Metamorphoses

BOOK IV

BOOK IV Alcithoe, however, Minyas' daughter Would have no part in Bacchic orgies; further, She was rash enough to say the god was really INo son of Jove. Her sisters sided with her. The priest had ordered Bacchic celebration, ,. With serving-women, freed of toil, and ladies As well as servants, dressed alike, in skins Of animals; all should unbind the ribbons, Let the hair stream, wear garlands, carry wands Vine-wreathed. The god, his minister proclaimed, Would otherwise be fearful in his anger. So all obey, young wives and graver matrons, Forget their sewing and weaving, the daily duties, Burn incense, call the god by all his titles, The Loud One, the Deliverer from Sorrow, Son of the Thunder, The Twice-Born, The Indian, The Offspring of Two Mothers, God of the Wine-Press, The Night-hallooed, and all the other names Known in the towns of Greece. He is young, this god, A boy forever, fairest in the Heaven, Virginal, when he comes before the people With the horns laid off his forehead. Even Ganges In far-off India bows down before him, The slayer of the sacrilegious Pentheus, Destroyer, too, of impious Lycurgus 81 82 BOOK FOUR lines 22-H Whose battle-axe, one time, was raised against him. He turned the Tuscan sailors into dolphins. The lynxes draw his car, with bright reins harnessed, Satyrs, Bacchantes, follow, and Silenus, The wobbling old drunkard, totters after, Either on foot, with a stick to help him hobble, As shaky on three legs as two, or bouncing Out of the saddle on his wretched burro. Wherever Bacchus goes, the cries of women Hail him, and young men's joyful shouts, and drum And timbrels sound, and cymbals clash, and flutes Pipe shrill. "Be with us, merciful and mild!" The Theban women cry, and, crying, cherish The sacred rites as ordered. Only the daughters Of Minyas keep to themselves inside their houses Spoiling the holiday, spinning the wool, Tending the loom, keeping the servants working. And one of these, while plying thread and needle, Said: "While the others have all gone off together To all this what-do-you-call-it kind of service, Let us, who worship a better goddess, Pallas, Lighten our task a little by telling stories." They all agreed and asked her to begin. She knew so many stories she was doubtful Which to begin with: about Dercetis, maybe, A girl turned into a fish, all covered with scales, Swimming a pool near Babylon; or her daughter, A pure white pigeon, who lived out her days On the high towers; and then there was the story About a naiad, who, by charms and simples, Turned small boys into fishes, and became A fish herself; or how the mulberry-tree Changed the fruit's color from white to the deep crimson, From the stain of blood. This story seemed the best one, Not being known too well. And so she told it. lines 5$-86 P Y RAM USA N D THIS B E 83 The Story of Pyramus and Thisbe "Next door to each other, in the brick-walled city Built by Semiramis, lived a boy and girl, Pyramus, a most handsome fellow, Thisbe, Loveliest of all those Eastern girls. Their nearness Made them acquainted, and love grew, in time, So that they would have married, but their parents Forbade it. But their parents could not keep them From being in love: their nods and gestures showed itYou know how fire suppressed burns all the fiercer. There was a chink in the wall between the houses, A flaw the careless builder had never noticp.d, Nor anyone else, for many years, detected, But the lovers found it-love is a finder, alwaysUsed it to talk through, and the loving whispers Went back and forth in safety. They would stand One on each side, listening for each other, Happy if each could hear the other's breathing, And then they would scold the wall: 'You envious barrier, Why get in our way? Would it be too much to ask you To open wide for an embrace, or even Permit us room to kiss in? Still, we are grateful, We owe you something, we admit; at least You let us talk together.' But their talking Was futile, rather; and when evening came They would say Good-night! and give the good-night kisses That never reached...