by Peter Jones
194 uīuāx uīuāc-is long-lived, tenacious, vigorous
*ceru-us ī 2m. stag
195 spati-um ī 2n. length
cacūminō 1 bring to a point
*aur-is is 3f. ear
197 crūs crūr-is 3n. leg
maculōs-us a um dappled
uellus ueller-is 3n. hide
198 pauor-is 3m. fear
Autonoēius: (six syllables!), son of Autonoē, i.e. Actaeon; note the five speedy dactyls in this line
hērōs: Greek nom., hero
202 ingemō 3 ingemuī groan
uōx illa fuit: i.e. that was what passed for speech
203 fluō 3 fluxī flow
prīstin-us a um original
204 faciat: subj. of deliberative question
rēgāl-is e royal
tēct-um ī 2n. dwelling
205 hoc . . . illud: ‘the one [option], the other [option]’, objects of impedit. We would expect hoc (normally ‘the latter’), i.e. pudor, to refer to hiding in the woods, and illud (normally ‘the former’), i.e. timor, to going back home. Does this make the better sense? Cf. notes on passage 2, 1.472 and 539)
impediō 4 prevent, stop
Learning vocabulary
aur-is is 3f. ear
ceru-us ī 2m. stag
com-a ae 1f. hair
ecce behold! look!
simul as soon as, once
228 per quae . . . loca: ‘along what places’, ‘along the places where’
229 *h alas!
famul-us ī 2m. servants, helpers (i.e. the dogs that had faithfully served him)
*clāmō 1 shout, cry out for
libet it pleases, there is a desire to
231 *dēsum dēesse to be unforthcoming, offer no access to, lack, fail (+ dat.)
uerba . . . aethēr: superb, chilling chiasmus. Desperate to speak, all Actaeon can do is hear the howling of dogs
resonō 1 echo, resound
lātrāt-us ūs 4m. barking
232 Melanchaetēs . . . Thēridamās . . . Oresītrophos: Greek noms., names of dogs: ‘Blackhair’, ‘Killer’, ‘Hill-bred’
233 arm-um ī 2n. shoulder
234 *exeō exīre exiī set out
compendi-um ī 2n. short-cut
235 anticipō 1 occupy in advance
236 *coeō coīre gather. Note the c/qu sounds in this line – snapping teeth?
cōnferō 3 direct, aim
dēns dent-is 3m. tooth
237 loca: i.e. of his body
gemō 3 groan
son-us ī 2m. sound
238 quem: picks up sonum; subj. of characteristic, RL140.1, RLQ2(a), W38
ēdō 3 utter, make
239 *maest-us a um anguished, unhappy
repleō 2 fill
iug-um ī 2n. ridge
querēl-a ae 1f. cry, complaint
240 prōn-us a um bending down
supplex supplic-is supplicating, entreating
241 circumferō 3 cast around, look round with (+ acc.)
tacit-us a um silent
brācchia: he has no arms to stretch out; all he can use is his face
242 rapid-us a um ferocious, ravening (rapiō)
hortāt-us ūs 4m. exhortation, cry of encouragement
agmen agmin-is 3n. pack (of dogs)
243 īnstīgō 1 urge on
Actaeona: Greek acc. of Actaeon
244 certātim in competition
245 referō 3 turn back
abesse: ‘that [he/Actaeon] is absent’, acc. and inf. after queruntur; so capere (246)
246 offerōr offerrī oblātum (pass.) come one’s way unexpectedly, be heaven-sent
segn-is e slow, late (referring to Actaeon, understood subject of capere)
spectācul-um ī 2n. sight, spectacle
praed-a ae 1f. booty, prey
248 *fer-us a um savage, wild
249 undique on all sides
circumstō 1 stand round
*mergō 3 mersī mersum plunge, bury, overwhelm
rōstr-um ī 2n. muzzle
250 dīlacerō 1 shred, rip apart
falsī . . . ceruī: note the repeated adj. + noun rhymes in this and the next two lines – to any particular effect?
