Chapter XXII: Book THE SIXTH: Fable I. Vi.1-145 (2)

The fruitful earth was moistened, and being moistened received the falling tears, and drank them up in her lowest veins, which, when she had turned into a stream, she sent forth into the vacant air. And then, as the clearest river in Phrygia, running towards the rapid sea within steep banks, it bears the name of Marsyas.

From narratives such as these the people return at once to the present events, and mourn Amphion extinct together with {all} his race. The mother is {an object} of hatred. Yet {her brother} Pelops is said alone to have mourned for her as well; and after he had drawn his clothes from his shoulder towards his breast, he discovered the ivory on his left shoulder. This shoulder, at the time of his birth, was of the same color with the right one, and {was} formed of flesh. They say that the Gods afterwards joined his limbs cut asunder by the hands of his father; and the rest of them being found, that part which is midway between the throat and the top of the arm, was wanting. Ivory was inserted there, in the place of the part that did not appear; and so by that means Pelops was made entire.

[Footnote 48: _The Satyr._--Ver. 382. Herodotus tells this story
of the Satyr Marsyas, under the name of Silenus. Fulgentius
informs us, that in paintings, Marsyas was represented with the
tail of a pig.]

[Footnote 49: _His skin was stript._--Ver. 387. Apollo fastened
him to a pine-tree, or, according to Pliny the Elder,
a plane-tree, which was to be seen even in his day. The skin was
afterwards suspended by Apollo in the city of Celenæ. Hyginus
says, that Apollo hewed Marsyas to pieces. The description here of
the flaying is, perhaps, very natural; but it is all the more
disgusting for being so. A commentator justly says, that it might
suit a Roman, whose eyes were familiar with bloodshed, much better
than the taste of the reader of modern times.]

[Footnote 50: _Olympus._--Ver. 393. He was a Satyr, the brother
and pupil of Marsyas. Pausanias describes a picture, painted by
Polygnotus, in which Olympus was represented as sitting by
Marsyas, clad as a youth, and learning to play on the flute.
Euripides, in the Iphigenia in Aulis (l. 576) says that Olympus
discovered some new measures for the ‘tibia,’ or flute. From
Hyginus we learn, that Apollo delivered to him the body of Marsyas
for burial.]

EXPLANATION.

Marsyas was the son of Hyagnis, the inventor of a peculiar kind of
flute, and of the Phrygian measure. Livy and Quintus Curtius tell us,
that the story of Apollo and Marsyas is an allegory; and that the
river Marsyas gave rise to it. They say that the river, falling from a
precipice, in the neighborhood of the town of Celenæ, in Phrygia, made
a very stunning and unpleasant noise; but that the smoothness of its
course afterwards gave occasion for the saying, that the vengeance of
Apollo had rendered it more tractable.

It is, however, not improbable that the story may have been based on
historical facts. Having learned from his father, Hyagnis, the art of
playing on the flute, and, proud of his skill, at a time when the
musical art was yet in its infancy, Marsyas may have been rash enough
to challenge either a priest of Apollo, or some prince who bore that
name, and, for his presumption, to have received the punishment
described by Ovid. Herodotus certainly credited the story; for he says
that the skin of the unfortunate musician was to be seen, in his time,
in the town of Celenæ. Strabo, Pausanias, and Aulus Gellius also
believe its truth. Suidas tells us, that Marsyas, mortified at his
defeat, threw himself into the river that runs near Celenæ, which,
from that time, bore his name. Strabo says, that Marsyas had stolen
the flute from Minerva, which proved so fatal to him, and had thereby
drawn upon himself the indignation of that Divinity. Ovid, in the
Sixth Book of the Fasti, and Pausanias, quoting from Apollodorus, tell
us, that Minerva, having observed, by seeing herself in the river
Meander, that, when she played on the flute, her cheeks were swelled
out in an unseemly manner, threw aside the flute in her disgust, and
Marsyas finding it, learned to play on it so skilfully, that he
challenged Apollo to a trial of proficiency. Hyginus, in his 165th
Fable, says that Marsyas was the son of Œagrius, and not Hyagnis;
perhaps, however, this is a corrupt reading.

