EMPEDOCLES OF AGRIGENTUM

Παυσανίη, σὺ δὲ κλῦθι, δαΐφρονος Ἀγχίτου υἱέ.

Hear thou, Pausanias, son of wise Anchitus!

στεινωποὶ μὲν γὰρ παλάμαι κατὰ γυῖα κέχυνται·
πολλὰ δὲ δείλ' ἔμπαια, τά τ' ἀμβλύνουσι μερίμνας.
παῦρον δὲ ζωῆς ἰδίου μέρος ἀθρήσαντες
ὠκύμοροι καπνοῖο δίκην ἀρθέντες ἀπέπταν
αὐτὸ μόνον πεισθέντες, ὅτωι προσέκυρσεν ἕκαστος
πάντοσ' ἐλαυνόμενοι, τὸ δ' ὅλον [πᾶς] εὔχεται εὑρεῖν·
οὕτως οὔτ' ἐπιδερκτὰ τάδ' ἀνδράσιν οὐδ' ἐπακουστά
οὔτε νόωι περιληπτά. σὺ δ' οὖν, ἐπεὶ ὧδ' ἐλιάσθης,
πεύσεαι οὐ πλέον ἠὲ βροτείη μῆτις ὄρωρεν.

For narrow through their members scattered ways
Of knowing lie. And many a vile surprise
Blunts soul and keen desire. And having viewed
Their little share of life, with briefest fates,
Like smoke they are lifted up and flit away,
Believing only what each chances on,
Hither and thither driven; yet they boast
The larger vision of the whole and all.
But thuswise never shall these things be seen,
Never be heard by men, nor seized by mind;
And thou, since hither now withdrawn apart,
Shalt learn—no more than mortal ken may span.

στεγάσαι φρενὸς ἔλλοπος εἴσω.

Shelter these teachings in thine own mute breast.

ἀλλὰ θεοὶ τῶν μὲν μανίην ἀποτρέψατε γλώσσης,
ἐκ δ' ὁσίων στομάτων καθαρὴν ὀχετεύσατε πηγήν.
καὶ σέ, πολυμνήστη λευκώλενε παρθένε Μοῦσα,
ἄντομαι, ὧν θέμις ἐστὶν ἐφημερίοισιν ἀκούειν,
πέμπε παρ' Εὐσεβίης ἐλάουσ' εὐήνιον ἅρμα.
μηδέ σέ γ' εὐδόξοιο βιήσεται ἄνθεα τιμῆς
πρὸς θνητῶν ἀνελέσθαι, ἐφ' ὧι θ' ὁσίης πλέον εἰπεῖν
θάρσεϊ καὶ τότε δὴ σοφίης ἐπ' ἄκροισι θοάζειν.
ἀλλ' ἄγ' ἄθρει πάσηι παλάμηι, πῆι δῆλον ἕκαστον,
μήτε τι ὄψιν ἔχων πίστει πλέον ἢ κατ' ἀκουήν
ἢ ἀκοὴν ἐρίδουπον ὑπὲρ τρανώματα γλώσσης,
μήτε τι τῶν ἄλλων, ὁπόσηι πόρος ἐστὶ νοῆσαι,
γυίων πίστιν ἔρυκε, νόει θ' ἧι δῆλον ἕκαστον.

But turn their madness, Gods! from tongue of mine,
And drain through holy lips the well-spring clear!
And many-wooed, O white-armed Maiden-Muse,
Thee I approach: O drive and send to me
Meek Piety's well-reined chariot of song,
So far as lawful is for men to hear,
Whose lives are but a day. Nor shall desire
To pluck the flowers of fame and wide report
Among mankind impel thee on to dare
Speech beyond holy bound and seat profane
Upon those topmost pinnacles of Truth.
But come, by every way of knowing see
How each thing is revealed. Nor, having sight,
Trust sight no more than hearing will bear out,
Trust echoing ear but after tasting tongue;
Nor check the proof of all thy members aught:
Note by all ways each thing as 'tis revealed.

ἀλλὰ κακοῖς μὲν καρτὰ μέλει κρατέουσιν ἀπιστεῖν.
ὡς δὲ παρ' ἡμετέρης κέλεται πιστώματα Μούσης,
γνῶθι διασσηθέντος ἐνὶ σπλάγχνοισι λόγοιο.

Yea, but the base distrust the High and Strong;
Yet know the pledges that our Muse will urge,
When once her words be sifted through thy soul.

τέσσαρα γὰρ πάντων ῥιζώματα πρῶτον ἄκουε·
Ζεὺς ἀργὴς Ἥρη τε φερέσβιος ἠδ' Ἀιδωνεύς
Νῆστίς θ', ἣ δακρύοις τέγγει κρούνωμα βρότειον.

And first the fourfold root of all things hear!—
White gleaming Zeus, life-bringing Here, Dis,
And Nestis whose tears bedew mortality.

ἀγένητα.

The uncreated elements.

ἄλλο δέ τοι ἐρέω· φύσις οὐδενός ἐστιν ἁπάντων
θνητῶν, οὐδέ τις οὐλομένου θανάτοιο τελευτή,
ἀλλὰ μόνον μίξις τε διάλλαξίς τε μιγέντων
ἐστί, φύσις δ' ἐπὶ τοῖς ὀνομάζεται ἀνθρώποισιν.

More will I tell thee too: there is no birth
Of all things mortal, nor end in ruinous death;
But mingling only and interchange of mixed
There is, and birth is but its name with men.

οἱ δ' ὅτε μὲν κατὰ φῶτα μιγέντ' εἰς αἰθέρ' ἵ[κωνται]
ἢ κατὰ θηρῶν ἀγροτέρων γένος ἢ κατὰ θάμνων
ἠὲ κατ' οἰωνῶν, τότε μὲν τὸ [λέγουσι] γενέσθαι·
εὖτε δ' ἀποκρινθῶσι, τὰ δ' αὖ δυσδαίμονα πότμον·
ἣ θέμις [οὐ] καλέουσι, νόμωι δ' ἐπίφημι καὶ αὐτός.

But when in man, wild beast, or bird, or bush,
These elements commingle and arrive
The realms of light, the thoughtless deem it "birth";
When they dispart, 'tis "doom of death;" and though
Not this the Law, I too assent to use.

θάνατον . . . ἀλοίτην.

Avenging Death.

νήπιοι· οὐ γάρ σφιν δολιχόφρονές εἰσι μέριμναι,
οἳ δὴ γίγνεσθαι πάρος οὐκ ἐὸν ἐλπίζουσιν
ἤ τι καταθνήισκειν τε καὶ ἐξόλλυσθαι ἁπάντηι.

Fools! for their thoughts are briefly brooded o'er.
Who trust that what is not can e'er become,
Or aught that is can wholly die away.

ἔκ τε γὰρ οὐδάμ' ἐόντος ἀμήχανόν ἐστι γενέσθαι
καί τ' ἐὸν ἐξαπολέσθαι ἀνήνυστον καὶ ἄπυστον·
αἰεὶ γὰρ τῆι γ' ἔσται, ὅπηι κέ τις αἰὲν ἐρείδηι.

From what-is-not what-is can ne'er become;
So that what-is should e'er be all destroyed,
No force could compass and no ear hath heard—
For there 'twill be forever where 'tis set.

οὐδέ τι τοῦ παντὸς κενεὸν πέλει οὐδὲ περισσόν.

The All hath neither Void nor Overflow.

τοῦ παντὸς δ' οὐδὲν κενεόν· πόθεν οὖν τί κ' ἐπέλθοι;

But with the All there is no Void, so whence
Could aught of more come nigh?

οὐκ ἂν ἀνὴρ τοιαῦτα σοφὸς φρεσὶ μαντεύσαιτο,
ὡς ὄφρα μέν τε βιῶσι, τὸ δὴ βίοτον καλέουσι,
τόφρα μὲν οὖν εἰσίν, καί σφιν πάρα δειλὰ καὶ ἐσθλά,
πρὶν δὲ πάγεν τε βροτοὶ καὶ [ἐπεὶ] λύθεν, οὐδὲν ἄρ' εἰσιν.

No wise man dreams such folly in his heart,
That only whilst we live what men call life
We have our being and take our good and ill,
And ere as mortals we compacted be,
And when as mortals we be loosed apart,
We are as nothing.

ἧι γὰρ καὶ πάρος ἔσκε, καὶ ἔσσεται, οὐδέ ποτ', οἴω,
τούτων ἀμφοτέρων κενεώσεται ἄσπετος αἰών.

For even as Love and Hate were strong of yore,
They shall have their hereafter; nor I think
Shall endless Age be emptied of these Twain.

