nan | All this Minerva heard; and she approved |
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Praebuerat dictis Tritonia talibus aures | All this Minerva heard; and she approved |
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Occiderat mater; sed et haec de plebe suoque | won by the art of deftly weaving wool |
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aequa viro fuerat. Lydas tamen illa per urbes | a girl who had not fame for place of birth |
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quaesierat studio nomen memorabile, quamvis | nor fame for birth, but only fame for skill! |
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NaN |
Huius ut adspicerent opus admirabile, saepe | in Colophon ; where, at his humble trade |
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deseruere sui nymphae vineta Timoli | he dyed in Phocean purples, fleecy wool. |
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deseruere suas nymphae Pactolides undas. | Her mother, also of the lower class |
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Nec factas solum vestes spectare iuvabat; | had died. Arachne in a mountain town |
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tum quoque, cum fierent: tantus decor adfuit arti. | by skill had grown so famous in the Land |
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Sive rudem primos lanam glomerabat in orbes | of Lydia , that unnumbered curious nymph |
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carminaque Aonidum iustamque probaverat iram. | their songs and their resentment; but her heart |
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seu digitis subigebat opus repetitaque longo | eager to witness her dexterity |
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vellera mollibat nebulas aequantia tractu | deserted the lush vineyards of Timolus; |
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sive levi teretem versabat pollice fusum | or even left the cool and flowing stream |
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seu pingebat acu, scires a Pallade doctam. | of bright Pactolus, to admire the cloth |
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Quod tamen ipsa negat, tantaque offensa magistra | or to observe her deftly spinning wool. |
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NaN |
Pallas anum simulat falsosque in tempora canos | was twisting the coarse wool in little balls |
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addit et infirmos, baculo quos sustinet, artus. | or if she teased it with her finger-tips |
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Tum sic orsa loqui: “Non omnia grandior aetas | or if she softened the fine fleece, drawn forth |
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quae fugiamus, habet: seris venit usus ab annis. | in misty films, or if she twirled the smooth |
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Tum secum “laudare parum est; laudemur et ipsae | was brooding thus, “It is an easy thing |
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Consilium ne sperne meum. Tibi fama petatur | round spindle with her energetic thumb |
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inter mortales faciendae maxima lanae: | or if with needle she embroidered cloth;— |
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NaN |
supplice voce roga: veniam dabit illa roganti.” | how much Minerva had instructed her: |
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Adspicit hanc torvis inceptaque fila relinquit | but this she ever would deny, displeased |
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vixque manum retinens confessaque vultibus iram | to share her fame; and said, “Let her contend |
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talibus obscuram resecuta est Pallada dictis: | in art with me; and if her skill prevails |
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“Mentis inops longaque venis confecta senecta. | I then will forfeit all!” |
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NaN |
siqua tibi nurus est, siqua est tibi filia, voces. | and came to her, disguised with long grey hair |
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numina nec sperni sine poena nostra sinamus” | to praise another, I should do as they: |
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Consilii satis est in me mihi. Neve monendo | and with a staff to steady her weak limbs. |
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profecisse putes, eadem est sententia nobis. | She seemed a feeble woman, very old |
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Cur non ipsa venit? cur haec certamina vitat?” | and quavered as she said, “Old age is not |
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Tum dea “venit” ait, formamque removit anilem | the cause of every ill; experience come |
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Palladaque exhibuit. Venerantur numina nymphae | with lengthened years; and, therefore, you should not |
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Mygdonidesque nurus: sola est non territa virgo. | despise my words. It is no harm in you |
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Sed tamen erubuit, subitusque invita notavit | to long for praise of mortals, when |
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ora rubor rursusque evanuit, ut solet aer | your nimble hands are spinning the soft wool,— |
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purpureus fieri, cum primum aurora movetur | but you should not deny Minerva's art— |
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et breve post tempus candescere solis ab ortu. | and you should pray that she may pardon you |
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Maeoniaeque animum fatis intendit Arachnes | no creature of the earth should ever slight |
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Perstat in incepto stolidaeque cupidine palmae | for she will grant you pardon if you ask.” |
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NaN |
nec monet ulterius, nec iam certamina differt. | Looked at the goddess, as she dropped her thread. |
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Haud mora, constituunt diversis partibus ambae | She hardly could restrain her threatening hand |
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et gracili geminas intendunt stamine telas | and, trembling in her anger, she replied |
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(tela iugo iuncta est, stamen secernit harundo); | to you, disguised Minerva: |
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NaN |
quod digiti expediunt, atque inter stamina ductum | worn out and witless in your palsied age |
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percusso paviunt insecti pectine dentes. | a great age is your great misfortune!— Let |
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Utraque festinant cinctaeque ad pectora vestes | your daughter and your son's wife—if the God |
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quam sibi lanificae non cedere laudibus artis | the majesty that dwells in me,—without |
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bracchia docta movent, studio fallente laborem. | have blessed you—let them profit by your words; |
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Illic et Tyrium quae purpura sensit aenum | within myself, my knowledge is contained |
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texitur et tenues parvi discriminis umbrae | ufficient; you need not believe that your |
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qualis ab imbre solet percussis solibus arcus | advice does any good; for I am quite |
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inficere ingenti longum curvamine caelum: | unchanged in my opinion. Get you gone,— |
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in quo diversi niteant cum mille colores | advise your goddess to come here herself |
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transitus ipse tamen spectantia lumina fallit; | and not avoid the contest!” |
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NaN |
Illic et lentum filis inmittitur aurum | the goddess said, “Minerva comes to you!” |
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et vetus in tela deducitur argumentum. | And with those brief words, put aside the shape |
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audierat. Non illa loco neque origine gentis | just retribution.”—So her thought was turned |
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Cecropia Pallas scopulum Mavortis in arce | of the old woman, and revealed herself |
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pingit et antiquam de terrae nomine litem. | Minerva, goddess. |
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NaN |
augusta gravitate sedent. Sua quemque deorum | and matrons of Mygdonia worshiped her; |
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inscribit facies: Iovis est regalis imago. | but not Arachne, who defiant stood;— |
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Stare deum pelagi longoque ferire tridente | although at first she flushed up—then went pale— |
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aspera saxa facit, medioque e vulnere saxi | then blushed again, reluctant.—So, at first |
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exsiluisse fretum, quo pignore vindicet urbem; | the sky suffuses, as Aurora moves |
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at sibi dat clipeum, dat acutae cuspidis hastam | and, quickly when the glorious sun comes up |
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dat galeam capiti, defenditur aegide pectus | pales into white. |
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clara, sed arte fuit. Pater huic Colophonius Idmon | upon the fortune of Arachne — proud |
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NaN |
Phocaico bibulas tingebat murice lanas. | who would not ever yield to her the praise |
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