Hymn to Zeus

At the libations of Zeus, what else were better to sing than the god himself, ever great, ever a king, the router of the Pelagones, the lawgiver of the sons of Heaven? And how shall we sing of him—as Dictaean or as Lycaean? My heart is in great doubt, since his birth is disputed. Zeus, some say you were born in the Idaean mountains; Zeus, others say in Arcadia. Which of them, father, have lied? "Cretans are always liars"; for the Cretans even built a tomb for you, O lord; but you did not die, for you are forever. In Parrhasia did Rhea bear you, where most the hill was sheltered close with thickets; whence the place is holy, and no creeping thing in need of Eileithyia nor any woman comes near it, but the Apidanians call it the primeval childbed of Rhea. There, when your mother had laid you down from her great womb, straightway she sought a stream of water in which she might wash off the soilure of the birth, and bathe your body. But great Ladon did not yet flow, nor Erymanthus, whitest of rivers, and all Arcadia was still unwatered; yet it was destined to be called rich in water hereafter; for at the time when Rhea loosed her girdle, truly many a hollow oak did the moist Iaon bear up, and many a waggon did Melas carry, and many a serpent above Carnion, wet though it was, made its lair in the mud; and a man went on foot over the Crathis and the much-pebbled Metope, thirsting; while much water lay beneath his feet. And held by helplessness, the lady Rhea said: "Dear Earth, bear you too; your pangs are light." She spoke, and lifting up high her great arm, the goddess smote the hill with her sceptre; and it parted far in two, and poured out a great flood. There, washing your body, O lord, she swaddled you, and gave you to Neda to carry to the Cretan recess, that you might be reared in secret, to the eldest of the Nymphs who then attended her at the birth, the first generation after Styx and Philyra. Nor did the goddess pay an empty thanks, but that flood she named Neda; which somewhere, near the city itself of the Cauconians, that is called Lepreum, joins with Nereus, and its primeval water the grandsons of the Lycaonian bear drink.

When the Nymph left Thenae, carrying you toward Cnossus, father Zeus (and Thenae was near Cnossus), then your navel fell off, divine one; whence that plain the Cydonians afterward call Omphalion. Zeus, the companions of the Corybantes took you in their arms, the Dictaean Meliae, and Adrasteia laid you to rest in a golden cradle, and you sucked the rich teat of the goat Amaltheia, and ate the sweet honeycomb upon it. For suddenly there appeared the works of the Panacrian bee in the Idaean mountains, which they call Panacra. And lustily the Curetes danced about you the war-dance, clashing their armour, that Cronus might hear with his ears the din of the shield, and not your infant crying. Fairly did you grow, and fairly were you reared, heavenly Zeus, and swiftly you came to manhood, and quickly the down came upon you. But while still a child you devised all things in their fullness; wherefore your brothers, though they were of an earlier birth, did not begrudge you to have heaven for your appointed home. But the ancient singers were not altogether truthful. They said that the lot apportioned to the sons of Cronus their dwellings in three; but who would draw lots over Olympus and Hades, unless he were very foolish? For over things equal it is fitting to cast lots; but these are as far apart as can be. Were I to lie, let me lie such things as would persuade the hearer's ear. It was not the lots that made you king of the gods, but the works of your hands, your might and your strength, which you set beside your throne. And you made the highest, far-surpassing of birds, the messenger of your signs; which may you show favourable to my friends. And you chose what is best among the young men: not the men skilled in ships, not the man who wields the shield, not the singer; but these you straightway left to the lesser blessed gods, other things for others to care for, while you chose out the city-rulers themselves, under whose hand are the landholder, the one skilled in the spear, the rower, all men; what is not under the might of a ruler? Straightway, of Hephaestus we sing the smiths, of Ares the armed men, of Chitone Artemis the hunters, of Phoebus those who well know the paths of the lyre; but from Zeus come kings, since nothing is more divine than the kings of Zeus; wherefore you chose them too for your portion. And you gave them cities to guard, and you yourself sat on the heights in the cities, watching who rule the people with crooked judgements and who, on the contrary, rightly; and you cast wealth among them, and abundant prosperity; to all, but not at all equally. One may judge it by our ruler, for he has gone far beyond all. At evening he accomplishes what he conceives in the morning; at evening the greatest things, the lesser as soon as he conceives them. But others accomplish some in a year, some not in one, and of some you yourself have wholly cut off the fulfilment, and broken their desire.

Hail greatly, son of Cronus, most high, giver of good things, giver of safety. Who could sing your works? He is not born, nor shall he be, who shall sing the works of Zeus. Hail, father, hail again; and grant us virtue and wealth. Neither without virtue does wealth know how to exalt men, nor virtue without wealth; grant us both virtue and wealth.