No More Learning

His version made the story popular in Roman and later times and
was always the chief source of later allusion. Recalling the myth in
the Tristia, Ovid declared that he himself resembled Actaeon, for
without evil intent he saw what was forbidden and incurred a cruel
punishment.
Statius included the tale in his Thebaiad.
In the Middle Ages, writers were inclined to interpret the story
allegorically, as an example of a young man pursued and destroyed
by his vices, and this suggested to Dante the incident of the prodigal
overtaken and torn to pieces by black hounds in the suicides' grove.
Petrarch imitated the story of Actaeon in an allegory of his courtship
of Laura and of the remorse following his repulse. Castillejo retold
Ovid's myth as an allegorical narrative, and Camoens referred to it
at some length in order to warn his sovereign against neglecting
affairs of state. In Twelfth Night Shakespeare used the myth as an
allegory of unhappy love. When the courtiers advised Orsino to hunt
the hart, he replied
Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purged the air of pestilence:
That instant was I turned into a hart;
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er since pursue me.
Often, however, the great poets recalled Ovid in a more ordinary
sense. The wonder and pleasure experienced by Actaeon when he
suddenly beheld Diana was felt by Petrarch, when he chanced to see
his lady washing a veil. Chaucer mentioned Actaeon repeatedly
in the Knight's Tale. Camoens declared that some maidens surprised
by the Portuguese pretended to feel the shame of Diana when she saw
the young hunter. To Spenser the myth suggested two incidents of
his Faerie Queene. In one of these Diana and her nymphs, while bath-
ing, were unpleasantly surprised by Venus. In the other, Faunus spied
on Diana and for punishment was arrayed as a stag and pursued with
hounds. Shelley compared to Actaeon the unfortunate shepherd who
came to mourn over Adonais. Tennyson imagined the story sculptured
on a gate of the feminine college in his Princess.
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? SEMELE AND JUPITER
The moment when Diana stood embarrassed among her nymphs
made a deep impression on both Dante and Shakespeare. Dante used
Ovid's description of her blush to suggest the indignant hue of Para-
dise when St. Peter rebuked the corruption of the papacy. Shake-
speare in Titus Andronicus distinguished Tamora as excelling other
Roman ladies
Like stately Phoebe mongst her nymphs.
And in his Henry Sixth Warwick advised the king to remain protected
by the citizens of London
Like modest Dian circled by her nymphs ( ! )
Ovid's myth of Actaeon inspired the modern painters Pittone,
Domenichino, Gaspard Poussin, Allegrain, and G. Caesar. It sug-
gested two masterpieces of Titian. The French painter Dampt varied
the myth so far as to show Diana mourning the death of her victim.
In the town hall of Dantzig Actaeon was represented by the unusual
device of a colored relief bearing the antlers of a real stag.
Semele and Jupiter
By a transition of his own inventing, Ovid passed from Actaeon
to Juno's plot against Semele. This allowed him to recount the myth
of Semele and also the birth and nurture of the god Bacchus.
Both the god and his worship were of foreign origin and had been
introduced into the Greek world not long before the dawn of historical
times. In fact the worship of Bacchus was the first of many oriental
and mystical cults which were to influence Greek civilization. Its
alien character impressed the historian Herodotus, and he suggested
that Cadmus had introduced the cult of Bacchus after some acquain-
tance with the worship of Osiris. Bacchus indeed had much in com-
mon with the Egyptian deity; but he entered the Greek world from the
more northern region of Phrygia and Thrace.
In these countries the god became known first as a spirit associated
with trees and worshiped in forests and wild places. At times he
revealed himself in the shape of a bull, a goat, a snake, or some other
animal form. He caused fertility in useful plants, in domestic animals,
and even in human beings. Through the warm summers he inhabited
the forests and the neighboring fields, making them green and fruit-
ful. When the colder, darker autumn came, he departed yearly with
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK III
the falling leaves to the world of the dead. But later he returned to
life with the new leaves of spring.
