Works of Nonnus

by Nonnus

  δυσμενέων ἤμησε γονὰς γαμψώνυχι χαλκῷ,

  τεύχων κῶμον Ἄρηι, θαλύσια καὶ Διονύσῳ,

  τέμνων ἐχθρὰ κάρηνα: καὶ ὤρεγε μάρτυρι Βάκχῳ

  καμπύλον ἀνδρομέῃ πεπαλαγμένον ἆορ ἐέρσῃ.

  160 λοιβὴν αἱματόεσσαν ἐπισπένδων Διονύσῳ

  καὶ Μοίρας ἐμέθυσσεν ἐνυάλιον πόμα λείβων:

  ἄλλου δ᾽ ἱσταμένου δεδραγμένος αἰγίβοτος Πάν,

  χερσὶν ὁμοπλεκέεσσιν ἐπ᾽ αὐχένι δεσμὸν ἑλίξας,

  δήιον εὐθώρηκα μετεστυφέλιξε κεραίῃ,

  165 δισσοτόμῳ γλωχῖνι δαϊζομένου κενεῶνος:

  ἄλλος ἐπαΐσσοντα καλαύροπι φῶτα δαΐζων

  μεσσόθεν ὀφρυόεντα διέθλασεν ἄκρα μετώπου.

  [136] While Ares was arming the Indian host along the mountains, the Bassarids up in the winding glens of Tauros were hastening to the battle, and with them marched Bacchoi with arms and the Pheres without arms. These last began the battle by attacking the enemy; they tore up the foundations of the ravines and cast them, or some crag from the top of the hills. Showers of splintered rocks were hurled rolling on the heads of the Indians. The Pans madly made battle skipping with light foot over the peaks. One of them gript an enemy’s neck tight in encircling hands, and ript him with his goat’s-hooves, tearing through flank and strong corselet together. Another caught a fugitive Indian and ran him through his middle where he stood, then lifting him on the curved points of his two longbranching antlers, sent him flying high through the airy ways, rolling over himself like a tumbler. Another waved in his hand the strawcutting sickle of sheafbearing Deo, and reaped the enemy crops with clawcurved blade, like cornears of conflict, like gavels of the battlefield. There was a revel for Ares, there was harvest-home for Dionysos, when the enemy’s heads were cut! He offered the curved blade to watching Bacchos, dabbled with human dew, and so poured a bloodlibation to Dionysos, and made the Fates drunken with the battlecup he filled for them. Another man was standing, when one goatfoot Pan twined both hands interlacing about his neck, and struck his wellcorseleted enemy with his horn, tearing his flank with the double point. Another met a fellow rushing on him with a blow from his cudgel, and smashed his forehead right between the ends of his eyebrows.

  καὶ θρασὺς Ἰνδῴην στρατιὴν θάρσυνεν Ὀρόντης

  μῦθον ἀπειλητῆρα χέων ὑψήνορι φωνῇ:

  [168] Now bold Orontes encouraged his Indian army, and with proud voice poured out these threatening words:

  170 ‘δεῦτε, φίλοι, Σατύροισιν ἀναστήσωμεν Ἐνυώ:

  Ἄρεα μὴ τρομέοιτε φυγοπτολέμου Διονύσου:

  μηδέ τις ὑμείων πιέτω ξανθόχροον ὕδωρ,

  μὴ γλυκερῆς δολόεντα μεμηνότα φάρμακα πηγῆς,

  Ἰνδῶν αἰνομόρων δεδαϊγμένα χειρὶ Λυαίου

  175 μὴ μετὰ τόσσα κάρηνα καὶ ἡμέας ὕπνος ὀλέσσῃ.

  δεῦτε, πάλιν μαχόμεσθα πεποιθότες: ἀπτόλεμος δὲ

  ἀμφαδίην πότε Βάκχος ἐμὴν στήσειεν Ἐνυώ;

  εἰ δύναται, μενέτω με φυγὰς πρόμος, ὄφρα δαείη,

  οἵους Δηριάδης προμάχους ἐς Ἄρηα κορύσσει.

