For Proteus thus to virgin Thetis said:
“Fair goddess of the waves, consent to wed,
And take some sprightly lover to your bed:
A son you’ll have, the terror of the field,
To whom, in fame and power, his sire shall yield.”
Jove, who adored the nymph with boundless love,
Did from his breast the dangerous flame remove;
He knew the fates, nor cared to raise up one
Whose fame and greatness should eclipse his own.
On happy Peleus he bestow’d her charms,
And bless’d his grandson in the goddess’ arms.
A silent creek Thessalia’s coast can show,
Two arms project, and shape it like a bow;
’Twould make a bay, but the transparent tide
Does scarce the yellow-gravell’d bottom hide;
For the quick eye may through the liquid wave
A firm, unweedy, level beach perceive:
A grove of fragrant myrtle near it grows,
Whose boughs, though thick, a beauteous grot disclose;
The well-wrought fabric, to discerning eyes,
Rather by art than nature seems to rise.
A bridled dolphin oft fair Thetis bore
To this her loved retreat, her favourite shore;
Here Peleus seized her, slumbering while she lay,
And urged his suit with all that love could say.
The nymph, o’erpower’d, to art for succour flies,
And various shapes the eager youth surprise;
A bird she seems, but plies her wings in vain,
His hands the fleeting substance still detain;
A branchy tree high in the air she grew,
About its bark his nimble arms he threw;
A tiger next, she glares with flaming eyes,
The frighten’d lover quits his hold, and flies
The sea gods he with sacred rites adores,
Then a libation on the ocean pours;
While the fat entrails crackle in the fire,
And sheets of smoke, in sweet perfume, aspire;
Till Proteus, rising from his oozy bed,
Thus to the poor desponding lover said:
“No more in anxious thoughts your mind employ,
For yet you shall possess the dear expected joy.
You must, once more, the unwary nymph surprise,
As coolly in her grot she slumbering lies;
Then bind her fast with unrelenting hands,
And strain her tender limbs with knotted bands;
Still hold her under every different shape,
Till, tired she tries no longer to escape.”
Thus he, then sunk beneath the glassy flood,
And broken accents flutter’d where he stood.
Bright Sol had almost now his journey done,
And down the steepy western convex run,
When the fair Nereid left the briny wave,
And, as she used, retreated to her cave.
He scarce had bound her fast, when she arose,
And into various shapes her body throws;
She went to move her arms, and found them tied,
Then, with a sigh, “Some god assists ye,” cried,
And in her proper shape stood blushing by his side.
About her waist his longing arms he flung,
From which alliance great Achilles sprung.