Sibylla with such words beguild their wayfrom Stygian realms up to the Euboean town.Trojan Aeneas, after he had madedue sacrifice in Cumae, touched the shorethat had not yet been given his nurse's name.There Macareus of Neritus had come,companion of long tried Ulysses, therehe rested, weary of his lengthened toils.He recognized one left in Aetna's cave,greek Achaemenides, and, all amazedto find him yet alive, he said to him,“What chance, or what god, Achaemenides,preserves you? Why is this barbarian shipconveying you a Greek? What land is sought?”No longer ragged in the clothes he woreand his own master, wearing clothes not tackedwith sharp thorns, Achaemenides replied,“Again may I see Polyphemus' jawsout-streaming with their slaughtered human blood;if my own home and Ithaca give moredelight to me than this barbarian bark,or if I venerate Aeneas lessthan my own father. If I should give my all,it never could express my gratitude,that I can speak and breath, and see the heavensilluminated by the gleaming sun—how can I be ungrateful and forget all this?Because of him these limbs of mine were sparedthe Cyclops' jaws; and, though I were even nowto leave the light of life, I should at worstbe buried in a tomb—not in his maw.“What were my feelings when (unless indeedmy terror had deprived me of all sense) left there,I saw you making for the open sea?I wished to shout aloud, but was afraidit would betray me to the enemy.The shoutings of Ulysses nearly causeddestruction of your ship and there I sawthe Cyclops, when he tore a crag awayand hurled the huge rock in the whirling waves;I saw him also throw tremendous stoneswith his gigantic arms. They flew afar,as if impelled by catapults of war,I was struck dumb with terror lestthe waves or stones might overwhelm the ship,forgetting that I still was on the shore!“But when your flight had saved you from that deathof cruelty, the Cyclops, roaring rage,paced all about Mount Aetna, groping throughits forests with his outstretched arms. Deprivedof sight, he stumbled there against the rocks,until he reached the sea; and stretching outhis gore stained arms into its waters there,he cursed all of the Grecian race, and said,‘Oh! that some accident would carry backUlysses to me, or but one of hiscompanions; against whom my ragemight vent itself, whose joints my hand might tearwhose blood might drench my throat, whose living limbsmight quiver in my teeth. How trifling then,how insignificant would be the loss,of my sight which he took from me!’“All thisand more he said. A ghastly horror tookpossession of me when I saw his faceand every feature streaming yet with blood,his ruthless hands, and the vile open spacewhere his one eye had been, and his coarse limbs,and his beard matted through with human blood.“It seemed as if Death were before my eyes,yet that was but the least part of my woe.I seemed upon the point of being caught,my flesh about to be the food of his.Before my mind was fixed the time I sawtwo bodies of my loved companionsdashed three or four times hard against the ground,when he above them, like a lion, crouched,devouring quickly in his hideous jaws,their entrails and their flesh and their crushed bones,white marrowed, and their mangled quivering limbs.A trembling fear seized on me as I stoodpallid and without power to move from there,while I recalled him chewing greedily,and belching out his bloody banquet fromhis huge mouth—vomiting crushed pieces mixedwith phlegmy wine—and I feared such a doomin readiness, awaited wretched me.“Most carefully concealed for many days,trembling at every sound and fearing death,although desiring death; I fed myselfon grass and acorns, mixed with leaves; aloneand destitute, despondent unto death,awaiting my destruction I lost hope.In that condition a long while, at lastI saw a ship not far off, and by signsprayed for deliverance, as I ran in haste,down to the shore. My prayers prevailed on them.A Trojan ship took in and saved a Greek!“And now, O dearest to me of all men,tell me of your adventures, of your chiefand comrades, when you sailed out on the sea.” Then Macareus told him of Aeolus,the son of Hippotas, whose kingdom isthe Tuscan sea, whose prison holds the winds,and how Ulysses had received the windstied in a bull's hide bag, an awesome gift,how nine days with a favoring breeze they sailedand saw afar their longed for native land.How, as the tenth day dawned, the crew was movedby envy and a lust for gold, which theyimagined hidden in that leathern bagand so untied the thong which held the winds.These, rushing out, had driven the vessel backover the waves which they had safely passed,back to the harbor of King Aeolus.“From there,” he said, “we sailed until we reachedthe ancient city of Lamus, Laestrygon.—Antiphates was reigning in that land,and I was sent with two men of our troop,ambassadors to see him. Two of usescaped with difficulty, but the thirdstained the accursed Lestrygonian's jawswith his devoted blood. Antiphatespursued us, calling out his murderous horde.They came and, hurling stones and heavy beams,they overwhelmed and sank both ships and men.One ship escaped, on which Ulysses sailed.