Book 2

2. The second book holds the star-roving war of Typhon and the lightning and the labours of Zeus and the revel of Olympus.

So he stayed there beside the ankles of the wild wood, trailing his shifting lips along the high-pierced pipe, Cadmus son of Agenor, the false goatherd; and unforeseen Zeus son of Cronos, unapproached, creeping noiseless beneath the cave, armed his hands a second time with his accustomed fire and hid Cadmus in a cloud beside the unobserved rock, lest, learning the deceiving trick and the theft of the thunderbolt, late-witted Typhoeus should secretly kill the shifting herdsman; but he, with the sweeter sting, wished the more to listen to the heart-charming rhythm of the song.

As when one, hearing the deceitful hymn of a Siren, is drawn, untimely, to a self-summoned doom, a sailor charmed by the melody, no longer cleaving the wave, no longer whitening the grey water with calm-borne oars, but falling upon the net of clear-voiced Fate he takes delight, forgetting his rudder, leaving the star of the seven-pathed Pleiad and the rim of the circling Bear: so Typhon, shaken by the breaths of the cunning song, received the sweet shaft of the pipe, the escort of his destruction.

But as Cadmus was hidden in the shadowy girdle of clouds, the breathing reed of the sweet-singing herdsman fell silent and checked the harmony. And Typhoeus, the high-flier, seized with the frenzy of war, ran down into the cave's recess, and sought the wind-roving thunder with roaming madness and the unattainable lightning, and with searching foot he hunted the blazing flash of the stolen thunderbolt, and found the cave empty. Learning too late the crafty purposes of the son of Cronos and the shifting wiles of Cadmus, brandishing his weapons against the cliffs he leapt up at Olympus.

And dragging the crooked track of his foot with snaky sole he spat venom from his hurling throat; and as the high-crested Giant rained down springs from his viper hair, the ravines surged with flood; and as he rushed on, the deep-set seat of the earth, the floor of the unshaken plain, was set quaking, the Cilician base, by his serpent feet, and in the much-crashing tumult of the battered ridge of the crested mountain the neighbouring Pamphylian banks danced for fear, and the earth's caverns boomed, the topmost shores trembled, the recesses shook, and the headlands slipped as the sand was loosened beneath his feet in the earth-shaking heave.

There was no pasture then, nor were the beasts unharmed; for the raw-devouring bears were carved up by the face of Typhaon with bearlike jaws, and the grey limbs of the shaggy-chested lions were gulped down by his lion heads with matching gapings, and with his snaky throat the cold backs of the earth-fed serpents were torn, and he feasted on the birds of the air with his neighbouring throat, flying through the trackless heaven, and the close-shown eagle he ate the more, since it is called the bird of Zeus; he ate the plough-ox, and felt no pity, marking its bloodstained neck scored by the yoking bond. And he dried up the rivers, drinking the after-dinner water, and battered down the battalions of the Naiads of the streams; and a deep-dwelling Naiad nymph, treading the passable flood with foot-leaping over the water, stood with limbs unwetted, shoeless, a water nymph of the watery way, and with rivalling foot, as the girl quivered beside the thirsty margin of the streams, her fixed knees were bound fast by the muddy bond.

And seeing the many-shaped face of the maddened Giant the old shepherd in terror shook off his pipe, and fled afar; and seeing the wide-scattered nation of palms the goatherd left his unsteady pipe to the storm-winds; the patient ploughman did not cover the seed in the soil, sprinkling the fresh-scored earth with back-cast grain, nor with the guiding heave of the Typhaonian hand did he cut the cleaving furrow with the earth-shaking iron, but let his oxen go, and by the Giant's missile the flanks of the cloven earth were laid bare. And he loosed a watery vein, and as the chasm opened the nether channel welled up with fountain streams, pouring the under-bosomed water of the unroofed floor; and crags were flung; and falling from the air into the ravine-streams they were hidden in the sea, turning the waters to dry land; and from the earthy missiles the self-fixed ankles of new-born islands took root. And trees were uptorn root and all from the soil, and the unripe fruit fell to the ground, and the fresh-blooming garden was made void, and the rose-bed reduced to dust; and Zephyrus was shaken with the rolling of the cypresses' withered leaves; and with grief-loving songs Phoebus sang the dirge for the slain hyacinths, weaving a mournful hymn, and over the Amyclaean clusters much more he lamented the neighbouring laurel, cut down; and grieving, Pan set upright his own fallen pine; and remembering Moria, the city-bearing Attic bride, the Grey-eyed one moaned over the olive she was cutting; and the Paphian wept for the dusted anemone, and oft mourning the fragrant tress of the buds she tore the delicate lock of the dusted rose-bed; and Deo lamented the half-finished, perished grain, no longer leading the harvest-revel; and the Hamadryad nymphs, agemates, mourned for the trees that lost their shade.

