To him the hero, who proclaimed himselfa favored son of Neptune, answered now;“Declare the reason of your heavy sighs,and how your horn was broken?” And at oncethe Calydonian River-God replied,binding with reeds his unadorned rough locks:“It is a mournful task you have required,for who can wish to tell his own disgrace?But truly I shall speak without disguise,for my defeat, if rightly understood,should be my glory.—Even to have foughtin battle with a hero of such might,affords me consolation.“Deianira(you may have heard some tales of her) was oncethe envied hope of many. She was thena lovely virgin.—I, among the restwho loved this maiden, entered the fair homeof her great father Oeneus, and I said;“ ‘Consider all my claims, Parthaon's son,for I am come to plead your daughter's causeand mine—So you may make me son-in-law.,—’no sooner was it said, than Herculesin such words also claimed the virgin's hand:all others quickly yielded to our claims.“He boasted his descent from Jupiter;the glory of his labors and great deedsperformed at his unjust stepmother's wish.“But as he was not then a God, it seemeddisgraceful if my state should yield my right;so I contended with these haughty words,‘Why should this alien of a foreign land,contending for your daughter, match himselfto me! king of the waters in this realm!For as I wind around, across your lands,I must be of your people, and a partof your great state. Oh, let it not be said,because the jealous Juno had no thoughtto punish me by labors, my descentis not so regal! This tremendous boast,that you, Alcmena's son, are sprung from Jove,falls at the touch of truth;—or it revealsthe shame of a weak mother, who so gainedyour doubtful glory of descent from Heaven!Prove your descent from Jupiter is false,or else confess you are the son of shame!’“But Hercules, unable to controlthe flame of his great wrath, scowled as I spoke.He briefly answered me, ‘My hand excelsmy tongue; let me now overcome in fight,and I may suffer your offence of words.’“Full of unvented rage he rushed on me,but firm I stood, ashamed to yield a foot—I had so largely boasted, no retreat was left,and so I doffed my green robe—Striking guard,with clenched hands doubled at my breast,I stood my ground. He scooped up in his handfine, yellow dust; and tossed it on the airso that the tawny powder sprinkled us;quick-shifting then he sought to strike my neck,or feint at my quick-moving legs, and turnswift moving to attack me at all points.But as a huge cliff in the sea remainsunmoved, unshaken by the sounding waves,so my great size, against his vain attacks,defended me securely—Back we went;retiring for a space; then rushed againtogether, furious, and with foot to foot,determined not to yield, defiant stood,till, forward-bending from my waist and hips,I pressed my forehead against his and lockedhis fingers into mine: so, have I seentwo strong bulls rush in combat for the goodof some smooth heifer in the pasture—whilethe herd a-tremble and uncertain, wait;ready to give allegiance to the onemost worthy of dominion.“Thrice in vainHercules strove to push my breast from his,but I pressed ever closer—till, the fourthattempt succeeding, he unloosed my grip,and breaking from my circling arms drew back,and struck me such a buffet with his hand,it twisted me about, and instantlyhe clung with all his weight upon my back—“Believe me I have not suppressed the truth.Nor shall I try to gain applause not due:I seemed to bear a mountain on my back. —straining and dripping sweat, I broke his hold,—with great exertion I unlocked his grip.He pressed upon me, as I strained for breath,preventing a renewal of my strength,and seized upon my neck. Then at the last,my bent knee went down on the gritty earth,I bit the sand. So, worsted in my strength,I sought diversion by an artifice,and changed me to a serpent.—I then slippedfrom his tight clutches my great length, and coiledmy body now transformed to snaky folds—hissing I darted my divided tongue.“But Hercules, Alcides, only laughedand in derision of my scheming, said,‘It was the pastime of my cradle daysto strangle better snakes than you—and thoughyour great length may excel all of your kind,how small a part of that Lernaean snakewould you—one serpent be? It grew from woundsI gave (at first it had one hundred heads)and every time I severed one head fromits neck two grew there in the place of one,by which its strength increased. This creature thenoutbranching with strong serpents, sprung from deathand thriving on destruction, I destroyed.—What do you think will then become of you,disguised so in deceitful serpent-form,wielding a borrowed weapon not your own“And after he had ridiculed me thus,he gouged his fingers underneath my jaws,so that my throat was tortured, as if squeezedwith forceps, while I struggled in his grip.“Twice was I vanquished, there remained to mea third form so again I changed to seema savage bull, and with my limbs renewedin that form fought once more. He threw his armsabout the left side of my ponderous neck,and dragging on me followed as I ran.He seized on my hard horns, and, tugging turnedand twisted me, until he fastened themfirm in the surface of the earth; and pushedme, helpless, to the shifting sand beneath.Not yet content he laid his fierce right handon my tough horn, and broke and tore it frommy mutilated head.—This horn, now heapedwith fruits delicious and sweet-smelling flowers,the Naiads have held sacred from that hour,devoted to the bounteous goddess Plenty.’All this the River-god said; then a nymph,a lovely nymph like fair Diana dressed,whose locks were flowing down on either side,came graceful to the board, and brought to themof Autumn's plenty in an ample horn,and gave to them selected apples fora second course.And now, as early dawnappeared, and as the rising sunlight flashedon golden summits of surrounding hills,the young men waited not until the streamsubsiding, had resumed its peaceful way,but all arose, reluctant, and went forth.Then Achelous, in his moving waves,hid his fine rustic features and his head,scarred by the wound which gave the Horn of Plenty.

