Epistles |
Translator: J. Nunn, R. Priestly, R. Lea, J. Rodwell
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Ariadne Theseo Mitius inveni quam te genus omne ferarum ; Credita non ulli quam tibi peius eram . Quae legis , ex illo , Theseu , tibi litore mitto Unde tuam sine me vela tulere ratem , In quo me somnusque meus male prodidit et tu , Per facinus somnis insidiate meis . Tempus erat , vitrea quo primum terra pruina Spargitur et tectae fronde queruntur aves . Incertum vigilans ac somno languida movi Thesea prensuras semisupina manus — Nullus erat ! referoque manus iterumque retempto , Perque torum moveo bracchia — nullus erat ! Excussere metus somnum ; conterrita surgo , Membraque sunt viduo praecipitata toro . Protinus adductis sonuerunt pectora palmis , Utque erat e somno turbida , rupta coma est . Luna fuit ; specto , siquid nisi litora cernam . Quod videant oculi , nil nisi litus habent . Nunc huc , nunc illuc , et utroque sine ordine , curro ; Alta puellares tardat harena pedes . Interea toto clamavi in litore 'Theseu !': Reddebant nomen concava saxa tuum , Et quotiens ego te , totiens locus ipse vocabat . Ipse locus miserae ferre volebat opem . Mons fuit — apparent frutices in vertice rari ; Hinc scopulus raucis pendet adesus aquis . Adscendo — vires animus dabat — atque ita late Aequora prospectu metior alta meo . Inde ego — nam ventis quoque sum crudelibus usa — Vidi praecipiti carbasa tenta Noto . Ut vidi haut dignam quae me vidisse putarem , Frigidior glacie semianimisque fui . Nec languere diu patitur dolor ; excitor illo , Excitor et summa Thesea voce voco . ' Quo fugis ?' exclamo ; 'scelerate revertere Theseu ! Flecte ratem ! numerum non habet illa suum !' Haec ego ; quod voci deerat , plangore replebam ; Verbera cum verbis mixta fuere meis . Si non audires , ut saltem cernere posses , Iactatae late signa dedere manus ; Candidaque inposui longae velamina virgae — Scilicet oblitos admonitura mei ! Iamque oculis ereptus eras . tum denique flevi ; Torpuerant molles ante dolore genae . Quid potius facerent , quam me mea lumina flerent , Postquam desieram vela videre tua ? Aut ego diffusis erravi sola capillis , Qualis ab Ogygio concita Baccha deo , Aut mare prospiciens in saxo frigida sedi , Quamque lapis sedes , tam lapis ipsa fui . Saepe torum repeto , qui nos acceperat ambos , Sed non acceptos exhibiturus erat , Et tua , quae possum pro te , vestigia tango Strataque quae membris intepuere tuis . Incumbo , lacrimisque toro manante profusis , ' Pressimus ,' exclamo , 'te duo — redde duos ! Venimus huc ambo ; cur non discedimus ambo ? Perfide , pars nostri , lectule , maior ubi est ?' Quid faciam ? quo sola ferar ? vacat insula cultu . Non hominum video , non ego facta boum . Omne latus terrae cingit mare ; navita nusquam , Nulla per ambiguas puppis itura vias . Finge dari comitesque mihi ventosque ratemque — Quid sequar ? accessus terra paterna negat . Ut rate felici pacata per aequora labar , Temperet ut ventos Aeolus — exul ero ! Non ego te , Crete centum digesta per urbes , Adspiciam , puero cognita terra Iovi , Ut pater et tellus iusto regnata parenti Prodita sunt facto , nomina cara , meo . Cum tibi , ne victor tecto morerere recurvo , Quae regerent passus , pro duce fila dedi , Tum mihi dicebas : 'per ego ipsa pericula iuro , Te fore , dum nostrum vivet uterque , meam .' Vivimus , et non sum , Theseu , tua — si modo vivit Femina periuri fraude sepulta viri . Me quoque , qua fratrem mactasses , inprobe , clava ; Esset , quam dederas , morte soluta fides . Nunc ego non tantum , quae sum passura , recordor , Et quaecumque potest ulla relicta pati : Occurrunt animo pereundi mille figurae , Morsque minus poenae quam mora mortis habet . Iam iam venturos aut hac aut suspicor illac , Qui lanient avido viscera dente , lupos . Quis scit an et fulvos tellus alat ista leones ? Forsitan et saevas tigridas insula habet . Et freta dicuntur magnas expellere phocas ! Quis vetat et gladios per latus ire meum ? Tantum ne religer dura captiva catena , Neve traham serva grandia pensa manu , Cui pater est Minos , cui mater filia Phoebi , Quodque magis memini , quae tibi pacta fui ! Si mare , si terras porrectaque litora vidi , Multa mihi terrae , multa minantur aquae . Caelum restabat — timeo simulacra deorum ! Destitutor rabidis praeda cibusque feris ; Sive colunt habitantque viri , diffidimus illis — Externos didici laesa timere viros . Viveret Androgeos utinam ! nec facta luisses Inpia funeribus , Cecropi terra , tuis ; Nec tua mactasset nodoso stipite , Theseu , Ardua parte virum dextera , parte bovem ; Nec tibi , quae reditus monstrarent , fila dedissem , Fila per adductas saepe recepta manus . Non equidem miror , si stat victoria tecum , Strataque Cretaeam belua planxit humum . Non poterant figi praecordia ferrea cornu ; Ut te non tegeres , pectore tutus eras . Illic tu silices , illic adamanta tulisti , Illic , qui silices , Thesea , vincat , habes . Crudeles somni , quid me tenuistis inertem ? Aut semel aeterna nocte premenda fui . Vos quoque crudeles , venti , nimiumque parati Flaminaque in lacrimas officiosa meas . Dextera crudelis , quae me fratremque necavit , Et data poscenti , nomen inane , fides ! In me iurarunt somnus ventusque fidesque ; Prodita sum causis una puella tribus ! Ergo ego nec lacrimas