Metamorphoses

never again will you have cause to worry—

  about this one.” And swore upon the Styx.

  The goddess was now pacified, and Io

  1020

  at once began regaining her lost looks,

  till she became what she had been before;

  her body lost all of its bristling hair,

  her horns shrank down, her eyes grew narrower,

  her jaws contracted, arms and hands returned,

  and hooves divided themselves into nails;

  nothing remained of her bovine nature,

  unless it was the whiteness of her body.

  She had some trouble getting her legs back,

  and for a time feared speaking, lest she moo,

  1030

  and so quite timidly regained her speech.

  She is a celebrated goddess now,

  and worshiped by the linen-clad Egyptians.

  Her son, Epaphus, is believed to be

  sprung from the potent seed of mighty Jove,

  and temples may be found in every city

  wherein the boy is honored with his parent.

  Phaëthon

  He had a friend, like him in age and spirit,

  named Phaëthon, the sun god’s child. One day

  this boy was boasting, and in vanity

  1040

  would not take second place to Epaphus,

  so proud he was that Phoebus was his father.

  The grandson of Inachus could not bear it:

  “You are a fool—to trust your mother’s lies!

  You’re swollen with false notions of your father!”

  Phaëthon blushed, and in embarrassment,

  repressed the awful anger that he felt;

  he went back to his mother, Clymene,

  and told her what the other boy had said.

  “And so that you may feel this pain the more,

  1050

  dear mother,” he said, “I who am so bold,

  so very spirited, could not reply!

  It shames me that I listened to such insults

  unable to respond or to refute them!

  “If I am truly of immortal seed,

  give me sure proof of my exalted birth,

  and a status equal to my origin!”

  He spoke and threw his arms around her neck,

  imploring her upon his very life,

  and on that of his stepfather, Merops,

  1060

  and by the wedding torches of his sisters,

  to give him proof of who his father was.

  Clymene, moved by Phaëthon’s petition

  (or by the insult to her own good name),

  lifted her arms and stretched them out to heaven

  and gazing right into the sun, replied,

  “By this great radiance, my child, I swear,

  by this bright orb which sees and hears us now,

  that from this being which you now behold,

  and which rules the world, you have your origin,

  1070

  child of the Sun! And if I speak a lie,

  never may I look on his face again;

  may this light be the last light that I see!

  “It will not be a great task to discover

  the place where your father keeps his household gods.

  The house from whence he rises is on land

  contiguous to ours: if you dare,

  set out and ask your question of the Sun.”

  Already full of heaven in his mind,

  his mother’s words inspire him with joy,

  1080

  and after crossing Ethiopia,

  his native land, and passing through the realm

  of India that lies beneath the sun,

  he comes at last to where his father rises.

  BOOK II

  OF MORTAL CHILDREN AND IMMORTAL LUSTS

  Phaëthon The Heliades Cycnus The Sun’s complaint Jove, Callisto, and Arcas The raven and the crow The prophecies of Ocyrhoë Mercury and the tattletale Mercury and Aglauros (1) The house of Envy Mercury and Aglauros (2) Jove and Europa

  Phaëthon

  There stood the regal palace of the Sun,

  soaring upon its many lofty columns,

  with roof of gold and fire-flashing bronze,

  and ceilings intricate with ivory,

  and double-folding doors that shone with silver.

  Its art surpassed the stuff that it was made of,

  for Vulcan had engraved upon those doors

  the seas that gird the middle of the earth,

  the circling lands and the overhanging sky.

  The waves displayed their gods of cerulean hue:

  10

  harmonious Triton, inconstant Proteus,

  huge Aegaeon, who lifts enormous whales,

  and Doris with her daughters, the sea nymphs;

  some are depicted swimming, others sit

  upon a rock to dry their sea-green hair,

  and others are shown riding upon fishes,

  their features neither utterly alike

  nor wholly different, but rather mixed,

  as those of sisters ought to be.

  On land

  were scenes of men in cities, beasts in forests,

  20

  rivers and nymphs and rural deities;

  and over this he set the zodiac,

  six figures each upon the left and right.

  Soon as the son of Clymene had climbed

  the steep path leading to the dwelling place

  of his reputed parent, he went in

  and turned at once to meet his father’s gaze—

  though at some distance, for he could not bear

  such brightness any closer.

  Phoebus sat

  in robes of purple high upon a throne

  30

  that glittered brilliantly with emeralds;

  and in attendance on his left and right

  stood Day and Month and Year and Century,

  and all the Hours, evenly divided;

  fresh Spring was there, adorned with floral crown,

  and Summer, naked, bearing ripened grain,

  and Autumn, stained from treading out her grapes,

  and Winter with his grey and frosty locks.