FABLE V. [VI.412-586]

Tereus, king of Thrace, having married Progne, the daughter of
Pandion, king of Athens, falls in love with her sister Philomela, whom
he ravishes, and then, having cut out her tongue, he shuts her up in a
strong place in a forest, to prevent a discovery. The unfortunate
Philomela finds means to acquaint her sister with her misfortunes;
for, weaving her story on a piece of cloth, she sends it to Progne by
the hands of one of her keepers.

The neighboring princes met together; and the cities that were near, entreated their kings to go to console {Pelops, namely}, Argos and Sparta, and the Pelopean Mycenæ, and Calydon,[51] not yet odious to the stern Diana, and fierce Orchomeneus, and Corinth famous for its brass,[52] and fertile Messene, and Patræ, and humble Cleonæ,[53] and the Neleian Pylos, and Trœzen not yet named from Pittheus;[54] and other cities which are enclosed by the Isthmus between the two seas, and those which, situated beyond, are seen from the Isthmus between the two seas. Who could have believed it? You, Athens, alone omitted it. A war prevented this act of humanity; and barbarous troops[55] brought {thither} by sea, were alarming the Mopsopian walls. The Thracian Tereus had routed these by his auxiliary forces, and by his conquest had acquired an illustrious name. Him, powerful both in riches and men, and, as it happened, deriving his descent from the mighty Gradivus, Pandion united to himself, by the marriage of {his daughter} Progne.

Neither Juno, the guardian of marriage rites, nor yet Hymeneus, nor the Graces,[56] attended those nuptials. {On that occasion}, the Furies brandished torches, snatched from the funeral pile. The Furies prepared the nuptial couch, and the ill-boding owl hovered over the abode, and sat on the roof of the bridal chamber. With these omens were Progne and Tereus wedded; with these omens were they made parents. Thrace, indeed, congratulated them, and they themselves returned thanks to the Gods, and they commanded the day, upon which the daughter of Pandion was given to the renowned prince, and that upon which Itys was born, to be considered as festivals. So much does our true interest lie concealed {from us}. Now Titan had drawn the seasons of the repeated year through five autumns, when Progne, in gentle accents, said to her husband, “If I have any influence {with thee}, either send me to see my sister, or let my sister come hither. Thou shalt promise thy father-in-law that she shall return in a short time. As good as a mighty God {wilt thou be} to me, if thou shalt allow me to see my sister.”

He {thereupon} ordered ships to be launched;[57] and with sails and oars he entered the Cecropian harbor, and landed upon the shores of the Piræus.[58] As soon as ever an opportunity was given of {addressing} his father-in-law, and right hand was joined to right hand, with evil omen their discourse began. He had commenced to relate the occasion of his coming, {and} the request of his wife, and to promise a speedy return for {Philomela, if} sent. {When} lo! Philomela comes, richly adorned in costly apparel; richer {by far} in her charms; such as we hear {of} the Naiads and Dryads {as they} haunt the middle of the forests, if you were only to give them the like ornaments and dress. Tereus was inflamed upon seeing the virgin, no otherwise than if one were to put fire beneath the whitening ears of corn, or were to burn leaves and {dry} grass laid up in stacks. Her beauty, indeed, is worthy {of love}; but inbred lust, as well, urges him on, and the people in those regions are {naturally} much inclined to lustfulness. He burns, both by his own frailty and that of his nation. He has a desire to corrupt the care of her attendants, and the fidelity of her nurse, and {besides}, to tempt herself with large presents, and to spend his whole kingdom {in so doing}; or else, to seize her, and, when seized, to secure her by a cruel war. And there is nothing which, being seized by an unbridled passion, he may not dare; nor does his breast contain the internal flame. And now he ill bears with delay; and with eager mouth returns to {urge} the request of Progne, and under it he pleads his own wishes; passion makes him eloquent. As oft as he presses beyond what is becoming, he pretends that Progne has thus desired. He adds tears as well, as though she had enjoined them too. O ye Gods above, how much of dark night do the breasts of mortals contain! Through his very attempt at villany, Tereus is thought to be affectionate, and from his crime does he gather praise.