The signs of this marvellous resurrection were welcomed by a festi-
val of wild noise and frantic dancing. At first it probably occurred
every year in the spring; but during historical times it appears to
have been held only every second year. The clamor, the frenzy, and
often the license of these orgies made their name proverbial. According
to persistent tradition, the festival reached a climax, when the mad-
dened worshipers fell upon a living bull and tore him to pieces with
their hands and teeth. His flesh and blood were devoured raw by the
eager throng. That savages would not shrink from such ferocity, we
have only too good evidence. Even human beings met a similar fate
during a festival held annually by the Khonds of modern India. But
the practice ascribed to the Bacchanals seems to be physically im-
possible and may have been misunderstood by those who wrote long
after and from hearsay. A goat, or some other animal, might serve
as the victim instead of a bull. The flesh of the animal was consumed
as a sacrament, for at other times the worshipers often abstained
entirely from meat of any kind. To them the victim seemed a tempo-
rary incarnation of Bacchus, the tree spirit, who was reviving with
the new leaves. It was a feast of communion with the life giving deity
and was thought to infuse his spirit into all who took part.
The idea that Bacchus, the tree spirit, died and revived annually
suggesAed a belief that he might confer similar immortality on those
of his votaries who obtained his favor and ate sacramentally the flesh
inspired by his spirit. But a gift so wonderful was not to be had
easily or by everyone. It was possible only for those who observed a
prescribed ascetic life; attained a certain degree of purity, both cere-
monial and moral; and became acquainted with mysteries of magical
effect.
In early times Bacchus may have been entirely a tree spirit. But
later when agriculture began and barley or wheat were cultivated, he
became associated especially with grain. And when the vine was
brought into Phrygia and Thrace, he became a spirit of grapes. Later
this was his usual, but not his only, significance. In prehistoric times
he may have been a rather indefinite spirit of trees, grain, or vines.
But later we hear of him as offspring of Dio, the Thracian god of the
sky, and Zemele, the earth goddess of Phrygia.
During the tenth century, B. C. , worship of Bacchus entered the
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? SEMELE AND JUPITER
Greek world and began to coalesce with the worship of numerous local
gods of vegetation. Many of their names may survive among the titles
of Bacchus which Ovid was to record in the opening tale of his Fourth
Book. At first Bacchus was chiefly a god of the peasantry, the pa-
tron of rustic good cheer. But in time he obtained a prominent place
among the Olympian gods and became one of the most important of
Greek divinities. His father was thought to be Jupiter. His mother
sometimes was reported to be Proserpina, the young goddess of grain
and the lower world (cf. Bk. 5) ; more often she was identified with
the Theban princess, Semele; but in the opening lines of the Fourth
Book, Ovid was to mention an extraordinary tradition according
to which the god was first born by Proserpina and then reborn by
Semele!
Influenced by the civilization and good taste of Greece, worship of
Bacchus altered much in character. The god was said usually to
appear in a human, instead of an animal form, though he was apt to
retain small bull horns on his head. His death and resurrection were
associated less frequently with the annual fall and reappearance
of the leaves. They became rather a single and memorable act of
filial devotion, for at the close of his earthly career Bacchus was said
to have gone down voluntarily into Hades; rescued his mother, who
now took the name of Thyone; and ascended with her to join the
Olympian gods.
In the Bacchic ritual, much that was fierce and intemperate was
toned down. The bull or goat appears ordinarily to have been merely
killed and offered in the manner usual for animal sacrifices to other
gods. And eventually men so far forgot his identity with Bacchus,
that both Vergil and Ovid explained the ceremony as a solemn punish-
ment of cattle and goats for their destruction of the vines.
The idea of ascetic discipline and mystic communion was elaborated
by the Orphic Societies, which became important after the seventh cen-
tury B. C. These worshipers, who called themselves followers of Orpheus
(cf. Bk. 10), cultivated purity of life and manners in order to obtain
mysterious insight and immortality. Among them Euripides after-
wards included the martyred prince Hippolytus (see Bk. 15). In both
Orphic and Eleusinian Mysteries, worship of Bacchus was combined
with that of Ceres and Proserpina, probably, as Euripides suggests,
because together they provided nourishment for men. Ceres gave
grain to eat and Bacchus wine to drink.
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK III
At Athens the Bacchic ritual assumed a still different form. Every
year an actor and a chorus were trained in order that they might
recount and imitate part of the god's adventures for the commemo-
ration of his sacred festival. And from this practice there grew even-
tually both the tragic and the comic drama of Greece.
In Greek literature Bacchus obtained some mention from the be-
ginning. The Iliad referred to him as a child of Jupiter and Semele
who was reared by the nymphs of Nysa. Hesiod in the Works and
Days was the first to speak of him as the giver of wine. The Theogony
declared that, although Bacchus was child of a mortal mother, he was
born immortal. The circumstance, as the author pointed out, was
unusual. But it would have been easy to confuse the tradition of the
mortal mother, Semele, with a tradition in which the mother was
Proserpina or some other goddess. Pindar declared that Semele
had perished by a thunderbolt. And Aeschylus told her story in a
tragedy.
