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The Metamorphoses of Ovid, Books I-VII

Ovid · c. 1st century CE (composed in stages across the principate of Augustus; Books I–VII within the broader work) primary

passage 202 of 247 · Book “on the plan recommended by Mr. Locke,” was published in 1839, which had been already preceded by “a selection from the Metamorphoses of Ovid, adapted to the Hamiltonian system, by a literal and interlineal translation,” published by James Hamilton, the author of the Hamiltonian system. This work contains selections only from the first six books, and consequently embraces but a very small portion of the entire work. > BOOK THE SEVENTH. (9/36)

↪ you wandered here via “Hecate goddess of magic” — the connecting lines are tinted below

in brief
Jason asks Medea to transfer his youth by enchantment; Medea promises a greater remedy for Æetes’ father-in-law and performs nocturnal rites to restore Æson’s age.

belief; {still}, if {thy enchantments} can effect this (and what can enchantments not effect?), take away from my own years, and, when taken, add them to {those of} my father.”

And {thus saying}, he could not check his tears. She was moved with the affection of the petitioner; and {her father}, Æetes, left behind, recurred to her mind, unlike {that of Jason}; yet she did not confess any such feelings. “What a piece of wickedness, husband,” said she, “has escaped thy affectionate lips! Can I, then, seem capable of transferring to any one a portion of thy life? May Hecate not allow of this; nor dost thou ask what is reasonable; but, Jason, I will endeavor to grant thee a favor {still} greater than that which thou art asking. By my arts we will endeavor to bring back the long years of my father-in-law, and not by means of thy years; if the Goddess of the triple form[20] do but assist, and propitiously aid {so} vast an undertaking.” Three nights were {now} wanting that the horns {of the Moon} might meet entirely, and might form a {perfect} orb. After the Moon shone in her full, and looked down upon the Earth, with her disk complete, {Medea} went forth from the house, clothed in garments flowing loose, with bare feet,[21] and having her unadorned hair hanging over her shoulders, and unattended, directed her wandering steps through the still silence of midnight. Sound sleep has {now} relaxed {the nerves of both} men, and birds, and beasts; the hedges and the motionless foliage are still, without any noise, the dewy air is still; the stars alone are twinkling; towards which, holding up her arms, three times she turns herself about, three times she besprinkles her hair with water taken from the stream; with three yells she opens her mouth, and, her knee bending upon the hard ground, she says, “O Night, most faithful to these my mysteries, and ye golden Stars, who, with the Moon, succeed the fires of the day, and thou, three-faced Hecate,[22] who comest conscious of my design, and ye charms and arts of the enchanters, and thou, too, Earth, that dost furnish the enchanters with powerful herbs; ye breezes, too, and winds, mountains, rivers, and lakes, and all ye Deities of the groves, and all ye Gods of night, attend here; through whose aid, whenever I will, the rivers run back from their astonished banks to their sources, {and} by my charms I calm the troubled sea, and rouse it when calm; I disperse the clouds, and I bring clouds {upon the Earth}; I both allay the winds, and I raise them; and I break the jaws of serpents with my words and my spells; I move, too, the solid rocks, and the oaks torn up with their own {native} earth, and the forests {as well}. I command the mountains, too, to quake, and the Earth to groan, and the ghosts to come forth from their tombs. Thee, too, O Moon, do I draw down, although the Temesæan[23] brass relieves thy pangs. By my spells, also, the chariot of my grandsire is rendered pale; Aurora, too, is pale through my enchantments. For me did ye blunt the flames of the bulls, and with the curving plough you pressed the necks that never before bore the yoke. You raised a cruel warfare for those born of the dragon among themselves, and you lulled to sleep the keeper {of the golden fleece}, that had never known sleep; and {thus}, deceiving the guardian, you sent the treasure into the Grecian cities. Now there is need of juices, by means of which, old age, being renewed, may return to the bloom {of life}, and may receive back again its early years; and {this} ye will give me; for not in vain did the stars {just now} sparkle; nor yet in vain is the chariot come, drawn by the necks of winged dragons.”

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topics: prayer and worship · the passions and the emotions

The Metamorphoses of Ovid, Books I-VII · Ovid · 1 BCE–8