Works of Nonnus

by Nonnus

  275 κουφίζων ἑλικηδόν, ὀπισθοτόνῳ δ᾽ ὑπὸ τέχνῃ

  καμπύλον ᾐώρησεν ἐπ᾽ αὐχένι ταρσὸν ἑλίξας:

  καὶ βαλίῃ στροφάλιγγι παλιννόστοιο χορείης

  ὕπτιος αὐτοέλικτος ἐκάμπτετο κυκλάδι τέχνῃ

  πεπταμένην ἐπίκυρτον ἐς ἠέρα γαστέρα φαίνων,

  280 τὴν αὐτὴν στεφανηδὸν ἀτέρμονα νύσσαν ἀμείβων:

  καὶ κεφαλὴ πεφόρητο παρήορος, οἷά περ αἰεὶ

  ἁπτομένη δαπέδοιο καὶ οὐ ψαύουσα κονίης:

  καὶ ποδὶ λαχνήεντι πέδον Σειληνὸς ἀμύσσων

  ἄστατος ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα ποδῶν βακχεύετο παλμῷ.

  [263] So horned Seilenos wove his web with neathanded skill, and his right hand ceased to move. Then fixing his gaze on the sky, he leapt into the air with bounding shoe. Now he clapt both feet together, then parted them, and went hopping from foot to foot; now over the floor he twirled dancing round and round upright upon his heels and spun in a circling sweep. He stood steady on his right foot holding a toe of the other foot, or bent his knee and caught it in his clasped hands, or held an outstretched thigh with the other leg upright, the heavyknee Seilenos! He lifted the left foot coiling up to the side, to the shoulder, twining it behind him and holding it up until he brought the sole round his neck. Then with a quick turn of the back-swerving dance, he artfully bent himself over, face up, in a hoop, showing his belly spread out and curved up towards the sky, while he spun round and round on one unchanging spot. His head hung down as he moved, as if it were always touching the ground and yet not grazing the dust. So Seilenos went scratching the ground with hairy foot, restlessly moving round and round in his wild caperings.

  285 καὶ τότε γούνατα κάμνε, τινασσομένου δὲ καρήνου

  ὕπτιος αὐτοκύλιστος ἐπωλίσθησεν ἀρούρῃ:

  καὶ ποταμὸς μορφοῦτο: δέμας δέ οἱ ἔβλυεν ὕδωρ

  χεύμασιν αὐτομάτοισιν: ἀμειβομένου δὲ μετώπου

  εἰς προχοὴν ἐπίκυρτον ἐκυμαίνοντο κεραῖαι,

  290 καὶ ῥόθιον κορυφοῦτο κυκώμενον ὕψι καρήνου,

  καὶ βυθὸς ἰχθυόεις ψαμάθῳ κοιλαίνετο γαστήρ:

  Σειληνοῦ δὲ χυθέντος ἀμειβομένη πέλε χαίτη

  εἰς θρύον αὐτοτέλεστον: ὑπὲρ ποταμοῖο δὲ γείτων

  ὀξυτενὴς σύριζε δόναξ δεδονημένος αὔραις

  [285] At last his knees failed him; with shaking head he slipt to the ground and rolled over on his back. At once he became a river: his body was flowing water with natural ripples all over, his forehead changed to a winding current with the horns for waves, the turbulent swell came to a crest on his head, his belly sank into the sand, a deep place for fishes. As Seilenos lay spread, his hair changed into natural rushes, and over the river his pipes made a shrill tune of themselves as the breezes touched them.

  295 αὐτοφυής. γλυκερὴν δὲ Μάρων ἀνεδήσατο νίκην,

  ἀγκὰς ἔχων κρητῆρα βεβυσμένον ἡδέος οἴνου:

  Σειληνοῦ δὲ χυθέντος ἀέθλιον, οἷά τε λοιβήν,

  ἀργύρεον κρητῆρα λαβὼν ἔρριψε ῥεέθροις,

  καὶ προχοὰς ἐμέθυσσε χοροπλεκέος ποταμοῖο,

  300 χῶρος ὅθεν κρητῆρος ἐπώνυμος, ἡδυπότου δὲ

  Σειληνοῦ κελάδοντος ἀκούεται Εὔιον ὕδωρ.