Loss of his horn had greatly humbled him,it was so cherished though his only loss, —but he could hide the sad disgrace with reedsand willow boughs entwined about his head.O, Nessus! your fierce passion for the samemaid utterly destroyed even you, pierced throughthe body by a flying arrow-point.Returning to the city of his birthgreat Hercules, the son of Jupiter,with his new bride, arrived upon the bankof swift Evenus—after winter rainshad swollen it so far beyond its wont,that, full of eddies, it was found to beimpassable. The hero stood there, bravebut anxious for his bride. Nessus, the centaur,strong-limbed and well-acquainted with those fords,came up to him and said, “Plunge in the floodand swim with unimpeded strength—for withmy help she will land safely over there.”And so the hero, with no thought of doubt,trusted the damsel to the centaur's care,though she was pale and trembling with her fearof the swift river and the centaur's aid.This done, the hero, burdened as he waswith quiver and the lion skin (for hehad tossed his club and curving bow acrossthe river to the other bank), declared,“Since I have undertaken it, at oncethis rushing water must be overcome.”And instantly, he plunged in without thoughtof where he might cross with most ease, for sohe scorned to take advantage of smooth water.And after he had gained the other bank,while picking up his bow which there was thrown,he heard his wife's voice, anxious for his help.He called to Nessus who was in the actthen to betray his trust: “Vain confidence!You are not swift enough, vile ravisher!You two-formed monster Nessus, I warn you!Hear me, and never dare to come betweenme and my love. If fear has no restraint,your father's dreadful fate on whirling wheel,should frighten you from this outrageous act:for you cannot escape, although you trustthe fleet-foot effort of a rapid horse.I cannot overtake you with my feetbut I can shoot and halt you with a wound.”his deed sustained the final warning word.He shot an arrow through the centaur's back,so that the keen barb was exposed beyondhis bleeding breast. He tore it from both wounds,and life-blood spurted instantly, mixed withthe deadly poison of Lernaean hydra.This Nessus caught, and muttering, “I shall notdie unavenged”, he gave his tunic, soakedwith blood to Deianira as a gift;and said, “Keep this to strengthen waning love.”Now many years passed by, and all the deeds,and labors of the mighty Hercules,gave to the wide world his unequalled fame;and finally appeased the hatred ofhis fierce stepmother.All victoriousreturning from Oechalia, he preparedto offer sacrifice, when at Cenaeum,upon an altar he had built to Jupiter,but tattling Rumor, swollen out of truthfrom small beginning to a wicked lie,declared brave Hercules, Amphitryon's son,was burning for the love of Iole.And Deianira—his fond wife—convincedherself, the wicked rumor must be true.Alarmed at the report of his new love,at first, poor wife, she was dissolved in tears,and then she sank in grievous misery.But soon in angry mood, she rose and said:“Why should I give up to my sorrow whileI drown my wretched spirit in weak tears?Let me consider an effectual check—while it is possible—even beforeshe comes, invader of my lawful bed:shall I be silent or complain of it?Must I go back to Calydon or stay?Shall I depart unbidden, from my house?Or, if no other method can prevail,shall I oppose my rival's first approach?O shade of Meleager, let me proveI am yet worthy to be called your sister;and in the desperate slaughter of this rival,the world, astonished, may be taught to fearthe vengeance of an injured woman's rage.”So, torn by many moods, at last her mindfixed on one thought:—she might still keep his love,could certainly restore it, if she sentto him the tunic soaked in Nessus' blood.Unknowingly, she gave the fatal causeof her own woe to trusting Lichas, whomshe urged in gentle words to take the gift,from her to her loved husband Hercules.He, unsuspecting, put the tunic on,all covered with Lernaean hydra's poison.The hero then was casting frankincenseinto the sacred flames, and pouring wineon marble altars, as his holy prayerswere floating to the Gods. The hallowed heatstriking upon his poisoned vesture, causedEchidna-bane to melt into his flesh.As long as he was able he withstoodthe torture. His great fortitude was strong.But when at last his anguish overcameeven his endurance, he filled all the wildof Oeta with his cries: he overturnedthose hallowed altars, then in frenzied hastehe strove to pull the tunic from his back.The poisoned garment, cleaving to him, rippedhis skin, heat-shriveled, from his burning flesh.Or, tightening on him, as his great strength pulled,stripped with it the great muscles from his limbs,leaving his huge bones bare.Even his bloodaudibly hissed, as red-hot blades when theyare plunged in water, so the burning baneboiled in his veins. Great perspiration streamedfrom his dissolving body, as the heatconsumed his entrails; and his sinews cracked,brittle when burnt. The marrow in his bonesdissolved, as it absorbed the venom-heat.

There was no limit to his misery;raising both hands up towards the stars of heaven,he cried, “Come Juno, feast upon my death;feast on me, cruel one, look down from yourexalted seat; behold my dreadful endand glut your savage heart! Oh, if I maydeserve some pity from my enemy,from you I mean, this hateful life of minetake from me—sick with cruel sufferingand only born for toil. The loss of lifewill be a boon to me, and surely isa fitting boon, such as stepmothers give!“Was it for this I slew Busiris, whodefiled his temples with the strangers' blood?For this I took his mother's strength from fierceantaeus—that I did not show a fearbefore the Spanish shepherd's triple form?Nor did I fear the monstrous triple formof Cerberus.—And is it possiblemy hands once seized and broke the strong bull's horns?And Elis knows their labor, and the wavesof Stymphalus, and the Parthenian woods.For this the prowess of these hands securedthe Amazonian girdle wrought of gold;and did my strong arms, gather all in vainthe fruit when guarded by the dragon's eyes.The centaurs could not foil me, nor the boarthat ravaged in Arcadian fruitful fields.Was it for this the hydra could not gaindouble the strength from strength as it was lost?And when I saw the steeds of Thrace, so fatwith human blood, and their vile mangers heapedwith mangled bodies, in a righteous rageI threw them to the ground, and slaughtered them,together with their master! In a caveI crushed the Nemean monster with these arms;and my strong neck upheld the wide-spread sky!And even the cruel Juno, wife of Jove—is weary of imposing heavy toils,but I am not subdued performing them.