Works of Nonnus

by Nonnus

  [184] So smiling Aphrodite laughed, in mockery at Ares her lover and his battles.

  185 Ἄρεα κερτομέουσα γαμοστόλον, ἄγχι δὲ πόντου

  καλλείψας ἀκόμιστον ἐπ᾽ αἰγιαλοῖο χιτῶνα

  θαλπόμενος γλυκερῇσι μεληδόσι λούσατο Μορρεύς,

  γυμνὸς ἐών: ψυχρῇ δὲ δέμας φαίδρυνε θαλάσσῃ,

  θερμὸν ἔχων Παφίης ὀλίγον βέλος: ἐν δὲ ῥεέθροις

  190 Ἰνδῴην ἱκέτευεν Ἐρυθραίην Ἀφροδίτην,

  εἰσαΐων, ὅτι Κύπρις ἀπόσπορός ἐστι θαλάσσης:

  λουσάμενος δ᾽ ἀνέβαινε μέλας πάλιν: εἶχε δὲ μορφήν,

  ὡς φύσις ἐβλάστησε, καὶ ἀνέρος οὐ δέμας ἅλμη,

  οὐ χροιὴν μετάμειψεν, ἐρευθαλέη περ ἐοῦσα.

  195 καὶ κενεῇ χρόα λοῦσεν ἐπ᾽ ἐλπίδι: χιόνεος γὰρ

  ἱμερόεις μενέαινε φανήμεναι ἄζυγι κούρῃ:

  καὶ λινέῳ κόσμησε δέμας χιονώδεϊ πέπλῳ,

  οἷον ἔσω θώρηκος ἀεὶ φορέουσι μαχηταί.

  [185] Then Morrheus left his coat uncared-for on the seashore, glowing with sweet anxieties. Naked he bathed: the cool sea cleansed his body, but the Paphian’s tiny dart was hot within him. In the waters he prayed to Erythraian Aphrodite of India, for he had learnt that Cypris is the daughter of the sea; but he came out still black from his bath, for his body was as nature had made it grow, and the brine changed not the man’s body or his colour, itself red though it was. So he washed his skin in a vain hope; for he had wished to become snow-white, and so desirable to the virgin maid. He dressed himself in a snowy linen robe, such as soldiers always wear inside the mailcoat.

  ἱσταμένη δ᾽ ἄφθογγος ἐπ᾽ ᾐόνος εἶχε σιωπὴν

  200 Χαλκομέδη δολόεσσα: μεταστρεφθεῖσα δὲ κούρη

  Μορρέος ἀχλαίνοιο σαόφρονας εἷλκεν ὀπωπάς,

  ἀσκεπὲς αἰδομένη δέμας ἀνέρος: εἰσιδέειν γὰρ

  ἅζετο θῆλυς ἐοῦσα λελουμένον ἄρσενα κούρη.

  [199] Chalcomede stood on the shore in silence without a word, full of her scheme. She turned aside from Morrheus unclad, withdrawing her modest looks, ashamed before the uncovered body of a man; for the girl was abashed being a woman to look on a man after the bath.

  ἀλλ᾽ ὅτε χῶρον ἔρημον ἐσέδρακεν ἅρμενον εὐναῖς,

  205 τολμηρὴν παλάμην ὀρέγων αἰδήμονι νύμφῃ

  εἵματος ἀψαύστοιο σαόφρονος ἥψατο κούρης:

  καί νύ κεν ἀμφίζωστον ἑλὼν εὐήνορι δεσμῷ

  νυμφιδίῳ σπινθῆρι βιήσατο θυιάδα κούρην:

  ἀλλά τις ἀχράντοιο δράκων ἀνεπήλατο κόλπου,

  210 παρθενικῆς ἀγάμοιο βοηθόος, ἀμφὶ δὲ μίτρην

  ἀμφιλαφὴς κυκλοῦτο φυλάκτορι γαστέρος ὁλκῷ:

  ὀξὺ δὲ συρίζοντος ἀσιγήτων ἀπὸ λαιμῶν

  πέτραι ἐμυκήσαντο: φόβῳ δ᾽ ἐλελίζετο Μορρεὺς

  αὐχένιον μύκημα νόθης σάλπιγγος ἀκούων,

  215 παπταίνων ἀγάμοιο προασπιστῆρα κορείης:

  καὶ πρόμος ἀμφιέλικτος ἀνεπτοίησε μαχητήν,

  οὐρὴν ἀγκυλόκυκλον ἐπ᾽ αὐχένι φωτὸς ἑλίξας,

  ἔγχος ἔχων στόμα λάβρον: ἐτοξεύοντο δὲ πολλοὶ

  ἰὸν ἀκοντίζοντες ἐχιδνήεντες ὀιστοί:

  220 οἱ μὲν ἀμιτρώτοιο διαΐσσοντες ἐθείρης,

  οἱ δὲ δρακοντοκόμοιο δι᾽ ἰξύος, οἱ δ᾽ ἀπὸ κόλπου

  Ἄρεα συρίζοντες ἐβακχεύοντο μαχηταί.

  [204] But when Morrheus had seen a lonely spot suitable for lying down, he stretched out a daring hand towards the modest girl and caught the chaste maiden’s inviolate dress. And now he would have seized her and girt her about with a strong man’s arms, and ravished the maiden votary in the flame of a bridegroom’s desire; but a serpent darted out of her immaculate bosom to protect the virgin maid, and curled about her waist guarding her body all round with its belly’s coils. A sharp hiss issued unceasing from his throat and made the rocks resound. Morrheus trembled for fear when he heard the bellow, coming out from the throat for all the world like a trumpet, and saw this champion of unwedded maidenhood. The coiled defender terrified the man of war; he curled his tail round the man’s neck in twisted coils, with his wild mouth for a lance, and many a snaky shaft came darting poison against him, some darting through her uncoifed hair, some from her snakeprotected loins, some from her breast, wild warriors hissing death.

  ὄφρα μὲν ὑψιλόφοιο πρὸ ἄστεος ἵστατο Μορρεύς,

  Χαλκομέδην δολόεσσαν ἀνήνυτον εἰς γάμον ἕλκων,

  225 τόφρα δὲ Βασσαρίδος στρατιῆς εὔοπλος Ἐνυὼ

  ἔγχος ἀτειρήεντος ἀλεύατο Δηριαδῆος.

  καὶ γὰρ ἀπ᾽ Οὐλύμποιο θορὼν ὠκύπτερος Ἑρμῆς,

  ἀντίτυπον Βρομίοιο φέρων ἴνδαλμα προσώπου,

  Βακχείην ἐκάλεσσεν ὅλην στίχα μύστιδι φωνῇ:

  230 δαιμονίην δὲ γυναῖκες ὅτ᾽ ἔκλυον Εὔιον ἠχώ,

  εἰς ἕνα χῶρον ἵκανον: ἀπὸ τριόδων δὲ κομίζων

  Μαιναλίδων ὅλον ἔθνος ἐς ἀγκύλα κύκλα κελεύθου

  ἤγαγεν ὠκυπέδιλος, ἕως σχεδὸν ἤιε πύργων:

  καὶ φυλάκων στοιχηδὸν ἀκοιμήτοισιν ὀπωπαῖς

  235 νήδυμον ὕπνον ἔχευεν ἑῇ πανθελγέι ῥάβδῳ

  φώριος Ἑρμείας, πρόμος ἔννυχος: ἐξαπίνης δὲ

  Ἰνδοῖς μὲν ζόφος ἦεν, ἀθηήτοισι δὲ Βάκχαις

  φέγγος ἔην ἀδόκητον: ἀδουπήτων δὲ γυναικῶν

  λάθριος ἡγεμόνευε δι᾽ ἄστεος ἄπτερος Ἑρμῆς:

  240 χειρὶ δὲ θεσπεσίῃ βριαρὴν κληῖδα πυλάων

  ἠλιβάτων ὤιξε, καὶ ἠέλιος πέλε Βάκχαις.

