Though dead, believe me, yet at your words I revived: and the crime and burden of my womb was laid down.
Why do you congratulate yourself? Aeolus sits in the middle of the hall; our crimes must be stolen away from the eyes of our father.
§11.67Frugibus infantem ramisque albentis olivae §11.68Et levibus vittis sedula celat anus, §11.69Fictaque sacra facit dicitque precantia verba; §11.70Dat populus sacris, dat pater ipse viam.
With grain and branches of the whitening olive, and light woollen bands the diligent old woman conceals the infant, and performs fictitious sacred rites and says words of prayer; the people make way for the rites, and our father himself makes way.
Already she was near the threshold—when a wailing came to our father's ears, and he is betrayed by his own evidence!
Aeolus snatches the infant and reveals the feigned rites; the palace rings with his mad voice.
§11.75Ut mare fit tremulum, tenui cum stringitur aura, §11.76Ut quatitur tepido fraxina virga Noto, §11.77Sic mea vibrari pallentia membra videres; §11.78Quassus ab inposito corpore lectus erat.
As the sea becomes trembling, when it is grazed by a light breeze, as the ashen branch is shaken by the warm South Wind, so you might have seen my pale limbs shake; the bed was shaken by the body lying upon it.
He rushes in and publishes our shame with his shouting, and scarcely restrains his hands from my wretched face.
I myself, covered in shame, poured out nothing but tears; my tongue had grown numb, held back by icy fear.
And already he had ordered his little grandson to be given to dogs and birds, and to be abandoned in solitary places.
The wretched child uttered a cry—you would think he understood— and with such voice as he could, was begging his grandfather.
§11.87Quid mihi tunc animi credis, germane, fuisse — §11.88Nam potes ex animo colligere ipse tuo — §11.89Cum mea me coram silvas inimicus in altas §11.90Viscera montanis ferret edenda lupis?
What mind do you believe was mine then, brother— for you can gather it yourself from your own heart— when the enemy, in my presence, was carrying my offspring into the deep woods to be eaten by mountain wolves?
He had gone out of the bedchamber; then at last did it happen to beat my breast and to scratch my cheeks with my nails.
§11.93Interea patrius vultu maerente satelles §11.94Venit et indignos edidit ore sonos: §11.95'Aeolus hunc ensem mittit tibi' — tradidit ensem — §11.96'Et iubet ex merito scire, quid iste velit. ' §11.97Scimus, et utemur violento fortiter ense; §11.98Pectoribus condam dona paterna meis.
Meanwhile, a guard of our father, with a mournful countenance, came and uttered unworthy sounds from his mouth: "Aeolus sends this sword to you"—he handed over the sword— "and bids you know from your desert what it means." We know, and we shall bravely use the violent sword; I shall bury the paternal gifts in my breast.
§11.99His mea muneribus, genitor, conubia donas?
Father, do you present my marriage with these gifts?
§11.100Hac tua dote, pater, filia dives erit?
With this dowry of yours, father, will your daughter be rich?
Take far away, deceived Hymenaeus, the marriage torches and flee the impious house with troubled step!
Bring against me the torches which you carry, black Erinyes, and let my funeral pyre shine from that fire!
Marry happy, sisters, under a better fate, but yet be mindful of me, who am lost!
§11.107Quid puer admisit tam paucis editus horis?
What did the boy commit, brought forth so few hours ago?
§11.108Quo laesit facto vix bene natus avum?
By what deed did he, scarcely well-born, harm his grandfather?
If he could have deserved death, let him be thought to have deserved it— ah, wretched boy, he is punished for my transgression!
§11.111Nate, dolor matris, rabidarum praeda ferarum, §11.112Ei mihi! natali dilacerate tuo; §11.113Nate, parum fausti miserabile pignus amoris — §11.114Haec tibi prima dies, haec tibi summa fuit.
My son, your mother's grief, prey of rabid beasts, ah me! torn to pieces on your own birthday; My son, wretched pledge of a love too little blessed— this day was your first, this same was your last.
§11.115Non mihi te licuit lacrimis perfundere iustis, §11.116In tua non tonsas ferre sepulcra comas; §11.117Non super incubui, non oscula frigida carpsi.
It was not permitted to me to wet you with rightful tears, nor to bring shorn hair to your tomb; I did not lean over you, I did not snatch cold kisses.
§11.118Diripiunt avidae viscera nostra ferae.
Greedy beasts are tearing apart our flesh.
I myself also, with the infant's wound, shall follow his shade, and neither shall I have been called mother nor childless for long.
§11.121Tu tamen, o frustra miserae sperate sorori, §11.122Sparsa, precor, nati collige membra tui, §11.123Et refer ad matrem socioque inpone sepulcro, §11.124Urnaque nos habeat quamlibet arta duos!
You however, oh you who were hoped for in vain by your wretched sister, gather, I pray, the scattered limbs of your son, and bring them back to his mother and place them in a shared tomb, and let the urn, however narrow, hold us two!
Live mindful of us, and pour tears upon our wounds, and do not, as a lover, shrink from the body of your lover.