Such were the words he rang out in love’s madness with passionate voice. And one day, making his way into a fragrant meadow, he observed all the flowers blooming with the colours of the girl, and cried out thus to the airy breezes : your form! Have you lent your beauty to the flowers? For as I gaze on the fairgrowing rosebed, I recognize your cheeks: but your rose blooms always, for you hold implanted in you the blushing anemone also, that ceases not. When turn my eye to the lily, I see your snowy arms, when I behold the iris, I see the rich dark colour of your hair. Receive me as comrade in your hunting: and if you wish, I will shoulder myself the sweet burden of your stakes, myself your ankleboots and bow and arrows of Desire, myself I will do it—I need no Satyrs ; did What harm, if I also manage the meshes? I do not think it hard to lift my Nicaia on my own shoulders. I do not set up to be better than my father; for he bore up Europa in the floods unwetted, a seafaring bull.
“Rosy maiden, why do you like the forest so much? Spare your lovely limbs, nor let the rough unstrown pallet upon the rocks chafe your back. If you wish, I will be the attendant of your chamber in the house ; I will lay your bed, I will spread on it the many-speckled skins of pards, over which I throw the bristly thick-haired fell of a lion to cover it, stripping it from my own limbs: you shall enjoy sweet sleep covered with the dappled fawnskins of Dionysos. Above you will throw a tent of the same sort, made of the skins of Mygdonian deer, stript from the Satyrs.
“If you should want dogs, I will straight offer you the whole pack of my friend Pan together ; I will bring you other hounds from Sparta, which my friend Carnean? Apollo keeps for the love of his gallant lads, and I will summon the hunting-dogs of Aristaios ; string and stakes I will fetch you, and those most suitable gifts, the ankleboots of the Grazer and Hunter, who long ago knew both grazing on fine meadows and the happy work of the coursing hunt.
“And if you fear the blaze of the thirsty season of harvest, I will plant over your bed shoots of the gardenvine, and the sweet breath of the intoxicating scent shall be wafted over you, lying under the grape-clustered covering. Gadabout maiden, pity the cheeks of your own loveshot countenance beaten by the sun, lest the glare of Helios dim the radiance of your limbs, lest the breeze tumble your anointed curls ; sleep among the roses and on iris-petals, rest your head on Dionysos your neighbour, to kindle one revel for immortals four, Phoibos and Zephyros and Cypris and Dionysos.
“Let me offer my spoil, the blackskin brood of India, to attend upon your bower. But why did I name the swarthy tribe to array your bridal bed ? Does white Eos ever mingle with black-stoled night ? You the Astacid are surely a younger Artemis ; but more, I will fetch you myself sixty dancing handmaids, to complete the unnumbered dance that attends you, as many as the servants of the mountain Archeress, as many as the daughters of Oceanos ; then Artemis hunting will not rival you, even if she be the mistress of the hunt. I will present you with the Graces of divine Orchomenos for servants, my daughters, whom I will take from Aphrodite.
“Nay, charm your uncharmed heart with desire, and let my bed receive you after the labours of hunting the beasts, that you may appear Artemis among the rocks and Aphrodite in the bed-chamber. What harm that you should hunt along with hunting Lyaios ? But if you have the itch for struggle, like the bowfamed Amazon, you shall come to the Indian warfare, to be Athena in the battle, and Peitho when fighting is done. Receive also, if it please you, the thyrsus of Lyaios to bring down your game, and become a slayer of fawns ; and with your own hands, by your own efforts, adorn my car, by yoking pards or lions under the bridle.”
So speaking, he pursued the mountain girl his neighbour, crying aloud as he came near: Wait, maiden, for Bacchos your bedfellow!” But the maiden was angry and lifted up a strong voice, speeding wild words at Lyaios :
“Be off! make that speech to some girl who likes lovemaking! If you can draw into marriage the gray-eyed goddess, or Artemis, you shall have hard Nicaia a willing bride ; for I am a comrade of both. But if you miss wedlock with Athena,—none ever heard of such a thing, no birth-pangs for her— if you could not charm the wits of the inflexible Archeress, seek not Nicaia’s bed. Let me not see you touching my bow, and handling my quiver, or I may bring you also down to follow Hymnos the shepherd. I will wound Dionysos the unwounded ! If steel will not cut your limbs, if the lance will not pierce them, I will do as the highcrested sons of Iphimedeia ; I will bind you with galling iron chains, wholly like your brother, and will keep you too like Ares hidden in a brazen pot, until you fulfil twelve circuits of Selene, and throw away your passion for me to the winds of the air. Touch not my quiver with womanlickerish hands: I keep the bow, you the thyrsus. On the Astacian crags I send my shot here against boars or lions, and share the toils of Artemis ; over the rocks of Libanos go yourself and pursue the fawns, on the hunt with Aphrodite. I refuse your bed, even if you have the blood of Zeus in you. If I had a mind to a god for my lord, I would not have Dionysos for bedfellow, softhaired, weaponless, spiritless, shaped like a woman ; the bridegroom kept for my bower would be my Lord Strongbow or brazen Ares, the one with his bow, the other with sword as a love-gift. But since I will not accept one of the Blessed, since I have no itch to call even your Cronion goodfather, seek another, Bacchos, some new bride not unwilling. Why all this haste ? This race is not for you to win ; so Latoides once pursued Daphne, so Hephaistos Athena. Why this haste this race is vain; for among the rocks, buskins are far better than slippers.”’
She finished, and left Bacchos behind. But he ever searched for the mountainranging maid through the nourishing woods ; and coursing beside him in that rapid chase went the dog with sagacious mind, the dog which highhorned Pan, breeder of hounds, offered as a gift to Dionysos, once on a time when he was hunting in the highlands which he loved. To him, the comrade of his ways and his labours, Bacchos lovemaddened spoke gently with kind words, as if he thought the creature had sense and voice :
“Why do you run with Lyaios, wandering hound, when Pan always misses you, and you are worthy of Pan? Why do you alone track the maiden song with tracking Dionysos? Did your trainer teach you to pity love? Still seek our maiden, and let not Bacchos go wandering alone over the mountains, among the rocks. You alone pity me, and like one human, you follow in the hilly spaces on the ridge where the girl wanders. Work hard for your king! I will repay you well for your labours: I will take you into the upper air, and make you a star like Seirios, the star of Maira, near the earlier Dog, that you also may ripen the clusters, shooting your light to be the grape’s Eileithyia.’ What harm that a third Dog should arise ? You also show your light, running a course with the starry Hare as he scampers on. If it is lawful, cast your eyes aside to the ridge of Cybele’s forest, and in pity for me reproach the modesthearted girl, that she still flies from my pursuit, a woman from a god! Reproach both Adonis and Cythereia, and pursue Echo, flitting inconstant over the mountains, that she may not make my nymph yet more a hater of wedlock; do not leave your rough wooer Pan near the girl, or he may catch her and yoke her under an enforced bridal. If you should see the maiden, quickly come, and with knowing silence or meaning barks give the news to Dionysos; you be love’s messenger, and let another dog travel in pursuit of boars or lions from the rocks. Friend Pan, I call you most blessed, because even your dogs have become trackers of the loves. And you, Luck, how many shapes you take, how you make playthings of the children of men! Be gracious, all-subduer! First the human race, and now perhaps you possess the canine race also, when this ill-fated wanderer is a servant for Dionysos in love next after Pan. Reproach the maiden, dear trees, and say, ye rocks, ‘Even the dogs have compassion, and there is no pity in the Amazon!’ So there are dogs too with sense, to whom Cronion has given the thoughts of a man, and yet not a human voice.”
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