by Nonnus
Λυδῶν δ᾽ ἁβρὸς ὅμιλος ἐπέρρεεν, οἵ τ᾽ ἔχον ἄμφω,
465 Κῖμψον ἐυψήφιδα καὶ ὀφρυόεσσαν Ἰτώνην,
οἵ τε Τορήβιον εὐρύ, καὶ οἵ πλούτοιο τιθήνας
Σάρδιας; εὐώδινας, ὁμήλικας ἠριγενείης,
καὶ χθόνα Βακχείην σταφυληκόμον, ἧχι τεκούσῃ
ἀμπελόεις Διόνυσος ἔχων δέπας ἔμπλεον οἴνου
470 Ῥείῃ πρῶτα κέρασσε, πόλιν δ᾽ ὀνόμηνε Κεράσσας,
καὶ σκοπιὰς Ὀάνοιο, καὶ οἳ ῥόον ἔλλαχον Ἕρμου
ὑδατόεν τε Μέταλλον, ὅπῃ Πακτώλιον ἰλὺν
ξανθὸς ἀποπτύων ἀμαρύσσεται ὄλβος ἐέρσης:
καὶ Στατάλων κεκόρυστο πολὺς στρατός, ἧχι Τυφωεὺς
475 θερμὸν ἀναβλύζων πυριθαλπέος ἄσθμα κεραυνοῦ
ἔφλεγε γείτονα χῶρον, ἀελλήεντι δὲ καπνῷ
αἰθομένου Τυφῶνος ἐτεφρώθησαν ἐρίπναι,
γυιοβόρῳ σπινθῆρι μαραινομένων κεφαλάων:
ἀλλὰ Διὸς Λυδοῖο θυώδεα νηὸν ἐάσας
480 ἀρητὴρ ἀσίδηρος ἐμάρνατο κέντορι μύθῳ,
μύθῳ ἀκοντιστῆρι, καὶ οὐ τμητῆρι σιδήρῳ,
γλώσσῃ ἐρητύων πειθήνιον υἱὸν ἀρούρης,
ἔγχος ἔχων στόμα θοῦρον, ἔπος ξίφος, ἀσπίδα φωνήν,
τοῦτο θεοκλήτῳ προχέων ἔπος ἀνθερεῶνι:
485 ‘στῆθι, τάλαν’: φλογόεις δὲ Γίγας ὑπὸ μύστιδι τέχνῃ
ἀρραγέος μύθοιο σοφῷ στηρίζετο δεσμῷ
ἀνέρα δειμαίνων κεκορυθμένον ἔμφρονι λόγχῃ,
γυιοπέδην ἀσίδηρον ἔχων ποινήτορι μύθῳ:
οὐδὲ τόσον τρομέεσκεν ὀιστευτῆρα κεραυνοῦ
490 αἰνογίγας πολύπηχυς, ὅσον ῥηξήνορα μύστην
γλώσσῃ ὀιστεύοντα λάλον βέλος, εἶξε δὲ κάμνων
ἕλκεα φωνήεντα πεπαρμένος ὀξέι μύθῳ:
καὶ πυρὸς ἕλκος ἔχων, τετορημένος ἔγχεϊ θερμῷ,
ἄλλῳ θερμοτέρῳ νοερῷ πυρὶ κάμνε Τυφωεύς,
495 καὶ στατὸν ἀστυφέλικτον ἐνερρίζωσεν ἀνάγκῃ
ταρσὸν ἐχιδνήεντα πεπηγότα μητέρι Γαίῃ,
οὐτηθεὶς ἀχάρακτον ἀναιμάκτῳ δέμας αἰχμῇ.
[464] A luxurious crowd of Lydians streamed in: those who held both pebbly Cimpsos and beetling Itone; those from broad Torebios, those from fruitful Sardis, nurse of riches, as old as the daydawn; those from the grapegrowing land of Bacchos, where the vinegod first mixed wine for Mother Rheia in a brimming cup, and named the city Cerassai, the Mixings; those that held the watchingpeaks of Oanos, the stream of Hermos and watery Metallon, where the yellow treasure of the water sparkling spirts up the Pactolian mud. A great host came armed from Stataloi. There Typhoeus, spouting up the hot stream of the fiery thunderbolt, had kindled the neighbouring country, and as Typhon blazed amid clouds of smoke, the mountains were burnt to ashes, while his heads melted in the limb-devouring flame. But the priest of Lydian Zeus left the fragrant temple redolent of incense, and without steel made battle with piercing words, a word for a spear, no cutting steel, and brought the Son of Earth to obedience with his tongue; his bold mouth was his lance, his word a sword, his voice a shield, and this was all that issued from his inspired throat – “Stand, wretch!” So the flaming giant by magic art was held fast in chains of glammery by the invincible word, and stood in awe of a man armed with a spear of the mind, while the avenging sword shackled him in fetters not made of steel. That awful giant towering high, trembled not so much as the Archer of Thunderbolts, as for the battlecrashing magician shooting bolts of speech from his tongue. He gave way, as the sharp words pierced him with wounds speaking in quick words. Already scorched with flame, thrust through with a redhot spear, Typhoeus gave way at the other fire hotter still, a fire of the mind. His snaky feet were rooted firm and immovable by main force, firmly fixt in Earth his mother, his body was wounded by a bloodless blade that made no mark.
