A luxurious crowd of Lydians streamed in: those who held both pebbly Cimpsos and beetling […] ; those from broad Torebios, those from fruitful Sardis, nurse of riches, as old as the daydawn ; those from the grape-growing land of Bacchos, where the vinegod first mixed wine for Mother Rheia in a brimming cup, and named the city Cerassai, the Mixings; those that held the watching-peaks of Oanos, the stream of Hermos and watery Metallon, where the yellow treasure of the water sparkling spirts the Pactolian mud. A great host came armed from […]. There […] spouting up the hot stream of the fiery thunderbolt, had kindled the neighbouring country, and as Typhon blazed amid clouds of smoke, the mountains were burnt to ashes, while his heads melted in the limb-devouring flame. But the priest of Lydian Zeus left the fragrant temple redolent of incense, and without steel made battle with piercing words, a word for a spear, no cutting steel, and brought the Son of Earth to obedience with his tongue ; his bold mouth was his lance, his word a sword, his voice a shield, and this was all that […] from his inspired throat—“ Stand, wretch !” So the flaming Giant by magic art was held fast in chains of glamour by the invincible word, and stood in awe of man armed with a spear of the mind, while the avenging word shackled him in fetters not made of steel. That awful giant towering high, trembled not so much at the Archer of Thunderbolts, as for the battle-crashing magician shooting bolts of speech from his tongue. He gave way, as the sharp words pierced him with wounds speaking in words. Already scorched with flame, thrust through with a redhot spear, Typhoeus gave way at the other fire hotter still, a fire of the mind. His snaky […] were rooted firm and immovable by main force, firmly fixt in Earth his mother, his body was by a bloodless blade that made no mark.
But all this was done in time gone by, among men of a more ancient generation. Here were men armed for the Indian tumult by Stabios and Stamnos, loudly rattling on the ground in drilled […] ; and if you could see the whole host prancing, leaping, you might be inclined to say that the captain was leading them to a dance rather than to a war, bringing a detachment of armour-dancers. For as they marched, the Mygdonian lute struck up a dance tune for war-music to arouse the tumult of conflict ; it sounded the assembly for battle, not for dance : love’s flutings were the trumpets of war; the twin Berecyntian pipes tootled, together, the calfskin bellowed, struck on both sides by the brassy rattle of heavyrumbling hands.
The Phrygian ranged themselves beside the ranks of […] Lydians : those whose lot was in Boudcia, and the famous town of tree-planted Temencia, a shady grove in the country ; those who lived in Dresia and Obrimos, which discharges his water into the curving stream of Maiandros ; those from the ground of Dolas, and those who lived in gold-roof Celainai, and the place of the Gorgon’s image.) These were joined by those who had to inhabit the cities near Sangarios, and the settlements of the Elespid land : they were led by a captain from Dirce of the dragon, Priasos, who came from foreign parts to the Aonian land. For when Rainy Zeus flooded the land of Phrygia, pouring water from on high in seas of rain, when trees were covered, and in glens where thistles grew thirsty hills were flooded with rivers of water, Priasos left his drowned house hidden in the rain and the air-climbing river which had attacked his homestead, and migrated to the bosom of the Aonian land to escape from the fatal showers of rain. But he never ceased to shed tears among these foreign men: he remembered Sangarios and missed his familiar brook, when he drank the alien water of the Aonian River. But Zeus Highest at last quieted the stormy flood and the watery violence, and drove the water of flooded Phrygia down from the tops of Sipylos ; Earthshaker with his trident led all the waters away into the deep hollows of the boundless sea, and the cliffs were laid bare of the roaring deluge. Then Priasos in late repentance left the land of Bolotos, and returned to his own country, and when he reached home he held his heavy-knee father in his arms with a joyful embrace; for great Zeus had saved him from destruction for his pious works: Bromios they call him. Now the Phrygian warriors from the Phrygian gulf proudly thronged about Priasos.
Asterios the father had gone with another band, but his son Miletos now in the flower of his age came the company of Bacchos. With him came his brother Caunos to share his dangers. Although only a boy, he led the Carian people into the Indian War.
Not yet had he conceived a passion for his innocent sister, and […] that tricking love-song ; not yet had he sung of Hera herself joined with her brother Zeus in a harmonious bed of love like his own, the song about the Latmian cowshed of the never-sleeping herdsman, while he praised Endymion, the bridegroom of love-smitten Selene, as happy in love’s care on a neighbouring rock. No, Byblos still loved maidenhood—no, Caunos was still learning to hunt, untouched by love for one so near. Not yet had the softhaired brother fled, or the girl changed her body to water by her tears; she was still no sorrowing fountain bubbling up a watery stream. Now courageous warriors flocked about him : those who lived in Mycale, and owned the winding stream of the crooked Maiandros, which sinks into the ground and returns again after crawling through the tunnels.
Many were the companies that came. With harmonious march the peoples gathered, and the halls of Cybele resounded, and the streets of the Mygdonian city were thronged.
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