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038 - Book 13 Part 3 · Metamorphoses

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  Speaker 1: Book thirteen, Part three of Ovid's Metamorphosis. This is a
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  Speaker 1: LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
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  Speaker 1: For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
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  Speaker 1: Recording by Rebecca Case Metamorphosis a Publius Ovidius Nasso, translated
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  Speaker 1: by Brooks Moore, Book thirteen, Part three. The conqueror Ulysses
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  Speaker 1: now set sail for Lemnos, country of Hypsipyle, and for
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  Speaker 1: the land of Thoas famed Afar, those regions infamous in
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  Speaker 1: olden days where women slew their husbands. So he went
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  Speaker 1: that he might capture and bring back with him the
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  Speaker 1: arrows of brave Hercules. When these were given back to
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  Speaker 1: the Greeks, their lord with them, a final hand at
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  Speaker 1: last prevailed to end that long thought war. Both Troy
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  Speaker 1: and Priam fell, and Priam's wretched wife lost all she had,
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  Speaker 1: until at last she lost her human form. Her savage
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  Speaker 1: barkings frightened foreign lands where the helen spot is narrowed down.
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  Speaker 1: Great Troy was burning. While the fire still raged, Jove's
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  Speaker 1: altar drank old Priam's scanty blood. The Priestess of Apollo
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  Speaker 1: then Alas was dragged by her long hair, while up
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  Speaker 1: towards heaven she lifted supplicating hands in vain. The Trojan matrons,
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  Speaker 1: clinging while they could, to burning temples and ancestral gods.
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  Speaker 1: Victorious Greeks drag off as welcome spoil Styonax was hurled
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  Speaker 1: down from the very tower from which he often had
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  Speaker 1: looked forth and seen his father by his mother pointed
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  Speaker 1: out when Hector fought for honor and his country's wheel.
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  Speaker 1: Now borious councils to depart. The sails moved by a
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  Speaker 1: prosperous breeze, reasound and wave. The Trojan women cry farewell
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  Speaker 1: to troy Ah, we are hurried off and falling down,
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  Speaker 1: They kissed the soil and leave the smoking roofs of
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  Speaker 1: their loved native land. The last to go on board
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  Speaker 1: the fleet was Hecuba, a sight most pitiful. She was
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  Speaker 1: found among the tombs of her lost sons. While she
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  Speaker 1: embraced each urn and fondly kissed their bones. Ulysses came
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  Speaker 1: with ruthless hands and bore her off his prize. She
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  Speaker 1: in her bosom, took away the urn of Hector only,
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  Speaker 1: and upon his grave she left some white hair taken
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  Speaker 1: from her head a meager gift, her white hair and
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  Speaker 1: her tears. Across the Strait from Troy, there is a
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  Speaker 1: land claimed by Bistonian men, And in that land was
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  Speaker 1: a rich palace built there by a king named Polymnester.
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  Speaker 1: To him, the Phrynian king in secret gave his youngest
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  Speaker 1: son to rear his Pallidorius, safe from Troy and war,
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  Speaker 1: a prudent course if he had not sent gold arousing
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  Speaker 1: greed incitement to a crime. Soon, when the fortunes of
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  Speaker 1: the Trojans fell, that wicked king of Thrace took his
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  Speaker 1: own sword and pierced the throat of his poor foster son.
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  Speaker 1: And then, as if the deed could be concealed if
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  Speaker 1: he removed the body, hurled the boy from a wild
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  Speaker 1: cliff into the waves below, until the sea might be
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  Speaker 1: more calm and gales of wind might be subdued. A
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  Speaker 1: Treatius moored his fleet of ships upon the Thracian shore. There,
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  Speaker 1: from wide gaping earth, Achilles rose as large as when
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  Speaker 1: he lived with look as fierce as when his sword
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  Speaker 1: once threatened Agamemnon forgetting me? Do you depart o Greeks?
