Metamorphoses
Ovid
Ovid. Metamorphoses. More, Brookes, translator. Boston: Cornhill Publishing Co., 1922.
- Daphne, the daughter of a River God
- was first beloved by Phoebus, the great God
- of glorious light. 'Twas not a cause of chance
- but out of Cupid's vengeful spite that she
- was fated to torment the lord of light.
- For Phoebus, proud of Python's death, beheld
- that impish god of Love upon a time
- when he was bending his diminished bow,
- and voicing his contempt in anger said;
- “What, wanton boy, are mighty arms to thee,
- great weapons suited to the needs of war?
- The bow is only for the use of those
- large deities of heaven whose strength may deal
- wounds, mortal, to the savage beasts of prey;
- and who courageous overcome their foes.—
- it is a proper weapon to the use
- of such as slew with arrows Python, huge,
- whose pestilential carcase vast extent
- covered. Content thee with the flames thy torch
- enkindles (fires too subtle for my thought)
- and leave to me the glory that is mine.”
- to him, undaunted, Venus, son replied;
- “O Phoebus, thou canst conquer all the world
- with thy strong bow and arrows, but with this
- small arrow I shall pierce thy vaunting breast!
- And by the measure that thy might exceeds
- the broken powers of thy defeated foes,
- so is thy glory less than mine.” No more
- he said, but with his wings expanded thence
- flew lightly to Parnassus, lofty peak.
- There, from his quiver he plucked arrows twain,
- most curiously wrought of different art;
- one love exciting, one repelling love.
- The dart of love was glittering, gold and sharp,
- the other had a blunted tip of lead;
- and with that dull lead dart he shot the Nymph,
- but with the keen point of the golden dart
- he pierced the bone and marrow of the God.
- Immediately the one with love was filled,
- the other, scouting at the thought of love,
- rejoiced in the deep shadow of the woods,
- and as the virgin Phoebe (who denies
- the joys of love and loves the joys of chase)
- a maiden's fillet bound her flowing hair,—
- and her pure mind denied the love of man.
- Beloved and wooed she wandered silent paths,
- for never could her modesty endure
- the glance of man or listen to his love.
- Her grieving father spoke to her, “Alas,
- my daughter, I have wished a son in law,
- and now you owe a grandchild to the joy
- of my old age.” But Daphne only hung
- her head to hide her shame. The nuptial torch
- seemed criminal to her. She even clung,
- caressing, with her arms around his neck,
- and pled, “My dearest father let me live
- a virgin always, for remember Jove
- did grant it to Diana at her birth.”
- But though her father promised her desire,
- her loveliness prevailed against their will;
- for, Phoebus when he saw her waxed distraught,
- and filled with wonder his sick fancy raised
- delusive hopes, and his own oracles
- deceived him.—As the stubble in the field
- flares up, or as the stacked wheat is consumed
- by flames, enkindled from a spark or torch
- the chance pedestrian may neglect at dawn;
- so was the bosom of the god consumed,
- and so desire flamed in his stricken heart.
- He saw her bright hair waving on her neck;—
- “How beautiful if properly arranged! ”
- He saw her eyes like stars of sparkling fire,
- her lips for kissing sweetest, and her hands
- and fingers and her arms; her shoulders white
- as ivory;—and whatever was not seen
- more beautiful must be.
- Swift as the wind
- from his pursuing feet the virgin fled,
- and neither stopped nor heeded as he called;
- “O Nymph! O Daphne! I entreat thee stay,
- it is no enemy that follows thee—
- why, so the lamb leaps from the raging wolf,
- and from the lion runs the timid faun,
- and from the eagle flies the trembling dove,
- all hasten from their natural enemy
- but I alone pursue for my dear love.
- Alas, if thou shouldst fall and mar thy face,
- or tear upon the bramble thy soft thighs,
- or should I prove unwilling cause of pain!
- “The wilderness is rough and dangerous,
- and I beseech thee be more careful—I
- will follow slowly.—Ask of whom thou wilt,
- and thou shalt learn that I am not a churl—
- I am no mountain dweller of rude caves,
- nor clown compelled to watch the sheep and goats;
- and neither canst thou know from whom thy feet
- fly fearful, or thou wouldst not leave me thus.
- “The Delphic Land, the Pataraean Realm,
- Claros and Tenedos revere my name,
- and my immortal sire is Jupiter.
