illa quidem sentit foedoque repugnat amori
et secum “quo mente feror? quid molior?” inquit 320
“di, precor, et pietas sacrataque iura parentum,
hoc prohibete nefas scelerique resistite nostro,
si tamen hoc scelus est. sed enim damnare negatur
hanc Venerem pietas: coeunt animalia nullo
cetera dilectu, nec habetur turpe iuvencae 325
ferre patrem tergo, fit equo sua filia coniunx,
quasque creavit init pecudes caper, ipsaque, cuius
semine concepta est, ex illo concipit ales.
felices, quibus ista licent! humana malignas
cura dedit leges, et quod natura remittit, 330
invida iura negant. gentes tamen esse feruntur,
in quibus et nato genetrix et nata parenti
iungitur, et pietas geminato crescit amore.
me miseram, quod non nasci mihi contigit illic,
fortunaque loci laedor!—quid in ista revolvor? 335
spes interdictae, discedite! dignus amari
ille, sed ut pater, est.—ergo, si filia magni
non essem Cinyrae, Cinyrae concumbere possem:
nunc, quia iam meus est, non est meus, ipsaque damno
est mihi proximitas: aliena potentior essem. 340
ire libet procul hinc patriaeque relinquere fines,
dum scelus effugiam; retinet malus ardor euntem,
ut praesens spectem Cinyran tangamque loquarque
osculaque admoveam, si nil conceditur ultra.
ultra autem spectare aliquid potes, inpia virgo? 345
et quot confundas et iura et nomina, sentis?
tune eris et matris paelex et adultera patris?
tune soror nati genetrixque vocabere fratris?
nec metues atro crinitas angue sorores,
quas facibus saevis oculos atque ora petentes 350
noxia corda vident? at tu, dum corpore non es
passa nefas, animo ne concipe neve potentis
concubitu vetito naturae pollue foedus!
velle puta: res ipsa vetat; pius ille memorque est
moris—et o vellem similis furor esset in illo!” 355
‘Dixerat, at Cinyras, quem copia digna procorum,
quid faciat, dubitare facit, scitatur ab ipsa,
nominibus dictis, cuius velit esse mariti;
illa silet primo patriisque in vultibus haerens
aestuat et tepido suffundit lumina rore. 360
virginei Cinyras haec credens esse timoris,
flere vetat siccatque genas atque oscula iungit;
Myrrha datis nimium gaudet consultaque, qualem
optet habere virum, “similem tibi” dixit; at ille
non intellectam vocem conlaudat et “esto 365
tam pia semper” ait. pietatis nomine dicto
demisit vultus sceleris sibi conscia virgo.
‘Noctis erat medium, curasque et corpora somnus
solverat; at virgo Cinyreia pervigil igni
carpitur indomito furiosaque vota retractat 370
et modo desperat, modo vult temptare, pudetque
et cupit, et, quid agat, non invenit, utque securi
saucia trabs ingens, ubi plaga novissima restat,
quo cadat, in dubio est omnique a parte timetur,
sic animus vario labefactus vulnere nutat 375
huc levis atque illuc momentaque sumit utroque,
nec modus et requies, nisi mors, reperitur amoris.
mors placet. erigitur laqueoque innectere fauces
destinat et zona summo de poste revincta
“care, vale, Cinyra, causamque intellege mortis!” 380
dixit et aptabat pallenti vincula collo.