And some Hamadryad of the same age, with garland unbound, leapt up from a fair-shooted laurel as its cluster was split, and another maiden, fleeing on running foot from a pine, appeared near at hand and addressed the neighbouring wandering nymph:

"Bed-fleeing Hamadryad of the laurel, let there be one course for us both: may you not see Phoebus, may I not behold Pan. Woodcutters, pass by these trees, do not cut the plants of poor Daphne, grieved and stricken; spare them, carpenter, do not finish a ship by cutting the pinewood timbers, lest they touch the surge of sea-born Aphrodite. Yes, woodsman, grant me a last favour: instead of clusters cut me with your axes, and through my breast fix the chaste bronze of unwedded Athena, that I may die before marriage and come a virgin to Hades, still innocent of love, like Pitys, like Daphne."

So speaking she made a counterfeit girdle of leaves, and with a green sash hid the circle of her breast in shame, and pressed thigh fast to thigh; and the other, looking on her, broke into downcast speech:

"I have the inborn fear of maidenhood, since I too, sprung from Daphne, am pursued, like Daphne. Where shall I flee? Shall I sink beneath the cliffs? But the hills flung at Olympus the thunderbolts have burned to ash, and I tremble at your love-sick Pan, who will trouble me as he troubled Pitys, as he troubled Syrinx; and pursued myself I too shall become another echoing, mountain-roving Echo. No longer do I haunt these clusters, but I dwell, half-seen, in the mountains, away from the trees, where Artemis herself hunts, the lover of maidens; but the son of Cronos won the bed of Callisto by changing his shape into Artemis. I will come to the swell of the sea: what is marriage to me? But in the deep the Earth-shaker, woman-mad, pursued Asteria. Would that I had light wings: along the high-pathed way I would travel a road shared with the airy winds; but soon the course of wings is empty, since Typhoeus with his towering hands touches the clouds. And if he forces me to unjust marriage, I will change my shape, mingle with the birds, and flying as a nightingale or as a swallow, announcer of the rose and the flowery dew, I will be the swallow dear to springtime Zephyrus, a chattering bird uttering the melody of echo beneath the eaves, circling my nest with winged dance. Procne, you who suffered bitter things, you weep in mournful song for your son, and I will lament my own bed. Lord Zeus, do not make me a swallow, lest Tereus too, winged and angered, pursue me, as Typhoeus does. Air, mountains, the impassable sea! Within the earth I hide; but from the snaky soles of the Giant the venom-shooting water-snakes that lurk go down beneath the earth. Would I were the common water of a settlement, like Comaetho who mingled her fresh-flowing streams with her father Cydnus; but I will not go against the tale, since I shall join in my streams my maiden-loving water to a maiden's love-sick water. Where shall I flee? Shall I mate with Typhon? But then I will bear a strange-formed, many-shaped son, like his father. Would I were another tree, and pass from oak to oak, bearing the name of a chaste child; but instead of Daphne let me not be called by Myrrha's unlawful name of a shoot. Yes, I beseech you: beside the stream of mournful Eridanus let me too be one of the Heliades, and oft I will send amber from my eyelids, and with grief-loving clusters spread the entwined leaves of a neighbouring poplar, mourning my maidenhood with rich tears; for I do not lament Phaethon. Be gracious, laurel, I am ashamed to be another plant after the plant of the former wood. I will be, like Niobe, a stone myself, that travellers too may pity me weeping in stone, turned to marble; but what shape have I of an evil-tongued woman? Be gracious, Leto; away with the god-defying name of that grievous-bearing nymph."

So she spoke; and the Sun, leaving the whirling vault, turned his car toward the west; and rising from the earth like a high-stretched cone into the air, silent Night cloaked the heaven with a starry tunic, adorning the sky; and beside the cloudless Nile the immortals wandered, and beside the brow-frowning Bull Zeus son of Cronos awaited the strife-rousing light of Dawn.