And how is it, too, that Philomela desires the same thing? and fondly embracing the shoulders of her father with her arms, she begs, even by her own safety (and against it too), that she may visit her sister. Tereus views her, and, while viewing her, is embracing her beforehand in imagination; and, as he beholds her kisses, and her arms around {her father’s} neck, he receives them all as incentives, and fuel, and the food of his furious passion; and, as often as she embraces her father, he could wish to be {that} father, and, even then, he would have been not the less impious. The father is overcome by the entreaties of them both. She rejoices, and returns thanks to her parent, and, to her misfortune, deems that the success of both, which will be the cause of sorrow to them both. Now but little of his toil was remaining for Phœbus, and his steeds were beating with their feet the descending track of Olympus; a regal banquet was set on the tables, and wine in golden {vessels}; after this, their bodies were given up to gentle sleep. But the Odrysian king,[59] though he was withdrawn, still burned for her; and, recalling her form, her movements, her hands, fancies that which he has not yet seen, to be such as he wishes; and he himself feeds his own flames, his anxiety preventing sleep.

It was {now} day; and Pandion, grasping the right hand of his son-in-law, about to depart, with tears bursting forth, recommended his companion {to his care}. “I commit her, my dear son-in-law, to thee, because reasons, grounded on affection, have compelled me, and both {my daughters} have desired it, and thou as well, Tereus, hast wished it; and I entreat thee, begging by thy honor, by thy breast {thus} allied to us, {and} by the Gods above, to protect her with the love of a father; and do send back to me, as soon as possible, this sweet comfort of my anxious old age, {for} all delay will be tedious to me, and do thou, too, Philomela, if thou hast any affection for me, return as soon as possible: ’tis enough that thy sister is so far away.” {Thus} did he enjoin, and at the same time he gave kisses to his daughter, and his affectionate tears fell amid his instructions. He {then} demanded the right hands of them both, as a pledge of their fidelity, and joined them together when given, and bade them, with mindful lips, to salute for him his absent daughter and grandson, and with difficulty[60] uttered the last farewell, his mouth being filled with sobs; and he shuddered at the presages of his own mind. But as soon as Philomela was put on board of the painted ship, and the sea was urged by the oars, and the land was left behind, he exclaimed, “I have gained my point; the object of my desires is borne along with me.” The barbarian exults, too, and with difficulty defers his joy in his intention, and turns not his eyes anywhere away from her. No otherwise than when the ravenous bird of Jupiter, with crooked talons, has placed a hare in his lofty nest; there is no escape for the captive; the plunderer keeps his eye on his prey. And now the voyage is ended, and now they have gone forth from the wearied ship, upon his own shore; when the king drags the daughter of Pandion into a lofty dwelling, concealed in an ancient wood, and there he shuts her up, pale and trembling, and dreading everything, and now with tears inquiring where her sister is; and confessing his baseness, he masters by force her a maiden, and but one, while she often vainly calls on her father, often on her sister, and on the great Gods above all. She trembles like a frightened lamb, which, wounded, being snatched from the mouth of a hoary wolf, does not as yet seem to itself in safety; and as a dove, its feathers soaked with its own blood, still trembles, and dreads the ravening talons wherein it has been {lately} held. {But} soon, when consciousness returned, tearing her dishevelled hair like one mourning, and beating her arms in lamentation, stretching out her hands, she said, “Oh, barbarous {wretch}, for thy dreadful deeds; oh, cruel {monster}! have neither the requests of my father, with his affectionate tears, moved thee, nor a regard for my sister, nor my virgin state, nor the laws of marriage? Thou hast confounded all. I am become the supplanter of my sister; thou, the husband of both of us. This punishment was not my due. Why dost thou not take away this life, that no villany, perfidious {wretch}, may remain {unperpetrated} by thee? and would that thou hadst done it before thy criminal embraces! {then} I might have had a shade void of {all} crime. Yet, if the Gods above behold these things, if the majesty of the Gods be anything; if, with myself, all things are not come to ruin; one time or other thou shalt give me satisfaction. I myself, having cast shame aside, will declare thy deeds. If opportunity is granted me, I will come among the people; if I shall be kept imprisoned in the woods, I will fill the woods, and will move the conscious rocks. Let Heaven hear these things, and the Gods, if there are any in it.”

