by Nonnus
ἀλλὰ βέλος προΐαλλε μινυνθαδίῳ Διονύσῳ:
55 μή σε παραπλάγξειεν Ὀλύμπιον οὔνομα φήμης:
μὴ τρομέοις ποτὲ Βάκχον, ὃς ἐκ χθονίοιο τοκῆος
ὠκύμορον λάχεν αἷμα, Διὸς δ᾽ ἐψεύσατο φύτλην.
δεῦρο βέλος προΐαλλε καί, εἰς σκοπὸν αἴ κε τυχήσῃς,
δέχνυσαι ἄσπετα δῶρα βαθυπλούτου βασιλῆος,
60 αἴ κεν ἴδῃ Διόνυσον, ἀγήνορα παῖδα Θυώνης,
πυρκαϊῆς ἐπιβάντα τεῷ δμηθέντα βελέμνῳ:
ἓν δὲ βέλος λύσειεν ὅλον μόθον. ἀμφοτέροις δέ,
ὕδατι χεῖρας ἄειρε καὶ εὔχεο μητέρι Γαίη:
ῥέζειν δ᾽ ἀμφοτέροισι θυηπολίας μετὰ νίκην
65 ἀψεύστοις στομάτεσσιν ὑπόσχεο: καὶ παρὰ βωμῷ
ταυροφυὴς ἐχέτω κεραελκέα ταῦρον Ὑδάσπης,
γαῖα δὲ κυανέη μελανόχροον ἄρνα δεχέσθω.’
[52] “Archer, where is your bow, where are your windswift arrows? Women in dainty dress are shooting their arrows at us! Come, aim a shot at shortlived Dionysos! Let not the legend of his Olympian name mislead you. Never fear Bacchos, who has in him the mortal blood of a quickfated father, and lies when he calls himself son of Zeus. Here — let fly your shot, and if you can hit the mark, accept infinite gifts from our wealthy king, if he sees Dionysos, Thyone’s haughty son, brought down by your shaft and laid on a pyre. One shot would finish all our troubles. Pray to both — stretch out your hands to the Water and pray to Mother Earth, and with truthful lips vow to both sacrifice after victory; at the altar let bullshaped Hydaspes hold a hornstrong bull, and let black Earth receive a black ram.”
ὣς εἰπὼν παρέπεισεν ὀιστοβόλον Μελανῆα,
ἄνδρα νοοπλανέων κτεάνων δεδονημένον οἴστρῳ:
70 αὐτὰρ ὁ σιγαλέος γυμνώσατο πῶμα φαρέτρης
ἰὸν ἑλὼν προβλῆτα, καὶ εἴρυσεν ἠθάδα νευρὴν
τόξον ὀπισθοτόνῳ παλάμης κυκλούμενος ὁλκῷ,
ἀκρότατον δὲ σίδηρον ἐρεισάμενος περὶ τόξῳ
φοίνια νεῦρα βόεια πελάσσατο γείτονι μαζῷ:
75 καὶ βέλος ἰθυκέλευθον ἀπεπλάγχθη Διονύσου
Ζηνὸς ἐρητύσαντος, ἐυστεφάνου δ᾽ Ὑμεναίου
αἱμοβαφὴς πτερόεντι χαράσσετο μηρὸς ὀιστῷ.
[68] With these words he persuaded Melaneus the archer, a man with a passion for mindbeguiling riches. Silently he took off the cap of his quiver and chose a long arrow; then drew back the bowstring as he knew how to do, until the bow was rounded by a backward pull of his hand: he brought the deadly oxgut close to his breast till the steel point touched the bow, and the shaft sped straight — but Zeus made it swerve aside from Dionysos, and the winged arrow pierced the bloodbathed thigh of garlanded Hymenaios.
