Delayed verb — poscimus
Twin infinitives — esse... tuērī
eadem hōra — shared fate
Euphemism — busta
Gerundive — tumulandus
Personification — fidēs sequitur
Brevity — vōta fidēs sequitur
Parallelism — Baucis/Philemon
Historic infinitive — frondēre
Pathos — dum licuit
Repetition — simul... simul
Direct speech — valē, ō coniūnx
coniūnx — husband/wife
Delayed Main Verb
Lines 64-65: poscimus (word order 1)
What's happening: The main verb "we ask" doesn't appear until line 65, even though it's the first word you translate. Ovid makes us wait through all the things they're asking for before revealing the asking itself. It's a bit like someone saying "to be happy, to be healthy, to be loved — that's what I want."
In an exam: "The delayed position of poscimus ('we ask') creates suspense, allowing Ovid to foreground the content of the couple's prayer — their humble requests to serve as priests — before revealing the act of asking itself."
Twin Infinitives — Parallel Requests
Line 64: esse sacerdōtēs... tuērī dēlūbra
What's happening: Two infinitive phrases in parallel: "to be priests" and "to guard your shrine." The couple's prayer is beautifully balanced — they ask for a role (priests) and a responsibility (guardians). Nothing greedy, nothing excessive. Classic Baucis and Philemon modesty.
In an exam: "The parallel infinitive constructions esse sacerdōtēs ('to be priests') and tuērī dēlūbra vestra ('to guard your shrine') emphasise the modest, balanced nature of the couple's request. They seek only to serve the gods who have blessed them."
Shared Fate — eadem hōra
Line 66: auferat hōra duōs eadem
What's happening: "May the same hour take away the two of us." The word eadem ("the same") is key — they don't just want to die, they want to die together, at the exact same moment. The word duōs ("the two") echoes the unity theme we've seen throughout.
In an exam: "The emphatic placement of eadem ('the same') stresses the couple's desire for perfect synchronicity in death. Combined with duōs ('the two of us'), it reinforces their inseparable bond — they cannot conceive of existence without each other."
Euphemism — busta
Line 67: busta meae
What's happening: Busta literally means "tomb" or "funeral pyre" — it's a delicate way of referring to death without saying "dead body" or "corpse." Philemon can't bear to speak directly about his wife dying. The euphemism shows his tenderness and the depth of his feeling.
In an exam: "The euphemistic busta ('grave/tomb') reveals Philemon's emotional sensitivity — he cannot bring himself to speak directly of his wife's death. This linguistic delicacy underscores the depth of his love and his inability to contemplate life without her."
Gerundive of Obligation — tumulandus
Line 67: neu sim tumulandus ab illā
What's happening: The gerundive tumulandus ("having to be buried") expresses obligation or necessity. Philemon dreads the idea that Baucis would have the awful duty of burying him. It's not just about dying — it's about sparing each other the grief of being the survivor.
In an exam: "The gerundive tumulandus ('needing to be buried') in neu sim tumulandus ab illā ('nor may I have to be buried by her') conveys Philemon's concern not for his own death but for sparing Baucis the painful obligation of burying him. This selfless focus on his partner's wellbeing epitomises their mutual devotion."
Personification — fidēs sequitur
Line 68: vōta fidēs sequitur
What's happening: "Fulfilment followed the prayers" — fidēs (faith, trust, fulfilment) is personified as something that actively follows. It's as if the gods' reliability is a living thing that responds to worthy prayers. The gods keep their word.
In an exam: "The personification of fidēs ('fulfilment') in vōta fidēs sequitur ('fulfilment followed the prayers') presents divine reliability as actively responding to worthy prayers. The gods honour their promises to this deserving couple, and Ovid presents this as natural and inevitable."
Brevity — Terse Fulfilment
Line 68: vōta fidēs sequitur
What's happening: After Philemon's long, emotional prayer (lines 64-67), Ovid gives us just three words: "Fulfilment followed the prayers." That's it. Done. The brevity is striking — no drama, no elaboration. The gods simply grant the wish. The contrast with the lengthy prayer makes it even more powerful.
