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C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Hymn to Demeter

By The Homeric Hymns

Translation of William Cranston Lawton

FIRST Demeter I sing, that fair-tressed reverend goddess,

Her, and her daughter the slender-ankled, whom once Aïdoneus

Stole,—for wide-eyed Zeus, who is lord of the thunder, permitted.

Quite unaware was the mother, Fruitgiver, the Bringer of Springtime.

She, Persephone, played with Oceanos’s deep-bosomed daughters,

Plucking the blossoms,—the beautiful violets, roses, and crocus,

Iris, and hyacinth too, that grew in the flowery meadow.

Earth, by command of Zeus, and to please All-welcoming Pluto,

Caused narcissus to grow, as a lure for the lily-faced maiden.

Wonderful was it in beauty. Amazement on all who beheld it

Fell, both mortal men and gods whose life is eternal.

Out of a single root it had grown with clusters an hundred.

All wide Heaven above was filled with delight at the fragrance;

Earth was laughing as well, and the briny swell of the waters.

She, in her wonder, to pluck that beautiful plaything extended

Both her hands;—but that moment the wide-wayed earth underneath her

Yawned, in the Nysian plain; and the monarch, Receiver of all men,

Many-named son of Kronos, arose, with his horses immortal,—

Seized her against her will, and upon his chariot golden

Bore her lamenting away;—and the hills re-echoed her outcry.

Kronos’s son she invoked, most mighty and noble, her father.

None among mortal men, nor the gods whose life is eternal,

Heard her voice,—not even the fruitful Nymphs of the marshland.

Only Perses’s daughter, the tender-hearted, had heard her,

Hecaté, she of the gleaming coronet, out of her cavern;

Heard her on Kronides calling, her father: he from immortals

Far was sitting aloof, in a fane where many petitions

Came to him, mingled with sacrifices abundant of mortals.

So, at the bidding of Zeus was reluctant Persephone stolen,

Forced by her father’s brother, the Many-named, offspring of Kronos,

Lord and Receiver of all mankind,—with his horses immortal.

While Persephone yet could look upon star-studded heaven,

Gaze on the earth underneath, and the swarming waters unresting,

Seeing the light, so long she had hope that her glorious mother

Yet would descry her,—or some from the race of the gods ever-living.

So long hope consoled her courageous spirit in trouble.

Loudly the crests of the mountains and depths of the water resounded

Unto her deathless voice; and her royal mother did hear her.

Keen was the pain at Demeter’s heart, and about her ambrosial

Tresses her tender hands were rending her beautiful wimple.

Dusky the garment was that she cast upon both her shoulders.

Like to a bird she darted, and over the lands and the waters

Sped as if frenzied: but yet there was no one willing to tell her

Truthfully, neither of gods nor of human folk who are mortal;

None of the birds would come unto her as a messenger faithful.

So throughout nine days over earth imperial Deo,

Holding in both her hands her flaming torches, was roaming.

Never ambrosia, nor ever delightsome nectar she tasted;

Never she bathed with water her body,—so bitter her sorrow.

Yet when upon her there came for the tenth time glimmering morning,

Hecaté met her, a shining light in her hands, and addrest her,

Speaking unto her thus, and bringing her news of her daughter:—

“Royal Demeter, our Bountiful Lady, the Giver of Springtime,

Who among mortal men, or who of the gods ever-living,

Brought this grief to your heart by stealing Persephone from you?

Truly her voice did I hear, but yet with my eyes I beheld not

Who committed the deed. Thus all have I truthfully told you.”

So did Hecaté speak; and in words replied not the other,

Fair-tressed Rheia’s daughter, but hastily with her she darted,

Hurrying forward, and still in her hands were the glimmering torches.

So they to Helios came, who is watcher of gods and of mortals.

Standing in front of his steeds, she, divine among goddesses, asked him:—

“Helios, you as a goddess should hold me in honor, if ever

Either by word or deed I have cheered your heart and your spirit.

I thro’ boundless ether have heard the lament of a maiden,

Even of her that I bore, fair blossom, of glorious beauty;

Heard her cry of distress, tho’ not with my eyes I beheld her.

Yet do you, who descry all earth and the billowy waters,

Out of the ether resplendent with keen glance watchfully downward

Gazing, report to me truly my child, if perchance you behold her.

Tell me who among men, or of gods, whose life is unending,

Seized, and away from her mother has carried, the maiden unwilling.”

So did she speak; and the son of Hyperion answered her saying:—

“Fair-tressed Rheia’s daughter, our royal lady Demeter,

You shall know: for indeed I pity and greatly revere you,

Seeing you grieved for your child, for the graceful Persephone. No one

Else, save cloud-wrapt Zeus, is to blame among all the immortals.

He as a blooming bride has given your daughter to Hades,

Brother to him and to you; so down to the shadowy darkness

Hades, spite of her cries, has dragged her away with his horses.

Yet, O goddess, abate your grief: it befits you in no wise

Thus insatiate anger to cherish. Nor yet an unworthy

Husband among the immortals is Hades, monarch of all men,

Child of the selfsame father and mother with you; and his honors

Fell to his share, when first amid three was the universe parted.

Still amid those he reigns whose rule unto him was allotted.”

Speaking thus he aroused his steeds; and they at his bidding

Nimbly as long-winged birds with the rushing chariot hastened.

Over Demeter’s heart grief fiercer and keener descended.

Then in her anger at Kronos’s son, who is lord of the storm-cloud,

Leaving the gathering-place of the gods and spacious Olympus,

Unto the cities of men and the fertile fields she departed.