses, so bold against the cowards. Even now, while thou dost avoid them courting thee, and dost turn away in disgust, a thousand suitors desire thee; both Demigod and Gods, and the Deities which inhabit the mountains of Alba.

He, too, tied a colored cap around his head,¹¹⁷⁶ placed white hair around his temples, and leaned on a stick. Disguised as an old woman, he entered the well-tended gardens and admired the fruit. “How much better off you are!” he said. Then he gave her a few kisses, the kind no real old woman ever could have given. Bending down, he sat on the grass and looked up at the branches heavy with autumn fruit. Before him stood a spreading elm covered with swelling grapes. He praised it and the vine joined to it. Then he said, “Yes, but if this trunk stood unmarried,¹¹⁷⁷ without the vine, it would have nothing attractive but its leaves. The vine, too, rests against the elm. If it were not joined to the tree, it would lie flat on the ground. And yet you pay no attention to the example of this tree. You avoid marriage and have no desire to be joined to anyone. “I only wish you did desire it. Helen would not then have more suitors than you, nor would the woman who caused the battles of the Lapithæ. Nor would the wife of Ulysses, so bold against the cowards. Even now, as you avoid your suitors and turn away in disgust, a thousand of them desire you. They include Demigods and Gods, and the Deities who inhabit the mountains of Alba.

“But thou, if thou art wise, and if thou dost wish to make a good match, and to listen to an old woman, (who loves thee more than them all, and more than thou dost believe) despise a common alliance, and choose for thyself Vertumnus, as the partner of thy couch; and take me as a surety for him. He is not better known, even to himself, than he is to me. He is not wandering about, straying here and there, throughout all the world; these spots only does he frequent; and he does not, like a great part of thy wooers, fall in love with her whom he sees last. Thou wilt be his first and his last love, and to thee alone does he devote his life. Besides, he is young, he has naturally the gift of gracefulness, he can readily change himself into every shape, and he will become whatever he shall be bidden, even shouldst thou bid him be everything. And besides, have you not both the same tastes? Is not he the first to have the fruits which are thy delight? and does he not hold thy gifts in his joyous right hand? But now he neither longs for the fruit plucked from the tree, nor the herbs that the garden produces, with their pleasant juices, nor anything else, but thyself. Have pity on his passion! and fancy that he who wooes thee is here present, pleading with my lips; fear, too, the avenging Deities, and the Idalian Goddess, who abhors cruel hearts, and the vengeful anger of her of Rhamnus.¹¹⁷⁸

“But if you are wise, and if you want to make a good match, listen to an old woman. I love you more than all the others do, and more than you believe. Do not choose an ordinary match. Choose Vertumnus as your bed partner, and take my word for him. I know him as well as he knows himself. He does not wander all over the world. He spends his time only in these places. Unlike many of your suitors, he does not fall in love with the last woman he sees. You will be his first and last love, and he devotes his life to you alone. Besides, he is young and naturally graceful. He can easily take any shape you ask of him, even if you ask him to be everything. And besides, don't you both have the same tastes? Is not he the first to receive the fruits you love? Does he not hold your gifts joyfully in his right hand? But now he longs for none of these things. He wants neither fruit picked from the tree nor the juicy produce of the garden. He wants nothing but you. Have pity on his passion! Imagine that your suitor is here, pleading through my lips. Fear, too, the avenging gods, and the Idalian Goddess, who hates cruel hearts. Fear the vengeful anger of her of Rhamnus.¹¹⁷⁸

“And that thou mayst the more stand in awe of them, (for old age has given me the opportunity of knowing many things) I will relate some facts very well known throughout all Cyprus, by which thou mayst the more easily be persuaded and relent.”

“And so that you may hold them in greater awe, I will tell you some facts well known throughout all Cyprus. Old age has given me the chance to learn many things. These facts may more easily persuade you to relent.”

Vertumnus relates to Pomona how Anaxarete was changed into a rock after her disdain of his advances had forced her lover Iphis to hang himself. After the death of Amulius and Numitor, Romulus builds Rome, and becomes the first king of it. Tatius declares war against him, and is favoured by Juno, while Venus protects the Romans. Romulus and Hersilia are added to the number of the Deities, under the names of Quirinus and Ora.

