Book 33

33. In the thirty-third, impetuous Love subdues Morrheus, inflaming him for the beauty of Chalcomede.

But he, borne on the roaming leap of his feet, swift-kneed, rushed like a fair-horned bull, pouring a deadly gasping in the swell of mind-changing madness. And a Grace, swift-sandalled, beside the Erythraean garden, plucking the fragrant plantation of the reeds, that within the fire-breathing Paphian cauldrons mingling the molten travail of Assyrian oil with Indian flowers she might make perfume for her queen, when she had plucked all manner of dewy herb, gazed at the whole place; and beside the neighbouring thicket, watching the madness of her father Lyaeus, she grieved and wept, and with affectionate yearning with mournful nails she scored her cheeks; and she watched the Satyrs cowering before the War-goddess, and saw Codone and short-lived Gigarto lying upon the untombed dust; and she pitied Chalcomede on stormy sandal, fleeing the spear-point of maddened Morrheus, and she was shaken, envious, for the rose-faced girl, lest she should ever surpass Aphrodite in beauty. Grieving, she went up to Olympus, in mournful silence hiding the pain for her father Lyaeus; and changing the bloom of her fair-rounded cheek to pallor, she dimmed the glittering radiance of her face. And as she went downcast, Adonian Cypris addressed her, crying out such a consoling word, and from her face, from Pasithea's, she perceived the grief in heralding silence: "Dear bride, what has befallen you, that you have changed your form? Maiden, how have you altered your blushing shape? Who quenched the springtime ray of your face? No longer does the silvery gleam flash from your limbs; no longer, as before, do your eyes laugh. But tell me your cares. Is it that my son afflicts you, and you love beside a love-stricken rock, like Selene some herdsman? Or did Love goad you too with his girdle, after the Dawn? I know whence your cheeks have grown pale: that he weds you, a maiden, the misty bridegroom, wandering Sleep; yet I will not force you, unwilling, nor will I join to white Pasithea a dark-skinned husband, Sleep." So she spoke, and the Grace wept and answered with a word: "Plant-sower of the everlasting world, mother of the Loves, no herdsman troubles me, nor the bold desire of Sleep. I am not the love-sick Dawn nor Selene, but the roving labour of Lyaeus distresses me, my father shuddering at the Furies; and for your brother Dionysus, if you can, be a champion." She spoke, and told the queen all her father's labour and the boundless phalanxes of the Bassarids whom Morrheus slew, and the whole fugitive army of the Satyrs; she told too the demonic scourge of Dionysus being shaken, and Gigarto wailing, gasping upon the ground, and she told of Codone cut off untimely; and in shame she declared the grief together and the beauty of Chalcomede. And changing the rosy spark of her face, laughter-loving Aphrodite cast her wonted laugh. And she bade Splendour go as messenger, to summon her impetuous son Love, the air-roaming one on high, the begetting steersman of the human race. And the Grace turned her step, and with much-turning face gazed at sea and earth and heaven, where she might find the unsteady track of Love, since he plies his wings everywhere, circling the four-cut rim of the world. She found him about the high peak of golden Olympus, shooting nectar-drops from cups; and beside him stood a boy, his playmate, sporting delicately, fair-haired Hymenaeus; and the work of his high-minded mother, the heavenly one, skilled in the course of the stars, he made the prize of victory—a rounded ball to play with, the rival image of the cunning form of Argus; and winged Love, lifting his mother's fair-rounded golden necklace, set it down, of sea-born Aphrodite, the bright all-glittering ornament of victory; and a silver cauldron lay in the contest, and the image of wine-pouring Hebe stood as a mid-shown mark; and lovely Ganymede, cupbearer of the son of Cronus, was umpire of the contest, bearing a garland in his hands. And of the wine-loving casts there was a lot, marking off the differing fingers of the hands; and some they raised upright and held out, and others on the wrist of the hand were fastened, joined in a yoke-mate bond; and for both there was lovely strife. Delicate-haired Hymenaeus, drawing first, took the cup, and sending the flying nectar-drop on high into the air he cast it over the cauldron; and not then did he show to his mother the Muse a vow fulfilled; for the drop, shot high in the air, darting from the cup, struck the middle air, but turning the cast aside with a dancing throb, drawn back again about the face of the image silently struck the top of the soundless head. Second, subtle-minded Love, by a skilful rule, took the lovely cup, and prayed to the Cyprus-born secretly in his heart, and stretching an unswerving eye toward the mark, he shot, sending the far-flung moisture; and the drop of the nectar drink, whirling back, straight, unbending, above the temple of the image from the air, heavy-sounding, crashed upon its brow; and the delicate image cried out, and for the son of the Cyprus-born