On earth, things followed all of Fate’s decrees,
and even twice-born Bacchus’ infancy
was passing tranquilly. The story goes
that meanwhile, in his home on high, great Jove,
his spirits warmed by nectar, set aside
his heavy cares and jested pleasantly
with Juno—she was also idle then.
“The pleasure love allots to you,” he said,
“is greater than the pleasure given men.”
But she contested that. And they agreed
to let Tiresias decide, for he
Latin [298–323]
knew love both as a woman and a man.
Tiresias had once struck with his staff
two huge snakes as they mated in the forest;
for that, he had been changed—a thing of wonder—
from man to woman. Seven autumns passed,
and still that change held fast. But at the eighth,
he came upon those serpents once again.
He said: “If he who strikes you can be changed
into his counter-state, then this time, too,
I’ll strike at you.” His stout staff dealt a blow;
and he regained the shape he had before,
the shape the Theban had when he was born.
And when he had been summoned to decide
this jesting controversy, he took sides
with Jove. The story goes that Juno grieved
far more than she had any right to do,
more than was seemly in a light dispute.
And she condemned to never-ending night
the judge whose verdict found her in the wrong.
But then almighty Jove (though no god can
undo what any other god has done),
to mitigate Tiresias’ penalty,
his loss of sight, gave him the power to see
the future, pairing pain with prophecy.