LP0101 ovMeta7-322 Medea & Aegeus

Legendary Passages #0101, Publius Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses Book 7 [322], Medea & Aegeus. Previously, Medea convinced the daughters of Pelias to slay their father. In this passage, they do just that, and Medea flies from Iolcus to Corinth to Athens, sowing chaos in her wake. After slaying Pelias, Medea and her dragons sail over Pelion, Orthrys, Pittane, Ida's grove, Eurypylus, Rhodes, Carthaea, Hyrie, Pleuron, Calauria, and Cyllene; all with their own legends. After burning the palace in Corinth, she came to Athens and married King Aegeus. When Theseus arrived, she brewed aconite, a poison from the very land where Hercules brought up from Hades the three-headed dog Cerberus. Finally, once father and son are reunited, the Athenians sing of the Labors of Theseus. Medea & Aegeus, a Legendary Passage from, Brookes More translating, Publius Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses Book 7, [322] - [453] https://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#4 Three times Phoebus unyoked his steeds after their plunge in Ebro's stream, and on the fourth night stars shown brilliant on the dark foil of the sky, and then the treacherous daughter of Aeetes set some clear water over a hot fire and put in it herbs of no potency. And now a death-like sleep held the king down, his body all relaxed, and with the king his guards, a sleep which incantations with the potency of magic words had given. The sad king's daughters, as they had been bid, were in his room, and with Medea stood around his bed. "Why do you hesitate,” Medea said. “You laggards, come and draw your swords; let out his old blood that I may refill his empty veins again with young blood. In your hands your father's life and youth are resting. You, his daughters, must have love for him, and if the hopes you have are not all vain, come, do your duty by your father; drive out old age at the point of your good weapons; and let out his blood enfeebled—cure him with the stroke of iron.” Spurred on by these words, as each one of them was filial she became the leader in the most unfilial act, and that she might not be most wicked did the wicked deed. Not one could bear to see her own blows, so they turned their eyes away; and every face averted so, they blindly struck him with their cruel hands. The old man streaming with his blood, still raised himself on elbow, and half mangled tried to get up from his bed; with all those swords around him, he stretched out his pale arms and he cried: “What will you do, my daughters? What has armed you to the death of your loved father?” Their wrong courage left them, and their hands fell. When he would have said still more, Medea cut his throat and plunged his mangled body into boiling water. Only because her winged dragons sailed swiftly with her up to the lofty sky, escaped Medea punishment for this unheard of crime. Her chariot sailed above embowered Pelion—long the lofty home of Chiron—over Othrys, and the vale made famous where Cerambus met his fate. Cerambus, by the aid of nymphs, from there was wafted through the air on wings, when earth was covered by the overwhelming sea—and so escaped Deucalion's flood, uncrowned. She passed by Pittane upon the left, with its huge serpent-image of hard stone, and also passed the grove called Ida's, where the stolen bull was changed by Bacchus' power into a hunted stag—in that same vale Paris lies buried in the sand; and over fields where Mera warning harked, Medea flew; over the city of Eurypylus upon the Isle of Cos, whose women wore the horns of cattle when from there had gone the herd of Hercules; and over Rhodes beloved of Phoebus, where Telchinian tribes dwelt, whose bad eyes corrupting power shot forth;—Jove, utterly despising, thrust them deep beneath his brother's waves; over the walls of old Carthaea, where Alcidamas had seen with wonder a tame dove arise from his own daughter's body. And she saw the lakes of Hyrie in Teumesia's Vale, by swans frequented—There to satisfy his love for Cycnus, Phyllius gave two living vultures: shell for him subdued a lion, and delivered it to him; and mastered a great bull, at his command; but when the wearied Phyllius refused to render to his friend the valued bull. Indignant, the youth said, “You shall regret your hasty words;” which having said, he leaped from a high precipice, as if to death; but gliding through the air, on snow-white wings, was changed into a swan—Dissolved in tears, his mother Hyrie knew not he was saved; and weeping, formed the lake that bears her name. And over Pleuron, where on trembling wings escaped the mother Combe from her sons, Medea flew; and over the far isle Calauria, sacred to Latona.