Chapter XV: Book THE THIRD: Fable I. Iii.1-34 (1)

Jupiter, having carried away Europa, her father, Agenor, commands his
son Cadmus to go immediately in search of her, and either to bring
back his sister with him, or never to return to Phœnicia. Cadmus,
wearied with his toils and fruitless inquiries, goes to consult the
oracle at Delphi, which bids him observe the spot where he should see
a cow lie down, and build a city there, and give the name of Bœotia to
the country.

And now the God, having laid aside the shape of the deceiving Bull, had discovered himself, and reached the Dictæan land; when her father, ignorant {of her fate}, commands Cadmus to seek her {thus} ravished, and adds exile as the punishment, if he does not find her; being {both} affectionate and unnatural in the self-same act. The son of Agenor, having wandered over the whole world,[1] as an exile flies from his country and the wrath of his father, for who is there that can discover the intrigues of Jupiter? A suppliant, he consults the oracle of Phœbus, and inquires in what land he must dwell. “A heifer,” Phœbus says, “will meet thee in the lonely fields, one that has never borne the yoke, and free from the crooked plough. Under her guidance, go on thy way; and where she shall lie down on the grass, there cause a city to be built, and call it the Bœotian[2] {city}.”

Scarcely had Cadmus well got down from the Castalian cave,[3] {when} he saw a heifer, without a keeper, slowly going along, bearing no mark of servitude upon her neck. He follows, and pursues her steps with leisurely pace, and silently adores Phœbus, the adviser of his way. {And} now he had passed the fords of the Cephisus, and the fields of Panope, {when} the cow stood still and raising her forehead, expansive with lofty horns, towards heaven, she made the air reverberate with her lowings. And so, looking back on her companions that followed behind, she lay down, and reposed her side upon the tender grass. Cadmus returned thanks, and imprinted kisses upon the stranger land, and saluted the unknown mountains and fields. He was {now} going to offer sacrifice to Jupiter, and commanded his servants to go and fetch some water for the libation from the running springs. An ancient grove was standing {there, as yet} profaned by no axe. There was a cavern in the middle {of it}, thick covered with twigs and osiers, forming a low arch by the junction of the rocks; abounding with plenty of water. Hid in this cavern, there was a dragon sacred to Mars,[4] adorned with crests and a golden {color}. His eyes sparkle with fire, {and} all his body is puffed out with poison; three tongues, {too}, are brandished, and his teeth stand in a triple row.

[Footnote 1: _Over the whole world._--Ver. 6. Apollodorus tells us
that Cadmus lived in Thrace until the death of his mother,
Telephassa, who accompanied him; and that, after her decease, he
proceeded to Delphi to make inquiries of the oracle.]

[Footnote 2: _Bœotian._--Ver. 13. He implies here that Bœotia
received its name from the Greek word βοῦς, ‘an ox’ or ‘cow.’
Other writers say that it was so called from Bœotus, the son of
Neptune and Arne. Some authors also say that Thebes received its
name from the Syrian word ‘Thebe,’ which signified ‘an ox.’]

[Footnote 3: _Castalian cave._--Ver. 14. Castalius was a fountain
at the foot of Mount Parnassus, and in the vicinity of Delphi. It
was sacred to the Muses.]

[Footnote 4: _Sacred to Mars._--Ver. 32. Euripides says, that the
dragon had been set there by Mars to watch the spot and the
neighboring stream. Other writers say that it was a son of Mars,
Dercyllus by name, and that a Fury, named Tilphosa, was its
mother. Ancient history abounds with stories of enormous serpents.
The army of Regulus is said by Pliny the Elder, to have killed a
serpent of enormous size, which obstructed the passage of the
river Bagrada, in Africa. It was 120 feet in length.]

EXPLANATION.

Reverting to the history of Europa, it may be here remarked, that
Apollodorus has preserved her genealogy. Libya, according to that
author, had two sons by Neptune, Belus and Agenor. The latter married
Telephassa, by whom he had Cadmus, Phœnix, and Cilix, and a daughter
named Europa. Some ancient writers, however, say, that Europa was the
daughter of Phœnix, and the grandchild of Agenor.

Some authors, and Ovid among the rest, have supposed that Europe
received its name from Europa. Bochart has, with considerable
probability, suggested that it was originally so called from the fair
complexion of the people who inhabited it. Europa herself may have
received her name also from the fairness of her complexion: hence, the
poets, as the Scholiast on Theocritus tells us, invented a fable, that
a daughter of Juno stole her mother’s paint, to give it to Europa, who
used it with so much success as to ensure, by its use, an extremely
fair and beautiful complexion.

FABLE II. [III.35-130]

The companions of Cadmus, fetching water from the fountain of Mars,
are devoured by the Dragon that guards it. Cadmus, on discovering
their destruction, slays the monster, and, by the advice of Minerva,
sows the teeth, which immediately produce a crop of armed men. They
forthwith quarrel among themselves, and kill each other, with the
exception of five who assist Cadmus in building the city of Thebes.

After the men who came from the Tyrian nation had touched this grove with ill-fated steps, and the urn let down into the water made a splash; the azure dragon stretched forth his head from the deep cave, and uttered dreadful hissings. The urns dropped from their hands; and the blood left their bodies, and a sudden trembling seized their astonished limbs. He wreathes his scaly orbs in rolling spires, and with a spring becomes twisted into mighty folds; and uprearing himself from below the middle into the light air, he looks down upon all the grove, and is of as large a size,[5] as, if you were to look on him entire, {the serpent} which separates the two Bears.

There is no delay; he seizes the Phœnicians (whether they are resorting to their arms or to flight, or whether fear itself is preventing either {step}); some he kills with his sting,[6] some with his long folds, some breathed upon[7] by the venom of his baneful poison.