Alluding to the myth in the Baccha, Euripides mentioned further
circumstances. The death of Semele, he reported, was occasioned by
Juno, and she attempted to destroy Bacchus also. The little god's
father, Jupiter, frustrated the plot by giving her an image of Bacchus
made from air. The three sisters of Semele declared that her
lover was mortal and that she was destroyed for pretending the
contrary.
According to the tradition mentioned by Pindar, Semele was con-
sumed by the thunderbolt. Euripides added that the fire destroyed
her residence. And Propertius afterwards reported that it reduced
the entire citadel to ashes. This tradition of death by fire Ovid ac-
cepted in all his references to Semele, but he did not extend the destruc-
tion beyond the girl herself.
The Manual recorded the whole story, but with some important
variations. Jupiter, it seems, promised to give Semele whatever she
might desire. Aware of this, Juno persuaded her to request that he
would visit her in the same manner that he came to woo Juno. Jupiter
arrived in his chariot, attended by lightnings, and launched a thunder-
bolt. Semele was uninjured; but she died of fright.
The Manual did not stop here but recorded a further tradition
which Euripides had rejected. This resembled at first the tale which
both the Manual and Ovid recorded of Coronis (Bk. 2). Both Coronis
and Semele perished while their sons were still unborn; and in both
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? SEMELE AND JUPITER
tales, the divine father prevented the child from dying with the mother.
But Aesculapius had been ready for birth. Bacchus, on the contrary,
was not. Therefore Jupiter made an incision in his own thigh;
inserted the tiny infant; and fastened the edges with golden clasps.
Here the child was nourished until his proper time, and hence he might
be called twice born.
Underlying this unusual myth there may have been acquaintance
with a savage practice called the Couvade. It existed among the
natives of the Pyrenees and Sardinia during ancient times and more
recently among a few tribes of southern Asia. According to these
tribes, the father as well as the mother was liable to incur the pain
and danger of childbirth. Both parents were supposed to retire to
their beds and be attended with special care. Apparently the Greeks
adopted the savage idea of a father's having a share in childbirth,
but they altered it from an habitual occurrence, to a single and re-
markable event.
When Bacchus emerged from Jupiter's thigh, the Manual continued,
he was reared for a while by his aunt and uncle, Ino and Athamas.
Hoping to avoid the notice of Juno, they disguised him as a girl. The
goddess discovered the ruse and brought destruction on the foster
parents. But Bacchus escaped: Jupiter, transforming him into a kid,
conveyed him to the nymphs of Nysa. These nymphs, who now reared
the young god of the vine, were quite appropriately the Bringers of
Rain and later entered heaven as the constellation of the Hyades.
Nysa, the region in which Bacchus grew up, seems to have been an
imaginary country, so called probably to explain the latter half of
his Greek name, Dionysus.
Nicander retold the myth of Semele, adding that before visiting
her Juno assumed the form of an old woman called Beroe.
In the Metamorphoses Ovid took his outline from the Manual but
greatly improved the tale. Beginning with Juno, he caused the god-
dess to meditate in a soliloquy on Jupiter's courtship of Semele and
the approaching birth of the child. The tone and many of the ideas
he adapted from the similar passages of Vergil's Aeneid, which had
helped him already in the tale of Callisto (Bk. 2). But he showed the
goddess complaining further that she had hardly been so fortunate as
to bear a child to Jupiter. The complaint was justifiable; the Iliad
spoke of Jupiter and Juno as parents of three deities--Vulcan, Hebe,
and Mars; but later tradition declared Vulcan and Hebe children of
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK III
Juno without a father, and Ovid in the Fasti was to report the same
of Mars.
The disguise as Beroe, Ovid took from Nicander. But the details
of her appearance he added from Vergil's description of Allecto visit-
ing Turnus. Then he made a judicious innovation. Both Euripides
and the Manual had implied that Semele mentioned the divinity of her
lover to her sisters and that the sisters suspected, after the tragedy,
that the lover was only a mortal masquerading as Jove. Ovid showed
Semele mentioning the divinity of her lover to the disguised Juno and
Juno raising the suspicion. Before accepting so unlikely a claim,
Juno continued, let Semele require proof of his good faith; let him
appear in the splendor which he displayed before Juno.