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  Speaker 1: He said, And is your grateful memory of all my
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  Speaker 1: worth interred with my bones. Do not do so, and
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  Speaker 1: that my sepulcher may have due worship. Let Polynesia be
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  Speaker 1: immolated to appease the ghost of dead Achilles. Fiercely so
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  Speaker 1: he spoke. The old friends of Achilles all obeyed his
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  Speaker 1: unforgiving shade, and instantly the noble and unhappy Virgin, brave
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  Speaker 1: more like a man than woman, was torn from her
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  Speaker 1: mother's bosom, cherished more by her since widowed and alone.
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  Speaker 1: And then they led the Virgin as a sacrifice from
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  Speaker 1: there up to the cruel altar. When the maid observed
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  Speaker 1: the savage rites prepared for her, and when she noticed
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  Speaker 1: Neptalmmus stand by her with his cruel sword and hand,
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  Speaker 1: his fixed eyes on her countenance, she said, do not
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  Speaker 1: delay my generous gift of blood. With no resistance, thrust
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  Speaker 1: the ready steel into my throat or breast, and then
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  Speaker 1: she laid both throat and bosom bear. Polynesia would never
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  Speaker 1: wish to live in slavery, and such rights win no
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  Speaker 1: favor from a god. Only I fondly wish my mother
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  Speaker 1: might not know that I have died. My love of
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  Speaker 1: her takes from my joy in death and gives me
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  Speaker 1: fear not my death, truly, but her own sad life
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  Speaker 1: should be the most lamented in her tears. Now let
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  Speaker 1: your men stand back. Then I may go with dignity
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  Speaker 1: down to the Stygian shades. And if my please, just
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  Speaker 1: let no man's hand touch my pure, virgin body, a
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  Speaker 1: nobler gift to him, whoever he may be, whom you
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  Speaker 1: desire to playgate with. My death to day shall be
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  Speaker 1: a free maid's blood. But if my words, my parting
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  Speaker 1: wish has power to touch your hearts, King Priam's daughter,
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  Speaker 1: not a captive, pleads, freely return my body to my mother.
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  Speaker 1: Let her not pay with gold for this sad right
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  Speaker 1: to bear army, but only with her tears. Yes, when
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  Speaker 1: she could, she also paid with gold. After she said
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  Speaker 1: these words, the people could no more restrain their tears,
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  Speaker 1: But no one saw her shed one tear. Even the
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  Speaker 1: priest himself, reluctantly and weeping, drove the steel into her
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  Speaker 1: preferred breast. On failing these, she sank down to the earth,
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  Speaker 1: but still maintained a countenance undaunted to the last, and
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  Speaker 1: even unto death. It was her care to cover all
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  Speaker 1: that ought to be concealed and save the value of
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  Speaker 1: chaste modesty. The Trojan matrons took her and recalled, lamenting
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  Speaker 1: all the sons of Priam dead, the wealth of blood
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  Speaker 1: one house had shed for all, and they bewailed the
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  Speaker 1: chaste Polynesia, and you, her mother, only lately called a
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  Speaker 1: royal mother and a royal wife, the soul of Asia's
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  Speaker 1: fair prosperity now lowest fallen, and all the wreck of Troy.
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  Speaker 1: The conquering Ulysses only claimed her his because she had
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  Speaker 1: brought Hector forth, and Hector hardly found a master for
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  Speaker 1: his mother. She continued to embrace the body of a
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  Speaker 1: soul so brave, and shed her tears as she had
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  Speaker 1: shed them often before, for country lost, for sons, for
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  Speaker 1: royal mate. She bathed her daughter's wounds with tears and
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  Speaker 1: kissed them with her lips, and once more beat her breast.
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  Speaker 1: Her white hair streamed down in clotting blood. She tore
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  Speaker 1: her breast, and this and more, she said, my daughter,
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  Speaker 1: what further sorrow can be mine? My daughter? You lie dead.
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  Speaker 1: I see your wounds. They are indeed my own, lest
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  Speaker 1: I should lose one child of mine without a cruel sword.
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  Speaker 1: You have your wound, I thought, because you were a woman,
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  Speaker 1: you were safe from swords. But you, a woman, felt
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  Speaker 1: the deadly steel. That same Achilles, who has given to
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  Speaker 1: death so many of your brothers, caused your death, the
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  Speaker 1: bane of Troy and the serpent by my nest when Paris,
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  Speaker 1: and when Phoebus, with their shafts had laid him low. Ah.
