Now Hera left the shield-beswingled cave of the Dictaian rock and the cavern where the goddess of childbirth was born, and came full of guile to Semele’s chamber, puffing with jealousy. She made herself like a honey-voiced old dame, like the loving nurse whom Agenor himself had chosen to care for his children, and made much of her—gave her a holding, found her husband as if she had been his daughter ; and she paid him back for his care, nursed Cadmos at her own breast and dandled baby Europa in her loving arms. This was what Hera looked like when she passed into the house, hating Semele and Cypris, and Dionysos who had not yet seen the light ; and as she came to the chamber of the recent bridal, she turned face and eyes away to the opposite wall, that she might not see the bed of Zeus. She was led and seated on a chair by Semele’s attendant Peisianassa, a maid of Tyrian race, and Thelxinoe spread the rugs over the gleaming seat. There sat the goddess close beside her, weaving her plot. She noticed how the girl carried a burden of ripening fruit; a birth which touched not yet the moon of delivery, but a pale cheek and the pallor of limbs once rosy told of womb no longer sealed. As treacherous Hera sat, a simulated palsy passed over her fake body, and the old neck bowed downwards, nodding over the bent shoulders. Scarce finding an excuse, she […] aloud and the well-feigned tear from face, as she spoke her false words in […] enchanting tone :
“Tell me, my queen, why are your cheeks so […] your girdle—hide it not ! Which of the gods has […] you, which has ravished your maiden ? If Ares has wedded my girl in secret, if he has slept with Semele and neglected Aphrodite, let him come to your bed grasping his spear as a marriage-gift—your mother knows her begetter, the terrible warrior ! If quickshoe Hermes has made merry bridal with you, if he has forgotten his own Peitho for Semele’s beauty, let him bring you his rod to herald your wedding, or let him fit you with his own shoes as a gift worthy of your bed, that you too may be gold-shod like Hera the bedfellow of Zeus! If handsome Apollo has come from heaven to be your husband, if he has forgotten Daphne : because of his love for Semele, let him […] away with furtive guile, and come to you through the air drawn in his car by singing swans, and dancing delicately let him offer his harp as a gift for your favours, to show a trusty proof of the wedding! Cadmos will know that heavenly harp at sight, for he saw it, and heard the melodious tones, when it made music at his festal board for the wedding of Harmonia with a mortal. If Seabluehair went womanmad and forced you, preferring you to Melanippe the sage, sung by the poet, let him make merry in full view, and plant the prongs of his trident as a bridal gift before the gates of Cadmos ; so let him bestow the same honour beside snake-cherishing Dirce, as he gave to lion-breeding Lerna in the Argive country as a mark of his marriage with Amymone, where the place of the Lernaian nymph still bears the trident’s name. But why do I call you the bedfellow of Earthshaker? What tokens have you of Poseidon’s bed? Tyro was embraced in a flood by watery hands, counterfeit Enipeus came with his deceitful bubbling stream.
if as you say, Cronion is your […], let him come to your bed with amorous thunders, armed with bridal lightning, that people may say— ‘Hera and Semele both have thunders in waiting for the bedchamber ! The consort of Zeus may be jealous, but she will not hurt you, for Ares your mother’s father will not allow it. Europa is more happy than Semele, for a horned Zeus carried her on his back ; the hoof of the lovestricken bull ran tied on the top of the water, and one so mighty was Love’s boat. What a great miracle! A maiden held the reins of him who holds the reins of heaven! I call Danae happier than Semele, for into her bosom Zeus poured a shower of gold from the roof, torrents of mad love In abundant showers! But that most blessed bride asked no gifts of gold; her lovegift was her whole husband. But let us be quiet, or your father Cadmos will hear.”
