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¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î
(Meleager and
Atalanta) |

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BULFINCH'S MYTHOLOGY
THE AGE OF FABLE
OR STORIES OF GODS AND HEROES
by Thomas Bulfinch
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CHAPTER XVIII
MELEAGER AND ATALANTA
ATALANTA
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18 Àå
MELEAGER AND ATALANTA
ATALANTA
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MELEAGER AND ATALANTA
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¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½º¿Í ¾ÆÅ»¶õÅ×
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ONE of the heroes of the Argonautic expedition was Meleager,
son of OEneus
and Althea, king and queen of Calydon.
Althea, when her son was born, beheld the
three destinies, who as they spun their fatal thread,
foretold that the life of the child should last no longer
than a brand then burning upon the hearth. Althea seized
and quenched the brand, and carefully preserved it for
years, while Meleager grew to boyhood, youth and manhood.
It chanced, then, that OEneus, as he offered sacrifices to
the gods, omitted to pay due honours to Diana (Artemis);
and she, indignant at the neglect, sent a wild boar of
enormous size to lay waste the fields of Calydon.
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¾Æ¸£°íÈ£ÀÇ ¿øÁ¤¿¡ Âü°¡Çß´ø ¿µ¿õÀÇ ÇÑ »ç¶÷À¸·Î ¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½º°¡ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ±×´Â Ä®·òµ·ÀÇ ¿Õ ¿ÀÀ̳׿콺¿Í ±×ÀÇ ¾Æ³» ¾ËŸÀÌ¾Æ »çÀÌ¿¡ ÅÂ¾î³ ¾ÆµéÀ̾ú´Ù. ¾ÕŸÀ̾ƴ ±×°¡ ź»ýÇßÀ» ¶§, ¼¼ ¸íÀÇ ¸ðÀ̶óÀ̸¦ º¸¾Ò´Ù. ¿î¸íÀÇ ½ÇÀ» Â¥´Â ÀÌ ¿©½ÅµéÀº ÀÌ ¾î¸°¾ÆÀÌ´Â ÀÎÁ¦ ³·Î ¼Ó¿¡¼ Ÿ°í ÀÖ´Â ÀåÀÛÀÌ ´Ù ÅÀÀ» ¶§ Á×À» °ÍÀ̶ó°í ¿¹¾ðÇß´Ù. ¾ËŸÀ̾ƴ ±× ÀåÀÛÀ» ²¨³»¾î ºÒÀ» ²ô°í ´Ù³â°£ Á¶½É½º·´°Ô º¸Á¸Çߴµ¥, ±× µ¿¾È¿¡ ¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½º´Â ¼Ò³âÀÌ µÇ°í, û³âÀÌ µÇ°í, Àå³âÀÌ µÇ¾ú´Ù. ±× ´ç½Ã ¿ÀÀ̳׿콺°¡ ½Åµé¿¡°Ô Èñ»ý¹°À» ¹ÙÄ£ ÀÏÀÌ ÀÖ¾ú´Âµ¥, ¿©½Å ¾Æ¸£Å׹̽º¿¡°Ô ¹ÙÄ¡Áö ¾Ê¾Ò´Ù.
¿©½ÅÀº ¹«½Ã´çÇÑ µ¥ °ÝºÐÇÏ¿© ±²ÀåÄ¡ Å« »êµÅÁö ÇÑ ¸¶¸®¸¦ º¸³»¾î Ä®·òµ·ÀÇ µéÀ» ȲÆóÄÉ Çß´Ù.
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Its eyes shone with blood and fire, its bristles stood
like threatening spears, its tusks were like those of
Indian elephants. The growing corn was trampled, the vines
and olive trees laid waste, the flocks and herds were
driven in wild confusion by the slaughtering foe. |
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»êµÅÁöÀÇ ´«Àº ÇÇ¿Í ºÒ·Î ºû³ª°í ±× ÅÐÀº »ç¶÷À» Â·Á°í Çϴ â°ú °°ÀÌ »¥»¥ÀÌ ¼ ÀÖ°í ¼Û°÷´Ï´Â Àεµ»ê ÄÚ³¢¸®ÀÇ °Í°ú Èí»çÇß´Ù. °î½ÄÀº Áþ¹âÈ÷°í Æ÷µµ¿Í ¿Ã¸®ºê³ª¹«µµ ȲÆóÇß´Ù. ¾çÀ̳ª ¼Ò °°Àº °¡Ãà¶¼´Â ´ÚÄ¡´Â ´ë·Î ÇлìµÇ¾î Å« È¥¶õ¿¡ ºüÁ³´Ù. |
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All
common aid seemed vain; but Meleager called on the heroes
of Greece to join in a bold hunt for the ravenous monster.
Theseus and his friend Pirithous, Jason, Peleus,
afterwards the father of Achilles, Telamon the father of
Ajax, Nestor, then a youth, but who in his age bore arms
with Achilles and Ajax in the Trojan war- these and many
more joined in the enterprise. With them came Atalanta,
the daughter of Iasius, king of Arcadia.
