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

    Book 9

    Editions and translations: English (ed. Brookes More) | Latin (ed. Hugo Magnus) | English (ed. Arthur Golding)
    Your current position in the text is marked in red. Click anywhere on the line to jump to another position.
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    Table of ContentsGo to Previous Next

    Dryope. Iolaus.

    When she had ended the sad tale, she heaved
    a deep sigh, in remembrance of her tried,
    beloved servant; and her daughter-in-law
    Iole kindly answered in these words:

    DRYOPE

    “O my dear mother, if you weep because
    of her who was your servant, now transformed
    into a weasel, how can you support
    the true narration of my sister's fate;
    which I must tell to you, although my tears
    and sorrows hinder and forbid my speech?

    “Most beautiful of all Oechalian maids,
    was Dryope, her mother's only child,
    for you must know I am the daughter of
    my father's second wife. She is not now
    a maid; because, through violence of him
    who rules at Delphi and at Delos, she
    was taken by Andraemon, who since then
    has been accounted happy in his wife.

    “There is a lake surrounded by sweet lawns,
    encircling beauties, where the upper slope
    is crowned with myrtles in fair sunny groves.
    Without a thought of danger Dryope
    in worship one day went to gather flowers,
    (who hears, has greater cause to be indignant)
    delightful garlands, for the water-nymphs,
    and, in her bosom, carried her dear son,
    not yet a year old, whom she fed for love.
    Not far from that dream-lake, in moisture grew
    a lotus, beautiful in purple bloom,
    the blossoms promising its fruit was near.

    “At play with her sweet infant, Dryope
    plucked them as toys for him. I, too, was there,
    eagerly, also, I put forth my hand,
    and was just ready to secure a spray,
    when I was startled by some drops of blood
    down-falling from the blossoms which were plucked;
    and even the trembling branches shook in dread.

    “Who wills, the truth of this may learn from all
    quaint people of that land, who still relate
    the Story of Nymph Lotis. She, they say,
    while flying from the lust of Priapus,
    was transformed quickly from her human shape,
    into this tree, though she has kept her name.

    “But ignorant of all this, Dryope,
    alarmed, decided she must now return;
    so, having first adored the hallowed nymphs,
    upright she stood, and would have moved away,
    but both her feet were tangled in a root.
    There, as she struggled in its tightening hold,
    she could move nothing save her upper parts;
    and growing from that root, live bark began
    to gather slowly upward from the ground,
    spreading around her, till it touched her loins:
    in terror when she saw the clinging growth,
    she would have torn her hair out by the roots,
    but, when she clutched at it, her hands were filled
    with lotus leaves grown up from her changed head.

    “Alas, her little son, Amphissos, felt
    his mother's bosom harden to his touch,
    and no life-stream refreshed his eager lips.
    And while I saw your cruel destiny,
    O my dear sister! and could give no help,
    I clung to your loved body and around
    the growing trunk and branches, hoping so
    to stop their evil growth; and I confess,
    endeavored there to hide beneath the bark.

    “And, oh! Andraemon and her father, then
    appeared to me while they were sadly seeking
    for Dryope: so there I had to show
    the lotus as it covered her, and they
    gave kisses to the warm wood, and prostrate fell
    upon the ground, and clung to growing roots
    of their new darling tree, transformed from her.--
    Dear sister, there was nothing of yourself
    remaining but your face; and I could see
    your tears drop slowly on the trembling leaves
    which had so marvellously grown on you;
    and while your lips remained uncovered, all
    the air surrounding, echoed your complaint:--

    “If oaths of wretched women can have force,
    I swear I have not merited this fate!
    Though innocent, to suffer punishment!
    And if one word of my complaint is false,
    I pray I may soon wither, and my leaves
    fall from me as in blight, and let the axe
    devote me, wretched to the flames. But take
    this infant from my branches to a nurse;
    and let him often play beneath his tree,--
    his mother always. Let him drink his milk
    beneath my shade. When he has learned to talk
    let him salute me, and in sorrow say
    “In this tree-trunk my mother is concealed.”
    O, let him dread the fate that lurks in ponds,
    and let him often play beneath his tree,--
    and let him be persuaded every shrub
    contains the body of a goddess. -- Ah!
    Farewell my husband,--sister, -- and farewell
    my father! If my love remain in you
    remember to protect my life from harm,
    so that the pruning-knife may never clip
    my branches, and protect my foliage from
    the browsing sheep.

    “I cannot stoop to you;
    0h, if you love me, lift your lips to mine,
    and let me kiss you, if but once again,
    before this growing lotus covers me.
    Lift up my darling infant to my lips.
    How can I hope to say much more to you?
    The new bark now is creeping up my neck,
    and creeping downward from my covered brow!
    Ah, do not close my live eyes with your hands;
    there is no need of it, for growing bark
    will spread and darken them before I die!’
    Such were the last words her poor smothered lips
    could utter; for she was so quickly changed;
    and long thereafter the new branches kept
    the warmth of her lost body, so transformed.”

    IOLAUS

    And all the while that Iole told this,
    tearful in sorrow for her sister's fate,
    Alcmena weeping, tried to comfort her.
    But as they wept together, suddenly
    a wonderful event astonished them;
    for, standing in the doorway, they beheld
    the old man Iolaus, known to them,
    but now transformed from age to youth, he seemed
    almost a boy, with light down on his cheeks:
    for Juno's daughter Hebe, had renewed
    his years to please her husband, Hercules.
    Just at the time when ready to make oath,
    she would not grant such gifts to other men--
    Themis had happily prevented her.

    “For even now,” she said, “a civil strife
    is almost ready to break forth in Thebes,
    and Capaneus shall be invincible
    to all save the strong hand of Jove himself;
    and there two hostile brothers shall engage
    in bloody conflict; and Amphiaraus
    shall see his own ghost, deep in yawning earth.

    “His own son, dutiful to him, shall be
    both just and unjust in a single deed;
    for he, in vengeance for his father's death,
    shall slay his mother, and confounded lose
    both home and reason,--persecuted both
    by the grim Furies and the awful ghost
    of his own murdered mother; this until
    his wife, deluded, shall request of him
    the fatal golden necklace, and until
    the sword of Phegeus drains his kinsman's blood.

    “And then at last his wife Callirhoe
    shall supplicate the mighty Jupiter
    to grant her infant sons the added years
    of youthful manhood. Then shall Jupiter
    let Hebe, guardian of ungathered days,
    grant from the future to Callirhoe's sons,
    the strength of manhood in their infancy.
    Do not let their victorious father's death
    be unavenged a long while. Jove prevailed
    upon, will claim beforehand all the gifts
    of Hebe, who is his known daughter-in-law,
    and his step-daughter, and with one act change
    Callirhoe's beardless boys to men of size.”


    Preferred URL for linking to this page: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/cgi-bin/ptext?lookup=Ov.+Met.+9.324

    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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