“A new calamity now crushes me,which not my strength, nor valor, nor the useof weapons can resist. Devouring flameshave preyed upon my limbs, and blasting heatnow shrivels the burnt tissue of my frame.But still Eurystheus is alive and well!And there are those who yet believe in Gods!”Just as a wild bull, in whose body spearsare rankling, while the frightened hunter fliesaway for safety, so the hero rangedover sky-piercing Oeta; his huge groans,his awful shrieks resounding in those cliffs.At times he struggles with the poisoned robe.Goaded to fury, he has razed great trees,and scattered the vast mountain rocks around!And stretched his arms towards his ancestral skies!So, in his frenzy, as he wandered there,he chanced upon the trembling Lichas, crouchedin the close covert of a hollow rock.Then in a savage fury he cried out,“Was it you, Lichas, brought this fatal gift?Shall you be called the author of my death?”Lichas, in terror, groveled at his feet,and begged for mercy—“Only let me live!”But seizing on him, the crazed Hero whirledhim thrice and once again about his head,and hurled him, shot as by a catapult,into the waves of the Euboic Sea.While he was hanging in the air, his formwas hardened; as, we know, rain drops may firstbe frozen by the cold air, and then changeto snow, and as it falls through whirling windsmay press, so twisted, into round hailstones:even so has ancient lore declared that whenstrong arms hurled Lichas through the mountain airthrough fear, his blood was curdled in his veins.No moisture left in him, he was transformedinto a flint-rock. Even to this day,a low crag rising from the waves is seenout of the deep Euboean Sea, and holdsthe certain outline of a human form,so sure]y traced, the wary sailors fearto tread upon it, thinking it has life,and they have called it Lichas ever since.But, O illustrious son of Jupiter!How many of the overspreading trees,thick-growing on the lofty mountain-peakof Oeta, did you level to the ground,and heap into a pyre! And then you badeobedient Philoctetes light a torchbeneath it, and then take in recompenseyour bow with its capacious quiver fullof arrows, arms that now again would seethe realm of Troy. And as the pyre beganto kindle with the greedy flames, you spreadthe Nemean lion skin upon the top,and, club for pillow, you lay down to sleep,as placid as if, with abounding cupsof generous wine and crowned with garlands, youwere safe, reclining on a banquet-couch.And now on every side the spreading flameswere crackling fiercely, as they leaped from earthupon the careless limbs of Hercules.He scorned their power. The Gods felt fearfor earth's defender and their sympathygave pleasure to Saturnian Jove — he knewtheir thought—and joyfully he said to them:“Your sudden fear is surely my delight,O heavenly Gods! my heart is lifted upand joy prevails upon me, in the thoughtthat I am called the Father and the Kingof all this grateful race of Gods. I knowmy own beloved offspring is securein your declared protection: your concernmay justly evidence his worth, whose deedsgreat benefits bestowed. Let not vain thoughtsalarm you, nor the rising flames of Oeta;for Hercules who conquered everything,shall conquer equally the spreading fireswhich now you see: and all that part of him,celestial — inherited of me—immortal, cannot feel the power of death.It is not subject to the poison-heat.And therefore, since his earth-life is now lost,him I'll translate, unshackled from all dross,and purified, to our celestial shore.I trust this action seems agreeableto all the Deities surrounding me.If any jealous god of heaven should grieveat the divinity of Hercules,he may begrudge the prize but he will knowat least 'twas given him deservedly,and with this thought he must approve the deed.”The Gods confirmed it: and though Juno seemedto be contented and to acquiesce,her deep vexation was not wholly hid,when Jupiter with his concluding wordsso plainly hinted at her jealous mind.Now, while the Gods conversed, the mortal partof Hercules was burnt by Mulciber;but yet an outline of a spirit-formremained. Unlike the well-known mortal shapederived by nature of his mother, hekept traces only of his father, Jove.And as a serpent, when it is revivedfrom its old age, casts off the faded skin,and fresh with vigor glitters in new scales,so, when the hero had put off all dross,his own celestial, wonderful appeared,majestic and of godlike dignity.And him, the glorious father of the Godsin the great chariot drawn by four swift steeds,took up above the wide-encircling clouds,and set him there amid the glittering stars.

Even Atlas felt the weight of Heaven increase,but King Eurystheus, still implacable,vented his baffled hatred on the sonsof the great hero. Then the Argive mother,Alcmena, spent and anxious with long cares,the burden of her old age and her fears,could pass the weary hours with Iolein garrulous narrations of his worth,his mighty labors and her own sad days.Iole, by command of Hercules,had been betrothed to Hyllus, and by himwas gravid, burdened with a noble child.And so to Iole, Alcmena toldthis story of the birth of Hercules:—“Ah, may the Gods be merciful to youand give you swift deliverance in that hourwhen needful of all help you must call outfor Ilithyia, the known goddess ofall frightened mothers in their travail, shewhom Juno's hatred overcame and madeso dreadful against me. For, when my hourof bearing Hercules was very near,and when the tenth sign of the zodiacwas traversed by the sun, my burden thenbecame so heavy, and the one I boreso large, you certainly could tell that Jovemust be the father of the unborn child.“At last, no longer able to endure—ah me, a cold sweat seizes on me now;only to think of it renews my pains!Seven days in agony, as many nights,exhausted in my dreadful misery,I stretched my arms to heaven and invokedLucina and three Nixian deitiesthe guardians of birth. Lucina came;but before then she had been pledged to givemy life to cruel Juno. While Lucinasat on the altar near the door and listened,with her right knee crossed over her left knee,with fingers interlocked, she stopped the birth:and in low muttered tones she chanted Charmswhich there prevented my deliverance.“I fiercely struggled, and insane with painshrieked vain revilings against Jupiter;I longed for death, and my delirious wordsthen should have moved the most unfeeling rocks.The Theban matrons, eager to help me,stood near me while they asked the aid of Heaven.“And there was present of the common class,my maid Galanthis—with her red-gold hair—efficient and most willing to obeyher worthy character deserved my love.She felt assured, Juno unjustly workedsome spell of strong effect against my life.And when this maid beheld Lucina perchedso strangely on the altar, with her fingersinwoven on her knees and tightly pressedtogether, in a gripping finger-comb,she guessed that jealous Juno was the cause.Quick-witted, in a ringing voice this maidcried out, ‘Congratulations! All is well!Alcmena is delivered—a fine childso safely brought forth—her true prayers approved!’“Lucina, who presides at birth, surprisedleaped up, unclenched her hands, as one amazed.Just as her hands unfastened, and her kneeswere parted from their stricture, I could feelthe bonds of stricture loosen; and withoutmore labor was delivered of my child.“'Tis said, Galanthis laughed and ridiculedthe cheated deity; and as she laughedthe vixen goddess caught her by the hairand dragging her upon the ground, while shewas struggling to arise, held her, and theretransformed both of her arms to animalforelegs. Her old activity remained;her hair was not changed, but she did not keepher maiden form: and ever since that day,because she aided with deceitful lips,her offspring are brought forth through the same mouth.Changed to a weasel she dwells now with me.”