  And sitting in the middle of these figures,

  the all-seeing Sun looked upon that youth,

  40

  who quaked with terror at such novel sights.

  “What brings you here?” he asked. “What do you seek

  in this high tower, Phaëthon—you, an heir

  no parent would deny?”

  The youth responded:

  “O Phoebus, our universal light,

  and father—if you let me use that name!

  —If Clymene is not concealing guilt

  under false pretenses, then give me proof

  by which I might have credibility

  as your true son, and free my mind of doubt!”

  50

  So the boy spoke.

  The father put aside

  his shining crown and told him to draw nearer

  and took him in his arms: “It would not be

  appropriate for me to disavow

  our relationship,” he said, “for Clymene

  has spoken truly of your parentage.

  “But so that you may have no doubts at all,

  whatever gift you ask me will be given you;

  and this I promise by the marshy Styx,

  which all of the immortals swear upon—

  60

  a sight which I, of course, have never seen.”

  He’d scarcely finished speaking when the boy

  asked for his father’s chariot—and permission

  to guide his winged horses for a day.

  The father’s oath now filled him with regret;

  three times and four he struck his lustrous brow:

  “Your deed reveals the rashness of my speech!

  Would that
I were permitted to rescind

  the promise I have given! I confess

  that this alone I would deny you, son!

  70

  “At least I am permitted to dissuade you:

  what you desire is most dangerous!

  You seek a gift that is too great for you,

  beyond your strength, beyond your boyish years;

  your fate is mortal: what you ask for isn’t.

  “Out of your ignorance, you seek much more

  than even gods are able to control,

  for though each god may do just as he pleases,

  none but myself may set his heel upon

  the fire-bearing axle. No—not even he

  80

  who governs vast Olympus and who flings

  the thunderbolt may drive this chariot:

  and what force is more powerful than Jove?

  “The journey starts off steeply, and my team,

  emerging from their stables in the morning,

  must struggle to ascend—and barely do:

  the midpoint of the heavens is so high

  that when I look down on the earth and seas,

  fear often makes me tremble, and the heart

  within my breast is seized with palpitations!

  90

  “The last part of the journey is a steep

  descent that needs a skilled hand on the reins;

  then, even Tethys, waiting to receive me

  beneath the waves, must fear that I will crash!

  “Besides, there is the whirling vault of heaven

  that draws the stars along and sets them spinning;

  I press against this force which overcomes

  all others, and I overcome it by

  opposing the revolving universe.

  “Suppose the chariot were in your hands:

  100

  what would you do? Would you have the power

  to go against the whirling of the poles,

  lest their rotation sweep you off completely?

  “Perhaps you think that there are sacred groves

  and cities of the gods along the way,

  temples displaying all the gifts of wealth?

  Not so: your path is full of lurking perils

  as well as images of savage beasts.

  “And if you hold this course unswervingly,

  you’ll find the horns of Taurus in your way,

  110

  the Archer and the gaping jaws of Leo,

  and Scorpio, whose long and curving arms

  sweep one way, while the curving arms of Cancer

  sweep broadly in the opposite direction.

  “Nor will you find it easy to control

  my fire-breathing steeds, who challenge me

  to hold them back when they get heated up,

  and their wild necks rebel against the reins.

  “I would not be the giver of a gift

  that would prove fatal to you, son—beware,

  120

  and change your asking while it may be changed!

  You seek assurance that you are my son?

  I give you such assurance by my fears,

  and by my dread, I show myself your father.

  Look, look, upon my countenance—I wish

  that you could look into my heart as well,

  and there discover my paternal cares!

  “Whatever wealth this ample world affords

  is yours to have: just cast your eyes about

  the plentitude of sky and earth and ocean

  130

  and ask for any of the goods you see:

  I will deny you nothing that you wish.

  “Only one thing I beg you not to ask for,

  a punishment, if truly understood,

  and not a gift, although you think it so—

  a punishment indeed, my Phaëthon.

  “Why do you throw your arms around my neck,

  you foolish child? Why do you beseech me?

  It will be given to you! Have no doubt!

  I’ve sworn it by the waters of the Styx,

  140

  whatever you wish for—only wish more wisely!”

  But his rebellious son refused to listen

  and adamantly kept to his design,

  so great his passion for the chariot.

  And so, after delaying for as long

  as possible, the father led his son

  to Vulcan’s gift, the noble chariot.

  Golden its axle, golden too, its shaft,

  and golden the outer surface of its wheels,

  adorned with radiating silver spokes;

  150

  its yoke, inlaid with golden chrysolites,

  returned the light of Phoebus in reflection.

