Book 48

48. Seek the blood of the Giants in the forty-eighth book, and look for Pallene, and the child of sleeping Aura.

But riding upon the rim of his chariot of leopards, Bacchus revelled, wandering through the Thracian land, leaving the horse-pasturing soil of first-born Phoroneus. Nor did Inachian Hera soften her relentless wrath now that Argos was driven to frenzy, but keeping the memory of the madness of the Achaean women, she armed herself again against Bacchus. And she revealed her crafty prayers to all-mothering Earth, crying out the deeds of Zeus and the manhood of Dionysus, who had destroyed the boundless cloud of earth-born Indians; and when the life-bearing mother heard that the child of Semele had wiped out the swift-doomed Indian race, remembering her sons she groaned the more; and against Bacchus she armed the mountain-running tribes of the self-born Giants, rousing her high-crested children to the din of war:

"My children, make war against cluster-bearing Dionysus upon the steep crags, and the destroyer of my race, the Indian-slaying son of Zeus, overtake; let me not see the bastard scepter-bearer of Olympus ruling beside Zeus. Bind, bind Bacchus, that he may be a chamber-servant, when I grant Hebe in marriage to Porphyrion and Cytherea to Chthonios, when I sing the gray-eyed goddess the consort of Enceladus and Artemis of Alcyoneus; bring me Dionysus, that I may vex the son of Cronos beholding the slavery of spear-won Lyaeus; or, wounding him with the destroying iron, kill me him, all like to Zagreus, that someone may say, either a god or one of mortals, that at the offspring of Cronos' son Earth in her wrath armed twin slayers, the elder Titans against the former Dionysus, and the younger Giants against the later-born Dionysus."

So speaking she roused the whole rank of the Giants. And the phalanxes of the earth-born advanced to the din of war. One, holding a Nysaean crag, another, with iron chiseling out the cloud-high ravined hollow, armed himself with rocks to hurl at Dionysus; another a stony crest of the sea-based land, another, breaking off the ridge of the sea-girt isthmus, hastened to the battle-cry. And with boundless hands high-headed Pelorus hurled up Pelion, laying bare the hollow house of Philyra; and as the unroofed crag was snatched away, old Chiron quailed, man-formed, unfinished, twined with the horse his age-mate. And holding a cluster of the vine, the destroyer of Giants, Bacchus ran down upon high-crested Alcyoneus, not holding a rushing spear, not lifting a bloody sword, but he tore the scattered hands of the Giants, striking with his garlands; and with the strong-wine leaf the dreadful tribes of earth-nurtured serpents were torn apart; and as the snake-haired heads of a Giant were struck, their reaped necks danced in the dust. And countless tribes were killed; and as the Giants were torn, rivers of ever-flowing blood ran, and with freshly-poured purple streams the ravines reddened. And the phalanxes of the earth-born serpents raged in Bacchic terror, fearing the locks of snake-haired Dionysus. And with fire Bacchus fought, hurling into the air a brand, the destroyer of his foes; and along the high-pathed track the self-whirling Bacchic flame ran leaping, darting with limb-devouring spark upon the Giants; and one, bearing the gleam upon his threatening chin, half-burnt, the serpent hissed with fire-heated throat, spitting out smoke, no longer sending deadly venom. And the tumult was boundless; and above the heads of his foes Bacchus was lifted up, raising his warlike brand, and with the earthly firebolt he heated the bodies of the Giants, an answering likeness of the Zeus-hurled thunderbolt; and the torches blazed; and upon the head of Enceladus the wandering fire whirled, heating the air; but it did not overcome him, and by the breath of earthly fire Enceladus did not bend his knee, since he was kept safe from the thunderbolt. And boundless Alcyoneus leaped against Lyaeus, armed with Thracian crags; and against Bacchus he lifted the cloud-high ridge of wintry Haemus to a useless aim, against unwounded Dionysus; and he hurled the peak; but touching the unbroken fawnskin of Lyaeus the hills were split apart; and young Typhoeus laid bare the heads of Emathia, high in view, all like to the former one, who once lifted many a torn hollow of his mother the earth, casting stony shafts at Dionysus. And drawing a sword from one of the Giants writhing on the ground, Bacchus the lord armed himself against the Giants' heads, reaping the snaky harvest of their venom-shooting locks; and slaying the self-made host with unarmed hand he fought in frenzy, the rider upon green trees, holding the long-leaved ivy, the spear-thrower against the Giants. And now he would have slain them all with his man-breaking thyrsus, but turning back he withdrew willingly from the fight, keeping his foes alive for his father. And now swiftly he would have run to Phrygia with quick foot, but another labor held him back, that of so many dead he might kill one man, a murderer, the death-bringing father of Pallene, who once, holding a lawless frenzy for his daughter's ill-mated marriage, broke off her wedlock, and slaughtering countless would-be suitors he reaped them down, beneath whose gore, as they were killed, the wrestling-grounds reddened with clamor, until Bacchus came, the champion of Justice; and standing beside the ill-loving father of marriageable Pallene, he asked for the wicked marriage of the chilling girl, and offered varied gifts; and to Lyaeus, who asked, the dreadful man proclaimed a wrestling-match for the marriage; and leading him he set him in the ill-guesting wrestling-ground, where the bold spear-shaking girl stood, lightly bearing on her shoulders the bridal oxhide. And then Cypris was the contest-judge; and in the midst naked Eros stood, and held out the bridal wreath to Bacchus, and the wrestling was the bride-decker; and in silvery raiment Persuasion clothed her delicate body, foretelling the victory of marriage-bound Lyaeus. And the girl stripped the garments from her strong limbs, and laid down her rushing spear for the wedding, and more delicate the Sithonian girl stood, unveiled, unsandalled, womanlike, unarmed, and with a reddening band she girdled the rounded ring of her firm breasts; and her body was uncovered, and the unbound locks of her boundless hair flowed over the girl's neck, and she bared her legs and the folds of her uncovered thighs, the naked knee showing; and about her thighs she fitted a white woven cloth, the covering of a woman's modesty; and her skin she had smeared with oily ointment, and her hands far more, so that from his unbreakable grip the girl's slippery body might slide away when pressed. And threatening Lyaeus with grim lips, she stood by the bride-decking suitor, and a double bond she cast about his neck with the pull of yoked arms; but turning back Bacchus loosed his own neck, casting off the girl's soft-skinned fingers, shaking his twined neck free of the womanish bonds; and circling his two hands in a ring upon her waist he shook Pallene with a counter-pulling heave of his feet; and he gripped her rosy hand, and held it, the Cyprian consolation, pressing the snowy hand; nor did he so much long to roll the girl upon the ground as to touch her soft skin, delighting in the sweet labor; and he toiled, drawing a deceiving breath like a mortal, and by a willing delay he gave up the victory. And lovely Pallene, with the skilful heave of wrestling, lifted the body of Lyaeus with her womanish hands; nor did she raise so great a weight, but wearying she left the male limbs of unmoving Dionysus. And the god, with an answering bond of clasping hands, seizing the lovely maiden, as one lifting a thyrsus, lightly raised her aslant and twined high above his shoulder; but with sparing hand he shook off the heavy girl, and stretched all of unshaken Pallene upon the ground; and with crafty eyelids he turned his gaze, beholding the dusty limbs of the soft-haired girl and the soiled locks of her uncared-for head. But turning back, leaping up from the dust, upright the girl planted her feet a second time; and Dionysus, with a rolling unsparing thrust of his knee, gripping the belly of Pallene with a counter-pulling heave, longed to roll the maiden upon the ground, and shifted his hands, twining them about her sides, arching her neck crosswise, and about her middle back he circled his fingers bent behind, watching to catch either ankle or shin or knee. And the god, self-rolling, willingly fell to the ground, conquered by a worthless hand; and a lovely drug of love he had, and in the sweet dust, lifting the lovely burden of the Loves upon his belly, he himself stayed on his back, and did not shake off the girl, but bound her with the heart-charming bond of desire. And she, with a swift-whirling guiding heave of her feet, lifted her step, and from love-maddened Lyaeus loosed his male hand; and the god, with a lesser thrust, turning his limbs, stretched out the rosy girl, laying her on the ground; and the girl lay upon the earth, spreading out her hands; and as she stretched along the ground with skilful hand he yoked her neck in a binding bond. With swifter feet the father, rushing into the midst, reined back his daughter, who wished to keep contending, and broke off the marriage-contest of the wedding, entrusting the lovely victory to Dionysus, lest she kill him, holding him in an unyielding bond. And when Zeus had praised the prize-winning victory, Eros crowned his kinsman with the bride-leading cluster, who had completed the lovely wrestling of marriage. And such a contest was like to it, as when the girl Atalanta, hastening, was conquered by Hippomenes, who rolled the golden-gleaming bridal gifts before her. But when Bacchus had finished the contest of the bride-decking wrestling, still dripping the marriage sweat of the toils, he overthrew Sithon, struck by the sharp thyrsus, the slayer of suitors; and as he rolled in the dust he gave the girl the murderous thyrsus, the dowry of the Loves. And the marriage was much-hymned; and in the unsilent chamber the Silenoi sang, and the Bacchants danced, and the drunken Satyrs wove a hymn of the Loves, singing the union of the prize-won marriage. And the phalanxes of the Nereids beneath the foot of the neighboring isthmus girdled Dionysus with a bridal dance, and sang a song, and by the Thracian sea old Nereus, the host of Bromius, danced, and Galatea, leaping about the bridal sea, sang of Pallene joined to Dionysus, and Thetis leaped, though she was unskilled in the Loves, and Melicertes crowned the bridal ridge of the sea-girt isthmus, crying the wedding-shout for the marriage of Pallene; and one of the Hamadryads, by fiery neighboring Lemnos, the Athonian, kindled the bridal Thracian pine. And consoling his bride with friendly words as she mourned her father, the Euius-loving husband said:

"Maiden, do not lament your ill-loving father; maiden, do not lament the suitor of your virginity; what father begot and led a daughter to marriage? Let go your empty grief, that over your slain father, your Sithon, Justice dances laughing, and with maiden hands kindling the bridal fire, she who knows no marriage still sings your marriage, beholding another Oenomaus dead; Oenomaus perished, and at her father's death Hippodameia rejoices with her newly-wed husband. And you too, casting the longing for your father to the storm-winds, delight, joined to your cluster-bearing husband, escaping your father's reproach; I will not teach you the hateful love of Sithon and his delay of marriage, who, lifting in murderous hand the son-in-law-slaying spear, made you grow old, untried in Aphrodite, and broke off the union of your unwedded bed. Behold the rotted remains of the dead suitors, whom the Paphian adorned and the raging Fury killed; behold those heads, the first-fruits of your halls, still dripping with the gore of the ill-guesting marriages. You do not have the earthly race of Sithon; but heavenly, I am persuaded, your Thracian Ares begot you, I am persuaded that Cytherea bore your race; and you stamped yourself with the laws of your twin parents, having the temper of Ares and the splendor of Aphrodite; I am persuaded that the contest-lord Hermes begot you, coming to the delicate marriage-fulfilling bed of Persuasion, and taught you wrestling, the escort of the Loves."

He spoke, consoling her grief with a healing word, and lulled the lovely tears of the mourning girl. And for a time he lingered near his bride, delighting in the love of the newly-yoked marriage. And leaving the halls of Pallene and Thracian Boreas, he came to the house of Rhea, where by the Phrygian foot were the Cybeleid courts of the fair-laboring goddess.

