Works of Nonnus

by Nonnus

  μούνης ξεινοδόκοιο φυλάξατε δῶμα θεαίνης:

  Λευκοθέης δ᾽ ἀπέδιλα συνάψατε ταρσὰ κοθόρνοις:

  χερσαίη δὲ φανεῖσα συνέμπορος Εὐάδι Βάκχῃ

  Δωρὶς ἀερτάζειεν ἐμὴν θιασώδεα πεύκην:

  100 καὶ βυθίη Πανόπεια τιναξαμένη βρύον ἅλμης

  βόστρυχα μιτρώσειεν ἐχιδνήεντι κορύμβῳ:

  Εἰδοθέη δ᾽ ἀέκουσα περίκροτα ῥόπτρα δεχέσθω:

  καἰ πόθον ἶσον ἔχουσαν ἐρωμανέοντι καὶ αὐτῷ

  τίς νέμεσις Γαλάτειαν ὑποδρήσσειν Διονύσῳ,

  105 ἕδνον Ἀμυμώνης θαλαμηπόλον ὄφρα τελέσσῃ

  ἱστοπόνῳ παλάμῃ Λιβανηίδι πέπλον ἀνάσσῃ;

  ἀλλὰ γένος Νηρῆος ἐάσατε: ποντοπόρους γὰρ

  δμωίδας οὐκ ἐθέλω, Βερόῃ μὴ ζῆλον ἐγείρω.

  [70] “Fight, Bassarids! When Lyaios is under arms, let my pipes of horn strike up a warlike tune, answering the booming sound of the conch, let the cymbals of bronze beat a loud noise with double clashings. Let Maron dancing in battle shoot Glaucos with manbreaking thyrsus. Go, tie up the hair of Proteus with ivy, something new for him! Let him leave the Egyptian water of the Pharian Sea, and change his sealskins for a speckled fawnskin, and bow his bold neck to me. Let Melicertes fight against drunken Seilenos, if he can. Teach old Phorcys to leave the seaweedy deeps and dwell in Tmolos holding a thyrsus, and let the old man become a vinegrower on land. Let the Satyr stand fast and brandish his fennel, and with his countryman’s hands transport thirsty Nereus out of the sea; enwreath Palaimon’s hair with bonds of vine from newly planted gardens, and bring that charioteer of the sea from the depths of the Isthmian brine to be a servant for Mother Rheia and to guide her lions with his whip, for I will no longer leave my cousin in the deep: I will behold the host of the spear conquered sea decked out in the fawn skin. Give cymbals to the inexperienced Nereid Nymphs, mingle Hydriads with Bacchants — spare only the hospitable house of goddess Thetis, although she is one of the seabrood. Fit the unshod feet of Leucothea in buskins; let Doris appear on dry land and lift my mystic torch along with the revelling Bacchants; let Panopeia shake off the seaweed of the deep and wreathe her locks in clustering vipers; let Eidothea unwilling receive the rattling tambourine. What harm is there that Galateia should be servant to Dionysos, when she has a passion like his own mad love, that her hands may make a woven robe as a gift for the wedding pomp of Amymone the queen of Lebanon? — No, leave alone the family of Nereus; for I want no handmaids from the sea, or Beroe might be jealous.

  καὶ κομόων γλωχῖνι τανυπτόρθοιο μετώπου

  110 Πὰν ἐμὸς οὐρεσίφοιτος ἀτευχέι χειρὶ πιέζων

  θηγαλέῃ πλήξειε Ποσειδάωνα κεραίῃ,

  στέρνου μεσσατίοιο τυχὼν εὐκαμπέσιν αἰχμαῖς

  ἢ σκοπέλῳ λοφόεντι, διαρρήξειε δὲ χηλαῖς

  δισσοφυῆ Τρίτωνος ὁμόζυγα κύκλον ἀκάνθης.

  115 Γλαῦκος ἁλιβρέκτοιο διάκτορος ἐννοσιγαίου

  Βάκχῳ ὑποδρήσσειε, περίκροτα χερσὶν ἀείρων

  αὐχενίῳ τελαμῶνι παρήορα τύμπανα Ῥείης.

