by Nonnus
ἀντὶ Διὸς σπεύδοντο θυηπολέειν Λυκοόργῳ.
[166] Lycurgos was one of the same kind. Often when he met wandering wayfarers at the crossroads with loads on their backs, he had them bound and dragged to his house, and then sacrificed them to Enyalios his father; they were cut to pieces with knives, and he took their extremities to decorate his inhospitable gates. As a man who returns at last spear in hand from war with his enemies, and hangs up in the hall shields or helmets as trophies of a new victory, so on the blood-stained portals of Lycurgos the feet and hands of dead men were hung. It was massacre: at the neighbouring altar of Zeus, the Strangers God, groaning strangers were cut piecemeal like so many oxen and sheep, and the altars were drenched in the blood of the slain, the dust was spotted with red gore about the gates of the dwelling. The people under this tyranny made haste to sacrifice to Lycurgos instead of Zeus.
Οὐδ᾽ ἔλαθες, Διόνυσε, δολορραφέος φθόνον Ἤρης:
ἀλλὰ πάλιν κοτέουσα τεῇ θεόπαιδι γενέθλῃ
ἄγγελον Ἶριν ἔπεμπε δυσάγγελον, ὄφρά σε θέλξῃ
185 κλεψινόῳ κεράσασα δόλῳ ψευδήμονα πειθώ:
δῶκε δέ οἱ βουπλῆγα θεημάχον, ὄφρα κομίσσῃ
Ἀρραβίης μεδέοντι, Δρυαντιάδῃ Λυκοόργῳ.
[182] But you, Dionysos, did not escape the jealousy of trickstitching Hera. Still resentful of your divine birth, she sent her messenger Iris on an evil errand, mingling treacherous persuasion with craft, to bewitch you and deceive your mind; and she gave her an impious poleaxe, that she might hand it to the king of Arabia, Lycurgos Dryas’ son.
οὐδὲ θεὰ δήθυνεν: ἀμειβομένῳ δὲ προσώπῳ
Ἄρεος ἀντιτύποιο νόθην ἐψεύσατο μορφήν:
190 καὶ λόφον εὐπήληκα διαιθύσσουσα καρήνου,
δαιδαλέους κροκόεντας ἑοὺς ῥίψασα χιτῶνας,
κερδαλέῳ θώρηκι καλύπτετο, μαῖα κυδοιμοῦ,
αἱμαλέῳ θώρηκι, καὶ ἐγρεκύδοιμον ἀπειλὴν
ἄρσενα κερδαλέη βλοσυρῷ πέμπουσα προσώπῳ
195 γλῶσσαν Ἐνυαλίου τροχαλῇ μιμήσατο φωνῇ:
[188] The goddess made no delay. She assumed a false pretended shape of Ares, and borrowed a face like his. She threw off her embroidered saffron robes, and put on her head a helmet with nodding plume, donned a delusive corselet, as the mother of battle, a corselet stained with blood, and sent forth from her grim countenance, like a man, battlestirring menaces, all delusion. Then with fluent speech she mimicked the voice of Enyalios:
‘τέκνον, ἀνικήτου σπόρος Ἄρεος, ἦ ῤα καὶ αὐτὸς
Βασσαρίδων τρομέεις ἁπαλόχροα θῆλυν ἀπειλήν;
οὐκ ἀπὸ Θερμώδοντος Ἀμαζόνες εἰσὶ καὶ αὐταί,
οὐκ ἀπὸ Καυκασίοιο μαχήμονές εἰσι γυναῖκες:
200 οὐ θοὰ τόξα φέρουσι καὶ οὐ δονέουσιν ὀιστούς:
οὐ θρασὺν ἵππον ἔχουσιν Ἀρήιον: οὐδ᾽ ὑπὲρ ὤμων
βάρβαρον ἡμιτέλεστον ἐλαφρίζουσι βοείην.
