Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE BALLAD OF LYCAON, by PUBLIUS OVIDIUS NASO


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE BALLAD OF LYCAON, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Out spoke, then, jove to the gods above
Last Line: In the famished wolf was seen!'
Alternate Author Name(s): Ovid
Subject(s): Goddesses & Gods; Mythology


OUT spoke, then, Jove to the gods above,
As they sate in their skiey hall,
'The deed is done, and the forfeit won,
Then list, my children all,
While I speak the crimes of those fearful times,
Too black to be forgiven,
And the cry of wrath that rose from earth,
And drew us down from Heaven!

'In form and face like the human race,
We hush'd our thunders still,
And glided down from the hoary crown
Of the high Olympian hill.
The world we made so fresh and fair
Was now like a desert grown,
For the stain of blood was everywhere,
And the altars were overthrown.

'We took our way, at the dawn of day,
Over Maenalus dark and grim,
And we heard the howl of the beasts that prowl
In Cyllene's forests dim.
We wander'd through Lycoeus, too,
Swart with its pine trees' shade,
And we reach'd the floor of the tyrant's door
As the daylight 'gan to fade.

'Then made we sign of our might divine,
And the people straight kneel'd down,
But Lycaon chafed at his subjects' faith,
And check'd them with his frown.
"The truth we'll test of this holy guest,"
The tyrant thus began,
"And if his powers be more than ours,
Let the god eclipse the man!"

24 daylight 'gan] day began 1867

'He thought to creep, when all men sleep,
Armed with a trenchant blade,
And pierce the heart of the stranger wight,
In his own pavilion laid.
But first to try if a heavenly eye
Could fathom his foul design,
He stained his hand in a mortal's blood,
Ere he bathed it red in mine.

'A herald lay in his house that day,
A nation's pledge to him,
But the caitiff slew him as he slept,
And hewed him limb from limb!
With care he dressed that odious feast,
Then with a horrid sneer
He bade us come to the banquet room
And taste his royal cheer.

'In wrath and ire I made the fire
Through the vaulted dwelling roar,
And hurled the foul Penates down
On their master's tainted floor.
In fear and dismay he fled away
To the forest solitudes,
And howled alone, like a guilty ghost,
In the wild Arcadian woods.

'For days and days he wander'd there,
A wretch by heaven accurst,
The viscous foam from his black lips flew,
And his soul was mad with thirst.
He cried for blood, he raved for blood,
Till a fearful change began,
And he turned to rend the peaceful flocks,
And lost the shape of man.

'His shoulders bare were clothed with hair,
His limbs grew long and lean,
Yet still you might trace on his wolfish face
What once the wretch had been.
The grisly locks were hard and stiff,
The eye was cold and keen,
And the savage sneer of Lycaon's mouth
In the famished wolf was seen!'





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