Liv reads Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book 7, translated by Brookes More. It's time for none other than MEDEA and Jason... and some other happenings including a hint of Theseus and the little Myrmidon ants. Help keep LTAMB going by subscribing to Liv's Patreon for bonus content! For a list of Roman/Latin names and who they were in the Greek, visit: mythsbaby.com/names
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Hello, welcome. This is Let's talk about Met's baby, and I am that host of yours live here with another reading from Avid's Metamorphoses, because you know it's Avid. It's great. As always with these types of episode, this is just a straight reading of an old public domain translation of OVID. If you're looking to read some of this work yourself, I would highly recommend the new translation by Stephanie McCarter. It's really readable and beautiful and tries to consciously address a lot of the more problematic aspects that have existed in earlier translations, particularly those translations done by old white men like this one. But hey, this is the one that we have to read, so we enjoy it for what it is. Last time we had both the incredibly fun and interesting story of a Rackney and Minerva Athena and also the most horrifying story of all Greek myth, that of Prockney and Philamella. Honestly, that one was a fucking tough to read. I won't lie. I think you could hear it in my tone. But yeah, it's just awful. Thankfully of it is still good. Also a reminder that if you are confused by the Latin slash Roman names for the gods. There is a link in the episode subscription that will tell you some of the more common ones, so you know their Greek names. But Procne and Pilamella aside. Fortunately this week, this next book starts off with a bang, because we are getting right into none other than Jason and Medea. What a time. This is Avid's Metamorphoses, Book seven, translated by Brooks. More Over, the storm tossed waves. The Argonauts had sailed in Argo their long ship, to where King Phineas, needy in his old age, reigned, deprived of sight and feeble. When the sons of Boreas had landed on the shore and seen the harpies snatching from the king his nourishment, befouling it with beaks, obscene, they drove those human vultures thence and, having suffered hardships and great toils, after the day, they rescued the sad king from the vile harpies. Those twin valiant youths Zti's and Callis came with their chief, the mighty Jason. Where the Facis flows from the green margin of that river. All the crew of Argonauts by Jason led went to the King i Etes and required the golden fleece that he received from Phrixus. When they had bargained with him. Full of wiles, he offered to restore the golden fleece only to those who might to him return victorious from hard labors of great risk. Medeia, the king's daughter, near his throne, saw Jason, leader of the Argonauts, as he was pressing to secure a prize, and loved at sight with a consuming flame. Although she struggled to suppress her love. Unable to restrain her self, she said in vain, I've striven to subdue my heart. Some god, it must be, which I cannot tell, is a working to destroy my hapless life, or else it is the burning flame of love that in me rages. If it is not love, why do the mandates of my father seem too harsh? They surely are too harsh. Why do I fear that he may perish whom I have seen only once? What is the secret cause that I am agitated by such fears? It is no other than the God of love, the rust from your virgin breast, such burning flames, and overcome their hot unhappiness. If I could do so, I should be myself, but some deluding power is holding me helpless against my will. Desire persuades me one way, but my reason still persuades me another way. I see a better course, and I approve, but follow its defeat. Oh royal maiden, why are you consumed with love for this strange man? And why are you so willing to be carried by the nuptial ties so far from your own country, where, indeed are many brave men worthy of your love, Whether for life or death, His numbered hours are in the mercy of the living gods, and that he may not suffer risk of death too well foreseen. Now let my prayers prevail righteously, uttered of a generous heart without the stress of love. What wicked thing has Jason done? His handsome person, youth and noble ways would move a heart of stone? Have I a heart of flint? Or was I born a tigress to deny him timely aid? Unless I interpose, he will be slain by the hot breath of brazen footed bulls, or will be slaughtered by the warriors sprung miraculous from earth, or will be given to satisfy the ravenous appetite of a huge dragon. Let my gloating eyes be satiit with his dying agonies. Let me incite the fury of these bulls, stir to their blood lust, mad born sons of Earth, rouse up to the never sleeping dragon's rage, avert it God's. But why should I cry out upon the gods to save him from such wrong, when by my actions in my power myself may shield him from all evils. Such a course would wreck the kingdom of my father, and by me the wily stranger would escape from him, and, spreading to the wind his ready sails, he would forget and leave me to my fate. Oh, if he should forget my sacrifice, and so prefer those who neglected him, let him then perish in his treachery. But these are idle thoughts. His countenance reveals innate nobility and grace that should dispel all fear of treachery and guarantee his ever faithful heart. The gods will witness our united souls, and he shall pledge his faith. Secure of it, my fear will be removed moved. Be ready, then, and make a virtue of necessity. Your Jason owes himself to you, and he must join you in true wedlock. Then you shall be celebrated through the land of Greece by throngs of women for the man you saved. Shall I then sail away, and so forsake my sister, brother, father, gods, and land that gave me birth. My father is indeed a stern man, and my native land is all too barbarous. My brother is a child. My sister's good will is good help for me, and Heaven's supreme God is within my breast. I shall not so be leaving valued hopes, but will be going surely to great things, And I should gain applause from all the world, as having saved the threatened Argonauts, most noble of the Greeks, and in their land, which certainly is better than my own, become the bride of Jason, for whose love I should not hesitate to give the world, and whose love the living gods rejoice so greatly for his sake, they would bestow their favors on my head and make the stars my habitation. Should I hesitate because the reck strewn mountains bar the way and clash together in the euxine waves, or fear charybdis fatal to large ships that sucks the deep sea in its whirling gulf and spouts far upward with alternate force, or scilla circled with infuriate hounds, howling and rage from deep sicilian waves. Safe in the shielding arms of him I love, on Jason's bosom, leaning, I shall be borne safely over wide and hostile seas, and in his dear embrace. Forget my fears, or if for anything I suffer dread, it will be only for the one I love. Alas Madeia, this vain argument has only furnished plausible excuse for criminal desires and desecrates the marriage right. It is a wicked thing to think upon before it is too late to forget your passion and deny this guilt. And after she had said these words, her eyes were opened to the prize of modesty, chaste virtue, and a pure affection. And Cupid, vanquished, turned away and fled. Then to an ancient altar of the goddess named Hecate, Percy's daughter took her way in the deep shadows of a forest. She was strong on purpose now, and all the flames of vanquished passion had died down. But when she saw the son of Esen, dying flames leapt up again, her cheeks grew red, then all her face went pale again, as a small spark when hid beneath the ashes, if fed by a breath of wind, grows and regains its strength as it is fanned to life. So now her love, that had been smoldering, and which she would have thought was almost dead, when she had seen again his manly youth, blazed up once more. For on that day his graceful person seemed as glorious as a god. And as she gazed and fixed her eyes upon his count, her frenzy so prevailed. She was convinced that he was not immortal, and her eyes were fascinated, and she could not turn away from him. But when he spoke to her and promised marriage, grasping her right hand, she answered, as her eyes suffused with tears, I see what I will do, and ignorance of truth will not be my undoing now, but love itself. By my assistance, you shall be preserved. But when preserved, fulfill your promise. He swore that she could trust him. Then, by the goddess of triple form, Diana Trivia or Luna called, and by her sacred groves and fans, he vowed and by the hallowed Son that sees all things, and by his own adventures and his life on these, the youthful Jason took his oath. With this, she was assured, and quickly gave to him the magic herbs. He learnt their use, and full of joy, withdrew into his house. Now, when the dawn had dimmed the glittering stars, the people hastened to the sacred field of Mars, and on the hills Expectant stood arrayed in purple and in majesty, distinguished by his ivory scepter, sat the king, surrounded by a multitude. Below them, on the visioned field of Mars, huge brazen footed bulls were breathing forth from adamantine nostrils, living flames, blasting the verdant herbage in their path, as forges glow with hot flames resound, or as much quicklime burnt in earthen kilns, crackles and hisses, as if mad with rage, sprinkled with water liberating heat, so their hot throats and triple heated sides resounding told of pent up fires within the sun of Esuen went to meet them. As he came to meet them, the fierce animals turned on him, faces terrible and sharp porns tipped with iron, and they pawed the dusty earth with cloven feet and filled the space with fiery bellowings. The minions were stark with fear. He went up to the bulls, not feeling their hot breath at all, so great the power of his charmed drugs. And while he was stroking their down hanging dewlaps with a fearless hand, he placed the yoke down on their necks and made them draw the heavy plow and cut through the fields that never felt the steel before. The Colchians were amazed and silent, but the loud shouting of the miniands increased their hero's courage. Taking then the serpent's teeth out of a brazen helmet, he sowed them broadcast in the new plowed field. The moist earth softened these seeds that were steeped in virulent poison, and the teeth swelled up and took new forms. And, just as in its mother and infant, gradually assumes the form of men, and is perfected through all parts within, and does not come forth to the light till fully formed. So when the forms of men had been completed, in the womb of Earth made pregnant, they rose up from it, and what is yet more wonderful, each one clashed weapons that had been brought forth with him. When his companions saw the warriors turn as if with one accord, to hurl their spears, sharp pointed at the head of Jason, fear unnerved the boldest, and their courage failed. So too the maid, whose sorcery had saved him from much danger. When she saw the youth encompassed by those raging enemies, and he alone against so many, struck with sudden panic, she turned ashen white. Her bloodless cheeks were blanched and chilled with fear. She wilted to the ground. Unless the herbs so lately given him might fail his need. She added incantations and invoked mysterious arts. While she protected him. He seized upon a heavy stone and hurled it into the midst of his new enemies. Distracted by this caste and murderous, they turned from him, and, clashing their new arms, those earth born brothers fought among themselves till all were slaughtered in blood thirsty strife. Gladly, the Greeks acclaimed him conqueror and pressed around him for the first embrace. Then too, Medeia, barbarous Colchian maid, although her modesty restrained, her heart, eagerly longed to fold him in her arms, but careful of her good name, held aloof rejoicing in deep silent love, and she acknowledged to the gods her mighty gift of incantations. But the dragon, still alert, magnificent and terrible, with gorgeous crest and triple tongue and fangs barbed as a javelin, guards the golden fleece, and Jason can obtain that quest only if slumber may se up the monster's eyes. Jason successful sprinkled on his crestlethian juices of a magic herb, and then recited thrice the words which bring deep slumber, potent words which would becalm the storm tossed ocean and would stop the flow of the most rapid rivers of our Earth, and slowly slumber sealed the dragon's eyes. While that great monster slept, The hero took the golden fleece and proudly sailed away, bearing his treasure and the willing maid whose aid had saved him, to his native port Eulcus. Victorious with the argonauts. Now, when the valiant argonauts returned to Thessaly, their happy relatives, fathers and mothers, praised the living gods, and with their hallowed gifts, enhanced the flames with precious incense. And they offered Jove a sacred bullock, rich with gilded horns. But Jason's father, Esen, came not down rejoicing to behold his son, for now worn out with many years, he waited death. And Jason to Medaya, grieving, said, dearest to whom my life and love are due. Although your kindness has been great to me, and you have granted more than I should ask, yet one more thing I beg of you. If your enchantments can accomplish my desire, take from my life some years that I should live, and add them to my father's ending days. And as he spoke, he could not check the tears. Medeia, moved by his affection, thought how much less she had grieved for her loved sire, and she replied, A wicked thing, you ask? Can I be capable of using you in such a manner as to take your life and give it to another? Ask not me a thing so dreadful? May the gods forbid, I will endeavor to perform for you a task much greater by the powers of night. I will most certainly return to him the lost years of your father, but must not deprive you of your own. Oh, grant the power, great goddesses of the triple form, that I may not fail to accomplish this great deed. Three nights were wanting for the moon to join her circling horns and form a perfect orb. When these were passed, the rounded light shone full and bright upon the earth through the still night. Alone, Medea stole forth from the house, with feet bare and in flowing garment, clothed, her long hair unadorned and not confined deep slumber. Had relaxed to the world and all that's living, animals and birds and men, and even the hedges and the breathing leaves are still and motionless the laden air. Only the stars are twinkling, and to them she looks and beckons with imploring hands. Now thrice around she paces, and three times besprinkles her long hair with water dipped from crystal streams, which, having done, she kneels a moment on the cold, bare ground, and, screaming three times, calls upon the nut. Oh faithful night, regard my mysteries. Oh golden lighted stars, Oh softly moving moon, genial, your fire succeeds the heated day. Oh Hecate grave, three faced queen of these charms of enchanters and enchanters arts, Oh fruitful Earth, giver of potent herbs, Oh gentle breezes and destructive winds. You mountains, rivers, lakes and sacred groves, and every dreaded god of silent night attend upon me. When my power commands, the rivers turn from their accustomed ways and roll far backward to their secret springs. I speak, and the wild trouble sea is calm, and I command the waters to arise. The clouds. I scatter, and I bring the clouds. I smooth the wind and ruffle up their rage. I weave my spells and recite my charms. I pluck the fangs of serpents, and I move the living rocks and twist of the rooted oaks. I blast the Fourrists Mountains at my word tremble and quake, and from her granite tombs the liberated ghosts arise as earth astonished groans from your appointed ways, O wonder working moon, I draw you down against the magic making sound of gongs and brazen vessels of timesas ore, I cast my spells and veil the jeweled rays of Phoebus wane, and quench Aurora's fires. At my command, you tamed the flaming bulls, which long disdained to bend beneath the yoke, until they pressed their necks against the plow. And subject to my will, you raised up war till the strong company of dragon Birth were slaughtered as they fought amongst themselves. And last you lulled asleep the warden's eyes guards of the Golden Fleece, till then awaken sleeping, Never so deceiving him, you sent the treasure to the Grecian cities. Witness my need of supernatured herbs elixirs potent to renew the years of age, giving the bloom of youth. You shall not fail to grant me this, For not in vain the stars are flashing confirmation. Not in vain the flying dragons, harnessed by their necks from skies descending, bring my chariot down. A chariot sent from heaven came to her, and soon as she had stroked the dragon's necks and shaken in her hands the guiding reins. As soon as she had mounted, she was borne quickly above through unresisting air, and sailing over Thessaly, she saw the veil of Tempe, where the level soil is widely covered with a crumbling chalk. She turned her dragons towards new regions there, and she observed the herbs by Osa Bourne, the weeds on lofty pelion, Othrs pindous and vast olympus. And from here she plucked the kneaded roots, or there the blossoms clipped all with the moon curved sickle made of brass. Many the wild weeds of Apidanus, as well as blue amphyrsus banks She chose and not escaped Nipius from her search penny in stretches and Sperculian banks, and she yielded what she chose, and Beebe's sure where sway the rushes she plucked up grass, a secret grass from fair ubon fields, life giving virtues and their waving blades as yet unknown for transformation wrought on Glaucus. All those fields she visited with ceaseless diligence in quest of charms. Nine days and nine nights sought strong herbs, and the swift dragons, with their active wings, failed not to guide the chariot where she willed until they reached her home. The dragons then had not been ever touched by anything except the odor of surrounding herbs, and yet they sloughed their skins the growth of years. She would not cross the threshold of her home nor its gates. But standing in the field alone, beneath the canopy of heaven, she shunned all contact with her husband, while she built up from the ever living turf too altars, one of which upon the right of Tahecate was given, but the other upon the left was sacred. Then to you, o hebe, Goddess of eternal youth. Festooning woodland, boughs and sweet verveine adorned these altars, near by which she dug as many trenches. Then, when all was done, she slaughtered a black ram and sprinkled with blood the thirsty trenches, after which she poured from rich Carquasian goblets generous wine and warm milk, grateful to propitious gods, the deities of Earth, on whom she called, entreating as she did so, Pluto, lord of ghastly shades, and ravished prosser Pine that they should not, in undue haste deprive her patient's aged limbs of life. When certain she compelled the god's regard assured her incantations and long prayers were both approved and heard. She bade her people bring out the body of her father in law, Old Eson's worn out body, And when she had buried him in a deep slumber by her spells, as if he were a dead man, she then stretched him out upon a bed of herbs. She ordered Jason and his servants thence and warned them not to spy upon her rights with eyes profane as soon as they retired. Medeia, with disheveled hair and wild abandon as a bacchanalian, paced times three around the blazing altars, while she dipped her torches splintered at the top into the trenches dark with blood, and lit the dipped ends in the sacred altar flames. Times three she purified the ancient man with flames, and thrice with water, and three times with sulfur. As the boiling mixture seethed and bubbled in the brazen cauldron near and into this acerbic juices roots and flowers and seeds from veil temonian and mixed elixirs into which she cast stones of strange virtue from the Orient, and sifted sands of ebbing oceans tied white hoar frost gathered when the moon was full, the nauseating flesh and luckless wings of the uncanny screech owl, and the entrails from a mysterious animal that changed from wolf to man, from man to wolf again, the scaly sloughing of a water snake, the medic liver of a long lived stag, and the hard beak and head of an old crow which was alive nine centuries before these, and a thousand nameless things. The foreign Sorceress prepared and mixed and blended all together with a branch of peaceful olive, old and dry with years. And while she stirred the withered olive branch in the hot mixture, it began to change from brown to green, and presently put forth new leaves, and soon was heavy with the wealth of luscious olives. As the ever rising fire threw bubbling forth beyond the cauldron's rim, the ground was covered with fresh, verdure flowers and all luxuriant grasses and green plants. Medeia, when she saw this wonder, took her unsheathed knife and cut the old man's throat, Then, letting all his old blood out of him, she filled his ancient veins with the rich elixir as he received it through his lips or wound. His beard and hair, no longer white with age, turned quickly to their natural vigor, dark and no longer lean and sallow, for his new blood coursed in his well filled veins, astonished when released from his deep sleep, and strong in youth, his memory assured him such he was years four times ten before that day. Bacchus, from his celestial vantage, saw this marvel and convinced his nurses might then all regain their former vigor. He pled with Medea to restore their youth. The Colchian woman granted his request, but so her malice might be satisfied, Medea feigned she had a quarrel with her husband, and for safety she had fled to Pelias. There, since the king himself was heavy with old age, his daughters gave her generous reception, and these girls the shrewd Medeia in a short time, won by her false show of friendliness, and while among the most remarkable of her achievements, she was telling how she had rejuvenated yeasen, and she dwelt particularly on that strange event. These daughters were induced to hope that by some skill like this, their father might regain his lost youth also, and they begged of her this boon, persuading her to name the price, no matter if it was large. She did not reply at once, and seemed to hesitate, And so she held their fond minds in a deep suspense by her feigned meditation. When she had at length declared she would restore his youth, she said to them that you may have strong confidence in this my promised boon. The oldest leader of your flock of sheep shall be changed into a lamb again by my prized drugs. Straightway, a wooly ram, worn out with the length of untold years, was brought, his great horns curved around his hollow temples. After she had cut his scrawny throat with her sharp knife, the Salian, barely staining it with his thin blood, madea plunged his carcass in a bronze made kettle, throwing in it at the same time juices of great potency. These made his body shrink and burnt away his two horns, and with horns his years. And now thin bleeding was heard from within the pot. And even while they wondered at the sound, a lamb jumped out and frisking, ran away to find some utter with its kneaded milk. Amazed, the daughters looked on, and now that these promises had been performed, they urged more eagerly their first request. Three times Phoebus unyoked his steeds after their plunge in Ebro's stream. And on the fourth night, stars shone brilliant in the dark foil of the sky. And then the treacherous daughter of AT's set some clear water over a hot fire and put in herbs of no potency. And now a deathlike sleep held the king down, his body all relaxed, and with the king his guards a sleep which incantations with the potency of magic words had given. The sad King's daughters, as they had been bid, were in his room, and with Medeia stood around his bed. Why do you hesitate, Medea said, you laggards, come and draw your swords. Let out his old blood, that I may refill his empty veins again with young blood in your hands. Your father's life and youth are resting you. His daughters must have love for him. And if the hopes you have are not all vain, come, do your duty by your father. Drive out old age at the point of your good weapons, and let out his blood unfeebled, cure him with the stroke of iron. Spurred on by these words, as each one of them was filial, she became the leader in the most unfilial act. And that she might not be most wicked did the wicked deed. Not one could bear to see her own blows. So they turned their eyes away, and every face averted, so they blindly struck him with their cruel hands. The old man, streaming with his blood still, raised himself on elbow and half mangled, tried to get up from his bed. With all those swords around him. He stretched out his pale arms, and he cried, what will you do, my daughters? What has armed you to the death of your loved father? Their wronged courage left them, and their hands fell. When he would have said still more, Medeia cut his throat and plunged his mangled body into boiling water. Only because her winged dragons sailed swiftly with her up to the lofty sky escaped Medeia. Punishment for this unheard of crime, her chariot sailed above embowered Pelion Long, the lofty home of Chirn, over Othrus, and the veil made famous where Carambis met his fate. Carambis, by the aid of nymphs, from there was wafted through the air on wings when Earth was covered by the overwhelming sea, and so escaped Deucalion's flood uncrowned. She passed by Ptani upon the left with its huge serpent image of a hard stone, and also passed the grove called Ida's, where the stolen bull was changed by Bacchus's powers into a hunted stag. In that same vale. Paris lies buried in the sand and over fields where Mirah warning harked. Madea flew over the city of Eurypolis, upon the isle of Cos, whose women wore the horns of cattle, when from there had gone the herd of Hercules, and over Rhodes, beloved of Phoebus, where Telcinian tribes dwelt, whose bad eyes corrupting power shot forth Jove utterly despising, thrust them deep beneath his brother's waves, over the walls of old Carthia, where Alcadamis had seen with war under a tame dove arise from his own daughter's body, and she saw the lakes of Hyri in Tumessia's veil by swans. Frequented there to satisfy his love for sickness, Phileas gave two living vultures shell for him, subdued a lion and delivered it to him, and mastered a great bull at his command. But when the wearied Phileas refused to render to his friend the valued bull, indignant, the youth said, you shall regret your hasty words, which, having said, he leaped from a high precipice, as if to death, but gliding through the air on snow white wings, was changed into a swan, dissolved in tears. His mother Hyrie knew not what he was saved, and weeping formed the lake that bears her name, and over Pleuron, where on trembling wings escaped the mother comb from her son's Medea flew and over the fair isle Coloria sacred to Latona. She beheld the conscious fields whose lawful king, together with his queen, were changed into birds. Upon her right, Caylini could be seen there Menaphon, degraded as a beast, outraged his mother. In the distance, she beheld Cphesius, who lamented long his hapless grandson by Apollo changed into a bloated sea calf, and she saw the house where King Eumelus mourned the death of his aspiring son born on the wings of her enchanted dragons, she arrived at Corinth, whose inhabitants tis said from many mushrooms watered by the rain spring into being. There she spent some years, But after the new wife had been burnt by the Colchian witchcraft, and two seas had seen the king's crown palace all aflame, then savagely she drew her sword and bathed it in the blood of her own infant sons, by which atrocious act she was revenged, and she, a wife and mother, fled the sword of her own husband, Jason, on the wings of her enchanted titan dragons born. She made a escape securely, nor delayed until she entered the defended walls of Great Minerva's city at the hour when aged Periphas, transformed by Jove, together with his queen, on eagle wings, flew over its encircling walls, with whom the guilty halcione skimming seas safely escaped upon her balanced wings. And after these events, Medea went to Ageus, king of Athens, where she found protection from her enemies for all this evil done with added wickedness, Aegeus, after that united him to her in marriage. All unknown to him came theseus to his kingly court. Before the time his valor had established peace on all the isthmus raved by dual seas. Medea, seeking his destruction, brooed the juice of aconite, infesting shores of Scivia, where'tis fabled the plant grew on soil infected by kerbarian teeth. There is a glue boomy entrance to a cave that follows a declivitous descent. There, Hercules, with chains of adamant, dragged him from the dreary edge of Tartarus. That monster watchdog Cerberus, which vain opposing, turned his eyes aslant from light from dazzling day. Delirious. Enraged, that monster shook the air with triple howls and frothing sprinkled as it raved the fields once green with spewing of white poisoned foam, and this converted into plants, sucked up a deadly venom with the nourishment of former soils, from which productive grew upon the rock, thus formed the noxious plant by rustics. From that cause named aconite. Medeia worked on Aegeus to present his own son Theseus with a deadly cup of aconite, prevailing by her art, so that he deemed his son an enemy. Theseus unwittingly received the cup, but just before he touched it to his lips, his father recognized the sword he wore for graven on his eye hilt was rotten, known device, the token of his race. Astonished, a Geas struck the poison cup from his devoted son's confiding lips. Medea suddenly escaped from death in a dark whirlwind. Her witch singing raised recoiling from such utter wickedness. Rejoicing that his son escaped from death, the grateful father kindled altar fires and gave rich treasure to the living gods. He slaughtered scores of oxen, decked with flowers and gilded horns. The sun has never shone upon a day more famous in that land, for all the elders and the common folk united in festivities, with wine, inspiring wit and song. Oh you, they sang, immortal theseus. Victory was yours. Did you not slaughter the huge bowl of crete? Yes, you did slay the boar of chromeon where now the peasant unmolested plows and parafetes. Wielder of the club was worsted when he struggled with your strength and fierce procrustes match with you beside the rapid river met his death. And even Kerchion in Eleusis lost his wicked life inferior to your might. And sinnis a monstrosity of strength who bent the trunks of trees and used his might against the world for everything that's wrong, for evil. He would force down the earth pine tops to shoot men's bodies through the air. Even the road to Megara is safe for you did hurl the robber skier on sheer over the cliff. Both land and sea denied his bone's a resting place. As tossed about, they changed into the cliffs that bear his name. How can we tell the number of your deeds? Deeds glorious that now exceed your years. For you, brave hero, we give public thanks and prayers to you. We drain our cups of wine, and all the palace rings with happy songs and with the grateful prayers of all the people. And sorrow in that city is not known, but pleasure always is alloyed with grief, and sorrow mingles in the joyous hour. While the king Aegeus and his son rejoiced, Minos prepared for war. He was invincible in men and ships, and stronger in his rage to wreak due vengeance on the king who slew his son and Drogius. But first he sought some friends to aid his warfare, and he scoured the sea with a swift fleet, which was his strength. A Naffi an Istopalia both agreed to join his cause, the first one moved by promises, the second by his threats. Level Myconus and the chalky fields of Kimolus agreed to aid, and Syros covered with wild thyme, level Seraphos Paros of Marble Cliffs, and that place which Arnie the impious Scythonian had betrayed, who having got the gold which in her greed she had demanded was changed to a bird, which ever since that day imagines gold its chief delight, a blackfoot, black twinged daw. But Olearus did de my and Tenos, Gillaros Andros and Peparethos rich in its glossi Olives gave no aid to the strong Cretan fleet sailing from them. Mynos went to Enopia, known realm of the Iachidai. Men of old time had called the place Enopia, but Iachis styled it a Yina from his mother's name. At his approach, an eager rabble rushed, resolved to see and know so great a man. Telemon met him and his brother younger than Telemon, and Phocis, who was third in age. Even Iachis appeared slow with the weight of years, and asked him what could be a reason for his coming there? The ruler of a hundred cities side and as he beheld the sons of Iachus, for they reminded him of his lost son, and heavy with his sorrow, he replied, I come imploring you to take up arms and aid me in the war against my foes, for I must give that comfort to the shade of my misfortuned son, whose blood they shed, but Iachus replied to Minos, nay, it is a vain request you make, for we are bound in strict alliance to the land and people of Kekropia. Full of rage because he was denied, the king of Crete, Minas, as he departed from their shores, replied, let such a treaty be your bane. And he departed with his crafty threat, believing it expedient not to waste his power in wars until the proper time. Before the ships of Crete had disappeared, before the mist and blue of waves concealed their fading outlines from the anxious throng which gathered on Enopian shores, a ship of Athens, covered with wide sails, appeared and anchored safely by their friendly shore. And presently the mighty Kephalus, well known through all that nation for his deeds, addressed them as he landed and declared the goodwill of his people him. The sons of Iachus remembered well, although they had not seen him for some untold years. They led him to their father's welcome home, and with him also his two comrades, went Clitus and Beauties, center of all eyes. The hero still retained his charm the customary greetings were exchanged. The graceful hero, bearing in his hands a branch of olive from his native soil, delivered the Athenian message, which requested aid and offered for their thought the treaty and the ancestral league between their nations. And he added, Minos sought not only conquest of the Athenian state, but sovereignty of all the states of Greece. And when this eloquence had shown his cause, with left hand on his gleaming scepter's hilt, King Iiacus exclaimed, ask not our aid, but take it Athens, and count boldly yours of all the force this island holds, and all things which the state of my affairs supplies. My strength for this war is not light, and I have many soldiers for myself and for my enemy. Thanks to the gods, the times are happy, giving no way for my refusal. May it prove so, Kephalus replied, and may your city multiply in men. Just now, as I was landing, I rejoiced to meet youths fair and matched in age. And yet I miss among them many whom I saw before when I last visited your city. Iachus then groaned, and with sad voice replied, with weeping we began, but better fortune followed, would that I could tell the last of it, and not the first, Giving my heart command that simple words and briefly spoken may not long detain those happy youths who waited at your need, who smiled upon you, and for whom you ask, because their absence grieves your noble mind. They've perished, and their bleaching bones or scattered ashes only may remain sad remnants, impotent of vanished power. So recently my hope and my resource. Because this island bears a rival's shame, a deadly pestilence was visited on my confiding people through the rage of jealous juno flaming for revenge. This great calamity at first appeared in natural disease, but soon its power baffled our utmost efforts. Medicines availing naught. A rain of terror swept from shore to shore, and fearful havoc raged. Thick darkness gathered from descending skies enveloped our devoted land with heat and languid sickness. For the space of full four moons, four times, the moon increased her size. Hot south winds blue with pestilential breath upon us. At the same time, the diseased infection reached our kneaded springs and pools. Thousands of serpents crawled over our Disease at first was limited to death of dogs and birds and cattle, or among wild beasts. The luckless plowman marvels when he sees his strong bulls fall while at their task and sink down into the furrow. Wooly flocks bleat feebly while their wolf falls off without a cause, and while their bodies pine away. The prized horse, of high courage and of great renown, when on the racecourse, has now lost victorious spirit, and, forgetting his remembered glory, groans in his shut stall, doomed for glorious death. The boar forgets to rage, the stag to trust his speed, and even the famished bear to fight the stronger herd. Death seizes on the vitals of all life, and in the woods and in the fields and roads, the loathsome bodies of the dead corrupt the heavy hanging air. Even the dogs, the vultures, and the wolves refuse to touch the putrid flesh. There In the sultry sun, rotting upon the earth, emitting steams and exhalations with a baneful sweep, increasing the dead contagion's wide extent, so spreading with renewed destruction gained from its own poison, The fierce pestilence appeared to leap from molding carcasses of all the brute creation, till it struck the wretched tillers of the soil, and then extend and in its dominion over all this mighty city. Always it began as if the patient's bowels were scorched with flames. Red blotches on the body next appeared, and sharp pains, and the lungs prevented breath. The swollen tongue would presently loll out, rough and discolored from the gaping mouth, wide gasping to inhale the noxious air, and show red throbbing veins. The softest bed and richest covering gave to none relief, but rather the disease would bear himself to cool his burning flesh upon the ground, only to heat the earth, and no relief returned, and no physician could be found, for those who ministered among the sick were first to suffer from the dread disease. The cruel malady broke out upon the very ones who offered remedies. The hallowed art of medicine became a deadly snare to those who knew it best. The only safety was in flight, and those who were the nearest to the stricken ones, and who most faithfully observed their wants, were always first to suffer as their wards, and many certain of approaching death, indulged their wicked passions recklessly, abandoned and without the sense of shame, promiscuously huddled by the wells and rivers and cool fountains. But their thirst no water could assuage, and death alone was able to extinguish their desire. Too weak to rise, they die in water they pollute while others drink its death. A madness seizing on them made their beds become most irksome to their tortured nerves. Demented, they could not endure the pain and leaped insanely forth or if too weak, the wretches rolled their bodies on the ground, insistent to escape from hated homes, imagined sources of calamity, for since the cause was hidden and unknown, the horrible locality was blamed suspicion seizes on each frail presence as proof of what can never be resolved. And many half dead wretches staggered out on sultry roads as long as they could stand, and others, weeping stretched out on the ground, died in convulsions as their rolling eyes gazed upwards over the overhanging clouds, under the sad stars, they breathed out their souls. And oh, the deep despair that seized on me, the sovereign of that wretched people, I was tortured with a passionate desire to die the same death, and I hated life. No matter where my shrinking eyes were turned, I saw a multitude of gruesome forms and ghastly attitudes bestrew the ground, scattered as rotten apples they have dropped from moving branches, or as acorns thick and around with gnarled oak. Lift up your eyes, behold that holy temple unto Jove long dedicated what availed the prayers of frightened multitudes, or incense burned on those devoted altars in the midst of his most fervent supplications. The husband as he pled for his dear wife, or the fond father for his stricken son would suddenly, before a word prevailed, die, clutching at the altar of his gods, while holding in his stiffened hand a spray of frankencense, still waiting for the fire. How often sacrificial bulls had been brought to those temples, and while white robed priest was pouring offered wine between their horns, have fallen without waiting for the stroke. While I prepared a sacrifice to Jove for my behalf, my country and three sons. The victim, ever moaning dismal sounds before a blow was struck, fell suddenly beside the altar, and his scanty blood ran thinly from his knives that slaughtered him. His entrails, wanting all the marks of truth, were so diseased the warnings of the gods could not be read. That baneful malady had penetrated to the heart of life. And I have seen the carcasses of men lie rotting at the sacred temple gates, or by the very altars where they fell, making death odious to the living gods. And after I have seen some desperate man and life by his own halter, and so cheat by voluntary death, his fear of death. In mad haste to outrun approaching fate, the bodies of the dead indecently were cast forth, lacking sacred funeral rites. As hitherto the custom, all the gates were crowded with processions of the dead. Unburied, they might lie upon the ground, or else deserted on their lofty pyres, with no one to lament their dismal end, dissolve in their dishonored ashes, all restraint forgotten. A mad rabble thought and took possession of the burning pyres. And even the dead were ravished by their rest And who should mourn them? Wanting all the souls of sons and husbands, and of old and young must wander unlamented, And the land sufficed not for the crowded sepulchers, and the dense forest was denuded of all trees. Heartbroken at the sight of this great woe, I wailed, oh Jupiter, if truth were told of your sweet comfort in Agina's arms, if you were not ashamed of me, your son, restore my people, or in toomb my corpse, that I may suffer as the ones I love. Great lightning flashed around me, and the sound of thunder proved that my complaint was heard. Accepting it, I cried, let these great Jove, the happy signs of your ascent be shown. Good omens given as a sacred pledge. Nearby, a sacred oak tree grown from seed brought hither from the Dona, spread abroad, its branches thinly covered with green leaves, and creeping as an army. On the tree, we saw a trail of ants that carried grain, half hidden in the deep and wrinkled bark. And while I wondered at the endless line, I thought, Good, Father, give me citizens of equal number for my empty walls. Soon as I said those words, though not a wind was moving, nor a breeze, the lofty tree began to tremble, and I heard the sound of motion in its branches. Wonder not that sudden fear possessed me? And my hair began to rise, and I could hardly stand for so my weak knees tottered as I made obeisance to the soil and sacred tree. Perhaps I cherished in my heart a thought that not acknowledged, cheered me with some hope. At night, I lay, exhausted by such thoughts. A deep sleep seized my body. But the tree seemed always present to my gaze, distinct with all its branches. I could even see the birds among its leaves and from its boughs that trembled in the still air. Moving ants were scattered to the ground in troops below, and ever as they touched the soil, they grew larger and larger. As they raised themselves, they stood with upright bodies, and put off their lean shapes and absorbed their many feet, And even as their dark brown color changed, their rounded forms took on a human shape. When my strange dream departed, I awoke, the vision vanished. I complained to Heaven against the idle comfort of such dreams. But as I voiced my own lament, I heard a mighty murmur echoing through the halls of my deserted palace, and a multitude of voices in confusion, where the sound of scarce an echo had disturbed the still deserted chambers for so many days. All this I thought the fancy of my dream, until my brave son telemon in haste, threw open the closed doorway. As he called, come quickly, father, and behold a sight beyond the utmost of your fondest dreams. I did go out, and there I saw such men, each in his turn, as I had seen transformed in that weird vision of the moving ants. They all advanced and hailed me as their king. So soon as I had offered vows to Jove, I subdivided the deserted farms and dwellings in the cities to these men miraculously raised, which now are called Mermidons, the living evidence of my strange vision. You have seen these men, and since that day their name has been declared