OF old this saying hath 'mongst men been famed,
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That of man's life, till death hath closed the scene
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We know not to decide, to term it blest,
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Or wretched. Of my life I can decide,
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Ere to the regions of the dead I go;
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I know it to misfortune doom'd, and grief.
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E'en with my father Eneus when I dwelt
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At Pleuron, much I suffer'd through the dread,
More than Ætolian virgin ever felt,
Of hated nuptials; for the River came
My wooer, Achelöus; in three forms
Me of my father he demanded; now
He walk'd a Bull, a Dragon now he roll'd
His spotted wreaths, now wore the human form
With a Bull's head disfigured, copious streams
Of fountain water flowing down his cheeks
With hair thick-shaded. Dreading to receive
A wooer so abhorr'd, my constant wish
Was death, to such a bridal bed preferr'd.
At length, though late, th' illustrious son of Jove
And of Alcmena came, to me what joy!
He with the monster in fierce fight engaged,
And set me free: his dangerous toils distinct
I cannot tell thee, for I know them not;
Whoe'er unterrified beheld that sight,
Let him relate it; all my sense was lost
In fear, lest sorrows fatal to my peace
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My beauty should perchance produce. At length
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The arbiter of battles, sovereign Jove,
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Disposed th' event to glory and to joy,
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If joy: for wedded now to Hercules,
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My much-loved hero, fear succeeding fear
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Anxious for his dear sake I still sustain;
cause.
The inhabitants of Memphis, he says, ended their harvest about the
time when the Sun enters the Bull; that animal therefore became the symbol
of harvest and plenty in that distinguished province: and they gave the Nile
the head of a Bull, to shew that he was the father of the harvests of Ægypt;
and this is the reason why other rivers are described under the same form;
for though they do not overflow, like the Nile, yet they never fail to fertilize
the plains through which they wind their course. Histoire du Ciel poetique.
For the night brings him to me, and the night
Drives him away to toil that follows toil.
I bore him children; these he seldom sees;
As one that hath acquired far distant fields,
Trachiniae. Sophocles. Robert Potter (Translator). London. 1820.