The sun, now at its height, had made the shadows {but} small: the son of Agenor wonders what has detained his companion and goes to seek his men. His garment was a skin torn from a lion; his weapon was a lance with shining steel, and a javelin; and a courage superior to any weapon. When he entered the grove, and beheld the lifeless bodies, and the victorious enemy of immense size upon them, licking the horrid wounds with bloodstained tongue, he said, “Either I will be the avenger of your death, bodies {of my} faithful {companions}, or {I will be} a sharer {in it}.” {Thus} he said; and with his right hand he raised a huge stone,[8] and hurled the vast {weight} with a tremendous effort. {And} although high walls with lofty towers would have been shaken with the shock of it, {yet} the dragon remained without a wound; and, being defended by his scales as though with a coat of mail, and the hardness of his black hide, he repelled the mighty stroke with his skin. But he did not overcome the javelin as well with the same hardness; which stood fast, fixed in the middle joint of his yielding spine, and sank with the entire {point of} steel into his entrails. Fierce with pain, he turned his head towards his back, and beheld his wounds, and bit the javelin fixed there. And after he had twisted it on every side with all his might, with difficulty he wrenched it from his back; yet the steel stuck fast in his bones. But then, when this newly inflicted wound has increased his wonted fury, his throat swelled with gorged veins, and white foam flowed around his pestilential jaws. The Earth, too, scraped with the scales, sounds again, and the livid steam that issues from his infernal mouth,[9] infects the tainted air. One while he is enrolled in spires making enormous rings; sometimes he unfolds himself straighter than a long beam. Now with a vast impulse, like a torrent swelled with rain, he is borne along, and bears down the obstructing forests with his breast. The son of Agenor gives way a little; and by the spoil of the lion he sustains the shock, and with his lance extended before him, pushes back his mouth, as it advances. The dragon rages, and vainly inflicts wounds on the hard steel, and fixes his teeth upon the point. And now the blood began to flow from his poisonous palate, and had dyed the green grass with its spray. But the wound was slight; because he recoiled from the stroke, and drew back his wounded throat, and by shrinking prevented the blow from sinking deep, and did not suffer it to go very far. At length, the son of Agenor, still pursuing, pressed the spear lodged in his throat, until an oak stood in his way as he retreated, and his neck was pierced, together with the trunk. The tree was bent with the weight of the serpent, and groaned at having its trunk lashed with the extremity of its tail.

While the conqueror was surveying the vast size of his vanquished enemy, a voice was suddenly heard (nor was it easy to understand whence {it was}, but heard it was). “Why, son of Agenor, art thou {thus} contemplating the dragon slain {by thee}? Even thou {thyself} shalt be seen {in the form of} a dragon.”[10] He, for a long time in alarm, lost his color together with his presence of mind, and his hair stood on end with a chill of terror. Lo! Pallas, the favorer of the hero, descending through the upper region of the air, comes to him, and bids him sow the dragon’s teeth under the earth turned up, as the seeds of a future people. He obeyed; and when he had opened a furrow with the pressed plough, he scattered the teeth on the ground as ordered, the seed of a race of men. Afterwards (’tis beyond belief) the turf began to move, and first appeared a point of a spear out of the furrows, next the coverings of heads nodding with painted cones;[11] then the shoulders and the breast, and the arms laden with weapons start up, and a crop of men armed with shields grows apace. So, when the curtains[12] are drawn up in the joyful theaters, figures are wont to rise, and first to show their countenances; by degrees the rest; and being drawn out in a gradual continuation, the whole appear, and place their feet on the lowest edge {of the stage}. Alarmed with this new enemy, Cadmus is preparing to take arms, when one of the people that the earth had produced cries out, “Do not take up {arms}, nor engage thyself in civil war.” And then, engaged hand to hand, he strikes one of his earth-born brothers with the cruel sword, {while} he himself falls by a dart sent from a distance. He, also, who had put him to death, lives no longer than the other, and breathes forth the air which he has so lately received. In a similar manner, too, the whole troop becomes maddened, and the brothers {so} newly sprung up, fall in fight with each other, by mutual wounds. And now the youths that had the space of {so} short an existence allotted them, beat with throbbing breast their blood-stained mother, five {only} remaining, of whom Echion[13] was one. He, by the advice of Tritonia, threw his arms upon the ground, and both asked and gave the assurance of brotherly concord.

The Sidonian stranger had these as associates in his task, when he built the city that was ordered by the oracle of Phœbus.

[Footnote 5: _As large a size._--Ver. 44. This description of the
enormous size of the dragon or serpent is inconsistent with what
the Poet says in line 91, where we find Cadmus enabled to pin his
enemy against an oak.]

[Footnote 6: _With his sting._--Ver. 48. He enumerates in this one
instance the various modes by which serpents put their prey to
death, either by means of their sting, or, in the case of the
larger kinds of serpent, by twisting round it, and suffocating it
in their folds.]

[Footnote 7: _Some breathed upon._--Ver. 49. It was a prevalent
notion among the ancients, that some serpents had the power of
killing their prey by their poisonous breath. Though some modern
commentators on this passage may be found to affirm the same thing,
it is extremely doubtful if such is the fact. The notion was,
perhaps, founded on the power which certain serpents have of
fascinating their prey by the agency of the eye, and thus
depriving it of the means of escape.]

[Footnote 8: _A huge stone._--Ver. 59. ‘Molaris’ here means a
stone as large as a mill-stone, and not a mill-stone itself, for
we must remember that this was an uninhabited country, and
consequently a stranger to the industry of man.]

[Footnote 9: _His infernal mouth._--Ver. 76. ‘Stygio’ means
‘pestilential as the exhalations of the marshes of Styx.’]

[Footnote 10: _Form of a dragon._--Ver. 98. This came to pass
when, having been expelled from his dominions by Zethus and
Amphion, he retired to Illyria, and was there transformed into a
serpent, a fate which was shared by his wife Hermione.]

[Footnote 11: _With painted cones._--Ver. 108. The ‘conus’ was the
conical part of the helmet into which the crest of variegated
feathers was inserted.]

[Footnote 12: _When the curtains._--Ver. 111. The ‘Siparium’ was a
piece of tapestry stretched on a frame, and, rising before the
stage, answered the same purpose as the curtain or drop-scene with
us, in concealing the stage till the actors appeared. Instead of
drawing up this curtain to discover the stage and actors,
according to our present practice, it was depressed when the play
began, and fell beneath the level of the stage; whence ‘aulæa
premuntur,’ ‘the curtain is dropped,’ meant that the play had
commenced. When the performance was finished, this was raised
again gradually from the foot of the stage; therefore ‘aulæa
tolluntur,’ ‘the curtain is raised,’ would mean that the play had
finished. From the present passage we learn, that in drawing it up
from the stage, the curtain was gradually displayed, the unfolding
taking place, perhaps, below the boards, so that the heads of the
figures rose first, until the whole form appeared in full with the
feet resting on the stage, when the ‘siparium’ was fully drawn up.
From a passage in Virgil’s Georgics (book iii. l. 25), we learn
that the figures of Britons (whose country had then lately been
the scene of new conquests) were woven on the canvas of the
‘siparium,’ having their arms in the attitude of lifting the
curtain.]