There, hunting by the foot of the Dindyma rock, the Rhyndacian maiden Aura grew up, the mountain-roamer, still unskilled in love, fellow-runner of the Archer-goddess, fleeing the thoughts of unwarlike maidens, a younger Artemis of Lelantos, whom once the Titan, wedding Periboia, the offspring of Ocean, the elder-born Lelantos begot, a storm-footed girl, a girl who matched men, untried in Aphrodite. She grew up taller than her age-mates, lovely, rosy-armed, ever delighting in the hills; and often hunting she ran down the raging bear, and sent her rushing spear to cast at the lioness, not killing deer and not shooting hares; but lifting the blood-red quiver she shot with beast-slaying arrows the mountain-running tribes of flesh-devouring lions; and in name and in deed she had the swiftest course, running with the mountain breezes. And once, in the fire-bright hour of thirsty heat, the maiden, sleeping, rested from the toils of the hunt; and stretching her body high upon the Cybelean grass, laying her head against the shoot of a chaste laurel, she slept at midday; and of the marriage to come she saw a lovely prophetic dream-vision, that the fiery god, stretching his arrow on the burning string, rushing Eros, the hare-shooter, shot within the thicket, shooting the rank of beasts with worthless arrows; and with the boy as he hunted, the son of Myrrha, Cypris went laughing; and the maiden Aura stood, behind the bow of Artemis, from her shoulder above lifting the quiver of huntsman Eros; but he slew the beasts, until he had his fill of the string, shooting the grim mouth of leopards and the jaw of a bear, and capturing a lioness alive with his all-charming girdle he showed the pressed beast to his playful mother; and the maiden thought in the dark that her, too, leaning her arm upon Adonis and Cytherea, greedy Eros provoked, bending to Aphrodite as a captive, the slavish knee of an arrogant lioness, crying out such a word: "Garland-bearing mother of the Loves, I bring you maiden-loving Aura, bowing her neck to you; but, dancing women of love-stricken Orchomenus, crown the bride-decking girdle-strap, since so great a will he has conquered, of the unconquerable lioness." Such a prophetic word the mountain-girl Aura saw; nor was the dream of the Loves in vain, since they too bring a man into the net and hunt a woman. And the girl, awaking, raged at the prudent laurel, and fought with the Paphian and Eros, and more with Sleep she was angry, the bold one, and threatened the Dream, and blamed the leaves and spoke with a voiceless voice:

"Laurel, why do you rout me? What have Cypris and your tree to do together? I went astray, sleeping beneath your neighboring branches, thinking your plant maiden-loving, but of your report I did not get truth, nor of hope; so then, Laurel, changing your body, did you find a way to change your mind? Surely you do not serve marriage-loving Aphrodite after your fate? This tree is not of a prudent maiden, but of a newly-wed bride; it is no wonder to see these dreams beside the myrtle; this is a dream worthy of a wanton; surely Persuasion, surely your laurel-Apollo planted you with his hand?"

She spoke, angry at once with the plant and Eros and Sleep. And once, hunting through the mountains, the mistress of the chase, her skin lashed with the smoky heat of fire, Artemis prepared her chariot, that with the Naiad Nymphs she might cool her hot body in the mountain-poured baths, when it was midsummer, blazing, when, brandishing the fiery midday sound of his parching whip, the sun shone upon the Lion's back. And the deer in their yoking harness Artemis the mountain-roamer fastened together; and mounting the chariot the maiden Aura took the whip and the reins, and drove the horned, storm-swift wagon. And the bandless daughters of ever-flowing Ocean, handmaids, rushed together with the Archer-goddess, of whom one, swift-kneed, ran before her mistress, another, equal in pace, drawing up her tunic, was near, and another, touching the wicker-body of the long-greaved wagon, kept a fellow-running course. And the Archer-goddess, gleaming the light of her face, flashed brighter than her handmaids, as when in her ethereal chariot, sending the flame of sleepless torches, shooting cloudless rays, Selene rose full-shining among the fire-fed stars, dimming the whole heavenly rank with her face; with a light equal to hers Artemis ran through the wood, until she came to the place where, with sounding stream, the Zeus-fallen water of the river Sangarius is drawn. And Aura reined in her twining whip, and checking the deer with golden bridles she halted the light-bringing chariot of her mistress beside the streams; and the goddess ran down from the chariot; and from her shoulders Oupis took her bow, and Hecaerge her quiver, and the daughters of Ocean the fair-plaited hunting-nets; and the hounds . . . and Loxo loosed the buskins from her feet. And she, at midday, kept the maiden-loving reverence of modesty in the river's flow, creeping through the streams with sparing steps, and from foot to head drawing up little by little her dipped tunic, clasping her feet about with her twin thighs, the girl bathed her whole hidden body in measured fashion. And looking sidelong through the water, sharp-eyed Aura with bold eyelids of a shameless face measured the holy body of the unseen girl, beholding the marvelous form of her prudent mistress; and stretching out her feet, with arms outspread, the maiden Aura swam together with the swimming goddess. And half-seen, unfinished, within the river-bank, wiping the wet drops from her hair . . . Artemis the huntress; and close to her rustic Aura, fingering her breasts, cried out a god-fighting voice:

"Artemis, you have only the maiden-loving name of a girl, since across your bosom, with the loose ring of your nipple, you have the female breast of the Paphian, not the male breast of Athena, and your cheeks shoot rosy sparks; but, taking on the body of a love-stricken goddess, do you too be queen of marriages with soft-haired Cytherea, receiving some bridegroom in your chamber; and if you will, lie with Hermes and Ares, leave Athena; and if you will, lift the arrow and bow of the Loves, if you handle the bold frenzy of the arrow-bearing quiver. Be gracious, your form; I am far better than you; behold, how I bear my strong body; behold the male form, and the step of Aura, swifter than Zephyr; behold, how my arms swell; behold the breasts, unripe, swelling, milkless; surely you would say that yours gush a milky dew; how do you have a soft-skinned hand? How do your breasts have no rounded circle, like those of Aura, the self-made heralds of unrobbed virginity?"