After the wrath of the cruel tyrant was aroused by such words, and his fear was not less than it, urged on by either cause, he drew the sword, with which he was girt, from the sheath, and seizing her by the hair, her arms being bent behind her back, he compelled her to submit to chains. Philomela was preparing her throat, and, on seeing the sword, had conceived hopes of her death. He cut away, with his cruel weapon, her tongue seized with pincers, while giving vent to her indignation, and constantly calling on the name of her father, and struggling to speak. The extreme root of the tongue {still} quivers. {The tongue} itself lies, and faintly murmurs, quivering upon the black earth; and as the tail of a mangled snake is wont to writhe about, {so} does it throb, and, as it dies, seeks the feet of its owner. It is said, too, that often after this crime (I could hardly dare believe it) he satisfied his lust upon her mutilated body.

He has the effrontery, after such deeds, to return to Progne, who, on seeing her husband, inquires for her sister; but he heaves feigned sighs, and tells a fictitious story of her death; and his tears procure him credit. Progne tears from her shoulders her robes, shining with broad gold, and puts on black garments, and erects an honorary sepulchre, and offers expiation to an imaginary shade; and laments the death of a sister not thus to be lamented.

The God {Apollo}, the year being completed, had run through the twice six signs {of the Zodiac}. What can Philomela do? A guard prevents her flight; the walls of the house are hard, built of solid stone: her speechless mouth is deprived of the means of discovering the crime. But in grief there is extreme ingenuity, and inventive skill arises in misfortunes. She skilfully suspends the warp in a web of Barbarian design,[61] and interweaves purple marks with white, as a mode of discovering the villany {of Tereus}; and delivers it, when finished, to one {of her attendants}, and begs her, by signs, to carry it to her mistress. As desired, she carries it to Progne, and does not know what she is delivering in it. The wife of the savage tyrant unfolds the web, and reads the mournful tale[62] of her sister, and (wondrous that she can be so!) she is silent. ’Tis grief that stops her utterance, and words sufficiently indignant fail her tongue, in want of them; nor is there room for weeping. But she rushes onward, about to confound both right and wrong, and is wholly {occupied} in the contrivance of revenge.

[Footnote 51: _Calydon._--Ver. 415. This was a city of Ætolia,
which derived its name from Calydon, the son of Endymion. Diana,
being incensed against Œneus, its king, because he omitted her
when offering the first fruits to the other Deities, sent an
immense boar to ravage its fields, which was slain by Meleager.
Ovid recounts these circumstances in the eighth book of the
Metamorphoses. Argos, Sparta, and Mycenæ, are also included in one
line, by Homer, as having been under the particular tutelage of
Juno.]

[Footnote 52: _Famous for its brass._--Ver. 416. According to some
writers, the Corinthian brass became famous after the fall of
Corinth, when it was taken and burnt by the Consul Mummius. On
that occasion, they say, that from the immense number of statues
melted in the conflagration, a stream of metal poured through the
streets, consisting of melted gold, silver, and copper; in which,
of course, the latter would be predominant. If that was the ground
on which the Corinthian brass was so much commended, Ovid is here
guilty of an anachronism.]

[Footnote 53: _Cleonæ._--Ver. 417. This was a little town, situate
between Argos and Corinth. It is called ‘humilis,’ not from its
situation, but from the small number of its inhabitants. Patræ was
a city of Achaia.]

[Footnote 54: _Pittheus._--Ver. 418. He was the uncle of Theseus;
and was (after the time here mentioned) the king of Trœzen, in
Peloponnesus.]