When she had ended the sad tale, she heaveda deep sigh, in remembrance of her tried,beloved servant; and her daughter-in-lawIole kindly answered in these words:“O my dear mother, if you weep becauseof her who was your servant, now transformedinto a weasel, how can you supportthe true narration of my sister's fate;which I must tell to you, although my tearsand sorrows hinder and forbid my speech?“Most beautiful of all Oechalian maids,was Dryope, her mother's only child,for you must know I am the daughter ofmy father's second wife. She is not nowa maid; because, through violence of himwho rules at Delphi and at Delos, shewas taken by Andraemon, who since thenhas been accounted happy in his wife.“There is a lake surrounded by sweet lawns,encircling beauties, where the upper slopeis crowned with myrtles in fair sunny groves.Without a thought of danger Dryopein worship one day went to gather flowers,(who hears, has greater cause to be indignant)delightful garlands, for the water-nymphs,and, in her bosom, carried her dear son,not yet a year old, whom she fed for love.Not far from that dream-lake, in moisture grewa lotus, beautiful in purple bloom,the blossoms promising its fruit was near.“At play with her sweet infant, Dryopeplucked them as toys for him. I, too, was there,eagerly, also, I put forth my hand,and was just ready to secure a spray,when I was startled by some drops of blooddown-falling from the blossoms which were plucked;and even the trembling branches shook in dread.“Who wills, the truth of this may learn from allquaint people of that land, who still relatethe Story of Nymph Lotis. She, they say,while flying from the lust of Priapus,was transformed quickly from her human shape,into this tree, though she has kept her name.“But ignorant of all this, Dryope,alarmed, decided she must now return;so, having first adored the hallowed nymphs,upright she stood, and would have moved away,but both her feet were tangled in a root.There, as she struggled in its tightening hold,she could move nothing save her upper parts;and growing from that root, live bark beganto gather slowly upward from the ground,spreading around her, till it touched her loins:in terror when she saw the clinging growth,she would have torn her hair out by the roots,but, when she clutched at it, her hands were filledwith lotus leaves grown up from her changed head.“Alas, her little son, Amphissos, felthis mother's bosom harden to his touch,and no life-stream refreshed his eager lips.And while I saw your cruel destiny,O my dear sister! and could give no help,I clung to your loved body and aroundthe growing trunk and branches, hoping soto stop their evil growth; and I confess,endeavored there to hide beneath the bark.“And, oh! Andraemon and her father, thenappeared to me while they were sadly seekingfor Dryope: so there I had to showthe lotus as it covered her, and theygave kisses to the warm wood, and prostrate fellupon the ground, and clung to growing rootsof their new darling tree, transformed from her.—Dear sister, there was nothing of yourselfremaining but your face; and I could seeyour tears drop slowly on the trembling leaveswhich had so marvellously grown on you;and while your lips remained uncovered, allthe air surrounding, echoed your complaint:—“If oaths of wretched women can have force,I swear I have not merited this fate!Though innocent, to suffer punishment!And if one word of my complaint is false,I pray I may soon wither, and my leavesfall from me as in blight, and let the axedevote me, wretched to the flames. But takethis infant from my branches to a nurse;and let him often play beneath his tree,—his mother always. Let him drink his milkbeneath my shade. When he has learned to talklet him salute me, and in sorrow say“In this tree-trunk my mother is concealed.”O, let him dread the fate that lurks in ponds,and let him often play beneath his tree,—and let him be persuaded every shrubcontains the body of a goddess. — Ah!Farewell my husband,—sister, — and farewellmy father! If my love remain in youremember to protect my life from harm,so that the pruning-knife may never clipmy branches, and protect my foliage fromthe browsing sheep.“I cannot stoop to you;0h, if you love me, lift your lips to mine,and let me kiss you, if but once again,before this growing lotus covers me.Lift up my darling infant to my lips.How can I hope to say much more to you?The new bark now is creeping up my neck,and creeping downward from my covered brow!Ah, do not close my live eyes with your hands;there is no need of it, for growing barkwill spread and darken them before I die!’Such were the last words her poor smothered lipscould utter; for she was so quickly changed;and long thereafter the new branches keptthe warmth of her lost body, so transformed.”And all the while that Iole told this,tearful in sorrow for her sister's fate,Alcmena weeping, tried to comfort her.But as they wept together, suddenlya wonderful event astonished them;for, standing in the doorway, they beheldthe old man Iolaus, known to them,but now transformed from age to youth, he seemedalmost a boy, with light down on his cheeks:for Juno's daughter Hebe, had renewedhis years to please her husband, Hercules.Just at the time when ready to make oath,she would not grant such gifts to other men—Themis had happily prevented her.“For even now,” she said, “a civil strifeis almost ready to break forth in Thebes,and Capaneus shall be invincibleto all save the strong hand of Jove himself;and there two hostile brothers shall engagein bloody conflict; and Amphiarausshall see his own ghost, deep in yawning earth.“His own son, dutiful to him, shall beboth just and unjust in a single deed;for he, in vengeance for his father's death,shall slay his mother, and confounded loseboth home and reason,—persecuted bothby the grim Furies and the awful ghostof his own murdered mother; this untilhis wife, deluded, shall request of himthe fatal golden necklace, and untilthe sword of Phegeus drains his kinsman's blood.“And then at last his wife Callirhoeshall supplicate the mighty Jupiterto grant her infant sons the added yearsof youthful manhood. Then shall Jupiterlet Hebe, guardian of ungathered days,grant from the future to Callirhoe's sons,the strength of manhood in their infancy.Do not let their victorious father's deathbe unavenged a long while. Jove prevailedupon, will claim beforehand all the giftsof Hebe, who is his known daughter-in-law,and his step-daughter, and with one act changeCallirhoe's beardless boys to men of size.”

