Hesiod, the Homeric Hymns, and Homerica
tasted ambrosia and the sweet draught of nectar, nor sprinkled her body
with water. But when the tenth enlightening dawn had come, Hecate, with
a torch in her hands, met her, and spoke to her and told her news:
(ll. 54-58) ‘Queenly Demeter, bringer of seasons and giver of good
gifts, what god of heaven or what mortal man has rapt away Persephone
and pierced with sorrow your dear heart? For I heard her voice, yet saw
not with my eyes who it was. But I tell you truly and shortly all I
know.’
(ll. 59-73) So, then, said Hecate. And the daughter of rich-haired Rhea
answered her not, but sped swiftly with her, holding flaming torches in
her hands. So they came to Helios, who is watchman of both gods and
men, and stood in front of his horses: and the bright goddess enquired
of him: ‘Helios, do you at least regard me, goddess as I am, if ever by
word or deed of mine I have cheered your heart and spirit. Through the
fruitless air I heard the thrilling cry of my daughter whom I bare,
sweet scion of my body and lovely in form, as of one seized violently;
though with my eyes I saw nothing. But you—for with your beams you look
down from the bright upper air Over all the earth and sea—tell me truly
of my dear child, if you have seen her anywhere, what god or mortal man
has violently seized her against her will and mine, and so made off.’
(ll. 74-87) So said she. And the Son of Hyperion answered her: ‘Queen
Demeter, daughter of rich-haired Rhea, I will tell you the truth; for I
greatly reverence and pity you in your grief for your trim-ankled
daughter. None other of the deathless gods is to blame, but only
cloud-gathering Zeus who gave her to Hades, her father’s brother, to be
called his buxom wife. And Hades seized her and took her loudly crying
in his chariot down to his realm of mist and gloom. Yet, goddess, cease
your loud lament and keep not vain anger unrelentingly: Aidoneus, the
Ruler of Many, is no unfitting husband among the deathless gods for
your child, being your own brother and born of the same stock: also,
for honour, he has that third share which he received when division was
made at the first, and is appointed lord of those among whom he
dwells.’
(ll. 88-89) So he spake, and called to his horses: and at his chiding
they quickly whirled the swift chariot along, like long-winged birds.
(ll. 90-112) But grief yet more terrible and savage came into the heart
of Demeter, and thereafter she was so angered with the dark-clouded Son
of Cronos that she avoided the gathering of the gods and high Olympus,
and went to the towns and rich fields of men, disfiguring her form a
long while. And no one of men or deep-bosomed women knew her when they
saw her, until she came to the house of wise Celeus who then was lord
of fragrant Eleusis. Vexed in her dear heart, she sat near the wayside
by the Maiden Well, from which the women of the place were used to draw
water, in a shady place over which grew an olive shrub. And she was
like an ancient woman who is cut off from childbearing and the gifts of
garland-loving Aphrodite, like the nurses of king’s children who deal
justice, or like the house-keepers in their echoing halls. There the
daughters of Celeus, son of Eleusis, saw her, as they were coming for
easy-drawn water, to carry it in pitchers of bronze to their dear
father’s house: four were they and like goddesses in the flower of
their girlhood, Callidice and Cleisidice and lovely Demo and Callithoe
who was the eldest of them all. They knew her not,—for the gods are not
easily discerned by mortals—but standing near by her spoke winged
words:
(ll. 113-117) ‘Old mother, whence and who are you of folk born long
ago? Why are you gone away from the city and do not draw near the
houses? For there in the shady halls are women of just such age as you,
and others younger; and they would welcome you both by word and by
deed.’
(ll. 118-144) Thus they said. And she, that queen among goddesses
answered them saying: ‘Hail, dear children, whosoever you are of
woman-kind. I will tell you my story; for it is not unseemly that I
should tell you truly what you ask. Doso is my name, for my stately
mother gave it me. And now I am come from Crete over the sea’s wide
back,—not willingly; but pirates brought me thence by force of strength
against my liking. Afterwards they put in with their swift craft to
Thoricus, and there the women landed on the shore in full throng and
the men likewise, and they began to make ready a meal by the
stern-cables of the ship. But my heart craved not pleasant food, and I
fled secretly across the dark country and escaped my masters, that they
should not take me unpurchased across the sea, there to win a price for
me. And so I wandered and am come here: and I know not at all what land
this is or what people are in it. But may all those who dwell on
Olympus give you husbands and birth of children as parents desire, so
you take pity on me, maidens, and show me this clearly that I may
learn, dear children, to the house of what man and woman I may go, to
work for them cheerfully at such tasks as belong to a woman of my age.
Well could I nurse a new born child, holding him in my arms, or keep
house, or spread my masters’ bed in a recess of the well-built chamber,
or teach the women their work.’
