Works of Nonnus

by Nonnus

  ἄζομαι ἀθανάτους, ὅτι μὴ κάμες ἄξια Ῥείης:

  50 Τιτήνων δ᾽ ὀλετῆρα, προασπιστῆρα τοκῆος,

  αὐχένα γαῦρον ἔχοντα κατ᾽ οὐρανὸν Ἄρεα φεύγω,

  ἀσπίδα κουφίζοντα διάβροχον ἠθάδι λύθρῳ:

  καὶ γνωτὴν δέο μᾶλλον, ἀριστογόνοιο τοκῆος

  αὐτοτελῆ γονόεντος ἀμήτορα παῖδα καρήνου,

  55 Παλλάδα δειμαίνω κορυθαιόλον, ὅττι καὶ αὐτὴ

  μέμφεται ἄρσενα Βάκχον ἀεργέα θῆλυς Ἀθήνη:

  εἴκαθεν αἰγίδι θύρσος, ἐπεί ποτε Παλλὰς ἀγήνωρ

  αἰγίδα κουφίζουσα πύλας ἔστεψεν Ὀλύμπου,

  Τιτήνων σκεδάσασα θυελλήεσσαν Ἐνυώ,

  60 πατρῴου δ᾽ ἐγέραιρε σοφὴν ὠδῖνα καρήνου:

  καὶ σὺ Διὸς γονόεσσαν ἐπαισχύνεις πτύχα μηροῦ.

  ἠνίδε, πῶς γελόωσι καὶ Ἑρμείας καὶ Ἀπόλλων,

  ὃς μὲν ἀερτάζων δίδυμον βέλος εἰσέτι λύθρῳ

  ὑψιλόφων τεκέων πεπαλαγμένον Ἰφιμεδείης,

  65 ὃς δὲ καταφθιμένοιο πολυβλεφάροιο νομῆος

  ῥάβδον ἔχων ὀλέτειραν: ἐγὼ δ᾽ ἐμὸν αἰθέρα φεύγω

  μῶμον ἀλυσκάζουσα φυγοπτολέμου Διονύσου.

  θύρσους δ᾽ ἠρεμέοντας ὀπιπεύουσα Λυαίου

  μέμφεται ὀρχηστῆρι φιλοσκοπέλῳ Διονύσῳ

  70 παρθένος ἰοχέαιρα, κυβερνήτειρα δὲ δίφρου

  οὐτιδανῶν ἐλάφων, βαλίων ὀλέτειρα λαγωῶν,

  μέμφεται οὐρεσίφοιτος ὀρειάδος ἐγγύθι Ῥείης

  πορδαλίων ἐλατῆρι καὶ ἡνιοχῆι λεόντων.

  παιδὸς ἐμοῦ Διὸς οἶκον ἀναίνομαι: ἐν γὰρ Ὀλύμπῳ

  75 ἅζομαι αὐχήεσσαν ἀγαλλομένην ἔτι Λητώ,

  ἰὸν ἐμοὶ τανύουσαν ἑῶν χραισμήτορα λέκτρων,

  γηγενέος Τιτυοῖο ποθοβλήτοιο φονῆα.

  καὶ διδύμαις ὀδύνῃσιν ἱμάσσομαι, ὅττι δοκεύω

  ἀχνυμένην Σεμέλην καὶ ἀγήνορος ἀστέρα Μαίης.

  80 οὐ σὺ Διὸς τεκέεσσιν όμοίιος: οὐ κτάνες ἰῷ

  Ὦτον ἀπειλητῆρα καὶ ὑψιπόδην Ἐφιάλτην,

  οὐ Τιτυὸν πτερόεντι τεῷ κατέπεφνες ὀτστῷ.