—She beheld the conscious fields whose lawful king, together with his queen were changed to birds. Upon her right Cyllene could be seen; there Menephon, degraded as a beast, outraged his mother. In the distance, she beheld Cephisius, who lamented long his hapless grandson, by Apollo changed into a bloated sea-calf. And she saw the house where king Eumelus mourned the death of his aspiring son.— MEDEA AND AEGEUS Borne on the wings of her enchanted dragons, she arrived at Corinth, whose inhabitants, 'tis said, from many mushrooms, watered by the rain sprang into being. There she spent some years. But after the new wife had been burnt by the Colchian witchcraft and two seas had seen the king's own palace all aflame, then, savagely she drew her sword, and bathed it in the blood of her own infant sons; by which atrocious act she was revenged; and she, a wife and mother, fled the sword of her own husband, Jason. On the wings of her enchanted Titan Dragons borne, she made escape, securely, nor delayed until she entered the defended walls of great Minerva's city, at the hour when aged Periphas—transformed by Jove, together with his queen, on eagle wings flew over its encircling walls: with whom the guilty Halcyone, skimming seas safely escaped, upon her balanced wings. And after these events, Medea went to Aegeus, king of Athens, where she found protection from her enemies for all this evil done. With added wickedness Aegeus, after that, united her to him in marriage.— All unknown to him came Theseus to his kingly court.—Before the time his valor had established peace on all the isthmus, raved by dual seas. Medea, seeking his destruction, brewed the juice of aconite, infesting shores of Scythia, where, 'tis fabled, the plant grew on soil infected by Cerberian teeth. There is a gloomy entrance to a cave, that follows a declivitous descent: there Hercules with chains of adamant dragged from the dreary edge of Tartarus that monster-watch-dog, Cerberus, which, vain opposing, turned his eyes aslant from light—from dazzling day. Delirious, enraged, that monster shook the air with triple howls; and, frothing, sprinkled as it raved, the fields, once green—with spewing of white poison-foam. And this, converted into plants, sucked up a deadly venom with the nourishment of former soils, -- from which productive grew upon the rock, thus formed, the noxious plant; by rustics, from that cause, named aconite. Medea worked on Aegeus to present his own son, Theseus, with a deadly cup of aconite; prevailing by her art so that he deemed his son an enemy. Theseus unwittingly received the cup, but just before he touched it to his lips, his father recognized the sword he wore, for, graven on its ivory hilt was wrought a known device—the token of his race. Astonished, Aegeus struck the poison-cup from his devoted son's confiding lips. Medea suddenly escaped from death, in a dark whirlwind her witch-singing raised. AEACUS & THE MYRMIDONS Recoiling from such utter wickedness, rejoicing that his son escaped from death, the grateful father kindled altar-fires, and gave rich treasure to the living Gods.—He slaughtered scores of oxen, decked with flowers and gilded horns. The sun has never shone upon a day more famous in that land, for all the elders and the common folk united in festivities,—with wine inspiring wit and song;— "O you,” they sang, “Immortal Theseus, victory was yours! Did you not slaughter the huge bull of Crete? Yes, you did slay the boar of Cromyon— where now the peasant unmolested plows; And Periphetes, wielder of the club, was worsted when he struggled with your strength; And fierce Procrustes, matched with you beside the rapid river, met his death; And even Cercyon, in Eleusis lost his wicked life— inferior to your might; And Sinis, a monstrosity of strength, who bent the trunks of trees, and used his might Against the world for everything that's wrong. For evil, he would force down to the earth, Pine tops to shoot men's bodies through the air. Even the road to Megara is safe, For you did hurl the robber Scyron,—sheer—over the cliff. Both land and sea denied His bones a resting place— as tossed about they changed into the cliffs that bear his name. How can we tell the number of your deeds,— deeds glorious, that now exceed your years! For you, brave hero, we give public thanks and prayers; to you we drain our cups of wine!” And all the palace rings with happy songs, and with the grateful prayers of all the people. And sorrow in that city is not known.— But pleasure always is alloyed with grief, and sorrow mingles in the joyous hour. While the king Aegeus and his son rejoiced, Minos prepared for war. https://www.theoi.com/Text/OvidMetamorphoses7.html#5 This passage continues with Minos and Aeacus, but our next episode returns to the Kings of Athens.