“Grieving, lamenting for companions lost,we finally arrived at that land whichyou may discern far off, and, trust my word,far off it should be seen—I saw it near!And oh most righteous Trojan, Venus' son,Aeneas, whom I call no more a foe,I warn you now: avoid the shores of Circe.“We moored our ship beside that country too;but, mindful of the dangers we had runwith Laestrygons and cruel Polyphemus,refused to go ashore. Ulysses chosesome men by lot and told them to seek outa roof which he had seen among the trees.The lot took me, then staunch Polytes next,Eurylochus, Elpenor fond of wine,and eighteen more and brought us to the wallsof Circe's dwelling.“As we drew near and stoodbefore the door, a thousand wolves rushed outfrom woods near by, and with the wolves there ranshe bears and lionesses, dread to see.And yet we had no cause to fear, for nonewould harm us with the smallest scratch.Why, they in friendship even wagged their tailsand fawned upon us, while we stood in doubt.“Then handmaids took us in and led us onthrough marble halls to the presence of their queen.She, in a beautiful recess, sat on her throne,clad richly in a shining purple robe,and over it she wore a golden veil.Nereids and nymphs, who never carded fleecewith motion of their fingers, nor drew outa ductile thread, were setting potent herbsin proper order and arranging themin baskets—a confusing wealth of flowerswere scattered among leaves of every hue:and she prescribed the tasks they all performed.“She knew the natural use of every leafand combinations of their virtues, whenmixed properly; and, giving them her closeattention, she examined every herbas it was weighed. When she observed us there,and had received our greetings and returned them,she smiled, as if we should be well received.At once she had her maidens bring a drinkof parched barley, of honey and strong wine,and curds of milk. And in the nectarous draughtshe added secretly her baleful drugs.“We took the cups presented to us byher sacred right hand; and, as soon as we,so thirsty, quaffed them with our parching mouths,that ruthless goddess with her outstretched wandtouched lightly the topmost hair upon our heads.(Although I am ashamed, I tell you this)stiff bristles quickly grew out over me,and I could speak no more. Instead of wordsI uttered hoarse murmurs and towards the groundbegan to bend and gaze with all my face.I felt my mouth take on a hardened skinwith a long crooked snout, and my neck swellwith muscles. With the very member whicha moment earlier had received the cupI now made tracks in sand of the palace court.Then with my friends, who suffered a like change(charms have such power!) I was prisoned in a stye.“We saw Eurylochus alone avoidour swinish form, for he refused the cup.If he had drained it, I should still remainone of a bristly herd. Nor would his newshave made Ulysses sure of our disasterand brought a swift avenger of our fate.“Peace bearing Hermes gave him a white flowerfrom a black root, called Moly by the gods.With this protection and the god's advicehe entered Circe's hall and, as she gavethe treacherous cup and with her magic wandessayed to touch his hair, he drove her backand terrified her with his quick drawn sword.She gave her promise, and, right hands exchanged,he was received unharmed into her couch,where he required the bodies of his friendsawarded him, as his prized marriage gift.“We then were sprinkled with more favored juiceof harmless plants, and smitten on the headwith the magic wand reversed. And new charms wererepeated, all conversely to the charmswhich had degraded us. Then, as she sings,more and yet more we raise ourselves erect,the bristles fall off and the fissures leaveour cloven feet, our shoulders overcometheir lost shape and our arms become attached,as they had been before. With tears of joywe all embrace him, also weeping tears;and we cling fondly to our chieftain's neck;—not one of us could say a single wordtill thus we had attested gratitude.”“The full space of a year detained us there,and I, remaining that long stretch of time,saw many things and heard as much besides:and this among the many other things,was told me secretly by one of the fourhandmaidens of those rites. While Circe passedher time from all apart except my chief,she brought me to a white marble shape, a youthwho bore a woodpecker upon his head.It stood erected in a hallowed place,adorned with many wreaths. When I had askedthe statue's name and why he stood reveredin that most sacred temple, and what causedthat bird he carried on his head; she said:—‘Listen, Macareus, and learn from this tale toothe power of Circe, and weigh the knowledge well!’ “Picus, offspring of Saturn, was the kingof the Ausonian land, one very fondof horses raised for war. The young man's formwas just what you now see, and had you knownhim as he lived, you would not change a line.His nature was as noble as his shape.He could not yet have seen the steeds contendfour times in races held with each fifth yearat Grecian Elis. But his good looks had charmedthe dryads born on Latin hills, Naiadswould pine for him—both goddesses of springand goddesses of fountains, pined for him,and nymphs that live in streaming Albula,Numicus, Anio's course, brief flowing Almo,and rapid Nar and Farfarus, so coolin its delightful shades; all these and thosewhich haunt the forest lake of ScythianDiana and the other nearby lakes.