 | The Birds of Aristophanes |  |
60
SCENE VI.
Chorus.Chorus.
O gentle bird of auburn wing,
Gentlest and dearest, that dost sing
Consorting still with mine thy lay,
Lov'd partner of my wild-wood way,
Thou'rt come, thou'rt come; all hail! all hail!
I see thee now, sweet nightingale.
Low twittering lead thy pipe along;
Then sudden in a spring-tide song
Burst out the descant bold and free
Of anapæstic minstrelsy.
Gentlest and dearest, that dost sing
Consorting still with mine thy lay,
Lov'd partner of my wild-wood way,
Thou'rt come, thou'rt come; all hail! all hail!
I see thee now, sweet nightingale.
Low twittering lead thy pipe along;
Then sudden in a spring-tide song
Burst out the descant bold and free
Of anapæstic minstrelsy.
Oh come, ye men, ye brittle things, mere images of clay,
Ye flitting leaves, ye shadowy shapes, ye creatures of a day,
Poor, wingless, wretched mortals ye, like nothing but a dream;
Give heed to us, and list for once to an immortal theme.
Immortals we, and live for aye, from age and sorrow free;
Our mansion in the viewless air; our thoughts, eternity.
Come learn from us, for we can tell ye secrets most sublime,
How all things are; and birds exist before the birth of time;
How Gods and Hell and Chaos rose, and mighty rivers sprang;
Come learn aright;—and then from me bid Prodicus go hang.
First Chaos was and Night and Hell and Tartarus profound;
But Earth was not, nor Sky nor Heaven; so Hell withouten bound
Stretch'd forth his bosom dark and deep, by windy tempests blown,
When first of all black-winged Night doth lay an egg thereon.
In circling hours thence Love was born, an infant heavenly-fair,
Glittering his back with golden wings, and fleet as eddying air;
With winged Chaos mingling he, amid the gloomy Night,
In Tartarus our kind did hatch, and brought us first to light.
Till then the immortal race was not, ere Love commingled all;
But from the mingling Heav'n was made, and sea and earthy ball;
And hence the incorruptible kind of all the blest above;
We of those blest the eldest far, undoubted seed of Love.
For why? We flit with wings about, and are with lovers still,
And many a maiden coy have won to do her wooer's will:
One with a quail will oft prevail upon his mistress dear;
One sends a moor-hen; one, a goose; another, chanticleer.
And, from the birds to mortals, all their chief of blessings flow.
To them the coming seasons, we, spring, winter, autumn, show.
To bid them sow, the clamouring crane hies o'er the Libyan deep,
And tells the mariner to hang his rudder up and sleep;
Orestes too, by him forewarn'd, will think of honest labour,
And weave a coat, that when he quakes, he may not strip his neighbour.
Another season next the kite announcing, hastes to tell
When sheep in spring-time should be clipp'd. Next when 'tis fit to sell
The coat of frize, and buy a frock, that learn ye from the swallow.
Your Ammon we and Delphi are, Dodone and Apollo.
So ye to birds do ever turn for oracles divine;
Whether ye barter, money make, or holy wedlock join:
Nor aught there is, by augury, but for a bird may pass;
A word; a sign; a sound; a sneeze; a servant or an ass.
Ye flitting leaves, ye shadowy shapes, ye creatures of a day,
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Give heed to us, and list for once to an immortal theme.
Immortals we, and live for aye, from age and sorrow free;
Our mansion in the viewless air; our thoughts, eternity.
Come learn from us, for we can tell ye secrets most sublime,
How all things are; and birds exist before the birth of time;
How Gods and Hell and Chaos rose, and mighty rivers sprang;
Come learn aright;—and then from me bid Prodicus go hang.
62
But Earth was not, nor Sky nor Heaven; so Hell withouten bound
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When first of all black-winged Night doth lay an egg thereon.
64
Glittering his back with golden wings, and fleet as eddying air;
With winged Chaos mingling he, amid the gloomy Night,
In Tartarus our kind did hatch, and brought us first to light.
