Legendary Passages #0018 - Minos and Daedalus - Ovid's Metamorphoses -
Last time Cephalus and the Myrmidons launched their warships, and Princess Scylla cut off her father's purple lock of hair that had made him invulnerable.
Scylla presented Minos with the purple lock as a token of her love. Minos realized that she has betrayed and murdered her father, and utterly rejects her.
He conquers the city and returns to Crete, leaving Scylla behind. Outraged, she leapt into the sea and clung to his flagship. Both her and her father are then changed into birds by the gods.
Victorious, King Minos returns home. To hide the Minotaur, he has Daedalus build the Labyrinth. But since Daedalus had revealed how to navigate its passages with string, Daedalus himself was made prisoner.
To escape, Daedalus constructed wings made of feather and wax. He warned his young son Icarus not too fly to high and thereby melt the wax. Icarus fell, and his father buried him.
Deadalus recalled his sister's son Perdix, whom he took as his apprentice. His nephew used the backbone of a fish and thereby invented the saw. Envious, Daedalus tossed his nephew off a cliff, but the gods changed the boy into a bird as well.
The passage ends with Daedalus going to King Cocalus in Sicily, where Minos was later to meet his end.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses8.html#2
Minos and Daedalus,
a Legendary Passage,
from Ovid's Metamorphoses,
tranlated by Brookes More.
Book 8 [81] - [262]
Concealing in her bosom the sad prize of crime degenerate, she at once went forth a gate unguarded, and with shameless haste sped through the hostile army to the tent of Minos, whom, astonished, she addressed: "Only my love has led me to this deed. The daughter of King Nisus, I am called the maiden Scylla. Unto you I come and offer up a power that will prevail against my country, and I stipulate no recompense except yourself. Take then this purple hair, a token of my love. - Deem it not lightly as a lock of hair held idly forth to you; it is in truth my father's life."
And as she spoke she held out in her guilty hand the prize, and begged him to accept it with her love. Shocked at the thought of such a heinous crime, Minos refused, and said, "O execrable thing! Despised abomination of our time! May all the Gods forever banish you from their wide universe, and may the earth and the deep ocean be denied to you! So great a monster shall not be allowed to desecrate the sacred Isle of Crete, where Jupiter was born."
So Minos spoke. Nevertheless he conquered Megara, (so aided by the damsel's wicked deed) and as a just and mighty king imposed his own conditions on the vanquished land.
He ordered his great fleet to tarry not; the hawsers were let loose, and the long oars quickly propelled his brazen-pointed ships. - When Scylla saw them launching forth, observed them sailing on the mighty deep, she called with vain entreaties; but at last, aware the prince ignored her and refused to recompense her wickedness, enraged, and raving, she held up her impious hands, her long hair streaming on the wind, - and said:
"Oh, wherefore have you flown, and left behind the author of your glory. Oh, wretch! wretch to whom I offered up my native land, and sacrificed my father! Where have you now flown, ungrateful man whose victory is both my crime and virtue? And the gift presented to you, and my passion, have these not moved you? All my love and hope in you alone! Forsaken by my prince, shall I return to my defeated land? If never ruined it would shut its walls against me. - Shall I seek my father's face whom I delivered to all-conquering arms? My fellow-citizens despise my name; my friends and neighbors hate me; I have shut the world against me, only in the hope that Crete would surely welcome me; - and now, he has forbidden me.
"And is it so I am requited by this thankless wretch! Europa could not be your mother! Spawn of cruel Syrtis! Savage cub of fierce Armenian tigress; - or Charybdis, tossed by the wild South-wind begot you! Can you be the son of Jupiter? Your mother was not ever tricked by the false semblance of a bull. All that story of your birth is false! You are the offspring of a bull as fierce as you are!
"Let your vengeance fall upon me, O my father Nisus, let the ruined city I betrayed rejoice at my misfortunes - richly merited - destroy me, you whom I have ruined; - I should perish for my crimes!
"But why should you, who conquered by my crime, abandon me? The treason to my father and my land becomes an act of kindness in your cause.
"That woman is a worthy mate for you who hid in wood deceived the raging bull, and bore to him the infamy of Crete. I do not wonder that Pasiphae preferred the bull to you, more savage than the wildest beast. Alas, alas for me! Do my complaints reach your unwilling ears? Or do the same winds waft away my words that blow upon your ships, ungrateful man?
"Ah, wretched that I am, he takes delight in hastening from me. The deep waves resound as smitten by the oars, his ship departs; and I am lost and even my native land is fading from his sight. Oh heart of flint! you shall not prosper in your cruelty, and you shall not forget my sacrifice; in spite of everything I follow you! I'll grasp the curving stern of your swift ship, and I will follow through unending seas."
And as she spoke, she leaped into the waves, and followed the receding ships - for strength from passion came to her. And soon she clung unwelcome, to the sailing Gnossian ship. Meanwhile, the Gods had changed her father's form and now he hovered over the salt deep, a hawk with tawny wings. So when he saw his daughter clinging to the hostile ship he would have torn her with his rending beak; - he darted towards her through the yielding air. In terror she let go, but as she fell the light air held her from the ocean spray; her feather-weight supported by the breeze; she spread her wings, and changed into a bird. They called her 'Ciris' when she cut the wind, and 'Ciris' - cut-the-lock - remains her name.
King Minos, when he reached the land of Crete and left his ships, remembered he had made a vow to Jupiter, and offered up a hundred bulls. - The splendid spoils of war adorned his palace. - Now the infamous reproach of Crete had grown, till it exposed the double-natured shame. So, Minos, moved to cover his disgrace, resolved to hide the monster in a prison, and he built with intricate design, by Daedalus contrived, an architect of wonderful ability, and famous.
This he planned of mazey wanderings that deceived the eyes, and labyrinthic passages involved. so sports the clear Maeander, in the fields of Phrygia winding doubtful; back and forth it meets itself, until the wandering stream fatigued, impedes its wearied waters' flow; from source to sea, from sea to source involved. So Daedalus contrived innumerous paths, and windings vague, so intricate that he, the architect, hardly could retrace his steps.
In this the Minotaur was long concealed, and there devoured Athenian victims sent three seasons, nine years each, till Theseus, son of Aegeus, slew him and retraced his way, finding the path by Ariadne's thread. Without delay the victor fled from Crete, together with the loving maid, and sailed for Dia Isle of Naxos, where he left the maid forlorn, abandoned.
Her, in time, lamenting and deserted, Bacchus found and for his love immortalized her name. He set in the dark heavens the bright crown that rested on her brows. Through the soft air it whirled, while all the sparkling jewels changed to flashing fires, assuming in the sky between the Serpent-holder and the Kneeler the well-known shape of Ariadne's Crown.
But Daedalus abhorred the Isle of Crete - and his long exile on that sea-girt shore, increased the love of his own native place. "Though Minos blocks escape by sea and land.” He said, "The unconfined skies remain though Minos may be lord of all the world his sceptre is not regnant of the air, and by that untried way is our escape.”
This said, he turned his mind to arts unknown and nature unrevealed. He fashioned quills and feathers in due order - deftly formed from small to large, as any rustic pipe prom straws unequal slants. He bound with thread the middle feathers, and the lower fixed with pliant wax; till so, in gentle curves arranged, he bent them to the shape of birds.
While he was working, his son Icarus, with smiling countenance and unaware of danger to himself, perchance would chase the feathers, ruffled by the shifting breeze, or soften with his thumb the yellow wax, and by his playfulness retard the work his anxious father planned.
But when at last the father finished it, he poised himself, and lightly floating in the winnowed air waved his great feathered wings with bird-like ease. And, likewise he had fashioned for his son such wings; before they ventured in the air he said, "My son, I caution you to keep the middle way, for if your pinions dip too low the waters may impede your flight; and if they soar too high the sun may scorch them. Fly midway. Gaze not at the boundless sky, far Ursa Major and Bootes next. Nor on Orion with his flashing brand, but follow my safe guidance.”
As he spoke he fitted on his son the plumed wings with trembling hands, while down his withered cheeks the tears were falling. Then he gave his son a last kiss, and upon his gliding wings assumed a careful lead solicitous. As when the bird leads forth her tender young, from high-swung nest to try the yielding air; so he prevailed on willing Icarus; encouraged and instructed him in all the fatal art; and as he waved his wings looked backward on his son. Beneath their flight, the fisherman while casting his long rod, or the tired shepherd leaning on his crook, or the rough plowman as he raised his eyes, astonished might observe them on the wing, and worship them as Gods.
Upon the left they passed by Samos, Juno's sacred isle; Delos and Paros too, were left behind; and on the right Lebinthus and Calymne, fruitful in honey. Proud of his success, the foolish Icarus forsook his guide, and, bold in vanity, began to soar, rising upon his wings to touch the skies; but as he neared the scorching sun, its heat softened the fragrant wax that held his plumes; and heat increasing melted the soft wax - he waved his naked arms instead of wings, with no more feathers to sustain his flight. And as he called upon his father's name his voice was smothered in the dark blue sea, now called Icarian from the dead boy's name.
The unlucky father, not a father, called, "Where are you, Icarus?” and "Where are you? In what place shall I seek you, Icarus?”
He called again; and then he saw the wings of his dear Icarus, floating on the waves; and he began to rail and curse his art. He found the body on an island shore, now called Icaria, and at once prepared to bury the unfortunate remains.
But while he labored a pert partridge near, observed him from the covert of an oak, and whistled his unnatural delight. Know you the cause? 'Twas then a single bird, the first one of its kind.
'Twas never seen before the sister of Daedalus had brought him Perdix, her dear son, to be his pupil. And as the years went by the gifted youth began to rival his instructor's art. He took the jagged backbone of a fish, and with it as a model made a saw, with sharp teeth fashioned from a strip of iron. And he was first to make two arms of iron, smooth hinged upon the center, so that one would make a pivot while the other, turned, described a circle.
Wherefore Daedalus enraged and envious, sought to slay the youth and cast him headlong from Minerva's fane, - then spread the rumor of an accident. But Pallas, goddess of ingenious men, saving the pupil changed him to a bird, and in the middle of the air he flew on feathered wings; and so his active mind - and vigor of his genius were absorbed into his wings and feet; although the name of Perdix was retained.
The Partridge hides, in shaded places by the leafy trees, its nested eggs among the bush's twigs; nor does it seek to rise in lofty flight, for it is mindful of its former fall.
Wearied with travel Daedalus arrived at Sicily, - where Cocalus was king; and when the wandering Daedalus implored the monarch's kind protection from his foe, he gathered a great army for his guest, and gained renown from an applauding world.
Now after Theseus had destroyed in Crete the dreadful monster, Athens then had ceased to pay her mournful tribute; and with wreaths her people decked the temples of the Gods; and they invoked Minerva, Jupiter, and many other Gods whom they adored, with sacrifice and precious offerings, and jars of Frankincense. Quick-flying Fame had spread reports of Theseus through the land; and all the peoples of Achaia, from that day, when danger threatened would entreat his aid.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses8.html#2
Greek and Roman mythology from the original sources, from Atlantis to Hercules to the Trojan War. Email: LegendaryPassages@gmail.com
Saturday, January 24, 2015
LP0017 - Procris and Scylla - Ovid's Metamorphoses -
Legendary Passages #0017 - Procris and Scylla - Ovid's Metamorphoses -
Last time, as the Athenians prepared for war with Minos, the hero Cephalus began his story about his wife Procris and the magic javelin she gave to him. This time we shall hear the end of this sad story, and then return to Minos, who is laying siege to the nearby city of Megara.
Cephalus and his wife have several years of blissful marriage. But neither has forgotten that he was abducted by a goddess, and both had suspected the other of infidelity.
While hunting alone with his magic javelin, Cephalus used to praise the cooling winds with a song. He is overheard praising 'Aura', as he called it, and someone tells his wife Procris . There is suspicion that he sings to another goddess or nymph, but she must see it with her own eyes, and heads off for the forest.
Cephalus hears a rustle in the bushes, and throws his javelin. It never misses.
His wife is mortally wounded. As she lay dying, Procris tells him not to forsake their love for this 'Aura'. He tells her the truth as she dies in his arms, content at the last.
As Cephalus finishes his tale all are moved to tears. But at last Aegina's troops are marshaled for war.
Minos is laying siege to Megara, ruled by King Nisus. Now King Nisus has a magic purple lock of hair that makes him invulnerable, and a daughter named Scylla. From atop the city walls the princess watches the besieging army, and falls madly in love with Minos.
She thinks his cause is just and his victory inevitable, but fears for her love. To ensure the victory of Minos, she sneaks into her father's room, and cuts off his lock of purple hair.
Next time we conclude this extended passage from Ovid's Metamorphoses, with King Minos, Daedalus, and Icarus.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#6
Procris and Scylla,
a Legendary Passage,
from Ovid's Metamorphoses,
translated by Brookes More.
Book 7 [796] - Book 8 [81]
...[I]t seemed he wished to stop, but Phocus said. 'What charge have you against the javelin?'
And Cephalus rejoined; 'I must relate my sorrows last; for I would tell you first the story of my joys.- 'Tis sweet to think, upon the gliding tide of those few years of married life, when my dear wife and I were happy in our love and confidence. No woman could allure me then from her; and even Venus could not tempt my love; all my great passion for my dearest wife was equaled by the passion she returned.
As early as the sun, when golden rays first glittered on the mountains, I would rise in youthful ardor, to explore the fields in search of game. With no companions, hounds, nor steeds nor nets, this javelin was alone my safety and companion in my sport.
And often when my right hand felt its weight, a-wearied of the slaughter it had caused, I would come back to rest in the cool shade, and breezes from cool vales- the breeze I wooed, blowing so gently on me in the heat; the breeze I waited for; she was my rest from labor.
I remember, 'Aura come,' I used to say, 'Come soothe me, come into my breast most welcome one, and yes indeed, you do relieve the heat with which I burn.' And as I felt the sweet breeze of the morn, as if in answer to my song, my fate impelled me further to declare my joy in song; 'You are my comfort, you are my delight! Refresh me, cherish me, breathe on my face! I love you child of lonely haunts and trees!'
'Such words I once was singing, not aware of some one spying on me from the trees, who thought I sang to some beloved Nymph, or goddess by the name of Aura- so I always called the breeze.- Unhappy man!
The meddling tell-tale went to Procris with a story of supposed unfaithfulness, and slyly told in whispers all he heard. True love is credulous; (and as I heard the story) Procris in a swoon fell down. When she awakened from her bitter swoon, she ceased not wailing her unhappy fate, and, wretched, moaned for an imagined woe. So she lamented what was never done! Her woe incited by a whispered tale, she feared the fiction of a harmless name!
But hope returning soothed her wretched state; and now, no longer willing to believe such wrong, unless her own eyes saw it, she refused to think her husband sinned.
'When dawn had banished night, and I, rejoicing, ranged the breathing woods, victorious in the hunt, paused and said, 'Come Aura- lovely breeze- relieve my panting breast!'
It seemed I heard the smothered moans of sorrow as I spoke: but not conceiving harm, I said again; 'Come here, oh my delight!'
And as those words fell from my lips, I thought I heard a soft sound in the thicket, as of moving leaves; and thinking surely 'twas a hidden beast, I threw this winged javelin at the spot.-
It was my own wife, Procris, and the shaft was buried in her breast-
'Ah, wretched me!' She cried; and when I heard her well-known voice, distracted I ran towards her,- only to find her bathed in blood, and dying from the wound of that same javelin she had given to me: and in her agony she drew it forth,- ah me! alas! from her dear tender side.
I lifted her limp body to my own, in these blood-guilty arms, and wrapped the wound with fragments of my tunic, that I tore in haste to staunch her blood; and all the while I moaned, `Oh, do not now forsake me- slain by these accursed hands!'
'Weak with the loss of blood, and dying, she compelled herself to utter these few words, 'It is my death; but let my eyes not close upon this life before I plead with you!- By the dear ties of sacred marriage; by your god and mine; and if my love for you can move your heart; and even by the cause of my sad death,- my love for you increasing as I die, - ah, put away that Aura you have called, that she may never separate your soul,- your love from me.'
So, by those dying words I knew that she had heard me call the name of Aura, when I wished the cooling breeze, and thought I called a goddess,- cause of all her jealous sorrow and my bitter woe.
Alas, too late, I told her the sad truth; but she was sinking, and her little strength swiftly was ebbing with her flowing blood. As long as life remained her loving gaze was fixed on mine; and her unhappy life at last was breathed out on my grieving face. It seemed to me a look of sweet content was in her face, as if she feared not death.'
In tears he told these things; and, as they wept, in came the aged monarch, Aeacus, and with the monarch his two valiant sons, and troops, new-levied, trained to glorious arms.
Now Lucifer unveiled the glorious day, and as the session of the night dissolved, the cool east wind declined, and vapors wreathed the moistened valleys. Veering to the south the welcome wind gave passage to the sons of Aeacus, and wafted Cephalus on his returning way, propitious; where before the wonted hour, they entered port.
King Minos, while the fair wind moved their ship, was laying waste the land of Megara. He gathered a great army round the walls built by Alcathous, where reigned in splendor King Nisus - mighty and renowned in war - upon the center of whose hoary head a lock of purple hair was growing. - Its proved virtue gave protection to his throne.
Six times the horns of rising Phoebe grew, and still the changing fortune of the war was in suspense; so, Victory day by day between them hovered on uncertain wings.
Within that city was a regal tower on tuneful walls; where once Apollo laid his golden harp; and in the throbbing stone the sounds remained.
And there, in times of peace the daughter of king Nisus loved to mount the walls and strike the sounding stone with pebbles: so, when the war began, she often viewed the dreadful contest from that height; until, so long the hostile camp remained, she had become acquainted with the names, and knew the habits, horses and the arms of many a chief, and could discern the signs of their Cydonean quivers.
More than all, the features of King Minos were engraved upon the tablets of her mind. And when he wore his helmet, crested with gay plumes, she deemed it glorious; when he held his shield shining with gold, no other seemed so grand; and when he poised to hurl the tough spear home, she praised his skill and strength; and when he bent his curving bow with arrow on the cord, she pictured him as Phoebus taking aim, - but when, arrayed in purple, and upon the back of his white war horse, proudly decked with richly broidered housings, he reined in the nervous steed, and took his helmet off, showing his fearless features, then the maid, daughter of Nisus, could control herself no longer; and a frenzy seized her mind.
