Aristæus, who first taught the management of bees, was the son of the
water-nymph Cyrene. His bees had perished, and he resorted for aid to
his mother. He stood at the river-side and thus addressed her: “O
mother, the pride of my life is taken from me! I have lost my precious
bees. My care and skill have availed me nothing, and you my mother have
not warded off from me the blow of misfortune.” His mother heard these
complaints as she sat in her palace at the bottom of the river, with her
attendant nymphs around her. They were engaged in female occupations,
spinning and weaving, while one told stories to amuse the rest. The sad
voice of Aristæus interrupting their occupation, one of them put her
head above the water and seeing him, returned and gave information to
his mother, who ordered that he should be brought into her presence. The
river at her command opened itself and let him pass in, while it stood
curled like a mountain on either side. He descended to the region where
the fountains of the great rivers lie; he saw the enormous receptacles
of waters and was almost deafened with the roar, while he surveyed them
hurrying off in various directions to water the face of the earth.
Arriving at his mother’s apartment, he was hospitably received by Cyrene
and her nymphs, who spread their table with the richest dainties. They
first poured out libations to Neptune, then regaled themselves with the
feast, and after that Cyrene thus addressed him: “There is an old
prophet named Proteus, who dwells in the sea and is a favorite of
Neptune, whose herd of sea-calves he pastures. We nymphs hold him in
great respect, for he is a learned sage and knows all things, past,
present, and to come. He can tell you, my son, the cause of the
mortality among your bees, and how you may remedy it. But he will not do
it voluntarily, however you may entreat him. You must compel him by
force. If you seize him and chain him, he will answer your questions in
order to get released, for he cannot by all his arts get away if you
hold fast the chains. I will carry you to his cave, where he comes at
noon to take his midday repose. Then you may easily secure him. But when
he finds himself captured, his resort is to a power he possesses of
changing himself into various forms. He will become a wild boar or a
fierce tiger, a scaly dragon or lion with yellow mane. Or he will make a
noise like the crackling of flames or the rush of water, so as to tempt
you to let go the chain, when he will make his escape. But you have only
to keep him fast bound, and at last when he finds all his arts
unavailing, he will return to his own figure and obey your commands.” So
saying she sprinkled her son with fragrant nectar, the beverage of the
gods, and immediately an unusual vigor filled his frame, and courage his
heart, while perfume breathed all around him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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