Book II

Come now, daughter of Zeus, fair-ankled Phoebe, maid of the golden snood, twin birth with Apollo, declare, I pray thee, who among men and mighty heroes received at thy hands the glorious devices of the chase.

By the foot of windy Pholoe did savage tribes, half-beast half-men, human to the waist but from the waist horses, invent the chase for pastime after the banquet. Among men it was invented first by him who cut off the Gorgon's head, even Perseus, the son of golden Zeus; howbeit he soared on the swift wings of his feet to capture Hares and Jackals and the tribe of wild Goats and swift Gazelles and the breeds of Oryx and the high-headed dappled Deer themselves. Hunting on horseback did Castor, bringer of light, discover; and some beasts he slew by straight hurling of his javelin to the mark; others he pursued on swift horses and put them to bay in the noontide chase. Saw-toothed dogs were first arrayed for battle with wild beasts by Polydeuces of Lacedaemon, son of Zeus; for he both slew baleful men in the battle of the fists and overcame spotted wild beasts with swift hounds. Pre-eminent in close combat on the hills shone the son of Oeneus, warlike Meleager. Nets again and nooses and curving hayes did Hippolytus first reveal to hunting men. Winged death for wild beasts did Atalanta invent, the glorious daughter of Schoeneus, the maiden huntress of the Boar. And snaring by night, the guileful hunting of the dark, crafty Orion first discovered. These were the mighty leaders of the chase in former days. But afterward the keen passion seized many; for none who has once been smitten by the charms of the delightful hunt would ever willingly forsake it again: he is held by wondrous bonds. How sweet the sleep upon the flowers in springtime; how sweet in summer the low couch in some cave; what delight for hunters to break their fast amid the rocks and what joy attends them when they cull for themselves the flower of honied fruit; and the cold clear water flowing from a grotto — what a draft for a weary man and how sweet a bath; and in the woods what grateful gifts in pleasant baskets are brought by shepherds watching by their flocks!

But come now let us sing first the very jealous race of Bulls and tell of the tremendous feud which above others they wage with utter fury over their mating. One Bull is monarch of a herd and easily supreme, and he rules the lesser Bulls and females; the cows of the field too tremble at their own lord in his anger when he bellows. But when a Bull separates from the herd and arching his mighty neck comes against another all alone, he too being lord and master of his own, then between the twain arises violent war. First face to face they glare at one another and greatly quiver with wildly seething wrath and breathe fiery breath and tear up the earth with their feet, even as if they were wrestlers dusting themselves for fray. They challenge from either side, loudly bellowing the cry of battle; and when they have sounded the trumpet for grievous combat, incontinently they charge and straightway with their horns each wounds in turn all the body of the other. Even as in battle upon the deep when the sea War-god raises strife, two ships, splendidly flashing with serried warriors face to face, clash with opposing prows front to front, sped by the violent wind and the hands of the sailors; and amid brazen armour rings the din of men and the noise of crashing ships, and the whole sea seethes and groans; even in such wise the din of the Bulls ascends to heaven, as they smite amain and are smitten with their horns, until one wins the dear and doubtful victory. But the vanquished cannot endure the yoke of slavery. Ashamed and groaning heavily he goes unto a shady wood and alone among the rocks as the seasons circle round he pastures, retired among the thickets of the hill, as an athlete in training. And when he beholds his debated power and strength have waxed mighty, he straightway lifts up his voice upon the mountains; and the other answers; and therewith the forest resounds. But when he takes good heart for his mightier cry, then straightway from the hills he comes to meet his foe and easily overcomes him. For he has made his body fit by his pasture in the forest far from that lust of sex which saps the strength.

Many are the forms and countless the characters of Bulls. The Egyptian Bulls there are by the fruitful banks of the Nile which makes the wheat to grow, a many-branched river; white of colour they are and far the greatest of all in size: thou wouldst say it was a deep-drawing ship that was going upon the land. Yet are they kindly of spirit and familiar with men, and whatsoever mortals bid them, they obey with mildness.

