Perseus and Andromeda

A great consolation to them in their altered form
Was their grandson, worshipped now in conquered India,
And adored as well in Achaean temples.
Only Acrisius, son of Abas, born
O f the same stock as the god, still banned him
From his city, Argos, campaigning against him
And refusing to admit he was Jupiter's son.
Nor would he admit that Perseus, whom Danae
Had conceived in golden rain, was Jupiter's son.
But truth has its own power, and Acrisius
Soon regretted that he had repulsed the god
And not acknowledged his grandson. The one
Had now been installed in heaven; the other
Was soaring through thin air on whistling wings,
Bearing the snake-haired monster's memorable spoils.
As the victor hovered over the Libyan desert
Bloody drops from the Gorgon's head fell down
And were received by Earth, who reanimated them
As various species of snakes, and this is why
The land there swarms with poisonous vipers.

From there he was driven by conflicting winds
Like a raincloud through vast regions of air.
He flew over the whole world, looking down
From dizzying heights on distant lands. Three times
He saw the cold stars of the Bears, and thrice
The Crab's claws. He was blown more than once
Beyond the western horizon, and into the east,
And now as the day faded, wary of the night
He put down in the farthest reaches of the west,
In Atlas' kingdom, hoping to catch a few hours sleep
Before the Morning Star summoned Aurora
And Aurora in turn the chariot of Day.
Here Atlas,
Son of Iapetus, who for sheer bulk
Exceeded all men, ruled the edge of the world
And the sea that welcomes the Sun's panting horses
And his weary chariot. He had a thousand flocks,
And as many herds of cattle, wandering
Grassy plains that stretched on without borders.
And there was a tree whose golden leaves
Concealed golden branches and apples of gold.
"My lord," Perseus said to him, "if high birth
Carries any weight with you, mine is from Jupiter;
Or if you admire great deeds, you'll admire mine.
I ask for hospitality and a place to rest."

But Atlas remembered an ancient prophecy
Given to him by Themis on Mount Parnassus:
"Atlas, a day will come when your tree will be stripped
Of all its gold, and a son of Jupiter will take the credit."
Fearing this, Atlas had enclosed his orchard
With massive walls, and set a huge dragon to guard it,
And he kept all strangers away from his borders.

Now he said to Perseus, "Get out of here,
Or your supposed glory and that Jupiter of yours
Will be long gone." His heavy hands backed up
The threat with force. Perseus interspersed
Gentle words into his heroic resistance,
But finding himself outmanned (who could outman
Atlas himself?) he said to him, "Well, now,
Since you are able to show me so little kindness,
Here's a little kindness for you!" And turning away,
He held out on his left the horrible head
O f the Gorgon Medusa. As big as he was,
Atlas immediately turned into a mountain
Of just the same size. His hair and beard
Were changed into trees, and into ridges
His shoulders and hands. What had been his head
Was now a summit, and his bones became stones.
Then every part grew to an enormous size-
For you gods wished it so -and the entire sky
With all its many stars now rested upon him.
Aeolus, son of Hippotas, had confined the winds
Under Mount Etna, and the Morning Star,
Who rouses us to work, shone brightest of all
In the eastern sky. Perseus strapped on
His feathered sandals, slung on his scimitar,
And cut through the pure air in a blur of winged feet.
Leaving in his wake innumerable nations,
He now had a clear view of Ethiopia
And the lands of Cepheus. There Jupiter Ammon
Had unjustly ordered that innocent Andromeda
Pay the penalty for the arrogant tongue
Ofher mother, Cassiopeia. When Perseus,
Abas' great-grandson, first saw her chained to the rock,
He might have thought she was a marble statue,
Except that a light breeze was rippling her hair,
And warm tears flowed down from her eyes. Perseus
Was stunned. Entranced by the vision
Of the beauty before him, he almost forgot
To keep beating his wings. As soon as he had landed,
He said,
"Surely you do not deserve these bonds,
But those that tie true lovers together. Please,
Tell me your name, and the name of your country,
And tell me why you are wearing these chains."