δίπλ' ἐρέω· τοτὲ μὲν γὰρ ἓν ηὐξήθη μόνον εἶναι
ἐκ πλεόνων, τοτὲ δ' αὖ διέφυ πλέον' ἐξ ἑνὸς εἶναι.
δοιὴ δὲ θνητῶν γένεσις, δοιὴ δ' ἀπόλειψις·
τὴν μὲν γὰρ πάντων σύνοδος τίκτει τ' ὀλέκει τε,
ἡ δὲ πάλιν διαφυομένων θρεφθεῖσα διέπτη.
καὶ ταῦτ' ἀλλάσσοντα διαμπερὲς οὐδαμὰ λήγει,
ἄλλοτε μὲν Φιλότητι συνερχόμεν' εἰς ἓν ἅπαντα,
ἄλλοτε δ' αὖ δίχ' ἕκαστα φορεύμενα Νείκεος ἔχθει.
[οὕτως ἧι μὲν ἓν ἐκ πλεόνων μεμάθηκε φύεσθαι]
ἠδὲ πάλιν διαφύντος ἑνὸς πλέον' ἐκτελέθουσι,
τῆι μὲν γίγνονταί τε καὶ οὔ σφισιν ἔμπεδος αἰών·
ἧι δὲ διαλλάσσοντα διαμπερὲς οὐδαμὰ λήγει,
ταύτηι δ' αἰὲν ἔασιν ἀκίνητοι κατὰ κύκλον.
ἀλλ' ἄγε μύθων κλῦθι· μάθη γάρ τοι φρένας αὔξει·
ὡς γὰρ καὶ πρὶν ἔειπα πιφαύσκων πείρατα μύθων,
δίπλ' ἐρέω· τοτὲ μὲν γὰρ ἓν ηὐξήθη μόνον εἶναι
ἐκ πλεόνων, τοτὲ δ' αὖ διέφυ πλέον' ἐξ ἑνὸς εἶναι,
πῦρ καὶ ὕδωρ καὶ γαῖα καὶ ἠέρος ἄπλετον ὕψος,
Νεῖκός τ' οὐλόμενον δίχα τῶν, ἀτάλαντον ἁπάντηι,
καὶ Φιλότης ἐν τοῖσιν, ἴση μῆκός τε πλάτος τε·
τὴν σὺ νόωι δέρκευ, μηδ' ὄμμασιν ἧσο τεθηπώς·
ἥτις καὶ θνητοῖσι νομίζεται ἔμφυτος ἄρθροις,
τῆι τε φίλα φρονέουσι καὶ ἄρθμια ἔργα τελοῦσι,
Γηθοσύνην καλέοντες ἐπώνυμον ἠδ' Ἀφροδίτην·
τὴν οὔ τις μετὰ τοῖσιν ἑλισσομένην δεδάηκε
θνητὸς ἀνήρ· σὺ δ' ἄκουε λόγου στόλον οὐκ ἀπατηλόν.
ταῦτα γὰρ ἶσά τε πάντα καὶ ἥλικα γένναν ἔασι,
τιμῆς δ' ἄλλης ἄλλο μέδει, πάρα δ' ἦθος ἑκάστωι,
ἐν δὲ μέρει κρατέουσι περιπλομένοιο χρόνοιο.
καὶ πρὸς τοῖς οὔτ' ἄρ τέ τι γίνεται οὔτ' ἀπολήγει·
εἴτε γὰρ ἐφθείροντο διαμπερές, οὐκέτ' ἂν ἦσαν·
τοῦτο δ' ἐπαυξήσειε τὸ πᾶν τί κε καὶ πόθεν ἐλθόν;
πῆι δέ κε κἠξαπόλοιτο, ἐπεὶ τῶνδ' οὐδὲν ἔρημον;
ἀλλ' αὐτὰ ἔστιν ταῦτα, δι' ἀλλήλων δὲ θέοντα
γίγνεται ἄλλοτε ἄλλα καὶ ἠνεκὲς αἰὲν ὁμοῖα.

I will report a twofold truth. Now grows
The One from Many into being, now
Even from the One disparting come the Many.
Twofold the birth, twofold the death of things:
For, now, the meeting of the Many brings
To birth and death; and, now, whatever grew
From out their sundering, flies apart and dies.
And this long interchange shall never end.
Whiles into One do all through Love unite;
Whiles too the same are rent through hate of Strife.
And in so far as is the One still wont
To grow from Many, and the Many, again,
Spring from primeval scattering of the One,
So far have they a birth and mortal date;
And in so far as the long interchange
Ends not, so far forever established gods
Around the circle of the world they move.
But come! but hear my words! For knowledge gained
Makes strong thy soul. For as before I spake,
Naming the utter goal of these my words,
I will report a twofold truth. Now grows
The One from Many into being, now
Even from the One disparting come the Many,—
Fire, Water, Earth and awful heights of Air;
And shut from them apart, the deadly Strife
In equipoise, and Love within their midst
In all her being in length and breadth the same.
Behold her now with mind, and sit not there
With eyes astonished, for 'tis she inborn
Abides established in the limbs of men.
Through her they cherish thoughts of love, through her
Perfect the works of concord, calling her
By name Delight or Aphrodite clear.
She speeds revolving in the elements,
But this no mortal man hath ever learned—
Hear thou the undelusive course of proof:
Behold those elements own equal strength
And equal origin; each rules its task;
And unto each its primal mode; and each
Prevailing conquers with revolving time.
And more than these there is no birth nor end;
For were they wasted ever and evermore,
They were no longer, and the great All were then
How to be plenished and from what far coast?
And how, besides, might they to ruin come,
Since nothing lives that empty is of them?—
No, these are all, and, as they course along
Through one another, now this, now that is born—
And so forever down Eternity.

Φιλίη.

Love.

σχεδύνην Φιλότητα.

Firm-clasping Lovingness.

τοῦτο μὲν ἀν βροτέων μελέων ἀριδείκετον ὄγκον·
ἄλλοτε μὲν Φιλότητι συνερχόμεν' εἰς ἓν ἅπαντα
γυῖα, τὰ σῶμα λέλογχε, βίου θαλέθοντος ἐν ἀκμῆι·
ἄλλοτε δ' αὖτε κακῆισι διατμηθέντ' Ἐρίδεσσι
πλάζεται ἄνδιχ' ἕκαστα περὶρρηγμῖνι βίοιο.
ὡς δ' αὔτως θάμνοισι καὶ ἰχθύσιν ὑδρομελάθροις
θηρσί τ' ὀρειλεχέεσσιν ἰδὲ πτεροβάμοσι κύμβαις.

The world-wide warfare of the eternal Two
Well in the mass of human limbs is shown:
Whiles into one do they through Love unite,
And mortal members take the body's form,
And life doth flower at the prime; and whiles,
Again dissevered by the Hates perverse,
They wander far and wide and up and down
The surf-swept beaches and drear shores of life.
So too with thicket, tree, and gleaming fish
Housed in the crystal walls of waters wide;
And so with beasts that couch on mountain slopes,
And water-fowls that skim the long blue sea.

ἀλλ' ἄγε, τῶνδ' ὀάρων προτέρων ἐπιμάρτυρα δέρκευ,
εἴ τι καὶ ἐν προτέροισι λιπόξυλον ἔπλετο μορφῆι,
ἠέλιον μὲν θερμὸν ὁρᾶν καὶ λαμπρὸν ἁπάντηι,
ἄμβροτα  δ' ὅσσ' ἴδει τε καὶ ἀργέτι δεύεται αὐγῆι,
ὄμβρον δ' ἐν πᾶσι δνοφόεντά τε ῥιγαλέον τε·
ἐκ δ' αἴης προρέουσι θέλυμνά τε καὶ στερεωπά.
ἐν δὲ Κότωι διάμορφα καὶ ἄνδιχα πάντα πέλονται,
σὺν δ' ἔβη ἐν  Φιλότητι καὶ ἀλλήλοισι ποθεῖται.
ἐκ τούτων γὰρ πάνθ' ὅσα τ' ἦν ὅσα τ' ἔστι καὶ ἔσται,
δένδρεά τ' ἐβλάστησε καὶ ἀνέρες ἠδὲ γυναῖκες,
θῆρές τ' οἰωνοί τε καὶ ὑδατοθρέμμονες ἰχθῦς,
καί τε θεοὶ δολιχαίωνες τιμῆισι φέριστοι.
αὐτὰ γὰρ ἔστιν ταῦτα, δι' ἀλλήλων δὲ θέοντα
γίγνεται ἀλλοιωπά· τόσον διὰ κρῆσις ἀμείβει.

But come, and to my words foresaid look well,
If their wide witness anywhere forgot
Aught that behooves the elemental forms:
Behold the Sun, the warm, the bright-diffused;
Behold the eternal Stars, forever steeped
In liquid heat and glowing radiance; see
Also the Rain, obscure and cold and dark,
And how from Earth streams forth the Green and Firm.
And all through Wrath are split to shapes diverse;
And each through Love draws near and yearns for each.
For from these elements hath budded all
That was or is or evermore shall be—
All trees, and men and women, beasts and birds,
And fishes nourished in deep waters, aye,
The long-lived gods, in honors excellent.
For these are all, and, as they course along
Through one another, they take new faces all,
By varied mingling and enduring change.

ἄρθμια μὲν γὰρ ταῦτα ἑαυτῶν πάντα μέρεσσιν,
ἠλέκτωρ τε χθών τε καὶ οὐρανὸς ἠδὲ θάλασσα,
ὅσσα φιν ἐν θνητοῖσιν ἀποπλαχθέντα πέφυκεν.
ὡς δ' αὔτως ὅσα κρᾶσιν ἐπαρκέα μᾶλλον ἔασιν,
ἀλλήλοις ἔστερκται ὁμοιωθέντ' Ἀφροδίτηι.
ἐχθρὰ [δ' ἃ] πλεῖστον ἀπ' ἀλλήλων διέχουσι μάλιστα
γέννηι τε κρήσει τε καὶ εἴδεσιν ἐκμάκτοισι,
πάντηι συγγίνεσθαι ἀήθεα καὶ μάλα λυγρά
Νείκεος ἐννεσίηισιν, ὅτι σφίσι γένναν ἔοργεν.