It was night; and the guarding ranks of Olympus stood about its seven zones, and as if high above towers there was a nightly war-cry, and the discordant clamour of stars was borne wide about, and the sound of the axle's din the turning-post of the Moon received from the starting-line of Cronos. And the warding Hours of the upper air, attendants of Phaethon, fenced the heaven with crowning veils of close-set clouds; and on the unplundered gates the stars locked the Atlantean bar, lest some ambush should enter the pole while the blessed were away; and instead of the din of pipes and the accustomed flute the breezes piped a melody on their nightly wings.

And fellow-traveller of the heavenly Dragon and the Arcadian Bear, gazing aloft at the nightly assault of Typhon, old Bootes kept watch with sleepless eyes, the Morning Star watched the east, the Evening Star the west, and leaving the southern gate to the archer with the bow, Cepheus ranged about the rainy gates of Boreas. And there were fires everywhere, since the fiery flames of the stars and the nightly lamps of the sleepless Moon shone like torches, and with stormy whirling, darting often from the air to the height of Olympus, the shooting stars scored the air with fire, to the right of the son of Cronos, and with tumbling heave, darting often through the scored clouds, the lightning leapt, and with alternate flashes the back-running, unsteady radiance was hidden and shone, and twisting his locks of plaited fire in clusters the comet roughened his light with hairy flame, and the visiting meteors gleamed, and like long beams the long-fired bolts stretched from the air, warring alongside Zeus, and shining beneath the rays of the opposing Sun, bending in step with the rain, the curved circles of the rainbow wove their many-coloured track, mixing green with darkening, white with rose-coloured.

And to Zeus, left alone, Victory came as comforter, tracing the topmost paths of the air with her sandal, having the form of Leto, and arming the father with answering lips she cried this shifting speech:

"Lord Zeus, stand as champion of your children, and let me not see unwedded Athena, untaught in marriage, joined with Typhon; do not make a mother of the motherless, but fighting lift the lightning, the shining spear of Olympus, and gather the clouds a second time, rain-bringing Zeus; for already the seats of the steadfast universe are shaken by the Typhaonian hands, and the yoke-fellow elements being loosed, the four of them, Deo has renounced her harvest; Hebe left the cup, and Ares shook off his spear, Hermes laid down his wand, and Apollo flung away his lyre, and the winged one flew off, leaving his winged arrows, in the form of a swan, and the world of the wedding-goddess became seedless, wandering Aphrodite, and the cables of the unbreakable harmony were loosed; for the bridal-tending, all-subduing, unsubdued, bold Eros has flown into fear, leaving his generative bow; and leaving accustomed Lemnos your fiery Hephaestus, dragging his unruly knees, alas, slowly holds an unsteady course. Ah, great marvel, I pity your Hera even as she rages much against me. Will your father come again into the choir of stars? May that never come to pass; and though I am called a Titaness, I do not wish to see the Titans ruling Olympus, but you and your children. With your prevailing thunderbolt fight as champion for chaste Artemis: am I to keep the bride dowerless for a forced bedfellow? Will the stewardess of birth see her own birth? Will she stretch her hands to me? And what gracious Eileithyia shall I call upon for the archer-goddess, when an Eileithyia herself is in travail?"

As she spoke thus, Sleep, twining his shadowy wing, lulled all panting Nature to rest; but the son of Cronos was then alone sleepless. And spreading himself out, Typhoeus laid his sluggish back on the heavy ground-couches, filling mother Earth; and as her bosom opened the lurking beds were hollowed with gaping chasm as the snaky heads sank into the ground.

And when the sun appeared, from his throats that spoke one tongue many-armed Typhoeus bellowed to the war, calling great Zeus; and his grim voice reached the place where the root-fixed base of the back-faring Ocean encircles the rim of the universe, cut in four, girdling the whole earth with a circling crown-like band; and as the Giant spoke, answering his ranks of voice, the echo crashed of every kind, no single concordant sound; and as he was armed in the many-formed shape of his nature there rang the howling of wolves, the roaring of lions, the snorting of boars, the lowing of oxen, the hissing of serpents, the bold gaping of leopards, the jaw of armed bears, the rage of dogs; and in his middle, with a man's shape, the Giant uttered a voice threatening Zeus:

"My hands, batter the house of Zeus, shake the base of the universe along with the blessed ones, and the self-coiling divine bar of Olympus break, and as the heavenly column is dragged to the earth let shaken Atlas flee, let him cast off the star-roving rim of Olympus, no longer fearing its spiral course—for I will not allow the son of Earth, bowed beneath his pressed shoulders, to heave aloft the back-whirling burden of the air— but, leaving the unending load to the other gods, let him fight against the blessed, and break the rocks with rugged missiles, shooting at the star-vault that he once bore aloft; and scourged by the hills let the fearful, strengthless Hours flee from heaven, the handmaids of the Sun; and, gripping me in your coils, mingle earth with air, water with fire, sea with Olympus. And I will impose servile compulsion on the four winds: I lash Boreas, I drive Notos in rout, I scourge Eurus, and I would strike Zephyrus, and mingle night with day with one hand; and my brother Ocean, with many-fountained throat, leading his uplifted water against Olympus, borne high above his five parallel circles, let him flood the stars, and let the thirsty Bear wander in the water as the Wain's plough-pole sinks.

My bulls, shaking the equinoctial rim of the circles, low to the air, and with scoring horns break the horns of the matching fiery Bull; and let the oxen change the watery paths of Selene in fear of the heavy-roaring lowing of my heads; and opening the great gape of her grim jaws let my Typhaonian bear madden the Bear of Olympus; and my lion, vying against the heavenly Lion, let him drive him unwilling from the zodiac path; and let my serpents make the Serpent of the Wain shudder . . . helmeted with a few lightnings. But the waves of the raging sea, the hills of the land, the glens of the islands are swords to me, and shields are the hills, and the crags unbreakable breastplates, the rocks spears, and the rivers quenchers of the feeblest thunderbolt.

I keep the bonds of Iapetus for Poseidon, and round the topmost Caucasus another well-winged, mightier eagle shall make bloody the ever-renewed liver, tearing that of fiery Hephaestus, since for fire's sake the liver of self-grown, scored Prometheus suffers; and giving my sons a form like that of Iphimedeia's, I will hide the son of Maia, entangled in unbreakable bonds, kept in a brazen jar, that some one may say: 'Loosing the bond of Ares, Hermes was hidden as a prisoner.' And loosing the untouched seal of her maidenhood let Artemis be the compulsory wife of Orion, and let Leto spread her old robes for Tityos, dragged into a forced marriage; and the murderer Ares, stripping him bare of his torn shields and binding him, I will plunder, the lord of battle, in place of a slayer a gentle thing; and to late-wedding Ephialtes joining captive Pallas I will give as a bride, that I may see Ares in servitude and Athena in travail. And lifting on his wretched shoulders the back-whirling Atlantean heaven, let the son of Cronos lighten it, standing upright, and let him hear the wedding-hymn of my marriage, stealing his jealous look, when I am the bridegroom of Hera. Nor do I lack torches: of itself the firebrand of my chamber is the flash of lightning, and instead of pine Phaethon himself, kindling fire from his own flame, shall stretch a servile gleam for the bridegroom Typhoeus, and quivering the wedding sparks over Olympus let the stars flash, the lamps of my Loves, the stars, the evening lights; and with well-wedded Aphrodite the bedfellow of Endymion, my handmaid Selene, shall spread the bed for me; and if there is need of baths, I will bathe in the waters of the starry Eridanus; but after the bed of Zeus, you circling Hours, fix the bridal chamber of Eros for Typhoeus; and from Ocean you too, Leto, Athena, the Paphian, the Grace, Artemis, Hebe, carry kindred water for bridal-tending Typhon; and with wedding plectra, beside the feast of my table, let Apollo the servant make music of Typhoeus in place of Zeus. I bear no longing for a foreign land; for my own star-backed heaven, my brother, I will drive, holding heaven, my mother's house, as a son of earth. And dragging raw-eating Cronos a second time into the light, my brother and fellow-labourer, from the earthy pit, I will loose his forced bonds, and bring back the Titans to the upper air, and carry under one roof the earth-born Cyclopes to heaven, and I will make other weapons of fire; for I have need of many thunderbolts, since I fight with two hundred, not two, hands, I, the very likeness of the son of Cronos; and answering them I will forge mightier, later-born lightnings with a brighter, greater fire, and broader still I will make above on high an eighth heaven, another, higher up, adorned with brighter stars; for this near-shown vault cannot cover the whole of Typhon. And after the female children and the male-born race of the much-begetting son of Cronos, I will plant another wide-scattered blood of new gods, a many-necked race; nor will I leave the choir of stars idle and unwed, but I will join the female to the male, that a winged maiden, bedded beside Bootes, may bear servile children."

