Metamorphoses X.533-637
Orpheus continues with the story of Adonis and Venus, who herself tells the tale of Atalanta and Hippomenes.
hunc tenet, huic comes est adsuetaque semper in umbra
indulgere sibi formamque augere colendo
per iuga, per silvas dumosaque saxa vagatur 535
fine genus vestem ritu succincta Dianae
hortaturque canes tutaeque animalia praedae,
aut pronos lepores aut celsum in cornua cervum
aut agitat dammas; a fortibus abstinet apris
raptoresque lupos armatosque unguibus ursos 540
vitat et armenti saturatos caede leones.
te quoque, ut hos timeas, siquid prodesse monendo
possit, Adoni, monet, “fortis” que “fugacibus esto”
inquit; “in audaces non est audacia tuta.
parce meo, iuvenis, temerarius esse periclo, 545
neve feras, quibus arma dedit natura, lacesse,
stet mihi ne magno tua gloria. non movet aetas
nec facies nec quae Venerem movere, leones
saetigerosque sues oculosque animosque ferarum.
fulmen habent acres in aduncis dentibus apri, 550
impetus est fulvis et vasta leonibus ira,
invisumque mihi genus est.” quae causa, roganti
“dicam,” ait “et veteris monstrum mirabere culpae.
sed labor insolitus iam me lassavit, et, ecce,
opportuna sua blanditur populus umbra, 555
datque torum caespes: libet hac requiescere tecum”
(et requievit) “humo” pressitque et gramen et ipsum
inque sinu iuvenis posita cervice reclinis
sic ait ac mediis interserit oscula verbis:
‘“Forsitan audieris aliquam certamine cursus 560
veloces superasse viros: non fabula rumor
ille fuit; superabat enim. nec dicere posses,
laude pedum formaene bono praestantior esset.
scitanti deus huic de coniuge ‘coniuge’ dixit
‘nil opus est, Atalanta, tibi: fuge coniugis usum. 565
nec tamen effugies teque ipsa viva carebis.’
territa sorte dei per opacas innuba silvas
vivit et instantem turbam violenta procorum
condicione fugat, ‘nec sum potiunda, nisi’ inquit
‘victa prius cursu. pedibus contendite mecum: 570
praemia veloci coniunx thalamique dabuntur,
mors pretium tardis: ea lex certaminis esto.’
illa quidem inmitis, sed (tanta potentia formae est)
venit ad hanc legem temeraria turba procorum.
sederat Hippomenes cursus spectator iniqui 575
et ‘petitur cuiquam per tanta pericula coniunx?’
dixerat ac nimios iuvenum damnarat amores;
ut faciem et posito corpus velamine vidit,
quale meum, vel quale tuum, si femina fias,
obstipuit tollensque manus ‘ignoscite,’ dixit 580
‘quos modo culpavi! nondum mihi praemia nota,
quae peteretis, erant.’ laudando concipit ignes
et, ne quis iuvenum currat velocius, optat
invidiaque timet. ‘sed cur certaminis huius
intemptata mihi fortuna relinquitur?’ inquit 585
‘audentes deus ipse iuvat!’ dum talia secum
exigit Hippomenes, passu volat alite virgo.
quae quamquam Scythica non setius ire sagitta
Aonio visa est iuveni, tamen ille decorem
miratur magis: et cursus facit ipse decorem. 590
aura refert ablata citis talaria plantis,
tergaque iactantur crines per eburnea, quaeque
poplitibus suberant picto genualia limbo;
inque puellari corpus candore ruborem
traxerat, haud aliter, quam cum super atria velum 595
candida purpureum simulatas inficit umbras.
dum notat haec hospes, decursa novissima meta est,
et tegitur festa victrix Atalanta corona.
dant gemitum victi penduntque ex foedere poenas.
‘“Non tamen eventu iuvenis deterritus horum 600
constitit in medio vultuque in virgine fixo
‘quid facilem titulum superando quaeris inertes?
mecum confer’ ait. ‘seu me fortuna potentem
fecerit, a tanto non indignabere vinci:
namque mihi genitor Megareus Onchestius, illi 605
est Neptunus avus, pronepos ego regis aquarum,
nec virtus citra genus est; seu vincar, habebis
Hippomene victo magnum et memorabile nomen.’
talia dicentem molli Schoeneia vultu
aspicit et dubitat, superari an vincere malit, 610
atque ita ‘quis deus hunc formosis’ inquit ‘iniquus
perdere vult caraeque iubet discrimine vitae
coniugium petere hoc? non sum, me iudice, tanti.
nec forma tangor, (poteram tamen hac quoque tangi)
sed quod adhuc puer est; non me movet ipse, sed aetas. 615
quid, quod inest virtus et mens interrita leti?
quid, quod ab aequorea numeratur origine quartus?
quid, quod amat tantique putat conubia nostra,
ut pereat, si me fors illi dura negarit?
dum licet, hospes, abi thalamosque relinque cruentos. 620
coniugium crudele meum est, tibi nubere nulla
nolet, et optari potes a sapiente puella.—
cur tamen est mihi cura tui tot iam ante peremptis?
viderit! intereat, quoniam tot caede procorum
admonitus non est agiturque in taedia vitae.— 625
occidet hic igitur, voluit quia vivere mecum,
indignamque necem pretium patietur amoris?
non erit invidiae victoria nostra ferendae.
sed non culpa mea est! utinam desistere velles,
aut, quoniam es demens, utinam velocior esses! 630
at quam virgineus puerili vultus in ore est!
a! miser Hippomene, nollem tibi visa fuissem!
vivere dignus eras. quodsi felicior essem,
nec mihi coniugium fata inportuna negarent,
unus eras, cum quo sociare cubilia vellem.’ 635
dixerat, utque rudis primoque cupidine tacta,
quod facit, ignorans amat et non sentit amorem.
