Works of Nonnus

by Nonnus

  [...]χώδεα [...

  230 βότρυν ὀπισθοπόροιο κόμης ἐλέλιζεν ἀήτης

  κουφίζων ἑκάτερθεν, ἀειρομένων δὲ κομάων

  λευκοφαὴς σελάγιζε μέσος γυμνούμενος αὐχήν.

  καὶ νέος οὐρεσίφοιτος ὁμάρτεε πολλάκι κούρῃ,

  πῇ μὲν ἐπιψαύων σταλίκων ἢ τόξον ἀφάσσων,

  235 πῇ δὲ ποθοβλήτοιο τιταινομένοιο βελέμνου

  ἱμερτῆς ἐδόκευε ῥοδόχροα δάκτυλα κούρης:

  εἴ ποτε τοξεύουσα κέρας κυκλώσατο νευρῇ,

  καὶ παλάμη γυμνοῦτο, λαθὼν νέος ὄμματι λοξῷ

  λευκὸν ὀιστευτῆρα βραχίονα δέρκετο κούρης,

  240 ὄμμα παλινδίνητον ἄγων, ὀχετηγὸν Ἐρώτων,

  εἰ τόσον, ὡς Νίκαια, πέλε λευκώλενος Ἥρη:

  ἑσπερίην δ᾽ ἐπὶ πέζαν ἑὴν ἐτίταινεν ὀπωπήν,

  εἰ πλέον ἀργυφέη πέλε παρθένος, ἠὲ Σελήνη.

  [220] And the deceiver Eros excited the longing herdsman, and shook him with yet stronger passion. For as the maiden sped unapproachable on her hunting among the rocks, a light breeze bellied out all her kirtle into the air, and her body showed fair and fresh: white thighs, ruddy ankles, like lily, like anemone, appeared a flowery meadow of snowy limbs; and the young man desire-haunted, with insatiate gaze, watching beheld the unimpeded circuit of her naked thighs. The breeze shook backwards the cluster of her hair, lifting it lightly this way and that, and as the hair was lifted the neck bared in the midst gleamed shining white. And the young man often haunted the mountains following the girl, now touching the shafts or feeling at her bow, now watching the rosy-tinted fingers of the lovely girl, when she aimed the lance he loved; if ever in shooting she drew the horn round with the bowstring, and her hand was bared, unseen the young man with furtive eye surveyed the girl’s white archer-arm, bringing round again and again the eye, love’s conduit, wondering if Hera’s arm were as white as Nicaia’s; and stretched his gaze towards the expanse of evening, to see if the maiden were more white, or Selene.

  καὶ νέος, ἀμφιέπων ὑποκάρδιον ἕλκος Ἐρώτων,

  245 ἐγγὺς ἐὼν καὶ νόσφιν ἐὼν ἐμνώετο κούρης,

  πῶς βέλος εἰς σκοπὸν εἷλκεν ὀρειάδος ἀντίον ἄρκτου,

  πῶς δὲ λεοντείῃ παλάμην ἐσφίγξατο δειρῇ

  δίζυγα γυρώσασα βραχίονα μάρτυρι δεσμῷ,

  πῶς πάλιν ἱδρώουσα λοέσσατο χεύματι πηγῆς

  250 ἡμιφανής, καὶ μᾶλλον ἀεὶ μιμνήσκετο πέπλου,

  ὁππότε μιν δονέων καὶ ἐς ὀμφαλὸν ἄχρις ἀείρων

  γυμνώσας χροὸς ἄνθος ἀνηκόντιζεν ἀήτης:

  κείνου μνῆστιν ἔχων γλυκερὰς ἱκέτευεν ἀέλλας,

  ὄφρα πάλιν βαθύκολπον ἀναστείλωσι χιτῶνα.