“ ‘But, heedless of all these, he loved a nymphwhom on the hill, called Palatine, 'tis said,Venilia bore to Janus double faced.When she had reached the age of marriage, shewas given to Picus Laurentine, preferredby her above all others—wonderfulindeed her beauty, but more wonderfulher skill in singing, from which art they calledher Canens. The fascination of her voicewould move the woods and rocks and tame wild beasts,and stay long rivers, and it even detainedthe wandering bird. Once, while she sang a laywith high, clear voice, Picus on his keen horserode in Laurentian fields to hunt the boar,two spears in his left hand, his purple cloakfastened with gold. The daughter of the Sunwandered in woods near by to find new herbsgrowing on fertile hills, for she had leftCircaean fields called so from her own name.“ ‘From a concealing thicket she observedthe youth with wonder. All the gathered herbsdropped from her hands, forgotten, to the groundand a hot fever-flame seemed to pervadeher marrow. When she could collect her thoughtshe wanted to confess her great desire,but the swift horse and his surrounding guardsprevented her approach. “Still you shall notescape me,” she declared, “although you maybe borne on winds, if I but know myself,and if some potency in herbs remains,and if my art of charms does not deceive.”“ ‘Such were her;thoughts, and then she formedan image of a bodiless wild swineand let it cross the trail before the kingand rush into a woodland dense with trees,which fallen trunks made pathless for his horse.Picus at once, unconscious of all harm,followed the phantom-prey and, hastilyquitting the reeking back of his good steed,he wandered in pursuit of a vain hope,on foot through that deep wood. She seized the chanceand by her incantation called strange godswith a strange charm, which had the power to hidethe white moon's features and draw thirsty cloudsabout her father's head. The changing skythen lowered more black at each repeated toneof incantation, and the ground exhaledits vapours, while his people wandered therealong the darkened paths until no guardwas near to aid the imperiled king.“ ‘Having now gained an opportunityand place, she said, “ O, youth most beautiful!By those fine eyes, which captivated mine,and by that graceful person, which brings me,even me, a goddess, suppliant to you,have pity on my passion; let the Sun,who looks on all things, be your father-in-law;do not despise Circe, the Titaness.”“But fiercely he repelled her and her prayer,“Whoever you may be, you are not mine,”he said. “Another lady has my heart.I pray that for a lengthening space of timeshe may so hold me. I will not polluteconjugal ties with the unhallowed lovesof any stranger, while the Fates preserveto me the child of Janus, my dear Canens.”“‘Titan's daughter, when many pleas had failed,said angrily, “You shall not leave me withimpunity, and you shall not returnto Canens; and by your experienceyou shall now learn what can be done by herso slighted—what a woman deep in lovecan do— and Circe is that slighted love.”“ ‘Then twice she turned herself to face the westand twice to face the East; and three times thenshe touched the young man with her wand,and sang three incantations. Picus fled,but, marvelling at his unaccustomed speed,he saw new wings, that spread on either sideand bore him onward. Angry at the thoughtof transformation—all so suddenlyadded a strange bird to the Latian woods,he struck the wild oaks with his hard new beak,and in his rage inflicted many woundson the long waving branches his wings tookthe purple of his robe. The piece of goldwhich he had used so nicely in his robewas changed to golden feathers, and his neckwas rich as yellow gold. Nothing remainedof Picus as he was except the name.“ ‘While all this happened his attendants calledon Picus often but in vain throughoutsurrounding fields, and finding not a traceof their young king, at length by chance they metwith Circe, who had cleared the darkened airand let the clouds disperse before the windand clear rays of the sun. Then with good causethey blamed her, they demanded the returnof their lost king, and with their hunting spearsthey threatened her. She, sprinkling baleful drugsand poison juices over them, invokedthe aid of Night and all the gods of Nightfrom Erebus and Chaos, and desiredthe aid of Hecat with long, wailing cries.“ ‘Most wonderful to tell, the forests leapedfrom fixed localities and the torn soiluttered deep groans, the trees surrounding changedfrom life-green to sick pallor, and the grasswas moistened with besprinkling drops of blood;the stones sent forth harsh longings, unknown dogsbarked loudly, and the ground became a massof filthy snakes, and unsubstantial hostsof the departed flitted without sound.The men all quaked appalled. With magic rodshe touched their faces, pale and all amazed,and at her touch the youths took on strange formsof wild animals. None kept his proper shape.