‘Murmura verborum fidas nutricis ad aures
pervenisse ferunt limen servantis alumnae.
surgit anus reseratque fores mortisque paratae
instrumenta videns spatio conclamat eodem 385
seque ferit scinditque sinus ereptaque collo
vincula dilaniat; tum denique flere vacavit,
tum dare conplexus laqueique requirere causam.
muta silet virgo terramque inmota tuetur
et deprensa dolet tardae conamina mortis. 390
instat anus canosque suos et inania nudans
ubera per cunas alimentaque prima precatur,
ut sibi committat, quicquid dolet. illa rogantem
aversata gemit; certa est exquirere nutrix
nec solam spondere fidem. “dic” inquit “opemque 395
me sine ferre tibi: non est mea pigra senectus.
seu furor est, habeo, quae carmine sanet et herbis;
sive aliquis nocuit, magico lustrabere ritu;
ira deum sive est, sacris placabilis ira.
quid rear ulterius? certe fortuna domusque 400
sospes et in cursu est: vivunt genetrixque paterque.”
Myrrha patre audito suspiria duxit ab imo
pectore; nec nutrix etiamnum concipit ullum
mente nefas aliquemque tamen praesentit amorem;
propositique tenax, quodcumque est, orat, ut ipsi 405
indicet, et gremio lacrimantem tollit anili
atque ita conplectens infirmis membra lacertis
“sensimus,” inquit “amas! et in hoc mea (pone timorem)
sedulitas erit apta tibi, nec sentiet umquam
hoc pater.” exiluit gremio furibunda torumque 410
ore premens “discede, precor, miseroque pudori
parce!” ait; instanti “discede, aut desine” dixit
“quaerere, quid doleam! scelus est, quod scire laboras.”
horret anus tremulasque manus annisque metuque
tendit et ante pedes supplex procumbit alumnae 415
et modo blanditur, modo, si non conscia fiat,
terret et indicium laquei coeptaeque minatur
mortis et officium commisso spondet amori.
extulit illa caput lacrimisque inplevit obortis
pectora nutricis conataque saepe fateri 420
saepe tenet vocem pudibundaque vestibus ora
texit et “o” dixit “felicem coniuge matrem!”
hactenus, et gemuit. gelidus nutricis in artus
ossaque (sensit enim) penetrat tremor, albaque toto
vertice canities rigidis stetit hirta capillis, 425
multaque, ut excuteret diros, si posset, amores,
addidit. at virgo scit se non falsa moneri;
certa mori tamen est, si non potiatur amore.
“vive,” ait haec, “potiere tuo”—et, non ausa “parente”
dicere, conticuit promissaque numine firmat. 430
She, indeed, is fully aware of her vile passion and fights against it and says within herself: ‘To what is my purpose tending? What am I planning? O gods, I pray you, and piety and the sacred rights of parents, keep this sin from me and fight off my crime, if indeed it is a crime. But I am not sure, for piety refuses to condemn such love as this. Other animals mate as they will, nor is it thought base for a heifer to endure her sire, nor for his own offspring to be a horse’s mate; the goat goes in among the flocks which he has fathered, and the very birds conceive from those from whom they were conceived. Happy they who have such privilege! Human civilization has made spiteful laws, and what nature allows, the jealous laws forbid. And yet they say that there are tribes among whom mother and son, daughter with father mates, and natural love is increased by the double bond. Oh, wretched me, that it was not my lot to be born there, and that I am thwarted by the mere accident of place! Why do I dwell on such things? Avaunt, lawless desires! Worthy to be loved is he, but as a father.—Well, if I were not the daughter of great Cinyras, to Cinyras could I be joined. But as it is, because he is mine, he is not mine; and my very propinquity is my loss: I should as a stranger be better off. It is well to go far away, to leave the borders of my native land, if only I may flee from crime; but an evil passion keeps me from going, that I may see Cinyras face to face, may touch him, speak with him and kiss him, if nothing else is granted. But can you hope for aught else, you unnatural girl? Do you realize how many ties and names you are confusing? Will you be the rival of your mother, the mistress of your father? Will you be called the sister of your son, the mother of your brother? And have you no fear of the sisters with black snakes in their hair, whom guilty souls see brandishing cruel torches before their eyes and faces? But you, while you have not yet sinned in body, do not conceive sin in your heart, and defile not great nature’s law with unlawful longing. Grant that you wish it: facts themselves forbid. He is a righteous man and heedful of moral law—and oh, how I wish a like passion were in him!’