matris moritura videbo , Nec , mea qui digitis lumina condat , erit ? Spiritus infelix peregrinas ibit in auras , Nec positos artus unguet amica manus ? Ossa superstabunt volucres inhumata marinae ? Haec sunt officiis digna sepulcra meis ? Ibis Cecropios portus patriaque receptus , Cum steteris turbae celsus in ore tuae Et bene narraris letum taurique virique Sectaque per dubias saxea tecta vias , Me quoque narrato sola tellure relictam ! Non ego sum titulis subripienda tuis . Nec pater est Aegeus , nec tu Pittheidos Aethrae Filius ; auctores saxa fretumque tui ! Di facerent , ut me summa de puppe videres ; Movisset vultus maesta figura tuos ! Nunc quoque non oculis , sed , qua potes , adspice mente Haerentem scopulo , quem vaga pulsat aqua . Adspice demissos lugentis more capillos Et tunicas lacrimis sicut ab imbre gravis . Corpus , ut inpulsae segetes aquilonibus , horret , Litteraque articulo pressa tremente labat . Non te per meritum , quoniam male cessit , adoro ; Debita sit facto gratia nulla meo . Sed ne poena quidem ! si non ego causa salutis , Non tamen est , cur sis tu mihi causa necis . Has tibi plangendo lugubria pectora lassas Infelix tendo trans freta lata manus ; Hos tibi — qui superant — ostendo maesta capillos ! Per lacrimas oro , quas tua facta movent — Flecte ratem , Theseu , versoque relabere velo ! Si prius occidero , tu tamen ossa feres !
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Ariadne to Theseus BEASTS of the most savage nature have proved more mild and gentle to me, than you; nor could I have been intrusted to more faithless hands. The epistle which you now read, Theseus, is sent to you from that shore, whence your ship, leaving me behind, was borne by the spreading sails; where soft sleep, and you also, who barbarously watched the opportunity of my slumbers, fatally betrayed me. It was the season when the earth begins to be covered with shining frost, and the birds, lurking among the leaves, complain of the decaying year; when, half awake, and still in slumber languidly reclining, I stretched my arms to grasp my Theseus. No Theseus was there: I suddenly pulled back my hands, and then tried once more to find him. I wandered with my arms over all the bed: still no Theseus was there. Fear instantly shook off sleep: I started up in a consternation, and headlong threw my limbs fiom the deserted bed. Forthwith my breast resounded with the repeated strokes of my hands; and I tore my hair, as yet disheveled from sleep. The moon shone: I looked round if I could discern any thing besides the shore. My eager eyes found nought to look at but the shore. I ran sometimes here, sometimes there, and with wild disorder on either side: the deep yielding sands impeted my tender feet. Mean-while the hollow rocks over all the shore resounded the name of Theseus to my incessant cries. As often as I named you, the place re-echoed the sound: the very place seemed willing to alleviate my wretched lot. Near the spot was a mountain, whose top was thinly covered with tufted shrubs; and where a steep rock, undermined by the beating waves, impended. I mounted the ascent: my passion gave me strength; and thence with wide prospect I surveyed the mighty deep. Hence (for the winds also were cruelly unkind) I could observe your sails full-stretched by stiff southern gales. I either saw, or, when I thought I saw, remained cold as ice, and half-dead with concern. Nor did grief long permit this indolent respite: I was roused by that sensation; I was roused, and in a loud complaining strain called upon Theseus: "Whither do you fly? Return, perjured wretch, change your course; the ship has not her complement." Thus I complained: I made up in shrieks what was wanting in articulate sounds, and mingled my words with repeated blows upon my breast. My hands, waved high in the air, made signs, that, if you could not hear, you might at least perceive me. I also held out a white robe upon a long pole, to admonish you of her whom you had left behind. But, alas! I soon lost sight of you; it was then I began to weep; my tender cheeks had hitherto been stiffened with grief. What could my eyes do better, after ceasing to behold your sails, than help me to bemoan my forlorn state? Sometimes I wandered solitary, with my hair disheveled, like the raving priestesses inspired by the Theban God. Sometimes, fixing my eyes upon the sea, I silently seated myself upon some pointed rock, cold and senseless as the stone whereon I sat. Often I repair to the bed which once sheltered us both: Alas! it will never more exhibit the once happy lovers. I kiss the print left by your dear body, and love to repose myself upon the spot which your dear joints have warmed. I throw myself down; and watering the couch with profuse tears, Here, (I cry,) we pressed thee together: bring us together again. Hither we both came; why not both also depart? Perfidious bed, what is become of my dearer half? What shall I do? Whither, thus desolate and forsaken, shall I fly? The island lies uncultivated, and affords no prints either of men or cattle. The sea encompasses me. No mariner appears, no ship to bear me through the ambiguous tract. And suppose a ship, companions, and winds were in my power, what could I do? my native country denies access. Even if in a prosperous