When Themis, prophesying future days,had said these words, the Gods of Heaven complainedbecause they also could not grant the giftof youth to many others in this way.Aurora wept because her husband hadwhite hair; and Ceres then bewailed the ageof her Iasion, grey and stricken old;and Mulciber demanded with new lifehis Erichthonius might again appear;and Venus, thinking upon future days,said old Anchises' years must be restored.And every god preferred some favorite,until vexed with the clamor, Jupiterimplored, “If you can have regard for me,consider the strange blessings you desire:does any one of you believe he canprevail against the settled will of Fate?As Iolaus has returned by fate,to those years spent by him; so by the FatesCallirhoe's sons from infancy must growto manhood with no struggle on their part,or force of their ambition. And you shouldendure your fortune with contented minds:I, also, must give all control to Fate.“If I had power to change the course of FateI would not let advancing age break downmy own son Aeacus, nor bend his backwith weight of year; and Rhadamanthus shouldretain an everlasting flower of youth,together with my own son Minos, whois now despised because of his great age,so that his scepter has lost dignity.”Such words of Jupiter controlled the Gods,and none continued to complain, when theysaw Aeacus and Rhadamanthus old,and Minos also, weary of his age.And they remembered Minos in his prime,had warred against great nations, till his nameif mentioned was a certain cause of fear.But now, enfeebled by great age, he fearedMiletus, Deione's son, becauseof his exultant youth and strength derivedfrom his great father Phoebus. And althoughhe well perceived Miletus' eye was fixedupon his throne, he did not dare to drivehim from his kingdom.But although not forced,Miletus of his own accord did fly,by swift ship, over to the Asian shore,across the Aegean water, where he builtthe city of his name.Cyane, whowas known to be the daughter of the streamMaeander, which with many a twist and turnflows wandering there—Cyane said to beindeed most beautiful, when known by him,gave birth to two; a girl called Byblis, whowas lovely, and the brother Caunus—twins.Byblis is an example that the loveof every maiden must be within law.Seized with a passion for her brother, sheloved him, descendant of Apollo, notas sister loves a brother; not in sucha manner as the law of man permits.At first she thought it surely was not wrongto kiss him passionately, while her armswere thrown around her brother's neck, and sodeceived herself. And, as the habit grew,her sister-love degenerated, tillrichly attired, she came to see her brother,with all endeavors to attract his eye;and anxious to be seen most beautiful,she envied every woman who appearedof rival beauty. But she did not knowor understand the flame, hot in her heart,though she was agitated when she sawthe object of her swiftly growing love.Now she began to call him lord, and nowshe hated to say brother, and she said,“Do call me Byblis—never call me sister!”And yet while feeling love so, when awakeshe does not dwell upon impure desire;but when dissolved in the soft arms of sleep,she sees the very object of her love,and blushing, dreams she is embraced by him,till slumber has departed. For a timeshe lies there silent, as her mind recallsthe loved appearance of her lovely dream,until her wavering heart, in grief exclaims:—“What is this vision of the silent night?Ah wretched me! I cannot count it true.And, if he were not my own brother, hewhy is my fond heart tortured with this dream?He is so handsome even to envious eyes,it is not strange he has filled my fond heart;so surely would be worthy of my love.But it is my misfortune I am hisown sister. Let me therefore strive, awake,to stand with honor, but let sleep returnthe same dream often to me.—There can beno fear of any witness to a shadewhich phantoms my delight.—O Cupid, swiftof love-wing with your mother, and O mybeloved Venus! wonderful the joysof my experience in the transport. Allas if reality sustaining, lifted meup to elysian pleasure, while in truthI lay dissolving to my very marrow:the pleasure was so brief, and Night, headlongsped from me, envious of my coming joys.“If I could change my name, and join to you,how good a daughter I would prove to yourdear father, and how good a son would yoube to my father. If the Gods agreed,then everything would be possessed by usin common, but this must exclude ancestors.For I should pray, compared with mine yours mightbe quite superior. But, oh my love,some other woman by your love will bea mother; but because, unfortunate,my parents are the same as yours, you mustbe nothing but a brother. Sorrows, then,shall be to us in common from this hour.What have my night-born vision signified?What weight have dreams? Do dreams have any weight?The Gods forbid! The Gods have sisters! Truthdeclares even Saturn married Ops, his ownblood-kin, Oceanus his Tethys, Jove,Olympian his Juno. But the Godsare so superior in their laws, I shouldnot measure human custom by the rightsestablished in the actions of divinities.This passion must be banished from my heart,or, if it cannot be so, I must praythat I may perish, and be laid out deadupon my couch so my dear brother theremay kiss my lips. But then he must consent,and my delight would seem to him a crime.“Tis known the sons of Aeolus embracedtheir sisters —But why should I think of these?Why should I take example from such lives?Must I do as they did? Far from it! letsuch lawless flames be quenched, until I feelno evil love for him, although the pureaffection of a sister may be mine,and cherished. If it should have happened firstthat my dear brother had loved me—ah then,I might have yielded love to his desire.Why not now? I myself must woo him, sinceI could not have rejected him, if hehad first wooed me. But is it possiblefor me to speak of it, with proper wordsdescribing such a strange confession? Lovewill certainly compel and give me speech.But, if shame seal my lips, then secret flamein a sealed letter may be safely told.”

