PGP 2538 3CB7 898D 86EF 3D56 29A2 52E2 B2B4 6439 6DBB
The Story of Echo and Narcissus And so Tiresias, Famous through all Aonian towns and cities, Gave irreproachable answers to all comers Who sought his guidance. One of the first who tested The truths he told was a naiad of the river, Liriope, whom the river-god, Cephisus Embraced and ravished in his watery dwelling. In time she bore a child, most beautiful Even as child, gave him the name Narcissus, And asked Tiresias if the boy would ever Live to a ripe old age. Tiresias answered: “Yes, if he never knows himself.” How silly Those words seemed, for how long! But as it happened, Time proved them true—the way he died, the strangeness Of his infatuation. Now Narcissus Was sixteen years of age, and could be taken Either for boy or man; and boys and girls Both sought his love, but in that slender stripling Was pride so fierce no boy, no girl, could touch him. He was out hunting one day, driving deer Into the nets, when a nymph named Echo saw him, A nymph whose way of talking was peculiar In that she could not start a conversation Nor fail to answer other people talking. Up to this time Echo still had a body, She was not merely voice. She liked to chatter, But had no power of speech except the power To answer in the words she last had heard. Juno had done this: when she went out looking For Jove on top of some nymph among the mountains, Echo would stall the goddess off by talking Until the nymphs had fled. Sooner or later Juno discovered this and said to Echo: “The tongue that made a fool of me will shortly Have shorter use, the voice be brief hereafter.” Those were not idle words; now Echo always Says the last thing she hears, and nothing further. She saw Narcissus roaming through the country, Saw him, and burned, and followed him in secret, Burning the more she followed, as when sulphur Smeared on the rim of torches, catches fire When other fire comes near it. Oh, how often She wanted to come near with coaxing speeches, Make soft entreaties to him! But her nature Sternly forbids; the one thing not forbidden Is to make answers. She is more than ready For words she can give back. By chance Narcissus Lost track of his companions, started calling “Is anybody here?” and “Here!” said Echo. He looked around in wonderment, called louder “Come to me!" “Come to me!” came back the answer. He looked behind him, and saw no one coming; “Why do you run from me?” and heard his question Repeated in the woods. “Let us get together!” There was nothing Echo would ever say more gladly, “Let us get together!” And, to help her words, Out of the woods she came, with arms all ready To fling around his neck. But he retreated: “Keep your hands off,” he cried, “and do not touch me! I would die before I give you a chance at me.” “I give you a chance at me,” and that was all She ever said thereafter, spurned and hiding, Ashamed, in the leafy forests, in lonely caverns. But still her love clings to her and increases And grows on suffering; she cannot sleep, She frets and pines, becomes all gaunt and haggard, Her body dries and shrivels till voice only And bones remain, and then she is voice only For the bones are turned to stone. She hides in woods And no one sees her now along the mountains, But all may hear her, for her voice is living. She was not the only one on whom Narcissus Had visited frustration; there were others, Naiads or Oreads, and young men also Till finally one rejected youth, in prayer, Raised up his hands to Heaven: "May Narcissus Love one day, so, himself, and not win over The creature whom he loves!" Nemesis heard him, Goddess of Vengeance, and judged the plea was righteous. There was a pool, silver with shining water, To which no shepherds came, no goats, no cattle, Whose glass no bird, no beast, no falling leaf Had ever troubled. Grass grew all around it, Green from the nearby water, and with shadow No sun burned hotly down on. Here Narcissus, Worn from the heat of hunting, came to rest Finding the place delightful, and the spring Refreshing for the thirsty. As he tried To quench his thirst, inside him, deep within him, Another thirst was growing, for he saw An image in the pool, and fell in love With that unbodied hope, and found a substance In what was only shadow. He looks in wonder, Charmed by himself, spell-bound, and no more moving Than any marble statue. Lying prone He sees his eyes, twin stars, and locks as comely As those of Bacchus or the god Apollo, Smooth cheeks, and ivory neck, and the