Is there
sedition
in your city?
Aristophanes
Pray to the swan of Delos, to Latona the mother of the quails,
and to Artemis, the goldfinch.
PISTHETAERUS. 'Tis no longer Artemis Colaenis, but Artemis the
goldfinch. [281]
PRIEST. And to Bacchus, the finch and Cybele, the ostrich and mother of
the gods and mankind.
CHORUS. Oh! sovereign ostrich, Cybele, the mother of Cleocritus,[282]
grant health and safety to the Nephelococcygians as well as to the
dwellers in Chios. . . .
PISTHETAERUS. The dwellers in Chios! Ah! I am delighted they should be
thus mentioned on all occasions. [283]
CHORUS. . . . to the heroes, the birds, to the sons of heroes, to the
porphyrion, the pelican, the spoon-bill, the redbreast, the grouse, the
peacock, the horned-owl, the teal, the bittern, the heron, the stormy
petrel, the fig-pecker, the titmouse. . . .
PISTHETAERUS. Stop! stop! you drive me crazy with your endless list. Why,
wretch, to what sacred feast are you inviting the vultures and the
sea-eagles? Don't you see that a single kite could easily carry off the
lot at once? Begone, you and your fillets and all; I shall know how to
complete the sacrifice by myself.
PRIEST. It is imperative that I sing another sacred chant for the rite of
the lustral water, and that I invoke the immortals, or at least one of
them, provided always that you have some suitable food to offer him; from
what I see here, in the shape of gifts, there is naught whatever but horn
and hair.
PISTHETAERUS. Let us address our sacrifices and our prayers to the winged
gods.
A POET. Oh, Muse! celebrate happy Nephelococcygia in your hymns.
PISTHETAERUS. What have we here? Where do you come from, tell me? Who are
you?
POET. I am he whose language is sweeter than honey, the zealous slave of
the Muses, as Homer has it.
PISTHETAERUS. You a slave! and yet you wear your hair long?
POET. No, but the fact is all we poets are the assiduous slaves of the
Muses according to Homer.
PISTHETAERUS. In truth your little cloak is quite holy too through zeal!
But, poet, what ill wind drove you here?
POET. I have composed verses in honour of your Nephelococcygia, a host of
splendid dithyrambs and parthenians,[284] worthy of Simonides himself.
PISTHETAERUS. And when did you compose them? How long since?
POET. Oh! 'tis long, aye, very long, that I have sung in honour of this
city.
PISTHETAERUS. But I am only celebrating its foundation with this
sacrifice;[285] I have only just named it, as is done with little babies.
POET. "Just as the chargers fly with the speed of the wind, so does the
voice of the Muses take its flight. Oh! thou noble founder of the town of
Aetna,[286] thou, whose name recalls the holy sacrifices,[287] make us
such gift as thy generous heart shall suggest. "
PISTHETAERUS. He will drive us silly if we do not get rid of him by some
present. Here! you, who have a fur as well as your tunic, take it off and
give it to this clever poet. Come, take this fur; you look to me to be
shivering with cold.
POET. My Muse will gladly accept this gift; but engrave these verses of
Pindar's on your mind.
PISTHETAERUS. Oh! what a pest! 'Tis impossible then to be rid of him.
POET. "Straton wanders among the Scythian nomads, but has no linen
garment. He is sad at only wearing an animal's pelt and no tunic. " Do you
conceive my bent?
PISTHETAERUS. I understand that you want me to offer you a tunic. Hi! you
(_to Euelpides_), take off yours; we must help the poet. . . . Come, you,
take it and begone.
POET. I am going, and these are the verses that I address to this city:
"Phoebus of the golden throne, celebrate this shivery, freezing city; I
have travelled through fruitful and snow-covered plains. Tralala!
Tralala! "[288]
PISTHETAERUS. What are you chanting us about frosts? Thanks to the tunic,
you no longer fear them. Ah! by Zeus! I could not have believed this
cursed fellow could so soon have learnt the way to our city. Come,
priest, take the lustral water and circle the altar.
PRIEST. Let all keep silence!
A PROPHET. Let not the goat be sacrificed. [289]
PISTHETAERUS. Who are you?
PROPHET. Who am I? A prophet.
PISTHETAERUS. Get you gone.
PROPHET. Wretched man, insult not sacred things. For there is an oracle
of Bacis, which exactly applies to Nephelococcygia.