[Footnote 13: _Echion._--Ver. 126. The names of the others were
Udeus, Chthonius, Hyperenor, and Pelor, according to Apollodorus.
To these some added Creon, as a sixth.]

EXPLANATION.

Agenor, on losing his daughter, commands his sons to go in search of
her, and not to return till they have found her. The young princes,
either unable to learn what was become of her, or, perhaps, being too
weak to recover her out of the hands of the king of Crete, did not
return to their father, but established themselves in different
countries; Cadmus settling in Bœotia, Cilix in Cilicia, to which he
gave his name, and Phœnix, as Hyginus tells us, remaining in Africa.
Photius, quoting from Conon, the historian, informs us, that the hope
of conquering some country in Europe, and establishing a colony there,
was the true ground of the voyage of Cadmus.

Palæphatus, and other writers, say, that the Dragon which was killed
by Cadmus was a king of the country, who was named Draco, and was a
son of Mars: that his teeth were his subjects, who rallied again after
their defeat, and that Cadmus put them all to the sword, except
Chthonius, Udeus, Hyperenor, Pelor, and Echion, who became reconciled
to him. Heraclitus, however, assures us, that Cadmus really did slay a
serpent, which was very annoying to the Bœotian territory. Bochart and
LeClerc are of opinion that the Fable has the following
foundation:--They say, that in the Phœnician language, the same word
signifies either the teeth of a serpent, or short javelins, pointed
with brass; that the word which signifies the number five likewise
means an army; and that probably, from these circumstances, the Fable
may have taken its rise. For the Greeks, in following the annals
written in the Phœnician language, while writing the history of the
founder of Thebes, instead of describing his soldiers as wearing
helmets on their heads, with back and breast-plates, and with darts in
their hands pointed with brass, which equipment was then entirely
novel in Greece, chose rather to follow the more wonderful version,
and to say, that Cadmus had five companions produced from the teeth of
a serpent; as, according to Bochart’s suggestion, the same Phœnician
phrase may either signify a company of men sprung from the teeth of a
serpent, or a company of men armed with brazen darts.

This conjecture is, perhaps, confirmed by a story related by Herodotus
(book ii.), which resembles it very much. He tells us, that
Psammeticus, king of Egypt, being driven to the marshy parts of his
kingdom, sent to consult the oracle of Latona, which answered that he
should be restored by brass men coming from the sea. At the time, this
answer appeared to him entirely frivolous; but certain Ionian
soldiers, being obliged, some years after, to retire to Egypt, and
appearing on the shore with their weapons and armor, all of brass,
those who perceived them ran immediately to inform the king, that men
clad in brass were plundering the country. The prince then fully
comprehended the meaning of the oracle, and making an alliance with
them, recovered his throne by the assistance they gave him. These
brass men come from the sea, and those sprung from the earth were
soldiers who assisted Psammeticus and Cadmus in carrying out their
objects. Bochart’s conjecture is strengthened by the fact, that Cadmus
was either the inventor of the cuirass and javelin, or the first that
brought them into Greece. Without inquiring further into the subject,
we may conclude, that the men sprung from the earth, or the dragon’s
teeth which were sown, were the people of the country, whom Cadmus
found means to bring over to his interest; and that they first helped
him to conquer his enemies, and then to build the citadel of Thebes,
to ensure his future security. Apollodorus says that Cadmus, to
expiate the slaughter of the dragon, was obliged to serve Mars a whole
year; which year, containing eight of our years, it is not improbable
that Cadmus rendered services for a long time to his new allies before
he received any assistance from them.

FABLE III. [III.131-252]

Actæon, the grandson of Cadmus, fatigued with hunting and excessive
heat, inadvertently wanders to the cool valley of Gargaphie, the usual
retreat of Diana, when tired with the same exercise. There, to his
misfortune, he surprises the Goddess and her Nymphs while bathing, for
which she transforms him into a stag, and his own hounds tear him to
pieces.

And now Thebes was standing; now Cadmus, thou mightst seem happy in thy exile. Both Mars and Venus[14] had become thy father-in-law and mother-in-law; add to this, issue by a wife so illustrious, so many sons[15] and daughters, and grandchildren, dear pledges {of love}; these, too, now of a youthful age. But, forsooth, the last day {of life} must always be awaited by man, and no one ought to be pronounced happy before his death,[16] and his last obsequies. Thy grandson, Cadmus, was the first occasion of sorrow to thee, among so much prosperity, the horns, too, not his own, placed upon his forehead, and you, O dogs, glutted with the blood of your master. But, if you diligently inquire into his {case}, you will find the fault of an accident, and not criminality in him; for what criminality did mistake embrace?

There was a mountain stained with the blood of various wild beasts; and now the day had contracted the meridian shadow of things, and the sun was equally distant from each extremity {of the heavens}; when the Hyantian youth[17] {thus} addressed the partakers of his toils, as they wandered along the lonely haunts {of the wild beasts}, with gentle accent: “Our nets are moistened, my friends, and our spears, too, with the blood of wild beasts; and the day has yielded sufficient sport; when the next morn, borne upon her rosy chariot, shall bring back the light, let us seek again our proposed task. Now Phœbus is at the same distance from both lands, {the Eastern and the Western}, and is cleaving the fields with his heat. Cease your present toils, and take away the knotted nets.” The men execute his orders, and cease their labors. There was a valley, thick set with pitch-trees and the sharp-pointed cypress; by name Gargaphie,[18] sacred to the active Diana. In the extreme recess of this, there was a grotto in a grove, formed by no art; nature, by her ingenuity, had counterfeited art; for she had formed a natural arch, in the native pumice and the light sand-stones. A limpid fountain ran murmuring on the right hand with its little stream, having its spreading channels edged with a border of grass. Here, {when} wearied with hunting, the Goddess of the woods was wont to bathe her virgin limbs in clear water.

After she had entered there, she handed to one of the Nymphs, her armor-bearer, her javelin, her quiver, and her unstrung bow. Another Nymph put her arms under her mantle, when taken off: two removed the sandals from her feet. But Crocale,[19] the daughter of Ismenus, more skilled than they, gathered her hair, which lay scattered over her neck, into a knot, although she herself was with {her hair} loose. Nephele,[20] and Hyale,[21] and Rhanis,[22] fetch water, Psecas[23] and Phyale[24] {do the same}, and pour it from their large urns. And while the Titanian {Goddess} was there bathing in the wonted stream, behold! the grandson of Cadmus, having deferred the remainder of his sport till {next day}, came into the grove, wandering through the unknown wood, with uncertain steps; thus did his fate direct him.

Soon as he entered the grotto, dropping with its springs, the Nymphs, naked as they were, on seeing a man, smote their breasts, and filled all the woods with sudden shrieks, and gathering round Diana, covered her with their bodies. Yet the Goddess herself was higher than they, and was taller than them all by the neck. The color that is wont to be in clouds, tinted by the rays of the sun {when} opposite, or that of the ruddy morning, was on the features of Diana, when seen without her garments. She, although surrounded with the crowd of her attendants, stood sideways, and turned her face back; and how did she wish that she had her arrows at hand; {and} so she took up water,[25] which she did have {at hand}, and threw it over the face of the man, and sprinkling his hair with the avenging stream, she added these words, the presages of his future woe: “Now thou mayst tell, if tell thou canst, how that I was seen by thee without my garments.” Threatening no more, she places on his sprinkled head the horns of a lively stag; she adds length to his neck, and sharpens the tops of his ears; and she changes his hands into feet, and his arms into long legs, and covers his body with a spotted coat of hair; fear, too is added. The Autonoëian[26] hero took to flight, and wondered that he was so swift in his speed; but when he beheld his own horns in the wonted stream, he was about to say, “Ah, wretched me!” {when} no voice followed. He groaned; that was {all} his voice, and his tears trickled down a face not his own, {but that of a stag}. His former understanding alone remained. What should he do? Should he return home, and to the royal abode? or should he lie hid in the woods? Fear hinders the one {step}, shame the other. While he was hesitating, the dogs espied him, and first Melampus,[27] and the good-nosed Ichnobates gave the signal, in full cry. Ichnobates,[28] was a Gnossian {dog}; Melampus was of Spartan breed. Then the rest rush on, swifter than the rapid winds; Pamphagus,[29] and Dorcæus,[30] and Oribasus,[31] all Arcadian {dogs}; and able Nebrophonus,[32] and with Lælaps,[33] fierce Theron,[34] and Pterelas,[35] excelling in speed, Agre[36] in her scent, and Hylæus,[37] lately wounded by a fierce boar, and Nape,[38] begotten by a wolf, and Pœmenis,[39] that had tended cattle, and Harpyia,[40] followed by her two whelps, and the Sicyonian Ladon,[41] having a slender girth; Dromas,[42] too, and Canace,[43] Sticte,[44] and Tigris, and Alce,[45] and Leucon,[46] with snow-white hair, and Asbolus,[47] with black, and the able-bodied Lacon,[48] and Aëllo,[49] good at running, and Thoüs,[50] and swift Lycisca,[51] with her Cyprian brother, Harpalus,[52] too, having his black face marked with white down the middle, and Melaneus,[53] and Lachne,[54] with a wire-haired body, and Labros,[55] and Agriodos,[56] bred of a Dictæan sire, but of a Laconian dam, and Hylactor,[57] with his shrill note; and others which it were tedious to recount.

This pack, in eagerness for their prey, are borne over rocks and cliffs, and crags difficult of approach, where the path is steep, and where there is no road. He flies along the routes by which he has so often pursued; alas! he is {now} flying from his own servants. Fain would he have cried, “I am Actæon, recognize your own master.” Words are wanting to his wishes; the air resounds with their barking. Melanchætes[58] was the first to make a wound on his back, Theridamas[59] the next; Oresitrophus[60] fastened upon his shoulder. These had gone out later, but their course was shortened by a near cut through the hill. While they hold their master, the rest of the pack come up, and fasten their teeth in his body. Now room is wanting for {more} wounds. He groans, and utters a noise, though not that of a man, {still}, such as a stag cannot make; and he fills the well-known mountains with dismal moans, and suppliant on his bended knees, and like one in entreaty, he turns round his silent looks as though {they were} his arms.

But his companions, in their ignorance, urge on the eager pack with their usual cries, and seek Actæon with their eyes; and cry out “Actæon” aloud, as though he were absent. At his name he turns his head, as they complain that he is not there, and in his indolence, is not enjoying a sight of the sport afforded them. He wished, indeed, he had been away, but there he was; and he wished to see, not to feel as well, the cruel feats of his own dogs. They gather round him on all sides, and burying their jaws in his body, tear their master in pieces under the form of an imaginary stag. And the rage of the quiver-bearing Diana is said not to have been satiated, until his life was ended by many a wound.

[Footnote 14: _Mars and Venus._--Ver. 132. The wife of Cadmus was
Hermione, or Harmonia, who was said to have been the daughter of
Mars and Venus. The Deities honored the nuptials with their
presence, and presented marriage gifts, while the Muses and the
Graces celebrated the festivity with hymns of their own
composition.]

[Footnote 15: _So many sons._--Ver. 134. Apollodorus, Hyginus, and
others, say that Cadmus had but one son, Polydorus. If so, ‘tot,’
‘so many,’ must here refer to the number of his daughters and
grandchildren. His daughters were four in number, Autonoë, Ino,
Semele, and Agave. Ino married Athamas, Autonoë Aristæus, Agave
Echion, while Semele captivated Jupiter. The most famous of the
grandsons of Cadmus were Bacchus, Melicerta, Pentheus, and Actæon.]

[Footnote 16: _Before his death._--Ver. 135. This was the famous
remark of Solon to Crœsus, when he was the master of the opulent
and flourishing kingdom of Lydia, and seemed so firmly settled on
his throne, that there was no probability of any interruption of
his happiness. Falling into the hands of Cyrus the Persian, and
being condemned to be burnt alive, he recollected this wise saying
of Solon, and by that means saved his life, as we are told by
Herodotus, who relates the story at length. Euripides has a
similar passage in his Troades, line 510.]