ship I should traverse the quiet seas, Æolus restraining the murmuring winds, still I should remain an exile. I shall never more behold you, O Crete, planned out into a hundred cities, — the isle where infant Jupiter was nursed. I have basely betrayed my father, and his kingdom ruled by just laws, — names that must be ever dear to me. For you have I betrayed them, when, anxious lest the victor should be bewildered in the labyrinth, I gave you a clue to guide your uncertain steps: when you deceived me by false protestations, and swore by the dangers from which you had escaped, that, while life remained, we should be inseparably one. We live; and yet, Theseus, I am no longer thine; if indeed an unhappy woman, oppressed by the treachery of a perjured man, can be said to live. If you, barbarous man, had murdered me with the club with which you slew my brother, my death would have absolved you from your vow. Now I not only figure to myself those ills which I shall suffer, but every mishap that can befall one in my forlorn condition. A thousand shapes of death wander before my eyes. Death itself appears less terrible, than the lin- gering life that threatens me. Sometimes I fancy that ravenous wolves may rush upon me unseen, and tear my bowels with their bloody teeth. Who knows but the island may nourish savage lions? perhaps too it is infested with fierce tigers: the shores are said to be fertile in sea-calves. How am I screened from the stroke of a piercing sword? But most I dread to be led a captive in cruel chains, and to prosecute the toilsome task with servile hands; — I, who boast of Minos for my father, who was born of the daughter of Phœbus; and, (what is still more to me) who was solemnly engaged to you. If I turn my eyes toward the sea, the earth, or the winding shore, both earth and waves threaten me with a thousand dangers. Heaven only remains, and yet even here I fear the forms of the Gods. I am left a prey, and food for savage beasts. If men inhabit or cultivate these fields, I am apt to mistrust even them. already a sufferer, I have learned to be slow in giving credit to strangers. Oh that Androgeos had still lived, nor the land of Cecrops been condemned to expiate that wicked deed by its funerals! Oh that thy strong arm, Theseus, had never killed my monstrous brother, half ox, half man, with a knotted club, and that I had never given you the thread to guide your returning steps, the thread often grasped by your alternate bands! No wonder that victory declared for you, and the prostrate monster tinged with its blood the Cretan ground. A heart so steeled could not be pierced by the sharpest horn. Had you encountered him with your breast uncovered, you were yet safe from harm. There you were armed with flint and adamant; there you bore Theseus, yet harder than adamant. Cruel sleep, why did you bind me over to a fatal sloth? It had been better for me to have sunk in eternal night. You also, barbarous winds, too readily conspired against me. Ye officious gales have been to me the cause of many tears. O inhuman right-hand, the bane of both me and my brother; and faith, an empty name, plighted at my request! Sleep, the winds, and strongest vows, combined against me, and concurred in deceiving a harmless unsuspecting maid. Alas! must I then here breathe my last, nor see the tears of a pitying mother? shall none attend to close my dying eyes? Must I breathe out my mournful soul in foreign air, and no friendly hand anoint my motionless limbs? Shall my unburied frame be left a prey to devouring vultures? Are these the proper returns for all my affectionate services? When you enter the port of Cecrops, and, welcomed by your country, mount the lofty citadel that overlooks the town; when there you relate your victory over the doubtful monster, and your escape from the intricate prison, branched out into a thousand windings; tell also how I was abandoned in a desert land: I ought not to be forgotten in the train of your exploits. Surely Ægeus was not your father; Æthra never gave birth to you: you sprang from pointed locks, or the raging sea. Oh if you could have viewed me from the stern of your ship, the mournful figure had surely moved compassion. As you cannot now observe me with your eyes, only imagine me to yourself, hanging over a frightful rock, undermined by the waves that dash against it below. Consider me with my hair disheveled, and carelessly spread over my disconsolate face; behold my clothes heavy with tears, as from a shower. My body trembles like corn shaken by the north winds; and the letters proceed unequal from my faltering hand. I do not urge you now by my merit, since my favors were so ill bestowed, nor expect any retribution, as due to my kind offices: but then, what pretence have you for ill usage? Had I not contributed in the smallest degree to your safety, even this is no reason why you should be the cause of my death. To thee wretched Ariadne stretches over the wide sea her hands, faint with often beating her sorrowful breast. Disconsolate as I am, I remind you of the few mangled tresses that yet remain. I conjure you, by the tears shed for your cruel departure, turn your ship, dear Theseus, and bear back your inverted sails. If I die ere you arrive, you may yet collect my scattered bones. |