He spoke, threatening; and the son of Cronos laughed to hear. And the strife thundered upon both; and Eris was the escort of the tumult for Typhon, but Victory led Zeus to the conflict. It was not for the sake of a herd of oxen, not over a flock that the contest stood, no quarrel over the beauty of a bride, no battle about a lesser city; but over the very heaven the strife was set, and on the knees of Victory lay the sceptre of Zeus and his throne as the prizes of the fray.

Zeus, hammering the thunder from the lashed clouds, trumpeted the airy lowing as the war-song of Enyo, and fastening the clouds in coils upon his breast he held them as a shelter from the Giant's missiles; nor was Typhoeus silent: his heads, sending forth the lowing of oxen, as self-sounding trumpets crashed against Olympus, and his mingled serpents hissed, the pipes of Ares. And Typhoeus armed his ranks of towering limbs, fencing crag against great crag, until close-set, unbreakable cliffs were towered in rows, and he set rock on rock, ridge upon ridge; and it was the likeness of an army arming: for near at hand crag pressed crag, hill hill, neck neck, and high in cloud elbow pushed many-folded elbow; and the rocky hills were helmets to Typhon as his heads were covered by the high-crested peak. And as the Giant fought, in his many-ridged shape there was one body, but countless battalions—some of palms, some the well-whetted points of lion jaws, others, with snaky locks, riders upon the stars. And trees were folded from the Typhaonian hands, shaken against the son of Cronos, and others, the fair-leaved shoots of earth, which with a heavy heave Zeus, unwilling, reduced to dust with a single spark of the thunderbolt; much elm was hurled with its agemate pine, and the broad plane, and poplars were cast straight at Zeus; and much of the earth's flank was rent.

And the whole four-sided rim of the universe was buffeted, and the four winds, warring alongside the son of Cronos, towered up the airy darkling dust, arching the waves; and as the sea was lashed Sicily was shaken, the Pelorian banks roared and the Aetnaean ridges, and the Lilybaean rocks bellowed, prophets of things to come, and the western shore sounded beside the stream of Pachynus; and near the Bear, about the Thracian glen the Athonian nymph cried out, and on the Pierian ridge the Macedonian wood resounded; and the foundations of the east were shaken, and the tree-clad fragrant courts of Assyrian Libanus rang.

And many shafts of the unwearied thunderbolt of Zeus were cast from the Typhaonian hands; and some, darting beside the chariot of Selene, scored the unmarked tracks of the unsteady bulls, and others, whirled through the air with sharp whistle, the winds fanned aside with opposing breaths; and many that strayed from the untouched thunderbolt of Zeus the joyful hand of Poseidon received, not sparing the earth-cleaving point of his trident; and the brine-dipped shafts beside the stream of the Cronian sea old Nereus dedicated, bringing an offering to Zeus.

And arming the two grim sons of Enyalius, the grandsire Zeus held Fear and Dread the attendant, shield-bearers of the air, agemate companions, and on the lightning he set Fear, and on the thunderbolt he fixed Dread, bringing terror to Typhon; and Victory lifted her shield, stretching it before Zeus, and Enyo cried in answer, and Ares thundered. And rushing on with the storm-blasts aegis-bearing Zeus was borne aloft from the air, seated on the winged four-yoked car of Time; and the horses of the son of Cronos were yoked winds. And now with lightnings he was armed, now with the thunderbolt, now he assailed with thunders, now pouring the stony backs of frozen hail in showers with rainy missiles; and against the Giant's heads dense watery columns broke, sharp-pointed, and the hands of Typhoeus, as with a knife, were cut by the airy hailstone missile; and one hand was covered with dust, and did not let go the hill, but struck by the cut of the snow-cast hail it fought even as it fell, and darting from the earth the maddened hand leapt of itself with rolling springs, as though wishing to hurl even still the circle of Olympus.