  οὐ μούνης Βερόης περιμάρναμαι, ἀλλὰ καὶ αὐτῆς

  νύμφης ἡμετέρης περὶ πατρίδος: οὕ μιν ἀράξας

  120 ἱσταμένην ἀτίνακτον ἁλὸς μεδέων ἐνοσίχθων,

  εἰναλίην περ ἐοῦσαν, ἀμαλδύνειε τριαίνῃ,

  ὅττι κορυσσομένῳ θωρήξομαι: ἀμφότερον γάρ,

  εἰ λάχε γείτονα πόντον, ἔχει φυτὰ μυρία Βάκχου,

  νίκης ἡμετέρης σημήιον: ἀγχιάλου γὰρ ...

  125 ἀλλὰ παλαιοτέρην μετὰ Παλλάδα μάρτυρι Βάκχῳ

  Κέκροψ ἄλλος ἵκοιτο δικασπόλος, ὄφρα καἰ αὐτὴ

  ἄμπελος ἀείδοιτο φερέπτολις, ὥς περ ἐλαίη.

  καὶ πόλιος τελέσας ἕτερον τύπον οὕ μιν ἐάσω

  ἐγγὺς ἁλός, κραναὰς δὲ ταμὼν νάρθηκι κολώνας

  130 γείτονα Βηρυτοῖο γεφυρώσω βυθὸν ἅλμης,

  χερσώσας σκοπέλοισιν ἁλὸς πετρούμενον ὕδωρ:

  τρηχαλέη δὲ κέλευθος ἰσάζεται ὀξέι θύρσῳ.

  [109] “Let Pan my old mountainranger, proud with the longbranching points on his forehead, press Poseidon with unarmed hand and butt him with sharp horn, strike him full in the chest with those curving prongs, or with a rocky stone, let him break with his hooves the ring of Triton’s backbone where his two natures join. Let Glaucos the attendant of brinesoaken Earthshaker be servant to Bacchos, and lift in his hands the rattling cymbals of Rheia which hang by a strap beside his neck. Not for Beroe alone I fight, but for the native city of my bride. Earthshaker must not strike it, but it must stand unshaken, although it lies in the sea and he is lord of the sea — he must not destroy it with his trident because I will face him in arms: it is as much one as the other — if the sea is its neighbour, it has ten thousand plants of mine, a sign of my victory; for close to the shore [are my vineyards] . But as for Pallas of old, so for the appeal of Bacchos, may a new Cecrops come as umpire, that the vine may be celebrated as citysustainer, like the olive. Then I will make the city of another shape: I will not leave it near the sea, but I will cut off rugged hills with my fennel and dam up the deep brine beside Berytos, making the water dry land and stony with rocks, and the rough road is smoothed by the sharp thyrsus.

  ἀλλὰ πάλιν μάρνασθε, Μιμαλλόνες, ἠθάδι νίκῃ

  θαρσαλέαι: κταμένων δὲ νεόρρυτον αἷμα Γιγάντων

  135 νεβρὶς ἐμὴ μεθέπουσα μελαίνεται: εἰσέτι δ᾽ αὐτὴ

  ἀντολίη τρομέει με, καὶ εἰς πέδον αὐχένα κάμπτει

  Ἰνδὸς Ἄρης, Βρομίῳ δὲ λιτήσια δάκρυα λείβων

  δάκρυα κυματόεντα γέρων ἔφριξεν Ὑδάσπης.

  καὶ διερὴν μετὰ δῆριν ἔχων Λιβανηίδα νύμφην

  140 ἓν γέρας ἱμείροντι χαρίζομαι ἐννοσιγαίῳ:

  ἤν ἐθέλῃ, μέλψειεν ἐμῶν ὑμέναιον Ἐρώτων,

  μοῦνον ἐμῇ Βερόῃ μὴ δόχμιον ὄμμα τανύσσῃ.

  [133] “Come, fight again, Mimallones, confident in your constant victory — my fawnskin is red with the newly-shed blood of slain Giants, the very east still trembles before me, Indian Ares bows his neck to the ground, old Hydaspes shivers, and sheds tears of supplication, tears like his own flood! When I have won my bride of Lebanon after the battle in the sea, I grant one boon to Earthshaker the lover. If he will, he may sing a song at my wedding, only let him not look askance at my Beroe.”