“ ‘The setting sun is resting low uponthe far Tartessian shores, and now in vainher husband is expected by the eyesof longing Canens. Her slaves and people runabout through all the forest, holding lightsto meet him. Nor is it enough for thatdear nymph to weep and frenzied tear her hairand beat her breast—she did all that and more.Distracted she rushed forth and wandered throughthe Latin fields. Six nights, six brightening dawnsfound her quite unrefreshed with food or sleepwandering at random over hill and dale.The Tiber saw her last, with grief and toilwearied and lying on his widespread bank.In tears she poured out words with a faint voice,lamenting her sad woe, as when the swanabout to die sings a funereal dirge.Melting with grief at last she pined away;her flesh, her bones, her marrow liquifiedand vanished by degrees as formless airand yet the story lingers near that place,fitly named Canens by old-time Camenae!.’“Such things I heard and saw through a long year.Sluggish, inactive through our idleness,we were all ordered to embark againout on the deep, again to set our sails.The Titaness explained the doubtful paths,the great extent and peril, of wild seas.I was alarmed, I will confess to you;so, having reached these shores, I have remained.” Macareus finished. And Aeneas' nurse,now buried in a marble urn, had thisbrief, strange inscription on her tomb:—“My foster-child of proven piety,burned me Caieta here: althoughI was at first preserved from Argive fire,I later burned with fire which was my due.”The cable loosened from the grassy bank,they steered a course which kept them well awayfrom ill famed Circe's wiles and from her homeand sought the groves where Tiber dark with shade,breaks with his yellow sands into the sea.Aeneas then fell heir to the home and wonthe daughter of Latinus, Faunus' son,not without war. A people very fiercemade war, and Turnus, their young chief,indignant fought to hold a promised bride.With Latium all Etruria was embroiled,a victory hard to win was sought through war.By foreign aid each side got further strength:the camp of Rutuli abounds in men,and many throng the opposing camp of Troy.Aeneas did not find Evander's homein vain. But Venulus with no successcame to the realm of exiled Diomed.That hero had marked out his mighty wallswith favor of Iapygian Daunus andheld fields that came to him as marriage dower.When Venulus, by Turnus' orders, maderequest for aid, the Aetolian hero saidthat he was poor in men: he did not wishto risk in battle himself nor any troopsbelonging to his father-in-law and hadno troops of his that he could arm for battle.“Lest you should think I feign,” he then went on“Although my grief must be renewed becauseof bitter recollections of the past,I will endure recital now to you:—“After the lofty Ilion was burntand Pergama had fed the Grecian flames,and Ajax, the Narycian hero, hadbrought from a virgin, for a virgin wronged,the punishment which he alone deservedon our whole expedition, we were thendispersed and driven by violent windsover the hostile seas; and we, the Greeks,had to endure in darkness, lightning, rain,the wrath both of the heavens and of the sea,and Caphareus, the climax of our woe.Not to detain you by relating suchunhappy things in order, Greece might thenhave seemed to merit even Priam's tears.“Although well armed Minerva's care preservedme then and brought me safe through rocks and waves,from my native Argos I was driven again,for outraged Venus took her full revengeremembering still that wound of long ago;and I endured such hardships on the deep,and hazards amid armies on the shore,that often I called those happy whom the storm—an ill that came on all, or Cephareus had drowned.I even wished I had been one of them.“My best companions having now enduredutmost extremities in wars and seas,lost courage and demanded a swift endof our long wandering. Acmon, by nature hot,and much embittered by misfortune, said,‘What now remains for you, my friends,that patience can endure? What can be doneby Venus (if she wants to) more than shealready has done? While we have a dreadof greater evils, reason will be foundfor patience; but, when fortune brings her worst,we scorn and trample fear beneath our feet.Upon the height of woe, why should we care?Let Venus listen, let her hate Diomedmore than all others—as indeed she does,we all despise her hate. At a great pricewe have bought and won the right to such contempt!’“With language of this kind Pleuronian Acmon.Provoking Venus further than before,revived her former anger. His fierce wordswere then approved of by a few, while wethe greater number of his real friends,rebuked the words of Acmon: and while heprepared to answer us, his voice, and eventhe passage of his voice, were both at oncediminished, his hair changed to feathers, whilehis neck took a new form. His breast and backcovered themselves with down, and both his armsgrew longer feathers, and his elbows curvedinto light wings, much of each foot was changedto long toes, and his mouth grew still and hardwith pointed horn.“Amazed at his swift changewere Lycus, Abas, Nycteus and Rhexenor.And, while they stared, they took his feathered shape.The larger portion of my companyflew from their boat, resounding all aroundour oars with flapping of new-fashioned wings.If you should ask the form of these strange birdsthey were like snowy swans, though not the same.