Met. 8.1Iam nitidum retegente diem noctisque fugante
tempora Lūciferō cadit eurus, et ūmida surgunt
nūbila: dant placidī cursum redeuntibus austrī
Aeacidīs Cephalōque, quibus fēlīciter āctī
5ante exspectātum portūs tenuēre petītōs.Now, as Lucifer uncovered the shining day and put to flight the hours of night, the east wind drops and the moist clouds rise: the gentle south winds give passage to the sons of Aeacus and to Cephalus as they return, and, driven on happily by them, they reached the harbour they sought sooner than expected. Met. 8.6Intereā Mīnōs Lelegēia lītora vāstat
praetemptatque suī vīrēs Māvortis in urbe
Alcathoī, quam Nīsus habet, cui splendidus ostrō
inter honōrātōs mediōque in vertice cānōs
10crīnis inhaerēbat, magnī fīdūcia regnī.Meanwhile Minos lays waste the Lelegeian shores and tests the strength of his warfare on the city of Alcathous, which Nisus holds, on whose head, among the honoured grey hairs, in the middle of his crown, there clung a lock bright with purple, the guarantee of his great kingdom. Met. 8.11Sexta resurgēbant orientis cornua lūnae,
et pendēbat adhūc bellī fortūna: diūque
inter utrumque volat dubiīs Victōria pennīs.The horns of the rising moon were growing again for the sixth time, and the fortune of the war still hung in the balance: and for a long time Victory flies between the two sides on uncertain wings.
Met. 8.14Rēgia turris erat vōcālibus addita mūrīs,
15in quibus aurātam prōlēs Lētōia fertur
dēposuisse lyram: saxō sonus eius inhaesit.There was a royal tower built onto the singing walls, on which the son of Leto is said to have laid down his golden lyre: its sound clung to the stone. Met. 8.17Saepe illūc solita est ascendere fīlia Nīsī
et petere exiguō resonantia saxa lapillō,
tum cum pāx esset: bellō quoque saepe solēbat
20spectāre ex illā rigidī certāmina Mārtis.Often the daughter of Nisus used to climb up there and strike the echoing stones with a little pebble, at the time when there was peace: in war too she would often watch from it the contests of stern Mars. Met. 8.21Iamque mora bellī procerum quoque nōmina nōrat
armaque equōsque habitūsque Cydōnaeāsque pharetrās.And now, from the long delay of the war, she knew even the names of the chiefs, and their arms and horses and dress and Cydonian quivers. Met. 8.23Nōverat ante aliōs faciem ducis Eurōpaeī,
plūs etiam, quam nōsse sat est.Above all others she knew the face of the leader, Europa's son, even more than was enough to know it.
Met. 8.24Hāc iūdice Mīnōs,
25seu caput abdiderat cristātā casside pennīs,
in galeā fōrmōsus erat;In her judgement Minos, if he had hidden his head in a helmet crested with plumes, was handsome in a helmet; Met. 8.26seu sūmpserat aere
fulgentem clipeum, clipeum sūmpsisse decēbat.if he had taken up a shield gleaming with bronze, it became him to have taken up a shield. Met. 8.28Torserat adductīs hastīlia lenta lacertīs:
laudābat virgō iūnctam cum vīribus artem.He had hurled the pliant spear, drawing back his arms: the maiden praised the skill joined with strength. Met. 8.30Impositō calamō patulōs sinuāverat arcūs:
sīc Phoebum sūmptīs iūrābat stāre sagittīs.He had bent the wide bow, setting an arrow to it: so, she swore, Phoebus stood when he had taken up his arrows. Met. 8.32Cum vērō faciem dēmptō nūdāverat aere
purpureusque albī strātīs īnsignia pictīs
terga premēbat equī spūmantiaque ōra regēbat,
35vix sua, vix sānae virgō Nīsēia compos
mentis erat.But when he had bared his face, the bronze removed, and, clad in purple, was pressing the back of a white horse, splendid with an embroidered saddle-cloth, and guiding its foaming mouth, the maiden daughter of Nisus was scarcely her own, scarcely mistress of a sound mind.