  And while the overreaching Phaëthon

  gazed upon it in admiration, look—

  Aurora, wakeful in the gleaming east,

  has once more opened wide her purple gates,

  and now her rosy courtyard is displayed;

  the stars all scatter, and bright Lucifer

  brings up the rear, the last to leave his post.

  When the father noticed that the morning star

  160

  was setting, and the world was growing red,

  and the Moon’s pale horns were vanishing, he ordered

  the passing Hours to prepare his steeds.

  Swiftly they brought his fire-breathing horses

  from the lofty stalls where they had been well fed

  on heavenly ambrosia, and harnessed them:

  they shook their jangling reins impatiently.

  Then Phoebus smeared his son’s face with an ointment

  to keep him safe from the consuming flames,

  and placed the radiant crown upon his head.

  170

  Foreseeing grief, his breast heaved as he spoke:

  “You have so far ignored your father’s warnings,

  but listen now, and—if you can—heed these:

  spare the whip, boy, and rein your horses in,

  for on their own, they will go fast enough—

  your task is to restrain them in their flight.

  “Do not attempt to go directly through

  the five zones of heaven, but rather take

  the curving route that leads through only three,

  and thus avoids extremes of north and south.

  180

  “That is the right way—you will clearly see

  the ruts worn in the pathway by my wheels.

  To heat the earth and sky both evenly,

  don’t hug the earth, don’t rise to the upper air

  or you will either set the sky ablaze

  or the earth below: the middle way is safest.

  “Avoid the coiled-up Serpent on your right

  and the low-lying Altar on your left—

  keep in between! I leave the rest to Fortune,

  and trust that she will be a better guide

  190

  than you yourself have been.

  “But while I speak,

  the humid night has reached the western shore—

  we may delay no longer. We are called:

  Dawn is conspicuously present now,

  and shadows all are fled. Take up the reins,

  or, if that heart of yours can be persuaded,

  take my advice—and not my chariot!

  “Change your mind now, while change is still permitted,

  while both your feet are firmly on the ground—

  before you mount and set out on this course

  200

  which, in your ignorance, you foolishly desire—

  look on in safety while I light the world!”

  But the boy is in the chariot already

  and stands there proudly as he takes the reins

  and offers thanks to his unwilling father.

  Meanwhile, the flying horses of the Sun,

  Pyrois, Eous, Aethon, and Phlegon,
>
  filled all the air with fiery whinnying,

  and kicked the bars that held them back.

  When Tethys

  (not knowing what her grandson’s fate would be)

  210

  released them, and all heaven opened up,

  they took off with their hooves shredding the mists

  of morning in their way as they flew past

  the east winds in the quadrants where they rise.

  But the burden that the horses of the Sun

  were used to bearing was much heavier,

  and their yoke lacked its customary weight;

  just as a ship that is un ballasted

  rolls all about, unsteadied by its lightness,

  and goes off course, so too the chariot,

  220

  without the weight it usually carries,

  leaps in the air, bucking, tossed all about

  as though it had no passenger at all;

  and once they’re all aware of this, the horses

  bolt from the rutted track in four directions.

  Now terrified, it is impossible

  for him to use the reins that he was given,

  or find his way; nor, if he were to find it,

  could he control his steeds. For the first time, then, the Great and Little Bears knew the sun’s heat

  230

  and tried—in vain, for it was not permitted—

  to plunge into the sea. And the Serpent, who

  lies nearest to the frigid northern Pole,

  and who has been, in sluggish hibernation,

  a threat to no one, suddenly became

  a raging terror, stirred up by the heat.

  Folks say that even you, Boötes, fled,

  slow as you are, and hampered by your oxcart.

  But when, from heaven’s summit, he looked down

  at the lands that lay so distantly beneath him,

  240

  unlucky Phaëthon at once turned pale,

  and suddenly his knees began to shake

  with terror, and his eyes were darkened by

  excessive light; and now the god’s true son

  regrets he ever touched his father’s horses,

  is sorry to have found his origins,

  and sorry that his prayer was ever answered;

  he wishes to be called the son of Merops,

  this boy now like a ship caught in a gale

  and driven by the furious north wind,

  250

  whose helmsman lets the useless tiller go

  and puts his trust in heaven and in prayer.

  Much of the sky already lies behind him,

  much more remains ahead: what can he do?

  He turns this matter over in his mind,

  now looking to the west (which he is fated

  never to reach), now looking eastward: no

  solution to his problem may be found,

  and stunned by ignorance, cannot decide

  if he should hold the reins or let them go—