“Now as Iapygian Daunus' son-in-lawI scarcely hold this town and arid fieldswith my small remnant of trustworthy men.”So Diomed made answer. Venulussoon after left the Calydonian realms,Peucetian bays, and the Messapian fields.Among those fields he saw a darkened cavein woods and waving reeds. The halfgoat Pannow lives there, but in older time the nymphspossessed it. An Apulian shepherd scaredthem from that spot. At first he terrifiedthem with a sudden fear, but soon in scorn,as they considered what the intruder was, they danced before him, moving feet to time.The shepherd clown abused them, capering,grotesquely imitating graceful steps,and railed at them with coarse and foolish words.He was not silent till a tree's new barkhad closed his mouth for now he is a tree.And the wild olive's fruit took bitternessfrom him. It has the tartness of his tongue. When the ambassadors returned and toldtheir tale about Aetolian arms refused,the bold Rutulians carried on the warwithout those forces, and much blood was shed.Then Turnus with a greedy torch drew nearthe Trojan fleet, well built of close-knit pine.What had escaped the waves, now feared the flame.Soon Mulciber was burning pitch and waxand other food of fire, up the high mastshe ran and fed upon the tight furled sails,and even the benches in the curved hull smoked.When the holy mother of the gods, recallinghow those same pines were felled on Ida's crest,filled the wind with a sound of cymbals clashedand trill of boxwood flutes. Borne through light airby her famed lion yoke, she came and said,“In vain you cast the fire with impious hand,Turnus, for I will save this burning fleet.I will not let the greedy flame consumetrees that were part and members of my grove.”It thundered while she spoke, and heavy clouds,following the thunder, brought a stormof bounding hail. The Astraean brothers filledboth air and swollen waters with their rageand rushed to battle. With the aid of oneof them the kindly mother broke the ropeswhich held the Phrygian ships, and, drawing allprow foremost, plunged them underneath the wave.Softening quickly in the waters quiet depth,their wood was changed to flesh, the curving prowswere metamorphosed into human heads,blades of the oars made feet, the looms were changedto swimming legs, the sides turned human flanks,each keel below the middle of a shiptransformed became a spine, the cordage changedto soft hair, and the sail yards changed to arms.The azure color of the ships remained.As sea-nymphs in the water they beganto agitate with virgin sports the waves,which they had always dreaded. Natives ofthe rugged mountains they are now so changed,they swim and dwell in the soft flowing sea,with every influence of birth forgot.Never forgetful of the myriad risksthey have endured among the boisterous waves,they often give a helping hand to shipstossed in the power of storms—unless, of course,the ship might carry men of Grecian race.Never forgetful of the Phrygians andcatastrophe, their hatred was so greatof all Pelasgians, that they looked with joyupon the fragments of Ulysses' ship;and were delighted when they saw the shipof King Alcinous growing hard uponthe breakers, as its wood was turned to stone.Many were hopeful that a fleet which hadreceived life strangely in the forms of nymphswould cause the chieftain of the Rutulito feel such awe that he would end their strife.But he continued fighting, and each sidehad its own gods, and each had courage too,which often can be as potent as the gods.Now they forgot the kingdom as a dower,forgot the scepter of a father-in-law,and even forgot the pure Lavinia:their one thought was to conquer, and they wagedwar to prevent the shame of a defeat.But Venus finally beheld the armsof her victorious son; for Turnus fell,and Ardea fell, a town which, while he lived,was counted strong. The Trojan swordsdestroyed it.—All its houses burned and sankdown in the heated embers: and a birdnot known before that time, flew upward froma wrecked heap, beating the dead ashes withits flapping wings. The voice, the lean pale look,the sorrows of a captured city, eventhe name of the ruined city, all these thingsremain in that bird—Ardea's fallen wallsare beaten in lamentation by his wings. The merit of Aeneas now had movedthe gods. Even Juno stayed her lasting hate,when, with the state of young Iulus safe,the hero son of Cytherea wasprepared for heaven. In a council of the godsVenus arose, embraced her father's neck,and said: “ My father, ever kind to me,I do beseech your kind indulgence now;grant, dearest, to Aeneas, my own sonand also your own grandson, grant to hima godhead power, although of lowest class,sufficient if but granted. It is enoughto have looked once upon the unlovely realm.And once to have gone across the Stygian streams.”The gods assented, and the queen of Jovenodded consent with calm, approving face.The father said, “You well deserve the gift,both you who ask it, and the one for whomyou ask it: what you most desire is yours,my daughter.” He decreed, and she rejoicedand thanked her parent. Borne by harnessed dovesover and through the light air, she arrivedsafe on Laurentine shores: Numicius therewinds through his tall reeds to the neighboring seathe waters of his stream: and there she willedNumicius should wash perfectly awayfrom her Aeneas every part that mightbe subject unto death; and bear it farwith quiet current into Neptune's realm.The horned Numicius satisfied the willof Venus; and with flowing waters washedfrom her Aeneas every mortal part,and sprinkled him, so that the essential partof immortality remained alone,and she anointed him, thus purified,with heavenly essence, and she touched his facewith sweetest nectar and ambrosia mixt,thereby transforming him into a god.The throng of the Quirini later namedthe new god Indiges, and honored him.