[Footnote 17: _The Hyantian youth._--Ver. 147. Actæon is thus
called, as being a Bœotian. The Hyantes were the ancient or
aboriginal inhabitants of Bœotia.]

[Footnote 18: _Gargaphie._--Ver. 156. Gargaphie, or Gargaphia, was
a valley situate near Platæa, having a fountain of the same name.]

[Footnote 19: _Crocale._--Ver. 169. So called, perhaps, from
κεκρύφαλος, an ornament for the head, being a coif, band, or
fillet of network for the hair called in Latin ‘reticulum,’ by
which name her office is denoted. The handmaid, whose duty it was
to attend to the hair, held the highest rank in ancient times
among the domestics.]

[Footnote 20: _Nephele._--Ver. 171. From the Greek word νεφέλη,
‘a cloud.’]

[Footnote 21: _Hyale._--Ver. 171. This is from ὕαλος, ‘glass,’ the
name signifying ‘glassy,’ ‘pellucid.’ The very name calls to mind
Milton’s line in his Comus--
‘Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave.’]

[Footnote 22: _Rhanis._--Ver. 171. This name is adapted from the
Greek verb ῥαίνω, ‘to sprinkle.’]

[Footnote 23: _Psecas._--Ver. 172. From the Greek ψεκὰς, ‘a
dew-drop.’]

[Footnote 24: _Phyale._--Ver. 172. This is from the Greek φιαλὴ,
‘an urn.’]

[Footnote 25: _Took up water._--Ver. 189. The ceremonial of
sprinkling previous to the transformation seems not to have been
neglected any more by the offended Goddesses of the classical
Mythology, than by the intriguing enchantresses of the Arabian
Nights’ Entertainments; as the unfortunate Beder, when under the
displeasure of the vicious queen Labè, experienced to his great
inconvenience. The love for the supernatural, combined with an
anxious desire to attribute its operations to material and visible
agencies, forms one of the most singular features of the human
character.]

[Footnote 26: _Autonoëian._--Ver. 198. Autonoë was the daughter of
Cadmus and Hermione, or Harmonia, and the wife of Aristæus, by
whom she was the mother of Actæon. We may here remark, that in one
of his satires, Lucian introduces Juno as saying to Diana, that
she had let loose his dogs on Actæon, for fear lest, having seen
her naked, he should divulge the deformity of her person.]

[Footnote 27: _Melampus._--Ver. 206. These names are all from the
Greek, and are interesting, as showing the epithets by which the
ancients called their dogs. The pack of Actæon is said to have
consisted of fifty dogs. Their names were preserved by several
Greek poets, from whom Apollodorus copied them; but the greater
part of his list has perished, and what remains is in a very
corrupt state. Hyginus has preserved two lists, the first of which
contains thirty-nine names, most of which are similar to those
here given by Ovid, and in almost the same order; while the second
contains thirty-six names, different from those here given.
Æschylus has named but four of them, and Ovid here names
thirty-six. Crete, Arcadia, and Laconia produced the most valuable
hounds. Melampus, ‘Black-foot,’ is from the Greek words μέλας,
‘black,’ and ποῦς, ‘a foot.’]

[Footnote 28: _Ichnobates._--Ver. 207. ‘Tracer.’ From the Greek
ἰχνὸς, ‘a footstep,’ and βαίνω, ‘to go.’]

[Footnote 29: _Pamphagus._--Ver. 210. ‘Glutton.’ From πᾶν, ‘all,’
and φάγω, ‘to eat.’]

[Footnote 30: _Dorcæus._--Ver. 210. ‘Quicksight.’ From δέρκω, ‘to
see.’]

[Footnote 31: _Oribasus._--Ver. 210. ‘Ranger.’ From ὄρος, ‘a
mountain,’ and βαίνω, ‘to go.’]

[Footnote 32: _Nebrophonus._--Ver. 211. ‘Kill-buck.’ From νεβρὸς,
‘a fawn,’ and φονέω, ‘to kill.’]

[Footnote 33: _Lælaps._--Ver. 211. ‘Tempest.’ So called from its
swiftness and power, λαίλαψ, signifying ‘a whirlwind.’]

[Footnote 34: _Theron._--Ver. 211. ‘Hunter.’ From the Greek,
θερεύω, ‘to trace,’ or ‘hunt.’]

[Footnote 35: _Pterelas._--Ver. 212. ‘Wing.’ ‘Swift-footed,’ from
πτερὸν, ‘a wing,’ and ἐλαύνω, ‘to drive onward.’]

[Footnote 36: _Agre._--Ver. 212. ‘Catcher.’ ‘Quick-scented,’ from
ἄγρα, ‘hunting,’ or ‘the chase.’]

[Footnote 37: _Hylæus._--Ver. 213. ‘Woodger,’ or ‘Wood-ranger;’
the Greek ὕλη, signifying ‘a wood.’]

[Footnote 38: _Nape._--Ver. 214. ‘Forester.’ A ‘forest,’ or
‘wood,’ being in Greek, νάπη.]

[Footnote 39: _Pœmenis._--Ver. 215. ‘Shepherdess,’ From the Greek
ποίμενις, ‘a shepherdess.’]

[Footnote 40: _Harpyia._--Ver. 215. ‘Ravener.’ From the Greek word
ἅρπυια, ‘a harpy,’ or ‘ravenous bird.’]

[Footnote 41: _Ladon._--Ver. 216. This dog takes its name from
Ladon, a river of Sicyon, a territory on the shores of the gulf of
Corinth.]

[Footnote 42: _Dromas._--Ver. 217. ‘Runner.’ From the Greek
δρόμος, ‘a race.’]

[Footnote 43: _Canace._--Ver. 217. ‘Barker.’ The word καναχὴ,
signifies ‘a noise,’ or ‘din.’]

[Footnote 44: _Sticte._--Ver. 217. ‘Spot.’ So called from the
variety of her colors, as στικτὸς, signifies ‘diversified with
various spots,’ from στίζω, ‘to vary with spots.’ ‘Tigris’ means
‘Tiger.’]

[Footnote 45: _Alce._--Ver. 217. ‘Strong.’ From the Greek ἀλκὴ
‘strength.’]