In an exam: "The striking brevity of vōta fidēs sequitur ('fulfilment followed the prayers') contrasts with Philemon's extended prayer (lines 64-67). This terse, three-word statement suggests the gods' response is effortless and inevitable — worthy prayers receive their due without fanfare."
Parallelism — Mirrored Structure
Lines 71-72: Philēmona Baucis / Baucida... Philēmōn
What's happening: Parallelism is when the same structure repeats. Here we get object-subject, then object-subject again: Philemon (obj) - Baucis (subj) / Baucis (obj) - Philemon (subj). The parallel structure shows them doing the exact same thing at the exact same time — each watching the other transform.
In an exam: "The parallel structure of Philēmona Baucis ('Baucis [noticed] Philemon') followed by Baucida... Philēmōn ('Philemon [noticed] Baucis') mirrors the couple's reciprocal experience. The repeated object-subject pattern (AB AB) emphasises their equality — each witnesses the other's transformation simultaneously."
Historic Infinitive — frondēre
Lines 71-72: frondēre Philēmona... frondēre Philēmōn
What's happening: The historic infinitive uses an infinitive instead of a finite verb for vivid, rapid narration. Frondēre ("to grow leaves") appears twice — it's unusual grammar that creates urgency. The transformation is happening so fast that normal verb tenses can't keep up.
In an exam: "The historic infinitive frondēre ('to grow leaves'), repeated for each spouse, creates a sense of rapid, vivid action. This grammatical choice accelerates the narrative, conveying the miraculous speed of the metamorphosis as both begin sprouting leaves simultaneously."
Pathos — dum licuit
Line 74: dum licuit
What's happening: "While they could" — just two words, but devastating. They're exchanging words while they still can, because in moments they won't be able to speak at all. Ovid slips this in almost casually, but it's heartbreaking. Their human voices are about to disappear forever.
In an exam: "The parenthetical dum licuit ('while they could') is deeply poignant, reminding readers that the couple's ability to speak is fleeting. This understated two-word phrase heightens the pathos of their final exchange, emphasising what is about to be lost."
Repetition — simul... simul
Line 75: dīxēre simul, simul... tēxit
What's happening: The word simul ("at the same time") appears twice in quick succession. This isn't accidental — Ovid is hammering home that their final words and their transformation happen at exactly the same moment. They say "farewell" and the bark covers them simultaneously. Even in metamorphosis, they're perfectly synchronised.
In an exam: "The repetition of simul ('at the same time') in dīxēre simul, simul... tēxit ('they said at the same time, at the same time [the shrub] covered') emphasises the perfect synchronicity of Baucis and Philemon's final moments. They speak their farewell and are covered by foliage simultaneously, fulfilling their wish never to be parted."
Direct Speech — Final Words
Lines 74-75: 'valē'... 'ō coniūnx'
What's happening: Ovid gives us their actual last words in direct speech: "Farewell, o husband/wife." After all the third-person narration, we suddenly hear their voices directly. It's intimate and immediate. And notice — they both say the same thing to each other. Even their final words are shared.
In an exam: "The shift to direct speech for 'valē' ('farewell') and 'ō coniūnx' ('o husband/wife') creates immediacy and intimacy at the poem's emotional climax. The identical words spoken by both — each calling the other 'spouse' — encapsulate their equality and mutual devotion in their final human moment."
Ambiguity — coniūnx
Line 75: 'ō coniūnx'
What's happening: The word coniūnx can mean either "husband" or "wife" — it's gender-neutral. Ovid uses this to brilliant effect: we're told they both say "o coniūnx" at the same time, and it works perfectly for both of them. He doesn't need to write out two separate speeches. One word captures both farewells.
In an exam: "The gender-neutral coniūnx ('spouse/husband/wife') allows Ovid to represent both characters' final words with a single phrase. This linguistic economy reinforces their equality and unity — they speak as one, using a word that applies equally to both, emphasising that their bond transcends individual identity."