Under the scepter of Ascaniusthe Latin state, transferred, was Alban too.Silvius ruled after him. Latinus then,wearing the crown, brought back an older name.Illustrious Alba followed after him,Epytus next in time, and Capys next,then Capetus. And reigning after themKing Tiberinus followed. He was drownedin waves of that Etrurian stream, to whichhe gave his name. His sons were Remulusand fierce Acrota—each in turn was king.The elder, Remulus, would imitatethe lightning, and he perished by a flashof lightning. Then Acrota, not so rash,succeeded to his brother, and he lefthis scepter to the valiant Aventinus,hill-buried on the very mountain whichhe ruled upon and which received his name.And Proca ruled then—on the Palatine.Under this king, Pomona lived, and noneof all the Latin hamadryads couldattend her garden with more skill, and nonewas more attentive to the fruitful trees,because of them her name was given to her.She cared not for the forests or the streams,but loved the country and the boughs that beardelicious fruit. Her right hand never felta javelin's weight, always she loved to holda sharp curved pruning-knife with which she wouldat one time crop too largely growing shoots,or at another time reduce the branchthat straggled; at another time she wouldengraft a sucker in divided bark,and so find nourishment for some young, strangenursling. She never suffered them to thirst,for she would water every winding threadof twisting roots with freshly flowing streams.All this was her delight, her chief pursuit;she never felt the least desire of love;but fearful of some rustic's violence,she had her orchard closed within a wall;and both forbade and fled the approach of males.What did not satyrs do to gain her love,a youthful crew expert at every dance?And also Pans their brows wreathed with the pine,Silenus too, more youthful than his years,and that god who is ever scaring thieveswith pruning-hook or limb—what did they notto gain her love? And though Vertumnus didexceed them in his love, yet he was notmore fortunate than they.How often disguisedas a rough reaper he brought her barley ears—truly he seemed a reaper to the life!Often he came, his temples wreathed with hay,as if he had been tossing new mown grass.He often held a whip in his tough hand,you could have sworn he had a moment beforeunyoked his wearied oxen. When he hada pruning-knife, he seemed to rear fine fruitin orchard trees or in the well kept vines.When he came with a ladder, you would thinkhe must be gathering fruit. Sometimes he wasa soldier with a sword—a fisherman,the rod held in his hand.—In fact by meansof many shapes he often had obtainedaccess to her and joyed in seeing her beauty.At length he had his brows bound with a capof color, and then leaning on a stick,with white hair round his temples, he assumedthe shape of an old woman. Entering sothe cultivated garden, he admiredthe fruit and said, “But you are so much lovelier!”And, while he praised her, gave some kisses too,such as no real beldame ever gave.The bent old creature then sat on the grass.Gazing at branches weighed down with their fruitof autumn. Opposite to them there wasan elm-tree beautiful with shining grapes;and, after he had praised it with the vineembracing it, he said,“But only think,if this trunk stood unwedded to this vine,it would have nothing to attract our heartsbeyond its leaves, and this delightful vine,united to the elm tree finds its rest;but, if not so joined to it, would fall down,prostrate upon the ground. And yet you findno warning in the example of this tree.You have avoided marriage, with no wishto be united—I must wish that youwould change and soon desire it. Helen wouldnot have so many suitors for her hand, nor shewho caused the battles of the Lapithae,nor would the wife of timid, and not bold,Ulysses. Even now, while you avoidthose who are courting you, and while you turnin your disgust, a thousand suitors wantto marry you—the demigods and gods,and deities of Alba's mountain-tops.“But you, if you are wise, and wish to makea good match, listen patiently to me, an old, old woman (I love you much morethan all of them, more than you dream or think).Despise all common persons, and choose nowVertumnus as the partner of your couch,and you may take me as a surety for him.He is not better known even to himself,than he is known to me. And he is notnow wandering everywhere, from here to therethroughout the world. He always will frequentthe places near here; and he does not, likeso many of your wooers, fall in lovewith her he happens to have seen the last.You are his first and last love, and to youalone will he devote his life. Besidesall—he is young and has a natural giftof grace, so that he can most readilytransform himself to any wanted shape,and will become whatever you may wish—even though you ask him things unseen before.