*fals-us a um fake, counterfeit
*imāgō imāgin-is 3f. image, guise
252 pharetrāt-us a um bequivered. A powerful golden line ends the passage
fertur: is said [to be] satiāta; more ironical ‘historicising’
Learning vocabulary
clāmō 1 shout, cry out for
coeō coīre gather, come together; be united (often sexually)
dēsum dēesse to be unforthcoming, offer no access to, lack, fail (+ dat.)
exeō exīre exiī set out
fals-us a um fake, counterfeit
fer-us a um savage, wild
h alas!
imāgō imāgin-is 3f. image, guise
maest-us a um anguished, unhappy
mergō 3 mersī mersum plunge, bury, overwhelm
Notes
138–42: This is a story with two morals: for Cadmus, call no man happy till he is dead (see Background above; 138–9 introduce the evidence for it); and for Actaeon, whose ghastly end is in Ovid’s eyes entirely undeserved, life’s (as it were) a bitch (141–2). These opening lines make up a teasing trailer for the story. Note the use of ‘apostrophe’ – first, to Cadmus, surely sympathetic (138); next, to the dogs (uōsque, canēs, 140), as if Ovid knew them (and therefore Actaeon) well, increasing the horror of satiātae . . . erīlī; and finally quaerās . . . inueniēs (141–2), presumably addressed to the reader rather than a consolation for Cadmus? Since Ovid himself was exiled for what he claimed as an unintended error on his part (see Introduction, p. 4), this seems particularly poignant.
143–54: Ovid sets the scene in two different locations: first, the mōns where the hunt has just finished (143–54), and second the uallis sacred to Diana into which Actaeon will innocently stray (155–62). Ovid sets the alarm-bells ringing at once: the mōns is already blood-stained (143), and so too is the hunter’s equipment (148); soon human blood will be added. Actaeon, relaxed and agreeable (placidō) master of the hunt, thoughtfully calls in his friends (146–7), since hunting has been good (148) and the heat is overwhelming (152), and, tragically ignorant of what lies in store for him, says the day’s fortūna is over (cf. 141), and they will start again tomorrow (151). But it isn’t, and he certainly won’t.
155–62: Meanwhile, in another part of the mountain, there is a locus amoenus (see Introduction, p. 8) – a thickly wooded vale at the end of which is a cave, tucked away (157) and natural (158–60). The idea of artless (nūllā arte) nature working like a living artist (simulāuit) is a typically Ovidian paradox. Romans were very keen on improving nature, but here nature has improved itself. The word-painting of 161–2 is especially effective – the tinkle of the water in 161, the broadening welcome of the grassy verges in 162. It is also sacred to Diana (156).
163–72: The locus, then, may be amoenus to her, but it will certainly not turn out to be so for Actaeon. Diana is the virgin (164) goddess of the woods and hunt (163), but she will turn out to be no friend of human hunters who accidentally trespass in her realm. Ovid strips her before our very eyes as she prepares for her bath (165–8). But it is not a bath. In the Roman fashion – the whole scene is amusingly reminiscent of a Roman aristocrat in her boudoir being attended by her slaves – she is in fact being washed down by her nymphs (171–2: note the brief epic-style catalogue of names). This is important. Were she in the pool, her nakedness would not be visible; but she is standing up, for all to see.
173–85: Enter the innocent Actaeon: 175 ignōtum . . . nōn certīs passibus and errāns (cf. error 142) all emphasise his innocence, and the reference to fate bringing him to the spot (176) clinches it. The reaction of the naked nymphs as he enters the grove is instantaneous: breast-beating and shrieks signal their distress (178–80), and they hurry to protect their mistress from human sight (180–1). But to no avail –
the goddess, naturally, is taller than they! (181–2: Ovid here plays amusingly with serious epic’s affirmation of the gods’ stature and dignity, cf. e.g. Aeneid 1.501). Her blush – a charged emotional moment, attracting a simile – is one of modesty (183–5: note sine ueste and cf. her protective action at 186–8), but also of rage (cf. 252). What, however, can she in her nakedness do?
