O'er high deep seas in speedy ship his voyage Atys sped
Until he trod the Phrygian grove with hurried eager tread
And as the gloomy tree-shorn stead, the she-god's home, he sought
There sorely stung with fiery ire and madman's vaguing thought,
Share he with sharpened flint the freight wherewith his form was fraught.
5
Then as the she-he sensèd limbs were void of manly strain
And sighted freshly shed a-ground spot of ensanguined stain,
Snatched she the timbrel's legier load with hands as snowdrops white,
Thy timbrel, Mother Cybebé, the firstings of thy rite,
And as her tender finger-tips on bull-back hollow rang 10
She rose a-grieving and her song to listening comrades sang.
"Up Gallæ, hie together, haste for Cybebe's deep grove,
Hie to the Dindyménean dame, ye flocks that love to rove;
The which affecting stranger steads as bound in exile's brunt
My sect pursuing led by me have nerved you to confront 15
The raging surge of salty sea and ocean's tyrant hand
As your hate of Venus' hest your manly forms unmann'd,
Gladden your souls, ye mistresses, with sense of error bann'd.
Drive from your spirits dull delay, together follow ye
To hold of Phrygian goddess, home of Phrygian Cybebe, 20
Where loud the cymbal's voice resounds with timbrel-echoes blending,
And where the Phrygian piper drones grave bass from reed a-bending,
Where toss their ivy-circled heads with might the Mænades
Where ply mid shrilly lullilooes the holiest mysteries,
Where to fly here and there be wont the she-god's vaguing train, 25
Thither behoves us lead the dance in quick-step hasty strain."
Soon as had Atys (bastard-she) this lay to comrades sung
The Chorus sudden lulliloos with quivering, quavering tongue,
Again the nimble timbrel groans, the scooped-out cymbals clash,
And up green Ida flits the Choir, with footsteps hurrying rash. 30
Then Atys frantic, panting, raves, a-wandering, lost, insane,
And leads with timbrel hent and treads the shades where shadows rain,
Like heifer spurning load of yoke in yet unbroken pride;
And the swift Gallæ follow fain their first and fleetfoot guide.
But when the home of Cybebe they make with toil out-worn 35
O'er much, they lay them down to sleep and gifts of Ceres scorn;
Till heavy slumbers seal their eyelids langourous, drooping lowly,
And raving phrenzy flies each brain departing softly, slowly.
But when Dan Sol with radiant eyes that fire his face of gold
Surveyed white aether and solid soil and waters uncontrol'd, 40
And chased with steeds sonorous-hooved the shades of lingering night,
Then sleep from waking Atys fled fleeting with sudden flight,
By Nymph Pásithae welcomèd to palpitating breast.
Thus when his phrenzy raging rash was soothed to gentlest rest,
Atys revolved deeds lately done, as thought from breast unfolding, 45
And what he'd lost and what he was with lucid sprite beholding,
To shallows led by surging soul again the way 'gan take.
There casting glance of weeping eyes where vasty billows brake,
Sad-voiced in pitifullest lay his native land bespake.
"Country of me, Creatress mine, O born to thee and bred, 50
By hapless me abandoned as by thrall from lordling fled,
When me to Ida's groves and glades these vaguing footsteps bore
To tarry 'mid the snows and where lurk beasts in antres frore
And seek the deeply hidden lairs where furious ferals meet!
Where, Country! whither placed must I now hold thy site and seat? 55
Lief would these balls of eyes direct to thee their line of sight,
Which for a while, a little while, would free me from despite.
Must I for ever roam these groves from house and home afar?
Of country, parents, kith and kin (life's boon) myself debar?
Fly Forum, fly Palestra, fly the Stadium, the Gymnase? 60
Wretch, ah poor wretch, I'm doomed (my soul!) to mourn throughout my
days,
For what of form or figure is, which I failed to enjoy?
I full-grown man, I blooming youth, I stripling, I a boy,
I of Gymnasium erst the bloom, I too of oil the pride:
Warm was my threshold, ever stood my gateways opening wide, 65
My house was ever garlanded and hung with flowery freight,
And couch to quit with rising sun, has ever been my fate:
Now must I Cybebe's she-slave, priestess of gods, be hight?
I Mænad I, mere bit of self, I neutral barren wight?
I spend my life-tide couch't beneath high-towering Phrygian peaks? 70
I dwell on Ida's verdant slopes mottled with snowy streaks,
Where homes the forest-haunting doe, where roams the wildling boar?
Now, now I rue my deed foredone, now, now it irks me sore!"
Whenas from out those roseate lips these accents rapid flew,
Bore them to ears divine consigned a Nuncio true and new; 75
Then Cybebe her lions twain disjoining from their yoke
The left-hand enemy of the herds a-goading thus bespoke:--
"Up feral fell! up, hie with him, see rage his footsteps urge,
See that his fury smite him till he seek the forest verge,
He who with over-freedom fain would fly mine empery. 80
Go, slash thy flank with lashing tail and sense the strokes of thee,
Make the whole mountain to thy roar sound and resound again,
And fiercely toss thy brawny neck that bears the tawny mane!"
So quoth an-angered Cybebe, and yoke with hand untied:
The feral rose in fiery wrath and self-inciting hied, 85
A-charging, roaring through the brake with breaking paws he tore.
