Ere this transpired,observed the consort of the Thunder-Godher altered mien; but she for ripening timewithheld severe resentment. Now delaywas needless for distracted Juno heardCalisto of the god of Heaven had bornea boy called Arcas. Full of jealous rage,her eyes and thoughts enkindled as she cried;“And only this was wanting to completeyour wickedness, that you should bear a sonand flaunt abroad the infamy of Jove!Unpunished you shall not escape, for Iwill spoil the beauty that has made you proudand dazzled Jupiter with wanton art.”So saying, by her forehead's tresses seizedthe goddess on her rival; and she draggedher roughly to the ground. Pleading she raisedher suppliant arms and begged for mercy.—Whileshe pled, black hair spread over her white limbs;her hands were lengthened into feet, and clawslong-curving tipped them; snarling jaws deformedthe mouth that Jove had kissed. And lest her prayersand piteous words might move some listening God,and give remembrance, speech was so denied,that only from her throat came angry growls,now uttered hoarse and threatening.Still remainsher understanding, though her body, thustransformed, makes her appear a savage bear.—her sorrows are expressed in many a groan,repeated as she lifts her hands—if wemay call them so—repeated as she liftsthem towards the stars and skies, ungrateful Joveregarding; but her voice accuses not.Afraid to rest in unfrequented woods,she wandered in the fields that once were hers,around her well-known dwelling. Over crags,in terror, she was driven by the criesof hounds; and many a time she fled in fear,a huntress from the hunters, or she hidfrom savage animals; forgetting hertransformed condition. Changed into a bear,she fled affrighted from the bears that hauntthe rugged mountains; and she feared and fledthe wolves,—although her father was a wolf.When thrice five birthdays rounded out the youthof Arcas, offspring of Lycaon's child,he hunted in the forest of his choice;where, hanging with his platted nets the treesof Erymanthian forest, he espiedhis transformed mother,—but he knew her not;no one had told him of his parentage.Knowing her child, she stood with levelled gaze,amazed and mute as he began approach;but Arcas, frightened at the sight drew backto pierce his mother's breast with wounding spear.—but not permitting it the god of Heavenaverted, and removed them from that crime.He, in a mighty wind—through vacant space,upbore them to the dome of starry heaven,and fixed them, Constellations, bright amidthe starry host.Juno on high beheldCalisto crowned with glory—great with rageher bosom heaved. She flew across the sea,to hoary Tethys and to old Oceanus,whom all the Gods revere, and thus to themin answer to their words she made address;“And is it wondered that the Queen of Godscomes hither from ethereal abodes?My rival sits upon the Throne of Heaven:yea, when the wing of Night has darkenedlet my fair word be deemed of no repute,if you behold not in the height of Heaventhose new made stars, now honoured to my shame,conspicuous; fixed in the highest dome of spacethat circles the utmost axis of the world.“Who, then, should hesitate to put affronton Juno? matchless goddess! each offenseredounds in benefit! Who dreads her rage?Oh boundless powers! Oh unimagined deeds!My enemy assumes a goddess' formwhen my decree deprives her human shape;—and thus the guilty rue their chastisement!“Now let high Jove to human shape transformthis hideous beast, as once before he changedhis Io from a heifer.—Let him nowdivorce his Juno and consort with her,and lead Calisto to his couch, and takethat wolf, Lycaon, for a father-in-law!“Oh, if an injury to me, your child,may move your pity! drive the Seven Starsfrom waters crystalline and azure-tint,and your domain debar from those that shinein Heaven, rewarded for Jove's wickedness.—bathe not a concubine in waters pure.”— the Gods of Ocean granted her request.High in her graceful chariot through the air,translucent, wends the goddess, glorious childof Saturn, with her peacocks many-hued:her peacocks, by the death of Argus limned,so gay were made when black as midnight turnedthy wings, O chattering raven! white of yore.For, long ago the ravens were not black—their plumage then was white as any dove—white-feathered, snow-white as the geese that guardwith watchful cries the Capitol: as whiteas swans that haunt the streams. Disgrace reversedthe raven's hue from white to black, becauseoffense was given by his chattering tongue.O glorious Phoebus! dutiful to thee,Coronis of Larissa, fairest maidof all Aemonia, was a grateful charm,a joy to thee whilst faithful to thy love,—while none defamed her chastity. But whenthe Raven, bird of Phoebus, learned the Nymphhad been unfaithful, mischief-bent that bird,spreading his white wings, hastened to impartthe sad news to his master. After himthe prattling Crow followed with flapping wings,eager to learn what caused the Raven's haste.Concealing nothing, with his busy tonguethe Raven gave the scandal to that bird:and unto him the prattling Crow replied;“A fruitless errand has befooled thy wits!Take timely warning of my fateful cries:consider what I was and what I am:was justice done? 