The Phrygian Bulls are notable in colour, yellow and of the hue of fire. The neck is deeply fleshed, and high and lofty are the coiled curls upon their heads. Strange is the nature of their horns; for these are not fast fixed upon the powerful head, but they move them to and fro on either side.

The Aonian Bulls do not divide the hoof; a dappled breed they are and with a single horn — a dread horn which they project aloft from the midst of the forehead.

The Armenian Bulls have two horns, indeed, but these curved of form, a dread bane with their backward-bent points.

The Syrian Bulls, the breed of the Chersonese, pasture about high well-builded Pella; tawny, strong, great-hearted, broad of brow, dwellers of the field, powerful, valiant of horn, wild of spirit, loud-bellowing, fierce, jealous, abundant of beard, yet they are not weighed down with fat and flesh of body, nor again are they lean and weak; so tempered are the gifts they have from heaven — at once swift to run and strong to fight. These are they which report said Heracles, the mighty son of Zeus, when fulfilling his labours, drove of old from Erytheia, what time he fought with Geryoneus beside the Ocean and slew him amid the crags; since he was doomed to fulfil yet another labour, not for Hera nor at the behest of Eurystheus, but for his comrade Archippus, lord of holy Pella. For aforetime all the plain by the foot of Emblonus was flooded; since evermore in great volume rushed Orontes in his eagerness, forgetting the sea and burning with desire of the dark-eyed nymph, the daughter of Ocean. He lingered amid the heights and he covered the fertile earth, unwilling to forgo his hopeless love of Meliboea. With mountains on either side was he encircled round, mountains that on either hand leaned their heads together. From the East came the lofty form of Diocleium, and from the West the left horn of Emblonus, and in the midst himself raging in the plains, ever waxing and drawing nigh the walls, flooding with his waters that mainland at once and island, mine own city. Therefore was the son of Zeus destined straightway with club and mighty hands to apportion their water unto each, and to give separate course from the plain for the waters of the fair-tressed lake and the fair-flowing river. And he wrought his mighty labour, when he cut the girdle of the encircling hills and undid their stony bonds, and sent the river belching to its mouth, surging incontinent and wildly murmuring, and guided it toward the shores. And loudly roared the deep sea, and the mighty body of the Syrian shore echoed to the din. Not with such violent flood descend those contrary-travelling rivers on either side the echoing sea: here Ister, cleaving the white barriers of the North through Scythia, roars loudly everywhere, trailing amid precipices and water-smitten heights; while on the other hand the sounding sea trembles at the holy stream of Egypt when from Libya it breaks about it. So the mighty river Orontes made a noise of dread bellowing about the shores; and mightily roared the headlands when they received within their bosom the swell of the new-come sea; and the black and fertile earth took heart again, arisen from the waves, a new plain of Heracles. And to this day the fields flourish everywhere with corn and everywhere the works of oxen are heavy on the prosperous threshing-floors around the Memnonian shrine, where the Assyrian dwellers mourn for Memnon, the glorious son of the Morning, whom, when he came to help the sons of Priam, the doughty husband of Deidameia swiftly slew. Howbeit the spacious glories of our fatherland we shall sing in due order with sweet Pimplean song; now I turn back to sing of glorious hunting.

There is a terrible breed of deadly Bulls which they call Bisons, since they are natives of Bistonian Thrace. And they have forms of this sort. Over their shoulders you have bristling hair on their fleshy necks as also about their tender jaws; conspicuous form they have, even as the king of beasts, the shaggy, tawny, fierce-eyed Lion. Sharp are the curved points of their horns, like unto bent hooks of bronze; but the points of their hateful horns, unlike those of other cattle, incline athwart to face one another, and their deadly daggers are sloped backwards and look up to the sky. Therefore when they come upon and attack any man or wild beast, they lift their victim on high. Their tongue is narrow, but exceeding rough, even as the device of iron for devouring iron; and with the tongue they draw blood from the flesh and lick it.

