Works of Nonnus

by Nonnus

  ‘ὦ πάτερ, ἐργοπόνοιο πυρίπνοε κοίρανε τέχνης,

  δός μοι ὀφειλομένην προτέρην χάριν, ὁππότε μούνη

  Σικελίην τρικάρηνον ἁλωιὰς ἥρπασε Δηώ,

  δῶρα καλυπτομένης ὀπτήρια Περσεφονείης,

  70 ἑσπερίους δ᾽ ἀνέκοψε τεοὺς φυσήτορας ἀσκοὺς

  καὶ πλατὺν ἐσχαρεῶνα καὶ ἅρπαγα σεῖο πυράγρην:

  ἀλλά μιν ἐπτοίησα προασπίζων γενετῆρος,

  ἄκμονος ὑμετέροιο βοηθόος: ἐξ ἐμέθεν δὲ

  σῷ Σικελῷ σπινθῆρι μέλας θερμαίνεται ἀήρ.

  75 ῥύεό μοι σέο παῖδα, τὸν ἄγριος οὔτασε Μορρεύς.’

  [66] “O Father, firebreathing lord of our laborious art! Grant me the boon once earned, when Deo of the threshing-floor alone seized threecliff Sicily, as sightingprize for Persephoneia hidden there, and knocked over your windblown bellows in the west and your wide forge and gripping tongs: but I defended my father and scared her off, protecting your anvil. You owe it to me that the air is black and hot with your Sicilian sparks! Then save your son I pray, whom savage Morrheus has wounded!”

  εἶπε, καὶ οὐρανόθεν πυρόεις Ἥφαιστος ὀρυύσας

  σύγγονον ἀμφελέλιζε πολυσχιδὲς ἁλλόμενον πῦρ,

  δινεύων παλάμῃ πυρόεν βέλος: ἀμφὶ δὲ δειρὴν

  Μορρέος αὐτοέλικτος ἑλίσσετο πυρσὸς ἐχέφρων,

  80 αὐχένι μιτρώσας πυριθαλπέος ὁρμὸν ἀνάγκης

  εἰλυφόων: πυρόεν δὲ μετὰ στέφος ἀνθερεῶνος

  ταρσὸν ἐς ἐσχατόωντα θορὼν ἐπιβήτορι παλμῷ

  ἀμφὶ πόδα προμάχοιο πυρίπλοκον ἔπλεκε σειρήν,

  σείων ἐν δαπέδῳ σταθερὸν σέλας ἅλματι πεζῷ:

  85 θερμάνθη δὲ κάρηνον ἀναπτομένης τρυφαλείης.

  καί νύ κεν ἐπρήνικτο τυπεὶς φλογόεντι βελέμνῳ,

  εἰ μὴ Δηριάδαο πατὴρ ἤμυνεν Ὑδάσπης:

  ἧστο γὰρ ὑσμίνην δεδοκημένος ὑψόθι πέτρης,

  ταυροφοὴς νόθον εἶδος ἔχων βροτοειδέι μορφῇ:

  90 ὅς μιν ἀνεζώγρησε χέων ἀντίπνοον ὕδωρ,

  ψύχων θερμὸν ἄημα πυριβλήτοιο προσώπου,

  λύματα τεφρήεντα διασμήχων τρυφαλείης:

  Μορρέα δ᾽ ἁρπάξας ζοφερῇ χλαίνωσεν ὀμίχλῃ,

  πορφυρέῃ νεφέλῃ κεκαλυμμένα γυῖα καλύψας,

  95 μή μιν ἀποκτείνειε σελασφόρος ἀμφιγυήεις,

  Λήμνιον αἰθύσσων θανατηφόρον ἁπτόμενον πῦρ,

  μὴ προτέρου φθιμένοιο γέρων φιλότεκνος Ὑδάσπης

  γαμβρὸν ἴδῃ πάλιν ἄλλον ὀλωλότα Δηριαδῆος,

  μηδὲ μόρον Μορρῆος ἅμα κλαύσειεν Ὀρόντῃ.

  [76] At these words fiery Hephaistos leapt down from heaven, and sent a flame leaping and fluttering with many tongues about his son, whirling in his hand a shoot of fire. About Morrheus’s neck the flame crawled and curled of itself as if it knew what it was doing, and rolled round his throat a necklace of fireblazing constraint; the blazing throat once encircled, it ran down with a springing movement to the end of his toes, and wove a plait of fiery threads over the warrior’s foot, and there firmly fixt on the earth scattered its dancing sparks — the helmet caught fire and his head was hot enough! And now he would have fallen flat, struck with the fiery shot, had not Deriades’ father Hydaspes come to the rescue. For he sat watching the battle high on a rock, his bull-form having a false guise of human shape. He poured a quenching stream and saved the man’s life, cooling the hot blast from the firebeaten face, brushing off the ashes and dirt from the helmet. Then he caught up Morrheus wrapt in a darksome cloud, covered and hid his limbs in a livid mist; that the firebearing Crookshank might not destroy him with his blazing shower of deadly Lemnian flame; that old Hydaspes, the tender-hearted father, might not see another goodson of Deriades perish after the first, and lament the death of Morrheus along with Orontes.