PISTHETAERUS. Why did you not reveal it to me before I founded my city?
PROPHET. The divine spirit was against it.
PISTHETAERUS. Well, 'tis best to know the terms of the oracle.
PROPHET. "But when the wolves and the white crows shall dwell together
between Corinth and Sicyon. . . . "[290]
PISTHETAERUS. But how do the Corinthians concern me?
PROPHET. 'Tis the regions of the air that Bacis indicated in this manner.
"They must first sacrifice a white-fleeced goat to Pandora, and give the
prophet, who first reveals my words, a good cloak and new sandals. "
PISTHETAERUS. Are the sandals there?
PROPHET.
Read. "And besides this a goblet of wine and a good share of the entrails
of the victim. "
PISTHETAERUS. Of the entrails--is it so written?
PROPHET. Read. "If you do as I command, divine youth, you shall be an
eagle among the clouds; if not, you shall be neither turtle-dove, nor
eagle, nor woodpecker. "
PISTHETAERUS. Is all that there?
PROPHET. Read.
PISTHETAERUS. This oracle in no sort of way resembles the one Apollo
dictated to me: "If an impostor comes without invitation to annoy you
during the sacrifice and to demand a share of the victim, apply a stout
stick to his ribs. "
PROPHET. You are drivelling.
PISTHETAERUS. "And don't spare him, were he an eagle from out of the
clouds, were it Lampon himself[291] or the great Diopithes. "[292]
PROPHET. Is all that there?
PISTHETAERUS. Here, read it yourself, and go and hang yourself.
PROPHET. Oh! unfortunate wretch that I am.
PISTHETAERUS. Away with you, and take your prophecies elsewhere.
METON. [293] I have come to you.
PISTHETAERUS. Yet another pest. What have you come to do? What's your
plan? What's the purpose of your journey? Why these splendid buskins?
METON. I want to survey the plains of the air for you and to parcel them
into lots.
PISTHETAERUS. In the name of the gods, who are you?
METON. Who am I? Meton, known throughout Greece and at Colonus. [294]
PISTHETAERUS. What are these things?
METON. Tools for measuring the air. In truth, the spaces in the air have
precisely the form of a furnace. With this bent ruler I draw a line from
top to bottom; from one of its points I describe a circle with the
compass. Do you understand?
PISTHETAERUS. Not the very least.
METON. With the straight ruler I set to work to inscribe a square within
this circle; in its centre will be the marketplace, into which all the
straight streets will lead, converging to this centre like a star, which,
although only orbicular, sends forth its rays in a straight line from all
sides.
PISTHETAERUS. Meton, you new Thales. . . . [295]
METON. What d'you want with me?
PISTHETAERUS. I want to give you a proof of my friendship. Use your legs.
METON. Why, what have I to fear?
PISTHETAERUS. 'Tis the same here as in Sparta. Strangers are driven away,
and blows rain down as thick as hail.
METON.
Is there sedition in your city?
PISTHETAERUS. No, certainly not.
METON. What's wrong then?
PISTHETAERUS. We are agreed to sweep all quacks and impostors far from
our borders.
METON. Then I'm off.
PISTHETAERUS. I fear me 'tis too late. The thunder growls already.
(_Beats him. _)
METON. Oh, woe! oh, woe!
PISTHETAERUS. I warned you. Now, be off, and do your surveying somewhere
else. (_Meton takes to his heels. _)
AN INSPECTOR. Where are the Proxeni? [296]
PISTHETAERUS. Who is this Sardanapalus? [297]
INSPECTOR. I have been appointed by lot to come to Nephelococcygia as
inspector. [298]
PISTHETAERUS. An inspector! and who sends you here, you rascal?
INSPECTOR. A decree of Taleas. [299]
PISTHETAERUS. Will you just pocket your salary, do nothing, and be off?
INSPECTOR. I' faith! that I will; I am urgently needed to be at Athens to
attend the assembly; for I am charged with the interests of
Pharnaces. [300]
PISTHETAERUS. Take it then, and be off. See, here is your salary. (_Beats
him. _)
INSPECTOR. What does this mean?
PISTHETAERUS. 'Tis the assembly where you have to defend Pharnaces.
INSPECTOR. You shall testify that they dare to strike me, the inspector.
PISTHETAERUS. Are you not going to clear out with your urns. 'Tis not to
be believed; they send us inspectors before we have so much as paid
sacrifice to the gods.
