Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, DIONYSIACA: HOW BACCHUS FINDS ADRIADNE SLEEPING, by NONNUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

DIONYSIACA: HOW BACCHUS FINDS ADRIADNE SLEEPING, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: When bacchus first beheld the desolate
Last Line: Who stole my love of athens?' ...
Alternate Author Name(s): Nonnos; Nonnus Of Panopolis
Subject(s): Ariadne; Bacchus; Mythology - Classical


WHEN Bacchus first beheld the desolate
And sleeping Ariadne, wonder straight
Was mixed with love in his great golden eyes;
He turned to his Bacchantes in surprise,
And said with guarded voice, -- 'Hush! strike no more
Your brazen cymbals; keep those voices still
Of voice and pipe; and since ye stand before
Queen Cypris, let her slumber as she will!
And yet the cestus is not here in proof.
A Grace, perhaps, whom sleep has stolen aloof:
In which case, as the morning shines in view,
Wake this Aglaia! -- yet in Naxos, who
Would veil a Grace so? Hush! And if that she
Were Hebe, which of all the gods can be
The pourer-out of wine? or if we think
She's like the shining moon by ocean's brink,
The guide of herds, -- why, could she sleep without
Endymion's breath on her cheek? or if I doubt
Of silver-footed Thetis, used to tread
These shores, -- even she (in reverence be it said)
Has no such rosy beauty to dress deep
With the blue waves. The Loxian goddess might
Repose so from her hunting-toil aright
Beside the sea, since toil gives birth to sleep,
But who would find her with her tunic loose,
Thus? Stand off, Thracian! stand off! Do not leap,
Not this way! Leave that piping, since I choose,
O dearest Pan, and let Athene rest!
And yet if she be Pallas ... truly guessed ...
Her lance is -- where? her helm and aegis -- where?'
-- As Bacchus closed, the miserable Fair
Awoke at last, sprang upward from the sands,
And gazing wild on that wild throng that stands
Around, around her, and no Theseus there! --
Her voice went moaning over shore and sea,
Beside the halcyon's cry; she called her love;
She named her hero, and raged maddeningly
Against the brine of waters; and, above,
Sought the ship's track, and cursed the hours she slept;
And still the chiefest execration swept
Against queen Paphia, mother of the ocean;
And cursed and prayed by times in her emotion
The winds all round....

Her grief did make her glorious; her despair
Adorned her with its weight. Poor wailing child!
She looked like Venus when the goddess smiled
At liberty of godship, debonair;
Poor Ariadne! and her eyelids fair
Hid looks beneath them lent her by Persuasion.
And every Grace, with tears of Love's own passion
She wept long; then she spake: -- 'Sweet sleep did come
While sweetest Theseus went. Oh, glad and dumb,
I wish he had left me still! for in my sleep
I saw his Athens, and did gladly keep
My new bride-state within my Theseus' hall;
And heard the pomp of Hymen, and the call
Of "Ariadne, Ariadne," sung
In choral joy; and there, with joy I hung
Spring-blossoms round love's altar! -- ay, and wore
A wreath myself; and felt him evermore
Oh, evermore beside me, with his mighty
Grave head bowed down in prayer to Aphrodite!
Why, what a sweet, sweet dream! He went with it,
And left me here unwedded where I sit!
Persuasion help me! The dark night did make me
A brideship, the fair morning takes away;
My Love had left me when the Hour did wake me;
And while I dreamed of marriage, as I say,
And blest it well, my blessed Theseus left me:
And thus the sleep, I loved so, has bereft me.
Speak to me, rocks, and tell my grief today,
Who stole my love of Athens?' ...





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