- The present, past and future are through me
- in sacred oracles revealed to man,
- and from my harp the harmonies of sound
- are borrowed by their bards to praise the Gods.
- My bow is certain, but a flaming shaft
- surpassing mine has pierced my heart—
- untouched before. The art of medicine
- is my invention, and the power of herbs;
- but though the world declare my useful works
- there is no herb to medicate my wound,
- and all the arts that save have failed their lord.,”
- But even as he made his plaint, the Nymph
- with timid footsteps fled from his approach,
- and left him to his murmurs and his pain.
- Lovely the virgin seemed as the soft wind
- exposed her limbs, and as the zephyrs fond
- fluttered amid her garments, and the breeze
- fanned lightly in her flowing hair. She seemed
- most lovely to his fancy in her flight;
- and mad with love he followed in her steps,
- and silent hastened his increasing speed.
- As when the greyhound sees the frightened hare
- flit over the plain:—With eager nose outstretched,
- impetuous, he rushes on his prey,
- and gains upon her till he treads her feet,
- and almost fastens in her side his fangs;
- but she, whilst dreading that her end is near,
- is suddenly delivered from her fright;
- so was it with the god and virgin: one
- with hope pursued, the other fled in fear;
- and he who followed, borne on wings of love,
- permitted her no rest and gained on her,
- until his warm breath mingled in her hair.
- Her strength spent, pale and faint, with pleading eyes
- she gazed upon her father's waves and prayed,
- “Help me my father, if thy flowing streams
- have virtue! Cover me, O mother Earth!
- Destroy the beauty that has injured me,
- or change the body that destroys my life.”
- Before her prayer was ended, torpor seized
- on all her body, and a thin bark closed
- around her gentle bosom, and her hair
- became as moving leaves; her arms were changed
- to waving branches, and her active feet
- as clinging roots were fastened to the ground—
- her face was hidden with encircling leaves.—
- Phoebus admired and loved the graceful tree,
- (For still, though changed, her slender form remained)
- and with his right hand lingering on the trunk
- he felt her bosom throbbing in the bark.
- He clung to trunk and branch as though to twine.
- His form with hers, and fondly kissed the wood
- that shrank from every kiss.
- And thus the God;
- “Although thou canst not be my bride, thou shalt
- be called my chosen tree, and thy green leaves,
- O Laurel! shall forever crown my brows,
- be wreathed around my quiver and my lyre;
- the Roman heroes shall be crowned with thee,
- as long processions climb the Capitol
- and chanting throngs proclaim their victories;
- and as a faithful warden thou shalt guard
- the civic crown of oak leaves fixed between
- thy branches, and before Augustan gates.
- And as my youthful head is never shorn,
- so, also, shalt thou ever bear thy leaves
- unchanging to thy glory.,”
- Here the God,
- Phoebus Apollo, ended his lament,
- and unto him the Laurel bent her boughs,
- so lately fashioned; and it seemed to him
- her graceful nod gave answer to his love.
- There is a grove in Thessaly, enclosed
- on every side with crags, precipitous,—
- on which a forest grows—and this is called
- the Vale of Tempe—through this valley flows
- the River Peneus, white with foaming waves,
- that issue from the foot of Pindus, whence
- with sudden fall up gather steamy clouds
- that sprinkle mist upon the circling trees,
- and far away with mighty roar resound.
- It is the abode, the solitary home,
- that mighty River loves, where deep in gloom
- of rocky cavern, he resides and rules
- the flowing waters and the water nymphs
- abiding there. All rivers of that land
- now hasten thither, doubtful to console
- or flatter Daphne's parent: poplar crowned
- Sperchios, swift Enipeus and the wild
- Amphrysos, old Apidanus and Aeas,
- with all their kindred streams that wandering maze
- and wearied seek the ocean. Inachus
- alone is absent, hidden in his cave
- obscure, deepening his waters with his tears—
- most wretchedly bewailing, for he deems
- his daughter Io lost. If she may live
- or roam a spirit in the nether shades
- he dares not even guess but dreads
- for Jove not long before had seen her while
- returning from her father's stream, and said;
- “O virgin, worthy of immortal Jove,
- although some happy mortal's chosen bride,—
- behold these shades of overhanging trees,
- and seek their cool recesses while the sun
- is glowing in the height of middle skies—”
- and as he spoke he pointed out the groves—
- “But should the dens of wild beasts frighten you,
- with safety you may enter the deep woods,
- conducted by a God—not with a God
- of small repute, but in the care of him
- who holds the heavenly scepter in his hand
- and fulminates the trackless thunder bolts.—
- forsake me not! ” For while he spoke she fled,
- and swiftly left behind the pasture fields
- of Lerna, and Lyrcea's arbours, where
- the trees are planted thickly. But the God
- called forth a heavy shadow which involved
- the wide extended earth, and stopped her flight
- and ravished in that cloud her chastity.