And after all this wavering, her mindat last was satisfied; and as she leanedon her left elbow, partly raised from herhalf-dream position, she said, “Let him see:let me at once confess my frantic passionwithout repression! O my wretched heart!What hot flame burns me!” But while speaking so,she took an iron pen in her right hand,and trembling wrote the heart-words as she could,all on a clean wax tablet which she heldin her limp left hand. She begins and stops,and hesitates—she loves and hates her hotconfession—writes, erases, changes hereand there, condemns, approves, disheartened throwsher tablets down and takes them up again:her mind refuses everything she does,and moves against each action as begun:shame, fear and bold assurance mingled showedupon her face, as she began to write,“Your sister” but at once decided shecould not say sister, and commenced instead,with other words on her amended wax.“A health to you, which she who loves you failsto have, unless you grant the same to her.It shames me, oh I am ashamed to tellmy name to you, and so without my name,I would I might plead well until the hopesof my desires were realized, and thenyou might know safely, Byblis is my name.“You might have knowledge of my wounded heart,because my pale, drawn face and down-cast eyesso often tearful, and my sighs withoutapparent cause have shown it — and my warmembraces, and my frequent kisses, muchtoo tender for a sister. All of thishas happened, while with agitated heartand in hot passion, I have tried all ways,(I call upon the Gods to witness it!)that I might force myself to sanity.And I have struggled, wretched nights and days,to overcome the cruelties of love,too dreadful for a frail girl to endure,for they most surely are all Cupid's art.“I have been overborne and must confessmy passion, while with timid prayers I plead;for only you can save me. You alonemay now destroy the one who loves you best:so you must choose what will be the result.The one who prays is not your enemy;but one most closely joined to you, yet asksto knit the tie more firmly. Let old menbe governed by propriety, and talkof what is right and wrong, and hold to allthe nice distinctions of strict laws. But Love,has no fixed law for those whose age is ours,is heedless and compliant. And we havenot yet discovered what is right or wrong,and all we should do is to imitatethe known example of the Gods. We haveno father's harsh rule, and we have no carefor reputation, and no fear that keepsus from each other. But there may be causefor fear, and we may hide our stolen love,because a sister is at libertyto talk with her dear brother—quite apart:we may embrace and kiss each other, thoughin public. What is wanting? Pity herwhose utmost love compels her to confess;and let it not be written on her tomb,her death was for your sake and love denied.”Here when she dropped the tablet from her hand,it was so full of fond words, which were doomedto disappointment, that the last line tracedthe edge: and without thinking of delay,she stamped the shameful letter with her seal,and moistened it with tears (her tongue failed herfor moisture). Then, hot-blushing, she called oneof her attendants, and with timid voicesaid, coaxing, “My most trusted servant, takethese tablets to my—” after long delayshe said, “my brother.” While she gave the tabletsthey suddenly slipped from her hands and fell.Although disturbed by this bad omen, shestill sent the letter, which the servant foundan opportunity to carry off.He gave the secret love-confession. Thisher brother, grandson of Maeander, readbut partly, and with sudden passion threwthe tablets from him. He could barely holdhimself from clutching on the throat of herfear-trembling servant; as, enraged, he cried,“Accursed pander to forbidden lust,be gone!—before the knowledge of your deathis added to this unforeseen disgrace!”The servant fled in terror, and told allher brother's actions and his fierce replyto Byblis: and when she had heard her lovehad been repulsed, her startled face went pale,and her whole body trembled in the gripof ice-chills. Quickly as her mind regainedits usual strength, her maddening love returned,came back with equal force, and while she chokedwith her emotion, gasping she said this:“I suffer only from my folly! why did Iso rashly tell him of my wounded heart?And why did I so hastily committo tablets all I should have kept concealed?I should have edged my way by feeling first,obscurely hinting till I knew his mindand disposition towards me. And so thatmy first voyage might get favorable wind,I should have tested with a close-reefed sail,and, knowing what the wind was, safely fared.But now with sails full spread I have been tossedby unexpected winds. And so my shipis on the rocks; and, overwhelmed with allthe power of Ocean, I have not the strengthto turn back and recover what is lost.“Surely clear omens warned me not to tellmy love so soon, because the tablets felljust when I would have put them in the handof my picked servant — certainly a signmy hasty hopes were destined to fall down.Is it not clear I should have changed the day;and even my intention? Rather sayshould not the day have been postponed at once?The god himself gave me unerring signs,if I had not been so deranged with love.I should have spoken to him, face to face;and with my own lips have confessed it all;and then my passion had been seen by him,and, as my face was bathed in tears, I couldhave told him so much more than words engravedon tablets; and, while I was telling himI could have thrown my arms around his neck,and if rejected could have seemed almostat point of death; as I embraced his feet,while prostrate, even might have begged for life.I could have tried so many plans, and theytogether would have won his stubborn heart.“Perhaps my stupid servant, in mistake,did not approach him at a proper time,and even sought an hour his mind was fullof other things.“All this has harmed my case;there is no other reason; he was notborn of a tigress, and his heart is notof flint or solid iron, or of adamant;and no she-lion suckled him. He shallbe won to my affection; and I mustattempt again, again, nor ever ceaseso long as I have breath. If it were nottoo late already to undo what hasbeen done, 'twere wiser not begun at all.But since I have begun, it now is bestto end it with success. How can he helpremembering what I dared, although I shouldabandon my design! In such a case,because I gave up, I must be to himweak, fickle-minded; or perhaps he maybelieve I tried to tempt him with a snare.But come what may, he will not think of meas overcome by some god who inflamesand rules the heart. He surely will believeI was so actuated by my lust.“If I do nothing more, my innocenceis gone forever. I have written himand wooed him also, in a way so rashand unmistakable, that if I shoulddo nothing more than this, I should be heldcompletely guilty in my brother's sight—but I have hope, and nothing worse to fear.”

Then back and forth she argues; and so greatis her uncertainty, she blames herselffor what she did, and is determined justas surely to succeed.She tries all arts,but is repeatedly repulsed by him,until unable to control her ways,her brother in despair, fled from the shameof her designs: and in another landhe founded a new city.Then, they say,the wretched daughter of Miletus lostcontrol of reason. She wrenched from her breasther garments, and quite frantic, beat her arms,and publicly proclaims unhallowed love.Grown desperate, she left her hated home,her native land, and followed the loved stepsof her departed brother. Just as thosecrazed by your thyrsus, son of Semele!The Bacchanals of Ismarus, aroused,howl at your orgies, so her shrieks were heardby the shocked women of Bubassus, wherethe frenzied Byblis howled across the fields,and so through Caria and through Lycia,over the mountain Cragus and beyondthe town, Lymira, and the flowing streamcalled Xanthus, and the ridge where dweltChimaera, serpent-tailed and monstrous beast,fire breathing from its lion head and neck.She hurried through the forest of that ridge—and there at last worn out with your pursuit,O Byblis, you fell prostrate, with your hairspread over the hard ground, and your wan faceburied in fallen leaves. Although the young,still tender-hearted nymphs of Leleges,advised her fondly how to cure her love,and offered comfort to her heedless heart,and even lifted her in their soft arms;without an answer Byblis fell from them,and clutched the green herbs with her fingers, whileher tears continued to fall on the grass.They say the weeping Naiads gave to hera vein of tears which always flows there fromher sorrows—nothing better could be done.Immediately, as drops of pitch drip forthfrom the gashed pine, or sticky bitumendistils out from the rich and heavy earth,or as the frozen water at the approachof a soft-breathing wind melts in the sun;so Byblis, sad descendant of the Sun,dissolving in her own tears, was there changedinto a fountain; which to this late day,in all those valleys has no name but hers,and issues underneath a dark oak-tree.