For amber Sun and Earth and Heaven and Sea
Is friendly with its every part that springs,
Far driven and scattered, in the mortal world;
So too those things that are most apt to mix
Are like, and love by Aphrodite's hest.
But hostile chiefly are those things which most
From one another differ, both in birth,
And in their mixing and their molded forms—
Unwont to mingle, miserable and lone,
After the counsels of their father, Hate.

ὡς δ' ὁπόταν γραφέες ἀναθήματα ποικίλλωσιν
ἀνέρες ἀμφὶ τέχνης ὑπὸ μήτιος εὖ δεδαῶτε,
οἵτ' ἐπεὶ οὖν μάρψωσι πολύχροα φάρμακα χερσίν,
ἁρμονίηι μείξαντε τὰ μὲν πλέω, ἄλλα δ' ἐλάσσω,
ἐκ τῶν εἴδεα πᾶσιν ἀλίγκια πορσύνουσι,
δένδρεά τε κτίζοντε καὶ ἀνέρας ἠδὲ γυναῖκας
θῆράς τ' οἰωνούς τε καὶ ὑδατοθρέμμονας ἰχθῦς
καί τε θεοὺς δολιχαίωνας τιμῆισι φερίστους·
οὕτω μή σ' ἀπάτη φρένα καινύτω ἄλλοθεν εἶναι
θνητῶν, ὅσσα γε δῆλα γεγάκασιν ἄσπετα, πηγήν,
ἀλλὰ τορῶς ταῦτ' ἴσθι, θεοῦ πάρα μῦθον ἀκούσας.

And even as artists—men who know their craft
Through wits of cunning—paint with streak and hue
Bright temple-tablets, and will seize in hand
The oozy poisons pied and red and gold
(Mixing harmonious, now more, now less),
From which they fashion forms innumerable,
And like to all things, peopling a fresh world
With trees, and men and women, beasts and birds,
And fishes nourished in deep waters, aye,
And long-lived gods in honors excellent:
Just so (and let no guile deceive thy breast),
Even so the spring of mortal things, leastwise
Of all the host born visible to man.
O guard this knowledge well, for thou hast heard
In this my song the Goddess and her tale.

. . . κορυφὰς ἑτέρας ἑτέρηισι προσάπτων
μύθων μὴ τελέειν ἀτραπὸν μίαν . . .

To join together diverse peaks of thought,
And not complete one road that has no turn.

. . . καὶ δὶς γάρ, ὃ δεῖ, καλόν ἐστιν ἐνισπεῖν.

What must be said, may well be said twice o'er.

ἐν δὲ μέρει κρατέουσι περιπλομένοιο κύκλοιο,
καὶ φθίνει εἰς ἄλληλα καὶ αὔξεται ἐν μέρει αἴσης.
αὐτὰ γὰρ ἔστιν ταῦτα, δι' ἀλλήλων δὲ θέοντα
γίνονται ἄνθρωποί τε καὶ ἄλλων ἔθνεα θηρῶν
ἄλλοτε μὲν Φιλότητι συνερχόμεν' εἰς ἕνα κόσμον,
ἄλλοτε δ' αὖ δίχ' ἕκαστα φορούμενα Νείκεος ἔχθει,
εἰσόκεν ἓν συμφύντα τὸ πᾶν ὑπένερθε γένηται.
οὕτως ἧι μὲν ἓν ἐκ πλεόνων μεμάθηκε φύεσθαι,
ἠδὲ πάλιν διαφύντος ἑνὸς πλέον' ἐκτελέθουσι,
τῆι μὲν γίγνονταί τε καὶ οὔ σφισιν ἔμπεδος αἰών·
ἧι δὲ τάδ' ἀλλάσσοντα διαμπερὲς οὐδαμὰ λήγει,
ταύτηι δ' αἰὲν ἔασιν ἀκίνητοι κατὰ κύκλον.

In turn they conquer as the cycles roll,
And wane the one to other still, and wax
The one to other in turn by olden Fate;
For these are all, and, as they course along
Through one another, they become both men
And multitudinous tribes of hairy beasts;
Whiles in fair order through Love united all,
Whiles rent asunder by the hate of Strife,
Till they, when grown into the One and All
Once more, once more go under and succumb.
And in so far as is the One still wont
To grow from the Many, and the Many, again,
Spring from primeval scattering of the One,
So far have they a birth and mortal date.
And in so far as this long interchange
Ends not, so far forever established gods
Around the circle of the world they move.

ἔνθ' οὔτ' Ἠελίοιο διείδεται ὠκέα γυῖα
οὐδὲ μὲν οὐδ' αἴης λάσιον μένος οὐδὲ θάλασσα·
οὕτως Ἁρμονίης πυκινῶι κρύφωι ἐστήρικται
Σφαῖρος κυκλοτερὴς μονίηι περιηγέι γαίων.

There views one not the swift limbs of the Sun,
Nor there the strength of shaggy Earth, nor Sea;
But in the strong recess of Harmony,
Established firm abides the rounded Sphere,
Exultant in surrounding solitude.

οὐ στάσις οὐδέ τε δῆρις ἀναίσιμος ἐν μελέεσσιν.

Nor faction nor fight unseemly in its limbs.

ἀλλ' ὅ γε πάντοθεν ἶσος [ἔην] καὶ πάμπαν ἀπείρων
Σφαῖρος κυκλοτερὴς μονίηι περιηγέι γαίων.

The Sphere on every side the boundless same,
Exultant in surrounding solitude.

οὐ γὰρ ἀπὸ νώτοιο δύο κλάδοι ἀίσσονται,
οὐ πόδες, οὐ θοὰ γοῦνα, οὐ μήδεα γεννήεντα,
ἀλλὰ σφαῖρος ἔην καὶ [πάντοθεν] ἶσος ἑαυτῶι.

For from its back there swing no branching arms,
It hath no feet nor knees alert, nor form
Of life-producing member,—on all sides
A sphere it was, and like unto itself.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ μέγα Νεῖκος ἐνὶμμελέεσσιν ἐθρέφθη
ἐς τιμάς τ' ἀνόρουσε τελειομένοιο χρόνοιο,
ὅς σφιν ἀμοιβαῖος πλατέος παρ' ἐλήλαται ὅρκου...

Yet after mighty Strife had waxen great
Within the members of the Sphere, and rose
To her own honors, as the times arrived
Which unto each in turn, to Strife, to Love,
Should come by amplest oath and old decree. . .

πάντα γὰρ ἑξείης πελεμίζετο γυῖα θεοῖο.

For one by one did quake the limbs of God.

δύω δέει ἄρθρον.

The joint binds two.

ώς δ' ὅτ' ὀπὸς γάλα λευκὸν ἐγόμφωσεν καὶ ἔδησε . . .

But as when rennet of the fig-tree juice
Curdles the white milk, and will bind it fast. . .

ἄλφιτον ὕδατι κολλήσας . . .

Cementing meal with water. . .

αὐτὰρ ἐγὼ παλίνορσος ἐλεύσομαι ἐς πόρον ὕμνων,
τὸν πρότερον κατέλεξα, λόγου λόγον ἐξοχετεύων,
κεῖνον· ἐπεὶ Νεῖκος μὲν ἐνέρτατον ἵκετο βένθος
δίνης, ἐν δὲ μέσηι Φιλότης στροφάλιγγι γένηται,
ἐν τῆι δὴ τάδε πάντα συνέρχεται ἓν μόνον εἶναι,
οὐκ ἄφαρ, ἀλλὰ θελημὰ συνιστάμεν' ἄλλοθεν ἄλλα.
τῶν δέ τε μισγομένων χεῖτ' ἔθνεα μυρία θνητῶν·
πολλὰ δ' ἄμεικτ' ἔστηκε κεραιομένοισιν ἐναλλάξ,
ὅσσ' ἔτι Νεῖκος ἔρυκε μετάρσιον· οὐ γὰρ ἀμεμφέως
τῶν πᾶν ἐξέστηκεν ἐπ' ἔσχατα τέρματα κύκλου,
ἀλλὰ τὰ μέν τ' ἐνέμιμνε, μελέων τὰ δέ τ' ἐξεβεβήκει.
ὅσσον δ' αἰὲν ὑπεκπροθέοι, τόσον αἰὲν ἐπήιει
ἠπιόφρων Φιλότητος ἀμεμφέος ἄμβροτος ὁρμή·
αἶψα δὲ θνέτ' ἐφύοντο, τὰ πρὶν μάθον ἀθάνατ' εἶναι,
ζωρά τε τὰ πρίν, ἄκρητα [κρητά, ?] διαλλάξαντα κελεύθους.
τῶν δέ τε μισγομένων χεῖτ' ἔθνεα μυρία θνητῶν,
παντοίαις ἰδέηισιν ἀρηρότα, θαῦμα ἰδέσθαι.