  180 μαρνάσθω πετάλοισιν, ἐγὼ δ᾽ αἴθωνι σιδήρῳ.

  χάλκεον ἔγχος ἔχοντι τί μοι ῥέξειε κορύμβοις

  Λυδὸς ἀκοντίζων δρυόεν βέλος; ἀλλὰ μαχητὴν

  σφιγγόμενον βαρύδεσμον ἀνάλκιδα τοῦτον ἐρύσσω

  θηλυμανῆ Διόνυσον, ὀπάονα Δηριαδῆος:

  185 οὗτος ὁ θῆλυν ἔχων ἁπαλὸν χρόα, πάντας ἐάσας

  Ἰνδοὺς τοσσατίους ἑνὶ μάρναο μοῦνον Ὀρόντῃ.

  ἡδὺς ὁ δινεύων κεχαλασμένα βόστρυχα χαίτης,

  ἡδὺς ὁ Βασσαρίδων ἐρόεις πρόμος: ἀλλὰ καὶ αὐταὶ

  κάλλεϊ τοξεύουσι καὶ οὐ βελέεσσι γυναῖκες.

  190 σὰς προπόλους Ἰνδοῖσι γυναιμανέεσσι συνάψω

  ἑλκομένας ἐπὶ λέκτρα δορικτήτων ὑμεναίων.’

  [170] “This way, friends, open fight against the Satyrs! Fear not the warfare of Shirkbattle Dionysos! Not a man of you must drink of the yellow water, not one be tricked by the sweet fountains of madness with its maddening drug! Or sleep will destroy you also, after the cruel fate of our Indians, after so many heads have been brought low by Lyaios’s hand! This way! Let us fight again and fear not! Could unwarlike Bacchos ever hold front against me in open field? If he is able, let the runaway champion stand up to me, that I may teach him what champions Deriades arms for the fray! Let him fight with leaves, I will use flashing steel! While I hold a metal spear, what can a Lydian do to me with a bunch of twigs, a volley of vegetables? This warrior! I will truss up the feeble coward in heavy fetters and drag him along, this womanmad Dionysos, to be a lackey for Deriades. You there, you with the soft skin of a woman! Leave all those Indians and fight a duel with one, Orontes. Simple soul! how he waves those long flowing locks round and round! A simple soul is the charming champion of the Bassarids! yes, the women do just the same — pretty looks are the shafts in their quiver. I will match your championesses with amorous Indians — they shall be hauled off to bed as brides won by the spear!”

  ὣς εἰπὼν προμάχοισιν ἐπέδραμε θερμὸς Ὀρόντης,

  Ἄρεος ἀμώων διφυὲς θέρος: οὐδέ τις ἔτλη

  τοσσατίου προμάχοιο μένειν ἀντίξοον ὁρμήν,

  195 οὐ θρασὺς Εὐρυμέδων πυρόεις, οὐ σύγγονος Ἄλκων:

  φεῦγε γὰρ Ἀστραῖος, Σατύρων πρόμος, οὐδέ τις αὐτῶν

  Σειληνῶν παρέμιμνεν. ἀελλήεντι δὲ ταρσῷ

  γαμβρὸς ἐριπτοίητος ἐμαίνετο Δηριαδῆος

  ἀντία Κενταύρων ἀνεμώδεα λᾶον ἀείρων,

  200 καὶ τύχεν Ὑλαίοιο: δασυστέρνου δὲ νομῆος

  ἔθλασεν ἄκρα μέτωπα βαλὼν μυλοειδέι πέτρῳ,

  καὶ σκέπας ἐστυφέλιξε χαραδρήεντι βελέμνῳ,

  ψευδαλέου μίμημα τετυγμένον ἠθάδι γύψῳ,

  ἀντίτυπον πήληκος ἀληθέος ἕρκος ὀπωπῆς:

  205 καὶ τὸ μὲν ἐν χθονὶ πῖπτε πολυσχιδές, αἴθοπι τέφρῃ

  εἴκελον, ἀργυφέη δὲ πέλεν κόνις: αὐτὰρ ὁ κάμνων

  ἔγχεϊ πετρήεντι πέδον πήχυνεν ἀγοστῷ.