She called the javelin happy which he touched, and blessed were the reins within his hand. She had an impulse to direct her steps, a tender virgin, through the hostile ranks, or cast her body from the topmost towers into the Gnossian camp. She had a wild desire to open to the enemy the heavy brass-bound gates, or anything that Minos could desire.
And as she sat beholding the white tents, she cried, 'Alas! Should I rejoice or grieve to see this war? I grieve that Minos is the enemy of her who loves him; but unless the war had brought him, how could he be known to me? But should he take me for a hostage? That might end the war - a pledge of peace, he might keep me for his companion.
'O, supreme of mankind! she who bore you must have been as beautiful as you are; ample cause for Jove to lose his heart. O, happy hour! If moving upon wings through yielding air, I could alight within the hostile camp in front of Minos, and declare to him my name and passion! Then would I implore what dowry he could wish, and would provide whatever he might ask, except alone the city of my father. Perish all my secret hopes before one act of mine should offer treason to accomplish it.
'And yet, the kindness of a conqueror has often proved a blessing, manifest to those who were defeated. Certainly the war he carries on is justified by his slain son. He is a mighty king, thrice strengthened in his cause. Undoubtedly we shall be conquered, and, if such a fate awaits our city, why should he by force instead of my consuming love, prevail to open the strong gates? Without delay and dreadful slaughter, it is best for him to conquer and decide this savage war.
'Ah, Minos, how I fear the bitter fate should any warrior hurl his cruel spear and pierce you by mischance, for surely none can be so hardened to transfix your breast with purpose known. Oh, let her love prevail to open for his army the great gates. Only the thought of it, has filled her soul; she is determined to deliver up her country as a dowry with herself, and so decide the war!
'But what avails this idle talk. A guard surrounds the gates, my father keeps the keys, and he alone is my obstruction, and the innocent account of my despair. Would to the Gods I had no father! Is not man the God of his own fortune, though his idle prayers avail not to compel his destiny? Another woman crazed with passionate desires, which now inflame me, would not hesitate, but with a fierce abandon would destroy whatever checked her passion. Who is there with love to equal mine? I dare to go through flames and swords; but swords and flames are not now needed, for I only need my royal father's lock of purple hair. More precious than fine gold, it has a power to give my heart all that it may desire. '
While Scylla said this, night that heals our cares came on, and she grew bolder in the dark. And now it is the late and silent hour when slumber takes possession of the breast. Outwearied with the cares of busy day; then as her father slept, with stealthy tread she entered his abode, and there despoiled, and clipped his fatal lock of purple hair.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#6
Last time, as the Athenians prepared for war with Minos, the hero Cephalus began his story about his wife Procris and the magic javelin she gave to him. This time we shall hear the end of this sad story, and then return to Minos, who is laying siege to the nearby city of Megara.
Cephalus and his wife have several years of blissful marriage. But neither has forgotten that he was abducted by a goddess, and both had suspected the other of infidelity.
While hunting alone with his magic javelin, Cephalus used to praise the cooling winds with a song. He is overheard praising 'Aura', as he called it, and someone tells his wife Procris . There is suspicion that he sings to another goddess or nymph, but she must see it with her own eyes, and heads off for the forest.
Cephalus hears a rustle in the bushes, and throws his javelin. It never misses.
His wife is mortally wounded. As she lay dying, Procris tells him not to forsake their love for this 'Aura'. He tells her the truth as she dies in his arms, content at the last.
As Cephalus finishes his tale all are moved to tears. But at last Aegina's troops are marshaled for war.
Minos is laying siege to Megara, ruled by King Nisus. Now King Nisus has a magic purple lock of hair that makes him invulnerable, and a daughter named Scylla. From atop the city walls the princess watches the besieging army, and falls madly in love with Minos.
She thinks his cause is just and his victory inevitable, but fears for her love. To ensure the victory of Minos, she sneaks into her father's room, and cuts off his lock of purple hair.
Next time we conclude this extended passage from Ovid's Metamorphoses, with King Minos, Daedalus, and Icarus.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#6
Procris and Scylla,
a Legendary Passage,
from Ovid's Metamorphoses,
translated by Brookes More.
Book 7 [796] - Book 8 [81]
...[I]t seemed he wished to stop, but Phocus said. 'What charge have you against the javelin?'
And Cephalus rejoined; 'I must relate my sorrows last; for I would tell you first the story of my joys.- 'Tis sweet to think, upon the gliding tide of those few years of married life, when my dear wife and I were happy in our love and confidence. No woman could allure me then from her; and even Venus could not tempt my love; all my great passion for my dearest wife was equaled by the passion she returned.
As early as the sun, when golden rays first glittered on the mountains, I would rise in youthful ardor, to explore the fields in search of game. With no companions, hounds, nor steeds nor nets, this javelin was alone my safety and companion in my sport.
And often when my right hand felt its weight, a-wearied of the slaughter it had caused, I would come back to rest in the cool shade, and breezes from cool vales- the breeze I wooed, blowing so gently on me in the heat; the breeze I waited for; she was my rest from labor.
I remember, 'Aura come,' I used to say, 'Come soothe me, come into my breast most welcome one, and yes indeed, you do relieve the heat with which I burn.' And as I felt the sweet breeze of the morn, as if in answer to my song, my fate impelled me further to declare my joy in song; 'You are my comfort, you are my delight! Refresh me, cherish me, breathe on my face! I love you child of lonely haunts and trees!'
'Such words I once was singing, not aware of some one spying on me from the trees, who thought I sang to some beloved Nymph, or goddess by the name of Aura- so I always called the breeze.- Unhappy man!
The meddling tell-tale went to Procris with a story of supposed unfaithfulness, and slyly told in whispers all he heard. True love is credulous; (and as I heard the story) Procris in a swoon fell down. When she awakened from her bitter swoon, she ceased not wailing her unhappy fate, and, wretched, moaned for an imagined woe. So she lamented what was never done! Her woe incited by a whispered tale, she feared the fiction of a harmless name!
But hope returning soothed her wretched state; and now, no longer willing to believe such wrong, unless her own eyes saw it, she refused to think her husband sinned.
'When dawn had banished night, and I, rejoicing, ranged the breathing woods, victorious in the hunt, paused and said, 'Come Aura- lovely breeze- relieve my panting breast!'
It seemed I heard the smothered moans of sorrow as I spoke: but not conceiving harm, I said again; 'Come here, oh my delight!'
And as those words fell from my lips, I thought I heard a soft sound in the thicket, as of moving leaves; and thinking surely 'twas a hidden beast, I threw this winged javelin at the spot.-
It was my own wife, Procris, and the shaft was buried in her breast-
'Ah, wretched me!' She cried; and when I heard her well-known voice, distracted I ran towards her,- only to find her bathed in blood, and dying from the wound of that same javelin she had given to me: and in her agony she drew it forth,- ah me! alas! from her dear tender side.
I lifted her limp body to my own, in these blood-guilty arms, and wrapped the wound with fragments of my tunic, that I tore in haste to staunch her blood; and all the while I moaned, `Oh, do not now forsake me- slain by these accursed hands!'
'Weak with the loss of blood, and dying, she compelled herself to utter these few words, 'It is my death; but let my eyes not close upon this life before I plead with you!- By the dear ties of sacred marriage; by your god and mine; and if my love for you can move your heart; and even by the cause of my sad death,- my love for you increasing as I die, - ah, put away that Aura you have called, that she may never separate your soul,- your love from me.'
So, by those dying words I knew that she had heard me call the name of Aura, when I wished the cooling breeze, and thought I called a goddess,- cause of all her jealous sorrow and my bitter woe.
Alas, too late, I told her the sad truth; but she was sinking, and her little strength swiftly was ebbing with her flowing blood. As long as life remained her loving gaze was fixed on mine; and her unhappy life at last was breathed out on my grieving face. It seemed to me a look of sweet content was in her face, as if she feared not death.'
In tears he told these things; and, as they wept, in came the aged monarch, Aeacus, and with the monarch his two valiant sons, and troops, new-levied, trained to glorious arms.
Now Lucifer unveiled the glorious day, and as the session of the night dissolved, the cool east wind declined, and vapors wreathed the moistened valleys. Veering to the south the welcome wind gave passage to the sons of Aeacus, and wafted Cephalus on his returning way, propitious; where before the wonted hour, they entered port.
King Minos, while the fair wind moved their ship, was laying waste the land of Megara. He gathered a great army round the walls built by Alcathous, where reigned in splendor King Nisus - mighty and renowned in war - upon the center of whose hoary head a lock of purple hair was growing. - Its proved virtue gave protection to his throne.
Six times the horns of rising Phoebe grew, and still the changing fortune of the war was in suspense; so, Victory day by day between them hovered on uncertain wings.
Within that city was a regal tower on tuneful walls; where once Apollo laid his golden harp; and in the throbbing stone the sounds remained.
And there, in times of peace the daughter of king Nisus loved to mount the walls and strike the sounding stone with pebbles: so, when the war began, she often viewed the dreadful contest from that height; until, so long the hostile camp remained, she had become acquainted with the names, and knew the habits, horses and the arms of many a chief, and could discern the signs of their Cydonean quivers.
More than all, the features of King Minos were engraved upon the tablets of her mind. And when he wore his helmet, crested with gay plumes, she deemed it glorious; when he held his shield shining with gold, no other seemed so grand; and when he poised to hurl the tough spear home, she praised his skill and strength; and when he bent his curving bow with arrow on the cord, she pictured him as Phoebus taking aim, - but when, arrayed in purple, and upon the back of his white war horse, proudly decked with richly broidered housings, he reined in the nervous steed, and took his helmet off, showing his fearless features, then the maid, daughter of Nisus, could control herself no longer; and a frenzy seized her mind.
She called the javelin happy which he touched, and blessed were the reins within his hand. She had an impulse to direct her steps, a tender virgin, through the hostile ranks, or cast her body from the topmost towers into the Gnossian camp. She had a wild desire to open to the enemy the heavy brass-bound gates, or anything that Minos could desire.
And as she sat beholding the white tents, she cried, 'Alas! Should I rejoice or grieve to see this war? I grieve that Minos is the enemy of her who loves him; but unless the war had brought him, how could he be known to me? But should he take me for a hostage? That might end the war - a pledge of peace, he might keep me for his companion.
'O, supreme of mankind! she who bore you must have been as beautiful as you are; ample cause for Jove to lose his heart. O, happy hour! If moving upon wings through yielding air, I could alight within the hostile camp in front of Minos, and declare to him my name and passion! Then would I implore what dowry he could wish, and would provide whatever he might ask, except alone the city of my father. Perish all my secret hopes before one act of mine should offer treason to accomplish it.
'And yet, the kindness of a conqueror has often proved a blessing, manifest to those who were defeated. Certainly the war he carries on is justified by his slain son. He is a mighty king, thrice strengthened in his cause. Undoubtedly we shall be conquered, and, if such a fate awaits our city, why should he by force instead of my consuming love, prevail to open the strong gates? Without delay and dreadful slaughter, it is best for him to conquer and decide this savage war.
'Ah, Minos, how I fear the bitter fate should any warrior hurl his cruel spear and pierce you by mischance, for surely none can be so hardened to transfix your breast with purpose known. Oh, let her love prevail to open for his army the great gates. Only the thought of it, has filled her soul; she is determined to deliver up her country as a dowry with herself, and so decide the war!
'But what avails this idle talk. A guard surrounds the gates, my father keeps the keys, and he alone is my obstruction, and the innocent account of my despair. Would to the Gods I had no father! Is not man the God of his own fortune, though his idle prayers avail not to compel his destiny? Another woman crazed with passionate desires, which now inflame me, would not hesitate, but with a fierce abandon would destroy whatever checked her passion. Who is there with love to equal mine? I dare to go through flames and swords; but swords and flames are not now needed, for I only need my royal father's lock of purple hair. More precious than fine gold, it has a power to give my heart all that it may desire. '
While Scylla said this, night that heals our cares came on, and she grew bolder in the dark. And now it is the late and silent hour when slumber takes possession of the breast. Outwearied with the cares of busy day; then as her father slept, with stealthy tread she entered his abode, and there despoiled, and clipped his fatal lock of purple hair.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#6
LP0016 - Cephalus - Ovid's Metamorphoses -
Legendary Passages #0016- Cephalus - Ovid's Metamorphoses -
Last time an Athenian ship arrived at Aegina, and King Aeacus told them the origins of the Myrmidons. This time Cephalus tells how he acquired his magic javelin, which never misses and returns to its owners hand.
Cephalus was married to Procris, the beautiful daughter of King Erechtheus of Athens. Now Cephalus loved to go hunting alone, and one day was abducted by the Auroroa, the goddess of radiant beauty. But he loved his wife and wished to go back to her. Auroroa agrees and disguises him, so that he can see if Procris was faithful to him.
When he gets home, it seems that everything is waiting for him, including his wife. He tempts her with a lavish gift for a mere kiss, and she hesitates. He reveals himself, and she flees, ashamed.
She has her own adventures, but eventually returns to him, and gives him the the unerring javelin and a dog Lelaps that catches whatever it chases.
Cephalus then tells the story of the Teumessian Fox or Cadmean Vixen that was terrorizing Thebes. It was so fast that it could never be caught. So, of course, he sent Lelaps. The dog that catches everything chasing the uncatchable fox created a paradox, so the gods turned both to stone.
Next time we shall hear the tragic end of Cephalus' tale, and the war with Minos begins in earnest.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#6
Cephelus,
a Legendary Passage,
from Ovid's Metamorphoses,
translated by Brookes More.
Book 7 [661] - [796]
As twilight fell, festivities were blended in the night- the night, in turn, afforded sweet repose. Soon as the golden Sun had shown his light, the east wind blowing still, the ships were stayed from sailing home.
The sons of Pallas came to Cephalus, who was the elder called; and Cephalus together with the sons of Pallas, went to see the king. Deep sleep still held the king; and Phocus who was son of Aeacus, received them at the gate, instead of Telamon and Peleus who were marshalling the men for war.
Into the inner court and beautiful apartments Phocus conducted the Athenians, and they sat down together. Phocus then observed that Cephalus held in his hand a curious javelin with golden head, and shaft of some rare wood.
And as they talked, he said; "It is my pleasure to explore the forest in the chase of startled game, and so I've learned the nature of rare woods, but never have I seen the match of this from which was fashioned this good javelin; it lacks the yellow tint of forest ash, it is not knotted like all corner-wood; although I cannot name the kind of wood, my eyes have never seen a javelin-shaft so beautiful as this."
To him replied a friend of Cephalus; "But you will find its beauty is not equal to its worth, for whatsoever it is aimed against, its flight is always certain to the mark, nor is it subject to the shift of chance; and after it has struck, although no hand may cast it back, it certainly returns, bloodstained with every victim."
Then indeed, was Phocus anxious to be told, whence came and who had given such a precious gift. And Cephalus appeared to tell him all; but craftily was silent on one strange condition of the fatal gift. As he recalled the mournful fate of his dear wife, his eyes filled up with tears.
"Ah, pity me," he said, "If Fate should grant me many years, I must weep every time that I regard this weapon which has been my cause of tears; the unforgiven death of my dear wife- ah, would that I had never handled it! My sweet wife, Procris!- if you could compare her beauty with her sister's- Orithyia's, (ravished by the blustering Boreas) you would declare my wife more beautiful. 'Tis she her sire Erectheus joined to me, 'Tis she the god Love also joined to me. They called me happy, and in truth I was, and all pronounced us so until the Gods decreed it otherwise.
"Two joyful months of our united love were almost passed, when, as the grey light of the dawn dispelled, upon the summit of Hymettus green, Aurora, glorious in her golden robes, observed me busy with encircling nets, trapping the antlered deer. Against my will incited by desire, she carried me away with her. Oh, let me not increase her anger, for I tell you what is true, I found no comfort in her lovely face! And, though she is the very queen of light, and reigns upon the edge of shadowy space where she is nourished on rich nectar-wine, adding delight to beauty, I could give no heed to her entreaties, for the thought of my beloved Procris intervened; and only her sweet name was on my lips.
"I told Aurora of our wedding joys and all refreshing joys of love- and my first union of my couch deserted now: Enraged against me, then the goddess said: `Keep to your Procris, I but trouble you, ungrateful clown! but, if you can be warned, you will no longer wish for her!" And so, in anger, she returned me to my wife.
"Alas, as I retraced the weary way, long-brooding over all Aurora said, suspicion made me doubtful of my wife, so faithful and so fair.- But many things reminding me of steadfast virtue, I suppressed all doubts; until the dreadful thought of my long absence filled my jealous mind: from which I argued to the criminal advances of Aurora; for if she, so lovely in appearance, did conceal such passion in the garb of innocence until the moment of temptation, how could I be certain of the purity of even the strongest when the best are frail? So brooding- every effort I devised to cause my own undoing.
"By the means of bribing presents, favored by disguise, I sought to win her guarded chastity. Aurora had disguised me, and her guile determined me to work in subtle snares. Unknown to all my friends, I paced the streets of sacred Athens till I reached my home.
I hoped to search out evidence of guilt: but everything seemed waiting my return; and all the household breathed an air of grief. With difficulty I, disguised, obtained an entrance to her presence by the use of artifices many: and when I there saw her, silent in her grief,- amazed, my heart no longer prompted me to test such constant love. An infinite desire took hold upon me. I could scarce restrain an impulse to caress and kiss her. Pale with grief that I was gone, her lovely face in sorrow was more beautiful- the world has not another so divinely fair. Ah, Phocus, it is wonderful to think of beauty so surpassing fair it seems more lovable in sorrow!
"Why relate to you how often she repulsed my feigned attempts upon her virtue? To each plea she said: `I serve one man: no matter where he may be I will keep my love for one."
"Who but a man insane with jealousy, would doubt the virtue of a loving wife, when tempted by the most insidious wiles, whose hallowed honor was her husband's love? But I, not satisfied with proof complete, would not abandon my depraved desire to poison the pure fountain I should guard;- increasing my temptations, I caused her to hesitate, and covet a rich gift.
"Then, angered at my own success, I said, discarding all disguise, `Behold the man whose lavish promise has established proof, the witness of your shameful treachery; your absent husband has returned to this!"