  οὐ θρασὺν Ὠρίωνα δυσίμερον, οὐ πρόμον Ἥρης

  Ἄργον, ἀεξικάκοιο βοοσκόπον υἱὸν ἀρούρης,

  85 Ζηνὸς ὀπιπευτῆρα βοοκραίρων ὑμεναίων:

  ἀλλὰ παρὰ Σταφύλῳ καὶ Βότρυϊ κῶμον ὑφαίνεις,

  ἀκλειὴς ἀσίδηρος ἐποίνιον ὕμνον ἀείδων:

  αἰσχύνεις Σατύρων χθόνιον γένος, ὅττι καὶ αὐτοὶ

  Βακχιάδος ψαύοντες ἀναιμάκτοιο χορείης

  90 Ἄρεος ἐλπίδα πᾶσαν ἐπετρέψαντο κυπέλλοις.

  ἔστι καὶ εἰλαπίνη μετὰ φύλοπιν, ἔστι χορεύειν

  Ἰνδῴην μετὰ δῆριν ἔσω Σταφύλοιο μελάθρων:

  πηκτίδες ἄψ αὔουσιν ἐνυαλίην μετὰ νίκην:

  νόσφι πόνων οὐκ ἔστιν ἀνέμβατον αἰθέρα ναίειν:

  95 οὐ πέλε ῥηιδίη μακάρων ὁδός: ἐξ ἀρετῆς δὲ

  ἀτραπὸς Οὐλύμποιο θεόσσυτος εἰς πόλον ἕλκει.

  τέτλαθι καὶ σὺ πόνους πολυειδέας: οὐρανίην γὰρ

  Ἥρη σοὶ κοτέουσα Διὸς μαντεύεται αὐλήν.’

  [44] “You sleep, godborn Dionysos! Deriades summons you to battle, and you make merry here! Stepmother Hera mocks you, when she sees your Enyo on the run, as you drag your army to dances! I am ashamed to show myself before Cronion, I shrink from Hera, I shrink from the immortals, because your doings are not worthy of Rheia. I avoid Ares, destroyer of the Titans, his father’s champion, who lifts a proud neck in heaven, still holding that shield ever soaked with gore; and I fear your sister still more, selfbred daughter of a father of fine progeny, unmothered child of her father’s head, flashhelm Pallas, because Athena too blames Bacchos idle, the woman blames the man! Thyrsus yielded to goatskin, since once upon a time valiant Pallas holding the goatskin defended the gates of Olympos, and scattered the stormy assault of the Titans, thus honouring the dexterous travail of her father’s head — but you disgrace the fruitful pocket in Zeus’s thigh! Look how Hermeias and Apollo laugh — one brandishing two arrows yet stained with the gore of Iphimedeia’s hightowering sons, the other holding the rod which destroyed the dead shepherd of many eyes. Indeed I must leave my own heaven to avoid reproach for battleshy Dionysos. The Virgin Archeress denounces Dionysos the dancer, the friend of mountains, when she sees him leaving his thyrsus alone; she drives only a weak team of stags, she kills only running hares, she ranges the mountains beside Rheia of the mountains, and she denounces one who drives leopards and manages lions! I disclaim the house of my own son Zeus; for in Olympos I shrink from Leto, still a proud braggart, when she holds up at me the arrow that defended her bed and slew Tityos the lustful giant. I am tortured also with double pain, when I see sorrowing Semele and proud Maia among the stars. You are not like a son of Zeus. You did not slay with an arrow threatening Otos and hightowering Ephialtes, no winged shaft of yours destroyed Tityos, you did not kill that unhappy lover bold Orion nor Hera’s guardian Argos, the cowkeeper, a son of the earth so fertile in evil, the spy on Zeus in his weddings with homed cattle! No, you weave your web of merriment with Staphylos and Botrys, inglorious, unarmed, singing songs over the wine; you degrade the earthy generation of Satyrs, since they also have touched the bloodless Bacchanal dance and drowned all warlike hopes in their cups. There may be banquet after battle, there may be dancing after the Indian War in the palace of Staphylos; viols may let their voice be heard again after victory in the field. But without hard work it is not possible to dwell in the inaccessible heavens. The road to the Blessed is not easy; noble deeds give the only path to the firmament of heaven by God’s decree. You too then, endure hardship of every kind. Hera for all her rancour foretells for you the heavenly court of Zeus.”

