Such is the fiction of the Achaian story, mingling as usual persuasion with falsehood : but the truth is : Zeus our Lord on high joined the soul of Erigone with the star of the heavenly Virgin holding an ear of corn, and near the heavenly Dog he placed a dog like him in shape, Seirios of the autumn as they call him, and the soul of Icarios he combined with Bootes in the heavens. These are the gifts of Cronides to the vinelands of Attica, offering one honour to Pallas and Dionysos together.
Now Bacchos left the honeyflowing streams of Ilissos, and went in dainty revel to the vineclad district of Naxos. About him bold Eros beat his wings, and Cythereia led, before the coming of Lyaios the bridegroom. For Theseus had just sailed away, and left without pity the banished maiden asleep on the shore, scattering his promises to the winds.” When Dionysos beheld deserted Ariadne sleeping, he mingled love with wonder, and spoke out his admiration cautiously to the danceweaving Bacchants :
“Bassarids, shake not your tambours, let there be no sound of pipes or feet. Let Cypris rest ! — But she has not the cestus which marks the Cyprian. I believe it is the Grace that wedded Hypnos, cunning creature ! ” But since dawn is bright and morning seems near, awaken sleeping Pasithea. But who has given a dress to the naked Grace in Naxos, who ? Is it Hebe ? But to whom has she left the goblet of the Blessed ? Can this be Selene, that bright driver of cattle, lying on the seashore ? Then how can she be sleeping apart from her inseparable Endymion ? Is it silverfoot Thetis I see on the strand ? No, it is not naked, that rosy form. If I may dare to say so, it is the Archeress resting here in Naxos from her labours of the hunt, now she has wiped off in the sea the sweat of hunting and slaying. For hard work always brings sweet sleep. But who has seen Artemis in the woods in long robes ? Stay, Bacchants — stand still, Maron — dance not this way, stop singing, dear Pan, that you may not disturb the morning sleep of Athena. No — with whom did Pallas leave her spear ? and who bears the bronze helmet or aegis of Tritogeneia ?
So cried Bacchos — Sleep flew away, the poor lovelorn girl scattered sleep, awoke and rose from the sand, and she saw no fleet, no husband — the deceiver ! But the Cydonian maiden lamented with the kingfishers, and paced the heavy murmuring shore which was all that the Loves had given her. She called on the young man’s name, madly she sought his vessel along the seaside, scolded the envious sleep, reproached even more the Paphian’s mother, the sea ; she prayed to Boreas and adjured the wind, adjured Oreithyia to bring back the boy to the land of Naxos and to let her see that sweet ship again. She besought hardhearted Aiolos yet more ; he heard her prayer and obeyed, sending a contrary wind to blow, but Boreas lovelorn himself cared nothing for the maid stricken with desire — yes, even the breezes themselves must have had a spite against the maiden when they carried the ship to the Athenian land. Eros himself admired the maiden, and thought he saw Aphrodite lamenting in Naxos where all is joy. She was even more resplendent in her grief, and pain was a grace to the sorrower. Compare the two, and Aphrodite gently smiling and laughing with love must give place to Ariadne in sorrow, the delectable eyes of Peitho or the Graces or Love himself must yield to the maiden’s tears. At last in her tears she found voice to speak thus :
“Sweet sleep came to me, when sweet Theseus left me. Would that I had been still happy when he left me ! But in my sleep I saw the land of Cecrops ; in the palace of Theseus was a splendid wedding and dance with songs for Ariadne, and my happy hand was adorning the Loves’ blooming altar with luxuriant spring flowers. And I wore a bridal wreath ; Theseus was beside me in wedding garments, sacrificing to Aphrodite. Alas, what a sweet dream I saw ! But now it is gone, and I am left here yet virgin. Forgive me, Peitho ! All this bridal pomp the misty darkness marshalled for me, all this the envious dawn of day has torn from me — and awaking I found not my heart’s desire ! Are the very images of Love and Love Returned jealous of me ? ” for I saw a delightful vision of marriage accomplished in a deceitful dream, and lovely Theseus was gone.
“Xo me, even kind Sleep is cruel. Tell me, ye rocks, tell the unhappy lover — who stole the man of Athens ? If it should be Boreas blowing, I appeal to Oreithyia : but Oreithyia hates me, because she also has the blood of Marathon, whence beloved Theseus came. If Zephyros torments me, tell Iris the bride of Zephyros and mother of Desire, to behold Ariadne maltreated. If it is Notos, if bold Euros, I appeal to Eos and reproach the mother of the blustering winds, lovelorn herself.
“Give me again. Sleep, your empty boon, so pleasant ; send me another delectable dream like that, so that I may know the sweet bed of love in a deceptive dream ! Only linger upon my eyes, that I may know the unreal passion of married love in a dream ! O Theseus my treacherous bridegroom, if the marauding winds have carried your course from Naxos to the Athenian land, tell me now I ask, and I will resort to Aiolos at once reproaching the jealous and wicked winds. But if some cruel seaman without your knowledge left me outlawed in desert Naxos, and sailed away, he sinned against Theseus and against Themis, against Ariadne. May that sailor never see a favourable wind ; if he rides the raging storm, may Melicertes never look on him graciously or bring him a calm sea ; but may Notos blow when he wants Boreas, may he see Em’os when he needs Zephyros ; when the winds of springtime blow upon all mariners, may he alone meet with a wintry sea.
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