"Unable to endure a ruined home, where desecration held her sin to view, despairing and in silent shame she fled; and I, the author of that wickedness ran after: but enraged at my deceit and hating all mankind, she wandered far in wildest mountains; hunting the wild game.
"I grieved at her desertion; and the fires of my neglected love consumed my health; with greater violence my love increased, until unable to endure such pain, I begged forgiveness and acknowledged fault: nor hesitated to declare that I might yield, the same way tempted, if such great gifts had been offered to me. When I had made abject confession and she had avenged her outraged feelings, she came back to me and we spent golden years in harmony.
"She gave to me the hound she fondly loved, the very one Diana gave to her when lovingly the goddess had declared, `This hound all others shall excel in speed." Nor was that gift the only one was given by kind Diana when my wife was hers, as you may guess- this javelin I hold forth, no other but a goddess could bestow. Would you be told the story of both gifts attend my words and you shall be amazed, for never such another sad event has added sorrow to the grieving world.
"After the son of Laius,- Oedipus,- had solved the riddle of the monster-sphinx, so often baffling to the wits of men, and after she had fallen from her hill, mangled, forgetful of her riddling craft; not unrevenged the mighty Themis brooked her loss. Without delay that goddess raised another savage beast to ravage Thebes, by which the farmer's cattle were devoured, the land was ruined and its people slain. Then all the valiant young men of the realm, with whom I also went, enclosed the field (where lurked the monster) in a mesh of many tangled nets: but not a strand could stay its onrush, and it leaped the crest of every barrier where the toils were set. Already they had urged their eager dogs, which swiftly as a bird it left behind, eluding all the hunters as it fled.
"At last all begged me to let slip the leash of straining Tempest; such I called the hound, my dear wife's present. As he tugged and pulled upon the tightened cords, I let them slip: no sooner done, then he was lost to sight; although, wherever struck his rapid feet the hot dust whirled. Not swifter flies the spear, nor whizzing bullet from the twisted sling, nor feathered arrow from the twanging bow!
"A high hill jutted from a rolling plain, on which I mounted to enjoy the sight of that unequalled chase. One moment caught, the next as surely free, the wild beast seemed now here now there, elusive in its flight; swiftly sped onward, or with sudden turn doubled in circles to deceive or gain. With equal speed pursuing at each turn, the rapid hound could neither gain nor lose. Now springing forward and now doubling back, his great speed foiled, he snapped at empty air.
"I then turned to my javelin's aid; and while I poised it in my right hand, turned away my gaze a moment as I sought to twine my practiced fingers in the guiding thongs; but when again I lifted up my eyes, to cast the javelin where the monster sped, I saw two marble statues standing there, transformed upon the plain.
"One statue seemed to strain in attitude of rapid flight, the other with wide-open jaws was changed, just in the act of barking and pursuit. Surely some God- if any god controls- decreed both equal, neither could succeed."
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#6
Last time an Athenian ship arrived at Aegina, and King Aeacus told them the origins of the Myrmidons. This time Cephalus tells how he acquired his magic javelin, which never misses and returns to its owners hand.
Cephalus was married to Procris, the beautiful daughter of King Erechtheus of Athens. Now Cephalus loved to go hunting alone, and one day was abducted by the Auroroa, the goddess of radiant beauty. But he loved his wife and wished to go back to her. Auroroa agrees and disguises him, so that he can see if Procris was faithful to him.
When he gets home, it seems that everything is waiting for him, including his wife. He tempts her with a lavish gift for a mere kiss, and she hesitates. He reveals himself, and she flees, ashamed.
She has her own adventures, but eventually returns to him, and gives him the the unerring javelin and a dog Lelaps that catches whatever it chases.
Cephalus then tells the story of the Teumessian Fox or Cadmean Vixen that was terrorizing Thebes. It was so fast that it could never be caught. So, of course, he sent Lelaps. The dog that catches everything chasing the uncatchable fox created a paradox, so the gods turned both to stone.
Next time we shall hear the tragic end of Cephalus' tale, and the war with Minos begins in earnest.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#6
Cephelus,
a Legendary Passage,
from Ovid's Metamorphoses,
translated by Brookes More.
Book 7 [661] - [796]
As twilight fell, festivities were blended in the night- the night, in turn, afforded sweet repose. Soon as the golden Sun had shown his light, the east wind blowing still, the ships were stayed from sailing home.
The sons of Pallas came to Cephalus, who was the elder called; and Cephalus together with the sons of Pallas, went to see the king. Deep sleep still held the king; and Phocus who was son of Aeacus, received them at the gate, instead of Telamon and Peleus who were marshalling the men for war.
Into the inner court and beautiful apartments Phocus conducted the Athenians, and they sat down together. Phocus then observed that Cephalus held in his hand a curious javelin with golden head, and shaft of some rare wood.
And as they talked, he said; "It is my pleasure to explore the forest in the chase of startled game, and so I've learned the nature of rare woods, but never have I seen the match of this from which was fashioned this good javelin; it lacks the yellow tint of forest ash, it is not knotted like all corner-wood; although I cannot name the kind of wood, my eyes have never seen a javelin-shaft so beautiful as this."
To him replied a friend of Cephalus; "But you will find its beauty is not equal to its worth, for whatsoever it is aimed against, its flight is always certain to the mark, nor is it subject to the shift of chance; and after it has struck, although no hand may cast it back, it certainly returns, bloodstained with every victim."
Then indeed, was Phocus anxious to be told, whence came and who had given such a precious gift. And Cephalus appeared to tell him all; but craftily was silent on one strange condition of the fatal gift. As he recalled the mournful fate of his dear wife, his eyes filled up with tears.
"Ah, pity me," he said, "If Fate should grant me many years, I must weep every time that I regard this weapon which has been my cause of tears; the unforgiven death of my dear wife- ah, would that I had never handled it! My sweet wife, Procris!- if you could compare her beauty with her sister's- Orithyia's, (ravished by the blustering Boreas) you would declare my wife more beautiful. 'Tis she her sire Erectheus joined to me, 'Tis she the god Love also joined to me. They called me happy, and in truth I was, and all pronounced us so until the Gods decreed it otherwise.
"Two joyful months of our united love were almost passed, when, as the grey light of the dawn dispelled, upon the summit of Hymettus green, Aurora, glorious in her golden robes, observed me busy with encircling nets, trapping the antlered deer. Against my will incited by desire, she carried me away with her. Oh, let me not increase her anger, for I tell you what is true, I found no comfort in her lovely face! And, though she is the very queen of light, and reigns upon the edge of shadowy space where she is nourished on rich nectar-wine, adding delight to beauty, I could give no heed to her entreaties, for the thought of my beloved Procris intervened; and only her sweet name was on my lips.
"I told Aurora of our wedding joys and all refreshing joys of love- and my first union of my couch deserted now: Enraged against me, then the goddess said: `Keep to your Procris, I but trouble you, ungrateful clown! but, if you can be warned, you will no longer wish for her!" And so, in anger, she returned me to my wife.
"Alas, as I retraced the weary way, long-brooding over all Aurora said, suspicion made me doubtful of my wife, so faithful and so fair.- But many things reminding me of steadfast virtue, I suppressed all doubts; until the dreadful thought of my long absence filled my jealous mind: from which I argued to the criminal advances of Aurora; for if she, so lovely in appearance, did conceal such passion in the garb of innocence until the moment of temptation, how could I be certain of the purity of even the strongest when the best are frail? So brooding- every effort I devised to cause my own undoing.
"By the means of bribing presents, favored by disguise, I sought to win her guarded chastity. Aurora had disguised me, and her guile determined me to work in subtle snares. Unknown to all my friends, I paced the streets of sacred Athens till I reached my home.
I hoped to search out evidence of guilt: but everything seemed waiting my return; and all the household breathed an air of grief. With difficulty I, disguised, obtained an entrance to her presence by the use of artifices many: and when I there saw her, silent in her grief,- amazed, my heart no longer prompted me to test such constant love. An infinite desire took hold upon me. I could scarce restrain an impulse to caress and kiss her. Pale with grief that I was gone, her lovely face in sorrow was more beautiful- the world has not another so divinely fair. Ah, Phocus, it is wonderful to think of beauty so surpassing fair it seems more lovable in sorrow!
"Why relate to you how often she repulsed my feigned attempts upon her virtue? To each plea she said: `I serve one man: no matter where he may be I will keep my love for one."
"Who but a man insane with jealousy, would doubt the virtue of a loving wife, when tempted by the most insidious wiles, whose hallowed honor was her husband's love? But I, not satisfied with proof complete, would not abandon my depraved desire to poison the pure fountain I should guard;- increasing my temptations, I caused her to hesitate, and covet a rich gift.
"Then, angered at my own success, I said, discarding all disguise, `Behold the man whose lavish promise has established proof, the witness of your shameful treachery; your absent husband has returned to this!"
"Unable to endure a ruined home, where desecration held her sin to view, despairing and in silent shame she fled; and I, the author of that wickedness ran after: but enraged at my deceit and hating all mankind, she wandered far in wildest mountains; hunting the wild game.
"I grieved at her desertion; and the fires of my neglected love consumed my health; with greater violence my love increased, until unable to endure such pain, I begged forgiveness and acknowledged fault: nor hesitated to declare that I might yield, the same way tempted, if such great gifts had been offered to me. When I had made abject confession and she had avenged her outraged feelings, she came back to me and we spent golden years in harmony.
"She gave to me the hound she fondly loved, the very one Diana gave to her when lovingly the goddess had declared, `This hound all others shall excel in speed." Nor was that gift the only one was given by kind Diana when my wife was hers, as you may guess- this javelin I hold forth, no other but a goddess could bestow. Would you be told the story of both gifts attend my words and you shall be amazed, for never such another sad event has added sorrow to the grieving world.
"After the son of Laius,- Oedipus,- had solved the riddle of the monster-sphinx, so often baffling to the wits of men, and after she had fallen from her hill, mangled, forgetful of her riddling craft; not unrevenged the mighty Themis brooked her loss. Without delay that goddess raised another savage beast to ravage Thebes, by which the farmer's cattle were devoured, the land was ruined and its people slain. Then all the valiant young men of the realm, with whom I also went, enclosed the field (where lurked the monster) in a mesh of many tangled nets: but not a strand could stay its onrush, and it leaped the crest of every barrier where the toils were set. Already they had urged their eager dogs, which swiftly as a bird it left behind, eluding all the hunters as it fled.
"At last all begged me to let slip the leash of straining Tempest; such I called the hound, my dear wife's present. As he tugged and pulled upon the tightened cords, I let them slip: no sooner done, then he was lost to sight; although, wherever struck his rapid feet the hot dust whirled. Not swifter flies the spear, nor whizzing bullet from the twisted sling, nor feathered arrow from the twanging bow!
"A high hill jutted from a rolling plain, on which I mounted to enjoy the sight of that unequalled chase. One moment caught, the next as surely free, the wild beast seemed now here now there, elusive in its flight; swiftly sped onward, or with sudden turn doubled in circles to deceive or gain. With equal speed pursuing at each turn, the rapid hound could neither gain nor lose. Now springing forward and now doubling back, his great speed foiled, he snapped at empty air.
"I then turned to my javelin's aid; and while I poised it in my right hand, turned away my gaze a moment as I sought to twine my practiced fingers in the guiding thongs; but when again I lifted up my eyes, to cast the javelin where the monster sped, I saw two marble statues standing there, transformed upon the plain.
"One statue seemed to strain in attitude of rapid flight, the other with wide-open jaws was changed, just in the act of barking and pursuit. Surely some God- if any god controls- decreed both equal, neither could succeed."
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#6
LP0015 - Myrmidons - Ovid's Metamorphoses -
Legendary Passages #0015 - Myrmidons - Ovid's Metamorphoses -
Last time we heard of Medea and Aegeus, and how Minos asked King Aeacus of Aegina for an alliance, but was refused. We shall continue the passage with King Aeacus welcoming an embassy from Athens.
The Athenian ship docs at Aegina. Cephalus asks why they have so many young men, but few elders. Aeacus explains that there was a terrible plague recently.
King Aeacus prayed for help from Jupiter. That night he dreamed. Ants began to grow in stature and to take the form of men. His son Telamon awakens him, telling him that his dream has came true! Many men have landed on the isle, and all pledge themselves to him. That is the reason the men of Aegina are called Myrmidons, because the word literally means 'ant-people'.
Next time, the passage continues with the story of Cephelus and his magic javelin.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#5
Myrmidons,
a Legendary Passage,
from Ovid's Metamorphoses,
translated by Brookes More.
Book 7 [490] - [661]
Before the ships of Crete had disappeared, before the mist and blue of waves concealed their fading outlines from the anxious throng which gathered on Oenopian shores, a ship of Athens covered with wide sails appeared, and anchored safely by their friendly shore; and, presently, the mighty Cephalus, well known through all that nation for his deeds, addressed them as he landed, and declared the good will of his people.
Him the sons of Aeacus remembered well, although they had not seen him for some untold years. They led him to their father's welcome home; and with him, also, his two comrades went, Clytus and Butes.
Center of all eyes, the hero still retained his charm, the customary greetings were exchanged, the graceful hero, bearing in his hands a branch of olive from his native soil, delivered the Athenian message, which requested aid and offered for their thought the treaty and the ancestral league between their nations. And he added, Minos sought not only conquest of the Athenian state but sovereignty of all the states of Greece.
And when this eloquence had shown his cause; with left hand on his gleaming sceptre's hilt, King Aeacus exclaimed: "Ask not our aid, but take it, Athens; and count boldly yours all of the force this island holds, and all things which the state of my affairs supplies. My strength for this war is not light, and I have many soldiers for myself and for my enemy. Thanks to the Gods! the times are happy, giving no excuse for my refusal."
"May it prove so," Cephalus replied, "and may your city multiply in men: just now as I was landing, I rejoiced to meet youths, fair and matched in age. And yet I miss among them many whom I saw before when last I visited your city."
Aeacus then groaned and with sad voice replied: "With weeping we began, but better fortune followed. Would that I could tell the last of it, and not the first! Giving my heart command that simple words and briefly spoken may not long detain. Those happy youths who waited at your need, who smiled upon you and for whom you ask, because their absence grieves your noble mind, they've perished! and their bleaching bones or scattered ashes, only may remain, sad remnants, impotent, of vanished power, so recently my hope and my resource.
Because this island bears a rival's name, a deadly pestilence was visited on my confiding people, through the rage of jealous Juno flaming for revenge. This great calamity at first appeared a natural disease- but soon its power baffled our utmost efforts. Medicines availing not, a reign of terror swept from shore to shore and fearful havoc raged. Thick darkness, gathered from descending skies, enveloped our devoted land with heat and languid sickness, for the space of full four moons.
Four times the Moon increased her size. Hot south winds blew with pestilential breath upon us. At the same time the diseased infection reached our needed springs and pools, thousands of serpents crawling over our deserted fields, defiled our rivers with their poison. The swift power of the disease at first was limited to death of dogs and birds and cattle, or among wild beasts. The luckless plowman marvels when he sees his strong bulls fall while at their task and sink down in the furrow. Woolly flocks bleat feebly while their wool falls off without a cause, and while their bodies pine away. The prized horse of high courage, and of great renown when on the race-course, has now lost victorious spirit, and forgetting his remembered glory groans in his shut stall, doomed for inglorious death. The boar forgets to rage, the stag to trust his speed; and even the famished bear to fight the stronger herd.
"Death seizes on the vitals of all life; and in the woods, and in the fields and roads the loathsome bodies of the dead corrupt the heavy-hanging air. Even the dogs, the vultures and the wolves refuse to touch the putrid flesh, there in the sultry sun rotting upon the earth; emitting steams, and exhalations, with a baneful sweep increasing the dread contagion's wide extent.
So spreading, with renewed destruction gained from its own poison, the fierce pestilence appeared to leap from moulding carcases of all the brute creation, till it struck the wretched tillers of the soil, and then extended its dominion over all this mighty city.
Always it began as if the patient's bowels were scorched with flames; red blotches on the body next appeared, and sharp pains in the lungs prevented breath. The swollen tongue would presently loll out, rough and discolored from the gaping mouth, wide-gasping to inhale the noxious air- and show red throbbing veins.
The softest bed. And richest covering gave to none relief; but rather, the diseased would bare himself to cool his burning breast upon the ground, only to heat the earth- and no relief returned. And no physician could be found; for those who ministered among the sick were first to suffer from the dread disease- the cruel malady broke out upon the very ones who offered remedies. The hallowed art of medicine became a deadly snare to those who knew it best.
The only safety was in flight; and those who were the nearest to the stricken ones, and who most faithfully observed their wants, were always first to suffer as their wards. And many, certain of approaching death, indulged their wicked passions- recklessly abandoned and without the sense of shame, promiscuously huddled by the wells, and rivers and cool fountains; but their thirst no water could assuage, and death alone was able to extinguish their desire. Too weak to rise, they die in water they pollute, while others drink its death.
A madness seizing on them made their beds become most irksome to their tortured nerves. Demented they could not endure the pain, and leaped insanely forth. Or if too weak, the wretches rolled their bodies on the ground, insistent to escape from hated homes- imagined sources of calamity; for, since the cause was hidden and unknown, the horrible locality was blamed. Suspicion seizes on each frail presence as proof of what can never be resolved. And many half-dead wretches staggered out on sultry roads as long as they could stand; and others weeping, stretched out on the ground, died in convulsions, as their rolling eyes gazed upwards at the overhanging clouds; under the sad stars they breathed out their souls.
"And oh, the deep despair that seized on me, the sovereign of that wretched people! I was tortured with a passionate desire to die the same death- And I hated life. No matter where my shrinking eyes were turned, I saw a multitude of gruesome forms in ghastly attitudes bestrew the ground, scattered as rotten apples that have dropped from moving branches, or as acorns thick around a gnarled oak.
Lift up your eyes! Behold that holy temple! unto Jove long dedicated!- What availed the prayers of frightened multitudes, or incense burned on those devoted altars?- In the midst of his most fervent supplications, the husband as he pled for his dear wife, or the fond father for his stricken son, would suddenly, before a word prevailed, die clutching at the altars of his Gods, while holding in his stiffened hand, a spray of frankincense still waiting for the fire.