  [244] So the young man, cherishing under his heart the wound of love, whether near or whether far, kept his mind on the girl: how she drew the arrow for a shot against a mountain bear; how she fastened hand on the lion’s neck, circling about it her two arms in a betraying noose; how again, after toil and sweat, she washed her in the flow of a brook, half-showing, ever more careful of her kirtle, when the breeze would shake it and lift it up to the midnipple, and shoot out the flower of the beauty laid bare. Keeping this in memory, he conjured again the sweet winds, to raise again the deep-folded robe.

  255 καὶ νέος ἀστήρικτος ἐυκραίρῳ παρὰ ποίμνῃ

  γείτονα θηρεύουσαν ἰδὼν ὑψαύχενα κούρην

  τοῖον ἀπερροίβδησεν ἔπος ζηλήμονι φωνῇ:

  [255] And the young man, restless beside his horned herd, saw the girl in high head hunting hard by; and he shouted out these words with envious voice:

  ‘Αἴθε βέλος γενόμην ἢ δίκτυον ἠὲ φαρέτρη,

  αἴθε βέλος γενόμην θηροκτόνον, ὄφρά με γυμναῖς

  260 χερσὶν ἐλαφρίσσειεν: ὀπισθοτόνοιο δὲ τόξου

  εἴην νεῦρα βόεια πολὺ πλέον, ὄφρά με μαζῷ

  χιονέῳ πελάσειε σαόφρονος ἔκτοθι μίτρης,

  ναὶ δαμάλη, ναὶ μόσχε, σαόφρονος ἔκτοθι μίτρης.

  παρθένε, κουφίζεις βέλος ὄλβιον: ὑμέτεροι δὲ

  265 ὕμνου μηλονόμοιο μακάρτεροί εἰσιν ὀιστοί,

  ὅττι τεῶν ψαύουσιν ἐρωτοτόκων παλαμάων.

  σοῖς γλυκεροῖς σταλίκεσσιν ἀφωνήτοισι μεγαίρω:

  οὐδὲ μόνον σταλίκων με φέρει πόθος: ἀλλὰ καὶ αὐτοῦ

  ζῆλον ἔχω τόξοιο καὶ ἀπνεύστοιο φαρέτρης.

  270 αἴθε μεσημβρίζουσα ποθοβλήτῳ παρὰ πηγῇ

  γυῖα καταψύξειεν, ἴδω δ᾽ ὑψαύχενα κούρην,

  ναὶ δαμάλη, ναὶ μόσχε, δίχα φθονεροῖο χιτῶνος.

  οὔ πώ μοι, Κυθέρεια, τόσην ᾤκτειρας ἀνάγκην;

  Θρινακίην οὐκ οἶδα καὶ οὐ κεραελκέα ποίμνην,

  275 οὐ βόας Ἠελίοιο κατ᾽ οὔρεα ταῦτα νομεύω,

  οὐ κρυφίην ἤγγειλε πατὴρ ἐμὸς Ἄρεος εὐνήν.

  [258] “O that I were a shaft, or a net, or a quiver! O that I were a beast-hitting lance, that she might carry me in her bare hands! Would that I could become much rather the ox-gut of the back-bent bow, that she might press me to that snowy breast free of the modest stomacher! Aye, heifer; aye, he-calf, free of the modest stomacher! Maiden, you bear a happy lance; your arrows are more blest than shepherd Hymnos, because they touch your palms that breed love. I envy your sweet voiceless netstakes. Not only do I long for your stakes; your very bow I envy, and your quiver that breathes not. O that she would refresh her limbs at midday by the amorous fount, and I may see the high-headed girl, aye heifer, aye he-calf, without the envious tunic! Have you not yet pitied me, Cythereia, for this cruel necessity? I know not Thrinacia, I know not its horned herd, no oxen of the Sun are these I tend in the mountains, no father of mine told the secret bed of Ares.

  παρθένε, μή με δίωκε, καὶ εἰ βόας εἰς νομὸν ἕλκω:

  οὐρανίων λεχέων ἐπιβήτορές εἰσι νομῆες:

  Τιθωνὸς ῥοδόεις πέλε νυμφίος, ὃν διὰ μορφὴν

  280 δίφρον ἐὸν στήσασα φαεσφόρος ἥρπασεν Ἠώς:

  καὶ Διὸς οἰνοχόος πέλε βουκόλος, ὃν διὰ κάλλος

  φειδομένοις ὀνύχεσσιν ἐκούφισεν ὑψιπέτης Ζεύς.