  ‘τοῖον ἔπος κατέλεξεν: ἀπειλητῆρι δὲ μύθῳ

  κερτομέων Διόνυσον ἀμείβετο κυανοχαίτης:

  [143] So spoke Dionysos; and Seabluehair replied in threatening tones and mocked at him:

  145 ‘Αἰδόμενος, Διό�
�υσε, κορύσσομαι, ὅττι τριαίνης

  ἤρισας αἰχμητῆρι φυγὼν βουπλῆγα Λυκούργου:

  δεῦρο, Θέτις, σκοπίαζε: τεὸς Διόνυσος ἀλύξας

  καλὰ φιλοξείνῳ ζωάγρια δῶκε θαλάσσῃ:

  οὐκ ἄγαμαί ποτε τοῦτο, σελασφόρε: μητροφόνου γὰρ

  ἐκ πυρὸς ἐβλάστησας, ὅθεν πυρὸς ἄξια ῥέζεις.

  [145] “I am ashamed to confront you, Dionysos, because you want to fight the swinger of the trident, when you fled from Lycurgos’s poleaxe! Look here, Thetis! Here is a fine return for life and safety that your fugitive Dionysos gives to the hospitable sea! I am not surprised, Torch bearer: fire killed your mother when you were born, so you act like the fire.

  ἀλλά, φίλοι Τρίτωνες, ἀρήξατε, δήσατε Βάκχας

  150 ποντοπόρους τελέσαντες: ὀρεσσαύλου δὲ φορῆος

  τύμπανα Σειληνοῖο κατακλύζοιτο θαλάσσῃ,

  κύματι συρομένοιο, καὶ οἰδαίνοντι ῥεέθρῳ

  νηχομένου Σατύροιο φιλεύιος αὐλὸς ἀλάσθω

  εἰς πλόον αὐτοέλικτον: ἐν εὐύδρῳ δὲ μελάθρῳ

  155 Βασσαρίδες στορέσειαν ἐμὸν λέχος ἀντὶ Λυαίου.

  οὐ χατέω Σατύρων, οὐ Μαινάδας εἰς βυθὸν ἕλκω:

  Νηρεΐδες γεγάασιν ἀρείονες: ἀλλὰ θαλάσσῃ

  διψαλέαι κρύπτοιντο Μιμαλλόνες, οἰνοχύτου δὲ

  ἀντὶ μέθης πιέτωσαν ἐμῆς ἁλὸς ἁλμυρὸν ὕδωρ:

  160 καί τις ἐλαυνομένη διερῇ Πρωτῆος ἀκωκῇ

  Βασσαρὶς αὐτοκύλιστος ὀλισθήσειε θαλάσσῃ,

  ὀρχηθμὸν θανάτοιο κυβιστήσασα Λυαίῳ.

  165 Αἰθιόπων δὲ φάλαγγας ἐρύσσατε καὶ στίχας Ἰνδῶν,

  ληίδα Νηρεΐδεσσι, κακογλώσσοιο δὲ νύμφης

  Δωρίδι δούλια τέκνα κομίσσατε Κασσιεπείης,

  ποινὴν ὀψιτέλεστον: ἀμαιμακέτῳ δὲ ῥεέθρῳ

  Ὠκεανὸς πυρόεντα λελουμένον ἀστέρα Μαίρης,

  170 ληναίης προκέλευθον ἀκοιμήτοιο χορείης,

  Σείριον ἀμπελόεντα μεταστήσειεν Ὀλύμπου.

  [149] “Up, my dear Tritons, help — tie up the Bacchants and make them seafarers! May the cymbals that mountain harboured Seilenos holds be swallowed up in the sea, may the wave drag him along, may the Satyr float on the swelling flood and his Euian pipe toss on the rolling water; may Bassarids lay the bed for me instead of Lyaios in my watery hall. — Nay, I want no Satyrs, I drag no Mainads to the deep: Nereids are better. But let the Mimallones quench their thirst in the sea and drown there; instead of flowing draughts of wine let them drink my salt water. Let many a Bassarid driven by the wet pike of Proteus drift and toss aimlessly on the sea, tripping the dance of death for Lyaios. Drag down companies of Ethiopians and ranks of Indians as spoil for the Nereids; bring the daughters of nymph Cassiepeia, that tongue of evil, as slaves for Doris in tardy expiation. Let Oceanos banish viny Seirios from Olympos, the leader of that unresting dance in the winepress, and bathe in his resistless flood the fiery star of Maira.

