Reading Ovid
Page 9
lup-us ī 2m. wolf
ceru-a ae 1f. deer
leō leōnis 3m. lion
506 aquil-a ae 1f. eagle
trepidō 1 be terrified, tremble
columb-a ae 1f. dove
507 quaeque: ‘each one (i.e. of the named animals) fugit . . .’
508 nē + subj. = ‘don’t/don’t let . . .’. It applies to cadās, notent and sim, RLL-V(a)3, W28; another tricolon
prōn-us a um headlong, flat
indign-us a um unworthy to X (inf.); -ue = ‘or’
509 crūs crūr-is 3n. leg
notō 1 mark, scratch
sent-is -is 3f. bramble. It is subject of notent
510 *properō 1 hurry
moderāt-us a um restrained, moderate
511 *currō 3 cucurrī cursum run
inhibeō 2 hold back
512 inquīrō 3 inquire, find out. c placeās is an indirect question after inquīre
incol-a ae 1m. inhabitant, native. This begins another fine ‘rising’ tricolon, with anaphora (nōn)
513 *pāstor -is 3m. shepherd
arment-um ī 2n. herd
grex greg-is 3m. flock
514 horrid-us a um rough, uncouth, dishevelled
obseruō 1 watch over
temerāri-us a um thoughtless, hasty. Note more emotional repetitions in 514–15
515 fugiās: note subj. – why?
ideō for that reason
mihi: object of seruit, 516
Delphic-us a um of Delphi
*tellūs tellūr-is 3f. earth
516 Claros, Tenedos (both nom.) and Patara were all sites of Apolline oracles in Asia (modern western Turkey)
Patarē-us a um of Patara
rēgi-a ae 1f. palace
seruiō 4 wait on, be subject to (+ dat.)
517 genitor -is 3m. father
518 pateō 2 be made clear, revealed
concordō 1 be harmonised with (+ dat.)
carmen carmin-is 3n. song, poem, music
neru-a ae 1f. string
519 certa . . . nostra: refers to sagitta. Apollo contrasts his certa arrow with Cupid’s certior arrow
sagitt-a ae 1f. arrow
520 uacuō: i.e. a heart empty of amor and waiting to be filled
521 inuent-um ī 2n invention, discovery. This begins the first colon of another tricolon
medicīn-a ae 1f. medicine
opifer -a um help-bringer, helper
522 *herb-a ae 1f. herb, plant, grass
subiect-us a um subject to, in control of (+ dat.)
*potenti-a ae 1f. power
523 alas!
quod: explains the reason for Apollo’s cry of ēī, and prepares the ground for a fine paradox sānābil-is e curable
524 *prōsum prōdesse prōfuī prōfutūrum be an advantage to (+ dat.). artēs is the subject
Learning vocabulary
currō 3 cucurrī cursum run
herb-a ae 1f. herb, plant, grass
īnsequor 3 dep. follow, pursue
pastōr -is 3m. shepherd
potenti-a ae 1f. power
properō 1 hurry
prōsum prōdesse prōfuī prōfutūrum be an advantage to (+ dat.)
tellūs tellūr-is 3f. earth
525 plūra locūtūrum: ‘him about to say more’, object of fūgit, RL81, W23
*timid-us a um fearful, timid. timidō cursū is abl. of manner, RL100B.3, W14
Pēnēia: i.e. Daphne
526 imperfect-us a um unfinished
527 decēns decent-is beautiful. uīsa suggests that 527–30 describe Daphne as Apollo sees her
nūdō 1 strip, lay bare. Here begins a tetracolon, with golden lines!
528 obui-us a um in her face. This is a golden line
aduers-us a um back, against (her), i.e. outlining her body
uibrō 1shake, make flutter
flāmen flāmin-is 3n. wind, breeze
529 impuls-us a um streaming (back). Nearly a golden line
retrō backwards
530 augeō 2 auxī auctum increase. This could mean that she looks bigger, and therefore more desirable, too. See on Venus (passage 18) 10.534
sed enim however. enim is used here in its original intensifying form ‘indeed, truly’
*sustineō 2 endure, bear
ultrā any more
531 blanditi-a ae 1f. flattery, blandishment. Apollo was not going to waste any more breath on soft words
532 admiss-us a um released, headlong
*pass-us ūs 4m. step, stride, pace
533 ut: ‘as’ introduces a long simile (begin ut canis cum uīdit . . . , RLT(d), W31): the picture is of a dog chasing a hare (533–4), with the one (alter 535) closing in for the kill (535–6) and the other (alter 537) just evading the death-bite (537–8); the simile is resolved by sīc (539), cf. on 492 above
lepor -is 3m. hare
Gallic-us a um Gallic, from Gaul (France) – a Roman hunting-dog (greyhound?). The huntress is now being hunted
*aru-um ī 2n. field
534 hic . . . ille: cf. on 469 above
praed-a ae 1f. prey, catch
535 inhaereō 2 close in on. This is a fut. part., ‘one about to . . . ’
iam iamque at every moment
536 extent-us a um extended, at full stretch
stringō 3 graze, touch
uestīgia: here used to mean ‘feet’
rōstr-um ī 2n. muzzle
537 in ambiguō in doubt
an whether, if
comprehendō 3 comprehendī comprēnsus seize, catch
538 mors-us ūs 4m. jaw, bite, teeth
ēripitur: here used in reflexive rather than passive sense, ‘snatch oneself away from’
est: a dramatic example of the pl. subject taking a s. vb.