But hurrying back, I now will make return
To paths of festal song, laid down before,
Draining each flowing thought from flowing thought.
When down the Vortex to the last abyss
Had foundered Hate, and Lovingness had reached
The eddying center of the Mass, behold
Around her into Oneness gathered all.
Yet not a-sudden, but only as willingly
Each from its several region joined with each;
And from their mingling thence are poured abroad
The multitudinous tribes of mortal things.
Yet much unmixed among the mixed remained,
As much as Hate still held in scales aloft.
For not all blameless did Hate yield and stand
Out yonder on the circle's utmost bounds;
But partwise yet within he stayed, partwise
Was he already from the members gone.
And ever the more skulked away and fled,
Then ever the more, and nearer, inward pressed
The gentle minded, the divine Desire
Of blameless Lovingness. Thence grew apace
Those mortal Things, erstwhile long wont to be
Immortal, and the erstwhile pure and sheer
Were mixed, exchanging highways of new life,
And from their mingling thence are poured abroad
The multitudinous tribes of mortal things,
Knit in all forms and wonderful to see.

τῶν δὲ συνερχομένων ἐξ ἔσχατον ἵστατο Νεῖκος.

And as they came together, Hate began
To take his stand far on the outer verge.

αὔξει δὲ χθὼν μὲν σφέτερον δέμας, αἰθέρα δ' αἰθήρ.

And Earth through Earth her figure magnifies,
And Air through Air.

... εἰ δ' ἄγε τοι λέξω πρῶθ' ἥλικά τ' ἀρχήν,
ἐξ ὧν δῆλ' ἐγένοντο τὰ νῦν ἐσορῶμεν ἅπαντα,
γαῖά τε καὶ πόντος πολυκύμων ἠδ' ὑγρὸς ἀήρ
Τιτὰν ἠδ' αἰθὴρ σφίγγων περὶ κύκλον ἅπαντα.

Come! I will name the like-primeval Four,
Whence rose to sight all things we now behold—
Earth, many-billowed Sea, and the moist Air,
And Aether, the Titan, who binds the globe about.

εἴπερ ἀπείρονα γῆς τε βάθη καὶ δαψιλὸς αἰθήρ,
ὡς διὰ πολλῶν δὴ γλώσσης ῥηθέντα ματαίως
ἐκκέχυται στομάτων, ὀλίγον τοῦ παντὸς ἰδόντων.

If Earth's black deeps were endless, and o'er-full
Were the white Ether, as forsooth some tongues
Have idly prated in the babbling mouths
Of those who little of the All have seen . . .

ἥλιος ὀξυβελὴς ἠδ' ἱλάειρα σελήνη.

Keen-darting Helios and Selene mild.

ἀλλ' ὁ μὲν ἁλισθεὶς μέγαν οὐρανὸν ἀμφιπολεύει.

But the sun's fires, together gathered, move
Attendant round the mighty space of heaven,

                                  ἀπεστέγασεν δὲ οἱ αὐγάς,
ἔστ' ἂν ἴηι καθύπερθεν, ἀπεσκνίφωσε δὲ γαίης
τόσσον ὅσον τ' εὖρος γλαυκώπιδος ἔπλετο μήνης.

                            And the sun's beams
The moon, in passing under, covers o'er,
And darkens a bleak tract of earth as large
As is the breadth of her, the silver-eyed.

ὣς αὐγὴ τύψασα σεληναίης κύκλον εὐρύν . . .

As sunbeam striking on the moon's broad disk.

ἀνταυγεῖ πρὸς Ὄλυμπον ἀταρβήτοισι προσώποις.

Toward Olympos back he darts his beams,
With fearless face.

κυκλοτερὲς περὶ γαῖαν ἑλίσσεται ἀλλότριον φῶς.

Round earth revolves a disk of alien light.

ἅρματος ὡς πέρι χνοίη ἑλίσσεται ἥ τε παρ' ἄκρην . . .

Even as revolves a chariot's nave, which round
The outmost. . .

ἀθρεῖ μὲν γὰρ ἄνακτος ἐναντίον ἁγέα κύκλον.

For toward the sacred circle of her lord
She gazes face to face.

νύκτα δὲ γαῖα τίθησιν ὑφισταμένοιο φάεσσι.

But earth makes night for beams of sinking sun.

νυκτὸς ἐρημαίης ἀλαώπιδος . . .

Of night, the lonely, with her sightless eyes.

Ἶρις δ' ἐκ πελάγους ἄνεμον φέρει ἢ μέγαν ὄμβρον.

Iris from sea brings wind or mighty rain.

καρπαλίμως δ' ἀνόπαιον . . .

And fire sprang upward with a rending speed.

πολλὰ δ' ἔνερθε οὔδεος πυρὰ καίεται.

And many a fire there burns beneath the ground.

οὕτω γὰρ συνέκυρσε θέων τοτέ, πολλάκι δ' ἄλλως.

For sometimes so upon its course it met,
And ofttimes otherwise.

αἰθήρ [δ' αὖ] μακρῆισι κατὰ χθόνα δύετο ῥίζαις.

In Earth sank Ether with deep-stretching roots.

γῆς ἱδρῶτα θάλασσαν.

Earth's sweat, the sea.

ἃλς ἐπάγη ῥιπῆισιν ἐωσμένος ἠελίοιο.

The salt grew solid, smit by beams of sun.

ἧι πολλαὶ μὲν κόρσαι ἀναύχενες ἐβλάστησαν,
γυμνοὶ δ' ἐπλάζοντο βραχίονες εὔνιδες ὤμων,
ὄμματα' τ' οἶα ἐπλανᾶτο πενητεύοντα μετώπων.

There budded many a head without a neck,
And arms were roaming, shoulderless and bare,
And eyes that wanted foreheads drifted by.

[...μουνομελῆ ἔτι τὰ γυῖα ... ὄντα ἐπλανᾶτο ... ]

In isolation wandered every limb,
Hither and thither seeing union meet.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ κατὰ μεῖζον ἐμίσγετο δαίμονι δαίμων,
ταῦτά τε συμπίπτεσκον, ὅπηι συνέκυρσεν ἕκαστα,
ἄλλα τε πρὸς τοῖς πολλὰ διηνεκῆ ἐξεγένοντο.

But now as God with God was mingled more,
These members fell together where they met,
And many a birth besides was then begot
In a long line of ever varied life.

εἱλίποδ' ἀκριτόχειρα.

Creatures of countless hands and trailing feet.

πολλὰ μὲν ἀμφιπρόσωπα καὶ ἀμφίστερνα φύεσθαι,
βουγενῆ ἀνδρόπρωιρα, τὰ δ' ἔμπαλιν ἐξανατέλλειν
ἀνδροφυῆ βούκρανα, μεμειγμένα τῆι μὲν ἀπ' ἀνδρῶν
τῆι δὲ γυναικοφυῆ, σκιεροῖς ἠσκημένα γυίοις.

Many were born with twofold brow and breast,
Some with the face of man on bovine stock,
Some with man's form beneath a bovine head,
Mixed shapes of being with shadowed secret parts,
Sometimes like men, and sometimes woman-growths.

νῦν δ' ἄγ', ὅπως ἀνδρῶν τε πολυκλαύτων τε γυναικῶν
ἐννυχίους ὅρπηκας ἀνήγαγε κρινόμενον πῦρ,
τῶνδε κλύ'· οὐ γὰρ μῦθος ἀπόσκοπος οὐδ' ἀδαήμων.
οὐλοφυεῖς μὲν πρῶτα τύποι χθονὸς ἐξανέτελλον,
ἀμφοτέρων ὕδατός τε καὶ ἴδεος αἶσαν ἔχοντες·
τοὺς μὲν πῦρ ἀνέπεμπε θέλον πρὸς ὁμοῖον ἱκέσθαι,
οὔτε τί πω μελέων ἐρατὸν δέμας ἐμφαίνοντας
οὔτ' ἐνοπὴν οἷόν τ' ἐπιχώριον ἀνδράσι γυῖον.

But come! now hear how 'twas the sundered Fire
Led into life the germs, erst whelmed in night,
Of men and women, the pitied and bewailed;
For 'tis a tale that sees and knows its mark.
First rose mere lumps of earth with rude impress,
That had their shares of Water and of Warm.
These then by Fire (in upward zeal to reach
Its kindred Fire in heaven) were shot aloft,
Albeit not yet had they revealed a form
Of lovely limbs, nor yet a human cry,
Nor secret member, common to the male.

ἀλλὰ διέσπασται μελέων φύσις· ἡ μὲν ἐν ἀνδρός . . .

But separate is the birth of human limbs;
For 'tis in part in man's . . .

τῶι δ' ἐπὶ καὶ Πόθος  εἶσι δι' ὄψιος ἀμμιμνήισκων.

Love-longing comes, reminding him who sees.

ἐν δ' ἐχύθη καθαροῖσι· τὰ μὲν τελέθουσι γυναῖκες,
ψύχεος ἀντιάσαντα, [τὰ δ' ἔμπαλιν ἄρρενα θερμοῦ].

Into clean wombs the seeds are poured, and when
Therein they meet with Cold, the birth is girls;
And boys, when contrariwise they meet with Warm.

[εἰς] σχιστοὺς λειμῶνας ... Ἀφροδίτης.

Into the cloven meads of Aphrodite.

ἐν γὰρ θερμοτέρωι τοκὰς ἄρρενος ἔπλετο γαστήρ·
καὶ μέλανες διὰ τοῦτο καὶ ἀνδρωδέστεροι ἄνδρες
καὶ λαχνήεντες μᾶλλον.

For bellies with the warmer wombs become
Mothers of boys, and therefore men are dark,
More stalwart and more shaggy.

μηνὸς ἐν ὀγδοάτου δεκάτηι πύον ἔπλετο λευκόν.

On the tenth day, in month the eighth, the blood
Becomes white pus.

δίγονοι.

Twice bearing.

ἀμνίον.

Sheepskin.

εἰ δέ τί σοι περὶ τῶνδε λιπόξυλος ἔπλετο πίστις,
πῶς ὕδατος γαίης τε καὶ αἰθέρος ἠελίου τε
κιρναμένων εἴδη τε γενοίατο χροῖά τε θνητῶν
τόσσ', ὅσα νῦν γεγάασι συναρμοσθέντ' Ἀφροδίτηι . . .

And if belief lack pith, and thou still doubt
How from the mingling of the elements,
The Earth and Water, the Ether and the Sun,
So many forms and hues of mortal things
Could thus have being, as have come to be,
Each framed and knit by Aphrodite's power...

πῶς καὶ δένδρεα μακρὰ καὶ εἰνάλιοι καμασῆνες . . .

As the tall trees and fish in briny floods.

ὡς δὲ τότε χθόνα Κύπρις, ἐπεί τ' ἐδίηνεν ἐν ὄμβρωι,
ἴδεα ποιπνύουσα θοῶι πυρὶ δῶκε κρατῦναι . . .

As Kypris, after watering Earth with Rain,
Zealous to heat her, then did give Earth o'er
To speed of Fire that then she might grow firm.

φῦλον ἄμουσον ἄγουσα πολυσπερέων καμασήνων.

Leading the songless shoals of spawning fish.

τῶν δ' ὅσ'  ἔσω μὲν πυκνά, τὰ δ' ἔκτοθι μανὰ πέπηγε,
Κύπριδος ἐν παλάμηισι πλάδης τοιῆσδε τυχόντα . . .

Of beasts, inside compact with outsides loose,
Which, in the palms of Aphrodite shaped,
Got this their sponginess.

τοῦτο μὲν ἐν κόγχαισι θαλασσονόμων βαρυνώτοις,
ναὶ μὴν κηρύκων τε λιθορρίνων χελύων τε·
ἔνθ' ὄψει χθόνα χρωτὸς ὑπέρτατα ναιετάουσαν.

'Tis thus with conchs upon the heavy chines
Of ocean-dwellers, aye, of shell-fish wreathed,
Or stony-hided turtles, where thou mark'st
The earthen crust outside the softer parts.

[δένδρεα δ'] ἐμπεδόφυλλα καὶ ἐμπεδόκαρπα τέθηλεν
καρπῶν ἀφθονίηισι κατ' ἠέρα πάντ' ἐνιαυτόν.

Trees bore perennial fruit, perennial fronds,
Laden with fruit the whole revolving year,
Since fed forever by a fruitful air.

οὕτω δ' ὠιοτοκεῖ μακρὰ δένδρεα πρῶτον ἐλαίας.

Thus first tall olives lay their yellow eggs.

οὕνεκεν ὀψίγονοί τε σίδαι καὶ ὑπέρφλοια μῆλα.

Wherefore pomegranates slow in ripening be,
And apples grow so plentiful in juice.

οἶνος ἀπὸ φλοιοῦ πέλεται σαπὲν ἐν ξύλωι ὕδωρ.

Wine is but water fermented in the wood,
And issues from the rind

ταὐτὰ τρίχες καὶ φύλλα καὶ οἰωνῶν πτερὰ πυκνά
καὶ λεπίδες γίγνονται ἐπὶ στιβαροῖσι μέλεσσιν.

From the same stuff on sturdy limbs grow hair,
Leaves, scales of fish, and bird's thick-feathered plumes.

                                   αὐτὰρ ἐχίνοις
ὀξυβελεῖς χαῖται νώτοις ἐπιπεφρίκασιν.

Stiff hairs, keen-piercing, bristle on the chines
Of hedge-hogs.

ὡς δ' ὅτε τις πρόοδον νοέων ὡπλίσσατο λύχνον
χειμερίην διὰ νύκτα, πυρὸς σέλας αἰθομένοιο
ἅψας, παντοίων ἀνέμων λαμπτῆρας ἀμοργούς,
οἵ τ' ἀνέμων μὲν πνεῦμα διασκιδνᾶσιν ἀέντων,
φῶς δ' ἔξω διαθρῶισκον, ὅσον ταναώτερον ἦεν,
λάμπεσκεν κατὰ βηλὸν ἀτειρέσιν ἀκτίνεσσιν·
ὣς δὲ τότ' ἐν μήνιγξιν ἐεργμένον ὠγύγιον πῦρ
λεπτῆισίν [τ'] ὀθόνηισι λοχάζετο κύκλοπα κούρην,
[αἳ] χοάνηισι δίαντα τετρήατο θεσπεσίηισιν·
αἳ δ' ὕδατος μὲν βένθος ἀπέστεγον ἀμφιναέντος,
πῦρ δ' ἔξω διίεσκον, ὅσον ταναώτερον ἦεν.

As when a man, about to sally forth,
Prepares a light and kindles him a blaze
Of flaming fire against the wintry night,
In horny lantern shielding from all winds;
Though it protect from breath of blowing winds,
Its beam darts outward, as more fine and thin,
And with untiring rays lights up the sky:
Just so the Fire primeval once lay hid
In the round pupil of the eye, enclosed
In films and gauzy veils, which through and through
Were pierced with pores divinely fashioned,
And thus kept off the watery deeps around,
Whilst Fire burst outward, as more fine and thin.

ἡ δὲ φλὸξ ἱλάειρα μινυνθαδίης τύχε γαίης.

The gentle flame of eye did chance to get
Only a little of the earthen part.

ἐξ ὧν ὄμματ' ἔπηξεν ἀτειρέα δῖ' Ἀφροδίτη.

From which by Aphrodite, the divine,
The untiring eyes were formed.

γόμφοις ἀσκήσασα καταστόργοις Ἀφροδίτη.

Thus Aphrodite wrought with bolts of love.

μία γίγνεται ἀμφοτέρων ὄψ.

One vision of two eyes is born.

γνούς ὅτι πάντων εἰσὶν ἀπορροαί, ὅσσ' ἐγένοντο . . .

Knowing that all things have their emanations.

ὣς γλυκὺ μὲν γλυκὺ μάρπτε, πικρὸν δ' ἐπὶ πικρὸν ὄρουσεν,
ὀξὺ δ' ἐπ' ὀξὺ ἔβη, δαερὸν δ' ἐποχεῖτο δαηρῶι.

Thus Sweet seized Sweet, Bitter on Bitter flew,
Sour sprung for Sour, and upon Hot rode hot.

οἴνωι . . . μᾶλλον ἐνάρθμιον, αὐτὰρ ἐλαίωι
οὐκ ἐθέλει.

Water to wine more nearly is allied,
But will not mix with oil.

τῶι καττιτέρωι μειχθέντα τὸν χαλκόν . . .

As when one mixes with the copper tin.

βύσσωι δὲ γλαυκῆς κόκκος καταμίσγεται ἀκτῆς.

With flax is mixed the silvery elder's seed.

et niger in fundo fluvii color exstat ab umbra,
atque cavernosis itidem spectatur in antris.

And the black color of the river's deeps
Comes all from shade; and one may see the same
In hollow caves.

Κύπριδος ἐν παλάμηισιν ὅτε ξὺμ πρῶτ' ἐφύοντο.

As, in the palms of Kypris shaped, they first
Began to grow together...

ἡ δὲ χθὼν ἐπίηρος ἐν εὐστέρνοις χοάνοισι
τὼ δύο τῶν ὀκτὼ μερέων λάχε Νήστιδος αἴγλης,
τέσσαρα δ' Ἡφαίστοιο· τὰ δ' ὀστέα λευκὰ γένοντο
Ἁρμονίης κόλληισιν ἀρηρότα θεσπεσίηθεν.

Kind Earth for her broad-breasted melting-pots,
Of the eight parts got two of Lucid Nestis,
And of Hephaestos four. Thence came white bones,
Divinely joined by glue of Harmony.

ῥάχιν.

The back-bone.

ἡ δὲ Χθὼν τούτοισιν ἴση συνέκυρσε μάλιστα,
Ἡφαίστωι τ' ὄμβρωι τε καὶ αἰθέρι παμφανόωντι,
Κύπριδος ὁρμισθεῖσα τελείοις ἐν λιμένεσσιν
εἴτ' ὀλίγον μείζων εἴτε πλεόνεσσιν ἐλάσσων·
ἐκ τῶν αἷμά τε γέντο καὶ ἄλλης εἴδεα σαρκός.

And after Earth within the perfect ports
Of Aphrodite anchored lay, she met
Almost in equal parts Hephaestos red,
And Rain and Ether, the all-splendorous
(Although the parts of Earth were sometimes less,
Sometimes a little more than theirs). From these
There came our blood and all the shapes of flesh.

κώδων. σάρκινος ὄζος.

A bell... a fleshy twig.

ὧδε δ' ἀναπνεῖ πάντα καὶ ἐκπνεῖ· πᾶσι λίφαιμοι
σαρκῶν σύριγγες πύματον κατὰ σῶμα τέτανται,
καί σφιν ἐπὶ στομίοις πυκιναῖς τέτρηνται ἄλοξιν
ῥινῶν ἔσχατα τέρθρα διαμπερές, ὥστε φόνον μέν
κεύθειν, αἰθέρι δ' εὐπορίην διόδοισι τετμῆσθαι.
ἔνθεν ἔπειθ' ὁπόταν μὲν ἀπαΐξηι τέρεν αἷμα,
αἰθὴρ παφλάζων καταΐσσεται οἴδματι μάργωι,
εὖτε δ' ἀναθρώισκηι, πάλιν ἐκπνέει, ὥσπερ ὅταν παῖς
κλεψύδρηι παίζηισι διειπετέος χαλκοῖο·
εὖτε μὲν αὐλοῦ πορθμὸν ἐπ' εὐειδεῖ χερὶ θεῖσα
εἰς ὕδατος βάπτηισι τέρεν δέμας ἀργυφέοιο,
οὐδ' ἔτ' ἐς ἄγγοσδ' ὄμβρος ἐσέρχεται, ἀλλά μιν εἴργει
ἀέρος ὄγκος ἔσωθε πεσὼν ἐπὶ τρήματα πυκνά,
εἰσόκ' ἀποστεγάσηι πυκινὸν ῥόον· αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα
πνεύματος ἐλλείποντος ἐσέρχεται αἴσιμον ὕδωρ.
ὣς δ' αὔτως, ὅθ' ὕδωρ μὲν ἔχηι κάτα βένθεα χαλκοῦ
πορθμοῦ χωσθέντος βροτέωι χροῒ ἠδὲ πόροιο,
αἰθὴρ δ' ἐκτὸς ἔσω λελιημένος ὄμβρον ἐρύκει
ἀμφὶ πύλας ἰσθμοῖο δυσηχέος, ἄκρα κρατύνων,
εἰσόκε χειρὶ μεθῆι· τότε δ' αὖ πάλιν, ἔμπαλιν ἢ πρίν,
πνεύματος ἐμπίπτοντος ὑπεκθέει αἴσιμον ὕδωρ.
ὣς δ' αὔτως τέρεν αἷμα κλαδασσόμενον διὰ γυίων
ὁππότε μὲν παλίνορσον ἀπαΐξειε μυχόνδε,
αἰθέρος εὐθὺς ῥεῦμα κατέρχεται οἴδματι θῦον,
εὖτε δ' ἀναθρώισκηι, πάλιν ἐκπνέει ἶσον ὀπίσσω.

And thus does all breathe in and out. In all,
Over the body's surface, bloodless tubes
Of flesh are stretched, and, at their outlets, rifts
Innumerable along the outmost rind
Are bored; and so the blood remains within;
For air, however, is cut a passage free.
And when from here the thin blood backward streams,
The air comes rushing in with roaring swell;
But when again it forward leaps, the air
In turn breathes out; as when a little girl
Plays with a water-clock of gleaming bronze:
As long as ever the opening of the pipe
Is by her pretty fingers stopped and closed,
And thuswise plunged within the yielding mass
Of silvery water, can the Wet no more
Get in the vessel; but the air's own weight,
That falls inside against the countless holes,
Keeps it in check, until the child at last
Uncovers and sets free the thickened air,
When of a truth the water's destined bulk
Gets in, as air gives way. Even so it is,
When in the belly of the brazen clock
The water lies, and the girl's finger tip
Shuts pipe and tube: the air, that from without
Comes pressing inward, holds the water back
About the gateways of the gurgling neck,
As the child keeps possession of the top,
Until her hand will loosen, when amain—
Quite contrariwise to way and wise before—
Pours out and under the water's destined bulk,
As air drops down and in. Even so it is
With the thin blood that through our members drives:
When hurrying back it streams to inward, then
Amain a flow of air comes rushing on;
But when again it forward leaps, the air
In turn breathes out along the selfsame way.

κέρματα θηρείων μελέων μυκτῆρσιν ἐρευνῶν,
[ζώονθ'] ὅσσ' ἀπέλειπε ποδῶν ἁπαλῆι περὶ ποίηι...

Sniffing with nostrils mites from wild beasts' limbs,
Left by their feet along the tender grass. . .

ὧδε μὲν οὖν πνοιῆς τε λελόγχασι πάντα καὶ ὀσμῶν.

And thus got all things share of breath and smells.

τῆιδε μὲν οὖν ἰότητι Τύχης πεφρόνηκεν ἅπαντα.

Thus all things think their though[t] by will of Chance.

καὶ καθ' ὅσον μὲν ἀραιότατα ξυνέκυρσε πεσόντα.

And in so far the lightest at their fall
Do strike together....

αἵματος ἐν πελάγεσσι τεθραμμένη ἀντιθορόντος,
τῆι τε νόημα μάλιστα κικλήσκεται ἀνθρώποισιν·
αἷμα γὰρ ἀνθρώποις περικάρδιόν ἐστι νόημα.

In the blood-streams, back-leaping unto it,
The heart is nourished, where prevails the power
That men call thought; for lo the blood that stirs
About the heart is man's controlling thought.

πρὸς παρεὸν γὰρ μῆτις ἀέξεται ἀνθρώποισιν.

For unto men their thrift of reason grows,
According to the body's thrift and state.

ἐκ τούτων [γὰρ] πάντα πεπήγασιν ἁρμοσθέντα
καὶ τούτοις φρονέουσι καὶ ἥδοντ' ἠδ' ἀνιῶνται.

For as of these commingled all things are,
Even so through these men think, rejoice, or grieve.

ὅσσον [δ'] ἀλλοῖοι μετέφυν, τόσον ἄρ σφισιν αἰεί
καὶ τὸ φρονεῖν ἀλλοῖα παρίσταται...

As far as mortals change by day, so far
By night their thinking changes...

γαίηι μὲν γὰρ γαῖαν ὀπώπαμεν, ὕδατι δ' ὕδωρ,
αἰθέρι δ' αἰθέρα δῖον, ἀτὰρ πυρὶ πῦρ ἀίδηλον,
στοργὴν δὲ στοργῆι, νεῖκος δέ τε νείκεϊ λυγρῶι.

For 'tis through Earth that Earth we do behold,
Through Ether, divine Ether luminous,
Through Water, Water, through Fire, devouring Fire,
And Love through Love, and Hate through doleful Hate.

εἰ γὰρ κέν σφ' ἀδινῆισιν ὑπὸ πραπίδεσσιν ἐρείσας
εὐμενέως καθαρῆισιν ἐποπτεύσηις μελέτηισιν,
ταῦτά τέ σοι μάλα πάντα δι' αἰῶνος παρέσονται,
ἄλλα τε πόλλ' ἀπὸ τῶνδ' ἐκτήσεαι· αὐτὰ γὰρ αὔξει
ταῦτ' εἰς ἦθος ἕκαστον, ὅπηι φύσις ἐστὶν ἑκάστωι.
εἰ δὲ σύ γ' ἀλλοίων ἐπορέξεαι, οἷα κατ' ἄνδρας
μυρία δειλὰ πέλονται ἅ τ' ἀμβλύνουσι μερίμνας,
ἦ σ' ἄφαρ ἐκλείψουσι περιπλομένοιο χρόνοιο
σφῶν αὐτῶν ποθέοντα φίλην ἐπὶ γένναν ἱκέσθαι·
πάντα γὰρ ἴσθι φρόνησιν ἔχειν καὶ νώματος αἶσαν.

For if reliant on a spirit firm,
With inclination and endeavor pure,
Thou wilt behold them, all these things shall be
Forever thine, for service, and besides
Thereof full many another shalt thou gain;
For of themselves into that core they grow
Of each man's nature, where his essence lies.
But if for others thou wilt look and reach—
Such empty treasures, myriad and vile,
As men be after, which forevermore
Blunt soul and keen desire—O then shall these
Most swiftly leave thee as the seasons roll;
For all their yearning is a quick return
Unto their own primeval stock. For know:
All things have fixed intent and share of thought.

φάρμακα δ' ὅσσα γεγᾶσι κακῶν καὶ γήραος ἄλκαρ
πεύσηι, ἐπεὶ μούνωι σοὶ ἐγὼ κρανέω τάδε πάντα.
παύσεις δ' ἀκαμάτων ἀνέμων μένος οἵ τ' ἐπὶ γαῖαν
ὀρνύμενοι πνοιαῖσι καταφθινύθουσιν ἀρούρας·
 5 καὶ πάλιν, ἢν ἐθέληισθα, παλίντιτα πνεύματα ἐπάξεις·
θήσεις δ' ἐξ ὄμβροιο κελαινοῦ καίριον αὐχμόν
ἀνθρώποις, θήσεις δὲ καὶ ἐξ αὐχμοῖο θερείου
ῥεύματα δενδρεόθρεπτα, τά τ' αἰθέρι ναιήσονται,
ἄξεις δ' ἐξ Ἀίδαο καταφθιμένου μένος ἀνδρός.

And thou shalt master every drug that e'er
Was made defense 'gainst sickness and old age—
For thee alone all this I will fulfil—
And thou shalt calm the might of tireless winds,
That burst on earth and ruin seedlands; aye,
And if thou wilt, shalt thou arouse the blasts,
And watch them take their vengeance, wild and shrill,
For that before thou cowedst them. Thou shalt change
Black rain to drought, at seasons good for men,
And the long drought of summer shalt thou change
To torrents, nourishing the mountain trees,
As down they stream from ether. And thou shalt
From Hades beckon the might of perished men.

THE PURIFICATIONS

ὦ φίλοι, οἳ μέγα ἄστυ κατὰ ξανθοῦ Ἀκράγαντος
ναίετ' ἀν' ἄκρα πόλεος, ἀγαθῶν μελεδήμονες ἔργων,
ξείνων αἰδοῖοι λιμένες κακότητος ἄπειροι,
χαίρετ'· ἐγὼ δ' ὑμῖν θεὸς ἄμβροτος, οὐκέτι θνητός
πωλεῦμαι μετὰ πᾶσι τετιμένος, ὥσπερ ἔοικα,
ταινίαις τε περίστεπτος στέφεσίν τε θαλείοις·
τοῖσιν ἅμ' [εὖτ'] ἂν ἵκωμαι ἐς ἄστεα τηλεθάοντα,
ἀνδράσιν ἠδὲ γυναιξί, σεβίζομαι· οἱ δ' ἅμ' ἕπονται
μυρίοι ἐξερέοντες, ὅπηι πρὸς κέρδος ἀταρπός,
οἱ μὲν μαντοσυνέων κεχρημένοι, οἱ δ' ἐπὶ νούσωι
παντοίων ἐπύθοντο κλύειν εὐηκέα βάξιν
δηρὸν δὴ χαλεποῖσι πεπαρμένοι [ἀμφὶ μόγοισιν].

Ye friends, who in the mighty city dwell
Along the yellow Acragas hard by
The Acropolis, ye stewards of good works,
The stranger's refuge venerable and kind,
All hail, O friends! But unto ye I walk
As god immortal now, no more as man,
On all sides honored fittingly and well,
Crowned both with fillets and with flowering wreaths.
When with my throngs of men and women I come
To thriving cities, I am sought by prayers,
And thousands follow me that they may ask
The path to weal and vantage, craving some
For oracles, whilst others seek to hear
A healing word 'gainst many a foul disease
That all too long hath pierced with grievous pains.

ἀλλὰ τί τοῖσδ' ἐπίκειμ' ὡσεὶ μέγα χρῆμά τι ποάσσων,
εἰ θνητῶν περίειμι πολυφθερέων ἀνθρώπων;

Yet why urge more, as if forsooth I wrought
Some big affair—do I not far excel
The mortals round me, doomed to many deaths!

ὦ φίλοι, οἶδα μὲν οὕνεκ' ἀληθείη πάρα μύθοις,
οὓς ἐγὼ ἐξερέω· μάλα δ' ἀργαλέη [ἥ] γε τέτυκται
ἀνδράσι καὶ δύσζηλος ἐπὶ φρένα πίστιος ὁρμή.

O friends, I know indeed in these the words
Which I will speak that very truth abides;
But greatly troublous unto men alway
Hath been the emulous struggle of Belief
To reach their bosoms.

ἔστιν Ἀνάγκης χρῆμα, θεῶν ψήφισμα παλαιόν,
ἀίδιον, πλατέεσσι κατεσφρηγισμένον ὅρκοις·
εὖτέ τις ἀμπλακίηισι φόνωι φίλα γυῖα μιήνηι,
[Νείκεΐ θ'] ὅς κε ἐπίορκον ἁμαρτήσας ἐπομόσσηι,
 5 δαίμονες οἵτε μακραίωνος λελάχασι βίοιο,
τρίς μιν μυρίας ὧρας ἀπὸ μακάρων ἀλάλησθαι,
φυομένους παντοῖα διὰ χρόνου εἴδεα θνητῶν
ἀργαλέας βιότοιο μεταλλάσσοντα κελεύθους.
αἰθέριον μὲν γάρ σφε μένος πόντονδε διώκει,
10 πόντος δ' ἐς χθονὸς οὖδας ἀπέπτυσε, γαῖα δ' ἐς αὐγὰς
ἠελίου φαέθοντος, ὁ δ' αἰθέρος ἔμβαλε δίναις·
ἄλλος δ' ἐξ ἄλλου δέχεται, στυγέουσι δὲ πάντες.
τῶν καὶ ἐγὼ νῦν εἰμι, φυγάς θεόθεν καὶ ἀλήτης,
Νείκεϊ μαινομένωι πίσυνος.

There is a word of Fate, an old decree
And everlasting of the gods, made fast
With amplest oaths, that whosoe'er of those
Far spirits, with their lot of age-long life,
Do foul their limbs with slaughter in offense,
Or swear forsworn, as failing of their pledge,
Shall wander thrice ten thousand weary years
Far from the Blessed, and be born through time
In various shapes of mortal kind, which change
Ever and ever troublous paths of life:
For now Air hunts them onward to the Sea;
Now the wild Sea disgorges them on Land;
Now Earth will spue toward beams of radiant Sun;
Whence he will toss them back to whirling Air—
Each gets from other what they all abhor.
And in that brood I too am numbered now,
A fugitive and vagabond from heaven,
As one obedient unto raving Strife.

στυγέει δύστλητον Ἀνάγκην.

Charis abhors intolerable Fate.

ἤδη γάρ ποτ' ἐγὼ γενόμην κοῦρός τε κόρη τε
θάμνος τ' οἰωνός τε καὶ ἔξαλος ἔλλοπος ἰχθύς.

For I was once already boy and girl,
Thicket and bird, and mute fish in the waves.

κλαῦσά τε καὶ κώκυσα ἰδὼν ἀσυνήθεα χῶρον.

I wept and wailed, beholding the strange place.

ἐξ οἵης τιμῆς τε καὶ ὅσσου μήκεος ὄλβου
ὧδε [πεσὼν κατὰ γαῖαν] ἀναστρέφομαι μετὰ θνητοῖς.

From what large honor and what height of bliss
Am I here fallen to move with mortal kind!

ἠλύθομεν τόδ' ὑπ' ἄντρον ὑπόστεγον...

And then we came unto a roofed cave.

                                                 ἀτερπέα χῶρον,
ἔνθα Φόνος τε Κότος τε καὶ ἄλλων ἔθνεα Κηρῶν
αὐχμηραί τε νόσοι καὶ σήψιες ἔργα τε ῥευστά
Ἄτης ἀν λειμῶνα κατὰ σκότος ἠλάσκουσιν.

                                A joyless land,
Where Slaughter and Grudge, and troops of Dooms besides,
Where shriveled Diseases and obscene Decays,
And Labors, burdened with the water-jars,
Do wander down the dismal meads of Bane.

ἔνθ' ἦσαν Χθονίη τε καὶ Ἡλιόπη ταναῶπις,
Δῆρίς θ' αἱματόεσσα καὶ Ἁρμονίη θεμερῶπις,
Καλλιστώ τ' Αἰσχρή τε, Θόωσά τε Δηναίη τε,
Νημερτής τ' ἐρόεσσα μελάγκουρός τ' Ἀσάφεια.

                           There was Earth-mother,
There the far-peering Virgin of the Sun,
And bloody Quarrel and grave-eyed Harmony,
And there was Fair and Foul and Speed and Late,
Black-haired Confusion and sweet maiden Sure.

Φυσώ τε Φθιμένη τε, καὶ Εὐναίη καὶ Ἔγερσις,
Κινώ τ' Ἀστεμφής τε, πολυστέφανός τε Μεγιστώ
καὶ Φορύη, Σωπή τε καὶ Ὀμφαίη...

Growth and Decay, and Sleep and Roused-from-sleep,
Action and Rest, and Glory many-crowned,
And Filth, and Silence and prevailing Voice.

ὢ πόποι, ὢ δειλὸν θνητῶν γένος, ὢ δυσάνολβον,
τοίων ἔκ τ' ἐρίδων ἔκ τε στοναχῶν ἐγένεσθε.

O mortal kind! O ye poor sons of grief!
From such contentions and such sighings sprung!

ἐκ μὲν γὰρ ζωῶν ἐτίθει νεκρὰ εἴδε' ἀμείβων.

For from the living he the dead did make,
Their forms exchanging...

σαρκῶν ἀλλογνῶτι περιστέλλουσα χιτῶνι.

All things doth Nature change, enwrapping souls
In unfamiliar tunics of the flesh.

ἐν θήρεσσι λέοντες ὀρειλεχέες χαμαιεῦναι
γίγνονται, δάφναι δ' ἐνὶ δένδρεσιν ἠυκόμοισιν.

The worthiest dwellings for the souls of men,
When 'tis their lot to live in forms of brutes,
Are tawny lions, those great beasts that sleep
Couched on the black earth up the mountain side;
But, when in forms of beautiful plumed trees
They live, the bays are worthiest for souls.

οὐδέ τις ἦν κείνοισιν Ἄρης θεὸς οὐδὲ Κυδοιμός
οὐδὲ Ζεὺς βασιλεὺς οὐδὲ Κρόνος οὐδὲ Ποσειδῶν,
ἀλλὰ Κύπρις βασίλεια.
τὴν οἵ γ' εὐσεβέεσσιν ἀγάλμασιν ἱλάσκοντο
γραπτοῖς τε ζώιοισι μύροισί τε δαιδαλεόδμοις
σμύρνης τ' ἀκρήτου θυσίαις λιβάνου τε θυώδους,
ξουθῶν τε σπονδὰς μελιτῶν ῥίπτοντες ἐς οὖδας·
ταύρων δ' ἀκρήτοισι φόνοις οὐ δεύετο βωμός,
ἀλλὰ μύσος τοῦτ' ἔσκεν ἐν ἀνθρώποισι μέγιστον,
θυμὸν ἀπορραίσαντας ἐνέδμεναι ἠέα γυῖα.

            Nor unto them
Was any Ares god, nor Kydoimos,
Nor Zeus, the king of gods, nor Kronos, nor
Poseidon then, but only Kypris queen...
Whom they with holy gifts were wont to appease,
With painted images of living things,
With costly unguents of rich fragrancy,
With gentle sacrifice of taintless myrrh,
With redolent fumes of frankincense, of old
Pouring libations out upon the ground
Of yellow honey; not then with unmixed blood
Of many bulls was ever an altar stained;
But among men 'twas sacrilege most vile
To reeve of life and eat the goodly limbs.

ἦν δέ τις ἐν κείνοισιν ἀνὴρ περιώσια εἰδώς,
ὃς δὴ μήκιστον πραπίδων ἐκτήσατο πλοῦτον
παντοίων τε μάλιστα σοφῶν ἐπιήρανος ἔργων·
ὁππότε γὰρ πάσηισιν ὀρέξαιτο πραπίδεσσιν,
ῥεῖ' ὅ γε τῶν ὄντων πάντων λεύσσεσκεν ἕκαστον
καί τε δέκ' ἀνθρώπων καί τ' εἴκοσιν αἰώνεσσιν.

Was one among them there, a supreme man
Of vastest knowledge, gainer of large wealth
Of understanding, and chief master wise
Of diverse works of skill and wisdom all;
For whensoe’er he sought with scope and reach
Of understanding, then 'twas his to view
Readily each and every thing that e'er
In ten or twenty human ages throve.

ἦσαν δὲ κτίλα πάντα καὶ ἀνθρώποισι προσηνῆ,
θῆρές τ' οἰωνοί τε, φιλοφροσύνη τε δεδήει.

All things were tame, and gentle toward men,
All beasts and birds, and friendship's flame blew fair.

εἰ γὰρ ἐφημερίων ἕνεκέν τινος, ἄμβροτε Μοῦσα,
ἡμετέρας μελέτας [μέλε τοι] διὰ φροντίδος ἐλθεῖν,
εὐχομένωι νῦν αὖτε παρίστασο, Καλλιόπεια,
ἀμφὶ θεῶν μακάρων ἀγαθὸν λόγον ἐμφαίνοντι.

For since, O Muse undying, thou couldst deign
To give for these our paltry human cares
A gateway to thy soul, O now much more,
Kalliope of the beautiful dear voice,
Be near me now beseeching!—whilst I speak
Excelling thoughts about the blessed gods.

ὄλβιος, ὃς θείων πραπίδων ἐκτήσατο πλοῦτον,
δειλὸς δ', ὧι σκοτόεσσα θεῶν πέρι δόξα μέμηλεν.

O well with him who hath secured his wealth
Of thoughts divine, O wretched he whose care
Is shadowy speculation on the gods!

οὐκ ἔστιν πελάσασθαι ἐν ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἐφικτόν
ἡμετέροις ἢ χερσὶ λαβεῖν, ἧιπέρ τε μεγίστη
πειθοῦς ἀνθρώποισιν ἁμαξιτὸς εἰς φρένα πίπτει.

We may not bring It near us with our eyes,
We may not grasp It with our human hands,
With neither hands nor eyes, those highways twain
Whereby Belief drops into minds of men.

οὐδὲ γὰρ ἀνδρομέηι κεφαλῆι κατὰ γυῖα κέκασται,
οὐ μὲν ἀπαὶ νώτοιο δύο κλάδοι ἀίσσονται,
οὐ πόδες, οὐ θοὰ γοῦνα, οὐ μήδεα λαχνήεντα,
ἀλλὰ φρὴν ἱερὴ καὶ ἀθέσφατος ἔπλετο μοῦνον,
φροντίσι κόσμον ἅπαντα καταΐσσουσα θοῆισιν.

For 'tis adorned with never a manlike head,
For from Its back there swing no branching arms,
It hath no feet nor knees alert, nor form
Of tufted secret member; but It lives,
One holy mind, ineffable, alone,
And with swift thoughts darts through the universe.

ἀλλὰ τὸ μὲν πάντων νόμιμομ διά τ' εὐρυμέδοντος
αἰθέρος ἠνεκέως τέταται διά τ' ἀπλέτου αὐγῆς.

But the wide law of all extends throughout
Broad-ruling ether and the vast white sky.

οὐ παύσεσθε φόνοιο δυσηχέος; οὐκ ἐσορᾶτε
ἀλλήλους δάπτοντες ἀκηδείηισι νόοιο;

Will ye not cease from this great din of slaughter?
Will ye not see, unthinking as ye are,
How ye rend one another unbeknown?

μορφὴν δ' ἀλλάξαντα πατὴρ φίλον υἱὸν ἀείρας
σφάζει ἐπευχόμενος μέγα νήπιος· οἱ δ' ἐπορεῦνται
λισσόμενοι θύοντας, ὁ δ' αὖ νήκουστος ὁμοκλέων
σφάξας ἐν μεγάροισι κακὴν ἀλεγύνατο δαῖτα.
ὡς δ' αὔτως πατέρ' υἱὸς ἑλὼν καὶ μητέρα παῖδες
θυμὸν ἀπορραίσαντε φίλας κατὰ σάρκας ἔδουσιν.

The father lifteth for the stroke of death
His own dear son within a changed form,
And slits his throat for sacrifice with prayers—
A blinded fool! But the poor victims press,
Imploring their destroyers. Yet not one
But still is deaf to piteous moan and wail.
Each slits the throat and in his halls prepares
A horrible repast. Thus too the son
Seizes the father, children the mother seize,
And reeve of life and eath their own dear flesh.

χαλκῶι ἀπὸ ψυχὴν ἀρύσας

Drawing the soul as water with the bronze.

οἴμ' ὅτι οὐ πρόσθεν με διώλεσε νηλεὲς ἦμαρ,
πρὶν σχέτλι' ἔργα βορᾶς περὶ χείλεσι μητίσασθαι.

Ah woe is me! that never a pitiless day
Destroyed me long ago, ere yet my lips
Did meditate this feeding's monstrous crime!

δάφνης [Φοιβείων] φύλλων ἄπο πάμπαν ἔχεσθαι.

Withhold your hands from leaves of Phoebus' tree!

δειλοί, πάνδειλοι, κυάμων ἄπο χεῖρας ἔχεσθαι.

Ye wretched, O ye altogether wretched,
Your hands from beans withhold!

τὸν δ' οὔτ' ἄρ τε Διὸς τέγεοι δόμοι αἰγιόχοιο
τέ[ρποι] ἂν οὐδὲ [αἰνῆς Ἑ]κ[άτ]ης τέγος [ἠλιτόποινον].

Neither roofed halls of aegis-holding Zeus
Delight it, nor dire Hecate's venging house.

κρηνάων ἄπο πέντε ταμόντ' [ἐν] ἀτειρέι χαλκῶι . . .

Scooping from fountains five with lasting bronze.

νηστεῦσαι κακότητος.

O fast from evil-doing.

τοιγάρτοι χαλεπῆισιν ἀλύοντες κακότησιν
οὔποτε δειλαίων ἀχέων λωφήσετε θυμόν.

Since wildered by your evil-doings huge,
Ne'er shall ye free your life from heavy pains.

εἰς δὲ τέλος μάντεις τε καὶ ὑμνοπόλοι καὶ ἰητροί
καὶ πρόμοι ἀνθρώποισιν ἐπιχθονίοισι πέλονται.
ἔνθεν ἀναβλαστοῦσι θεοὶ τιμῆισι φέριστοι.

And seers at last, and singers of high hymns,
Physicians sage, and chiefs o'er earth-born men
Shall they become, whence germinate the gods,
The excellent in honors.

ἀθανάτοις ἄλλοισιν ὁμέστιοι αὐτοτράπεζοι,
εὔνιες ἀνδρείων ἀχέων, ἀπόκληροι, ἀτειρεῖς.

At hearth and feast companioned with the immortals,
From human pains and wasting eld immune.

ἀμφιβρότην χθόνα.

Man-enfolding Earth.

νεφεληγερέτην.

The cloud-collecting.

πολυαίματον ἧπαρ.

The blood-full liver.

ζείδωρος.

Life-giving.

γῆρας ἡμέρας.

Evening, the day's old age.

βαυβώ

The belly.

ἐν ἑπτὰ ἑβδομάσιν.

In seven times seven days.