From steel, and which could ev’n that steel rebate
Amazed, their admiration they renew;
And scarce Pelides could believe it true.
Story of Caeneus
The nymph Caenis, having suffered violence from Neptune, prevails on her ravisher to change her sex, and make her in vulnerable.
Then Nestor thus: “What once this age has known
In fated Cycnus, and in him alone,
These eyes have seen in Caeneus long before,
Whose body not a thousand swords could bore,
Caeneus in courage and in strength excell’d;
And still his Othrys with his fame is fill’d:
But what did most his martial deeds adorn—
Though since he changed his sex, a woman born.”
A novelty so strange, and full of fate,
His listening audience ask’d him to relate.
Achilles thus commends their common suit:
“Oh father, first for prudence in repute,
Tell, with that eloquence so much thy own,
What thou hast heard, or what of Caeneus known:
What was he; whence his change of sex begun:
What trophies, join’d in wars with thee, he won:
Who conquer’d him; and in what fatal strife
The youth, without a wound, could lose his life?”
Neleides then: “Though tardy age and time
Have shrunk my sinews and decay’d my prime;
Though much I have forgotten of my store,
Yet, not exhausted, I remember more.
Of all that arms achieved, or peace design’d,
That action still is fresher in my mind
Than aught beside. If reverend age can give
To faith a sanction, in my third I live.
“ ’Twas in my second century I survey’d
Young Caenis, then a fair Thessalian maid:
Caenis the bright, was born to high command;
A princess, and a native of thy land,
Divine Achilles: every tongue proclaim’d
Her beauty, and her eyes all hearts inflamed.
Peleus, thy sire, perhaps had sought her bed,
Among the rest; but he had either led
Thy mother then, or was by promise tied:
But she to him, and all, alike her love denied.
“It was her fortune once to take her way
Along the sandy margin of the sea:
The power of ocean view’d her as she pass’d,
And, loved as soon as seen, by force embraced:
Then thus, transported, to the nymph he cried:
‘Ask what thou wilt, no prayer shall be denied:’
This also fame relates. The haughty fair,
Who not the rape ev’n of a god could bear,
This answer, proud, return’d: ‘To mighty wrongs
A mighty recompense, of right, belongs:
Give me no more to suffer such a shame,
But change the woman for a better name;
One gift for all:’ she said; and while she spoke,
A stern, majestic, manly tone she took:
A man she was: and, as the godhead swore,
To Caeneus turn’d, who Caenis was before.
“To this the lover adds, without request,
No force of steel should violate his breast.
Glad of the gift, the new-made warrior goes,
And arms among the Greeks, and longs for equal foes.
Skirmish Between the Centaurs and Lapithites
The marriage of Pirithous, king of the Lapithae, with Hippodamia, is rendered memorable by a furious contest with their centaur guests, who endeavour to seize the bride, but are defeated.
“Now brave Pirithous, bold Ixion’s son,
The love of fair Hippodame had won.
The cloud begotten race, half men, half beast,
Invited, came to grace the nuptial feast:
In a cool cave’s recess the treat was made,
Whose entrance trees with spreading boughs o’ershade.
They sat; and, summon’d by the bridegroom, came,
To mix with those the Lapithaean name:
Nor wanted I. The roofs with joy resound;
And, ‘Hymen, Io Hymen,’ rung around.
Raised altars shone with holy fires: the bride,
Lovely herself, (and lovely, by her side,
A bevy of bright nymphs, with sober grace,)
Came glittering like a star, and took her place:
Her heavenly form beheld, all wish’d her joy;
And little wanted; but in vain their wishes all employ:
“For one, most brutal of the brutal brood,
Or whether wine or beauty fired his blood,
Or both at once, beheld with joyful eyes
The bride, at once resolved to make his prize.
Down went the board; and, fastening on her hair,
He seized with sudden force the frighted fair.
’Twas Eurytus began: his bestial kind
His crime pursued; and each, as pleased his mind,
Or her whom chance presented, took: the feast
An image of a taken town express’d.
“The cave resounds with female shrieks; we rise,
Mad with revenge, to make a swift reprise:
And Theseus first: ‘What frenzy has possess’d,
Oh Eurytus,’ he cried, ‘thy brutal breast,
To wrong Pirithous, and not him alone,
But while I live, two friends conjoin’d in one?’
“To justify his threat, he thrusts aside
The crowd of centaurs, and redeems the bride.
The monster naught replied; for words were vain,
And deeds could only deeds unjust maintain;
But answers with his hand, and forward press’d,
With blows redoubled, on his face and breast.
An ample goblet stood, of antique mould,
And rough with figures of the rising gold;
The hero snatch’d it up, and toss’d in air
Full at the front of the foul ravisher:
He falls, and falling, vomits forth a flood
Of wine, and foam, and brains, and mingled blood.
Half roaring, and half neighing, through the hall,
‘Arms! arms!’ the double-form’d with fury call;
To wreak their brother’s death: a medley flight
Of bowls and jars at first supply the fight;
Once instruments of feasts, but now of fate:
Wine animates their rage, and arms their hate.
“Bold Amycus from the robb’d vestry brings
The chalices of heaven, and holy things
Of precious weight: a sconce that hung on high,
With tapers fill’d, to light the sacristy,
Torn from the cord, with his unhallow’d hand,
He threw amid the Lapithaean band.
On Celadon the ruin fell, and left
His face of feature, and of form bereft:
So, when some brawny sacrificer knocks,
Before an altar led, an offer’d ox,
His eyeballs, rooted out, are thrown to ground;
His nose, dismantled, in his mouth is found;
His jaws, cheeks, front, one undistinguished wound.
“This Belates, the avenger, could not brook,
But, by the foot, a maple board he took,
And hurl’d at Amycus: his chin it bent
Against his chest, and down the centaur sent;
Whom, sputtering bloody teeth, the second blow
Of his drawn sword despatch’d to shades below.
“Grineus was near, and cast a furious look
On the side altar, censed with sacred smoke,
And bright with flaming fires: ‘The gods,’ he cried,
‘Have with their holy trade our hands supplied:
Why use we not their gifts?’ Then from the floor
An altar stone he heaved, with all the load it bore:
Altar, and altar’s freight, together flew,
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