“She spoke; but Cinyras, whom a throng of worthy suitors caused to doubt what he should do, inquired of her herself, naming them over, whom she wished for husband. She is silent at first and, with gaze fixed on her father’s face, wavers in doubt, while the warm tears fill her eyes. Cinyras, attributing this to maidenly alarm, bids her not to weep, dries her cheeks and kisses her on the lips. Myrrha is too rejoiced at this and, being asked what kind of husband she desires, says: ‘One like you.’ But he approves her word, not understanding it, and says: ‘May you always be so filial.’ At the word ‘filial’ the girl, conscious of her guilt, casts down her eyes.
“It was midnight, and sleep had set free men’s bodies from their cares; but the daughter of Cinyras, sleepless through the night, is consumed by ungoverned passion, renews her mad desires, is filled now with despair, now with desire to try, feels now shame and now desire, and finds no plan of action; and, just as a great tree, smitten by the axe, when all but the last blow has been struck, wavers which way to fall and threatens every side, so her mind, weakened by many blows, leans unsteadily now this way and now that, and falteringly turns in both directions; and no end nor rest for her passion can she find save death. She decides on death. She rises from her couch, resolved to hang herself, and, tying her girdle to a ceiling-beam, she says: ‘Farewell, dear Cinyras, and know why I die,’ and is in the act of fitting the rope about her death-pale neck.
“They say that the confused sound of her words came to the ears of the faithful nurse who watched outside her darling’s door. The old woman rises and opens the door; and when she sees the preparations for death, all in the same moment she screams, beats her breasts and rends her garments, and seizes and snatches off the rope from the girl’s neck. Then at last she has time to weep, time to embrace her and ask the reason for the noose. The girl is stubbornly silent, gazes fixedly on the ground, and grieves that her attempt at death, all too slow, has been detected. The old woman insists, bares her white hair and thin breasts, and begs by the girl’s cradle and her first nourishment that she trust to her nurse her cause of grief. The girl turns away from her pleadings with a groan. The nurse is determined to find out, and promises more than confidence. ‘Tell me,’ she says, ‘and let me help you; my old age is not without resources. If it be madness, I have healing-charms and herbs; or if someone has worked an evil spell on you, you shall be purified with magic rites; or if the gods are wroth with you, wrath may be appeased by sacrifice. What further can I think? Surely your household fortunes are prosperous as usual; your mother and your father are alive and well.’ At the name of father Myrrha sighed deeply from the bottom of her heart. Even now the nurse had no conception of any evil in the girl’s soul, and yet she had a presentiment that it was some love affair, and with persistent purpose she begged her to tell her whatever it was. She took the weeping girl on her aged bosom, and so holding her in her feeble arms she said: ‘I know, you are in love! and in this affair I shall be entirely devoted to your service, have no fear; nor shall your father ever know.’ With a bound the mad girl leaped from her bosom and, burying her face in her couch, she said: ‘Please, go away or stop asking why I grieve. It is a crime, what you want so much to know.’ The old woman is horrified and, stretching out her hands trembling with age and fear, she falls pleadingly at her nursling’s feet, now coaxing and now frightening her if she does not tell; she both threatens to report the affair of the noose and attempt at death, and promises her help if she will confess her love. The girl lifts her head and fills her nurse’s bosom with her rising tears; often she tries to confess, and often checks her words and hides her shamed face in her robes. Then she says: ‘O mother, blest in your husband!’—only so much, and groans. Cold horror stole through the nurse’s frame (for she understood), and her white hair stood up stiffly over all her head, and she said many things to banish, if she might, the mad passion. The girl knew that she was truly warned; still she was resolved on death if she could not have her desire. ‘Live then,’ said the other, ‘have your’—she did not dare say ‘father’; she said no more, calling on Heaven to confirm her promises.