A buckle of polished gold confined her vest, an ivory
quiver hung on her left shoulder, and her left hand bore
the bow. Her face blent feminine beauty with the best
graces of martial youth. Meleager saw and loved. |
º¸Åë ¼ö´ÜÀ» °¡Áö°í´Â À̸¦ ¸·À» µµ¸®°¡ ¾øÀ» °Í °°¾Ò´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½º´Â ±×¸®½ºÀÇ ¿µ¿õµéÀ» ÃÊûÇÏ¿© ÀÌ ¾Æ±Í¿Í °°Àº ±«¹°À» ÅðÄ¡Çϱâ À§ÇÑ ´ë´ãÇÑ ¼ö·Æ¿¡ Âü°¡Çϵµ·Ï È£¼ÒÇÏ¿´´Ù. Å×¼¼¿ì½º¿Í ±×ÀÇ Ä£±¸ÀÎ ÆäÀ̸®Åä¿À½º, À̾ƼÕ, ÈÄ¿¡ ¾ÆÅ³·¹¿ì½ºÀÇ ¾Æ¹öÁö°¡ µÇ´Â Æç·¹¿ì¿À½º, ¾ÆÀ̾ƽºÀÇ ¾Æ¹öÁöÀÎ ÅÚ¶ó¸ð, °Ô´Ù°¡ ´ç½Ã¿¡´Â ¾ÆÁ÷ Àþ¾úÀ¸³ª, ³ëÀÎÀÌ µÈ ÈÄ¿¡µµ ¾ÆÅ³·¹¿ì½º¿Í ¾ÆÀ̾ƽº¿Í ÇÔ²² ¹«±â¸¦ µé°í Æ®·ÎÀÌ¾Æ ÀüÀï¿¡ Âü°¡ÇÑ Àú ³×½ºÅ丣-ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ ¿µ¿õµé°ú ±×¹ÛÀÇ ¸¹Àº ¿µ¿õµéÀÌ ÀÌ »êµÅÁöÀÇ »ç³É¿¡ Âü°¡Çß´Ù. ¾Æ¸£Ä«µð¾ÆÀÇ ¿Õ À̾ƼҽºÀÇ µþ ¾ÆÅ»¶õÅ×µµ ÀÌ »ç³É¿¡ Âü°¡Çß´Ù. À±ÀÌ ³ª°Ô ´ÛÀº ±ÝÀ¸·Î µÈ Áμè[ü±Ý]·Î ¿ÊÀ» ÁË°í ¿ÞÂÊ ¾î±ú¿¡´Â »ó¾Æ·Î ¸¸µç ÀüÅëÀ» ¸Þ°í, ¿Þ¼Õ¿¡´Â ȰÀ» µé°í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ±×³àÀÇ ¾ó±¼Àº ¿©¼ºÀÇ ¹Ì¿Í ¿ë°¨ÇÑ Ã»³âÀÇ ¸Å·ÂÀ» °âºñÇϰí ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½º´Â ±×³à¸¦ º¸ÀÚ ¹Ù·Î »ç¶û¿¡ ºüÁ³´Ù. |
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But now already they were near the monster's lair. They
stretched strong nets from tree to tree; they uncoupled
their dogs, they tried to find the footprints of their
quarry in the grass. From the wood was a descent to marshy
grounds. Here the boar, as he lay among the reeds, heard
the shouts of his pursuers, and rushed forth against them.
One and another is thrown down and slain. Jason throws his
spear, with a prayer to Diana for success; and the
favouring goddess allows the weapon to touch, but not to
wound, removing the steel point of the spear in its
flight. Nestor, assailed, seeks and finds safety in the
branches of a tree. Telamon rushes on, but stumbling at a
projecting root, falls prone. But an arrow from Atalanta
at length for the first time tastes the monster's blood.
It is a slight wound, but Meleager sees and joyfully
proclaims it. Anceus, excited to envy by the praise given
to a female, loudly proclaims his own valour, and defies
alike the boar and the goddess who had sent it; but as he
rushes on, the infuriated beast lays him low with a mortal
wound. |
±×·¯³ª ÀÌ¹Ì ÀÏÇàÀº ±«¹°ÀÌ »ç´Â ±¼ °¡±îÀ̱îÁö ¿Í ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ±×µéÀº ưưÇÑ ±×¹°À» ³ª¹« »çÀÌ¿¡ ÃÆ´Ù. ±×¸®°í °³µéÀ» ºÙµé¾î ¸Å³õÀº ²öÀ» Ǫ´Ï, °³µéÀº Ç® ¼Ó¿¡ ÀÖ´Â Áü½ÂÀÇ ¹ßÀÚ±¹À» ¹ß°ßÇÏ·Á°í ³ë·ÂÇÏ¿´´Ù. ½£À¸·ÎºÎÅÍ ´ËÀÌ ¸¹Àº °÷À¸·Î ÇâÇÏ´Â ³»¸®¸·±æÀÌ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. À̰÷¿¡¼ »êµÅÁö´Â °¥´ë ¼Ó¿¡ ¸öÀ» ¼û±â°í ÀÖ¾ú´Âµ¥, Ãß°ÝÀÚÀÎ °³¼Ò¸®¸¦ µèÀÚ, °©Àڱ⠰³µéÀ» ÇâÇØ µ¹ÁøÇØ ¿Ô´Ù.
ÇѵΠ¸¶¸®ÀÇ °³°¡ ÇÇ»ì´çÇØ¼ ³ª°¡ ¶³¾îÁ³´Ù. À̾ƼÕÀº ¾Æ¸£Å׹̽º¿¡°Ô ¼º°øÀ» ºô¸é¼ µé°í ÀÖ´ø âÀ» ´øÁ³´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¾Æ¸£Å׹̽º´Â »êµÅÁö¿¡°Ô È£ÀǸ¦ °¡Áö°í ÀÖ¾úÀ¸¹Ç·Î âÀÌ ³ª´Â »çÀÌ¿¡ ±× °Ã¶ ³¡À» Á¦°ÅÇÏ¿© »êµÅÁö¸¦ ¸ÂÈ÷±â´Â ÇßÀ¸³ª, »óó´Â ³»Áö ¸øÇÏ°Ô Çß´Ù.
³×½ºÅ丣´Â »êµÅÁöÀÇ ½À°ÝÀ» ¹ÞÀÚ, ³ª¹«¸¦ ã¾Æ ±× À§¿¡ ¿Ã¶ó ¸öÀ» ÇÇÇß´Ù. ÅÚ¶ó¸óÀº µ¹ÁøÇÏ´Ù°¡ ¶¥ À§¿¡ ºÒ¾¦ ³ª¿Â ³ª¹« »Ñ¸®¿¡ °É·Á ¾ÕÀ¸·Î °í²Ù¶óÁ³´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¾ÆÅ»¶õÅ×°¡ ½ð È»ìÀÌ ¸¶Ä§³» ÃÖÃÊ·Î ±«¹°ÀÌ ÇǸ¦ ¸Àº¸¾Ò´Ù. ±×°ÍÀº °¡º¿î »óó¿´´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¸á¶ó¾Æ±×·Î½º´Â ±×°ÍÀ» º¸°í ȯ¼ºÀ» ¿Ã·È´Ù. ¾ÈÄ«ÀÌ¿À½º´Â ¿©ÀÚ°¡ ĪÂù ¹Þ´Â °ÍÀ» º¸°í ÁúÅõ½É¿¡ ºÒŸ ÀÚ±â ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ¿ë¸ÍÀ» ¼Ò¸® ³ôÀÌ ¼±ÀüÇÏ°í »êµÅÁö¸¦ º¸³½ ¿©½Å¿¡°Ô µµÀüÇß´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ±×°¡ µµÀüÇßÀ» ¶§ °ÝºÐÇÑ »êµÅÁö´Â ±×¿¡°Ô Ä¡¸íÀûÀÎ ºÎ»óÀ» ÀÔÇô¼ ¾²·¯Áö°Ô Çß´Ù. |
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Theseus throws his lance, but it is turned aside by
a projecting bough. The dart of Jason misses its object,
and kills instead one of their own dogs. But Meleager,
after one unsuccessful stroke, drives his spear into the
monster's side, then rushes on and despatches him with
repeated blows.
