3rd century BC Greek epic poet
Apollonius of Rhodes (fl. first half of 3rd century BCE) is best known as the author of the Argonautica, an epic poem about Jason and the Argonauts and their quest for the Golden Fleece.
From: Wikiquote (CC BY-SA 4.0)
Native Name:
Ἀπολλώνιος Ῥόδιος
•
Ἀπολλώνιος Ἀλεξανδρεύς
Alternative Names:
Apollonius Rhodius
From Wikidata (CC0)
Meanwhile Medea, though she was singing and dancing with her maids, could think of one thing only. There was no melody, however gay, that did not quickly cease to please. Time and again she faltered and came to a halt. To keep her eyes fixed on her choir was more than she could do. She was for ever turning them aside to search the distant paths, and more than once she well-nigh fainted when she mistook the noise of the wind for the footfall of a passer-by. But it was not so very long before the sight of Jason rewarded her impatient watch. Like Sirius rising from Ocean, brilliant and beautiful but full of menace for the flocks, he sprang into view, splendid to look at but fraught with trouble for the lovesick girl. Her heart stood still, a mist descended on her eyes, and a warm flush spread across her cheeks. She could neither move towards him nor retreat; her feet were rooted to the ground. And now her servants disappeared, and the pair of them stood face to face without a word or sound, like oaks or tall pines that stand in the mountains side by side in silence when the air is still, but when the wind has stirred them chatter without end. So these two, stirred by the breath of Love, were soon to pour out all their tale.
Οὐδ᾽ ἄρα Μηδείης θυμὸς τράπετ᾽ ἄλλα νοῆσαι,
μελπομένης περ ὅμως· πᾶσαι δέ οἱ, ἥντιν᾽ ἀθύροι
μολπήν, οὐκ ἐπὶ δηρὸν ἐφήνδανεν ἑψιάασθαι.
ἀλλὰ μεταλλήγεσκεν ἀμήχανος, οὐδέ ποτ᾽ ὄσσε
ἀμφιπόλων μεθ᾽ ὅμιλον ἔχ᾽ ἀτρέμας· ἐς δὲ κελεύθους
τηλόσε παπταίνεσκε, παρακλίνουσα παρειάς.
ἦ θαμὰ δὴ στηθέων ἐάγη κέαρ, ὁππότε δοῦπον
ἢ ποδὸς ἢ ἀνέμοιο παραθρέξαντα δοάσσαι.
αὐτὰρ ὅγ᾽ οὐ μετὰ δηρὸν ἐελδομένῃ ἐφαάνθη
ὑψόσ᾽ ἀναθρώσκων ἅ τε Σείριος Ὠκεανοῖο,
ὃς δή τοι καλὸς μὲν ἀρίζηλός τ᾽ ἐσιδέσθαι
ἀντέλλει, μήλοισι δ᾽ ἐν ἄσπετον ἧκεν ὀιζύν·
ἄρα τῇ καλὸς μὲν ἐπήλυθεν εἰσοράασθαι
Αἰσονίδης, κάματον δὲ δυσίμερον ὦρσε φαανθείς.
δ᾽ ἄρα οἱ κραδίη στηθέων πέσεν, ὄμματα δ᾽ αὔτως
ἤχλυσαν· θερμὸν δὲ παρηίδας εἷλεν ἔρευθος.
γούνατα δ᾽ οὔτ᾽ ὀπίσω οὔτε προπάροιθεν ἀεῖραι
ἔσθενεν, ἀλλ᾽ ὑπένερθε πάγη πόδας. αἱ δ᾽ ἄρα τείως
ἀμφίπολοι μάλα πᾶσαι ἀπὸ σφείων ἐλίασθεν.
τὼ δ᾽ ἄνεῳ καὶ ἄναυδοι ἐφέστασαν ἀλλήλοισιν,
ἢ δρυσίν, ἢ μακρῇσιν ἐειδόμενοι ἐλάτῃσιν,
τε παρᾶσσον ἕκηλοι ἐν οὔρεσιν ἐρρίζωνται,
νηνεμίῃ· μετὰ δ᾽ αὖτις ὑπὸ ῥιπῆς ἀνέμοιο
κινύμεναι ὁμάδησαν ἀπείριτον· ὧς ἄρα τώγε
μέλλον ἅλις φθέγξασθαι ὑπὸ πνοιῇσιν Ἔρωτος.
With that she went and fetched the box in which she kept her many drugs, healing or deadly, and putting it on her knees she wept. Tears ran unchecked in torrents down her cheeks and drenched her lap as she bemoaned her own sad destiny. She was determined now to take a poison from the box and swallow it; and in a moment she was fumbling with the fastening of the lid in her unhappy eagerness to reach the fatal drug. But suddenly she was overcome by the hateful thought of death, and for a long time she stayed her hand in silent horror. Visions of life and all its fascinating cares rose up before her. She thought of the pleasures that the living can enjoy. She thought of her happy playmates, as a young girl will. And now, setting its true value on all this, it seemed to her a sweeter thing to see the sun than it had ever been before. So, prompted by Hera, she changed her mind and put the box away.
Ἦ, καὶ φωριαμὸν μετεκίαθεν, ᾗ ἔνι πολλὰ
φάρμακά οἱ, τὰ μὲν ἐσθλά, τὰ δὲ ῥαιστήρι᾽, ἔκειτο.
ἐνθεμένη δ᾽ ἐπὶ γούνατ᾽ ὀδύρετο. δεῦε δὲ κόλπους
ἄλληκτον δακρύοισι, τὰ δ᾽ ἔρρεεν ἀσταγὲς αὔτως,
αἴν᾽ ὀλοφυρομένης τὸν ἑὸν μόρον. ἵετο δ᾽ ἥγε
φάρμακα λέξασθαι θυμοφθόρα, τόφρα πάσαιτο.
ἤδη καὶ δεσμοὺς ἀνελύετο φωριαμοῖο,
ἐξελέειν μεμαυῖα, δυσάμμορος. ἀλλά οἱ ἄφνω
δεῖμ᾽ ὀλοὸν στυγεροῖο κατὰ φρένας ἦλθ᾽ Ἀίδαο.
ἔσχετο δ᾽ ἀμφασίῃ δηρὸν χρόνον, ἀμφὶ δὲ πᾶσαι
βιότοιο μεληδόνες ἰνδάλλοντο.
μνήσατο μὲν τερπνῶν, ὅσ᾽ ἐνὶ ζωοῖσι πέλονται,
μνήσαθ᾽ ὁμηλικίης περιγηθέος, οἷά τε κούρη·
καί τέ οἱ ἠέλιος γλυκίων γένετ᾽ εἰσοράασθαι,
ἢ πάρος, εἰ ἐτεόν γε νόῳ ἐπεμαίεθ᾽ ἕκαστα.
καὶ τὴν μέν ῥα πάλιν σφετέρων ἀποκάτθετο γούνων,
Ἥρης ἐννεσίῃσι μετάτροπος.
Indeed I am ill-starred, for even if he dies I have no hope of happiness; with Jason dead, I should taste real misery. Away with modesty, farewell to my good name! Saved from all harm by me, let him go where he pleases, and let me die. On the very day of his success I could hang myself from a rafter or take a deadly poison. Yet even so my death would never save me from their wicked tongues. My fate would be the talk of every city in the world; and here the Colchian women would bandy my name about and drag it in mud – the girl who fancied a foreigner enough to die for him, disgraced her parents and her home, went off her head for love. What infamy would not be mine? Ah, how I grieve now for the folly of my passion! Better to die here in my room this very night, passing from life unnoticed, unreproached, than to carry through this horrible, this despicable scheme.
Δύσμορος· οὐ μὲν ἔολπα καταφθιμένοιό περ ἔμπης
λωφήσειν ἀχέων· τότε δ᾽ ἂν κακὸν ἄμμι πέλοιτο,
κεῖνος ὅτε ζωῆς ἀπαμείρεται. ἐρρέτω αἰδώς,
ἐρρέτω ἀγλαΐη· ὁ δ᾽ ἐμῇ ἰότητι σαωθεὶς
ἀσκηθής, ἵνα οἱ θυμῷ φίλον, ἔνθα νέοιτο.
αὐτὰρ ἐγὼν αὐτῆμαρ, ὅτ᾽ ἐξανύσειεν ἄεθλον,
τεθναίην, ἢ λαιμὸν ἀναρτήσασα μελάθρῳ,
ἢ καὶ πασσαμένη ῥαιστήρια φάρμακα θυμοῦ.
ἀλλὰ καὶ ὧς φθιμένῃ μοι ἐπιλλίξουσιν ὀπίσσω
κερτομίας· τηλοῦ δὲ πόλις περὶ πᾶσα βοήσει
πότμον ἐμόν· καί κέν με διὰ στόματος φορέουσαι
Κολχίδες ἄλλυδις ἄλλαι ἀεικέα μωμήσονται·
ἥτις κηδομένη τόσον ἀνέρος ἀλλοδαποῖο
κάτθανεν, ἥτις δῶμα καὶ οὓς ᾔσχυνε τοκῆας,
μαργοσύνῃ εἴξασα. τί δ᾽ οὐκ ἐμὸν ἔσσεται αἶσχος;
ᾤ μοι ἐμῆς ἄτης. ἦ τ᾽ ἂν πολὺ κέρδιον εἴη
αὐτῇ ἐν νυκτὶ λιπεῖν βίον ἐν θαλάμοισιν
πότμῳ ἀνωίστῳ, κάκ᾽ ἐλέγχεα πάντα φυγοῦσαν,
πρὶν τάδε λωβήεντα καὶ οὐκ ὀνομαστὰ τελέσσαι.
Night threw her shadow on the world. Sailors out at sea looked up at the circling Bear and the stars of Orion. Travellers and watchmen longed for sleep, and oblivion came at last to mothers mourning for their children's death. In the town, dogs ceased to bark and men to call to one another; silence reigned over the deepening dark. But gentle sleep did not visit Medea. In her yearning for Jason, fretful cares kept her awake. She feared the great strength of the bulls; she saw him face them in the field of Ares; she saw him meet an ignominious end. Her heart fluttered within her, restless...
Νὺξ μὲν ἔπειτ᾽ ἐπὶ γαῖαν ἄγεν κνέφας· οἱ δ᾽ ἐνὶ πόντῳ
ναῦται εἰς Ἑλίκην τε καὶ ἀστέρας Ὠρίωνος
ἔδρακον ἐκ νηῶν· ὕπνοιο δὲ καί τις ὁδίτης
ἤδη καὶ πυλαωρὸς ἐέλδετο· καί τινα παίδων
μητέρα τεθνεώτων ἀδινὸν περὶ κῶμ᾽ ἐκάλυπτεν·
οὐδὲ κυνῶν ὑλακὴ ἔτ᾽ ἀνὰ πτόλιν, οὐ θρόος ἦεν
σιγὴ δὲ μελαινομένην ἔχεν ὄρφνην.
ἀλλὰ μάλ᾽ οὐ Μήδειαν ἐπὶ γλυκερὸς λάβεν ὕπνος.
πολλὰ γὰρ Αἰσονίδαο πόθῳ μελεδήματ᾽ ἔγειρεν
δειδυῖαν ταύρων κρατερὸν μένος, οἷσιν ἔμελλεν
φθίσθαι ἀεικελίῃ μοίρῃ κατὰ νειὸν Ἄρηος.
Πυκνὰ δέ οἱ κραδίη στηθέων ἔντοσθεν ἔθυιεν.
[Aphrodite] set out, and after searching up and down Olympus for her boy, found him far away in the fruit-laden orchard of Zeus. With him was Ganymede, whose beauty had so captivated Zeus that he took him up to heaven to live with the immortals. The two lads, who had much in common, were playing with golden knuckle-bones. Eros, the greedy boy, was standing there with a whole handful of them clutched to his breast and a happy flush mantling his cheeks. Near by sat Ganymede, hunched up, silent and disconsolate, with only two left. He threw these for what they were worth in quick succession and was furious when Eros laughed. Of course he lost them both immediately – they joined the rest. So he went off in despair with empty hands and did not notice the goddess's approach. Aphrodite came up to her boy, took his chin in her hand, and said: 'Why this triumphant smile, you rascal?'
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... I have been very fond of Jason ever since the time when I was putting human charity on trial and as he came home from the chase he met me at the mouth of the Anaurus. The river was in spate, for all the mountains and their high spurs were under snow and cataracts were roaring down their sides. I was disguised as an old woman and he took pity on me, lifted me up, and carried me across the flood on his shoulders. For that, I will never cease to honour him.