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  Speaker 1: Now at last, I said, Achilles will no longer cause
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  Speaker 1: me dread. Yet even then he still was to be feared.
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  Speaker 1: For him, I have been fertile. Mighty Troy now lies
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  Speaker 1: in ruin, and the public woe is ended in one
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  Speaker 1: vast calamity. For me alone, the woe of Troy still lives,
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  Speaker 1: but lately on the pinnacle of fame, surrounded by my
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  Speaker 1: powerful sons in law, daughters and daughters in law, and
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  Speaker 1: strong in my great household. I am now exiled and destitute,
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  Speaker 1: and forced from the sad tombs of those I love
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  Speaker 1: to wretched slavery. Serving Penelope, who, showing me to curious
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  Speaker 1: dames of Ithaca, will point and say, while I am
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  Speaker 1: bending to my task, look at that woman who was
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  Speaker 1: widely known the mother of Great Hector, once the wife
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  Speaker 1: of Priam. After so many have been lost, Now you
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  Speaker 1: last comfort of a mother's grief must make atonement on
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  Speaker 1: the foreman's tomb. I bore a victim for my enemy.
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  Speaker 1: Why do I live an iron witted wretch? Why do
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  Speaker 1: I linger? Why does cruel age detain me? Why pernicious
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  Speaker 1: deities thus hold me to this earth? Unless you will
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  Speaker 1: that I may weep at future funerals after the fall
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  Speaker 1: of Troy. Who would suppose King Priam could be happy
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  Speaker 1: blessed in death. He has not seen my daughter's dreadful fate.
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  Speaker 1: He lost at once his kingdom and his life. Can
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  Speaker 1: I imagine you a royal maid will soon be honored
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  Speaker 1: with due funeral rites, and will be buried in our
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  Speaker 1: family tomb. Such fortune comes no more to your said house.
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  Speaker 1: A drift of foreign sand will be your grave. The
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  Speaker 1: parting gift will be your mother's tears. We have lost everything,
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  Speaker 1: But no, there is one reason why I should endure
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  Speaker 1: a while his mother's dearest, now her only child, once
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  Speaker 1: youngest of that great company of sons, my Polydorus, lives
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  Speaker 1: here and on these shores protected by the friendly Thracian king.
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  Speaker 1: Then why delay to bathe these cruel wounds? Her dear
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  Speaker 1: face flattered with dreadful blood. So Hecuba went wailing towards
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  Speaker 1: the shore, with aged stemp and tearing her gray hair.
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  Speaker 1: At last, the unhappy mother said, give me an urn
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  Speaker 1: o Trojan women, for she wished to dip up salt
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  Speaker 1: sea water. But just then she saw the corpse of
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  Speaker 1: her last son thrown out upon the shore, her Polydorus killed,
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  Speaker 1: disfigured with deep wounds of Thracian swords. The trojan two
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  Speaker 1: women cried aloud, and she was struck dumb with her agony,
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  Speaker 1: which quiet consumed both voice and tears within her heart.