- Meanwhile, the goddess Juno gazing down
- on earth's expanse, with wonder saw the clouds
- as dark as night enfold those middle fields
- while day was bright above. She was convinced
- the clouds were none composed of river mist
- nor raised from marshy fens. Suspicious now,
- from oft detected amours of her spouse,
- she glanced around to find her absent lord,
- and quite convinced that he was far from heaven,
- she thus exclaimed; “This cloud deceives my mind,
- or Jove has wronged me.” From the dome of heaven
- she glided down and stood upon the earth,
- and bade the clouds recede. But Jove had known
- the coming of his queen. He had transformed
- the lovely Io, so that she appeared
- a milk white heifer—formed so beautiful
- and fair that envious Juno gazed on her.
- She queried: “Whose? what herd? what pasture fields?”
- As if she guessed no knowledge of the truth.
- And Jupiter, false hearted, said the cow
- was earth begotten, for he feared his queen
- might make inquiry of the owner's name.
- Juno implored the heifer as a gift.—
- what then was left the Father of the Gods?
- 'Twould be a cruel thing to sacrifice
- his own beloved to a rival's wrath.
- Although refusal must imply his guilt
- the shame and love of her almost prevailed;
- but if a present of such little worth
- were now denied the sharer of his couch,
- the partner of his birth, 'twould prove indeed
- the earth born heifer other than she seemed—
- and so he gave his mistress up to her.
- Juno regardful of Jove's cunning art,
- lest he might change her to her human form,
- gave the unhappy heifer to the charge
- of Argus, Aristorides, whose head
- was circled with a hundred glowing eyes;
- of which but two did slumber in their turn
- whilst all the others kept on watch and guard.
- Whichever way he stood his gaze was fixed
- on Io—even if he turned away
- his watchful eyes on Io still remained.
- He let her feed by day; but when the sun
- was under the deep world he shut her up,
- and tied a rope around her tender neck.
- She fed upon green leaves and bitter herbs
- and on the cold ground slept—too often bare,
- she could not rest upon a cushioned couch.
- She drank the troubled waters. Hoping aid
- she tried to stretch imploring arms to Argus,
- but all in vain for now no arms remained;
- the sound of bellowing was all she heard,
- and she was frightened with her proper voice.
- Where former days she loved to roam and sport,
- she wandered by the banks of Inachus:
- there imaged in the stream she saw her horns
- and, startled, turned and fled. And Inachus
- and all her sister Naiads knew her not,
- although she followed them, they knew her not,
- although she suffered them to touch her sides
- and praise her.
- When the ancient Inachus
- gathered sweet herbs and offered them to her,
- she licked his hands, kissing her father's palms,
- nor could she more restrain her falling tears.
- If only words as well as tears would flow,
- she might implore his aid and tell her name
- and all her sad misfortune; but, instead,
- she traced in dust the letters of her name
- with cloven hoof; and thus her sad estate
- was known.
- “Ah wretched me! ” her father cried;
- and as he clung around her horns and neck
- repeated while she groaned, “Ah wretched me!
- Art thou my daughter sought in every clime?
- When lost I could not grieve for thee as now
- that thou art found; thy sighs instead of words
- heave up from thy deep breast, thy longings give
- me answer. I prepared the nuptial torch
- and bridal chamber, in my ignorance,
- since my first hope was for a son in law;
- and then I dreamed of children from the match:
- but now the herd may furnish thee a mate,
- and all thy issue of the herd must be.
- Oh that a righteous death would end my grief!—
- it is a dreadful thing to be a God!
- Behold the lethal gate of death is shut
- against me, and my growing grief must last
- throughout eternity.”
