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  • P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Brookes More)

    Book 6

    Editions and translations: English (ed. Brookes More) | Latin (ed. Hugo Magnus) | English (ed. Arthur Golding)
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    Table of ContentsGo to Previous Next

    Procne et Philomela.

    TEREUS AND PHILOMELA

    The lords of many cities that were near,
    now met together and implored their kings
    to mourn with Pelops those unhappy deeds.--

    The lords of Argos; Sparta and Mycenae;
    and Calydon, before it had incurred
    the hatred of Diana, goddess of the chase;
    fertile Orchomenus and Corinth, great
    in wealth of brass; Patrae and fierce Messena;
    Cleone, small; and Pylus and Troezen,
    not ruled by Pittheus then,--and also, all
    the other cities which are shut off by
    the Isthmus there dividing by its two seas,
    and all the cities which are seen from there.

    What seemed most wonderful, of all those towns
    Athens alone was wanting, for a war
    had gathered from the distant seas, a host
    of savage warriors had alarmed her walls,
    and hindered her from mourning for the dead.

    Now Tereus, then the mighty king of Thrace,
    came to the aid of Athens as defense
    from that fierce horde; and there by his great deeds
    achieved a glorious fame. Since his descent
    was boasted from the mighty Gradivus,
    and he was gifted with enormous wealth,
    Pandion, king of Athens, gave to him
    in sacred wedlock his dear daughter, Procne.

    But Juno, guardian of the sacred rites
    attended not, nor Hymenaeus, nor
    the Graces. But the Furies snatched up brands
    from burning funeral pyres, and brandished them
    as torches. They prepared the nuptial couch,--
    a boding owl flew over the bride's room,
    and then sat silently upon the roof.

    With such bad omens Tereus married her,
    sad Procne, and those omens cast a gloom
    on all the household till the fateful birth
    of their first born. All Thrace went wild with joy--
    and even they, rejoicing, blessed the Gods,
    when he, the little Itys, saw the light;
    and they ordained each year their wedding day,
    and every year the birthday of their child,
    should be observed with festival and song:
    so the sad veil of fate conceals from us
    our future woes.

    Now Titan had drawn forth
    the changing seasons through five autumns, when,
    in gentle accents, Procne spoke these words:
    “My dearest husband, if you love me, let
    me visit my dear sister, or consent
    that she may come to us and promise her
    that she may soon return. If you will but
    permit me to enjoy her company
    my heart will bless you as I bless the Gods.”

    At once the monarch ordered his long ships
    to launch upon the sea; and driven by sail,
    and hastened by the swiftly sweeping oars,
    they entered the deep port of Athens, where
    he made fair landing on the fortified
    Piraeus. There, when time was opportune
    to greet his father-in-law and shake his hand,
    they both exchanged their wishes for good health,
    and Tereus told the reason why he came.

    He was relating all his wife's desire.
    Promising Philomela's safe return
    from a brief visit, when Philomela appeared
    rich in her costly raiment, yet more rich
    in charm and beauty, just as if a fair
    Dryad or Naiad should be so attired,
    appearing radiant, from dark solitudes.

    As if someone should kindle whitening corn
    or the dry leaves, or hay piled in a stack;
    so Tereus, when he saw the beautiful
    and blushing virgin, was consumed with love.

    Her modest beauty was a worthy cause
    of worthy love; but by his heritage,
    derived from a debasing clime, his love
    was base; and fires unholy burned within
    from his own lawless nature, just as fierce
    as are the habits of his evil race.

    In the wild frenzy of his wicked heart,
    he thought he would corrupt her trusted maid,
    her tried attendants, and corrupt even
    her virtue with large presents: he would waste
    his kingdom in the effort.--He prepared
    to seize her at the risk of cruel war.
    And he would do or dare all things to feed
    his raging flame.--He could not brook delay.

    With most impassioned words he begged for her,
    pretending he gave voice to Procne's hopes.--
    his own desire made him wax eloquent,
    as often as his words exceeded bounds,
    he pleaded he was uttering Procne's words.

    His hypocritic eyes were filled with tears,
    as though they represented her desire--
    and, O you Gods above, what devious ways
    are harbored in the hearts of mortals! Through
    his villainous desire he gathered praise,
    and many lauded him for the great love
    he bore his wife.

    And even Philomela
    desires her own undoing; and with fond
    embraces nestles to her father, while
    she pleads for his consent, that she may go
    to visit her dear sister.--Tereus viewed
    her pretty pleading, and in his hot heart,
    imagined he was then embracing her;
    and as he saw her kiss her father's lips,
    her arms around his neck, it seemed that each
    caress was his; and so his fire increased.
    He even wished he were her father; though,
    if it were so, his passion would no less
    be impious.--Overcome at last by these
    entreaties, her kind father gave consent.
    Greatly she joyed and thanked him for her own
    misfortune. She imagined a success,
    instead of all the sorrow that would come.

    The day declining, little of his toil
    remained for Phoebus. Now his flaming steeds
    were beating with their hoofs the downward slope
    of high Olympus; and the regal feast
    was set before the guests, and flashing wine
    was poured in golden vessels, and the feast
    went merrily, until the satisfied
    assembly sought in gentle sleep their rest.

    Not so, the love-hot Tereus, king of Thrace,
    who, sleepless, imaged in his doting mind
    the form of Philomela, recalled the shape
    of her fair hands, and in his memory
    reviewed her movements. And his flaming heart
    pictured her beauties yet unseen.--He fed
    his frenzy on itself, and could not sleep.

    Fair broke the day; and now the ancient king,
    Pandion, took his son-in-law's right hand
    to bid farewell; and, as he wept,
    commended his dear daughter, Philomela,
    unto his guarding care. “And in your care,
    my son-in-law, I trust my daughter's health.
    Good reason, grounded on my love, compels
    my sad approval. You have begged for her,
    and both my daughters have persuaded me.
    Wherefore, I do entreat you and implore
    your honor, as I call upon the Gods,
    that you will ever shield her with the love
    of a kind father and return her safe,
    as soon as may be--my last comfort given
    to bless my doting age. And all delay
    will agitate and vex my failing heart.

    “And, O my dearest daughter, Philomela,
    if you have any love for me, return
    without too long delay and comfort me,
    lest I may grieve; for it is quite enough
    that I should suffer while your sister stays away.”


    Preferred URL for linking to this page: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/cgi-bin/ptext?lookup=Ov.+Met.+6.412

    The National Endowment for the Humanities provided support for entering this text.

    This text is based on the following book(s):
    Ovid. Metamorphoses. Brookes More. Boston. Cornhill Publishing Co. 1922.
    OCLC: 24965574


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