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Å×¼¼¿ì½º´Â âÀ» ´øÁ³À¸³ª µ¹ÃâÇÑ ³ª¹µ°¡Áö¿¡ °É·Á ¿·À¸·Î ºø³ª°¬´Ù. ¶Ç À̾ƼÕÀÌ ´øÁø âÀº ¸ñÇ¥¹°¿¡ ÀûÁßÇÏÁö ¾Ê°í »ç³É°³¸¦ ÇÑ ¸¶¸® Á׿´À» »ÓÀ̾ú´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½º´Â Çѹø ½ÇÆÐÇÑ µÚ¿¡ ±×ÀÇ Ã¢À» ±«¹°ÀÇ ¿·±¸¸®¿¡ ¹Ú¾Ò´Ù. ±×¸®°í µ¹ÁøÇÏ¿© Àç»ï Ÿ°ÝÀ» ÁÖ¾î »êµÅÁö¸¦ Àý¸íÄÉ Çß´Ù.
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Then rose a shout from those around; they congratulated
the conqueror, crowding to touch his hand. He, placing his
foot upon the head of the slain boar, turned to Atalanta
and bestowed on her the head and the rough hide which were
the trophies of his success [image:37K].
But at this, envy excited the rest to strife.
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±×·¯ÀÚ ÁÖÀ§¿¡¼ ÇÔ¼ºÀÌ ÀϾ´Ù. ±×µéÀº ½Â¸®ÀÚÀÎ ¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½º¸¦ ÃàÇÏÇϰí, ±×ÀÇ ¼ÕÀ» ÀâÀ¸·Á°í ¸ð¿©µé¾ú´Ù. ±×´Â ÇÇ»ìµÈ »êµÅÁöÀÇ ¸Ó¸®¸¦ ¹âÀ¸¸ç ¾ÆÅ»¶õÅ׸¦ µ¹¾Æº¸°í ±×ÀÇ Àü¸®Ç°ÀÎ Áü½ÂÀÇ ¸Ó¸®¿Í °ÅÄ¥°ÅÄ¥ÇÑ ¼öÇǸ¦ ±×³à¿¡°Ô Áõ¿©Çß´Ù. ±×·¯³ª À̰ÍÀ» º» ´Ù¸¥ »ç¶÷µéÀº ÁúÅõ½ÉÀ» ÀÏÀ¸ÄÑ ½Î¿òÀ» °É¾ú´Ù.
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Plexippus
and Toxeus, the brothers of Meleager's mother, beyond the
rest opposed the gift, and snatched from the maiden the
trophy she had received. Meleager, kindling with rage at
the wrong done to himself, and still more at the insult
offered to her whom he loved, forgot the claims of
kindred, and plunged his sword into the offenders' hearts.
[see also: The
Boar in Art History] |
¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½ºÀÇ ¿Ü¼÷ Ç÷¢½ÃÆ÷½º¿Í Åå¼¼¿ì½º´Â ´©±¸º¸´Ùµµ ±× Áõ¿©¿¡ ¹Ý´ëÇÏ¿© ¾ÆÅ»¶õÅ׷κÎÅÍ ±×³à°¡ ¹Ùµç Àü¸®Ç°À» °Å»Çß´Ù. ¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½º´Â Àڱ⿡ ´ëÇÑ ±×µéÀÇ ¹«·ÊÇÑ ÇàÀ§¿¡ ºÐ°ÝÇßÁö¸¸ ±×°¡ »ç¶ûÇÏ´Â ¾ÆÅ»¶õÅ׿¡ ´ëÇÑ ¸ð¿å¿¡ ´õ¿í ºÐ°ÝÇÏ¿©, Ä£Á·°£ÀÇ ¿¹Àǵµ ÀØ°í ±×ÀÇ Ä®À» ¹«·ÊÇÑ ÀÚµéÀÇ ½ÉÀå¿¡ Âñ·¶´Ù. |
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As Althea bore gifts of thankfulness to the temples for
the victory of her son, the bodies of her murdered
brothers met her sight. She shrieks, and beats her breast,
and hastens to change the garments of rejoicing for those
of mourning. But when the author of the deed is known,
grief gives way to the stern desire of vengeance on her
son. The fatal brand, which once she rescued from the
flames, the brand which the destinies had linked with
Meleager's life, she brings forth, and commands a fire to
be prepared. Then four times she essays to place the brand
upon the pile; four times draws back, shuddering at the
thought of bringing destruction on her son. The feelings
of the mother and the sister contend within her. Now she
is pale at the thought of the proposed deed, now flushed
again with anger at the act of her son. As a vessel,
driven in one direction by the wind, and in the opposite
by the tide, the mind of Althea hangs suspended in
uncertainty. But now the sister prevails above the mother,
and she begins as she holds the fatal wood: "Turn, ye
Furies,
goddesses of punishment! turn to behold the sacrifice I
bring! Crime must atone for crime. Shall OEneus rejoice in
his victor son, while the house of Thestius
is desolate? But, alas! to what deed am I borne along?
Brothers, forgive a mother's weakness! my hand fails me.
He deserves death, but not that I should destroy him. But
shall he then live, and triumph, and reign over Calydon,
while you, my brothers, wander unavenged among the shades?
No! thou hast lived by my gift; die, now, for thine own
crime. Return the life which twice I gave thee, first at
thy birth, again when I snatched this brand from the
flames. O that thou hadst then died! Alas! evil is the
conquest; but, brothers, ye have conquered." And,
turning away her face, she threw the fatal wood upon the
burning pile.