How often sacrificial bulls have been brought to those temples, and while white-robed priest was pouring offered wine between their horns, have fallen without waiting for the stroke. While I prepared a sacrifice to Jove, for my behalf, my country and three sons, the victim, ever moaning dismal sounds, before a blow was struck, fell suddenly beside the altar; and his scanty blood ran thinly from the knives that slaughtered him. His entrails, wanting all the marks of truth were so diseased, the warnings of the Gods could not be read- the baneful malady had penetrated to the heart of life.
And I have seen the carcases of men lie rotting at the sacred temple gates, or by the very altars, where they fell, making death odious to the living Gods. And often I have seen some desperate man end life by his own halter, and so cheat by voluntary death his fear of death, in mad haste to outrun approaching fate.
The bodies of the dead, indecently were cast forth, lacking sacred funeral rites as hitherto the custom. All the gates were crowded with processions of the dead. Unburied, they might lie upon the ground, or else, deserted, on their lofty pyres with no one to lament their dismal end, dissolve in their dishonored ashes. All restraint forgotten, a mad rabble fought and took possession of the burning pyres, and even the dead were ravished of their rest.- And who should mourn them wanting, all the souls of sons and husbands, and of old and young, must wander unlamented: and the land sufficed not for the crowded sepulchers: and the dense forest was denuded of all trees.
"Heart-broken at the sight of this great woe, I wailed, `O Jupiter! if truth were told of your sweet comfort in Aegina's arms, if you were not ashamed of me, your son, restore my people, or entomb my corpse, that I may suffer as the ones I love.'
Great lightning flashed around me, and the sound of thunder proved that my complaint was heard. Accepting it, I cried, `Let these, Great Jove, the happy signs of your assent, be shown good omens given as a sacred pledge.'
"Near by, a sacred oak tree grown from seed brought thither from Dodona, spread abroad its branches thinly covered with green leaves; and creeping as an army, on the tree we saw a train of ants that carried grain, half-hidden in the deep and wrinkled bark. And while I wondered at the endless line I said, `Good father, give me citizens of equal number for my empty walls.'
Soon as I said those words, though not a wind was moving nor a breeze,- the lofty tree began to tremble, and I heard a sound of motion in its branches. Wonder not that sudden fear possessed me; and my hair began to rise; and I could hardly stand for so my weak knees tottered!- As I made obeisance to the soil and sacred tree, perhaps I cherished in my heart a thought, that, not acknowledged, cheered me with some hope.
At night I lay exhausted by such thoughts, a deep sleep seized my body, but the tree seemed always present- to my gaze distinct with all its branches- I could even see the birds among its leaves; and from its boughs, that trembled in the still air, moving ants were scattered to the ground in troops below; and ever, as they touched the soil, they grew larger and larger.- As they raised themselves, they stood with upright bodies, and put off their lean shapes; and absorbed their many feet: and even as their dark brown color changed, their rounded forms took on a human shape.
"When my strange dream departed, I awoke, the vision vanished, I complained to Heaven against the idle comfort of such dreams; but as I voiced my own lament, I heard a mighty murmur echoing through the halls of my deserted palace, and a multitude of voices in confusion; where the sound of scarce an echo had disturbed the still deserted chambers for so many days.
All this I thought the fancy of my dream, until my brave son Telamon, in haste threw open the closed doorway, as he called, `Come quickly father, and behold a sight beyond the utmost of your fondest dreams!'
I did go out, and there I saw such men each in his turn, as I had seen transformed in that weird vision of the moving ants.
They all advanced, and hailed me as their king. So soon as I had offered vows to Jove, I subdivided the deserted farms, and dwellings in the cities to these men miraculously raised- which now are called my Myrmidons,- the living evidence of my strange vision. You have seen these men; and since that day, their name has been declared, `Decisive evidence.'
They have retained the well-known customs of the days before their transformation. Patiently they toil; they store the profits of their labor; which they guard with valiant skill. They'll follow you to any war, well matched in years and courage, and I do promise, when this east wind turns, this wind that favored you and brought you here, and when a south wind favors our design, then my brave Myrmidons will go with you."
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#5
Last time we heard of Medea and Aegeus, and how Minos asked King Aeacus of Aegina for an alliance, but was refused. We shall continue the passage with King Aeacus welcoming an embassy from Athens.
The Athenian ship docs at Aegina. Cephalus asks why they have so many young men, but few elders. Aeacus explains that there was a terrible plague recently.
King Aeacus prayed for help from Jupiter. That night he dreamed. Ants began to grow in stature and to take the form of men. His son Telamon awakens him, telling him that his dream has came true! Many men have landed on the isle, and all pledge themselves to him. That is the reason the men of Aegina are called Myrmidons, because the word literally means 'ant-people'.
Next time, the passage continues with the story of Cephelus and his magic javelin.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#5
Myrmidons,
a Legendary Passage,
from Ovid's Metamorphoses,
translated by Brookes More.
Book 7 [490] - [661]
Before the ships of Crete had disappeared, before the mist and blue of waves concealed their fading outlines from the anxious throng which gathered on Oenopian shores, a ship of Athens covered with wide sails appeared, and anchored safely by their friendly shore; and, presently, the mighty Cephalus, well known through all that nation for his deeds, addressed them as he landed, and declared the good will of his people.
Him the sons of Aeacus remembered well, although they had not seen him for some untold years. They led him to their father's welcome home; and with him, also, his two comrades went, Clytus and Butes.
Center of all eyes, the hero still retained his charm, the customary greetings were exchanged, the graceful hero, bearing in his hands a branch of olive from his native soil, delivered the Athenian message, which requested aid and offered for their thought the treaty and the ancestral league between their nations. And he added, Minos sought not only conquest of the Athenian state but sovereignty of all the states of Greece.
And when this eloquence had shown his cause; with left hand on his gleaming sceptre's hilt, King Aeacus exclaimed: "Ask not our aid, but take it, Athens; and count boldly yours all of the force this island holds, and all things which the state of my affairs supplies. My strength for this war is not light, and I have many soldiers for myself and for my enemy. Thanks to the Gods! the times are happy, giving no excuse for my refusal."
"May it prove so," Cephalus replied, "and may your city multiply in men: just now as I was landing, I rejoiced to meet youths, fair and matched in age. And yet I miss among them many whom I saw before when last I visited your city."
Aeacus then groaned and with sad voice replied: "With weeping we began, but better fortune followed. Would that I could tell the last of it, and not the first! Giving my heart command that simple words and briefly spoken may not long detain. Those happy youths who waited at your need, who smiled upon you and for whom you ask, because their absence grieves your noble mind, they've perished! and their bleaching bones or scattered ashes, only may remain, sad remnants, impotent, of vanished power, so recently my hope and my resource.
Because this island bears a rival's name, a deadly pestilence was visited on my confiding people, through the rage of jealous Juno flaming for revenge. This great calamity at first appeared a natural disease- but soon its power baffled our utmost efforts. Medicines availing not, a reign of terror swept from shore to shore and fearful havoc raged. Thick darkness, gathered from descending skies, enveloped our devoted land with heat and languid sickness, for the space of full four moons.
Four times the Moon increased her size. Hot south winds blew with pestilential breath upon us. At the same time the diseased infection reached our needed springs and pools, thousands of serpents crawling over our deserted fields, defiled our rivers with their poison. The swift power of the disease at first was limited to death of dogs and birds and cattle, or among wild beasts. The luckless plowman marvels when he sees his strong bulls fall while at their task and sink down in the furrow. Woolly flocks bleat feebly while their wool falls off without a cause, and while their bodies pine away. The prized horse of high courage, and of great renown when on the race-course, has now lost victorious spirit, and forgetting his remembered glory groans in his shut stall, doomed for inglorious death. The boar forgets to rage, the stag to trust his speed; and even the famished bear to fight the stronger herd.
"Death seizes on the vitals of all life; and in the woods, and in the fields and roads the loathsome bodies of the dead corrupt the heavy-hanging air. Even the dogs, the vultures and the wolves refuse to touch the putrid flesh, there in the sultry sun rotting upon the earth; emitting steams, and exhalations, with a baneful sweep increasing the dread contagion's wide extent.
So spreading, with renewed destruction gained from its own poison, the fierce pestilence appeared to leap from moulding carcases of all the brute creation, till it struck the wretched tillers of the soil, and then extended its dominion over all this mighty city.
Always it began as if the patient's bowels were scorched with flames; red blotches on the body next appeared, and sharp pains in the lungs prevented breath. The swollen tongue would presently loll out, rough and discolored from the gaping mouth, wide-gasping to inhale the noxious air- and show red throbbing veins.
The softest bed. And richest covering gave to none relief; but rather, the diseased would bare himself to cool his burning breast upon the ground, only to heat the earth- and no relief returned. And no physician could be found; for those who ministered among the sick were first to suffer from the dread disease- the cruel malady broke out upon the very ones who offered remedies. The hallowed art of medicine became a deadly snare to those who knew it best.
The only safety was in flight; and those who were the nearest to the stricken ones, and who most faithfully observed their wants, were always first to suffer as their wards. And many, certain of approaching death, indulged their wicked passions- recklessly abandoned and without the sense of shame, promiscuously huddled by the wells, and rivers and cool fountains; but their thirst no water could assuage, and death alone was able to extinguish their desire. Too weak to rise, they die in water they pollute, while others drink its death.
A madness seizing on them made their beds become most irksome to their tortured nerves. Demented they could not endure the pain, and leaped insanely forth. Or if too weak, the wretches rolled their bodies on the ground, insistent to escape from hated homes- imagined sources of calamity; for, since the cause was hidden and unknown, the horrible locality was blamed. Suspicion seizes on each frail presence as proof of what can never be resolved. And many half-dead wretches staggered out on sultry roads as long as they could stand; and others weeping, stretched out on the ground, died in convulsions, as their rolling eyes gazed upwards at the overhanging clouds; under the sad stars they breathed out their souls.
"And oh, the deep despair that seized on me, the sovereign of that wretched people! I was tortured with a passionate desire to die the same death- And I hated life. No matter where my shrinking eyes were turned, I saw a multitude of gruesome forms in ghastly attitudes bestrew the ground, scattered as rotten apples that have dropped from moving branches, or as acorns thick around a gnarled oak.
Lift up your eyes! Behold that holy temple! unto Jove long dedicated!- What availed the prayers of frightened multitudes, or incense burned on those devoted altars?- In the midst of his most fervent supplications, the husband as he pled for his dear wife, or the fond father for his stricken son, would suddenly, before a word prevailed, die clutching at the altars of his Gods, while holding in his stiffened hand, a spray of frankincense still waiting for the fire.
How often sacrificial bulls have been brought to those temples, and while white-robed priest was pouring offered wine between their horns, have fallen without waiting for the stroke. While I prepared a sacrifice to Jove, for my behalf, my country and three sons, the victim, ever moaning dismal sounds, before a blow was struck, fell suddenly beside the altar; and his scanty blood ran thinly from the knives that slaughtered him. His entrails, wanting all the marks of truth were so diseased, the warnings of the Gods could not be read- the baneful malady had penetrated to the heart of life.
And I have seen the carcases of men lie rotting at the sacred temple gates, or by the very altars, where they fell, making death odious to the living Gods. And often I have seen some desperate man end life by his own halter, and so cheat by voluntary death his fear of death, in mad haste to outrun approaching fate.
The bodies of the dead, indecently were cast forth, lacking sacred funeral rites as hitherto the custom. All the gates were crowded with processions of the dead. Unburied, they might lie upon the ground, or else, deserted, on their lofty pyres with no one to lament their dismal end, dissolve in their dishonored ashes. All restraint forgotten, a mad rabble fought and took possession of the burning pyres, and even the dead were ravished of their rest.- And who should mourn them wanting, all the souls of sons and husbands, and of old and young, must wander unlamented: and the land sufficed not for the crowded sepulchers: and the dense forest was denuded of all trees.
"Heart-broken at the sight of this great woe, I wailed, `O Jupiter! if truth were told of your sweet comfort in Aegina's arms, if you were not ashamed of me, your son, restore my people, or entomb my corpse, that I may suffer as the ones I love.'
Great lightning flashed around me, and the sound of thunder proved that my complaint was heard. Accepting it, I cried, `Let these, Great Jove, the happy signs of your assent, be shown good omens given as a sacred pledge.'
"Near by, a sacred oak tree grown from seed brought thither from Dodona, spread abroad its branches thinly covered with green leaves; and creeping as an army, on the tree we saw a train of ants that carried grain, half-hidden in the deep and wrinkled bark. And while I wondered at the endless line I said, `Good father, give me citizens of equal number for my empty walls.'
Soon as I said those words, though not a wind was moving nor a breeze,- the lofty tree began to tremble, and I heard a sound of motion in its branches. Wonder not that sudden fear possessed me; and my hair began to rise; and I could hardly stand for so my weak knees tottered!- As I made obeisance to the soil and sacred tree, perhaps I cherished in my heart a thought, that, not acknowledged, cheered me with some hope.
At night I lay exhausted by such thoughts, a deep sleep seized my body, but the tree seemed always present- to my gaze distinct with all its branches- I could even see the birds among its leaves; and from its boughs, that trembled in the still air, moving ants were scattered to the ground in troops below; and ever, as they touched the soil, they grew larger and larger.- As they raised themselves, they stood with upright bodies, and put off their lean shapes; and absorbed their many feet: and even as their dark brown color changed, their rounded forms took on a human shape.
"When my strange dream departed, I awoke, the vision vanished, I complained to Heaven against the idle comfort of such dreams; but as I voiced my own lament, I heard a mighty murmur echoing through the halls of my deserted palace, and a multitude of voices in confusion; where the sound of scarce an echo had disturbed the still deserted chambers for so many days.
All this I thought the fancy of my dream, until my brave son Telamon, in haste threw open the closed doorway, as he called, `Come quickly father, and behold a sight beyond the utmost of your fondest dreams!'
I did go out, and there I saw such men each in his turn, as I had seen transformed in that weird vision of the moving ants.
They all advanced, and hailed me as their king. So soon as I had offered vows to Jove, I subdivided the deserted farms, and dwellings in the cities to these men miraculously raised- which now are called my Myrmidons,- the living evidence of my strange vision. You have seen these men; and since that day, their name has been declared, `Decisive evidence.'
They have retained the well-known customs of the days before their transformation. Patiently they toil; they store the profits of their labor; which they guard with valiant skill. They'll follow you to any war, well matched in years and courage, and I do promise, when this east wind turns, this wind that favored you and brought you here, and when a south wind favors our design, then my brave Myrmidons will go with you."
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#5
LP0014 - Medea and Aegeus - Ovid's Metamorphoses -
Legendary Passages #0014 - Medea and Aegeus - Ovid's Metamorphoses -
This passage from Ovid's Metamorphoses begins just after Medea causes the death of Pelias. With her dragons she flies all across Greece, before landing at Corinth. Jason leaves her for the princess there, so she burns down the palace, kills Jason's sons, and flies away again.
She goes to Athens and marries King Aegeus, but when his son Theseus comes, she prepares poisonous aconite to kill him. His father recognizes his son and saves him, and Medea escapes again. There is a massive welcome home party, and singers recount the adventures of Theseus on his way to Athens.
But King Minos is preparing for war with Athens by recruiting allies from island nations. He sails to Aegina, ruled by King Aeacus, father of Phocus, Peleias and Telamon. Minos asks him for aid and alliance to avenge his dead son, but Aeacus declines, saying that he and Athens are old allies.
This passage continues on for four more episodes. Next time a ship of Athens makes landing, and we shall learn why the men of Aegina are called Myrmidons.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#4
Medea and Aegeus,
a Legendary Passage,
from Ovid's Metamorphoses,
translated by Brookes More.
Book 7 [350] - [469]
Only because her winged dragons sailed swiftly with her up to the lofty sky, escaped Medea punishment for this unheard of crime. Her chariot sailed above embowered Pelion, long the lofty home of Chiron, over Othrys, and the vale made famous where Cerambus met his fate. Cerambus, by the aid of nymphs, from there was wafted through the air on wings, when earth was covered by the overwhelming sea and so escaped Deucalion's flood, uncrowned.
She passed by Pittane upon the left, with its huge serpent-image of hard stone, and also passed the grove called Ida's, where the stolen bull was changed by Bacchus' power into a hunted stag in that same vale Paris lies buried in the sand; and over fields where Mera warning harked, Medea flew; over the city of Eurypylus upon the Isle of Cos, whose women wore the horns of cattle when from there had gone the herd of Hercules; and over Rhodes beloved of Phoebus, where Telchinian tribes dwelt, whose bad eyes corrupting power shot forth; Jove, utterly despising, thrust them deep beneath his brother's waves; over the walls of old Carthaea, where Alcidamas had seen with wonder a tame dove arise from his own daughter's body.
And she saw the lakes of Hyrie in Teumesia's Vale, by swans frequented. There to satisfy his love for Cycnus, Phyllius gave two living vultures: shell for him subdued a lion, and delivered it to him; and mastered a great bull, at his command; but when the wearied Phyllius refused to render to his friend the valued bull. Indignant, the youth said, 'You shall regret your hasty words;' which having said, he leaped from a high precipice, as if to death; but gliding through the air, on snow-white wings, was changed into a swan. Dissolved in tears, his mother Hyrie knew not he was saved; and weeping, formed the lake that bears her name.
And over Pleuron, where on trembling wings escaped the mother Combe from her sons, Medea flew; and over the far isle Calauria, sacred to Latona. She beheld the conscious fields whose lawful king, together with his queen were changed to birds. Upon her right Cyllene could be seen; there Menephon, degraded as a beast, outraged his mother.
In the distance, she beheld Cephisius, who lamented long his hapless grandson, by Apollo changed into a bloated sea-calf. And she saw the house where king Eumelus mourned the death of his aspiring son.
Borne on the wings of her enchanted dragons, she arrived at Corinth, whose inhabitants, 'tis said, from many mushrooms, watered by the rain sprang into being.
There she spent some years. But after the new wife had been burnt by the Colchian witchcraft and two seas had seen the king's own palace all aflame, then, savagely she drew her sword, and bathed it in the blood of her own infant sons; by which atrocious act she was revenged; and she, a wife and mother, fled the sword of her own husband, Jason.
