The Muse
was still not finished with her words, when through
the air, there came the sound of whirring wings
and, from the high boughs, voices offered greetings.
Minerva looked on high: she tried to find
what tongues had voiced those sounds, which seemed so like
the speech of humans—but it was magpies
she saw upon those branches. There were nine
who, all aligned, lamented their sad fate;
Latin [276–98]
whatever sounds they like, they imitate.
And as Minerva wondered, even as
a goddess speaks to goddess, one Muse said:
“Those whom you see have only recently
been added to the many families
of birds; they faced a contest, and they lost.
Their father was rich Pierus, the lord
of Pella; and they had Paeonian
Evippe as their mother. Nine times she
had called upon the powerful Lucina
for help, and nine times she had given birth.
Those stupid sisters—proud that they were nine
in number—traveled through Haemonia
and through Achaia, touching every town,
until at last they came to Helicon
and challenged us to match their art of song:
‘O goddesses of Thespia, it’s time
you stop beguiling the untutored mob
with counterfeited songs; for you are frauds.
If you are confident, compete with us!
Neither your voice nor art can match our own,
and we can match your numbers. If you lose,
then yield to us the spring of Pegasus
and Aganippe, too, your other fount;
and if you win, we will concede to you
the plains of all our broad Emathia
as far as our snow-clad Paeonia.
And let the nymphs be judges of this test!’
“Though it was shameful to contend with them,
there was more shame—we thought—in turning down
their challenge. So the Nymphs were called to judge:
they swore upon their streams and then sat down
on benches that were formed of porous stone.
Latin [299–317]