A DEALER IN DECREES. "If the Nephelococcygian does wrong to the
Athenian. . . . "
PISTHETAERUS. Now whatever are these cursed parchments?
DEALER IN DECREES. I am a dealer in decrees, and I have come here to sell
you the new laws.
PISTHETAERUS. Which?
DEALER IN DECREES. "The Nephelococcygians shall adopt the same weights,
measures and decrees as the Olophyxians. "[301]
PISTHETAERUS. And you shall soon be imitating the Ototyxians. (_Beats
him. _)
DEALER IN DECREES. Hullo! what are you doing?
PISTHETAERUS. Now will you be off with your decrees? For I am going to
let _you_ see some severe ones.
INSPECTOR (_returning_). I summon Pisthetaerus for outrage for the month
of Munychion. [302]
PISTHETAERUS. Ha! my friend! are you still there?
DEALER IN DECREES. "Should anyone drive away the magistrates and not
receive them, according to the decree duly posted. . . "
PISTHETAERUS. What! rascal! you are there too?
INSPECTOR. Woe to you! I'll have you condemned to a fine of ten thousand
drachmae.
PISTHETAERUS. And I'll smash your urns. [303]
INSPECTOR. Do you recall that evening when you stooled against the column
where the decrees are posted?
PISTHETAERUS. Here! here! let him be seized. (_The inspectors run off. _)
Well! don't you want to stop any longer?
PRIEST. Let us get indoors as quick as possible; we will sacrifice the
goat inside. [304]
CHORUS. Henceforth it is to me that mortals must address their sacrifices
and their prayers. Nothing escapes my sight nor my might. My glance
embraces the universe, I preserve the fruit in the flower by destroying
the thousand kinds of voracious insects the soil produces, which attack
the trees and feed on the germ when it has scarcely formed in the calyx;
I destroy those who ravage the balmy terrace gardens like a deadly
plague; all these gnawing crawling creatures perish beneath the lash of
my wing. I hear it proclaimed everywhere: "A talent for him who shall
kill Diagoras of Melos,[305] and a talent for him who destroys one of the
dead tyrants. "[306] We likewise wish to make our proclamation: "A talent
to him among you who shall kill Philocrates, the Strouthian;[307] four,
if he brings him to us alive. For this Philocrates skewers the finches
together and sells them at the rate of an obolus for seven. He tortures
the thrushes by blowing them out, so that they may look bigger, sticks
their own feathers into the nostrils of blackbirds, and collects pigeons,
which he shuts up and forces them, fastened in a net, to decoy others. "
That is what we wish to proclaim. And if anyone is keeping birds shut up
in his yard, let him hasten to let them loose; those who disobey shall be
seized by the birds and we shall put them in chains, so that in their
turn they may decoy other men.
Happy indeed is the race of winged birds who need no cloak in winter!
Neither do I fear the relentless rays of the fiery dog-days; when the
divine grasshopper, intoxicated with the sunlight, when noon is burning
the ground, is breaking out into shrill melody, my home is beneath the
foliage in the flowery meadows. I winter in deep caverns, where I frolic
with the mountain nymphs, while in spring I despoil the gardens of the
Graces and gather the white, virgin berry on the myrtle bushes.
I want now to speak to the judges about the prize they are going to
award; if they are favourable to us, we will load them with benefits far
greater than those Paris[308] received. Firstly, the owls of
Laurium,[309] which every judge desires above all things, shall never be
wanting to you; you shall see them homing with you, building their nests
in your money-bags and laying coins. Besides, you shall be housed like
the gods, for we shall erect gables[310] over your dwellings; if you hold
some public post and want to do a little pilfering, we will give you the
sharp claws of a hawk. Are you dining in town, we will provide you with
crops. [311] But, if your award is against us, don't fail to have metal
covers fashioned for yourselves, like those they place over statues;[312]
else, look out! for the day you wear a white tunic all the birds will
soil it with their droppings.
PISTHETAERUS. Birds! the sacrifice is propitious. But I see no messenger
coming from the wall to tell us what is happening. Ah! here comes one
running himself out of breath as though he were running the Olympic
stadium.
MESSENGER. Where, where is he? Where, where, where is he? Where, where,
where is he? Where is Pisthetaerus, our leader?
PISTHETAERUS. Here am I.
MESSENGER. The wall is finished.