[Footnote 55: _Barbarous troops._--Ver. 423. Some suggest that it
is here meant that Attica was invaded by the Amazons at this time;
and they rely on a passage of Justin in support of the position.
The story is, however, very improbable.]

[Footnote 56: _The Graces._--Ver. 429. The Graces, who were the
attendants of Venus, were three in number, Aglaia, Thalia, and
Euphrosyne.]

[Footnote 57: _To be launched._--Ver. 445. The ships were launched
into the sea by means of rollers placed beneath them, from which
circumstance they were said ‘deduci,’ ‘to be led down.’]

[Footnote 58: _Shores of the Piræus._--Ver. 446. The Piræus was
the arsenal and the harbor of the Athenians, and owed its
magnificence to the vast conceptions of Themistocles.]

[Footnote 59: _The Odrysian king._--Ver. 490. Tereus is thus
called, from the Odrysæ, a people of Thrace.]

[Footnote 60: _With difficulty._--Ver. 510. Clarke translates
‘vix,’ ‘with much ado.’]

[Footnote 61: _Barbarian design._--Ver. 576. Probably of a
Phrygian design.]

[Footnote 62: _The mournful tale._--Ver. 582. This line is
translated by Clarke, ‘And reads the miserable ditty of her
sister.’]

EXPLANATION.

The gravest authors among the ancients, such as Strabo and Pausanias,
speaking of this tragical story, agree that the narrative, divested of
its poetical ornaments, is strictly conformable to truth; though, of
course, the sequel bears evident marks of embellishment either by the
fancy of the Poet, or the superstition of the vulgar.

FABLE VI. [VI.587-676]

Progne delivers her sister Philomela from captivity, and brings her to
the court of Tereus, where she revolves in her mind her different
projects of revenge. Her son Itys, in the meantime, comes into her
apartment, and is murdered by his mother and aunt. Progne afterwards
serves him up at a feast, which she prepares for her husband; on
which, being obliged to fly from the fury of the enraged king, she is
changed into a swallow, Philomela into a nightingale, and Tereus
himself into a lapwing.

It is {now} the time[63] when the Sithonian[64] matrons are wont to celebrate the triennial festival of Bacchus. Night is conscious of their rites; by night Rhodope resounds with the tinklings of the shrill cymbal. By night the queen goes out of her house, and is arrayed according to the rites of the God, and carries the arms of the frantic solemnity. Her head is covered with vine leaves; from her left side hang down the skins of a deer;[65] upon her shoulder rests a light spear. {Then} the terrible Progne rushing through the woods, a multitude of her followers attending her, and agitated by the fury of her resentment, pretends, Bacchus, that it is {inspired} by thee.

She comes at length to the lonely dwelling, and howls aloud, and cries “Evoë!” and breaks open the gates, and seizes her sister, and puts upon her, {so} seized, the badges of Bacchus, and conceals her countenance under the foliage of ivy; and dragging her along, full of amazement, leads her within her threshold. When Philomela perceives that she has arrived at that accursed house,[66] the wretched woman shudders, and paleness spreads over her whole face. Progne having {now} got a {fitting} place {for so doing}, takes away the symbols of the rites,[67] and unveils the blushing face of her wretched sister; and holds her in her embraces. But she, on the other hand, cannot endure to lift up her eyes; seeming to herself the supplanter of her sister, and fixing her looks on the ground, her hand is in the place of voice to her, as she desires to swear and to call the Gods to witness that this disgrace has been brought upon her by violence. Progne burns {with rage}, and contains not her anger; and checking the grief of her sister, she says, “We must not act in this matter with tears, but with the sword, {and even} with anything, if {such} thou hast, that can possibly outdo the sword. I have, sister, prepared myself for every crime! Either, when I shall have set fire to the royal palace with torches, I will throw the artful Tereus into the midst of the flames, or with the steel will I cut away his tongue or his eyes, or the members that have deprived thee of thy chastity, or by a thousand wounds will I expel his guilty soul {from his body}. Something tremendous am I prepared for; what it is, I am still in doubt.”