  ὥς φαμένη πεπότητο. θεὸς δ᾽ ἀνεπήλατο λέκτρων,

  100 φρικτὸν ἔχων ἔτι δοῦπον ἀπειλητῆρος ὀνείρου ...

  [99] She spoke, and flew away. The god leapt from his bed, with the terrible sound of that threatening dream still in his ears.

  καὶ θρασὺς ἄνθορε Βότρυς, ἑὸν δ᾽ ἔνδυνε χιτῶνα

  Σιδονίης ἀκτῖνας ἀκοντίζοντα θαλάσσης,

  καὶ χρυσέῳ συνέεργεν ἀρηρότα ταρσὰ πεδίλῳ:

  ὤμοις δ᾽ ἀκαμάτοις διμερῆ κληίδα φυλάσσων

  105 φαιδρὸν ἁλιχλαίνων περονήσατο φᾶρος ἀνάκτων,

  πατρῴην �
�αγόνεσσι βαλὼν ὑψήνορα μίτρην,

  σκῆπτρον ἔχων. Σάτυροι δὲ δαφοινήεσσαν ἀπήνην

  πορδαλίων ἔζευξαν ἐπειγομένῳ Διονύσῳ:

  Σειληνοὶ δ᾽ ἀλάλαζον: ἐμυκήσαντο δὲ Βάκχαι

  110 θυρσοφόροι: στρατιαὶ δὲ συνήλυδες εἰς μόθον Ἰνδῶν

  στοιχάδες ἐρρώοντο: καὶ ἔβρεμεν αὐλὸς Ἐνυοῦς:

  κεκριμένας δὲ φάλαγγας ἐκόσμεον ἡγεμονῆες.

  καί τις ὑπὲρ νώτοιο θορὼν ἐπιβήτορι παλμῷ

  εἰς δρόμον ἐσσυμένης λοφίην ἐπεμάστιεν ἄρκτου

  115 λυσσαλέης: ἕτερος δὲ δασύτριχα γαστέρα νύσσων

  ἄγριον ἡνιόχευε καλαύροπι ταῦρον ἀλήτην,

  πλευραῖς ἀμφοτέραις κεχαλασμένα ταρσὰ συνάπτων:

  ὅς δὲ δασυστέρνων ῥαχίης ἐπέβαινε λεόντων

  αὐχενίων πλοκάμων δεδραγμένος ἀντὶ χαλινοῦ.

  [101] Bold Botrys also leapt up, and put on his tunic shooting gleams of the Sidonian sea, and slipt his feet into wellfitting golden shoes. He threw over his unwearied shoulders the royal robe of bright purple cloth, pinning it with a brooch; his father’s proud girdle was round his loins and the sceptre in his hand. Satyrs yoked the panthers to the red car at the urgent bidding of Dionysos, Seilenoi uttered the warcry, Bacchant women roared, thyrsus in hand. The hosts gathered and marched line after line to the Indian War: Enyo’s pipes resounded, the leaders arranged the battalions in their places. One mounted with an agile leap on the back of a furious bear, whipping the hairy neck as it rushed on its course; another astride on a wild bull gripped his two flanks with hanging feet, and pricked his hairy belly with his crook to guide the wandering course; a third rode on the back of a shaggy lion, and pulled the hair of his mane instead of a bridle.

  120 καὶ μέγαρον πατρῷον ὁμοῦ καὶ κλῆρον ἐάσας

  βότρυς ἐρευθήεις, τετράζυγον ἄρμα τιταίνων,

  σύνδρομος ἡνιόχευε φιλοσταφύλῳ Διονύσῳ,

  δμῶας ἔχων κατόπισθε: μέθῃ δ᾽ ἄμα μητέρι νύμφη

  λευκοχίτων ἀνέβαινεν ἐς ἀργυρόκυκλον ἀπήνην,

  125 καὶ ζυγίων Φασύλεια κυβερνήτειρα λεπάδνων

  εἰς λόφον ἡμιόνων χρυσέην ἐλέλιζεν ἱμάσθλην:

  καὶ Πίθος εὐρυκάρηνος, ὀπίστερον ἅρμα τιταίνων,

  ἔσπετο θητεύων καὶ Βότρθϊ καὶ Διονύσῳ.

