652The trumpets had given the signal, when each of them darts headlong from the starting-gate and skims the surface of the sand with swift foot. 654You would think they could graze the sea with dry step and run over the standing ears of white corn. 656The shouting and the cheering and the words of those calling out add spirit to the young man: "Now, now is the time to press on! 658Hippomenes, hurry! 658now use all your strength! 659Away with delay, you will win!" 659It is doubtful whether the Megarean hero or Schoeneus' maiden daughter rejoices more at these words. 661Oh, how often, when she could already have passed him, did she linger, and unwillingly leave behind the face she had long gazed on!
663Dry panting came from his weary mouth, and the turning-post was far away. 664Then at last Neptune's descendant threw one of the three fruits of the tree. 666The maiden was astonished, and, in her desire for the gleaming fruit, turns aside from her course and picks up the rolling gold. 668Hippomenes passes her! 668The stands resound with applause. 669She makes up for the delay and the time lost with a swift run, and again leaves the young man behind her back. 671And, delayed again by the throw of the second apple, she catches up and passes the man. 672The last part of the course remained; 673"Now," he says, "be with me, goddess, giver of the gift!"
674and he threw the gleaming gold slantwise, with youthful strength, to the side of the field, so that she would come back more slowly. 676The maiden seemed to hesitate whether to go after it: I compelled her to pick it up, and added weight to the apple once taken, and hindered her equally with the heaviness of the burden and the delay. 679And lest my telling be slower than the race itself, the maiden was passed: the victor led away his prize. 681Did I deserve, Adonis, that he should give me thanks, that he should bring me the honour of incense? 682— He neither thanked me, forgetful as he was, nor gave me incense.
683I am turned to sudden anger; 684and pained by the contempt, so that I may not be scorned in future, I take care to make an example, and urge myself on against them both. 686They were passing a temple, hidden in shady woods, which famous Echion had once built to the Mother of the gods in fulfilment of a vow, and the long journey persuaded them to rest. 689There an untimely desire for intercourse seizes Hippomenes, aroused by my power. 691Near the temple there was a dimly lit recess, like a cave, roofed with natural pumice, sacred with ancient religion, where a priest had gathered many wooden images of the old gods.
695He enters it and defiles the shrine with forbidden shame. 696The sacred images turned away their eyes; 696and the turreted Mother wondered whether to plunge the guilty pair in the Stygian wave. 698The punishment seemed light. 698So tawny manes cover their necks that were smooth just now, their fingers curve into claws, their arms become forelegs, all their weight passes into their chests, the surface of the sand is swept by tails. 702Their faces hold anger, instead of words they give out growls, instead of a bedchamber they haunt the woods: and, lions feared by others, they champ Cybele's bridle with tamed teeth. 705These, my dear, and with them every kind of wild beast that offers not its back for flight but its breast for battle, flee, lest your courage be ruinous to us both.' 708She indeed warned him, and, with her swans yoked, makes her way through the air: but his courage stands opposed to her warnings.
710By chance the hounds, following a sure trail, roused a boar from its lair, and as it was preparing to leave the woods, Cinyras' young son had pierced it with a slanting blow. 713At once the fierce boar shook out the hunting-spear, stained with its own blood, with its curved snout, and pursues him as he trembles and seeks safety, and buried its whole tusk deep in his groin, and laid him dying on the tawny sand. 717Cytherea, borne in her light chariot through the midst of the air, had not yet reached Cyprus on her swans' wings; she recognised from afar the groan of the dying youth and turned her white birds there.
720And when from high heaven she saw him lifeless, and tossing his body in his own blood, she leapt down, and tore both her robe and her hair, and beat her breast with undeserving hands. 724And complaining against the fates, she said, 'But not everything will be in your power. 725Memorials of my grief will remain forever, Adonis, and a yearly repetition of your death will enact an imitation of my mourning. 728But your blood shall be changed into a flower. 728Or was it once permitted to you, Persephone, to turn a woman's limbs into fragrant mint, and will the change of Cinyras' heroic son be begrudged to me?' 731— So saying, she sprinkled the blood with fragrant nectar; and it, touched by this, swelled as a clear bubble tends to rise in yellow mud.
734Nor was the delay longer than a full hour when a flower sprang from the blood, of the same colour, such as pomegranates bear, which hide their seeds beneath a tough rind. 737Yet short-lived is the enjoyment of it: for, clinging poorly and falling through excessive lightness, it is shaken off by those same winds that lend it its name.