Moreover the earth breeds the race of swift-footed Stags, goodly of horn, large of eye, handsome, of dappled back, spotted, conspicuous, river-swimming, lofty of head, fat of chine and lean of shank; the neck is weak and the tail again is very small; the nostrils are fourfold, four passages for the breath; the heart is weak and the spirit within cowardly; and the pointed horns that rise so high are but dummies; for they will never with their heads contend against strong wild beasts nor fierce dogs, nor even the timid hare of furry legs.

But there is rough passion among Stages and much venery, and a heart that burns for mating all the day, even as have the lustful fighting cocks and all the feathered birds of flowery plumage. They have hidden within their loins under the very belly twin ducts. If one cut these out, straightway he makes the animal effeminate, and from its head falls away all the daedal many-branched growth of sharp horns. But the manner of their mating is not after the custom of other beasts, but strange are the passions that possess them. Not standing in the pastoral valleys nor lying on the flowery grass upon the ground do the Stags consort with the female deer, but the hind runs and the Stag running with swift feet overtakes her and seizes the fugitive and embraces her for his bride. But not even so does he persuade her. Carrying her mate upon her back she flees with all her might, having a heart altogether implacable. But he following swiftly on two feet forgoes not his desire but accomplishes the rites of union. Howbeit, when afterward with the circling of the moons the female brings forth her young, she avoids the track of men, because the paths of mortals are profane to wild beasts.

Above all wild beasts the Stags of goodly horn plume themselves upon their beauty, having a rich and various growth of horn. Indeed when their branching horns in due season fall off, they dig a trench in the ground and bury them, lest someone chance upon them in the furrow and take them, and themselves hide in the depths of the dense thickets, ashamed that wild beasts should behold thus naked their heads that aforetime soared so high.

Deer are amphibious. For they tread the solid earth and cross the deep, voyaging together in company when they travel over the sea. One in front leads the Deer in line, even as a pilot handles the helm of a ship. Another behind rests on his back his neck and head and so travels with him in his seafaring. And so in turn, one supporting another, they plough the sea. But when weariness overtakes the foremost swimmer, he leaves his rank and goes to the end of the line and resting on another takes a little respite from his toil, while another takes the helm and journeys over the deep. And all the swimmers leading in turn, they row the dark water with their feet as with oars, and hold aloft the varied beauty of their horns, submitting them, like the sails of a ship, to the breezes.

All the race of Snakes and Deer wage always bitter feud with one another, and everywhere in the mountain glens the Deer seeks out the bold serpent. But when he sees the snaky trail woven with long coils, greatly exulting he draws nigh to the lair and puts his nostrils to the hole, with violent breath drawing the deadly reptile to battle. And the compelling blast hales him, very loth to fight, from the depth of his lair. For straightway the venomous beast beholds his foe and raises high in the air his baleful neck and bares his white teeth, bristling sharp, and snaps his jaws, blowing and hissing fast. And immediately in his turn the Deer, like one who smiles, rends with his mouth the vainly struggling foe, and, while he writhes about his knees and neck, devours him amain. And on the ground are shed many remains, quivering and writhing in death. Haply thou wouldst pity, unkindly though he be, the ravenous monster rent piecemeal with deadly wounds.