  οὐ μὲν ἔην ἀγέραστος: ἑλὼν δέ μιν εἰς χθόνα Λυδῶν

  130 Βάκχος ἄναξ ἔστησε μέθης ἐγκύμονι ληνῷ,

  δεχνύμενον χυτὸν ὄγκον ἐυρραθάμιγγος ὀπώρης

  ἄγγεσιν οἰνοδόκοις, ὅθεν οὔνομα τοῦτο φυλάσσων

  πορφυρέῳ κενεῶνι πίθος παρὰ γείτονι ληνῷ

  ἵσταται Εὔια δῶρα δεδεγμένος εἰσέτι Βάκχου,

  135 σῆμα Πίθου προτέροιο: καὶ εἰ βροτέην λάχε φωνήν,

  τοῖον ἔπος Σατύροισιν ἐρεύγετο κῶμον ἀκούων:

  [120] So Botrys quitted his father’s palace and estate, clad in his purple, and driving his chariot-and-four by the side of grapeloving Dionysos, with slaves following behind. Methe his mother was in a mule-cart with silver wheels, and beside her was a white-robed maiden Phasyleia, who guided the team, flicking a golden whip over the mules’ necks. Pithos the broadhead followed behind in his own car, to serve both Botrys and Dionysos. Nor was he left without reward. Lord Bacchos took him away into Lydia, and there set him over a winepress teeming with the heady liquor, to receive the poured produce of the juicy vintage in vessels fit to hold wine. And so the name Pithos was given to the purple hollow of the vat, winch to this day stands close to a winepress to receive the Euian gifts of Bacchos, a memorial of the ancient Pithos. If it had human voice it would bellow such words as these to the Satyrs when it heard the revel:

  ‘εἰμὶ Πίθος, προτέροιο φερώνυμος, ἄγχι δὲ ληνοῦ

  δέχνυμαι ἡμερίδων γλυκερὸν ῥόον: Ἀσσυρίου δὲ

  λάτρις ἐγὼ Σταφύλου καὶ Βότρυος, ἀμφοτέρους δὲ

  140 νηπιάχους ἔθρεψα γέρων τροφός: εἰσέτι δ᾽ ἄμφω,

  οἶα πάλιν ζώοντας, ἐμαῖς λαγόνεσσιν ἀείρω.’

  [137] “I am Pithos, named after the old one, and here beside the winepress I receive the sweet juice of the garden-grapes. I was the servant of Assyrian Staphylos and Botrys; I was the old nurse who cared for them both as children, and I still carry them both upon my hips, as if they were still alive.”

  καὶ τὰ μὲν ὣς ἤμελλε μετὰ χρόνον ὀψὲ τελέσσαι

  Βάκχος ἄναξ. περόων δὲ Τύρον καὶ Βύβλον ὁδεύων

  καὶ ποταμοῦ θυόεντος Ἀδώνιδος εὔγαμον ὔδωπ

  145 καὶ σκόπελον Λιβάνοιο καὶ ἔνδια Κυπρογενείης,

  Ἀρραβίης ἐπέβαινε, καὶ εὐόδμων ὑπὸ δένδρων

  Νυσιάδος τανύφυλλον ἐθάμβεε δειράδα λόχμης

  καὶ πόλιν αἰπύδμητον, ἀκοντοφόρων τροφὸν ἀνδρῶν.

  [142] But this Lord Bacchos was not to do for a long time to come. Now he marched past Tyros and Byblos, and the wedded water of the scented river of Adonis, and the rocks of Libanos where Cyprogeneia loves to linger. He climbed into Arabia, and under the frankincense trees he wondered at the ridge of Nysa with its dense forest, and the city built on the steep, the nurse of spearmen.