- While thus he moaned
- came starry Argus there, and Io bore
- from her lamenting father. Thence he led
- his charge to other pastures; and removed
- from her, upon a lofty mountain sat,
- whence he could always watch her, undisturbed.
- The sovereign god no longer could endure
- to witness Io's woes. He called his son,
- whom Maia brightest of the Pleiades
- brought forth, and bade him slay the star eyed guard,
- argus. He seized his sleep compelling wand
- and fastened waving wings on his swift feet,
- and deftly fixed his brimmed hat on his head:—
- lo, Mercury, the favoured son of Jove,
- descending to the earth from heaven's plains,
- put off his cap and wings,— though still retained
- his wand with which he drove through pathless wilds
- some stray she goats, and as a shepherd fared,
- piping on oaten reeds melodious tunes.
- Argus, delighted with the charming sound
- of this new art began; “Whoever thou art,
- sit with me on this stone beneath the trees
- in cooling shade, whilst browse the tended flock
- abundant herbs; for thou canst see the shade
- is fit for shepherds.” Wherefore, Mercury
- sat down beside the keeper and conversed
- of various things—passing the laggard hours.—
- then soothly piped he on the joined reeds
- to lull those ever watchful eyes asleep;
- but Argus strove his languor to subdue,
- and though some drowsy eyes might slumber, still
- were some that vigil kept. Again he spoke,
- (for the pipes were yet a recent art)
- “I pray thee tell what chance discovered these.”
- To him the God, “ A famous Naiad dwelt
- among the Hamadryads, on the cold
- Arcadian summit Nonacris, whose name
- was Syrinx. Often she escaped the Gods,
- that wandered in the groves of sylvan shades,
- and often fled from Satyrs that pursued.
- Vowing virginity, in all pursuits
- she strove to emulate Diana's ways:
- and as that graceful goddess wears her robe,
- so Syrinx girded hers that one might well
- believe Diana there. Even though her bow
- were made of horn, Diana's wrought of gold,
- vet might she well deceive.
- “Now chanced it Pan.
- Whose head was girt with prickly pines, espied
- the Nymph returning from the Lycian Hill,
- and these words uttered he: ”—But Mercury
- refrained from further speech, and Pan's appeal
- remains untold. If he had told it all,
- the tale of Syrinx would have followed thus:—
- but she despised the prayers of Pan, and fled
- through pathless wilds until she had arrived
- the placid Ladon's sandy stream, whose waves
- prevented her escape. There she implored
- her sister Nymphs to change her form: and Pan,
- believing he had caught her, held instead
- some marsh reeds for the body of the Nymph;
- and while he sighed the moving winds began
- to utter plaintive music in the reeds,
- so sweet and voice like that poor Pan exclaimed;
- “Forever this discovery shall remain
- a sweet communion binding thee to me.”—
- and this explains why reeds of different length,
- when joined together by cementing wax,
- derive the name of Syrinx from the maid.
- Such words the bright god Mercury would say;
- but now perceiving Argus' eyes were dimmed
- in languorous doze, he hushed his voice and touched
- the drooping eyelids with his magic wand,
- compelling slumber. Then without delay
- he struck the sleeper with his crescent sword,
- where neck and head unite, and hurled his head,
- blood dripping, down the rocks and rugged cliff.
- Low lies Argus: dark is the light of all
- his hundred eyes, his many orbed lights
- extinguished in the universal gloom
- that night surrounds; but Saturn's daughter spread
- their glister on the feathers of her bird,
- emblazoning its tail with starry gems.
- Juno made haste, inflamed with towering rage,
- to vent her wrath on Io; and she raised
- in thought and vision of the Grecian girl
- a dreadful Fury. Stings invisible,
- and pitiless, she planted in her breast,
- and drove her wandering throughout the globe.
- The utmost limit of her laboured way,
- O Nile, thou didst remain. Which, having reached,
- and placed her tired knees on that river's edge,
- she laid her there, and as she raised her neck
- looked upward to the stars, and groaned and wept
- and mournfully bellowed: trying thus to plead,
- by all the means she had, that Jupiter
- might end her miseries. Repentant Jove
- embraced his consort, and entreated her
- to end the punishment: “Fear not,” he said,
- “For she shall trouble thee no more.” He spoke,
- and called on bitter Styx to hear his oath.