And the champion of the heavenly ones, brandishing his fiery shaft on high, guiding the war's right horn from the left, fought high-shown; and into the watery ravines the many-armed Giant rose, and joining close-set fingers in an interwoven self-made bond, hollowing his capacious palms, with which lifting the mountain-running water amid the wintry rivers, sending the divided streams with his deep-cupped hands, he flung it at the lightning; and on the ravine-stream the airy flame, struck, gleamed through the water with a fiercer spark, and the thirsty water boiled, smoke-darkened, and the wet downpour was dried by the hot mass; for the bold Giant longed to quench the heavenly fire, the fool; nor did he understand that the fire-gleaming thunderbolts and lightnings are born of rain-bearing clouds.

And again, seizing the straight-cut caverns of the streams, he longed to strike the breast of Zeus, unwounded by iron, and the crag was stretched out facing Zeus; but with the tip of his lip Zeus blew a little, and the high-cliffed circling rock, though lofty, his slight breath turned aside.

And striking with his hand the whirling island-ridge, many-whirling Typhoeus was lifted up for the battle, and hurled it down at the unbreakable face of Zeus; but Zeus avoided the opposing marble point by bending his head aside, and Typhoeus met the lightning that turned its hot spiral course, and at once the rock, foaming at its tip, blackened with witnessing smoke. And he flung a third; but as it rushed on, the son of Cronos with the guiding wrist of his open palm's middle, striking it like a leaping ball with unwearied hand, sent it back at Typhon; and turned about with much airy whirling on its back-faring journey the hill of its own accord shot at the one who shot it. A fourth he hurled, higher; but touching the topmost fringes of the aegis the rock was split. And he let fly another; and the stormy rock, half-burnt, gleamed, shot through by the thunderbolt. The cliffs did not cleave the watery cloud, but struck against the watery clouds the hills were broken.

And shared and balanced between both was Enyo, both for Zeus and for Typhon; and with the much-roaring missile the dancing thunderbolts of the air raved. And the son of Cronos fought in arms; and in the tumult he held thunder for a shield, and a cloud became his breastplate, and he brandished the lightning as a spear, and the Zeus-cast thunderbolts were sent from the air as fire-pointed arrows; for already, faring about from the earthy flank, the dry, high-flying vapour of the soil ran up, and confined within the cloud with fiery throat it was stifled, heating the pregnant cloud; and around the smoke of the fire-nurtured clouds rubbed together with a din, the pressed inner flame was borne, hard to escape, seeking a middle path, since to go up on high the fire may not; for the lightning leaping up is held back by the moist air bathed with rainy drops, having thickened the watery cloud above; and from below, as the parched part opens, the leaping fire ran through.

As a stone, bringing to birth a fiery pang against a stone, hurled forth a stony self-born, much-pressed fire, when the fire-born female is struck against the male rock: so the heavenly flame is kindled in the pressed soot and clouds; and from the earthy smoke that grew thin the winds were brought to birth. And another wandering vapour of the earth, drawn from the waters, the sun, milking it face to face with fiery rays, drew up its moist heat into the track of the air; and growing thick it brought to birth the veil of clouds, and shaking its thickest body with thinner vapour, loosing the soft cloud again into a flood of rain, it passed back to its former native watery matter. Such was the fiery nature of the clouds, with which the matching thunderbolts were brought to birth alongside the lightnings.

And father Zeus fought; and against his adversary, sending his accustomed fire, he hurled it, the shooter of lions, striking the many-voiced rank of countless throats with the heavenly hurricane-bolt; and of the Zeus-cast missile one flash burned the boundless hands, one flash turned to dust the numberless shoulders and the shifting tribes of serpents, and the unending points of heaven's spears tore the heads, and the spiral comet turned to dust the locks of Typhon, casting a hairy fire with answering spark, and the heads gleamed, and as the hair was kindled silence sealed the hissing tresses with the heavenly spark, and as the serpents withered the venom-shooting drops of their jaws were dried; and as the Giant fought his eyes were turned to ash by the sooty smoke, and the cheeks of his snow-struck faces were whitened with snowy streams.

