Metamorphoses

  to hold his cruel axe back from a crime,

  deterring it from an impiety:

  ‘Take this reward for your religious bent,’

  Erysichthon muttered when he saw him,

  and turning from the tree toward the man,

  truncated him by severing his head.

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  “But as he struck the oak repeatedly

  a voice was heard from deep within the wood:

  ‘Beneath the surface of this tree I dwell,

  a nymph of Ceres; dying, I foresee

  your punishment at hand, and pleased, foretell

  the consolation that your death will be.’

  “The criminal at last succeeded: shaken

  by many blows and hauled on by thick ropes,

  it fell and brought down the surrounding woods.

  Grief-stricken by their loss and by the grove’s,

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  the dryad sisters went to Ceres, weeping

  and wearing black, and begged her with their prayers

  to punish Erysichthon for his crimes.

  “The loveliest of goddesses assented,

  nodding her head—and by that motion shook

  fields freighted with a harvest yet to come.

  Ceres contrived a punishment for him

  that would have stirred to pity, were it not

  for the unpitiable nature of his deeds:

  he should be lashed by pestilential Famine.

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  “Because the goddess could not go herself

  upon this mission (for the Fates forbid

  Ceres and Famine ever to connect),

  she called upon a mountain nymph of hers

  to go instead of her, with this command:

  ‘There is a place in icy Scythia’s

  northernmost reaches where the barren soil

  will not support a tree or field of grain;

  sluggish Frigidity inhabits it,

  with Pallor, Shivering, and Famine too;

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  command this last one to conceal herself

  in the stomach of this sacrilegious rogue,

  and order her to overcome Abundance

  and Fruitfulness—the powers that I wield.

  And, lest the distance should dishearten you,

  accept these dragons with my chariot.’

  And she placed the reins that guide them in her hands.

  “Borne through the air in Ceres’ vehicle,

  she came to Scythia; on a forbidding peak

  (called the Caucasus) she unyoked her steeds,

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  and there she found the Famine that she sought,

  picking stray grasses in a field of stones:

  “Her unkempt hair was matted and her eyes

  seemed hollowed out; grey was her complexion,

  and grey her lips, from want of frequent use;

  her throat was rusted from inactivity,

  and her skin was stretched so tightly you could see

  the viscera beneath; hip bones protruded

  from underneath her withered, sunken loins,

  her belly, nothing more than an indication

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  of where a belly might be found; her breasts,

  dependents of her spine; her joints were all

  exaggerated by emaciation;

  her knees and ankles were great shapeless lumps.

  “Now when the mountain nymph caught sight of Famine

  from far away (not daring to come near)

  she wasted no time giving her her orders;

  although she kept her distance from the other

  and really hadn’t been there very long,

  she felt herself beginning to feel famished,

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  and so she leapt into her chariot

  and headed the dragons back to Thessaly.

  “Famine obeyed the orders Ceres gave her

  (although their functions are in opposition)

  and swift upon the wind passed through the air

  until she came to Erysichthon’s house

  and introduced herself at once into

  the bedroom of the sacrilegious one,

  sunk in deep slumber, for it was the night;

  she wrapped both arms around him in embrace,

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  and breathed herself, her essence, into him,

  exhaling on his throat, his breast, his lips,

  till hunger circulated through his veins;

  her mission done, she fled the fruitful world,

  returning to the homes of emptiness

  and her accustomed caverns.

  “Gentle Sleep

  fans Erysichthon with emollient wings;

  in dreams he seeks imaginary feasts,

  and opens wide to gobble nothingness;

  he wears his teeth down, grinding one another,

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  deludes his throat with insubstantial food,

  and for his banquet feasts on empty air.

  “Awakened, the desire to devour

  raged within him; reason was overruled

  by greed of gorge and appetite of maw.

  “At once he sought whatever edibles

  that the earth or air or ocean could supply

  and moaned with hunger at the groaning board,

  looking for feasts even as he feasted;

  what would have been enough for a whole city,

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  or for a nation, did not suffice for one,

  and as he fed it, his desire grew.

  “Just as the sea receives from round the world

  its rivers, and is never satisfied,

  no matter from what distant source they flow,

  and as a raging fire spurns no fuel,

  devouring innumerable logs

  and wanting more with every one it gets,

  growing more voracious from abundance,

  just so the greedy lips of Erysichthon,

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  even as they took in, were seeking out;

  the cause of one feast was the one before,

  and all his eating only left him empty.