οὐ δὲ λάθεν Διόνυσον ἀπήορος ἰὸς ἀλήτης
ἱπτάμενος ῥοιζηδόν, ἀφειδέι σύνδρομος αὔρῃ:
80 ἀλλά διεσσυμένοιο βολὴν θήλυνεν ὀιστοῦ,
καὶ φονίην ἀλάωσεν ἑκηβολίην Μελανῆος:
καὶ Παφίη γλωχῖνας ἀπηκόντιζε βελέμνου,
σύγγονος ἱμείροντι χαριζομένη Διονύσῳ,
καὶ βέλος ἔτραπε τόσσον ἀπὸ χροός, ὡς ὅτε μήτηρ
85 παιδὸς ἔτι κνώσσοντος ἀλήμονα μυῖαν ἐλάσσῃ.
ἠρέμα φάρεος ἄκρον ἐπαιθύσσουσα προσώπῳ.
[78] But Dionysos failed not to see the arrow swerve aside, as it flew whizzing by, quick as the cruel breeze. But he softened the force of the flying shaft, and made of little avail the deadly longshot of Melaneus; the Paphian too brushed away the barbs of the shaft, in grace to a sister’s love of Dionysos her brother, and kept the shot just out of the flesh, as when a mother drives off a vagrant fly from her sleeping child, fanning his face with a corner of her robe.
καὶ χροὸς ἄγριον ἕλκος ἐρευθομένου διὰ μηροῦ
ἀγχιφανὴς Ὑμέναιος ἐδείκνυε γείτονι Βάκχῳ,
δάκρυ χέων ἐρατεινὸν ὑπ᾽ ὀφρύσιν, ὄφρα νοήσῃ
90 δεξιτερὴν ἐπίκουρον ἀλεξικάκου Διονύσου,
ἰητροῦ χατέων ζωαρκέος: αὐτὰρ ὁ λευκῆς
χειρὸς ἔχων Ὑμέναιον ἑῆς ἐπέβησεν ἀπήνης,
καί μιν ἄγων ἀπάνευθε πολυφλοίσβοιο κυδοιμοῦ
νωθρὸν ἐπὶ σκιόεντι πέδῳ παρὰ γείτονι φηγῷ
95 θῆκε καρηβαρέοντα: καἰ ὡς Ὑάκινθον Ἀπόλλων
ἔστενεν ἀνδροφόνῳ βεβολημένον ὀξέι δίσκῳ,
μεμφόμενος Ζεφύρου ζηλήμονος ἄσθμα θυέλλης,
οὕτω καὶ Διόνυσος ἀνέσπασε πολλάκι χαίτην,
ὄμμασιν ἀκλαύτοισιν ἐπικλαύσας Ὑμεναίῳ.
100 καὶ χροὸς ἐκτός ἐόντας ἰδὼν πώγωνας ὀιστοῦ
ἀσπάσιον λάχε θάρσος: ἀφ᾽ αἱμαλέοιο δὲ μηροῦ
λευκὸν ἐρευθομένου διδυμόχροον ἕλκος ἀφάσσων
φειδομέναις παλάμῃσιν ἀνείρυσεν ἄκρον ὀιστοῦ.
δάκρυα δ᾽ ἡβητῆρος ὀδυρομένοιο δοκεύων
105 ἀμφοτέροις κεχόλωτο, καὶ Ἄρεϊ καἰ Μελανῆι:
καὶ γλυκεροὺς ἱδρῶτας ἀποσμήξας Ὑμεναίου
μεμφομένοις στομάτεσσιν ὑποκρυφίην χέε φωνήν:
‘ἄμπελον ἔκτανε ταῦρος, Ἄρης Ὑμέναιον ὀλέσσει.
αἴθε δὲ πάντας ἔπεφνεν, ὅσους ἐκόρυσσα μαχητάς,
110 καλλείψας ἕνα μοῦνον ἀνούτατον: ἐν πολέμοις γὰρ
ποῖον ἄχος κλονέει με δαϊζομένοιο Καβείρου;
ὠτειλὴ Σατύρου πότε που, πότε Βάκχον ὀρίνῃ;
Σειληνὸς πεσέτω σταφυληκόμος: ἑσμὸς ἀλάσθω
Βασσαρίδων, καὶ μοῦνον ἀπήμονα παῖδα νοήσω.