In the borders of Libya, a pasture land of horses, roams a great and countless host of deadly spotted Snakes. When a Stag lies down alone on the sandy hills, straightway upon him from every side rush the hostile swarm of Snakes beyond number and the hateful venomous ranks. In his hide they fix their bitter teeth, swarming around about all the limbs of the Stag. Some devote themselves to his head above and fix their teeth in brow and forehead; others rend with their mouths his slender neck and breast and his flanks and belly; others again cling to his ribs on either side; others feed on his thighs and back above; one here, one there, with deadly impalement they hang about him. And he, full of all manner of pain, first is fain to escape on swift feet, but he has not the strength; such an infinite crowd of cruel spotted snakes besets him. Then, oppressed by grievous constraint, he makes a stand and with his jaws he rends the infinite hostile tribes, bellowing the while for pain; and wheeling this way and that he makes havoc of the reptile race which make no endeavour to escape. Yet they do not let go their hold, but abide steadfast unto death, having a relentless mind and a heart not to be turned. And some he rends with his jaws; others he destroys with foot and hoof, and on the ground flows from the serpents an endless bloody stream, and the limbs and joints of the beasts half-devoured quiver upon the ground; others again upon his ribs he crushes half-dead; for even in death they still keep hold with their strong teeth and, clinging to his hide, their mere heads still groan. But he, knowing the gift that he hath gotten from Heaven, seeks everywhere for the dark stream of a river. Therefrom he kills crabs with his jaws and so gets a self-taught remedy for his painful woe; and speedily the remnants of the cruel beasts fall from his hide of their own motion beside his feet, and the wounds of their teeth on either side close up.

The Stag, moreover, lives a long time, and of a truth men say that he lives four lives of a crow.

Others again men call Broad-horns. They are altogether deer but they carry aloft such nature of horns as the name of the beast declares.

Other beasts in the woods they call Iorcus. These also have the form of a deer, but on their back they have a hide, all various with spots, like the marks that twinkle upon the skin of the wild Leopards.

The Antelope again is less in stature than the Broad-horn: less than the Broad-horn but far mightier than the Gazelle: bright of eye, lovely in colour, cheerful of aspect. Straight from the head spring the long branches of its horns but aloft they bend again toward the back with curved points. Above all others doth this race love its own home and its accustomed lair and its dwelling in the glades. Even if hunters bind it with twisted ropes and carry it straightway to other regions and far away in the glens leave it there to its freedom, easily doth it come to the sweet home where it used to dwell and endures not to wander as a stranger amid aliens. Not then to men alone is their native land dear, but even in the hearts of the dappled wild beasts is instilled a desire of home.

Furthermore we all know the conspicuous tribes of the most swift Gazelles, their beauty alike and their stature and their strength. The lustful Partridges, fiery of eye and speckled of neck, make pact of friendship with the Gazelles in the vales and are familiar with them and dwell with them and have their nests near them and do not range apart from them. Verily it may well be that afterward they reap bitter fruit of their companionship and laughterless profit of their friendship, when guileful men contrive a cunning device against the hapless creatures, setting the Partridges to decoy their friends the Gazelles and, in turn, setting the Gazelles in like manner to decoy their comrades the Partridges.

Again there are the wild tribes of Goats and Sheep. These are not much larger than our Sheep and shaggy Goats, but they are swift to run and strong to fight, armed as their heads are with twisted horns. The strength, moreover, of the Sheep lies in their terrible foreheads. Many a time in the woods they charge and lay rushing Boars writhing on the ground. Sometimes also they rush upon one another and do battle, and a mighty din reaches unto heaven. And it is not lawful for them to shun the foe, but unshakable constraint is upon them either to win the victory one over another or to lie dead: such strife arises between them.

And wild Goats have a slender channel for the breath right through the teeth between the horns, whence again the channel goes straight to the very heart and lungs. If one pours wax about the horns of the wild Goat, he blocks the paths of its life and the channels of its breath.