decisive evidence that they have retained the well known customs of the days before their transformation. Patiently they toil, They store the profits of their labor, which they guard with valiant skill. They'll follow you to any war, well matched in years and courage. And I do promise when this east wind turns, this wind that favored you and brought you here, and when a south wind favors our design, then my brave Mermidons will go with you. This narrative and many other tales had occupied the day. As twilight fell, festivities were blended in the night. The night, in turn afforded sweet repose. Soon as the golden sun had shown its light, the east wind blowing still, the ships were stayed from sailing home. The sons of Pallas came to Kephalus, who was the elder called, and Kephalus, together with the sons of Pallas, went to see the king. Deep sleep still held the king, and Phocus, was the son of Iachus, received them at the gate instead of Telemon and Pelias, who were marshaling the men for war. Into the inner court and beautiful apartments. Focus conducted the Athenians, and they sat down together. Phocus then observed that Kephalus held in his hand a curious javelin with golden head and shaft of some rare wood. And as they talked, he said, it is my pleasure to explore the forest in the chase of startled game. And so I've learned the nature of rare woods. But never have I seen the match of this from which was fashioned this good javelin. It lacks the yellow tint of forest ash. It is not knotted like all cornerwood, although I cannot name the kind of wood. My eyes have never seen a javelin shaft so beautiful as this. To him, replied, a friend of Kefalus, But you will find its beauty is not equal to its worth. For whatsoever it is aimed at, its flight is always certain to the mark, nor is it subject to the shift of chance. And after it is struck, although no hand may cast it back, it certainly returns blood stained with every victim. Then, indeed, was focus anxious to be told whence came and who had given such a precious gift? And Kefhyalus appeared to tell him all, but craftily was silent on one strange condition of the fatal gift. As he recalled the mournful fate of his dear wife, his eyes filled up with tears. Ah pity me, he said, if fate should grant me many years, I must weep every time that I regard this weapon which has been my cause of tears, the unforgiven death of my dear wife. Ah that I have never handled it. My sweet wife, pro Chris, if you could compare her beauty with her sisters or Athea's ravished by the blustering boreas, you would declare my wife more beautiful? Tis she her sire Erectheus joined to me, Tis she the god Love also joined to me. They called me happy, and in truth I was, and all pronounced us so until the gods decreed it otherwise, two joyful months of our united love were almost passed, when, as the gray light of the dawn dispelled upon the summit of Hymetus Green, Aurora, glorious in her golden robes, observed me busy with encircling nets, trapping the antlered deer against my will. Incited by desire, she carried me away with her. Oh, let not increase her anger, for I tell you what is true. I found no comfort in her lovely face. And though she is very queen of light and reins upon the edge of shadowy space, where she is nourished on rich nectar wine, adding delight to beauty, I could give no heed to her entreaties, for the thought of my beloved progress intervened, and only her sweet name was on my lips. I told Aurora of our wedding joys and all refreshing joys of love, and my first union, of my couch deserted, now enraged against me, then the goddess said, keep to your progress, aye, but trouble you, ungrateful clown. But if you can be warned, you will no longer wish for her. And so in anger, she returned me to my wife alas I retraced the weary way, long brooding over all, Aurora said, suspicion made me doubtful of my wife, so faithful and so fair, But many things reminding me of steadfast virtue. I suppressed all doubts un till the dreadful thought of my long absence filled my jealous mind, from which I argued to the criminal advances of Aurora. For if she so lovely an appearance did conceal such passion in the garb of innocence until the moment of temptation, how could I be certain of the purity of even the strongest when the best are frail, so brooding. Every effort I devised to cause my own undoing by the means of bribing presence, favored by disguise, I sought to win her guarded chastity. Aurora had disguised me, and her guile determined me to work in subtle snares, unknown to all my friends. I paced the streets of sacred Athens till I reached my home. I hoped to search out evidence of guilt, but everything seemed waiting my return, and all the household breathed an air of grief, with difficulty, I disguised obtained an entrance to her presence by the use of artifices many And when I there saw her, silent in her grief, amazed my heart no longer prompted me to test such com constant love. An infinite desire took hold upon me. I could scarce restrain an impulse to caress and kiss her pale with grief. That I was gone, Her lovely face in sorrow was more beautiful. The world has not another so divinely fair, Ah, focus, it is wonderful to think of beauty so surpassing fair. It seems more lovable in sorrow. Why relate to you? How often she repulsed my feigned attempts upon her virtue to each please? She said, I serve one man, no matter where he may be. I will keep my love for one who but a man insane with jealousy would doubt the virtue of a loving wife when tempted by the most insidious wiles, whose hallowed honor was her husband's love. But I, not satisfied with proof complete, would not abandon my depraved desire to poison the pure fountain I should guard. Increased my temptations, I caused her to hesitate and covet a rich gift. Then, angered at my own success, I said, discarding all disguise, behold the man whose lavish promise you have established proof the witness of your shameful treachery. Your absent husband has returned to this Unable to endure a ruined home where desecration held her sin to view. Despairing and in silent shame, she fled, and I, the author of that wickedness, ran after. But enraged at my deceit and hating all mankind, she wandered far in wildest mountains, hunting the wild game. I grieved at her desertion, and the fires of my neglected love consumed my health with greater violence. My love increased, until, unable to endure such pain, I begged forgiveness and acknowledged fault, nor hesitated to declare that I might yield the same way, tempted if such great gifts had been offered to me. When I had made abject confession and she had avenged her outraged feelings, she came back to me, and we spent golden gears and harmony. She gave to me the hound she fondly loved the very one Diana gave to her, when lovingly the Goddess had declared, this hound above all others, shall excel in speed. Nor was that gift the only one was given by kind Diana when my wife was hers. As you may guess, this javelin I hold forth no other but a goddess could bestow. Would you be told the story of both gifts, Attend my words, and you shall be amazed. For never such another sad event has added sorrow to the grieving world. After the son of Lias, Oedipus had solved the riddle of the monster Sphinx, so often baffling to the wits of men, and after she had fallen from her hill, mangled forgetful of her riddling craft, not unrevenged, the mighty Famous brooked her loss without delay. That Goddess raised another savage beast to ravage thebes, by which