Nature
Halieuticon (Riley)
Translated by Henry T. Riley (1851) · From The Fasti, Tristia, Pontic Epistles, Ibis and Halieuticon (Bohn, 1851)
* * * * The world received the law; and he gave arms to all beings, and reminded them of their self-preservation; for thus it is that the calf threatens, which, not yet bears horns on its tender forehead; for this reason the hinds flee, the lions fight valorously, the dog defends himself by his bite, the scorpion by the sting of its tail, and the light bird flies away with agitated wings.
All have a vague fear of a death that is unknown to them; to all it has been granted to be sensible of the enemy, and the means of defence that have been given them, and to know the power and the manner of using their weapons: and thus too the scarus is caught by stratagem, beneath the waves, and at length dreads the bait fraught with treacherousness. It dares not strike the sticks with an effort of its head; but, turning away, as it loosens the twigs with frequent blows of its tail, it makes its passage, and escapes safely into the deep. Moreover, if perchance any kind scarus, swimming behind, sees it struggling within the osiers, he takes hold of its tail in his mouth, as it is thus turned away, and so [it escapes.]
The cuttle-fish, slow in flight, when perchance, it has been caught under the buoyant wave, and every moment is in dread of the hands of the spoiler, vomits from its mouth a black blood, that tints the sea and hides its path, deceiving the eyes of those that follow.
The pike, taken in the net, though huge and bold, sinks down, crouching in the sand which it has stirred up with its tail. * * * * It leaps into the air, and uninjured, with a bound it escapes the stratagem. The fierce lamprey, too, conscious of the smoothness of its round back, turning its head, in preference, towards the loosened meshes of the net, with its slippery body at last escapes clear through the multiplied windings, and, injurious in the example it has set, it alone slips through them all. But, on the other hand, the sluggish polypus sticks to the rocks with its body provided with feelers, and by this stratagem it escapes the nets, and, according to the nature of the spot, it assumes and changes its colour, always resembling that place which it has lighted upon; and when it has greedily seized the prey hanging from the fishing-line, it likewise deceives the angler, on his raising the rod, when, now emerging into the air, it loosens its feelers, and spits forth the hook that it has despoiled of the bait.
But the mullet, with its tail, beats off the pendant bait, and snatches it up when thus struck off. The pike, lashed into furious rage, is carried along with its flounderings on every side, and follows the current that carries it on, and wriggles about its head, until the cruel hook falls from the loosened wound, and leaves its opened mouth. The lamprey, too, is not ignorant of its own powers of attack, and is not without its sharp bite on the instant as its means of defence; nor, when caught, does it lay aside its fierce spirit. The anthias uses those arms, which, being behind it, it does not behold; it knows, too, the power of its back-bone, and turning its body with its back downwards, it cuts the line and intercepts the hook fixed in the bait.
As to the rest of the animals which inhabit the dense woods, either vain fears are ever alarming them, maddened with terror, or the blind ferocity of their nature is ever throwing them headlong into dangers. 'Tis nature itself that prompts them either to take to flight, or to rush into close conflict. See how the intrepid lion rushes on, to scatter the ranks of the hunters, and how he presents his breast to the hostile darts. Wherever he approaches, he burns with rage, more and more confident, and more spirited; he shakes his mane, and he adds anger to his native strength. He rushes on, and, by his own courage, he hastens his death.
The hideous bear, as it rolls along from its Lucanian dens, what is it but a sluggish mass, ferocious, and of a stolid disposition? The wild boar, hard pressed, signifies his anger by his erected bristles, and, with a bound, rushes amid the wounds of the opposing steel, and, followed up, dies with the weapon transfixing his vitals.
Another portion of the animals, trusting in their fleetness, turn their backs on the pursuer; such as the timid hares, and the deer with tawny hide, and the stag, flying with unlimited terror. 'Tis nature itself that prompts them, either to take to flight, or to rush into close conflict.
