by Peter Jones
651–67: A father finds his daughter transformed into a cow. He embraces her (651–2), but what does he say? mē miserum, rather than tē miseram, establishes the tenor of Inachus’ speech: it is all about himself. Shock (653–4) and despair at his own situation – his grief at her loss is now even more acute (654–5) – come first; and communication with her is impossible, he observes, since all she can do is sigh and moo (655–7). Since the main purpose of daughters in the ancient world was to produce heirs, his thoughts now turn to the destruction of any prospects for him in that respect (658–60), and he ends by reflecting that, since he is a god, even death can never end his torment (661–3: praeclūsaque . . . aeuum is a finely expressed sentiment). He seems unable to offer any sympathy to her. One wonders if a Roman father would have felt about his own daughter in such terms. Anyway, Argus moves him along and takes Io elsewhere: does ēreptam patrī reflect her feelings?
668–77: Jupiter cannot bear to see Io treated like this (668–9) – pity? Or because he still has primarily his own interests at heart? – and summons his son Mercury, his general fac-totum on all sorts of adventures, to kill Argus. Mercury dresses – epics always have dress-ing-scenes (cf. Odyssey 5.43–8) – and takes with him his famous sleep-inducing wand (672). Arriving on earth, he immediately (and unepically) undresses, ridding himself of everything except the wand, and appears as an innocent herdsman (676), putting his wand to novel use, stealing some goats to play the part convincingly and tootling away on his pipes (677). There was a long tradition of pastoral, or bucolic, poetry in Greek and Latin literature. Ovid shows that he can play that game too.
678–712: Argus, charmed by the music, is happy to let Mercury chat and play away, but none of this lulls him to sleep (678–87). One wonders why Mercury does not use his wand, but Ovid has other ideas – a story within a story, a favourite Ovidian device. So Ovid puts the story of Syrinx in Mercury’s mouth. Note the number of repeated ideas and words in 682–8 and the loquendō . . . canendō rhyme. Is Ovid trying to create a sense of monotony, as Mercury attempts to lull Argus to sleep? Anyway, this finally does the trick (688–712), though Ovid has to finish the story himself since Argus drops off half-way through it (713) – an amusing device, breaking the dramatic illusion. Note that this story-within-a-story is, again, of divine amor with all the usual features: beautiful girl, dedicated to Diana, roaming the woods, seen by a deity, runs for it, begs for transformation and (like Daphne) is honoured by the smitten deity even in her transformed state. It is also aetiological, explaining how pastoral (=bucolic) poetry came into existence, when Pan, god of the countryside (his name means ‘guardian of flocks’), discovered the pan-pipes (Greek surinx). From then on herdsmen (which Mercury was pretending to be) used them to accompany their songs, passing the lonely hours as their flocks grazed remote pastures and hills. By making Mercury sing pastoral poetry to get Argus to sleep, one wonders, idly, whether Ovid was making a little joke about the tedium of the genre.
713–23: Now that Argus is asleep, Mercury finally brings his wand into play, ensuring he stays asleep (715–16). This seems rather unnecessary, since without delay Mercury beheads Argus (but where did he get the sword from?) and throws the head down from the rock where Argus had earlier been on guard (717–19, cf. 666–7). A sympathetic ‘apostrophe’ contrasts the single night (of death) with the hundred eyes that Argus was once able to use, eyes now at any rate preserved for ever in the tail of Juno’s sacred bird, the peacock (720–3) – more aetiology.
724–33: The death of Argus enrages Juno, and she takes it out not on Jupiter but on the hapless Io. She terrifies Io with visions of the Furies (725) and plants goads in her (stimulus is literally a cattle-prod, an apt choice of word, 726), as a result of which she careers madly all over the world (727). There can be few passages in Ovid more sweetly touching than Io’s appeal for mercy on the banks of the Nile: as a prayerful suppliant (729–30), she lifts her face to the heavens (all she could lift, as Ovid says – she has no arms to use, cf. 636–7) – and seems to take issue with Jupiter and beg for release (733); ‘seems’, of course, because she cannot speak. All she can offer is the (wonderfully onomatopoeic and pathos-filled) tricolon of groans and tears and luctisonō mūgītū (732) – made all the more heart-rending by the one-off luctisonus.
734–46: This time, even Jupiter agrees enough is enough. He embraces his wife (734), promises never to stray again – at least with Io – and confirms his promise with an oath (735–7). Peace between the two is (temporarily) restored, and Ovid must now turn Io back into a woman (animal rarely changes into human in Ovid). He begins with the whole body (the coat falls off, 739), then works down from the head (horns, eyes, mouth), to shoulders and legs (739–41), focussing on the way the hooves split into fingers (742). Io is as beautiful now as she was before (743, cf. 612). Delighted to be back on two feet, she lifts herself up onto them (she has been prone, in suppliant position) – but dare she utter a noise? She can see she has been physically changed (744, cf. 640–1), but has no idea what noise she will make until she actually tries it (745, cf. 637–8). How awful to be restored to beauteous womanhood, yet able only to moo! Timidly, she gives it a go . . . (746). Pathos and comedy sit easily side by side in this little masterpiece.
4 Phaethon, Metamorphōsēs 2.150–216, 227–38, 260–71, 301–39
Please note that elisions are no longer marked, and linking devices will be more sparingly used, largely to mark agreements between words in different lines.
Background
Io bears a son Epaphus, who has a friend Phaethon (‘Shining’). When Phaethon boasts that he is the son of Sol, the sun-god, Epaphus challenges the claim; but Phaethon’s mother Clymene swears it is true, and sends Phaethon to Sol to confirm it. Sol does so, promising Phaethon to grant him any wish. When Phaethon asks to take charge of the chariot in which he rides across the sky every day, Sol is distraught and tries to persuade him of the appalling difficulty and danger of what he wants to do. But a promise is a promise: Phaethon is adamant. So Sol tries to advise the young man:
‘If you can at least comply with your father’s advice in this respect,
be sparing with the whip, but work the reins hard.
The horses need no encouragement to gallop ahead; it’s restraint they need . . .
Keep to the route marked out by the wheel-tracks.
So that earth and sky do not become over-heated,
Don’t drive the chariot too low or too high:
Too high, and heaven will burn,
Too low, and earth will. Your safest route is in the middle . . .’
2.150–60: Phaethon boards the chariot, the gates open and the horses race off
occupat ille leuem †iuuenālī corpore currum,
150
statque †super, manibusque leuēs contingere habēnās
gaudet, et inuītō grātēs agit inde parentī.
intereā †uolucrēs Pyroīs et Eōus et Aethōn,
Sōlis equī, quārtusque Phlegōn †hinnītibus^ aurās
†^flammiferīs implent, pedibusque repāgula pulsant.
155
quae postquam †Tēthys, fātōrum ignāra nepōtis,
†reppulit, et facta est immēnsī cōpia caelī,
†corripuēre uiam, pedibusque per āera mōtīs,
†obstantēs scindunt nebulās, pennīsque leuātī
praetereunt ortōs īsdem dē partibus †Eurōs.
160
2.161–70: The horses, sensing a light chariot, veer off-course, leaving Phaethon helpless
sed leue †pondus erat, nec quod cognōscere possent
†Sōlis equī, solitāque iugum grauitāte carēbat.
†utque labant curuae^ iūstō sine pondere ^nāuēs,
perque mare †^īnstabilēs nimiā leuitāte feruntur,
sīc, onere †adsuētō uacuus, dat in āera saltūs,
165
†succutiturque altē, similisque est currus inānī.
†quod simulac sēn
sēre, ruunt trītumque^ relinquunt
†quadriiugī ^spatium, nec quō prius ōrdine currunt.
ipse pauet, nec quā †commissās flectat habēnās
nec †scit quā sit iter, nec, sī sciat, imperet illīs.
170
2.171–7: Cold stars heat up, slow stars flee
tum primum †radiīs gelidī caluēre Triōnēs,
et uetitō frūstrā temptārunt †aequore tingī.
†quaeque polō posita est glaciālī proxima Serpēns –
†frīgore pigra prius nec formīdābilis ūllī –
†incaluit, sūmpsitque nouās feruōribus īrās.
175
tē quoque †turbātum memorant fūgisse, Boōte,
quamuīs tardus erās et tē tua †plaustra tenēbant.
2.178–92: Phaethon is terrified, out of control like a rudderless ship
ut uērō summō †dēspexit ab aethere terrās^
īnfēlīx Phaethōn †penitus penitusque ^iacentēs,
†palluit, et subitō genua intremuēre timōre,
180
suntque oculīs †tenebrae per tantum lūmen obortae.
et iam †māllet equōs numquam tetigisse paternōs,
iam cognōsse †genus piget et ualuisse rogandō;
iam †Meropis dīcī cupiēns, ita fertur ut acta^
†praecipitī ^pīnus Boreā, c uicta^ remīsit
185
†^frēna suus rēctor, quam dīs uōtīsque relīquit.
quid †faciat? multum caelī post terga relictum,
ante oculōs †plūs est: animō mētītur utrumque,
et †modo, quōs illī fātum contingere nōn est
†prōspicit occāsūs, interdum respicit ortūs;
190
†quidque agat ignārus, stupet et nec frēna remittit
nec retinēre ualet, nec nōmina nōuit equōrum.
2.193–209: Phaethon spots Scorpio, drops the reins in fear and the horses bolt
†sparsa^ quoque in uariō passim ^mīrācula caelō
†uastārumque uidet trepidus simulācra ferārum.
est †locus, in geminōs ubi brācchia concauat arcūs
195
†Scorpius et, caudā flexīsque utrimque lacertīs,
†porrigit in spatium signōrum membra duōrum.
†hunc^ puer ut nigrī ^madidum sūdōre uenēnī
uulnera †curuātā* ^minitantem *cuspide uīdit,
mentis †inops gelidā formīdine lōra remīsit.