the farmer's cattle were devoured. The land was ruined, and its people slain. Been All the valiant young men of the realm, with whom I also went enclosed the field where lurked the monster in a mesh of many tangled nets. But not a strand could stay its onrush, and it leaped over the crest of every barrier where the toils were set. Already they had urged their eager dogs, which, swiftly as a bird it left behind, eluding all the hunters it fled. At last all begged me to let slip the leash of straining tempest. Such I called the hound, my wife's dear present. As he tugged and pulled upon the tightened cords, I let them slip. No sooner done than he was lost to sight. Although wherever struck his rapid feet the hot dust world, not swifter flies the spear, nor whizzing bullet from the twisted sling, nor feathered arrow from the twanging bow. A high hill jutted from a rolling plain, on which I mounted to enjoy the sight of that unequall'd chase. One caught the next. As surely free, the wild beast seemed now here now there, elusive in its flight, swiftly sped onward, or with sudden turn, doubled in circles to deceive or gain, with equal speed, pursuing at each turn, the rapid hound could neither gain nor lose. Now springing forward and now doubling back. His great speed foiled. He snapped at empty air. I then turned to my javelin's aid, and while I poised it in my right hand, turned away my gaze a moment as I sought to twine my practiced fingers in the guiding throngs. But when again I lifted up my eyes to cast the javelin where the monster sped, I saw two marble statues standing there, transformed upon the plane. One statue seemed to strain an attitude of rapid flight, the other, with wide open jaws, was changed just in the act of barking and pursuit. Surely some god, if any god, controls, decreed both equal. Neither could succeed. Now, after these miraculous events, it seemed he wished to stop, but focus said, what charge have you against the javelin, and Caphalus rejoined. I must relate my sorrow's last, for I would tell you first of the story of my joys. TiO sweet to think upon the gliding tide of those few years of married life, when my dear wife and I were happy in our love and confidence. No woman could allure me then from her, and even Venus could not tempt my love all. My great passion for my dearest wife was equalled by the passion she returned. As early as the sun, when golden rays first glittered on the mountains, I would rise in youthful ardor to explore the fields in search of game. With no companions, hounds, nor steeds, nor nets. This javelin was alone my safety and companion in sport. And often when my right hand felt its weight, a wearied of the slaughter it had caused, I would come back to rest in the cool ship and breezes from cool veils, the breeze I wooed, blowing so gently on me in the heat, the breeze I waited for. She was my rest from labor. I remember, Aura, Come, I used to say, Come soothe me, Come into my breast, most welcome one. And yes, indeed you do relieve that heat from which I burn. And as I felt the sweet breeze of the morn, as if in answer to my song, my fate impelled me further to declare my joy in song. You are my comfort, you are my delight, refresh me, cherish me, breathe on my face. I love you, child of lonely haunts and trees such words. I once was singing, not aware of someone spying on me from the trees. Who thought I sang to some beloved nymphort goddess by the name of Aura. So I always called the breeze unhappy man. The meddling tell tale went to Prochris with a story of supposed unfaithfulness, and slyly told in whispers. All he heard true love is credulous. And as I heard the story, Prochrius in swoon fell down. When she awakened from her bitter swoon, she ceased, not wailing her unhappy fate, and wretched moaned for an imagined woe. So she lamented what was never done, her woe incited by a whispered tale. She feared the fiction of a harmless name, but hope returning soothed her wretched state. And, now no longer willing to believe such wrong unless her own eyes saw it, she refused to think her husband sinned. When dawn had banished night, and I, rejoicing ranged the breathing woods, victorious in the hunt, paused and said, come, our lovely breathe relieve my panting breast. It seemed I heard the smothered moans of sorrow as I spoke, but not conceiving harm, I said again, come here, oh my delight, And as those words fell from my lips, I thought I heard a soft sound in the thicket of moving leaves, and thinking surely twas a hidden beast, I threw this winged javelin at the spot. It was my own wife, Prochris, and the shaft was buried in her breast. Ah wretched me, she cried, and when I heard her well known voice distracted, I ran towards her, only to find her bathed in blood and dying from the wound of that same javelin she had given to me, And in her agony, she drew it forth, ah me alas from her dear tender side. I lifted her limp body to my own in these blood guilty arms, and wrapped the wound with fragments of my tunic that I tore in haste to staunch her blood. And all the while I moaned, Oh, do not forsake me. Slain by my accursed hands, weak with the loss of blood and dying, she compelled herself to utter these few words, It is my death, but let my eyes not close upon this life. Before I plead with you by the dearest ties of sacred marriage, by your God and mine, and if my love for you can move your heart, and even by the cause of my sad death, my love for you increasing as I die, Ah put away that Aura you have called, that she may never separate your soul, your love from me. So by those dying words, I knew that she had heard me call the name of Aura when I wished the cooling breeze, and thought I called a goddess cause of all her jealous sorrow and my bitter woe. Alas too late, I told her the sad truth. But she was sinking, and her little strength swiftly was ebbing with her flowing blood. As long as life remained, her loving gaze was fixed on mine, and her unhappy life at last was breathed out on my grieving face. It seemed to me a look of sweet content was in her face, as if she feared not death. In tears. He folds these things, And as they wept, came the aged monarch Iachus, and with the monarch his two valiant sons and troops new levied trained to glorious arms. Oh, nerds, nerds, Nerds. That was a long one. It was wordy few my uh throughout herds, but hey, it's madea so who are we to complain? I mean, fine, there's some theseus in there too, but what can you do. There's some interesting other bits and pieces in there, like the story of Capitalists, which I'm pretty sure I've told before. It's sad, but also he's an ass, you know, it's all sometimes it all bursts together and the murmodons, those little ants, those are just so fun. I love these readings because, for all it's fun and fasting to like retell the stories in my own way, it's really something else to entirely hear the source itself, particularly when it comes to Avid, because it's great. So it's really just extra fun for me when I get to toss these episodes in now and again, hob it's worth it. Let's talk about this. This maybe is written produced by me Live Albert MICHAELA. Smith is the Hermes to my Olympians. She handles everything. She's the best. Stephanie Foley is also the best. She works to transcribe the podcast for YouTube captions and accessibility. The podcast is hosted Montaze by iHeartMedia and that stuff about Patreon. My throat is done. Thank you all. You are the best. I am leave and I really do love this this Roman guy, just this one Alvin. He was chill.