She spoke in mockery; and downcast in silence, her companion, the goddess, surged with swelling wrath, and her eyes shot murderous sparks; and she leaped up from the flood, and put on her tunic again, and on her pure flanks a second time fitted her girdle in grief. And she pursued vengeance; and she found the girl high in the clouds beside the Bull, where, by neighboring Cydnus, she had stilled the high-necked boast of Typhaon's threat; and a self-rolling wheel was beside the feet of the mistress, signifying that she drags all the proud to the ground, whirling them from on high with the avenging circle of justice, the all-subduing goddess, turning the course of life; and about her, by her throne, flew an avenging bird, a winged griffin, and was lifted on the beat of four feet as the goddess flew, the self-announcing sign that she too passes through the four-divided seats of the world, binding the high-crested men with an unbreakable bridle, an answering likeness, and as with the whip of evil, as with a self-rolling wheel, she rolls the proud man. And she knew, when she saw with greening face the goddess, Artemis grieving, full of murderous threat, and asking her she soothed her with a friendly word:

"Your wrath, Archer-goddess, your eyes cry aloud; Artemis, what god-fighting son of Earth routs you? What Typhoeus has sprung up again upon the ground? Surely Tityos, returned, stretching his love-mad eye, has not touched the untouched garment of your mother? Artemis, where are your arrows and the shafts of Apollo? Who again does violence to you, another Orion? He still lies there, the wretch who touched your tunic, a breathless corpse within the bowels of his mother; but if some man with love-stricken hands seized your robes, breed another scorpion, the avenger of your girdle; and if again bold Otus or arrogant Ephialtes longed for the unattainable union of your Loves, kill the suitor of your unwedded virginity; and if some woman of many children grieves your Leto, let another stony Niobe weep her offspring; what envy is there if I make another stone above Sipylus? Surely your father does not vex you over a bed for the gray-eyed one? Surely Cronos' son did not nod your marriage to Hermes, as the wedding of pure Athena to Hephaestus? And if a woman routs you, as your mother Leto, I will be the avenger of the grieving Archer-goddess."

Not yet did her speech cease; and to the harm-averting goddess forestalling her, the dog-rearing girl cried out such a word:

"Maiden all-subduing, helmswoman of the race, not Zeus, not Niobe, and not bold Otus vexes me; not Tityos reined in my deep-robed Leto; not a new Orion does me violence, the son of Earth; but mocking me with a sharp and heavy-mouthed word the daughter of Lelantos grieved me, ill-maiden Aura; but why do I go through all these things to you? For I am ashamed to tell the shame of my limbs and the reproach of my breasts; and I have suffered a like grief to my mother; for both in Phrygia Niobe grieved twin-bearing Leto, and again in Phrygia the god-fighting Aura grieved me; but Niobe, changing her false form, paid the penalty, the Tantalid of dread offspring, and still she sheds tears from her stony eyes; but I alone, grieved, have an unavenged shame, since maiden-loving Aura had no stone bathed in tears, saw no spring proclaiming the reproach of her unsparing throat. But you, glorifying your Titanian stock, grant after my mother's another favor, that I may see the unshaken body of stony Aura transformed; nor leave your own kinswoman grieving, lest I see again unchanging Aura laughing at me, or let your bronze-wrought hook drive her to frenzy."

So she spoke, and the goddess emboldened her and answered with a word:

"Daughter of Leto, bed-fleeing, dog-driver, sister of Phoebus, I will not subdue the Titan child with my sickle, nor will I make her a stony bride in Phrygia, since I too am born of the most ancient blood of the Titans, lest father Lelantos ever blame me when he hears; but one thing I grant you, Archer-goddess: rustic Aura has reproached your virginity, and she will be a maiden no more; and you shall behold her through her mountain-poured bosom still lamenting her girdle with welling tears."

She spoke, consoling her; and the girl left the hills, Artemis, seated in the four-yoked chariot of deer, and went to Phrygia. And with a like-zealous course the maiden Adrasteia pursued hard-fighting Aura, yoking contending griffins beneath the bridle; and swiftly she was borne through the air on her swift chariot, and stayed her course above the heads of Sipylus before the stony-eyed face of the Tantalid, clasping the crooked bridles of the winged four-foots. And she came near proud Aura; and the high-minded neck of the wretch she struck with her snaky whip, and shook her with the wheel-like circle of justice, and bent the mindless mind of the unbending one; and about the girdle of the maiden she whirled her viperous whip, Argive Adrasteia; and to please the goddess, though her brother Dionysus was very angry, she armed another love, though she was unskilled in the Loves, after the bed of Pallene, after the death of Ariadne, the one left in her fatherland, the other in an alien land turned to stone, like the image of Achaean Hera, and far more than Broe over an unfulfilled bed. And Nemesis flew off beside the snow-struck Bull, until she came a second time to Cydnus; and about the girl Eros stirred Dionysus to frenzy with a sweet-shooting arrow, and wheeling his wings the light one flew back to Olympus. And the mountain-roaming god was lashed with a greater fire; for it was no slight consolation; he had then no Cyprian hope of the girl, no drug of the Loves; but Eros burned him the more with his heart-charming fire for the late-fulfilled marriage of raving, unyielding Aura. And in pain he hid his desire, nor in the thickets did he hold converse with Aura in Cyprian words, lest she flee him. What is more wretched than when men alone long, and the women feel no desire? And he kept in his heart the fixed arrow of the Loves, to see if the maiden held a dog-driving course within the thicket; and as her tunic was lifted by the Cyprian winds, gazing at her thigh, the wandering Bacchus grew womanish. And late, shaken by the seething desire of Aura, helpless Bacchus cried out a word with a raving voice:

"I have the likeness of ill-loving Pan, since she flees me, the wind-roaming maiden, and with desert sandal wanders unsteadily, more than unseen Echo. Blessed Pan, far more than Bromius, because seeking you found the cure of love in a heart-charming voice; your sound the after-voiced, unstable Echo answers, uttering a like talking sound; would that she too, the maiden Aura, would belch one word from her lips. This love is not like all others; for she herself does not nurse a temper like that of other maidens. What cure is there for my pain? Shall I charm her with a Cyprian nod? When, ah when is Aura charmed by moving eyelids? Stretching a love-mad eye, who with marriage-words leads astray the mind of a bear to the Paphian, to Eros? Who has held converse with a lioness? Who has spoken a word to an oak? Who has deceived the breathless pine? Who persuaded the cornel-tree, and led the rock to marriage? What man could charm the unmoved mind of Aura? What man could charm her? And to the ungirdled girl who could speak of marriage or the girdle, love's helper? Who of the sweet sting of Eros or the name of the Cyprus-born? Athena would sooner be persuaded; nor does fearless Artemis flee me so much as maiden-loving Aura. Would that with friendly lips she would speak only this word: 'Bacchus, you long in vain, do not seek the maiden Aura.'"

He spoke, walking within the flowering meadow with the spring breezes, and beside the fragrant myrtle, sweetly at midday he lulled his feet to rest, and against a tree he leaned, holding the hissing Zephyr-breeze, held fast by both weariness and love; and as he sat, of its own accord, peering over a neighboring cluster, a maiden, an unveiled Hamadryad Nymph, spoke, bearing faithful tidings to Cypris and to lovely Lyaeus:

"Bacchus can never lead Aura to his bed, unless he fetter the heavy-bound one with chains, twining her feet and hands with Cyprian bonds, or, yoking her in marriage as she sleeps, steal the dowerless virginity of the maiden."

So speaking she went back and hid in the cluster of her age, entering again her oaken house; but Bacchus, in his toil, sent his mind wandering in love-bearing dreams. And the wind-roaming soul of dead Ariadne, standing beside sweetly-sleeping Dionysus, jealous after her death, spoke with a dream-voice:

"Forgetful Dionysus of your former marriage, the jealousy of Aura holds you, and you care nothing for Ariadne; alas for my Theseus, whom the bitter wind snatched away, alas for my Theseus, whom Phaedra got for a husband. It was not fated for me to escape my oath-breaking husband, if the sweet young man left me sleeping, and instead of him I was wedded to ill-loving and deceiving Lyaeus. Alas, that I had no swift-doomed mortal husband, for then, armed against love-mad Dionysus, I too would have been one of the Lemnian women. But the suitor of a much-scattered bridal bed, the oath-breaking bridegroom, after Theseus I will call you too; and if your bride asks of you a gift of Eros, receive my distaff, the love-gift of the Loves, that you may give, lawless one, to your crag-loving bride the gifts of your wife the Minoan, that someone may say: 'She gave a thread to Theseus and a distaff to Dionysus.' And you too, after Cronos' son, changing bed for bed, have imitated the deeds of your woman-mad father, holding an insatiate frenzy for changeful love; of your Sithonian wife and the newly-yoked marriage, of Pallene, I know, and of the wedding of Althaea; I will be silent about the love of Coronis, from whose bed three yoked Graces were born; but, Mycenae, cry out my fate and the wild eye of Medusa, and of jealous Ariadne forced into love; shores of Naxos, cry out: bridegroom Theseus, the Minoan calls you, angry at Dionysus. But why do I remember Cecropia? For to the Paphian I make my complaint against both, Theseus and Dionysus."

So speaking she rushed away, all like to shadowy smoke. And bold Bacchus woke, scattering the wing of Sleep, and pitied the mourning Ariadne of his dream. And he sought a shifting trick, the escort of the Loves; and he remembered his former bed with the Astacid nymph, how he had wed the lovely girl with a guileful drink, having Sleep for the escort of the drunken-staggering marriage. While Bacchus wished to prepare the trick of the bed, meanwhile the roving girl of Lelantos ran, seeking a spring, gripped by burning thirst. Nor did the mountain-running, unstable Aura escape Dionysus in her thirst; and swiftly leaping to the base of a rock he struck the earth with his thyrsus; and the hill, splitting, brought forth of itself wine from its fragrant breast, in a purple stream; and to please Lyaeus the Seasons, handmaids of the Sun, marked with flowers the topmost brow of the spring, and with fragrant breezes the sweet air of the new-grown meadow was lashed; and it had the leaves of the cluster named for Narcissus, the graceful youth, whom by leafy Latmos his bridegroom Endymion of horned Selene begot, who once, fair of skin, in the deceiving mute form, seeing the water shaped into a self-made image, died, gazing at the shadowy phantoms of his form; and it held the living plant of Amyclaean hyacinth; and flying in flocks upon the flowering cluster the nightingales of spring sang above the leaves. And there, thirsting, the midday Aura ran, to see if anywhere, thirsting, she might behold the stream of Zeus or some spring or the flow of a mountain-poured river; and about her eyelids Eros poured a mist. But when she saw the deceiving Bacchic spring, then Persuasion drove the shadowy cloud from her eyes, crying out such a word, the first herald of marriage to Aura:

"Maiden, come here, and of the marriage-fulfilling spring receive the streams into your mouth, and into your bosom a husband."

And gladly the girl saw it; and bending over the spring with opened lips she drew up the moisture of Bacchus. And the maiden, drinking, uttered such a voice:

"Naiads, what is this wonder? Whence came this sweet water? Who poured out this drink? What heavenly womb bore it? At any rate, having drunk this, I no longer go to my running; but my feet grow heavy, and I am charmed by sweet sleep, and I send a stumbling, soft-sounding noise from my lips."