- And now imperial Juno, pacified,
- permitted Io to resume her form,—
- at once the hair fell from her snowy sides;
- the horns absorbed, her dilate orbs decreased;
- the opening of her jaws contracted; hands
- appeared and shoulders; and each transformed hoof
- became five nails. And every mark or form
- that gave the semblance of a heifer changed,
- except her fair white skin; and the glad Nymph
- was raised erect and stood upon her feet.
- But long the very thought of speech, that she
- might bellow as a heifer, filled her mind
- with terror, till the words so long forgot
- for some sufficient cause were tried once more.
- and since that time, the linen wearing throng
- of Egypt have adored her as a God;
- for they believe the seed of Jove prevailed;
- and when her time was due she bore to him
- a son called Epaphus; who also dwells
- in temples with his mother in that land.
- Now Phaethon, whose father was the Sun,
- was equal to his rival, Epaphus,
- in mind and years; and he was glad to boast
- of wonders, nor would yield to Epaphus
- for pride of Phoebus, his reputed sire.
- Unable to endure it, Io's son
- thus mocked him; “Poor, demented fellow, what
- will you not credit if your mother speaks,
- you are so puffed up with the fond conceit
- of your imagined sire, the Lord of Day.”
- shame crimsoned in his cheeks, but Phaethon
- withholding rage, reported all the taunts
- of Epaphus to Clymene his mother:
- “'Twill grieve you, mother, I, the bold and free,
- was silent; and it shames me to report
- this dark reproach remains unchallenged. Oh,
- if I am born of race divine, give proof
- of that illustrious descent and claim
- my right to Heaven.” Around his mother's neck
- he drew his arms, and by the head of Merops,
- and by his own, and by the nuptial torch
- of his beloved sisters, he implored
- for some true token of his origin.
- Or moved by Phaethon's importuned words,
- or by the grievous charge, who might declare?
- She raised her arms to Heaven, and gazing full
- upon the broad sun said; “I swear to you
- by yonder orb, so radiant and bright,
- which both beholds and hears us while we speak,
- that you are his begotten son.—You are
- the child of that great light which sways the world:
- and if I have not spoken what is true,
- let not mine eyes behold his countenance,
- and let this fatal moment be the last
- that I shall look upon the light of day!
- Nor will it weary you, my son, to reach
- your father's dwelling; for the very place
- where he appears at dawn is near our land.
- Go, if it please you, and the very truth
- learn from your father.” Instantly sprang forth
- exultant Phaethon. Overjoyed with words
- so welcome, he imagined he could leap
- and touch the skies. And so he passed his land
- of Ethiopia, and the Indies, hot
- beneath the tawny sun, and there he turned
- his footsteps to his father's Land of Dawn.
- Glowing with gold, flaming with carbuncles
- on stately columns raised, refulgent shone
- the palace of the Sun, with polished dome
- of ivory gleaming, and with portals twain
- of burnished silver. And the workmanship
- exceeded all the wealth of gems and gold;
- for there had Mulciber engraved the seas
- encircling middle earth; the round of earth,
- and heaven impending over the land.
- And there
- amid the waves were azure deities:
- melodious Triton and elusive Proteus; there
- Aegeaan pressing with his arms the backs.
- Of monstrous whales; and Doris in the sea
- and all her daughters; some amid the waves
- and others sitting on the bank to dry
- their sea-green hair, and others borne about
- by fishes. Each was made to show a fair
- resemblance to her sisters—yet not one
- appearance was assigned to all—they seemed
- as near alike as sisters should in truth.
- And men and cities, woods and savage beasts,
- and streams and nymphs, and sylvan deities
- were carved upon the land; and over these
- an image of the glittering sky was fixed;—
- six signs were on the right, six on the left.
- Here when audacious Phaethon arrived
- by steep ascending paths, without delay
- he entered in the shining palace-gates
- of his reputed parent, making haste
- to stand in his paternal presence. There,
- unable to endure the dazzling light,
- he waited at a distance.
- Phoebus sat,
- arrayed in royal purple, on a throne
- that glittered with the purest emeralds.—
- there to the left and right, Day, Month and Year,
- time and the Hours, at equal distance stood;
- and vernal Spring stood crowned with wreathed flowers;
- and naked Summer stood with sheaves of wheat;
- and Autumn stood besmeared with trodden grapes;
- and icy Winter rough with hoary hair.
