THE STORY OF SALMACIS AND HERMAPHRODITUS.
FROM THE FOURTH BOOK OF OVID's
HOW Salmacis, with weak enfeebling ftreams,
Softens the body, and unnerves the limbs, And what the fecret caufe, fhall here be fhown; The caufe is fecret, but th' effect is known. The Naïads nurft an infant heretofore, That Cytherea once to Hermes bore: From both th' illuftrious authors of his race The child was nam'd; nor was it hard to trace Both the bright parents through the infant's face. When fifteen years, in Ida's cool retreat, The boy had told, he left his native feat, And fought fresh fountains in a foreign foil: The pleasure leffen'd the attending toil. With eager steps the Lycian fields he croft, And fields that border on the Lycian coaft; A river here he view'd fo lovely bright, It fhew'd the bottom in a fairer light, Nor kept a fand conceal'd from human fight: The stream produc'd nor flimy ooze, nor weeds, Nor miry rushes, nor the fpiky reeds;
But dealt enriching moisture all around,
The fruitful banks with chearful verdure crown'd, And kept the spring eternal on the ground.
A nymph prefides, nor practis'd in the chace, Nor skilful at the bow, nor at the race; Of all the blue-ey'd daughters of the main, The only stranger to Diana's train :
Her fifters often, as 'tis faid, wou'd cry, "Fy, Salmacis, what always idle! fy, "Or take thy quiver, or thy arrows feize, "And mix the toils of hunting with thy ease." Nor quiver the nor arrows e'er would feize, Nor mix the toils of hunting with her ease. But oft would bathe her in the crystal tide, Oft with a comb her dewy locks divide; Now in the limpid ftreams the view'd her face, And dreft her image in the floating glass : On beds of leaves fhe now repos'd her limbs, Now gather'd flowers that grew about her streams; And then by chance was gathering, as she stood To view the boy, and long for what she view'd. Fain would fhe meet the youth with hasty feet, She fain would meet him, but refus'd to meet Before her looks were fet with niceft care,
And well deferv'd to be reputed fair.
Bright youth, she cries, whom all thy features prove "A god, and, if a god, the god of love;
But if a mortal, bleft thy nurse's breast :
"Bleft are thy parents, and thy fifters bleft; "But oh how bleft! how more than bleft thy bride, "Ally'd in blifs, if any yet ally'd.
"If fo, let mine the stol'n enjoyments be;
"If not, behold a willing bride in me.'
The boy knew nought of love, and toucht with shame, He ftrove, and blusht, but still the blush became ; In rifing blushes ftill fresh beauties rofe;
The funny fide of fruit such blushes shows, And fuch the moon, when all her filver white Turns in eclipfes to a ruddy light.
The nymph still begs, if not a nobler bliss, A cold falute at least, a fifter's kifs: And now prepares to take the lovely boy Between her arms. He, innocently coy, Replies, "Or leave me to myself alone, "You rude uncivil nymph, or I'll be gone." "Fair ftranger then," says fhe," it shall be fo;" And, for the fear'd his threat, fhe feign'd to go; But, hid within a covert's neighbouring green, She kept him still in fight, herself unseen. The boy now fancies all the danger o'er, And innocently sports about the shore; Playful and wanton to the stream he trips, And dips his foot, and fhivers as he dips. The coolness pleas'd him, and with eager hafte His airy garments on the banks he caft; His godlike features, and his heavenly hue, And all his beauties, were expos'd to view. His naked limbs the nymph with rapture spies, While hotter paffions in her bofom rise, Flush in her cheeks, and sparkle in her eyes.
She longs, fhe burns to clasp him in her arms, And looks and fighs, and kindles at his charms. Now all undreft upon the banks he stood, And clapt his fides, and leapt into the flood:
His lovely limbs the filver waves divide, His limbs appear more lovely through the tide ; As lilies fhut within a crystal case,
Receive a gloffy luftre from the glass,
"He's mine, he's all my own," the Naïad cries; And flings off all, and after him the flies.
And now the faftens on him as he fwims, And holds him close, and wraps about his limbs. The more the boy refifted, and was coy, The more she clapt, and kift the struggling boy. So when the wriggling fnake is snatch'd on high . In eagle's claws, and hiffes in the sky,
Around the foe his twirling tail he flings,
And twifts her legs, and writhes about her wings. The restless boy ftill obftinately ftrove
To free himfelf, and ftill refus'd her love. Amidft his limbs fhe kept her limbs intwin'd, "And why, coy youth, fhe cries, why thus unkind? "Oh may the gods thus keep us ever join'd! "Oh may we never, never part again!”
So pray'd the nymph, nor did the pray in vain : For now she finds him, as his limbs she preft, Grow nearer ftill, and nearer to her breast; Till, piercing each the other's flesh, they run Together, and incorporate in one :
Laft in one face are both their faces join'd, As when the ftock and grafted twig combin'd Shoot up the fame, and wear a common rind: Both bodies in a fingle body mix,
A fingle body with a double fex.
'The boy, thus loft in woman, now furvey'd The river's guilty ftream, and thus he pray'd, (He pray'd, but wonder'd at his softer tone, Surpriz'd to hear a voice but half his own) You parent gods, whofe heavenly names I bear, Hear your Hermaphrodite, and grant my prayer; Oh grant, that whomfoe'er these streams contain, If man he enter'd, he may rife again
Supple, unfinew'd, and but half a man!
The heavenly parents answer'd, from on high, Their two-fhap'd fon, the double votary; Then gave a secret virtue to the flood, And ting'd its fource to make his wishes good.
« EelmineJätka » |