by Nonnus
καὶ στοναχὴν πρήυνε Μέθη καὶ Βότρυς ἀνίην:
καί τινα μῦθον ἔειπε γυιὴ θελξίφρονι Βάκχῳ:
[17] He heard her words with pity; he mixed, and in a cup gave the young man and the downcast mother that winejuice which resolves all cares and drives away all trouble. Both drank the honey-flowing stuff of the vintage with its mindsolacing drops. Methe and Botrys quieted their groaning pain; and then the woman spoke to Bacchos the heart-enchanter:
‘ἦλθες ἐμοί, φίλε Βάκχε, φίλον φάος: οὐκέτ᾽ ἀνίη,
οὐκέτι πένθος ἔχει με Διωνύσοιο φανέντος:
25 ἦλθες ἐμοί, φίλε Βάκχε, φίλον φάος: ὑμετέρῳ γὰρ
δάκρυον ἐπρήυνα ποτῷ παιήονος οἴνου.
οὐ πόσιν, οὐ πατέρος στενάχω μόρον, ἀλλὰ καὶ αὐτοῦ
βότρυος, ἢν ἐθέλῃς, νοσφίσσομαι: ἀμφότερον γὰρ
Βάκχον ἔχω γενετῆρα καὶ υἱέα καὶ παρακοίτην.
30 ἕσπομαι, ἢν ἐθέλῃς με, καἰ εἰς τεὸν οἶκον ἱκάνω:
εἴην Βασσαρίδεσσιν ὁμόστολος: ἢν δ᾽ ἐθελήσῃς,
κουφίζω σέο θύρσα καὶ ἱμερόεσσαν ὀπώρην,
χείλεσι δ᾽ ἡμετέροις ἐπιλήνιον αὐλὸν ἐρείσω.
χήρην μή με λίπῃς, μὴ διπλόον ἄλγος ἀέξω
35 καὶ φθιμένου Σταφύλοιο καὶ οἰχομένου Διονύσου.
βότρυν ἔχεις θεράποντα: διδασκέσθω δὲ χορείας
καὶ τελετὰς καὶ θύσθλα καί, ἢν ἐθέλῃς, μόθον Ἰνδῶν:
καί μιν ἴδω γελόωντα φιλακρήτῳ παρὰ ληνῷ
ποσσὶ περιθλίβοντα τεῆς ὠδῖνας ὀπώρης.
40 γηραλέου δὲ Πίθου μιμνήσκεο, μή μιν ἐάσῃς
σῆς τελετῆς ἀδίδακτον ἢ ἄμμορον ἡδέος οἴνου.’
[23] “You have come to me, dear Bacchos, as a great light! Grief holds me no more, pain no more, now Dionysos has appeared! You have come to me, dear Bacchos, as a great light; for by your potion of healing wine I have quieted my tears. I mourn no more for husband, no more for a father’s death, even Botrys I will give up if it be your pleasure; for I have Bacchos as father and son both, aye and husband. I will go with you even to your house, if it be your pleasure. I would join the company of Bassarids. If it be your will, I will lift your sacred gear and your lovely fruit, I will press my lips to the hoboy of the winepress. Leave me not a widow, that I may not cherish a double grief, my husband perished and Dionysos gone! You have Botrys for a servant. Let him learn the dances, the sacred rites and sacred things, and if you please, the Indian War; let me see him laughing in the inebriated winepress treading hard on the offspring of your vintage! Remember old Pithos, and leave him not untaught of your rites or without a share of your delicious wine.”