the golden cauldron rang out a triumphant echo; and laughing Ganymede gave Love the delicate crown; and swiftly taking the glittering necklace and lifting the ball he held the double prize of the well-dropped contest, and leaping with his feet, tumbling with his head, exulting, bold Love danced; and from his adversary, often grieving, he drew down the hand from his face. And Splendour stood near him; and the prizes of the mind-delighting lord she received in her hands; and she nodded to the boy to come apart, and into Love's ears, with witnessing silence, spoke the crafty word of her lying queen: "All-subduer, unsubdued, life-bringer, coeval with the world, make haste, since Cytherea is being forced, and none of her handmaids stays beside her; the Grace has fled, Persuasion is gone, and unsteady Desire has retreated; and to you alone she sent me, needing your unconquered quiver." So she spoke, and Love questioned her, that he might learn all; for all young people, when they hear the beginning of an endless tale, are eager to hear the end; and he poured out the unbridled cry of his lips: "Who has grieved my Paphian? That I may arm my hand to fight against all. If my mother is being forced, I will stretch the all-subduing bowstring against the son of Cronus, and make him again, gadfly-stung, the marriage-thieving bird of the Loves, an eagle, or some bull, a swimmer of the sea; and if Pallas has stirred her and the lame god has grieved her, kindling the light-bearing brand of the Cecropian lamp, I will fight against both, against Hephaestus and Athena; and if the arrow-pouring huntress with her hare-staff draws her to anger, drawing the fiery Olympian sword of Orion I will madden Artemis, and drive her out of heaven . . . lifting on my wings my companion, the son of Maia, who calls in vain the worthless helper, Persuasion; and leaving my darts and the fiery knot of my quiver, with laurel leaves I will lash willing Phoebus, binding him fast about with the speaking hyacinth; nor do I tremble at the might of the War-god, nor will I weary of scourging Ares, fettered with the sweet girdle; and I will drag the twin luminaries down as servants to Paphos from heaven, and bring as attendants to my mother Phaethon with Clymene, Selene with Endymion, that all may know that I subdue all things." He spoke, and whirling his straight-coursing foot in the air he outran Splendour with the twin whirring of his wings, until he came to the house of hastening Aphrodite. And taking him about the middle with serene face, with open joyous arm she embraced the boy, lightening on her knees the dear burden; and as he sat, she kissed the boy's mouth and eyes; and touching his mind-charming bow and handling his quiver, as though breathing anger, she broke into a crafty voice: "My child, you have forgotten Phaethon and Cytherea; no longer does Pasiphae pursue the bellowing bed; the Sun mocks me, and the blood of Astris arms the warlike Deriades, the son of her own son, the destroyer of the Bassarids of woman-mad Dionysus, and the driver of the love-stricken Satyrs of Bromius. This stirred me the more, that in mortal shape war-rousing Ares, having the War-goddess as his fellow-worker, heedless of his old love for Aphrodite, by the nods of Hera was armed against Dionysus, fellow-traveller of the Indian king. But in the fray let Ares champion Deriades, and you champion Lyaeus; he has a spear, but you a mightier bow, before which bends his knee highest Zeus and impetuous Ares and lawful Hermes; even Apollo, famed for the bow, fears your bow. And if, dear boy, you would gratify your foam-born mother, champion the Bassarids and our Dionysus. But going, unapproachable, to the eastern clime of earth, to the Indian land, where a handmaid of Lyaeus there is among the Bacchants, surpassing the bloom of her age, named Chalcomede, lover of maidenhood—and if both Chalcomede and Cypris within Lebanon you should behold, you cannot, dear boy, tell which is Aphrodite— going there, help lonely-roaming Dionysus, shooting Morrheus for the beauty of Chalcomede; and a reward worthy of your archery I will put in your hands, a well-wrought Lemnian crown, like the gleams of the fiery sun; and you, sending the sweet shaft, do a favour to both, to Cypris and to Dionysus; glorify your bird and mine, the marriage-arraying bird of the Loves, the herald of gladness, of the life-yoking unions." So spoke the goddess; and greedy Love sprang up from the bosom of his mother, and lifted his bow, and on his little shoulder hung the all-subduing quiver; and winged, he flew through the upper air; and about Cerne wheeling his light wings before the casts of the Dawn, he flew smiling, that so great a charioteer of the heavenly chariots he had inflamed with a few darts, and the gleam of the Loves had conquered the gleam of the Sun. And swiftly, coming into the midst of the Indian throng, he steadied his bow upon the neck of Chalcomede; and aiming the shaft about the circles of her rosy cheek he sent it into the mind of Morrheus, and oaring his course with the swimming of his wings, running on a yoke-mate track, he climbed up to his father's