Metamorphoses IX.574-684
Byblis, completely rejected, flees to the wilderness in distress and tearfully becomes a fountain.
attonitus subita iuvenis Maeandrius ira
proicit acceptas lecta sibi parte tabellas, 575
vixque manus retinens trepidantis ab ore ministri,
‘dum licet, o vetitae scelerate libidinis auctor,
effuge!’ ait ‘qui, si nostrum tua fata pudorem
non traherent secum, poenas mihi morte dedisses.’
ille fugit pavidus, dominaeque ferocia Cauni 580
dicta refert. palles audita, Bybli, repulsa,
et pavet obsessum glaciali frigore corpus.
mens tamen ut rediit, pariter rediere furores,
linguaque vix tales icto dedit aere voces:
‘et merito! quid enim temeraria vulneris huius 585
indicium feci? quid, quae celanda fuerunt,
tam cito commisi properatis verba tabellis?
ante erat ambiguis animi sententia dictis
praetemptanda mihi. ne non sequeretur euntem,
parte aliqua veli, qualis foret aura, notare 590
debueram, tutoque mari decurrere, quae nunc
non exploratis inplevi lintea ventis.
auferor in scopulos igitur, subversaque toto
obruor oceano, neque habent mea vela recursus.
‘Quid quod et ominibus certis prohibebar amori 595
indulgere meo, tum cum mihi ferre iubenti
excidit et fecit spes nostras cera caducas?
nonne vel illa dies fuerat, vel tota voluntas,
sed potius mutanda dies? deus ipse monebat
signaque certa dabat, si non male sana fuissem. 600
et tamen ipsa loqui, nec me committere cerae
debueram, praesensque meos aperire furores.
vidisset lacrimas, vultum vidisset amantis;
plura loqui poteram, quam quae cepere tabellae.
invito potui circumdare bracchia collo, 605
et, si reicerer, potui moritura videri
amplectique pedes, adfusaque poscere vitam.
omnia fecissem, quorum si singula duram
flectere non poterant, potuissent omnia, mentem.
forsitan et missi sit quaedam culpa ministri: 610
non adiit apte, nec legit idonea, credo,
tempora, nec petiit horamque animumque vacantem.
‘Haec nocuere mihi. neque enim est de tigride natus
nec rigidas silices solidumve in pectore ferrum
aut adamanta gerit, nec lac bibit ille leaenae. 615
vincetur! repetendus erit, nec taedia coepti
ulla mei capiam, dum spiritus iste manebit.
nam primum, si facta mihi revocare liceret,
non coepisse fuit: coepta expugnare secundum est.
quippe nec ille potest, ut iam mea vota relinquam, 620
non tamen ausorum semper memor esse meorum.
et, quia desierim, leviter voluisse videbor,
aut etiam temptasse illum insidiisque petisse,
vel certe non hoc, qui plurimus urget et urit
pectora nostra, deo, sed victa libidine credar; 625
denique iam nequeo nil commisisse nefandum.
et scripsi et petii: reserata est nostra voluntas;
ut nihil adiciam, non possum innoxia dici.
quod superest, multum est in vota, in crimina parvum.’
dixit, et (incertae tanta est discordia mentis), 630
cum pigeat temptasse, libet temptare. modumque
exit et infelix committit saepe repelli.
mox ubi finis abest, patriam fugit ille nefasque,
inque peregrina ponit nova moenia terra.
