by Nonnus
[325] The Indians retreated at last from the carnage of the battle, fearing the valour of unconquered Dionysos.
BOOK XXXI
In the thirty - first, Hera propitiates Sleep for Cronides, and Persephone for Bacchos.
So struck by the spell of the Indian conflict, Bacchos sped about the bosom of the Erythraian land, shaking the golden locks against his snow-white cheeks.
[4] But Hera, swelling with jealous passions, scored the air with menacing sole, when she beheld the host of scattered Indians beaten like corn in the threshing where they stood, by the manslaying thyrsus of Lyaios. Again she awakened a new resentment, seeing the heap of Andromeda’s broken chains beside the Erythraian sea, and that rock lying on the sand, Earthshaker’s monstrous lump. Bitterly she turned her eye aside, not to glimpse by the sea the bronze-forged sickle of Gorgonslaying Perseus.
[13] For Perseus already was ferrying across to the thirsty stretches of Libya, swimming on his wings and circling in the air a quickfoot knee. He had taken the travelling eye of Phorcys’s old one-eyed daughter unsleeping; he dived into the dangerous cave, reaped the hissing harvest by the rockside, the firstfruits of curling hair, sliced the Gorgon’s teeming throat and stained his sickle red. He cut off the head and bathed a bloodstained hand in that viperish dew; then as Medusa was slain, the neck was delivered of its tMin birth, the Horse and the Boy with the golden sword.
[24] Then jealous resentment boiled up in Hera’s breast, and she belched spleen against Perseus and Dionysos; and she purposed to enchant the eyes and heart of Cronides in deceitful love, under the wing of Sweet sleep that is brought on after the bed, that while Zeus yet slumbered she might find some cunning trick to crush Lyaios. Away she went to the gloomy all-welcoming court of Hades: there she found Persephone, and told her a crafty tale:
[32] “Most happy I call you, that you dwell so far from the gods! You have not seen Semele at home in Olympos. I fear I may yet see Dionysos, one born of a mortal womb, master of the lightning after Zagreus, or lifting the thunderbolt in earth-born hands. Cornbringer, you have been robbed! Beside the Nile with his harvests they hold festival for another, instead of your sheafbearing mother Demeter; they tell of a spurious bountiful Deo, bullbred, horned, Inachos’s daughter lo.
[41] “And Ares, the one I brought forth, born of a heavenly womb, my own son, Mas shackled tight inglorious in earthly fetters in a jar, where Ephialtes had hidden him. Nor did heavenly Zeus my husband help him — but he rescued Semele’s son from the flaming fire, he saved Bacchos from the thunderbolt, while still a baby brat, his bastard son half-finished!
But Zagreus the heavenly Dionysos he would not defend, when he was cut up with knives!
[49] “What made me angrier still, was that Cronides gave the starry heaven to Semele for a bridegift, — and Tartaros to Persephoneia! Heaven is reserved for Apollo, Hermes lives in heaven — and you have this abode full of gloom! What good was it that he put on the deceiving shape of a serpent, and ravished the girdle of your inviolate maidenhead, if after the bed he was to destroy your babe?
[56] “Lord Zeus holds the starry hall on Olympos; he has given the briny sea to his brother the water king for his prerogative; he has given the cloudy house of darkness to your consort. Come now, arm your Furies against wineface Bacchos, that I may not see a bastard and a mortal king of Olympos. Pity the wife of Zeus who prays to you, pity Deo, pity praying Themis the immaculate, that the Indians may have a little space to breathe while Dionysos is shaken. Be the avenger of my sorrow, because Cronion has given nectar to Bacchos and the blood of battle to Ares! Let not Athens sing hymns to a new Dionysos, let him not have equal honour with Eleusinian Dionysos, let him not take over the rites of Iacchos who was there before him, let not his vintage dishonour Demeter’s basket!”
[70] The whole mind of Persephoneia was perturbed while she spoke, babbling deceit as the false tears bedewed her cheeks. Goddess bowed assent to goddess, and gave her Megaira to go with her, that with her evil eye she might fulfil the desire of Hera’s jealous heart.