Although Semele had now a better reason for asking Jupiter to
appear in splendor, Ovid caused her to begin cautiously by asking
merely for a favor. Thus he gave Jupiter occasion for his rash
promise. And to show that the promise must be kept, Ovid added the
pledge by the river Styx. In the tale of Phaethon (Bk. 2) Ovid had
imagined that it would be possible to avoid the consequences, if Phae-
thon should withdraw the request, and he had made this the occasion
for a dialogue adding much to the interest of the story. But in the
tale of Semele he could gain no such advantage and he wisely assumed
that there was no escape.
After introducing a fine description of Jupiter's return to heaven,
Ovid added the further idea that Jupiter tried to lessen the evil con-
sequences. Recalling the two arrows of differing effect, which Cupid
had used in the tale of Daphne (Bk. 1), Ovid invented two armories
of differing brilliance for Jupiter. But even the milder of these was
fatal to Semele.
The latter part of the tale Ovid dismissed briefly. He indicated
the various stages in the nurture of Bacchus, but the destruction of
Ino and Athamas he preferred to tell later and under different circum-
stances (Bk. 4).
By judicious changes and inventions Ovid had far surpassed his
predecessors. He had given the story motivation, poetic beauty, and
even a touch of grandeur. To him, therefore, men looked in later
times whenever they thought of Semele.
In the sphere of Saturn Beatrice did not smile, lest her brightness
should bring the fate of Semele on Dante. Spenser described as fol-
lows a tapestry in the House of Busyrane:
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? TIRESIAS
Then shewed it how the Theban Semele,
Deceived of jealous Juno, did require
To see him in his sovereign majesty
Armed with his thunderbolts and lightning fire,
Whence dearly she with death bought her desire.
In Milton's Latin elegy, The Coming of Spring, Earth prayed the
Sun to embrace her, disclaiming any dread of Semele's fate. And
Schiller retold the tale in a narrative poem.
Semele was a theme for the painters Schiavone, Rubens, and L.
Boulogne.
Tiresias
After the nurture of Bacchus, the Manual had recounted his wan-
dering in the east and his return to battle with Pentheus in his native
Thebes. Thinking the wanderings unsuitable for his purpose, Ovid
proceeded instead to the career of the blind Tiresias. Tiresias had
been the most noted seer of the heroic age. The Odyssey showed
Ulysses obliged to obtain his counsel even by voyaging to the world
of the dead; Sophocles, Euripides, and the Manual introduced him
prominently in the mythical history of Thebes; and Euripides had
related him to the story of Pentheus. Wishing to profit as much
as possible by the famous seer, Ovid did not proceed immediately to
the myth of Pentheus. He approached it gradually by way of two
other myths which had grown up independent of the Theban Cycle.
The first interpolation dealt with Tiresias and the cause of his
blindness. Of the various explanations offered by Greek writers, two
had become famous.
Callimachus recorded one of them in his Bath of Pallas. Tiresias,
he said, had intruded on Athena accidentally, while she was bathing.
The goddess punished him with blindness. At this his mother, a
favorite attendant of Athena, complained bitterly, and the goddess
gave Tiresias in compensation wisdom and length of life. The same
tale was repeated by the Manual. For Ovid this account was unsuit-
able. It had no metamorphosis and it was too like the tale of Actaeon.
But in the Ibis, Ovid showed that, even when these objections no longer
applied, he preferred another version.
In the Melampodia, there had appeared a different story, related
with an early belief that it is dangerous even to witness the copulation
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK III
of serpents. The tale ran as follows: while wandering on Mt.
Cithaeron, Tiresia*s intruded on two serpents and killed the female.
For this he was transformed into a woman. Some time laterv Tiresias
again encountered two serpents and killed the male. By this means
he became once more a man. Repeated alteration of sex was recorded
of Caeneus (Bk. 12) and later of Sithon (Bk. 4) ; but in one particu-
lar the experience of Tiresias had been unique. Therefore, continued
the Melampodia, Jupiter and Juno chose him arbiter of a dispute
which had arisen between them. Siding with Jupiter, Tiresias in-
formed them that the pleasure of the female exceeded that of the male
in the proportions of ten to one. But Tiresias, like Midas (Bk. 11),
had not protected himself from the consequences of his decision. Juno
punished him with loss of sight. Jupiter tried to lighten the affliction
by giving wisdom and length of days.
