Death of Orpheus

{A}bove, I told and recounted to you how the poet, through his singing and his teaching, had drawn trees, woods, and wild beasts to himself on the mountain where he was situated, thanks to his song that was so sweet. It was so sweet and pleasing, melodious and delightful, that even the rocks were moved by the sweet song and followed him. [1–10]

{W}hile the prophet sang such a song and enchanted everyone, there came the Ciconian women, full of fierce wickedness, who had covered their mad breasts with the skins of wild beasts. They spied the poet who, as he sang, enchanted the crowds and drew them to his teaching. They rushed upon him with hostility, calling out loudly, and saying to each other: “See, now, our adversary, our opponent, the traitor, the misbegotten one who goes about deluding the crowds, denouncing us and our deeds, and who scorns us and considers us beneath him. If we suffer him to be alive much longer, we’ll all be disgraced, confounded, and shamed. We will never again be held in any regard, but be base and degraded in everyone’s eyes.” [11–32]

Then one of them threw a spear, but it did not harm or wound him. He picked up the shaft, which had become covered with leaves because of his sweet music. Another hurled a rock at him instead of a spear, in vain, for it was overpowered by the sweet melody of Orpheus’s song; and the rock fell, as though to humble itself and beg for mercy, at the feet of the harpist, poet, and singer. [33–44]

Then the great frenzy, rage, and madness of the false women, full of anger, multiplied. When they saw the rocks bounce back because of the sweetness of Orpheus’s lyre, in order to quash the melody and prevent anything from hearing him that might be able to be stirred up against him, amongst themselves they made such a shrieking, uproar, and clamor, and they blew their trumpets so loudly, that no one could have heard god himself thunder.