ὣς φαμένην θάρσυνε Μέθην γελόωντι προσώπῳ
Βάκχος ἄναξ καὶ τοῖα φιλακρήτῳ φάτο νύμφῃ:
[42] She spoke; Lord Bacchos encouraged Methe with laughing face, and thus he said to the wineloving queen:
‘ὦ γύναι, ἀγλαόδωρε μετά χρυσῆν Ἀφροδίτην,
45 εὐφροσύνης δώτειρα ... τερψίμβροτε μῆτερ Ἐρώτων,
εἰλαπίνης ψαύοντι συνειλαπίναζε Λυαίῳ:
ἔσσο Διωνύσῳ στεφανηφόρος, ὡς Ἀφροδίτη,
ἄνθεσι μιτρωθεῖσα καὶ εὐαλδέσσι κορύμβοις:
στέμματα σῶν πλοκάμων τελέσει ζηλήμονα Νίκην.
50 οἰνοχόον τελέσω σε μετὰ χρυσόθρονον Ἥβην:
ἔσσεαι ἀμπελόεντι συναντέλλουσα Λυαίῳ
Βακχείων ὁμόφοιτος ὑποδρήστειρα κυπέλλων,
καί σε Μέθην καλέσουσι κόρον τερψίμβροτον οἴνου:
βότρυν ἐμῆς καλέσω λαθικηδέα καρπὸν ὀπώρης,
55 καὶ σταφυλὴν φερέβοτρυν ἀπὸ Σταφύλοιο καλέσσω
ἡμερίδων ὠδῖνα καὶ ἀμπελόεσσαν ἐέρσην.
οὐδὲ Μέθης ἀπάνευθε δυνήσομαι εἰλαπινάζειν,
οὐδὲ Μέθης ἀπάνευθεν ἐγώ ποτε κῶμον ἐγείρω.’
[44] “My lady, giver of glorious gifts second only to golden Aphrodite, bestower of hearty good cheer,... the joy of man and the mother of love, sit at the feast beside Lyaios as he touches the feast!
Be garlandbearer for Dionysos, even as Aphrodite, girdled with flowers and luxuriant clusters. The chaplets upon your hair shall make Victory jealous! I will make you pourer of wine, next after Hebe goldenthrone. You shall rise a satellite star for Lyaios of the vine, ever by his side to serve the Bacchanal cups, and man’s joy, the surfeit of wine, shall bear your name, Methe. I will give the name of Botrys to the careconsoling fruit of my vintage, and I will call after Staphylos the carryberry bunch of grapes, which is the offspring of the gardenvines full of juicy liquor. Without Methe I shall never be able to feast, without Methe I will never rouse the merry revels.”
ὣς εἰπὼν Σταφύλοιο μεθυσφαλέος παρὰ τύμβῳ
60 νηπενθὴς Διόνυσος ἀπειθέα θῆκεν ἀγῶνα:
καὶ τράγον εὐπώγωνα καὶ ἄρσενα ταῦρον ἐρύσσας
διπλόα θῆκεν ἄεθλα, καὶ εὐφόρμιγγας ἐρίζειν
Πιερικῆς ἐκάλεσσεν ἁμιλλητῆρας ἀοιδῆς:
διπλόα θῆκεν ἄεθλα, καὶ ἀθλητῆρας ἐπείγων
65 ἴδμονας εὐκελάδοιο λύρης μειλίξατο μύθῳ:
[59] Such were his words. Then beside the tomb of reeling Staphylos, Dionysos the foe of mourning held a contest where no mourning was. He brought out a bearded goat and a vigorous bull and set them both as prizes, calling to the contest combatants well able to touch the harp in Pierian music; he set them both as prizes, and stirred up these athletes well acquainted with the melodious lute by making a courteous speech:
‘Ἀττικὸν ἐνθάδε κῶμον ἐγείρομεν: ἀθλοφόρῳ γὰρ
ἀνέρι νικήσαντι λιπόχροα ταῦρον ὀπάσσω,
ἀνδρὶ δὲ νικηθέντι δασὺν τράγον ἐγγυαλίξω.’
[66] “Here we begin an Attic revel. I will give the glossy bull to the man who wins the victory, and the shaggy goat I will give to the loser.”