Pindar alluded to the same myth. With minor variations, it re-
appeared in the Manual and in the work of many mythographers.
Both Tibullus and Propertius mentioned it briefly. Nicander retold
the adventure with the serpents. Tiresias, he said, merely hit the two
creatures with his staff. After living seven years as a woman, Tiresias
again met with the two serpents. Feeling that on the whole it was more
desirable to be a man, he struck them again and returned to his
former state.
In retelling the well known myth, Ovid used the Manual for the dis-
pute and Nicander for the adventure on Mt. Cithaeron. He felt that
a controversy of this nature was rather beneath the dignity of Jupiter
and Juno and he suggested, therefore, that it arose in a time of
drunken frivolity. The idea that it was not lawful for one divinity
to oppose directly the wishes of another, he probably introduced from
the Hippolytus of Euripides. It is curious that Ovid should give the
autumn, and not the spring, as the time for the breeding of serpents.
Inspired probably by Ovid, Giorgione made a painting of Tiresias
transformed to a woman.
Nakcissus
By inventing a prophecy of Tiresias to Liriope, Ovid found occa-
sion for telling another independent myth. He recounted the trans-
formation of Narcissus, a theme which at that time was known to
comparatively few but with Ovid's brilliant handling became one of
the most famous tales of his masterpiece.
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? NARCISSUS
For the thoughtful modern reader, enjoyment is marred by the
prominence of unnatural vice. It is well that we are sensitive to a
defect of this nature; yet it is instructive to remember the extenuating
circumstances. The fault was not of Ovid's introduction, for it oc-
curred even more prominently in the work of his Alexandrian prede-
cessors. And it was not peculiar to the story of Narcissus. It was
rather a fault general to the literary taste and perhaps to the ethical
standard of ancient times and its history is interesting as evidence of
a change for the better in European literature and life.
Although this form of vice may never have been of frequent occur-
rence in Greek communities, it was regarded with a measure of toler-
ance during even the better periods and seems to have been indulged
in by enough men of rank to give it a certain respectability. Both the
Iliad and Pindar spoke of it as practised by Jove. Anacreon made
it a theme for lyric poetry, and Aristophanes used it occasionally as
matter for satirical jest.
With the rather degenerating Alexandrian age, the idea affected
literature much more widely and deeply. It disfigured for the modern
reader several of the finest idylls of Theocritus and became the subject
of a much admired work by the poet Phanocles. It occurred fre-
quently in the myths told by Nicander and later in many of the stories
used incidentally by Nonnus.
The Roman poets at first were occupied entirely with other themes.
They shared the Alexandrian interest in philosophy, in the tragedy
of Euripides, and in more natural forms of love. But the exploiting
of unnatural vice followed not long after and before Augustan times
had infected some of the greatest poets of the age. Vergil made it
important in his Eclogues, and retained it incidentally even in the
Aeneid. Tibullus gave the subject even greater prominence, and it
appeared often in the famous lyrics of Horace. From Ovid's amatory
poetry, this fault was happily absent. In the Metamorphoses and the
Fasti Ovid often omitted or lessened it from considerations of literary
effect. But on moral grounds he felt no scruple and he often implied
it obviously even in his most famous tales. His contemporaries had
not thought such themes a defect in the work of Vergil and Horace
and they were not stricter with Ovid. Although he offended the moral
standards of the more serious, his treatment of such themes was not
regarded as part of his offense. Nevertheless the Augustan period
was the last in which this vice was treated with sympathy by poets of
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK III
the first rank. In subsequent Roman literature Martial mentioned it
occasionally with disfavor, but other leading poets did not find it of
interest.
With the advent of Christianity, a much higher standard came into
Graeco-Roman life. To the ancient Hebrews such unnatural vice had
always been abhorrent. They felt in all probability that it would
bring on the community both sterility and famine. And more than
one passage of the Old Testament bore witness to the extraordinary
effort which they would make to prevent its occurrence A similar
abhorrence was inherited from them by the Christians and inspired the
invective of Clement of Alexandria. The same feeling prevailed
through the entire medieval period. Many ancient works which
offended in this way happened to be inaccessible or little known to
medieval readers. The poetry of Ovid and of others, which continued
to be popular, was explained as allegory and the objectionable pas-
sages were omitted from medieval treatments of the tales. Dante so
detested this vice that he pictured even his admired master, Brunetto
Latini, as wandering forever under the fiery rain of Hell.