PISTHETAERUS. That's good news.
MESSENGER. 'Tis a most beautiful, a most magnificent work of art. The
wall is so broad, that Proxenides, the Braggartian, and Theogenes could
pass each other in their chariots, even if they were drawn by steeds as
big as the Trojan horse.
PISTHETAERUS. 'Tis wonderful!
MESSENGER. Its length is one hundred stadia; I measured it myself.
PISTHETAERUS. A decent length, by Posidon! And who built such a wall?
MESSENGER. Birds--birds only; they had neither Egyptian brickmaker, nor
stonemason, nor carpenter; the birds did it all themselves, I could
hardly believe my eyes. Thirty thousand cranes came from Libya with a
supply of stones,[313] intended for the foundations. The water-rails
chiselled them with their beaks. Ten thousand storks were busy making
bricks; plovers and other water fowl carried water into the air.
PISTHETAERUS. And who carried the mortar?
MESSENGER. Herons, in hods.
PISTHETAERUS. But how could they put the mortar into hods?
MESSENGER. Oh! 'twas a truly clever invention; the geese used their feet
like spades; they buried them in the pile of mortar and then emptied them
into the hods.
PISTHETAERUS. Ah! to what use cannot feet be put? [314]
MESSENGER. You should have seen how eagerly the ducks carried bricks. To
complete the tale, the swallows came flying to the work, their beaks full
of mortar and their trowel on their back, just the way little children
are carried.
PISTHETAERUS. Who would want paid servants after this? But, tell me, who
did the woodwork?
MESSENGER. Birds again, and clever carpenters too, the pelicans, for they
squared up the gates with their beaks in such a fashion that one would
have thought they were using axes; the noise was just like a dockyard.
Now the whole wall is tight everywhere, securely bolted and well guarded;
it is patrolled, bell in hand; the sentinels stand everywhere and beacons
burn on the towers. But I must run off to clean myself; the rest is your
business.
CHORUS. Well! what do you say to it? Are you not astonished at the wall
being completed so quickly?
PISTHETAERUS. By the gods, yes, and with good reason. 'Tis really not to
be believed. But here comes another messenger from the wall to bring us
some further news! What a fighting look he has!
SECOND MESSENGER. Oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! oh!
PISTHETAERUS. What's the matter?
SECOND MESSENGER. A horrible outrage has occurred; a god sent by Zeus has
passed through our gates and has penetrated the realms of the air without
the knowledge of the jays, who are on guard in the daytime.
PISTHETAERUS. Tis an unworthy and criminal deed. What god was it?
SECOND MESSENGER. We don't know that. All we know is, that he has got
wings.
PISTHETAERUS.
and to Artemis, the goldfinch.
PISTHETAERUS. 'Tis no longer Artemis Colaenis, but Artemis the
goldfinch. [281]
PRIEST. And to Bacchus, the finch and Cybele, the ostrich and mother of
the gods and mankind.
CHORUS. Oh! sovereign ostrich, Cybele, the mother of Cleocritus,[282]
grant health and safety to the Nephelococcygians as well as to the
dwellers in Chios. . . .
PISTHETAERUS. The dwellers in Chios! Ah! I am delighted they should be
thus mentioned on all occasions. [283]
CHORUS. . . . to the heroes, the birds, to the sons of heroes, to the
porphyrion, the pelican, the spoon-bill, the redbreast, the grouse, the
peacock, the horned-owl, the teal, the bittern, the heron, the stormy
petrel, the fig-pecker, the titmouse. . . .
PISTHETAERUS. Stop! stop! you drive me crazy with your endless list. Why,
wretch, to what sacred feast are you inviting the vultures and the
sea-eagles? Don't you see that a single kite could easily carry off the
lot at once? Begone, you and your fillets and all; I shall know how to
complete the sacrifice by myself.
PRIEST. It is imperative that I sing another sacred chant for the rite of
the lustral water, and that I invoke the immortals, or at least one of
them, provided always that you have some suitable food to offer him; from
what I see here, in the shape of gifts, there is naught whatever but horn
and hair.
PISTHETAERUS. Let us address our sacrifices and our prayers to the winged
gods.
A POET. Oh, Muse! celebrate happy Nephelococcygia in your hymns.
PISTHETAERUS. What have we here? Where do you come from, tell me? Who are
you?