At first she was silent, a virgin not daring
To address a man, and out of modesty
She would have hidden her face with her hands
If they had not been fastened behind her.
All she could do was let her eyes fill with tears.
Only when he had asked again and again,
And only because she did not wish to create
The impression of concealing a fault of her own,
Did she tell him her name, the name of her country,
And how overconfident her mother was
In her own beauty. The girl was still speaking,
When the sea roared, and a monster rose from the deep,
Breasting the waves as it came toward the shore.
The girl screamed; her grieving father and mother
Stood at her side, both wretched, the mother perhaps
With more justification. They bring no aid,
Only tears and laments to suit the occasion
As they clasp her fettered body. Then the stranger speaks:
"There will be plenty of time for tears
But only a brief hour to come to the rescue.
If I asked for this girl's hand as Perseus,
Son of Jupiter and that imprisoned Danae
Whom the god impregnated with his golden rain;
The Perseus who conquered the snake-haired Gorgon;
Who braved the stratosphere on soaring wings-
Surely I would be preferred to all other suitors
As your son-in-law. Now, if the gods favor me,
I will try to add meritorious service
To what else I bring, my bargain being
That the girl, saved by my valor, will be mine."
Her parents accept the proposal (who would refuse it?)
And promise a kingdom, as well, for a dowry.

Behold now the monster cutting through the waves
Like a warship driven to ramming speed
By the sweat-covered arms of a crew of rowers.
When it was as far from the cliff as a Balearic sling
Can fire a lead bullet through the air, the young hero
Pushed off hard and ascended high among the clouds.
When the shadow ofa man appeared on the water,
The sea monster savaged the apparition;
And, as Jupiter's eagle, when it sees a snake
Sunning its mottled back in an open field,
Seizes it from behind, eagerly sinking its talons
Into its scaly neck lest it twist its fangs back,
So the descendant of Inachus, swooping down
Through empty space, attacked the bellowing monster's back,
Poised at its right shoulder, and buried his curved blade
Up to the hilt in its neck. Gravely wounded,
It reared high in the air, then dove underwater,
And then turned like a boar when a pack of hounds
Is baying around it. Perseus evaded
The snapping jaws on flashing wings, his scimitar
Slashing the monster wherever it was exposed-
Its barnacled back. its ribcage, and where its spine
Tapered into the tail of a fish. The beast belches
Seawater mixed with purple blood, and Perseus' wings
Are becoming so soggy with all the spume
That he can no longer trust them. He spots
A ledge exposed when the sea is calm, but hidden
Whenever the waves run high. He steadies himself here,
Taking hold of the rock face with his left hand,
And plunges his sword three times and once more
Into the monster's gut.

The shore is filled
With wild applause that reaches the heavens.
Cassiopeia and Cepheus rejoice
And hail Perseus as their son-in-law,
The pillar of their household and its savior.
Forth from her chains steps Andromeda unbound,
The motive for Perseus' feat and the prize.
The victor washes his hands in a basin of water,
And so the hard sand won't hurt that viperous face,
He makes a bed of leaves, strews seaweed on top,
And rests upon this the head of Medusa,
Daughter of Phorcys. The seaweed's porous tendrils
Absorb the monster's power and congeal,
Taking on a new stiffness in their stems and leaves.
The sea nymphs test this wonder on more tendrils
And, delighted to find the result confirmed,
Scatter these tendrils as seeds in the sea.
Even now coral has retained this property,
So that its sterns, pliant under water,
Turn to stone once exposed to the air.

Perseus now builds three turf altars, one for each
Of three gods: the left for Mercury, the right
For you, virgin warrior, the center for Jove.
He sacrifices a heifer to Minerva,
A calf to the winged god, and to you,
O greatest of gods, a bull. Then he claims
Andromeda, without a dowry, as the reward
For his heroic act. Hymen and Amor
Shake the marriage torches; the fires are fed
With rich incense; flowers hang from the roofs;
Lyre, flute, and chorales permeate the air,
Giving sweet testimony of joyful hearts.
The massive double doors swing open to reveal
The golden central court with tables already set,
And noble Ethiopians stream in to the banquet.

When they had finished the feast and their spirits
Were swimming in wine, Bacchus' generous gift,
Perseus inquired about the local customs,
Who the people were and what they were like.
The guest who answered said to him in turn,
"Now tell us, Perseus, by what prowess, what arts,
You made off with that head and its curls of snakes?"

And so the hero in the line of Agenor
Told them about a cave hidden in the rock
Under the frozen slopes of Atlas. At its entrance
The Graiae lived, twin daughters of Phorcys,
Who shared the use of a single eye, which the hero
Cleverly stole as they passed it back and forth.
Then he made his way through trackless lands,
A barren landscape of blasted trees and rocks,
To where the Gorgons lived. In the fields there
And along the paths he saw the shapes of men
And of animals who had been changed to stone
By Medusa's gaze. But he managed to glimpse
Her dread form reflected in the polished bronze
Of a circular shield strapped to his left arm.
And while the snakes and Medusa herself
Were sound asleep, he severed her head from her neck,
And the winged horse Pegasus and his brother,
The warrior Chrysaor, were born from her blood.