  100 Πυρσοφόρος δ᾽ Ἥφαιστος ὅλους ἐδίωκε μαχητὰς

  ἱσταμένοθς περὶ παῖδα νεούτατον, ὑψόθι δ᾽ ὤμου

  υἱὸν ἐλαφρίζων ἐπερείσατο γείτονι φηγῷ,

  νόσφιν ἀπὸ φλοίσβοιο, καὶ ἐζώγρησε πεσόντα,

  οὐταμένῳ βουβῶνι φερέσβια φάρμακα πάσσων.

  [100] But firebearing Hephaistos drove away all the warriors who stood round the just-wounded boy. Then lifting his son on his shoulder he took him out of the fray and rested him against an oaktree hard by; he spread wholesome simples upon the wounded groin, and saved him alive after his collapse.

  105 οὐδὲ μόθου προτέροιο λελασμένος ἔπλετο Μορρεύς:

  ἀλλὰ πάλιν κεκόρυστο φυγὼν πυρόεσσαν Ἐνυὼ

  καὶ πρόμον ἀστράπτοντα καὶ αἰθαλόεσσαν ἀκωκήν:

  καὶ Φλόγιον Στροφίοιο πολύστροφον υἷα καχήσας

  ἔκτανεν, ὀρχηστῆρα φιλοσκάρθμου Διονύσου,

  110 ὅς τις ἀδακρύτοιο παρ᾽ εἰλαπίνῃσι Λυαίου

  ἀνταιτύπων ἐλέλιζε πολύτροπα δάκτυλα χειρῶν,

  καὶ θάνατον Φαέθοντος ἐχέφρονι χειρὶ τινάσσων

  δαιτυμόνας ποίησεν ἀήθεα δάκρυα λείβειν,

  ψευδαλέου Φαέθοντος ἐπικλαίοντας ὀλέθρῳ:

  115 καὶ νέον αἰθαλόεντα καὶ αὐτοκύλιστον ὑφαίνων

  λευγαλέον πόρε πένθος ἀπενθήτῳ Διονύσῳ.

  τοῦτον ἰδὼν σκαίροντα δορυσσόος ἔννεπε Μορρεύς:

  [105] Yet Morrheus had not forgotten the fight he had begun. He reared his head again, having escaped the fiery attack, the blazing assailant, the flaming points. He caught Phlogios the son of Strophios rolling about and killed him; that dancer of spring-heel Dionysos, who at the banquets of tearless Lyaios, used to flicker the twisting fingers of his mimicking hands. He would depict by gesture Phaethon’s death with sensitive hand, until he made the feasters weep with tears quite out of place, mourning the death of an imaginary Phaethon; as he depicted the young man blazing and hurtling down, he would bring painful grief upon Dionysos who feels no grief. When shakespear Morrheus saw him tumbling there, he said:

  ‘ἀλλοῖος χορὸς οὗτος, ὃν ἔπλεκες ἄγχι τραπέζης:

  ὀρχηθμὸν γελόωντα παρὰ κρητῆρι τιταίνων

  120 ὀρχηθμὸν στονόεντα πόθεν μετὰ δῆριν ὑφαίνεις;

  εἰ δὲ καὶ οἶστρος ἔχει σε χοροστασίης Διονύσου,

  Ἄιδι μυστιπόλευε, καὶ οὐ γύψοιο χατίζεις

  αὐτοβαφῆ μεθέπων κεκονιμένα κύκλα προσώπου:

  ἢ
ν ἐθέλῃς δέ, χόρευε φιλοθρήνῳ παρὰ Λήθῃ,

  125 Περσεφόνη δ᾽ ἀγέλαστος ἀγαλλέσθω σέο μολπῇ.’

  [118] “That was a different jig you danced near the table! You played a merry dance by the mixing-bowl — why do you pace a groaning dance on the battlefield? Well, if you have a passion for a dancing turn of Dionysos, go show to Hades your mystic rites. You need no chalk — your round face is well dusted of itself. Or dance if you like before Lethe the dirge-fancier, and let unsmiling Persephone have the pleasure of watching your capers.”

  ἔννεπε κυδιόων, καὶ ἐπέδραμεν ἶσος ἀέλλῃ,

  Σειληνοὺς δ᾽ ἐφόβησεν. ἀμαιμακέτῳ δὲ μαχαίρῃ

  Τέκταφος ὡμάρτησε σακέσπαλος, ὅν ποτε δήσας

  Δηριάδης ἔκρυψεν ἕσω γλαφυροῖο βερέθρου.