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±×·± »ç½ÇÀ» ¸ð¸£´Â ¾ËŸÀ̾ư¡ ¾ÆµéÀÇ ½Â¸®¿¡ ´ëÇÑ °¨»çÀÇ ¼±¹°À» ¿©·¯ ½ÅÀü¿¡ °¡Áö°í °¬À» ¶§, ÇÇ»ìµÈ ÇüÁ¦µéÀÇ ½Ãü°¡ ±×³àÀÇ ´«¿¡ ¶ç¾ú´Ù. ±×³à´Â ¿ïºÎ¢À¸¸ç, °¡½¿À» Ä¡°í ȯÈñÀÇ ÀǺ¹À» ½½ÇÄÀÇ ÀǺ¹À¸·Î °¥¾Æ ÀÔ¾ú´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ÇüÁ¦µéÀ» Á×ÀÎ ÀÚ°¡ ¾Ë·ÁÁöÀÚ ½½ÇÄÀº º¯ÇÏ¿© ¾Æµé¿¡ ´ëÇÑ ´ÜÈ£ÇÑ º¹¼ö½ÉÀÌ µÇ¾ú´Ù. ±×³à°¡ Àü¿¡ ºÒÀ» ²ö Ÿ´Ù ³²Àº ¿î¸íÀÇ ³ª¹«, Áï ¿î¸íÀÇ ¿©½ÅµéÀÌ ¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½ºÀÇ »ý¸í°ú ¹ÐÁ¢ÇÑ °ü°è°¡ ÀÖµµ·Ï ÇÑ ±× ³ª¹«¸¦ °¡Áö°í ¿Í¼ ºÒÀ» ÁغñÇϵµ·Ï ¸í·ÉÇß´Ù.
±×¸®°í´Â ³× ¹øÀ̳ª ±× Ÿ´Ù ³²Àº ³ª¹«¸¦ ºÒŸ´Â ³ª¹«´õ¹Ì À§¿¡ °®´Ù ³õÀ¸·Á°í Çß´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¾ÆµéÀ» ÀÒ°Ô µÇ¸®¶ó´Â »ý°¢ÀÌ µé¾î ÀüÀ²À» ´À³¢¸ç, ³× ¹ø ÁßÁöÇß´Ù. ¾î¸Ó´ÏÀÇ Á¤°ú µ¿±â°£ÀÇ Á¤ÀÌ ±×³àÀÇ °¡½¿ ¼Ó¿¡¼ ÅõÀïÇß´Ù. ¾î¶² ¶§´Â ÀÚ±âÀÇ ±âµµ(±âµµ)¸¦ »ý°¢ÇÏÀÚ, ¾È»öÀÌ Ã¢¹éÇØÁö±âµµ ÇÏ°í ¾î¶² ¶§´Â ¾ÆµéÀÌ ¹üÇÑ ÁþÀ» »ý°¢ÇÏ¸é ºÐ³ë·Î ÀÎÇØ ¾È»öÀÌ È«Á¶¸¦ ¶ì±âµµ Çß´Ù.
¹Ù¶÷ÀÌ ºÒ¸é ÇÑÂÊÀ¸·Î ¸ô¸®´Ù°¡ Á¶¼ö°¡ ¿À¸é ¹Ý´ëÂÊÀ¸·Î ¸ô¸®´Â ¹è¿Íµµ °°ÀÌ ¾ËŸÀ̾ÆÀÇ ¸¶À½Àº ºÒ¾ÈÁ¤Çß´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¸¶Ä§³» µ¿±â°£ÀÇ Á¤ÀÌ ¸ðÄ£ÀÇ Á¤À» ¾ÐµµÇÏ¿© ¿î¸íÀÇ ³ª¹«¸¦ ¼Õ¿¡ ²À Áã¸é¼ ¸»Çϱ⠽ÃÀÛÇß´Ù.
"º¹¼öÀÇ ¿©½ÅµéÀÌ¿©, ¸öÀ» µ¹·Á Á¦°¡ °¡Áö°í ¿Â Èñ»ý¹°À» ¹Ù¶óº¸½Ã¿À. ÁË´Â ÁË·Î½á º¸»óÇØ¾ß ÇÕ´Ï´Ù. ³²Æí ¿ÀÀ̳׿콺µµ ó°¡°¡ ´ÜÀýµÇ´Âµ¥ ¾ÆµéÀÇ ½Â¸®¸¦ ±â»µÇÏÁö´Â ¾ÊÀ» °Ì´Ï´Ù. ±×·¯³ª, ¾Æ, ³ª´Â ¹«½¼ ÁþÀ» ÇÏ·Á°í Çϴ°¡? ÇüÁ¦¿©, ¾î¹ÌµÈ ¸¶À½ÀÇ ¾àÇÔÀ» ¿ë¼Ç϶ó! ¼ÕÀÌ ¸»À» µèÁö ¾Ê´Â±¸³ª. ¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½º´Â Á×¾î ¸¶¶¥ÇÏÁö¸¸, ±×¸¦ ³» ¼ÕÀ¸·Î Á×ÀÏ ¼ö´Â ¾ø´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ±×·¸´Ù°í ³ÊÈñµé ³ªÀÇ ÇüÁ¦´Â À©¼ö¸¦ °±Áöµµ ¸øÇϰí Àú½Â¿¡¼ Çì¸Å¾ß Çϴµ¥ ¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½º´Â »ì¾Æ ½Â¸®Çϰí Ä®·òµ·À» Áö¹èÇØ¾ß ¿Ç´Ü ¸»Àΰ¡? ¾Æ´Ï´Ù, ³Ê´Â ³» ´ö¿¡ ÀÌÁ¦±îÁö »ì¾Æ ¿Ô´Ù. ÀÌÁ¦´Â ³× ÀÚ½ÅÀÇ ÁË ¶§¹®¿¡ Á×¾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù. ³»°¡ µÎ ¹ø ³Ê¿¡°Ô ÁØ »ý¸í, óÀ½¿¡´Â ź»ýÇÒ ¶§,µÎ¹øÂ°´Â ÀÌ Å¸´Ù ³²Àº ³ª¹«¸¦ È¿° ¼Ó¿¡¼ ²ôÁý¾î³ÂÀ» ¶§ ³Ê¿¡°Ô ÁØ »ý¸íÀ» ¹ÝȯÇ϶ó. ¿À, Â÷¶ó¸® ±×¶§ ³×°¡ Á×¾ú´õ¶ó¸é! ¾Æ, ½Â¸®´Â ºÒÇàÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ÇüÁ¦¿©, ±×´ëµéÀº ½Â¸®ÇÏ¿´³ë¶ó."
±×¸®°í ¿Ü¸éÇÏ¸é¼ ±×³à ¾ËŸÀ̾ƴ ¿î¸íÀÇ ³ª¹«¸¦ ºÒŸ´Â ³ª¹«´õ¹Ì À§¿¡ ´øÁ³´Ù.