She spoke and held an unsteady course of foot; and she went this way and that with much-wandering rushes, her head shaking often about her temples; and she bent her head, propping it near her shoulder; and she slept upon the ground beside a long-shooting tree, entrusting her unguarded virginity to the bed of earth. And fiery Eros, watching heavy-kneed Aura, leaped down from heaven, and with a calm face smiling he spoke, of one mind with Dionysus:

"You hunt, Dionysus; and the maiden Aura awaits you."

So speaking he hastened to Olympus, and waving his wings he withdrew among the spring leaves, having carved this: "Bridegroom, finish the bed while the maiden still sleeps; in silence to us, lest sleep let the maiden go."

And seeing her, Iobacchus, upon her unbedded couch plucking the Lethean wing of bridal Sleep, soundless on the tips of his unsandalled feet creeping, went after the dumb couch of speechless Aura; and with sparing hand he laid aside the hollow quiver of the maiden, and hid her bow in a hollow rock, lest she shoot him, shaking off the wing of Sleep; and with unbreakable bonds he yoked the girl's feet, and with twining hands sealed the cord upon her hands, lest she escape him; and spreading her on the dust, the maiden heavy with sleep, all ready for Aphrodite, he stole the marriage-harvest of sleeping Aura. And he was a dowerless husband; and upon the ground the wretched one, heavy with wine, unshaken, was wedded to Dionysus; and with shadowy wings clasping the body of Aura, Sleep was the bride-decker of Bacchus, because he himself made trial of the Paphian, and is the yoke-mate of Selene, and is the fellow-escort of nightly love, of the Loves; and the marriage was as a dream. And with much-leaping dance the hill leaped up into a self-whirling dance, and half-seen the Hamadryad shook her age-mate pine; only the maiden Echo did not dance among the hills, and ashamed, unattainable, hid at the base of a rock, lest she behold the marriage of woman-mad Dionysus. And having fulfilled the wedding upon the noiseless bed, the vine-clad bridegroom, lifting his guarded step, kissed his bride's lovely lip, and loosed her unbending feet and hands, and from the rock the quiver taking in his hand, and the bow, he laid them again beside his bride. And he came near the Satyrs, still breathing of the marriage, entrusting the bed of sleeping Aura to the winds. And the bride rose from her love; and the limb-loosing sleep, the witness of the unheralded Loves, she shook off; and gazing in amazement, outside her prudent girdle, at her bared breast and the folds of her uncovered thigh and her tunic spotted with the marriage-drops, proclaiming her ravished, dowerless virginity, she raged as she gazed; and she fitted her circling girdle, shadowing her breast again, and the ring of her familiar breast with the maiden belt she bound in vain with a bond. And in grief she cried aloud, held in a leap of madness; and she chased the husbandmen, and near the leafy bank, avenging her guileful husband with a punishing law, she slaughtered the shepherds; and with pitiless iron she killed the oxherd the more, since she had learned that the bridegroom of Eos, graceful Tithonus, was an ill-loved oxherd man, because Selene the ox-driver too had loved Latmian Endymion, busy with herds of oxen; she heard too of the Phrygian, whom another maiden killed, the bitter love of song, of the love-stricken herdsman; she killed the goatherd the more, killed the whole flock of goats, suffering terribly, because the girl had seen ill-loved Pan holding the like form of a shaggy goat's face; for she expected just this, shaken by desire for Echo, that the shepherd Pan had forced the sleeping girl; she subdued the tillers far more, because they too serve Cypris, since a tiller of the soil was the man, Iasion, the consort of Demeter who bears the sheaves; and she killed the huntsman, persuaded by an older tale; for she heard that Cephalus, the citizen of motherless Athena, the hunter, was the husband of rose-crowned Eos; and she slaughtered the servants of the Bacchic harvest, because, gushing the dew of strong-wine drunkenness, heavy with wine, ill-loved, they are the attendants of Lyaeus; for not yet had she learned the guile of Dionysus and the deceiving drink of strong-wine Cytherea, but she emptied the huts of the crag-loving shepherds, sprinkling the hills with reddening blood. And shaking her mind, held in a leap of madness, she came to the house of Cypris; and loosing the threatening girdle, the belt of her newly-spun tunic, she lashed the delicate body of the unconquerable goddess; and snatching the image of marriage-fulfilling Cytherea she came near the Sangarius, and as it rolled in the streams she gave naked Aphrodite to the naked Naiads. And after the divine image and the self-whirling whip she hurled the delicate likeness of Eros into the dust; and she left empty the house of the Cybeleid foam-born goddess. And roving, unattainable, she entered her familiar thicket, and touched her hunting-stakes, and remembered the hunt again; and with wet eyelids she lamented her virginity, and crying out shrill she uttered such a voice:

"What god loosed the bonds of my virginity? If, as I slept upon my desert bed, counselor Zeus, stealing his form, forced me, nor reverenced even our neighbor Rhea, after the wild beasts I will shoot the pole of stars; and if Phoebus Apollo lay with me sleeping, I will sack the whole stony, famous Pytho; and if my Cyllenian Hermes plundered my bed, I will destroy Arcadia root and branch with my arrows, and make golden-circleted Persuasion my handmaid; and if with the marriage-tricks of dream-weddings unseen Dionysus plundered my virginity, I will go where the house of Cybele is, and from high-crested Tmolus I will chase frenzied Dionysus; and hanging the murderous quiver on my shoulders I will arm against Paphos, against Phrygia; for against both I will stretch my bow, against Cypris and Dionysus. With you, Archer-goddess, I am more angry, because you, girl, did not kill me still a sleeping maiden, nor against him, your own bedfellow, did you arm with your pure arrows."

She spoke, and reined in her trembling voice, overcome by tears. And full of the seed of marriage-fulfilling child-begetting Lyaeus, ill-maiden Aura lifted a double burden; and the woman raged at her load, maddened past bearing by the seed, ill-maiden Aura . . . whether a self-born seed or from a man's marriage or from a guileful god; and she remembered the bride of Zeus, Plouto of dread offspring, the Berecyntian, from whose bed Tantalus sprang. And she wished to cut open her womb, that from her torn belly, in mindless madness, she might wipe out the unnurtured, half-finished offspring. And she lifted a sword, and through her naked breast with her right hand she longed to drive the unsparing blade. And often she went to the cave of a newly-delivered lioness, that she might slip into the net of a willing Fate; but the mountain-roaming beast, frightened, fled from her, lest she kill it, and hid in the recess of a rock, entrusting its cub to its desert bed. And often through her swollen woman's bosom the self-slayer longed to drive the willing sword, that, self-slaughtered, she might escape the reproaches of her belly and the mocking mouth of the delighting Archer-goddess; and she longed to know her husband, that she too might butcher her son for her refusing consort, herself both child-slayer and bedfellow, that someone might say: "A new Procne, a child-killer, is ill-wed Aura." And watching her, pregnant with new children, Artemis came near with a laughing face, and provoked the wretched one, and spoke with a loveless voice:

"I saw Sleep, the chamber-servant of the Paphian; I saw of the Loves the deceiving streams of the yellow bridal spring, where with a guileful drink young women loose their girdle of like age, the robber of virginity, in a marriage-dream; I saw the slope, I saw, where by a yoking rock unawares a woman is wedded to deceiving sleep; I saw the love-mountain of Cypris, where, stealing the virginity of women, husbands slip away. Tell me, bed-fleeing woman, why today do you walk gently? You who were once storm-swift, why do you go heavy-kneed? You were wedded unwilling, and you know not your husband; you cannot hide your secret marriage; for swollen your milk-new breasts proclaim your husband. Tell me, heavy-sleeping boar-slayer, maiden, bride, how do you wear your green, reddening form? Who stained your bed? Who plundered your virginity? Yellow Naiads, do not hide the bridegroom of Aura. I know, heavy-laden woman, your secret husband; your marriage does not escape me, even if you wish to hide it, your husband does not escape me; weighed down in body by sleep, unshaken, you were wedded as a consort to Dionysus. But leave your bow; refusing the quiver, celebrate the rites of your woman-mad Bacchus, bearing the drums in your hand and the cry of the fair-horned pipes. And by your marriage-fulfilling bed I beseech you, what gifts did your husband Dionysus give you? Surely he gave you a fawnskin, the herald of your bed? Surely he gave you bronze rattles, the toys of your children? I am persuaded that he gave you a thyrsus, the thrower against lions; and perhaps he gave cymbals, which the nurses shake, remedies for babes against tearful pains."

She spoke in mockery; and the goddess went back again, shooting beasts a second time, and grieving she gave her cares to the airy winds. And the mountain-roaming girl, without witness, high on a rock, handling the sharp arrow of her painful labor, had the dreadful roaring of a lioness in childbed; and the rocks cried back; and answering the loud-thundering voice of the girl, ill-sounding Echo bellowed. And clasping her hands, like a lid, over her travail, she shut the swift birth-pang of the ripening labor, and held back the new-finished birth; for she would not call hated Artemis to her labor; and she refused the daughters of Hera, lest ever, as children of the stepmother of Bacchus, they bear down on her labor. And the girl in distress broke out a downcast cry, goaded by the stings of unknown necessity:

"So may I see the Archer-goddess and rushing Athena, so may I behold both pregnant; prove Artemis in labor, midwife Seasons, by the witness of childbirth, and say to the Trito-born: 'Gray-eyed maiden, new-bearing mother, motherless.' So may I see maiden-loving Echo suffering the same, bedded by Pan or by Dionysus, author of evils. Artemis, you too, bearing, will be Aura's comfort, dripping female milk for the childbed from a male breast."

She spoke, lamenting the heavy stings of childbirth. And the Archer-goddess held back the birth, and to the child-bearing bride she gave the toil of a hindered labor. And Nicaea, the helmswoman of the rite of Lyaeus, watching the toil and the shames of raving Aura, broke out such a secret, pitying voice:

"Aura, suffering the same, lament your virginity too; and bearing in your belly the burden of a painful labor, endure with me, after the bed, to have the stings of childbirth too, endure to offer your unfamiliar breast to the babes. And whence did you too drink wine, the plunderer of my girdle? And whence did you too drink wine, until you became pregnant, Aura? And you too have suffered, bed-fleeing one, what I suffered; but you too blame the deceiving sleep of the bride-decking Loves. One guile fitted marriage to us both; one husband of Aura made the maiden Nicaea the mother of children; no longer have I a beast-slaying bow, no longer a string, as before, do I draw an arrow too; but I am a wretched loom-toiling woman, and no longer a rushing Amazon."

She spoke, pitying the child-fulfilling toil of Aura, as one who herself had made trial of a wretched birth. And the daughter of Leto, hearing the cry of heavy-voiced Aura, came a second time, proud, near the bride; and she provoked the suffering one, and cried with a goading word:

"Maiden, who made you a mother of children in childbed? You who know no marriage, whence got you milk in your breast? I did not see, I did not hear, that a maiden bears a son. Surely my father changed nature? Surely women bear apart from marriage? For you, maiden-loving girl, are in labor with new children, though you hate Aphrodite. Surely the women in childbed do not call Artemis the helmswoman of necessary birth, because you alone in your bearing have no need of the rustic Archer-goddess? Nor did Eileithyia, the deliverer of your race, behold your Dionysus from a midwifeless womb; but the thunderbolts brought him half-finished to birth. Do not be angry that you bear children among the crags; for Rhea, the queen of the crags, made trial of childbirth; what envy is there ever in this? You bear children among the mountains, like the mountain-roaming wife of mountain-haunting Dionysus."

She spoke; and angry, the bride in childbed grieved, ashamed before Artemis even in her pains. Ah, most wretched, she was near the birth and wished to be a maiden. And the babe came swifter to the light; for while Artemis was still speaking her arrow-shooting word of childbirth, the double, self-summoned birth of Aura was brought to light, her labor loosed, whence, from the twin children, the high-headed mountain of Rhea was named Dindymon. And the goddess, beholding the new, fair-childed offspring, turning back spoke such a word with answering voice:

"Maia, solitary woman, twin-bearing ill-wed bride, offer your unfamiliar breast to your sons, maiden mother; your boy babbles 'papa,' asking you for his father; tell your children of your secret husband. Artemis knows no marriage, and nursed no son at her breast; your bed is these mountains, and instead of a familiar tunic the swaddling-clothes of your babes are the dappled skins of fawns."

She spoke, and swift-sandalled entered the shady wood. And calling Nicaea, his Cybeleid bride, who still blamed her bed, Dionysus showed Aura in childbed, smiling; and of the desert girl he spoke, boasting of his newly-fulfilled marriage:

"Just now, Nicaea, hardly, you found comfort of the Loves; just now again Dionysus has accomplished a stealthy bed, and plundered the marriage of another maiden; and in the hills she who once fled even the mere name of the Loves, the mountain-girl Aura, saw a like fate to your chamber. You alone did not receive sweet sleep, the escort of the Loves, you alone did not drink the deceiving wine, the robber of the girdle; but, unknown, from a new-opened spring, the bride-decking wine welled up again, and Aura drank. But she knows the arrow of necessary childbirth; by your Telete, your dance-weaving daughter, I beseech you, hasten to lift up my son, lest she destroy him with bold hands, my ill-contriving Aura; for I know that of the twin babes she will slay one child in her ungovernable madness; but you, succor Iacchus; be the guardian of the better birth, that your Telete may be a handmaid both to the son and to the father."

So speaking, proud Bacchus withdrew again, exulting over both his Phrygian marriages, the elder wife and the younger bride. And holding a heavy grief beside the birth-fulfilling rock, lifting her children, the mother in childbed cried out:

"This marriage is from the air; I will throw my offspring into the air; I was wedded by the winds, and saw no mortal bed, and to the marriage of Aura came the breezes named for her; and let the winds hold my birth-pangs. Begone from me, new children of a guile-stitching father; I did not bear you; what have I to do with the evils of women? Now openly, lions, free into the woodland pasture come boldly, since Aura fights no more; and you bright-eyed hares are better than the hounds; jackals, delight in me; and by my bed I shall see the fearless leopard leaping; bring the fearless bear, my fellow; for the bronze-coated arrows of child-bearing Aura have been made womanish. I am ashamed to bear the name of bride after maidenhood, lest I ever give my strong breast to children; lest with my hand I press out bastard milk, nor in the thickets, born a beast-slayer, be called a child-loving woman."

. . . she set under the cave the childbed meal of a lioness; but the new fair-childed offspring of Dionysus the leopard, licking the body with flesh-devouring jaws, with prudent heart tended at her wise breast; and the marvelling serpents circled the childbed with venom-shooting mouths, since, guarding the new children, the bridegroom of Aura made even the beasts gentle. And with roving foot the girl of Lelantos sprang up, holding the wild temper of a shaggy-breasted lioness, and unattainable she hurled into the airy storms one of her children, snatched from the beasts' jaws; and the newly-born child, in a whirl of dust, slid down headlong from the air to the ground; and snatching it up she buried it in her own throat, feasting on a dear meal. And from the loveless mother the maiden Archer-goddess, frightened, snatched the other child of Aura in childbed, and walking through the thicket lifted the boy in her unfamiliar child-tending arm. And after the bed of Bromius, after the whirl of childbirth, fleeing the reproach of marriage, rustic Aura, keeping the maiden-loving reverence of her ancient modesty, came near the Sangarius; and with her back-strained bow into the streams she threw her uncared-for quiver, and headlong she leaped into the deep current, with ashamed eyes refusing the light of Eos, and was hidden by the river's surges; and Cronos' son changed her into a fountain; and of the mountain-poured spring her breasts became the jet, her body the flow, her hair the flowers, and her horn became the bow of the fair-horned river, bull-formed, and the reed-cord became the string, and the reeds, turned into arrows, whistled, and rushing through the muddy depth of the river the poured quiver gurgled into a hollow hiding-place. And the Archer-goddess lulled her wrath; and about the thicket, seeking the tracks of crag-loving Lyaeus, she went, lifting the newly-born babe of Aura, carrying the bastard burden on her arm; and ashamed she gave the male child to her brother Dionysus. And the father gave his son to Nicaea, the midwife bride; and she lifted him, and from the topmost nipple pressing the life-giving moisture of her child-nursing breasts she reared the boy. And taking him high upon his chariot, Bacchus the infant still, the son named after his father, Bacchus laid beside mystic Attic Athena, babbling 'Euoi'; and the goddess within her temple, Pallas, received him in her unwedded, god-receiving bosom; and to the child she offered the breast that Erechtheus alone had sucked, dripping bastard milk of itself from her unripe breast. And she laid him beside the Eleusinian Bacchants; and about the boy Iacchus the ivy-bearing Marathonian Nymphs circled in dance, and for the newborn god they lifted the night-dancing Attic pine; and they propitiated the god after the son of Persephone, and after the child of Semele, and set up sacrifices to late-born Lyaeus and to first-born Dionysus, and to the third, Iacchus, they crashed out a new hymn. And with the triple rites Athens were stirred into Bacchic frenzy; and the citizens struck up a late-fulfilled dance, glorifying Zagreus together with Bromius and Iacchus.

Nor did Bacchus forget the Cydonian Loves, but even of his former, dead bride he was mindful; and the circling Crown of departed Ariadne, the witness of his love, he fixed in Olympus, an unceasing herald of his garland-loving marriage. And the vine-clad god, treading his father's air, shared one table with his fair-laboring father, and after the mortal feast, after the former pouring of wine, he drank the heavenly nectar from better cups, enthroned with Apollo, sharing the hearth of the son of Maia.