Metamorphoses by Ovid

Author:Ovid
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Indiana University Press
Published: 2013-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

The Return of Theseus and Achelous’ Story

And meanwhile Theseus,

His share in the work completed, was returning

To Athens, but the river, Achelous,

Swollen with rain, stood in his way, and the god

That ruled the river gave him invitation.

“Enter my house, O hero; do not trust

My greedy waters. The current will sweep down trees,

Will sweep down boulders in its roar and crashing.

I have seen great stables standing by the water

Swept clean away, cattle and all, no strength

Of use to the doomed ox, no speed availing

The struggling horse. Many strong men have perished

In the pools that whirl when the snow comes down the mountains.

Rest here is safer for you, till the waters

Run their accustomed channel, and the stream

Thins to its natural course.” And Theseus answered:

“I thank you, Achelous; I can use

Both your advice and shelter.” And he used them,

Entering the river-god’s dark home, of porous

Pumice and grainy tuff; the floor was damp

With the soft mosses, and the ceiling paneled

With inlaid purple shells. The sun blazed on

Into mid-afternoon; the heroes rested

On couches here and there, Ixion’s son

Pirithous, and old Lelex, whose gray hair

Sprinkled his temples, and the other warriors

Whom Achelous received with joy and honor.

The barefoot nymphs set food upon the tables,

Then wine when the board was cleared, and Theseus, watching

The wide expanse of the waters, made a gesture.

“What place is that?” he asked, “Tell me the name

Of the island over there; it seems to me

More than one island, really.” Achelous

Replied: “No, what you see is not one island,

There are really five of them, though at this distance

They look like one. Would you like to hear their story?

Diana’s godhead is not the only one

To be terrible when slighted. These were naiads

Once on a time, and once they slew ten bullocks

For a sacred feast to the gods of all this country,

But they left me out, and I was very angry

To see them quite forgetful of me, leading

Their festal dance. My rage, to full flood swollen,

Tore forests and fields apart, and with the place

Where they were standing, swept to sea those naiads

Who finally remembered me. My flood

And the great ocean, working, both together,

Split the divided ground into those portions

You see from here. Look farther. Beyond those islands

Another lies, the one I love, which sailors

Call Perimele. She was once the daughter

Of Hippodamas; I loved her, and I took her,

And he was angry, and hurled his daughter over

From a high cliff to death, but I was there

To catch her; I supported her, a swimmer,

And prayed to Neptune: ‘O great god of the trident,

Given the lot of the wild wandering waters

Close to the earth, bring aid to her whose father,

Whose cruel father brought her close to drowning,

Give her a place, O Neptune, or else let her

Become a place herself.’ And while I prayed

New land embraced her floating form, her figure

Became substantial island.”

He was silent,

And all were moved by the marvel of the story

Except Pirithous. “These are fairy tales;

The gods have no such powers, Achelous,

To give and take away the shapes of things.”

No one approved his words, and the old man, Lelex,

Mature in mind as well as years, rebuked him:

“The power of Heaven has no bound or limit.

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