“‘Generous Ceres, now at peace—at last
she has her daughter back—returns to ask
you, Arethusa, why you fled from Greece
and why you have become a sacred spring.
The waves fall still. Their tutelary goddess
raises her head above the depths; and after
her hands have twisted dry her damp green tresses,
Latin [553–75]
she tells the tale of how—long since—Alpheus,
the river-god of Elis, longed for her.
“‘“I was,” she says, “one of the nymphs who live
in the Achaean woods. I was intent
on tracks and trails and setting hunting nets—
no nymph had greater passion for such tasks.
I never wanted to be known for beauty—
I thought my courage was conspicuous,
but all my fame was for mere loveliness.
One day—no day that I forget—I made
my way back from the forest of Stymphalus.
That day was hot—but twice as hot for me:
the hunting had been hard, and I was weary.
I came upon a stream. Unmurmuring
and unperturbed it glided, crystalline—
so clear down to the riverbed that one
could count each pebble there. That stream was so
transparent that it did not seem to flow.
Along the riverbanks the slopes received
the shadows cast by gray-white willow trees
and poplars nourished by those waters—shade
that was the gift of nature. I drew near.
And first I bathed my feet, then I went in
up to my knees. But now I wanted more
cool water: I undid my dress. I left
my soft gown draped on a bent willow branch;
naked, I plunged into the stream; and while
I strike those waters in a thousand ways,
dividing, joining, splashing as I play,
my arms withdrawing, plunging in—I hear
the strangest murmur rising from the depths.
I seek the nearest riverbank—in fear.
‘Where do you flee so quickly, Arethusa?’
Alpheus, from his waters, called to me.
‘Where do you flee so quickly?’—so did he
again speak hoarsely. I could only flee
without my dress—left on the other shore.
Latin [576–602]
My nakedness only inflames him more.
He hurries after me; naked, I seem
to him that much more ready for the taking.
I race; he—fiercely—presses after me:
even as doves with trembling wings will flee
the hawk, and hawk pursue the frightened doves.
“‘“I passed Orchomenus, Psophis, Cyllene,
the vales of Maenalus, chill Erymanthus,
and Elis; I sustained my pace; Alpheus
did not outrace me. But I could not match
his strength: my speed was spent—it could not last
as long as his. Yet, over level fields
and wooded hills, across the spurs and rocks
no path had ever marked, I did not stop.
The sun was at my back, and I could see
a giant shadow stretch ahead of me—
perhaps a phantom fashioned by my fear;
but I could surely hear his dread footsteps,
and I could feel his massive panting breath
upon the band that clasped my hair. As I
collapsed, exhausted by that course, I cried:
‘Diana, save me! He is at my side!
I was your weapons’ faithful guardian,
the huntress whom you chose to bear your bow,
the keeper of your quiver and your arrows.’
“‘“The goddess had been touched. And she detached
one cloud from a thick cloudbank, and she cast
that cloud around me. And when I was wrapped
in darkness, then Alpheus, ignorant
of where I was, searched in the mist—vainly.
Around the spot where she had hidden me,
he circled twice, and twice—unknowing—cried:
‘O Arethusa, Arethusa!’ I
was in the grip of what great misery!
Was I not like the lamb when it can hear
wolves howl around the fold? Or like the hare
Latin [602–28]
that, hidden by a hedge, can see the dread
muzzles of the dogs and dares not stir?
“‘“And yet Alpheus does not leave; aware
that I have stopped—no footprints trail beyond—
Alpheus probes the cloud that cloaks the ground.
I am beset. Cold sweat runs down my flesh;
My body rains dark drops, my hair drips dew,
and where I move my feet a pool is born.
In less time than it takes to tell you now
all that was happening, I am a spring.
“‘“But in those waters, he, the river-god
Alpheus, recognizes me, his love;
leaving the human likeness he had worn,
he once again takes on his river form,
that he might mingle with me. And the goddess
of Delos cracked a chasm through earth’s crust:
I plunged into deep caverns, then was brought
here to Ortygia, dear to me because
its name is like the other name of Delos,
the island of Diana—and because
Ortygia is the place where, from below
the earth, up toward the air and sky, I flowed.”