ἀλλὰ τὰ μὲν προτέροισιν ἐν ἀνδράσιν ἤγαγεν αἰών.
τοὺς δὲ λίγα κροτέοντας ὑπ᾽ εὐρύθμῳ χθόνα ταρσῷ
500 καὶ Στάβιος καὶ Στάμνος ἐπὶ κλόνον ὥπλισαν Ἰνδῶν:
καὶ στρατὸν ὀρχηστῆρα περισκαίροντα δοκεύων
τοῖον ἔπος λέξειας, ὅτι πρόμος ἡγεμονεύει
εἰς χορόν, οὐκ ἐπὶ δῆριν, ἐνόπλιον ἄνδρα κομίζων:
τοῖσι γὰρ ἐρχομένοισιν ἀνακρούουσα χορείην
505 Μυγδονὶς ἐγρεκύδοιμος ἐπὶ κλόνον ἔβρεμε φόρμιγξ,
ἀντὶ χοροῦ πέμπουσα μόθου λαοσσόον ἠχώ:
καὶ πολέμων σάλπιγγες ἔσαν σύριγγες Ἐρώτων,
καὶ δίδυμοι Βερέκυντες ὁμόζυγες ἔκλαγον αὐλοί,
καὶ κτύπον ἀμφιπλῆγα βαρυσμαράγων ἀπὸ χειρῶν
510 χαλκείοις πατάγοισιν ἐμυκήσαντο βοεῖαι.
[498] But all this was done in time gone by, among men of a more ancient generation. Here were men armed for the Indian tumult by Stabios and Stamnos, loudly rattling on the ground in drilled step; and if you could see the whole host prancing and leaping, you might be inclined to say that the captain was leading them to a dance rather than to a war, bringing a detachment of armour-dancers. For as they marched, the Mygdonian lute struck up a dance tune for war-music to arouse the tumult of conflict; it sounded the assembly for battle, nor for dance; love’s flutings were the trumpets of war; the twin Berecyntian pipes tootled together, the calfskin bellowed, struck on both sides by the brassy rattle of heavyrumbling hands.
καὶ Φρύγες ἐστρατόωντο παρ᾽ ἐγρεμόθων στίχα Λυδῶν,
οἵ τ᾽ ἔλαχον Βούδειαν, ἀειδομένην τε πολίχνην
δενδροκόμον Τεμένειαν, ἐύσκιον ἄλσος ἀρούρης,
οἳ Δρεσίην ἐνέμοντο καὶ Ὄβριμον, ὅς τε ῥεέθροις
515 Μαιάνδρου σκολιοῖσιν ἑὸν παραβάλλεται ὕδωρ,
καὶ δάπεδον Δοίαντος ἐπώνυμον, οἵ τε Κελαινὰς
χρυσορόφους ἐνέμοντο καὶ εἰκαστήρια Γοργοῦς:
τοῖσι συνεστρατόωντο καὶ οἳ λάχον ἄστεα ναίειν
γείτονα Σαγγαρίου, καὶ Ἐλέσπιδος ἕδρανα γαίης.