Tum vero maestam tota Miletida mente 635
defecisse ferunt, tum vero a pectore vestem
diripuit planxitque suos furibunda lacertos;
iamque palam est demens, inconcessaeque fatetur
spem veneris, siquidem patriam invisosque penates
deserit, et profugi sequitur vestigia fratris. 640
utque tuo motae, proles Semeleia, thyrso
Ismariae celebrant repetita triennia bacchae,
Byblida non aliter latos ululasse per agros
Bubasides videre nurus. quibus illa relictis
Caras et armiferos Lelegas Lyciamque pererrat. 645
iam Cragon et Limyren Xanthique reliquerat undas,
quoque Chimaera iugo mediis in partibus ignem,
pectus et ora leae, caudam serpentis habebat.
deficiunt silvae, cum tu lassata sequendo
concidis, et dura positis tellure capillis, 650
Bybli, iaces, frondesque tuo premis ore caducas.
saepe illam nymphae teneris Lelegeides ulnis
tollere conantur, saepe, ut medeatur amori,
praecipiunt, surdaeque adhibent solacia menti.
muta iacet, viridesque suis tenet unguibus herbas 655
Byblis, et umectat lacrimarum gramina rivo.
naidas his venam, quae numquam arescere posset,
subposuisse ferunt. quid enim dare maius habebant?
protinus, ut secto piceae de cortice guttae,
utve tenax gravida manat tellure bitumen; 660
utve sub adventu spirantis lene favoni
sole remollescit quae frigore constitit unda;
sic lacrimis consumpta suis Phoebeia Byblis
vertitur in fontem, qui nunc quoque vallibus illis
nomen habet dominae, nigraque sub ilice manat. 665
Fama novi centum Cretaeas forsitan urbes
implesset monstri, si non miracula nuper
Iphide mutata Crete propiora tulisset.
proxima Cnosiaco nam quondam Phaestia regno
progenuit tellus ignotum nomine Ligdum, 670
ingenua de plebe virum, nec census in illo
nobilitate sua maior, sed vita fidesque
inculpata fuit. gravidae qui coniugis aures
vocibus his monuit, cum iam prope partus adesset.
‘quae voveam, duo sunt: minimo ut relevere dolore, 675
utque marem parias. onerosior altera sors est,
et vires fortuna negat. quod abominor, ergo
edita forte tuo fuerit si femina partu,—
invitus mando; pietas, ignosce!—necetur.’
dixerat, et lacrimis vultum lavere profusis, 680
tam qui mandabat, quam cui mandata dabantur.
sed tamen usque suum vanis Telethusa maritum
sollicitat precibus, ne spem sibi ponat in arto.
certa sua est Ligdo sententia.
The grandson of Maeander, in a passion of sudden rage, threw down the tablets which he had taken and read half through, and, scarcely restraining his hands from the trembling servant’s throat, he cried: “Flee while you may, you rascally promoter of a lawless love! But if your fate did not involve our own disgrace, you should have paid the penalty for this with death.” He fled in terror and reported to his mistress her brother’s savage answer. When Byblis heard that her love had been repulsed, she grew pale, and her whole body trembled in the grip of an icy chill. But when her senses came back, her mad love came back with equal force; and then with choked and feeble utterance she spoke: “Deservedly I suffer! For why did I so rashly tell him of this wound of mine? Why was I in such a haste to commit to tablets what should have been concealed? I should first have tried his disposition towards me by obscure hints. That my voyage might have a favourable wind, I should first have tested with a close-reefed sail what the wind was, and so have fared in safety; but now with sails full spread I have encountered unexpected winds. And so my ship is on the rocks; with the full force of ocean am I overwhelmed, and have no power to turn back upon my course.
“Nay, by the clearest omens I was warned not to confess my love, at the time when the letter fell from my hand as I bade my servant bear it, and taught me that my hopes must fall as well. Should not that day or my whole purpose—say rather, should not the day have been postponed? God himself warned me and gave me clear signs had I not been mad with love. And yet I should have told him with my own lips, I should in person have confessed my passion, and not have trusted my inmost heart to waxen tablets! He should have seen my tears, he should have seen his lover’s face; I could have spoken more than any tablets could hold; I could have thrown my arms about his unwilling neck and, if I were rejected, I could have seemed at the point of death, could have embraced his feet and, lying prostrate there, have begged for life. I should have done all things, which together might have won his stubborn soul if one by one they could not. Perhaps the servant whom I sent made some mistake: did not approach him rightly; chose an unfitting time, I suppose, sought an hour when his mind was full of other things.
