Annexe I

p. 393-397


Texte intégral

1Cette annexe reproduit le passage consacré au mythe d’Écho et de Narcisse dans Les Métamorphoses d’Ovide (III, v. 336-510), traduites par George Sandys1, que Wordsworth a lues à l’école de Hawkshead. Il est disponible sur Early English Books Online. L’orthographe d’origine a été conservée, à l’exception des « f » retransformés en « s » pour une meilleure lisibilité. Pour faciliter la lecture, les textes cités dans cette annexe et les suivantes sont composés en romain.

He giuing sure replyes to such as scame, 1
Through all th’ Aönian City’s stretcht his fame.
First blew Liriope sad triall made
How that was but too true which he had saide :
Whom in times past Cephisus flood imbrac’t 5
Within his winding streams : and forc’t the chaste.
The louely Nymph (who not vnfruitfull prou’d)
Brought forth a boy, euen then to be belou’d,
Narcissus nam’d. Enquiring if old age
Should crowne his Youth ; He, in obscure presage, 10
Made this reply : Except himselfe he knowe.
Long, they no credit on his words bestowe :
Yet did the euent the prophecie approue,
In his strange ruine and new kinde of loue.
Now, he to fifteene added had a yeare : 15
Now in his looks both boy and man appeare.
Many a loue-sick Youth did him desire ;
And many a Maid his beauty set on fire :
Yet, in his tender age his pride was such,
That neither youth nor Mayden might him touch. 20
The vocall Nymph, this louely Boy did spy
(She could not proffer speech, nor not reply)
When busie in persuit of saluage spoyles,
He draue the Deere into his corded toyles.
Eccho was then a body, not a Voyce 25
Yet then, as now, of words she wanted choyce ;
But only could reiterate the close
Of euery speech. This Iuno did impose.
For, often when she might haue taken Ioue,
Compressing there the Nymphs, who weakely stroue ; 30
Her long discourses made the Goddesse stay,
Vntill the Nymphs had time to run-away.
Which when perceiu’d ; shee said, For this abuse
Thy tongue henceforth shall bee of little vse.
Those threats are deeds : she yet ingeminates 35
The last of sounds, and what she hears relates.
Narcissus seene, intending thus the chace ;
She forth-with glowes, and with a noyselesse pace
His steps persues ; the more she did persuw,
More hot (as neerer to her fire) she grew : 40
And might be likened to a sulph’rous match ;
Which instantly th’ approached flame doth catch.
How oft would shee haue woo’d him with sweete words !
But, Nature no such liberty affords
Begin she could not, yet full readily 45
To his expected speech she would reply.
The Boy, from his companions parted, said ;
Is any nigh ? I, Eccho answere made.
He, round about him gazed (much appall’d)
And cry’d out, Come. She him, who called, call’d. 50
Then looking back ; and seeing none appear’d,
Why shunst thou mee ? The selfe-same voyce he heard,
Deceiued by the Image of his words ;
Then let vs ioyne, said he : no sound accords
More to her wish : her faculties combine 55
In deare consent ; who answer’d, Let vs joyne !
Flattering her selfe, out of the woods she sprung ;
And would about his struggling neck haue hung.
Thrust back ; he said, Life shall this breast forsake,
Ere thou, light Nymph, on me thy pleasure take. 60
On me thy pleasure take, the Nymph replyes
To that disdainefull Boy, who from her flyes.
Despis’d ; the wood her sad retreat receaues :
Who couers her ashamed face with leaues ;
And sculks in desert caues. Loue still possest 65
Her soule ; through griefe of her repulse, increast.
Her wretched body pines with sleeplesse care :
Her skinne contracts : her blood converts to ayre.
Nothing was left her now but voyce and bones :
The voyce remaynes ; the other turne to stones. 70
Conceal’d in Woods, in Mountaines neuer found,
Yet heard in all : and all is but a Sound.
Thus her, thus other Nymphs, in mountaynes born,
And sedgy brooks, the Boy had kild with scorn.
Thus many a Youth he had afore deceiu’d : 75
When one thus praid, with hands to heau’n vpheau’d ;
So may he loue himselfe, and so despaire !
Rhamnusia condescends to his iust pray’r.
A Spring there was, whose siluer Waters were,
As smooth as any mirror, nor lesse cleare : 80
Which neither Heards-men, tame, nor saluage Beast,
Nor wandring Fowle, nor scattered leaues molest ;
Girt round with grasse, by neighbouring moysture fed,
And Woods, against the Sunnes inuasion spred.
He, tyr’d with heat and hunting, with the Place 85
And Spring delighted, lyes vpon his face.
Quenching his thirst, another thirst doth rise ;
Rays’d by the forme which in that glasse he spyes.
The hope of nothing doth his powres inuade
And for a body he mistakes a shade. 90
Himselfe, himselfe distracts : who pores thereon
So fixedly, as if of Parian stone.
Beholds his eyes, two starres ! his dangling haire
Which with vnshorn Apollo’s might compare !
His fingers worthy Bacchus ! his smooth chin ! 95
His Iuory neck ! his heauenly face ! where-in
The linked Deities their Graces fix !
Where Roses with vnsullied Lillies mix !