Met. 8.36Fēlīx iaculum, quod tangeret ille,
quaeque manū premeret, fēlīcia frēna vocābat.She called the javelin he touched lucky, and lucky the reins he gripped in his hand. Met. 8.38Impetus est illī, liceat modo, ferre per agmen
virgineōs hostīle gradūs, est impetus illī
40turribus ē summīs in Gnōsia mittere corpus
castra, vel aerātās hostī reclūdere portās,
vel sīquid Mīnōs aliud velit.She has an urge, if only it were allowed, to carry her maiden steps through the enemy column; she has an urge to throw her body from the top of the towers into the Cnossian camp, or to open the bronze-bound gates to the enemy, or anything else Minos might want. Met. 8.42Utque sedēbat
candida Dictaeī spectāns tentōria rēgis,
"laeter," ait "doleamne gerī lacrimābile bellum,
45in dubiō est.And as she sat gazing at the white tents of the Dictaean king, 'Whether I should rejoice,' she said, 'or grieve that this tearful war is being waged, is in doubt. Met. 8.45Doleō, quod Mīnōs hostis amantī est:
sed nisi bella forent, numquam mihi cognitus esset.I grieve that Minos is an enemy to the one who loves him: but had there been no war, he would never have been known to me.
Met. 8.47Mē tamen acceptā poterat dēpōnere bellum
obside, mē comitem, mē pācis pignus habēret.Yet he could end the war by taking me as a hostage; he could have me as his companion, me as the pledge of peace. Met. 8.49Sī quae tē peperit, tālis, pulcherrime rērum,
50quālis es ipsa fuit, meritō deus ārsit in illā.If she who bore you, most beautiful of all things, was such as you yourself are, the god had good reason to burn for her. Met. 8.51Ō ego ter fēlīx, sī pennīs lapsa per aurās
Gnōsiacī possem castrīs īnsistere rēgis
fassaque mē flammāsque meās, quā dōte, rogārem,
vellet emī!O, three times happy should I be, if I could glide through the air on wings and set foot in the camp of the Cnossian king, and, confessing myself and my flames, ask with what dowry he would wish me bought! Met. 8.54tantum patriās nē posceret arcēs.only he must not ask for my father's citadel. Met. 8.55Nam pereant potius spērāta cubīlia, quam sim
prōditiōne potēns!For sooner let the hoped-for marriage-bed perish than I gain my power by treachery!
Met. 8.56— Quamvīs saepe ūtile vincī
victōris placidī fēcit clēmentia multīs:
iūsta gerit certē prō nātō bella peremptō
et causaque valet causamque tenentibus armīs,
60et, putō, vincēmur.Yet often the mercy of a gentle victor has made defeat profitable to many: he certainly wages a just war for his murdered son, and he is strong in his cause and in the arms that uphold the cause, and, I think, we shall be conquered. Met. 8.60Quis enim manet exitus urbem,
cum suus haec illī reserābit moenia Māvors
et nōn noster amor?For what end awaits the city, when his own Mars will unbar these walls to him, and not our love? Met. 8.62Melius sine caede morāque
impēnsāque suī poterit superāre cruōris.Better that he should be able to win without slaughter and delay and the expense of his own blood. Met. 8.64Nōn metuam certē, nē quis tua pectora, Mīnōs,
65vulneret imprūdēns.At least I shall not fear that someone may unwittingly wound your breast, Minos. Met. 8.65Quis enim tam dūrus, ut in tē
dīrigere inmītem nōn īnscius audeat hastam?For who is so hard that he would dare, knowingly, to aim a cruel spear at you?
Met. 8.67Coepta placent, et stat sententia trādere mēcum
dōtālem patriam fīnemque impōnere bellō.The plan pleases, and my resolve is fixed: to hand over my country, together with myself, as my dowry, and to put an end to the war. Met. 8.69Vērum velle parum est!But wishing is too little! Met. 8.69Aditūs custōdia servat
70claustraque portārum genitor tenet: hunc ego sōlum
īnfēlīx timeō, sōlus mea vōta morātur.Guards keep watch on the approaches, and my father holds the keys of the gates: him alone, unhappy that I am, I fear; he alone delays my prayers. Met. 8.72Dī facerent, sine patre forem!Would the gods grant that I were without a father! Met. 8.72— Sibi quisque profectō
est deus: ignāvīs precibus Fortūna repugnat.Each of us, surely, is a god to himself: Fortune resists idle prayers. Met. 8.74Altera iamdūdum succēnsa cupīdine tantō
75perdere gaudēret quodcumque obstāret amōrī.Another woman, long since kindled by so great a desire, would gladly destroy whatever stood in the way of her love. Met. 8.76Et cūr ūlla foret mē fortior?And why should any woman be braver than I?
Met. 8.76Īre per ignēs
et gladiōs ausim.I would dare to go through fires and swords. Met. 8.77Nec in hōc tamen ignibus ūllīs
aut gladiīs opus est: opus est mihi crīne paternō.Yet for this there is no need of any fires or swords: what I need is my father's lock. Met. 8.79Illa mihi est aurō pretiōsior, illa beātam
80purpura mē vōtīque meī factūra potentem."That to me is more precious than gold; that purple lock will make me blessed and mistress of my desire.'