Vertumnus tells Pomona how Anaxarete was turned to stone. Her scorn for her lover Iphis's advances had driven him to hang himself. After Amulius and Numitor die, Romulus builds Rome and becomes its first king. Tatius declares war on Romulus. Juno favors Tatius, while Venus protects the Romans. Romulus and Hersilia become gods, known as Quirinus and Ora.

Iphis, born of an humble family, had beheld the noble Anaxarete, sprung from the race of the ancient Teucer;¹¹⁷⁹ he had seen her, and had felt the flame in all his bones; and struggling a long time, when he could not subdue his passion by reason, he came suppliantly to her doors. And now having confessed to her nurse his unfortunate passion, he besought her, by the hopes she reposed in her nursling, not to be hard-hearted to him; and at another time, complimenting each of the numerous servants, he besought their kind interest with an anxious voice. He often gave his words to be borne on the flattering tablets; sometimes he fastened garlands, wet with the dew of his tears, upon the door-posts, and laid his tender side upon the hard threshold, and uttered reproaches against the obdurate bolt.

Iphis came from a humble family. He saw the noble Anaxarete, a descendant of the ancient Teucer,¹¹⁷⁹ and felt the flame of love in all his bones. He struggled for a long time but could not overcome his passion through reason. So he went to her door to plead with her. He confessed his unhappy love to her nurse. He appealed to the hopes she placed in the girl she had cared for, and begged her not to be hard-hearted toward him. At another time, he paid compliments to each of the many servants and anxiously begged them to speak for him. He often sent flattering messages on writing tablets. Sometimes he hung garlands wet with his tears on the doorposts. He lay his tender side against the hard threshold and cursed the stubborn bolt.

She, more deaf than the sea, swelling when the Constellation of the Kids is setting, and harder than the iron which the Norican fire¹¹⁸⁰ refines, and than the rock which in its native state is yet held fast by the firm roots, despises, and laughs at him; and to her cruel deeds, in her pride, she adds boastful words, and deprives her lover of even hope. Iphis, unable to endure this prolonged pain, endured his torments no longer; and before her doors he spoke these words as his last: “Thou art the conquerer, Anaxarete; and no more annoyances wilt thou have to bear from me. Prepare the joyous triumph, invoke the God Pæan, and crown thyself with the shining laurel. For thou art the conqueror, and of my own will I die; do thou, woman of iron, rejoice. At least, thou wilt be obliged to commend something in me, and there will be one point in which I shall be pleasing to thee, and thou wilt confess my merits. Yet remember that my affection for thee has not ended sooner than my life; and that at the same moment I am about to be deprived of a twofold light. And report shall not come to thee as the messenger of my death; I myself will come, doubt it not; and I myself will be seen in person, that thou mayst satiate thy cruel eyes with my lifeless body. But if, ye Gods above, you take cognizance of the fortunes of mortals, be mindful of me; beyond this, my tongue is unable to pray; and cause me to be remembered in times far distant; and give those hours to Fame which you have taken away from my existence.”

She was more deaf than the sea, swollen when the constellation of the Kids sets. She was harder than the iron refined by the Norican fire¹¹⁸⁰, and harder than rock still held fast by firm roots in its native ground. She scorned him and laughed at him. Proudly, she added boastful words to her cruel deeds and robbed her lover of even hope. Iphis could no longer bear this prolonged pain and torment. Before her doors, he spoke these final words: “You have won, Anaxarete. I will trouble you no more. Prepare a joyful triumph, call on the god Pæan, and crown yourself with shining laurel. You have won, and I die of my own free will. Rejoice, woman of iron. At least you will have to praise something in me. There will be one thing about me that pleases you, and you will acknowledge my worth. But remember that my love for you has lasted as long as my life. In the same moment, I am about to lose both kinds of light. You will not hear of my death from others. I myself will come, have no doubt. You will see me in person, so that you can feast your cruel eyes on my lifeless body. But if you gods above take notice of what happens to mortals, remember me. My tongue can pray for no more than this. Let me be remembered in ages to come, and give to Fame the hours you have taken from my life.”