  “When Famine and his belly’s bottomless

  abyss had eaten up all his estates,

  he nonetheless remained insatiable;

  the fire in his gullet raged full blast,

  devouring his wealth and property

  until a daughter (who deserved a better

  father) was all that still remained to him:

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  a man now without means, he sold her too.

  “The noble girl refused to have a master

  and went down to the seaside there to pray:

  ‘Oh, take me from my master, you who took

  the gift of my virginity,’ she said,

  for Neptune had already taken it,

  and now the god did not ignore her prayer,

  although the master in pursuit had seen her;

  Neptune gave her a new form and countenance,

  and made her look just like a fisherman.

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  “And catching up to her, the master said,

  ‘O regulator of the reedy rod,

  who hides the dangling hook in balls of bait,

  so may the sea lie nice and flat for you,

  and may the fish be wholly credulous,

  and never sense your presence till they’re hooked;

  but just now on this shore, there stood a girl—

  I know this, for I saw her standing there—

  a girl dressed like a slave with unkempt hair:

  please tell me where she is, for her tracks lead

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  right up to you, and do not go beyond.’

  “From what her master said, she realized

  that Neptune’s gift was working; with these words

  she interrupted his interrogation:

  ‘I beg your pardon, sir, whoever you are,

  but I h
ave not looked up from here at all,

  so taken have I been with my pursuit;

  but so that you should doubt me less, I swear

  by Neptune’s aid upon my enterprise

  that for a great long while, there has not been

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  a soul upon this shore except for me,

  and no one here that you might call a girl.’

  “The master trusted her and turned around

  and left the beach, deluded utterly;

  the girl changed back then to her other form.

  “But once the father realized that she

  was able to transform her body’s shape,

  he sold her off to master after master,

  and she, as mare, or bird, or cow, or deer,

  would slip away, dishonestly providing

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  her greedy father with the food he craved.

  “But when at last his illness had consumed

  all that she brought him, and he still craved more,

  the wretched man began to tear his limbs

  asunder, mangling them in his maw,

  and fed his body as he shrank away.

  “But why do I linger over others’ tales

  of metamorphoses? Often, young friends,

  I have myself turned into something else,

  although my choices have been limited:

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  at times I seem to be as I am now,

  at other times I coil into a snake,

  and sometimes as the leader of the herd,

  a bull with potent horns—did I say horns?

  “Once I had two—but now, as you can see,

  one of the weapons on my brow is gone!”

  And after speaking, he let out a groan.

  BOOK IX

  DESIRE, DECEIT, AND DIFFICULT DELIVERIES

  Acheloüs and Hercules Hercules, Deianira, and Nessus The passion of Hercules Lichas The death of Hercules Jove and the apotheosis of Hercules Alcmena’s tale Iole’s tale of Dryope Iolaüs and Hebe’s prophecy Byblis and Caunus Iphis and Isis

  Acheloüs and Hercules

  Theseus asked the river why he groaned,

  and how he happened to have lost his horn;

  and after binding up his hair in reeds,

  Acheloüs began to answer him:

  “The task you set before me is a sad one,

  for who indeed takes pleasure in recalling

  the battles he has lost? Nevertheless,

  I will recount this story as it happened,

  because there is less shame in being beaten

  than honor in my being a contender,

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  and solace to have lost to such a hero.

  “You may have heard the name of Deianira,

  at one time the most beautiful of maidens,

  and a great cause of jealousy among

  her many suitors. When all of us had entered

  the palace of her father, I spoke up:

  ‘Accept me as your son-in-law, Oeneus,’

  and Hercules beside me said the same.

  The others yielded to the two of us.

  “He spoke first, repeating the old story

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  of how he was the son of Jupiter,

  and boasting of the fame of his great labors,

  all undertaken by command of Juno.

  “Then it was my turn. I responded, saying,

  ‘It is indecent for a god to yield before

  a mortal (for at that time Hercules

  had not yet been transformed into a god);

  in me you have the master of the streams

  that through your realm meander; I will be

  one of your own, no distant son-in-law,

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  a countryman and part of your own kingdom.

  “‘Juno doesn’t hate me, that is true,

  and I was never forced into her service—

  I only hope this won’t be held against me!

  “‘And as for that paternity you boast of,

  great Hercules, why, you must take your choice:

  either it’s false that Jupiter’s your father,

  or else it’s true that you’re a bastard born;

  you seek a father in your mother’s sin!

  Which will you have then, son of Alcmena,

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  a fictive parent or a shameful birth?’

  “Long after I had finished speaking, he

  still glowered at me, smoldering with rage,

  and displaying little self-control, replied,

  ‘Your tongue is far more dexterous than mine,

  but just as long as I can win with punches,

  I’ll let you have the victory with words.’