On the wings of her enchanted Titan Dragons borne, she made escape, securely, nor delayed until she entered the defended walls of great Minerva's city, at the hour when aged Periphas- transformed by Jove, together with his queen, on eagle wings flew over its encircling walls: with whom the guilty Halcyone, skimming seas safely escaped, upon her balanced wings.
And after these events, Medea went to Aegeus, king of Athens, where she found protection from her enemies for all this evil done. With added wickedness Aegeus, after that, united her to him in marriage.
All unknown to him came Theseus to his kingly court. Before the time his valor had established peace on all the isthmus, raved by dual seas. Medea, seeking his destruction, brewed the juice of aconite, infesting shores of Scythia, where, 'tis fabled, the plant grew on soil infected by Cerberian teeth.
There is a gloomy entrance to a cave, that follows a declivitous descent: there Hercules with chains of adamant dragged from the dreary edge of Tartarus that monster-watch-dog, Cerberus, which, vain opposing, turned his eyes aslant from light- from dazzling day. Delirious, enraged, that monster shook the air with triple howls; and, frothing, sprinkled as it raved, the fields, once green- with spewing of white poison-foam.
And this, converted into plants, sucked up a deadly venom with the nourishment of former soils, -- from which productive grew upon the rock, thus formed, the noxious plant; by rustics, from that cause, named aconite.
Medea worked on Aegeus to present his own son, Theseus, with a deadly cup of aconite; prevailing by her art so that he deemed his son an enemy. Theseus unwittingly received the cup, but just before he touched it to his lips, his father recognized the sword he wore, for, graven on its ivory hilt was wrought a known device- the token of his race. Astonished, Aegeus struck the poison-cup from his devoted son's confiding lips. Medea suddenly escaped from death, in a dark whirlwind her witch-singing raised.
Recoiling from such utter wickedness, rejoicing that his son escaped from death, the grateful father kindled altar-fires, and gave rich treasure to the living Gods. He slaughtered scores of oxen, decked with flowers and gilded horns. The sun has never shone upon a day more famous in that land, for all the elders and the common folk united in festivities, with wine inspiring wit and song;
"O you," they sang, "Immortal Theseus, victory was yours! Did you not slaughter the huge bull of Crete?
Yes, you did slay the boar of Cromyon, where now the peasant unmolested plows;
And Periphetes, wielder of the club, was worsted when he struggled with your strength;
And fierce Procrustes, matched with you beside the rapid river, met his death;
And even Cercyon, in Eleusis lost his wicked life- inferior to your might;
And Sinis, a monstrosity of strength, who bent the trunks of trees, and used his might
Against the world for everything that's wrong. For evil, he would force down to the earth,
Pine tops to shoot men's bodies through the air. Even the road to Megara is safe,
For you did hurl the robber Scyron,sheer over the cliff. Both land and sea denied
His bones a resting place as tossed about they changed into the cliffs that bear his name.
How can we tell the number of your deeds, deeds glorious, that now exceed your years!
For you, brave hero, we give public thanks and prayers; to you we drain our cups of wine!"
And all the palace rings with happy songs, and with the grateful prayers of all the people. And sorrow in that city is not known.
But pleasure always is alloyed with grief, and sorrow mingles in the joyous hour. While the king Aegeus and his son rejoiced, Minos prepared for war.
He was invincible in men and ships- and stronger in his rage to wreak due vengeance on the king who slew his son Androgeus. But first he sought some friends to aid his warfare; and he scoured the sea with a swift fleet -- which was his strength.
Anaphe and Astypalaea, both agreed to join his cause- the first one moved by promises, the second by his threats. Level Myconus and the chalky fields of Cimolus agreed to aid, and Syros covered with wild thyme, level Seriphos, Paros of marble cliffs, and that place which Arne the impious Siphnian had betrayed, who having got the gold which in her greed she had demanded, was changed to a bird which ever since that day imagines gold its chief delight- a black-foot black-winged daw.
But Oliarus, Didymae, and Tenos, Gyaros, Andros, and Peparethos rich in its glossy olives, gave no aid to the strong Cretan fleet.
Sailing from them Minos went to Oenopia, known realm of the Aeacidae. Men of old time had called the place Oenopia; but Aeacus styled it Aegina from his mother's name. At his approach an eager rabble rushed resolved to see and know so great a man.
Telamon met him, and his brother, younger than Telamon, and Phocus who was third in age. Even Aeacus appeared, slow with the weight of years, and asked him what could be a reason for his coming there.
The ruler of a hundred cities, sighed, as he beheld the sons of Aeacus, for they reminded him of his lost son; and heavy with his sorrow, he replied: "I come imploring you to take up arms, and aid me in the war against my foes; for I must give that comfort to the shade of my misfortuned son -- whose blood they shed."
But Aeacus replied to Minos, "Nay, it is a vain request you make, for we are bound in strict alliance to the land and people of Cecropia."
Full of rage, because he was denied, the king of Crete, Minos, as he departed from their shores replied, "Let such a treaty be your bane."
And he departed with his crafty threat, believing it expedient not to waste his power in wars until the proper time.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#4
This passage from Ovid's Metamorphoses begins just after Medea causes the death of Pelias. With her dragons she flies all across Greece, before landing at Corinth. Jason leaves her for the princess there, so she burns down the palace, kills Jason's sons, and flies away again.
She goes to Athens and marries King Aegeus, but when his son Theseus comes, she prepares poisonous aconite to kill him. His father recognizes his son and saves him, and Medea escapes again. There is a massive welcome home party, and singers recount the adventures of Theseus on his way to Athens.
But King Minos is preparing for war with Athens by recruiting allies from island nations. He sails to Aegina, ruled by King Aeacus, father of Phocus, Peleias and Telamon. Minos asks him for aid and alliance to avenge his dead son, but Aeacus declines, saying that he and Athens are old allies.
This passage continues on for four more episodes. Next time a ship of Athens makes landing, and we shall learn why the men of Aegina are called Myrmidons.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#4
Medea and Aegeus,
a Legendary Passage,
from Ovid's Metamorphoses,
translated by Brookes More.
Book 7 [350] - [469]
Only because her winged dragons sailed swiftly with her up to the lofty sky, escaped Medea punishment for this unheard of crime. Her chariot sailed above embowered Pelion, long the lofty home of Chiron, over Othrys, and the vale made famous where Cerambus met his fate. Cerambus, by the aid of nymphs, from there was wafted through the air on wings, when earth was covered by the overwhelming sea and so escaped Deucalion's flood, uncrowned.
She passed by Pittane upon the left, with its huge serpent-image of hard stone, and also passed the grove called Ida's, where the stolen bull was changed by Bacchus' power into a hunted stag in that same vale Paris lies buried in the sand; and over fields where Mera warning harked, Medea flew; over the city of Eurypylus upon the Isle of Cos, whose women wore the horns of cattle when from there had gone the herd of Hercules; and over Rhodes beloved of Phoebus, where Telchinian tribes dwelt, whose bad eyes corrupting power shot forth; Jove, utterly despising, thrust them deep beneath his brother's waves; over the walls of old Carthaea, where Alcidamas had seen with wonder a tame dove arise from his own daughter's body.
And she saw the lakes of Hyrie in Teumesia's Vale, by swans frequented. There to satisfy his love for Cycnus, Phyllius gave two living vultures: shell for him subdued a lion, and delivered it to him; and mastered a great bull, at his command; but when the wearied Phyllius refused to render to his friend the valued bull. Indignant, the youth said, 'You shall regret your hasty words;' which having said, he leaped from a high precipice, as if to death; but gliding through the air, on snow-white wings, was changed into a swan. Dissolved in tears, his mother Hyrie knew not he was saved; and weeping, formed the lake that bears her name.
And over Pleuron, where on trembling wings escaped the mother Combe from her sons, Medea flew; and over the far isle Calauria, sacred to Latona. She beheld the conscious fields whose lawful king, together with his queen were changed to birds. Upon her right Cyllene could be seen; there Menephon, degraded as a beast, outraged his mother.
In the distance, she beheld Cephisius, who lamented long his hapless grandson, by Apollo changed into a bloated sea-calf. And she saw the house where king Eumelus mourned the death of his aspiring son.
Borne on the wings of her enchanted dragons, she arrived at Corinth, whose inhabitants, 'tis said, from many mushrooms, watered by the rain sprang into being.
There she spent some years. But after the new wife had been burnt by the Colchian witchcraft and two seas had seen the king's own palace all aflame, then, savagely she drew her sword, and bathed it in the blood of her own infant sons; by which atrocious act she was revenged; and she, a wife and mother, fled the sword of her own husband, Jason.
On the wings of her enchanted Titan Dragons borne, she made escape, securely, nor delayed until she entered the defended walls of great Minerva's city, at the hour when aged Periphas- transformed by Jove, together with his queen, on eagle wings flew over its encircling walls: with whom the guilty Halcyone, skimming seas safely escaped, upon her balanced wings.
And after these events, Medea went to Aegeus, king of Athens, where she found protection from her enemies for all this evil done. With added wickedness Aegeus, after that, united her to him in marriage.
All unknown to him came Theseus to his kingly court. Before the time his valor had established peace on all the isthmus, raved by dual seas. Medea, seeking his destruction, brewed the juice of aconite, infesting shores of Scythia, where, 'tis fabled, the plant grew on soil infected by Cerberian teeth.
There is a gloomy entrance to a cave, that follows a declivitous descent: there Hercules with chains of adamant dragged from the dreary edge of Tartarus that monster-watch-dog, Cerberus, which, vain opposing, turned his eyes aslant from light- from dazzling day. Delirious, enraged, that monster shook the air with triple howls; and, frothing, sprinkled as it raved, the fields, once green- with spewing of white poison-foam.
And this, converted into plants, sucked up a deadly venom with the nourishment of former soils, -- from which productive grew upon the rock, thus formed, the noxious plant; by rustics, from that cause, named aconite.
Medea worked on Aegeus to present his own son, Theseus, with a deadly cup of aconite; prevailing by her art so that he deemed his son an enemy. Theseus unwittingly received the cup, but just before he touched it to his lips, his father recognized the sword he wore, for, graven on its ivory hilt was wrought a known device- the token of his race. Astonished, Aegeus struck the poison-cup from his devoted son's confiding lips. Medea suddenly escaped from death, in a dark whirlwind her witch-singing raised.
Recoiling from such utter wickedness, rejoicing that his son escaped from death, the grateful father kindled altar-fires, and gave rich treasure to the living Gods. He slaughtered scores of oxen, decked with flowers and gilded horns. The sun has never shone upon a day more famous in that land, for all the elders and the common folk united in festivities, with wine inspiring wit and song;
"O you," they sang, "Immortal Theseus, victory was yours! Did you not slaughter the huge bull of Crete?
Yes, you did slay the boar of Cromyon, where now the peasant unmolested plows;
And Periphetes, wielder of the club, was worsted when he struggled with your strength;
And fierce Procrustes, matched with you beside the rapid river, met his death;
And even Cercyon, in Eleusis lost his wicked life- inferior to your might;
And Sinis, a monstrosity of strength, who bent the trunks of trees, and used his might
Against the world for everything that's wrong. For evil, he would force down to the earth,
Pine tops to shoot men's bodies through the air. Even the road to Megara is safe,
For you did hurl the robber Scyron,sheer over the cliff. Both land and sea denied
His bones a resting place as tossed about they changed into the cliffs that bear his name.
How can we tell the number of your deeds, deeds glorious, that now exceed your years!
For you, brave hero, we give public thanks and prayers; to you we drain our cups of wine!"
And all the palace rings with happy songs, and with the grateful prayers of all the people. And sorrow in that city is not known.
But pleasure always is alloyed with grief, and sorrow mingles in the joyous hour. While the king Aegeus and his son rejoiced, Minos prepared for war.
He was invincible in men and ships- and stronger in his rage to wreak due vengeance on the king who slew his son Androgeus. But first he sought some friends to aid his warfare; and he scoured the sea with a swift fleet -- which was his strength.
Anaphe and Astypalaea, both agreed to join his cause- the first one moved by promises, the second by his threats. Level Myconus and the chalky fields of Cimolus agreed to aid, and Syros covered with wild thyme, level Seriphos, Paros of marble cliffs, and that place which Arne the impious Siphnian had betrayed, who having got the gold which in her greed she had demanded, was changed to a bird which ever since that day imagines gold its chief delight- a black-foot black-winged daw.
But Oliarus, Didymae, and Tenos, Gyaros, Andros, and Peparethos rich in its glossy olives, gave no aid to the strong Cretan fleet.
Sailing from them Minos went to Oenopia, known realm of the Aeacidae. Men of old time had called the place Oenopia; but Aeacus styled it Aegina from his mother's name. At his approach an eager rabble rushed resolved to see and know so great a man.
Telamon met him, and his brother, younger than Telamon, and Phocus who was third in age. Even Aeacus appeared, slow with the weight of years, and asked him what could be a reason for his coming there.
The ruler of a hundred cities, sighed, as he beheld the sons of Aeacus, for they reminded him of his lost son; and heavy with his sorrow, he replied: "I come imploring you to take up arms, and aid me in the war against my foes; for I must give that comfort to the shade of my misfortuned son -- whose blood they shed."
But Aeacus replied to Minos, "Nay, it is a vain request you make, for we are bound in strict alliance to the land and people of Cecropia."
Full of rage, because he was denied, the king of Crete, Minos, as he departed from their shores replied, "Let such a treaty be your bane."
And he departed with his crafty threat, believing it expedient not to waste his power in wars until the proper time.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#4
LP0013 - Ariadne's Letter to Theseus - Ovid's Heroides -
Legendary Passages #0013 - Ariadne's Letter to Theseus - Ovid's Heroides -
The next six passages are written by Ovid and feature stories about Cretans and Athenians.
This passage is a letter that might have been written by Ariadne, just after Theseus left her on Naxos and sailed home. She awoke confused and alone, calling out for Theseus. She climbed the mountainside and sees his ship far in the distance, sailing away.
After crying and bemoaning her fate, she returns to the bed that they had shared. Ariadne betrayed her family to save Theseus from the minotaur, and in exchange he had agreed to marry her. She recalls her brother Androgeus, who's death lead to the Tribute and Theseus' encounter with the Minotaur.
The passage ends with both her cursing her former lover and yet pleading for his pity. Her own fate remains uncertain.
Next time we shall hear more of Theseus and Minos, and especially Medea and Aegeus.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidHeroides2.html#10
Ariadne's Letter to Theseus,
a Legendary Passage,
from Ovid's Heroides,
translated by Grant Showerman.
X. ARIADNE TO THESEUS
Gentler than you I have found every race of wild beasts; to none of them could I so ill have trusted as to you. The words you now are reading, Theseus, I send you from that shore from which the sails bore off your ship without me, the shore on which my slumber, and you, so wretchedly betrayed me - you, who wickedly plotted against me as I slept.
Twas the time when the earth is first besprinkled with crystal rime, and songsters hid in the branch begin their plaint. Half waking only, languid from sleep, I turned upon my side and put forth hands to clasp my Theseus - he was not there! I drew back my hands, a second time I made essay, and o'er the whole couch moved my arms - he was not there! Fear struck away my sleep; in terror I arose, and threw myself headlong from my abandoned bed. Straight then my palms resounded upon my breasts, and I tore my hair, all disarrayed as it was from sleep.
The moon was shining; I bend my gaze to see if aught but shore lies there. So far as my eyes can see, naught to they find but shore. Now this way, and now that, and ever without plan, I course; the deep sand stays my girlish feet. And all the while I cried out 'Theseus!' along the entire shore, and the hollow rocks sent back your name to me; as often as I called out for you, so often did the place itself call out your name. The very place felt the will to aid me in my woe.
There was a mountain, with bushes rising here and there upon its top; a cliff hangs over from it, gnawed into by deep-sounding waves. I climb its slope - my spirit gave me strength - and thus with prospect broad I scan the billowy deep.
From there - for I found the winds cruel, too - I beheld your sails stretched full by the headlong southern gale.
As I looked on a sight methought I had not deserved to see, I grew colder than ice, and life half left my body. Nor does anguish allow me long to lie thus quiet; it rouses me, it stirs me up to call on Theseus with all my voice's might.
'Whither doest fly?' I cry aloud. 'Come back, O wicked Theseus! Turn about thy ship! She hath not all her crew!'
Thus did I cry, and what my voice could not avail, I filled with beating of my breast; the blows I gave myself were mingled with my words. That you at least might see, if you could not hear, with might and main I sent you signals with my hands; and upon a long tree-branch I fixed my shining veil - yes, to put in mind of me those who had forgotten! And now you had been swept beyond my vision.
Then at last I let flow my tears; till then my tender eyeballs had been dulled with pain. What better could my eyes do than weep for me, when I had ceased to see your sails? Alone, with hair loose flying, I have either roamed about, like to a Bacchant roused by the Ogygian god, or, looking out upon the sea, I have sat all chilled upon the rock, as much a stone myself as was the stone I sat upon.
Oft do I come again to the couch that once received us both, but was fated never to show us together again, and touch the imprint left by you - tis all I can in place of you! - and the stuffs that once grew warm beneath your limbs.
I lay me down upon my face, bedew the bed with pouring tears, and cry aloud: 'We were two who pressed thee – give back two! We came to thee both together; why do we not depart the same? Ah, faithless bed - the greater part of my being, oh, where is he?
What am I to do? Whither shall I take myself - I am alone, and the isle untilled. Of human traces I see none; of cattle, none. On every side the land is girt by sea; nowhere a sailor, no craft to make its way over the dubious paths. And suppose I did find those to go with me, and winds, and ship - yet where am I to go?
My father's realm forbids me to approach. Grant I do glide with fortunate keel over peaceful seas, that Aeolus tempers the winds - I still shall be an exile! Tis not for me, O Crete composed of the hundred cities, to look upon thee, land known to the infant Jove! No, for my father and the land ruled by my righteous father - dear names! - were betrayed by my deed when, to keep you, after your victory, from death in the winding halls, I gave into your hand the thread to direct your steps in place of guide - when you said to me: 'By these very perils of mine, I swear that, so long as both of us shall live, thou shalt be mine!'
