Echo and Narcissus

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Echo and Narcissus was a poem written by the Roman poet Ovid as part of his monumental work Metamorphoses. It combines two ancient legends: Echo, the wood-nymph, and Narcissus, a hunter who falls in love with his own reflection. This was the first time that the two legends had been told together.

This poem is in Book III of the Metamorphoses, and tells the story of a "talkative nymph" who "yet a chatterbox, had no other use of speech than she has now, that she could repeat only the last words out of many." She falls in love with Narcissus, whom she catches sight of when he is "chasing frightened deer into his nets." Eventually, after "burning with a closer flame," Echo's presence is revealed to Narcissus, who, after a comic yet tragic scene, rejects her love. Echo wastes away, until she "remains a voice" and "is heard by all." This of course refers to a literal echo.

Then, Narcissus "tired from both his enthusiasm for hunting and from the heat" rests by a spring, and whilst drinking, "a new thirst grows inside him" and he is "captivated by the image of the beauty he has seen" and falls deeply in love with "all the things for which he himself is admired." He then wastes away with love for himself, echoing the manner in which Echo did earlier on. A while later his body is gone, and in its place is a narcissus flower that came upon his actions.

This myth plays an important role in the work of the philosopher, Jacques Derrida.

Literal Translation:

A talkative nymph notices this man hunting frightened deer into nets, who has neither to keep quiet from talking nor to speak the words themselves first, echoing Echo. Here Echo was a body not a voice; and although a chatterbox she enjoyed no more speech then she now does so that she was able to repeat only the last words out of many [that had been spoken]. Therefore when Narcissus she sees lonely in the countryside wandering and she falls in love, she secretly follows his footsteps even more she follows, the more the flame of passion burns within her, just as where the lively sulfur spread around by the tallest torches, seizes the flames brought close. Oh how often she wanted to approach him with charming words and employ gentle prayer. Nature prevents it and it does not allow it to begin, but she is ready to do what her nature does allow, to wait for sounds to which she returns her words.

By chance the boy separated from the trusty procession of comrades has said, “Anyone out there” and “Out there” Echo had responded. Narcissus is amazed and as he gazes around in all directions with a loud voice he shouts, “Come” a voice answers his calling. He looks around and again with no one coming says “Why do you flee from me?” and as many words as he said so many words he received. He persists and deceived by the illusion of an answering voice, “Let us come together,” he said and Echo, who would never make a more willing reply to any sound. “Come together,” replies Echo and she emphasizes those words and having come out of the woods she was going so that she could throw her arms around the neck she hoped for. He flees and fleeing he says, “Take your hands away from this embrace, may I die before you enjoy me.” She returned nothing except “you enjoy me.” Rejected she lays down in the forest and covers her embarrassed lips with leaves. From that time on she lives alone in caves. But however her love persists and grows with the pain of one having been rejected. The cares, which keeping one awake, weaken her miserable body and the thinness shrivels her skin. The moisture of her whole body goes into the air. Only her voice and bones remain. People say her bones took one the appearance of stone. Ever since she lies in the woods and appears on no mountain by any one she has heard at all. The sound is that which lives within her.

This boy, tired from enthusiasm for hunting and by heat, fell down attracted by his appearance and by the fountain nearby, and while he wants to quench his thirst, another thirst grew, while he drinks, he is captivated by the beautiful reflection he sees, he loves for a hope without a body he thinks that that which is his reflection is a body. He astonishes himself and he fixed upon the same face, he persists as a statue formed by marble from Paris. He watches lying on the ground the double star his own eyes, and his hair worthy of Baucis and worthy also of Apollo, unbearded cheeks and an ivory colored neck and a beautiful mouth mixed with redness in snow white radiance. He admires all these things.

He wants him self unknowing and he who fancies, he himself is fancied, while he searches, he is searched; equally he sets on fire and burns. How often he gave useless kisses to the deceitful fountain. How often in the middles of the water he plunges his arms trying to catch the neck reflection and he did not catch himself in those waters. That man does not know what he sees, but he burns for that which he sees and the same error which deceives his eyes, it also encourages his eyes. And these as soon as he looked at them in the clear waves, he did not endure any longer, just as yellow wax tablets are accustomed to melt by a gentle fire and the morning frosts by the warm sun, so he is weakened by love, he wastes away and gradually is consumed by a hidden fire. And his rosy white complexion now has no glow, neither his vigor nor his strength things which he had recently seen and liked. And his body did not remain which one day Echo loved. When she saw these things, although angry and remembering she felt sorry, and whenever the miserable boy had said, “Alas,” she was repeating, “Alas,” in this echoing voice. And when he had struck his own arms with his hands she also was repeating with the same song of pain. The last voice of Narcissus looking in the familiar water were these: “Alas boy loved in vain!” and the place repeated so many words and with farewell having been said, “Goodbye,” Echo also said. He lay his tires head down in the green grass. Death closed his eyes admiring the beauty of the owner.

Then also, after of the lower world’s abode he has been received, he was looking at himself in the water of the Styx. The sister Naiads wailed and offered their cut hair to their brother, the Dryads wailed and Echo responds with wailing. And now they were preparing a funeral pyre and torches for shaking and a bier for the burial. The body is nowhere; instead of a body, they found a yellow flower; with white petals enclosing the middles of the flower.