  ἀλλὰ σύ, Λύδιε Βάκχε, χερείονα θύρσον ἐάσας

  δίζεό σοι βέλος ἄλλο, καὶ αἰόλα δέρματα νεβρῶν

  κάτθεο, σῶν μελέων ὀλίγον σκέπας: οὐρανίου δὲ

  175 εἴ σε Διὸς γαμίη μαιώσατο νυμφιδίη φλόξ,

  ἄρτι πυρὶ πτολέμιζε, πυριτρεφές, ἄρτι κεραυνῷ

  πατρῴῳ προμάχιζε κυβερνητῆρι τριαίνης,

  καὶ στεροπὴν κούφιζε καὶ αἰγίδα πάλλε τοκῆος:

  οὐ γὰρ Δηριάδης σε μένει πρόμος, οὐ Λυκοόργου

  180 οὗτος ἀγών, Ἀράβων ὀλίγος μόθος, ἀλλὰ θαλάσσης

  τοσσατίης, τρομέων δὲ καὶ εἰσέτι πόντιον αἰχμὴν

  οὐρανὸς ἡμετέρην βυθίην δεδάηκεν Ἐνυώ:

  καὶ πρόμος ὑψικέλευθος ἐμῆς τριόδοντος ἀκωκῆς

  πειρήθη Φαέθων, ὅτε δύσμαχος ἀμφὶ Κορίνθου

  185 εἰς μόθον ἀστερόεντα κορύσσετο πόντιος Ἄρης:

  ὑψώθη δὲ θάλασσα κατ᾽ αἰθέρος, Ὠκεανῷ δὲ

  λούετο διψὰς Ἅμαξα, καὶ ὕδασι γείτονος ἅλμης

  βάψας θερμὰ γένεια Κύων ἐψύχετο Μαίρης,

  καὶ βυθίων κενεῶνες ἀνυψώθησαν ἐναύλων

  190 κύματα πυργώσαντες, ἱμασσομένοιο δὲ πόντου

  οὐρανίῳ Δελφῖνι θαλάσσιος ἤντετο δελφίς.’

  [172] “And you, Lydian Bacchos, leave your miserable thyrsus and seek you another weapon; put off your speckled fawnskins, the scanty covering of your limbs. If in that marriage the wooing flame of Zeus was your midwife, now fight with fire, O fireborn! now battle with the thunderbolt of your father against the helmsman of the trident, hurl the lightning and wield your father’s aegis. No champion Deriades faces you now: this is no contest with Lycurgos, no little Arabian fight, but your adversary is the sea so mighty. Heaven still trembles at my spear of the deep, Heaven knows what a battle with the sea is like. Champion Phaethon too in his celestial course felt the point of my trident, when the deep waged formidable war in that starry battle for Corinth. The sea rose to the sky, the thirsty wain bathed in the Ocean, Maira’s dog found salt water at hand to bathe in and cooled his hot chin; the deep bottom of the waters was uplifted in towering waves, the dolphin of the sea met the dolphin of the sky amid the lashing surges!”

  ὣς εἰπὼν τριόδοντι μυχοὺς ἐτίναξε θαλάσσης,

  καὶ ῥοθίῳ κελάδοντι καὶ οἰδαίνοντι ῥεέθρῳ

  ἠέρα μαστίζοντες ἐβόμβεον ὕδατος ὁλκοί.

  195 καὶ διεροῖς σακέεσσιν ἐθωρήχθη στρατὸς ἅλμης:

  καὶ βυθίου Κρονίωνος ἁλιβρέκτῳ παρὰ φάτνῃ

  ἐγχείην ἐλέλιζεν ὑποβρυχίην Μελικέρτης,

  ζεύξας Ἴσθμιον ἅρμα, καὶ ὑγροπόρου βασιλῆος

  ἔγχος ἁλικνήμιδι παρῃώρησεν ἀπήνῃ,

  200 τριχθαδίῃ γλωχῖνι θαλάσσια νῶτα χαράσσων,

  ζεύξας Ἴσθμιον ἅρμα: καὶ Ἱππείῳ χρεμετισμῷ

  Ἰνδῴων κελάδημα συνεπλατάγησε λεόντων.