[75] Hera then shot away with stormwinged shoe: three strides she made, and the fourth brought her to Ganges. She pointed out to unsmiling Megaira the crowd of dead Indians, the sweat of the army and the prowess of Dionysos. When the Fury beheld the deathdealing feats of Lyaios, her jealous heart was furious even more than heavenly Hera. Then Hera was glad; and with a grim laugh she addressed the snakyhaired goddess in despondent voice:
[83] “See how the young kings of Olympos triumph! See how the bastards of Zeus ply the spear! Zeus has been delivered of one son from Semele, that he may destroy all the Indians in a mass, the gentle innocents! Let Zeus the lawbreaker learn, and Bacchos, how great is the strength of Megaira! For shame — what a lawless mind has Zeus ruling on high! He never attacks the lawbreaking Tyrsenians, because they learn thieves’ laws of violence, and sail the Sicilian Sea in their unfriendly ships, and rob other men of their own. He slew not the impious tribe of Dryopes, where life is sharp steel and murder; but he did slay the Indians whose heart is set on piety, whom famous Themis herself, I think, nursed at her breast. For shame — what a lawless mind he has! when a mortal man has set on fire immortal Hydaspes, so noble and so great, a mortal man has set on fire him whose father was heavenly Zeus!”
[98] With these words, she flew away through the upper air; and silently in a cave of the neighbouring Caucasian cliff, Megaira east off the terrible serpent shape, and waited there in the form of an owl until she should see great Zeus fast asleep, for that was Queen Hera’s command.
[103] Hera herself made her way brooding to the waters of Chremetes in the west, where that afflicted ancient, Libyan Atlas, wearily bends under the whirling heavens; and she sought out the wife of jealous Zephyros, Iris, the messenger of Zeus when he is in a hurry — for she wished to send her swift as the wind from heaven with a message for shadowy Sleep. She called Iris then, and coaxed her with friendly words:
[110] “Iris, goldenwing bride of plantnourishing Zephyros, happy mother of Love! Hasten with stormshod foot to the home of gloomy Sleep in the west. Seek also about seagirt Lemnos, and if you find him tell him to charm the eyes of Zeus uncharmable for one day, that I may help the Indians. But change your shape, take the ugly form of Sleep’s mother the blackgirdled goddess Night; take a false name and become darkness, since I also change my limbs into the aspect of Themis, of Cythereia, of Artemis when need compels. Promise him Pasithea for his bride, and let him do my need from desire of her beauty. I need not tell you that one lovesick will do anything for hope.”
[124] At these words, Iris goldenwing flew away, peering through the air. To Paphos, to the land of Cyprus she directed her unwavering eye; most of all she gazed above Byblos, on the wedding water of Assyrian Adonis, seeking the wandering track of vagrant Sleep. She found him on the slopes of nuptial Orehomenosa; for there he delayed again and trailed his distracted foot, a frequent visitor at the door of his beloved Pasithea.
[132] Then Iris changed her shape, and all unseen she put on the look of dark Night unrecognizable. She came near to Sleep, weaving guile; and in his mother’s guise uttered her deceitful speech in cajoling whispers:
[136] “My child, how long is Cronides to despise me? Is it not enough that Phaethon does me violence, that Morning shoots me, and Dawn pursues me? Zeus has got a bastard son, just to confound my dear Sleep! One mortal by himself insults me and my son: all night long Bacchos destroys me, and provokes you, by keeping wide awake and kindling his blazing torch with mystic sparks. Why are you named Allvanquisher, Sleep? No longer you charm wakeful men, now that the spurious gleam of earthborn Lyaios has conquered my revels — for he hides the flames of my stars by brighter torches of his own. One mortal by himself insults me, a new Lightbringer who covers the beams of my Moon great as they are. I am shamed before Day when she mocks at darkness, because I have a false brightness in the night: for a foreign unnatural Sun makes me shine as if night were day. O my dear son! you must resent this on
two counts — resist the mystical Satyrs, resist Dionysos the sleepless! Grant this boon to your sorrowful mother, grant this boon to Hera, and charm the charmproof eye of Zeus in the Highest, just for one day, that she may help the Indians whom the Satyrs scatter in rout and still Bacchos harries.