Admireth all ; for which, to be admir’d :
And vnconsiderately himselfe desir’d. 100
The prayses, which he giues, his beautie claym’d.
Who seeks, is sought : th’ Inflamer is inflam’d.
How often would he kisse the flattering spring !
How oft with downe-thrust arms sought he to cling
About that loued neck ! Those cous’ning lips 105
Delude his hopes ; and from himselfe he slips.
Not knowing what, with what he sees he fryes
And th’ error that deceiues, incites his eyes.
Foole ! that striu’st to catch a flying shade !
Thou seek’st what’s no-where : Turn aside, ‘twill fade. 110
Thy formes reflection doth thy sight delude :
Which is with nothing of its owne indu’d.
With thee it comes ; with thee it staies ; and so
‘Twould goe away, hadst thou the powre to goe.
Nor sleep, nor hunger could thy louer rayse 115
Who, lay’d along, on that false forme doth gaze
With lookes, which looking neuer could suffice ;
And ruinates himselfe with his owne eyes.
At length, a little lifting vp his head ;
You Woods, that round about your branches spred, 120
Was euer so vnfortunate a Louer !
You know, to many you haue beene a couer ;
From your first growth to this long distant day
Haue you knowne any, thus to pine away !
I like, and see : but yet I cannot find 125
The lik’t, and seene. O Loue, with error blind !
What grieues me more ; no Sea, no Mountayne steep,
No wayes, no walls, our joyes a-sunder keep :
Whom but a little water doth diuide ;
And he himselfe desires to be injoy’d. 130
As oft as I to kisse the flood decline,
So oft his lips ascend, to close with mine.
You’ld thinke we toucht : so small a thing doth part
Our equall loues ! Come forth, what ere thou art.
Sweet Boy, a simple Boy beguile not so : 135
From him that seeks thee, whither would’st thou go ?
My age nor beauty merit thy disdaine :
And me the Nymphs haue often lou’d in vaine.
Yet in thy friendly shewes my poore hopes liue ;
Still striuing to receiue the hand I giue : 140
Thou smil’st my smiles : when I a teare let fall,
Thou shedd’st an other ; and consent’st in all.
And, lo, thy sweetly-mouing lips appeare
To vtter words, that come not to our eare.
Ah, He is I ! now, now I plainly see : 145
Nor is’t my shaddow that bewitcheth me.
Loue of my selfe me burnes ; (ô too too sure !)
And suffer in those flames which I procure.
Shall I be woo’d, or wooe ? What shall I craue ?
Since what I couet, I already haue. 150
Too much hath made me poore ! O, you diuine
And fauoring Powres, me from my selfe dis-joyne !
Of what I loue, I would be dispossest :
This, in a Louer, is a strange request !
Now, strength through griefe decayes : short is the time 155
I haue to liue ; extinguisht in my prime.
Nor grieues it me to part with well-mist breath ;
For griefe will find a perfect cure in death :
Would he I loue might longer life injoy !
Now, two ill-fated Louers, in one, die. 160
This said ; againe vpon his Image gaz’d ;
Teares on the troubled water circles rais’d :
The motion much obscur’d the fleeting shade.
With that, he cry’d (perceiuing it to vade),
O, whither wilt thou ! stay : nor cruell proue, 165
In leauing me, who infinitely loue.
Yet let me see, what cannot be possest ;
And, with that emptie food, my fury feast.
Complaining thus, himselfe he disarrayes ;
And to remoreselesse hands his brest displayes 170
The blowes that solid snowe with crimson stripe ;
Like Apples party-red, or Grapes scarce ripe.
But, in the water when the same appeare,
He could no longer such a sorrow beare.
As Virgin wax dissolues with feruent heat ; 175
Or morning frost, whereon the Sunne-beames beat
So thawes he with the ardor of desire ;
And, by degrees consumes in vnseene fire.
His meagre cheeks now lost their red and white ;
That life ; that fauour lost, which did delight. 180
Nor those diuine proportions now remaine,
So much by Eccho lately lou’d in vaine.
Which when she saw ; although she angry were,
And still in minde her late repulse did beare ;
As often as the miserable cry’d, 185
Alas ! Alas, the wofull Nymph reply’d.
And euer when he struck his sounding brest,
Like sounds of mutuall sufferance exprest.
His last words were, still hanging o’re his shade ;
Ah, Boy, belou’d in vaine ! so Eccho said. 190
Farewell. Farewell, sigh’t she. Then downe he lyes :
Deaths cold hand shuts his selfe-admiring eyes
Which now eternally their gazes fix
Vpon the Waters of infernall Styx.
The wofull Naiades lament the dead ; 195
And their clipt haire vpon their brother spred.
The wofull Dryades pertake their woes
With both, sad Eccho ioynes at euery close.
The funerall Pyle prepar’d, a Herse thy brought
To fetch his body, which they vainely sought. 200
In stead whereof a yellow flowre was found,
With tufts of white about the button crown’d.

Notes de bas de page

1 Ovid’s Metamorphosis Englished, Mythologiz’d, and Represented in Figures, and an Essay to the Translation of Virgil’s Aeneis by George Sandys, Oxford, 1632, p. 88-92.


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