ὣς φαμένου Βρομίοιο λυροκτύπος ἄνθορεν ἀνήρ,
70 Βιστονίης Οἴαγρος ἀθαλπέος ἀστὸς ἀρούρης,
πλῆκτρον ἔχων φόρμιγγι παρήορον: αὐτὰρ ἐπ᾽ αὐτῷ
Ἀτθίδος ὑμνοπόλου ναέτης ἀνόρουσεν Ἐρεχθεύς.
ἄμφω δ᾽ εἰς μέσον ἦλθον ἀεθλητῆρες ἀγῶνος
φορμίγγων ἐλατῆρες: ἐμιτρώσαντο δέ χαίτην
75 δαφναίοις πετάλοισιν: ἀνεζώννυντο δέ πέπλους.
[69] When Bromios had spoken, up sprang a harper, Oiagros, a man of the cold Bistonian land, with the quill hanging
to his harp. Hard upon him leapt up Êrechtheus, a citizen of Attica the friend of music. Both moved into the midst of the assembly, competing as drivers of the harp. They had entwined leaves of laurel in their hair, and girt up their robes.
ἀρχόμενοι δ᾽ ἐλέλιζον ἐθήμονι δάκτυλα παλμῷ
ἐκταδίης θλίβοντες ἀμοιβαίην στίχα νευρῆς
ἄκρα περισφίγγοντες, ὅπως μήτ᾽ ὄρθιος εἴη,
μή ποτε θηλύνειε παρειμένος ἄρσενα μολπήν.
[76] With wonted nimbleness, they began to twangle away, running their fingers over the tensed strings and plucking each in turn, then tightening the pegs at the end, to make sure that the pitch was not too high, and yet that it should not go flat and turn womanish the manly tune.
80 καὶ πρότερος κλήροιο τυχὼν τεχνήμονι ῥυθμῷ
Κεκροπίης ναέτης κιθάρην ἐλέλιζεν Ἐρεχθεύς,
[80] First the lot fell to Erechtheus of Cecropia; he twangled his harp, with a master’s touch, for a song of his own country, and this is what he sang:
μέλπων πάτριον ὕμνον, ὅτι ‘ζαθέαις ἐν Ἀθήναις
καὶ Κελεὸς ξείνισσε Βίου παμμήτορα Δηὼ
Τριπτολέμῳ σὺν παιδὶ καὶ ἀρχαίῃ Μετανείρῃ,
85 καί σφισι καρπὸν ὄπασσεν, ὅτε χθονὸς αὔλακα νίφων
Τριπτόλεμος σπόρον εὗρε φερεσταχύων ἐπὶ δίφρων,
καὶ Κελεοῦ φθιμένοιο νεοδμήτῳ παρὰ τύμβῳ
ὄμμασιν ἀκλαύτοισι θαλυσιὰς ἔστενε Δηώ,
ἀλλὰ παρηγορέουσα πάλιν θελξίφρονι μύθῳ
90 Τριπτολέμου Βαρὺ πένθος ἀπέσβεσε καὶ Μεταιείρης:
οὕτω καὶ Διόνυσον ἑῷ ξείνισσε μελάθρῳ
Ἀσσυρίων σκηπτοῦχος: ἄναξ δέ οἱ ἀντὶ τραπέζης
ὤπασεν Εὔια δῶρα καὶ ἀμπελόεσσαν ὀπώρην,
καὶ Σταφύλου φθιμένοιο, φιλακρήτου βασιλῆος,
95 υἱέα Βότρυν ἔπαυσε φιλοθρήνοιο μερίμνης,
καὶ κινυρῆς ἀλόχοιο Μέθης εὔνησεν ἀνίην.’