  [223] While Morrheus remained in front of the towering city, trying without success to drag the resourceful Chalcomede to his lust, the armed company of Bassarids was saved from the spear of untiring Deriades. For swiftwing Hermes came in haste from Olympos, wearing a semblance like the face of Bromios and summoned the whole company of Bacchants in his mystic voice. When the women heard the divine Euian sounds, they gathered into one place; Swiftshoe brought them from the three-ways and led the whole tribe of Mainalids by crooked winding lanes until he was near the walls. Then furtive Hermeias the warrior by night, with his allcharming rod shed refreshing sleep on the unresting eyes of the guards in order. Suddenly for the Indians there was darkness, for the unseen Bacchants there was light unexpected. The women made no noise as Hermes led them secretly through the city without his wings. With his divine
hand he opened the forbidding lock of the precipitous gates, and for the Bacchants the sun was there.

  Ἠματίην δ᾽ ὅτε νύκτα φαεσφόρος ἤλασεν Ἑρμῆς,

  Δηριάδης ὑπέροπλος ἔχων ἀτέλεστον ἀπειλὴν

  Βασσαρίδων μάστευε λιπόπτολιν ἑσμὸν ὁδίτην.

  245 ὡς δ᾽ ὅτε τις κατὰ νύκτα βαθυπλούτοις ἐν ὀνείροις

  τέρπεται ἀπρήκτοισιν ἐπ᾽ ἐλπωρῇσιν, ἀείρων

  ἀφνειαῖς παλάμῃσι μινυνθαδίου χύσιν ὄλβου,

  ὑπναλέων κτεάνων ἀπατήλιον ἐλπίδα βόσκων:

  ἀλλ᾽ ὅτε φαινομένης ῥοδοειδέος ἠριγενείης

  250 χάζεται εὐκτεάνοιο παλίλλυτος ὄψις ὀνείρου,

  σὺν κενεαῖς παλάμῃσιν ἐγείρεται, οὐδὲν ἀείρων,

  ῥίψας κλεψινόων σκιοειδέα τέρψιν ὀνείρων:

  ὣς τότε Δηριάδης, ὅτε μὲν ζόφος εἶχεν ἀγυιάς,

  τέρπετο Βασσαρίδων δοκέων αὐτόσσυτον ἄγρην

  255 ἀμφιέπειν ἔντοσθεν ἐεργομένων πυλεώνων,

  ψευδομένην ἀνόνητον ἔχων σκιοειδέα νίκην:

  ἀλλ᾽ ὅτε φέγγος ἔλαμψε, καὶ οὐκέτι δέρκετο Βάκχας,

  ὡς ὄναρ ἔδραμε πάντα, καὶ ἴαχε πενθάδι φωνῇ.

  ὡς Διὶ καὶ Φαέθοντι χολώετο καὶ Διονύσῳ,

  260 Μαιναλίδας φυγάδας διζήμενος. ἀμφὶ δὲ πύργους

  Βασσαρίδες κελάδησαν ἀνάμπυκες Εὐάδι φωνῇ.

  [242] When Lightbringer Hermes had dispersed this night-by-day, haughty Deriades thwarted in his threats searched for the swarms of Bassarids who had just walked out of the city. As one dreaming in the night of boundless riches is happy in his unattainable hopes, and lifts in full hands the flood of wealth which will soon be gone, feeding the deceptive hope of his dream-fortune; but when rosy dawn appears, the fortune of his dreams fades and vanishes like a vision, and he awakes with empty hands, holding nothing, and loses the shadowy happiness of his delusive dream: so then Deriades, while darkness covered the streets, was happy, thinking that he held the captive Bassarids ready to come hurrying to him within closed gates, although his victory was a useless deceptive shadow; but when the light came, and he saw no Bacchants, all was gone like a dream, and he cried in a mournful voice, indignant with Zeus and Phaethon and Dionysos, as he searched for the fugitive Mainalids. But around the Malls the Bassarids unveiled shouted with Euian voice. Then Deriades set out in pursuit for the second time.