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  Speaker 1: Rigid and still she seemed as a hard rock. And
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  Speaker 1: now she gazes at the earth in front. Now lifts
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  Speaker 1: her haggard head up towards the skies. Now scans that body,
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  Speaker 1: lying stark and dead, Now scans his wounds, and most
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  Speaker 1: of all the wounds, she arms herself and draws up
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  Speaker 1: all her wrath. It burned, as if she still held
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  Speaker 1: regal power. She gave up all life to the single
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  Speaker 1: thought of quick revenge. Just as a lioness rages when
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  Speaker 1: plundered of her suckling cub and follows on his trail
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  Speaker 1: the unseen foe. So Hecuba with rage mixed in her grief,
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  Speaker 1: forgetful of her years not her intent. Went hastily to Polinestor,
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  Speaker 1: which contrived this dreadful murder, and desired an interview, pretending
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  Speaker 1: it was her wish to show him hidden gold for
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  Speaker 1: her lost son. The Odrizzian king believed it all. Accustomed
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  Speaker 1: to the love of gain, he went with her in
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  Speaker 1: secret to the spot she chose. Then craftily he said,
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  Speaker 1: in his bland way, Oh, Hecuba, you need not wait,
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  Speaker 1: Give now munificently to your son, and all you give,
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  Speaker 1: and all that you have given by the good gods,
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  Speaker 1: I swear shall be his own. She eyed him sternly
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  Speaker 1: as he spoke and swore so falsely. Then her rage
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  Speaker 1: boiled over and seconded by all her captive train. She
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  Speaker 1: flew at him and drove her fingers deep in his
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  Speaker 1: perfidious eyes, and tore them from his face, and plunged
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  Speaker 1: her hands into the raw and bleeding sockets. Passion made
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  Speaker 1: her strong. Defiled with his bad blood, how could she
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  Speaker 1: tear his eyes gone from their seats, she wildly gouged
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  Speaker 1: the sightless sockets of his bleeding face. The Thracians, angered
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  Speaker 1: by such violence done upon their king, immediately attacked their
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  Speaker 1: trojan matron with their stones and darts. But she with
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  Speaker 1: hoarse growling and snapping jaws, sprang at the stones, and
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  Speaker 1: when she tried to speak, she barked like a fierce dog.
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  Speaker 1: The place still bears a name suggested by her hideous change,
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  Speaker 1: and she, long mindful of her old time woe, ran
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  Speaker 1: howling dismally in thracial fields. Her sad fate moved the
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  Speaker 1: Trojans and the Greeks, her friends and foes, and all
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  Speaker 1: the heavenly gods. Yes, all, for even the sister wife
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  Speaker 1: of Jove denied that Hecuba deserved such a fate. Although
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  Speaker 1: Aurora had given aid to Troy, she had no heart
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  Speaker 1: nor leisure to be moved by fall of Troy or
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  Speaker 1: fate of Hecuba. At home, she wore a greater grief
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  Speaker 1: and care. Her loss of Memnon is aflop her. Aurora,
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  Speaker 1: his rose tinted mother, saw him perish by achilles deadly
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  Speaker 1: spear upon the Phryingian plain. She saw his death, and
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  Speaker 1: the loved rose that lights the dawning hour turned death pale,
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  Speaker 1: and the sky was veiled in clouds. The parent could
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  Speaker 1: not bear to see his limbs laid on the final flames,
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  Speaker 1: just as she was with loose hair streaming round her.
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  Speaker 1: She did not disdain to crouch down at the knees
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  Speaker 1: of Jove, and said these sad words added to her tears,
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  Speaker 1: beneath all those whom golden heavens sustains inferior. Foresee through
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  Speaker 1: all the world, my temples are so few. I have
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  Speaker 1: come now, a goddess to you, not with any hope
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  Speaker 1: that you may grant me temples, festivals and altars heated
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  Speaker 1: with devoted flames. But if you will consider the good
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  Speaker 1: deeds which I, a woman, may yet do for you,
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  Speaker 1: when at the dawn I mark the edge night, then
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  Speaker 1: you may think of some reward for me. But that
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  Speaker 1: is not my care, Nor is it how Aurora's purpose
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  Speaker 1: here that she should plead for honors, though deserved. I
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  Speaker 1: come bereaved of my son memnine, who in vain bore
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  Speaker 1: arms to aid his uncle, and, in the prime of life,
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  Speaker 1: Oh thus you willed it, fell stricken by the sword
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  Speaker 1: of great Achilles. Give my son. I pray, O, Highest
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  Speaker 1: ruler of the gods, some honor, some comfort for his death,
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  Speaker 1: a little ease his mother's grief. Jove nodded his assent. Immediately,
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  Speaker 1: the high wrought funeral pile of Memnon fell down with
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  Speaker 1: its lofty fire, and volumes of black smoke obscured the
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  Speaker 1: day as dreams exhaling their dense, rising fogs exclude the
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  Speaker 1: bright sun from the land below. Black ashes fly and
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  Speaker 1: rolling up a shape, retain a form and heat and
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  Speaker 1: life out of the fire. Their lightness gave them wings,
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  Speaker 1: first like a bird, and then in fact a bird.
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  Speaker 1: The wings move whirring in the neighbouring air. Uncounted sisters
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  Speaker 1: of one birth and growth together make one noise. Three
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  Speaker 1: times they flew around the funeral pile, and thrice the
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  Speaker 1: sound accordant of their fluttering wings went swift upon the
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  Speaker 1: soft breeze. When they turned about their fourth flight in
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  Speaker 1: the skies divided them as two fierce races from two
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  Speaker 1: hostile camps clashed in their warfare. These birds sisters, with
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  Speaker 1: their beaks and crooked claws, clashed passionate until their tired
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  Speaker 1: wings and opposing breasts could not sustain them, and those
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  Speaker 1: kindred foes fell down a sacrifice memorial to Memnon's ashes
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  Speaker 1: buried in that place. Brave Memnon, author of their birth,
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  Speaker 1: has given his name to those birds marvelously formed, and
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  Speaker 1: from him they are called Memnidids. Now always when the
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  Speaker 1: sun has passed the twelfth sign of the zodiac, they
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  Speaker 1: wore again to perish as a sacrifice for him. So
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  Speaker 1: others grieved, while Daimus's royal daughter was barking. But Aurora,
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  Speaker 1: overcome with lasting sorrow, could not think of her. And
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  Speaker 1: even now she sheds affectionate tears and sprinkles them, as
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  Speaker 1: do on all the world. The fates did not allow
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  Speaker 1: the hope of Troy to be destroyed entirely. With her walls. Aenaeus,
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  Speaker 1: the heroic son of Venus, bore on his shoulders holy images,
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  Speaker 1: and still another holy weight his sire, a venerable burden
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  Speaker 1: from all his wealth. The pious hero chose this for
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  Speaker 1: his care, together with his child Ascanius. Then with a
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  Speaker 1: fleet of exiles, he sailed forth. He leaves and Tandrus
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  Speaker 1: leaves the wicked realm and shore of Thrace, now dripping
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  Speaker 1: with the blood of Polydorus. With fair winds and tide,
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  Speaker 1: he and his comrades reached Apollo's aisle. Good Annaeus, king
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  Speaker 1: of Delos, vigilant for all his subjects welfare, and as
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  Speaker 1: priests devoted to Apollo, took him there into his temple
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  Speaker 1: and his home, and showed the city the famed shrines
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  Speaker 1: and the two trees which once Latona. While in labor held,
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  Speaker 1: they burned sweet incense, added it to wine, and laid
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  Speaker 1: the flesh of cattle in the flames, an offering marked
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  Speaker 1: by custom for the god. Then in the palace and
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  Speaker 1: its kingly hall, reclining on luxurious couches, they drank flowing
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  Speaker 1: wine with Serra's gift of food. But old Anchisis asked,
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  Speaker 1: o chosen priest of Phoebus. Can I be deceived? When
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  Speaker 1: I first saw these walls? Did you not have a
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  Speaker 1: son and twice two daughters? Is it possible I am mistaken?