[158] “O Sleep, why are you named All vanquisher? If it be your pleasure, pray turn your eye, and you shall perceive Cronion wakeful once again through the night in sevengate Thebes. Make an end of the wantonness of Zeus Lawbreaker! Amphitryon is far from his bridal chamber, steelclad and in the battle; Zeus makes himself at home by the side of Alcmena, enjoying insatiate three moons of bridal darkness! Let me not see Zeus yet wakeful for a fourth night.
[166] “Nay, my son, arm you against Cronion — let him not have more darkness, nine full circles more! Remember Mnemosyne in the old time before us; how he lay by her side for nine whole nights, with eyes ever wakeful, full of passion for many children in that unresting bridal. Another allvanquishing god, winged like Sleep, little Love, conquered Cronides with a tiny dart.
[173] “Pity the blackskin nation of earthborn Indians! Grant this boon — for they have the same colour as your mother — save the black ones, O Blackwing! Do not provoke Earth, my father’s age-mate, from whom alone we are all sprung, we who dwell in Olympos. Tremble not before Zeus, when his consort Hera is favourable: tremble not before Semele, whom her own bedfellow burnt up. No fiery lightning can equal you, no loud thunderclaps from the bursting clouds: do but flap me your wings, and Zeus lies immovable on unshaken bed, so long as you command him, Sleep! I have heard that you want one of the Graces; then if you have in your heart an itch for her bedchamber, have a care! Do not provoke Pasithea’s mother, Hera the handmaid of wedded love! And if you dwell with Tethys by the Leucadian Rock, do help Deriades the son of Indian Hydaspes: be true to a neighbour, for resounding Ocean your loud-voiced neighbour was an ancestor of Deriades.”
[191] With this appeal, she won his consent. Then Sleep as one obeying a mother started up, and swore to charm the eyes of unresting Zeus even until the third dawn should come; but Iris begged him to fasten Cronion with slumber for the course of one day only. There Sleep remained, awaiting the happy season of marriage.
[197] Then goddess Iris returned flying at speed, and hastened to deliver her welcome message to her queen.
[199] But Hera flew through the air on stormswift sole, and wove another plan, to visit Zeus carrying the cestus, that mindcharming girdle of desire. She sought for the Paphian; and found Assyrian Aphrodite seated in a solitary spot upon Libanos, alone, for the Graces, those dancers of Orchomenos, had been sent away to gather the various flowers of spring in the gardens — one to gather Cilician crocus, one eager to bring balsam and sprouts of the Indian reed, another for the fragrant petals of the rose.
[209] Wondering and startled, Aphrodite the daughter of Zeus leapt up from her seat, when she saw the consort of Zeus in sorrow; and the wily creature cried out —
[212] “Hera, queen of Zeus! why are your cheeks pale! Why are your eyes downcast, my queen? Can it be that Rainy Zeus has once more become a shower of deceit? Has he become a bull again, a drenched wayfarer in the waters? What second Europa is disturbing you? Is there another Antiope in the hairy embrace of a sham Satyr, although Nycteus her father forbids? Is there a new horse with a mind in him hasting to another bridal, while he lets out a false whinny between mimicking lips? Has he wooed another Semele with birthdelivering brand, and cast his lightning to show the way for love? Does he dance to the bed of some prettyhorned heifer while he utters a loving moo? Well, if you like, you can find up another cowkeeper to spy upon Zeus, a herdsman Argos, tattooed with unsleeping eyes! Answer my questions, and I will help all I can.”
[228] The goddess greeted her kindly with deceitful words:
[229] “Cypris goddess, we must leave the ground of Olympos for mortals. Zeus has brought to Olympos Semele the mother of Bacchos, and he will bring Dionysos himself to heaven. What mansion will receive Hera? To what place shall I go? I am ashamed lest I behold Semele, the usurping queen of Olympos. I fear he may take me and drive me out of Olympos like Cronos, and I may have to see the dark house of Iapetos. I fear he may shame the nectar, and bring from earth what they call the vine, to plant it in heaven even among the Blessed.
[240] “O Justice, O Earth, O Water, let this never be! May he never bring its twigs to heaven! that I should speak of the Viny Sky instead of the Starry Sky, in honour of the grape! that I should ever quaff another drink after the sweet nectar of Olympos! I fear to see warlike Athena drunken, shaking her spear against Ares and Cythereia — the stars wineshotten and maddened against each other, arousing reckless battle in heaven with the staggering drops of mindshaking Dionysos — all that dwell in Olympos infuriated, and mimicking the revels of carryshield Corybants!