  Δηριάδης δ᾽ ἐδίωκε τὸ δεύτερον, ἔγρετο δὲ Ζεὺς

  Καυκάσου ἐν κορυφῇσιν ἀπορρίψας πτερὸν Ὕπνου:

  καὶ δόλον ἠπεροπῆα μαθὼν κακοεργέος Ἥρης

  265 Σειληνοὺς ἐδόκευε πεφυζότας, ἔδρακε Βάκχας

  σπερχομένας ἀγεληδὸν ἀπὸ τριόδων, ἀπὸ πύργων,

  καὶ Σατύρους κείροντα καὶ ἀμώοντα γυναῖκας

  Δηριάδην ἐνόησεν ὀπίστερον, ὄρχαμον Ἰνδῶν,

  υἱέα δ᾽ ἐν δαπέδῳ κατακείμενον: ἀμφὶ δὲ νύμφαι

  270 ἐγγὺς ἔσαν στεφανηδόν: ὁ δ᾽ ἐν στροφάλιγγι κονίης

  κεῖτο καρηβαρέων, ὀλιγοδρανὲς ἄσθμα τιταίνων,

  ἀφρὸν ἀκοντίζων χιονώδεα, μάρτυρα λύσσης.

  καὶ φθονερῆς ἤλεγξε δόλον δυσμήχανον Ἥρης,

  καὶ δολίην παράκοιτιν ἐμέμψατο κέντορι μύθῳ:

  275 καί νύ κεν ἀχλυόεντος ὁμέστιον Ἰαπετοῖο

  ὕπνον ὀμιχλήεντι κατεκλήισσε βερέθρῳ,

  εἰ μὴ Νὺξ ἱκέτευε, θεῶν δμήτειρα καὶ ἀνδρῶν.

  καὶ μόγις εὐνήσας ὀλοὸν χόλον ἴαχεν Ἥρῃ:

  [262] Zeus awoke on the peaks of Caucasos and threw off the wing of sleep. He understood the beguiling trick of Hera the mischiefmaker when he saw the Seilenoi in flight, when he saw the Bacchant women hurrying in herds from the threeways and the M alls, and behind them the Indian chieftain Deriades, cutting down Satyrs and mowing down women; he saw his own son lying upon the ground, and the nymphs all round him in a ring, but he lay in the whirling dust heavy-headed, half-fainting, breathing hard, sputtering white foam to witness his frenzy. Then Zeus disclosed Hera’s mischievous contrivance, and reproached his deceitful consort with stinging words. And now indeed he Mould have imprisoned Sleep in the darksome pit of gloom to dwell along with murky Iapetos, but for the prayers of Night the vanquisher of gods and men. So Zeus calmed his savage resentment with difficulty, and cried out to Hera:

  ‘οὔ πω ἐμῆς Σεμέλης ἐκορέσσαο, δύσμαχος Ἥρη,

  280 ἀλλ᾽ ἔτι καὶ φθιμένῃ τάχα χώεαι; οὐδὲ καὶ αὐτὴ

  σὸν κότον ἐπρήυνεν ἀτέρμονα νυμφιδίη φλόξ,

  λέκτρα διασκεδάσασα Διοβλήτοιο Θυώνης;

  Ἰνδοφόνῳ τέο μέχρις ἐπιβρίθεις Διονύσῳ;

  ἅζεο σοὺς προτέρους πάλιν ἄκμονας: εἰσέτι κεῖνοι,

  285 εἰσέτι μοι παρέασιν ἀρηγόνες, οὓς ποσὶ δήσας

  ὑμετέροις ἔσφιγξα: σὺ δ᾽ ἄστατος ὑψόθι γαίης

  αἰθέρι καὶ νεφέλῃσι μετάρσιον εἶχες ἀνάγκην:

  καὶ θρασὺς ἐν νεφέλῃσι περίπλοκον ὑψόθι γαίης

  δέσμιον εἶδεν Ἄρης σε, καὶ οὐ χραίσμησε τεκούσῃ:

  290 οὐ πυρόεις Ἥφαιστος ἐπήρκεσεν: οὐ δύναται γὰρ

  τλήμεναι αἰθαλόεντος ἕνα σπινθῆρα κεραυνοῦ.