[Footnote 46: _Leucon._--Ver. 218. ‘White.’ From λευκὸς, ‘white.’]

[Footnote 47: _Asbolus._--Ver. 218. ‘Soot,’ or ‘Smut.’ From the
Greek ἄσβολος, ‘soot.’]

[Footnote 48: _Lacon._--Ver. 219. From his native country,
Laconia.]

[Footnote 49: _Aëllo._--Ver. 219. ‘Storm.’ From ἄελλα, ‘a
tempest.’]

[Footnote 50: _Thoüs._--Ver. 220. ‘Swift.’ From θοὸς, ‘swift.’
Pliny the Elder states, that ‘thos’ was the name of a kind of
wolf, of larger make, and more active in springing than the common
wolf. He says that it is of inoffensive habits towards man; but
that it lives by prey, and is hairy in winter, but without hair in
summer. It is supposed by some that he alludes to the jackal.
Perhaps, from this animal, the dog here mentioned derived his
name.]

[Footnote 51: _Lycisca._--Ver. 220. ‘Wolf.’ From the diminutive of
the Greek word λύκος, ‘a wolf.’ Virgil uses ‘Lycisca’ as the name
of a dog, in his Eclogues.]

[Footnote 52: _Harpalus._--Ver. 222. ‘Snap.’ From ἁρπάζω, ‘to
snatch,’ or ‘plunder.’]

[Footnote 53: _Melaneus._--Ver. 222. ‘Black-coat.’ From the Greek,
μέλας, ‘black.’]

[Footnote 54: _Lachne._--Ver. 222. ‘Stickle.’ From the Greek work
λαχνὴ, signifying ‘thickness of the hair.’]

[Footnote 55: _Labros._--Ver. 224. ‘Worrier.’ From the Greek
λάβρος ‘greedy.’ Dicte was a mountain of Crete; whence the word
‘Dictæan’ is often employed to signify ‘Cretan.’]

[Footnote 56: _Agriodos._--Ver. 224. ‘Wild-tooth.’ From ἄγριος
‘wild,’ and ὀδοῦς, ‘a tooth.’]

[Footnote 57: _Hylactor._--Ver. 224. ‘Babbler.’ From the Greek
word ὑλακτέω, signifying ‘to bark.’]

[Footnote 58: _Melanchætes._--Ver. 232. ‘Black-hair.’ From the
μέλας, ‘black,’ and χαιτὴ, ‘mane.’]

[Footnote 59: _Theridamas._--Ver. 233. ‘Kilham.’ From θὴρ, ‘a wild
beast,’ and δαμάω, ‘to subdue.’]

[Footnote 60: _Oresitrophus._--Ver. 223. ‘Rover.’ From ὄρος ‘a
mountain,’ and τρέφω ‘to nourish.’]

EXPLANATION.

If the maxim of Horace, ‘Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice
nodus,’ had been a little more frequently observed by the ancient
poets, their Deities would not have been so often placed in a
degrading or disgusting light before posterity. There cannot be a
better illustration of the truth of this than the present Fable, where
Ovid represents the chaste and prudent Diana as revenging herself in a
cruel and barbarous manner for the indiscretion, or rather misfortune,
of an innocent young man.

Cicero mentions several Goddesses of the name of Diana. The first was
the daughter of Jupiter and Proserpine; the second of Jupiter and
Latona; and the third of Upis and Glauce. Strabo mentions another
Diana, named Britomartis, the daughter of Eubalus. The worship,
however, of Diana as the Goddess of the Moon, was, most probably,
derived from Egypt, with the Isis of whom she is perhaps identical.
The adventure narrated in this Fable is most probably to be attributed
to Diana Britomartis, as Strabo tells us, that she was particularly
fond of the chase. Pausanias, in his Attica, tells the story in much
the same terms, but he adds, that on seeing Diana bathing, the novelty
of the sight excited Actæon’s curiosity, and prompted him to approach
nearer. To explain this fable, some authors suggest, that Actæon’s
dogs becoming mad, devoured him; while others suppose, that having
ruined himself by the expense of supporting a large pack of hounds,
and a hunting establishment, it was reported that he had been devoured
by his dogs. Diodorus Siculus, and Euripides, tell us, that Actæon
showed contempt to Diana, and was about to eat of the sacrifice that
had been offered to her; and of course, in such a case, punishment at
the hands of the Goddess would be deemed a just retribution.
Apollodorus says, that Actæon was brought up by Chiron, and that he
was put to death on Mount Cithæron, for having seen Diana bathing;
though, according to one ancient authority, he was punished for having
made improper overtures to Semele. Apollodorus also says, that his
dogs died of grief, on the loss of their master, and he has preserved
some of their names.

FABLE IV. [III.253-301]

Juno, incensed against Semele for her intrigue with Jupiter, takes the
form of Beroë, the more easily to ensure her revenge. Having first
infused in Semele suspicions of her lover, she then recommends her to
adopt a certain method of proving his constancy. Semele, thus
deceived, obtains a reluctant promise from Jupiter, to make his next
visit to her in the splendor and majesty in which he usually
approached his wife.

They speak in various ways {of this matter}. To some, the Goddess seems more severe than is proper; others praise her, and call her deserving {of her state} of strict virginity: both sides find their reasons. The wife of Jupiter alone does not so much declare whether she blames or whether she approves, as she rejoices at the calamity of a family sprung from Agenor, and transfers the hatred that she has conceived from the Tyrian mistress to the partners of her race. Lo! a fresh occasion is {now} added to the former one; and she grieves that Semele is pregnant from the seed of great Jupiter. She then lets loose her tongue to abuse.

“And what good have I done by railing so often?” said she. “She herself must be attacked {by me}. If I am properly called the supreme Juno, I will destroy her; if it becomes me to hold the sparkling sceptre in my right hand; if I am the queen, and both the sister and wife of Jupiter. The sister {I am}, no doubt. But I suppose she is content with a stolen embrace, and the injury to my bed is but trifling. She is {now} pregnant; that {alone} was wanting; and she bears the evidence of his crime in her swelling womb, and wishes to be made a mother by Jupiter, a thing which hardly fell to my lot alone. So great is her confidence in her beauty. I will take care[61] he shall deceive her; and may I be no daughter of Saturn, if she does not descend to the Stygian waves, sunk {there} by her own {dear} Jupiter.”