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It gave, or seemed to give, a deadly groan. Meleager,
absent and unknowing of the cause, felt a sudden pang. He
burns, and only by courageous pride conquers the pain
which destroys him. He mourns only that he perishes by a
bloodless and unhonoured death. With his last breath he
calls upon his aged father, his brother, and his fond
sisters, upon his beloved Atalanta, and upon his mother,
the unknown cause of his fate. The flames increase, and
with them the pain of the hero. Now both subside; now both
are quenched. The brand is ashes, and the life of Meleager
is breathed forth to the wandering winds.
Althea, when the deed was done, laid violent hands upon
herself. The sisters of Meleager mourned their brother
with uncontrollable grief; till Diana (Artemis),
pitying the sorrows of the house that once had aroused her
anger, turned them into birds.
[Meleager
in Homer's Iliad, Book 9.492-599]
[Meleager
in Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book 8.260-837]
[Meleager
in Apollodorus' Library]
¡¡ |
±×°ÍÀº ¹«¼¿î ½ÅÀ½¼Ò¸®¸¦ ³Â´Ù. ¾Æ´Ï, ³½ °Íó·³ »ý°¢µÇ¾ú´Ù. ±×·¯ÀÚ ¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½º´Â ¹«½¼ ±î´ßÀÎÁö ¾ËÁöµµ ¸øÇßÀ¸³ª, ¸Ö¸® ¶³¾îÁ® ÀÖÀ¸¸é¼µµ °©ÀÛ½º·¹ °íÅëÀ» ´À²¼´Ù. ±×ÀÇ ¸öÀÌ ºÒŸ±â ½ÃÀÛÇÏ¿´´Ù. ¿ÀÁ÷ ¿ë°¨ÇÑ ÀÚÁ¸½É¿¡ ÀÇÇÏ¿© ±×¸¦ ÆÄ¸ê½ÃŰ´Â °íÅëÀ» °¨³»Çß´Ù. ´Ù¸¸ Çǵµ È긮Áö ¾Ê°í ºÒ¸í¿¹½º·¯¿î Á×À½À» ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» ÇÑźÇßÀ» µû¸§ÀÌ´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÃÖÈÄÀÇ ¼ûÀ» °ÅµÎ¸é¼ ±×´Â ´ÄÀº ºÎÄ£°ú ÇüÁ¦¿Í ´ÙÁ¤ÇÑ ÀÚ¸Å¿Í »ç¶ûÇÏ´Â ¾ÆÅ»¶õÅ×¿Í ±×ÀÇ ¿î¸íÀÇ ¼ûÀº ¿øÀÎÀÎ ¾î¸Ó´ÏÀÇ À̸§À» ºÒ·¶´Ù.
ºÒ²ÉÀº ´õÇØ°¡°í ±×¿Í ´õºÒ¾î ¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½ºÀÇ °íÅëµµ ´õÇØ¸¸ °¬´Ù. ¸¶Ä§³» ºÒ²Éµµ °íÅëµµ °¡¶ó¾É±â ½ÃÀÛÇϰí, ¸¶Ä§³» ¾ø¾îÁ³´Ù. Ÿ´Ù ³¯Àº ³ª¹«´Â Àç°¡ µÇ°í ¸á·¼¾Æ±×·Î½ºÀÇ »ý¸íÀº ¹Ù¶÷¿¡ ºÒ·Á ³¯¾Æ°¬´Ù.
ÀÏÀÌ ³¡³ªÀÚ, ¾ËŸÀ̾ƴ ÀÚ»ìÇß´Ù. ¸á·¹¾Æ±×·Î½ºÀÇ ÀڸŵéÀº µ¿»ýÀÇ Á×À½À» ½½ÆÛÇß´Ù. ÀÌ·¸°Ô µÇÀÚ ¾Æ¸£Å׹̽º´Â Àü¿¡ ÀÚ±âÀÇ ºÐ³ë¸¦ ¾ß±â½ÃŲ Áý¾ÈÀÇ ºÒÇàÀ» ºÒ½ÖÈ÷ ¿©°Ü ±×µéÀ» »õ·Î º¯ÇÏ°Ô Çß´Ù. |
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ATALANTA |
¾ÆÅ»¶õÅ× |
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The innocent cause of so much sorrow was a maiden whose
face you might truly say was boyish for a girl, yet too
girlish for a boy [image:79K].
Her fortune had been told, and it was to this effect:
"Atalanta, do not marry; marriage will be your
ruin." Terrified by this oracle, she fled the society
of men, and devoted herself to the sports of the chase. To
all suitors (for she had many) she imposed a condition
which was generally effectual in relieving her of their
persecutions- "I will be the prize of him who shall
conquer me in the race; but death must be the penalty of
all who try and fail." In spite of this hard
condition some would try. Hippomenes was to be judge of
the race. "Can it be possible that any will be so
rash as to risk so much for a wife?" said he. But
when he saw her lay aside her robe for the race, he
changed his mind, and said, "Pardon me, youths, I
knew not the prize you were competing for." As he
surveyed them he wished them all to be beaten, and swelled
with envy of any one that seemed at all likely to win.
While such were his thoughts, the virgin darted forward.
As she ran she looked more beautiful than ever. The
breezes seemed to give wings to her feet; her hair flew
over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her garment
fluttered behind her. A ruddy hue tinged the whiteness of
her skin, such as a crimson curtain casts on a marble
wall. All her competitors were distanced, and were put to
death without mercy. |
ÀÌÅä·Ï ¸¹Àº ½½ÇÄÀÇ Á˾ø´Â ¿øÀÎÀº ¾ÆÅ»¶õÅ×¶ó´Â ó³à¿´´Âµ¥, ±×³àÀÇ ¾ó±¼Àº ¿©ÀÚ·Î º¸±â¿¡´Â ³²ÀÚ´ä°í ³²ÀÚ·Î º¸±â¿¡´Â ³Ê¹« ¿©ÀÚ´Ù¿Ô´Ù. ±×³à´Â Àü¿¡ ´ÙÀ½°ú °°Àº ¿î¸íÀ» ¿¹¾ð ¹ÞÀº ÀÏÀÌ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù.
"¾ÆÅ»¶õÅ׿©, °áÈ¥ÇÏÁö ¸»¶ó. °áÈ¥ÇÏ¸é ¸ê¸ÁÇϸ®¶ó." ´Â Àǹ̿´´Ù.