“And only think, have you not the same tastes?Will he not be the first to welcome fruitswhich are your great delight? And does he nothold your gifts safely in his glad right hand?But now he does not long for any fruitplucked from the tree, and has no thought of herbswith pleasant juices that the garden gives;he cannot think of anything but you.Have pity on his passion, and believethat he who woos you is here and he pleadswith my lips.“You should not forget to fearavenging deities, and the Idalian,who hate all cruel hearts, and also dreadthe fierce revenge of her of Rhamnus-Land.And that you may stand more in awe of them,(old age has given me opportunitiesof knowing many things) I will relatesome happenings known in Cyprus, by which youmay be persuaded and relent with ease. “Iphis, born of a humble family,had seen the famed Anaxarete, whowas of the race of ancient Teucer.—Hehad seen her and felt fire inflame his bones.Struggling a long time, he could not subduehis passion by his reason, so he camea suppliant to her doors. And having nowconfessed his ardent passion to her nurse,besought her by the hopes reposed in herby the loved girl, not to give him a cold heartand at another time, with fair words givento each of many servants he besoughttheir kindest interest with an anxious voice.He often gave them coaxing words engravedon tablets of soft wax; and sometimes hewould fasten garlands, wet with dew of tears,upon the door-posts; and he often laidhis tender side nightlong on the hard threshold,sadly reproaching the obdurate bolt.“Deafer than the deep sea that rises highwhen the rainy Constellation of the Kidsis setting; harder than the iron whichthe fire of Noricum refines; more hardthan rock which in its native state is fixedfirm rooted; she despised and laughed at him,and, adding to her cruel deeds and pride,she boasted and deprived him of all hope.“Iphis, unable to endure such pain prolonged,spoke these, his final words, before her door:‘Anaxarete, you have conquered me,and you shall have no more annoyancesto bear from me. Be joyful and prepareyour triumph, and invoke god Paean, crownyourself with shining laurel. You are nowmy conqueror, and I resigned will die.Woman of iron, rejoice in victory!“At least, you will commend me for one thing,one point in which I must please even you,and cause you to confess my right of praise.Remember that my star crossed love for youdied only with the last breath of my life.And now in one short moment I shall bedeprived a twofold light; and no reportwill come to you, no messenger of death.But doubt not, I will come to you so thatI can be seen in person, and you maythen satiate your cruel eyesight withmy lifeless body. If, you gods above!You have some knowledge of our mortal waysremember me, for now my tongue can prayno longer. Let me be renowned in timesfar distant and give all those hours to Famewhich you have taken from my life on earth.’“Then to the doorpost which he often hadadorned with floral wreaths he lifted uphis swimming eyes and both his pallid arms,and, when he had fastened over the capitala rope that held a dangling noose, he said,—“Are these the garlands that delight your heart?You cruel and unnatural woman?”—Then,thrust in his head, turning even then towards her,and hung a hapless weight with broken neck.“The door, struck by the motion of his feetas they were quivering, seemed to utter soundsof groaning, and, when it flew open, showedthe sad sight. All the servants cried aloud,and after they had tried in vain to save him,carried him from there to his mother's house,(to her because his father was then dead).“She held him to her bosom and embracedthe cold limbs of her dead child. After shehad uttered words so natural to the griefof wretched mothers—after she had donewhat wretched mothers do at such sad times,she led a tearful funeral through the streets,the pale corpse following high upon the bier,on to a pyre laid in the central square.By chance, Anaxarete's house was nearthe way through which the mournful funeralwas going with the corpse, and the sad soundof wailing reached the ears of that proud girl—hardhearted, and already goaded onby an avenging god. Moved by the sound,she said; “Let me observe their sniveling rites.”And she ascended to an upper room,provided with wide windows. Scarcely hadshe looked at Iphis, laid out on the bier,when her eyes stiffened, and she turned all white,as warm blood left her body. She tried thento turn back from the window, but she stoodtransfixed there. She then tried to turn her faceaway from that sad sight, but could not move;and by degrees the stone, which always hadexisted, petrified in her cold breast,and took possession of her heart and limbs.