  καί τινα μῦθον ἔλεξε Μάρων ποταμηίδι πηγῇ:

  [295] But Maron crowned himself with the sweets of victory, and held in his arms the mixer stuffed with delicious wine; he took the silver bowl, the prize of Seilenos now a flood, and threw it into the river as a libation, where it intoxicated the currents of the dancing river. And so the place was named from the Mixer, and men still speak of the Euian water of murmuring Seilenos full of sweet drink. Then Maron addressed these words to the running stream:

  ‘οὔ σε Μάρων, Σειληνέ, Βιάζεται: εἰς σὲ δὲ ῥίψω

  οἶνον ἐρευθιόωντα καὶ οἰνοδόκον σε καλέσσω.

  305 δέξο, μέθης ἀκόρητε, τεὸν μέθυ, δέχνυσο Βάκχου

  ἀργύρεον κρητῆρα, καὶ ἔσσεαι ἀργυροδίνης.

  εἰλιπόδη Σειληνέ, καὶ ἐν προχοῇσι χορεύεις,

  σεῖο ποδῶν στροφάλιγγα καὶ ἐν ῥοθίοισι φυλάσσεις,

  εἰσέτι κωμάζεις διερὸν τύπον: ἀλλὰ σὺ Βάκχαις

  310 ἵλαθι καὶ Σατύροισι καὶ οἰνοδότῃσιν ὀπώραις,

  Σειληνοὺς δὲ φύλασσε, τεῆς βλάστημα γενέθλης:

  ἀκροπότῃ δὲ Μάρωνι χαρίζεο, μηδέ σε νίκης

  ζῆλον ὑποκλέπτοντα καὶ ὲν ποταμοῖσι νοήσω.

  ὕδασι μᾶλλον ἄεξε Μαρωνίδος οἶνον ὀπώρης:

  [303] “Maron does you no harm, Seilenos. I will cast the ruddy wine into you and call you the Cellarer. Accept your drink, tippler never satisfied, accept the silver bowl of Bacchos, and you shall have silvery eddies. Seilenos Twirlthefoot, you dance even in your current, you keep the spinning of your feet even in your waves, you revel still in your watery shape. Then be gracious to Bacchants and Satyrs and winegiving vintage, and guard the Seilenoi of your own race. Be generous to Maron who drinks no heeltaps, and let me never see that you still keep a secret grudge among the rivers. Rather let your waters increase the wine of Maron’s vintage, and be of one mind with Dionysos even among the rivers.

  315 ἔσσο καὶ ἐν ποταμοῖσιν ὁμοφρονέων Διονύσῳ.

  νήπιε, τίς σε δίδαξεν ἀρειοτέροισιν ἐρίζειν;

  Σειληνὸς πάλιν ἄλλος, ὑπέρβιον αὐλὸν ἀμείβων,

  αὐχένα γαῦρον ἄειρε καὶ εἰς ἔριν ἤλυθε Φοίβῳ:

  ἀλλά ἑ γυμνώσας λασίου χροός, ἔρνεϊ δήσας,

  320 ἔμπνοον ἀσκὸν ἔθηκε, καὶ ὑψόθι πολλάκι δένδρου

  ἐνδόμυχος κόλπωσε τύπον μιμηλὸν ἀήτης,

  οἶα πάλιν μέλποντος ἀσιγήτοιο νομῆος:

  καἰ μιν ἐποικτείρων μορφώσατο Δελφὸς Ἀπόλλων,

  καὶ ποταμὸν ποίησεν ὁμώνυμον: εἰσέτι κείνου

  325 Σειληνοῦ λασίοιο φατίζεται ἀγκύλον ὕδωρ,

  καὶ κτύπον ἠνεμόφοιτον ἐρεύγεται, οἶά περ αἰεὶ

  ἀντιτύποις δονάκεσσι μελιζομένου Φρυγὸς αὐλοῦ.

