Metamorphosis 1; Part VI

We are back yet again with another Tale of Two Translations. As we continue through Ovid's Metamorphoses, now entering our sixth entry, I will make these intros far briefer; it's high time I let Ovid's seminal work speak for itself. Yet it is still important that I remind you all of the importance of exposing yourselves to different translations of Latin texts. Different translations each have unique styles and can illuminate different broader interpretations of the work as a whole. As you continue to form your own translations of ancient Latin texts (I strongly encourage you to formulate your own translations as you read the original Latin text, using our Latin Resources section for guidance on vocabulary and terminology), you will start to see your translation style emerge. Note down, preferably in the comments section, how your styles compare to the ones provided in this post. Do you disagree with any of the choices these translators make? Why do you think that's the case? Additionally, leave any questions about the original Latin or translations below. Now, without further ado, let's dive back into Metamorphosis.

Original Latin'

Separat Aonios Oetaeis Phocis ab arvis,

terra ferax, dum terra fuit, sed tempore in illo

pars maris et latus subitarum campus aquarum.

mons ibi verticibus petit arduus astra duobus,

nomine Parnasos, superantque cacumina nubes.

hic ubi Deucalion (nam cetera texerat aequor)

cum consorte tori parva rate vectus adhaesit,

Corycidas nymphas et numina montis adorant

fatidicamque Themin, quae tunc oracla tenebat:

non illo melior quisquam nec amantior aequi

vir fuit aut illa metuentior ulla deorum.

Iuppiter ut liquidis stagnare paludibus orbem

et superesse virum de tot modo milibus unum,

et superesse vidit de tot modo milibus unam,

innocuos ambo, cultores numinis ambo,

nubila disiecit nimbisque aquilone remotis

et caelo terras ostendit et aethera terris.

nec maris ira manet, positoque tricuspide telo

mulcet aquas rector pelagi supraque profundum

exstantem atque umeros innato murice tectum

caeruleum Tritona vocat conchaeque sonanti

inspirare iubet fluctusque et flumina signo

iam revocare dato: cava bucina sumitur illi,

tortilis in latum quae turbine crescit ab imo,

bucina, quae medio concepit ubi aera ponto,

litora voce replet sub utroque iacentia Phoebo;

tum quoque, ut ora dei madida rorantia barba

contigit et cecinit iussos inflata receptus,

omnibus audita est telluris et aequoris undis,

et quibus est undis audita, coercuit omnes.

iam mare litus habet, plenos capit alveus amnes,

flumina subsidunt collesque exire videntur;

surgit humus, crescunt sola decrescentibus undis,

postque diem longam nudata cacumina silvae

ostendunt limumque tenent in fronde relictum

Redditus orbis erat; quem postquam vidit inanem

et desolatas agere alta silentia terras,

Deucalion lacrimis ita Pyrrham adfatur obortis:

'o soror, o coniunx, o femina sola superstes,

quam commune mihi genus et patruelis origo,

deinde torus iunxit, nunc ipsa pericula iungunt,

terrarum, quascumque vident occasus et ortus,

nos duo turba sumus; possedit cetera pontus.

haec quoque adhuc vitae non est fiducia nostrae

certa satis; terrent etiamnum nubila mentem.

quis tibi, si sine me fatis erepta fuisses,

nunc animus, miseranda, foret? quo sola timorem

ferre modo posses? quo consolante doleres!

namque ego (crede mihi), si te quoque pontus haberet,

te sequerer, coniunx, et me quoque pontus haberet.

o utinam possim populos reparare paternis

artibus atque animas formatae infundere terrae!

nunc genus in nobis restat mortale duobus.

sic visum superis: hominumque exempla manemus.'

dixerat, et flebant: placuit caeleste precari

numen et auxilium per sacras quaerere sortes.

nulla mora est: adeunt pariter Cephesidas undas,

ut nondum liquidas, sic iam vada nota secantes.

inde ubi libatos inroravere liquores

vestibus et capiti, flectunt vestigia sanctae

ad delubra deae, quorum fastigia turpi

pallebant musco stabantque sine ignibus arae.

ut templi tetigere gradus, procumbit uterque

pronus humi gelidoque pavens dedit oscula saxo

atque ita 'si precibus' dixerunt 'numina iustis

victa remollescunt, si flectitur ira deorum,

dic, Themi, qua generis damnum reparabile nostri

arte sit, et mersis fer opem, mitissima, rebus!'''

