Iris and Morpheus

at the Grand Trianon in the Park of the Palace of Versailles

In the Salon de Famille de Louis-Philippe of the Grand Trianon (opens in a new tab) in Versailles a painting from René-Antoine Houasse (opens in a new tab), Morpheus awakening as Iris draws near (also Iris and Morpheus) can be seen.

Based on a part of Book XI of The Metamorphoses (opens in a new tab) written by Ovid (opens in a new tab), it represents the particular moment when Iris (opens in a new tab), messager of Juno (opens in a new tab) enters the cave of the Sleep (opens in a new tab) to order to him to make Alcynoe (opens in a new tab) dream.

Iris according to text of Book XI of The Metamorphoses

583 but Juno could not long accept as hers

these supplications on behalf of one

then dead; and that she might persuade Halcyone

to turn her death-polluted hands away

“O, Iris, best of all my messengers,

go quickly to the dreadful court of Sleep,

and in my name command him to despatch

a dream in the shape of Ceyx, who is dead,

and tell Halcyone the woeful truth.”

So she commanded.—Iris instantly

assumed a garment of a thousand tints;

and as she marked the high skies with her arch,

went swiftly thence as ordered, to the place

where Sleep was then concealed beneath a rock.

Near the Cimmerian Land there is a cave,

with a long entrance, in a hallowed mountain,

the home of slothful Sleep. To that dark cave

the Sun, when rising or in middle skies,

or setting, never can approach with light.

There dense fogs, mingled with the dark, exhale

darkness from the black soil—and all that place

is shadowed in a deep mysterious gloom.

No wakeful bird with visage crested high

calls forth the morning's beauty in clear notes;

nor do the watchful dogs, more watchful geese,

600 nor wild beasts, cattle, nor the waving trees,

make sound or whisper; and the human voice

is never heard there—silent Rest is there.

But, from the bottom of a rock beneath,

Lethean waters of a stream ooze forth,

sounds of a rivulet, which trickle with

soft murmuring amid the pebbles and

invite soft sleep. Before the cavern doors

most fertile poppies and a wealth of herbs

bloom in abundance, from the juice of which

the humid night-hours gather sleep and spread

it over darkened Earth. No door is in

that cavern-home and not a hinge's noise

nor guarding porter's voice disturbs the calm.

But in the middle is a resting-couch,

raised high on night-black ebony and soft

with feathered cushions, all jet black, concealed

by a rich coverlet as dark as night,

on which the god of sleep, dissolved in sloth

lies with unmoving limbs. Around him there

in all directions, unsubstantial dreams

recline in imitation of all shapes—

as many as the uncounted ears of corn

at harvest—as the myriad leaves of trees—

or tiny sand grains spread upon the shore.

616 As soon as Iris entered that dread gloom,

she pushed aside the visions in her way

with her fair glowing hands; and instantly,

that sacred cavern of the god of Sleep

was all illuminated with the glow

and splendor of her garment.—Out of himself

the god with difficulty lifted up

his lanquid eyes. From this small sign of life

relapsing many times to languid sloth,

while nodding, with his chin he struck his breast

again and again. At last he roused himself

from gloom and slumber; and, while raised upon

his elbow, he enquired of Iris why

she came to him.—He knew her by her name.

“O, Sleep, divine repose

of all things! Gentlest of the deities!

Peace to the troubled mind, from which you drive

the cares of life, restorer of men's strength

when wearied with the toils of day, command

a vision that shall seem the actual form

of royal Ceyx to visit Trachin famed

for Hercules and tell Halcyone

his death by shipwreck. It is Juno's wish.”

630 Iris departed after this was said.

For she no longer could endure the effect

of slumber-vapor; and as soon as she

knew sleep was creeping over her tired limbs

she flew from there—and she departed by

632 the rainbow, over which she came before.