But when he reached the humid sands where surges cream the shore,
Spying soft Atys lingering near the marbled pave of sea
He springs: the terror-madded wretch back to the wood doth flee,
Where for the remnant of her days a bondmaid's life led she. 90
Great Goddess, Goddess Cybebe, Dindymus dame divine,
Far from my house and home thy wrath and wrack, dread mistress mine:
Goad others on with Fury's goad, others to Ire consign!
Over the vast main borne by swift-sailing ship, Attis, as with hasty
hurried foot he reached the Phrygian wood and gained the tree-girt gloomy
sanctuary of the Goddess, there roused by rabid rage and mind astray, with
sharp-edged flint downwards wards dashed his burden of virility. Then as he
felt his limbs were left without their manhood, and the fresh-spilt blood
staining the soil, with bloodless hand she hastily hent a tambour light to
hold, taborine thine, O Cybebe, thine initiate rite, and with feeble
fingers beating the hollowed bullock's back, she rose up quivering thus to
chant to her companions.
"Haste ye together, she-priests, to Cybebe's dense woods, together haste,
ye vagrant herd of the dame Dindymene, ye who inclining towards strange
places as exiles, following in my footsteps, led by me, comrades, ye who
have faced the ravening sea and truculent main, and have castrated your
bodies in your utmost hate of Venus, make glad our mistress speedily with
your minds' mad wanderings. Let dull delay depart from your thoughts,
together haste ye, follow to the Phrygian home of Cybebe, to the Phrygian
woods of the Goddess, where sounds the cymbal's voice, where the tambour
resounds, where the Phrygian flautist pipes deep notes on the curved reed,
where the ivy-clad Maenades furiously toss their heads, where they enact
their sacred orgies with shrill-sounding ululations, where that wandering
band of the Goddess is wont to flit about: thither 'tis meet to hasten with
hurried mystic dance."
When Attis, spurious woman, had thus chanted to her comity, the chorus
straightway shrills with trembling tongues, the light tambour booms, the
concave cymbals clang, and the troop swiftly hastes with rapid feet to
verdurous Ida. Then raging wildly, breathless, wandering, with brain
distraught, hurrieth Attis with her tambour, their leader through dense
woods, like an untamed heifer shunning the burden of the yoke: and the
swift Gallae press behind their speedy-footed leader. So when the home of
Cybebe they reach, wearied out with excess of toil and lack of food they
fall in slumber. Sluggish sleep shrouds their eyes drooping with faintness,
and raging fury leaves their minds to quiet ease.
But when the sun with radiant eyes from face of gold glanced o'er the white
heavens, the firm soil, and the savage sea, and drave away the glooms of
night with his brisk and clamorous team, then sleep fast-flying quickly
sped away from wakening Attis, and goddess Pasithea received Somnus in her
panting bosom. Then when from quiet rest torn, her delirium over, Attis at
once recalled to mind her deed, and with lucid thought saw what she had
lost, and where she stood, with heaving heart she backwards traced her
steps to the landing-place. There, gazing o'er the vast main with
tear-filled eyes, with saddened voice in tristful soliloquy thus did she
lament her land:
"Mother-land, O my creatress, mother-land, O my begetter, which full sadly
I'm forsaking, as runaway serfs are wont from their lords, to the woods of
Ida I have hasted on foot, to stay 'mongst snow and icy dens of ferals, and
to wander through the hidden lurking-places of ferocious beasts. Where, or
in what part, O mother-land, may I imagine that thou art? My very eyeball
craves to fix its glance towards thee, whilst for a brief space my mind is
freed from wild ravings. And must I wander o'er these woods far from mine
home? From country, goods, friends, and parents, must I be parted? Leave
the forum, the palaestra, the race-course, and gymnasium? Wretched,
wretched soul, 'tis thine to grieve for ever and for aye. For whatso shape
is there, whose kind I have not worn? I (now a woman), I a man, a
stripling, and a lad; I was the gymnasium's flower, I was the pride of the
oiled wrestlers: my gates, my friendly threshold, were crowded, my home was
decked with floral coronals, when I was wont to leave my couch at sunrise.
Now shall I live a ministrant of gods and slave to Cybebe? I a Maenad, I a
part of me, I a sterile trunk! Must I range o'er the snow-clad spots of
verdurous Ida, and wear out my life 'neath lofty Phrygian peaks, where stay
the sylvan-seeking stag and woodland-wandering boar? Now, now, I grieve the
deed I've done; now, now, do I repent!"
As the swift sound left those rosy lips, borne by new messenger to gods'
twinned ears, Cybebe, unloosing her lions from their joined yoke, and
goading the left-hand foe of the herd, thus doth speak: "Come," she says,
"to work, thou fierce one, cause a madness urge him on, let a fury prick
him onwards till he return through our woods, he who over-rashly seeks to
fly from my empire. On! thrash thy flanks with thy tail, endure thy
strokes; make the whole place re-echo with roar of thy bellowings; wildly
toss thy tawny mane about thy nervous neck." Thus ireful Cybebe spoke and
loosed the yoke with her hand. The monster, self-exciting, to rapid wrath
his heart doth spur, he rushes, he roars, he bursts through the brake with
heedless tread. But when he gained the humid verge of the foam-flecked
shore, and spied the womanish Attis near the opal sea, he made a bound: the
witless wretch fled into the wild wold: there throughout the space of her
whole life a bondsmaid did she stay. Great Goddess, Goddess Cybebe, Goddess
Dame of Dindymus, far from my home may all thine anger be, O mistress: urge
others to such actions, to madness others hound.