Till tears and kisses wear his name away.
But Cynthia now had all her fury spent,
Not with less ruin than a race content,
Excepting Gorge, perish’d all the seed,
And her3 whom Heaven for Hercules decreed.
Satiate at last, no longer she pursued
The weeping sisters, but with wings endued
And horny beaks, and sent to flit in air,
Who, yearly, round the tomb in feather’d flocks repair.
Transformation of the Naiads
The river Achelous, displeased at the neglect of the Naiads converts them into the islands called Echinades.
Theseus, meanwhile, acquitting well his share
In the bold chase, confed’rate like a war,
To Athens’ lofty towers his march ordain’d,
By Pallas loved, and where Erectheus reign’d;
But Achelous stopp’d him on the way,
By rains a deluge, and constrain’d his stay.
“O famed for glorious deeds, and great by blood,
Rest here,” says he, “nor trust the rapid flood;
It solid oaks has from its margin tore,
And rocky fragments down its current bore,
The murmur hoarse, and terrible the roar.
Oft have I seen herds, with their shelt’ring fold,
Forced from the banks, and in the torrent roll’d;
Nor strength the bulky steer from ruin freed,
Nor matchless swiftness saved the racing steed;
In cataracts, when the dissolving snow
Falls from the hills and floods the plains below,
Tossed by the eddies, with a giddy round,
Strong youths are in the sucking whirlpools drown’d:
’Tis best with me in safety to abide,
Till usual bounds restrain the ebbing tide,
And the low waters in their channel glide.”
Theseus, persuaded, in compliance bow’d:
“So kind an offer, and advice so good,
O Achelous! cannot be refused;
I’ll use them both,” said he; and both he used
The grot he enter’d; pumice built the hall,
And tophi made the rustic of the wall;
The floor, soft moss a humid carpet spread,
And various shells the checker’d roof inlaid:
’Twas now the hour when the declining sun
Two thirds had of his daily journey run;
At the spread table Theseus took his place,
Next his companions in the daring chase;
Pirithous here, there elder Lelex lay,
His locks betraying age with sprinkled gray:
Acharnia’s river-god disposed the rest,
Graced with the equal honour of the feast,
Elate with joy, and proud of such a guest.
The nymphs were waiters, and, with naked feet,
In order served the courses of the meat.
The banquet done, delicious wine they brought,
Of one transparent gem the cup was wrought.
Then the great hero of this gallant train,
Surveying far the prospect of the main,
“What is that land,” says he, “the waves embrace?”
(And with his finger pointed at the place:)
“Is it one parted isle, which stands alone?
How named? and yet, methinks, it seems not one.”
To whom the watery god made this reply:
“ ’Tis not one isle, but five; distinct they lie:
’Tis distance which deceives the cheated eye:
But, that Diana’s act may seem less strange,
These once proud Naiads were, before their change.
’Twas on a day more solemn than the rest,
Ten bullocks slain, a sacrificial feast:
The rural gods of all the regions near
They bid to dance and taste the hallow’d cheer:
Me they forgot; affronted with the slight,
My rage and stream swell’d to the greatest height;
And with the torrent of my flooding store,
Large woods from woods, and fields from fields, I tore:
The guilty nymphs, O, then rememb’ring me,
I, with their country, wash’d into the sea;
And joining waters with the social main,
Rent the gross land, and split the firm champaign:
Since, the Echinades, remote from shore,
Are view’d as many isles as nymphs before.”
Perimele Turned Into an Island
The nymph Perimele suffers violence from the river-god Achelous, and is cast into the sea by her enraged father—Neptune, in compassion, converts her into a rock.
“But yonder far, lo! yonder does appear
An isle, a part to me for ever dear;
From that (it sailors Perimele name)
I doting, forced, by strength, a virgin’s fame.
Hippodamas’s passion grew so strong,
Gall’d with the abuse, and fretted at the wrong,
He cast his pregnant daughter from a rock;
I spread my waves beneath and broke the shock;
And, as her swimming weight my stream convey’d,
I sued for help divine, and thus I pray’d:
‘O powerful thou! whose trident does command
The realm of waters, which surround the land;
We sacred rivers, wheresoe’er begun,
End in thy lot, and to thy empire run;
With favour hear, and help with present aid
Her whom I bear, ’twas guilty I betray’d.
Yet, if her father had been just or mild,
He would have been less impious to his child;
In her, have pitied force in the abuse;
In me, admitted love for my excuse:
O let relief for her hard case be found,
Her, whom paternal rage expell’d from ground;
Her, whom paternal rage relentless drown’d.
Grant her some place, or change her to a place
Which I may ever clasp with my embrace.’
“His nodding head the sea’s great ruler bent,
And all his waters shook with his assent:
The nymph still swam, though with the fright distress’d;
I felt her heart leap trembling in her breast;
But, hard’ning soon, while I her pulse explore,
A crusting cased her stiff body o’er;
And, as accretions of new-cleaving soil
Enlarged the mass, the nymph became an isle.”
Story of Baucis and Philemon
Jupiter and Mercury, while travelling in disguise, arrive at the cottage of an aged pair, who entertain their guests with unaffected hospitality, which is amply requited by the transformation of their humble dwelling into a magnificent temple, of which they are appointed the priests—After living to an extreme age, they expire at the same time, and their bodies are changed into trees.
Thus Achelous ends; his audience hear
With admiration, and, admiring, fear
The powers of heaven, except Ixion’s son,
Who laugh’d at all the gods, believed in none:
He shook his impious head, and thus replies:
“These legends are no more than pious lies.
You attribute too much to heavenly sway,
To think they gave us forms, and take away.”
The rest, of better minds, their sense declared
Against this doctrine, and with horror heard.
Then Lelex rose, an old experienced man,
And thus, with sober gravity, began:
“Heaven’s power is infinite: earth, air, and sea,
The manufacture mass, the making power obey:
By proof to clear your doubt; in Phrygian ground
Two neighbouring trees, with walls encompass’d round,
Stand on a moderate rise, with wonder shown,
One a hard oak, a softer linden one:
I saw the place, and them, by Pittheus sent
To Phrygian