bright beauty Of countenance, and a flush of color rising In the fair whiteness. Everything attracts him That makes him so attractive. Foolish boy, He wants himself; the loved becomes the lover, The seeker sought, the kindler burns. How often He tries to kiss the image in the water, Dips in his arms to embrace the boy he sees there, And finds the boy, himself, elusive always, Not knowing what he sees, but burning for it, The same delusion mocking his eyes and teasing. Why try to catch an always fleeing image, Poor credulous youngster? What you seek is nowhere, And if you turn away, you will take with you The boy you love: The vision is only shadow, Only reflection, lacking any substance. It comes with you, it stays with you, it goes Away with you, if you can go away. No thought of food, no thought of rest, can make him Forsake the place. Stretched on the grass, in shadow, He watches, all unsatisfied, that image Vain and elusive, and he almost drowns In his own watching eyes. He rises, just a little, Enough to lift his arms in supplication To the trees around him, crying to the forest: "What love, whose love, has ever been more cruel? You woods should know: you have given many lovers Places to meet and hide in; has there ever, Through the long centuries, been anyone Who has pined away as I do? He is charming, I see him, but the charm and sight escape me. I love him and I cannot seem to find him! To make it worse, no sea, no road, no mountain, No city-wall, no gate, no barrier, parts us But a thin film of water. He is eager For me to hold him. When my lips go down To kiss the pool, his rise, he reaches toward me. You would think that I could touch him—almost nothing Keeps us apart. Come out, whoever you are! Why do you tease me so? Where do you go When I am reaching for you? I am surely Neither so old or ugly as to scare you, And nymphs have been in love with me. You promise, I think, some hope with a look of more than friendship. You reach out arms when I do, and your smile Follows my smiling; I have seen your tears When I was tearful; you nod and beckon when I do; Your lips, it seems, answer when I am talking Though what you say I cannot hear. I know The truth at last. He is myself! I feel it, I know my image now. I burn with love Of my own self; I start the fire I suffer. What shall I do? Shall I give or take the asking? What shall I ask for? What I want is with me, My riches make me poor. If I could only Escape from my own body! if I could only— How curious a prayer from any lover— Be parted from my love! And now my sorrow Is taking all my strength away; I know I have not long to live, I shall die early, And death is not so terrible, since it takes My trouble from me; I am sorry only The boy I love must die: we die together.” He turned again to the image in the water, Seeing it blur through tears, and the vision fading, And as he saw it vanish, he called after: “Where are you going? Stay: do not desert me, I love you so. I cannot touch you; let me Keep looking at you always, and in looking Nourish my wretched passion!” In his grief He tore his garment from the upper margin, Beat his bare breast with hands as pale as marble, And the breast took on a glow, a rosy color, As apples are white and red, sometimes, or grapes Can be both green and purple. The water clears, He sees it all once more, and cannot bear it. As yellow wax dissolves with warmth around it, As the white frost is gone in morning sunshine, Narcissus, in the hidden fire of passion, Wanes slowly, with the ruddy color going, The strength and hardihood and comeliness, Fading away, and even the very body Echo had loved. She was sorry for him now, Though angry still, remembering; you could hear her Answer “Alas!” in pity, when Narcissus Cried out “Alas!” You could hear her own hands beating Her breast when he beat his. “Farewell, dear boy, Beloved in vain!” were his last words, and Echo Called the same words to him. His weary head Sank to the greensward, and death closed the eyes That once had marveled at their owner's beauty. And even in Hell, he found a pool to gaze in, Watching his image in the Stygian water. While in the world above, his naiad sisters Mourned him, and dryads wept for him, and Echo Mourned as they did, and wept with them, preparing The funeral pile, the bier, the brandished torches, But when they sought his body, they found nothing, Only a flower with a yellow center Surrounded with white petals. -- Translated from Ovid's Metamorphoses by Rolfe Humphries --