115 ἱλήκοι κλυτότοξος: Ἀρισταίοιο πεσόντος
ποῖον ἐμοί ποτε πένθος, ἐυρραθάμιγγος ὀπώρης
κρείσσονα κικλήσκοντος ἑῆς ὠδῖνα μελίσσης;
οὐ τάχα μοι πέπρωτο φυγεῖν ποτε παιδὸς ἀνίην,
ὅττι πάλιν τάχα τοῦτον ὀλωλότα παῖδα γοήσω.
120 τίς βαρὺς ἀμφοτέροις φθόνος ἔχραεν; εἰ θέμις εἰπεῖν,
ηρη δερκομένη ζηλήμονι Βάκχον ὀπωπῇ
καὶ νέον ἀμητῆρα μελαρρίνοι�
� γενέθλης,
ἠιθέῳ φθονέουσα καὶ ἱμείροντι Λυαίῳ
ὥπλισε θοῦρον Ἄρηα βαλεῖν Ὑμέναιον ὀιστῷ,
125 Ἰνδῴην μεθέποντα νόθην ἄγνωστον ὀπωπήν,
ὄφρα νόον δυσέρωτος ἀνιήσειε Λυαίου.
ἀλλὰ βέλος τανύων ἢ φοίνια τόξα τιταίνω
ψευδαλέῳ Μελανῆι κορύσσομαι, ὄφρα τελέσσω
ποινὴν ἱμερόεντος ὀφειλομένην Ὑμεναίου.
130 αἴ κε θάνῃς, Ὑμέναιε, λιπὼν ἀτέλεστον Ἐνυώ,
χάζομαι ἐκ πολέμοιο καὶ οὐκέτι θύρσον ἀείρω.
δυσμενέας ξύμπαντας ἐγὼ ζώοντας ἐάσω,
ἀμήσας ἕνα φῶτα, τεὸν Μελανῆα φονῆα.
οὐ κτάνε Δηριάδης σε, καὶ εἰ κοτέει Διονύσῳ.
135 ἱλήκοις, Κυθέρεια: μετὰ θρασὺν υἱέα Μύρρης
μείλιχον ἄλλον Ἄδωνιν ἀμείλιχος ἤλασεν Ἄρης,
ἤλασε καὶ ῥοδέου χροὸς ἥψατο, καὶ διὰ μηροῦ
ἄρτι πάλιν κελάρυζεν ἐπὶ χθονὶ λύθρος Ἐρώτων:
ἀλλὰ τεῷ ποθέοντι χαριζομένη Διονύσῳ
140 πέμπέ μοι ἐνθάδε Φοῖβον ἀδελφεόν, ἴδμονα τέχνης
[87] Hymenaios came close to Bacchos, and showed him the angry wound on his reddened thigh. An adorable tear dropt under his brows, that he might make sure of the helping right arm of Dionysos his protector: he wanted a physician to save his life. Then Dionysos caught Hymenaios’s white arm and helped him up into his car; he took him away from the tumult of battle, and made him sit down on the ground in the shade of an oak not far off, heavy and drooping his head. As Apollo bemoaned Hyacinthos, struck by the quoit which brought him quick death, and reproached the blast of the West Wind’s jealous gale, so Dionysos often tore his hair and lamented for Hymenaios with those unweeping eyes. When he saw the barbs of the arrow outside the flesh, he was glad and took courage, and just touching the white-red wound with gentle hands, he drew out the arrow-point from the reddened thigh. Then seeing the tears of the sorrowful boy he was angry with Ares and Melaneus both. He wiped off the sweat from sweet Hymenaios, he said reproachfully under his breath: menaios! Would he had killed all the warriors whom I have armed, and left me this one unwounded! What pain troubles me if a Cabeiros is slain in battle? When could a Satyr’s wound excite Bacchos, when, I ask! Let the grapewreathed Seilenos fall, let a swarm of Bassarids be scattered, so long as I see the boy alone unhurt. If Aristaios fell — forgive me, illustrious Archer! what should I care for one who calls the travail of his bee better than the drops of my precious vintage! I seem to be destined never to be without sorrow for some boy, now I