Book 10
the bending-palm prized after victories,
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the bare-trunk pine of tufted foliage,
bristled upon the top, a pleasant sight
delightful to the Mother of the Gods;
since Attis dear to Cybele, exchanged
his human form which hardened in that tree.
In all the throng the cone-shaped cypress came;
a tree now, it was changed from a dear youth
loved by the god who strings the lyre and bow.
For there was at one time, a mighty stag
held sacred by those nymphs who haunt the fields
Carthaean. His great antlers spread so wide,
they gave an ample shade to his own head.
Those antlers shone with gold: from his smooth throat
a necklace, studded with a wealth of gems,
hung down to his strong shoulders—beautiful.
A silver boss, fastened with little thongs,
played on his forehead, worn there from his birth;
and pendants from both ears, of gleaming pearls,
adorned his hollow temples. Free of fear,
and now no longer shy, frequenting homes
of men he knew, he offered his soft neck
even to strangers for their petting hands.
But more than by all others, he was loved
by you, O Cyparissus, fairest youth
of all the lads of Cea. It was you
who led the pet stag to fresh pasturage,
and to the waters of the clearest spring.
Sometimes you wove bright garlands for his horns,
and sometimes, like a horseman on his back,
now here now there, you guided his soft mouth
with purple reins. It was upon a summer day,
at high noon when the Crab, of spreading claws,
loving the sea-shore, almost burnt beneath
the sun's hot burning rays; and the pet stag
was then reclining on the grassy earth
and, wearied of all action, found relief
under the cool shade of the forest trees;
that as he lay there Cyparissus pierced
him with a javelin: and although it was