αἰδέομαι καλέων σε ποτὶ κλόνον, ὅττι γυναῖκες
δῆριν ἀπειλείουσιν ἀδηρίτῳ Λυκοόργῳ.
205 ἠρεμέεις, Λυκόοργε, κορυσσομένου Διονύσου;
θνητὸς ἀνὴρ πέλεν οὗτος ἀώριος, οὐκ ἀπὸ φύτλης
οὐρανίης βλάστησε: Διὸς δέ μιν Ἑλλάδι φήμῃ
ἔμμεναι ἔπλασε μῦθος: ἐγὼ δ᾽ οὐκ οἶδα πιθέσθαι
ἀμφὶ τόκου Κρονίωνος, ὅτι βροτὸν ἄρσενι μηρῷ
210 υἱέα θῆλυν ἔτικτε πατὴρ ἐμὸς ὑψιμέδων Ζεύς:
μύθοις ψευδαλέοις οὐ πείθομαι, εἰ βροτὸς ἀνὴρ
Ζηνὸς ἐμοῦ τόκον ἔσχεν, ὅθεν βλάστησεν Ἀθήνη:
Ζεὺς ἐμὸς οὐ δεδάηκεν ἀνάλκιδα παῖδα λοχεῦσαι:
Ἄρεα σὸν γενέτην ἔχε μάρτυρον: εἶδες Ἀθήνην
215 παῖδα Διὸς θήλειαν ἀρειοτέρην Διονύσου.
[196] “My son, scion of invincible Ares, can it be that you too fear Bassarids and their tenderskin womanish threats? This is no new troop of Amazons from Thermodon, these are no warrior women of the Caucasos. They carry no swift arrows, they speed no shafts, they have no bold warhorse, nor over their shoulders do they hold the oxhide halfbuckler of the barbarians. I am ashamed to summon you to battle, when women cry havoc against Lycurgos who fears no havoc! Are you quiet, Lycurgos, while Dionysos is arming? He is a mortal abortion, not one sprung from heavenly stock. Son of Zeus — that is a fairytale of the Hellenes! I can’t believe all that about Cronion’s childbearing, how my father Zeus ruling on high brought forth a womanish son from his manly thigh! I believe no lying tales, that my Zeus who bore Athena has brought forth a mortal man! My Zeus never learnt how to give birth to a weakling son. Take the word of Ares your father. You have seen that Athena, the female child of Zeus, is stronger than Bacchos. —
τέκνον ἐμόν, μεθέπεις ἴδιον σθένος, οὐδὲ χατίζεις
πατρὸς Ἐνυαλίοιο, καὶ εἰ πολέμοισιν ἀνάσσει:
ἔμπης δ᾽. ἢν ἐθέλῃς, θωρήξομαι, οὐδέ σε λείψω
μοῦνον ἐνὶ πτολέμοισι: θεὰ δέ σοι, εἰ χρέος εἴη,
220 γνωτὴ Ζηνὸς ἄκοιτις ὁμόστολος εἰς μόθον Ἥρη
ἕσπεται υἱωνοῖο προασπίζουσα Λυκούργου ...’
[216] “My son, you possess your own strength; you need not your father Enyalios even if he is lord of war. Yet I will arm, if you wish, and I will not leave you in war alone; you shall have a goddess, if need be; Hera, sister and wife of Zeus, will go with you into battle to hold a shield before Lycurgos her grandson....”
‘ ... στήσω δ᾽ ὑμετέρου θεοδέγμονος ἔνδοθι νηοῦ
θύρσους Βασσαρίδων, νόθα δούρατα: Βουκεράων δὲ
Κενταύρων ἀτίνακτα κεράατα μακρὰ δαΐξας
225 τοξοφόρων Ἀράβων κεραελκέα τόξα τελέσσω,
ὡς θέμις: ἐκταδίην δὲ ταμὼν δολιχόσκιον οὐρὴν
Σειληνῶν λασίην τελέσω πλήξιππον ἱμάσθλην.