Notable is the care which the dam among these takes for her tender young and which the children take for their mother in her old age. And even as among men, when a parent is fettered in the grievous bonds of old age — heavy of foot, crooked of limb, feeble of hand, palsied of body, dim of eye — his children cherish and attend him with utmost heed, repaying the care of their laborious rearing: so do the young of the Goats care for their dear parents in their old age, when sorrowful bonds fetter their limbs. They cull with their mouths and proffer them dewy food and flowery, and for drink they bring them dark water which they draw from the river with their lips, while with their tongues they tend and cleanse all their body. Didst thou but take the mother alone in a snare, straightway thou mightst take young lambs with thy hands. For thou wouldst think that she was driving away her children with her words, entreating them afar with such bleatings as these: "Flee, children dear, the cruel hunters, lest ye be slain and make me your poor mother a mother no more!" Such words thou wouldst think she spoke, while they, standing before her, first sing, thou wouldst imagine, a mournful dirge about their mother, and then, breaking forth in bleating, speak in human accents and as if they used the speech of men and like as if they prayed, utter from their lips such language as this: "In the name of Zeus we pray thee, in the name of the Archer Maid herself, release to us our dear mother, and accept a ransom, even all that we unhappy can offer for our poor mother — even our hapless selves. Bend thy cruel heart and have regard unto the law of Heaven and to the old age of a parent, if thou hast thyself an aged parent left in thy bright home." Such prayer might one fancy that they utter. But when they see that thy heart is altogether inexorable, — how great their regard, how great their love for their parents! — they come to bondage of their own accord and of their own motion pass the bourne.

Yellow Sheep there are in the bounds of utmost Crete, in the low land of Gortyn — Sheep with four horns; and bright wool is wreathed about their flesh — abundant wool but not soft: so rugged is it that it might compare with the roughest hair of Goats, not with the wool of Sheep.

Such yellow-coloured form has also the brilliant Subus, but no longer shaggy nor again furnished with four horns but with two strong ones above amplest forehead. Amphibious too is the Subus; for he also walks upon the land; but when he travels to the deep and ploughs the swift waves, then a great company of fishes attends him and travels the sea along with him; and they lick his limbs and rejoice in their horned friend, the Subus of tender body. Above all the Braize and the feeble Melanurus and the Needle-fish and the Red Mullet and the Lobster are attendant upon him. A marvel is this, a marvel unspeakable, when alien desires and strange loves distress wild beasts. For it is not alone for one another that God has given them the compelling ordinance of mutual love, nor only so far that their race should wax with everlasting life. That is, indeed, a marvel, that the brute tribes should be constrained by the bonds of desire and should know the passions of their own kind and, albeit without understanding should feel mutual desire for one another, even as for men thought and intelligence opens the eye and admits love to the heart; but the wild races are also highly stirred by the frenzy of alien desires. What a passion is that of lordly Stag for the Francolin! How great that of the Partridge for that long-horned Gazelle! How again does the Bustard of the shaggy ear rejoice in the swift Horse! The Parrot again and the Wolf herd together; for Wolves have ever a passion for the grass-hued bird. Mighty Love, how great art thou! how infinite thy might! how many things dost thou devise and ordain, how many, mighty spirit, are thy sports! The earth is steadfast: yet is it shaken by thy shafts. Unstable is the sea: yet thou dost make it fast. Thou comest unto the upper air and high Olympus is afraid before thee. All things fear thee, wide heaven above and all that is beneath the earth and the lamentable tribes of the dead, who, though they have drained with their lips the oblivious water of Lethe, still tremble before thee. By thy might thou dost pass afar, beyond what the shining sun doth ever behold: to thy fire even the light yields place for fear and the thunderbolts of Zeus likewise give place. Such fiery arrows, fierce spirit, hast thou — sharp, consuming, mind-destroying, maddening, whose melting breath knows no healing — wherewith thou dost stir even the very wild beasts to unmeet desires. A marvel it is when the winged Francolins leap on the spotted back of the horned Brocket or Partridges wheel swiftly about the Gazelle and cool their sweat and comfort their hearts in the sweltering heat with the flapping of their wings; or when before a Horse of clattering hoof the Bustard goes, gliding delightful through the air; or when the Sargues approach the herds of Goats. About the Subus, indeed, the whole wandering tribe of fishes and all follow with him when he ploughs the wild waves and throng on either side for joy and the sea foams round about, lashed by their white fins. But he, recking not of their strange friendship, all lawlessly devours and banquets on them with bloody jaws. And they, though seeing doom before their eyes, hate him not even so nor desert their slayer. Wretched Subus, worker of evil, for thine own self hereafter shall the hunters devise death by sea, crafty though thou art and slayer of fishes!