  Κενταύρου δ᾽ ἑτέροιο δι᾽ εὐκεράοιο καρήνου

  ἀμφιτόμῳ βουπλῆγι τυχὼν λασίοιο μετώπου

  210 ταυρείην ἐπίκυρτον ἀπηλοίησε κεραίην:

  καὶ πολὺς εἰς χθόνα πῖπτεν, ἐπισκαίρων δὲ καρήνῳ

  ἡμιθανὴς κεκύλιστο, καὶ οὔασι τύπτε κ�
�νίην:

  καὶ δέμας ὀρθώσας πυμάτῳ βακχεύετο ταρσῷ,

  εἰλιπόδην ἀγέλαστον ἔχων ὀρχηθμὸν ὀλέθρου:

  215 καὶ κτύπον ἐσμαράγησε πέλωρ, ἅτε ταῦρος ἰάλλων

  τρηχαλέον μύκημα σεσηρότος ἀνθερεῶνος, κρᾶτα τυπείς.

  [192] With these words Orontes dashed hot upon the front ranks, reaping a harvest in both kinds. Not one of all that wide front durst abide the adverse onset of so mighty a champion — not bold fiery Eurymedon, not Alcon his kinsman: Astraios chief of the Satyrs was in flight, none of the Seilenoi themselves would stand. With stormy foot Deriades’ goodson rushed in, raging, lifted a boulder in the air and let fly at the Centaurs, and hit Hylaios: the stone, a very millstone, crushed the forehead of the shaggybreast shepherd; the missile torn from the rock smashed his headpiece, a sham imitation made of the familiar chalk like a real helmet guarding the face, which fell to the ground like a glowing cinder in many pieces and whitened the dust, while the creature crushed by this stony spear threw his arms along the ground. Next he struck the hairy front of another Centaur with a two-bladed axe, and shore away the curving horn from his bull’s-head. He fell in a great heap on the ground, and rolled headlong tumbling about half dead and brushing the dust with his ears; then lifting his body on his feet, with a last wild effort he danced a stumbling hideous dance of death: the monster let out a harsh roaring sound, like a bull struck on the skull which bellows horribly with grinning jaws.

  Ἑλίκην δὲ βαλὼν ἄστοργος Ἐρεμβεὺς

  στήθεϊ χαλκὸν ἔλασσε, καὶ ἄργυφον ἄντυγα μαζοῦ

  αἵματι φοινίσσοντι κατέγραφε κυανέη χείρ:

  220 τὴν δὲ κονιομένην ἑτέρῃ ξύνωσαν ἀνίῃ

  πέπλον ἀναστείλαντες ἀκοντιστῆρες ἀῆται:

  καὶ χροὸς ἔβλυε λύθρον ἐπήρατον: αἰδομένη δὲ

  δεξιτερῇ συνάγειρεν ἑὸν φεύγοντα χιτῶνα,

  γυμνὰ φυλασσομένη χιονώδεος ὄργια μηροῦ.

  [217] The pitiless Erembeus now struck Helice, and drove his blade into her chest: the black hand scored the white circle of her breast with red blood. She rolled in the dust, and the hurtling winds taught her a second sorrow by lifting her robe. As her lovely gore welled up over the skin, she modestly smoothed the errant vesture with her right hand, guarding the bare secrets of the snowy-white thigh.

  225 καὶ θεὸς ἀθρήσας δηίων ἑτεραλκέα νίκην

  καὶ Σατύρους πτώσσοντας ἐπεσμαράγησε κυδοιμῷ,

  ὡς στρατὸς ἐννεάχιλος ἐριγδούπων ἀπὸ λαιμῶν

  συμφερτοῖς στομάτεσσι χέων ἀντίκτυπον ἠχώ.

  καὶ Βρομίῳ ταχύγουνος ἐμάρνατο μοῦνος Ὀρόντης,

  230 θνητὸς ἐών, βροτέῃ δὲ θεὸν προκαλίζετο φωνῇ.

  ἄμφω δ᾽ εἰς μόθον ἦλθον ὁμήλυδες, ὧν ὁ μὲν αὐτῶν

  ἔγχος ἔχων, ὁ δὲ θύρσον ἀκαχμένον. ἄκρα δὲ Βάκχου

  κρατὸς ἀνουτήτοιο βαλὼν ὑπέροπλος Ὀρόντης

  θηγαλέην Βρομίοιο μάτην ἤρασσε κεραίην:

  235 οὐ γὰρ ἄναξ Διόνυσος ἀδηλήτοιο καρήνου

  ταυροφυῆ τύπον εἶχε Σεληναίοιο μετώπου

  τεμνόμενον βουπλῆγος ἀλοιητῆρι σιδήρῳ,

  ὡς κερόεις Ἀχελῷος ἀείδεται, οὖ ποτε κόψας

  Ἡρακλέης κέρας εἷλε γαμοστόλος: ἀλλὰ Λυαῖος

  240 οὐράνιον μίμημα βοώπιδος εἶχε Σελήνης,

  δαιμονίης ἄρρηκτον ἔχων βλάστημα κεραίης,

  ἀντιβίοις ἀτίνακτον: ὁ δὲ θρασὺς ἀντία Βάκχου

  ἠερίῃ βαρύδουπος ὁμοίιος Ἰνδὸς ἀέλλῃ

  δεύτερον ἠκόντιζεν, ἀνεγνάμφθη δέ οἱ αἰχμὴ

  245 νεβρίδος ἁψαμένη μολίβου τύπον. ἀντιτύπου δὲ

  πέμπων οἴνοπα θύρσον ἐπὶ πλατὺν ὦμον Ὀρόντου

  Βάκχος ἑκὼν ἀφάμαρτεν: ἐπεγγελόων δὲ Λυαίου

  ἔγχεϊ κισσήεντι θεημάχος εἶπεν Ὀρόντης:

  [225] The god, seeing victory pass to the enemy, and the Satyrs cowed, uttered a loud cry in the turmoil, like an army of nine thousand men pouring defiant shouts with united voices from thunderous throats. Now Orontes fought alone quicknee against Bromios, and he a mortal, challenging with human voice a god. Both advanced together to the encounter, one with a spear, one with a pointed thyrsus. Orontes proud of his armament struck Bacchos on the top of his head, but wounded him not; he grazed the sharp horn of Bromios all for nothing. For Lord Dionysos wore on that invulnerable head nothing like the shape of the bullfaced moon which can be cut by the devastating steel of the slaughterer’s axe, as they sing of horned Acheloos, when Heracles cut off his horn and took it to adorn his wedding. No, Lyaios wore the heavenly image of the cow’s-eye moon, a growth of divine horns which cannot be broken, which enemies cannot shake. The bold Indian facing Bacchos, heavy-thundering like a tempest in the sky, again cast a spear, but the point when it touched the fawn-skin crumpled up like lead. Bacchos in his turn let fly his purple thyrsus at the broad shoulder of Orontes, and missed on purpose. Then fightgod Orontes laughed aloud at the ivyswathed lance, and said:

  ‘οὗτος ὁ θῆλυν ὅμιλον ἐμαῖς στρατιῇσι κορύσσων,

  250 εἰ δύνασαι, πολέμιζε γυναικείῳ σέο θύρσῳ,

  εἰ δύνασαι, προμάχιζε: καί, εἰ μερόπων φρένα τέρπεις

  πανδαμάτωρ, ἕνα μοῦνον ἀθελγέα θέλξον Ὀρόντην.

  ἵστασο δηριόων, καὶ γνώσεαι, οἷον ἀέξει

  ὄρχαμον ἀλκήεντα γέρων ἐμὸς Ἰνδός Ὑδάσπης.