½ÅŹ¿¡ °ÌÀÌ ³ ¾ÆÅ»¶õÅ×´Â ³²ÀÚ¿ÍÀÇ ±³Á¦¸¦ ÇÇÇÏ°í »ç³É¿¡¸¸ ¿ÁßÇß´Ù. ¸ðµç ±¸È¥ÀÚ(±×³à¿¡°Ô´Â ¸¹Àº ±¸È¥ÀÚ°¡ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù)¿¡°Ô ÇÑ °¡Áö Á¶°ÇÀ» °úÇߴµ¥, ±×°ÍÀº ±×µéÀÇ ¼º°¡½Å ¿ä±¸¸¦ ¹°¸®Ä¡´Â µ¥ È¿°ú°¡ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ±×°ÍÀº,
"°æÁÖ¸¦ ÇÏ¿© ³ª¿¡°Ô À̱â´Â »ç¶÷¿¡°Ô »óÀ¸·Î ³» ¸öÀ» ¸Ã±â¸®¶ó. ±×·¯³ª Áö´Â ÀÚ´Â ¹ú·Î Á×À½À» ´çÇϸ®¶ó." ´Â °ÍÀ̾ú´Ù.
ÀÌ¿Í °°ÀÌ ¾î·Á¿î Á¶°ÇÀÓ¿¡µµ ºÒ±¸Çϰí, °æÁÖ¸¦ ÇØº¸ÀÚ°í ´ýºñ´Â ÀÚµµ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ÈüÆ÷¸Þ³×½º°¡ °æÁÖÀÇ ½ÉÆÇÀÚ°¡ µÇ¾î ÀÖ¾ú´Ù.
"ÇÑ ¿©ÀÚ ¶§¹®¿¡ ±×·¯ÇÑ ¸ðÇèÀ» ÇÒ ¸¸Å °æ¼ÖÇÑ ÀÚ°¡ ÀÖÀ»±î?" ÇÏ°í ±× ½ÉÆÇÀÚ°¡ ¸»Çß´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ±×³à°¡ °æÁÖÇÏ·Á°í °Ñ¿ÊÀ» ¹þ´Â °ÍÀ» º¸°í¼, ±×´Â ÀǰßÀ» ´Þ¸®ÇÏ¿© ÀÌ·¸°Ô ¸»Çß´Ù.
ÀþÀºÀÌµé¾Æ, ¿ë¼Ç϶ó. ³ª´Â ±×´ëµéÀÌ °æÀïÇϰí ÀÖ´Â »óǰÀÇ °¡Ä¡¸¦ ¸ô¶ú´Ù."
±×µéÀ» ¹Ù¶óº¸°í ÀÖÀ» ¶§, ±×´Â ±×µéÀÌ ´Ù ÆÐ¹èÇϱ⸦ ¿øÇßÀ¸¸ç, Ȥ½Ã ½Â¸®ÇÒ °¡´É¼ºÀÌ Á¶±ÝÀÌ¶óµµ º¸ÀÌ´Â ÀÚ¿¡ ´ëÇØ¼´Â ÁúÅõ¿¡ ºÒÅÀ´Ù. ±×°¡ ÀÌ·± ½É°æÀ¸·Î ÀÖÀ» ¶§ ó³à´Â ÁúÁÖÇß´Ù. ±×³à°¡ ´Þ¸®°í ÀÖ´Â ¸ð½ÀÀº ÀÏÂïÀÌ º¼ ¼ö ¾ø¾úÀ» Á¤µµ·Î ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ü´Ù. ¹ÌdzÀº ±×³àÀÇ ¹ß¿¡ ³¯°³¸¦ ´Þ¾ÆÁØ °Í °°ÀÌ º¸¿´À¸¸ç ¸Ó¸®Ä«¶ôÀÌ ¾î±ú À§·Î È帣°í, ¿ÊÀÇ È·ÁÇÑ ¼úÀº µÚ¿¡¼ ³ªºÎ²¼´Ù. ºÒ±×½º¸§ÇÑ ºû±òÀÌ ±×³àÀÇ ¹é¿Á °°Àº ÇǺθ¦ ¹°µé¿´´Âµ¥, ±×°ÍÀ¸ ¸¶Ä¡ ÁøÈ«»ö ĿưÀÌ ´ë¸®¼® º®À» ¹°µéÀÎ °Í°ú °°¾Ò´Ù. ÀÌÀ¹°í ¸ðµç °æÀïÀÚµéÀÌ ÆÐ¹èÇßÀ¸¸ç ¹«ÀÚºñÇÏ°Ô »çÇüÀ» ´çÇß´Ù. |
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Hippomenes, not daunted by this
result, fixing his eyes on the virgin, said, "Why
boast of beating those laggards? I offer myself for the
contest." Atalanta looked at him with a pitying
countenance, and hardly knew whether she would rather
conquer him or not. "What god can tempt one so young
and handsome to throw himself away? I pity him, not for
his beauty (yet he is beautiful), but for his youth. I
wish he would give up the race, or if he will be so mad, I
hope he may outrun me." While she hesitates,
revolving these thoughts, the spectators grow impatient
for the race, and her father prompts her to prepare. Then
Hippomenes addressed a prayer to Venus (Aphrodite):
"Help me, Venus, for you have led me on."
¡¡ |
ÈüÆ÷¸Þ³×½º´Â ÀÌ °á°ú¸¦ º¸°íµµ °Ì³»Áö ¾Ê°í ó³à¸¦ ÀÀ½ÃÇÏ¸é¼ ¸»Çß´Ù.
"ÀÌ·± ´À¸²º¸¸¦ ÆÐ¹è½ÃÄ×´Ù°í »Ë³¾ °ÍÀº ¾ø¼Ò. ³» Çѹø °æÁÖÇØ º¸¸®´Ù."
¾ÆÅ»¶õÅ×´Â ÃøÀºÈ÷ ¿©±â´Â °Í °°Àº Ç¥Á¤À¸·Î ±×¸¦ ¹Ù¶óº¸¸ç, ÀÌ°Ü¾ß ÁÁÀ»Áö Á®¾ß ÁÁÀ»Áö ºÐ°£ÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø¾ú´Ù.
