Metamorphoses

by Ovid

But as Diana bathed—and Fate would have it— Actaeon, Cadmus’ grandson, at his leisure, Strolling through unknown ways half-stumbled Into Diana’s arbour: as he stepped through The raining fountain spray that fell around him Diana’s naked girls beat their small breasts And filled the cave with sharp, falsetto cries, And tried to shield her with their nakedness. They gathered round Diana in a circle Yet the tall goddess stood head-high above them; Flushed as the clouds at sunset or rose-colored As the first hour at dawn, Diana seemed More naked to the view than all the rest. Then as her girls closed in the ring around her, She glanced a sidelong look across her shoulder As though she wished her arrows were at hand, But failing these, splashed water, sharp as rain, In Actaeon’s face, and through his streaming hair Foretold his fate: “If you can talk, then speak, Say that you saw Diana in undress.” And as she spoke his wet hair branched in antlers Worn by the lively stag; his neck grew long, Ears pointed, hands were hoofs, arms were thin legs. And all his body a short-furred, spotted skin.