[252] “Is it not shame enough, an impious thing, that I see the Trojan boy cup-lackey to Zeus, disgracing heaven and Hebe cupbearer of Zeus, when he ladles sweet nectar with human hands? Yes, I will go in my shame to earth; heaven I will leave to those two, Ganymedes and Dionysos — heaven I will leave, the home of Semele! Let heaven be common home for those two, Perseus and Dionysos.
I will retire to my Argos, to the glorious city of Mycene, and I will settle on earth. With his unhappy mother will go Ares himself, your bridegroom. Come yourself too, and set foot in your Sparta, and let Sparta receive corseleted Aphrodite in her anger along with brazen Ares.
[264] “I know where I get these troubles from. My father’s Avenger demands bloodprice from me for violence done to a father, because Hera the Titans daughter took strong part in the war against Cronos her father and helped Zeus in his fight. A fine thing for me to see Dionysos sitting in the midst of Olympos beside Eros, at the same table as the Foam-born, bearing the aegis once borne by Cronides and Athena. Help me, goddess, I pray! Lend me to aid my need your cestus band, your allcharming belt, just for one day — that I may charm the eyes of Zeus, and while Zeus slumbers I may help my Indians. I am twice your goodmother, for you have been bride of my Hephaistos and Ares both. Grant this boon at last; for the blackskin Indians have always hospitably entertained Erythraian Aphrodite, and these Indians Dionysos has assailed in his fury, on these Indians Zeus has wreaked his anger — Zeus the womanmad, the heartless, Zeus the bearer of children, he has battled for Dionysos and cast his lightnings upon them! Lend me your cestus band to help, with which alone you charm all in one! I am worthy to wear it, patroness of wedlock and fellow-helper of the Loves.”
BOOK XXXII
In the thirty-second are battles, and the bed of sleeping Zeus, and the madness of Bacchos.
APHRODITE was won. The mistress of wiles obeyed the cunning request, and drawing the cestus up from her bosom she bestowed it upon willing Hera, and thus she spoke and described the witchery of the strap:
[5] “Accept this strap to help your trouble. You shall charm all in one with this cestus, the guide to all desire — Sun and Zeus and the company of stars, and the evermoving stream of boundless Ocean.”
[9] This said, she plunged beneath the rocks of Assyrian Libanos. But Hera passed to the star-scattered circle of Olympos. Quickly she decked out her allwhite body. Often she guided the straying clusters of floating hair and arranged them in even rows down to her forehead; she touched up the plaits with sweetscented oil — stir it, and the farspreading scent of the unguent intoxicates heaven and sea and the whole earth. She put on her head a coronet of curious work, set with many rubies, the servants of love; when they move, the Cyprian flame sends out bright sparklings. She wore also that stone which draws man to desire, which has the bright name of the desire-struck Moon; and the stone which is enamoured of iron the loveproducing; and the Indian stone of love, offspring itself of the waters and akin to the Foamborn; and the deep blue sapphire still beloved of Phoibos. About her hair she twined that herb of passion which Cythereia loves as much as the rose, as much as the anemone, which she wears when she is about to mingle he
r love with Myrrha’s son. She bound the unaccustomed cestus about and about her flanks; but the embroidered robe she wore was her oldest, still bearing the bloodmarks of maidenhead left from her bridal, to remind her bedfellow of their first love when she came to her brother a virgin in that secret union. She washed her face, and wrapt about her a shining robe and clasped it with a brooch to lock up her tunic. Having thus adorned herself and surveyed all in the mirror, Hera sped through the air, swift as a bird, swift as a thought.
[38] She came near to Zeus. And when Zeus Highest and Mightiest saw her, the goading cestus whipt him to hotter love. As Zeus looked upon her, his eyes were enslaved, and staring hard Cronides spoke these words:
[42] “O Hera, why have you come to this eastern clime? What need has brought you? Why are you here to-day? Are you again full of wrath and armed against Bacchos of the vine? Do you desire to help those overweening Indians?”
[46] He spoke, and crafty Hera with laughing heart, yet mad with jealousy, answered, deluding her husband:
