Ovid's Pygmalion
The story of Pygmalion is one of those told by Orpheus in book 10 of the
Metamorphoses. Ovid/Orpheus prefaces this story of Venus’s benevolence to a
faithful worshipper with two short examples of her vengeance on those who offended
her: the Cerastae, who practised human sacrifice, and (in the opening lines below) the
Propoetides, the fìrst prostitutes.
Even so the obscene Propoetides had dared
Deny Venus' divinity. For that
The goddess' rage, it’s said, made them the fìrst
290 Strumpets to prostitute their bodies' charms.
As shame retreated and their cheeks grew hard,
They turned with little change to stones of flint.
Pygmalion had seen these women spend
Their days in wickedness, and horrifìed
295 At all the countless vices nature gives
To womankind lived celibate and long
Lacked the companionship of married love.
Meanwhile he carved his snow-white ivory
With marvellous triumphant artistry
300 And gave it perfect shape, more beautiful
Than ever woman born. His masterwork
Fired him with love. It seemed to be alive,
Its face to be a real girl’s, a girl
Who wished to move-but modesty forbade.
305 Such art his art concealed. In admiration
His heart desired the body he had formed.
With many a touch he tries it-is it flesh
Or ivory? Not ivory still, he’s sure!
Kisses he gives and thinks they are returned;
310 He speaks to it, caresses it, believes
The firm new flesh beneath his fingers yields,
And fears the limbs may darken with a bruise.
And now fond words he whispers, now brings gifts
That girls delight in-shells and polished stones,
315 And little birds and flowers of every hue,
Lilies and coloured balls and beads of amber,
The tear-drops of the daughters of the Sun.(in book 2 Ovid describes how the daughters of the sun god Phoebus, grieving for their brother Phaethon, were transformed into trees which wept tears of amber)
He decks her limbs with robes and on her fingers
Sets splendid rings, a necklace round her neck,
320 Pearls in her ears, a pendant on her breast;
Lovely she looked, yet unadorned she seemed
In nakedness no whit less beautiful.
He laid her on a couch of purple silk,
Called her his darling, cushioning her head,
325 As if she relished it, on softest down.
Venus' day came, the holiest festival
All Cyprus celebrates; incense rose high
And heifers, with their wide horns gilded, fell
Beneath the blade that struck their snowy necks.
330 Pygmalion, his offering given, prayed
Before the altar, half afraid, ‘Vouchsafe,
O Gods, if all things you can grant, my bride
Shall be’-he dared not say my ivory girl-
‘The living likeness of my ivory girl.’
335 And golden Venus (for her presence graced
Her feast) knew well the purpose of his prayer;
And, as an omen of her favouring power,
Thrice did the flame burn bright and leap up high.
And he went home, home to his heart’s delight,
340 And kissed her as she lay, and she seemed warm;
Again he kissed her and with marvelling touch
Caressed her breast; beneath his touch the flesh
Grew soft, its ivory hardness vanishing,
And yielded to his hands, as in the sun
345 Wax of Hymettus(a mountain near Athens, famous for its free-range bees) softens and is shaped
By practised fingers into many forms,
And usefulness acquires by being used.
His heart was torn with wonder and misgiving,
Delight and terror that it was not true!
350 Again and yet again he tried his hopes-
She was alive! The pulse beat in her veins!
And then indeed in words that overflowed
He poured his thanks to Venus, and at last
His lips pressed real lips, and she, his girl,
355 Felt every kiss, and blushed, and shyly raised
Her eyes to his and saw the world and him.
The goddess graced the union she had made,
And when nine times the crescent moon had filled
Her silver orb, an infant girl was born,
360 Paphos, from whom the island takes its name.
(in other versions, Paphos was a boy. According to legend, her (or his) Cinyras founded the city of Paphos, one of the main centres of Cyprus and site of a great temple of Aphrodite that was still a place of pilgrimage in Ovid's day.)