Metamorphoses by Ovid

While thus the Thracian bard the forests drew, And rocks, and furious beasts with strains divine; -- Behold the Thracian dames! their madden'd breasts Clad with the shaggy spoil of furious beasts, Espy'd him from an hillock's rising swell, As to his sounding strings he shap'd the song. When one, her tresses in the ruffling air Wild streaming, cry'd--"Lo! him who spurns our ties!" -- And full her dart 'gainst the harmonious mouth Of Phoebus' son she flung: entwisted round With leaves, a bruise without a wound appear'd. A stone another for a weapon seiz'd; The flying stone was even in air subdu'd By harmony and song; and at his feet Low fell, as suppliant for its daring fault. But now the tumult swells more furious,--bounds It knows not! mad Erinnys reigns around. Yet all their weapons had his music's power Soften'd; but clamor, Berecynthian horns, Drums, clappings, bacchanalian shouts, and howls, Drown'd the soft lyre. Then were the stones distain'd With silenc'd Orpheus' blood. The Bacchae first Drove wide the crowding birds, the snakes, the beasts, In throngs collected by his tuneful voice; Glory of Orpheus' stage. From thence they turn'd Their gory hands on Orpheus, and around Cluster'd like fowls that in the day espy The bird of darkness. Then as in the morn The high-rais'd amphitheatre beholds The stag a prey to hounds; so they the bard Attack'd, and flung their Thyrsi twin'd with leaves; For different use first form'd. Those hurl huge clods: These branches torn from trees; and others stones. Lest to their fury arms were wanting, lo! A yoke of oxen with the ploughshare broke The ground, not distant far; with sinews there Of nervous strength, the husbandmen upturn'd The stubborn soil; with sweat producing fruit. These, when the troop they saw, affrighted fled, Quitting their instruments of toil. Their rakes, Their ponderous harrows, and their huge long spades, Were scatter'd left on the deserted field. These when their furious hands had seiz'd, and tore From the strong oxen's heads the threatening horns, Back they return'd to end the poet's fate; And sacrilegious, as he stretch'd his hands, They slaughter'd him! Then first in vain his words Were utter'd; nought could then his speech avail. Then, heavenly powers! his spirit was expell'd And breath'd in air, even through that mouth whose sound Hard rocks had heard, and wildest beasts had own'd. For thee, O Orpheus! mourn'd the feather'd tribe, And crowds of savage monsters; flinty rocks Bewail'd thee; forests, which thy tempting song So oft had caus'd to follow, wept; the trees, Shorn of their pride, bewail'd with falling leaves. Each stream, 'tis said, with flowing tears increas'd Its current. Naiad nymphs and Dryads wore Garments of sable tinge, with streaming hair. Wide scatter'd lie his limbs. His head and lyre Thou, Hebrus, dost receive; and while they glide, Wond'rous occurrence! down the floating stream, The lyre a mournful moan sends forth; the lips, Now lifeless, murmur plaintive; and the bank Echoes the lamentations. Borne along To ocean, now his native stream they leave, And reach Methymna on the Lesbian shore.

The head, expos'd thus on the foreign sand, And locks still dropping with the watery wave, A snake approach'd. But Phoebus gave his aid, And check'd the greedy bite; with open jaws The serpent rears in stone congeal'd, as then Widely he gap'd. The ghost from earth descends, And views the regions he had view'd before. Exploring through th' Elysian fields he meets His dear Eurydice; with longing arms He clasps her. Here they walk, now side by side, With equal pace; now follows he, and now A little space precedes her: Orpheus there Back on Eurydice in safety looks.