ταῦτα μὲν εἰς σὲ φέρω μετὰ φύλοπιν: ἀπτολέμου δὲ
Βάκχου ξανθὰ πέδιλα γυναικείους τε χιτῶνας
230 πορφυρέους καὶ θῆλυν ἐπ᾽ ἰξύι κυκλάδα μίτρην
γνωτῇ σεῖο δάμαρτι φυλάξομεν ἀφρογενείῃ,
ἅρμενα θήλεα δῶρα: γυναιμανέος δὲ Λυαίου
ἀμφιπόλων στίχα πᾶσαν ἐμοῖς δμώεσσι συνάψω
εἰς εὐνὴν ἀνάεδνον ἀναγκαίων ὑμεναίων,
235 οἷα δορικτήτοισι πέλει θέμις: οὐτιδανοὺς δὲ
ἡμερίδων ὄρπηκας, ἐνέα δῶρα Λυαίου,
θερ
μοτέρῳ σπινθῆρι δεδέξεται Ἀρραβίη φλόξ.
[222] “I will set up in your divine temple the rods of the Bassarids, their bastard spears. I will shear off the long horns unshaken from the oxhorned Centaurs, and make stronghorn bows for Arab archers, as it ought to be. I will cut off the long stretching tail from the Seilenoi, and make a hairy whip to beat horses. All these I will bring for you after the battle. But the yellow shoes of unwarlike Bacchos, and his woman’s dress of purple, and the woman’s girdle that goes round his loins, these I will keep for your sister-consort the seafoamborn, proper gifts for a woman. All the troop of attendants about womanmad Lyaios I will mate with my slaves in forced wedlock, without asking a brideprice, as it ought to be with captives of the spear. Those worthless plants of the gardenvine, the gentle gifts of Lyaios, fires of Araby shall receive with its hottest sparks!
καὶ βριαρὴ θεράπαινα χοροπλεκέος Διονύσου
Βασσαρὶς ἀλλοίην ἐχέτω καὶ ἀήθεα τέχνην
240 δώματα ναιετάουσα μετ᾽ οὔρεα, δαιδαλέην δὲ
νεβρίδα καλλείψασα δέμας κρύψειε χιτῶνι,
καρπὸν ἀλετρεύουσα μύλης τροχοειδέι πέτρῳ:
καὶ στεφάνους ῥίψασα, καὶ ἣν καλέουσιν ὀπώρην,
ξυνὰ διδασκέσθω μελεδήματα δίζυγι θεσμῷ,
245 δμωὶς ἀναγκαίη καὶ Παλλάδι καὶ Κυθερείῃ
ἠματίοις ταλάροισι καὶ ἐννυχίοις ὑμεναίοις,
κερκίδα κουφίζουσα καὶ οὐκέτι κύμβαλα Ῥείης.
Σειληνοὶ δὲ γέροντες ἐμῆς παρὰ δαῖτα τραπέζης
εὔιον ἀείσωσι, καὶ ἠθάδος ἀντὶ Λυαίου
250 κῶμον ἀνακρούσωσι καὶ Ἄρεϊ καὶ Λυκοόργῳ.’
[238] “Let the sturdy Bassarid, who served Dionysos in the mazes of the dance, learn a new and unfamiliar art: leaving the hills for a house, dropping the dappled fawnskin and covering her body with a shift, grinding corn with a round millstone. Let her throw off her garlands and the fruitage as they call it; let her learn to combine two common services, as bond-slave both to Pallas and Cythereia, with work-basket by day and the bed by night, handling the shuttle instead of Rheia’s cymbals. Let the old Seilenoi sing Euoi beside my festal board, and instead of their usual Lyaios let them strike up a revel for Ares and Lycurgos.”
ὣς φαμένου μείδησε θεὰ χρυσόπτερος Ἶρις,
ψευδαλέην ἴρηκος ἐρετμώσασα πορείην.
