Ovid's Metamorphoses II, Section B
The first couple stories of this section are about Tereus and Procne.
Procne's love for her sister and the anger she feels is so strong to kill even her own son... then feeds it to her husband, the one who raped her sister. The sisters transform to birds to escape the kings rage, but he too morphs and will endlessly pursue them. - Not sure if I can use this with the story I already have formulating in my mind.
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| Image of a Hoopoe, the bird that King Tereus transforms into. Hell of a cool bird.
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The next couple stories are about Medea and Jason. Basically behind every strong man is a stronger woman.
"Night, most faithful keeper of our secret rites;
Stars, that, with the golden moon, succeed the fires of light;
Triple Hecate, you who know all our undertakings,
and come, to aid the witches’ art, and all our incantations:
You, Earth, who yield the sorceress herbs of magic force:
You, airs and breezes, pools and hills, and every watercourse;
Be here; all you Gods of Night, and Gods of Groves endorse.
Streams, at will, by banks amazed, turn backwards to their source.
I calm rough seas, and stir the calm by my magic spells:
bring clouds, disperse the clouds, raise storms and storms dispel;
and, with my incantations, I break the serpent’s teeth;
and root up nature’s oaks, and rocks, from their native heath;
and move the forests, and command the mountain tops to shake,
earth to groan, and from their tombs the sleeping dead to wake.
You also, Luna, I draw down, eclipsed, from heaven’s stain,
though bronzes of Temese clash, to take away your pains;
and at my chant, the chariot of the Sun-god, my grandsire,
grows pale: Aurora, at my poisons, dims her morning fire.
You quench the bulls’ hot flame for me: force their necks to bow,
beneath the heavy yoke, that never pulled the curving plough:
You turn the savage warfare, born of the serpent’s teeth,
against itself, and lull the watcher, innocent of sleep;
that guard deceived, bring golden spoil, to the towns of Greece.
Now I need the juice by which old age may be renewed,
that can regain the prime of years, return the flower of youth,
and You will grant it. Not in vain, stars glittered in reply:
not in vain, winged dragons bring my chariot, through the sky."
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Spell that Medea chants to bring forth a chariot to search for herbs to lengthen Aeson's life.
It would be cool if I spun the story to where Medea purposely killed Aeson instead of rejuvenating him because her true loyalties still lie with Peilas.
What if I make Procne have the power of Medea and follow the myth of Tereus and his rape of her sister, then Medea-Procne uses the potion to restore her sister's tongue? Medea-Procne falls in love with Jason, a mercenary hired by their father to seek revenge on Tereus, he was just a bit too late... Ideas...
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