While Progne was uttering such expressions, Itys came to his mother. By him she was put in mind of what she might do; and looking at him with vengeful eyes, she said, “Ah! how like thou art to thy father!” And saying no more, she prepared for a horrible deed, and burned with silent rage. Yet when her son came to her, and saluted his mother and drew her neck {towards him} with his little arms, and added kisses mingled with childish endearments, the mother, in truth, was moved, and her anger abated, and her eyes, in spite of her, became wet with tears {thus} forced {from her}. But soon as she found the mother {in her} shrinking from excess of affection, from him again did she turn towards the features of her sister; and looking at them both by turns, she said, “Why does the one employ endearments, {while} the other is silent with her tongue torn from her? Why does she not call her sister, whom he calls mother? Consider to what kind of husband thou art married, daughter of Pandion. Thou dost grow degenerate. Tenderness in the wife of Tereus is criminality.” No {more} delay {is there}; she drags Itys along, just as the tigress of the banks of the Ganges {does} the suckling offspring of the hind, through the shady forests. And when they are come to a remote part of the lofty house, Progne strikes[68] him with the sword, extending his hands, and as he beholds his fate, crying now “Alas!” and now “My mother!” and clinging to her neck, where his breast joins his side; nor does she turn away her face. Even one wound {alone} is sufficient for his death; Philomela cuts his throat with the sword; and they mangle his limbs, still quivering and retaining somewhat of life. Part of them boils,[69] in the hollow cauldrons; part hisses on spits; the inmost recesses stream with gore. His wife sets Tereus, in his unconsciousness, before this banquet; and falsely pretending rites after the manner of her country, at which it is allowed one man only to be present, she removes his attendants and servants. Tereus himself, sitting aloft on the throne of his forefathers, eats and heaps his own entrails into his own stomach. And so great is the blindness of his mind, {that} he says, “Send for Itys.” Progne is unable to conceal her cruel joy; and now, desirous to be the discoverer of her having murdered him, she says, “Thou hast within {thee}, that for which thou art asking.” He looks around, and inquires where he is; as he inquires, and calls him again, Philomela springs forth, just as she is, with her hair disordered by the infernal murder, and throws the bloody head of Itys in the face of his father; nor at any time has she more longed to be able to speak, and to testify her joy by words such as are deserved.

The Thracian pushes from him the table with a loud cry, and summons the Viperous sisters[70] from the Stygian valley; and at one moment he desires, if he {only} can, by opening his breast to discharge thence the horrid repast, and the half-digested entrails. And then he weeps, and pronounces himself the wretched sepulchre of his own son; and then he follows the daughters of Pandion with his drawn sword. You would have thought the bodies of the Cecropian[71] Nymphs were supported by wings; {and} they were supported by wings. The one of them makes for the woods, the other takes her place beneath the roofs {of houses}. Nor {even} as yet have the marks of murder withdrawn from her breast; and her feathers are {still} stained with blood. He, made swift by his grief, and his desire for revenge, is turned into a bird, upon whose head stands a crested {plume}; a prolonged bill projects in place of the long spear. The name of the bird is ‘epops’ [{lapwing}]; its face appears to be armed. This affliction dispatched Pandion to the shades of Tartarus before his day, and the late period of protracted old age.

[Footnote 63: _Now the time._--Ver. 587. This was the festival of
Bacchus, before mentioned as being celebrated every three years,
in memory of his Indian expedition.]

[Footnote 64: _Sithonian._--Ver. 588. Sithonia was a region of
Thrace, which lay between Mount Hæmus and the Euxine sea. The
word, however, is often used to signify the whole of Thrace.]

[Footnote 65: _Skins of a deer._--Ver. 593. These were the
‘nebrides,’ or skins of fawns and deer, which the Bacchanals wore
when celebrating the orgies. The lance mentioned here was, no
doubt, the thyrsus.]