'Twas my fidelitythat caused my downfall. For, it came to pass,within a basket, fashioned of small twigs,Minerva had enclosed that spawn; begotwithout a mother, Ericthonius;which to the wardship of three virgins, bornof double-natured Cecrops, she consignedwith this injunction, ‘Look ye not therein,nor learn the secret.’—“But I saw their deedswhile hidden in the leaves of a great treetwo of the sisters, Herse and Pandrosos,observed the charge, but scoffing at their fears,the third, Aglauros, with her nimble handsuntied the knotted cords, and there discloseda serpent and an infant. This I toldMinerva; but in turn, she took awayher long protection, and degraded mebeneath the boding Owl.—My punishmentshould warn the birds how many dangers theyincur from chattering tongues.“Not my desireimpelled me to report to her, nor didI crave protection; which, if thou wilt askMinerva, though enraged she must confirm.And when is told to thee what lately fameestablished, thou wilt not despise the Crow. “Begot by Coronaeus, who was lordof all the land of Phocis, I was oncea royal virgin, sought by suitors richand powerful. But beauty proved the causeof my misfortune; for it came to pass,as I was slowly walking on the sandsthat skirt the merge of ocean, where was oftmy wont to roam, the god of Ocean gazedimpassioned, and with honied words imploredmy love—but finding that I paid no heed,and all his words despised, he fumed with rageand followed me.“I fled from that sea-shore,to fields of shifting sands that all my stepsdelayed: and in despair upon the Godsand all mankind I called for aid, but Iwas quite alone and helpless. Presentlythe chaste Minerva, me, a virgin, heardand me assistance gave: for as my armsimplored the Heavens, downy feathers grewfrom out the flesh; and as I tried to castmy mantle from my shoulders, wings appearedupon my tender sides; and as I stroveto beat my naked bosom with my hands,nor hands remained nor naked breast to beat.“I ran, and as I sped the sands no moredelayed me; I was soaring from the ground;and as I winged the air, Minerva choseme for a life-companion; but alas,although my life was blameless, fate or chancedeprived me of Minerva's loving aid;for soon Nictimene succeeded meto her protection and deserved esteem.—it happened in this way,—Nictimenecommitted the most wicked crimes, for whichMinerva changed her to the bird of night—and ever since has claimed her as her owninstead of me; and this despite the deedfor which she shuns the glorious light of day,and conscious of her crime conceals her shamein the dark night—Minerva's Owl now called.All the glad birds of day, indignant shun,and chase her from the skies.”But now repliedthe Raven to the Crow, that talked so much,“A mischief fall upon your prating headfor this detention of my flight. Your wordsand warnings I despise.” With which retorthe winged upon his journey, swiftly thencein haste, despite the warning to informhis patron, Phoebus, how he saw the fairCoronis with a lad of Thessaly.And when Apollo, Phoebus, heard the talethe busy Raven made such haste to tell,he dropped his plectrum and his laurel wreath,and his bright countenance went white with rage.He seized his trusted arms, and having benthis certain bow, pierced with a deadly shaftthat bosom which so often he had pressedagainst his own.Coronis moaned in pain,—and as she drew the keen shaft from the wound,her snow-white limbs were bathed in purple blood:and thus she wailed, “Ah, Phoebus! punishmentis justly mine! but wherefore didst thou notawait the hour of birth? for by my deathan innocent is slain.” This said, her soulexpired with her life-blood, and death congealedher drooping form.Sadly the love-lore Godrepents his jealous deed; regrets too latehis ready credence to the Raven's tale.Mourning his thoughtless deed, blaming himself,he vents his rage upon the talking bird;he hates his bow, the string, his own right hand,the fateful arrow. As a last resource,and thus to overcome her destiny,he strove to cherish her beloved form;for vain were all his medicinal arts.But when he saw upraised the funeral pyre,where wreathed in flames her body should be burnt,the sorrow of his heart welled forth in sighs;but tearless orbed, for no celestial facemay tide of woe bedew. So grieves the poor dam,when, swinging from his right the flashing ax,the butcher with a sounding blow dividesthe hollow temples of her sucking calf.Yet, after Phoebus poured the fragrant myrrh,sweet perfumes on her breast, that now once moreagainst his own he pressed, and after allthe prematurely hastened rites were done,he would not suffer the offspring of his loinsto mingle with her ashes, but he pluckedfrom out the flames, forth from the mother's thighshis child, unborn, and carried to the caveof double-natured Chiron.Then to himhe called the silly raven, high in hopesof large requital due for all his words;but, angry with his meddling ways, the Godturned the white feathers of that bird to blackand then forbade forever more to perchamong the favoured birds whose plumes are white. Chiron, the Centaur, taught his pupil; proudthat he was honoured by that God-like charge.Behold, his lovely daughter, who was bornbeside the margin of a rapid stream,came forward, with her yellow hair as goldadown her shoulders.