  255 οὐ Φρυγίης γενόμην, ὅθεν ἄρσενές εἰσι γυναῖκες,

  ἄσπορον ἀμήσαντες ἀνυμφεύτου στάχυν ἥβης:

  οὐ θεράπων ἀσίδηρος ἀνάλκιδός εἰμι Λυαίου.

  φάρμακα σοὺς προμάχους οὐ ῥύσεται: ὑμετέρας δὲ

  θυιάδας ἀμφιπόλους ληίσσομαι, ἐκ δὲ κυδοιμοῦ

  260 Σειληνοὺς θεράποντας ἐμῷ βασιλῆι κομίσσω,

  σοὺς Σατύρους πτώσσοντας ἐμῷ δορὶ πάντας ὀλέσσω.’

  [249] “You that array a crowd of women against my armies, fight if you can with your womanish thyrsus! Play the champion if you can! And if you delight the heart of all mankind, allconquering, now charm one only whom nothing can charm — Orontes! Stand and fight! you shall see what a prime hero my ancient father Indian Hydaspes has produced! I was not born in Phrygia, where the men are women, who have reaped the corn of youth without seed and without wedlock. I am no unarmed servant of Lyaios the weakling. Drugs will not save your champions; your crazy women I will lead captive, your Seilenoi I will bring from battle as servants for my king, your Satyrs I will destroy, all cowering before my spear!”

  εἶπεν ὁμοκλήσας στρατιῆς πρόμος: εἰσ
αΐων δὲ

  Βάκχος ἄναξ κεχόλωτο, καὶ ἀμπελόεντι κορύμβῳ

  τύψε κατὰ στέρνου πεφιδημένος: οὐτιδανῷ δὲ

  265 ἄνθεϊ βοτρυόεντι τυπεὶς ἐσχίζετο θώρηξ:

  οὐδὲ καλυπτομένου χροὸς ἥψατο Βακχιὰς αἰχμή,

  οὐ δέμας ἄκρον ἄμυξε: σιδηρείου δὲ χιτῶνος

  ῥηγνυμένου βαρύδουπος ἐχάζετο γυμνὸς Ὀρόντης:

  ἠῴην δ᾽ ἐπὶ πέζαν ἑὰς ἐτίταινεν ὀπωπὰς

  270 ἀντιπόρῳ Φαέθοντι καὶ ὑστατίην φάτο φωνήν:

  [262] So cried in defiance the leader of the host. Lord Bacchos was angry when he heard him, and with a vine cluster he tapped him gently on the chest. This tap of an insignificant vinegrown bloom split his breastpiece. The god’s pike did not touch the protected flesh, did not scratch his body; but the coat of mail broke and fell with a heavy clang —

  Orontes was naked! He stept back and turned his gaze to the eastern expanse, and uttered his last words to Phaethon opposite:

  ‘ἠέλιε, φλογεροῖο δι᾽ ἅρματος αἰθέρα τέμτων.

  γείτονα Καυκασίην ὑπὲρ αὔλακα φέγγος ἰάλλων

  στῆσον ἐμοὶ σέο δίφρα, καὶ ἔννεπε Δηριαδῆι

  Ἰνδῶν δοῦλα γένεθλα καὶ αὐτοδάικτον Ὀρόντην

  275 καὶ θύρσους ὀλίγους ῥηξήνορας, εἰπὲ καὶ αὐτοῦ

  νίκην φαρμακόεσσαν ἀπειρομόθου Διονύσου.

  καὶ ῥόον οἰνωθέντα νοοσφαλέος ποταμοῖο:

  εἰπὲ δὲ, πῶς ἀκάμαντα σιδηροφόρων στρατὸν Ἰνδῶν

  λεπταλέοις πετάλοισι διασχίζουσι γυναῖκες.

  280 εἰ δὲ τεῆς Κλυμένης μιμνήσκεαι εἰσέτι λέκτρων,