starry bolts, leaving the Indian pierced by the fiery arrow. And ever here and there, shaken by the shaft of desire, where the maiden went, the love-sick Morrheus went, holding a gentle sword, lifting a sparing spear, and his bold mind was lashed by the girdle of Desire; and stretching about her his love-mad encircling eye, by Cyprian promptings he drew his unyielding gaze. But she, with crafty mind, beguiled the lord of the Indians, as though longing, and the girl took the impress of a false image of desire; and Morrheus reached for heaven, borne on idle hope; for in his heart he thought the maiden held a shaft equal to the Loves', foolish man, since he sought to charm a chaste girl with his dark limbs, and remembered not his own form. And laughing at him, with playful guile the girl, appearing near, provoked the love-sick one, and to her adversary she told of the wind-footed knees of the unwedded bride, how once she fled Phoebus, running with the North wind, how beside the watery flood of the streaming river she set her maiden foot beside the broad-flowing Orontes, when the earth, gaping beside the mouth of the well-watered lake, received the pursued girl in its pitying bosom. At her speaking such a word, Morrheus leapt up in joy, and one thing alone stirred him, that Daphne in pursuit even a god did not overtake, and Apollo did not defile; and he called Phoebus slow; and ever he blamed the earth, that it hid the maiden untried in marriage; for he feared, trembling with the sweet fire, lest she too should be Chalcomede, lover of maidenhood, like Daphne, lest, seeing her flee, he should run a vain course, toiling toward unfulfilled desire, like Apollo. But when night arose, the lulling-to-sleep of battle, Chalcomede came to the ridge of the lonely wood, seeking the tracks of mind-distraught Dionysus; not then bearing the rattles and Euian cymbals of Rhea did she celebrate the rites of unsleeping Lyaeus, but downcast, not touching the dance, she held an unwonted silence on lips never silent, knowing the sickness of the protecting Dionysus. And on hesitant feet slow Morrheus came barely along, watching the bride with backward-turning eye, blaming swift-coursing Phaethon; and his mind, following, he kept companion to Chalcomede; and distressed, with Cyprian whispers he belched up a womanish cry, darting the nightly shaft of the Loves beneath his heart: "Be gone, shaft and warlike bow; for a lovely mightier other shaft compels me; be gone, quiver; the girdle has conquered the strap of my shield. No longer do I arm my warlike hand against the Bassarids; but my father's god, leaving water and earth, I will set up an altar to both Cypris and Dionysus, casting away the bronze spear of Ares and Athena. No longer, torch in hand, will I arm myself; for the torch of the Loves has quenched the brand of feeble Ares; I am struck by another, hotter fire. Would that I too, would that I were a Satyr, woman-mad, that I might dance in the midst of the Bassarids, and resting my arm upon my hand might fasten the bond of love about the neck of Chalcomede. Let Dionysus drag the attendant of Deriades into Phrygia beneath the yoke of slavery, and in place of my fatherland let prosperous Maeonia receive me as her dweller; I wish to hold Tmolus after Caucasus; and casting off my first name of Indian, let me be called a Lydian, bowing the slavish neck of Love to Dionysus; let Pactolus bear me along; what is my father's Hydaspes to me? Let the sweet house of Chalcomede hold me; for in the wars Cypris together and Bacchus, with both their darts, have fallen upon the kinsmen of Deriades, that one may say: the girdle slew Morrheus, and the thyrsus killed Orontes." Such things he cried; and with loud-roaring care he wasted away, remembering Chalcomede; for in company the sparks of the Loves grow ever hotter. For already, leaping with self-born throb, silently the soundless cone of cloudless darkness grew black, and trembling joined all things in one silence; nor did any Indian wayfarer hurry his step through the city, nor did the working woman ply her wonted craft, nor in her hands beside the spindle-loving lamp did the wandering spindle, going round its self-turned circle, unsteady, stretch out for the dancer in the drawing of the thread, but heavy-headed beside the wakeful lamp the toiling woman slept; and a serpent, quietly creeping, lay fallen, and with its head drawing back its returning tail, of its sleepy belly it reined in the coil of its spine; and a high-stepping elephant beside the neighbouring wall slept an upright sleep, resting its back against an oak. And then alone, sleepless, rushing out, soundlessly creeping with backward-returning, coiling feet, Morrheus was worn away, leaving Cheirobie alone sleeping in her chamber; and having heard a tale from some ancient sage among the Cilician men, holding battle near the Taurus, learned in the inspired sting of the starry Loves, gazing at the bright court spread out in the air, he watched the bridegroom of Europa, the Bull of Olympus; and stretching his much-wandering eye along the axle-sinew he watched Callisto and the unsteady coil of the Wain, knowing