Myth Monday - The King and the Harpies

XVIIII Phineus

Phineus Agenoris filius Thrax [ex Cleopatra habuit filios duos. hi a patre novercae crimine excaecati sunt. huic etiam Phineo Apollo augurium dicitur dedisse. hic] deorum consilia cum enunciaret ab love est excaecatus et apposuit ei Harpyias quae Iovis canes esse dicuntur quae escam ab ore eius auferrent. huc cum Argonautae devenissent et eum iter ut demonstraret rogarent, dixit se demonstraturum si eum poena liberarent. Tunc Zetes et Calais Aquilonis venti et Orithyiae filii, qui pennas in capite et in pedibus habuisse dicuntur, Harpyias fugaverunt in insulas Strophadas et Phineum poena liberarunt. Quibus monstravit quomodo symplegadas transirent: ut columbam mitterent in recessu earum, quam petrae cum concurrissent |si contudissent| illi retro refugerent, *.Argonautae beneficio Phinei symplegadas transierunt.
_{Hygini Fabulae}

Phineus, a Thracian, son of Agenor, had two sons by Cleopatra. Because of their stepmother's charges, these two were blinded by their father. Now to this Phineus, Apollo is said to have given the gift of prophecy. But he, since he revealed the deliberations of the gods, was blinded by Jove, and Jove set over him the Harpies, who are called the hounds of Jove, to take the food from his lips. When the Argonauts came there and asked him to show them the way, he said he would show them if they would free him from the punishment. Then Zetes and Calais, sons of the North Wind and Orithyia, who are said to have had wings on head and feet, drove the Harpies to the Strophades Islands, and freed Phineus from the punishment. He showed them how to pass the Symplegades by sending out a dove; when the rocks rushed together, in their rebound . . . [they would pass through if the dove went through, and they exerted all their strength in rowing. But if she perished,] they should turn back. By the help of Phienus the Argonauts passed the Symplegades.
_Theoi

Zetes and Calais, sons of Boreas, who were amongst the Argonauts, delivered Phineus from the Harpies. The Strophades ("Islands of Turning") are here supposed to have been so called because the sons of Boreas were there turned back by Iris from pursuing the Harpies.
_{Homeric Hymns, by Hesiod, Hugh Gerard Evelyn-White (Ehoiai)}

At length I land upon the Strophades,
Safe from the danger of the stormy seas.
Those isles are compass'd by th' Ionian main,
The dire abode where the foul Harpies reign,
Forc'd by the winged warriors to repair
To their old homes, and leave their costly fare.
Monsters more fierce offended Heav'n ne'er sent
From hell's abyss, for human punishment:
With virgin faces, but with wombs obscene,
Foul paunches, and with ordure still unclean;
With claws for hands, and looks for ever lean.

"We landed at the port, and soon beheld
Fat herds of oxen graze the flow'ry field,
And wanton goats without a keeper stray'd.
With weapons we the welcome prey invade,
Then call the gods for partners of our feast,
And Jove himself, the chief invited guest.
We spread the tables on the greensward ground;
We feed with hunger, and the bowls go round;
When from the mountain-tops, with hideous cry,
And clatt'ring wings, the hungry Harpies fly;
They snatch the meat, defiling all they find,
And, parting, leave a loathsome stench behind.
Close by a hollow rock, again we sit,
New dress the dinner, and the beds refit,
Secure from sight, beneath a pleasing shade,
Where tufted trees a native arbor made.
Again the holy fires on altars burn;
And once again the rav'nous birds return,
Or from the dark recesses where they lie,
Or from another quarter of the sky;
With filthy claws their odious meal repeat,
And mix their loathsome ordures with their meat.
I bid my friends for vengeance then prepare,
And with the hellish nation wage the war.
They, as commanded, for the fight provide,
And in the grass their glitt'ring weapons hide;
Then, when along the crooked shore we hear
Their clatt'ring wings, and saw the foes appear,
Misenus sounds a charge: we take th' alarm,
And our strong hands with swords and bucklers arm.
In this new kind of combat all employ
Their utmost force, the monsters to destroy.
In vain- the fated skin is proof to wounds;
And from their plumes the shining sword rebounds.
At length rebuff'd, they leave their mangled prey,
And their stretch'd pinions to the skies display.
Yet one remain'd- the messenger of Fate:
High on a craggy cliff Celaeno sate,
And thus her dismal errand did relate:
'What! not contented with our oxen slain,
Dare you with Heav'n an impious war maintain,
And drive the Harpies from their native reign?
Heed therefore what I say; and keep in mind
What Jove decrees, what Phoebus has design'd,
And I, the Furies' queen, from both relate-
You seek th' Italian shores, foredoom'd by fate:
Th' Italian shores are granted you to find,
And a safe passage to the port assign'd.
But know, that ere your promis'd walls you build,
My curses shall severely be fulfill'd.
Fierce famine is your lot for this misdeed,
Reduc'd to grind the plates on which you feed.'
She said, and to the neighb'ring forest flew.
Our courage fails us, and our fears renew.
Hopeless to win by war, to pray'rs we fall,
And on th' offended Harpies humbly call,
And whether gods or birds obscene they were,
Our vows for pardon and for peace prefer.
But old Anchises, off'ring sacrifice,
And lifting up to heav'n his hands and eyes,
Ador'd the greater gods: 'Avert,' said he,
'These omens; render vain this prophecy,
And from th' impending curse a pious people free!'
_{From Aeneid Book III (Dryden Translation)}