  ἔνθά τις, Ἄρεος αἷμα, μιαιφόνος ᾤκεεν ἀνήρ,

  150 ἤθεσι ῥιγεδανοῖσιν ἔχων μίμημα τοκῆος,

  ὀθνείους ἀθέμιστος ἀμεμφέας εἰς μόρον ἕλκων,

  αἰνομανὴς Λυκόοργος: ἀποκταμένων δὲ σιδήρῳ

  ἔστεφεν ἀνδρομέοισιν ἑὸν πυλεῶνα καρήνοις

  εἴκελος Οἰνομάῳ καὶ ὁμόχρονος, οὗ ποτε δειλὴ

  155 πατρὸς ἀνυμφεύτοισι δόμοις ἐφυλάσσετο κούρη

  χήρη, γηραλέη, γαμίων ἔτι νῆες Ἐρώτων,

  εἰσόκε Τανταλίδης, ἱππήλατον οἶδμα χαράσσων,

  ἄβροχον ἅρμα φέρων τετράζυγον ἐννοσιγαίου

  νυμφίδιον δρόμον εἶχεν, ὅτε τροχοειδέι κύκλῳ

  160 Μυρτίλος αἰολόμητις ἐπίκλοπον ἤνυσε νίκην

  μιμηλῷ τελέσας ἀπατήλιον ἄξονα κηρῷ,

  οἶκτον ἔχων καὶ ἔρωτα γοήμονος Ἱπποδαμείης:

  καὶ δρόμος ἦν ἀνόνητος: ὑπ᾽ Ἠελίοιο δὲ δίφρῳ

  κηροπαγὴς φλογόεντι τύπος θερμαίνετο πυρσῷ,

  165 καὶ τροχὸν ἠκόντιζε λυθεὶς μινυώριος ἄξων.

  [149] There lived a b
loodthirsty ruffian, the ferocious Lycurgos, a son of Ares and like his father in his own horrid customs. He used to drag innocent strangers to death against all right, and cut off with steel human heads, which he hung over his gateway in festoons. He was like Oinomaos and of the same age. Oinomaos kept his unhappy daughter unmarried in his house, without husband, growing old and yet unacquainted with wedded love, until Tantalides came scoring the highroad of the deep in Earth-shaker’s fourhorse chariot unwetted. Then came his race for a bride; then cunningminded Myrtilos got him a stolen victory, by making for the wheel a sham axle of wax to deceive — for he was himself in love with sorrowful Hippodameia and pitied her. So the race was useless: under the burning chariot of Helios the waxmoulded model grew warm in the heat, the shortlasting axle melted and shot off the wheel.

  τοῖος ἔην Λυκόοργος ὁμότροπος: ἀχθοφόρους δὲ

  πολλάκις ἐν τριόδοισιν ἀλήμονας ἄνδρας ὁδίτας

  δήσας εἰς δόμον εἷλκεν, Ἐνυαλίῳ δὲ τοκῆι

  δαιτρεύων ἱέρευε: δαϊζομένων δὲ μαχαίρῃ

  170 ἄκρα λαβὼν ἐπύκαζε κακοξείνους πυλεῶνας.

  ὡς δ᾽ ὅτε δυσμενέων μετὰ φύλοπιν ὀψὲ μολόντος

  ἀνδρὸς ἀκοντοφόροιο νέης ἀναθήματα νίκης,

  ἀσπίδες ἢ πήληκες, ἐπεκρεμόωντο μελάθρῳ,

  οὕτω καὶ φονίοιο παρὰ προπύλαια Λυκούργου

  175 ἄκρα ποδῶν καὶ χεῖρες ἐπῃώρηντο θανόντων.

  καὶ φόνος ἦν: ξενίου δὲ Διὸς παρὰ γείτονι βωμῷ

  ὀθνεῖοι στενάχοντες ἐμιστύλλοντο μαχαίρῃ,

  οἷα βόες καὶ μῆλα, περιρραίνοντο δὲ βωμοὶ

  σφαζομένων, στικτὴ δὲ κόνις φοινίσσετο λύθρῳ

  180 δώματος ἀμφὶ θύρετρα: βιαζόμενοι δὲ πολῖται