  “Then he advanced upon me, savagely,

  and after such big talk, I would have been

  dishonored to fall back: I shed my green robe

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  and raised my hands, and crouching, took my stance

  in opposition, with my arms widespread,

  and so prepared myself to wrestle him.

  “He tosses a handful of dust in my direction,

  and he himself takes on its tawny color.

  He lunges then and feints as though to seize

  me by the neck or legs or private parts,

  attacking everywhere. He seeks in vain:

  I am defended by my weightiness,

  not otherwise than when a seaside bluff,

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  assaulted by the waves that pound against it,

  endures, protected by its mighty bulk.

  “We separate for just a little while,

  and then we come together once again,

  each holding firm and neither backing down,

  and stand there, toe to toe, fingers knotted,

  breast against breast, and forehead pressed to forehead:

  I’ve seen two mighty bulls rush at each other

  in competition for the herd’s prize heifer:

  the rest of the herd all look on in terror,

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  not knowing which contender will achieve

  the victory—and with it, gain a realm.

  “Three times, without success, Hercules strives

  to push my breast away from his; the fourth,

  he knocks away my arms and breaks my hold,

  and as I tumble forward, off balance,

  —I have to tell this just the way it happened—

  gives me a slap that turns me all around

  and then comes down on me with all his weight.

  “If you can credit this—I do not seek

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  to garner glory by exaggeration—

  I felt I had a mountain on my back!

  I barely had the strength to work my arms—

  the sweat was pouring off them—under his,

  and barely freed myself from his fierce grip.

  “He pressed against me as I gasped for breath

  and kept me from recovering my strength,

  then got me in a stranglehold—my knees

  connected with the earth and I ate dust.

  “Clearly deficient in the manly virtues,

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  I opted to try trickery instead,

  and changing to a snake, I glided out

  from under his strong grip. But after I

  had wound my body up into tight coils

  and showed him my forked tongue, and hissed a bit,

  Hercules laughed and ridiculed my arts:

  ‘While I was in my cradle, I whipped snakes;

  supposing you surpass the lot of them,

  what portion of the many-headed Hydra

  will you—a single serpent—prove to be,

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  Acheloüs? The blows I dealt that beast

  just strengthened it: no sooner did I sever

  one of its heads than two more took its place!

  “‘This creature, branching out with serpents sp
rung

  from death, delighted in destruction—yes!

  I overwhelmed the monster and I diced it!

  What do you think will happen in your case?

  —Why, even as a snake you’re an imposter,

  fighting with borrowed weapons, in a form

  that is not yours—and subject to recall!’

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  “He spoke and wrapped his fingers like thick chains

  around my throat and dug in with his thumbs:

  gripped by those pinchers, I was passing out,

  and fought to get his digits off my throat.

  “So, since I had been vanquished as a snake,

  the only refuge left was my third form,

  that of a raging bull. And thus transformed

  in all my parts, I now renewed the struggle.

  He got his arms around my neck again,

  and dragged his heels beside me as I galloped,

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  until he pushed my horns down to the ground

  and plowed my poor head deep into the dirt.

  “Nor was this all: grasping my rigid horn

  in his right hand and cruelly breaking it,

  he tore it from my mutilated forehead.

  The naiads immortalized this incident,

  filling my horn with fruit and fragrant flowers;

  known as the cornucopia, it now

  enriches the sweet goddess of Abundance.”

  He finished speaking and a nymph stepped up,

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  dressed like Diana, with her hair unbound:

  one of his attendants, who produced

  their second course out of that horn of plenty,

  the ripe fruit which are bountiful in autumn.

  The sun appeared, and as the mountaintops

  were touched by its first rays, the young men left,

  even before the river had found peace

  and the flood-driven waters had subsided;

  Acheloüs concealed his rustic looks

  and mutilated brow beneath the waves.

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  Hercules, Deianira, and Nessus

  His only grief, though, was to be deprived

  of his lovely horn—he was fine, otherwise,

  and that one loss was easily repaired

  by willow leaves and reeds wrapped round his head;

  you, on the other hand, impulsive Nessus,

  passionate centaur who loved Deianira—

  an arrow through the back cost you your life.

  While Hercules was heading back to Thebes,

  the city he called home, with his new bride,

  he came to the swift waters of Evenus,

  higher than normal, swollen with winter rains,

  and full of whirlpools—impassable, in short.

  Though Hercules was fearless for himself,

  concern for Deianira made him anxious.

  Along came Nessus, powerfully built,

  and knowing where the river could be forded: