Metamorphoses

BOOK VI

BOOK VI Minerva heard the story, and praised the song And praised the righteous anger, but was thinking: "It is very well, this praise, but I myself Deserve some praise; I too should show resentment Toward those who flout my power." She was thinking About Arachne, a Maeonian girl, Who, she had heard, was boasting of her talent, Calling it better even than Minerva's, In spinning and weaving wool. The girl was no one In birth, nor where she came from; her father, Idmon, Was a dyer, steeping thirsty wool with crimson. Her mother was dead, a common sort of person, With the same sort of husband, but the daughter Was famous for her skill, and it had traveled Through all the Lydian towns, though she herself Lived in the little village of Hypaepa. The nymphs themselves would often watch in wonder, Leaving their vineyards or the river waters, To see her finished work, or watch her working With such deft gracefulness. It did not matter Whether she wound the yam in balls, or shaped it With skillful fingers, reaching to the distaff For more material, all soft and cloudy, 130 BOOK SIX Transfigured to long threads, or whether she twisted The spindle with quick thumb, or plied the needle. You would know, most surely, that Minerva taught her, Yet she would not admit it, seemed offended At the suggestion of so great a teacher: "I challenge her, and if I lose, there's nothing I would refuse to pay!" Disguised, Minerva Came, an old woman with gray hair, half crippled, Hobbling along with a cane to help her footsteps, Telling Arachne: "Old age, let me tell you, Has some things we should never run away from: Experience comes with time; hear my advice: Confine your reputation as a weaver To human beings, but defer to a goddess, Be humble in her presence, ask her pardon, You reckless creature, for your arrogance. She will be gracious, ifyou only ask it." But no: Arachne glowered, stared her down, Let fall her threads to free her hands for striking, Controlled herself a little, but spoke in anger: "You silly old fool, to come to me! Your trouble Is having lived too long. Your daughters, maybe, Or your sons' wives, perhaps, might listen to you. I can look after myself; you are getting nowhere, You cannot change my mind with all that nonsense. As for your wonderful goddess, why, where is she? Why does she dodge the challenge I have offered?" "She is here," Minerva answered. She was there, No longer an old woman, but a presence Whom the nymphs worshipped and the native women. Arachne was not awed, though she was startled, Blushing and paling, as the sky at morning Shows crimson first, then whitens. Still Arachne Maintains defiance, with a stupid passion Rushing to doom. Minerva takes the challenge, lines 52-go MINERVA 131 Abandons admonition. The looms are set, The fine warp stretched, the web is bound to the beam, Reeds keep the threads apart, the shuttle threads Shrill through the woof, the busy fingers plying. With robes tucked up they speed the work, their hands, Deft at the task, fly back and forth, the labor Made less by eagerness. From the dark purple The threads shade off to lighter pastel colors, Like rainbow after storm, a thousand colors Shining and blending, so the eye could never Detect the boundary line, and yet the arcs Are altogether different. Threads of gold Were woven in, and each loom told a story. Minerva showed the hill of Mars in Athens And that old conflict over the name of the land. There sat the twelve great gods of the high Heaven, On loftythrones in majesty, and Jove Presiding, royal, above the well-known faces. And there stood Neptune, smiting with his trident The cliff of rock, and the gush of the sea-water Proving his title to the rule of the city. To herself Minerva gave the spear, the helmet, The aegis for her breastplate, and the earth, Under her spear, produced the gray-green olive, Hung thick with fruit, and the gods looked on in wonder. The work has Victory'S ultimatum in it, But that her challenger may have full warning What her reward will be for her daring rashness, In the four corners the goddess weaves four pictures, Bright in their color, each one saying Danger! In...