“This is not fiction, and that you may know,Salamis keeps that statue safe today,formed of the virgin and has also builta temple called, ‘Venus the watchful Goddess.’Warned by her fate, O sweet nymph, lay asideprolonged disdain, and cheerfully uniteyourself to one who loves you. Then may frostof springtime never nip your fruit in bud,nor rude winds strike the blossom.”When the god,fitted for every shape, had said these words in vain,he laid the old woman's form aside and wasagain a youth. On her he seemed to blaze,as when the full light of the brilliant Sun,after it has dispelled opposing clouds,has shone forth with not one to intercept.He purposed violence, but there was thenno need of force. The lovely nymph was charmed,was captivated by the god's bright formand felt a passion answering to his love. At Proca's death unjust Amuliusseized with his troops the whole Ausonian wealth.And yet old Numitor, obtaining aidfrom his two grandsons, won the land againwhich he had lost; and on the festivalof Pales were the city walls begun.King Tatius with his Sabines went to war;Tarpeia, who betrayed the citadel,died justly underneath the weight of arms.Then troops from Cures crept, like silent wolves,without a word toward men subdued by sleepand tried the gates that Ilia's son had barred.Then Saturn's daughter opened wide a gate,turning the silent hinge. Venus aloneperceived the bars of that gate falling down.She surely would have closed it, were it notimpossible for any deityto countervail the acts of other gods.The Naiads of Ausonia occupieda spring that welled up close to Janus' fane.To them she prayed for aid. The fountain-nymphscould not resist the prayer of Venus, whenshe made her worthy plea and they releasedall waters under ground. Till then the pathby Janus' fane was open, never yet had floodsrisen to impede the way. But now they laidhot sulphur of a faint blue light beneaththe streaming fountain and with care appliedfire to the hallowed ways with smoking pitch.By these and many other violent meanshot vapors penetrated to the sourceof the good fountain.—Only think of it!Those waters which had rivalled the cold Alps,now rivalled with their heat the flames themselves!And, while each gate post steamed with boiling spray,the gate, which had been opened (but in vain)to hardy Sabines just outside, was madeimpassable by the heated fountain's flood,till Roman soldiers had regained their arms.After brave Romulus had led them forthand covered Roman ground with Sabines deadand its own people; and the accursed swordshed blood of father-in-law and son-in-law,with peace they chose at last to end the war,rather than fight on to the bitter end:Tatius and Romulus divide the throne.Tatius had fallen, and you, O Romulus,were giving laws to peoples now made one,when Mars put off his helmet and addressedthe father of gods and men in words like these:“The time has come, for now the Roman statehas been established on a strong foundationand no more must rely on one man's strengththe time has come for you to give the prize,promised to me and your deserving grandson,to raise him from the earth and grant him herea fitting place in heaven. One day you saidto me before a council of the gods,(for I recall now with a grateful mindhow I took note of your most gracious speech)‘Him you shall lift up to the blue of heaven.’Now let all know the meaning of your words!”The god all-powerful nodded his assent,and he obscured the air with heavy cloudsand on a trembling world he sent belowharsh thunder and bright lightning. Mars at onceperceived it was a signal plainly givenfor promised change—so, leaning on a spear,he mounted boldly into his chariot,and over bloodstained yoke and eager steedshe swung and cracked the loud-resounding lash.Descending through steep air, he halted onthe wooded summit of the Palatineand there, while Ilia's son was giving laws—needing no pomp and circumstance of kings,Mars caught him up. His mortal flesh dissolvedinto thin air, as when a ball of leadshot up from a broad sling melts all awayand soon is lost in heaven. A nobler shapewas given him, one more fitted to adornrich couches in high heaven, the shape divineof Quirinus clad in the trabea.His queen, Hersilia, wept continually,regarding him as lost, till regal Junocommanded Iris to glide down alongher curving bow and bring to her these words:“O matron, glory of the Latin raceand of the Sabines, worthy to have beenthe consort chosen by so great a manand now to be his partner as the godQuirinus, weep no more. If you desireto see your husband, let me guide you upto a grove that crowns the hill of Quirinus,shading a temple of the Roman king.”Iris obeyed her will, and, gliding downto earth along her tinted bow, conveyedthe message to Hersilia; who replied,with modest look and hardly lifted eye,“Goddess (although it is not in my powerto say your name, I am quite certain youmust be a goddess), lead me, O lead meuntil you show to me the hallowed formof my beloved husband. If the Fateswill but permit me once again to seehis features, I will say I have won heaven.”At once Hersilia and the virgin childof Thaumas, went together up the hillof Romulus. Descending through thin airthere came a star, and then Hersiliaher tresses glowing fiery in the light,rose with that star, as it returned through air.And her the founder of the Roman statereceived with dear, familiar hands. He changedher old time form and with the form her name.He called her Hora and let her becomea goddess, now the mate of Quirinus.