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The coins of Arethusa are arguably the most beautiful minted by the ancient Greeks. Their rapid artistic development from the archaic types at the beginning of the fifth century B.C. to the masterpieces of Kimon and Euainetos at the end of that century parallels the rapid development of Greek civilization during that period.

METAMORPHOSES by Ovid AD 8 THE FIFTH BOOK Arethusa’s Story In Elis first I breath’d the living air, The chase was all my pleasure, all my care. None lov’d like me the forest to explore, To pitch the toils, and drive the bristled boar. Of fair, tho’ masculine, I had the name, But gladly wou’d to that have quitted claim: It less my pride than indignation rais’d, To hear the beauty I neglected, prais’d; Such compliments I loath’d, such charms as these I scorn’d, and thought it infamy to please. Once, I remember, in the summer’s heat, Tir’d with the chase, I sought a cool retreat; And, walking on, a silent current found, Which gently glided o’er the grav’ly ground. The chrystal water was so smooth, so clear, My eye distinguish’d ev’ry pebble there. So soft its motion, that I scarce perceiv’d The running stream, or what I saw believ’d. The hoary willow, and the poplar, made Along the shelving bank a grateful shade. In the cool rivulet my feet I dipt, Then waded to the knee, and then I stript; My robe I careless on an osier threw, That near the place commodiously grew; Nor long upon the border naked stood, But plung’d with speed into the silver flood. My arms a thousand ways I mov’d, and try’d To quicken, if I cou’d, the lazy tide; Where, while I play’d my swimming gambols o’er, I heard a murm’ring voice, and frighted sprung to shore. Oh! whither, Arethusa, dost thou fly? From the brook’s bottom did Alpheus cry; Again, I heard him, in a hollow tone, Oh! whither, Arethusa, dost thou run? Naked I flew, nor cou’d I stay to hide My limbs, my robe was on the other side; Alpheus follow’d fast, th’ inflaming sight Quicken’d his speed, and made his labour light; He sees me ready for his eager arms, And with a greedy glance devours my charms. As trembling doves from pressing danger fly, When the fierce hawk comes sousing from the sky; And, as fierce hawks the trembling doves pursue, From him I fled, and after me he flew. First by Orchomenus I took my flight, And soon had Psophis and Cyllene in sight; Behind me then high Maenalus I lost, Elis was next; thus far the ground I trod With nimble feet, before the distanc’d God. But here I lagg’d, unable to sustain The labour longer, and my flight maintain; While he more strong, more patient of the toil, And fir’d with hopes of beauty’s speedy spoil, Gain’d my lost ground, and by redoubled pace, Now left between us but a narrow space. Unweary’d I ’till now o’er hills, and plains, O’er rocks, and rivers ran, and felt no pains: The sun behind me, and the God I kept, But, when I fastest shou’d have run, I stept. Before my feet his shadow now appear’d; As what I saw, or rather what I fear’d. Yet there I could not be deceiv’d by fear, Who felt his breath pant on my braided hair, And heard his sounding tread, and knew him to be near. Tir’d, and despairing, O celestial maid, I’m caught, I cry’d, without thy heav’nly aid. Help me, Diana, help a nymph forlorn, Devoted to the woods, who long has worn Thy livery, and long thy quiver born. The Goddess heard; my pious pray’r prevail’d; In muffling clouds my virgin head was veil’d, The am’rous God, deluded of his hopes, Searches the gloom, and thro’ the darkness gropes; Twice, where Diana did her servant hide He came, and twice, O Arethusa! cry’d. How shaken was my soul, how sunk my heart! The terror seiz’d on ev’ry trembling part. Thus when the wolf about the mountain prowls For prey, the lambkin hears his horrid howls: The tim’rous hare, the pack approaching nigh, Thus hearkens to the hounds, and trembles at the cry; Nor dares she stir, for fear her scented breath Direct the dogs, and guide the threaten’d death. Alpheus in the cloud no traces found To mark my way, yet stays to guard the ground, The God so near, a chilly sweat possest My fainting limbs, at ev’ry pore exprest; My strength distill’d in drops, my hair in dew, My form was chang’d, and all my substance new. Each motion was a stream, and my whole frame Turn’d to a fount, which still preserves my name. Resolv’d I shou’d not his embrace escape, Again the God resumes his fluid shape; To mix his streams with mine he fondly tries, But still Diana his attempt denies. She cleaves the ground; thro’ caverns dark I run A diff’rent current, while he keeps his own. To dear Ortygia she conducts my way, And here I first review the welcome day. Translated into English verse under the direction of Sir Samuel Garth (1661–1719) by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison, William Congreve and other eminent hands.

510-490 BC c. 490-485 BC c. 480 BC c. 470 BC c. 460 BC c. 440 BC c. 420 BC c. 400 BC c. 410-400 BC c. 405-400 BC c. 390 BC

ARETHUSA by Percy Bysshe Shelley 1820 I ARETHUSA arose From her couch of snows In the Acroceraunian mountains,— From cloud and from crag, With many a jag, Shepherding her bright fountains. She leapt down the rocks, With her rainbow locks Streaming among the streams;— Her steps paved with green The downward ravine Which slopes to the western gleams; And gliding and springing She went, ever singing, In murmurs as soft as sleep; The earth seemed to love her, And Heaven smiled above her, As she lingered towards the deep. II Then Alpheus bold, On his glacier cold, With his trident the mountains strook; And opened a chasm In the rocks—with the spasm All Erymanthus shook. And the black south wind It unsealed behind The urns of the silent snow, And earthquake and thunder Did rend in sunder The bars of the springs below. And the beard and the hair Of the River-god were Seen through the torrent’s sweep, As he followed the light Of the fleet nymph’s flight To the brink of the Dorian deep. III ‘Oh, save me! Oh, guide me! And bid the deep hide me, For he grasps me now by the hair!’ The loud Ocean heard, To its blue depth stirred, And divided at her prayer; And under the water The Earth’s white daughter Fled like a sunny beam; Behind her descended Her billows, unblended With the brackish Dorian stream:— Like a gloomy stain On the emerald main Alpheus rushed behind,— As an eagle pursuing A dove to its ruin Down the streams of the cloudy wind. IV Under the bowers Where the Ocean Powers Sit on their pearlèd thrones; Through the coral woods Of the weltering floods, Over heaps of unvalued stones; Through the dim beams Which amid the streams Weave a network of coloured light; And under the caves, Where the shadowy waves Are as green as the forest’s night:— Outspeeding the shark, And the sword-fish dark, Under the Ocean’s foam, And up through the rifts Of the mountain clifts They passed to their Dorian home. V And now from their fountains In Enna’s mountains, Down on vale where the morning basks, Like friends once parted Grown single-hearted, They ply their watery tasks. At sunrise they leap From their cradles steep In the cave of the shelving hill; At noontide they flow Through the woods below And the meadows of asphodel; And at night they sleep In the rocking deep Beneath the Ortygian shore;— Like spirits that lie In the azure sky When they love but live no more.

Ancient Greek Coins
by G. K. Jenkins
G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York, 1972

Coins of Greek Sicily
by Kenneth Jenkins
British Museum Publications Limited
University Press, Oxford, 1976

The complete text of the English translation of the Metamorphoses containing the extract above can be found at the Internet Classics Archive.

Another Roman poet, Virgil (Publi Vergili Maronis, 70-19 BC), refers to Arethusa’s story in his epic Aeneid in the following lines from Book III (English translation by John Dryden ):

In addition, the Perseus Project contains a passage from Pausanias (Description of Greece, [5.7.2]) giving his version of the legend of Arethusa.