<¾î¶² ½ÅÀÌ ÀÌó·³ Àþ°í ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿î û³âÀ» À¯È¤ÇÏ¿© ±× ¸ñ¼ûÀ» ¹ö¸®°Ô Çϴ°¡. ³»°¡ ºÒ½ÖÈ÷ ¿©±â´Â °ÍÀº ±×ÀÇ ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ò ¶§¹®ÀÌ ¾Æ´Ï°í(±×·¯³ª ±×´Â ¾Æ¸§´Ù¿ü´Ù), ÀþÀ½ ¶§¹®ÀÌ´Ù. ³ª´Â ±×°¡ °æÁÖÇÒ »ý°¢À» ¹ö¸®±â¸¦ ¹Ù¶õ´Ù. ȤÀº ¸Ó¸®°¡ µ¹¾Æ ³»³» ±× »ý°¢À» ¹ö¸®Áö ¾Ê´Â´Ù¸é ³ª¸¦ À̰ÜÁֱ⸦ ¹Ù¶õ´Ù.>
±×³à°¡ ÀÌ·± »ý°¢À» µÇÇ®ÀÌÇÏ¸é¼ ÁÖÀúÇϰí ÀÖÀ» ¶§, ±¸°æ²ÛµéÀº °æÁÖ°¡ ½ÃÀ۵DZ⸦ °í´ëÇß°í, ±×³àÀÇ ºÎÄ£Àº ¾î¼ ÁغñÇ϶ó°í ±×³à¿¡°Ô ÀçÃËÇß´Ù. ±×¸®°í ÈüÆ÷¸Þ³×½º´Â ¾ÆÇÁ·ÎµðÅ׿¡°Ô ±âµµ¸¦ ¿Ã·È´Ù.
"¾ÆÇÁ·ÎµðÅ׿©, µµ¿ÍÁֽʽÿÀ. À¯µµÇÑ °ÍÀº ´ç½ÅÀ̴ϱî." |
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Venus
heard and was propitious. |
¡¡ |
|
In the garden of her temple, in her own island of Cyprus,
is a tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches and
golden fruit. Hence she gathered three golden apples, and
unseen by any one else, gave them to Hippomenes, and told
him how to use them. The signal is given; each starts from
the goal and skims over the sand. So light their tread,
you would almost have thought they might run over the
river surface or over the waving grain without sinking. |
¾ÆÇÁ·ÎµðÅ×°¡ ¼ÒÀ¯Çϰí Àִ ŰÇÁ·Î½º ¼¶ ½ÅÀüÁ¤¿ø¿¡´Â ´©·± ÀÙ°ú °¡Áö, ±×¸®°í ±Ýºû ¿¸Å¸¦ °¡Áø ³ª¹«°¡ Çϳª ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ÀÌ ³ª¹«¿¡¼ ¾ÆÇÁ·ÎµðÅ×´Â ±Ýºû »ç°ú¸¦ ¼¼ °³ µû¼ ¾Æ¹«ÀÇ ´«¿¡µµ ¶çÁö ¾Ê°Ô ÈüÆ÷¸Þ³×½º¿¡°Ô ±×°ÍÀ» ÁÖ¸ç ±× »ç¿ë¹ýÀ» °¡¸£ÃÄ ÁÖ¾ú´Ù. ½ÅÈ® ¶³¾îÁöÀÚ µÎ »ç¶÷Àº Ãâ¹ßÇÏ¿© ¸ð·¡ À§¸¦ ¹Ì²ô·¯ÁöµíÀÌ Áö³ª°¬´Ù. ±×µéÀÇ °ÉÀ½°ÉÀÌ´Â ¾îÂîµµ °¡º±´øÁö ¹° À§³ª ¹°°áÄ¡´Â °î½Ä À§¿¡µµ °¡¶ó¾ÉÁö ¾Ê°í ´Þ¸® °Íó·³ »ý°¢µÇ¾ú´Ù. |
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The cries of the spectators cheered Hippomenes,-
"Now, now, do your best! haste, haste! you gain on
her! relax not! one more effort!" It was doubtful whether the youth or the maiden heard
these cries with the greater pleasure. But his breath
began to fail him, his throat was dry, the goal yet far
off. |
|
°üÁßµéÀº Å«¼Ò¸®·Î ÈüÆ÷¸Þ³×½º¸¦ ÀÀ¿øÇß´Ù.
"Èû²¯ ´Þ·Á¶ó, »¡¸®, »¡¸®! ¾ÕÁú·¯¶ó! ±â¿îÀ» ÀÒÁö ¸»°í Á»´õ ÈûÀ» ³»¶ó!"
ÀÌ·¯ÇÑ ¼º¿øÀ» µè°í¼ û³âÀÌ ´õ ±â»µÇÏ¿´´ÂÁö, ó³à°¡ ´õ ±â»µÇß´ÂÁö´Â ¾Ë ¼ö ¾ø´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ÈüÆ÷¸Þ³×½º´Â ¼ûÀÌ °¡ºü¿À°í ¸ñÀÌ ¸»¶ú´Ù. °á½ÂÁ¡Àº ¾ÆÁ÷µµ ¸Ö¾ú´Ù. |
|
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At that moment be threw down one of the golden
apples. The virgin was all amazement. She stopped to pick
it up. Hippomenes shot ahead. Shouts burst forth from all
sides. She redoubled her efforts, and soon overtook him. |
±×¶§ ±×´Â ±Ýºû »ç°ú¸¦ ÇÑ °³ ´øÁ³´Ù. ó³à´Â ±ô¦ ³î¶ú´Ù. ±×°ÍÀ» ÁÖ¿ì·Á°í ¹ßÀ» ¸ØÃß¾ú´Ù. ÈüÆ÷¸Þ³×½º°¡ ¾Õ¼¹´Ù. »ç¹æ¿¡¼ ȯ¼ºÀÌ ÀϾ´Ù. ¾ÆÅ»¶õÅ×´Â ÈûÀ» ¹è°¡(¹è°¡)ÇÏ¿© ¾ó¸¶ ¾ÈµÇ¾î µû¶ó ºÙ¾ú´Ù. ±×´Â ´Ù½Ã ¶Ç »ç°ú¸¦ ´øÁ³´Ù. |
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Again he threw an apple. She stopped again, but again came
up with him. The goal was near; one chance only remained.
"Now, goddess," said he, "prosper your
gift!" and threw the last apple off at one side. She
looked at it, and hesitated; Venus impelled her to turn
aside for it. She did so, and was vanquished. The youth
carried off his prize.
|
±×³à´Â ¶Ç ¹ßÀ» ¸ØÃß¾ú´Ù. ±×·¯³ª ¶Ç µû¶ó ºÙ¾ú´Ù. °á½ÂÁ¡Àº °¡±î¿öÁ³´Ù. ±âȸ´Â Çѹø ³²¾ÒÀ» »ÓÀÌ´Ù.