POET. I am he whose language is sweeter than honey, the zealous slave of
the Muses, as Homer has it.
PISTHETAERUS. You a slave! and yet you wear your hair long?
POET. No, but the fact is all we poets are the assiduous slaves of the
Muses according to Homer.
PISTHETAERUS. In truth your little cloak is quite holy too through zeal!
But, poet, what ill wind drove you here?
POET. I have composed verses in honour of your Nephelococcygia, a host of
splendid dithyrambs and parthenians,[284] worthy of Simonides himself.
PISTHETAERUS. And when did you compose them? How long since?
POET. Oh! 'tis long, aye, very long, that I have sung in honour of this
city.
PISTHETAERUS. But I am only celebrating its foundation with this
sacrifice;[285] I have only just named it, as is done with little babies.
POET. "Just as the chargers fly with the speed of the wind, so does the
voice of the Muses take its flight. Oh! thou noble founder of the town of
Aetna,[286] thou, whose name recalls the holy sacrifices,[287] make us
such gift as thy generous heart shall suggest. "
PISTHETAERUS. He will drive us silly if we do not get rid of him by some
present. Here! you, who have a fur as well as your tunic, take it off and
give it to this clever poet. Come, take this fur; you look to me to be
shivering with cold.
POET. My Muse will gladly accept this gift; but engrave these verses of
Pindar's on your mind.
PISTHETAERUS. Oh! what a pest! 'Tis impossible then to be rid of him.
POET. "Straton wanders among the Scythian nomads, but has no linen
garment. He is sad at only wearing an animal's pelt and no tunic. " Do you
conceive my bent?
PISTHETAERUS. I understand that you want me to offer you a tunic. Hi! you
(_to Euelpides_), take off yours; we must help the poet. . . . Come, you,
take it and begone.
POET. I am going, and these are the verses that I address to this city:
"Phoebus of the golden throne, celebrate this shivery, freezing city; I
have travelled through fruitful and snow-covered plains. Tralala!
Tralala! "[288]
PISTHETAERUS. What are you chanting us about frosts? Thanks to the tunic,
you no longer fear them. Ah! by Zeus! I could not have believed this
cursed fellow could so soon have learnt the way to our city. Come,
priest, take the lustral water and circle the altar.
PRIEST. Let all keep silence!
A PROPHET. Let not the goat be sacrificed. [289]
PISTHETAERUS. Who are you?
PROPHET. Who am I? A prophet.
PISTHETAERUS. Get you gone.
PROPHET. Wretched man, insult not sacred things. For there is an oracle
of Bacis, which exactly applies to Nephelococcygia.
PISTHETAERUS. Why did you not reveal it to me before I founded my city?
PROPHET. The divine spirit was against it.
PISTHETAERUS. Well, 'tis best to know the terms of the oracle.
PROPHET. "But when the wolves and the white crows shall dwell together
between Corinth and Sicyon. . . . "[290]
PISTHETAERUS. But how do the Corinthians concern me?
PROPHET. 'Tis the regions of the air that Bacis indicated in this manner.
"They must first sacrifice a white-fleeced goat to Pandora, and give the
prophet, who first reveals my words, a good cloak and new sandals. "
PISTHETAERUS. Are the sandals there?
PROPHET.
Read. "And besides this a goblet of wine and a good share of the entrails
of the victim. "
PISTHETAERUS. Of the entrails--is it so written?
PROPHET. Read. "If you do as I command, divine youth, you shall be an
eagle among the clouds; if not, you shall be neither turtle-dove, nor
eagle, nor woodpecker. "
PISTHETAERUS. Is all that there?
PROPHET. Read.
PISTHETAERUS. This oracle in no sort of way resembles the one Apollo
dictated to me: "If an impostor comes without invitation to annoy you
during the sacrifice and to demand a share of the victim, apply a stout
stick to his ribs. "
PROPHET. You are drivelling.
PISTHETAERUS. "And don't spare him, were he an eagle from out of the
clouds, were it Lampon himself[291] or the great Diopithes. "[292]
PROPHET. Is all that there?
PISTHETAERUS. Here, read it yourself, and go and hang yourself.
PROPHET. Oh! unfortunate wretch that I am.
PISTHETAERUS. Away with you, and take your prophecies elsewhere.
METON. [293] I have come to you.
PISTHETAERUS. Yet another pest. What have you come to do? What's your
plan? What's the purpose of your journey? Why these splendid buskins?