Translation I: Arthur Golding, 1567

*Arthur Golding was an English translator of more than 30 works from Latin into English; his translation of the Metamorphoses is notorious for having influenced William Shakespeare's writings

Against the fieldes of Aonie and Atticke lies a lande

That Phocis hight, a fertile ground while that it was a lande:

But at that time a part of Sea, and even a champion fielde

Of sodaine waters which the floud by forced rage did yeelde,

Where as a hill with forked top the which Parnasus hight,

Doth pierce the cloudes and to the starres doth raise his head upright.

When at this hill (for yet the Sea had whelmed all beside)

Deucalion and his bedfellow, without all other guide,

Arrived in a little Barke immediatly they went,

And to the Nymphes of Corycus with full devout intent

Did honor due, and to the Gods to whome that famous hill

Was sacred, and to Themis eke in whose most holie will

Consisted then the Oracles. In all the world so rounde

A better nor more righteous man could never yet be founde

Than was Deucalion, nor againe a woman, mayde nor wife,

That feared God so much as shee, nor led so good a life.

When Jove behelde how all the worlde stoode lyke a plash of raine,

And of so many thousand men and women did remaine

But one of eche, howbeit those both just and both devout,

He brake the Cloudes, and did commaund that Boreas with his stout

And sturdie blasts should chase the floud, that Earth might see the skie

And Heaven the Earth: the Seas also began immediatly

Their raging furie for to cease. Their ruler laide awaye

His dreadfull Mace, and with his wordes their woodnesse did alaye.

He called Tryton to him straight, his trumpetter, who stoode

In purple robe on shoulder cast, aloft upon the floode,

And bade him take his sounding Trumpe and out of hand to blow

Retreat, that all the streames might heare, and cease from thence to flow.

He tooke his Trumpet in his hand, hys Trumpet was a shell

Of some great Whelke or other fishe, in facion like a Bell

That gathered narrow to the mouth, and as it did descende

Did waxe more wide and writhen still, downe to the nether ende:

When that this Trumpe amid the Sea was set to Trytons mouth,

He blew so loude that all the streames both East, West, North and South,

Might easly heare him blow retreate, and all that heard the sounde

Immediatly began to ebbe and draw within their bounde.

Then gan the Sea to have a shore, and brookes to finde a banke,

And swelling streames of flowing flouds within hir chanels sanke.

Then hils did rise above the waves that had them overflow,

And as the waters did decrease the ground did seeme to grow.

And after long and tedious time the trees did shew their tops

All bare, save that upon the boughes the mud did hang in knops.

The worlde restored was againe, which though Deucalion joyde

Then to beholde: yet forbicause he saw the earth was voyde

And silent like a wildernesse, with sad and weeping eyes

And ruthfull voyce he then did speake to Pyrrha in this wise:

O sister, O my loving spouse, O sielie woman left,

As onely remnant of thy sexe that water hath bereft,

Whome Nature first by right of birth hath linked to me fast

In that we brothers children bene: and secondly the chast

And stedfast bond of lawfull bed: and lastly now of all,

The present perils of the time that latelye did befall.

On all the Earth from East to West where Phebus shewes his face

There is no moe but thou and I of all the mortall race.

The Sea hath swallowed all the rest: and scarsly are we sure,

That our two lives from dreadfull death in safetie shall endure.

For even as yet the duskie cloudes doe make my heart adrad.

Alas poore wretched sielie soule, what heart wouldst thou have had

To beare these heavie happes, if chaunce had let thee scape alone?

Who should have bene thy consort then: who should have rewd thy mone?

Now trust me truly, loving wife, had thou as now bene drownde,

I would have followde after thee and in the sea bene fownde.

Would God I could my fathers Arte, of claye to facion men

And give them life that people might frequent the world agen.

Mankinde (alas) doth onely now wythin us two consist,

As mouldes whereby to facion men. For so the Gods doe lyst.

And with these words the bitter teares did trickle down their cheeke,

Untill at length betweene themselves they did agree to seeke

To God by prayer for his grace, and to demaund his ayde

By aunswere of his Oracle. Wherein they nothing stayde,

But to Cephisus sadly went, whose streame as at that time

Began to run within his bankes though thicke with muddie slime,

Whose sacred liquor straight they tooke and sprinkled with the same

Their heads and clothes: and afterward to Themis chappell came,

The roofe whereof with cindrie mosse was almost overgrowne.