The honour of high spirit and the greatest glory belong to the horse; for, in his instinct, he covets the victory, and exults in his conquest. Whether it is that he has gained the wreath, in the seven courses round the Circus; do you not see, how much more erect the victor raises aloft his head, and displays himself to the applause of the crowd? or, whether it is when his lofty back is adorned with the slaughtered lion; how proudly, how remarkable for his stately air, does he walk, and how his hoof, as he returns heavily laden with the spoils of victory, actuated by the generous impulse, strikes the ground?
Which is the especial point of merit in the dog? What intrepid boldness there is in them! What sagacious aptness for the chase: what powers of endurance in following. Now they are snuffing the air with elevated nostrils; now they are examining the track with nose close to the ground; and now, with their cry, they proclaim that they have found, and urge on their master with their voice. Should the prey escape his attack, then, over hills and over plains does the dog pursue. All our toils are centered in their skill; on that do all our hopes rely.
But I would not recommend you to go out into the midst of the ocean, nor to try the depths of the open sea. You will do better to regulate your cable according to each kind of locality. At one time, the spot may be rugged with rocks; such demands the pliant fishing-rod; whereas the smooth shore requires the net. Does some lofty mountain send its deepening shadows over the sea; according to their different natures, some fish avoid, and some seek such a spot. If the sea is green from the weeds that grow at the bottom * * * *
let him apply patience, and let him watch by the soft seaweed. Nature has designed, in a varied manner, the bottom of the ocean, and she has not willed that all fish should frequent the same haunts; for there are some that love the open sea, such as the mackarel, and the sea ox, and the darting hippurus, and the gurnet with its swarthy back, and the valuable helops, unknown in our waters, and the hardy sword-fish, not less dangerous than a sword with its blow, and the timid tunnies, that fly in large shoals; there is, too, the little sucking-fish, wondrous to tell! a vast obstruction to ships; you, too, the pilot-fish, the companion of the vessels, who always follow the white foam of the track that they make along the ocean, and the fierce cercyros, that haunts the bases of the rocks; the cantharus, too, unpleasant in its flavour, the orphas, like it in colour, and the erythinus, reddening in the azure waves; the sargus, remarkable with its spots and distinguished by its fins, the sparulus, refulgent with its gilded neck, the glittering pagur, the tawny shark, and the ruff that re-produces itself, deprived of two-fold parents; besides; the rock-fish, with its green scales and its little mouth, the scarce dory, the tinted mormyr, and the gilt-head, rivalling the brilliancy of gold; the grayling, too, with its livid body, the darting pike, the perch, and the tragus. Besides; the melanurus, remarkable for the beauty of its tail, the lamprey burning with its spots of gold, the green merling, the conger-eel, cruel with the wounds which it inflicts on those of its own kind, the sea-scorpion, injurious from the sharp sting in its head, and the glaucus that is never beheld under the Constellation of summer. But on the other hand, some fishes extend themselves on the sands covered with weeds, as the scarus, which fish alone ruminates the food it has eaten, and the prolific species of the pilchard, the lamyros, the smaris, the filthy chromis, and the salpa, deservedly in little esteem; the fish, too, that imitates, beneath the waves, the pretty nests of the birds; and the squalus, and the red mullet, tinted with a faint blood colour; the sole, too, shining in its whiteness; the turbot, like it in colour; the pearl-fish, admired on the coasts of the Adriatic; the broad epodis, and the frog-fish, with its soft back. The last appear * * * *
The slippery gudgeon, too, that hurts with none of its prickles; the ink-fish, that carries a black liquid in its snow-white body; the tough sea-pigs, and the twisting caris; the cod-fish too, little deserving of a name so ugly; and you, too, the acipenser, famed in distant waters * * *
This translation is printed as prose in its source edition.
Codex Note
Prose translation by Henry T. Riley, Bohn's Classical Library, 1851; text of the George Bell reprint of 1881, collated with the 1876 printing (Internet Archive). Riley's introductory note and footnotes are omitted. The Latin poem survives only as a fragment; the asterisks mark gaps in the text.
Cite this poem
MLA
Ovid. “Halieuticon (Riley).” Translated by Henry T. Riley. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/ovid/154/.
Chicago
Ovid. “Halieuticon (Riley).” Translated by Henry T. Riley. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/ovid/154/.
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