Oh, may at last the impious race
Of thirsty Tantalus give o'er
In utter weariness its lust
For savage deeds. Enough of sin!
No longer does the right prevail,
And wrong is general. Behold,
As Myrtilus his lord betrayed,
He, too, was treacherously slain; 140
For by that selfsame broken faith
Which he had shown, himself o'ercome,[1]
He fell into the sea and changed
Its name for his. Amidst the ships
That sail the Ionian sea, no tale
Is better known.
See now, while runs the little son
To meet his father's kiss, he falls 145
By that accursed sword transfixed,
Untimely victim at thy hearth,
And carved, O Tantalus, by thee,
That so thou mightest grace the board
Of friendly gods. That impious feast
Eternal hunger, endless thirst
Rewarded; penalty more fit 150
For such a crime could not be found.
See where, with gaping throat, forespent,
Stands Tantalus; above his head
Hang many luscious fruits; but, swift
As Phineus' birds, they flee his grasp;
On every side the tree droops low,
With heavy-laden boughs, o'erweighed 155
By its own fruit, and mockingly
Sways to his straining lips. Yet he,
Though with impatient longing filled,
As often mocked, so often fails
To grasp the prize; he turns away
His longing gaze, strains close his lips, 160
And grimly bars his hunger fast
Behind his teeth. But still again
- ↑ Reading, vectus