186–97: Ovid now looks into her thoughts: she wishes she had her arrows (188) – she would have killed him at once if she had had them – but instead she sprinkles Actaeon’s face and hair with the water with which she is being washed down. At first glance this looks like the panic reaction of a silly woman, but note ultrīcibus (190): vengeance is what Diana wants, and the apparently harmless flicking of water will bring this about, as her subsequent words make clear (191). Note that she justifies her action by claiming that Actaeon would otherwise boast of seeing a goddess naked (192–3) – a feeble reason, perhaps, but there is no answer to it. Actaeon is immediately transformed. His metamorphosis begins with the head and works down the body: horns (194), neck and ears (195), arms becoming fore-legs (196–7) – his legs, presumably, become back legs, but we are looking at the front of his body at the moment – and his whole body is veiled (197). That last clause is significant. Actaeon’s humanity is not completely destroyed by Diana’s action, merely veiled: he is still all too human underneath (cf. Io, passage 3, 1.632–50, 729–34).
198–206: Deers are fearful creatures, tuned to flight, and Diana injects fear into him; off he goes – note the bitterly ironic Autonoēius hērōs (198) – and Ovid looks into his mind for us. Not yet aware of his transformation, he is amazed at his speed (199), and it is only when he sees his reflection in the pool that he understands what has happened (200). Like Io (1.637), he tries to speak but cannot (201); all he can do is groan and weep (202–3). A deer he may be physically, but psychologically he is still human, thinking human thoughts (203). Ovid, who (like many other poets) enjoyed playing on this aspect of metamorphosis, reads these thoughts for us: he is a hērōs (198), and ‘heroic’ shame and fear battle it out in his hero’s mind (204–5). The hesitation is fatal: his dogs spot him . . . (206).
228–41: As ever, Ovid picks up the horrible paradoxes and ironies of the situation, Actaeon being pursued where he hunted (228), fleeing from his own dogs (229), wanting to cry out but unable to (230–1), hearing no voice of his own but only the baying of the chasing hounds (231). This crisply polarised line conveys a terrifying sense of human helplessness (animō here means something like ‘will-power’: as a human he longs to speak, as an animal he cannot). Three dogs, who knew where a deer would go in the circumstances and had taken a short cut, get him/it first, in the back and the side (232–5); and while they hold back ‘their master’ (235), the rest of the pack converges (236). Actaeon is still trying to communicate as a human with sounds (237–9) – his inarticulate cries now echo around like the dogs’ barking (231) – and then tries to use a human gesture – supplication – to save himself (240). A suppliant kneeled before someone whose help he needed, stretching out his arms in appeal, to seize the knees and/or chin of the person he was supplicating. But what dog understands supplication? Besides, Actaeon has no hands with which (absurdly) to seize the canine knee (241) – as if that would have made any difference – and instead tries, pathetically, to appeal with his facial expression (Ovid exploits the same image with the equally helpless Io, passage 3, 1.729–33). As a deer, Actaeon is done for; but he still thinks as a human – and is done for no less. This scene is the stuff of nightmares.
242–52: Ovid saves the most dreadful irony till last: Actaeon’s companions wonder where he is and call out for him to join the kill. Note the ‘echoing’ repetition of Actaeona quaerunt/clamant 243–4 (looking for him oculīs, then shouting for him absentem). They imagine it is his fault (segnem, 246) that he is not there to enjoy the spectacle (242–6). But he is there, desperately wishing that he were not, or at any rate in different circumstances (247–8). Ovid exploits this despairing paradox to the full, generating the most intense pathos at Actaeon’s fate: uelut absentem (244) and ad nōmen . . . refert (245) are especially heart-rending. dīlacerant falsī dominum sub imāgine ceruī (250) makes a terrifying climax. It is their own master the dogs actually rip apart. No deception there. The fact that he is an imāgō (indeed, the real Actaeon is literally sub imāgine) makes no difference to them. They cannot tell the real from the false. And that is why they rip him apart – were he not an imāgō, were he not falsus, they would not. Only the helpless, falsus Actaeon knows the truth of the matter. And so his dogs finish him off, and Diana’s anger is satisfied (251–2).
6 Juno and Semele, Metamorphōsēs 3.253–315
3.253–9: The gods debate Diana’s revenge, but Juno rejoices at it
rūmor in †ambiguō est: aliīs uiolentior aequō
uīsa dea est, aliī laudant, †dignamque seuērā
†uirginitāte uocant; pars inuenit utraque causās.
255
sōla Iouis coniunx †nōn tam culpetne probetne
†ēloquitur, quam clāde domūs^ ab Agēnore ^ductae
gaudet, et ā †Tyriā collectum^ paelice trānsfert
in †generis sociōs ^odium.