The tale of this unholy passion wouldperhaps, have filled Crete's hundred cities then,if Crete had not a wonder of its ownto talk of, in the change of Iphis. Once,there lived at Phaestus, not far from the townof Gnossus, a man Ligdus, not well known;in fact obscure, of humble parentage,whose income was no greater than his birth;but he was held trustworthy and his lifehad been quite blameless. When the time drew nearhis wife should give birth to a child, he warnedher and instructed her, with words we quote:—“There are two things which I would ask of Heaven:that you may be delivered with small pain,and that your child may surely be a boy.Girls are such trouble, fair strength is deniedto them.—Therefore (may Heaven refuse the thought)if chance should cause your child to be a girl,(gods pardon me for having said the word!)we must agree to have her put to death.”And all the time he spoke such dreaded words,their faces were completely bathed in tears;not only hers but also his while heforced on her that unnatural command.Ah, Telethusa ceaselessly imploredher husband to give way to fortune's cast;but Ligdus held his resolution fixed.And now the expected time of birth was near,when in the middle of the night she seemedto see the goddess Isis, standing byher bed, in company of serious spirit forms;Isis had crescent horns upon her forehead,and a bright garland made of golden grainencircled her fair brow. It was a crownof regal beauty: and beside her stoodthe dog Anubis, and Bubastis, therethe sacred, dappled Apis, and the Godof silence with pressed finger on his lips;the sacred rattles were there, and Osiris, knownthe constant object of his worshippers' desire,and there the Egyptian serpent whose quick stinggives long-enduring sleep. She seemed to seethem all, and even to hear the goddess sayto her, “O Telethusa, one of myremembered worshippers, forget your grief;your husband's orders need not be obeyed;and when Lucina has delivered you,save and bring up your child, if either boyor girl. I am the goddess who brings helpto all who call upon me; and you shallnever complain of me—that you adoreda thankless deity.” So she advisedby vision the sad mother, and left her.The Cretan woman joyfully arosefrom her sad bed, and supplicating, raisedecstatic hands up towards the listening stars,and prayed to them her vision might come true.Soon, when her pains gave birth, the mother knewher infant was a girl (the father hadno knowledge of it, as he was not there).Intending to deceive, the mother said,“Feed the dear boy.” All things had favored herdeceit—no one except the trusted nurse,knew of it. And the father paid his vows,and named the child after its grandfather, whosename was honored Iphis. Hearing it so called,the mother could not but rejoice, becauseher child was given a name of common gender,and she could use it with no more deceit.She took good care to dress it as a boy,and either as a boy or girl, its facemust always be accounted lovable.And so she grew,—ten years and three had gone,and then your father found a bride for youO Iphis—promised you should take to wifethe golden-haired Ianthe, praised by allthe women of Phaestus for the dowerof her unequalled beauty, and well known,the daughter of a Cretan named Telestes.Of equal age and equal loveliness,they had received from the same teachers, allinstruction in their childish rudiments.So unsuspected love had filled their heartswith equal longing—but how different!Ianthe waits in confidence and hopethe ceremonial as agreed upon,and is quite certain she will wed a man.But Iphis is in love without one hopeof passion's ecstasy, the thought of whichonly increased her flame; and she a girlis burnt with passion for another girl!She hardly can hold back her tears, and says:“O what will be the awful dreaded end,with such a monstrous love compelling me?If the Gods should wish to save me, certainlythey should have saved me; but, if their desirewas for my ruin, still they should have givensome natural suffering of humanity.The passion for a cow does not inflame a cow,no mare has ever sought another mare.The ram inflames the ewe, and every doefollows a chosen stag; so also birdsare mated, and in all the animal worldno female ever feels love passion foranother female—why is it in me?“Monstrosities are natural to Crete,the daughter of the Sun there loved a bull—it was a female's mad love for the male—but my desire is far more mad than hers,in strict regard of truth, for she had hopeof love's fulfillment. She secured the bullby changing herself to a heifer's form;and in that subtlety it was the maledeceived at last. Though all the subtletiesof all the world should be collected here;—if Daedalus himself should fly back hereupon his waxen wings, what could he do?What skillful art of his could change my sex,a girl into a boy—or could he changeIanthe? What a useless thought! Be boldtake courage Iphis, and be strong of soul.This hopeless passion stultifies your heart;so shake it off, and hold your memorydown to the clear fact of your birth: unlessyour will provides deception for yourself:do only what is lawful, and confinestrictly, your love within a woman's right.“Hope of fulfillment can beget true love,and hope keeps it alive. You are deprivedof this hope by the nature of your birth.No guardian keeps you from her dear embrace,no watchful jealous husband, and she hasno cruel father: she does not denyherself to you. With all that liberty,you can not have her for your happy wife,though Gods and men should labor for your wish.None of my prayers has ever been denied;the willing Deities have granted mewhatever should be, and my father helpsme to accomplish everything I plan:she and her father also, always help.But Nature is more powerful than all,and only Nature works for my distress.“The wedding-day already is at hand;the longed-for time is come; Ianthe soonwill be mine only—and yet, not my own:with water all around me I shall thirst!O why must Juno, goddess of sweet brides,and why should Hymen also, favor uswhen man with woman cannot join in wedlock,but both are brides?” And so she closed her lips.