- And from the midst, with orbs that view the world,
- Phoebus beheld the trembling youth, fear-struck,
- in mute amazement, and he said; “Declare
- the reason of thy journey. What wilt thou
- in this my palace, Phaethon my child
- beloved?”
- And to him replied the youth;
- “O universal light of all the world,
- my father Phoebus, if thy name be mine,
- if Clymene has not concealed her sin
- beneath some pretext, give to me, my sire,
- a token to declare thy fatherhood
- which may establish my assured descent,
- and leave no dark suspicions in our minds.”—
- then Phoebus from his shining brows cast down
- his circling rays; called Phaethon to him,
- and as he held him to his breast replied;
- “O child most worthy of thy sire, the truth
- was told thee by thy mother; wherefore doubts
- to dissipate, consider thy desire,
- and ask of me that I may freely give:
- yea, let the Nether Lake, beyond our view,
- (which is the oath of Gods inviolate)
- be witness to my word.”
- When this was said
- the happy youth at once began to plead
- command and guidance of his father's steeds,
- wing-footed, and his chariot for a day.
- But Phoebus much repented that he sware,
- and thrice and four times shook his radiant head;
- “Ah, would I might refuse my plighted word;
- and oh, that it were lawful to deny
- the promised boon.—For I confess, O son,
- this only I should keep from thee—and yet
- 'Tis lawful to dissuade. It is unsafe
- to satisfy thy will. It is a great
- request, O Phaethon, which neither suits
- thy utmost strength nor tender years; for thou
- art mortal, and thou hast aspired to things
- immortal. Ignorance has made thy thought
- transcend the province of the Gods. I vaunt
- no vain exploits; but only I can stand
- securely on the flame-fraught axle-tree:
- even the Ruler of Olympian Gods,
- who hurls fierce lightnings with his great right hand,
- may never dare to drive this chariot,
- and what art thou to equal mighty Jove?
- “The opening path is steep and difficult,
- for scarcely can the steeds, refreshed at dawn,
- climb up the steeps: and when is reached the height,
- extreme of midmost Heaven, and sea and earth
- are viewed below, my trembling breast is filled
- with fearful apprehensions: and requires
- the last precipitous descent a sure
- command. Then, also, Tethys, who receives
- me in her subject waves, is wont to fear
- lest I should fall disastrous. And around
- the hastening sky revolves in constant whirl,
- drawing the lofty stars with rapid twist.
- “I struggle on. The force that overcomes
- the heavenly bodies overwhelms me not,
- and I am borne against that rapid globe.
- Suppose the chariot thine: what canst thou do?
- Canst thou drive straight against the twisted pole
- and not be carried from the lofty path
- by the swift car? Art thou deceived to think
- there may be groves and cities of the Gods,
- and costly temples wondrously endowed?
- “The journey is beset with dreadful snares
- and shapes of savage animals. If thou
- shouldst hold upon thy way without mistake
- yet must thy journey be through Taurus' horns,
- and through the Bow Haemonian, and the jaws
- of the fierce Lion, and the cruel arms
- of Scorpion, bent throughout a vast expanse,—
- and Cancer's curving arms reversely bent.
- “It is no easy task for thee to rule
- the mettled four-foot steeds, enflamed in fires
- that kindle in their breasts, forth issuing
- in breathings from their mouths and nostrils hot;—
- I scarce restrain them, as their struggling necks
- pull on the harness, when their heated fires
- are thus aroused.
- “And, O my son, lest I
- may be the author of a baneful gift,
- beware, and as the time permits recall
- thy rash request. Forsooth thou hast besought
- undoubted signs of thy descent from me?
- My fears for thee are certain signs that thou
- art of my race—by my paternal fears
- 'Tis manifest I am thy father. Lo!
- Behold my countenance! and oh, that thou
- couldst even pierce my bosom with thine eyes,
- and so discover my paternal cares!
- “Look round thee on the treasured world's delights
- and ask the greatest blessing of the sky,
- or sea or land, and thou shalt suffer no
- repulse: but only this I must deplore,
- which rightly named would be a penalty
- and not an honour.—Thou hast made request
- of punishment and not a gift indeed.
- O witless boy! why dost thou hold my neck
- with thy caressing arms? For, doubt it not,
- as I have sworn it by the Stygian Waves,
- whatever thou shalt wish, it shall be given—
- but thou shouldst wish more wisely.”