—She was known by nameOcyroe. The hidden things that Fateconceals, she had the power to tell; for notcontent was she to learn her father's arts,but rather pondered on mysterious things.So, when the god of Frenzy warmed her breast,gazing on Aesculapius,—the childof Phoebus and Coronis, while her soulwas gifted, with prophetic voice she said;“O thou who wilt bestow on all the worldthe blessed boon of health, increase in strength!To thee shall mortals often owe their lives:to thee is given the power to raise the dead.But when against the power of Deitiesthou shalt presume to dare thy mortal skill,the bolts of Jove will shatter thy great might,and health no more be thine from thence to grant.And from a god thou shalt return to dust,and once again from dust become a God;and thou shalt thus renew thy destiny.—“And thou, dear father Chiron, brought to birthwith pledge of an immortal life, informedwith ever-during strength, when biting flamesof torment from the baneful serpent's bloodare coursing in thy veins, thou shalt implorea welcome death; and thy immortal lifethe Gods shall suffer to the power of death.—and the three Destinies shall cut thy thread.”She would continue these prophetic wordsbut tears unbidden trickled down her face;and, as it seemed her sighs would break her heart,she thus bewailed; “The Fates constrain my speechand I can say no more; my power has gone.Alas, my art, although of little forceand doubtful worth, has brought upon my headthe wrath of Heaven.“Oh wherefore did I knowto cast the future? Now my human formputs on another shape, and the long grassaffords me needed nourishment. I wantto range the boundless plains and have become,in image of my father's kind, a mare:but gaining this, why lose my human shape?My father's form is one of twain combined.”And as she wailed the words became confusedand scarcely understood; and soon her speechwas only as the whinny of a mare.Down to the meadow's green her arms were stretched;her fingers joined together, and smooth hoofsmade of five nails a single piece of horn.Her face and neck were lengthened, and her hairswept downward as a tail; the scattered locksthat clung around her neck were made a mane,tossed over to the right. Her voice and shapewere altogether changed, and since that daythe change has given her a different name.
In vain her hero father, Chiron, prayedthe glorious God, Apollo, her to aid.He could not thwart the will of mighty Jove;and if the power were his, far from the spot,from thence afar his footsteps trod the fieldsof Elis and Messenia, far from thence.Now while Apollo wandered on those plains,—his shoulders covered with a shepherd's skin,his left hand holding his long shepherd's staff,his right hand busied with the seven reedsof seven sizes, brooding over the deathof Hymenaeus, lost from his delight;while mournful ditties on the reeds were tuned,—his kine, forgotten, strayed away to grazeover the plains of Pylos. Mercuryobserved them, unattended, and from thencedrove them away and hid them in the forest.So deftly did he steal them, no one knewor noticed save an ancient forester,well known to all the neighbor-folk, by themcalled Battus. He was keeper of that wood,and that green pasture where the blooded maresof rich Neleus grazed.As Mercurydistrusted him, he led him to one sideand said; “Good stranger, whosoever thou art,if any one should haply question thee,if thou hast seen these kine, deny it all;and for thy good will, ere the deed is done,I give as thy reward this handsome cow.”Now when the gift was his, old Battus said,“Go hence in safety, if it be thy will;and should my tongue betray thee, let that stonemake mention of the theft.” And as he spoke,he pointed to a stone.The son of Jovepretended to depart, but quickly changedhis voice and features, and retraced his steps,and thus again addressed that ancient man;“Kind sir, if thou wouldst earn a fair reward,a heifer and a bull, if thou hast seensome cattle pass, I pray thee give thy help,and tell me of the theft.” So the rewardwas doubled; and the old man answered him,“Beyond those hills they be,” and so they were‘Beyond those hills.’And, laughing, Mercury said,“Thou treacherous man to me dost thou betraymyself? Dost thou bewray me to myself?”The god indignant turned his perjured breastinto a stone which even now is called“The Spy of Pylos,” a disgraceful name,derived from days of old, but undeserved. High in the dome of Heaven, behold the brightCaduceus-Bearer soared on balanced wings;and far below him through a fruitful grove,devoted to Minerva's hallowed reign,some virgins bearing on their lovely heads,in