“All this has wrought against me. For he is no tigress’ son; he has no heart of hard flint or solid iron or adamant; no lioness has suckled him. He shall be conquered! I must go to him again; nor shall I weary in my attempts while I have breath left in my body. For if it were not too late to undo what I have done, it was the best thing not to have begun at all; but now that I have begun, the second best is to win through with what I have begun. Though I should now abandon my suit, he cannot help remembering always how far I have already dared. And in that case, just because I did give up, I shall seem either to have been fickle in my desire, or else to have been trying to tempt him and catch him in a snare. Whichever of these he thinks of me, he certainly will not believe that I have been overcome by that god who more than all others rules and inflames our hearts, but actuated by lust alone. In short, I cannot now undo the wrong that I have done. I have both written and have wooed him: my desires are revealed. Though I do nothing more, I cannot seem other than guilty in his sight. As for the rest, I have much to hope and naught to fear.” Thus does she argue; and (so great is her uncertainty of soul), while she is sorry that she tried at all, she wants to try again. The wretched girl tries every art within her power, but is repeatedly repulsed. At length, when there seemed to be no limit to her importunity, the youth fled from his native land and from this shameful wooing, and founded a new city1 in another land.
Then, they say, the wretched daughter of Miletus lost all control of reason; she tore her garments from her breast, and in mad passion beat her arms. Now before all the world she rages and publicly proclaims her unholy love in that she leaves her land and hated home and follows after her fleeing brother. And just as, crazed by thy thyrsus, O son of Semele, thy Ismarian worshippers throng thy triennial orgies, so the women of Bubassus2 beheld Byblis go shrieking through the broad fields. Leaving these behind, she wandered through the land of Caria, by the wellarmed Leleges and the country of the Lycians. And now she had passed by Cragus and Limyre and Xanthus’ stream and the ridge where dwelt Chimaera, that fire-breathing monster with lion’s head and neck and serpent’s tail. Clear beyond the wooded ridge she went, and then at last, wearied with pursuing, you fell, O Byblis, and lay there with your hair streaming over the hard ground and your face buried in the fallen leaves. Often the Lelegeian nymphs try to lift her in their soft arms, often advise her how she may cure her love and offer comfort to her unheeding soul. Byblis lies without a word, clutching the green herbs with her fingers, and watering the grass with her flowing tears. The naiads are said to have given her a vein of tears which could never dry; for what greater gift had they to bestow? Straightway, as drops of pitch drip forth from the gashed pine-bark; as sticky bitumen oozes from rich heavy earth; or as, at the approach of the soft breathing west-wind, the water which had stood frozen with the cold now melts beneath the sun; so Phoebean Byblis, consumed by her own tears, is changed into a fountain, which to this day in those valleys has the name of its mistress, and issues forth from under a dark ilex-tree.
The story of this unnatural passion would, perhaps, have been the talk of Crete’s hundred towns, if Crete had not lately had a wonder of its own in the changed form of Iphis. For there once lived in the Phaestian country, not far from the royal town of Cnosus, a man named Ligdus, otherwise unknown, of free-born but humble parentage; nor was his property any greater than his birth. But he was of blameless life and trustworthy. When now the time drew near when his wife should give birth to a child, he warned and instructed her with these words: “There are two things which I would ask of Heaven: that you may be delivered with the least possible pain, and that your child may be a boy. Girls are more trouble, and fortune has denied them strength. Therefore (and may Heaven save the mark!), if by chance your child should prove to be a girl (I hate to say it, and may I be pardoned for the impiety), let her be put to death.” He spoke, and their cheeks were bathed in tears, both his who ordered and hers to whom the command was given. Nevertheless, Telethusa ceaselessly implored her husband (though all in vain) not so to straiten her expectation; but Ligdus remained steadfast in his determination.
Caunus, in south-western Caria.
A town in Caria.