(ll. 145-146) So said the goddess. And straightway the unwed maiden
Callidice, goodliest in form of the daughters of Celeus, answered her
and said:
(ll. 147-168) ‘Mother, what the gods send us, we mortals bear perforce,
although we suffer; for they are much stronger than we. But now I will
teach you clearly, telling you the names of men who have great power
and honour here and are chief among the people, guarding our city’s
coif of towers by their wisdom and true judgements: there is wise
Triptolemus and Dioclus and Polyxeinus and blameless Eumolpus and
Dolichus and our own brave father. All these have wives who manage in
the house, and no one of them, so soon as she has seen you, would
dishonour you and turn you from the house, but they will welcome you;
for indeed you are godlike. But if you will, stay here; and we will go
to our father’s house and tell Metaneira, our deep-bosomed mother, all
this matter fully, that she may bid you rather come to our home than
search after the houses of others. She has an only son, late-born, who
is being nursed in our well-built house, a child of many prayers and
welcome: if you could bring him up until he reached the full measure of
youth, any one of womankind who should see you would straightway envy
you, such gifts would our mother give for his upbringing.’
(ll. 169-183) So she spake: and the goddess bowed her head in assent.
And they filled their shining vessels with water and carried them off
rejoicing. Quickly they came to their father’s great house and
straightway told their mother according as they had heard and seen.
Then she bade them go with all speed and invite the stranger to come
for a measureless hire. As hinds or heifers in spring time, when sated
with pasture, bound about a meadow, so they, holding up the folds of
their lovely garments, darted down the hollow path, and their hair like
a crocus flower streamed about their shoulders. And they found the good
goddess near the wayside where they had left her before, and led her to
the house of their dear father. And she walked behind, distressed in
her dear heart, with her head veiled and wearing a dark cloak which
waved about the slender feet of the goddess.
(ll. 184-211) Soon they came to the house of heaven-nurtured Celeus and
went through the portico to where their queenly mother sat by a pillar
of the close-fitted roof, holding her son, a tender scion, in her
bosom. And the girls ran to her. But the goddess walked to the
threshold: and her head reached the roof and she filled the doorway
with a heavenly radiance. Then awe and reverence and pale fear took
hold of Metaneira, and she rose up from her couch before Demeter, and
bade her be seated. But Demeter, bringer of seasons and giver of
perfect gifts, would not sit upon the bright couch, but stayed silent
with lovely eyes cast down until careful Iambe placed a jointed seat
for her and threw over it a silvery fleece. Then she sat down and held
her veil in her hands before her face. A long time she sat upon the
stool 2506 without speaking because of her sorrow, and greeted no one
by word or by sign, but rested, never smiling, and tasting neither food
nor drink, because she pined with longing for her deep-bosomed
daughter, until careful Iambe—who pleased her moods in aftertime
also—moved the holy lady with many a quip and jest to smile and laugh
and cheer her heart. Then Metaneira filled a cup with sweet wine and
offered it to her; but she refused it, for she said it was not lawful
for her to drink red wine, but bade them mix meal and water with soft
mint and give her to drink. And Metaneira mixed the draught and gave it
to the goddess as she bade. So the great queen Deo received it to
observe the sacrament.... 2507
((LACUNA))
(ll. 212-223) And of them all, well-girded Metaneira first began to
speak: ‘Hail, lady! For I think you are not meanly but nobly born;
truly dignity and grace are conspicuous upon your eyes as in the eyes
of kings that deal justice. Yet we mortals bear perforce what the gods
send us, though we be grieved; for a yoke is set upon our necks. But
now, since you are come here, you shall have what I can bestow: and
nurse me this child whom the gods gave me in my old age and beyond my
hope, a son much prayed for. If you should bring him up until he reach
the full measure of youth, any one of womankind that sees you will
straightway envy you, so great reward would I give for his upbringing.’
(ll. 224-230) Then rich-haired Demeter answered her: ‘And to you, also,
lady, all hail, and may the gods give you good! Gladly will I take the
boy to my breast, as you bid me, and will nurse him. Never, I ween,
through any heedlessness of his nurse shall witchcraft hurt him nor yet
the Undercutter 2508: for I know a charm far stronger than the
Woodcutter, and I know an excellent safeguard against woeful
witchcraft.’
(ll. 231-247) When she had so spoken, she took the child in her
fragrant bosom with her divine hands: and his mother was glad in her
heart. So the goddess nursed in the palace Demophoon, wise Celeus’
goodly son whom well-girded Metaneira bare. And the child grew like
some immortal being, not fed with food nor nourished at the breast: for
by day rich-crowned Demeter would anoint him with ambrosia as if he
were the offspring of a god and breathe sweetly upon him as she held
him in her bosom. But at night she would hide him like a brand in the
heart of the fire, unknown to his dear parents. And it wrought great
wonder in these that he grew beyond his age; for he was like the gods
face to face. And she would have made him deathless and unageing, had
not well-girded Metaneira in her heedlessness kept watch by night from
her sweet-smelling chamber and spied. But she wailed and smote her two
hips, because she feared for her son and was greatly distraught in her
heart; so she lamented and uttered winged words:
(ll. 248-249) ‘Demophoon, my son, the strange woman buries you deep in
fire and works grief and bitter sorrow for me.’
(ll. 250-255) Thus she spoke, mourning. And the bright goddess,
lovely-crowned Demeter, heard her, and was wroth with her. So with her
divine hands she snatched from the fire the dear son whom Metaneira had
born unhoped-for in the palace, and cast him from her to the ground;
for she was terribly angry in her heart. Forthwith she said to
well-girded Metaneira:
(ll. 256-274) ‘Witless are you mortals and dull to foresee your lot,
whether of good or evil, that comes upon you. For now in your