  δεῦρο, βόας ποίμαινε, καὶ ὁπλοτέρην σε καλέσσω

  ἄλλῳ βουκολέοντι σὺν Ἐνδυμίωνι Σελήνην:

  285 ῥῖπτε βέλος καὶ ψαῦε καλαύροπος, ὄφρά τις εἴπῃ:

  ‘Ὕμνου μηλονόμοιο βόας Κυθέρεια νομεύει.’’

  [277] “Maide
n, do not chase me away, if I do take oxen to pasture! There are herdsmen that lie in heavenly beds. Rosy Tithonos was a bridegroom for whom because of his fine figure lightbringer Eos stayed her car, and caught him up; and he that pours wine for Zeus was an oxherd, whom highsoaring Zeus for his beauty carried off with tender hands. Come hither, tend the kine, and I will call you a younger Selene with another Endymion, this time an oxherd: throw down the lance, take hold of the herdsman’s staff, that one may say— ‘Cythereia is tending the kine of shepherd Hymnos.’”

  ὣς φάτο καὶ λιτάνευε, φίλων δ᾽ ἐδράξατο γούνων

  χερσὶ γυναιμανέεσσι, καὶ ἕσπετο, καί οἱ ἐνίψαι

  ἔτρεμεν οἶστρον Ἔρωτος, ἑῇ δ᾽ ὑπεμέμφετο σιγῇ.

  [287] So he spoke and prayed, and tore at his knees with womanmad hands, and followed, and trembled to tell her love’s frenzy, yet blamed his own silence.

  290 καί ποτε θάρσος ἔχων γαμίων ὑποεργὸν Ἐρώτων

  κείμενα Νικαίης ἀνεκούφισεν ἔντεα θήρης,

  καὶ δόρυ θοῦρον ἄειρε, πόθου δ᾽ ὑπό μείζονι κέντρῳ

  κούρης χωομένης γλυκερὴν ἤειρε φαρέτρην,

  καὶ κύσε δίκτυα κωφὰ καὶ οὐ πνείοντας ὀιστούς,

  295 χείλεσι τερπομένοισι μιαιφόνον ἰὸν ἐρείσας,

  καὶ στέρνοις ἐπέλασσεν ἀφειδέι χειρὶ πιέζων:

  καί τινα μῦθον ἔειπεν ἀδουπήτῳ τινὶ φωνῇ:

  [290] One day, taking courage to further an honourable love, he carried away Nicaia’s gear of the chase where it lay, and took her valiant lance, and under a greater sting of longing, angry though the girl was, took also her sweet quiver; he kissed the senseless nets and the arrows that had no breath, and pressing a murderous arrow to his delighted lips, squeezed it with violent hand and put it to his breast; and he said these words with a noiseless voice:

  ‘Πρὸς Παφίης, φθέγξασθε πάλιν, δρύες, ὡς ἐπὶ Πύρρης,

  ὡς ἐπὶ Δευκαλίωνος, ἐλέγξατε λυσσάδα κούρην.

  300 δάφνη καὶ σὺ φίλη, δενδρώδεα ῥῆξον ἰωήν:

  αἴθε καλὴ Νίκαια πάρος πέλε, καί κεν Ἀπόλλων

  ἁβροτέρην ἐδίωκε, καὶ οὐ φυτὸν ἔπλετο Δάφνη.’

  [298] “In the Paphian’s name, utter voice again, you trees! as in Pyrrha’s time, as in Deucalion’s, reprove this mad girl! And you, Daphne beloved, break into arboreal speech! Would that fair Nicaia had been in former times: Apollo would have pursued the more dainty, and Daphne would not have become a bush.”