  δήσω σὰς παλάμας χρυσέῳ πάλιν ἠθάδι δεσμῷ:

  Ἄρεα δ᾽ ἀρραγέεσσιν ἀλυκτοπέδῃσι πεδήσω

  295 εἰς τροχὸν αὐτοκύλιστον ὁμόδρομον, οἷος ἀλήτης

  Τάνταλος ἠερόφοιτος ἤ Ἰξίων μετανάστης:

  καί μιν ἀναλθήτοισιν ὅλον πληγῇσιν ἱμάσσω,

  εἰσόκε νικήσειεν ἐμὸς πάις υἱέας Ἰνδῶν.

  [279] “Have you not yet been cruel enough to my Semele, invincible Hera? Must you still be bitter against her though dead? So even the bridal flame itself could not assuage your unending rancour, when it scattered abroad the bed of Thyone struck by Zeus! HOW long Mill you oppress Dionysos the Indianslayer? Do not forget those stones of long ago! I have them still, I have them ready for use — the ones I tied fast on to your feet: there you dangled in the sky and the clouds high above the earth, and suffered tortures! Bold Ares saw you tied up and wrapt in clouds high above the earth, but he could not help his mother. Fiery Hephaistos could not help, for he cannot stand one spark of blazing thunderbolt. I will tie up your hands again in that same old golden chain. Ares I will fasten with galling fetters unbreakable to whirl upon a selfrolling wheel, to run with him, like a Tantalos travelling the skies or a banis
hed Ixion: I will flog him all over with stripes incurable until my son shall conquer the sons of India.

  ἀλλὰ τεῷ Κρονίωνι χαρίζεαι, αἴ κεν ἐλάσσῃς

  λύσσαν ἐριπτοίητον ἱμασσομένου Διονύσου,

  300 μηδὲ λίπῃς κοτέοντα τεὸν πόσιν, ἀλλὰ μολοῦσα

  Ἰνδῴης ἀκίχητος ὑπὸ κλέτας εὔβοτον ὕλης

  Βάκχῳ μαζὸν ὄρεξον ἐμὴν μετὰ μητέρα Ῥείην,

  ὄφρα τελειοτέροισιν ἑοῖς στομάτεσσιν ἀρύσσῃ

  σὴν ἱερὴν ῥαθάμιγγα προηγήτειραν Ὀλύμπου,

  305 καὶ βατὸν αἰθέρα τεῦξον ἐπιχθονίῳ Διονύσῳ:

  ὑμετέρῳ δὲ γάλακτι δέμας χρίσασα Λυαίου

  σβέσσον ἀμερσινόοιο δυσειδέα λύματα νούσου.

  καί σοι ἐπεντύνω γέρας ἄξιον: ὑμετέρῃ γὰρ

  στηρίξω κατ᾽ Ὄλυμπον ἐοικότα κύκλον ἐέρσῃ,

  310 Ἡραίοιο γάλακτος ἐπώνυμον, ὄφρα γεραίρω

  ἰκμάδα πασιμέλουσαν ἀλεξικάκου σέο μαζοῦ:

  μοῦνον ἐμοί πεφύλαξο Διὸς φιλότεκνον ἀπειλήν,

  μηδέ πάλιν δόλον ἄλλον ἐπεντύνῃς Διονύσω.’

  [298] “But how kind you would be to your Cronion, if you will only drive that distracting madness from tormented Dionysos! Do not fail your provoked husband; but go uncaught to the fertile slope of the woodland pastures of India, and offer your breast to Bacchos as once did my mother Rheia; let him draw with his lips older grown your holy drops, and by that draught lead him on the way to Olympos and make heaven lawful ground for the feet of earthborn Dionysos! Anoint with your milk the body of Lyaios, and cleanse the ugly stains of mind-robbing disease. And I offer you a worthy reward; for I will place in Olympos a circle, image of that flow named after Hera’s milk, to honour the allfamous sap of your saviour breast. Only I pray you beware of the menace of Zeus, and stretch again no other net of deceit for Dionysos his beloved son.”