Friday, July 3, 2009

Daedalus and Perdix in Ovid's Metamorphoses

Excerpted from the Mandelbaum translation:

While Daedalus was burying the corpse
of his ill-fated son, a chattering partridge,
lodged in a muddy ditch, caught sight of him.
The bird knew Daedalus at once: he beat
his wings and seemed to chirp maliciously--
a bird that was indeed a novelty,
till then, the only partridge ever seen--
but one, who knew how guilty you had been,
o Daedalus, when you connived against him.

That bird had been your sister's son, a boy
whom she--not knowing what his fate would be--
confided to your care, that you might teach
your arts to one so young and yet so keen:
a twelve-year-old, alert and shrewd. Indeed,
on noting how a fish's spine was shaped,
the boy cut out, along a sharpened blade,
a row of teeth, inventing--thus--the saw.
He also was the first to twin a pair
of metal arms joined by the hinge they shared;
and while the first stood firm--erect and central--
the second, moving arm described a circle.

And Daedalus, in envy, threw him headlong
down from Minerva's sacred citadel
and--lying--said he'd fallen. But Minerva,
who favors those with ingenuity,
caught up the boy before he struck the eart:
while he was in midair, the goddess clothed
his form with feathers; he became a bird.
And though the speed that always marked his wits
passed into both his wings and feet--so swift--
his name remained; it did not change: Perdix--
or Partridge--is the name the bird retained.
And yet that bird will never fly too high
up from the ground, nor does he build his nest
among the branches or along the treetops.
All partridge eggs are laid along hedgerows.
That bird recalls its ancient fall, and so
it shuns the high and always seeks the low.

Now Daedalus exhausted, spent, at last
landed near Aetna--and, a suppliant,
entreated Cocalus, a clement king,
to shield and shelter him. The king agreed;
he readied all his troops, lest Minos seek
revenge--invading Sicily from Crete.

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