520 τῶν πρόμος ἡγεμόνευε, λιπὼν ὀφιώδεα Δίρκην,
Πρίασος, Ἀονίης μετανάστιος ἀστὸς ἀρούρης:
ὁππότε γὰρ Φρυγίης πέδον ἔκλυσεν ὑέτιος Ζεύς,
ὀμβρηροῖς πελάγεσσι χέων ὑψίδρομον ὕδω�
�,
καὶ δρύες ἐκρύφθησαν, ἀκανθοφόροις τ᾽ ἐνὶ βήσσαις
525 διψαλέαι ποταμηδὸν ἐκυμαίνοντο κολῶναι,
ἰκμαλέον τότε δῶμα λιπὼν κεκαλυμμένον ὄμβρῳ
καὶ ῥόον ἠερόφοιτον, ἀκοντιστῆρα μελάθρων,
Πρίασος Ἀονίης μετανέσσατο κόλπον ἀρούρης,
Ζηνὸς ἀλυσκάζων θανατηφόρον ὄμβριον ὕδωρ:
530 αἰεὶ δ᾽ ἀλλοδαποῖσι παρ᾽ ἀνδράσι δάκρυα λείβων
μνώετο Σαγγαρίοιο καὶ ἠθάδα δίζετο πηγήν,
Ἀονίου ποταμοῖο πιὼν ἀλλότριον ὕδωρ:
ὀψὲ δὲ δύσνιφον οἶδμα καὶ ὑδατόεσσαν ἀνάγκην
Ζεὺς ὕπατος πρήυνε, καὶ ἐκ Σιπύλοιο καρήνων
535 κλυζομένης Φρυγίης παλινάγρετον ἤλασεν ὕδωρ:
καὶ ῥόον ἐννοσίγαιος ὅλον μετέθηκε τριαίνῃ
εἰς βυθίους κευθμῶνας ἀτεκμάρτοιο θαλάσσης,
καὶ νιφετοῦ κελάδοντος ἐγυμνώθησαν ἐρίπναι:
καὶ τότε Βοιωτοῖο παλίνδρομος οὖδας ἐάσας
540 Πρίασος ὑστερόμητις ἑὴν ὑπεδύσατο πάτρην,
καὶ γενέτην βαρύγουνον ἀπήμονι πήχεος ὁλκῷ
νόστιμος ἀγκὰς ἔμαρψεν, ὃν εὐσεβέων χάριν ἔργων
Ζεὺς μέγας ὀμβρήεντος ἀνεζώγρησεν ὀλέθρου,
Βρόμβιον ὃν καλέουσιν: ἀπὸ Φρυγίοιο δὲ κόλπου
545 Πρίασον αὐχήεντες ἐκυκλώσαντο μαχηταί.
[511] The Phrygians ranged themselves beside the ranks of dinraising Lydians: those whose lot was in Boudeia, and the famous town of treeplanted Temeneia, a shady grove in the country; those who lived in Dresia and Obrimos, which discharges his water into the curving stream of Maiandros; those from the ground of Doias, and those who lived in goldroof Celainai, and the place of the Gorgon’s image. These were joined by those who had to inhabit the cities near Sangarios, and the settlements of the Elespid land: they were led by a captain from Dirce of the dragon, Priasos, who came from foreign parts to the Aonian land. For when Rainy Zeus flooded the land of Phrygia, pouring water from on high in seas of rain, when trees were covered, and in glens where thistles grew thirsty hills were flooded with rivers of water, Priasos left his drowned house hidden in the rain and the airclimbing river which had attacked his homestead, and migrated to the bosom of the Aonian land to escape from the fatal showers of rain. But he never ceased to shed tears among these foreign men; he remembered Sangarios and missed his familiar brook, when he drank the alien water of the Aonian River. But Zeus Highest at last quieted the stormy flood and the watery violence, and drove the water of flooded Phrygia down from the tops of Sipylos; Earthshaker with his trident pushed all the waters away into the deep hollows of the boundless sea, and the cliffs were laid bare of the roaring deluge. Then Priasos in late repentance left the land of Boiotos, and returned to his own country, and when he reached home he held his heavyknee father in his arms with a joyful embrace; for great Zeus had saved him from destruction for his pious works: Brombios they call him. Now the Phrygian warriors from the Phrygian gulf proudly thronged about Priasos.
Ἀστερίου δ᾽ ἀπάνευθε ἑοῦ γενέταο μολόντος
ἀρτιθαλὴς Μίλητος ὁμόστολος ἵκετο Βάκχῳ
Καῦνον ἔχων συνάεθλον ἀδελφεόν, ὃς τότε Καρῶν
λαὸν ἄγων ἔτι κοῦρος ἐδύσατο φύλοπιν Ἰνδῶν:
550 οὔ πω γὰρ δυσέρωτα δολοπλόκον ἔπλεκε μολπὴν
γνωτῆς οἶστρον ἔχων ἀδαήμονος, οὐδὲ καὶ αὐτὴν
ἀντιτύπου φιλότητος ὁμοζήλων ἐπὶ λέκτρων
Ζηνὶ συναπτομένην ἐμελίζετο σύγγονον Ἥρην
Λάτμιον ἀμφὶ βόαυλον ἀκοιμήτοιο νομῆος,
555 ὀλβίζων ὑπ᾽ ἔρωτι μεμηλότα γείτονι πέτρῃ
νυμφίον Ἐνδυμίωνα ποθοβλήτοιο Ζελήνης:
ἀλλ᾽ ἔτι Βυβλίς ἔην φιλοπάρθενος, ἀλλ᾽ ἔτι θήρην
Καῦνος ὁμογνήτων ἐδιδάσκετο νῆις ἐρώτων:
οὔ πω δ᾽, ἁβροκόμοιο κασιγνήτοιο φυγόντος,
560 δάκρυσιν ὀμβρηθεῖσα δέμας μορφώσατο κούρη,
καὶ ῥόον ὑδατόεντα γοήμονος ἔβλυε πηγῆς.