200
†quae^ postquam summum tetigēre ^iacentia tergum,
†exspatiantur equī, nūllōque inhibente per aurās
†ignōtae regiōnis eunt, quāque impetus ēgit,
†hāc sine lēge ruunt, altōque sub aethere fīxīs^
†incursant ^stellīs, rapiuntque per āuia currum
205
et modo summa petunt, modo per †dēclīue uiāsque^
^praecipitēs †spatiō terrae propiōre feruntur,
†īnferiusque suīs frāternōs^ currere Lūna
†admīrātur ^equōs, ambustaque nūbila fūmant.
2.210–16: The earth is engulfed in flames
†corripitur flammīs, ut quaeque altissima, tellūs
210
†fissaque agit rīmās et sūcīs āret adēmptīs.
†pābula cānēscunt, cum frondibus ūritur arbor,
†māteriamque suō praebet seges ārida damnō.
parua queror: magnae pereunt cum †moenibus urbēs,
cumque suīs tōtās^ populīs †incendia ^gentēs
215
in †cinerem uertunt; siluae cum montibus ardent; . . .
[Ovid provides a catalogue of mountains that burst into flame]
2.227–38: Phaethon too feels the fiery heat
tum uērō Phaethōn cūnctīs ē partibus orbem^
227
†adspicit ^accēnsum, nec tantōs sustinet aestūs,
†feruentēsque aurās uelut ē fornāce profundā
ōre trahit, currūsque suōs †candēscere sentit.
230
et neque iam cinerēs †ēiectātamque fauillam
ferre potest, †calidōque inuoluitur undique fūmō.
quōque †eat aut ubi sit, piceā cālīgine tēctus,
nescit, et †arbitriō uolucrum raptātur equōrum.
sanguine^ tum †crēdunt in corpora summa ^uocātō
235
†Aethiopum populōs nigrum trāxisse colōrem;
tum facta est †Libyē, raptīs ūmōribus aestū,
ārida . . .
[Ovid provides a catalogue of rivers of the world that dried up]
2.260–71: The earth splits open, the sea contracts, fish die
†dissilit omne solum, penetratque in Tartara rīmīs
260
lūmen, et †īnfernum terret cum coniuge rēgem;
et mare †contrahitur, siccaeque est campus harēnae
quod modo pontus erat; †quōsque altum tēxerat aequor,
†exsistunt montēs et sparsās Cycladas augent.
†īma petunt piscēs, nec sē super aequōra curvī^
265
tollere †cōnsuētās audent ^delphīnes in aurās;
corpora †phōcārum, summō resupīna profundō,
†exanimāta natant; ipsum quoque Nērea fāma est
Dōridaque et nātās †tepidīs latuisse sub antrīs.
ter †Neptūnus aquīs cum torvō brācchia vultū
270
†exserere ausus erat, ter nōn tulit āeris ignēs.
[Mother Earth, choking in the smoke and heat, complains to Jupiter]
2.301–18: Jupiter smashes the chariot with a thunderbolt
dīxerat haec Tellūs; neque enim †tolerāre uapōrem
301
†ulterius potuit nec dīcere plūra, suumque^
rettulit ^ōs in sē †propiōraque mānibus antra.
at pater †omnipotēns, superōs testātus et ipsum
quī dederat currūs, nisi opem ferat, omnia^ fātō
305
†^interitūra grauī, summam petit arduus arcem,
unde solet nūbēs lātīs †indūcere terrīs,
unde mouet †tonitrūs uībrātaque fulmina iactat.
sed neque †quās^ posset terrīs indūcere ^nūbēs
tunc habuit, nec quōs^ caelō †dēmitteret ^imbrēs.
310
†intonat, et dextrā lībrātum fulmen ab aure
mīsit in †aurīgam, pariterque animāque rotīsque
†expulit, et saeuīs compescuit ignibus ignēs.
†cōnsternantur equī et, saltū in contrāria factō,
colla †iugō ēripiunt abruptaque lōra relinquunt.
315
illīc frēna iacent, illīc †tēmōne reuulsus
†axis, in hāc^ radiī frāctārum ^parte rotārum,
sparsaque sunt lātē †lacerī^ uestīgia ^currūs.
2.319–28: Phaethon falls to earth like a comet, and is buried by Naiads
at Phaethōn, †rutilōs flammā populante capillōs,
†uoluitur in praeceps, longōque per āera tractū
320
fertur, †ut interdum dē caelō stella serēnō
etsī nōn cecidit, potuit cecidisse uidērī.
†quem procul ā patriā dīuersō maximus^ orbe
†excipit ^Ēridanus fūmantiaque abluit ōra.
Nāides †Hesperiae trifidā fūmantia flammā
325
corpora dant †tumulō, signant quoque carmine saxum:
HĪC : †SITUS : EST : PHAETHŌN : CURRŪS : AURĪGA : PATERNĪ
†QUEM : SĪ : NON : TENUIT : MAGNĪS : TAMEN : EXCIDIT : AUSĪS
2.329–39: Sol grieves, and Clymene scours the world to find the body
nam pater †obductōs,^ luctū miserābilis aegrō,
condiderat ^uultūs, et, sī modo crēdimus, ūnum
330
†īsse diem sine sōle ferunt. incendia lūmen
&n
bsp; praebēbant, aliquisque †malō fuit ūsus in illō.
at †Clymenē, postquam dīxit quaecumque^ fuērunt
