The Great Bear

To the curious and logical human mind, all things must have reason, some purpose and indeed some explanation for existence. It is the inquisitive nature of man to seek the answers to these. Where Science fails, Mythology steps in to take up the slack. Few things were, are, and will continue to be more mysterious than the very stars themselves...

Zeus Disguided and Callisto
Painting by François Boucher

When one day the World was settled upon its course, wide around its celestial dome trod Zeus the Thunderer, Lord of the Sky and god of gods. Across the Earth far below he raked his omniscient eyes, across mountains tall, oceans deep and plains vast. Over the fair, unspoiled meadows of Arcadia he oft enjoyed to cast his gaze, for there was no more idyllic land in all Greece. Just then, in the shade of some Arcadian grove, the Son of Kronos saw her, and he was afire. A nymph, reclining upon a tree, though no ordinary spirit of the forest. Simply clad, dressed for the hunt, hair tied, quiver slung and spear ready. Daughter of accursed Lycaon, her name was Callisto, and she was a loyal and chaste follower of Diana, the lady of the hunt and goddess of the moon.

The Sun far above the mortal plain waxed strong now, burning heat pounding Arcadian fields.  The young nymph had been sent panting to the grove, and flung herself now upon the cool grass. Far above, Zeus spied 'the charming huntress unprepar'd, stretch'd on the verdant turf, without a guard'. Wary of Hera's prying gaze, Zeus cast an anxious glance to and fro before his move he made.
Sensing that this one would no easy catch be, his form he shifted. King of all gods no more, he took the shape of the lady Diana herself, softening his regal features and relaxing his dread visage. In the huntress' voice he spoke "How fares my girl? How went the morning chase?" to whom chaste Callisto replied "All hail, bright deity, whom I prefer to Zeus himself". Closer by far was the Thunderer than she thought, to her soon to come regret. With warm words and embrace Zeus worked his charm until the form of Diana could no longer hold the god of all gods, and the truth at last was bared. But when has a mortal ever had the power, or the will to resist the master of the Heavens? "Possess'd at last of what his heart desir'd, Back to his Heav'ns, th' exulting God retir'd". Fair Callisto, poor Callisto, rising from the grass that failed as her respite, with cast down eyes awash with shame as much as tears, flew from the guilty place, almost leaving her bow behind, such her haste.

Diana and Callisto unveiled
Painting by Titian

But now Diana, the fiercely virgin goddess, returned to the glade, close in tow her hunter's train. The oblivious goddess called to Callisto, who when she saw her mistress, quaked with fear. Suspecting some other fraud, some deception of the flesh, she trod carefully, flushed in her face. Terror cursing her every step, she joined the parade, her defilement to all others yet concealed.

Nine months in the world of men passed, until a warm day once more came to pass. Diana wiped the sweat from her heavenly brow, and commanded her maids to join her in the bathe, the sentinel careful to see that no prying eye might look upon them in their modesty. All maids comply, all joyful but one. For when they as one cast their tunics aside, the plight of Callisto was revealed, her form swollen with child. The eyes of Diana flashed dangerously. Wrath burned through her veins, and in that moment, Tartarus had no fury more terrible than hers. "Begone!" the goddes cried with outrage, "Begone! nor dare the hallow'd stream to strain". Tears streaming from her eyes, writhing with injustice, Callisto fled for her life, forever banished from Diana's presence.

Far above Hera, Queen of the gods, heard the commotion, and the nymph's cries. Long had she bided her time, awaiting the moment when she might punish her husband for his infidelities, and her rage she now directed upon the nymph with whom he had lain. To fire her more, the pains of labour struck Callisto now, as the fruit of Zeus' advance was born. A flash of lightning and Hera's wrath was vented upon the nymph. Sensing some dark craft, Callisto raised her hands in mercy, but before her eyes, her arms grew thick and shaggy with hair, her nails warped and stretched into evil claws:


               'Her hands bear half her weight, and turn to paws;
                her lips that once cou'd tempt a god,
                begin to grow distorted in an ugly grin .
                And, lest the supplicating brute might reach
                The ears of Jove, she was depriv'd of speech:
                Her surly voice thro' a hoarse passage came
                In savage sounds...'
                   - CALLISTO CURSED


Her form twisted to that of a towering and ferocious bear, but her mind remaining, she begged of Zeus for aid, desperate now, but all that came forth was an echoing roar that caused birds to flee the canopies in fear. How such fear flew within her now, with such dread she though of roaming the meadows she once called her own, with blinding terror from her own hounds she fled, thinking to avoid poor Actaeon's fate. How she felt for her father Lycaon now, their forms both horribly mutated now, one by Zeus, one by the deeds of Zeus.