  130 οὐδὲ φυγεῖν μόρον εὗρε τὸ δεύτερον: ἐν γὰρ ἀνάγκῃ

  τίς δύναταί ποτε πότμον ἀπ᾽ ἀνέρος ἐχθρὸν ἐρύκειν,

  νηλὴς πανδαμάτειρα θανεῖν ὅτε Μοῖρα κελεύει;

  οὐ γὰρ Τέκταφον εὗρε δόλος θνήσκοντα σαῶσαι,

  ὃς τότε λυσσώων στρατιὴν ἐδίωξε Λυαίου,

  135 εὐκεράων Σατύρων φιλοπαίγμονα γυῖα δαΐζων:

  ἐγρεμόθου δ᾽ ἤμησε Πυλαιέος ἀνθερεῶνα,

  Ὀνθυρίου δὲ μέτωπον ἀφειδέι τύψε μαχαίρῃ,

  καὶ Πίθον εὐρύστερνον ἀπηλοίησε διδήρῳ.

  καί νύ κεν ἄλλον ὅμιλον ἐπασσυτέρων κτάνε Βάκχων,

  140 ἀλλά μιν Εὐρυμέδων ταχὺς ἔδρακε, καί οἱ ὑπέστη

  δίστομον ἀντιβίην Κορυβαντίδα χειρὶ τινάσσων:

  ἔθλασε δ᾽ ἄκρα μέτωπα: διχαζομένου δὲ καρήνου

  ὄρθιος αἱμαλέης ἀνεκήκιεν αὐλὸς ἐέρσης:

  καὶ πρόμος εἰς χθόνα πῖπτε, περιρραίνων δὲ κονίην

  145 ἡμιθανὴς κεκύλιστο, πεδοσκαφέος δὲ μελάθρου

  ἀρχαίην κακότητα καὶ ὁπλοτέρης λίνα Μοίρης

  ἔστενε, καὶ δολίου μεμνημένος εἰσέτι φίλτρου

  παιδὸς ἀλεξικάκου κινυρῇ βρυχήσατο φωνῇ,

  τοῦ δὲ κινυρομένοιο κατέρρεε δάκρυα λύθρῳ:

  [126] So he cried exultant, and leaping swift as the wind on the Seilenoi put them to flight. And shake-shield Tectaphos followed with devastating sword: he was the one whom Deriades once kept imprisoned in the deep pit; but he could not escape fate a second time. For when necessity comes, who can save a man from cruel destiny, when hard all vanquishing Fate bids him die? Nor could a trick now save Tectaphos from death. Madly he then pursued the army of Lyaios and sliced the sportive limbs of the horned Satyrs: he shore through the throat of Pylaieus the broilbreeder, he struck Onthyrios’s brow with pitiless blade, he destroyed broadbreasted Pithos with bare steel. And indeed he would have killed a crowd of Bacchants besides; but quickfoot Eurymedon saw him and rushed up, shaking his Corybantian twibill against him. He smashed his forehead and clove his head — a jet of bloody dew spouted up and the champion fell to the ground, soaking the dust. Half-dead he rolled on the ground, lamenting the ancient torture of the earth-dug pit, and the threads of this later Fate; remembering still the clever scheme of his daughter which saved him from death, he wailed and mingled his tears with his blood:

  150 ‘μῆτερ ἐμὴ καὶ μαῖα, δολοπλόκε δύσγαμε κούρη,

  τίπτέ μοι οὐ σχεδὸν ἦλθες, ὅτ᾽ ἐγγύθεν ἦλθον ὀλέθρου;

  νῦν πόθεν οὐ χραίσμησας ἐμοὶ πάλιν, ἄτρομε κούρη;

  πῇ σέο φίλτρον ἔβη φυσίζοον; ἦ ῥα φυλάσσεις

  πιστὰ τεῷ ζώοντι καὶ οὐ θνήσκοντι τοκῆι;

  155 εἰ δόλος ἐξ Ἀίδαο δυνήσεται ἄνδρα κομίζειν,

  δίζεό μοι δόλον ἄλλον ἀρείονα, δίζεο βουλὴν

  κερδαλέην θανάτοιο, μετὰ χθονίους κενεῶνας

  ὄφρα πύλας Ἀίδαο καὶ ἐν πολέμοισιν ἀλύξω,

  εἰ πέλε νόστιμος οἶμος ἀνοστήτοιο βερέθρου.’

  [150] “O my mother and my nurse, my girl, O clever unhappy wife! Why did you not come near me when I was nigh unto death? Why could you not help me now again, fearless girl? What has become of your lifegiving drink? Are you true to your father while he lives, and not while he is dying! If a trick can bring back a man from Hades, seek me another and better trick, seek a plan useful against death, that after the hollow pit in the earth I may escape the gates of Hades in war as well, if there be a way to return from the pit whence no man returns.”