539 hic . . . ille: an exception to the rule at 472 above! Cleverly balanced paradox – both are celer, but for quite opposite reasons
540 quī: ‘he who’
541 ōcior -is quicker, too quick. A ‘rising’ tetracolon follows
requi-ēs requi-ēī 5f. rest
fugāx fugāc-is fugitive, swift, in flight
542 immineō 2 threaten, press on (+ dat.)
*crīn-is is 3m. hair
spars-us a um spread out (i.e. further reference to that loose hair)
ceruīc-ēs um 3f. (pl.) neck
adflō 1 breathe on
543 absūmō 3 absūmpsī absūmptum exhaust, use up
expalleō 2 grow pale
cit-us a um swift, speedy
544 Pēnēidas: Greek acc. pl. ‘of the river Peneus’
546 quā: refers forward to figūram, i.e. ‘(destroy the beauty) as a result of which . . .’
nimium too much
mūtandō: gerund, showing how Peneus is to destroy her beauty, RL175, W39
*figūr-a ae 1f. beauty, shape
(non-Ovidian lines omitted here: see the Comment)
548 *uix scarcely, hardly
prece fīnītā: abl. abs.
torpor -ris 3m. numbness
art-us -ūs 4m. limb
549 *moll-is e soft, tender, pleasant, weak. A golden line
*tenu-is e thin, slim, fine, clear
praecordi-a ōrum 2n. pl. breast
liber libr-ī 2m. bark. This is the same word as ‘book’. Is Ovid joking here about tenuis liber, the technical term for a ‘slender volume’ of short poems (of the sort Ovid used to write), when in fact Daphne is featuring in a mighty epic?
550 frōns frond-is 3f. leaf, foliage
*rām-us ī 2m. branch
brācchi-um ī 2n. arm
551 *uēlōx uēlōc-is fast, speedy. This line seems to ‘slow down’, like Daphne. Ovid may be playing on pēs, a physical and metrical foot
piger pigr-a um slow, sluggish. Cleverly placed next to uēlōx, creating a pleasing antithesis
rādīx rādīc-is 3f. root
552 cacūmen cacūmin-is 3n. tree-top
remaneō 2 remain
nitor -is 3m. youthful splendour, s
hine (bay-leaves are especially shiny)
ūnus: i.e. sōlus
553 stīpes stīpit-is 3m. trunk
554 trepidō 1 flutter, tremble. This is an inf. in acc. and inf. after sentit
cortex cortic-is 3m. bark
555 complector 3 dep. complexus embrace, surround
*membr-um ī 2n. limb
556 lign-um ī 2n. wood
refugiō 3 shrink from
557 c: ‘to whom’, after dīxit (558)
quoniam since, because
559 com-a ae hair: i.e. my hair (etc.) will always be decorated with laurel. Note the ‘rising’ tricolon with anaphora (tē). Repeated tē is common in hymns in which a mortal praises or appeals to a god; here it is a god praising a mortal! For expla-nations of the references in 558–65, see the end of the Comment
cithar-a ae 1f. lyre
laur-us ī 2f. bay-tree, laurel
560 Lati-us a um Latin
*laet-us a um joyful, happy
Triumph-us ī 2m. triumph(al procession)
561 canō 3 sing
uisō 3 witness, see
Capitōli-a ōrum 2n. pl. the Capitol
pomp-a ae 1f. procession
562 post-is is 3f. column, pl. porch
August-us a um of Augustus
fīd-us a um faithful, loyal
563 for-ēs um 3f. pl. door, entrance
tueor 2 dep. guard, watch over. For the form, see RLC2
querc-us ūs 4f. oak-tree
564 intōns-us a um uncut
iuuenāl-is e youthful
565 frōns frond-is 3f. leaf, foliage
honōs honōr-is 3m. honour, glory. The point is that the laurel is an evergreen, and its leaves, like Apollo’s hair, will always retain their glory
566 Paeān: i.e. Apollo. ‘Paean’ is a cult-title associated with Apollo as god of healing
factīs: i.e. newly made; abl. of means, RL100A(b), W14
laure-a ae 1f. laurel-tree
567 adnuō 3 agree, assent. Daphne is Apollo’s tree for ever, and Ovid tells us that she accedes to her everlasting fame with a nod (567)
utque and like/as
uīsa est: ‘seemed’ or ‘was seen’? Obviously the latter: Daphne has to respond to Apollo’s wish and, since she cannot speak, Ovid is explaining how she was able to signal agreement. Or is this the way Ovid has decided to tell us that she might not have assented (see the Study section)?
agitō 1 move, nod. For the form, see RLA4
cacūmen cacūmin-is 3n. tree-top
Learning vocabulary
aru-um ī 2n. field
crīn-is is 3m. hair
figūr-a ae 2f. beauty, shape
laet-us a um joyful, happy
membr-um ī 2n. limb
moll-is e soft, tender, pleasant, weak
pass-us ūs 4m. step, stride, pace
rām-us ī 2m. branch
sustineō 2 endure, bear
tenu-is e thin, slim, fine, clear
timid-us a um fearful, timid
uēlōx uēlōc-is fast, speedy
uix scarcely, hardly
Notes
452–62: Ovid starts the story with a teasing paradox: Apollo is fired with amor for Daphne not out of mere chance but because of Cupid’s anger (452–3). Now ‘anger’ is a suitably epic theme (Homer’s Iliad, the first work of Western literature c. 700 BC, begins with the word ‘anger’ – the anger of the mighty hero Achilles), but the saeua īra of a trivial god like Cupid sounds like a contradiction in terms anyway; and why would his anger fire Apollo with amor? Cupid surely wanted his victims to experience amor? But we know, like the Romans, that amor can be a painful business; and Cupid, being the mischievous god he is (456), is intent on taking revenge on Apollo for an insult. The result will be that the amor with which he fires Apollo will be frustrated. The path of true amor never does run smooth for humans, nor does it for gods either. But as prīmus indicates – first word, in strongly emphatic position – there will be a lot of it about in Metamorphōsēs for Apollo (and many other gods too). Would Romans have seen a feeble joke, therefore, in MetAMORphōsēs? Possibly, though the word is Greek and splits meta (‘change’) morphōsis (‘shape’).
At which point, a word of warning: amor covers a range of meanings, from sexual passion, sexual intercourse and strong desire at one extreme, to affection, liking and fondness at the other (see Introduction, pp. 9–10). Where exactly on the scale does Apollo’s amor come? Is his ‘love’ nothing but lust in fancy dress?
Something else is going on here. At Amores 1.1.5, Ovid describes how he was about to write an epic in hexameters (‘arms and the violent deeds of war’) when Cupid interrupted to force him to write elegiacs, on love-themes, instead. quis tibi, saeve puer, dedit hoc in carmina iūris, Ovid asks (‘Who gave you, cruel boy, this right over poems?’). Now, at 456, Cupid has popped up again, and Apollo asks what this ‘lustful’ boy has got to do with mighty weapons. Here, then, in one of the first stories of what, with its hexameters, looks as if it is going to be a great epic, Cupid is interfering yet again. This will be an epic with an elegiac difference.
superbus (454) sets us on the narrative path: Apollo is feeling very pleased with himself after killing the Python with his bow and arrows. It is Apollo’s character that motivates the story. When he sees Cupid playing with a bow and arrow too, he mocks him and tells him to go play with his torch (lighting flames of amor in his victims) and leave bows and arrows to the big boys, for serious business (455–62). Apollo sings up his own achieve-ments (457–62) in lines of tremendous bravura: note the repeated quī and dare, the second quī (459) leading to two magnificently ringing, boastful lines – strāuimus innumerīs is especially grandiose in a semi-golden line while pestiferō, tot and tumidum all lay on thick the danger he faced. Observe too the haughty royal ‘we’ (459–60). Apollo’s final mocking dismissal of Cupid, especially face . . . tuā, nescioquōs and irrītāre (461–2) – as if Cupid really were attempting to rival him – is an insult too far.
463–73: Cupid is all too ready to take up the challenge. A god is not mocked, and even in a mighty epic, the little god of love has a role to play (cf. Aeneid 1.664–722, where Venus sends Cupid to ensure Dido falls in love with Aeneas). To prove his point, Cupid selects Apollo as his first victim – for if Apollo can master all mortal creatures with his bow but Cupid can master Apollo with his, who is the true master then, Cupid argues (464–5)? Note Cupid’s ironic use of the royal ‘we’ at the end of his boast (nostrā, 465). At once Cupid flies up to the top of Parnassus (where he can see Daphne). This makes for an amusing picture: the chubby little god Cupid energetically (impiger) thrashing his way on his tiny wings up to the top of Parnassus, as if he were one of Parnassus’ eagles that still fly above the mountain to this day (466–7). Once there, he uses his arrows to make sure that Apollo is filled with amor, but that Daphne utterly rejects him (466–73). There is a pleasing contrast in Ovid’s treatment of the two victims. Daphne, a river nymph, simply needs to be hit (472); Apollo, a god, needs to have the arrow driven through his bones right into his marrow (473). Cupid, too, is now deus (472), not a silly little boy (though puer would fit the metre).
474–89: Ovid now dramatises Daphne and the beauty that will be her (unwitting) undoing. She is depicted as a rival – perhaps ‘admirer’ would be better – of Diana, finding pleasure in animal lairs and the spoils of the hunt (475–6); her hair is loose and free (477); she has no interest in men, marriage or sex (478–80); her father keeps dropping insistent hints about grandchildren (481–2), but she uses her innocent female charm on him alone (pleasant irony) to persuade him otherwise (483–7). He agrees (488): but, of course, he can do nothing about her when she is alone in the woods. As Ovid comments, her own beauty will prove her downfall (488–9) – as it often does in Ovid. The ‘lesson’ is, perhaps, marked by Ovid’s sudden sympathetic, intimate, personalising ‘apostrophe’ – that is, referring to a person in the second person (tē . . . optās . . . tuō tua 488–9) where the
third person has been the norm.
490–503: The narrative now returns to the point where Ovid left it to describe Daphne (amat 474, amat 490) – Apollo in amor, and so intensely that he wants to marry Daphne (cōnūbia 490: it is worth emphasising that cōnūbium does not mean simply ‘going to bed with’). That is the inevitable effect of Cupid’s darts. Further, he is so blinded that (lovely irony) even his own prophetic powers fail him – he hopes and desires, but cannot see that he will never succeed (491). Two similes now follow to describe the god’s passion: one of a field of stubble being set on fire after the harvest has been collected, and one of a traveller accidentally setting roadside hedges on fire (492–4). Similes at moments of high drama are common in epic: Homer’s Iliad provides the model, which was widely imi-tated. Is Ovid playing literary games with us here, introducing high epic into a jolly romp? Note that Ovid does not begin the simile by telling us to what the simile refers: he goes straight in ‘and like light stubble . . .’ For the connection we have to wait till 495 (another typical Homeric feature) – the fires are the fires burning in Apollo’s breast, all in the cause of an unfulfilled amor (495–6). It is always worth investigating the simile to see what precise relation it bears to the subject. spērat of 491, for example, connects to spērandō of 496; adolentur, facibus and ardent (492–3) all look forward to in flammās and ūritur (495–6). But can one make any other connections? Is Apollo in any sense leuēs stip-ulae? Or saepēs? Does the activity of the uiātor connect with anything in particular? If we find connections hard to make, this is often the case in Homer. In other words, it is sometimes the overall picture that counts, not the detail – in this case, the raging fire burning in the fields/hedges and the god’s heart. The hopelessness of it all is beautifully caught by the crunchy word-order and sentiment of sterilem spērandō nūtrit amōrem – ‘useless’ – ‘hope’ – ‘feed’ – ‘amor’. All too common a human experience . . .
We now picture Daphne through Apollo’s eyes. Inevitably, it is her physical appearance that so excites him – the face to start with (hair, eyes, ‘little lips’); then the arms (progres-sion up the arm from fingers, hands, fore-arm, upper arm); the nakedness of her arms suggests that what he cannot see (which presumably he now scans) is even more exciting to him (501–2). This is a psychology all males will understand. But what Apollo sees means nothing to Daphne: she’s off. So he must attempt to communicate his feelings, and Ovid tells us it will be pointless before he even begins, making his speech all the more deliciously amusing for the reader (502–3). But there is no pretence or hypocrisy in Apollo’s words. He has been struck by Cupid’s arrow: he is head over heels in amor.