Fifteen long summers passed on the earthly plain, and the son of Callisto was growing into a mighty boy. Like his mother before him he was skilled at the hunt, and from her he had taken fine reflexes and a deadly aim. Conqueror of the plains vast and mountains high, to the depths of the forest he stalked in search of prey. By chance he came across his mother where she lay, broken hearted and overflowing with sorrow. One eyelid flickered, and she caught sight of the hunter. Fondly she gazed, 'she knew her son, and kept him in her sight'. She moved to approach, eager to embrace the boy she long thought lost. But a cruel hand had Hera dealt, for only fright rippled through the boy, as a rampaging bear he saw toward him bound. He nocked an arrow on his bow and pulled it tight, aiming at his own mother's heart...

But it was then that Zeus the Thunderer, hidden from Callisto for so many years by Hera, saw at last the scene below. Fifteen years of guilt and pity boiled to their head, and anger at Hera's callous spite. The string of the bow strained, and the boy's grip began to loose. A lone tear welled in the eye of the bear. But Zeus forbade this crime, and with all godly haste he flashed down to the earth, taking both mother and son into his grasp. Looking to his own domain, the son of Kronos fixed them both in the vault of the sky to watch forever over the cosmos, forever united side by side. The mother, the Great Bear, came over time to be called by the Latin race Ursa Major, the son Ursa Minor, and still today can both be seen clearly in the night sky. But Hera looked above too, and saw her rival glowing among the stars, and burned with rage anew. To Oceanus, the Titan of the seas, she turned. Oceanus welcomed the Queen of the gods, and begged of her the reason for her unusual visit. Hera commanded Oceanus to never grant Callisto or her kin the simple pleasure of water, that they might never meet the surface of his domain. That is why Ursa Major and Ursa Minor never sink below the horizon...

Ursa Major - The Great Bear

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses: A New Verse Translation (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

United States

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

The Hounds of Actaeon

There were times, in the lore of the ancient world, when the gods and goddesses rewarded the benevolent, humbled the proud, cursed the wicked and blessed the pure. Yet the gods could succumb just as readily to the passions and impulses of nature as the mortals they ruled over. In the order of the Cosmos, there were and will always be casualties of imbalance, and pure misfortune. One such man, who tragically suffered so, was Actaeon.

Diana - the Lady of the Hunt
Painting by Titian

King Cadmus, founder of the great city of Thebes and hero of his people, had enjoyed a wondrous life. Now in his old age, he watched his grandsons mature to adulthood, and nothing gave him more joy, especially when it came to his favourite - Actaeon. But alas, that ancient maxim cannot be forgotten, "Call no man happy until he is dead" (for the story behind this saying, please click here). For such a tragedy there scarcely was when the grandson of Cadmus fell afoul of chance. Actaeon had grown into a strong young man, handsome, and skilled in the pursuits of men. Indeed, more than anything else, he was impressively skilled as a hunter. His fellow men marvelled at the vast array of game he could bring back in one ride, many times more than any of them. Though he triumphed so often through his immense prowess, it was the strong bond that Actaeon shared with his beloved dogs which set him apart. He knew each of their names, and each of their talents. First there was Blackfoot, always the first to sound out their quarry. Then there was Tracker, bred on Crete, who never missed a scent. Of Wingdog too, no there was no swifter hound than he. White as the snow on the high mountains was the coat of Sheen, and black as night was the body of Soot. Such a din there was when Yelper let out his bark, verily did one's eardrums shake! Poor Sylvan, a valiant beast but limping now, a savage boar had gored his flank. Then came Harpy with her puppies, eager to serve. Blacklock too, first to maul their chosen quarry, followed by Beast-Killer and Mountain-Boy, who never desisted from their prey. Never before has man and beast bonded so closely as Actaeon and his dogs. As one, they were a match for the lady Diana herself, chaste goddess of the hunt.


One day, as the chariot of the Sun god rode high in the Heavens, far below in the wooded glades rode Actaeon and his gathered friends. The morning had been kind. The hunters' party had an impressive array of game, though of course, none eclipsed Actaeon's. The day grew late and soon the mighty Actaeon called a halt to the day's chase. The nets were soaked and their spears wet with blood. His faithful dogs, delighted to have caught so many for their master, wagged their tails eagerly, keen for a morsel when they returned home. Actaeon's friends laughed merrily at the thought of the magnificent feast that was sure to come that night, and bent down to pack away the panoply of the hunt.

Actaeon stumbles upon Diana
Painting by Titian

But the towering man himself decided to take a stroll in the pleasant late-afternoon sun. The falling sun was just bursting through the trees, its golden touch cast on the dappled forest floor. It all seemed so quiet, so tranquil, that Actaeon kept walking on. Soon, the serene silence was weakened. A strange, ethereal sound drifted through the trees. It was a little while before Actaeon recognised it as the sound of song, the sound of women singing not far ahead. He could not explain why he followed it, there was just something about it, so beautiful and pure, that he felt compelled to follow. Imagine, if you can, a secret valley, alive with bushy pine and towering cypress, holding a tranquil lake in their leafy embrace. No man had ever come here; all was as Gaia had first made it, pure from the mightiest trunk to the smallest droplets of water on the tips of the leaves. It was here that the lady Artemis and her maids came to bathe. Diana, the goddess of the moon, childbirth and the hunt, was fiercely chaste. Many a god had sought her hand in marriage, such was the beauty of the daughter of Zeus and the Titaness Leto, but she scorned them all. It was here, in the shade of the forest, that the goddess, weary from the hunt, would come to rest her weary limbs. Handing her bow and quiver to her maidens, she stepped into the perfectly calm water, while others unrobed her. Taking her golden hair in her hands, her nymphs gently poured urns of water over her head. This was the scene which the grandson of Cadmus stumbled upon.