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  Speaker 1: Anneus replied, shaking his temples wreathed with filets white. It
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  Speaker 1: can be no mistake, great hero, you did see the
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  Speaker 1: father of five children. Then so much the risk of
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  Speaker 1: fortune may affect the best of men. You see me
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  Speaker 1: now almost bereft of all. For what assistance can my
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  Speaker 1: absence son afford? While he is king, the ruler over Andros,
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  Speaker 1: that land named for his name over which he rules
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  Speaker 1: for me? The Delian god gave to my son the
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  Speaker 1: art of augury, and likewise Libor gave my daughter's precious gifts,
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  Speaker 1: exceeding all my wishes and belief. Since everything my daughters
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  Speaker 1: touched assumed the forms of corn, of sparkling wine, or
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  Speaker 1: gray green olive oil, most surely wonderful advantages. Soon as
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  Speaker 1: a treaties, he who conquered Troy had heard of this,
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  Speaker 1: For you should not suppose that we too did not
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  Speaker 1: suffer from your storms. He dragged my daughters there with
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  Speaker 1: savage force from my beloved Bosom to his hostile camp,
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  Speaker 1: and ordered them to feed the Argive fleet by their
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  Speaker 1: divinely given power of touch. Whichever way they could. They
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  Speaker 1: made escape. Two hastened to Ubia, and two sought their
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  Speaker 1: brother's island andros quickly. Then an Argive's squadron following threatened
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  Speaker 1: war unless they were surrendered. The brother's love gave way
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  Speaker 1: to fear, And there is reason why you should forgive
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  Speaker 1: a timid brother's fear. He had no warrior like Annaeus,
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  Speaker 1: none like Hector, by whose prowess you held Troy from
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  Speaker 1: its destruction. Through ten years of war. Strong chains were
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  Speaker 1: brought to hold my daughter's arms. Both lifted suppliant hands
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  Speaker 1: which still were free to heaven, and cried O father,
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  Speaker 1: Bacchus give us needed aid, And he who had before
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  Speaker 1: given them the power of touch, did give them aid.
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  Speaker 1: If giving freedom without human shape can be called giving aid.
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  Speaker 1: I never knew by what means they lost shape, and
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  Speaker 1: cannot tell, but their calamity is surely known. My daughters
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  Speaker 1: were transformed to snow white doves, white birds of Venus,
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  Speaker 1: guardian of your days. With this and other talk, they
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  Speaker 1: shared the feast, then left the table and retired to sleep.
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  Speaker 1: They rose up with the day and went at once
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  Speaker 1: to hear the oracle of Phoebus speak. He counseled them
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  Speaker 1: to leave that land and find their ancient mother and
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  Speaker 1: their kindred shores. The king attended them and gave them
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  Speaker 1: gifts when ready to depart, a scepter to Anchisis, and
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  Speaker 1: a robe and quivered to his grandson, and gave a
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  Speaker 1: goblet to Anneus, that which formerly was sent to him
• 21:56
  Speaker 1: by Thersus, once his theban guest. Thursus had sent it
• 22:01
  Speaker 1: from Aeonian shores. But Alcon the highland should be named
• 22:05
  Speaker 1: for he had made the goblet and inscribed a pictured
• 22:08
  Speaker 1: story on the polished side. There was a city shown
• 22:13
  Speaker 1: with seven gates, from which the name could be derived
• 22:16
  Speaker 1: by all. Outside the walls was a sad funeral, and
• 22:21
  Speaker 1: tombs and fires and funeral pyres were shown, and many
• 22:25
  Speaker 1: matrons with disheveled hair and naked breasts expressive of their grief,
• 22:30
  Speaker 1: and many nymphs too, weeping mournfully because their streams were
• 22:33
  Speaker 1: dry without a leaf, the bare trees stood straight up,
• 22:38
  Speaker 1: and the she goats were nibbling in dry stony fields.
• 22:42
  Speaker 1: And there he carved Orion's daughters in the theban square,
• 22:46
  Speaker 1: one giving her bare throat a cruel cut, one with
• 22:50
  Speaker 1: her shuttle, making clumsy wounds, both dying for their people.
• 22:55
  Speaker 1: Next they were borne out through the city, would do
• 22:58
  Speaker 1: funeral pomp, and the warning crowds were gathered around their pyre.
• 23:04
  Speaker 1: Then from the virgin ashes, lest the race should die,
• 23:08
  Speaker 1: two youths arose, whose fame has named Coronae, and they
• 23:12
  Speaker 1: shared in all the rites becoming from their mother's dust.
• 23:16
  Speaker 1: Even so, in shining figures, all was shown inscribed on
• 23:20
  Speaker 1: ancient bronze. The top rim, made quite rough, was gilded
• 23:25
  Speaker 1: with acanthus leaves presence of equal worth. The Trojans gave
• 23:30
  Speaker 1: a maple incense casket for the priest, a bull, a crown,
• 23:34
  Speaker 1: adorned with gold and gems. End of Book thirteen, Part three,