wicker baskets wreathed and decked with flowers,their sacred offerings to the citadelof that chaste goddess. And the winged God,while circling in the clear unbounded skies,beheld that train of virgins, beautiful,as they were thence returning on their way.Not forward on a level line he flew,but wheeled in circles round. Lo, the swift kiteswoops round the smoking entrails, while the priestsenclose in guarded ranks their sacrifice:wary with fear, that swiftest of all birds,dares not to venture from his vantage height,but greedily hovers on his waving wingsaround his keen desire. So, the bright Godcircled those towers, Actaean, round and round,in mazey circles, greedy as the bird.As much as Lucifer outshines the starsthat emulate the glory of his rays,as greatly as bright Phoebe pales thy light,O lustrous Lucifer! so far surpassedin beauty the fair maiden Herse, allthose lovely virgins of that sacred train,departing joyous from Minerva's grove.The Son of Jove, astonished, while he wheeledon balanced pinions through the yielding air,burned hot; as oft from Balearic slingthe leaden missile, hurled with sudden force,burns in a glowing heat beneath the clouds.Then sloped the god his course from airy height,and turned a different way; another wayhe went without disguise, in confidenceof his celestial grace. But though he knewhis face was beautiful, he combed his hair,and fixed his flowing raiment, that the fringeof radiant gold appeared. And in his handhe waved his long smooth wand, with which he givesthe wakeful sleep or waketh ridded eyes.He proudly glanced upon his twinkling feetthat sparkled with their scintillating wings.In a secluded part of that great fane,devoted to Minerva's hallowed rites,three chambers were adorned with tortoise shelland ivory and precious woods inlaid;and there, devoted to Minerva's praise,three well known sisters dwelt. Upon the rightdwelt Pandrosos and over on the leftAglauros dwelt, and Herse occupiedthe room between those two.When Mercurydrew near to them, Aglauros first espiedthe God, and ventured to enquire his name,and wherefore he was come. Then gracious spoketo her in answer the bright son of Jove;“Behold the god who carries through the airthe mandates of almighty Jupiter!But I come hither not to waste my timein idle words, but rather to beseechthy kindness and good aid, that I may winthe love of thy devoted sister Herse.”Aglauros, on the son of Jupiter,gazed with those eyes that only lately viewedthe guarded secret of the yellow-hairedMinerva, and demanded as her pricegold of great weight; before he paid deniedadmittance of the house.Minerva turned,with orbs of stern displeasure, towards the maidAglauros; and her bosom heaved with sighsso deeply laboured that her Aegis-shieldwas shaken on her valiant breast. For sheremembered when Aglauros gave to viewher charge, with impious hand, that monster formwithout a mother, maugre Nature's law,what time the god who dwells on Lemnos loved.—now to requite the god and sister; herto punish whose demand of gold was great;Minerva to the Cave of Envy sped.Dark, hideous with black gore, her dread abodeis hidden in the deepest hollowed cave,in utmost limits where the genial sunmay never shine, and where the breathing windsmay never venture; dismal, bitter cold,untempered by the warmth of welcome fires,involved forever in abounding gloom.When the fair champion came to this abodeshe stood before its entrance, for she deemedit not a lawful thing to enter there:and she whose arm is mortal to her foes,struck the black door-posts with her pointed spear,and shook them to the center. Straight the doorsflew open, and, behold, within was Envyravening the flesh of vipers, self-begot,the nutriment of her depraved desires.—when the great goddess met her evil gazeshe turned her eyes away. But Envy slow,in sluggish languor from the ground uprose,and left the scattered serpents half-devoured;then moving with a sullen pace approached.—and when she saw the gracious goddess, girtwith beauty and resplendent in her arms,she groaned aloud and fetched up heavy sighs.Her face is pale, her body long and lean,her shifting eyes glance to the left and right,her snaggle teeth are covered with black rust,her hanging paps overflow with bitter gall,her slavered tongue drips venom to the ground;busy in schemes and watchful in dark snaressweet sleep is banished from her blood-shot eyes;her smiles are only seen when others weep;with sorrow she observes the fortunate,and pines away as she beholds their joy;her own existence is her punishment,and while tormenting she torments herself.Although Minerva held her in deep scornshe thus commanded her with winged words;“Instil thy poison in Aglauros, childof Cecrops; I command thee; do my will.”She spake; and spurning with her spear the grounddeparted; and the sad and furtive-eyedenvy observed her in her glorious flight:she murmured at the goddess, great in arms:but waiting not she took in hand her staff,which bands of thorns encircled as a wreath,and veiled in midnight clouds departed thence.She blasted on her way the ripening fields;scorched the green meadows, starred with flowers,and breathed a pestilence throughout the landand the great cities. When her eyes beheldthe glorious citadel of Athens, greatin art and wealth, abode of joyful peace,she hardly could refrain from shedding tears,that nothing might be witnessed worthy tears.She sought the chamber where Aglauros slept,and hastened to obey the God's behest.She touched the maiden's bosom with her hands,foul with corrupting stains, and pierced her heartwith jagged thorns, and breathed upon her facea noxious venom; and distilled through allthe marrow of her bones, and in her lungs,a poison blacker than the ooze of pitch.And lest the canker of her poisoned soulmight spread unchecked throughout increasing space,she caused a vision of her sister's formto rise before her, happy with the Godwho shone in his celestial beauty. Allappeared more beautiful than real life.—when the most wretched daughter of Cecropshad seen the vision secret torment seizedon all her vitals; and she groaned aloud,tormented by her frenzy day and night.A slow consumption wasted her away,as ice is melted by the slant sunbeam,when the cool clouds are flitting in the sky.If she but thought of Herse's happinessshe burned, as thorny bushes are consumedwith smoldering embers under steaming stems.She could not bear to see her sister's joy,and longed for death, an end of misery;or schemed to end the torture of her mindby telling all she knew in shameful words,whispered to her austere and upright sire.But after many agonizing hours,she sat before the threshold of their hometo intercept the God, who as he nearedspoke softly in smooth blandishment.“Enough,” she said, “I will not move from hereuntil thou hast departed from my sight.”“Let us adhere to that which was agreed.”Rejoined the graceful-formed Cyllenian God,who as he spoke thrust open with a touchof his compelling wand the carved door.But when she made an effort to arise,her thighs felt heavy, rigid and benumbed;and as she struggled to arise her kneeswere stiffened? and her nails turned pale and cold;her veins grew pallid as the blood congealed.And even as the dreaded cancer spreadsthrough all the body, adding to its taintthe flesh uninjured; so, a deadly chillentered by slow degrees her breast, and stoppedher breathing, and the passages of life.She did not try to speak, but had she madean effort to complain there was not lefta passage for her voice. Her neck was changedto rigid stone, her countenance felt hard;she sat a bloodless statue, but of stonenot marble-white—her mind had stained it black. So from the land of Pallas went the God,his great revenge accomplished on the headof impious Aglauros; and he soaredon waving wings into the opened skies:and there his father called him to his side,and said,—with words to hide his passion;—Son,—thou faithful minister of my commands.—let naught delay thee—swiftly take the way,accustomed, to the land of Sidon (whichadores thy mother's star upon the left)when there, drive over to the sounding shorethat royal herd, which far away is fedon mountain grass.—he spoke, and instantlythe herd was driven from the mountain side;then headed for the shore, as Jove desired,—to where the great king's daughter often wentin play, attended by the maids of Tyre.—can love abide the majesty of kings?Love cannot always dwell upon a throne.—Jove laid aside his glorious dignity,for he assumed the semblance of a bulland mingled with the bullocks in the groves,his colour white as virgin snow, untrod,unmelted by the watery Southern Wind.His neck was thick with muscles, dewlaps hungbetween his shoulders; and his polished horns,so small and beautifully set, appearedthe artifice of man; fashioned as fairand more transparent than a lucent gem.His forehead was not lowered for attack,nor was there fury in his open eyes;the love of peace was in his countenance.When she beheld his beauty and mild eyes,the daughter of Agenor was amazed;but, daring not to touch him, stood apartuntil her virgin fears were quieted;then, near him, fragrant flowers in her handshe offered,—tempting, to his gentle mouth:and then the loving god in his great joykissed her sweet hands, and could not wait her will.Jove then began to frisk upon the grass,or laid his snow-white side on the smooth sand,yellow and golden. As her courage grewhe gave his breast one moment for caress,or bent his head for garlands newly made,wreathed for his polished horns.The royal maid,unwitting what she did, at length sat downupon the bull's broad back. Then by degreesthe god moved from the land and from the shore,and placed his feet, that seemed but shining hoofs,in shallow water by the sandy merge;and not a moment resting bore her thence,across the surface of the Middle Sea,while she affrighted gazed upon the shore—so fast receding. And she held his hornwith her right hand, and, steadied by the left,held on his ample back—and in the breezeher waving garments fluttered as they went.