Till then the immortal race was not, ere Love commingled all;
But from the mingling Heav'n was made, and sea and earthy ball;
And hence the incorruptible kind of all the blest above;
We of those blest the eldest far, undoubted seed of Love.
For why? We flit with wings about, and are with lovers still,
And many a maiden coy have won to do her wooer's will:
One with a quail will oft prevail upon his mistress dear;
One sends a moor-hen; one, a goose; another, chanticleer.
65
To them the coming seasons, we, spring, winter, autumn, show.
To bid them sow, the clamouring crane hies o'er the Libyan deep,
And tells the mariner to hang his rudder up and sleep;
Orestes too, by him forewarn'd, will think of honest labour,
And weave a coat, that when he quakes, he may not strip his neighbour.
Another season next the kite announcing, hastes to tell
When sheep in spring-time should be clipp'd. Next when 'tis fit to sell
66
Your Ammon we and Delphi are, Dodone and Apollo.
So ye to birds do ever turn for oracles divine;
Whether ye barter, money make, or holy wedlock join:
Nor aught there is, by augury, but for a bird may pass;
A word; a sign; a sound; a sneeze; a servant or an ass.
Be honest then; at once declare,
That we your genuine Phœbus are.
Own us your Gods; and for all uses
We'll serve you well, priests, prophets, muses;
For gentle seasons, summer breezes,
When spring relents, or winter freezes;
Not turn away and sit above
'Mid clouds with solemn airs like Jove:
Present, all gifts we'll bring to you,
Your children and your children's children too:
Wealth and peace, and flowing treasure,
Health and joy, and youth and pleasure,
Love and laughter, smiles and silk,
Song, feast, dance, and pigeon's milk;
That ye shall sink opprest with plenty:
So to your heart's ease we'll content ye.
That we your genuine Phœbus are.
Own us your Gods; and for all uses
We'll serve you well, priests, prophets, muses;
For gentle seasons, summer breezes,
When spring relents, or winter freezes;
Not turn away and sit above
'Mid clouds with solemn airs like Jove:
Present, all gifts we'll bring to you,
Your children and your children's children too:
Wealth and peace, and flowing treasure,
Health and joy, and youth and pleasure,
Love and laughter, smiles and silk,
Song, feast, dance, and pigeon's milk;
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So to your heart's ease we'll content ye.
Muse, that from the forest brinks
Thy liquid measures oft dost trill,
Tio, tio, tio, tinx:
With whom I wont to rove
Through glen or grove,
Tio, tio, tio, tio, tinx:
Then to the mountain-tops we hie,
On an ash-tree wildly swinging,
To Pan our holy numbers singing;
Or from brown throat, strained high,
Warbling forth loud melody
To the Mountain Mother, fill
The woods with songs, her sacred dances leading;
Tototo, tototo, tototo, totinx:
Whence like a bee,
On ambrosial numbers feeding,
Phrynichus hath borne away
Notes t'imbue his dulcet lay.
Thy liquid measures oft dost trill,
Tio, tio, tio, tinx:
With whom I wont to rove
Through glen or grove,
Tio, tio, tio, tio, tinx:
Then to the mountain-tops we hie,
On an ash-tree wildly swinging,
To Pan our holy numbers singing;
Or from brown throat, strained high,
Warbling forth loud melody
To the Mountain Mother, fill
The woods with songs, her sacred dances leading;
Tototo, tototo, tototo, totinx:
Whence like a bee,
On ambrosial numbers feeding,
Phrynichus hath borne away
Notes t'imbue his dulcet lay.
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Come, ye mortals, whoever would flee melancholy,
Come and live with the birds, and your lives shall be jolly.
Whate'er the laws yonder forbid you to do,
With us is allow'd, and commendable too.
Though with you 'tis unlawful to beat one's own father;
We not only excuse, but approve of it rather,
If any one runs at his father, and smiting
Cries, ‘There, take a spur, if ye're ready for fighting.’
If any's a run-a-way, branded and freckled,
With us he's a guinea-fowl, curiously speckled.