[Footnote 66: _That accursed house._--Ver. 601. Clarke translates
this line, ‘As soon as Philomela perceived she had got into the
wicked rogue’s house.’]

[Footnote 67: _Symbols of the rites._--Ver. 603. These were the
ivy, the deer-skins, and the thyrsus.]

[Footnote 68: _Progne strikes._--Ver. 641. ‘Ense ferit Progne’ is
translated by Clarke, ‘Progne strikes with the sword poor Itys.’]

[Footnote 69: _Part of them boils._--Ver. 645-6. Clarke gives this
comical translation: ‘Then part of them bounces about in hollow
kettles; part hisses upon spits; the parlor runs down with gore.’]

[Footnote 70: _Viperous sisters._--Ver. 662. Tereus invokes the
Furies, who are thus called from having their hair wreathed with
serpents. Clarke translates, ‘ingenti clamore,’ in line 661, ‘with
a huge cry.’]

[Footnote 71: _Cecropian._--Ver. 667. The Cecropian or Athenian
Nymphs are Progne and Philomela, the daughters of Pandion, king of
Athens.]

EXPLANATION.

By the symbolical changes of Philomela, Progne, and Tereus, those who
framed this termination of the story intended to depict the different
characters of the persons whose actions are there represented. As the
lapwing delights in filth and impurity, the ancients thereby portrayed
the unscrupulous character of Tereus; and, as the flight of that bird
is but slow, it shows that he was not able to overtake his wife and
her sister. The nightingale, concealed in the woods and thickets,
seems there to be concealing her misfortunes and sorrows; and the
swallow, which frequents the abodes of man, shows the restlessness of
Progne, who seeks in vain for her son, whom, in her frantic fit, she
has so barbarously murdered.

Anacreon and Apollodorus, however, reverse the story, saying that
Philomela was changed into a swallow, and Progne into a nightingale.
This event is said by some writers to have happened not in Thrace, but
at Daulis, a town of Phocis, where Tereus is supposed to have gone to
settle. Pausanias tells us, that the tomb of Tereus was to be seen
near Athens, so that it is probable that he died at a distance from
Thrace, his native country. Homer alludes to the story of Philomela in
somewhat different terms; speaking of the grounds of the grief of
Penelope, he says, that ‘she made her complaints to be heard like the
inconsolable Philomela, the daughter of Pandarus, always hidden among
the leaves and branches of trees. When the Spring arrives, she makes
her voice echo through the woods, and laments her dear Itylus, whom
she killed by an unhappy mistake; varying, in her continued plaints,
the mournful melody of her notes.’ By this, Homer seems to have known
nothing of Tereus or of Progne, and to have followed a tradition,
which was to the following effect:--Pandarus had three daughters,
Ædon, Mecrope, and Cleothera. Ædon, the eldest, was married to Zethus,
the brother of Amphion, by whom she had one son, who was named Itylus.
Envying the more numerous family of Niobe, her sister-in-law, she
resolved to despatch the eldest of her nephews; and, as her son was
brought up with his cousin, and was his bedfellow, she bade him change
his place in the bed, on the night on which she intended to commit the
crime. Itylus forgot her commands, and consequently his mother killed
him by mistake for her nephew.

FABLE VII. [VI.677-721]

Boreas, not obtaining the consent of Erectheus, king of Athens, for
the marriage of his daughter, Orithyïa, takes that princess in his
arms, and carries her away into Thrace. By her he has two sons, Calaïs
and Zethes, who have wings, like their father, and afterwards embark
with Jason in search of the Golden Fleece.