With these words Hera left the house, and the girl still in her grief, jealous of the inimitable state of Hera’s marriage and unsatisfied with Cronion, Hera returned to heaven and went indoors. There beside the heavenly throne she saw the weapons of Zeus lying without their owner ; and as if they could hear, she addressed them in friendly cajoling words :
Dear Thunder, has Zeus my cloudgatherer deserted you too then ? Who has stolen you again and left your owner naked ? Thunder, you have been plundered ! But Typhoeus has nothing to do with it. The same has […] to Hera, my comforter: Rainy Zeus has to look after and neglects us both. The earth is no more sprinkled with showers: the downfall of rain has ceased, drought feeds on the plowland furrows and makes the crops worthless, the countryman speaks no more of Cloudy Zeus but Zeus Cloodless. My dear Lightnings, utter your fiery appeal to Cronion, call […] womanmad Zeus, my thunderbolts ! Avenge the jealous pain of Hera, attend upon Semele’s wedding ! Let her pray for a wedding-gift and receive her own fiery destroyers ! Such was the appeal of sorrowing Hera to the voiceless weapons, the goddess was boiling with jealousy and fury.
But Semele heavily fettered with this new distress for her temper, longed for the lightning to be the fiery escort of their loves ; and she complained to Zeus, as she prayed for a show of fires about her bed like Hera :
“By Danae’s wooing I pray, grant me this grace, horned husband of Europa ; for I dare not call you Semele’s husband, when I have seen […] only like a dream Acrisios was more blessed Cadmos ; but I too should have been glad to see a wedding of gold, Zeus of the Rain, if the mother of Perseus had not first stolen that honour from thee. I should have been glad if you had carried me on your shoulders in the waters as a travelling bull, and my brother Polydoros like Cadmos could have hunted the robber of the wandering bride, Cronion who carried me. But what have I to do with wedlock in shape of a bull or a shower? I want no honour equal to some earthly bride. Leave Europa her bull, leave Danaé her shower of gold : Hera’s state is the one I envy, If you hold me worthy of honour, […] my chamber with your heavenly fire. Kindle a love-light in the clouds, show incredulous Agaue the lightning as my lovegift. Let Autonoe in her room close by hear the thunderous tune of our attendant Loves, and tremble at the self-announcing token of our unpublished marriage.
Give it—let me embrace the dear flame and rejoice my heart, touching the lightning and handling the thunderbolts ! Give me the bridal flame of your own chamber ; every bride has torches to escort her in the marriage procession. Am Am Am Am Am Am Am Am Am Am I not worthy of your bridal thunderbolts, when I have the blood of Ares and your Aphrodite? How wretched I am! Semele’s wedding has quick-fading fire and earthly torches, —your Hera is a bride who grasps the thunderbolt and touches the lightning ! Thunder hurling bridegroom! You go to Hera’s bed in divine shape, illuminating your bride with bridal lightnings until the chamber shines with many lights—fiery Zeus but to Semele you come as dragon or a bull. She hears for her love the heavy Olympian rolling boom —Semele hears the sham bellow of a false bull under a vague shadowy shape. Soundless, cloudless, Zeus comes to my bed ; Cloudgatherer he mingles with Hera. Well may she hold up her head ! My father shrinks from insults for a daughter unhappily married, hides in the corners of the house—your Cadmos avoids the place where men tread ashamed to show himself to his people, because my row of maids all deride this secret union with you, and blame Semele for having a furtive bedmate.
A fine wedding gift you have found me—the jeers of women. The attendants about me slander me, and far above the rest I fear the rough tongue of this garrulous nurse. Remember who wove the wily-witted fate for Typhon, and brought back to you the stolen spark of your thunder ! Show it to my father, who got it back, for old Cadmos demands of me a proof of your bed. Never yet have I seen the countenance of the true Cronion, never beheld the flashing gleam from his eyelids, or the rays from his face, or the lustrous beard! Your Olympian shape I have never seen, but expect a panther or lion— I have seen no god as a husband. I see you something mortal, and I am to bring forth a god ! Yet I have heard of another fiery wedding ; did not Helios embrace his bride Clymene with fiery nuptials ?
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