  160 τοῖον ἔπος μόγις εἶπε, καὶ οὐκέτι πείθετο φωνή.

  καὶ γενέτην ὁρόωσα νεούτατον ὑψόθι πύργου

  οἰκτρὴ ποικιλόδακρυς ἀνέβλυε πενθάδα φωνὴν

  ἠερίη: σκολιὴν δὲ κόμην ᾔσχυνε κονίῃ,

  στήθεα γυμνώσασα δαϊζομένοιο χιτῶνος,

  165 καὶ κεφαλὴν ἤρασσεν: ἀνηκέστῳ δὲ τοκῆι,

  οἷά περ εἰσαΐοντι, τόσην ἐφθέγξατο φωνήν:

  [160] He could scarce finish these words, when his voice failed him. Poor Eerie on the lofty walls could see her just-wounded father, and amid showers of tears she uttered a cry of mourning. She stained her tangled hair with dust, she rent her garments and bared her breast, she beat her head; and cried aloud to her father although now past cure, as if he could still hear:

  ‘υἱὲ πάτερ βαρύποτμε γαλακτοφόρου σέο κούρης,

  σήμερον ἀπνεύστοις ἐπὶ χείλεσι σεῖο θανόντος

  ποῖον ἔχω γλάγος ἄλλο φερέσβιον, ᾧ ἔπι δειλὴ

  170 ψυχὴν ὑμετέρην παλινάγρετον εἰς σὲ κομίσσω;

  ποῖον ἐγὼ πάλιν ἄλλον ἀρηγόνα μαζὸν ὀρέξω;

  αἴθε καὶ Ἀιδονῆα δυνήσομαι ἠπεροπεύειν.

  σοί, πάτερ, ἓν γέρας ἄλλο φυλάσσεται: οὐ γὰρ ἐάσω

  μοῦνον ἐνὶ φθιμένοις σε: σὺ δὲ κταμένης σέο κούρης

  175 δέξο καὶ αὐχένος αἷμα μετὰ προτέρου γάλα μαζοῦ.

  ἔλθετε, Δηριάδαο φυλάκτορες, ἀντὶ δὲ κείνου

  δείξατέ μοι μυχὸν ἄλλον ἔσω χθονός, ἧχι μολοῦσα

  νεκρὸν ἐμὸν γενετῆρα πάλιν ζώοντα τελέσσω:

  οὐκ Ἀίδης φυλάκεσσιν ὁμοίιος, ὄφρα τελέσσω

  180 λυσίπονον δόλον ἄλλον ἀοσσητῆρα τοκῆος.

  ἤθελον ἆορ ἐκεῖνο μιαιφόνον, ὄφρα δαμείην

  πατροφόνῳ βαρύθυμος ὀλισθήσασα σιδήρῳ.

  οὗτος, ὃς ἡμετέρου κεφαλὴν ἔτμηξε τοκῆος,

  κτεῖνε καὶ Ἠερίην μετ�
�� Τέκταφον, ὄφρά τις εἴπῃ:

  185 ‘καὶ γενέτην καὶ παῖδα μιῇ πρήνιξε μαχαίρῃ.’’

  [167] “My son! illfated father of the daughter who gave you her milk! To-day there is no breath from your lips! You are dead — what milk have I now to give you life, to bring back your soul again, ah me unhappy! What breast can I offer you now to give you help? O if I can cajole Aidoneus too! For you, father, only one tribute remains for me to render: I will not leave you alone among the dead. Accept the blood of your slain daughter’s throat as once you took the milk of her breast. Come here, warders of Deriades! Show me another pit in the ground instead of the old one, where I may enter and once more make my dead father live. — But Hades is not like those warders, to let me devise another trick for my father’s help and solace his pains. O if I had that deathdealing sword, that I might fall and perish in my despair by the steel that murdered my father! You man who cut off my father’s head, kill Eerie as you killed Teetaphos, that men may say—’ Both father and daughter he destroyed with one sword!’”

  Ἕννεπε δακρυχέουσα: πόνος δ᾽ ἠέξετο μείζων.

  καὶ διδύμαις στρατιῇσιν ἐπερρίπιζεν Ἐνυώ ...

  Ταιναρίδην δ᾽ ἔκτεινε Δασύλλιον ἄορι Μορρεύς,

  μή ποτε δυσμενέεσσιν ἀπορρίψαντα βοείην,

  190 ἀντιβίοις ἀτίνακτον Ἀμυκλαῖον πολιήτην,

  γναθμοῦ δεξιτεροῖο παρ᾽ ὀστέον ἔγχος ἐρείσας.