There is a certain sharp-horned beast that dwells in the thickets, even the fierce Oryx, most formidable to wild beasts. His colour is even as that of milk in spring, only the cheeks about his face being black. He has a double back, rich in fat. Sharp rise aloft the piercing points of his horns, black of hue, which are mightier than whetted bronze or chilly iron or jagged rock, and men say that those horns have a venomous nature. The spirit of the Oryx is overweening and stern. For they tremble neither at the yelping of the keen-scented Hound nor at the snorting of the wild Boar among the rocks, neither do they fear the mighty bellowing of the Bull nor shudder at the mirthless cry of the Leopard nor the mighty roar of the Lion himself, nor in the dauntlessness of their heart do they care aught for men: many a time a mighty hunter has perished on the hills when he has encountered the deadly Oryxes. When the Oryx descries a valiant wild beast, a tusked Boar or a saw-toothed Lion or chilly Bear of deadly courage, straightway he bows to earth and holds steadfast his outstretched head and brows, and fixing close to the ground his sharp weapons, awaits the onset of the foe and strikes him first and slays. For bending a little aside his horned brows he watches and springs with his sharper weapons on the beast; which, heeding not, rushes incontinently straight on and horribly clashes with the sharp palisade of his horns. As when in the thickets, as a Lion charges, a valiant man, who is skilled in the gifts of Artemis, holding in his hands his flashing spear, with feet set well apart, awaits him, and, as he rages wildly, receives him with his two-edged brazen spear advanced: even so the Oryxes in that hour await the charge of the wild beasts, who are self-slain by their own folly. For the points of the horns glide easily into their breasts, and much dark blood, pouring on either side from their wounds — their own blood — they speedily lick with their tongues; nor can they escape if they would, but they slay one another with mutual slaughter. And some countryman, a herdsman or a ploughman, chancing on the two corpses at his feet, with marvelling heart wins a welcome prey.

Next in order among horned wild beasts it is meet to sing the tribes of the elephant infinite in size. Those two mighty weapons in their jaws, which rise like tusks towards the heavens, others of the vulgar herd call deadly teeth; wherein they err: we are pleased to name them horns; for so the nature of horns declares to us. Not obscure are the signs whereby they may be distinguished. For such growths from the upper jaws of wild beasts as are horny, spring upward: if they incline downward, they are certainly teeth. Of these two horns of the Elephant the roots first of all spring from the head, mighty as the head is mighty, even as the roots of the oak; then below, concealed by skin where they meet the temples, they project into the jaw; and when left bare by the jaws they give to the vulgar the false impression of teeth. Moreover, there is another clear sign for men. All teeth of wild beasts are unbending and do not yield to art but remain intractable, and if a worker in horn wishes by his skill to make them broad, they flatly refuse, and if they are forced, the stubborn teeth break stemwise. From horns on the other hand are fashioned bent bows and countless other works of art. In like manner those elephant horns which men call teeth, yield to the ivory-cutter to bend them or to broaden.

These beasts have a bulk such as on the earth no other wild beast yet hath worn. Seeing an elephant thou wouldst say that a huge mountain-peak or a dread cloud, fraught with storm for hapless mortals, was travelling on the land. The head is strong with ears small, hollow, and polished. The eyes, though large, are small for that size of beast. Between them projects a great nose, thin and crooked, which men call the proboscis. That is the hand of the beast; with it they easily do whatsoever they will. The legs are not equal in size; for the fore-legs rise to a far greater height. The hide that covers the body is rugged, impenetrable and strong, which not even a blade of mighty all-subduing iron would easily cleave. Wild without limit is the temper of the Elephant in the shady wood but among men he is tame and gentle to human kind. In the green glens of many cliffs he stretches root and branch upon the ground, oaks and wild olives and the high-crowned race of palms, assailing them with his sharp tremendous tusks; but when he is in the strong hands of men, he forgets his temper and his fierce spirit leaves him: he endures even the yoke and receives the bit in his mouth and carries upon his back the boys who order his work.

