The seventh sings of the hoary […] of Time, and Semele, and the love of Zeus, and the furtive bed.
Already Eros, love’s ploughman, had ploughed the seedless world, and mixed the man’s seed of generation in the woman’s furrow, with the fruit of overflowing life again renewed. Nature the nurse of the offspring took root again ; earth mingling with fire and water interwoven with air shaped the human race with its fourfold bonds. But sorrow in many forms […] the life of men, which begins with […] the end of care : and Time his everlasting companion showed to Zeus Almighty mankind, afflicted with suffering and having portion in happiness of heart. For the Father had not yet cut the threads of childbirth and shot forth Bacchos from his pregnant thigh, to give mankind rest from their tribulations ; not yet did the libation of wine soak the pathways of the air and make them drunken with sweet-smelling exhalations. The Seasons, those daughters of the […] still joyless, plaited garlands for the gods only of meadow-grass. For Wine was lacking. Without Bacchos to inspire the dance, its grace was only half complete and quite without profit ; it charmed only the eyes of the company, when the circling dancer moved in twists and turns with a tumult of footsteps, having only nods for words, hand for mouth, fingers for voice.
Then Time the maniform, holding the key of […], spread his white shock of hair over the knees of Zeus, let fall the flowing mass of his beard in supplication, and made his prayer, bowing his head to the ground, bending his neck, straining the whole length of his back: and as he knelt, the ancient of days, the shepherd of life ever-flowing, reached out his infinite hand and spoke : Lord Zeus, behold yourself the sorrows of a despairing world ! Do you not see that Enyo has the whole earth mad, mowing season by season her harvest of quick-perishing youth? We can yet see traces of that deluge which you brought upon all nations, when the streams of airy floods billowed in the air and boiled against the neighbouring Moon. Farewell to the life of men, since they perish so soon. I renounce the divine helm at their fate, I will no longer handle the world’s cable. Let some other of the Blessed, one better than I am, receive the rudder of life ever renewed ; let another have the course of my years—for I am weary of pitying the luckless race of suffering mankind. Is not old age enough, which blights youth, and makes a man go slow with bowed head, when bent and trembling he goes on his way with a foot too many, heavy of knee and leaning upon a staff, the faithful servant of age! Is not fate enough, who often hides in Lethe the bridegroom, companion of an agemate bride lately wed, and breaks the life-bringing cables of a union that cannot be broken. I know how delightful a marriage is when Athena’s hoboy sounds along with the panspipes : nevertheless, what boots it, when the loud sound of the seven-chord harp is heard twanging near the bridal chamber? Lutes cannot comfort a heavy heart: but Eros himself stops the dance and throws away the bridal torch, if he sees a wedding without joy.
[…] […] […] […] […] […] […] […] […] […] […] (some may say) a medicine has been planted to make long-suffering mortals forget their troubles, to save their lives—would that Pandora had never opened the heavenly cover of that jar—she the sweet bane of mankind. Nay, Prometheus himself is the cause of man’s misery—Prometheus who cares for poor mortals. Instead of fire which the beginning of all evil he ought rather to have stolen sweet nectar, which rejoices the heart of the gods, and given that to men, that he might have scattered the sorrows of the world with your own drink. But never mind the cares of tempest-tossed life, just consider your own ceremonials brought to sadness. Are you pleased at the empty vapour of the burnt-offering that strays without libation ?
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