  [315] “Foolish one, who taught you to strive with your betters? Another Seilenos there was, fingering a proud pipe, who lifted a haughty neck and challenged a match with Phoibos; but Phoibos tied him to a tree and stript off his hairy skin, and made it a windbag. There it hung high on a tree, and the breeze often entered, swelling it out into a shape like his, as if the shepherd could not keep silence but made his tune again. Then Delphic Apollo changed his form in pity, and made him the river whic
h bears his name. Men still speak of the winding water of that hairy Seilenos, which lets out a sound wandering on the wind, as if he were still playing on the reeds of his Phrygian pipe in rivalry.

  καὶ σὺ δέμας μετάμειψας ἀρείονι νεῖκος ἀνάψας

  Σειληνῷ προτέρῳ πανομοίιος. ἀλλὰ σὺ νύμφην

  330 μηκέτι μαστεύσειας ἀσάμβαλον ἠθάδα Βάκχην,

  Βάκχην λυσιέθειραν ὀρειάδα: λυσικόμων γὰρ

  Νηιάδων ἀπέλεθρος ἐυφραίνει σε γενέθλη.

  μηκέτι μαστεύσῃς ὀφιώδεα δεσμὰ Λυαίου,

  ἐγχέλυας μεθέπων σκολιὴν ὠδῖνα ῥεέθρων,

  335 καὶ στικταῖς φολίδεσσιν ἀρηρότες ἀντὶ δρακόντων

  ἰχθύες ὑμετέροισιν ἐφερπύζουσι ῥεέθροις.

  εἰ δὲ σὺ βοτρυόεντος ἐνοσφίσθης Διονύσου.

  μᾶλλον ἐπολβίζω σε: σὺ γὰρ καὶ βότρυν ἀέξεις:

  τί πλέον ἤθελες ἄλλο τεῶν θρεπτῆρα ῥοάων

  340 Ζῆνα φέρων μετὰ Βάκχον, ὅλης γενετῆρα γενέθλης;

  ἀντὶ τεῶν Σατύρων ποταμῶν στίχες: ἀντὶ δὲ ληνοῦ

  Ὠκεανοῦ κελάδοντος ὑπὲρ νώτοιο χορεύεις.

  εἴκελον εἶδος ἔχεις καὶ ἐν ὕδασιν: οὐ νέμεσις δὲ

  Σειληνὸν κομόωντα βοοκραίροισι μετώποις

  345 ταυρείην κερόεσσαν ἔχειν ποταμηίδα μορφήν.’

  [328] “So you also have changed your shape by challenging one better than you, just like the earlier Seilenos. You must no longer seek a barefoot Bacchant for your bride as before, that Bacchant of the mountains with flowing locks; you have now for your pleasure the innumerable tribe of Naiads with flowing hair. Seek no longer the snaky wreaths of Lyaios; eels are what you have to do with, the wriggling travail of the streams, and instead of serpents there are fishes with close fitted speckled scales crawling in your streams. And if you have parted from Dionysos and his grapes, I hold you the happier; for you really make the grapes to grow! What more could you want, when you have after Bacchos now Zeus ° to feed your streams, the Father of all creation? Instead of your Satyrs you have your regiments of rivers; instead of the winepress you dance on the back of murmuring Ocean. Even in the waters you are like what you were: it is proper that Seilenos, once proud of his horned forehead, as a river should have the horned shape of a bull.”

  εἶπε Μάρων: καὶ πάντες ἐθάμβεον ἀγκύλον ὕδωρ

  Σειληνοῦ ζαχύτοιο κυβιστητῆρος ἰδόντες.