Actaeon's tragic end
Painting by Titian

Unsure of where he was, this was unfamiliar forest to him, Actaeon rounded the clearing and then, he saw it all. For a moment he could not move, so stunned by the sight was he. Never before had he seen such beauty, and no matter how great he tried, he could not turn his eyes from this forbidden scene. For just a moment, there was blissful peace. But then, aware of the presence of a man, a terrible scream rent the air. The nymphs bounded forward, frantically reaching for their mistress' clothes. They surrounded her, shielding her from view, but the daughter of Zeus, alas was taller by far than they. Her blushing cheeks red as the setting sun, shock and fury mingled in her immortal form. Fury that her bow was not to hand, fury that she could not slay the intruder with a murderous arrow. Desperate now, Actaeon tried to find something to say, to express his sincere sorrow, for truly he was, but the great huntress gave him not a chance. Words cannot describe the terror poor Actaeon felt as he gazed into those merciless eyes, but worse was yet to come. In a flash, the unstoppable goddess took up a handful of water from the peaceful pool, and hurled it in Actaeon's face:


                          " Now you may tell the story of seeing Diana naked -
                             if storytelling is in your power! "
                                                  - THE CURSE OF DIANA


Panic flooded over Actaeon as a towering wave, as his body convulsed violently. A stabbing pain, and as he placed his sorry head in his hands, he felt to his horror two stumps growing rapidly out of his head. His neck began to stretch itself outward painfully, and his ears lurched into points. In his humility he looked down, and saw his once powerful feet harden and shrink before his eyes, now cloven to a point. Coarse fur rent its way through his flesh, until soon all his body was enveloped in a mighty coat. Then the huntress filled his mind with thoughts only of flight, and verily did Actaeon run. With a speed most extraordinary, the grandson of Cadmus bounded to a nearby pool, and gazed within its glassy waters. Gone was the handsome face of Actaeon, instead, the head of a mighty stag. The terrible realisation dropped like a stone. The vengeful goddess had made him into a beast. Tears streaming from his eyes, poor Actaeon moaned "Oh, dear god!", but no words came from within,  strange sounds and deep grunts instead.

Diana and Actaeon
Painting by Francesco Albani

Frantically, Actaeon thought of what to do, but each plan seemed helpless. Go back to the palace? But he could not speak, how would tell them what had transpired in that wretched glade? Or hide in the woodland? But to live forever as a beast, and know only melancholy forever more? "He wavered in fearful doubt". It was then that Actaeon knew the meaning of terror. For the silence of the wood was broken once again. This time, however, it was not a beautiful sound. Barking. Dogs barking. Hunting dogs barking. His dogs barking. Actaeon recognised at once the cry of Yelper, and it was the cry that betrayed that Tracker had caught a scent. The scent of prey. Frantically, Actaeon took to flight from his dearest friends, his friends who now spelled his doom. "Stop! It is I, Actaeon, your master. Do you not know me?", he cried in vain. But all that was heard was his desperate baying, drowned under the roar of the hunt. As he sprinted for his very life, he felt it. Sharp teeth sank into his neck, as Blacklock was first onto his prey. Then came Beast-Killer and Mountain-Boy. Moaning with agony under his wounds, his majestic body crashed into the ground, as the hounds pinned their own master. Just then, human voices. His breath giving away, Actaeon called out in vain hope, pleading to his friends. It was his friends, shouting in exultation at the magnificent stag they had caught. "Actaeon! Actaeon!... Why aren't you here, you indolent man, to enjoy the sight of this heaven-sent prize?" With that, his spirit broken at last, so passed Actaeon grandson of Cadmus, as his beloved hounds tore at his mortal form, eager to bring back another catch for their beloved master...

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
Metamorphoses: A New Verse Translation (Penguin Classics)
(A classic Roman epic poem, which has a good blend of readability and poetic meter)

Oxford World's Classics:
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A classic Roman epic poem, which is charmingly archaic, but possibly too much so for some - choose if you like poetry of the 'old ways')

United States

Penguin Classics:
Metamorphoses (Penguin Classics)
(A classic Roman epic poem, which has a good blend of readability and poetic meter)

Oxford World's Classics:

Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A classic Roman epic poem, which is charmingly archaic, but possibly too much so for some - choose of you like poetry of the 'old ways')