[251] So he spoke, and goldenwing Iris divine smiled to hear; then went her way, paddling in the false shape of a falcon.
καί μιν ἰδὼν Λυκόοργος ἑὴν μαντεύσατο νίκην,
γινώσκων ταχὺν ὄρνιν, ὅτι πτερὰ φοίνια πάλλων
255 ἀδρανέας δεδάηκε πελειάδας εἰς φόβον ἕλκεν:
εἶδε γάρ, εἶδεν ὄνειρον ὁμοίιον, ὡς παρὰ λόχμῃ
χαιτήεις κεκόρυστο λέων λυσσώδϊ λαιμῷ
καὶ βαλίων ἐλάφων κεραὴν ἐδίωκε γενέθλην.
τοῖον ὄναρ νοέων ἐκορύσσετο θυιάσι Βάκχαις,
260 Βασσαρίδας κεμάδεσσιν ἀπειρομόθοισιν ἐίσκων,
καὶ πλέον ἔλλαβε θάρσος, ἀναΐξασα δὲ δαίμων
νεύμασιν Ἡραίοισι προάγγελος ἦλθε Λυαίῳ,
ταρσὰ ποδῶν πτερόεντι περισφίγξασα πεδίλῳ,
ῥάβδον ἐλαφρίζουσα, καὶ ὡς Διὸς ἄγγελος Ἑρμῆς
265 Βάκχῳ χαλκοχίτωνι δολοπλόκον ἴαχε φωνήν:
[253] Lycurgos took this vision as an omen of his victory; for he recognized that the swift bird beating murderous wings knew how to scare away the feeble doves. For he had seen, he had seen another such dream, how a maned lion in the woods with ravening throat all ready gave chase to the horned generation of swift deer. With this dream in his mind he made ready against the frenzied Bacchants, thinking the Bassarids to be like prickets unacquainted with battle, and felt greater boldness than before. And Iris, by Hera’s command, put the winged shoe on her feet, and holding a rod like Hermes the messenger of Zeus, flew up to warn Lyaios of what was coming. To Bacchos in corselet of bronze she spoke deceitful words:
‘γνωτέ, περισσονόοιο Διὸς τέκος, ἔκτοθι χάρμης
ὄργια σεῖο κόμιζε φιλοξείνῳ Λυκοόργῳ.
λεῖπε μόθον, μὴ κτεῖνε φίλους, μὴ φεῦγε γαλήνην,
ἵλαθι μειλιχίοισι: τίς ἤπιον ἄνδρα δαμάσσει;
270 μηδὲ τεοῖς ἱκέτῃσιν ἀναστήσειας Ἐνυώ:
μὴ τεὸν ἀστερόεντι δέμας θώρηκι καλύψῃς:
μὴ κεφαλὴν σφίγξειας ἀερσιλόφῳ τρυφαλείῃ:
μὴ τρίχα μιτρώσειας ἐχιδνήεντι κορύμβῳ:
ἀλλὰ λιπὼν σέο θύρσα μιαιφόνα, καὶ κέρας οἴνου
275 ἔμπλεον ἡδυπότοιο καὶ ἠθάδα ῥάβδον ἀείρων,
εὔια δῶρα τίταινε φιλοσταφύλῳ Λυκοόργῳ:
ἄρτι δέμας κόσμησον ἀναιμάκτῳ σέο πέπλῳ,
ἄρτι μέολς πλέξωμεν ἀθωρήκτοιο χορείης,
καὶ στρατὸς ἠρεμέων μενέτω παρὰ δάσκιον ὕλην,
280 μὴ μόθον ἐντύνειε γαληναίῳ βασιλῆι:
ἀλλά, βαλὼν πλοκάμοισι φίλον στέφος, ἔρχεο χαίρων
εἰς δόμον ἀκλήιστον ἑτοιμοτάτου Λυκοόργου,
ἔρχεο κωμάζων ἅτε νυμφίος: Ἰνδοφόνους δὲ
θύρσους σεῖο φύλαξον ἀπειθέι Δηριαδῆι.