seem likely to be in mourning again for the loss of this one. What heavy spite has attacked both! If I dare to say so, Hera looked with jealous eye on Bacchos and the young reaper of the blackskin nation; to spite the young man and enamoured Lyaios, she armed furious Ares to shoot Hymenaios with an arrow, disguised unknown under an Indian shape, that she might plague the mind of Lyaios deep in love. Well, I will assail this false Melaneus, aiming a bloodthirsty shot or casting a lance, that I may exact the price due for lovely Hymenaios. If you die, Hymenaios, I will leave this war unfinished, I will retreat from the battle and lift my thyrsus no longer. I will leave all my enemies alive, when I have mown down one fellow, Melaneus your slayer. Not Deriades killed you, even if he hates me. Ungentle Ares has assailed another gentle Adonis after the bold son of Myrrha — forgive me, Cythereia! He assailed him and touched his rosy flesh, now once more the blood of all the Loves has trickled from a thigh on the ground. O be gracious to your Dionysos in his passion! Send me here Phoibos our brother, who knows the art of healing all pains, and he will make the boy whole.
λυσιπόνου, καὶ κοῦρον ἀκέσσεται. ἴσχεο, φωνή:
Φοῖβον ἔα κατ᾽ Ὄλυμπον ἀκηδέα, μή μιν ὀρίνω
ἕλκεος ἱμερόεντος ἀναμνήσας Ὑακίνθου.
πέμπέ μοι, ἢν ἐθέλῃς, Παιήονα: κεῖνος ἱκέσθω:
145 ἄμμορός ἐστι πόθων, ἀλλότριός ἐστιν Ἐρώτων.
ὠτειλῆς τύπον ἄλλον ἐσέδρακον: ἐν πολέμοις γὰρ
ἄλλος ἀνὴρ κενεῶνα τυπεὶς φοινίσσεται αἰχμῇ,
ἄορι δ᾽ ἄλλος ἔχει παλάμης πόνον, ὃς δὲ βελέμνῳ
εἰς λαπάρην, ἕτερος δὲ δι᾽ οὔατος: ἐν κραδίη δὲ
150 λοίγιον ἕλκος ἔχοντι συνουτήθην Ὑμεναίῳ.’
[141] “But stay, my voice! Leave Phoibos undisturbed in Olympos, or I may provoke him by recalling the wound of his beloved Hyacinthos. Send me Paieon, if it be your pleasure: let him come; he has no part in desire, he is alien to the Loves. This is a new kind of wound I have seen. On the battlefield a man is struck in the flank with a spear and the red blood runs, another has a sword-wound in the hand, another is shot in the side or through the ear; but when Hymenaios got his death-wound, I was struck to the heart with Hymenaios.”
εἶπε καὶ ἐπτοίητο παρακλιδὸν ὄμματι λοξῷ
ὠτειλὴν χαρίεντος ὀπιπεύων Ὑμεναίου.
μηρῷ δ᾽ ἔνθα καἰ ἔνθα φιλεύιον ἄνθος ἑλίξας,
λευκὸν ἐρευθομένῳ διδυμόχροον ἕλκος ἀφάσσων,
155 κοῦρον ἀνεζώγρησεν ἑῷ παιήονι κισσῷ,
οἶνον ἀλεξητῆρα περιρραίνων Ὑμεναίῳ.
ὡς δ᾽ ὅτ᾽ ὀπὸς ταχυεργός, ἐπειγόμενος γάλα πῆξαι,
160 χιονέης κυκόων ἀπαμείρεται ὑγρὸν ἐέρσης,
ὄφρά μιν ἐντύνειε πεπηγμένον αἰπόλος ἀνὴρ
κυκλώσας ταλάροιο τύπῳ, τροχοειδέι ταρσῷ:
ὣς ὅ γε φοίνιον ἕλκος ἀκέσσατο Φοιβάδι τέχνῃ:
καὶ νέος ἀρτεμέων παλινάγρετον εἶχεν Ἐνυώ,
χειρὸς ἀκεσσιπόνοιο Διωνύσοιο τυχήσας.