She holds him fast, is his companion and, though her wont has always been to take her ease in the shade, and to enhance her beauty by fostering it, now, over mountain ridges, through the woods, over rocky places set with thorns, she ranges with her garments girt up to her knees after the manner of Diana. She also cheers on the hounds and pursues those creatures which are safe to hunt, such as the headlong hares, or the stag with high-branching horns, or the timid doe; but from strong wild boars she keeps away, and from ravenous wolves, and she avoids bears, armed with claws, and lions reeking with the slaughter of cattle. She warns you, too, Adonis, to fear these beasts, if only it were of any avail to warn. ‘Be brave against timorous creatures,’ she says; ‘but against bold creatures boldness is not safe. Do not be rash, dear boy, at my risk; and do not provoke those beasts which nature has well armed, lest your glory be at great cost to me. Neither youth nor beauty, nor the things which have moved Venus, move lions and bristling boars and the eyes and minds of wild beasts. Boars have the force of a lightning stroke in their curving tusks, and the impetuous wrath of tawny lions is irresistible. I fear and hate them all.’ When he asks her why, she says: ‘I will tell, and you shall marvel at the monstrous outcome of an ancient crime. But now I am aweary with my unaccustomed toil; and see, a poplar, happily at hand, invites us with its shade, and here is grassy turf for couch. I would fain rest here on the grass with you.’ So saying, she reclined upon the ground and on him, and, pillowing her head against his breast and mingling kisses with her words, she told the following tale:
“‘You may, perchance, have heard of a maid who surpassed swift-footed men in the contest of the race. And that was no idle tale, for she did surpass them. Nor could you say whether her fleetness or her beauty was more worthy of your praise. Now when this maid consulted the oracle about a husband, the god replied: “A husband will be your bane, O Atalanta; flee from the intercourse of husband; and yet you will not flee, and, though living, you will lose yourself.” Terrified by the oracle of the god, she lived unwedded in the shady woods, and with harsh terms she repulsed the insistent throng of suitors. “I am not to be won,” she said, “till I be conquered first in speed. Contest the race with me. Wife and couch shall be given as prize unto the swift, but death shall be the reward of those who lag behind. Be that the condition of the race.” She, in truth, was pitiless, but such was the witchery of her beauty, even on this condition a rash throng of suitors came to try their fate. Now Hippomenes had taken his seat as a spectator of this cruel race, and had exclaimed: “Who would seek a wife at so great peril to himself?” and he had condemned the young men for their headstrong love. But when he saw her face and her disrobed form, such beauty as is mine, or as would be yours if you were a woman, he was amazed and, stretching out his hands, he cried: “Forgive me, ye whom but now I blamed. I did not yet realize the worth of the prize you strove for.” As he praises, his own heart takes fire and he hopes that none of the youths may outstrip her in the race, and is filled with jealous fears. “But why is my fortune in this contest left untried?” he cries. “God himself helps those who dare.” While thus Hippomenes was weighing the matter in his mind, the girl sped by on winged feet. Though she seemed to the Aonian youth to go not less swiftly than a Scythian arrow, yet he admired her beauty still more. And the running gave a beauty of its own. The breeze bore back the streaming pinions on her flying feet, her hair was tossed over her white shoulders; the bright-bordered ribbons at her knees were fluttering, and over her fair girlish body a pink flush came, just as when a purple awning, drawn over a marble hall, stains it with borrowed hues. While the stranger marked all this, the last goal was passed, and Atalanta was crowned victor with a festal wreath. But the conquered youths with groans paid the penalty according to the bond.
“‘Not deterred by the experience of these, however, Hippomenes stood forth and, fixing his eyes upon the girl, exclaimed: “Why do you seek an easily won renown by conquering sluggish youth? Come, strive with me! If fortune shall give me the victory, ’twill be no shame for you to be overcome by so great a foe. For Megareus of Onchestus is my father and his grandfather is Neptune; hence I am the great-grandson of the king of the waters. Nor is my manly worth less than my race. Or, if I shall be defeated, you will have a great and memorable name for the conquest of Hippomenes.” As he said this, the daughter of Schoeneus gazed on him with softening eyes, being in a strait betwixt her desire to conquer and to be conquered. And thus she spoke: “What god, envious of beauteous youths, wishes to destroy this one, and prompts him to seek wedlock with me at the risk of his own dear life? I am not worth so great a price, if I am the judge. Nor is it his beauty that touches me—and yet I could be touched by this as well—but the fact that he is still but a boy. It is not he himself who moves me, but his youth. What of his manly courage and his soul fearless of death? What that he claims by birth to be the fourth from the monarch of the seas? What of his love for me, and that he counts marriage with me of so great worth that he would perish if cruel fate denies me to him? O stranger, go hence while still you may; flee from this bloody wedlock. Marriage with me is a fatal thing. No other maiden will refuse to wed you, and it may well be that a wiser girl will seek your love.—Yet why this care for you, since so many have already perished? Let him look to himself! let him perish, too, since by the death of so many suitors he was not warned, and cares so little for his life.—And shall he die, because he wished to live with me, and suffer undeserved death as the penalty of love? My victory will be attended by unbearable hatred against me. But the fault is none of mine. O sir, I would that you might desist, or, since you are so madly set upon it, would that you might prove the swifter! Ah, how girlish is his youthful face! Ah, poor Hippomenes, I would that you had never looked on me! You were so worthy of life. But if I were of happier fortune, and if the harsh fates did not deny me marriage, you were the only he with whom I should want to share my couch.” So speaks the maid; and, all untutored, feeling for the first time the impulse of love, ignorant of what it is she does, she loves and knows it not.
Editors Note: Thank you so much for your patience today everybody!