285 οὐ μὲν ἄναξ Λυκόοργος ἀνάλκιδα θυμὸν ἀέξει:
ἔστι γὰρ Ἄρεος αἷμα Διιπετές, ἐν δὲ κυδοιμοῖς
πατρὸς Ἐνυαλίοιο φέρων ἐμφύλιον ἀλκὴν
οὐδὲ τεοῦ Κρονίωνος ὑποπτήξειεν Ἐνυώ.’
[266] “Brother, son of Zeus Allwise, put war aside, and celebrate your rites with Lycurgos, a willing host. Let battle be, slay not your friends, do not refuse peace! Be gracious to the gentle; who will vanquish a humble man? Do not stir up strife against those who ask you for mercy. Do not cover your body with a starspangled corselet; do not enclose your head in a crestlifting helmet; do not entwine your hair with a garland of serpents. Leave your bloodstained rods behind; take your familiar staff and a horn full of your delicious wine, and offer Euian gifts to Lycurgos who loves the grape! Now dress your body in your unblooded tunic, now let us make melody for a dance without corselet, and let your army remain quiet near the shady wood that it may not offer battle to a peaceful king. No, put on your head the garland that you love; go in joy to the open house of Lycurgos ready to welcome, go in revel like a bridegroom, and keep your Indian-slaying rods for disobedient Deriades. You know King Lycurgos has no coward soul. He is the son of Ares with the blood of Zeus in him; in battle he shows the inborn prowess of Enyalios his father, nor would he shrink from combat with your Cronion himself.”
ὣς φαμένη π�
�ρέπεισε, μεταχρονίῳ δὲ πεδίλῳ
290 αἰθέρος ἔνδον ἵκανε. δολοφροσύνῃ δὲ θεαίνης
ἐγρεμόθους Διόνυσος ἑοὺς ἀπεσείσατο θύρσους
καὶ κυνέην λοφόεσσαν ἑῶν ἀνέλυσε κομάων
καὶ σάκος ἀστερόνωτον ἐθήκατο: χειρὶ δὲ γυμνῇ
πορφυρέης ἤειρε βεβυσμένον ἄγγος ἐέρσης,
295 ὀξὺ κέρας καὶ βότρυν ἀπενθέα: μηκεδανὴν δὲ
ἄπλοκον ἀμπελόεντι κόμην ἐστέψατο κισσῷ.
καὶ στρατιὴν εὔοπλον ἐγερσιμόθους τε γυναῖκας
ἐγγύθι Καρμήλοιο λιπὼν καὶ δίφρα λεόντων
ἁβροχίτων ἀσίδηρος ἐκώμασε πεζὸς ὁδίτης:
300 καὶ μέλος εὐφροσύνης ἐπιδόρπιον ἴαχε σύριγξ,
καί φίλιον σύριγμα συνωρίδες ἔβρεμον αὐλῶν
χερσὶ δὲ δινεύουσα φιλύια ῥόπτρα Λυαίου
Βασσαρὶς ἐσκίρτησε παρὰ προπύλαια Λυκούργου.
[289] So she cajoled him, and the shoes carried her high into the air. Dionysos deceived by the goddess threw aside his battlestirring rods, and doffed the plumed helmet from his hair, and laid down his star-spangled shield. In one bare hand he carried a vessel full of the purple juice, his pointed horn with the cheerful grape; he twined his unplaited hair with vine-leaves and ivy. His host under arms and his battlestirring women he left near Mount Carmel with the team of lions, and himself walked on foot to the festival in holiday garb without weapon. The panspipes sounded a cheeryheart melody of banquet, the double pipes whistled a friendly note, the Bassarid waved the Euian tambourines of Lyaios and skipped before the gateway of Lycurgos.
καὶ θρασὺς ὡς ἤκουσεν ἄναξ ἀλάλαγμα χορείης,