  [192] As he spoke, he shook with his trident the secret places of the sea, roaring surf and swelling flood flogged the sky with booming torrents of water. The army of the brine took up their wet shields. Under the water beside the brinesoaked manger of Cronion, Melicertes shook the spear of the deep, and yoked the Isthmian team; he slung to the side of the seaborne car the spear of the seafaring king, and scored the back of the water with its triple prong — he yoked the Isthmian team, and the roar of Indian lions resounded along with the neighing o
f the horses.

  καὶ δρόμον ὑγρὸν ἔλαυνε: τιταινομένοιο δὲ δίφρου

  ἄκρον ὕδωρ ἀδίαντος ἐπέγραφεν ἄβροχος ὁπλή.

  205 τρίτων δ᾽ εὐρυγένειος ἐπέκτυπε θυιάδι χάρμῃ,

  ὃς διδύμοις μελέεσσιν ἔχει βροτοειδέα μορφὴν

  ἀλλοφυῆ, χλοάουσαν, ἀπ᾽ ἰξύος ἄχρι καρήνου

  ἡμιτελής: διερῆς δὲ παρήορος ἰξύος ὁλκῷ

  δίπτυχος ἰχθυόεντι τύπῳ περικάμπτεται οὐρή.

  210 καὶ διερῇ μάστιγι, θαλασσαίῃ παρὰ φάτνῃ

  ζεύξας ὠκυπόρῳ πεφορημένον ἅρμα θυέλλῃ,

  Γλαῦκος ἀνιπτοπόδων λοφιὴν ἐπεμάστιεν ἵππων

  καὶ Σατύρους ἐδίωκεν. ἁλιρροίζῳ δὲ κυδοιμῷ

  Πὰν κερόεις, ἀβάτοισιν ἐν ὕδασι κοῦφος ὁδίτης,

  215 ἄβροχος αἰγείῃσιν ἀνακρούων ἄλα χηλαῖς,

  ἄστατος ἐσκίρτησε, καλαύροπι πόντον ἀράσσων,

  πηκτίδι συρίζων πολέμου μέλος: ἐν ῥοθίοις δὲ

  μιμηλὴν ἀίων ἀνεμώλιον εἰκόνα φωνῆς

  ποσσὶν ὀρεσσινόμοισι διέτρεχε πόντιον ὕδωρ,

  220 μαστεύων κτύπον ἄλλον: ὑπηνέμιος δὲ καὶ αὐτὴ

  τικτομένη σύριγγι διώκετο ποντιὰς ἠχώ.

  ἄλλος ἐυκρήπιδα λόφον νησαῖον ἑλίξας

  ῥῖψεν ἐφ᾽ Ὑδριάδεσσιν, ἀποπλαγχθεῖσα δὲ πέτρη

  Νηρεΐδων ἐτίναξε Παλαίμονος ἔμβρυον αὐλήν.

  [203] He drove his watery course; as the car sped, the hoof unwetted, unmoistened, scored only the surface. The broadbearded Triton sounded his note for the mad battle — he has limbs of two kinds, a human shape and a different body, green, from loins to head, half of him, but hanging from his trailing wet loins a curving fishtail, forked. So Glaucos yoked beside their manger in the sea the team that travels in the swift gale, and as they galloped along dryfoot he touched up the necks of the horses with dripping whip, and chased the Satyrs. In the loud sea-tumult horned Pan, lightly treading upon the untrodden waters and splashing up the brine with his goats-hooves himself unwetted, skipt about quickly beating the sea with his crook and whistling the tune of war on his pipes; then hearing on the waves the shadow of a counterfeit sound carried by the wind, he ran all over the sea with his hillranging feet seeking the other sounds — and so the sea-echo produced by his pipes in the wind was hunted itself. Some one else tore up a firmbased island cliff and threw it at the Hydriads — the rock missed the Nereids and shook the hall of Palaimon among the seaweed.