±×´Â, "¿©½ÅÀÌ¿©, ÀÌÁ¦¾ß¸»·Î ´ç½ÅÀÇ ¼±¹°ÀÌ ¼º°øÇϱ⸦!"
Çϸç ÃÖÈÄÀÇ »ç°ú¸¦ ÇÑÂÊÀ¸·Î ´øÁ³´Ù.
±×³à´Â ±×°ÍÀ» ¹Ù¶óº¸¸ç ÁÖÀúÇß´Ù. ¾ÆÇÁ·ÎµðÅ×´Â ±×³à·Î ÇÏ¿©±Ý ¸öÀ» µ¹·Á ±×°ÍÀ» Áݵµ·Ï Çß´Ù. ±×·¸°Ô ÇÏ¿© ±×³à´Â °æÁÖ¿¡ Á³À¸¸ç, û³âÀº »óǰÀ¸·Î ±×³à¸¦ µ¥¸®°í µ¹¾Æ°¬´Ù. |
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But the lovers were so full of their own happiness that
they forgot to pay due honour to Venus; and the goddess
was provoked at their ingratitude. She caused them to give
offence to Cybele. That powerful goddess was not to be
insulted with impunity. She took from them their human
form and turned them into animals of characters resembling
their own: of the huntress-heroine, triumphing in the
blood of her lovers, she made a lioness, and of her lord
and master a lion, and yoked them to her car, where they
are still to be seen in all representations, in statuary
or painting, of the goddess Cybele. |
±×·¯³ª ÀÌ µÎ ¿¬ÀÎÀº ³Ê¹«µµ ÀÚ±âµéÀÇ Çູ¿¡ ÃëÇØ ¾ÆÇÁ·ÎµðÅ׿¡°Ô »çÀǸ¦ Ç¥ÇÏ´Â °ÍÀ» Àذí ÀÖ¾ú´Ù. ±×·¡¼ ¿©½ÅÀº ±×µéÀÇ ¹èÀº¸Á´öÇÔ¿¡ ³ëÇÏ¿© ±×µé·Î ÇÏ¿©±Ý Äûº§·¹¸¦ ³ëÇÏ°Ô ÇÏ´Â ÀÏÀ» ÀúÁö¸£°Ô Çß´Ù. ÀÌ ¹«¼¿î ¿©½ÅÀ» ¸ð¿åÇϸé ÈÄȯÀ» ¸éÇÒ ¼ö ¾ø¾ú´Ù. ¿©½ÅÀº ±×µé·ÎºÎÅÍ Àΰ£ÀÇ ¸ð½ÀÀ» ¹ÚÅ»ÇÏ°í ±×µéÀÇ ¼º°Ý°ú Èí»çÇÑ ¼º°ÝÀ» °¡Áö°í ÀÖ´Â ¾ß¼ö·Î ÈÇÏ°Ô Çß´Ù. ±×¸®°í ±×µéÀ» ÀÚ±âÀÇ ¼ö·¹¿¡´Ù ¸Ì´Ù. ±×·¡¼ Áö±Ýµµ Á¶°¢À̳ª È¸È µî ¿©½Å Äûº§·¹ÀÇ »ó(»ó)¿¡´Â µÎ ¸¶¸®ÀÇ »çÀÚ°¡ ¹Ýµå½Ã ±× °ç¿¡ ½ÃÁ¾Çϰí ÀÖ´Â °ÍÀ» º¼ ¼ö ÀÖ´Ù. |
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Cybele is the Latin name of
the goddess called by the Greeks Rhea
and Ops. She was the wife of Cronos
and mother of Zeus.
In works of art she exhibits the matronly air which
distinguishes Juno (Hera)
and Ceres (Demeter).
Sometimes she is veiled, and seated on a throne with lions
at her side [image],
at other times riding in a chariot drawn by lions. She
wears a mural crown, that is, a crown whose rim is carved
in the form of towers and battlements [image].
Her priests were called Corybantes.
[See also: The
legend of Cybele and Attis] |
Äûº§·¹´Â ±×¸®½ºÀε鿡 ÀÇÇÏ¿© ·¹¾Æ, ȤÀº ¿É½º¶ó°í ºÎ¸£´Â ¿©½ÅÀÇ ¶óƾ À̸§ÀÌ´Ù. ±×³à´Â Å©·Î³ë½ºÀÇ ¾Æ³»À̸ç, Á¦¿ì½ºÀÇ ¸ðÄ£ÀÌ´Ù. ±×·¡¼ ¹Ì¼úÀÛǰ Áß¿¡¼´Â Çì¶ó³ª ÄÉ·¹½º¿Í´Â ´Þ¸® ¼ÒÀ§ ¿©¼º´ä°Ô À§¾öÀÖ´Â ÀÚŸ¦ Çϰí ÀÖ´Ù. ¶§·Î´Â º£ÀÏÀ» ¾²°í °ç¿¡ µÎ ¸¶¸®ÀÇ »çÀÚ¸¦ °Å´À¸®°í ¿ÁÁ À§¿¡ ¾É¾Æ ÀÖÀ» ¶§µµ ÀÖ°í, ¶§·Î´Â »çÀÚ°¡ ²ô´Â ÀÌ·ûÂ÷¸¦ Ÿ°í ÀÖÀ» ¶§µµ ÀÖ´Ù. ±×³à´Â º®(º®) ¸ð¾çÀÇ ±Ý°üÀ» ¾²°í Àִµ¥, ±×°ÍÀº Å׵θ®°¡ ž°ú È亮(È亮) ¸ð¾çÀ¸·Î Á¶°¢µÈ °üÀÌ´Ù. ±×³à¿¡°Ô ºÀ»çÇÏ´Â »çÁ¦´Â ÄÚ·ò¹ÝÅ×½º¶ó°í ºÒ·¶´Ù. |
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Byron,
in describing the city of Venice, which is built on a low
island in the Adriatic Sea, borrows an illustration from
Cybele:
¡¡
"She looks a sea-Cybele fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers."
(Childe
Harold, IV.)
In Moore's
"Rhymes on the Road," the poet, speaking of
Alpine scenery, alludes to the story of Atalanta and
Hippomenes thus:
¡¡
"Even here, in this region of wonders, I find
That light-footed Fancy leaves Truth far behind,
Or at least, like Hippomenes, turns her astray
By the golden illusions he flings in her way."
[See also: Atalanta
- A Girl with Attitude]
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Back to Chapter XVII
On to Chapter XIX |
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¡¡THOMAS BULFINCH
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