He went on to tell of his long journeys
And the dangers he faced-all of this true-
The seas and the lands he had seen far below,
And the stars he had brushed with his beating wings.
When he finished his tale they still wanted more,
And one of them asked why Medusa alone
Among her sisters had snakes in her hair.
The guest replied:
"Here's the reason, a tale in itself.
She was once very beautiful and sought by many,
And was admired most for her beautiful hair.
I met someone who recalled having seen her.
They say that Neptune, lord of the sea,
Violated her in a temple of Minerva.
The goddess hid her chaste eyes behind her aegis,
But so that the crime would not go unpunished,
She changed the Gorgon's hair to loathsome snakes,
Which the goddess now, to terrify her enemies
With numbing fear, wears on her breastplate."

5.1-289

While Danae's heroic son was speaking
Among the Ethiopians, the royal halls
Were filled with an uproar, not the kind of sound
That goes with marriage songs, but that announces
Armed strife. The feast was in sudden tumult.
Not unlike the sea when raging winds
Roughen its quiet water to churning waves.
Front and center was Phineus, the king's brother
And a born troublemaker, brandishing an ash spear
Tipped with bronze.
"Take a good look," he said,
"At the man who will avenge the theft of his bride.
Your wings won't get you out of this, nor will
Jupiter, changed to fool's gold!" He was on the verge
Of hurling his spear when Cepheus cried out:
"What are you doing, brother? What madness
Is driving you to crime? Is this how you repay
Extraordinary service? Is this the dowry
For saving the girl's life? If you want the truth,
It was not Perseus who took her away from you,
But horned Ammon, the Nereids' dread deity,
And the sea monster who came to glut himself
On my own flesh and blood. It was when she was
Doomed to death that you lost her, unless perhaps
It is her death now that you cruelly demand,
To ease your grief with mine. It was not enough
For you to look on without lifting a finger
While she was being chained, uncle though you were
And promised husband. No, you'll take it hard
That someone did save her, and rob him of his prize.
If the prize seemed so great, you should have taken it
From the rocks where it was chained. Now let the man
Who did take it-and saved me from a childless old age-
Keep what he has earned and has been promised him,
A man preferred not to you but to my daughter's death."
Phineus said nothing, but kept shifting his gaze
Between Cepheus and Perseus, undecided
Where to aim his spear. After a short delay
He hurled it at Perseus with all the strength
Wrath could give it, but the throw came to nothing,
And the spear stuck in the bench. Perseus then
Furiously returned the throw and would have hit Phineus
Right in the heart, but the wretch had sought refuge
Behind the altar and unworthily found it there.
But the weapon still had some effect, hitting Rhoetus
Full in the face. Rhoetus went down, and when the spear
Was yanked from the bone, he thrashed about
And his blood spattered the banquet tables.
The mob got into it now, tempers flaring,
Spears flying around, and some saying that Cepheus
Should go down with his son-in-law. But the king
Had already withdrawn from the palace,
Calling to witness Justice and Faith, and all the gods
Who protect strangers and guests, that this was done
Under his protest. And then Pallas was there,
The warrior goddess, shielding her brother
Behind her aegis and giving him courage.
There, too, was an Indian boy, whom Limnaee,
A nymph of the Ganges, is said to have borne
Under her glassy stream. His outstanding beauty-
He was a well-knit sixteen-was enhanced
By his rich attire: a gold-fringed purple mantle,
A golden necklace, and a circlet of gold
Clasping his hair, which was perfumed with myrrh.
He could hit quite distant targets with a javelin
But was even better with his bow, which he was now
In the act of bending, when Perseus snatched up
A torch smoldering on the altar and
When his companion Lycabas, an Assyrian
Close to the boy and his avowed true lover,
Saw him gasping out his life through that bitter wound,
His exquisite features now a mass of blood,
He wept aloud for his beloved Atthis,
And then picked up the bow that the boy had bent
And cried,

"It's between you and me now,
And you won't have long to celebrate a death
That brings you contempt rather than glory."
His words weren't out before the piercing arrow
Flashed from the string, but it only hung up
In a fold of Perseus' robe. Acrisius' grandson
Turned upon Lycabas the sickled sword
That had seen Medusa off and drove it home
Into his chest. But even as he was dying,
His eyes swimming in the dark, he looked around
For Atthis, and let his body fall down beside him,
Taking to the shadows the consolation
That they had been together even in death.
Then Phorbas of Syenes, Merion's son,
And Libyan Amphimedon, eager to fight,
Slipped on the blood that covered the floor
And went down hard. As they tried to get up
The sword came down, through the ribs of the latter
And through Phorbas' throat.