It is said that Elephants talk to one another, mumbling with their mouths the speech of men. But not to all is the speech of the beasts audible, but only the men who tame them hear it. This marvel also I have heard, that the mighty elephants have a prophetic soul within their breasts and know in their hearts when their inevitable doom is at hand. Not then among birds only are there prophets, even the Swans who sing their last lament, but among wild beasts also this tribe divine the end of death and perform their own dirge.

The Rhinoceros is not much larger than the bounding Oryx. A little above the tip of the nose rises a horn dread and sharp, a cruel sword. Charging therewith he could pierce through bronze and with its stroke could cleave a mighty cliff. He attacks the Elephant strong though it be and many a time lays so mighty a beast dead in the dust. On his yellowish, hairy brows and on his back dense spots show darkly. All the breed are males and a female is never seen. Whence they come I know not, but I speak as I have learnt, whether this deadly race springs from rock or whether they are children of the soil and spring from the ground, or whether the wild monsters are begotten of one another, without desire and without mating and without birth. Even in the wet depths of the sea with its watery ways there are tribes which come into being self-made and motherless — Oysters and feeble Fry and the races of Sea-snails and Testacea and Spiral-shells and all that grow in the sands.

Dear Muse, it is not meet for me to sing of small creatures. Leave thou the feeble beasts which have no strength in them — the grey-eyed Panthers and the villain Cats which attack the nests of domestic fowls; and leave thou the tiny, tender, weakling Dormice. These indeed remain with eyes closed all the winter season, drunk with sleep. Hapless creatures! to take no food! not to behold the light! In their lairs, so deep asleep are they, they lie as dead and a wintry lot is theirs. But when eyes of spring first smile and the flowers in the meadow newly bloom, they stir their sluggish bodies from their secret lair and open their eyes and behold the light of the sun, and with new delight bethink them of sweet food, and once more become alive and Dormice once again.

I leave too the shaggy race of the feeble Squirrel, who in the fiery season of midsummer erects his tail to shelter his self-roofed dwelling; even as the Peacocks shelter their own beautiful form, their splendid form with many-pictured back: than whom the wisdom of Zeus hath devised for men naught more pleasant to behold with glad eyes, neither amid all that walk mother earth, giver of all gifts, nor amid all that travel on wings the spacious air, nor amid those that in the deep cleave the wild waves: in such wise on the splendid birds twinkles blazing fire mingled with the sheen of gold.

I will not tell of the chilly race of the prickly Hedgehog — the lesser; for two dread forms there are of the sharp-spined Hedgehogs with chilly fence encircling them. The one kind are small and feeble and bristle with small jutting spines; the other sort are far larger in size and have stronger prickles bristling sharp on either side.

I leave the triple breeds of Apes, those villainous mimics. For who would not abhor such a race, ugly to look on, weak, loathsome, evil of aspect, crafty of counsel? These, though they bring forth twin children of evil mien, divide not their love equally between both, but they love the one and hate and are angered at the other; and he perishes in the very arms of his parents.

Neither of a truth will minstrels sing the earth-born tribes of the Moles, eaters of grass and blind, albeit a rumour not to be believed has spread among men that the Moles boast themselves sprung from the blood of a king, even of Phineus, whom a famous Thracian hill nurtured. Against Phineus once on a time was the Titan Phaethon angered, wroth for the victory of prophet Phoebus, and robbed him of his sight and sent the shameless tribes of the Harpies, a winged race to dwell with him to his sorrow. But when the two glorious sons of Boreas, even Zetes and Calais, voyaged on the ship Argo in quest of the golden prize, assisting Jason, then did they take compassion on the old man and slew that tribe and gave his poor lips sweet food. But not even so did Phaethon lull his wrath to rest, but speedily turned him into the race of Moles which were before not; wherefore even now the race remains blind and gluttonous of food.