For since the time the raging floud the worlde had overflowne,

No creature came within the Churche: so that the Altars stood

Without one sparke of holie fyre or any sticke of wood.

As soon as that this couple came within the chappell doore,

They fell downe flat upon the ground, and trembling kist the floore.

And sayde: If prayer that proceedes from humble heart and minde

May in the presence of the Gods, such grace and favor finde

As to appease their worthie wrath, then vouch thou safe to tell

(O gentle Themis) how the losse that on our kinde befell

May now eftsoones recovered be, and helpe us to repaire

The world, which drowned under waves doth lie in great dispaire.

Translation 2: Anthony S. Kline, 2000

*A.S. Kline is a poet, author, and translator who graduated from the Unviersity of Manchester and dedicated his life to translations of Latin, Anchient Greek, Classical Chinese, and other European languages. He is best known for his contributions to the cite "Poetry in Translation," where he serves as the chief translator.

Phocis, a fertile country when it was still land, separates Aonia from Oeta, though at that time it was part of the sea, a wide expanse of suddenly created water. There Mount Parnassus lifts its twin steep summits to the stars, its peaks above the clouds. When Deucalion and his wife landed here in their small boat, everywhere else being drowned by the waters, they worshipped the Corycian nymphs, the mountain gods, and the goddess of the oracles, prophetic Themis. No one was more virtuous or fonder of justice than he was, and no woman showed greater reverence for the gods. When Jupiter saw the earth covered with the clear waters, and that only one man was left of all those thousands of men, only one woman left of all those thousands of women, both innocent and both worshippers of the gods, he scattered the clouds and mist, with the north wind, and revealed the heavens to the earth and the earth to the sky. It was no longer an angry sea, since the king of the oceans putting aside his three-pronged spear calmed the waves, and called sea-dark Triton, showing from the depths his shoulders thick with shells, to blow into his echoing conch and give the rivers and streams the signal to return. He lifted the hollow shell that coils from its base in broad spirals, that shell that filled with his breath in mid-ocean makes the eastern and the western shores sound. So now when it touched the god’s mouth, and dripping beard, and sounded out the order for retreat, it was heard by all the waters on earth and in the ocean, and all the waters hearing it were checked. Now the sea has shorelines, the brimming rivers keep to their channels, the floods subside, and hills appear. Earth rises, the soil increasing as the water ebbs, and finally the trees show their naked tops, the slime still clinging to their leaves.

The world was restored. But when Deucalion saw its emptiness, and the deep silence of the desolate lands, he spoke to Pyrrha, through welling tears. ‘Wife, cousin, sole surviving woman, joined to me by our shared race, our family origins, then by the marriage bed, and now joined to me in danger, we two are the people of all the countries seen by the setting and the rising sun, the sea took all the rest. Even now our lives are not guaranteed with certainty: the storm clouds still terrify my mind. How would you feel now, poor soul, if the fates had willed you to be saved, but not me? How could you endure your fear alone? Who would comfort your tears? Believe me, dear wife, if the sea had you, I would follow you, and the sea would have me too. If only I, by my father’s arts, could recreate earth’s peoples, and breathe life into the shaping clay! The human race remains in us. The gods willed it that we are the only examples of mankind left behind.’ He spoke, and they wept, resolving to appeal to the sky-god and ask his help by sacred oracles. Immediately, they went side by side to the springs of Cephisus that, though still unclear, flowed in their usual course. When they had sprinkled their heads and clothing with its watery libations, they traced their steps to the temple of the sacred goddess, whose pediments were green with disfiguring moss, her altars without fire. When they reached the steps of the sanctuary they fell forward together and lay prone on the ground, and kissing the cold rock with trembling lips, said ‘If the gods wills soften, appeased by the prayers of the just, if in this way their anger can be deflected, Themis tell us by what art the damage to our race can be repaired, and bring help, most gentle one, to this drowned world!

In Conclusion...

We hope you enjoyed the sixth entry in Tale of Two Translations, featuring some more sections of Metamorphoses Book 1. Please leave any comments, questions, or concerns below, and be sure to recommend future translations, texts, prose, or poems for us to dive into!