When Perseus encountered
Actor's son, Eurytus, who swung a broad battle-axe,
He sheathed his scimitar and lifted high with both hands
A huge mixing bowl, embossed and massive,
And flung it at the man. He spewed up red blood
As he lay on his back, and in his death
He beat the floor with his head. -
Then Perseus killed
Polydaemon, a descendant of Semiramis,
Abaris from the Caucasus, Lycetus,

Whose home was near the Spercheios River,
Unshorn Helices, Phlegyas, and Clytus,
As he slogged his way through heaps of the dying.
Phineus did not dare to close with his enemy
But threw another javelin, which hit Idas
By accident. Favoring neither side,
Idas had kept out of the fight, but now,
Glaring at the unsympathetic Phineus,
He said,

"Since I'm forced into this, Phineus,
You have a new enemy. It's wound for wound now."
And just as he was about to hurl back the spear
He had pulled from his own body, he collapsed,
All of the blood having drained from his limbs.
Then Hodites, the foremost Ethiopian
After the king, fell to Clymenus' sword;
Hypseus hit Prothoenor; and Lyncides, Hypseus.

There was one old man there,
Emathion, who loved justice and feared the gods.
Too old for battle, he fought with his tongue now,
And strode forward cursing their iniquitous arms.
As he clung to the altar with trembling hands
Chromis’ sword lopped off his head, which fell
Down on the altar, and kept uttering curses
With its half-alive tongue until it exhaled
The last of its life amid the sacred fires.
Two brothers next fell by Phineus' hand,
Broteas and Ammon, invincible boxers,
If only they could outbox swords. Ampycus
Fell also, Ceres· priest, temples bound in white;
And you fell also, Lampetides, a musician
Invited to grace the feast with your lyre
And sing the festal song.

As he stood to one side
Holding a peaceable quill, Petalus mocked him:
"Sing the rest of your song to the Stygian shades!"
And he drove his spear through Lampetides' temple.
His dying fingers touched the strings of his lyre
And as he fell there arose a few plaintive notes.
Enraged at the sight, Lycormas would not let
His death go unavenged. Prying a heavy bar
From the right doorpost he broke Petalus· neck;
The man sank to the earth like a slaughtered bull.
Cinyphian Pelates, trying to pry
Another bar from the doorpost's left side,
Had his good right hand pinned to the wood
By the spear of Corythus of Marmarida.
Stuck like that, Abas drilled him; he did not fall
When he died, but hung from the post by his hand.
Melanius, one of Perseus' men, went down,

As did Dorylas, the richest man in Nasamonia-
An extensive estate, huge stores of spices-
With a spear in his groin entering from the side,
A fatal spot. The spear had been cast
By Halcyoneus of Bactria, who said
As he watched Dorylas rolling his eyes
And coughing up his life,

"Of all your lands,
The land you lie on is all you have now."
And he left the bleeding body. Perseus
Lost no time avenging him, pulling the spear
From the still warm wound and driving it into
Halcyoneus' nose, down through his neck
And out the other side. While he had a lucky hand
He dispatched Clytius and Clanis,
Born of one mother, with two different wounds,
Stitching Clytius' thighs with a mammoth spear thrust,
And shoving another down Clanis' throat.
Other casualties were Mendesian Celadon;
Astraeus, born of a Syrian mother,
Father unknown; Aethion, formerly a seer,
Who did not see this coming;Thoactes,
The king's armor-bearer; and Agyrtes,
Whose fame was that he had killed his father.
There were many more left for the exhausted hero,
United in their will to obliterate him
In a cause that rejected fidelity and honor.
On his side stood his loyal but helpless
Father-in-law, his new wife and her mother,
Filling the hall with their quavering shrieks,
Which were drowned out by the sound of clashing arms
And the groans of men dying, while Bellona
Drenched with blood the polluted household gods
And did all she could to keep the battle going.
Perseus, surrounded by a thousand men
With Phineus at their head-spears flying
\Thicker than winter hail past flanks, eyes, ears-
Stands with his back against a great stone column
And, protected in this way from the rear, faces
The oncoming onslaught. Chaonian Molpeus
Leads the attack on the left, and on the right
Ethemon of Arabia. Just as a hungry tigress
Hears bulls bellowing in two separate valleys
And cannot decide which one to rush upon
But burns to rush upon both, so too Perseus
Did not know whether to strike right or left.
He went with Molpeus, wounding him in the leg,
And then let him go because Ethemon was on him,
Going for his neck with a swing ofhis sword,
Strong but poorly aimed, and hitting instead
The edge of a column. The blade broke off
And stuck in the man's throat, not deeply enough
To kill him outright but leaving him standing there
Trembling and stretching out his empty hands
As Perseus gutted him with Mercury's sword.