Upon this she rises from her throne, and, hidden in a cloud of fiery hue, she approaches the threshold of Semele. Nor did she remove the clouds before she counterfeited an old woman, and planted gray hair on her temples; and furrowed her skin with wrinkles, and moved her bending limbs with palsied step, and made her voice that of an old woman. She became Beroë[62] herself, the Epidaurian[63] nurse of Semele. When, therefore, upon engaging in discourse with her, and {after} long talking, they came to the name of Jupiter, she sighed, and said, “I {only} wish it may be Jupiter; yet I {am apt to} fear everything. Many a one under the name of a God has invaded a chaste bed. Nor yet is it enough that he is Jupiter; let him, if, indeed, he is the real one, give some pledge of his affection; and beg of him to bestow his caresses on thee, just in the greatness and form in which he is received by the stately Juno; and let him first assume his ensigns {of royalty}.” With such words did Juno tutor the unsuspecting daughter of Cadmus. She requested of Jupiter a favor, without naming it. To her the God said, “Make thy choice, thou shalt suffer no denial; and that thou mayst believe it the more, let the majesty of the Stygian stream bear witness. He {is} the dread and the God of the Gods.”

Overjoyed at {what was} her misfortune, and too {easily} prevailing, as now about to perish by the complaisance of her lover, Semele said, “Present thyself to me, just such as the daughter of Saturn is wont to embrace thee, when ye honor the ties of Venus.” The God wished to shut her mouth as she spoke, {but} the hasty words had now escaped into air. He groaned; for neither was it {now} possible for her not to have wished, nor for him not to have sworn. Therefore, in extreme sadness, he mounted the lofty skies, and with his nod drew along the attendant clouds; to which he added showers and lightnings mingled with winds, and thunders, and the inevitable thunderbolt.

[Footnote 61: _I will take care._--Ver. 271. ‘Faxo,’ ‘I will
make,’ is sometimes used by the best authors for ‘fecero;’ and
‘faxim’ for ‘faciam,’ or ‘fecerim.’]

[Footnote 62: _Beroë._--Ver. 278. Iris, in the fifth book of the
Æneid (l. 620), assumes the form of another Beroë; and a third
person of that name is mentioned in the fourth book of the
Georgics, l. 34.]

[Footnote 63: _Epidaurian._--Ver. 278. Epidaurus was a famous city
of Argolis, in Peloponnesus, famous for its temple, dedicated to
the worship of Æsculapius, who was the tutelary Divinity of that
city.]

EXPLANATION.

It is most probable, that an intrigue between a female named Semele
and one of the princes called Jupiter having had a tragical end, gave
occasion to this Fable. Pausanias, in his Laconica, tells us, that
Cadmus, exasperated against his daughter Semele, caused her and her
son to be thrown into the sea; and that being thrown ashore at Oreate,
an ancient town of Laconia, Semele was buried there.

Semele, according to Apollodorus, was, after her death, ranked among
the Goddesses by the name of Thyone. He says that her son Bacchus
going down to hell, brought her thence, and carried her up to heaven;
where, according to Nonnus, she conversed with Pallas and Diana, and
ate at the same table with Jupiter, Mercury, Mars, and Venus. The
author, known by the name of Orpheus, gives Semele the title of
Goddess, and Πανβασίλεια, or ‘Queen of the Universe.’

FABLE V. [III.302-338]

Semele is visited by Jupiter, according to the promise she had obliged
him to make; but, being unable to support the effulgence of his
lightning, she is burnt to ashes in his presence. Bacchus, with whom
she is pregnant, is preserved; and Tiresias decided the dispute
between Jupiter and Juno, concerning the sexes.

And yet, as much as possible, he tries to mitigate his powers. Nor is he now armed with those flames with which he had overthrown the hundred-handed Typhœus; in those, {there is} too much fury. There is another thunder, less baneful, to which the right hand of the Cyclops gave less ferocity and flames, {and} less anger. The Gods above call this second-rate thunder; it he assumes, and he enters the house of Agenor. Her mortal body could not endure[64] the æthereal shock, and she was burned amid her nuptial presents. The infant, as yet unformed, is taken out of the womb of his mother, and prematurely (if we can believe it) is inserted in the thigh of the father, and completes the time that he should have spent in the womb. His aunt, Ino, nurses him privately in his early cradle. After that, the Nyseian Nymphs[65] conceal him, entrusted {to them}, in their caves, and give him the nourishment of milk.

And while these things are transacted on earth by the law of destiny, and the cradle of Bacchus, twice born,[66] is secured; they tell that Jupiter, by chance, well drenched with nectar, laid aside {all} weighty cares, and engaged in some free jokes with Juno, in her idle moments, and said: “Decidedly the pleasure of you, {females}, is greater than that which falls to the lot of {us} males.” She denied it. It was agreed {between them}, to ask what was the opinion of the experienced Tiresias. To him both pleasures were well known. For he had separated with a blow of his staff two bodies of large serpents, as they were coupling in a green wood; and (passing strange) become a woman from a man, he had spent seven autumns. In the eighth, he again saw the same {serpents}, and said, “If the power of a stroke given you is so great as to change the condition of the giver into the opposite one, I will now strike you again.” Having struck the same snakes, his former sex returned, and his original shape came {again}. He, therefore, being chosen as umpire in this sportive contest, confirmed the words of Jove. The daughter of Saturn is said to have grieved more than was fit, and not in proportion to the subject; and she condemned the eyes of the umpire to eternal darkness.

But the omnipotent father (for it is not allowed any God to cancel the acts of {another} Deity) gave him the knowledge of things to come, in recompense for his loss of sight, and alleviated his punishment by this honor.

[Footnote 64: _Could not endure._--Ver. 308. ‘Corpus mortale
tumultus Non tulit æthereos,’ is rendered by Clarke, ‘her mortal
body could not bear this æthereal bustle.’]