  ὣς φάτο: καὶ σύριγγι σαόφρονος ἐγγύθι κούρης

  μάρτυν ἑῆς ὀδύνης, γαμίην ἐμελίζετο μολπήν.

  305 παρθενικὴ δ᾽ ἀγόρευεν ἐπεγγελόωσα νομῆι:

  [303] So he spoke; and beside the modest girl, he played on his pipes a wedding tune, witness of his pain. But the maiden spoke out in mockery of the herdsman:

  ‘Ἡδὺς ὁ συρίζων Παφίης μέλος ὑμέτερος Πάν:

  πολλάκι μέλψεν Ἔρωτα καὶ οὐ πέλε νυμφίος Ἠχοῦς.

  ἆ πόσα Δάφνις ἄειδεν ὁ βουκόλος: ἀμφὶ δὲ μολπῇ

  παρθένος ἀστιβέεσσιν ἐκεύθετο μᾶλλον ἐρίπναις

  310 ποιμενίης φεύγουσα βοῆς μέλος. ἆ πόσα Φοίβου

  ἔκλυε μελπομένοιο καὶ οὐ φρένα θέλγετο Δάφνη.’

  [306] “A pretty thing, your Pan piping the Paphian’s tune! Often he chanted Eros, and never became Echo’s bridegroom. Ah, how many a song sang Daphnis the oxherd! but with his chanting the maiden hid all the more in untrodden ravines, to escape the tune of the shepherd’s call. Ah, how many a song sang Phoibos! while Daphne heard him, but felt no pleasure at heart.”

  ὣς φαμένη δόρυ θοῦρον ἐδείκνυεν ἄφρονι βούτῃ.

  αὐτὰρ ὁ λυσσήεντι τετυμμένος ἡδέι κέντρῳ,

  μὴ νοέων, ὅτι τόσσον ἔην ἄστοργος Ἀμαζών,

  315 πομπὸν ἑοῦ θανάτοιο δυσίμερον ἴαχε φωνήν:

  [312] So speaking, she showed her valiant lance to the foolish oxherd. But he, smitten with the maddening sweet sting, not understanding that the Amazon was so heartless, uttered a voice of unhappy passion, harbinger of his own death:

  ‘Ναί, λίτομαι, προΐαλλε φίλον δόρυ, χιονέῃ δὲ

  κτεῖνέ με σῇ παλάμῃ, καὶ τέρπομαι: οὐ σέο λόγχην,

  οὐ τρομέω, φυγόδεμνε, τεὸν ξίφος, ὅττι τελευτὴν

  ὀξυτάτην ὀπάσειεν, ὅπως ποτὲ πικρὸν ἀλύξω

  320 ἔμπεδον ἕλκος Ἔρωτος, ὑπὸ φρένα βοσκόμενον πῦρ.

  τεθναίην, ὅτι πότμος ἐπήρατος: εἰ δὲ βελέμνῳ

  τοξοφόρος μετὰ Κύπριν ὀιστεύσεις με καὶ αὐτή,

  πρὸς Παφίης, μὴ πέμπε κατ᾽ αὐχένος, ἡμετέρην δὲ

  σὸν βέλος εἰς φρένα πῆξον, ὅπῃ βέλος ἐστὶν Ἐρώτων.

  325 αὐχένι μᾶλλον ἴαλλε τεὸν δόρυ, μὴ φρένα τύψῃς:

  ὠτειλῆς ἑτέρης οὐ δεύομαι. εἰ δέ σε τέρπει,

  τλήσομαι ἄλλο βέλεμνον, ὅπως ἐμὲ γαῖα καλύψῃ

  καὶ πυρὸς ἕλκος ἔχοντα καὶ οὐτηθέντα σιδήρῳ.

  κτεῖνέ με τὸν δυσέρωτα, τεῆς μὴ φείδεο νευρῆς.