If a Phrygian you there, base as Spintharus deem one,
He'll here be a finch, of the race of Philemon;
If a slave and a Carian, like Execestides,
With us he may choose what forefathers he please:
And if Pisias's son have to outlaws unbarr'd
The gates, which his city had given him to guard,
Let him be a partridge, his father's own brood;
For a partridge may scamper where'er he sees good.
Come and live with the birds, and your lives shall be jolly.
Whate'er the laws yonder forbid you to do,
With us is allow'd, and commendable too.
Though with you 'tis unlawful to beat one's own father;
We not only excuse, but approve of it rather,
If any one runs at his father, and smiting
Cries, ‘There, take a spur, if ye're ready for fighting.’
If any's a run-a-way, branded and freckled,
With us he's a guinea-fowl, curiously speckled.
If a Phrygian you there, base as Spintharus deem one,
He'll here be a finch, of the race of Philemon;
If a slave and a Carian, like Execestides,
With us he may choose what forefathers he please:
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The gates, which his city had given him to guard,
Let him be a partridge, his father's own brood;
For a partridge may scamper where'er he sees good.
E'en thus the swans their notes do raise,
Tio, tio, tio, tio, tinx,
And a tuneful clamour mix,
While every pinion creaks;
As in Apollo's praise,
Their random rout and revelry,
Tio, tio, tio, tio, tinx,
On Hebrus' banks they ply;
Tio, tio, tio, tio;
Till up the clouds the clamour raves,
And every beast, ounce, leopard, lynx,
Hears it and shrinks;
And the hush'd æther stills her waves,
Tototo, tototo, tototo, totinx.
An answering peal rings out
From all Olympus; and the kings, strange wonder
Seizes, as in melodious thunder
Graces Olympian and Muses shout
Tio, tio, tio, tinx.
Tio, tio, tio, tio, tinx,
And a tuneful clamour mix,
While every pinion creaks;
As in Apollo's praise,
Their random rout and revelry,
Tio, tio, tio, tio, tinx,
On Hebrus' banks they ply;
Tio, tio, tio, tio;
Till up the clouds the clamour raves,
And every beast, ounce, leopard, lynx,
Hears it and shrinks;
And the hush'd æther stills her waves,
Tototo, tototo, tototo, totinx.
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From all Olympus; and the kings, strange wonder
Seizes, as in melodious thunder
Graces Olympian and Muses shout
Tio, tio, tio, tinx.
Of all the commodious and delicate things
There's none to compare to a good pair of wings.
If you, my spectators, had got them full grown,
How many advantages then were your own!
If any among you were hungry, and tired
Of some tragedy's chorus, his dinner desired,
He might spread them at once, and with ease fly away
To his home, take a mouthful, and back to the play.
Or if some Patroclides among you should know
A need more ignoble that urged him to go,
'Twere well he were off, not a soul would complain
Of his absence, nor fret till he flew back again:
Or if in the boxes some spark should discover
His mistress's husband, the fortunate lover
Might flutter his plumes, give the dame an embrace,
And ere any had miss'd him, be back in his place.
Oh surely the value of wings must be great,
When with wicker ones only Diitriphes late
To rise to the top of our knights has been able,
From nothing grown great, and the cock of the stable.
There's none to compare to a good pair of wings.
If you, my spectators, had got them full grown,
How many advantages then were your own!
If any among you were hungry, and tired
Of some tragedy's chorus, his dinner desired,
He might spread them at once, and with ease fly away
To his home, take a mouthful, and back to the play.
Or if some Patroclides among you should know
A need more ignoble that urged him to go,
'Twere well he were off, not a soul would complain
Of his absence, nor fret till he flew back again:
Or if in the boxes some spark should discover
His mistress's husband, the fortunate lover
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And ere any had miss'd him, be back in his place.
Oh surely the value of wings must be great,
When with wicker ones only Diitriphes late
To rise to the top of our knights has been able,
From nothing grown great, and the cock of the stable.
| The Birds of Aristophanes | |