καὶ βέλος ἠερόφοιτον ἑκηβόλον εἰς σκοπὸν ἕλκων
165 τόξα πάλιν κύκλωσε, τιτυσκόμενος δὲ βελέμνῳ
ἀντίδοτον πόρεν ἕλκος ὀιστοβόλῳ Μελανῆι.
[151] He spoke, and shivered as his eye glanced aside and saw the wound of charming Hymenaios. Gently fingering the twicolour white and red of the wounded thigh, he twined about it the plant of Euios, and gave the boy new life with his healing ivy, sprinkling Hymenaios with the wholesome wine. As the quickworking figjuice that curdles milk in a trice, mixes with the white liquid and takes away its wet, when a goatherd prepares to compress the stuff in the shape of a cheese-basket on a round mat, so quickly he made the bleeding wound whole by Phoibos’s art; and the young man sound and whole began fighting again, after a touch of the healing hand of Dionysos. Again he rounded his bow and drew an airflying long-shot upon the mark; he took aim at Melaneus who shot the arrow, and dealt him a wound in revenge with his own arrow.
καὶ θρασὺς ἔσσυτο κῦρος: ἐφεσπόμενος δὲ Λυαίῳ
αἰεὶ φῶτας ἔβαλλε καὶ οὐκέτι λείπετο Βάκχου.
&nb
sp; ὡς δ᾽ ὅτε τις σκιόεις τύπος ἀνέρος, ἄπνοος ἕρπων,
170 ἀγχιφανὴς ἀχάρακτος ὁμόδρομος ἀνδρὸς ὁδεύει,
καί οἱ ἀεὶ σπεύδοντι συνέσπεται, ἱσταμένου δὲ
ἵσταται, ἑζομένου δὲ παρέζεται, ἐν δὲ τραπέζῃ
μιμηλαῖς παλάμῃσι συνέμπορος εἰλαπινάζει:
ὥς ὅ γε κοῦρος ἔμιμνεν ὁμόδρομος οἴνοπι Βάκχῳ.
175 οὐδὲ μάχης Διόνυσος ἐλώφεεν: ἀλλὰ τορήσας
μεσσοπαγῆ κούφιζε πεπαρμένον ἀνέρα θύρσῳ
ὄρθιον ὑψιπότητον, ἐν ἠερίῃ δὲ κελεύθῳ
Ἰνδὸν ἐλαφρίζων ζηλήμονι δείκνυεν Ἥρῃ.
[167] Now the boy rushed boldly forward. He followed Lyaios, and never fell behind Bacchos now, striking and striking the enemy. As the shadowy shape follow’s a man, moving inanimate, marching close beside him without a mark on it, as it goes with him when he runs, stands when he stands, sits beside him when he sits, and at table shares the meal with an image of hands: so the boy kept beside Bacchos the winegod as he went. And Dionysos rested not in his fighting: nay, he ran a man through the middle and spitted him on his thyrsus, lifted him high aloft upright, and holding the Indian up in the airy ways displayed him to jealous Hera.
καὶ τελέων τρισσῇσιν ἐπωνυμίῃσιν Ἐνυὼ
180 θεῖος Ἀρισταῖος, δεδαημένος Ἄρεος Ἀγρεύς,
ὡς Νόμιος πολέμειζε καλαύροπα χερσὶ τινάσσων,
νυμφίος Αὐτονόης ἑκατηβόλος: ἐν δὲ κυδοιμοῖς
τόξον ἔχων κλυτότοξον ἑὸν μιμεῖτο τοκῆα,
θάρσος ἔχων ἔχων ὑπέροπλον ὀιστοβόλοιο τεκούσης,
185 Κυρήνης προτέρης Ὑψηίδος: αἰνομανῆ δὲ