We both live, Theseus, and I am not yours! - if indeed a woman lives who is buried by the treason of a perjured mate. Me, too, you should have slain, O false one, with the same bludgeon that slew my brother; then would the oath you gave me have been absolved by my death.
Now, I ponder over not only what I am doomed to suffer, but all that any woman left behind can suffer. There rush into my thought a thousand forms of perishing, and death holds less of dole for me than the delay of death. Each moment, now here, now there, I look to see wolves rush on me, to rend my vitals with their greedy fangs. Who knows but that this shore breeds, too, the tawny lion? Perchance the island harbours the savage tiger as well. They say, too, that the waters of the deep cast up the mighty seal! And who is to keep the swords of men from piercing my side?
But I care not, if I am but not left captive in hard bonds, and not compelled to spin the long task with servile hand - I, whose father is Minos, whose mother the child of Phoebus, and who - what memory holds more close - was promised bride to you!
When I have looked on the sea, and on the land, and on the wide-stretching shore, I know many dangers threaten me on land, and many on the waters. The sky remains - yet there I fear visions of the gods! I am left helpless, a prey to the maws of ravening beasts; and if men dwell in the place and keep it, I put no trust in them - my hurts have taught me fear of stranger-men.
O, that Androgeos were still alive, and that thou, O Cecropian land, hadst not been made to atone for thy impious deeds with the doom of thy children! and would that thy upraised right hand, O Theseus, had not slain with knotty club him that was man in part, and in part bull; and I had not given thee the thread to show the way of thy return - thread oft caught up again and passed through the hands led on by it.
I marvel not - ah, no! - if victory was thine, and the monster smote with his length the Cretan earth. His horn could not have pierced that iron heart of thine; thy breast was safe, even didst thou naught to shield thyself. There barest thou flint, there barest thou adamant; there hast thou a Theseus harder than any flint!
Ah, cruel slumbers, why did you hold me thus inert? Or, better had I been weighed down once for all by everlasting night. You, too, were cruel, O winds, and all too well prepared, and you breezes, eager to start my tears. Cruel the right hand that has brought me and my brother to our death, and cruel the pledge - an empty word - that you gave at my demand! Against me conspiring were slumber, wind, and treacherous pledge - treason three-fold against one maid!
Am I, then, to die, and, dying, not behold my mother's tears; and shall there be no one's finger to close my eyes? Is my unhappy soul to go forth into stranger-air, and no friendly hand compose my limbs and drop them on the unguent due? Are my bones to lie unburied, the prey of hovering birds of the shore? Is this the entombment due to me for my kindnesses?
You will go to the haven of Cecrops; but when you have been received back home, and have stood in pride before your thronging followers, gloriously telling the death of the man-and-bull, and of the halls of rock cut out in winding ways, tell, too, of me, abandoned on a solitary shore - for I must not be stolen from the record of your honours! Neither is Aegeus your father, nor are you the son of Pittheus' daughter Aethra; they who begot you were the rocks and the deep!
Ah, I could pray the gods that you had seen me from the high stern; my sad figure had moved your heart! Yet look upon me now - not with eyes, for with them you cannot, but with your mind - clinging to a rock all beaten by the wandering wave. Look upon my locks, let loose like those of one in grief for the dead, and on my robes, heavy with tears as if with rain. My body is a-quiver like standing corn struck by the northern blast, and the letters I am tracing falter beneath my trembling hand. Tis not for my desert - for that has come to naught - that I entreat you now; let no favour be due for my service. Yet neither let me suffer for it! If I am not the cause of your deliverance, yet neither is it right that you should cause my death.
These hands, wearied with beating of my sorrowful breast, unhappy I stretch toward you over the long seas; these locks - such as remain - in grief I bid you look upon! By these tears I pray you - tears moved by what you have done - turn about your ship, reverse your sail, glide swiftly back to me! If I have died before you come, 'twill yet be you who bear away my bones!
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidHeroides2.html#10
The next six passages are written by Ovid and feature stories about Cretans and Athenians.
This passage is a letter that might have been written by Ariadne, just after Theseus left her on Naxos and sailed home. She awoke confused and alone, calling out for Theseus. She climbed the mountainside and sees his ship far in the distance, sailing away.
After crying and bemoaning her fate, she returns to the bed that they had shared. Ariadne betrayed her family to save Theseus from the minotaur, and in exchange he had agreed to marry her. She recalls her brother Androgeus, who's death lead to the Tribute and Theseus' encounter with the Minotaur.
The passage ends with both her cursing her former lover and yet pleading for his pity. Her own fate remains uncertain.
Next time we shall hear more of Theseus and Minos, and especially Medea and Aegeus.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidHeroides2.html#10
Ariadne's Letter to Theseus,
a Legendary Passage,
from Ovid's Heroides,
translated by Grant Showerman.
X. ARIADNE TO THESEUS
Gentler than you I have found every race of wild beasts; to none of them could I so ill have trusted as to you. The words you now are reading, Theseus, I send you from that shore from which the sails bore off your ship without me, the shore on which my slumber, and you, so wretchedly betrayed me - you, who wickedly plotted against me as I slept.
Twas the time when the earth is first besprinkled with crystal rime, and songsters hid in the branch begin their plaint. Half waking only, languid from sleep, I turned upon my side and put forth hands to clasp my Theseus - he was not there! I drew back my hands, a second time I made essay, and o'er the whole couch moved my arms - he was not there! Fear struck away my sleep; in terror I arose, and threw myself headlong from my abandoned bed. Straight then my palms resounded upon my breasts, and I tore my hair, all disarrayed as it was from sleep.
The moon was shining; I bend my gaze to see if aught but shore lies there. So far as my eyes can see, naught to they find but shore. Now this way, and now that, and ever without plan, I course; the deep sand stays my girlish feet. And all the while I cried out 'Theseus!' along the entire shore, and the hollow rocks sent back your name to me; as often as I called out for you, so often did the place itself call out your name. The very place felt the will to aid me in my woe.
There was a mountain, with bushes rising here and there upon its top; a cliff hangs over from it, gnawed into by deep-sounding waves. I climb its slope - my spirit gave me strength - and thus with prospect broad I scan the billowy deep.
From there - for I found the winds cruel, too - I beheld your sails stretched full by the headlong southern gale.
As I looked on a sight methought I had not deserved to see, I grew colder than ice, and life half left my body. Nor does anguish allow me long to lie thus quiet; it rouses me, it stirs me up to call on Theseus with all my voice's might.
'Whither doest fly?' I cry aloud. 'Come back, O wicked Theseus! Turn about thy ship! She hath not all her crew!'
Thus did I cry, and what my voice could not avail, I filled with beating of my breast; the blows I gave myself were mingled with my words. That you at least might see, if you could not hear, with might and main I sent you signals with my hands; and upon a long tree-branch I fixed my shining veil - yes, to put in mind of me those who had forgotten! And now you had been swept beyond my vision.
Then at last I let flow my tears; till then my tender eyeballs had been dulled with pain. What better could my eyes do than weep for me, when I had ceased to see your sails? Alone, with hair loose flying, I have either roamed about, like to a Bacchant roused by the Ogygian god, or, looking out upon the sea, I have sat all chilled upon the rock, as much a stone myself as was the stone I sat upon.
Oft do I come again to the couch that once received us both, but was fated never to show us together again, and touch the imprint left by you - tis all I can in place of you! - and the stuffs that once grew warm beneath your limbs.
I lay me down upon my face, bedew the bed with pouring tears, and cry aloud: 'We were two who pressed thee – give back two! We came to thee both together; why do we not depart the same? Ah, faithless bed - the greater part of my being, oh, where is he?
What am I to do? Whither shall I take myself - I am alone, and the isle untilled. Of human traces I see none; of cattle, none. On every side the land is girt by sea; nowhere a sailor, no craft to make its way over the dubious paths. And suppose I did find those to go with me, and winds, and ship - yet where am I to go?
My father's realm forbids me to approach. Grant I do glide with fortunate keel over peaceful seas, that Aeolus tempers the winds - I still shall be an exile! Tis not for me, O Crete composed of the hundred cities, to look upon thee, land known to the infant Jove! No, for my father and the land ruled by my righteous father - dear names! - were betrayed by my deed when, to keep you, after your victory, from death in the winding halls, I gave into your hand the thread to direct your steps in place of guide - when you said to me: 'By these very perils of mine, I swear that, so long as both of us shall live, thou shalt be mine!'
We both live, Theseus, and I am not yours! - if indeed a woman lives who is buried by the treason of a perjured mate. Me, too, you should have slain, O false one, with the same bludgeon that slew my brother; then would the oath you gave me have been absolved by my death.
Now, I ponder over not only what I am doomed to suffer, but all that any woman left behind can suffer. There rush into my thought a thousand forms of perishing, and death holds less of dole for me than the delay of death. Each moment, now here, now there, I look to see wolves rush on me, to rend my vitals with their greedy fangs. Who knows but that this shore breeds, too, the tawny lion? Perchance the island harbours the savage tiger as well. They say, too, that the waters of the deep cast up the mighty seal! And who is to keep the swords of men from piercing my side?
But I care not, if I am but not left captive in hard bonds, and not compelled to spin the long task with servile hand - I, whose father is Minos, whose mother the child of Phoebus, and who - what memory holds more close - was promised bride to you!
When I have looked on the sea, and on the land, and on the wide-stretching shore, I know many dangers threaten me on land, and many on the waters. The sky remains - yet there I fear visions of the gods! I am left helpless, a prey to the maws of ravening beasts; and if men dwell in the place and keep it, I put no trust in them - my hurts have taught me fear of stranger-men.
O, that Androgeos were still alive, and that thou, O Cecropian land, hadst not been made to atone for thy impious deeds with the doom of thy children! and would that thy upraised right hand, O Theseus, had not slain with knotty club him that was man in part, and in part bull; and I had not given thee the thread to show the way of thy return - thread oft caught up again and passed through the hands led on by it.
I marvel not - ah, no! - if victory was thine, and the monster smote with his length the Cretan earth. His horn could not have pierced that iron heart of thine; thy breast was safe, even didst thou naught to shield thyself. There barest thou flint, there barest thou adamant; there hast thou a Theseus harder than any flint!
Ah, cruel slumbers, why did you hold me thus inert? Or, better had I been weighed down once for all by everlasting night. You, too, were cruel, O winds, and all too well prepared, and you breezes, eager to start my tears. Cruel the right hand that has brought me and my brother to our death, and cruel the pledge - an empty word - that you gave at my demand! Against me conspiring were slumber, wind, and treacherous pledge - treason three-fold against one maid!
Am I, then, to die, and, dying, not behold my mother's tears; and shall there be no one's finger to close my eyes? Is my unhappy soul to go forth into stranger-air, and no friendly hand compose my limbs and drop them on the unguent due? Are my bones to lie unburied, the prey of hovering birds of the shore? Is this the entombment due to me for my kindnesses?
You will go to the haven of Cecrops; but when you have been received back home, and have stood in pride before your thronging followers, gloriously telling the death of the man-and-bull, and of the halls of rock cut out in winding ways, tell, too, of me, abandoned on a solitary shore - for I must not be stolen from the record of your honours! Neither is Aegeus your father, nor are you the son of Pittheus' daughter Aethra; they who begot you were the rocks and the deep!
Ah, I could pray the gods that you had seen me from the high stern; my sad figure had moved your heart! Yet look upon me now - not with eyes, for with them you cannot, but with your mind - clinging to a rock all beaten by the wandering wave. Look upon my locks, let loose like those of one in grief for the dead, and on my robes, heavy with tears as if with rain. My body is a-quiver like standing corn struck by the northern blast, and the letters I am tracing falter beneath my trembling hand. Tis not for my desert - for that has come to naught - that I entreat you now; let no favour be due for my service. Yet neither let me suffer for it! If I am not the cause of your deliverance, yet neither is it right that you should cause my death.
These hands, wearied with beating of my sorrowful breast, unhappy I stretch toward you over the long seas; these locks - such as remain - in grief I bid you look upon! By these tears I pray you - tears moved by what you have done - turn about your ship, reverse your sail, glide swiftly back to me! If I have died before you come, 'twill yet be you who bear away my bones!
http://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidHeroides2.html#10
Friday, January 23, 2015
LP0012 - The Tribute - Plutarch's Life of Theseus -
Legendary Passages #0012 - The Tribute - Plutarch's Life of Theseus -
Last time we reviewed the whole story of prince Theseus, killing the Minotuar and becoming king, and the deaths of Icarus and Minos. This time we focus entirely on Minos, the Minotaur, and the escape from the Labyrinth.
This shall be the last podcast focusing specifically on Theseus for now. His next adventures also involve the amazons.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/PlutarchTheseus.html
The Tribute,
a Legendary Passage,
from Plutarch's Life of Theseus,
translated by Bernodotte Perrin.
XV. - XX.
Not long afterwards there came from Crete for the third time the collectors of the tribute. Now as to this tribute, most writers agree that because Androgeos was thought to have been treacherously killed within the confines of Attica, not only did Minos harass the inhabitants of that country greatly in war, but Heaven also laid it waste, for barrenness and pestilence smote it sorely, and its rivers dried up; also that when their god assured them in his commands that if they appeased Minos and became reconciled to him, the wrath of Heaven would abate and there would be an end of their miseries, they sent heralds and made their supplication and entered into an agreement to send him every nine years a tribute of seven youths and as many maidens.
And the most dramatic version of the story declares that these young men and women, on being brought to Crete, were destroyed by the Minotaur in the Labyrinth, or else wandered about at their own will and, being unable to find an exit, perished there; and that the Minotaur, as Euripides says, was
A mingled form and hybrid birth of monstrous shape,
and that
Two different natures, man and bull, were joined in him.
Philochorus, however, says that the Cretans do not admit this, but declare that the Labyrinth was a dungeon, with no other inconvenience than that its prisoners could not escape; and that Minos instituted funeral games in honor of Androgeos, and as prizes for the victors, gave these Athenian youth, who were in the meantime imprisoned in the Labyrinth and that the victor in the first games was the man who had the greatest power at that time under Minos, and was his general, Taurus by name, who was not reasonable and gentle in his disposition, but treated the Athenian youth with arrogance and cruelty.
And Aristotle himself also, in his Constitution of Bottiaea, clearly does not think that these youths were put to death by Minos, but that they spent the rest of their lives as slaves in Crete. And he says that the Cretans once, in fulfillment of an ancient vow, sent an offering of their first-born to Delphi, and that some descendants of those Athenians were among the victims, and went forth with them; and that when they were unable to support themselves there, they first crossed over into Italy and dwelt in that country round about Iapygia, and from there journeyed again into Thrace and were called Bottiaeans; and that this was the reason why the maidens of Bottiaea, in performing a certain sacrifice, sing as an accompaniment “To Athens let us go!”
And verily it seems to be a grievous thing for a man to be at enmity with a city which has a language and a literature. For Minos was always abused and reviled in the Attic theaters, and it did not avail him either that Hesiod called him “most royal,” or that Homer styled him “a confidant of Zeus,” but the tragic poets prevailed, and from platform and stage showered obloquy down upon him, as a man of cruelty and violence. And yet they say that Minos was a king and lawgiver, and that Rhadamanthus was a judge under him, and a guardian of the principles of justice defined by him.
Accordingly, when the time came for the third tribute, and it was necessary for the fathers who had youthful sons to present them for the lot, fresh accusations against Aegeus arose among the people, who were full of sorrow and vexation that he who was the cause of all their trouble alone had no share in the punishment, but devolved the kingdom upon a bastard and foreign son, and suffered them to be left destitute and bereft of legitimate children. These things troubled Theseus, who, thinking it right not to disregard but to share in the fortune of his fellow-citizens, came forward and offered himself independently of the lot.
The citizens admired his noble courage and were delighted with his public spirit, and Aegeus, when he saw that his son was not to be won over or turned from his purpose by prayers and entreaties, cast the lots for the rest of the youths.
Hellanicus, however, says that the city did not send its young men and maidens by lot, but that Minos himself used to come and pick them out, and that he now pitched upon Theseus first of all, following the terms agreed upon. And he says the agreement was that the Athenians should furnish the ship, and that the youths should embark and sail with him carrying no warlike weapon, and that if the Minotaur was killed the penalty should cease.
On the two former occasions, then, no hope of safety was entertained, and therefore they sent the ship with a black sail, convinced that their youth were going to certain destruction; but now Theseus encouraged his father and loudly boasted that he would master the Minotaur, so that he gave the pilot another sail, a white one, ordering him, if he returned with Theseus safe, to hoist the white sail, but otherwise to sail with the black one, and so indicate the affliction.
Simonides, however, says that the sail given by Aegeus was not white, but “a scarlet sail dyed with the tender flower of luxuriant holm-oak,” and that he made this a token of their safety. Moreover, the pilot of the ship was Phereclus, son of Amarsyas, as Simonides says; but Philochorus says that Theseus got from Scirus of Salamis Nausithous for his pilot, and Phaeax for his look-out man, the Athenians at that time not yet being addicted to the sea, and that Scirus did him this favour because one of the chosen youths, Menesthes, was his daughter's son. And there is evidence for this in the memorial chapels for Nausithous and Phaeax which Theseus built at Phalerum near the temple of Scirus, and they say that the festival of the Cybernesia, or Pilot's Festival, is celebrated in their honor.
When the lot was cast, Theseus took those upon whom it fell from the prytaneium and went to the Delphinium, where he dedicated to Apollo in their behalf his suppliant's badge. This was a bough from the sacred olive-tree, wreathed with white wool. Having made his vows and prayers, he went down to the sea on the sixth day of the month Munychion, on which day even now the Athenians still send their maidens to the Delphinium to propitiate the god. And it is reported that the god at Delphi commanded him in an oracle to make Aphrodite his guide, and invite her to attend him on his journey, and that as he sacrificed the usual she-goat to her by the sea-shore, it became a he-goat (tragos) all at once, for which reason the goddess has the surname Epitragia.
When he reached Crete on his voyage, most historians and poets tell us that he got from Ariadne, who had fallen in love with him, the famous thread, and that having been instructed by her how to make his way through the intricacies of the Labyrinth, he slew the Minotaur and sailed off with Ariadne and the youths.
And Pherecydes says that Theseus also staved in the bottoms of the Cretan ships, thus depriving them of the power to pursue. And Demon says also that Taurus, the general of Minos, was killed in a naval battle in the harbor as Theseus was sailing out.
But as Philochorus tells the story, Minos was holding the funeral games, and Taurus was expected to conquer all his competitors in them, as he had done before, and was grudged his success. For his disposition made his power hateful, and he was accused of too great intimacy with Pasiphae. Therefore when Theseus asked the privilege of entering the lists, it was granted him by Minos. And since it was the custom in Crete for women to view the games, Ariadne was present, and was smitten with the appearance of Theseus, as well as filled with admiration for his athletic prowess, when he conquered all his opponents. Minos also was delighted with him, especially because he conquered Taurus in wrestling and disgraced him, and therefore gave back the youths to Theseus, besides remitting its tribute to the city.
Cleidemus, however, gives a rather peculiar and ambitious account of these matters, beginning a great way back. There was, he says, a general Hellenic decree that no trireme should sail from any port with a larger crew than five men, and the only exception was Jason, the commander of the Argo, who sailed about scouring the sea of pirates. Now when Daedalus fled from Crete in a merchant-vessel to Athens, Minos, contrary to the decrees, pursued him with his ships of war, and was driven from his course by a tempest to Sicily, where he ended his life.
And when Deucalion, his son, who was on hostile terms with the Athenians, sent to them a demand that they deliver up Daedalus to him, and threatened, if they refused, to put to death the youth whom Minos had received from them as hostages, Theseus made him a gentle reply, declining to surrender Daedalus, who was his kinsman and cousin, being the son of Merope, the daughter of Erechtheus. But privately he set himself to building a fleet, part of it at home in the township of Thymoetadae, far from the public road, and part of it under the direction of Pittheus in Troezen, wishing his purpose to remain concealed. When his ships were ready, he set sail, taking Daedalus and exiles from Crete as his guides, and since none of the Cretans knew of his design, but thought the approaching ships to be friendly, Theseus made himself master of the harbor, disembarked his men, and got to Gnossus before his enemies were aware of his approach. Then joining battle with them at the gate of the Labyrinth, he slew Deucalion and his body-guard. And since Ariadne was now at the head of affairs, he made a truce with her, received back the youthful hostages, and established friendship between the Athenians and the Cretans, who took oath never to begin hostilities.
There are many other stories about these matters, and also about Ariadne, but they do not agree at all. Some say that she hung herself because she was abandoned by Theseus; others that she was conveyed to Naxos by sailors and there lived with Oenarus the priest of Dionysus, and that she was abandoned by Theseus because he loved another woman: --
Dreadful indeed was his passion for Aigle child of Panopeus.”
This verse Peisistratus expunged from the poems of Hesiod, according to Hereas the Megarian, just as, on the other hand, he inserted into the Inferno of Homer the verse: --
Theseus, Peirithous, illustrious children of Heaven,
and all to gratify the Athenians. Moreover, some say that Ariadne actually had sons by Theseus, Oenopion and Staphylus, and among these is Ion of Chios, who says of his own native city: --
This, once, Theseus's son founded, Oenopion.
Now the most auspicious of these legendary tales are in the mouths of all men, as I may say; but a very peculiar account of these matters is published by Paeon the Amathusian. He says that Theseus, driven out of his course by a storm to Cyprus, and having with him Ariadne, who was big with child and in sore sickness and distress from the tossing of the sea, set her on shore alone, but that he himself, while trying to succour the ship, was borne out to sea again.
The women of the island, accordingly, took Ariadne into their care, and tried to comfort her in the discouragement caused by her loneliness, brought her forged letters purporting to have been written to her by Theseus, ministered to her aid during the pangs of travail, and gave her burial when she died before her child was born. Paeon says further that Theseus came back, and was greatly afflicted, and left a sum of money with the people of the island, enjoining them to sacrifice to Ariadne, and caused two little statuettes to be set up in her honor, one of silver, and one of bronze. He says also that at the sacrifice in her honor on the second day of the month Gorpiaeus, one of their young men lies down and imitates the cries and gestures of women in travail; and that they call the grove in which they show her tomb, the grove of Ariadne Aphrodite.
Some of the Naxians also have a story of their own, that there were two Minoses and two Ariadnes, one of whom, they say, was married to Dionysus in Naxos and bore him Staphylus and his brother, and the other, of a later time, having been carried off by Theseus and then abandoned by him, came to Naxos, accompanied by a nurse named Corcyne, whose tomb they show; and that this Ariadne also died there, and has honors paid her unlike those of the former, for the festival of the first Ariadne is celebrated with mirth and revels, but the sacrifices performed in honor of the second are attended with sorrow and mourning.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/PlutarchTheseus.html
Last time we reviewed the whole story of prince Theseus, killing the Minotuar and becoming king, and the deaths of Icarus and Minos. This time we focus entirely on Minos, the Minotaur, and the escape from the Labyrinth.
This shall be the last podcast focusing specifically on Theseus for now. His next adventures also involve the amazons.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/PlutarchTheseus.html
The Tribute,
a Legendary Passage,
from Plutarch's Life of Theseus,
translated by Bernodotte Perrin.
XV. - XX.
Not long afterwards there came from Crete for the third time the collectors of the tribute. Now as to this tribute, most writers agree that because Androgeos was thought to have been treacherously killed within the confines of Attica, not only did Minos harass the inhabitants of that country greatly in war, but Heaven also laid it waste, for barrenness and pestilence smote it sorely, and its rivers dried up; also that when their god assured them in his commands that if they appeased Minos and became reconciled to him, the wrath of Heaven would abate and there would be an end of their miseries, they sent heralds and made their supplication and entered into an agreement to send him every nine years a tribute of seven youths and as many maidens.
And the most dramatic version of the story declares that these young men and women, on being brought to Crete, were destroyed by the Minotaur in the Labyrinth, or else wandered about at their own will and, being unable to find an exit, perished there; and that the Minotaur, as Euripides says, was
A mingled form and hybrid birth of monstrous shape,
and that
Two different natures, man and bull, were joined in him.
Philochorus, however, says that the Cretans do not admit this, but declare that the Labyrinth was a dungeon, with no other inconvenience than that its prisoners could not escape; and that Minos instituted funeral games in honor of Androgeos, and as prizes for the victors, gave these Athenian youth, who were in the meantime imprisoned in the Labyrinth and that the victor in the first games was the man who had the greatest power at that time under Minos, and was his general, Taurus by name, who was not reasonable and gentle in his disposition, but treated the Athenian youth with arrogance and cruelty.
And Aristotle himself also, in his Constitution of Bottiaea, clearly does not think that these youths were put to death by Minos, but that they spent the rest of their lives as slaves in Crete. And he says that the Cretans once, in fulfillment of an ancient vow, sent an offering of their first-born to Delphi, and that some descendants of those Athenians were among the victims, and went forth with them; and that when they were unable to support themselves there, they first crossed over into Italy and dwelt in that country round about Iapygia, and from there journeyed again into Thrace and were called Bottiaeans; and that this was the reason why the maidens of Bottiaea, in performing a certain sacrifice, sing as an accompaniment “To Athens let us go!”
And verily it seems to be a grievous thing for a man to be at enmity with a city which has a language and a literature. For Minos was always abused and reviled in the Attic theaters, and it did not avail him either that Hesiod called him “most royal,” or that Homer styled him “a confidant of Zeus,” but the tragic poets prevailed, and from platform and stage showered obloquy down upon him, as a man of cruelty and violence. And yet they say that Minos was a king and lawgiver, and that Rhadamanthus was a judge under him, and a guardian of the principles of justice defined by him.
Accordingly, when the time came for the third tribute, and it was necessary for the fathers who had youthful sons to present them for the lot, fresh accusations against Aegeus arose among the people, who were full of sorrow and vexation that he who was the cause of all their trouble alone had no share in the punishment, but devolved the kingdom upon a bastard and foreign son, and suffered them to be left destitute and bereft of legitimate children. These things troubled Theseus, who, thinking it right not to disregard but to share in the fortune of his fellow-citizens, came forward and offered himself independently of the lot.
The citizens admired his noble courage and were delighted with his public spirit, and Aegeus, when he saw that his son was not to be won over or turned from his purpose by prayers and entreaties, cast the lots for the rest of the youths.
Hellanicus, however, says that the city did not send its young men and maidens by lot, but that Minos himself used to come and pick them out, and that he now pitched upon Theseus first of all, following the terms agreed upon. And he says the agreement was that the Athenians should furnish the ship, and that the youths should embark and sail with him carrying no warlike weapon, and that if the Minotaur was killed the penalty should cease.
On the two former occasions, then, no hope of safety was entertained, and therefore they sent the ship with a black sail, convinced that their youth were going to certain destruction; but now Theseus encouraged his father and loudly boasted that he would master the Minotaur, so that he gave the pilot another sail, a white one, ordering him, if he returned with Theseus safe, to hoist the white sail, but otherwise to sail with the black one, and so indicate the affliction.
Simonides, however, says that the sail given by Aegeus was not white, but “a scarlet sail dyed with the tender flower of luxuriant holm-oak,” and that he made this a token of their safety. Moreover, the pilot of the ship was Phereclus, son of Amarsyas, as Simonides says; but Philochorus says that Theseus got from Scirus of Salamis Nausithous for his pilot, and Phaeax for his look-out man, the Athenians at that time not yet being addicted to the sea, and that Scirus did him this favour because one of the chosen youths, Menesthes, was his daughter's son. And there is evidence for this in the memorial chapels for Nausithous and Phaeax which Theseus built at Phalerum near the temple of Scirus, and they say that the festival of the Cybernesia, or Pilot's Festival, is celebrated in their honor.
When the lot was cast, Theseus took those upon whom it fell from the prytaneium and went to the Delphinium, where he dedicated to Apollo in their behalf his suppliant's badge. This was a bough from the sacred olive-tree, wreathed with white wool. Having made his vows and prayers, he went down to the sea on the sixth day of the month Munychion, on which day even now the Athenians still send their maidens to the Delphinium to propitiate the god. And it is reported that the god at Delphi commanded him in an oracle to make Aphrodite his guide, and invite her to attend him on his journey, and that as he sacrificed the usual she-goat to her by the sea-shore, it became a he-goat (tragos) all at once, for which reason the goddess has the surname Epitragia.
When he reached Crete on his voyage, most historians and poets tell us that he got from Ariadne, who had fallen in love with him, the famous thread, and that having been instructed by her how to make his way through the intricacies of the Labyrinth, he slew the Minotaur and sailed off with Ariadne and the youths.
And Pherecydes says that Theseus also staved in the bottoms of the Cretan ships, thus depriving them of the power to pursue. And Demon says also that Taurus, the general of Minos, was killed in a naval battle in the harbor as Theseus was sailing out.
But as Philochorus tells the story, Minos was holding the funeral games, and Taurus was expected to conquer all his competitors in them, as he had done before, and was grudged his success. For his disposition made his power hateful, and he was accused of too great intimacy with Pasiphae. Therefore when Theseus asked the privilege of entering the lists, it was granted him by Minos. And since it was the custom in Crete for women to view the games, Ariadne was present, and was smitten with the appearance of Theseus, as well as filled with admiration for his athletic prowess, when he conquered all his opponents. Minos also was delighted with him, especially because he conquered Taurus in wrestling and disgraced him, and therefore gave back the youths to Theseus, besides remitting its tribute to the city.
Cleidemus, however, gives a rather peculiar and ambitious account of these matters, beginning a great way back. There was, he says, a general Hellenic decree that no trireme should sail from any port with a larger crew than five men, and the only exception was Jason, the commander of the Argo, who sailed about scouring the sea of pirates. Now when Daedalus fled from Crete in a merchant-vessel to Athens, Minos, contrary to the decrees, pursued him with his ships of war, and was driven from his course by a tempest to Sicily, where he ended his life.
And when Deucalion, his son, who was on hostile terms with the Athenians, sent to them a demand that they deliver up Daedalus to him, and threatened, if they refused, to put to death the youth whom Minos had received from them as hostages, Theseus made him a gentle reply, declining to surrender Daedalus, who was his kinsman and cousin, being the son of Merope, the daughter of Erechtheus. But privately he set himself to building a fleet, part of it at home in the township of Thymoetadae, far from the public road, and part of it under the direction of Pittheus in Troezen, wishing his purpose to remain concealed. When his ships were ready, he set sail, taking Daedalus and exiles from Crete as his guides, and since none of the Cretans knew of his design, but thought the approaching ships to be friendly, Theseus made himself master of the harbor, disembarked his men, and got to Gnossus before his enemies were aware of his approach. Then joining battle with them at the gate of the Labyrinth, he slew Deucalion and his body-guard. And since Ariadne was now at the head of affairs, he made a truce with her, received back the youthful hostages, and established friendship between the Athenians and the Cretans, who took oath never to begin hostilities.
There are many other stories about these matters, and also about Ariadne, but they do not agree at all. Some say that she hung herself because she was abandoned by Theseus; others that she was conveyed to Naxos by sailors and there lived with Oenarus the priest of Dionysus, and that she was abandoned by Theseus because he loved another woman: --
Dreadful indeed was his passion for Aigle child of Panopeus.”
This verse Peisistratus expunged from the poems of Hesiod, according to Hereas the Megarian, just as, on the other hand, he inserted into the Inferno of Homer the verse: --
Theseus, Peirithous, illustrious children of Heaven,
and all to gratify the Athenians. Moreover, some say that Ariadne actually had sons by Theseus, Oenopion and Staphylus, and among these is Ion of Chios, who says of his own native city: --
This, once, Theseus's son founded, Oenopion.
Now the most auspicious of these legendary tales are in the mouths of all men, as I may say; but a very peculiar account of these matters is published by Paeon the Amathusian. He says that Theseus, driven out of his course by a storm to Cyprus, and having with him Ariadne, who was big with child and in sore sickness and distress from the tossing of the sea, set her on shore alone, but that he himself, while trying to succour the ship, was borne out to sea again.
The women of the island, accordingly, took Ariadne into their care, and tried to comfort her in the discouragement caused by her loneliness, brought her forged letters purporting to have been written to her by Theseus, ministered to her aid during the pangs of travail, and gave her burial when she died before her child was born. Paeon says further that Theseus came back, and was greatly afflicted, and left a sum of money with the people of the island, enjoining them to sacrifice to Ariadne, and caused two little statuettes to be set up in her honor, one of silver, and one of bronze. He says also that at the sacrifice in her honor on the second day of the month Gorpiaeus, one of their young men lies down and imitates the cries and gestures of women in travail; and that they call the grove in which they show her tomb, the grove of Ariadne Aphrodite.
Some of the Naxians also have a story of their own, that there were two Minoses and two Ariadnes, one of whom, they say, was married to Dionysus in Naxos and bore him Staphylus and his brother, and the other, of a later time, having been carried off by Theseus and then abandoned by him, came to Naxos, accompanied by a nurse named Corcyne, whose tomb they show; and that this Ariadne also died there, and has honors paid her unlike those of the former, for the festival of the first Ariadne is celebrated with mirth and revels, but the sacrifices performed in honor of the second are attended with sorrow and mourning.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/PlutarchTheseus.html
LP0011 - The Epitome of Theseus - The Library of Apollodorus -
Legendary Passages #0011 - The Epitome of Theseus - The Library of Apollodorus -
Last time we heard about too many statues, the Bull of Crete, as well as the time Theseus ruined Heracles' lion skin. This time we shall hear an overview of Theseus adventures, from the Library of Apollodorus, including his journey to Athens to his slaying of the Minotaur, plus the doomed flight of Icarus and the death of Minos.
King Pandion had four sons: Lycus, Nisus, Pallas, and Aegeus, who ruled over the others. Despite two marriages he had no children, so he went to the oracle. He asked King Pittheus about the mysterious message, who then had his daughter Aethra seduce him. Aegeus left heirlooms in case she had a son.
Later, a son of Minos named Androgeus was killed, and Aegeus blamed. Minos attacked, and Aegeus' brother Nisus died. Athens under siege and famine, asked an oracle who revealed that Minos must be compensated. Minos then asked for seven boys and seven girls as tribute, to be given to the Minotaur.
The Minotaur was imprisoned in the Labyrinth, built by Daedalus. He was exiled from Athens for killing Talos, his sister's son.
When Theseus came of age and retrieved the heirlooms, he cleared the road to Athens. He killed the clubber, the pine-bender, the sow, Sciron, Cercyon, Procrustes, and arrived at Athens. Medea brews some poison, but Aegeus recognizes his old sword, and saved him, and banishes Medea.
Minos comes for tribute, and Theseus volunteers. If he returns alive he'll change the sails from black to white. Minos' daughter Ariadne helps him with a clue, but on the way home from crete, Dionysus steals her away. Theseus forgets to change the sails, and Aegeus jumps to his death. Theseus kills the fifty sons of Pallas, and becomes king.
Minos imprisons Daedalus and his son Icarus in the labyrinth, but they build wings and fly away. Icarus melted his wings by fling too high and died, but Daedalus escaped to the court of Cocalus in Sicily. His daughters killed Minos with boiling bath water.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/Apollodorus3.html#15
The Epitome of Theseus,
a Legendary Passage,
from The Library of Apollodorus,
translated by J. G. Frazer.
[3.15.5] - [E.1.15]
While Pandion was at Megara, he had sons born to him, to wit, Aegeus, Pallas, Nisus, and Lycus. But some say that Aegeus was a son of Scyrius, but was passed off by Pandion as his own.
After the death of Pandion his sons marched against Athens, expelled the Metionids, and divided the government in four; but Aegeus had the whole power.
The first wife whom he married was Meta, daughter of Hoples, and the second was Chalciope, daughter of Rhexenor. As no child was born to him, he feared his brothers, and went to Pythia and consulted the oracle concerning the begetting of children. The god answered him:
The bulging mouth of the wineskin, O best of men, loose not until thou hast reached the height of Athens.
Not knowing what to make of the oracle, he set out on his return to Athens.
And journeying by way of Troezen, he lodged with Pittheus, son of Pelops, who, understanding the oracle, made him drunk and caused him to lie with his daughter Aethra.
But in the same night Poseidon also had connexion with her.
Now Aegeus charged Aethra that, if she gave birth to a male child, she should rear it, without telling whose it was; and he left a sword and sandals under a certain rock, saying that when the boy could roll away the rock and take them up, she was then to send him away with them.