τῷ δ᾽ ἅμα θαρσήεντες ἐπερρώοντο μαχηταί,
οἳ Μυκάλην ἐνέμοντο, καὶ οἳ λάχον ἀγκύλον ὕδωρ
εἰς χθόνα δυομένοιο παλιννόστου ποταμοῖο,
565 Μαιάνδρου σκολιοῖο, διερπύζοντος ἐναύλων.
[546] Asterios the father had gone with another band, but his son Miletos now in the flower of his age came in the company of Bacchos. With him came his brother Caunos to share his dangers. Although only a boy, he led the Carian people into the Indian War. Not yet had he conceived a passion for his innocent sister, and composed that tricking lovesong; not yet had he sung of Hera herself joined with her brother Zeus in a harmonious bed of love like his own, the song about the Latmian cowshed of the neversleeping herdsman, while he praised Endymion, the bridegroom of love-smitten Selene, as happy in love’s care on a neighbouring rock. No, Byblis still loved maidenhood – no, Caunos was still learning to hunt, untouched by love for one so near. Not yet had the softhaired brother fled, or the girl changed her body to water by her tears; she was still no sorrowing fountain bubbling up a watery stream. Now courageous warriors flocked about him: those who lived in Mycale, and owned the winding stream of the crooked Maiandros, which sinks into the ground and returns again after crawling through the tunnels.
Τόσσαι μὲν στίχες ἦλθον: ὁμοζήλῳ δὲ πορείῃ
λαῶν ἀγρομένων Κυβεληίδες ἔκτυπον αὐλαί,
Μυγδονίης δὲ πόληος ἐκυκλώθησαν ἀγυιαί.
[566] So many were the companies that came. With harmonious march the peoples gathered, and the halls of Cybele resounded, and the streets of the Mygdonian city were thronged.
BOOK 14
εἰς δέκατον δὲ τέταρτον ἔχε φρένα κεῖθι κορύσσει
δαιμονίην στίχα πᾶσαν ἐς Ἰνδικὸν Ἄρεα Ῥείη.
Ῥείη δ᾽ ὠκυπέδιλος, ὀρεσσαύλῳ παρὰ φάτνῃ
αὐχένα λαχνήεντα περισφίγξασα λεόντων,
σύνδρομον ᾐώρησεν ὑπηνέμιον σφυρὸν αὔραις
ἠερίους κενεῶνας ἐρετμώσασα πεδίλῳ:
5 θεσπεσίας δὲ φάλαγγας ἀολλίζουσα Λυαίῳ
ὡς πτερὸν ἠὲ νόημα διέστιχεν ἕδρανα κόσμου
εἰς Νότον, εἰς Βορέην, εἰς Ἕσπερον, εἰς κλίσιν Ἠοῦς:
καὶ δρυσὶ καὶ ποταμοῖσι μίαν ξυνώσατο φωνὴν
Νηιάδας καλέουσα καὶ Ἁδρυάδας στίχας ὕ�
�ης.
10 δαιμονίη δ᾽ ἀίουσα γονὴ Κυβεληίδος ἠχοῦς,
πάντοθεν ἠγερέθοντο. καὶ ὑψόθεν εἰς χθόνα Λυδῶν
ἀπλανὲς ἴχνος ἄγουσα μετάρσιος ἵκετο Ῥείη:
καὶ νυχίην παλίνορσος ἐκούφισε μύστιδα πεύκην
Μυγδόνι θερμαίνουσα τὸ δεύτερον ἠέρα πυρσῷ.
BOOK XIV
Turn your mind to the fourteenth: there Rheia arms all the ranks of heaven for the Indian War.
Then swiftshoe Rheia haltered the hairy necks of her lions beside their highland manger. She lifted her windfaring foot to run with the breezes, and paddled with her shoes through the airy spaces. So like a wing or a thought she traversed the firmament to south, to north, to west, to the turning-place of dawn, gathering the divine battalions for Lyaios: one all-comprehending summons was sounded for trees and for rivers, one call for Naiads and Hadryads, the troops of the forest. All the divine generations heard the summons of Cybele, and they came together from all sides. From high heaven to Lydian land Rheia passed aloft with unerring foot, and returning lifted again the mystic torch in the night, warming the air a second time with Mygdonian fire.