[82] How in divine Athens Celeos entertained Deo the mother of all life, with Triptolemos his son and ancient Metaneira. Then how Deo gave them the corn, when Triptolemos found out how to scatter showers of seed from his chariot laden with ears all over the furrowed soil. And when Celeos died, how harvesthome Deo lamented beside the new built sepulchre with unweeping eyes, and consoling them again with heartenchanting words, quenched the heavy grief of Triptolemos and Metaneira. Even so the sceptred king of Assyria had entertained Dionysos in his palace, and the Lord had requited the table with his Euian gifts and the fruitage of the vine; then after Staphylos died, that tippling king, he took away the gloomy care of Botrys his son and soothed the sorrow of Methe his mourning wife.
τοῖα σοφὸς φόρμιζε λυροκτύπος: ἀμφὶ δὲ ῥυθμῷ
πάντες ὁμοῦ θέλγοντο: σὺν εὐθύρσῳ δὲ Λυαίῳ
ἅρμενον ἱμερόφωνον ἐθάμβεον Ἀτθίδα μολπήν.
[97] Such was the lay of the harper poet, and all were alike enchanted with the music; they and the god with the thyrsus admired the Attic song with the lovely tones of the fit setting.
100 δεύτερος αἰόλον ὕμνον ἄναξ Οἴαγρος ὑφαίνων,
ὡς γενέτης Ὀρφῆος, ὁμέστιος ἠθάδι Μούσῃ,
δίστιχον ἁρμονίην ἀνεβάλλετο Φοιβάδι μολπῇ,
παυροεπής, λιγύμυθος, Ἀμυκλαίῳ τινί θεσμῷ:
‘Εὐχαίτην Ὑάκινθον ἀνεζώγρησεν Ἀπόλλων,
105 καὶ Στάφυλον Διόνυσος ἀεί ζώοντα τελέσσει.’
[100] Second, my lord Oiagros wove a winding lay, as the father of Orpheus who has the Muse his boon-companion. Only a couple of verses he sang, a ditty of Phoibos, clearspoken in few words after some Amyclaian style:
Apollo brought to life again his longhair’d Hyacinthos:
Staphylos will be made to live for aye by Dionysos.
οὔ πω κῶμος ἔληγεν, ἐπεφθέγξαντο δὲ λαοὶ
εὐφήμοις ἐπέεσσιν ὁμογλώσσων ἀπό λαιμῶν,
καὶ Σάτυροι σμαράγησαν ἀολλέες: ἐκ δὲ θοώκου
ἄστατος ἅλλετο Βάκχος, ἄνω καὶ ἔνερθε τινάσσων
110 δεξιτερήν, καὶ Βότρυς ἀνέδραμεν, εὐάδι φωνῇ
ἁρμονίην εὔρυθμον ἀοιδοπόλοιο γεραίρων:
Οἰάγρου δὲ κάρηνον ἄναξ ἐστέψατο κισσῷ,
καὶ γενέτης Ὀρφῆος ἐπιρρήσσων χθόνα ταρσῷ
ἄσμενος ἄζυγα ταῦρον ἐδέξατο μισθὸν ἀοιδῆς:
115 ἀμφὶ δέ μιν στοιχηδὸν ἐπεσκίρτησαν ἑταῖροι.
καί τράγον εὐρυγένειον, ἄχος καὶ ζῆλον ἀέξων,
αἰδομέναις παλάμῃσιν ἀνείρυσεν ἀστὸς Ἀθήνης.
[106] Before the ceremonial was well ended, the people broke out into loud acclamations of propitious words with one voice and one tongue, and all the Satyrs roared. Bacchos leapt from his seat in haste, waving his right hand up and down; Botrys ran up, crying Euoi and applauding the musical harmonies of the harper. The Lord crowned Oiagros’s head with ivy, and the father of Orpheus stamped his foot on the ground, as he accepted with joy the untamed bull, the prize of the singing, while his companions danced round him in a row. The man of Athens carried off the bearded goat with shamed hands, full of sorrow and envy.