And he was held in the four-yoked compulsion of the four winds: for if he turned his unsteady eyes to the east, he received the fiery battle of neighbouring Eurus; if he gazed at the storm-vexed quarter of the Arcadian Bear, he was struck by the chilling frost of the wintry hurricane; fleeing the cold blast of snow-cast Boreas he was shaken by both the watery and the sooty missile; and looking to the west, facing grim Dawn, he shuddered at the western, storm-blowing Enyo, hearing the sound of the springtime lash of Zephyrus; and Notos, about the southern ridge of Capricorn, lashed the airy rims, a hot wind, bringing fire to Typhon with the fire-gleaming vapour of its heat. If again rain-bringing Zeus poured a streaming shower, Typhoeus bathed his whole flesh in the toil-loosing streams, cooling his hot limbs worn out by the thunderbolt. And by the rocky missiles of the hailstorm as the son was scourged, the nurturing mother was lashed; and seeing on the Giant's flesh the witness of Fate, the stony fixed missiles and the watery point, she besought the Titan Sun with downcast voice, begging one hottest beam, that with a hotter fire he might loose the stony water of Zeus, pouring kindred radiance on the snow-struck Typhon; and she melted with him as he was scourged; and seeing the fire-crowned nation of his towering palms burning she besought the wintry, stormy breeze to come for a single dawn, that with cold winds it might quench the thirsty compulsion of Typhon.

And the son of Cronos tipped the balance of the matched battle. And casting off with her hand her leafy veil, mother Earth grieved, gazing at the smoke of the Typhaonian heads; and as his faces withered the earth-born one's knees were loosed; and foretelling victory the trumpet of Zeus lowed with thundering crashes; and drunk with the heavenly fiery missile he fell, having a wound of war wrought without iron, Typhoeus the high-stretched, and casting his back upon mother Earth he lay, spreading his snaky limbs in the dust, spewing forth fire. And the son of Cronos taunted him laughing, pouring out such a speech from his mocking throat:

"A fine helper old Cronos has found, Typhoeus; the earth scarcely brought forth a son, the great offspring of Iapetus; sweet is the avenger of the Titans; as I see, the thunderbolts of the son of Cronos have soon proved feeble. How long do you delay to dwell in the impassable air, false sceptre-bearer? The throne of Olympus awaits you; take the sceptre of Zeus and the robes, god-defying Typhoeus, and bring Astraeus to heaven; and if you wish, let Eurynome too return to the upper air, and Ophion, and Cronos, fellow-voyager with both; and as you go let crafty Prometheus, fleeing his bonds, accompany you to the dappled rim of the high-pathed stars, having as escort of his road the bold heavenly bird, the unsparing diner upon his young, growing liver. What more did you wish, after the tumult, than to see Zeus and the Earth-shaker as attendants of your thrones? Zeus weak and no longer sceptred lord of Olympus, stripped of thunder and clouds, and instead of lightning, in place of the divine fire, and instead of the accustomed thunderbolt, holding a firebrand beside the Typhaonian bridal chamber, the bedroom-servant of your captive wife Hera, with jealous eye envying your marriage; and the Earth-shaker, your yoke-fellow, unyoked from the sea, after the deep serving at your table, bearing your cup with thirsty hand in place of his trident. You have Ares as servant, Apollo is your attendant; and send to the Titans the courier, the son of Maia, announcing your power and your heavenly radiance; but leave the craftsman Hephaestus to accustomed Lemnos, that he may fashion for your newly-yoked bride a many-coloured necklace fair-hued with gleaming work, or the bright glitterings of foot-treading sandals, in which your consort may delight, or make another gold-shining throne of Olympus, that your gold-throned Hera may laugh, holding a mightier seat; and having the earthy Cyclopes as dwellers in Olympus forge a new spark of a mightier thunderbolt. But Eros, who charmed your mind with the deceit of hope of victory, bind in gold beside golden Aphrodite; and bind in bronze Ares, the steersman of iron. The lightnings flee and do not abide Enyo; how did you not escape the unwarlike fire of a little lightning? Or how, hearing with your countless ears the small thundering rainy echo, did you fear it? Who made you so strengthless? Where are your spears? Where the heads of your dogs? Where those gapings of lions and the earthy lowing of your heavy-voiced throats? Where the long-shadowing venom of your snaky hair? No longer do you hiss with your snaky circling mane? Where the lowings of your bull-mouths? Where your hands' hurlers of the towering crag? No longer do you scourge the spiral rims of the stars? No longer do the jutting points of your boars whiten your soaked throat with foaming drops? Where, I ask, are the dreadful gaping jaws of your raging bear? Yield to the heavenly ones, earth-fed one; for with one hand I have conquered the rank of your two hundred hands. But let three-headed Sicily, hemming you in with deep-cliffed hills, receive the whole of Typhon, pitiably maned with a hundred dusted heads. Yet, if you had an overweening mind, if even upon Olympus itself you leapt up with vain hopes, I will make you, all-luckless one, a cenotaph, and as a last word beside your empty tomb, reckless one, I will score this: 'This is the monument of earth-born Typhoeus, who once with rocks scourged the air, and the heavenly fire burned him up.'"

