Aristophanes · Birds Ὄρνιθες

Aristophanes, Birds 1444–1492: Episode: the Informer is sent off with a whip; the Chorus sing of their travels

When the Informer will not hear of an honest trade, Peisthetaerus tells him that men are winged by talk, as the fathers in the barbers' shops say of their sons. The Informer insists on the trade of his fathers, and Peisthetaerus gives him a whipping-top and a whip for wings and drives him off. The Chorus sing of the strange sights they have seen on their flights, a Cleonymus-tree that bears nothing but shields and a gloomy place where Orestes strips any man he meets.

Lines 1444–1492 · 341 words · click a number to copy its link
Πισθέταιρος 1444ὁ δέ τις τὸν αὑτοῦ φησιν ἐπὶ τραγῳδίᾳ 1445ἀνεπτερῶσθαι καὶ πεποτῆσθαι τὰς φρένας. Συκοφάντης λόγοισί τἄρα καὶ πτεροῦνται; Πισθέταιρος φήμʼ ἐγώ. ὑπὸ γὰρ λόγων ὁ νοῦς τε μετεωρίζεται ἐπαίρεταί τʼ ἄνθρωπος. οὕτω καί σʼ ἐγὼ ἀναπτερώσας βούλομαι χρηστοῖς λόγοις 1450τρέψαι πρὸς ἔργον νόμιμον. Συκοφάντης ἀλλʼ οὐ βούλομαι. Πισθέταιρος τί δαὶ ποιήσεις; Συκοφάντης τὸ γένος οὐ καταισχυνῶ. παππῷος ὁ βίος συκοφαντεῖν ἐστί μοι. ἀλλὰ πτέρου με ταχέσι καὶ κούφοις πτεροῖς ἱέρακος ἢ κερχνῇδος, ὡς ἂν τοὺς ξένους 1455καλεσάμενος κᾆτʼ ἐγκεκληκὼς ἐνθαδὶ κατʼ αὖ πέτωμαι πάλιν ἐκεῖσε. Πισθέταιρος μανθάνω. ὡδὶ λέγεις· ὅπως ἂν ὠφλήκῃ δίκην ἐνθάδε πρὶν ἥκειν ὁ ξένος. Συκοφάντης πάνυ μανθάνεις. Πισθέταιρος κἄπειθʼ ὁ μὲν πλεῖ δεῦρο, σὺ δʼ ἐκεῖσʼ αὖ πέτει 1460ἁρπασόμενος τὰ χρήματʼ αὐτοῦ. Συκοφάντης πάντʼ ἔχεις. βέμβικος οὐδὲν διαφέρειν δεῖ. Πισθέταιρος μανθάνω

SYCOPHANT So then by talk they are winged.

PEISTHETAERUS Exactly so. Through talk the mind flutters and soars aloft, And all the man takes wing. And so even now I wish to turn you, winging you by talk, To some more honest trade.

SYCOPHANT But I DON’T wish.

PEISTHETAERUS How then?

SYCOPHANT I’ll not disgrace my bringing up. I’ll ply the trade my father’s fathers plied. So wing me, please, with light quick-darting wings Falcon’s or kestrel’s, so I’ll serve my writs Abroad on strangers; then accuse them here; Then dart back there again.

PEISTHETAERUS I understand. So when they come, they’ll find the suit decided, And payment ordered.

SYCOPHANT Right! you understand.

PEISTHETAERUS And while they’re sailing hither you’ll fly there, And seize their goods for payment.

SYCOPHANT That’s the trick! Round like a top I whizz.

PEISTHETAERUS I understand. A whipping-top; and here by Zeus I’ve got Fine Corcyraean wings to set you whizzing.

Πισθέταιρος 1462βέμβικα· καὶ μὴν ἔστι μοι νὴ τὸν Δία κάλλιστα Κορκυραῖα τοιαυτὶ πτερά. Συκοφάντης οἴμοι τάλας μάστιγʼ ἔχεις. Πισθέταιρος πτερὼ μὲν οὖν, 1465οἷσί σε ποιήσω τήμερον βεμβικιᾶν. Συκοφάντης οἴμοι τάλας. Πισθέταιρος οὐ πτερυγιεῖς ἐντευθενί; οὐκ ἀπολιβάξεις ὦ κάκιστʼ ἀπολούμενος; πικρὰν τάχʼ ὄψει στρεψοδικοπανουργίαν. ἀπίωμεν ἡμεῖς ξυλλαβόντες τὰ πτερά. Χορός 1470πολλὰ δὴ καὶ καινὰ καὶ θαυμάστʼ ἐπεπτόμεσθα καὶ δεινὰ πράγματʼ εἴδομεν. ἔστι γὰρ δένδρον πεφυκὸς ἔκτοπόν τι Καρδίας ἀ- 1475πωτέρω Κλεώνυμος, χρήσιμον μὲν οὐδέν, ἄλλως

SYCOPHANT O, it’s a whip!

PEISTHETAERUS Nay, friend, a pair of wings, To set you spinning round and round today. (Striking him.)

SYCOPHANT O! O! O! O!

PEISTHETAERUS Come, wing yourself from hence. Wobble away, you most confounded rascal! I’ll make you spin! I’ll law-perverting-trick you! Now let us gather up the wings and go.

CHORUS We’ve been flying, we’ve been flying Over sea and land, espying Many a wonder strange and new. First, a tree of monstrous girth, Tall and stout, yet nothing worth, For ’tis rotten through and through; It has got no heart, and we Heard it called “Cleonymus-tree.” In the spring it blooms gigantic,

CHORUS

1477δὲ δειλὸν καὶ μέγα. τοῦτο τοῦ μὲν ἦρος ἀεὶ βλαστάνει καὶ συκοφαντεῖ, 1480τοῦ δὲ χειμῶνος πάλιν τὰς ἀσπίδας φυλλορροεῖ. ἔστι δʼ αὗ χώρα πρὸς αὐτῷ τῷ σκότῳ πόρρω τις ἐν τῇ λύχνων ἐρημίᾳ, 1485ἔνθα τοῖς ἥρωσιν ἄνθρωποι ξυναριστῶσι καὶ ξύν- εισι πλὴν τῆς ἑσπέρας. τηνικαῦτα δʼ οὐκέτʼ ἦν ἀσφαλὲς ξυντυγχάνειν. 1490εἰ γὰρ ἐντύχοι τις ἥρῳ τῶν βροτῶν νύκτωρ Ὀρέστῃ, γυμνὸς ἦν πληγεὶς ὑπʼ αὐτοῦ

Fig-traducing, sycophantic, Yet in falling leaf-time yields Nothing but a fall of shields. Next a spot by darkness skirted, Spot, by every light deserted, Lone and gloomy, we descried. There the human and divine, Men with heroes, mix and dine Freely, save at even-tide. ’Tis not safe for mortal men To encounter heroes then. Then the great Orestes, looming Vast and awful through the glooming, On their right a stroke delivering, Leaves them palsied, stript, and shivering.

People and places in this passage

English translation by Benjamin Bickley Rogers (1906). Original text: Greek text: F. W. Hall and W. M. Geldart (eds.), Aristophanis Comoediae, Oxford Classical Texts, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1906-1907, as digitised by Perseus. English: Benjamin Bickley Rogers, The Birds of Aristophanes, London: George Bell and Sons, 1906.

Greek text and translation from the Perseus Digital Library, Tufts University, Greek: CC BY-SA 4.0 (Perseus Digital Library); translation public domain (Rogers). Introductions, summaries and notes © GreekMythology.com.