The Theogony of Hesiod

Heavenly Muses, give us skill to sing,
Who softly dance around the deep blue spring
And altar of Zeus, Cronos’ mighty son,
Who hold the sacred mount of Helicon.
When these have bathed themselves in Permessus,
Or in the Horses’ Spring or Olmeius,
They make their lovely dances up on high,
On Helicon, with feet that spin and fly
In lovely dances, and walk about at night,
Clothed in dark mist; their voices then take flight,
And with their song they praise the one who bears
The aegis, Zeus, and Hera, she who wears
The golden sandals; Athena the wise,
The aegis holder, with gray, shining eyes;
Phoebus Apollo; Artemis who takes
Delight in arrows; Poseidon who shakes
The earth, and holds it with his mighty arms;
Themis, the revered, and the one whose charms
Are legend, Aphrodite, she whose eyes
Are ever flirting, filling all with sighs;
And Hebe, she who has the crown of gold;
Dione, Leto, Iapetus, and old
And crafty Kronos, Eos, and the Sun,
Helios, bright Selene, Earth and Ocean,
And Night, the dark one; all the holy race
Of deathless gods, all beautiful of face.
On a certain day, they taught Hesiod
Of songs, most lovely, beautiful, and good,
While he was keeping of his lambs account,
Under Helicon, the great, holy mount.
First of all, the Goddesses said to me,
The Muses of Olympus, they who be
The daughters of the aegis-wielding Zeus:
“Rustic shepherds, deserving of abuse,
Full of shame, you’re nothing more than bellies;
We know how to speak many lies that please,
Convincing frauds, but when we wish, we still
Can speak the truth with a most cunning skill.
So spake the clear voiced daughters of the god,
Great Zeus; they gave to me a blooming rod,
A staff of laurel, marvelous to see;
A voice divine did they breathe into me,
To sing of what will be, and of what’s past,
Of all the gods that cannot be surpassed,
Eternal, blessed, holy, always good:
But first and last the Muses said I should
Extol them, so of them I first did speak.
Why talk of oak and stone? Is this what I seek?
Now, let us with the Muses make our start,
Who with their songs cheer father Zeus’s heart
High in Olympus, telling how things are,
And knowing what is near and what is far;
They speak of what shall be and what is past:
In harmony they cannot be surpassed.
Untiring, from their lips flow sounds so sweet,
And all the house of Zeus is most replete
With joy at their pure voices when they sing,
And all Olympus’ snowy peaks do ring,
And all the houses of the gods resound
When their sweet music echoes all around.
With their undying voices do they praise
The holy race of gods. In former days,
When the children of Heaven and of Earth
By their great parents were brought to the birth,
And they produced the gods, their noble seed,
Who give as gifts all that is good indeed.
When they begin and end the Muses sing
Of Zeus, from whom the gods and men both spring,
And they declare his excellence and might,
And supremacy in power and right.
The race of men and giants they proclaim,
Who by heroic acts have earned their fame;
The Muses cheer the heart of Zeus, who bears
The aegis, king of Olympus’ affairs.
And in Pieria did Memory,
Who rules o’er Eleuther’s hills joyfully,
In union with the son of Kronos bear
Forgetting of troubles and rest from care.
Nine nights Zeus lay with her away from all
The gods who dwell within Olympus’ hall.
And after that a year had passed away,
The months had waned, gone were many a day
The seasons turning round, she bare him nine
Daughters, one in mind, exceedingly fine,
Whose hearts are set on song and ever free
From sorrow, living in felicity,
Near to the top of Mount Olympus where
The gods dwell joyfully and free from care.
There are their dance halls and their lovely home,
Near where the Graces and Himerus roam.
From out their lips their lovely voices swell,
And of the laws of everything they tell.
Their voices also they duly employ
To sing the deeds of all the gods with joy.
Then to Olympus did they go; the sound
Of music rose up from the holy ground
Beneath their feet; their chanting filled the air
And echoed sweetly: their voices were fair.
In heaven Zeus was reigning; by his might
He’d overthrown his father in a fight.
The shining thunderbolt was in his hands,
The rights of all the deathless he commands;
He gave to each whatever thing was just,
Ruling all, supreme, obey him they must.
Such things in song did all the Muses speak
Upon Olympus’ snowy mountain peak,
The nine by Zeus begotten – Thaleia,
Cleio, Erato, Polyhymnia,
Melpomene, Urania, Euterpe,
With Terpsichore and Calliope,
Who is the head of all of them, for care
Of princes at their births must this daughter bear;
Upon his tongue a nectar do they pour:
With gracious words he’s blest forever more.
The people bring their suits, and bend their ear;
True judgements from his lips they gladly hear.
Contentions can he settle, for his mind
Seeks out the truth and does true wisdom find.
For kings with wisdom in their hearts do reign
To bring assemblies, erring, back again
To truth and right, persuading by their speech,
And all their subjects gently do they teach.
The people greet him as a god; he goes
Through the assembly. He who sees him knows
He’s worthy to be honoured: from above
The Muses give this gift to men with love.
The Muses and far-shooting Phoebus give
To men all those upon the earth who live
As singers and musicians, but the king,
He comes from none but Zeus. The Muses bring
Great joy to whom they love: sweet speeches spring
From out his lips. For though a man should grieve,
And sorrow, and his burdened soul should heave
With dread because his heart is sore distressed,
Yet when a poet sings his soul will rest.
The servant of the Muses tells the deeds
Of men of old and gods, and so he leads
The sorrowful away from misery:
The Muses’ gift frees him from drudgery.
Hail, Zeus’s children! Grant us goodly song,
And praise the sacred race of all the strong,
Eternal gods who had their hallowed birth
From starry Heaven and from mother Earth
And darkest Night, and those the salty Sea
Did raise, how gods and Earth both came to be,
How boundless sea which swells with rage was born,
And rivers, and the stars that do adorn
The sky, and heaven, who is vast and wide,
And the gods they birthed, how they did divide
Their wealth. Their gifts are only good; declare
How their honours amongst them they did share,
How first they took Olympus, make it known,
And which of them came first, let it be shown.
You Muses, who in high Olympus sing,
Tell to me these things from the beginning.
Chaos was first of all that came to be,
But next was Earth, whose foundations surely
Hold up the snowy peaks of Olympus
That the gods possess, and dark Tartarus
Within the Earth’s vast deep, and Love, who reigns
As fairest of the gods, author of pains
That weaken limbs and overthrow the mind;
Counsels of gods and men does Love unwind.
From Chaos came forth Erebus and Night,
Who is all dark and hidden to the sight;
Her love for Erebus she did display,
And brought forth children, Aether and the Day.
And starry Heaven did the Earth first bare,
Her equal, for to cover her with care,
To be the dwelling place eternally
Of all the gods. From her there came to be
The Hills, where Nymphs abide among the dales,
And Sea, whose raging swell the coast assails;
Without a loving union came the Sea,
Whose fruitless depths, they heave up endlessly.
But after this with Heaven did she lay,
And they brought forth their children by their play.
Deep churning Oceanus, Koios,
Hyperion, Kreius, and Iapetus,
Theia, Rhea, Themis, and Mnemosyne,
Phoebe, golden crowned, Tethys the divine,
And Kronos, born the last, the cunning one,
Most terrible of all was this last son.
He hated Heaven, his own mighty sire,
And all his heart was filled with deadly ire.
She bore the Cyclopes, spirits impudent,
Brontes, Steropes, and the arrogant
Arges, these are who gave the lightning rod
And the thunder to Zeus, the mighty god;
In every way like gods these had been made,
Except that with one eye they were arrayed.
The Orb-eyed were they called, and this is why,
That in their foreheads there was set one eye.
These three were full of cunning skill and might,
And vigour in the works they brought to light.
And after this there were three children more
That Earth from union with great Heaven bore,
Kottos, Gyes, Briareus were they named
Terrible and strong, for insolence famed.
From their shoulders one hundred arms did leap;
Approach from enemies these arms did keep
Away; each arm was strong to grasp and seize,
And they had fifty heads along with these,
That sat upon their shoulders, o’er the troop
Of arms, whose forms were made a horrid group.
Of all the children that were to Heaven borne
By Earth, these were the ones that he did scorn;
These were most terrible of all their young,
And so this seed far from him Heaven flung.
Soon as they were born, in a secret place
Within the Earth, he hid them from his face.
He would not suffer them to see the light,
And took joy in this evil and their plight.
But vast Earth, stretched and groaned in her complaint,
And she sought a way to ease her constraint;
Devising in her heart an evil ploy,
She made flint and formed a sickle to destroy
Her lover, and told to her sons her will,
Desiring that they would the same fulfill.
She spoke, encouraging, but vexed in heart,
“Children of a wicked sire, we can thwart
Your father’s evil, if you will obey;
For shamefulness, he was first to display.”
Thus she said, but they all were seized with fright,
And spoke not, but sat silent in her sight.
But cunning Kronos took courage and replied,
“Mother, I will see our father defied.
I will do the deed, for I do not care
For our sire, who no wicked deed would spare;
He was the first to ponder wickedness.”
His words relieved great Earth of her distress.
She laid an ambush, and her plot she told;
Every detail did she to him unfold;
She gave him the sickle, and hid him well.
And when by Heaven’s act the nighttime fell,
He longed for love, and came to Earth to play,
And all about her stretched himself and lay.
Then his son stretched forth his left hand, and held
In his right the jagged blade; with it he felled
His father’s members in his bold attack,
And afterwards cast them behind his back.
But they fell not in vain, for Earth received
All the bloody drops from which she conceived
And bore after the seasons turned around
The mighty Furies, whose strength did astound;
And massive Giants, towering in height,
Who were fitted with armour shining bright,
Who held long spears; and Nymphs who were called Ash-trees.
Heaven’s members were cast into the seas,
And washed on the waves ’til much time had passed,
And a white foam had encircled at last
The immortal flesh, and in this there grew
A maid, who to holy Cythera drew.
From there she came to sea surrounded Cypris,
And burst forth a dread and lovely goddess.
The grass sprang forth beneath her well-formed feet,
The goddess who with beauty was replete.
Gods and men, they call her Aphrodite,
Foam-born goddess, beautiful and sightly;
And rich crowned Cytherea, for she grew
Up from the foam, and also sailed unto
Cythera; and Cyprogenes, for she
Was born in windy Cypris by the sea;
And also Philommedes because from
The genitals of Heaven she had come.
With her went Love, and beautiful Desire
Followed after her, and she did retire
Into the place where the gods are gathered.
And from the beginning she was honoured:
This was the portion that she did receive
From gods and men, whatever does deceive
With great delight, and whisperings and smiles
Of fair maidens, and love and grace with wiles.
But Heaven called the sons which he begat
For to reproach them, Titans, saying that
They strained and insolently did a deed,
Which afterwards would fearful vengeance breed.
And Night bore Death, dark Fate, and dreadful Doom,
And Sleep and all the Dreams came from her womb.
And though she did not lay with any, yet
The shadow clouded goddess did beget
Both Blame and woeful Sorrow, also those
Who stand as guards beyond where Ocean flows,
Who keep the golden apples and the trees,
The Hesperides: Night bore all of these.
She also bore the Destinies and Fates,
The ruthless ones who give to men their states;
Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos; these give
The good and ill men have all the while they live.
They chase transgressors, gods and mortals both,
To cease from rage against sinners they are loth,
Until they’ve punished them. The goddess then,
The deadly Night, she bore to afflict men
Nemesis, Deceit, Friendship, horrid Age,
Iron-hearted Strife, whom none can assuage.
But, hated Strife bore Work that brings distress,
And Famine, horrid Pains, and Forgetfulness,
With Fights, and Battles, Murders, Killing, Lies,
Quarrels, Disputes, Lawlessness which defies,
Destruction; all these are in nature one,
And Oath who sees the false swearer undone.
And Sea begat his eldest son, and named
Him Nereus, the truthful, who is famed;
For men call him the Old Man. He is kind,
Trustworthy, and there’s no one need remind
Him of the laws of righteousness: he never
Forgets them; he’s just and goodly ever.
And Thaumas, full of wonders, did he get,
And proud Phorcys after he with Earth had met
And mated; fair Ceto was their offspring,
And flint-hearted Eurybia did they bring
Forth. Then, Nereus and Doris, whose hair
Was rich and beautiful beyond compare,
And who was Ocean’s daughter, river swirling,
Did lovely goddesses into the world bring.
Protho, Eukrante, Sao, Amphitrite,
Eudora, Thetis, Galene, Glauce,
Cymothoe, Speo, Thoe, Halie,
Pasithea, Erato, Eunike
The rosy-armed, and gracious Melite,
And also Eulimene, and Agave,
And Doto, and Proto, and Pherousa,
Dynamene, Nikaia, Aktaia,
Protomedea, Doris, Panopea,
Also the beautiful Galatea,
Comely Hippothoe, Hipponoe
Of most rosy arms, and Kymodoke;
With Kymatolege and Amphitrite
She calms the waves upon the misty sea,
And raging blasts of howling winds she quells,
And thus to rest puts churning ocean’s swells;
Kymo, Eione, rich-crowned Alimede,
And the laughter-loving Glauconome,
And Pontoporea, Leagore,
Laomedea, and Evagore,
And Polynoe and Autonoe,
And Lysianassa, and Evarne,
Lovely of shape, form spotless, Psamathe
The lovely, Menippe, Neso, Eupompe,
Themisto, Pronoe, and Nemertes, who
In nature is like her sire through and through.
From guiltless Nereus these daughters came,
The fifty, whose skill with crafts lives in fame.
And Thaumus wed Electra, daughter of
Deep flowing Ocean; and she bore in love
Iris, with the Harpies who have long hair;
Aello and Ocypetes, on air
They fly with wings so swift they keep the pace
With winds and birds; as quick as time they race.
The Graiae to Phorcys Ceto bare;
These sisters all from birth were gray of hair.
Undying gods and men who tread on earth
Call them the Gray Ones, for they’re such since birth:
The first of these was well-dressed Pemphredo,
And the second was yellow robed Enyo,
The Gorgans who dwell in a border land,
Past Ocean near where Night holds her command,
Where the clear voiced Hesperides reside.
There Sthenno and Euryale abide,
And Medusa, whose fate was suffering;
A mortal she, but her sisters, undying,
They waxed not old. With her the Dark-haired One
Did lay; the place where this deed by him was done
Was full of spring flowers, a meadow soft.
When afterwards her head was head was held aloft,
When Perseus beheaded her, there rose
Chrysaor and one born near where Ocean flows;
Named for that place that’s home to Ocean’s springs
Was Pegasus the horse, and he had wings.
And Chrysaor was named because the blade
He wielded in his hands of gold was made.
Then Pegasus departed from the earth,
Flying from the mother who to flocks gives birth.
He came to the immortal gods to dwell,
And so he does, and he serves Zeus as well;
Within the house of Zeus the horse does bring
To him the thunder and bolts of lightning.
And Chrysaor with Ocean’s daughter lay,
Callirrhoe, who gave birth from their play
To the triple-headed Geryones,
Who was slain by the mighty Heracles
In Erythea, whom the sea does bound.
The shuffling oxen on that day he found.
Those scattered oxen there did freely roam,
But that broad-browed herd Heracles drove home
To holy Tiryns, crossing Ocean’s ford;
There with Orthros and Eurytion he warred.
He killed them both beyond where Ocean spanned,
The herdsman and the dog, in that darksome land.
Within the hollow of a cave, she then
Bore another fiend unlike mortal men
Or to th’immortal gods, the horrible
Echidna, goddess indomitable.
Half nymph, fair cheeked, and with flirtatious eyes,
And half snake, these twain did her form comprise.
Great and dreadful, with spotted skin, she eats
Raw flesh down in the earth’s darkest retreats.
Beneath a hollow rock she has her hold,
Far from gods and men; for the gods of old
Bestowed her this house in the underground;
Keeping watch in Arima she is found.
Terrible Echidna, who never dies,
Nor ages; for youth from her never flies.
It’s said that Typhon, brazen, terrible,
And unlawful loved her, the horrible
Nymph with darting eyes. She bore him monsters,
Who were fierce and fiendish, full of terrors:
Orthus, hound of Geryones; and again
The unspeakable, who cannot be slain,
Cerberus, who feasts on raw flesh, the hound
Of Hades, brazen voiced, on whom is found
Full fifty heads, untiring, ever strong.
A third she added to this evil throng,
The Hydra, which white-armed Hera nursed in rage
Towards Heracles, which none could assuage.
But Heracles the victory enjoyed;
For the hydra, she by him was destroyed.
With that son of Zeus fierce Iolaus stood,
And by the sword they triumphed; for the good
Athena’s plans delivered them their prey,
She who leads the host forth in war to slay.
She was the mother of Chimaera, great,
Whose breath was fire which nothing could abate;
A frightful beast, mighty and fleet-footed;
And this fearsome creature was three headed:
A strong eyed lion first; a snake behind;
And from its middle a goat’s head inclined,
Which breathed a dreadful blast of raging flame.
Bellerophon the noble won great fame
With Pegasus, for she by them was slain.
But when Echidna, overcome, had lain
With Orthos, she bore the deadly Sphinx who wrought
Destruction to the Cadmeans. She brought
The lion of Nemea forth as well;
A curse to men that one did ever spell;
For Hera, wife of Zeus, raised him to waste
Nemea’s hills, and there her folk were chased.
They were his prey; he reigned o’er all the land
Of Tretus and Apesas, ‘til the hand
Of Heracles slew him with all the force
Of his arms, without pity or remorse.
And Ceto in her love to Phorcys cleaved;
Her youngest child from this union was conceived,
The snake which guards the apples made of gold,
And who in hidden places keeps his hold,
At earth’s bounds. This is the child of Ceto
And Phorcys. Then rivers that swirling flow
Tethys bore to Ocean – Neilos, Alpheios,
And the deep-eddying Eridanos,
Strymon, Meander, lovely Istros, Rhesos,
Phasis, silver circling Akheloios,
Haliakmon, Nestos, and Rhodios,
Heptaporos, Grenikos, Aisepos,
Sacred Simoeis, Peneios, Hermos,
Kaikos the mild, and great Saggarios,
And also Ladon, and Parthenios,
Evenos, Ardeskos, divine Skamandros.
And she bare a holy host of daughters,
Who with Lord Apollo and the Rivers
Have charge of all the young, to keep in hand:
This duty they received by Zeus’ command –
Peitho, Admete, Ianthe, Elektra,
Doris, Prymno, divine Ourania,
And Hippo, Klymene, and Rhodeia,
Kallirhoe, Zeuxo, and Klytia,
Eidyia, Pasithoe, and Thoe,
Galaxaura, the beloved Dione,
Handsome Polydora, Melobosis,
And the one lovely in form, Kerkeis,
Wide-eyed Plouto, Perseis, Ianeira,
And she who was beloved of Zeus, Europa,
Akaste, and Xanthe, and Petraie,
And Menestho too, and Eurynome,
Metis, and saffron girded Telesto,
Khryseis, Asia, charming Calypso,
Eudora, and Tyche, Amphiro, and
Okyrhoe, and Styx, who as chief doth stand.
These are the oldest daughters Ocean got
With Tethys, but they are not his whole lot.
Three thousand lovely ankled nymphs, who swim
Across the earth, sprang every one from him;
In waters deep they’re found, and they possess
Much glory; for each one is a goddess.
Moreover, many roaring rivers run,
Which Tethys bare, and each is Ocean’s son.
How hard it is for mortal man to know
Their names, except for those which nearby flow.
And Theia in love with Hyperion
Brought forth Helios, the majestic Sun,
And bright Selene, the Moon, and Dawn who lights
Mankind and all the Gods in heaven’s heights.
Eurybia, the shining goddess, cleaved
To Krios, and she from their love conceived;
From them Astraios and Pallas did arise
And Perses, the preeminently wise.
And Eos the Dawn, bare to Astraios
The winds, embued with mighty hearts, Zephyros
The refreshing; swift-rushing Boreas;
And Notos; from union of god and goddess.
And after this Eosphoros was born,
And all the stars, whose brightness do adorn
The heavens; these the name of mother call
Erigeneia, for she bare them all.
To Pallas Styx was joined and Rivalry
She bare along with fair-ankled Victory,
And Strength and Force, famous children. Each dwells
Nowhere apart from Zeus; where he compels
Alone they go; none other place or road
They have: with thund’ring Zeus is their abode.
Immortal Styx, Ocean’s daughter, planned and went
The day th’ Olympian Lightener sent
For all the deathless gods to come to Mount
Olympus, and said whoe’er he could count
Upon to fight against the Titans, would
Lose not his rights, and have his proper good.
Amongst the gods, the honours that they’d had,
They yet would hold, and that he would make glad
Those who had no rights by their promotion;
For this was just. Then Styx in devotion
Came at the advice of Ocean and brought
Her children, receiving the honour she sought;
Great gifts from Zeus as a boon she obtained:
The first of the blessings the goddess gained
Was that the oath the gods swear she became,
And her children to live always in fame
With Zeus was the second. He did as he said;
He kept his word: for o’er all he is head.
Then Phoebe full of love to Koios went,
And when the desire of the god had been spent,
She brought forth Leto; dark-robed, ever mild,
Was she, Phoebe and Koios’ charming child;
Kind to men and deathless gods. From the start
She was soft, and possessed the gentlest heart
In all Olympus. Asteria she bare
Whose name is famous beyond all compare.
The goddess was the one whom Perses led
Home as his bride unto his marriage bed.
And she bare Hekate, whom Zeus the son
Of Kronos honoured above everyone.
To possess a share of earth and fruitless sea
The goddess got as a gift by Zeus’ decree.
In starry heaven she’s revered; among
The deathless gods her praises e’er are sung.
For still whenever any man on earth
Does offer sacrifices of great worth,
And pray for favour from the gods, he calls
Upon Hekate. Honour richly falls
Upon he whose prayers please her; she bestows
Wealth to him; ‘tis from her this power flows.
Amongst all those born from Earth and Ocean,
She kept her former privilege and portion.
The son of Kronos took naught which was hers,
But what she held before again confers;
Those rights she possessed when the Titans reigned,
In heaven, earth, and sea are still ordained
To her; she has more honour by the laws:
For Zeus is the champion of her cause.
She raises up whomever she sees fit;
And with the kings in judgement does she sit.
Amongst the people, whom she wills is praised:
By nothing else a man to rank is raised.
When men bear arms and war with men, she’s there
And renders victory in the affair;
And fame and glory does she give as gifts;
And at the games when men compete, she lifts
The victor, who by might and strength, with ease
And joy, attains the prize and so does please
His parents. She stands by the horseman’s side,
And those who labour in the ships that glide
Across the surface of the harsh grey sea,
Who to Hekate in prayer make their plea
And to the crashing Earthshaker. They catch
If she is gracious, but if she wills she’ll snatch
Their prey away, as soon as it’s beheld.
With Hermes in the barn the stock is swelled,
If she desires. The herds of goats and kine,
And flocks of wooly sheep, by her design,
From but a few to many are increased,
Or from the many to few are decreased.
Though other children her mother bore not,
Great honour with the deathless gods she got.
The nurse of the young she is by decree
Of the son of Kronos; all who did see
The light of the Dawn, who looks upon all,
With their eyes were her charge; all these do call
Her nurse. These are her honours from the first;
However she wills, success is dispersed.
But forced by love for Kronos did Rhea
Bare such glorious children: Hestia;
Demeter; golden-shoed Hera; the great
Hades, whose heart knows no pity, whose state
Is under the earth; loud-roaring Earthshaker;
And Zeus the wise, of gods and men the maker,
The father, whose thunder shakes all the earth.
But mighty Kronos devoured at birth
Each child as it came from the womb to the knees
Of its mother; he ate all he did seize,
That he alone would hold the dominion,
Amongst the gods, keeping all in submission;
For Earth and Heaven said he’d be overthrown
By his son, despite how strong he had grown,
By the matchless scheme of almighty Zeus,
Who would repay him for all his abuse.
So, he kept a watch to eat his offspring
As soon as they were born: but this did bring
Unending grief to Rhea, who implored
Her parents, Earth and Heaven, that her adored
Son, shortly to be born, should be concealed,
Until revenge made cunning Kronos yield,
For swallowing down all his children and
The evil done to his father by his hand.
They heard their daughter, agreed, and revealed
The destiny which was for Kronos sealed,
And unto his strong-hearted son. They sent
Her to Lyetus, and, with child, she went;
To the land that was with riches replete,
Ready to bear Zeus: thus she went to Crete.
‘Twas there she brought her youngest son to birth;
He was received from Rhea by vast Earth,
In Crete to nurse. Earth carried him in flight
With haste to Lyktos first, in blackest night.
Underneath the earth, she did the child hide
In a secret place, within a cavern, wide,
On densely-wooded Mount Aegeum: but
She gave a stone in swaddling clothes to glut
Unto the King, son of Heaven, who once
Was king of the gods. He took it like a dunce!
Into his belly did he thrust the stone,
Knowing not his son had been left alone,
In the rock’s place. Unvanquished, unhurt, he
Would shortly overthrow him violently;
By might and force his sire’s loss of honours bring,
And he himself to rule o’er the gods as king.
The wonderful limbs of the prince, and his might,
Grew quickly. The years passed on in their flight:
Great cunning Kronos by Earth was beguiled,
And brought back his offspring, but his great child
Triumphed o’er him, by his craft and power.
He vomited the stone he did devour,
The one he swallowed last. Then at Pytho,
That holy place, Zeus set the stone below
Parnassus, in a rift of broad-pathed Earth,
As a sign to men of unequaled worth.
He freed his uncles from their awful chains,
In which foolish Kronos bound them in their pains;
In gratefulness, this deed remembering,
They gave him thunder, flaming bolts, and lightening;
Which vast Earth before had concealed. In these
He trusts, and rules o’er men and deities.
Sweet-ankled Klymene, Ocean’s daughter, wed
Iapetos, and went up into his bed;
She bore strong-hearted Atlas, and infamous
Menoitios and brilliant Prometheus,
Full of stratagems, and the stupid one,
Epimetheus, by whose hand was done
Much evil to men who eat bread. He brought
In Woman from Zeus, the maid he had wrought.
But filled with reckless pride was Menoitios,
And so Zeus hurled him down to Erebos;
He struck him with a blazing thunderbolt
As punishment for his insane revolt.
And Atlas bears broad heaven by constraint,
On his head and arms: he doth never faint.
At Earth’s end, before the Hesperides, he
Does stand, for this was all-wise Zeus’ decree.
He bound Prometheus, the crafty one,
In bitter chains, which could not be undone,
Held fast around a pillar, then set loose
A long-winged eagle, to render abuse;
The eagle ate his undying liver,
But every night it regrew whatever
The eagle had consumed throughout the day:
But that long-winged bird Heracles did slay.
Lovely-ankled Alcmene’s son relieved
The son of Iapetos from that which grieved
Him, from the pain of which he’d had his fill:
But only in accordance with the will
Of Zeus, who reigns on high, that more renowned
Would be the Theban born, who did astound
All men upon earth, Heracles. He showed
Favour to his son, and honour bestowed.
Though he was angry, he no longer raged,
As he had since Prometheus engaged
The great son of Kronos in a contest
Of wits, for to show himself to be best.
When at Mekone, there was a dispute
‘Tween gods and mortal men, he did confute
The matter; for Prometheus set forth –
To trick Zeus in the judgement of their worth –
The portions of an ox, which he did divide;
The flesh and fatty parts upon the hide,
In the gut of an ox, before the rest:
But gave to Zeus white bones, which he had dressed
With skill in gleaming fat. But Zeus, the sire
Of gods and men, beheld and said with ire,
“Son of Iapetos, great beyond compare,
The division you’ve made is most unfair!”
So Zeus, the ever wise, rebuked him. Yet
Cunning Prometheus did not forget
His trick. “Zeus, greatest of all the gods, choose
The portion you prefer. Do not refuse
Your heart’s desire,” he said, thinking deceit.
But Zeus, ever wise, he could not defeat.
Zeus spied the trick, and planned a future day
When a punishment to mortals he would pay.
With both his hands he took up the white fat,
Saw the bones, and was filled with rage thereat;
And this is why on earth the tribes of men
Burn on smoking altars bones of oxen
To the deathless gods. But the cloud gatherer,
Zeus, declared “Son of Iapetos, clever
Above all! Your deceits you don’t forget!”
But the rage of the god did the trick whet.
Zeus spoke in anger, whose skill is unending;
He kept the trick in mind. The untiring
Fire, he did utterly refuse to give
To the Melian race of men who live
On earth. But Iapetos’ son defrauded
Him, and stole the fire which had been guarded;
The far-seeing beam, which can’t be wearied,
In a hollow fennel stalk he carried.
And thundering Zeus devoured his heart,
And raged within, as though pierced by a dart,
When he beheld the far-seen ray of fire
Among men. Then he at once in his ire
Made something evil for men, which they got
As the price of the fire; this was their lot:
From earth was shaped the image of a maid,
And modesty this virgin form displayed.
The famous Limping God, he built this thing
By the scheme of Zeus, so that he might bring
Upon mankind a fitting punishment.
Then to the girl, grey-eyed Athena went.
She made a belt, and in robes of silver
Dressed the girl; moreover she was clever
In knitting a veil, which she deftly spread
Over the maiden, covering her head.
A lovely wreath of flowers Athena set,
Which springtime grasses fruitfully beget.
The famous Limping God with skill did mould
Within his hands a lovely crown of gold,
In order that he might please Zeus his sire.
On it many things marvelous and dire
Were worked with skill: the monsters which the sea
And earth have nursed, made as realistically
As living, howling creatures, wonderful;
It shone with beauty, with which it was full.
When he’d made the lovely curse, the cost of fire
With which man had been blessed, with her attire,
To a place where there was a gathering
Of gods and men, the maiden did he bring.
In all of her gifts, she took great delight,
Which Zeus’s grey-eyed daughter gave. The sight
Gripped mortal men and gods with wonder, when
They saw the cunning trap, fatal to men.
From her proceeds the race of womankind,
The deadly tribe, who trouble men; they find
No help from them in dreadful poverty,
But they will share in wealth most shamelessly.
As in the hives of bees, the drones are fed
(Whose nature to mischief is always led),
While busy bees are laying down white combs
Each day till sunset, drones stay in their homes,
And sheltered, eat up what the others reap:
So thundering Zeus made women all to keep
An evil nature, working men but ill;
And for the good they had it was his will
That they should get a second evil – he
Who marries not, shunning matrimony,
Thereby avoiding evil woman’s curse,
He yet shall sorrow such as I rehearse.
He’ll reach old age, and no one will attend
To him; there’s none on whom he can depend,
And though all the while he lives he is supplied
By means, but when he’s dead his kin divide
Amongst themselves all of the goods he got.
But he who chooses marriage for his lot,
And gets a good wife, yet receives a share
Of evil with the good: unceasing care
In heart and soul he’ll have from offspring who
Cause trouble: this ill no one can undo.
It is impossible to hoodwink Zeus;
Try to subvert his will – it is no use!
Even the son of Iapetus was caught,
Kind Prometheus, and into bonds was brought;
He could not escape Zeus’s rage: his mind
With all his tricks could not the vict’ry find.
Briareos, Kottos, and Gyes were bound
By their father, in whom envy was found;
He was vexed in his heart, knowing their size,
Their appearance which none who saw could despise,
And manliness which exceeded its measure;
So beneath broad-pathed Earth did he inter
His sons, who were tormented underground,
At the ends of Earth where sorrow did hound
Their hearts; there they dwelt a long while in their grief;
In their anguish they dwelt without relief.
But the son of Kronos and the other
Deathless gods, to whom Rhea was mother
(The lovely-haired, by Kronos did she bare
Them), these brought them up and caused them to repair
To where the light is seen, at Earth’s request,
Who told them how by these they would be blest.
That they would win the victory she vowed;
With glorious success they’d be endowed.
Long the Titans with Kronos’ seed had warred;
And none relented, nor the fight deplored –
The reigning Titans from the high Othyrs,
And the beneficent gods from Olympus,
Whom Rhea bare to Kronos. Full of rage,
For ten long years in war did they engage.
Unbounded strife, no end to contention,
So balanced were they in their competition.
But when those three with what’s good were nourished,
Then their proud spirits were revived, and flourished;
The nectar and ambrosia which they ate
Was that with which the gods did their hunger sate;
And after they had eaten, he who sired
Both gods and men declared what he desired:
“Hearken, shining children of Ouranos
And Earth! Long have we who sprung from Kronos
And the Titans warred. Every day we fight
To get the victory. So, show your might,
And unbeatable strength, and your rage pour
Upon the Titans: face them in the war;
And call to mind the kindness that we wrought,
When back from bitter bondage you were brought
Unto the light; though once submerged in gloom,
We saved you from the sorrows of your doom.”
So he spoke. Then blameless Kottos replied:
“Divine one, you speak what our hearts espied
Within us; for we of ourselves took heed
Of all the wisdom with which you exceed;
And all the deathless ones did you protect
From doom by which they all would have been wrecked.
As you determined, we are brought back again
From shadows and the bonds which caused us pain:
We savour now what hope before denied.
O lord, son of Kronos, we take your side;
And firm is fixed our purpose and counsel:
Against the Titans we’ll fight in battle.”
Thus he spake, and the gods who give good things,
For only such is what from each one springs,
Cheered when they heard his speech, and longed for war
Within their hearts more than they had before.
With hateful strife, both male and female fought,
Titans, Kronos’ seed, and they whom Zeus had brought
Back up to light, from Erebus below
The earth. One hundred arms on each did grow
From out their shoulders, and each had fifty
Heads that grew on their shoulders and a mighty
Mass of limbs. These stood against the Titans
In the war; and rocks they held, like mountains,
In their hands. And against them were arrayed
The Titans, strong in ranks, and they displayed
Their might with all the work their hands could show.
The boundless sea resounded with each blow,
And earth roared loudly, and vast Heaven sighed.
High Olympus could not firmly abide;
It groaned and was shaken down to its root
At the charge of the gods. The roar of dispute
Reached down to Tartarus, shrouded in gloom,
And their feet were like drums, sounding the doom
Of their foes when they launched their missiles. Each
One threw his weapons, and their shouts did reach
To Heaven: the cry of battle was great.
Then Zeus refused any longer to wait
To show forth his strength. His might was revealed;
His heart full of fury, he stormed on the field.
From Heaven and from Olympus he came,
Hurling his bolts; from his hand flew the flame.
Thunder and lightning together he hurled,
And earth gave a roar when he burned up the world;
Loud was the crackle of wood in the fire;
Land, Ocean, and the barren sea did perspire.
By steam were the earthborn Titans surrounded;
Ineffable flame rose upwards unbounded,
Till Chaos was gripped by incredible heat;
And Heaven and Earth no more seemed discrete,
As though they were dashed together in ruin;
If Earth was cast down, there’d be such a din,
As Heaven hurled her below. Such a roar
Was heard when the gods met together in war.
An earthquake and duststorm, the winds did set loose,
With thunder and lightning, and the bolt of Zeus;
They carried the noise of clamour and cries
Into the host. Such a clash did arise,
A horror of war, full of acts of might:
‘Twas then that the tide was turned in the fight.
Though the war had been bitter and cruel,
It yet had raged, a strife perpetual.
Kottos, Briareos, and Gyes foremost
Put up a raging fight within the host,
For their desire for war could not quenched;
Three hundred boulders from their hands they launched,
In a succession; so, with rocks it rained
And buried them beneath broad Earth, and chained
Them in bitter bonds, vanquishing by might
Their proud spirits, in Tartarus, void of light.
An anvil of bronze, would fall from heaven
Nine days and nights, reaching Earth on day ten;
And an anvil of bronze from earth would drop
Nine days and nights, and neither slow nor stop;
To Tartarus on the tenth would it fall,
Which is encircled by a brazen wall.
Like a triple necklace does Night surround
It, while above by roots of Earth it’s bound,
And by barren sea. Zeus, who drives each cloud,
Determined that the gloom should be the shroud
Of the Titans, in a decaying spot,
Where great Earth ends, that there they all should rot.
Moreover, they may not go out from thence:
Poseidon set a gate of bronze; a fence
Encloses it on every side. There Kottos
And Gyes and the great Briareos
Dwell as wardens of aegis-bearing Zeus,
Ensuring that the Titans can’t break loose.
The roots and ends are found, in order, there,
Of dark Earth, misty Tartarus, and the mere
Who is barren, and the starry heaven,
Detestable and mouldering, which even
The gods abominate. It’s an abyss.
If one should cross the threshold of its gates,
He wouldn’t reach the bottom till a year
Had passed. Wind after wind would blow him here
And then there, and this wonder is awful
Even to the gods, who are immortal.
There is established the dreadful house of Night,
Swaddled in dark clouds, a shroud to veil the sight.
The son of Iapetos before it stands,
Unmoving he upholds with mighty hands,
And with his head, vast heaven, where Night and Day
Approach and hail each other on their way
Across the threshold made of bronze, and when
One enters in, the other goes out then.
They never both are present in that place;
While one is crossing o’er the Earth, the other
Stays home till it’s her time to go thither.
To those on Earth, one brings All-Seeing light,
But the other bears, even deathful Night,
The one who is Death’s brother, that is, Sleep,
Who does a misty cloud about him keep.
The children of black Night their houses keep
Within that place, the dreadful gods, both Sleep
And Death. The shining Sun does never gaze
Upon them there with any of his rays;
Not as he goes to Heaven, nor descends
From thence. The first is peaceful when he wends
Across the Earth, and o’er the sea’s broad back;
To bring men blessings, he does never slack,
For he’s kind. The other has an iron heart;
Merciless as bronze, ceasing not to thwart
Men; when he catches them, he holds them fast:
Even the gods their hate upon him cast.
There’s the hall of Hades, echoing it stands
(All that is below the strong god commands)
And of Persephone; and there a hound
Which guards the house, unmerciful, is found.
He is deceitful; for, to those who come,
He wags his tail and ears, but he’s fearsome
Unto whomever would no more remain,
But seeks to leave: they can’t go out again;
For he devours all who try to flee
The gates of Hades and Persephone.
There the goddess, whom the gods abominate,
Abides, the dreadful Styx, in her estate,
The eldest daughter of backward flowing
Ocean. She lives in her wonderful dwelling
Away from the gods, who leave her alone,
With a roof that’s built all of mighty stone
Held up to heaven with bars of silver.
Infrequently Thaumas’ daughter comes to her,
Swift-footed Iris, bringing her a word.
But when fights and strife amongst the gods are stirred,
And one who lives in Olympus tells a lie,
Then Zeus sends forth Iris to quickly fly
And bring the oath by which the gods do swear,
Cold water, to which none other can compare,
Which down from a high and rocky place does flow.
A branch of Ocean streams through Night below
The broad-pathed Earth, from the holy river.
A tenth of his stream does he deliver
To her. His streams are numbered nine; he whirls
O’er Earth and the broad-backed sea in silver swirls;
Down into the mere, these go once again,
But the tenth flows from a rock, a grievous pain
To the gods. If a deathless god that lives
On the peaks of snowy Olympus gives
An oath falsely, and pours a libation
Of her water, they lie in desolation,
Devoid of breath, until a year has passed,
Without ambrosia or nectar for repast.
Breathless they lie, without a voice upon
A bed; time passes till a year is gone,
And a dark trance covers the god: but when
The year of his disease is over, then
Another punishment follows in its wake:
Nine years he is forbidden to partake
Of the councils of the feasts the gods hold.
He’s cut off from the gods, till nine years are told.
He can rejoin the deathless gods, as peer
In all their gatherings, in the tenth year,
Within Olympus’ halls. The gods did fix
The ancient waters of primeval Styx
To be their oath, who never fails to bring
Unto that rocky place her holy spring.
The roots and ends are found, in order, there,
Of dark Earth, misty Tartarus, and the mere
Who is barren, and the starry heaven,
Detestable, mouldering, which even
Gods abominate. There are shining gates
And a steadfast brazen threshold, whose roots,
Interminable, grow of themselves. Away
From all the gods, yet further on, there stay
The Titans, past Chaos’ gloom. But the great
Friends of thundering Zeus have their estate
On Ocean’s base, both Gyes and Kottos:
But roaring Earthshaker made Briareos
His son-in-law, being worthy of honour,
And gave him Cymopolea, his daughter.
Once the Titans were banished from heaven
Vast Earth bore the youngest of her children,
With Aphrodite’s help, to Tartarus,
And the name of the child was Typhoeus.
In all of his deeds, his hands were replete
With strength, and no fatigue was in his feet.
From out his shoulders, one hundred snake heads grew,
A dreadful serpent, whose darting tongues in hue
Were black; his eyes shone bright with burning fire
Beneath his brows; his heads burned; his gaze was dire.
And there were voices in each horrid head,
From which a babble unspeakable was spread.
Sometimes their speech was such as gods would know,
But other times, like raging bulls they’d bellow;
At others, like lions, merciless, they’d roar,
While at other times, they would sound like poor
Puppies when they cry, splendid to hear; but this
Was not the last – at other times he’d hiss,
And the towering mountains did resound.
So, truly then, a thing would have been found
Beyond all help that day to have transpired,
And he would have reigned, as he had aspired,
O’er mortals and immortals, had the sire
Of gods and men not been swift to see. In ire,
He thundered, full of strength, and all earth shook
Dreadfully, and wherever one did look,
Vast Heaven, Ocean and his streams, and the deep
Places of the earth. Olympus couldn’t keep
Itself unmoved, but lurched beneath the feet
Of the divine king, and when his steps beat
Upon the Earth, she groaned. Then, when those two
Did battle, a great heat seized on the blue
Sea, by the blast of lightning and thunder,
And by the fire thrown up by the monster,
And by burning winds and the thunderbolt.
All earth, and sea, and sky churned in revolt:
Great waves beat violently against the shores
At the charge of the gods, and their mighty roars.
A ceaseless shaking did arise and grow;
And Hades quaked within his house below –
That place in which he is the king and head,
Where he holds the rule over all the dead,
And the Titans, who reside with Kronos,
Who dwell with him beneath dark Tartaros –
Because of all the noise, and the dreadful fight.
But, when Zeus arose in all of his might,
And took his weapons – thunder, and lightning,
And blazing thunderbolt – then he did spring
From Mount Olympus, and blasted the beast,
And burned all his heads, and when he had ceased,
Typhoeus was thrown down, and whipped with blows,
A mangled ruin, and, for all these woes,
The great Earth groaned. Then, there shot forth a fire
From the lightning lashed lord, who made a pyre
In dark and treacherous vales when he was hit.
A giant portion of the earth was lit
With fire and smoked and melted as the tin
Is melted by men when they heat it in
The hollow crucible; or as iron,
Hardest thing of all, whenever there does burn
In mountain glens the glowing fire, it melts
When in the holy earth Hephaestus smelts
The ore. Just so, earth melted in the fire.
Zeus hurled him into Tartarus in his ire.
From Typhoeus, come the winds that blow
Threateningly, with rain, but the gods bestow
The ones that are a blessing unto men –
Notos, Boreas, bright Zephyr; but when
The others blow in gusts upon the seas,
They work their mischief on men as they please;
Their violent blasts with every season change,
Destroying men and ships where’er they range.
The men who meet them on the seas have no
Help against the trouble when these do blow;
And others rage across Earth in her bloom,
And bring the fields of men unto their doom,
And fill them full of dust. But when the war,
Of the blessed gods had ceased, and raged no more,
When by force they’d triumphed in the struggle
Against the Titans, they pressed immortal
Zeus, Olympian, far-seeing, to reign:
This was Earth’s desire, which they did not disdain.
Zeus meted out their honours to them all;
As he determined, their dignities did fall.
Then, Zeus made Metis his first wife, and she
Was wisest in the realm of divinity,
And amongst men: but, when she was near to bring
To birth gray-eyed Athena, Zeus did spring
A trap on her; with words did he deceive,
And of her daughter did the god bereave
Her, and he placed the child into his belly,
As Heaven and Earth had counselled wisely.
This they did that none but Zeus should possess
The power over the gods; for, the goddess
Was destined to bear children, who were wise –
Maiden Tritogeneia, with the gray eyes,
The equal to her father, both in strength
And wisdom. But, it came to pass at length
That she brought forth a son, who was endowed
With fierceness, and who had a soul most proud,
A king of gods and men. But Zeus did stow
Her in his belly, so that he might know
By the goddess’ understanding what was good
And what was evil, as a ruler should.
And after this he married shining Themis,
Who bare the Hours, and Order, and Justice,
And blooming Peace, who watch o’er every deed
Or mortal men, and also Zeus decreed
The Fates should have the highest honour; three –
She who Spins, and she who Measures, and she
Who Cuts the threads; to mortal men they give
The good and ill they have the days they live.
And Eurynome, Ocean’s daughter, bare
Him three Graces, all of whose cheeks were fair:
Good Cheer, and Beauty, and Festivity.
Forth from their eyes flows love, whose gaity
Relaxes limbs; their look is beautiful,
Whose charms are lovely, always bountiful.
Then came he to the bed of Demeter,
Who bare the white-armed Persephone: her
Aidoneus stole from her mother; yet,
‘Twas from wise Zeus that he his bride did get.
After this, he loved Mnemosyne, whose hair
Was beautiful: she was exceeding fair,
And she brought forth the Muses, who are nine,
And they wear crowns of gold, exceeding fine:
These love the banquets, and they do rejoice
In music and who’er has a lovely voice.
With aegis-bearing Zeus, Leto joined in love:
She bare him children, beautiful above
All of the sons of Heaven, Apollo
And Artemis, who loves arrows and the bow.
Then, finally he made shining Hera
His wife and she bare Hebe, Eileithyia,
And Ares to the one who is the king
Of gods and men. But Zeus alone did bring
Forth bright-eyed Tritogeneia, the warring,
Awful, leader of the host, untiring
Queen, who revels in battles, wars, and strife.
But, without Zeus did Hera bring forth life;
For she was angry, and with Zeus she fought,
And bare Hephaestus, he whose crafts are wrought
With skill surpassing Heaven’s sons. Her rage
Made Hera quarrel, and in strife engage.
Without aegis-bearing Zeus she bore a son;
In crafts he was the best of every one
Of Heaven’s sons. Contrariwise was done
By Zeus, who brought to birth another one
By the daughter of Ocean and Tethys:
Though she was wise, yet Zeus deceived Metis.
He seized and swallowed her, when fear did wake
Within him, for he feared that she would make
A thing which would surpass his lightning’s might.
Therefore did Zeus who sits up in the height
Of heaven, dwelling in the air, devour
Her suddently. But she, that very hour,
Conceived Athena, and Zeus the father
Of gods and men gave birth to his daughter;
From out his head she sprang, on Trito’s shore.
But, Metis stayed in Zeus forevermore;
The mother of Athena, wiser than
All of the gods and every mortal man.
The thing which made Athena to excel
All the immortal gods, to her it fell
There – the weapon that’s of all the host the dread.
Arrayed in arms she sprang from out his head.
Of Amphitrite and roaring Earth Shaker
Was born vast ruling Triton; with his mother
And father, in their golden house, he dwells;
Possessing all the sea’s depths and its swells.
A dreadful god he is. Cytherea bare
Shield splitting Fear and Dread, who bring despair
And panic to the ranks of men; like knives
They cut the hearts of men who fear for their lives.
With them is Ares when he does destroy
The city: such destruction is their joy.
Harmonia, whom Cadmos made his wife,
Is also with them in the midst of strife.
And Atlas’ daughter, Maia, she did bare
Great Hermes unto Zeus; beyond compare
Is he; as herald of the gods he’s sped
Forever, for she went unto his bed.
And Semele, the daughter of Cadmos,
Bare to Zeus the joyful Dionysus –
A mortal woman gave birth unto a son,
Who is immortal: now, not only one
But both are gods. And Alcmena joined with Zeus,
the master of the clouds, she could not refuse,
And from their love she brought forth Heracles,
Which thing did both Zeus and Alcmena please.
Hephaestus, who is called the Lame One, made
The youngest Grace, Aglaea, fairly arrayed,
To be his wife. And Dionysus, he
Of golden hair, made brunette Ariadne,
Minos’ daughter, to be his wife; the son
Of Kronos made her into an ageless one.
And Heracles the great, the mighty son
Of Alcmena, when all his toils were done,
Made Hebe, child of Zeus the almighty
And golden shoed Hera, his wife in snowy
Olympus. He has joy! He’s completed
All his mighty works, and he’s untroubled,
And ageless; with the gods is his abode.
Perseis, daughter of Ocean bestowed
Unto the tireless Helios two children,
Circe and Aeetes the king; and then,
The son of Helios who brings the light
To men, Aeetes, took to wife the bright
Cheeked Idyia, Ocean’s daughter, by the stream
That’s perfect, as all of the gods did deem.
She was subject to him in love, and she
Bare to him by golden Aphrodite
The fair-ankled Medea. Now, goodbye
to all ye deathless ones who dwell on high,
Ye habitants of great Olympus, ye
Isles and continents, and you briny sea.
Sing now of all the troupe of goddesses,
Olympus’ Muses, with their sweet voices,
Which bring joy to all who hear, and laughter;
And great Zeus’s aegis bearing daughter;
All the immortal ones that lay with men,
And bare them beings like the gods for children.
Bright Demeter was joined with Iasion
The hero, in sweet love, and bare him one
Named Plutos, in a thrice-ploughed field in Crete,
Who travels earth and seas and makes replete
With riches all who come into his hands
For wealth is the thing that Plutos commands.
Harmonia, whom Aphrodite bare,
To Cadmos bore Ino, Semele, and fair
Cheeked Agave and Autonoe, she
Whom Aristaios wed, and in richly
Crowned Thebes, yet another thing did she do,
For there she bare him Polydoros too.
And Ocean’s daughter Callirrhoe met
In Aphrodite’s love and did beget
With Chrysaor a son who much surpassed
All men in might, Geryones, till at last
The mighty Heracles had the mastery
And slew him in Erythea, near the sea
Because of all his wandering oxen.
And Eos bare to Tithonos Memnon,
Whose crest was bronze, and he was the sovereign
Of Ethiopia, and Emathion
The king. To Cephalus, she bore a son,
Like to the gods, mighty, shining, Phaethon.
When he was a child, a tender flower,
Aphrodite seized him with her power,
The laughter loving goddess made him keep
Her shrine by night, the time when most do sleep:
He joined the train of Aphrodite’s host,
So he was transformed into a holy ghost.
The son of Aeson, by the gods’ will, then
Took heaven-fed Aeetes’ daughter when
He’d finished all the work, which was decreed
By the tyrant Pelias, whose every deed,
Was full of violence. After these were done,
Then came to Iolcos the son of Aeson:
Upon his ship he brought the shy-eyed maid,
And as his lovely wife with him she stayed.
She was subject unto the rule of Jason,
The people’s shepherd, and she bare a son,
Whom Cheiron, son of Philyra, did raise
Upon the mountains in those bygone days,
And in so doing, all things were fulfilled
As Zeus, whose might surpasses all, had willed.
But of all the daughters of Nereus,
The Old Man of the Sea, the one Aeacus
Loved by Aphrodite was Psamatha, whose
Son was Phocas. Thetis, of the silver shoes
Bore in her love to Peleas a son,
Achilles, whose heart was like a lion,
And other men he ceased not to destroy,
For it was strife and war which gave him joy.
Cytherea in loveliness was crowned,
And with the hero Anchises was bound
In love, and bare Aeneas on the peaks
Of Ida, when she had fulfilled her weeks.
And Circe, daughter of great Helios,
Son of Hyperion, loved Odysseus,
And bare him Agrios and Latinos,
A mighty, flawless one, and Telegonos,
And all of these were they who came to be
Through the will of golden Aphrodite;
They ruled o’er the Tyrenians, renowned;
Far off in holy islands were they found.
The bright Calypso, with Odysseus,
was joined in love and bare him Nausithous
and Nausinous. This is the number of
Th’ immortal goddesses who lay in love
With mortal men and bare them children, who
Were like the gods. But, without more ado,
Sing, ye sweet voiced Muses of Olympus,
Ye daughters of Zeus who bears the aegis,
For presently has come the season when
Ye sing of the company of women.

Works and Days

Hesiod

Pierian Muses, whose gift is fame,
Come speak of your father, whose holy name
Is Zeus: sing now his hymn. By him unknown
Or famed is every soul; to him alone
Belongs that power to leave one obscure,
One spoken of, whose memory is sure.
Whoe’er he wills, he strengthens them with ease:
The strong he humbles too if he doth please;
The crooked soul, he straightens if he chooses,
While he who’s proud, his lofty place he loses:
Overthrown by Zeus, that same soul shall fall,
As one who’s hurled from off a city wall.
The dwelling where great Zeus abides is high:
He sits aloft and thunders from the sky.
Now hearken you with both your ears and eyes,
Make judgments true and righteous without lies.
Perses, I shall speak only what is true:
This surely is what I desire to do.
Now, there is not one Strife alone, but two,
And these are different in the works they do;
For one, when known, is worthy to be praised,
And honoured, loved, to have her name upraised:
The other one is worthy of great blame;
Her nature, vile, gives her an evil name:
She stirs men up to fight in evil war,
And no man loves her, for she wounds them sore:
But honour do men give her, it is true,
Because the gods have willed them so to do.
The other Strife is daughter of black Night
And Kronos’ son, who sits in storied height,
And dwells in aether; he set this Strife below,
In Earth, where she to men can thus bestow
Such kindness as can help the aimless soul;
For, when he sees his neighbor, then the toll
Upon his mind is great; when he can see
The rich man till his fields, and also hurry
To order the affairs of his house: then strives
The man against his neighbor, all their lives.
Each hastens after wealth, and this is good:
For then each works and labours as he should.
Potter strives with potter; the craftsman too,
And bards and beggars, each striving to outdo
His fellow workman. This is the second Strife,
Who is a blessing to every human life.
Perses, keep these things laid up in your heart,
And from the other Strife keep far apart;
For she delights in mischief, and would stay
Your heart from work, that you should while away
Your time in watching and hearing debates
In the law courts, where men settle their fates.
The man who has not victuals in store
Laid up for a year hasn’t the time for
The petty quarrels of the courts, but pain
He should rather take to reap Demeter’s grain.
Once one has store of wheat, then one can strive
His fellow man to of his goods deprive.
But dealing thus, you’ll have no second try,
No matter if one tells a cunning lie:
But let us settle here with judgement true;
To divide our shares is what we have to do.
For he that grabs the greater share and goes,
And unclean gifts on judges then bestows,
Swells up the glory of the lords who eat
Up bribes with greed and sit in judgement’s seat.
To judge this kind of cause to them is pleasure:
Their lust for gain is beyond all measure.
Oh, fools! They do not know the truth; for more
Is half than whole for all the worthy poor;
For such a better banquet can be spread
With the asphodel and the poor man’s bread.
The gods keep the secret of life concealed;
For if to mankind it had been revealed,
Sufficient would be the work of one day
To keep for a year; then you’d put away
Your rudder from over the smoke. The field
Once plowed by the ox and the mule would yield
No more; for you’d let it go all to waste,
Once a bit of leisure you’d chanced to taste.
But Zeus in his heart was angry, and veiled
This knowledge and o’er his rival prevailed:
The cunning Prometheus had deceived,
And Zeus in his heart for this was sore grieved;
Against man he plotted mischief and grief:
But Iapetos’ son sought for them relief;
Though Zeus hid fire, yet Prometheus gained
The same again, and with him it remained.
He hid it within a fennel stalk: Zeus
The Thunderer, this theft didn’t deduce.
But afterwards Zeus in anger replied
To Iapetos’ son, the thief who had lied:
“Son of Iapetos, surpassing in craft,
Though in your heart you are glad and have laughed,
Rejoicing because you’ve outwitted me;
You’ve stolen the fire, but yet shall it be
A plague to yourself and also mankind;
I’ll give him something, joy in it he’ll find:
He’ll bring down his ruin on his own head;
To his downfall, he will swiftly be led.”
So spoke the father of all gods and men;
He laughed and bid the famed Hephaestus then
To mix together earth and water quickly,
To give it a human voice and lovely
Maiden form, like the goddesses in face;
And Athena to teach them webs to trace
With cunning needlework; and the golden one,
Aphrodite, to shed grace matched by none,
With bitter longing and also tiring cares,
To trouble them in all of their affairs.
And lastly, Hermes, the guide who also slew
Argus, to make them shameless and untrue,
To make their nature deceitful, full of lies,
To trick and deceive, though they please the eyes.
So Zeus commanded, and they all obeyed
The king, on whom the aegis was arrayed.
The Lame God promptly took and moulded clay,
Till by his work a maid was on display,
Such as the son of Kronos had desired;
Gray-eyed Athena girded and attired
The maiden, and the Graces with Persuasion
Who was royal, decked her for the occasion
With necklaces of gold; the full haired Hours,
They made a crown for her head of flowers.
And Pallas Athena did her form adorn
With such finery as was ever worn.
And the Slayer of Argus, who is Guide,
Put in her craft, by which she’s ever lied,
And deceitful nature by the will of Zeus:
The Herald of the Gods gave for her use
The speech by which she could work her deceit.
He called her Pandora, for she was replete
With gifts; for all Olympus, by the will
Of Zeus, gave to her, to render man ill.
After Zeus had finished this hopeless snare,
He caused the Argus-slayer to repair
To Epimetheus, bearing this gift,
And the messenger of the gods was swift.
But Epimetheus, he did not think
Of what Prometheus had said, to shrink
From any gift of Olympian Zeus,
To send it back, for fear of its abuse
To man, in causing him some harm: but he
Took the gift; only later did he see
When it was too late, what was really true:
The gift was evil, but nothing could he do.
Beore this men had lived on Earth free from ill,
From the toils and sickness that plague them still;
These things are brought down on men by the Fates;
In misery, old age for men never waits,
But, from suffering, quickly they grow old.
Then, the woman took, of the jar, a hold,
Removed its lid, and scattered evil wide,
And spread sorrow and ill, from which none could hide.
But Hope remained, contained within the jar,
And flew not without to be scattered far;
For by the will of aegis bearing Zeus,
Cloud holder, she was kept from flying loose.
The lid of the jar kept her in her place:
But the other plagues flew out into space;
Amongst mankind they there wandered to cause
Earth and sea to fill with evil without pause.
On men comes continually disease,
Both day and night does mischief on men seize;
And silently it comes, for Zeus was wise:
He took away their speech. None can devise
A means by which they may escape his will:
They’re bound by this, and suffer for it still.
Now, if you will, I’ll tell another tale,
Well and skillfully: I will without fail.
So lay it up within your heart, to know,
How gods and mortals from one source did grow.
In ages past, when Kronos reigned supreme,
Then mortal men of golden race, whose gleam
Of goodness sprang from all the gods, who live
Eternal on Olympus, these did give
Their skill to make this race of men on Earth,
Who lived like gods all of their lives from birth,
Devoid of sorrow, free from toil and grief,
And free from care, they needed not relief;
And bitter age touched not these men, but strong
Were their arms and legs, all of their lives long;
And free from evil feasted they, with joy.
And Death did not with tumult these destroy,
But when they died, ‘twas like they went to sleep,
And all their lives all good things did they keep;
For Earth unforced bore fruit abundantly:
And without bitter toil, they reaped happily.
They lived in ease; upon their lands was peace;
Good things they had, with great flocks rich in fleece.
Above all this, there came down from above
From all the blessed gods the gift of love.
But afterwards, when Earth had covered these
Of golden race, who did the great gods please
(They’re called pure spirits, helping mortal men,
In kindness guarding them from harm, and when
They wander over all the Earth, in mist
They’re clothed; and wealth they give out as they list;
They keep a watch for any evil deed:
To every judgement passed do they pay heed;
This right was given them to exercise),
Then did the gods upon Olympus rise
And make a second generation, less
Noble; these men they did not greatly bless:
They were of silver, unlike the golden race
In either spirit, body, or in face.
A hundred years the child lived by the side
Of his mother at home and did abide
A simpleton, an ever-playing child.
But when all of this time away they’d whiled,
And reached their prime and had become full grown,
They lived but shortly and did with sorrow moan;
They were foolish, and ever doing wrong,
And so, therefore, they did not live for long.
They would not serve th’immortal gods at all,
So, the anger of Zeus on them did fall;
The son of Kronos put these men away,
Because to the gods they would not honour pay.
But Earth covered this generation too:
Again Zeus made a generation new
(But blessed spirits are the silver called;
In the underworld, with honour they’re installed);
Of stock of bronze the Father made the third,
And upon this race, great strength he conferred;
From ash trees sprung they forth, a lesser kind,
Though they were birthed from heaven’s Father’s mind.
They loved the works of Ares, all his deeds,
The lamentations which all violence breeds;
They ate not bread, their hearts were hard as stone,
Their fearful strength in all their deeds was shown.
Their arms unvanquished, they were great in might,
Such fearful men, they never gave respite.
Of bronze were all their arms, tools, and houses made:
They had no iron. Then they were conveyed
To cold Tartarus, Hades’ home, destroyed
By their own hands, by violence they’d employed.
Though terrible in life, yet seized by Death,
They left the bright sun’s light, when ceased their breath.
But when Earth covered this generation,
The son of Kronos made a fourth creation:
Zeus made the demi-gods upon the earth,
More noble, righteous, godlike too from birth.
Throughout the earth, before us lived this race,
And dreadful war and battle did they face.
At seven gated Thebes in Cadmus fought
The demigods, and this because they sought
The flocks of Oedipus, and some at Troy,
Who came in ships by sea, for to destroy
The city for the rich haired Helen’s sake;
There death its thirst on some of them did slake.
To others, though, did father Zeus give space
To dwell away from men, to have a place;
The ends of Earth he gave for their abode,
Shores where Ocean, deep moving, long had flowed;
Untouched by sorrow, these Isles of the Blessed
With grain and fruit that’s honey sweet are dressed:
Three times a year they reap these fruits. Away
From all the deathless gods they ever stay;
The Titan Kronos over them does reign
(The sire of gods and men to him did deign
To grant him freedom from his bonds). These still
Of honour and great glory have their fill.
Far sighted Zeus then made to dwell on Earth,
Another race of men, the fifth in birth.
O, would that I of these had not been born!
Better I before had from life been torn,
Or that I was born afterwards; for then
Would I have dwelled among much better men.
A race of iron truly are men now,
Ever working with sweat upon their brow;
In sorrow daily, perishing by night.
The gods lay on them trouble as a blight.
But even these shall have of good a measure
To mix with evil, and give some pleasure.
This race will Zeus bring to an end, when gray
Haired temples do they have from their birth day.
The father with his children won’t agree:
The children shall not show civility;
Neither guest with host, nor yet friend with friend,
Nor brothers on love be able to depend.
And parents shall to old age quickly grow,
And honour on them men shall not bestow.
They’ll quarrel and they’ll chide with words that bite,
Hard hearted shall they be and full of spite;
They’ll not fear the gods, neither yet repay
The cost of nurture: might shall be their way;
And one shall sack the city of his foe.
On he that keeps his oath they’ll not bestow
Due honour, neither on the just or good
Shall these men render what by right they should:
But violent evil doers shall men praise.
And only strength shall make right in those days,
But reverence shall flee and cease to be,
And wicked men will deal hurt violently.
Falsehood shall they speak, falsely shall they swear,
With envy, wicked words, scowling everywhere.
Those who delight in evil shall attend
Such wretched men, and shall their souls defend.
Then Shame and Nemesis shall flee the Earth,
Forsaking men, who are of little worth,
And join the deathless gods, removed from wrong,
With pleasing forms and robes both white and long.
And bitter sorrows only shall be left:
Of help from evil shall men be bereft.
Now a fable for princes shall I tell,
For they whose understanding serves them well.
The hawk spoke to the speckled nightingale;
As he carried her, she did feebly wail.
Up into the clouds, in his talons, he
Flew with her, though she mourned pitifully.
With disdain he spoke to her: “Wretched beast!
Why, from all your cries, have you not yet ceased?
You’re in my grip; my strength is great: you’re bound
To go where’er I take you, though you sound
So sweet a song. I’ll eat you if I please,
Or let you go and then some other seize.
Who would resist the stronger does not well:
He triumphs not and pain his loss does spell.”
Thus spoke the hawk unto the prey he caught;
The long-winged hunter had the meal he sought.
But you, dear Perses, hearken to what’s right,
And let not violence prosper in your sight.
For violent ways, they do not serve the poor;
Much better he to all right ways restore.
The better path, by far, is to go be
With Justice on the other side, for she
Beats Outrage when arrives she at the end
Of the race. But fools, on suffering depend
To learn. For Oath keeps pace with judgements wrong,
And Justice makes for ill an awful song;
When she is dragged by those who take a gift
And bring down evil sentence fierce and swift.
Then, wrapped in mist, she haunts the city streets,
And weeping brings men mischief and defeats,
To they who dealt with crookedness and guile,
And drove her forth and made her an exile.
But they who render judgements as they should,
To citizens and strangers doing good,
With statutes just, their city flourishes,
The people prosper: judgement nourishes.
And Peace, who cares for children, roams abroad,
And Zeus the Father, the all-seeing god,
He never sends against them bitter war,
Nor famine or disease to plague them sore;
By Justice do they tend their fields with care,
With joyful hearts. And Earth does not then spare
To yield its fruits in plenty; on the top
Of oaks are acorns yielded as its crop:
Upon the mountains are these seen, and bees
Are in the midst. Their women on their knees
Nurse children, as their mothers did before;
Of good they could not ever wish for more.
Their sheep are laden with much wool, and they
Sail not in ships; at home they ever stay:
For Earth, it bears them fruits, life-giving grain,
And in due season, the much needed rain.
But Zeus, the son of Kronos, metes to those
Who practice violence and cruel blows
His punishments; a city for the deeds
Of one evil man, the god much trouble breeds:
Both plague and famine Zeus sends on them all;
Women do not bear, men perish and fall;
Houses then are few by the will of Zeus:
To nothing in due time he does reduce
Their army, or their walls, or on the sea
He destroys their ships, and brings poverty.
Take heed, you princes, of this punishment;
The deathless gods are near, and they are sent
Against those men who render judgements wrong,
Oppressing others, for the gods ere long
Show forth their anger; and Zeus has in place
Thirty thousand spirits to watch and trace
Those mortal men whose deeds are wrong; these roam
Over Earth in mist, under heaven’s dome.
And there is Justice, virgin child of Zeus,
And whenever one hurts her with abuse,
With lies and slander, then she sits beside
Her father Zeus, for she does e’er abide
Upon Olympus; the gods honour her,
And due reverence upon her head confer.
When she speaks to Zeus of men’s wicked hearts,
Then punishment for folly he imparts;
Their evil-minded princes then must pay
For the evil which they held not at bay.
Keep faithful watch, then princes, and make straight
Your judgements and receive a better fate:
Who takes a bribe, then put away from you
All crooked judgements, everything untrue.
The mischief maker makes mischief also for
Himself; evil plans also have a store
Of evil for the one who plots such things:
Upon the evil, evil also springs.
The great all-seeing and all-knowing eye
Of Zeus beholds all these things from on high;
If he so wills, he notes the justice kept.
In righteousness, let me be not adept,
Nor yet my son, if evil has the right,
And righteousness is bad: but in the sight
Of Zeus, this is not true; for he’s all wise,
And evil shall not stand before his eyes.
But Perses, you, lay up within your heart,
These things, and hear you what right shall impart;
And violent thoughts do wholly put away,
And let the law of Zeus be all your stay.
For he ordained that fowl, fish, and beast
Should devour each other, each as their feast:
But mankind gave he right to be their stay;
By far this is the best in every way.
For he that knows the right and speaks it too,
Him Zeus makes prosperous, but who’s untrue
And lies when he gives his testimony,
And wounds Justice, leaves a patrimony
Obscure; his generation cannot stand,
But he that speaks the truth leaves in the land
A seed that prospers better than before;
Successful are they, known after in lore.
Now hearken, foolish Perses, and I’ll teach
Good sense; there’s wisdom for you in my speech.
Cheaply and in droves is evil gotten,
Easy roads are filled with all that’s rotten.
And near to us such evil lives. But let
One seek for Good, the gods shall make them sweat;
A long and trying path they’ll find, and rough:
But when they’ve reached the summit, sure enough
It’s easy, though ‘twas difficult at first.
That man does well who thinks of best and worst,
Considering the end; and he is good
Who hearkens to advisors that he should:
But he who listens not when others speak
Nor thinks himself is poor, and also weak.
But think you, noble Perses, take you heed
To what I say, and work, and so you’ll feed
Yourself; and you, shall Hunger surely hate,
And bountiful Demeter, she shall sate
You; loving you, she’ll fill your barns with wheat:
And with the slothful, Hunger, as is meet,
Shall keep his company. But, they whose days
Are passed in idleness and slothful ways,
With them shall gods and men be angry; like
The drones that have no stingers, who can’t strike,
Who eat, but work not, wasting what the bees
Have laboured for while they sat at their ease.
But take you care to order work aright,
That all your barns may be filled in your sight.
Through work do men see their flocks multiply,
And all their substance, and the gods on high,
They love them; for work never brings men shame,
But idleness brings men an evil name.
The idle, rather, envy those work,
For they grow rich, while these their duties shirk;
On they who earn their wealth fame duly waits,
And work is best, whatever are the states
Of man. So turn your mind to what is good,
And do your work: tend your own livelihood,
And leave to others what is theirs. The shame
Of poverty brings men an evil name:
Contrariwise, does wealth bring confidence,
Which is received as labour’s recompense.
Wealth should not be taken by robbery,
Lest he who takes it fall to misery;
For what is given by the gods is sure,
Unstained with blood, secure, holy, and pure:
But what is gained by violence or deceit,
Is lost again from he who in conceit
Thought he could steal, and flaunt the gods’ commands;
He loses all his house and former lands.
And he who wrongs suppliants; he who lies
Down with his brother’s wife; and he who cries
Against his agèd father, waxing bold,
To vex him when he stands at the threshold
Of old age, which is bitter; he who hates
The fatherless children, for him awaits
The wrath of Zeus, who at the last shall strike
These wicked souls, both rich and poor, alike.
But, turn away from any wicked deed,
And offer sacrifice, as is decreed,
To all the gods eternal, they who live
Forever, to them your pure offerings give:
Offer meats to them, pour out libations,
Burn incense, and make your supplications;
When you go to bed, and when you arise,
When the sacred light again strikes your eyes,
Then sacrifice to them, they who uplift
Both heart and spirit, by their holy gift:
So you may buy another’s property,
And not they yours for your impurity.
Invite your friend unto your feast, but leave
Your enemy, lest he cause you to grieve;
But most of all call he who lives nearby,
For if wickedness arise by and by,
The neighbors, though unarmed, come out in haste,
Before the trouble can lay you to waste;
While family is slow because they arm
Themselves before they heed to the alarm.
The evil neighbor is a pestilence:
But the good one is a blessed defence.
The ox by accident would never die,
But for bad neighbors who will let them lie,
Or even be misfortune’s source and cause,
Working mischief and flouting all the laws.
Receive what’s fair from neighbors, and repay
Him justly: if you need him, then you may
So find him friendly, for within his sight,
You’ve paid him justly, working what was right.
Avoid all unjust profit; evil gain
Brings only ruin, misery, and pain.
To who is kindly, be kind in return;
Visit he who visits. This wisdom discern:
Give to they who give, but close up your fist
To them that give not, lest your goods be missed.
A man should give to one with open hands,
But to the tight fisted, good sense demands
That one give not to such a soul; for Give
Is a lovely girl: but you will not live
With Take, for she brings death where’er she goes,
Destroying they that she gets in her throes.
Though the gift be large, the willing heart is glad:
But who by shamefulness is driven mad
And takes, he’ll find his heart shall turn to ice;
Greed shall eat him up: nothing shall suffice.
The man who adds to what he has shall keep
At bay the fire-eyed Famine. Soon a heap
He’ll have, by building bit by bit his stores;
Soon what was little overflows his floors.
The things a man keeps with him, by his side,
Within his house, these shall secure abide;
Better are the goods kept at home; without
Is trouble; what’s abroad, it stands in doubt.
To draw on what you’ve saved is good, but grief
Weighs the heart that has no source of relief;
To have not when you’re in the hour of need
Is bitter, so I bid you to take heed.
Now, when the cask is opened, drink your fill;
And when it’s almost gone, if that’s your will:
But when it’s halfway, then be moderate.
The dregs are not worth saving: so don’t glut.
Fix the wages you’ve promised to a friend;
With brothers smile: but still you must depend
Upon a witness; for both truth and guile
Can ruin men and their friendships defile.
Let not a brazen woman with her smiles
Deceive you; for she seeks your barn by wiles.
The man that trusts a woman is unwise:
Deceivers all, they’re always speaking lies.
It’s good to have an only son to feed
His father’s house; their wealth shall grow: but need
Dictates that if you have a second son,
You should not die until old age is won.
But yet, can Zeus give wealth if there are more.
For, work is increased by more hands; the store
Of wealth is increased by more work. Behold,
If wealth is what your heart desires, be bold
To work with work on work, and you will find
You’ll have it, once to this you’ve put your mind.
Begin your planting when the Pleiades rise,
And plough when they do set in autumn skies.
They hide themselves for forty days and nights,
Then as the year goes round, reappear these lights;
When sickles first are sharpened. Now, behold,
The law of plains and rich countries I’ll unfold,
And also they who live close by the sea,
And in the valleys, heed this law duly:
Strip you naked and sow and plow and reap,
And do not slack, nor give your eyes to sleep,
If you desire to bring Demeter’s grains
Into your barns in season for your gains;
And every kind shall grow when it is due,
Lest, afterwards, you be in want and rue
Your state, and go and beg from door to door,
And this because you’ve nothing held in store.
But this will not avail: I won’t supply
A measure more, though you should beg or cry.
O, foolish Perses! Work the work decreed
By all the gods, lest you should, with your seed
And wife, be driven to look in bitterness
Amongst your neighbors, and beg them to bless
You. For, they will not hearken to your word –
Though two or three times will your voice be heard,
And they shall help; but more, you’ll vex them sore,
And they’ll refuse to help you one whit more.
Then, all your words will help you not. So, pay
Your debts; stave off cruel hunger some way.
First, get a house, an ox, and a woman
(A slave, not a wife) to follow the oxen.
And at your house, make ready everything,
Lest in season your work come to nothing,
Because you lack, and had to ask for aid,
And your neighbor balked, leaving you dismayed.
Put not off your work for a future day,
For this is but the slothful worker’s way.
The tireless man makes all his work go well,
But idleness does always ruin spell.
And when the sun’s scorching heat begins to fade,
And men rest easy, no more seeking shade,
When autumn rains are sent by Zeus, then far
Above there passes Sirius, the star,
Over the heads of men, who, ever born
To misery, must live their lives forlorn
(By day it travels less, by night the more).
Then when the leaves fall to the forest floor,
And trees no longer send out shoots, the wood
You cut is likely free of worms and good.
Remember then, this is the time to hew
Your lumber and to fill your stores anew.
Make your grinding mortar two cubits wide,
And be careful to measure well each side;
The pestle three, the shaft three quarters and four
Will serve you well, but if you make it more,
If its cubits are one half and five, a head
You can make for your mallet; when you tread
The earth it will break up the clods, and you
Shall have your work go well, if it’s seen through.
A wagon of ten palms’ width should receive
Wheels that are three spans across. When you heave
And hew your timber, a plough tree bring home,
And when in mountains or in fields you roam
And see a holm-oak, bring it; it is strong;
The ox shall pull it; it will serve you long,
Once Athena’s craftsman has fixed the stock,
And made the dowels to serve as its lock,
So that it’s fastened to the pole. It’s good
To have two ready ploughs, for if one should
Be broken then the oxen can be switched
From the bad and to the second one be hitched.
Now, let the ploughs you make in fashion be:
Those poles of elm and laurel are most free
From worm-holes, and let share-beams be of oak,
Your plough of holm; then bulls of nine years yolk,
For in their prime, they’re at the peak of strength;
In all their work, they yet can go the length.
They will not bicker, nor break up the plough,
And leave unfinished work. And, do allow
A lively man, full forty years of age
Go after; such will with his work engage.
A quartered loaf – eight slices every day
Should be his ration. Past the age of play
Is such a one; he’ll work with ready mind,
And time for social cares he will not find.
At sowing seed a younger man will not
Do better; he won’t double sow the plot.
Unstable men are by friends distracted,
When from work to games they are attracted.
Take heed and hearken when you hear the crane
Calling from the clouds, heralding the rain
Of winter, for the time to plough is then;
Unhappy is he who has no oxen.
Fatten up the ox in the barn with feed;
And when your neighbour comes in time of need
And says “Give me two oxen and a plough,”
Say “I’ve work for them: I can’t loan them now.”
When he asks it will be easy to rebuff;
For your needs you will surely have enough.
The man who thinks the wagon in his mind
Is built already – Fool! – will folly find.
He’s reckoned not one hundred boards his need
For every wagon, but the wise takes heed
And lays them up within his home before;
Thus, when he needs them, he has them in store.
As soon as it is time to plough, with speed
You and your slaves, though wet or dry, take heed
And plough, and rise up early in the morn,
That in due time your fields be full of corn.
In springtime plough, but if you break the earth
Up in the summer, your work will be worth
Much, for you’ll reap and see your hopes fulfilled.
And while it’s light, let fallow land be tilled,
For it is your defense from ill and harm,
And serves to soothe the children with its charm.
Pray to Zeus of the Earth, and to the pure
Demeter to make the grain weighty and sure.
At the time when you begin your ploughing,
In the season that’s proper for sowing,
And hold the plough handles and strike the backs
Of your oxen with straps, if one of them slacks.
And have a slave to follow in their wake,
And cover the seed with a stick to make
The birds to fail to steal away the seed.
Good practice is the thing a man should heed,
But a practice, bad, is the worst of foes.
By this a man will have from grain he sows,
Full ears that bow to ground, if he shall get
A good reward from Zeus. Then, nothing let
Remain of all the cobwebs in your bins;
The happy man does put there all he wins.
You will be happy to draw on this store;
Till springtime you’ll have plenty on your floor.
Of gifts from men, you’ll have no need to seek;
They’ll ask from you, but you will not be weak.
Should you, until the winter solstice, wait
To plough your fields, your harvest won’t be great;
A small crop you’ll bring, binding clumsily
Your sheaves, covered in dust, and not gladly
Reaping, but a single basket bringing
Home; your admirers will be few. But, still
Zeus, who bears the aegis, differs in his will
From time to time; it’s hard for men to tell
Whether the work they do shall turn out well.
For, if you wait to plough until it’s late,
You may receive a blessing at the date
When first up in the oaks the cuckoo sings
And makes men glad with tidings that he brings.
For if three days thence Zeus sends out a rain,
Until it rises up above the plain,
Not higher than an ox’s hoof, nor yet
Much lower, then he who ploughed late shall get
A crop to rival he who ploughed his share
In proper time and with the utmost care.
Be mindful of this; mark the grey spring well,
The rainy season which the time does spell.
Walk past the blacksmith when the bitter frost
Of winter keeps indoors those whom it accosts.
This is the time when busyness does well,
Lest helplessness for you should winter spell.
Why should you rub your swollen feet with hands
Now shrunken? He who’s idle finds he stands
On empty hopes, and lacking sustenance,
To roguery he turns, beyond remonstrance.
For goodly hopes are found not when a man
Sits idly down and talks whene’er he can.
In midsummer, command your slaves, and say
‘Build the barns: summer soon will haste away.’
Shun the month Lenaeon, whose evil days
Can crack the ox’s hide, and frost displays
Its cold cruelty when Boreas blows
Across the earth. In Thrace where they breed
The horses, each a swift and mighty steed,
He blows, and makes the seas tumultuous,
Roaring o’er the earth, in woods clamorous.
In mountain valleys, many oaks he brings
To ground with pines: then all the forest rings,
And all the beasts, they cower with their tails
Between their legs, when winter’s cold assails,
Though they’re clothed with fur; for the bitter bite
Of his wind, it still pierces them in spite
Of their long hair, going even through the skin
Of oxen; and his biting, whistling din,
It blows through all the hair of goats. The sheep,
Are different, though, to them wind cannot seep;
Their wool is thick: Boreas cannot pierce,
But old men stoop because the wind is fierce.
It does not blow through maidens, who, secure
Remain indoors with mothers, bodies pure;
They know not works of golden Aphrodite,
But wash themselves, anointing their frailty
With oil, and in an inner chamber lay
Within the house on a cold winter’s day,
When the Boneless One gnaws his foot, devoid
Of fire; his woeful home can’t be enjoyed.
The sun departs for southern climes to shine
On darker men, but Hellenes by design
See but his laggard side. Then they that dwell
In woodlands, horned and unhorned, fear that fell
And dreadful cold; with chattering teeth they flee
Through woods and fields, seeking security
In cover dense, or in a hollow rock.
Then, like the Three Legged One, the old man
With a walking stick, he seeks how he can
Escape the snow; and his back is broken,
Whose head looks down to see what might betoken
This escape: so these others also seek
Shelter from the snow’s cold that makes them weak.
So clothe yourself: your body needs shelter
A coat of fleece and tunic to cover
You to your feet with a woof that’s thicker
Than the warp, so that you do not shiver;
For, your body’s hair shall lie flat and still,
And shall not stand on end against your will.
Bind to your feet close fitting ox-hide shoes,
Thickly lined with wool; and when frost is due,
Then hides of firstling kids together sew
With ox sinews; this cloak o’er which will flow
The rain, and you will keep it off your back.
And on your head, make sure you do not lack
A fitted cap of felt to keep your ears
Dry; Dawn is chill once Boreas appears
And mounts attack. At Dawn upon the fields
Of blessed men, the starry heaven yields
A fruitful mist, drawn from e’er flowing streams,
And raised up high by stormy wind that teems
Above the Earth; at times it turns to rain,
When Thracian Boreas stirs his train
Of thickened clouds, he raises wind most stern.
Then, finish work, and to your home return
Ahead of him. Let not his darkling cloud
From heaven swallow you within its shroud,
And make you wet, and drench all your attire.
From this misfortune, make haste and retire;
This is the hardest month, stormy, bitter:
Difficult for sheep and men is winter.
In this season, reduce your oxen’s feed
By half: but all your men have greater need;
So give them more: for long are winter nights.
Observe this till the Earth bears her delights,
Her varied fruits, when equal are the days
And nights; until this time maintain these ways.
When after the solstice Zeus has finished
Sixty days, and winter is diminished,
Then Arcturus leaves Ocean’s holy stream,
And in the twilight gives a brilliant gleam.
Pandion’s daughter comes forth after him,
The swallow, mourning and forever grim,
When spring is just beginning. Trim your vines;
It’s best to do this when you see these signs.
But when the one whose house is on his back,
Climbs up plants from Earth, then it’s time to slack
From digging vineyards; when the snail gets free
From Pleiades, it’s time to reap your bounty.
Sharpen your sickle, and stir up your slaves.
Sit not in shady places; slumber not
Till Dawn in harvest time: the sun is hot,
And it will burn your body. So, arise,
Bring home your harvest; early get your prize.
For Dawn destroys your labour by a third;
Man’s travels and his work by Dawn are spurred
Onward, and her light shows to men the road,
By her the yokes on oxen are bestowed.
But when artichoke flowers bloom, and in
The trees cicadas sit and make a din
Of shrill, unceasing songs under their wings,
Summer has come with all the heat it brings.
Goats are fattest, and the wine is sweetest;
Women are lustful, but men are weakest
Then; their head and limbs has Sirius dried.
Their skin is parched, by awful heat they’re tried.
But at this time I love a shady rock,
And wine of Biblis let me have a stock,
With clotted cheese and goat’s milk, and the meat
Of heifers fed in woodlands let me eat.
One that’s never calved should be the heifer,
With first-born kids, for an ample dinner.
I’ll drink the shiny wine, and I’ll repose
In shade, heart full from food. When Zephyr blows,
I’ll turn to face him; from the flowing spring
That runs unfouled, I’ll give an offering,
Three libations of water from my store;
Of wine a fourth libation shall I pour.
Then on a threshing floor where wind does blow,
Demeter’s holy grain make your slaves winnow.
Then measure and store it in jars indoors,
Then put out your slave; get a girl for chores:
But only one that doesn’t have a child,
Lest by troubles your house should be defiled;
For slaves with children bring no other such
But heaps of troubles and griefs overmuch.
Care for your dog, whose teeth are sharp; and feed
Him well, lest Day Sleeping thieves in their greed
Take all your property. And bring indoors
For your oxen and mules sufficient stores
Of feed and hay. And then, unto your men
Give rest, and unyoke your pair of oxen.
But when Orion goes with Sirius
To mid-heaven, and Dawn sees Arcturus,
Cut off your grapevine’s clusters, and go home,
And set them out under the heaven’s dome,
And show them to the sun ten days and nights,
Cover for five, on the sixth delights
Of Dionysus pour into your jars.
But when the time comes that these groups of stars,
Pleiades, Hyades, and Orion,
Begin to set, then it is the season
To plough. The year ends; they sink beneath the earth:
A new yearly cycle is brought to birth.
But if your heart desires to sail the seas,
Then when Pleiades from Orion flees
And dives into the foamy ocean’s deep,
Great gales across the heaving main shall sweep.
Then stay no more at sea; go till the soil
As I have counselled: this is safer toil.
Bring your ship to land, and hedge it around
With stones that block wet winds which seek to pound
It; also, draw the bilge-plug out, that rot
Caused by the rain of Zeus destroy it not.
And stow away the tackle, tools, and fold
The ship’s wings; of the rudder take a hold
And hang it up above the smoke. Delay
Until it’s sailing season, then you may
Take down your ship unto the sea, and lay
Foolish Perses, a good cargo in it,
In order that you may get a profit,
Just as our father did, who used to sail,
Lacking other means by which he could avail
Himself to make his needful livelihood,
And so he sailed, and laboured as he could.
And on a day he anchored at this place,
After he had crossed the sea a mighty space;
He fled not gold and substance; rather lack
And poverty Zeus lays on men to wrack
Them; from Aeolian Cyme he fled
To Ascra near Helicon to be fed,
Which, bad in winter, in summer sweltering,
Is never good, but is always trying.
But, Perses, hold these works in memory,
Each in season, sailing especially.
Think well of little ships, but when you stow
Your goods, in a large one your cargo.
By doing this, much more will be your gain,
Only if the winds hurt not as they’re fain.
If you find your heart misguided and you turn
To trade in order to your living earn,
And seek to flee from debt and hunger’s grip,
By putting out to sea within a ship,
I’ll teach you of the loud sea without fail;
Though I know naught of ships, nor how to sail.
I’ve never sailed across the ocean’s deep
But to the land I’ve always sought to keep;
Only from Euboea to Aulis I went
Once over the sea, where the Achaeans spent
Some time and anchored all along that coast,
Waiting out a storm, with all of the host
They’d mustered, from divine Hellas to sail
To Troy, a land from which fair women hail.
Then to the games in Chalcis did I go,
Those held by the wise, great-hearted hero
Amphidamus, whose sons proclaimed each victor
And gave prizes. Now, I’ll be a boaster;
For there my song won me the victory;
The tripod that I won did I carry
Away, and to the Muses dedicate
(Only whom they love can such songs create),
In the place where they first blessed me with song.
That’s all I know of ships, so I’ll move along
And tell you of the will of Zeus who bears
The aegis, for I’ve learnt to sing on airs.
Fifty days past the solstice, when the heat
Is ended with the summer, then it’s meet
For me to sail. For then your ship won’t sink,
Nor sailors drown, unless Poseidon think
To set himself against you, or if Zeus,
The king of all the gods, should seek to loose
His wrath and slay them; for these two possess
Both good and evil, wherewith they curse or bless.
This season’s winds are steady, and the sea
Is safe, and you can sail confidently.
Trust the winds, and stow all your goods on board,
And you shall have good profit for reward.
But hurry home and tarry not until
New wine and rain; then Notus isn’t still;
He follows after autumn rain from Zeus,
Stirs up the deep, and fearsome gales lets loose.
In spring, when upper fig tree shoots in size
Are like cow hooves, then sailors should arise:
The springtime sailing season then is come;
The sea allows a passage through to some.
But still I like the ocean not at all,
Nor praise it, for it yet may blow a squall.
Much mischief is but barely kept at bay,
Yet men in ignorance cleave to this way;
To mortal souls beset with poverty,
Their wealth is life, though drowning is misery.
Consider what I say within your heart.
Put not all your goods in ships: leave a part,
And greater should it be than what you take,
And thus, the need for luck you will forsake.
For shipwreck on the sea is bad enough,
And there’s no need to lose all of your stuff.
The same thing happens if you overload
Your wagon: all your goods spill on the road,
Because the axle breaks: therefore, take heed,
Due measure prospers more than grasping greed.
Do know the time for marriage when it nears,
Bring home a wife when you’ve reached thirty years.
Five years after maturity your wife
Is grown up enough for the married life.
Marry a maiden; teach her goodly ways,
And make sure that she lives not many days
Away from you, but take heed that you’re not
A joke to all your neighbors; for a blot
Upon your name is marriage ill conceived.
Good wives are best, but bad ones leave men grieved.
The greedy wives will roast their men alive;
Though he be strong, to sore old age she’ll drive
Him, but the one who gets a noble wife
Shall live in peace and have a goodly life.
Take care to anger not the gods who live
Forever. Neither be the first to give
An insult to a friend, nor should you make
Him equal to a brother; a mistake
Is this, and also do not lie to please.
But if he wrongs you first, then do you seize
The chance and pay him double for his deed,
Or word; the wronged man of revenge has need.
But, if he seeks again to be your friend,
And renders what he owes, I recommend
You welcome him again. No good is he
Who is first to one, then another friendly.
But suffer not your face to shame your heart,
Nor get yourself a name, or take the part
Of one who’s decadent or rude in tongue,
Nor make of knaves your company when young.
And good men slander not, nor dare to mock
The man accursed by poverty. This shock
Comes from th’eternal gods. Now, do what’s best
And cease from talking: make your tongue to rest;
For little speech is good, its pleasure great:
But if your speech is evil, men will hate
You, speaking badly of you in their turn;
Their malice towards you will not cease to burn.
And at the public feasts, do not be rude,
When you’re a guest with a great multitude:
There joy is great, and the expense is small.
But never let shining libations fall
To Zeus upon the ground after daybreak
Unless your hands are washed, and neither make
One to the other eternal gods: commit
This ill, and your prayers back at you they’ll spit.
And when you piss, stand not before the Sun,
But do it when his daily course has run,
And when his time to rise is drawing near.
And on or off the road, do not appear
And make your water, nor uncovered stand:
The night also the blessed Gods command.
The wise man rather squats down to the ground,
Or does it in a place that walls surround.
Uncover not yourself, with filth defiled,
Beside your hearth. Beget you not a child
After an inauspicious funeral:
But do it after a god’s festival.
Cross not afoot the flowing river’s stream,
Until you’ve gazed into the water’s gleam,
And prayed, and washed your hands in the clear flood:
Who crosses unwashed brings down on his blood
The anger of the Gods, and trouble much.
At a festival of the gods, don’t touch
The withered nail to cut it with your steel
Down to its quick, and the ladle don’t stick
Upon the bowl of wine: ill fortune this.
A house left rough-hewn, you may find amiss:
A crow may settle upon it and cry.
From pots unblessed, take nothing by and by;
In them is evil. Do not let a boy
Sit on what is sacred, lest you destroy
His manliness, whether in months or years
His age be twelve: the same effect appears.
The waters in which women bathe should not
Be used by men for washing, lest a blot
They get; for waters such as these remain
Contaminated some time with mischief’s stain.
Disdain not burning sacrifices, nor
Despise the mysteries, lest Heaven war
Against you, angry at impiety.
In river mouths that run down to the sea,
Relieve not yourself; neither in a spring,
Make water, for such acts will trouble bring.
This do: avoid men’s talk; for Speech is light,
Easily called, but a mischievous sprite.
She’s hard to bear, and will not go when bid.
When many speak, you can’t of Speech be rid.
She is partly divine, in spite of all,
Though many troubles from her on men fall.
Mark duly all the days that Zeus bestows,
And make sure that every slave you have knows.
The thirtieth day of the month is best
To check all work and deal goods as you’ve been blest.
From Zeus, who has all wisdom do these days
Come forth, when proper judgment man displays.
The first and fourth are holy days: revere
Them with the seventh, which we should hold dear;
For it was then that Leto bore her son,
Apollo (with a golden blade ‘twas done).
The eighth and ninth days of the waxing moon
Are good for work, and bring to men a boon.
The eleventh and twelfth are wonderful
For reaping your plants that have been fruitful
And shearing sheep; the twelfth is better, though;
For then, under the Sun’s great daytime glow,
The spider spins its web, and there arise
Great heaps built up by ants, who are called Wise.
On the twelfth, the woman should make a start
Upon her loom with diligence of heart.
The thirteenth day of the waxing moon do not
Sow, but rather set in a goodly spot
Your plants. The sixth day of mid-month is bad
For plants, but good to give birth to a lad:
But it’s not a good time for girls to be
Born or married, nor is it good to see
A girl born on the first sixth day, but well
Is it for gelding goats and sheep, and swell
Is it for fencing in your sheep; and boys
Born this day will be full of cunning ploys,
Of lies and wily speech, and stealthy words.
On the eighth day of the month, geld your herds
Of bulls and singulars of boars, but wait
Until the twelfth for mules, whose standout trait
Is diligence. In daylight should the man
Be born on the twentieth, whose wisdom can
Be trusted, and whose wits are sure and sound.
Now, on the tenth good fortune can be found
For boys to be born, but for girls, I say
The fourth of mid-month is a better day.
And that’s the time that’s good to tame your sheep,
Along with oxen and the mules you keep,
And your sharp-toothed dogs to the human hand
You can teach to hearken to your command.
But shun those troubles which devour the heart,
The first fourth and the last: they have a part
From Fate, from which they can’t be torn away.
Bring home your bride upon the month’s fourth day,
But close attention to the omens pay.
Fifth days avoid: their cruelty is great,
For on a fifth did Strife bear in her hate
Her son, whose name is Oath, and help she got,
By which she brought to men an evil lot,
From all the Furies, who desired to vex
The forsworn, for to plague them and perplex.
The midmonth’s seventh day is when the chore
Of tossing Demeter’s grain on the floor
For threshing is come; so take careful heed.
Then, on the fourth perform what is decreed
And start to build slim ships. Let loggers hew
Beams both for ships and houses, not a few.
The ninth of midmonth, when it’s evening time,
Improves, but the first ninth is all sublime,
Good for boy and girls to be begotten
Or born. This day is never wholly rotten.
It is not widely known that it is best
For oxen, mules, and horses to be dressed
With yokes on their necks, and wine jars to ope,
And to haul your speedy ship down the slope
Unto the sea. Few call this what they should.
To open a jar on the fourth is good.
The midmonth fourth is the most holy day,
And you will bear this truth in mind, I pray.
But few men know it’s better in the morn
On the twentieth: but evening I warn
May not be fair. These days that I have said
Are all auspicious, but the rest bring dread;
Uncertainty, ill-fortune do they bring,
But of blessings they will give you nothing.
And praises for the different days are raised
But their true fortunes have few souls appraised.
While some are like stepmothers, and a curse,
Some like mothers their children gently nurse.
A man is joyful, blest by Fortune too,
If all these things he knows and holds as true,
And does his work, transgressing not against
The Gods, lest his ill deeds be recompensed,
And who divines the omens of the birds,
Avoiding evil in his deeds and words.