  330 θηλύνεις δὲ σίδηρον, ὅταν ψαύσειας ὀιστῶν:

  ἵσταμαι αὐτοκέλευστος ἐγὼ σκοπός, ὄμματι τερπνῷ

  δάκτυλα μαρμαίροντα περὶ γλυφίδεσσι δοκεύων,

  ἐκταδὸν αὖ ἐρύοντα τεὴν μελιηδέα νευρὴν

  δεξιτερῷ ῥοδόεντι πελαζομένην σέο μαζῷ.

  335 θνήσκω νεκρὸς Ἔρωτος ἑκούσιος ἡδέι πότμῳ:

  οὐκ ἀλέγω θανάτοιο καὶ οὐ τρομέω νέφος ἰῶν,

  γυμνὴν ὑμετέρην χιονώδεα χεῖρα δοκεύων

  ἁπτομένην τόξοιο καὶ ἱμερόεντος ὀιστοῦ.

  εἰς ἐμὲ πάντα βέλεμνα τεῆς προΐαλλε φαρέτρης,

  340 εἰς ἐμὲ πέμπε βέλεμνα μιαιφόνα: πικρότεροι γὰρ

  ἄλλοι ἐμὲ κλονέουσι πυριγλώχινες ὀιστοί.

  [316] “Aye, cast your beloved spear, I beseech you, and slay me with your snowy hand, and it is my joy! I fear not your pike, I fear not your sword, wedlock-shirker! So may it provide the quickest end, that I may escape at last the lasting sore of love, the fire that feeds under my heart! May I die, for that fate is my delight! But if you will follow Cypris, and yourself also shoot me a shot from the bow you bear, in the Paphian’s name, do not send it through the neck, but fix your shot in my heart, where now is the shot of love. Nay rather, let fly your lance at the neck, strike not the heart: I need no second wound. But if it gives you joy, I will endure another shot, that earth may cover me, both keeping the sore o
f the fire, and wounded by the steel. Kill me the hapless lover, spare not your bowstring. — But you put woman into the steel, when you handle the arrows. — Here I stand, a willing butt, watching with joyous eye the fingers twinkling about the notches, and pulling to its length your honeysweet string, drawing it close to your right breast so rosy! I die Love’s willing carrion, by a sweet fate! I care not about death, I tremble not before a cloud of arrows, watching for your bare hand like snow to touch bow and arrow that I desire. Let fly at me all the shots of your quiver, shoot at me your murdering shots: other and more bitter arrows already volley upon me fire-barbed.

  ἢν δὲ κατακτείνῃς με τεῷ φρενοθελγέι τόξῳ,

  παρθένε, μὴ φλέξειας ἐμὸν δέμας ἠθάδι πυρσῷ:

  πυρκαϊῆς ἑτέρης οὐ δεύομαι: ἀλλὰ σύ, κούρη,

  345 μοῦνον ἐμοὶ φθιμένῳ γλυκερὴν περίχευε κονίην

  χειρὶ τεῇ, πυμάτην ὀλίγην χάριν, ὄφρά τις εἴπῃ:

  ῾παρθένος ὡς ἐλέαιρε, τὸν ἔκτανε.᾿ μηδὲ θανόντος

  αὐλὸς ἐμός, μὴ πηκτὶς ἐμῷ περὶ σήματι κείσθω,

  ποιμενίην μὴ βάλλε καλαύροπα, μάρτυρα τέχνης:

  350 ἀλλὰ κατακταμένοιο τεὸν βέλος ὑψόθι τύμβου

  πῆξον, ἐμῷ δυσέρωτι λελουμένον εἰσέτι λύθρῳ.

  δὸς δέ μοι ὑστατίην ἑτέρην χάριν ὑψόθι τύμβου

  ἄνθεα Ναρκίσσοιο ποθοβλήτοιο γενέσθω

  ἢ κρόκος ἱμερόεις ἢ Μίλακος ἄνθος Ἐρώτων,

  355 εἰαρινὴν δὲ φύτευε μινυνθαδίην ἀνεμώνην

  πᾶσιν ἀπαγγέλλουσαν ἐμὴν μινυώριον ἥβην.

  εἰ δέ σε μὴ τέκε πόντος ἀμείλιχος ἠὲ κολῶναι,