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

    BOOK 1

    Editions and translations: English (ed. Brookes More) | Latin (ed. Hugo Magnus) | English (ed. Arthur Golding)
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    Daphne.

    DAPHNE AND PHOEBUS

    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.,”


    There are a total of 2 comments on and cross references to this page.

    Cross references from Harry Thurston Peck, Harpers Dictionary of Classical Antiquities (1898):
    latrina [Latrīna]
    stabulum [Stabŭlum]


    Preferred URL for linking to this page: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/cgi-bin/ptext?lookup=Ov.+Met.+1.452

    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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