3.259–72: Juno vows revenge on Jupiter’s new lover Semele
subit ecce priōrī
causa †recēns, grauidamque^ dolet dē sēmine magnī
260
esse Iouis †^Semelēn; dum linguam ad iūrgia soluit,
†‘prōfēcī quid enim totiēns per iūrgia?’ dīxit,
†‘ipsa petenda mihi est; ipsam, sī maxima Iūnō
†rīte uocor, perdam, sī mē gemmantia^ dextrā
†^scēptra tenēre decet, sī sum rēgīna Iouisque
265
et soror et coniunx, certē soror! †at, puto, fūrtō est
†contenta, et thalamī breuis est iniūria nostrī.
concipit (id †dērat), manifestaque crīmina plēnō
fert †uterō, et māter – quod uix mihi contigit – ūnō
dē Ioue uult fierī: tanta est †fīdūcia fōrmae.
270
†fallat eam faxō; nec sum Sāturnia, sī nōn
ab Ioue^ †mersa ^suō Stygiās penetrābit in undās.’
3.273–86: Juno disguises herself and makes a suggestion to Semele
surgit †ab hīs soliō, fuluāque recondita nūbe
†līmen adit Semelēs, nec nūbēs ante remōuit
quam simulāuit anum, posuitque ad †tempora cānōs,
275
sulcāuitque cutem rūgīs, et curua^ †trementī
^membra tulit passū. uōcem quoque fēcit †anīlem,
ipsaque erat Beroē, Semelēs Epidauria nūtrīx.
ergō ubi, captātō sermōne diūque †loquendō,
ad nōmen uēnēre Iouis, †suspīrat et ‘optō,
280
Iuppiter ut sit;’ ait ‘metuō tamen omnia. †multī
nōmine dīuōrum thalamōs iniēre †pudīcōs.
nec tamen esse Iouem satis est. †det pignus amōris,
si modo uērus is est: †quantusque et quālis ab altā
Iūnōne †excipitur, tantus tālisque rogātō
285
det tibi †complexūs, suaque ante īnsignia sūmat!’
3.287–96: Jupiter promises Semele to do whatever she wants – and regrets it
tālibus^ ignāram Iūnō †Cadmēida ^dictīs
fōrmārat: rogat †illa Iouem sine nōmine mūnus.
c deus †‘ēlige!’ ait, ‘nūllam patiēre repulsam.
†quōque magis crēdās, Stygiī^ quoque cōnscia suntō
290
nūmina †^torrentis; timor et deus ille deōrum est.’
†laeta malō, nimiumque potēns, peritūraque amantis
†obsequiō, Semelē ‘quālem Sāturnia’ dīxit
‘tē solet amplectī, †Veneris cum foedus inītis,
dā mihi tē tālem!’ uoluit deus ōra l
oquentis
295
opprimere: exierat iam uōx †properāta sub aurās.
3.297–315: Jupiter’s appearance kills Semele, but he saves the baby
†ingemuit; neque enim nōn haec optāsse, neque ille
nōn †iūrāsse potest. ergō maestissimus altum
aethera cōnscendit, †uultūque sequentia trāxit
nūbila, †quīs nimbōs immixtaque fulgura uentīs
300
addidit et †tonitrūs et inēuītābile fulmen.
†quā tamen usque potest, uīrēs sibi dēmere temptat
nec, quō^ †centimanum dēiēcerat ^igne Typha,
nunc armātur ^eō: nimium †feritātis in illō est.
est aliud leuius fulmen, c dextra †Cyclōpum
305
†saeuitiae flammaeque minus, minus addidit īrae:
‘tēla secunda’ uocant superī; capit illa, domumque
intrat †Agēnoream. corpus mortāle tumultūs
non tulit †aetheriōs, dōnīsque iugālibus arsit.
†imperfectus adhūc īnfāns genetrīcis ab aluō
310
ēripitur, patriōque^ †tener (sī crēdere dignum est)
†īnsuitur ^femorī, māternaque tempora complet.
†fūrtim illum prīmīs Īnō mātertera cūnīs
†ēducat, inde datum nymphae Nsēides antrīs
†occuluēre suīs, lactisque alimenta dedēre.
315