[Footnote 65: _The Nyseian Nymphs._--Ver. 314. Nysa was the name
of a city and mountain of Arabia, or India. The tradition was,
that there the Nyseian Nymphs, whose names were Cysseis, Nysa,
Erato, Eryphia, Bromia, and Polyhymnia, brought up Bacchus. The
cave where he was concealed from the fury of Juno, was said to
have had two entrances, from which circumstance Bacchus received
the epithet of Dithyrites. Servius, in his commentary on the sixth
Eclogue of Virgil (l. 15), says that Nysa was the name of the
female that nursed Bacchus. Hyginus also speaks of her as being
the daughter of Oceanus. From the name ‘Nysa,’ Bacchus received,
in part, his Greek name ‘Dionysus.’]

[Footnote 66: _Twice born._--Ver. 318. Clarke thus translates and
explains this line--‘They tell you, that Jupiter well drenched;’
_i.e._ ‘fuddled with nectar,’ etc.]

FABLE VI. [III.339-401]

Echo, having often amused Juno with her stories, to give time to
Jupiter’s mistresses to make their escape, the Goddess, at last,
punishes her for the deception. She is slighted and despised by
Narcissus, with whom she falls in love.

He, much celebrated by fame throughout the cities of Aonia,[67] gave unerring answers to the people consulting him. The azure Liriope[68] was the first to make essay and experiment of his infallible voice; whom once Cephisus encircled in his winding stream, and offered violence to, {when} enclosed by his waters. The most beauteous Nymph produced an infant from her teeming womb, which even then might have been beloved, and she called him Narcissus. Being consulted concerning him, whether he was destined to see the distant season of mature old age; the prophet, expounding destiny, said, “If he never recognizes himself.” Long did the words of the soothsayer appear frivolous; {but} the event, the thing {itself}, the manner of his death, and the novel nature of his frenzy, confirmed it.

And now the son of Cephisus had added one to three times five years, and he might seem to be a boy and a young man as well. Many a youth,[69] and many a damsel, courted him; but there was so stubborn a pride in his youthful beauty, {that} no youths, no damsels made any impression on him. The noisy Nymph, who has neither learned to hold her tongue after another speaking, nor to speak first herself, resounding Echo, espied him, as he was driving the timid stags into his nets. Echo was then a body, not a voice; and yet the babbler had no other use of her speech than she now has, to be able to repeat the last words out of many. Juno had done this; because when often she might have been able to detect the Nymphs in the mountains in the embrace of her {husband}, Jupiter, she purposely used to detain[70] the Goddess with a long story, until the Nymphs had escaped. After the daughter of Saturn perceived {this}, she said, “But small exercise of this tongue, with which I have been deluded, shall be allowed thee, and a very short use of thy voice.” And she confirmed her threats by the event. Still, in the end of one’s speaking she redoubles the voice, and returns the words she hears. When, therefore, she beheld Narcissus[71] wandering through the pathless forests, and fell in love with him, she stealthily followed his steps; and the more she followed him, with the nearer flame did she burn. In no other manner than as when the native sulphur, spread around[72] the tops of torches, catches the flame applied {to it}. Ah! how often did she desire to accost him in soft accents, and to employ soft entreaties! Nature resists, and suffers her not to begin; but what {Nature} does permit, that she is ready for; to await his voice, to which to return her own words.

By chance, the youth, being separated from the trusty company of his attendants, cries out, “Is there any one here?” and Echo answers “Here!” He is amazed; and when he has cast his eyes on every side, he cries out with a loud voice, “Come!” {Whereon} she calls {the youth} who calls. He looks back; and again, as no one comes, he says, “Why dost thou avoid me?” and just as many words as he spoke, he receives. He persists; and being deceived by the imitation of an alternate voice, he says, “Let us come together here;” and Echo, that could never more willingly answer any sound whatever, replies, “Let us come together here!” and she follows up her own words, and rushing from the woods,[73] is going to throw her arms around the neck she has {so} longed for. He flies; and as he flies, he exclaims, “Remove thy hands from thus embracing me; I will die first, before thou shalt have the enjoyment of me.” She answers nothing but “Have the enjoyment of me.” {Thus} rejected, she lies hid in the woods, and hides her blushing face with green leaves, and from that time lives in lonely caves; but yet her love remains, and increases from the mortification of her refusal. Watchful cares waste away her miserable body; leanness shrivels her skin, and all the juices of her body fly off in air. Her voice and her bones alone are left.

Her voice {still} continues, {but} they say that her bones received the form of stones. Since then, she lies concealed in the woods, and is never seen on the mountains: {but} is heard in all {of them}. It is her voice {alone} which remains alive in her.

[Footnote 67: _Aonia._--Ver. 339. Aonia was a mountainous district
of Bœotia, so called from Aon, the son of Neptune, who reigned
there. The name is often used to signify the whole of Bœotia.]

[Footnote 68: _Liriope._--Ver. 342. She was the daughter of
Oceanus and Tethys, and was the mother of the youth Narcissus, by
the river Cephisus. Her name is derived from the Greek λείριον,
‘a lily.’]

[Footnote 69: _Many a youth._--Ver. 353. Clarke translates ‘multi
juvenes,’ ‘many young fellows.’]

[Footnote 70: _Used to detain._--Ver. 364. Clarke translates ‘Illa
Deam longo prudens sermone tenebat Dum fugerent Nymphæ,’ ‘She
designedly detained the Goddess with some long-winded discourse or
other till the Nymphs ran away.’ He translates ‘garrula,’ in line
360, ‘the prattling hussy.’]

[Footnote 71: _Narcissus._--Ver. 370. This name is from the Greek
word ναρκᾷν, ‘to fade away,’ which was characteristic of the
youth’s career, and of the duration of the flower.]

[Footnote 72: _Sulphur spread around._--Ver. 372. These lines
show, that it was the custom of the ancients to place sulphur on
the ends of their torches, to make them ignite the more readily,
in the same manner as the matches of the present day are tipped
with that mineral.]

[Footnote 73: _Rushing from the woods._--Ver. 388. ‘Egressaque
sylvis.’ Clarke renders, ‘and bouncing out of the wood.’]

EXPLANATION.

It appears much more reasonable to attempt the explanation of this
story on the grounds of natural philosophy than of history. The poets,
in their fondness for basing every subject upon fiction, probably
invented the fable, to explain what to them appeared an extraordinary
phenomenon. By way of embellishing their story, they tell us that Echo
was the daughter of the Air and the Tongue, and that the God Pan fell
in love with her; by which, probably, the simple fact is meant, that
some person, represented under the name of that god, endeavored to
trace the cause of this phenomenon.