The Renaissance tended to revive the faults, as well as the merit,
of ancient poetry. Chiefly under Ovid's influence, we find Marlowe
and perhaps a few others experimenting with the same unworthy
theme. And the phrasing, without the subject, of such poetry often
appeared in the Sonnets of Shakespeare. But the revival of interest
occurred only in a few authors and a small number of experimental
works. It was absent from the masterpieces and from almost all of
the lesser writings of the time. Since then the subject has not inter-
ested any author important in the history of European letters.
The flower of the narcissus from early times had been related vari-
ously to Greek mythology and superstition. In the Homeric Hymn
to Ceres and the Oedipus at Colonus of Sophocles it was associated
with the abduction of Proserpina. And probably for this reason the
flower was symbolic of an early death.
In harmony with this belief, another tradition grew up at Thespiae,
a few miles west of Thebes. The new myth developed from a popular
belief that the soul of a human being might be present in his reflected
image. Hence, if the image should appear in a body of water, the
soul might fall a prey to the water spirits. It was thought bad luck
for a man to see his reflection in any pool or stream. An example was
the beautiful youth Narcissus. Observing his reflected image in a
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? NARCISSUS
spring, he mistook it for a real person and fell in love with it. The
object of his affection proved unattainable and finally reduced him to
despair. Narcissus killed himself with a sword, and from his blood
there grew a flower which bears his name. The idea of a youth enam-
ored of himself was not peculiar to this Boeotian myth, for afterwards
Plutarch was to record a like experience of a certain Eutelidas. The
parents of Narcissus were usually imagined to be the nymph Liriope
(the Soft Voiced) and Cephissus, the god of a river flowing not far
to the north of Thespiae.
That Narcissus should be unable to distinguish between an image
and a real person was improbable. Alexandrian authors rejected this
idea. They retained the peculiar infatuation but explained it as the
effect of a curse. 1
One Alexandrian version probably entered literature during the
first half of the third century, B. C. It survives, however, only in the
work of Conon, a Greek prose writer contemporary with Vergil. The
beautiful Narcissus, he tells us, was courted by many young men. He
repulsed them coldly and occupied himself with hunting. One youth
named Amenias was especially persistent. Faring no better than the
others, Amenias at length grew desperate and prayed that Narcissus,
too, might experience love and despair. He killed himself, the cruel
Narcissus even providing him with a sword. But Nemesis heard and
fulfilled the curse. While drinking from a clear pool, Narcissus ob-
served his reflection and became enamored. In vain he realized his
mistake. The knowledge could not cure his infatuation and merely
showed him that its object was unattainable. He remembered his
cruelty to others and admitted the justice of his punishment. Then
he killed himself. The story in this form belonged to a class popular
with the Alexandrians, which recorded the punishment of those who
repel their suitors cruelly. A more pleasing myth of this kind Ovid
was to repeat in the tale of Iphis and Anaxarete (Bk. 14). This
earlier Alexandrian account of Narcissus, Ovid mentioned in the
Fasti. He spoke of Narcissus as one of several mythical youths whose
blood Flora transformed into a flower.
1 The same improbability in the popular myth impressed the traveler Pausanias.
He retold the tale in the following attractive form: Narcissus had a twin sister
almost identical in appearance. They were exceedingly fond of each other and
delighted in hunting. After her death, the brother used often to wander disconso-
late in the familiar groves or sit by a clear pool gazing fondly on the image which
so closely resembled her.
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? METAMORPHOSES -- BOOK III
A later Alexandrian version made several important innovations.
This version was probably the work of Nicander. According to the
second version, Narcissus attracted not only young men but also
young women. His cold indifference brought despair not only to the
youth Amenias but also to the oread Echo. The author told her story
first. While Narcissus was hunting, Echo observed and loved him.
Concealing herself in the thicket, she followed him and found an oppor-
tunity to reveal her affection. Rebuffed, she hastily withdrew. Tak-
ing refuge in wild and lonely hills, Echo wasted away to nothing but
a voice. The author then repeated the story of Amenias and his
imprecation. Probably he took pains to contrast the gentleness of
Echo with the violence of Amenias. He showed also how Narcissus
realized that he had fallen in love with his own image. But at this
point he altered the story. Narcissus, he said, was not aware that he
was punished for cruelty and did not take his own life. He pined
away and died. A similar change from suicide to wasting away
occurred in an Alexandrian account of Byblis (Bk. 9) and may have
influenced the author here. The youth, he continued, was lamented
by the nymphs and dryads.