The other maiden flamed with equal love,and often prayed for Hymen to appear.But Telethusa, fearing that event,the marriage which Ianthe keenly sought,procrastinated, causing first delayby some pretended illness; and then gavepretence of omens and of visions seen,sufficient for delay, until she hadexhausted every avenue of excuse,and only one more day remained beforethe fateful time, it was so near at hand.Despairing then of finding other causewhich might prevent the fated wedding-day,the mother took the circled fillets fromher own head, and her daughter's head, and prayed,as she embraced the altar—her long hairspread out upon the flowing breeze—and said:“O Isis, goddess of Paraetonium,the Mareotic fields, Pharos, and Nileof seven horns divided—oh give help!Goddess of nations! heal us of our fears!I saw you, goddess, and your symbols once,and I adored them all, the clashing soundsof sistra and the torches of your train,and I took careful note of your commands,for which my daughter lives to see the sun,and also I have so escaped from harm;—all this is of your counsel and your gift;oh, pity both of us—and give us aid!”Tears emphasized her prayer; the goddess seemedto move—in truth it was the altar moved;the firm doors of the temple even shook—and her horns, crescent, flashed with gleams of light,and her loud sistrum rattled noisily.Although not quite free of all fear, yet pleasedby that good omen, gladly the mother leftthe temple with her daughter Iphis, whobeside her walked, but with a lengthened stride.Her face seemed of a darker hue, her strengthseemed greater, and her features were more stern.Her hair once long, was unadorned and short.There is more vigor in her than she showedin her girl ways. For in the name of truth,Iphis, who was a girl, is now a man!Make offerings at the temple and rejoicewithout a fear!—They offer at the shrines,and add a votive tablet, on which thisinscription is engraved:these gifts are paidby Iphis as a man which as a maidhe vowed to give.The morrow's dawnrevealed the wide world; on the day agreed,Venus, Juno and Hymen, all have metour happy lovers at the marriage fires; and Iphis, a new man, gained his Ianthe.

Book 10

Veiled in a saffron mantle, through the airunmeasured, after the strange wedding, Hymendeparted swiftly for Ciconian land;regardless and not listening to the voiceof tuneful Orpheus. Truly Hymen therewas present during the festivitiesof Orpheus and Eurydice, but gaveno happy omen, neither hallowed wordsnor joyful glances; and the torch he heldwould only sputter, fill the eyes with smoke,and cause no blaze while waving. The resultof that sad wedding, proved more terriblethan such foreboding fates.While through the grassdelighted Naiads wandered with the bride,a serpent struck its venomed tooth in hersoft ankle— and she died.—After the bardof Rhodope had mourned, and filled the highsof heaven with the moans of his lament,determined also the dark underworldshould recognize the misery of death,he dared descend by the Taenarian gatedown to the gloomy Styx. And there passed throughpale-glimmering phantoms, and the ghostsescaped from sepulchres, until he foundPersephone and Pluto, master-kingof shadow realms below: and then beganto strike his tuneful lyre, to which he sang:—“O deities of this dark world beneaththe earth! this shadowy underworld, to whichall mortals must descend! If it can becalled lawful, and if you will suffer speechof strict truth (all the winding waysof Falsity forbidden) I come notdown here because of curiosityto see the glooms of Tartarus and haveno thought to bind or strangle the three necksof the Medusan Monster, vile with snakes.But I have come, because my darling wifestepped on a viper that sent through her veinsdeath-poison, cutting off her coming years.“If able, I would bear it, I do notdeny my effort—but the god of Lovehas conquered me—a god so kindly knownin all the upper world. We are not surehe can be known so well in this deep world,but have good reason to conjecture heis not unknown here, and if old reportalmost forgotten, that you stole your wifeis not a fiction, Love united youthe same as others. By this Place of Fearthis huge void and these vast and silent realms,renew the life-thread of Eurydice.“All things are due to you, and though on earthit happens we may tarry a short while,slowly or swiftly we must go to oneabode; and it will be our final home.Long and tenaciously you will possessunquestioned mastery of the human race.She also shall be yours to rule, when fullof age she shall have lived the days of herallotted years. So I ask of youpossession of her few days as a boon.But if the fates deny to me this prayerfor my true wife, my constant mind must holdme always so that I can not return—and you may triumph in the death of two!”While he sang all his heart said to the soundof his sweet lyre, the bloodless ghosts themselveswere weeping, and the anxious Tantalusstopped clutching at return-flow of the wave,Ixion's twisting wheel stood wonder-bound;and Tityus' liver for a while escapedthe vultures, and the listening Belidesforgot their sieve-like bowls and even you,O Sisyphus! sat idly on your rock!Then Fame declared that conquered by the songof Orpheus, for the first and only timethe hard cheeks of the fierce Eumenideswere wet with tears: nor could the royal queen,nor he who rules the lower world denythe prayer of Orpheus; so they called to themEurydice, who still was held amongthe new-arriving shades, and she obeyedthe call by walking to them with slow steps,yet halting from her wound. So Orpheus thenreceived his wife; and Pluto told him hemight now ascend from these Avernian valesup to the light, with his Eurydice;but, if he turned his eyes to look at her,the gift of her delivery would be lost.They picked their way in silence up a steepand gloomy path of darkness. There remainedbut little more to climb till they would touchearth's surface, when in fear he might againlose her, and anxious for another lookat her, he turned his eyes so he could gazeupon her. Instantly she slipped away.He stretched out to her his despairing arms,eager to rescue her, or feel her form,but could hold nothing save the yielding air.Dying the second time, she could not saya word of censure of her husband's fault;what had she to complain of — his great love?Her last word spoken was, “Farewell!” which hecould barely hear, and with no further soundshe fell from him again to Hades.—Struckquite senseless by this double death of hisdear wife, he was as fixed from motion asthe frightened one who saw the triple necksof Cerberus, that dog whose middle neckwas chained. The sight filled him with terror hehad no escape from, until petrifiedto stone; or like Olenos, changed to stone,because he fastened on himself the guiltof his wife. O unfortunate Lethaea!Too boastful of your beauty, you and he,united once in love, are now two stonesupon the mountain Ida, moist with springs.Orpheus implored in vain the ferrymanto help him cross the River Styx again,but was denied the very hope of death.Seven days he sat upon Death's river bank,in squalid misery and without all food—nourished by grief, anxiety, and tears—complaining that the Gods of Erebuswere pitiless, at last he wandered back,until he came to lofty Rhodopeand Haemus, beaten by the strong north wind.Three times the Sun completed his full courseto watery Pisces, and in all that time,shunning all women, Orpheus still believedhis love-pledge was forever. So he keptaway from women, though so many grieved,because he took no notice of their love.The only friendship he enjoyed was givento the young men of Thrace.