Thus he said; and raising his swimming eyes and his pallid arms to the door-posts, so often adorned by him with wreaths, when he had fastened a noose at the end of a halter upon the door; he said,— “Are these the garlands that delight thee, cruel and unnatural woman?” And he placed his head within it; but even then he was turned towards her; and he hung a hapless burden, by his strangled throat. The door, struck by the motion of his feet as they quivered, seemed to utter a sound, as of one groaning much, and flying open, it discovered the deed; the servants cried aloud, and after lifting him up in vain, they carried him to the house of his mother (for his father was dead). She received him into her bosom; and embracing the cold limbs of her child, after she had uttered the words that are natural to wretched mothers, and had performed the usual actions of wretched mothers, she was preceding¹¹⁸¹ the tearful funeral through the midst of the city, and was carrying his ghastly corpse on the bier, to be committed to the flames.

Thus he spoke. He raised his tear-filled eyes and pale arms to the doorposts, which he had often adorned with wreaths. He fastened a noose at the end of a rope to the door and said, “Are these the garlands that delight you, cruel and unnatural woman?” He put his head in the noose, still facing her, and hung there, a helpless burden, strangled by the rope. His twitching feet struck the door, which seemed to groan loudly. Then it flew open and revealed what he had done. The servants cried out and lifted him up, but it was too late. They carried him to his mother’s house, for his father was dead. She took him into her arms and embraced her child’s cold body. She spoke the words natural to grieving mothers and did what grieving mothers usually do. Then she led¹¹⁸¹ the tearful funeral procession through the city. She carried his ghastly corpse on the bier to be burned.

By chance, her house was near the road where the mournful procession was passing, and the sound of lamentation came to the ears of the hardhearted Anaxarete, whom now an avenging Deity pursued. Moved, however, she said:— “Let us behold these sad obsequies;” and she ascended to an upper room¹¹⁸² with wide windows. And scarce had she well seen Iphis laid out on the bier, when her eyes became stiffened, and a paleness coming on, the warm blood fled from her body. And as she endeavoured to turn her steps back again, she stood fixed there; and as she endeavoured to turn away her face, this too she was unable to do; and by degrees the stone, which already existed in her cruel breast, took possession of her limbs.

By chance, her house was near the road where the mournful procession was passing. The sound of lamentation reached the ears of hardhearted Anaxarete, who was now pursued by an avenging Deity. Moved nonetheless, she said, “Let us watch this sad funeral.” She went up to an upper room¹¹⁸² with wide windows. She had barely seen Iphis laid out on the bier when her eyes became fixed. She turned pale as the warm blood fled from her body. She tried to step back, but stood rooted to the spot. She tried to turn her face away, but could not do that either. Gradually, the stone already in her cruel breast took over her limbs.

“And, that thou mayst not think this a fiction, Salamis still keeps the statue under the form of the maiden; it has also a temple under the name of ‘Venus, the looker-out.’ Remembering these things, O Nymph, lay aside this prolonged disdain, and unite thyself to one who loves thee. Then, may neither cold in the spring nip thy fruit in the bud, nor may the rude winds strike them off in blossom.” When the God, fitted for every shape, had in vain uttered these words, he returned to his youthful form,¹¹⁸³ and took off from himself the garb of the old woman. And such did he appear to her, as, when the form of the sun, in all his brilliancy, has dispelled the opposing clouds, and has shone forth, no cloud intercepting his rays. And he now purposed violence, but there was no need for force, and the Nymph was captivated by the form of the God, and was sensible of a reciprocal wound.

“And so that you do not think this story is fiction, Salamis still has a statue in the maiden’s likeness. It also has a temple named ‘Venus, the looker-out.’ Remember these things, O Nymph, and put aside your long disdain. Join yourself to one who loves you. Then may no spring frost nip your fruit in the bud, and may no harsh winds strip away its blossoms.” The God, who could take any shape, had spoken these words in vain. He returned to his youthful form¹¹⁸³ and took off the old woman’s clothes. He appeared to her like the sun in all its brilliance, scattering the clouds that had blocked it. It shone forth, with no cloud intercepting his rays. He now intended to use force, but there was no need. The Nymph was captivated by the God’s beauty and felt the same wound of love herself.

Next, the soldiery of the wicked Amulius held sway over the realms of Ausonia; and by the aid of his grandsons, the aged Numitor gained the kingdom that he had lost; and on the festival of Pales, the walls of the City were founded. Tatius and the Sabine fathers waged war; and then, the way to the citadel being laid open, by a just retribution, Tarpeia lost her life, the arms being heaped upon her. On this, they, sprung from the town of Cures, just like silent wolves, suppressed their voices with their lips, and fell upon the bodies now overpowered by sleep, and rushed to the gates, which the son of Ilia had shut with a strong bolt. But Juno, the daughter of Saturn, herself opened one, and made not a sound at the turning of the hinge. Venus alone perceived that the bars of the gate had fallen down; and she would have shut it, were it not, that it is never allowed for a Deity to annul the acts of the other Gods. The Naiads of Ausonia occupied a spot near the temple of Janus, a place besprinkled by a cold fountain; of these she implored aid. Nor did the Nymphs resist, the Goddess making so fair a request; and they gave vent to the springs and the streams of the fountain. But not yet were the paths closed to the open temple of Janus, and the water had not stopped the way. They placed sulphur, with its faint blue light, beneath the plenteous fountain, and they applied fire to the hollowed channels, with smoking pitch.

Next, the soldiers of the wicked Amulius ruled the realms of Ausonia. With the help of his grandsons, the aged Numitor regained the kingdom he had lost. On the festival of Pales, the walls of the City were founded. Tatius and the Sabine fathers waged war. Then, the way to the citadel was opened, and Tarpeia met a just punishment. She was killed when the soldiers piled their weapons on her. After this, the men from the town of Cures kept silent like wolves. They fell upon the bodies of those who were deep in sleep, then rushed to the gates. The son of Ilia had shut the gates with a strong bolt. But Juno, the daughter of Saturn, opened one gate herself, without making its hinge creak. Venus alone saw the gate's bars fall. She would have shut it, but no Deity is ever allowed to undo the acts of the other Gods. The Naiads of Ausonia lived near the temple of Janus, a place sprinkled by a cold fountain. Venus begged them for help. The Nymphs did not refuse the Goddess's gracious request, and they released the fountain's springs and streams. But the paths to the open temple of Janus were not yet blocked, and the water had not stopped the way. The Nymphs placed sulfur, with its faint blue glow, beneath the abundant fountain. They set fire to the hollow channels with smoking pitch.

By these and other violent means, the vapour penetrated to the very sources of the fountain; and you, ye waters, which, so lately, were able to rival the coldness of the Alps, yielded not in heat to the flames themselves. The two door-posts smoked with the flaming spray; and the gate, which was in vain left open for the fierce Sabines, was rendered impassable by this new-made fountain, until the warlike soldiers had assumed their arms. After Romulus had readily led them onward, and the Roman ground was covered with Sabine bodies, and was covered with its own people, and the accursed sword had mingled the blood of the son-in-law with the gore of the father-in-law; they determined that the war should end in peace, and that they would not contend with weapons to the last extremity, and that Tatius should share in the sovereignty.

By these and other violent means, the vapor reached the very source of the fountain. And you, waters, so recently as cold as the Alps, became as hot as the flames themselves. The burning spray made the two gateposts smoke. The gate had been left open for the fierce Sabines, but in vain. The newly heated fountain made it impassable until the warriors had taken up their arms. Romulus then led them forward without difficulty. Roman ground was covered with the bodies of Sabines and of its own people. The cursed sword mixed the blood of sons-in-law with that of their fathers-in-law. Then they decided to end the war in peace rather than fight to the bitter end. They also agreed that Tatius should share the rule.

Tatius was now dead, and thou, Romulus, wast giving laws in common to both peoples; when Mavors,¹¹⁸⁴ his helmet laid aside, in such words as these addressed the Parent of both Gods and men: “The time is now come, O father, (since the Roman state is established on a strong foundation, and is no longer dependent on the guardianship of but one), for thee to give the reward which was promised to me, and to thy grandson so deserving of it, and, removed from earth, to admit him to heaven. Thou saidst to me once, a council of the Gods being present, (for I remember it, and with grateful mind I remarked the affectionate speech), he shall be one, whom thou shalt raise to the azure heaven. Let the tenor of thy words be now performed.”

Tatius was now dead, and you, Romulus, were giving laws to both peoples together. Then Mavors,¹¹⁸⁴ having laid aside his helmet, addressed the father of both Gods and men in words like these: “The time has now come, father, for you to give the promised reward to me and to your grandson, who is so deserving of it. Remove him from earth and admit him to heaven. For the Roman state is firmly established and no longer depends on the protection of one man alone. You once said to me, before a council of the Gods, ‘There shall be one whom you will raise to the blue heaven.’ I remember it, and I noted your loving words with gratitude. Let your words now be fulfilled.”

The all-powerful God nodded in assent, and he obscured the air with thick clouds, and alarmed the City with thunder and lightning. Gradivus knew that this was a signal given to him for the promised removal; and, leaning on his lance, he boldly mounted behind his steeds, laden with the blood-stained pole of the chariot, and urged them on with the lash of the whip; and descending along the steep air, he stood on the summit of the hill of the woody Palatium; and he took away the son of Ilia, that moment giving out his royal ordinances to his own Quirites. His mortal body glided through the yielding air; just as the leaden plummet, discharged from the broad sling, is wont to dissolve itself¹¹⁸⁵ in mid air. A beauteous appearance succeeded, one more suitable to the lofty couches¹¹⁸⁶ of heaven, and a form, such as that of Quirinus arrayed in his regal robe. His wife was lamenting him as lost; when the royal Juno commanded Iris to descend to Hersilia, along her bending path; and thus to convey to the bereft wife her commands:—

The all-powerful God nodded in agreement. He darkened the air with thick clouds and alarmed the City with thunder and lightning. Gradivus knew this was the signal for the promised removal. Leaning on his lance, he boldly mounted his chariot behind his horses, which were harnessed to its bloodstained pole. He urged them on with his whip. Descending through the steep air, he landed on the summit of the wooded Palatium hill. There he carried away the son of Ilia, who was just then giving royal orders to his own Quirites. His mortal body glided through the yielding air, just as a lead weight dissolves¹¹⁸⁵ in midair when thrown from a broad sling. A beautiful appearance took its place, one more fitting for the lofty couches¹¹⁸⁶ of heaven. It was the form of Quirinus dressed in his royal robe. His wife was mourning his loss. Then royal Juno commanded Iris to descend along her curved path to Hersilia and deliver these commands to the bereaved wife:

“O matron, the especial glory of the Latian and of the Sabine race; thou woman, most worthy to have been before the wife of a hero so great, and now of Quirinus; cease thy weeping, and if thou hast a wish to see thy husband, under my guidance repair to the grove which flourishes on the hill of Quirinus, and overshadows the temple of the Roman king.” Iris obeys, and gliding down to earth along her tinted bow, she addressed Hersilia in the words enjoined. She, with a modest countenance, hardly raising her eyes, replies, “O Goddess, (for though it is not in my power to say who thou art, yet, still it is clear that thou art a Goddess), lead me, O lead me on, and present to me the features of my husband. If the Fates should but allow me to be enabled once to behold these, I will confess that I have beheld Heaven.”

“O matron, you are the special glory of the Latian and Sabine race. You were most worthy to be the wife of such a great hero, and now of Quirinus. Stop weeping. If you wish to see your husband, let me lead you to the grove on the hill of Quirinus. It flourishes there and shades the temple of the Roman king.” Iris obeyed and glided down to earth along her rainbow. She spoke to Hersilia as she had been instructed. Hersilia looked modestly down and hardly raised her eyes as she replied, “O Goddess, though I cannot say who you are, yet it is clear that you are a Goddess. Lead me, oh, lead me to my husband, and let me see his face. If the Fates would only allow me to see him once, I would say that I had seen Heaven.”

There was no delay; with the virgin daughter of Thaumas she ascended the hill of Romulus. There, a star falling from the skies, fell upon the earth; the hair of Hersilia set on fire from the blaze of this, ascended with the star to the skies. The founder of the Roman city received her with his well-known hands; and, together with her body, he changed her former name; and he called her Ora; which Goddess is still united to Quirmus.

Without delay, she climbed the hill of Romulus with the virgin daughter of Thaumas. There, a star fell from the sky to the earth. Its blaze set Hersilia's hair on fire, and she rose with the star into the sky. The founder of the Roman city received her with his familiar hands. He changed her body and her former name, calling her Ora. This goddess is still united with Quirmus.