194 Ulisse Aldrovandi

...that you might be able to rest upon the waves with the oarage of your wings; you found the gods compliant, and you saw your own limbs suddenly turn yellow with feathers.

Arethusa also recounted her own transformation. This nymph, a companion of Diana, became the object of the river Alpheus’s desire. As he pursued her while she fled, the nymph implored Diana’s aid and was immediately turned into a fountain.

“Why is Arethusa a sacred spring?” The waves fell silent, and from the deep fountain the goddess raised her head; drying her green tresses with her hand, she told the tale of the river Alpheus's ancient love.

After these words, Ceres flew to Athens and gave Triptolemus a chariot drawn by winged dragons so that he might teach the art of agriculture to mankind. When he arrived in Scythia, he was received with an honorable welcome by King Lyncus, but through the help of Ceres, he escaped Lyncus’s treacherous plots. Enraged, the goddess transformed the king into a lynx.

The barbarian was envious; and so that he might appear to be the author of such a great gift, he received him as a guest, and as Triptolemus was weighed down by sleep, he attacked, attempting to pierce his breast with a blade. Ceres turned him into a lynx, and so forth.

All these things were thus recited by Calliope in an elegant poem; and so, by the judgment of the Nymphs, the Muses bore away the palm in this singing contest. The Pierides, however, taking the defeat poorly and wasting away with spite, were transformed into magpies—the very birds Minerva had observed just a moment before chattering among the tree branches.

When they wished to wail, they hung in the air upon moved and lifted arms—magpies, the scandal of the groves. Even now, their ancient eloquence remains in these birds: a raucous chattering and a vain passion for speaking.

In the sixth book, the poet explains that Pallas, having heard of the contest between the Muses and the Pierides, considered what punishment she herself should inflict upon Arachne of Lydia, the daughter of Idmon, who boasted that she was more skilled in weaving than Minerva. Pallas, therefore, assumed the form of an old woman and, approaching Arachne, tried to persuade her not to dare provoke Minerva in the future. But the girl, despising the old woman's advice, only boasted all the more; at this, Pallas resumed her divine form and rebuked the girl for her impudence.

Pallas feigns an old woman, adding gray hair to her temples and supporting her weak limbs with a staff.

Indeed, Pallas did not merely call Arachne impudent and foolish, but also declared that a trial must be held to see if she could be surpassed in such work. With these words, Pallas began to weave her own tapestry. In it, she depicted her contest with Neptune over the naming of Athens—how Neptune produced a horse from a rock and Minerva brought forth an olive tree from the earth. Furthermore, she wove the story of Rhodope and Haemus, the husband and wife who boasted they were gods and were transformed into mountains. To these she added the transformation of the Pygmy woman into a crane, which was caused by her claim to be more beautiful than Juno; and the change of Antigone, daughter of Laomedon, into a stork, for she had not hesitated to compete with Juno. She likewise portrayed the transformation of the daughters of Cinyras, King of the Assyrians, into the stone steps of Juno’s temple, as well as the change of Cinyras himself into the stone that embraced those steps as if they were the bodies of his daughters. This is described in the following verses:

Cecropian Pallas paints the rock of Mars on the citadel, and the ancient dispute over the naming of the land. Twice six celestial gods sit on high thrones with Jove in the middle, in august gravity; the face of each god identifies them, and Jove’s image is truly royal. She makes the God of the Sea stand and strike the rough rocks with his long trident, and so forth. One corner holds Thracian Rhodope and Haemus, now icy mountains, though they were once mortal bodies.