EPOPS
Priest! ’tis high time! Sacrifice to the new gods.
PRIEST
I begin, but where is he with the basket? Pray to the Vesta of the birds, to the kite, who presides over the hearth, and to all the god and goddess-birds who dwell in Olympus.
CHORUS
Oh! Hawk, the sacred guardian of Sunium, oh, god of the storks!
PRIEST
Pray to the swan of Delos, to Latona the mother of the quails, and to Artemis, the goldfinch.
PISTHETAERUS
‘Tis no longer Artemis Colaenis, but Artemis the goldfinch.[1]
f[1] Hellanicus, the Mitylenian historian, tells that this surname of Artemis is derived from Colaenus, King of Athens before Cecrops and a descendant of Hermes. In obedience to an oracle he erected a temple to the goddess, invoking her as Artemis Colaenis (the Artemis of Colaenus).
PRIEST
And to Bacchus, the finch and Cybele, the ostrich and mother of the gods and mankind.
CHORUS
Oh! sovereign ostrich, Cybele, The mother of Cleocritus,[1] grant health and safety to the Nephelococcygians as well as to the dwellers in Chios…
f[1] This Cleocritus, says the scholiast, was long-necked and strutted like an ostrich.
PISTHETAERUS
The dwellers in Chios! Ah! I am delighted they should be thus mentioned on all occasions.[1]
f[1] The Chians were the most faithful allies of Athens, and hence their name was always mentioned in prayers, decrees, etc.
CHORUS
…to the heroes, the birds, to the sons of heroes, to the porphyrion, the pelican, the spoon-bill, the redbreast, the grouse, the peacock, the horned-owl, the teal, the bittern, the heron, the stormy petrel, the fig-pecker, the titmouse…
PISTHETAERUS
Stop! stop! you drive me crazy with your endless list. Why, wretch, to what sacred feast are you inviting the vultures and the sea-eagles? Don’t you see that a single kite could easily carry off the lot at once? Begone, you and your fillets and all; I shall know how to complete the sacrifice by myself.
PRIEST
It is imperative that I sing another sacred chant for the rite of the lustral water, and that I invoke the immortals, or at least one of them, provided always that you have some suitable food to offer him; from what I see here, in the shape of gifts, there is naught whatever but horn and hair.
PISTHETAERUS
Let us address our sacrifices and our prayers to the winged gods.
A POET
Oh, Muse! celebrate happy Nephelococcygia in your hymns.
PISTHETAERUS
What have we here? Where did you come from, tell me? Who are you?
POET
I am he whose language is sweeter than honey, the zealous slave of the Muses, as Homer has it.
PISTHETAERUS
You a slave! and yet you wear your hair long?
POET
No, but the fact is all we poets are the assiduous slaves of the Muses, according to Homer.
PISTHETAERUS
In truth your little cloak is quite holy too through zeal! But, poet, what ill wind drove you here?
POET
I have composed verses in honour of your Nephelococcygia, a host of splendid dithyrambs and parthenians[1] worthy of Simonides himself.
f[1] Verses sung by maidens.
PISTHETAERUS
And when did you compose them? How long since?
POET
Oh! ’tis long, aye, very long, that I have sung in honour of this city.
PISTHETAERUS
But I am only celebrating its foundation with this sacrifice;[1] I have only just named it, as is done with little babies.
f[1] This ceremony took place on the tenth day after birth, and may be styled the pagan baptism.
POET
“Just as the chargers fly with the speed of the wind, so does the voice of the Muses take its flight. Oh! thou noble founder of the town of Aetna,[1] thou, whose name recalls the holy sacrifices,[2] make us such gift as thy generous heart shall suggest.”
f[1] Hiero, tyrant of Syracuse. –This passage is borrowed from Pindar. f[2] [Hiero] in Greek means ‘sacrifice.’
PISTHETAERUS
He will drive us silly if we do not get rid of him by some present. Here! you, who have a fur as well as your tunic, take it off and give it to this clever poet. Come, take this fur; you look to me to be shivering with cold.
POET
My Muse will gladly accept this gift; but engrave these verses of Pindar’s on your mind.
PISTHETAERUS
Oh! what a pest! ‘Tis impossible then to be rid of him!
POET
“Straton wanders among the Scythian nomads, but has no linen garment. He is sad at only wearing an animal’s pelt and no tunic.” Do you conceive my bent?
PISTHETAERUS
I understand that you want me to offer you a tunic. Hi! you (TO EUELPIDES), take off yours; we must help the poet…. Come, you, take it and begone.
POET
I am going, and these are the verses that I address to this city: “Phoebus of the golden throne, celebrate this shivery, freezing city; I have travelled through fruitful and snow-covered plains. Tralala! Tralala!”[1]
f[1] A parody of poetic pathos, not to say bathos.
PISTHETAERUS
What are you chanting us about frosts? Thanks to the tunic, you no longer fear them. Ah! by Zeus! I could not have believed this cursed fellow could so soon have learnt the way to our city. Come, priest, take the lustral water and circle the altar.
PRIEST
Let all keep silence!
A PROPHET
Let not the goat be sacrificed.[1]
F[1] Which the priest was preparing to sacrifice.
PISTHETAERUS
Who are you?
PROPHET
Who am I? A prophet.
PISTHETAERUS
Get you gone.
PROPHET
Wretched man, insult not sacred things. For there is an oracle of Bacis, which exactly applies to Nephelococcygia.
PISTHETAERUS
Why did you not reveal it to me before I founded my city?
PROPHET
The divine spirit was against it.
PISTHETAERUS
Well, ’tis best to know the terms of the oracle.
PROPHET
“But when the wolves and the white crows shall dwell together between Corinth and Sicyon…”
PISTHETAERUS
But how do the Corinthians concern me?
PROPHET
‘Tis the regions of the air that Bacis indicated in this manner. “They must first sacrifice a white-fleeced goat to Pandora, and give the prophet, who first reveals my words, a good cloak and new sandals.”
PISTHETAERUS
Are the sandals there?
PROPHET
Read. “And besides this a goblet of wine and a good share of the entrails of the victim.”
PISTHETAERUS
Of the entrails–is it so written?
PROPHET
Read. “If you do as I command, divine youth, you shall be an eagle among the clouds; if not, you shall be neither turtle-dove, nor eagle, nor woodpecker.”
PISTHETAERUS
Is all that there?
PROPHET
Read.
PISTHETAERUS
This oracle in no sort of way resembles the one Apollo dictated to me: “If an impostor comes without invitation to annoy you during the sacrifice and to demand a share of the victim, apply a stout stick to his ribs.”
PROPHET
You are drivelling.
PISTHETAERUS
“And don’t spare him, were he an eagle from out of the clouds, were it Lampon[1] himself or the great Diopithes.”[2]
f[1] Noted Athenian diviner, who, when the power was still shared between Thucydides and Pericles, predicted that it would soon be centred in the hands of the latter; his ground for this prophecy was the sight of a ram with a single horn.
f[2] No doubt another Athenian diviner, and possibly the same person whom Aristophanes names in ‘The Knights’ and ‘The Wasps’ as being a thief.
PROPHET
Is all that there?
PISTHETAERUS
Here, read it yourself, and go and hang yourself.
PROPHET
Oh! unfortunate wretch that I am.
PISTHETAERUS
Away with you, and take your prophecies elsewhere.
METON[1]
I have come to you.
f[1] A celebrated geometrician and astronomer.
PISTHETAERUS
Yet another pest! What have you come to do? What’s your plan? What’s the purpose of your journey? Why these splendid buskins?
METON
I want to survey the plains of the air for you and to parcel them into lots.
PISTHETAERUS
In the name of the gods, who are you?
METON
Who am I? Meton, known throughout Greece and at Colonus.[1]
f[1] A deme contiguous to Athens. It is as though he said, “Well known throughout all England and at Croydon.
PISTHETAERUS
What are these things?
METON
Tools for measuring the air. In truth, the spaces in the air have precisely the form of a furnace. With this bent ruler I draw a line from top to bottom; from one of its points I describe a circle with the compass. Do you understand?
PISTHETAERUS
Not the very least.
METON
With the straight ruler I set to work to inscribe a square within this circle; in its centre will be the market-place, into which all the straight streets will lead, converging to this centre like a star, which, although only orbicular, sends forth its rays in a straight line from all sides.
PISTHETAERUS
Meton, you new Thales…[1]
f[1] Thales was no less famous as a geometrician than he was as a sage.
METON
What d’you want with me?
PISTHETAERUS
I want to give you a proof of my friendship. Use your legs.
METON
Why, what have I to fear?
PISTHETAERUS
‘Tis the same here as in Sparta. Strangers are driven away, and blows rain down as thick as hail.
METON
Is there sedition in your city?
PISTHETAERUS
No, certainly not.
METON
What’s wrong then?
PISTHETAERUS
We are agreed to sweep all quacks and impostors far from our borders.
METON
Then I’m off.
PISTHETAERUS
I fear ’tis too late. The thunder growls already. (BEATS HIM.)
METON
Oh, woe! oh, woe!
PISTHETAERUS
I warned you. Now, be off, and do your surveying somewhere else. (METON TAKES TO HIS HEELS.)
AN INSPECTOR
Where are the Proxeni?[1]
f[1] Officers of Athens, whose duty was to protect strangers who came on political or other business, and see to their interests generally.
PISTHETAERUS
Who is this Sardanapalus?[1]
f[1] He addresses the inspector thus because of the royal and magnificent manners he assumes.
INSPECTOR
I have been appointed by lot to come to Nephelococcygia. as inspector.[1]
f[1] Magistrates appointed to inspect the tributary towns.
PISTHETAERUS
An inspector! and who sends you here, you rascal?
INSPECTOR
A decree of T[e]leas.[1]
f[1] A much-despised citizen, already mentioned. He ironically supposes him invested with the powers of an Archon, which ordinarily were entrusted only to men of good repute.
PISTHETAERUS
Will you just pocket your salary, do nothing, and be off?
INSPECTOR
I’ faith! that I will; I am urgently needed to be at Athens to attend the assembly; for I am charged with the interests of Pharnaces.[1]
f[1] A Persian satrap. –An allusion to certain orators, who, bribed with Asiatic gold, had often defended the interests of the foe in the Public Assembly.
PISTHETAERUS
Take it then, and be off. See, here is your salary. (BEATS HIM.)
INSPECTOR
What does this mean?
PISTHETAERUS
‘Tis the assembly where you have to defend Pharnaces.
INSPECTOR
You shall testify that they dare to strike me, the inspector.
PISTHETAERUS
Are you not going to clear out with your urns? ‘Tis not to be believed; they send us inspectors before we have so much as paid sacrifice to the gods.
A DEALER IN DECREES
“If the Nephelococcygian does wrong to the Athenian…”
PISTHETAERUS
Now whatever are these cursed parchments?
DEALER IN DECREES
I am a dealer in decrees, and I have come here to sell you the new laws.
PISTHETAERUS
Which?
DEALER IN DECREES
“The Nephelococcygians shall adopt the same weights, measures and decrees as the Olophyxians.”[1]
f[1] A Macedonian people in the peninsula of Chalcidice. This name is chosen because of its similarity to the Greek word [for] ‘to groan.’ It is from another verb, meaning the same thing, that Pisthetaerus coins the name of Ototyxians, i.e. groaners, because he is about to beat the dealer. –The mother-country had the right to impose any law it chose upon its colonies.
PISTHETAERUS
And you shall soon be imitating the Ototyxians. (BEATS HIM.)
DEALER IN DECREES
Hullo! what are you doing?
PISTHETAERUS
Now will you be off with your decrees? For I am going to let YOU see some severe ones.
INSPECTOR (RETURNING)
I summon Pisthetaerus for outrage for the month of Munychion.[1]
f[1] Corresponding to our month of April.
PISTHETAERUS
Ha! my friend! are you still there?
DEALER IN DECREES
“Should anyone drive away the magistrates and not receive them, according to the decree duly posted…”
PISTHETAERUS
What! rascal! you are there too?
INSPECTOR
Woe to you! I’ll have you condemned to a fine of ten thousand drachmae.
PISTHETAERUS
And I’ll smash your urns.[1]
f[1] Which the inspector had brought with him for the purpose of inaugurating the assemblies of the people or some tribunal.
INSPECTOR
Do you recall that evening when you stooled against the column where the decrees are posted?
PISTHETAERUS
Here! here! let him be seized. (THE INSPECTOR RUNS OFF.) Well! don’t you want to stop any longer?
PRIEST
Let us get indoors as quick as possible; we will sacrifice the goat inside.[1]
f[1] So that the sacrifices might no longer be interrupted.
CHORUS
Henceforth it is to me that mortals must address their sacrifices and their prayers. Nothing escapes my sight nor my might. My glance embraces the universe, I preserve the fruit in the flower by destroying the thousand kinds of voracious insects the soil produces, which attack the trees and feed on the germ when it has scarcely formed in the calyx; I destroy those who ravage the balmy terrace gardens like a deadly plague; all these gnawing crawling creatures perish beneath the lash of my wing. I hear it proclaimed everywhere: “A talent for him who shall kill Diagoras of Melos,[1] and a talent for him who destroys one of the dead tyrants.”[2] We likewise wish to make our proclamation: “A talent to him among you who shall kill Philocrates, the Struthian;[3] four, if he brings him to us alive. For this Philocrates skewers the finches together and sells them at the rate of an obolus for seven. He tortures the thrushes by blowing them out, so that they may look bigger, sticks their own feathers into the nostrils of blackbirds, and collects pigeons, which he shuts up and forces them, fastened in a net, to decoy others.” That is what we wish to proclaim. And if anyone is keeping birds shut up in his yard, let him hasten to let them loose; those who disobey shall be seized by the birds and we shall put them in chains, so that in their turn they may decoy other men.
Happy indeed is the race of winged birds who need no cloak in winter! Neither do I fear the relentless rays of the fiery dog-days; when the divine grasshopper, intoxicated with the sunlight, when noon is burning the ground, is breaking out into shrill melody; my home is beneath the foliage in the flowery meadows. I winter in deep caverns, where I frolic with the mountain nymphs, while in spring I despoil the gardens of the Graces and gather the white, virgin berry on the myrtle bushes.
I want now to speak to the judges about the prize they are going to award; if they are favourable to us, we will load them with benefits far greater than those Paris[4] received. Firstly, the owls of Laurium,[5] which every judge desires above all things, shall never be wanting to you; you shall see them homing with you, building their nests in your money-bags and laying coins. Besides, you shall be housed like the gods, for we shall erect gables[6] over your dwellings; if you hold some public post and want to do a little pilfering, we will give you the sharp claws of a hawk. Are you dining in town, we will provide you with crops.[7] But, if your award is against us, don’t fail to have metal covers fashioned for yourselves, like those they place over statues;[8] else, look out! for the day you wear a white tunic all the birds will soil it with their droppings.
f[1] A disciple of Democrites; he passed over from superstition to atheism. The injustice and perversity of mankind led him to deny the existence of the gods, to lay bare the mysteries and to break the idols. The Athenians had put a price on his head, so he left Greece and perished soon afterwards in a storm at sea. f[2] By this jest Aristophanes means to imply that tyranny is dead, and that no one aspires to despotic power, though this silly accusation was constantly being raised by the demagogues and always favourably received by the populace.
f[3] A poulterer. –Strouthian, used in joke to designate him, as if from the name of his ‘deme,’ is derived from [the Greek for] ‘a sparrow.’ The birds’ foe is thus grotesquely furnished with an ornithological surname.
f[4] From Aphrodite (Venus), to whom he had awarded the apple, prize of beauty, in the contest of the “goddesses three.” f[5] Laurium was an Athenian deme at the extremity of the Attic peninsula containing valuable silver mines, the revenues of which were largely employed in the maintenance of the fleet and payment of the crews. The “owls of Laurium,” of course, mean pieces of money; the Athenian coinage was stamped with a representation of an owl, the bird of Athene.
f[6] A pun, impossible to keep in English, on the two meanings of [the Greek] word which signifies both an eagle and the gable of a house or pediment of a temple.
f[7] That is, birds’ crops, into which they could stow away plenty of good things.
f[8] The Ancients appear to have placed metal discs over statues standing in the open air, to save them from injury from the weather, etc.
PISTHETAERUS
Birds! the sacrifice is propitious. But I see no messenger coming from the wall to tell us what is happening. Ah! here comes one running himself out of breath as though he were running the Olympic stadium.
MESSENGER
Where, where is he? Where, where, where is he? Where, where, where is he? Where is Pisthetaerus, our leader?
PISTHETAERUS
Here am I.
MESSENGER
The wall is finished.
PISTHETAERUS
That’s good news.
MESSENGER
‘Tis a most beautiful, a most magnificent work of art. The wall is so broad that Proxenides, the Braggartian, and Theogenes could pass each other in their chariots, even if they were drawn by steeds as big as the Trojan horse.
PISTHETAERUS
‘Tis wonderful!
MESSENGER
Its length is one hundred stadia; I measured it myself.
PISTHETAERUS
A decent length, by Posidon! And who built such a wall?
MESSENGER
Birds–birds only; they had neither Egyptian brickmaker, nor stone-mason, nor carpenter; the birds did it all themselves; I could hardly believe my eyes. Thirty thousand cranes came from Libya with a supply of stones,[1] intended for the foundations. The water- rails chiselled them with their beaks. Ten thousand storks were busy making bricks; plovers and other water fowl carried water into the air.
f[1] So as not to be carried away by the wind when crossing the sea, cranes are popularly supposed to ballast themselves with stones, which they carry in their beaks.
PISTHETAERUS
And who carried the mortar?
MESSENGER
Herons, in hods.
PISTHETAERUS
But how could they put the mortar into hods?
MESSENGER
Oh! ’twas a truly clever invention; the geese used their feet like spades; they buried them in the pile of mortar and then emptied them into the hods.
PISTHETAERUS
Ah! to what use cannot feet be put?[1]
f[1] Pisthetaerus modifies the Greek proverbial saying, “To what use cannot hands be put?”
MESSENGER
You should have seen how eagerly the ducks carried bricks. To complete the tale, the swallows came flying to the work, their beaks full of mortar and their trowel on their back, just the way little children are carried.
PISTHETAERUS
Who would want paid servants after this? But tell me, who did the woodwork?
MESSENGER
Birds again, and clever carpenters too, the pelicans, for they squared up the gates with their beaks in such a fashion that one would have thought they were using axes; the noise was just like a dockyard. Now the whole wall is tight everywhere, securely bolted and well guarded; it is patrolled, bell in hand; the sentinels stand everywhere and beacons burn on the towers. But I must run off to clean myself; the rest is your business.
CHORUS
Well! what do you say to it? Are you not astonished at the wall being completed so quickly?
PISTHETAERUS
By the gods, yes, and with good reason. ‘Tis really not to be believed. But here comes another messenger from the wall to bring us some further news! What a fighting look he has!
SECOND MESSENGER
Oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! oh!
PISTHETAERUS
What’s the matter?
SECOND MESSENGER
A horrible outrage has occurred; a god sent by Zeus has passed through our gates and has penetrated the realms of the air without the knowledge of the jays, who are on guard in the daytime.
PISTHETAERUS
‘Tis an unworthy and criminal deed. What god was it?
SECOND MESSENGER
We don’t know that. All we know is, that he has got wings.
PISTHETAERUS
Why were not guards sent against him at once?
SECOND MESSENGER
We have d[i]spatched thirty thousand hawks of the legion of Mounted Archers.[1] All the hook-clawed birds are moving against him, the kestrel, the buzzard, the vulture, the great-horned owl; they cleave the air, so that it resounds with the flapping of their wings; they are looking everywhere for the god, who cannot be far away; indeed, if I mistake not, he is coming from yonder side.
f[1] A corps of Athenian cavalry was so named.
PISTHETAERUS
All arm themselves with slings and bows! This way, all our soldiers; shoot and strike! Some one give me a sling!
CHORUS
War, a terrible war is breaking out between us and the gods! Come, let each one guard Air, the son of Erebus,[1] in which the clouds float. Take care no immortal enters it without your knowledge. Scan all sides with your glance. Hark! methinks I can hear the rustle of the swift wings of a god from heaven.
f[1] Chaos, Night, Tartarus, and Erebus alone existed in the beginning; Eros was born from Night and Erebus, and he wedded Chaos and begot Earth, Air, and Heaven; so runs the fable.
PISTHETAERUS
Hi! you woman! where are you flying to? Halt, don’t stir! keep motionless! not a beat of your wing! –Who are you and from what country? You must say whence you come.[1]
f[1] Iris appears from the top of the stage and arrests her flight in mid-career.
IRIS
I come from the abode of the Olympian gods.
PISTHETAERUS
What’s your name, ship or cap?[1]
f[1] Ship, because of her wings, which resemble oars; cap, because she no doubt wore the head-dress (as a messenger of the gods) with which Hermes is generally depicted.
IRIS
I am swift Iris.
PISTHETAERUS
Paralus or Salaminia?[1]
f[1] The names of the two sacred galleys which carried Athenian officials on State business.
IRIS
What do you mean?
PISTHETAERUS
Let a buzzard rush at her and seize her.[1]
f[1] A buzzard is named in order to raise a laugh, the Greek name also meaning, etymologically, provided with three testicles, vigorous in love.
IRIS
Seize me! But what do all these insults mean?
PISTHETAERUS
Woe to you!
IRIS
‘Tis incomprehensible.
PISTHETAERUS
By which gate did you pass through the wall, wretched woman?
IRIS
By which gate? Why, great gods, I don’t know.
PISTHETAERUS
You hear how she holds us in derision. Did you present yourself to the officers in command of the jays? You don’t answer. Have you a permit, bearing the seal of the storks?
IRIS
Am I awake?
PISTHETAERUS
Did you get one?
IRIS
Are you mad?
PISTHETAERUS
No head-bird gave you a safe-conduct?
IRIS
A safe-conduct to me, you poor fool!
PISTHETAERUS
Ah! and so you slipped into this city on the sly and into these realms of air-land that don’t belong to you.
IRIS
And what other roads can the gods travel?
PISTHETAERUS
By Zeus! I know nothing about that, not I. But they won’t pass this way. And you still dare to complain! Why, if you were treated according to your deserts, no Iris would ever have more justly suffered death.
IRIS
I am immortal.
PISTHETAERUS
You would have died nevertheless. –Oh! ‘twould be truly intolerable! What! should the universe obey us and the gods alone continue their insolence and not understand that they must submit to the law of the strongest in their due turn? But tell me, where are you flying to?
IRIS
I? The messenger of Zeus to mankind, I am going to tell them to sacrifice sheep and oxen on the altars and to fill their streets with the rich smoke of burning fat.
PISTHETAERUS
Of which gods are you speaking?
IRIS
Of which? Why, of ourselves, the gods of heaven.
PISTHETAERUS
You, gods?
IRIS
Are there others then?
PISTHETAERUS
Men now adore the birds as gods, and ’tis to them, by Zeus, that they must offer sacrifices, and not to Zeus at all!
IRIS
Oh! fool! fool! Rouse not the wrath of the gods, for ’tis terrible indeed. Armed with the brand of Zeus, Justice would annihilate your race; the lightning would strike you as it did Licymnius and consume both your body and the porticos of your palace.[1]
f[1] Iris’ reply is a parody of the tragic style. –‘Lycimnius’ is, according to the scholiast, the title of a tragedy by Euripides, which is about a ship that is struck by lightning.
PISTHETAERUS
Here! that’s enough tall talk. Just you listen and keep quiet! Do you take me for a Lydian or a Phrygian[1] and think to frighten me with your big words? Know, that if Zeus worries me again, I shall go at the head of my eagles, who are armed with lightning, and reduce his dwelling and that of Amphion to cinders.[2] I shall send more than six hundred porphyrions clothed in leopards’ skins[3] up to heaven against him; and formerly a single Porphyrion gave him enough to do. As for you, his messenger, if you annoy me, I shall begin by stretching your legs asunder, and so conduct myself, Iris though you be, that despite my age, you will be astonished. I will show you something that will make you three times over.
f[1] i.e. for a poltroon, like the slaves, most of whom came to Athens from these countries.
f[2] A parody of a passage in the lost tragedy of ‘Niobe’ of Aeschylus. f[3] Because this bird has a spotted plumage. –Porphyrion is also the name of one of the Titans who tried to storm heave.
IRIS
May you perish, you wretch, you and your infamous words!
PISTHETAERUS
Won’t you be off quickly? Come, stretch your wings or look out for squalls!
IRIS
If my father does not punish you for your insults…
PISTHETAERUS
Ha!… but just you be off elsewhere to roast younger folk than us with your lightning.
CHORUS
We forbid the gods, the sons of Zeus, to pass through our city and the mortals to send them the smoke of their sacrifices by this road.
PISTHETAERUS
‘Tis odd that the messenger we sent to the mortals has never returned.
HERALD
Oh! blessed Pisthetaerus, very wise, very illustrious, very gracious, thrice happy, very… Come, prompt me, somebody, do.
PISTHETAERUS
Get to your story!
HERALD
All peoples are filled with admiration for your wisdom, and they award you this golden crown.
PISTHETAERUS
I accept it. But tell me, why do the people admire me?
HERALD
Oh you, who have founded so illustrious a city in the air, you know not in what esteem men hold you and how many there are who burn with desire to dwell in it. Before your city was built, all men had a mania for Sparta; long hair and fasting were held in honour, men went dirty like Socrates and carried staves. Now all is changed. Firstly, as soon as ’tis dawn, they all spring out of bed together to go and seek their food, the same as you do; then they fly off towards the notices and finally devour the decrees. The bird-madness is so clear, that many actually bear the names of birds. There is a halting victualler, who styles himself the partridge; Menippus calls himself the swallow; Opuntius the one-eyed crow; Philocles the lark; Theogenes the fox-goose; Lycurgus the ibis; Chaerephon the bat; Syracosius the magpie; Midias the quail;[1] indeed he looks like a quail that has been hit hard over the head. Out of love for the birds they repeat all the songs which concern the swallow, the teal, the goose or the pigeon; in each verse you see wings, or at all events a few feathers. This is what is happening down there. Finally, there are more than ten thousand folk who are coming here from earth to ask you for feathers and hooked claws; so, mind you supply yourself with wings for the immigrants.
f[1] All these surnames bore some relation to the character or the build of the individual to whom the poet applies them. –Chaerephon, Socrates’ disciple,
was of white and ashen hue. –Opuntius was one-eyed. –Syracosius was a braggart.
–Midias had a passion for quail-fights, and, besides, resembled that bird physically.
PISTHETAERUS
Ah! by Zeus, ’tis not the time for idling. Go as quick as possible and fill every hamper, every basket you can find with wings. Manes[1] will bring them to me outside the walls, where I will welcome those who present themselves.
f[1] Pisthetaerus’ servant, already mentioned.
CHORUS
This town will soon be inhabited by a crowd of men.
PISTHETAERUS
If fortune favours us.
CHORUS
Folk are more and more delighted with it.
PISTHETAERUS
Come, hurry up and bring them along.
CHORUS
Will not man find here everything that can please him–wisdom, love, the divine Graces, the sweet face of gentle peace?
PISTHETAERUS
Oh! you lazy servant! won’t you hurry yourself?
CHORUS
Let a basket of wings be brought speedily. Come, beat him as I do, and put some life into him; he is as lazy as an ass.
PISTHETAERUS
Aye, Manes is a great craven.
CHORUS
Begin by putting this heap of wings in order; divide them in three parts according to the birds from whom they came; the singing, the prophetic[1] and the aquatic birds; then you must take care to distribute them to the men according to their character.
f[1] From the inspection of which auguries were taken, e.g. the eagles, the vultures, the crows.
PISTHETAERUS (TO MANES)
Oh! by the kestrels! I can keep my hands off you no longer; you are too slow and lazy altogether.
A PARRICIDE[1]
Oh! might I but become an eagle, who soars in the skies! Oh! might I fly above the azure waves of the barren sea![2]
f[1] Or rather, a young man who contemplated parricide. f[2] A parody of verses in Sophocles ‘Oenomaus.’
PISTHETAERUS
Ha! ‘twould seem the news was true; I hear someone coming who talks of wings.
PARRICIDE
Nothing is more charming than to fly; I burn with desire to live under the same laws as the birds; I am bird-mad and fly towards you, for I want to live with you and to obey your laws.
PISTHETAERUS
Which laws? The birds have many laws.
PARRICIDE
All of them; but the one that pleases me most is, that among the birds it is considered a fine thing to peck and strangle one’s father.
PISTHETAERUS
Aye, by Zeus! according to us, he who dares to strike his father, while still a chick, is a brave fellow.
PARRICIDE
And therefore I want to dwell here, for I want to strangle my father and inherit his wealth.
PISTHETAERUS
But we have also an ancient law written in the code of the storks, which runs thus, “When the stork father has reared his young and has taught them to fly, the young must in their turn support the father.”
PARRICIDE
‘Tis hardly worth while coming all this distance to be compelled to keep my father!
PISTHETAERUS
No, no, young friend, since you have come to us with such willingness, I am going to give you these black wings, as though you were an orphan bird; furthermore, some good advice, that I received myself in infancy. Don’t strike your father, but take these wings in one hand and these spurs in the other; imagine you have a cock’s crest on your head and go and mount guard and fight; live on your pay and respect your father’s life. You’re a gallant fellow! Very well, then! Fly to Thrace and fight.[1]
f[1] The Athenians were then besieging Amphipolis in the Thracian Chalcidice.
PARRICIDE
By Bacchus! ‘Tis well spoken; I will follow your counsel.
PISTHETAERUS
‘Tis acting wisely, by Zeus.
CINESIAS[1]
“On my light pinions I soar off to Olympus; in its capricious flight my Muse flutters along the thousand paths of poetry in turn…”
f[1] There was a real Cinesias–a dythyrambic poet born at Thebes.
PISTHETAERUS
This is a fellow will need a whole shipload of wings.
CINESIAS (singing)
“…and being fearless and vigorous, it is seeking fresh outlet.”
PISTHETAERUS
Welcome, Cinesias, you lime-wood man![1] Why have you come here a-twisting your game leg in circles?
f[1] The scholiast thinks that Cinesias, who was tall and slight of build, wore a kind of corset of lime-wood to support his waist– surely rather a far-fetched interpretation!
CINESIAS
“I want to become a bird, a tuneful nightingale.”
PISTHETAERUS
Enough of that sort of ditty. Tell me what you want.
CINESIAS
Give me wings and I will fly into the topmost airs to gather fresh songs in the clouds, in the midst of the vapours and the fleecy snow.
PISTHETAERUS
Gather songs in the clouds?
CINESIAS
‘Tis on them the whole of our latter-day art depends. The most brilliant dithyrambs are those that flap their wings in void space and are clothed in mist and dense obscurity. To appreciate this, just listen.
PISTHETAERUS
Oh! no, no, no!
CINESIAS
By Hermes! but indeed you shall. “I shall travel through thine ethereal empire like a winged bird, who cleaveth space with his long neck…”
PISTHETAERUS
Stop! easy all, I say![1]
f[1] The Greek word used here was the word of command employed to stop the rowers.
CINESIAS
“…as I soar over the seas, carried by the breath of the winds…”
PISTHETAERUS
By Zeus! but I’ll cut your breath short.
CINESIAS
“…now rushing along the tracks of Notus, now nearing Boreas across the infinite wastes of the ether.” (PISTHETAERUS BEATS HIM.} Ah! old man, that’s a pretty and clever idea truly!
PISTHETAERUS
What! are you not delighted to be cleaving the air?[1]
F[1] Cinesias makes a bound each time that Pisthetaerus strikes him.
CINESIAS
To treat a dithyrambic poet, for whom the tribes dispute with each other, in this style![1]
f[1] The tribes of Athens, or rather the rich citizens belonging to them, were wont on feast-days to give representations of dithyrambic choruses as well as of tragedies and comedies.
PISTHETAERUS
Will you stay with us and form a chorus of winged birds as slender as Leotrophides[1] for the Cecropid tribe?
f[1] Another dithyrambic poet, a man of extreme leanness.
CINESIAS
You are making game of me, ’tis clear; but know that I shall never leave you in peace if I do not have wings wherewith to traverse the air.
AN INFORMER
What are these birds with downy feathers, who look so pitiable to me? Tell me, oh swallow with the long dappled wings.[1]
f[1] A parody of a hemistich from ‘Alcaeus.’ –The informer is dissatisfied at only seeing birds of sombre plumage and poor appearance. He would have preferred to denounce the rich.
PISTHETAERUS
Oh! but ’tis a regular invasion that threatens us. Here comes another of them, humming along.
INFORMER
Swallow with the long dappled wings, once more I summon you.
PISTHETAERUS
It’s his cloak I believe he’s addressing; ‘faith, it stands in great need of the swallows’ return.[1]
f[1] The informer, says the scholiast, was clothed with a ragged cloak, the tatters of which hung down like wings, in fact, a cloak that could not protect him from the cold and must have made him long for the swallows’ return, i.e. the spring.
INFORMER
Where is he who gives out wings to all comers?
PISTHETAERUS
‘Tis I, but you must tell me for what purpose you want them.
INFORMER
Ask no questions. I want wings, and wings I must have.
PISTHETAERUS
Do you want to fly straight to Pellene?[1]
f[1] A town in Achaia, where woollen cloaks were made.
INFORMER
I? Why, I am an accuser of the islands,[1] an informer…
f[1] His trade was to accuse the rich citizens of the subject islands, and drag them before the Athenian court; he explains later the special advantages of this branch of the informer’s business.
PISTHETAERUS
A fine trade, truly!
INFORMER
…a hatcher of lawsuits. Hence I have great need of wings to prowl round the cities and drag them before justice.
PISTHETAERUS
Would you do this better if you had wings?
INFORMER
No, but I should no longer fear the pirates; I should return with the cranes, loaded with a supply of lawsuits by way of ballast.
PISTHETAERUS
So it seems, despite all your youthful vigour, you make it your trade to denounce strangers?
INFORMER
Well, and why not? I don’t know how to dig.
PISTHETAERUS
But, by Zeus! there are honest ways of gaining a living at your age without all this infamous trickery.
INFORMER
My friend, I am asking you for wings, not for words.
PISTHETAERUS
‘Tis just my words that give you wings.
INFORMER
And how can you give a man wings with your words?
PISTHETAERUS
‘Tis thus that all first start.
INFORMER
All?
PISTHETAERUS
Have you not often heard the father say to young men in the barbers’ shops, “It’s astonishing how Diitrephes’ advice has made my son fly to horse-riding.” –“Mine,” says another, “has flown towards tragic poetry on the wings of his imagination.”
INFORMER
So that words give wings?
PISTHETAERUS
Undoubtedly; words give wings to the mind and make a man soar to heaven. Thus I hope that my wise words will give you wings to fly to some less degrading trade.
INFORMER
But I do not want to.
PISTHETAERUS
What do you reckon on doing then?
INFORMER
I won’t belie my breeding; from generation to generation we have lived by informing. Quick, therefore, give me quickly some light, swift hawk or kestrel wings, so that I may summon the islanders, sustain the accusation here, and haste back there again on flying pinions.
PISTHETAERUS
I see. In this way the stranger will be condemned even before he appears.
INFORMER
That’s just it.
PISTHETAERUS
And while he is on his way here by sea, you will be flying to the islands to despoil him of his property.
INFORMER
You’ve hit it, precisely; I must whirl hither and thither like a perfect humming-top.
PISTHETAERUS
I catch the idea. Wait, i’ faith, I’ve got some fine Corcyraean wings.[1] How do you like them?
f[1] That is, whips–Corcyra being famous for these articles.
INFORMER
Oh! woe is me! Why, ’tis a whip!
PISTHETAERUS
No, no; these are the wings, I tell you, that set the top a-spinning.
INFORMER
Oh! oh! oh!
PISTHETAERUS
Take your flight, clear off, you miserable cur, or you will soon see what comes of quibbling and lying. Come, let us gather up our wings and withdraw.
CHORUS
In my ethereal flights I have seen many things new and strange and wondrous beyond belief. There is a tree called Cleonymus belonging to an unknown species; it has no heart, is good for nothing and is as tall as it is cowardly. In springtime it shoots forth calumnies instead of buds and in autumn it strews the ground with bucklers in place of leaves.[1]
Far away in the regions of darkness, where no ray of light ever enters, there is a country, where men sit at the table of the heroes and dwell with them always–save always in the evening. Should any mortal meet the hero Orestes at night, he would soon be stripped and covered with blows from head to foot.[2]
f[1] Cleonymous is a standing butt of Aristophanes’ wit, both as an informer and a notorious poltroon.
f[2] In allusion to the cave of the bandit Orestes; the poet terms him a hero only because of his heroic name Orestes.
PROMETHEUS
Ah! by the gods! if only Zeus does not espy me! Where is Pisthetaerus?
PISTHETAERUS
Ha! what is this? A masked man!
PROMETHEUS
Can you see any god behind me?
PISTHETAERUS
No, none. But who are you, pray?
PROMETHEUS
What’s the time, please?
PISTHETAERUS
The time? Why, it’s past noon. Who are you?
PROMETHEUS
Is it the fall of day? Is it no later than that?[1]
f[1] Prometheus wants night to come and so reduce the risk of being seen from Olympus.
PISTHETAERUS
Oh! ‘pon my word! but you grow tiresome.
PROMETHEUS
What is Zeus doing? Is he dispersing the clouds or gathering them?[1]
f[1] The clouds would prevent Zeus seeing what was happening below him.
PISTHETAERUS
Take care, lest I lose all patience.
PROMETHEUS
Come, I will raise my mask.
PISTHETAERUS
Ah! my dear Prometheus!
PROMETHEUS
Stop! stop! speak lower!
PISTHETAERUS
Why, what’s the matter, Prometheus?
PROMETHEUS
H’sh! h’sh! Don’t call me by my name; you will be my ruin, if Zeus should see me here. But, if you want me to tell you how things are going in heaven, take this umbrella and shield me, so that the gods don’t see me.
PISTHETAERUS
I can recognize Prometheus in this cunning trick. Come, quick then, and fear nothing; speak on.
PROMETHEUS
Then listen.
PISTHETAERUS
I am listening, proceed!
PROMETHEUS
It’s all over with Zeus.
PISTHETAERUS
Ah! and since when, pray?
PROMETHEUS
Since you founded this city in the air. There is not a man who now sacrifices to the gods; the smoke of the victims no longer reaches us. Not the smallest offering comes! We fast as though it were the festival of Demeter.[1] The barbarian gods, who are dying of hunger, are bawling like Illyrians[2] and threaten to make an armed descent upon Zeus, if he does not open markets where joints of the victims are sold.
f[1] The third day of the festival of Demeter was a fast. f[2] A semi-savage people, addicted to violence and brigandage.
PISTHETAERUS
What! there are other gods besides you, barbarian gods who dwell above Olympus?
PROMETHEUS
If there were no barbarian gods, who would be the patron of Execestides?[1]
f[1] Who, being reputed a stranger despite his pretension to the title of a citizen, could only have a strange god for his patron or tutelary deity.
PISTHETAERUS
And what is the name of these gods?
PROMETHEUS
Their name? Why, the Triballi.[1]
f[1] The Triballi were a Thracian people; it was a term commonly used in Athens to describe coarse men, obscene debauchees and greedy parasites.
PISTHETAERUS
Ah, indeed! ’tis from that no doubt that we derive the word ‘tribulation.'[1]
f[1] There is a similar pun in the Greek.
PROMETHEUS
Most likely. But one thing I can tell you for certain, namely, that Zeus and the celestial Triballi are going to send deputies here to sue for peace. Now don’t you treat, unless Zeus restores the sceptre to the birds and gives you Basileia[1] in marriage.
f[1] i.e. the ‘supremacy’ of Greece, the real object of the war.
PISTHETAERUS
Who is this Basileia?
PROMETHEUS
A very fine young damsel, who makes the lightning for Zeus; all things come from her, wisdom, good laws, virtue, the fleet, calumnies, the public paymaster and the triobolus.
PISTHETAERUS
Ah! then she is a sort of general manageress to the god.
PROMETHEUS
Yes, precisely. If he gives you her for your wife, yours will be the almighty power. That is what I have come to tell you; for you know my constant and habitual goodwill towards men.
PISTHETAERUS
Oh, yes! ’tis thanks to you that we roast our meat.[1]
f[1] Prometheus had stolen the fire from the gods to gratify mankind.
PROMETHEUS
I hate the gods, as you know.
PISTHETAERUS
Aye, by Zeus, you have always detested them.
PROMETHEUS
Towards them I am a veritable Timon;[1] but I must return in all haste, so give me the umbrella; if Zeus should see me from up there, he would think I was escorting one of the Canephori.[2]
f[1] A celebrated misanthrope, contemporary to Aristophanes. Hating the society of men, he had only a single friend, Apimantus, to whom he was attached, because of their similarity of character; he also liked Alcibiades, because he foresaw that this young man would be the ruin of his country.
f[2] The Canephori were young maidens, chosen from the first families of the city, who carried baskets wreathed with myrtle at the feast of Athene, while at those of Bacchus and Demeter they appeared with gilded baskets. –The daughters of ‘Metics,’ or resident aliens, walked behind them, carrying an umbrella and a stool.
PISTHETAERUS
Wait, take this stool as well.
CHORUS
Near by the land of the Sciapodes[1] there is a marsh, from the borders whereof the odious Socrates evokes the souls of men. Pisander[2] came one day to see his soul, which he had left there when still alive. He offered a little victim, a camel,[3] slit his throat and, following the example of Ulysses, stepped one pace backwards.[4] Then that bat of a Chaerephon[5] came up from hell to drink the camel’s blood.
f[1] According to Ctesias, the Sciapodes were a people who dwelt on the borders of the Atlantic. Their feet were larger than the rest of their bodies, and to shield themselves from the sun’s rays they held up one of their feet as an umbrella. –By giving the Socratic philosophers the name of Sciapodes here Aristophanes wishes to convey that they are walking in the dark and busying themselves with the greatest nonsense.
f[2] This Pisander was a notorious coward; for this reason the poet jestingly supposes that he had lost his soul, the seat of courage. f[3] Considering the shape and height of the camel, [it] can certainly not be included in the list of SMALL victims, e.g. the sheep and the goat.
f[4] In the evocation of the dead, Book XI of the Odyssey. f[5] Chaerephon was given this same title by the Herald earlier in this comedy. –Aristophanes supposes him to have come from hell because he is lean and pallid.
POSIDON[1]
This is the city of Nephelococcygia, Cloud-cuckoo-town, whither we come as ambassadors. (TO TRIBALLUS) Hi! what are you up to? you are throwing your cloak over the left shoulder. Come, fling it quick over the right! And why, pray, does it draggle in this fashion? Have you ulcers to hide like Laespodias?[2] Oh! democracy![3] whither, oh! whither are you leading us? Is it possible that the gods have chosen such an envoy?
f[1] Posidon appears on the stage accompanied by Heracles and a Triballian god.
f[2] An Athenian general. –Neptune is trying to give Triballus some notions of elegance and good behaviour.
f[3] Aristophanes supposes that democracy is in the ascendant in Olympus as it is in Athens.
TRIBALLUS
Leave me alone.
POSIDON
Ugh! the cursed savage! you are by far the most barbarous of all the gods. –Tell me, Heracles, what are we going to do?
HERACLES
I have already told you that I want to strangle the fellow who has dared to block us in.
POSIDON
But, my friend, we are envoys of peace.
HERACLES
All the more reason why I wish to strangle him.
PISTHETAERUS
Hand me the cheese-grater; bring me the silphium for sauce; pass me the cheese and watch the coals.[1]
f[1] He is addressing his servant, Manes.
HERACLES
Mortal! we who greet you are three gods.
PISTHETAERUS
Wait a bit till I have prepared my silphium pickle.
HERACLES
What are these meats?[1]
f[1] Heracles softens at sight of the food. –Heracles is the glutton of the comic poets.
PISTHETAERUS
These are birds that have been punished with death for attacking the people’s friends.
HERACLES
And you are seasoning them before answering us?
PISTHETAERUS
Ah! Heracles! welcome, welcome! What’s the matter?[1]
f[1] He pretends not to have seen them at first, being so much engaged with his cookery.
HERACLES
The gods have sent us here as ambassadors to treat for peace.
A SERVANT
There’s no more oil in the flask.
PISTHETAERUS
And yet the birds must be thoroughly basted with it.[1]
f[1] He pretends to forget the presence of the ambassadors.
HERACLES
We have no interest to serve in fighting you; as for you, be friends and we promise that you shall always have rain-water in your pools and the warmest of warm weather. So far as these points go we are armed with plenary authority.
PISTHETAERUS
We have never been the aggressors, and even now we are as well disposed for peace as yourselves, provided you agree to one equitable condition, namely, that Zeus yield his sceptre to the birds. If only this is agreed to, I invite the ambassadors to dinner.
HERACLES
That’s good enough for me. I vote for peace.
POSIDON
You wretch! you are nothing but a fool and a glutton. Do you want to dethrone your own father?
PISTHETAERUS
What an error! Why, the gods will be much more powerful if the birds govern the earth. At present the mortals are hidden beneath the clouds, escape your observation, and commit perjury in your name; but if you had the birds for your allies, and a man, after having sworn by the crow and Zeus, should fail to keep his oath, the crow would dive down upon him unawares and pluck out his eye.
POSIDON
Well thought of, by Posidon![1]
f[1] Posidon jestingly swears by himself.
HERACLES
My notion too.
PISTHETAERUS (TO THE TRIBALLIAN)
And you, what’s your opinion?
TRIBALLUS
Nabaisatreu.[1]
f[1] The barbarian god utters some gibberish which Pisthetaerus interprets into consent.
PISTHETAERUS
D’you see? he also approves. But hear another thing in which we can serve you. If a man vows to offer a sacrifice to some god, and then procrastinates, pretending that the gods can wait, and thus does not keep his word, we shall punish his stinginess.
POSIDON
Ah! ah! and how?
PISTHETAERUS
While he is counting his money or is in the bath, a kite will relieve him, before he knows it, either in coin or in clothes, of the value of a couple of sheep, and carry it to the god.
HERACLES
I vote for restoring them the sceptre.
POSIDON
Ask the Triballian.
HERACLES
Hi Triballian, do you want a thrashing?
TRIBALLUS
Saunaka baktarikrousa.
HERACLES
He says, “Right willingly.”
POSIDON
If that be the opinion of both of you, why, I consent too.
HERACLES
Very well! we accord the sceptre.
PISTHETAERUS
Ah! I was nearly forgetting another condition. I will leave Here to Zeus, but only if the young Basileia is given me in marriage.
POSIDON
Then you don’t want peace. Let us withdraw.
PISTHETAERUS
It matters mighty little to me. Cook, look to the gravy.
HERACLES
What an odd fellow this Posidon is! Where are you off to? Are we going to war about a woman?
POSIDON
What else is there to do?
HERACLES
What else? Why, conclude peace.
POSIDON
Oh! you ninny! do you always want to be fooled? Why, you are seeking your own downfall. If Zeus were to die, after having yielded them the sovereignty, you would be ruined, for you are the heir of all the wealth he will leave behind.
PISTHETAERUS
Oh! by the gods! how he is cajoling you. Step aside, that I may have a word with you. Your uncle is getting the better of you, my poor friend.[1] The law will not allow you an obolus of the paternal property, for you are a bastard and not a legitimate child.
f[1] Heracles, the god of strength, was far from being remarkable in the way of cleverness.
HERACLES
I a bastard! What’s that you tell me?
PISTHETAERUS
Why, certainly; are you not born of a stranger woman? Besides, is not Athene recognized as Zeus’ sole heiress? And no daughter would be that, if she had a legitimate brother.
HERACLES
But what if my father wished to give me his property on his death-bed, even though I be a bastard?
PISTHETAERUS
The law forbids it, and this same Posidon would be the first to lay claim to his wealth, in virtue of being his legitimate brother. Listen; thus runs Solon’s law: “A bastard shall not inherit, if there are legitimate children; and if there are no legitimate children, the property shall pass to the nearest kin.”[1]
f[1] This was Athenian law.
HERACLES
And I get nothing whatever of the paternal property?
PISTHETAERUS
Absolutely nothing. But tell me, has your father had you entered on the registers of his phratria?[1]
f[1] The poet attributes to the gods the same customs as those which governed Athens, and according to which no child was looked upon as legitimate unless his father had entered him on the registers of his phratria. The phratria was a division of the tribe and consisted of thirty families.
HERACLES
No, and I have long been surprised at the omission.
PISTHETAERUS
What ails you, that you should shake your fist at heaven? Do you want to fight it? Why, be on my side, I will make you a king and will feed you on bird’s milk and honey.
HERACLES
Your further condition seems fair to me. I cede you the young damsel.
POSIDON
But I, I vote against this opinion.
PISTHETAERUS
Then it all depends on the Triballian. (TO THE TRIBALLIAN.) What do you say?
TRIBALLUS
Big bird give daughter pretty and queen.
HERACLES
You say that you give her?
POSIDON
Why no, he does not say anything of the sort, that he gives her; else I cannot understand any better than the swallows.
PISTHETAERUS
Exactly so. Does he not say she must be given to the swallows?
POSIDON
Very well! you two arrange the matter; make peace, since you wish it so; I’ll hold my tongue.
HERACLES
We are of a mind to grant you all that you ask. But come up there with us to receive Basileia and the celestial bounty.
PISTHETAERUS
Here are birds already cut up, and very suitable for a nuptial feast.
HERACLES
You go and, if you like, I will stay here to roast them.
PISTHETAERUS
You to roast them! you are too much the glutton; come along with us.
HERACLES
Ah! how well I would have treated myself!
PISTHETAERUS
Let some[one] bring me a beautiful and magnificent tunic for the wedding.
CHORUS[1]
At Phanae,[2] near the Clepsydra,[3] there dwells a people who have neither faith nor law, the Englottogastors,[4] who reap, sow, pluck the vines and the figs[5] with their tongues; they belong to a barbaric race, and among them the Philippi and the Gorgiases[6] are to be found; ’tis these Englottogastorian Philippi who introduced the custom all over Attica of cutting out the tongue separately at sacrifices.[7]
f[1] The chorus continues to tell what it has seen on its flights. f[2] The harbour of the island of Chios; but this name is here used in the sense of being the land of informers ([from the Greek for] ‘to denounce’).
f[3] i.e. near the orators’ platform, in the Public Assembly, or because there stood the water-clock, by which speeches were limited. f[4] A coined name, made up of [the Greek for] the tongue, and [for] the stomach, and meaning those who fill their stomach with what they gain with their tongues, to wit, the orators. f[5] [The Greek for] a fig forms part of the word which in Greek means an informer.
f[6] Both rhetoricians.
f[7] Because they consecrated it specially to the god of eloquence.
A MESSENGER
Oh, you, whose unbounded happiness I cannot express in words, thrice happy race of airy birds, receive your king in your fortunate dwellings. More brilliant than the brightest star that illumes the earth, he is approaching his glittering golden palace; the sun itself does not shine with more dazzling glory. He is entering with his bride at his side,[1] whose beauty no human tongue can express; in his hand he brandishes the lightning, the winged shaft of Zeus; perfumes of unspeakable sweetness pervade the ethereal realms. ‘Tis a glorious spectacle to see the clouds of incense wafting in light whirlwinds before the breath of the Zephyr! But here he is himself. Divine Muse! let thy sacred lips begin with songs of happy omen.
f[1] Basileia, whom he brings back from heaven.
CHORUS
Fall back! to the right! to the left! advance![1] Fly around this happy mortal, whom Fortune loads with her blessings. Oh! oh! what grace! what beauty! Oh, marriage so auspicious for our city! All honour to this man! ’tis through him that the birds are called to such glorious destinies. Let your nuptial hymns, your nuptial songs, greet him and his Basileia! ‘Twas in the midst of such festivities that the Fates formerly united Olympian Here to the King who governs the gods from the summit of his inaccessible throne. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus! Rosy Eros with the golden wings held the reins and guided the chariot; ’twas he, who presided over the union of Zeus and the fortunate Here. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!
f[1] Terms used in regulating a dance.
PISTHETAERUS
I am delighted with your songs, I applaud your verses. Now celebrate the thunder that shakes the earth, the flaming lightning of Zeus and the terrible flashing thunderbolt.
CHORUS
Oh, thou golden flash of the lightning! oh, ye divine shafts of flame, that Zeus has hitherto shot forth! Oh, ye rolling thunders, that bring down the rain! ‘Tis by the order of OUR king that ye shall now stagger the earth! Oh, Hymen! ’tis through thee that he commands the universe and that he makes Basileia, whom he has robbed from Zeus, take her seat at his side. Oh! Hymen! oh! Hymenaeus!
PISTHETAERUS
Let all the winged tribes of our fellow-citizens follow the bridal couple to the palace of Zeus[1] and to the nuptial couch! Stretch forth your hands, my dear wife! Take hold of me by my wings and let us dance; I am going to lift you up and carry you through the air.
f[1] Where Pisthetaerus is henceforth to reign.
CHORUS
Oh, joy! Io Paean! Tralala! victory is thing, oh, thou greatest of the gods!