circuit et ne quid labefactum viribus ignis
corruat explorat. quæ postquam firma suique
roboris esse videt terras hominumque labores
perspicit. Arcadiæ tamen est impensior illi
cura suæ: fontes et nondum audentia labi
flumina restituit dat terræ gramina, frondes
arboribus, læsasque iubet revirescere silvas.
dum redit itque frequens, in virgine Nonacrina
hæsit et accepti caluere sub ossibus ignes.
non erat huius opus lanam mollire trahendo
nec positu variare comas; ubi fibula vestem,
vitta cœrcuerat neglectos alba capillos,
et modo leve manu iaculum, modo sumpserat arcum,
miles erat Phœbes: nec Mænalon attigit ulla
gratior hac Triviæ. sed nulla potentia longa est.
vulteris medio spatium sol altus habebat,
cum subit illa nemus, quod nulla ceciderat ætas.
exuit hic umero pharetram lentosque retendit
arcus, inque solo, quod texerat herba, iacebat
et pictam posito pharentram cirvice premebat.
Iuppiter ut vidit fessam et custode vacantem,
“hoc certe furtum coniunx mea nesciet” inquit,
“aut si rescierit sunt o sunt iurgia tanti.”
protinus induitur faciem cultumque Dianæ
atque ait: “O comitum, virgo, pars una mearum,
in quibus es venata iugis?” de cæspite virgo
se levat et “salve numen, me indice”, dixit
“audiat ipse licet maius Iove.” ridet et audit,
et sibi præferri se gaudet et oscula iungit
nec moderata satis nec sic a virgine danda.
qua venata foret silva, narrare parantem
impedit amplexu, nec se sine crimine prodit.
illa quidem contra, quantum modo femina possit
(adspiceres utinam, Saturnia: mitior esses!)
illa quidem pugnat: sed quem superare puella,
quisve Iovem poterat? superum petit æthera victor
Iuppiter: huic odio nemus est et conscia silva.
unde pedum referns pæne est oblita pharetram
tollere cum telis et quem suspenderat arcum.
ecce, suo comitata choro Dictynna per altum
Mænalon ingrediens et cæde superba ferarum
adspicit hanc visamque vocat: clamata refugit,
et timuit primo, ne Iuppiter esset in illa.
sed postquam pariter nymphas incedere vidit,
sensit abesse dolos numerumque accessit ad harum.
heu quam difficile est crimen non prodere vultu!
vix oculos attollit humo, nec, ut ante solebant,
iuncta Deæ lateri, nec, tot est agmine prima,
sed silet et læsi dat signa rubore pudoris;
et nisi quod virgo est poterat sentire Diana
mille notis culpam; nymphæ sensisse feruntur.
orbe resurgebat lunaria cornua nono,
cum Dea venatu, fraternis linguida flammis,
nacta nemus gelidum, de quo cum murmure labens
ibat et attritas versabat rivus harenas.
ut loca laudavit summas pede contigit undas:
his quoque laudatis, “procul est” ait “arbiter omnis;
nuda superfasis tingamus corpora lymphis.”
Parrhasis erubuit. cunctæ velamina ponunt: …
Then the Almighty Father’s immense walls
Of Heaven encircled, and how with force,
Lightning, fire, He causes to flow forth,
May not undermine them and so down-fall.
Which when firm and of His own hardness due,
Thinks to the earth and man’s works: sees it through.
However, for Arcadia ’t is greater,
With love of her: springs and not yet hearing
Streams to flow, of soil grasses renewed bring
With trees in leaf, by having been broken
And are ordered to grow green again: woodlands.
Until He returns and goes frequently
Among, with an Arcadian maiden,
He was attached, and by having received
’Neath the very souls: pursued with passion.
This one’s work wasn’t to soft wool spinning,
Nor to change dresses or hair arranging;
By a latchet with which to clasp her clothes,
In a white chaplet, unkempt hairs enclosed,
Only lightly armed with fist and jav’lin,
Or sometimes she had taken up the bow,
She’d been - was - a soldier of Diana,
Not for Arcadian mount Mænala, no,
To touch any in this way’s more pleasing,
To Diana;
But ’t is to no avail, hope: far-reaching.
Further midday sun’s rays shone, ’t was held high;
She goes to that grove for no hewn lifetime.
From on the ground, and should’ring the quiver,
She slowly drew the bow and released it,
That she lay flat in the grass concealēd,
Sank her neck on the quiver embroided.
With the watcher: Jupiter, had time for,
And her, having become exhausted,
“This intrigue my wife’ll not know”, he said,
“Of course; or, if she shall have perceivēd,
They’re to quarrel, oh, they’re quarrels so great.”
Forthwith He assumed to Diana’s form
And by having been well-dressed and adorned,
He said, “Oh follower, one of my retinue,
A virgin, who joins in the hunt with you?”
Just after, the virgin from in the sod,
Arose and said, “Well met Divine power,
By my testimony it may be told,
’T is permitted: greater than Jupiter
Himself, art thou.” He laughed, and to Himself,
Glad, He hurried past to kiss her sweet mouth,
Mated, not only quite restrained - fairly,
But also giving by the young lady.
By whom, having been hunted may’ve piercēd
The woods, prepared in embrace encirclēd,
Himself, not without reproach: went ahead.
That Callisto fought as much as - ’t is true
Only a female might be able to,
(By Saturn! Would that gentler you may see!)
That she in-fact fought, struggled, disagreed,
But what young girl can surmount to conquer,
Or whom has the power but Jupiter?
Jupiter, he goes to Heaven above
The victor: for this place its conscious of
Ill-will, from the forest woods and the grove.
Whence she goes back as she almost forgot,
Checked, to take her quiver, bow and arrows.
Behold! Diana with her troupe company
All over mount Mænalon’s heights proceed,
And by the slaughtering of wild beasts proud
Caught sight of this Nymph whom seemed right: called loud,
And initially she fled in fear,
That she may not be among Jupiter.
Yet when she saw nymphs to strut together,
She felt clear of deceits, and a number
Of these nymphs came near to - and added - her.
Alas! What awkwardness ’t is guilt to hide,
To not betray looks: ’specially in the eyes!
With the eye hardly being raised to the ground,
As ’t is not how it used to be, before
Enjoined of the goddess’ body around;
Nor is it the ent’re moved to the fore,
But be still, both the cause of injury,
Marks a sense of shame, disgrace, from modesty,
And ’t is unless that maiden could feel remorse,
Diana,
A thousand faults known from the Nymph flowed forth.
With the hornēd moon in its ninth cycle,
By the rising of Luna’s orb again,
While the goddess hunts, the brothers’ faint passion;
A frozen forest: they happen upon,
Whither down from came a roaring, then fade,
It proceeded and being worn away,
A stream wound down to the sandy sea-shore.
Since places of the gods, summits he praised,
He touched the shepherd’s crook, streams, surging waves,
This also, too, by being praisēd: laud,
“ ’T is far” says she, arbiter who sees all,
Naked bodies, spread bathing in waters.
Grew red: Parrhasius the painter,
They put off their garments all together: …
Translated by Maxwell Lewis Latham, all rights reserved.