  ἰσοφυὲς μίμημα πολυγνάμπτου ποταμοῖο.

  [346] So Maron spoke; and all wondered to see the winding waters of Seilenos the tumbling flood, the ever-turning river which was his very likeness.

  BOOK 20

  εἰκοστὸν μεθέπει φονίου βουπλῆγα Λυκούργου,

  εἰς βυθὸν ἰχθυόεντα διωκομένου Διονύσου.

  λῦτο δ᾽ ἀγών: Σάτυροι δὲ σὺν εὐθύρσῳ Διονύσῳ

  βότρυος ἀφνειοῖσιν ἐναυλίζοντο μελάθροις.

  τοῖσι δὲ δαινυμένοις ἐπεκώμασαν οἰνάδες Ὧραι:

  καὶ κτύπος ἦν τυπάνων ἐπιδόρπιος, ὀξὺ δὲ σύρεγξ

  5 ἀμφιλαφὴς ἐλίγαινεν, ἀρυόμενοι δὲ κυπέλλοις

  οἰνοχόοι μογέεσκον ἀλωφήτῳ παρὰ δείπνῳ:

  καὶ πλέον αἰτίζεσκον ὀπάονας οἶνον ἀφύσσειν

  δαιτυμόνες σαίνοντες: ἀνεσκίρτησε δὲ Βάκχη

  κύμβαλα δινεύουσα, φιλοσκάρθμοιο δὲ κούρης

  10 ἄπλοκος ἀκρήδεμνος ἐσείετο βόστρυχος αὔραις.

  BOOK XX

  The twentieth deals with the pole-axe of bloodthirsty Lycurgos, when Dionysos is chased into the fishy deep.

  THE Games were over; the Satyrs with Dionysos of the thyrsus spent the night in the opulent halls of Botrys. The Seasons of the vintage joined in the banqueters’ revels: there was banging of drums at that supper, the panspipes filled the place with their shrill tones; the servers were busy ladling wine into the cups at the unresting feast, and the banqueters ever kept coaxing the servants to draw more wine. The Bacchant leapt high, waving her cymbals, while the hair of the dancing girl shook in the breezes without ribbon and without veil.

  καὶ θεὸς ἀμπελόεις, καλέσας Σταφύλοιο γυναῖκα,

  αὐχμὸν ἀποσμήξας ἐπεκόσμεεν οἴνοπι πέπλῳ:

  καὶ Πίθου εὐρυγένειον ὅλον ῥυπόωντα καθήρας

  ἀργεννῷ παλίνορσος ἀνεχλαίνωσε χιτῶνι.

  15 ῥίψας πένθιμα πέπλα χυτῇ πεπαλαγμένα τέφρῃ:

  οὐκέτι δ᾽ αὐτοχύτοισι παρήια δάκρυσι δεύων

  βότρυς ἀνεστενάχιζε, Διωνύσῳ δὲ πιθήσας

  φωριαμοὺς ὤιξε θυώδεας: οἰγομένων δὲ

  μαρμαρυγὴ σελάγιζε πολυγλήνων ἀπὸ πέπλων:

  20 κεῖθεν ἑλὼν Σταφύλου βασιλήια φαιδρὰ τοκῆος

  δύσατο πορφυρέῳ πεπαλαγμένα φάρεα κόχλῳ,

  καὶ θαλίης ψαύοντι συνειλαπίναζε Λυαίῳ.

  [11] The vinegod called the wife of Staphylos, wiped away the dirt and adorned her with a wine-coloured robe. He cleansed broadbeard Pithos from the dirt which covered him, and threw away the mourning clothes soiled with smears of ashes, then dressed him again in a gleaming-white frock. Botrys lamented no longer or wetted his cheeks with helpless welling tears, but at Bacchos’s bidding opened his scented coffers; as they opened, sparkling gleams came from robes covered with gems. From these he took out and donned the brilliant royal garb of Staphylos his father, steeped in purple dye, and joined Lyaios at table to touch the feast.