He spoke, mocking the breathing corpse, the son of Earth.

And pouring forth a victory-echo to all-ruling Zeus the Cilician Bull bellowed with stony trumpet, and with watery feet whirling Cydnus danced, hailing the victory of Zeus with watery roaring, shown midway, pouring his native stream for his agemate Tarsus.

And Earth, rending her rocky tunic, grieved as she lay, and instead of a mournful knife she sheared her tree-tresses, cut by the winds, clipping the lock from her wooded head as in the leaf-shedding month, and tore her ravine cheeks, and through her well-watered flanks the sounding river-tears of mourning Earth ran down.

And from the Typhaonian limbs the whirlings of the storm lashed the waves, and rushing on to cover the ships they rode down the unbroken calm, not visitors on the surge alone; but on land too often the quivering, storm-blowing dust flooded the upright young crop of the threshing-floor. And the steward of the universe, Nature of the reborn matter, fixed the gaping flank of the rent earth, and the island ridges, cut off from the streams, she sealed again with the bond of unbreakable harmony.

No longer was there tumult among the stars; for the Sun set the maned Lion, that had darted aside, beside the grain-bearing Maid in the zodiac path; and the Moon, reining back the Crab that had leapt upon the face of the heavenly Lion, opposite the unwarmed Capricorn, fixed it in place again.

Nor had Zeus son of Cronos forgotten the minstrel Cadmus, but calling him he uttered this great speech, scattering the shadowy cloud of airy darkness:

"Cadmus, with your pipe you have crowned the gates of Olympus; I too honour your marriage with the heavenly Harp; I will make you a son-in-law of both Ares and Cytherea, and have the gods as guests of your earthly banquet. I will come to your house: what dearer thing will you devise than the king of the blessed touching your table? But if you wish to flee the shifting waves of fortune, ferrying the course of a calm life, ever beware lest Dircaean Ares should trouble you, Ares angered apart from any ambush; and at night, stretching your eyes opposite the heavenly Dragon, sacrifice above the altar, taking a sweet-smelling snake-stone, invoking Olympian Ophiuchus, burning in the fire the many-pointed horn of the Illyrian deer, that you may escape whatever bitter things, fated to your lot, the spiral spindle of Fate's compulsion has spun, if the threads of the Fates may be obeyed. But of your angered father Agenor let the memory go, and for your wandering brothers do not fear; for, severally judged, all still live, since Cepheus settled the southern land of the Cephenian Ethiopians, their helper, and Thasos came to Thasos, and round the snow-clad ridge of the high-crested Bull, Cilix rules the Cilicians, and Phineus, hastening off, came to the Thracian shore; him, rich in deep-veined metals, I lead as a son-in-law to Oreithyia and Thracian Boreas, the prophetic bridegroom of garland-loving Cleopatra. And you too, by the equal-drawing thread of Fate for your brothers, rule over the Cadmeans and leave your name to the citizens; renounce the back-faring circles of your wandering road, and reject the unsteady track of the heifer; for by the Cyprian yoking law Asterion the Dictaean lord of Corybantian Ida has wedded your sister. And some things I myself will prophesy, others to Phoebus I will leave; but you, Cadmus, treading the navel-axle, go to the speaking glens of Delphic Pytho."

So speaking, Zeus son of Cronos sent off the wandering son of Agenor; and swiftly to the rim of the airy stars he turned his golden car, and Victory, mounting it, drove the ancestral horse with heavenly lash.

And the god came to the pole a second time; and as he came the high-necked Hours spread wide the heavenly gates, and crowned the air; and in their back-changed form the gods returned to Olympus with victorious Zeus, and exchanged again the winged likeness of their faces.

And Athena came to heaven in soft robes, without iron, holding Ares as her Revel, and Victory was her Song; and Themis displayed the weapons of the dead Giant to foolish Earth, the mother of the Giants, as a terror of things to come, hanging them high beside the forecourt of Olympus.