But he himself came to Athens and celebrated the games of the Panathenian festival, in which Androgeus, son of Minos, vanquished all comers. Him Aegeus sent against the bull of Marathon, by which he was destroyed. But some say that as he journeyed to Thebes to take part in the games in honor of Laius, he was waylaid and murdered by the jealous competitors.
But when the tidings of his death were brought to Minos, as he was sacrificing to the Graces in Paros, he threw away the garland from his head and stopped the music of the flute, but nevertheless completed the sacrifice; hence down to this day they sacrifice to the Graces in Paros without flutes and garlands.
But not long afterwards, being master of the sea, he attacked Athens with a fleet and captured Megara, then ruled by king Nisus, son of Pandion, and he slew Megareus, son of Hippomenes, who had come from Onchestus to the help of Nisus.
Now Nisus perished through his daughter's treachery. For he had a purple hair on the middle of his head, and an oracle ran that when it was pulled out he should die; and his daughter Scylla fell in love with Minos and pulled out the hair. But when Minos had made himself master of Megara, he tied the damsel by the feet to the stern of the ship and drowned her.
When the war lingered on and he could not take Athens, he prayed to Zeus that he might be avenged on the Athenians. And the city being visited with a famine and a pestilence, the Athenians at first, in obedience to an ancient oracle, slaughtered the daughters of Hyacinth, to wit, Antheis, Aegleis, Lytaea, and Orthaea, on the grave of Geraestus, the Cyclops; now Hyacinth, the father of the damsels, had come from Lacedaemon and dwelt in Athens.
But when this was of no avail, they inquired of the oracle how they could be delivered; and the god answered them that they should give Minos whatever satisfaction he might choose. So they sent to Minos and left it to him to claim satisfaction. And Minos ordered them to send seven youths and the same number of damsels without weapons to be fodder for the Minotaur.
Now the Minotaur was confined in a labyrinth, in which he who entered could not find his way out; for many a winding turn shut off the secret outward way. The labyrinth was constructed by Daedalus, whose father was Eupalamus, son of Metion, and whose mother was Alcippe; for he was an excellent architect and the first inventor of images. He had fled from Athens, because he had thrown down from the acropolis Talos, the son of his sister Perdix; for Talos was his pupil, and Daedalus feared that with his talents he might surpass himself, seeing that he had sawed a thin stick with a jawbone of a snake which he had found. But the corpse was discovered; Daedalus was tried in the Areopagus, and being condemned fled to Minos. And there Pasiphae having fallen in love with the bull of Poseidon, Daedalus acted as her accomplice by contriving a wooden cow, and he constructed the labyrinth, to which the Athenians every year sent seven youths and as many damsels to be fodder for the Minotaur.
Aethra bore to Aegeus a son Theseus, and when he was grown up, he pushed away the rock and took up the sandals and the sword, and hastened on foot to Athens.
And he cleared the road, which had been beset by evildoers. For first in Epidaurus he slew Periphetes, son of Hephaestus and Anticlia, who was surnamed the Clubman from the club which he carried. For being crazy on his legs he carried an iron club, with which he despatched the passers-by. That club Theseus wrested from him and continued to carry about.
Second, he killed Sinis, son of Polypemon and Sylea, daughter of Corinthus. This Sinis was surnamed the Pine-bender; for inhabiting the Isthmus of Corinth he used to force the passersby to keep bending pine trees; but they were too weak to do so, and being tossed up by the trees they perished miserably. In that way also Theseus killed Sinis.
-
Third, he slew at Crommyon the sow that was called Phaea after the old woman who bred it; that sow, some say, was the offspring of Echidna and Typhon.
Fourth, he slew Sciron, the Corinthian, son of Pelops, or, as some say, of Poseidon. He in the Megarian territory held the rocks called after him Scironian, and compelled passers-by to wash his feet, and in the act of washing he kicked them into the deep to be the prey of a huge turtle.
But Theseus seized him by the feet and threw him into the sea.
Fifth, in Eleusis he slew Cercyon, son of Branchus and a nymph Argiope. This Cercyon compelled passers-by to wrestle, and in wrestling, killed them. But Theseus lifted him up on high and dashed him to the ground.
Sixth, he slew Damastes, whom some call Polypemon. He had his dwelling beside the road, and made up two beds, one small and the other big; and offering hospitality to the passers-by, he laid the short men on the big bed and hammered them, to make them fit the bed; but the tall men he laid on the little bed and sawed off the portions of the body that projected beyond it.
So, having cleared the road, Theseus came to Athens.
But Medea, being then wedded to Aegeus, plotted against him and persuaded Aegeus to beware of him as a traitor. And Aegeus, not knowing his own son, was afraid and sent him against the Marathonian bull.
And when Theseus had killed it, Aegeus presented to him a poison which he had received the selfsame day from Medea. But just as the draught was about to be administered to him, he gave his father the sword, and on recognizing it Aegeus dashed the cup from his hands. And when Theseus was thus made known to his father and informed of the plot, he expelled Medea.
And he was numbered among those who were to be sent as the third tribute to the Minotaur; or, as some affirm, he offered himself voluntarily. And as the ship had a black sail, Aegeus charged his son, if he returned alive, to spread white sails on the ship.
And when he came to Crete, Ariadne, daughter of Minos, being amorously disposed to him, offered to help him if he would agree to carry her away to Athens and have her to wife. Theseus having agreed on oath to do so, she besought Daedalus to disclose the way out of the labyrinth.
And at his suggestion she gave Theseus a clue when he went in; Theseus fastened it to the door, and, drawing it after him, entered in. And having found the Minotaur in the last part of the labyrinth, he killed him by smiting him with his fists; and drawing the clue after him made his way out again.
And by night he arrived with Ariadne and the children at Naxos. There Dionysus fell in love with Ariadne and carried her off; and having brought her to Lemnos he enjoyed her, and begat Thoas, Staphylus, Oenopion, and Peparethus.
In his grief on account of Ariadne, Theseus forgot to spread white sails on his ship when he stood for port; and Aegeus, seeing from the acropolis the ship with a black sail, supposed that Theseus had perished; so he cast himself down and died.
But Theseus succeeded to the sovereignty of Athens, and killed the sons of Pallas, fifty in number; likewise all who would oppose him were killed by him, and he got the whole government to himself.
On being apprized of the flight of Theseus and his company, Minos shut up the guilty Daedalus in the labyrinth, along with his son Icarus, who had been borne to Daedalus by Naucrate, a female slave of Minos. But Daedalus constructed wings for himself and his son, and enjoined his son, when he took to flight, neither to fly high, lest the glue should melt in the sun and the wings should drop off, nor to fly near the sea, lest the pinions should be detached by the damp.
But the infatuated Icarus, disregarding his father's injunctions, soared ever higher, till, the glue melting, he fell into the sea called after him Icarian, and perished. But Daedalus made his way safely to Camicus in Sicily.
And Minos pursued Daedalus, and in every country that he searched he carried a spiral shell and promised to give a great reward to him who should pass a thread through the shell, believing that by that means he should discover Daedalus. And having come to Camicus in Sicily, to the court of Cocalus, with whom Daedalus was concealed, he showed the spiral shell. Cocalus took it, and promised to thread it, and gave it to Daedalus; and Daedalus fastened a thread to an ant, and, having bored a hole in the spiral shell, allowed the ant to pass through it. But when Minos found the thread passed through the shell, he perceived that Daedalus was with Cocalus, and at once demanded his surrender.
Cocalus promised to surrender him, and made an entertainment for Minos; but after his bath Minos was undone by the daughters of Cocalus; some say, however, that he died through being drenched with boiling water.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/Apollodorus3.html#15
Last time we heard about too many statues, the Bull of Crete, as well as the time Theseus ruined Heracles' lion skin. This time we shall hear an overview of Theseus adventures, from the Library of Apollodorus, including his journey to Athens to his slaying of the Minotaur, plus the doomed flight of Icarus and the death of Minos.
King Pandion had four sons: Lycus, Nisus, Pallas, and Aegeus, who ruled over the others. Despite two marriages he had no children, so he went to the oracle. He asked King Pittheus about the mysterious message, who then had his daughter Aethra seduce him. Aegeus left heirlooms in case she had a son.
Later, a son of Minos named Androgeus was killed, and Aegeus blamed. Minos attacked, and Aegeus' brother Nisus died. Athens under siege and famine, asked an oracle who revealed that Minos must be compensated. Minos then asked for seven boys and seven girls as tribute, to be given to the Minotaur.
The Minotaur was imprisoned in the Labyrinth, built by Daedalus. He was exiled from Athens for killing Talos, his sister's son.
When Theseus came of age and retrieved the heirlooms, he cleared the road to Athens. He killed the clubber, the pine-bender, the sow, Sciron, Cercyon, Procrustes, and arrived at Athens. Medea brews some poison, but Aegeus recognizes his old sword, and saved him, and banishes Medea.
Minos comes for tribute, and Theseus volunteers. If he returns alive he'll change the sails from black to white. Minos' daughter Ariadne helps him with a clue, but on the way home from crete, Dionysus steals her away. Theseus forgets to change the sails, and Aegeus jumps to his death. Theseus kills the fifty sons of Pallas, and becomes king.
Minos imprisons Daedalus and his son Icarus in the labyrinth, but they build wings and fly away. Icarus melted his wings by fling too high and died, but Daedalus escaped to the court of Cocalus in Sicily. His daughters killed Minos with boiling bath water.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/Apollodorus3.html#15
The Epitome of Theseus,
a Legendary Passage,
from The Library of Apollodorus,
translated by J. G. Frazer.
[3.15.5] - [E.1.15]
While Pandion was at Megara, he had sons born to him, to wit, Aegeus, Pallas, Nisus, and Lycus. But some say that Aegeus was a son of Scyrius, but was passed off by Pandion as his own.
After the death of Pandion his sons marched against Athens, expelled the Metionids, and divided the government in four; but Aegeus had the whole power.
The first wife whom he married was Meta, daughter of Hoples, and the second was Chalciope, daughter of Rhexenor. As no child was born to him, he feared his brothers, and went to Pythia and consulted the oracle concerning the begetting of children. The god answered him:
The bulging mouth of the wineskin, O best of men, loose not until thou hast reached the height of Athens.
Not knowing what to make of the oracle, he set out on his return to Athens.
And journeying by way of Troezen, he lodged with Pittheus, son of Pelops, who, understanding the oracle, made him drunk and caused him to lie with his daughter Aethra.
But in the same night Poseidon also had connexion with her.
Now Aegeus charged Aethra that, if she gave birth to a male child, she should rear it, without telling whose it was; and he left a sword and sandals under a certain rock, saying that when the boy could roll away the rock and take them up, she was then to send him away with them.
But he himself came to Athens and celebrated the games of the Panathenian festival, in which Androgeus, son of Minos, vanquished all comers. Him Aegeus sent against the bull of Marathon, by which he was destroyed. But some say that as he journeyed to Thebes to take part in the games in honor of Laius, he was waylaid and murdered by the jealous competitors.
But when the tidings of his death were brought to Minos, as he was sacrificing to the Graces in Paros, he threw away the garland from his head and stopped the music of the flute, but nevertheless completed the sacrifice; hence down to this day they sacrifice to the Graces in Paros without flutes and garlands.
But not long afterwards, being master of the sea, he attacked Athens with a fleet and captured Megara, then ruled by king Nisus, son of Pandion, and he slew Megareus, son of Hippomenes, who had come from Onchestus to the help of Nisus.
Now Nisus perished through his daughter's treachery. For he had a purple hair on the middle of his head, and an oracle ran that when it was pulled out he should die; and his daughter Scylla fell in love with Minos and pulled out the hair. But when Minos had made himself master of Megara, he tied the damsel by the feet to the stern of the ship and drowned her.
When the war lingered on and he could not take Athens, he prayed to Zeus that he might be avenged on the Athenians. And the city being visited with a famine and a pestilence, the Athenians at first, in obedience to an ancient oracle, slaughtered the daughters of Hyacinth, to wit, Antheis, Aegleis, Lytaea, and Orthaea, on the grave of Geraestus, the Cyclops; now Hyacinth, the father of the damsels, had come from Lacedaemon and dwelt in Athens.
But when this was of no avail, they inquired of the oracle how they could be delivered; and the god answered them that they should give Minos whatever satisfaction he might choose. So they sent to Minos and left it to him to claim satisfaction. And Minos ordered them to send seven youths and the same number of damsels without weapons to be fodder for the Minotaur.
Now the Minotaur was confined in a labyrinth, in which he who entered could not find his way out; for many a winding turn shut off the secret outward way. The labyrinth was constructed by Daedalus, whose father was Eupalamus, son of Metion, and whose mother was Alcippe; for he was an excellent architect and the first inventor of images. He had fled from Athens, because he had thrown down from the acropolis Talos, the son of his sister Perdix; for Talos was his pupil, and Daedalus feared that with his talents he might surpass himself, seeing that he had sawed a thin stick with a jawbone of a snake which he had found. But the corpse was discovered; Daedalus was tried in the Areopagus, and being condemned fled to Minos. And there Pasiphae having fallen in love with the bull of Poseidon, Daedalus acted as her accomplice by contriving a wooden cow, and he constructed the labyrinth, to which the Athenians every year sent seven youths and as many damsels to be fodder for the Minotaur.
Aethra bore to Aegeus a son Theseus, and when he was grown up, he pushed away the rock and took up the sandals and the sword, and hastened on foot to Athens.
And he cleared the road, which had been beset by evildoers. For first in Epidaurus he slew Periphetes, son of Hephaestus and Anticlia, who was surnamed the Clubman from the club which he carried. For being crazy on his legs he carried an iron club, with which he despatched the passers-by. That club Theseus wrested from him and continued to carry about.
Second, he killed Sinis, son of Polypemon and Sylea, daughter of Corinthus. This Sinis was surnamed the Pine-bender; for inhabiting the Isthmus of Corinth he used to force the passersby to keep bending pine trees; but they were too weak to do so, and being tossed up by the trees they perished miserably. In that way also Theseus killed Sinis.
-
Third, he slew at Crommyon the sow that was called Phaea after the old woman who bred it; that sow, some say, was the offspring of Echidna and Typhon.
Fourth, he slew Sciron, the Corinthian, son of Pelops, or, as some say, of Poseidon. He in the Megarian territory held the rocks called after him Scironian, and compelled passers-by to wash his feet, and in the act of washing he kicked them into the deep to be the prey of a huge turtle.
But Theseus seized him by the feet and threw him into the sea.
Fifth, in Eleusis he slew Cercyon, son of Branchus and a nymph Argiope. This Cercyon compelled passers-by to wrestle, and in wrestling, killed them. But Theseus lifted him up on high and dashed him to the ground.
Sixth, he slew Damastes, whom some call Polypemon. He had his dwelling beside the road, and made up two beds, one small and the other big; and offering hospitality to the passers-by, he laid the short men on the big bed and hammered them, to make them fit the bed; but the tall men he laid on the little bed and sawed off the portions of the body that projected beyond it.
So, having cleared the road, Theseus came to Athens.
But Medea, being then wedded to Aegeus, plotted against him and persuaded Aegeus to beware of him as a traitor. And Aegeus, not knowing his own son, was afraid and sent him against the Marathonian bull.
And when Theseus had killed it, Aegeus presented to him a poison which he had received the selfsame day from Medea. But just as the draught was about to be administered to him, he gave his father the sword, and on recognizing it Aegeus dashed the cup from his hands. And when Theseus was thus made known to his father and informed of the plot, he expelled Medea.
And he was numbered among those who were to be sent as the third tribute to the Minotaur; or, as some affirm, he offered himself voluntarily. And as the ship had a black sail, Aegeus charged his son, if he returned alive, to spread white sails on the ship.
And when he came to Crete, Ariadne, daughter of Minos, being amorously disposed to him, offered to help him if he would agree to carry her away to Athens and have her to wife. Theseus having agreed on oath to do so, she besought Daedalus to disclose the way out of the labyrinth.
And at his suggestion she gave Theseus a clue when he went in; Theseus fastened it to the door, and, drawing it after him, entered in. And having found the Minotaur in the last part of the labyrinth, he killed him by smiting him with his fists; and drawing the clue after him made his way out again.
And by night he arrived with Ariadne and the children at Naxos. There Dionysus fell in love with Ariadne and carried her off; and having brought her to Lemnos he enjoyed her, and begat Thoas, Staphylus, Oenopion, and Peparethus.
In his grief on account of Ariadne, Theseus forgot to spread white sails on his ship when he stood for port; and Aegeus, seeing from the acropolis the ship with a black sail, supposed that Theseus had perished; so he cast himself down and died.
But Theseus succeeded to the sovereignty of Athens, and killed the sons of Pallas, fifty in number; likewise all who would oppose him were killed by him, and he got the whole government to himself.
On being apprized of the flight of Theseus and his company, Minos shut up the guilty Daedalus in the labyrinth, along with his son Icarus, who had been borne to Daedalus by Naucrate, a female slave of Minos. But Daedalus constructed wings for himself and his son, and enjoined his son, when he took to flight, neither to fly high, lest the glue should melt in the sun and the wings should drop off, nor to fly near the sea, lest the pinions should be detached by the damp.
But the infatuated Icarus, disregarding his father's injunctions, soared ever higher, till, the glue melting, he fell into the sea called after him Icarian, and perished. But Daedalus made his way safely to Camicus in Sicily.
And Minos pursued Daedalus, and in every country that he searched he carried a spiral shell and promised to give a great reward to him who should pass a thread through the shell, believing that by that means he should discover Daedalus. And having come to Camicus in Sicily, to the court of Cocalus, with whom Daedalus was concealed, he showed the spiral shell. Cocalus took it, and promised to thread it, and gave it to Daedalus; and Daedalus fastened a thread to an ant, and, having bored a hole in the spiral shell, allowed the ant to pass through it. But when Minos found the thread passed through the shell, he perceived that Daedalus was with Cocalus, and at once demanded his surrender.
Cocalus promised to surrender him, and made an entertainment for Minos; but after his bath Minos was undone by the daughters of Cocalus; some say, however, that he died through being drenched with boiling water.
http://www.theoi.com/Text/Apollodorus3.html#15
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