  τοῖσι δὲ τερπομένοισιν ἀνέδραμεν Ἕσπερος ἀστὴρ

  φέγγος ἀναστείλας χοροτερπέος ἠριγενείης.

  25 δαιτυμόνων δὲ φάλαγγες ἀμοιβαδὶς ἔνδοθεν αὐλῆς

  ὕπνου δῶρον ἕλοντο βαθυστρώτων ἐπὶ λέκτρων.

  καὶ Πίθος ἄλχι Μάρωνος ἀνήιεν εἰς μίαν εὐνήν,

  νεκταρέης εὔοδμον ἀναβλύζων πόμα ληνοῦ,

  ἀλλήλους δ᾽ ἐμέθυσσαν ἴσην πέμποντες ἀυτμὴν

  30 πάννυχον. Εὐπετάλη δέ, τιθηνήτειρα Λυαίου,

  δαλὸν ἀναψαμένη καὶ Βότρυϊ καὶ Διονύσῳ

  δισσὴν ἀμφοτέροις ἁλιπόρφυρον ἔντυεν εὐνήν:

  γείτονι δ᾽ ἐν θαλάμῳ Σατύρων δίχα, νόσφι Λυαίου,

  ἀμφίπολοι στορέσαντο λέχος χρύσειον ἀνάσσῃ.

  [23] While they were amusing themselves, the star of evening rose and rolled away the light of dance-delighting day. The troops of banqueters one after another took the boon of sleep, on piles of bedding in the hall. Pithos entered one be
d with Maron, with drops still on his lips of the fragrant potion from the nectarean winepress; and breathing out the same breath they intoxicated each other all night long. Eupetale the nurse of Lyaios lit a torch, and prepared a double bed strewn with sea-purple, for both Botrys and Dionysos. In a neighbouring room, away from the Satyrs and apart from Bacchos, the servants laid a golden bed for the queen.

  35 Βάκχῳ δ᾽ ἦλθεν ὄνειρος, Ἔρις πολέμοιο τιθήνη,

  ἅρμασι μιμηλοῖσιν ἐφεδρήσσουσα λεόντων,

  Ῥείης εἶδος ἔχουσα, φιλοκροτάλοιο θεαίνης:

  καὶ Φόβος ἡνιόχευεν ὀνειρείων ζυγὰ δίφρων

  ἀντιτύποις μελέεσσι νόθος μορφούμενος Ἄττις,

  40 καὶ θρόον ὀξὺν ἔχων ἁπαλόχροος ἄρσενι μορφῇ

  ἡνίοχον Κυβέλης ἀπεμάξατο θήλεϊ φωνῇ:

  Βάκχου δ᾽ ὑπναλέοιο παρεστηκυῖα καρήνῳ

  φοιτὰς Ἔρις νεμέσησε, καὶ ἐγρεμόθῳ φάτο φωνῇ:

  [35] A dream came to Bacchos — Discord the nurse of War, in the shape of Rheia the loverattle goddess, seated in what seemed to be her lionchariot. Rout drove the team of this dreamchariot, in the counterfeit shape of Attis with limbs like his; he formed the image of Cybele’s charioteer, a softskinned man in looks with shrill tones like the voice of a woman. Gadabout Discord stood by the head of sleeping Bacchos, and reproached him with brawlinciting voice:

  ‘ὑπνώεις, Διόνυσε θεηγενές: εἰς ἐνοπὴν δὲ

  45 Δηριάδης καλέει σε, καὶ ἐνθάδε κῶμον ἐγείρεις:

  μητρυιὴ δ᾽ ὁρόωσα τεὴν φύξηλιν Ἐνυὼ

  Ἥρη κερτομέει σε, σὺ δὲ στρατὸν εἰς χορὸν ἕλκεις.

  αἰδέομαι Κρονίωνι φανήμεναι, ἄζομαι Ἥρην,