But when the hero saw strength yielding to numbers,
"Since you force me to," he cried, "I will enlist the aid
Ofmy enemy. Hide your face if you are a friend."
And he lifted high the head of the Gorgon.
Theseclus shouted at him,
"Go work your miracles on somebody else,"
And raising his lethal javelin
Adhered to this pose as a marble statue.
Ampyx was next, thrusting his sword at Perseus' heart,
But in midthrust his right hand stiffened and froze.
Then Nileus, who lied that he was born of the Nile,
And who had its seven mouths engraved on his shield
In silver and gold, cried,
"See, O Perseus,
The great source from which I have sprung.
It will be a consolation to you among the shades
That you died at the hand ofso mighty a man."

The words died on his lips, which looked like
They were still trying to speak, but through which
No speech emerged. Eryx rebuked these two, saying,
"You're stiff because you're scared, not because of
Some Gorgon. Run up with me and let's lay low
This wizard warrior." He had begun to run,
But the floor held his feet, and there he stayed,
A motionless rock and an armored image.
These at least deserved their punishment,
But there was one, a soldier on Perseus' side
Named Aconteus, who in the course of the fight
Happened to look on the Gorgon's face
And hardened into stone. Astyages,
Mistaking him for a still living man,
Brought his sword down on him, and the blade
Rang shrilly. While Astyages stared dumbly,
The same force acted on him, and he stood
With an astonished look on his marble face.
It would take too long for the whole roll call.
Two hundred warm bodies survived the battle;
The Gorgon's gaze turned two hundred to stone.
Phineus now repents. The battle was unjust.
But what can he do? He sees figures
In various postures and recognizes his men.
He calls them by name, asks for their help,
And not trusting his eyes he touches those
Closest to him. They were marble. He turns away
And stretching out sideways suppliant hands
That admit defeat, he says,

"Perseus,
You win. Just remove that petrifying thing,
Whatever it is, that Medusa, just take it away,
I beg you. It wasn't hatred or lust for the throne
That drove me to war. I fought for my wife.
Your claim was better, mine just earlier.
It's all right; I yield. I only ask for my life,
O bravest of men, and all the rest is yours."
As he spoke he did not dare to look
At the man he was supplicating, who said,
"Phineus, most cowardly of men,
What I can give you-and it is a great good thing
For a slug like you-I will certainly give.
You will not die by my sword. Instead you will be
A monument that will last through the ages
And always on view in my wife's father's house,
A statue to remind her of her plighted lo
He spoke, and brought the Gorgon's head around
Where Phineus had turned his terror-stricken face,
And even as he tried to avert his eyes, his neck
Stiffened, the tears on his cheeks hardened to stone,
And the cowardly face, the suppliant expression,
The pleading hands, and the guilty look
Are all permanent in the marble statue.
Victorious Perseus now enters with his bride
His ancestral city, and to avenge his grandfather,
Who did not deserve vengeance, he wages war
Against his uncle, Proetus, who had driven out
His brother Acrisius and seized the citadel.
But neither Proetus' armed might nor his possession
Of the citadel, which he had unjustly seized,
Could resist the dread gaze of the snake-crowned monster.
And you, Polydectes, ruler of tiny Seriphos,
Were mollified neither by the proven valor
Of the young hero, nor by his suffering,
But remained hard in your inexorable hatred,
Nor was there an end to your iniquitous wrath.
You withheld praise, denied honor, and even claimed
That the death of Medusa was only a lie.
"We will give you certain proof," Perseus said
To the king; and then to his friends, "Shield your eyes!"
And with the face of the Gorgon Medusa
He changed the king's face into bloodless stone.