Ovid, Metamorphoses 2.836-875
Jove called his son aside and, keeping dark
His secret passion, ‘Mercury’, he said,
‘Trusty executant of my commands,
Make haste, glide swiftly on your usual course
Down to the land that sees your mother’s star
High in the southern sky, named by its people
The land of Sidon; in the distance there,
Grazing the mountain pastures, you will find
The royal herd; drive them to the sea-shore.’
And presently (as Jove had bidden) the herd,
Driven from the hillside, headed for the shore,
Where with her girls of Tyre for company
The great king’s daughter often used to play.
Ah, majesty and love go ill together,
Nor long share one abode! Relinquishing
Sceptre and throne, heaven’s father, God of gods,
Who wields the three-forked lightning, at whose nod
The world is shaken, now transforms himself
Into a bull and, lowing, joins the herd,
Ambling—so handsome—through the tender grass.
His hide was white, white as untrodden snow
Before the south wind brings the melting rain.
The muscles of his neck swelled proud; below
The dewlap hung; his horns, though small, you’d swear
A master hand had made, so jewel-like
Their pure and pearly sheen; upon his brow
No threat, no menace in his eye; his mien
Peaceful. Europa marvelled at his beauty
And friendliness that threatened naught of harm.
Yet, gentle as he seemed, she feared at first
To touch him, but anon came up to him
And offered flowers to his soft white lips.
Glad was the lover’s heart and, till the joy
Hoped for should come, he kissed her hand, and then—
Hardly, oh, hardly, could postpone the rest!
And now he frolicked, prancing on the greensward;
Then on the yellow sand laid his white flank;
And gradually she lost her fear, and he
Offered his breast for her virgin caresses,
His horns for her to wind with chains of flowers,
Until the princess dared to mount his back,
Her pet bull’s back, unwitting whom she rode.
Then—slowly, slowly down the broad dry beach—
First in the shallow waves the great god set
His spurious hooves, then sauntered further out
Till in the open sea he bore his prize.
Fear filled her heart, as, gazing back, she saw
The fast receding sands. Her right hand grasped
A horn, the other leant upon his back;
Her fluttering tunic floated in the breeze.
Now, safe in Crete, Jove shed the bull’s disguise
And stood revealed before Europa’s eyes.
Meanwhile her father, baffled, bade his son
Cadmus, set out to find the stolen girl
And threatened exile should he fail—in one
Same act such warmth of love, such wickedness!
Translation by A. D. Melville