Erectheus[72] received the sceptre of {that} country, and the government of the state; it is a matter of doubt whether he was more powerful through his justice, or by his mighty arms. He had, indeed, begotten four sons, and as many of the female sex: but the beauty of two {of them} was equal. Of these, Cephalus,[73] the son of Æolus, was blessed with thee, Procris, for his wife; Tereus and the Thracians were an obstacle to Boreas; and long was {that} God without his much-loved Orithyïa, while he was entreating, and choosing rather to use prayers than force. But when nothing was effected by blandishments, terrible with that rage which is his wont, and but too natural with that wind, he said, “And {this is} deservedly {done}; for why did I relinquish my own weapons, my violence, my strength, my anger, and my threatening spirit, and turn to prayers, the employment of which ill becomes me? Violence is suitable for me; by violence do I dispel the lowering clouds, by violence do I arouse the seas, and overthrow the knotted oaks, and harden the snow, and beat the earth with hail. I too, when I have met with my brothers in the open air (for that is {peculiarly} my field), struggle with efforts so great, that the intermediate sky thunders again with our onset, and fires flash, struck forth from the hollow clouds. I too, when I have descended into the hollow recesses of the earth, and in my rage have placed my back against its lowest depths, disturb the shades below, and the whole globe with earthquakes. By these means should I have sought this alliance; and Erectheus ought not to have been entreated {to be} my father-in-law, but made so by force.”

Boreas, having said these words, or some not less high-sounding than these, shakes his wings, by the motion of which all the earth is fanned, and the wide sea becomes ruffled; and the lover, drawing his dusty mantle over the high tops {of mountains}, sweeps the ground, and, wrapt in darkness, embraces with his tawny wings Orithyïa, as she trembles with fear. As she flies, his flame, being agitated, burns more fiercely. Nor does the ravisher check the reins of his airy course, before he reaches the people and the walls of the Ciconians.[74] There, too, is the Actæan damsel made the wife of the cold sovereign, and {afterwards} a mother, bringing forth twins at a birth, who have the wings of their father, the rest {like} their mother. Yet they say that these {wings} were not produced together with their bodies; and while their long beard, with its yellow hair, was away, the boys Calaïs and Zethes were without feathers. {But} soon after, at once wings began to enclose both their sides, after the manner of birds, and at once their cheeks {began} to grow yellow {with down}. When, therefore, the boyish season of youth was passed, they sought,[75] with the Minyæ, along the sea {before} unmoved,[76] in the first ship {that existed}, the fleece that glittered with shining hair {of gold}.

[Footnote 72: _Erectheus._--Ver. 677. This personage really was
king of Athens before Pandion, the father of Progne and Philomela,
and not after him, as Ovid here states; at least, such is the
account given by Pausanias and Eusebius: the order of succession
being Actæus, Cecrops, Cranaüs, Amphictyon, Erecthonius, Pandion,
Erectheus, Cecrops II., Pandion II., Ægeus, Theseus.]

[Footnote 73: _Cephalus._--Ver. 681. He was the son of Deioneus,
and the grandson of Æolus. According to some writers, he was the
son of Mercury; in and the Art of Love (Book iii. l. 725) he is
called ‘Cyllenia proles.’ Strabo says that he was the son-in-law
of Deioneus. His story is related at length in the next Book.]

[Footnote 74: _The Ciconians._--Ver. 710. The Cicones were a
people of Thrace, living near Mount Ismarus, and the Bistonian
lake.]

[Footnote 75: _They sought._--Ver. 720. This was the fleece of the
ram that carried Phryxus along the Hellespont to Colchis, which is
mentioned again in the next Book.]

[Footnote 76: _Before unmoved._--Ver. 721. This passage may mean
that that part of the sea had not been navigated before; though
many of the poets assert that the Argo was the first ship that was
ever built. It is more probable that it was the first vessel that
was ever fitted out as a ship of war.]

EXPLANATION.

Plato tells us that the story of the rape of Orithyïa is but an
allegory, which signifies that, by accident, she was blown by the wind
into the sea, where she was drowned. Apollodorus and Pausanias,
however, assert that this story is based on historical facts, and that
Boreas, king of Thrace, seized Orithyïa, the daughter of Erectheus,
king of Athens, and sister of Procris, as she was passing the river
Ilissus, and carried her into his dominions, where she became the
mother of twins, Calaïs and Zethes. In the Argonautic expedition,
these chiefs delivered Phineus, the king of Bithynia, from the
persecution of the Harpies, which were in the habit of snatching away
the victuals served up at his table.