that a female heard the female tale, the bastard body of the mimic huntress in unknown limbs; and rising above the Bull he watched Myrtilus, the fire-breathing Charioteer, because he helped in marriage, and for the race of Hippodameia made a counterfeit shape in the wheel-running wax, until Pelops won his bride; and near Cassiopeia he saw the long-winged eagle, the husband of Aegina, and he wished for such a thievish guile, that he too might loose the maidenhood of unwedded Chalcomede, and he spoke a word, keeping a sleepless eye: "I have heard how, all like a Satyr, high-ruling Zeus wedded the maiden Antiope in a guileful shape, in a mimic love of frolic-loving unions; such a body I too wish to have, that I might dance into the army of the fair-horned Satyrs, coming unknown, that I might accomplish the bed of wine-loving Chalcomede. I know, Cytherea, whence you are angry with the sons of the Indians; your arrows trouble the neighbours of the Sun; not yet have you lost the memory of your reproved bonds. Phaethon did not beget me; why do you trouble me, Aphrodite? Cow-watching Pasiphae did not bear me, nor am I the brother of Ariadne. Speak, stones, your rocky voice. I long for Chalcomede, and she refuses. Be gone, quiver, be gone, bloody bow and windy arrows; Ares did not save me when Aphrodite armed herself; little Love subdued me, whom proud Bacchus did not slay." Such things in vain by night the love-sick Morrheus spoke. Nor did the wing of mind-distracting sweet Sleep lull bed-fleeing Chalcomede, since she had a longing for death, fearing maddened Morrheus, lest, dragging her, the hot man should yoke her in forced unions while Bacchus was not present; and by the Erythraean sea she turned her nightly step and cried to the deaf wave: "Melis, I count you blessed; for you once, untaught in the Loves, casting your body into the sea by a self-willed whirl, escaped the bed of woman-mad Damnameneus; I count your maiden-loving doom blessed; for the gadfly-mad bridegroom against you the daughter of the sea, Aphrodite, armed, and the sea guarded you, even though Paphian was your mother, and you died in the surge still a maiden. But may even Chalcomede, willing, the water of the sea hide, while Morrheus longs for her, untried in marriage, that I, a new Britomartis, may be called bed-fleeing, whom once the sea received and gave back to the earth, when she scorned the Cyprian loves of Minos. The Earthshaker, love-mad, did not affright me, as he did maiden-loving Asteria, whom in the sea, wandering, he pursued back and forth, until her, unsteady, riding companion to the shifting breeze, Apollo rooted unshaken in the waves. Receive me, receive me, sea, in your hospitable bosom; take Chalcomede after Melis; take too the younger Britomartis who refuses marriage, that I may flee Morrheus and your Aphrodite; pity Chalcomede, helper of maidens." So speaking, she was shaken in mind beside the neighbouring sea; and now, self-rolled, she would have sunk into the wave of the sea, but Thetis helped, doing a favour to Dionysus, and changing her form she stood beside Chalcomede, and having the shape of a Bacchant uttered a consoling voice: "Endure, Chalcomede, do not fear the bed of Morrheus; you have me as an auspicious bird of your unbroken maidenhood, a witness keeping watch over your unwedded bed. I am Thetis, bed-fleeing, like you, I too, like Chalcomede, a lover of maidenhood; and from heaven Zeus my father pursued me and wished to drag me to marriage, had not old Prometheus checked him in his longing, prophesying that he would beget a son mightier than the son of Cronus, lest one day the child of Thetis bear down on her father and drive out the son of Cronus, as high-ruling Zeus drove out Cronus. Be for me crafty and life-bringing; for self-slain, if you die untaught in the unwedded unions, the hostile Indian will destroy the whole rank of the Bassarids; but beguile him, and you will save from death your fugitive army, while Dionysus is being scourged, feigning the empty desire of the Paphian; and if Morrheus should drag you to bed, refusing marriage, you do not need Cypris as helper; for of our girdle you have a boundless guardian serpent for defence; and our Dragon, taking it after the war of the Indians, Dionysus will set in the star-shining circle, an unceasing herald of your unbroken maidenhood, near his own light-bearing Crown, when he accomplishes the great starry sign of Cydonian Ariadne; and rivalling the Arctic Dragon, your dragon will flash for mortals, flashing together with the Serpent-holder. Hereafter you will praise sea-born Thetis, when you behold your fiery star flashing together with Selene. Be of good courage for the marriage's sake; for your husband will not loose the fast knot of your maidenhood, no, by yourself and by Dionysus who touched my table, no, by yourself and by your thyrsi, and by Aphrodite of the sea." So she spoke, beguiling; and with a cloud she hid the girl, lest the guards should behold her, or a watchman, keeping a thievish track with crafty foot, a wayfarer of the night, or a bold woman-mad goatherd, and the evening maiden drag to the wayside unions.