Metamorphoses
Ovid
Ovid. The XV bookes of P. Ouidius Naso, entytuled Metamorphosis. Golding, Arthur, translator. London: W. Seres (printer), 1567.
- The Centaure Chyron in the while was glad of Phebus boy,
- And as the burthen brought some care the honor brought him joy.
- Upon a time with golden lockes about hir shoulders spread,
- A daughter of the Centaurs (whome a certaine Nymph had bred
- About the brooke Caycus bankes) that hight Ocyroe
- Came thither. This same fayre yong Nymph could not contented be
- To learne the craft of Surgerie as perfect as hir Sire,
- But that to learne the secret doomes of Fate she must aspire.
- And therfore when the furious rage of frenzie had hir cought,
- And that the spright of Prophecie enflamed had hir thought,
- She lookt upon the childe and saide: Sweete babe the Gods thee make
- A man. For all the world shall fare the better for thy sake.
- All sores and sicknesse shalt thou cure: thy powre shall eke be syche,
- To make the dead alive again. For doing of the whiche
- Against the pleasure of the Gods, thy Graundsire shall thee strike
- So with his fire, that never more thou shalt performe the like.
- And of a God a bludlesse corse, and of a corse (full straunge)
- Thou shalt become a God againe, and twice thy nature chaunge.
- And thou my father liefe and deare, who now by destinie,
- Art borne to live for evermore and never for to die,
- Shalt suffer such outragious paine throughout thy members all,
- By wounding of a venimde dart that on thy foote shall fall,
- That oft thou shalt desire to die, and in the latter end
- The fatall dames shall breake thy threede and thy desire thee send.
- There was yet more behinde to tell, when sodenly she fet
- A sore deepe sigh, and downe hir cheekes the teares did trickle wet.
- Mine owne misfortune (quoth she) now hath overtake me sure.
- I cannot utter any more, for words waxe out of ure.
- My cunning was not worth so much as that it should procure
- The wrath of God. I feele by proufe far better had it bene:
- If that the chaunce of things to come I never had foreseene.
- For now my native shape withdrawes. Me thinkes I have delight
- To feede on grasse and fling in fieldes: I feele my selfe so light.
- I am transformed to a Mare like other of my kinne.
- But wherfore should this brutish shape all over wholy winne?
- Considering that although both horse and man my father bee:
- Yet is his better part a man as plainly is to see.
- The latter ende of this complaint was fumbled in such wise,
- As what she meant the standers by could scarcely well devise.
- Anon she neyther semde to speake nor fully for to ney,
- But like to one that counterfeites in sport the Mare to play.
- Within a while she neyed plaine, and downe hir armes were pight
- Upon the ground all clad with haire, and bare hir bodie right.
- Hir fingers joyned all in one, at ende wherof did grow
- In stede of nayles a round tough hoofe of welked horne bylow.
- Hir head and necke shot forth in length, hir kirtle trayne became
- A faire long taile. Hir flaring haire was made a hanging Mane.
- And as hir native shape and voyce most monstrously did passe,
- So by the uncoth name of Mare she after termed was.
- The Centaure Chyron wept hereat: and piteously dismaide
- Did call on thee (although in vaine) thou Delphian God for ayde.
- For neyther lay it in thy hande to breake Joves mighty hest,
- And though it had, yet in thy state as then thou did not rest.
- In Elis did thou then abide and in Messene lande.
- It was the time when under shape of shepehierde with a wande
- Of Olyve and a pipe of reedes thou kept Admetus sheepe.
- Now in this time that (save of Love) thou tooke none other keepe,
- And madste thee merrie with thy pipe, the glistring Maias sonne
- By chaunce abrode the fields of Pyle spide certaine cattle runne
- Without a hierde, the which he stole and closely did them hide
- Among the woods. This pretie slight no earthly creature spide,
- Save one old churle that Battus hight. This Battus had the charge
- Of welthie Neleus feeding groundes, and all his pastures large,
- And kept a race of goodly Mares. Of him he was afraide.
- And lest by him his privie theft should chaunce to be bewraide,
- He tooke a bribe to stop his mouth, and thus unto him saide:
- My friend I pray thee if perchaunce that any man enquire
- This cattell say thou saw them not. And take thou for thy hire
- This faire yong Bullocke. Tother tooke the Bullocke at his hand,
- And shewing him a certaine stone that lay upon the lande,
- Sayd, go thy way: Assoone this stone thy doings shall bewray,
- As I shall doe. So Mercurie did seeme to go his way.
- Annon he commes me backe againe, and altred both in speche
- And outward shape, saide: Countrieman Ich heartely bezeche,
- And if thou zawest any kie come royling through this grounde,
- Or driven away, tell what he was and where they may be vownde.
- And I chill gethee vor thy paine an Hecfar and hir match.
- The Carle perceyving double gaine, and greedy for to catch,
- Sayde: Under yon same hill they were, and under yon same hill
- Cham zure they are, and with his hand he poynted thereuntill.
- At that Mercurius laughing saide: False knave: and doste bewray
- Me to my selfe? doste thou bewray me to my selfe I say?
- And with that word strayt to a stone he turnde his double heart,
- In which the slaunder yet remaines without the stones desart.