Εὐχαίτης δ᾽ Ἰόβακχος, ἀφειδέι χειρὶ κομίζων,
ἄξια θῆκεν ἄεθλα χοροπλεκέος περί νίκης,
120 γηραλέου κρητῆρα θυώδεος ἔγκυον οἴνου,
χρύσεον, ἄσπετα μέτρα κεχανδότα, διψάδι γαίῃ
ἰκμάδα τετραέτηρον ἀναβλύζοντα Λυαίου,
Ἡφαίστου σοφὸν ἔρυον Ὀλύμπιον, ὅν ποτε Κύπρις
ὤπασε βοτρυόεντι κασιγνήτῳ Διονύσῳ:
125 μείονα δὲ κρητῆρα μέσῳ παρέθηκεν ἀγῶνι
ἀργύρεον, στίλβοντα, περίτροχον, ὅν ποτε Βάκχῳ
δῶκεν ἄναξ Ἀλύβης ξεινήιον οἰκία ναίων,
ἀφνειὴν παρὰ πέζαν, ὅπῃ χθονίοιο μετάλλου
ἀργυρέοις ἀγκῶσι μέλας λευκαίνετο κευθμών,
130 τοῦ περὶ χείλεος ἄκρον ἐπ᾽ ὀμφαλόεντι καρήνῳ
κισσὸς ἕλιξ, χρυσέῳ δὲ πέριξ δαιδάλλετο κόσμῳ:
τοῦτον ἄγων ἔστησε βαθυνομένῳ κενεῶνι
ληνὸν ἔτι πνείοντα νεώτερον ὄγκον ὀπώρης,
γλεῦκος, ἀνυμφεύτοιο μέθης ποτόν: οὐ νέμεσις γὰρ
135 ἀνέρα νικηθέντα πιεῖν ἀμέθυστον ἐέρσην.
[118] Now Iobacchos with flowi
ng hair brought out worthy prizes in his generous hand, offered for victory in the woven dance: a mixer teeming with old fragrant wine, a golden bowl which held infinite measures, spilling on the thirsty earth Lyaios’s juice of four years old. This was an Olympian work of Hephaistos the great master, which Cypris once gave to her brother Dionysos of the vine. A lesser bowl also he set before the assembly, solid silver, shining and round, which Bacchos had once received as a guestgift from the king of Alybe; who lived in the rich country where the black hole of the mines in the earth was whitened with silver nooks. Round the edge of the lip, on the bossy brim, was ivy twining over bunches of grapes in fine patterns of gold all round. This he brought and laid before them with deep belly still breathing the winepress, stuff of a younger vintage, must, a draught of unmated potation; for who would grudge a defeated man to drink of dew that cannot inebriate?
ἀλλ᾽ ὅτε Βάκχος ἄεθλα μέσῳ στήριξεν ἀγῶνι,
ἴδμονας ὀρχηθμοῖο καλέσσατο μάρτυρι φωνῇ:
[136] When Bacchos had laid his prizes before the company, he called out the masters of the dance with attesting voice:
‘ὅς τις ἀεθλεύσει κυκλούμενος ἴδμονι ταρσῷ
νικήσας τροχαλοῖο ποδός κρίσιν, οὗτος ἑλέσθω
140 καὶ χρύσεον κρητῆρα καὶ ἡδυπότου χύσιν οἴνου:
ὃς δὲ πέσῃ σφαλεροῖο ποδὸς δεδονημένος ὁλκῷ,
ἥσσονα δ᾽ ὀρχήσαιτο, καὶ ἥσσονα δῶρα δεχέσθω:
οὐ γὰρ ἐγὼ πάντεσσιν ὁμοίιος: ἀθλοφόρῳ δέ
ἀνέρι νικήσαντι χοροίτυπον ἁβρὸν ἀγῶνα
145 οὐ τρίποδα στίλβοντα καὶ οὐ ταχὺν ἵππον ὀπάσσω,
οὐ δόρυ καὶ θώρηκα φόνῳ πεπαλαγμένον Ἰνδῶν,
δίσκον ἐς ἰθυκέλευθον ἀκοντιστῆρας ἐγείρων: