CALLIMACHUS

Aetia

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lready the maiden had bedded with the boy, as the ritual commanded that the bride should sleep her pre-nuptial sleep with a boy whose parents were both living. For they say that once Hera—dog, dog, hold back, shameless soul! You will sing even of that which is not holy. You have profited greatly because you have not seen the rites of the dread goddess, since you would have spewed forth their story too. Much knowledge is a troublesome evil for one who cannot control his tongue; truly this child has a knife. In the morning the oxen were about to tear their lives in the water, looking upon the sharp sacrificial blade, but in the afternoon an evil pallor seized her, and a sickness seized her, of the kind we banish to the wild goats, and falsely call “sacred.” This distressing illness then wasted the girl to the very gates of Hades. A second time the couches were strewn, a second time the girl was sick for seven months with a quartan fever. A third time they bethought themselves of marriage, a third time again a destructive chill settled upon Cydippe. A fourth time her father did not wait, but set out for Delphian Phoebus; and he spoke this oracle in the night: ”A heavy oath to Artemis breaks off your daughter’s marriage. For at that time my sister did not care for Lygdamis, nor did she weave rushes in Amyclae, nor did she wash away the grime from the hunt in the river Parthenius, but she was present in Delos when your daughter swore to have Acontius, and no other, as her bridegroom. I declare this; but if you wish to make me your counsellor, you will fulfill all your daughter’s oaths. For I tell you that you will mix gold not with lead but with bright electrum, if you marry her to Acontius. You, the father-in-law, are a Codrid from above, and the Cean bridegroom is from the priests of Aristaean Zeus Icmius, whose care it is on the mountain peaks to appease the harsh Maira when she rises, and to entreat the breeze from Zeus, by which frequent quails are caught in flaxen nets. So spoke the god; and he returned to Naxos and questioned the girl herself, and she revealed the whole story. And she was well again; for the future, Acontius, it will be yours to go to your own Dionysiadas to seek her. And the goddess was well-sworn, and the companions of the bride immediately sang hymeneals that were no longer postponed. I do not think that on that night, Acontius, when you touched her maiden girdle, you would have chosen either the ankle of Iphicles that ran over the ears of corn, or the riches that Midas of Celaenae possessed in exchange; and of my vote those would be witnesses who are not ignorant of the non-harsh god. And from that marriage a great name was destined to come down; for indeed your lineage, the Acontiadae, still dwell numerous and highly honored in Ioulis, Cean, and we have heard this love of yours from ancient Xenomedes, who once put the whole island into his mythic chronicle, beginning with how it was inhabited by the Corycian nymphs, whom a great lion chased from Parnassus, for which reason they called it Hydroussa, and how Ciro... ... dwelt in Caryae; and how it was settled by those whose sacrifices Alalaxios Zeus always receives at the sound of trumpets, the Carians together with the Leleges, and how Ceos, the son of Phoebus and Melia, caused it to take another name; and also the insolence and the death by lightning, and the sorcerer Telchines, and foolish Demonax who cared not for the blessed gods, the old man set down in his tablets, and the old woman Macelo, the mother of Dexithea, whom alone, when they overthrew the island for their wicked insolence, the immortals left unharmed; and how Megacles walled four cities: Carthaea, and Eupylus, son of the demi-goddess Chryso, the well-watered city of Ioulis, while Acai... Poeessa, the seat of the fair-haired Graces, and Aphrastus the little town of Coresion; and he told, Cean, of your sharp love that was mixed with these, the old man who was concerned with truth, whence the boy’s story ran to our Calliope. For I shall not sing now of the foundations of …..

Hecale

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Once on a hill of Erechtheus there lived a woman of Attica.

All wayfarers honoured her for her hospitality, for she kept her house open.

She { Medea? } understood that it was the son of Aegeus.

Hold back, child, do not drink.

You have come unexpectedly.

For in Troezen, he put it under a hollow stone together with the boots.

whenever the child { Theseus} should be strong enough to lift up with his arms the hollow stone.

Having seized the sword of Aedepsos...and the boots, which the abundant rotting mould had not ruined.

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and she { Athena} , high-girdled, was going up to the city bearing a great fragment;

and I met her by the beautiful ever-brilliant gymnasium of the Lycean Apollo.

whose tomb is this you are building?

Go, gentle woman, the way which heart-gnawing worries do not traverse.

Often, good mother . we will remember your hospitable hut, for it was a common shelter for all.

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