Metamorphoses

by Ovid

He turned his face from Perseus, spread his fingers As if admitting his defeat, and cried, “O Perseus, you have truly conquered me, Put that monstrosity away, Medusa-Gorgon That changes men to stone—whoever she, Whatever it may be, take it away! Nor was it hate of you but wild ambition That made me fight, and fight for her who should Have been my bride. You have the greater valour, And I the elder promise she was mine. Now I want nothing except the right to live, O powerful and brave! All else is yours.” He feared to look at Perseus, who replied, “Dear timid Phineus, put aside your worries. I have a gift, a great gift too, to raise low spirits, I will not let you perish by the sword, And you shall be a monument forever, Here in the palace of my fond in-laws, Where my young wife can look at you with ease— The perfect image of a future husband.” At this he swung the Gorgon’s head to face The terror-haunted and averted eyes Of Phineus, whose neck at once grew rigid, And tears of onyx hung upon his cheeks. Here, as if fixed for all eternity, Were weeping features and a beggar’s gaze, Hands reaching out for mercy in despair.