METON. I want to survey the plains of the air for you and to parcel them
into lots.
PISTHETAERUS. In the name of the gods, who are you?
METON. Who am I? Meton, known throughout Greece and at Colonus. [294]
PISTHETAERUS. What are these things?
METON. Tools for measuring the air. In truth, the spaces in the air have
precisely the form of a furnace. With this bent ruler I draw a line from
top to bottom; from one of its points I describe a circle with the
compass. Do you understand?
PISTHETAERUS. Not the very least.
METON. With the straight ruler I set to work to inscribe a square within
this circle; in its centre will be the marketplace, into which all the
straight streets will lead, converging to this centre like a star, which,
although only orbicular, sends forth its rays in a straight line from all
sides.
PISTHETAERUS. Meton, you new Thales. . . . [295]
METON. What d'you want with me?
PISTHETAERUS. I want to give you a proof of my friendship. Use your legs.
METON. Why, what have I to fear?
PISTHETAERUS. 'Tis the same here as in Sparta. Strangers are driven away,
and blows rain down as thick as hail.
METON.
Is there sedition in your city?
PISTHETAERUS. No, certainly not.
METON. What's wrong then?
PISTHETAERUS. We are agreed to sweep all quacks and impostors far from
our borders.
METON. Then I'm off.
PISTHETAERUS. I fear me 'tis too late. The thunder growls already.
(_Beats him. _)
METON. Oh, woe! oh, woe!
PISTHETAERUS. I warned you. Now, be off, and do your surveying somewhere
else. (_Meton takes to his heels. _)
AN INSPECTOR. Where are the Proxeni? [296]
PISTHETAERUS. Who is this Sardanapalus? [297]
INSPECTOR. I have been appointed by lot to come to Nephelococcygia as
inspector. [298]
PISTHETAERUS. An inspector! and who sends you here, you rascal?
INSPECTOR. A decree of Taleas. [299]
PISTHETAERUS. Will you just pocket your salary, do nothing, and be off?
INSPECTOR. I' faith! that I will; I am urgently needed to be at Athens to
attend the assembly; for I am charged with the interests of
Pharnaces. [300]
PISTHETAERUS. Take it then, and be off. See, here is your salary. (_Beats
him. _)
INSPECTOR. What does this mean?
PISTHETAERUS. 'Tis the assembly where you have to defend Pharnaces.
INSPECTOR. You shall testify that they dare to strike me, the inspector.
PISTHETAERUS. Are you not going to clear out with your urns. 'Tis not to
be believed; they send us inspectors before we have so much as paid
sacrifice to the gods.
A DEALER IN DECREES. "If the Nephelococcygian does wrong to the
Athenian. . . . "
PISTHETAERUS. Now whatever are these cursed parchments?
DEALER IN DECREES. I am a dealer in decrees, and I have come here to sell
you the new laws.
PISTHETAERUS. Which?
DEALER IN DECREES. "The Nephelococcygians shall adopt the same weights,
measures and decrees as the Olophyxians. "[301]
PISTHETAERUS. And you shall soon be imitating the Ototyxians. (_Beats
him. _)
DEALER IN DECREES. Hullo! what are you doing?
PISTHETAERUS. Now will you be off with your decrees? For I am going to
let _you_ see some severe ones.
INSPECTOR (_returning_). I summon Pisthetaerus for outrage for the month
of Munychion. [302]
PISTHETAERUS. Ha! my friend! are you still there?
DEALER IN DECREES. "Should anyone drive away the magistrates and not
receive them, according to the decree duly posted. . . "
PISTHETAERUS. What! rascal! you are there too?
INSPECTOR. Woe to you! I'll have you condemned to a fine of ten thousand
drachmae.
PISTHETAERUS. And I'll smash your urns. [303]
INSPECTOR. Do you recall that evening when you stooled against the column
where the decrees are posted?
PISTHETAERUS. Here! here! let him be seized. (_The inspectors run off. _)
Well! don't you want to stop any longer?
PRIEST. Let us get indoors as quick as possible; we will sacrifice the
goat inside. [304]
CHORUS. Henceforth it is to me that mortals must address their sacrifices
and their prayers. Nothing escapes my sight nor my might. My glance
embraces the universe, I preserve the fruit in the flower by destroying
the thousand kinds of voracious insects the soil produces, which attack
the trees and feed on the germ when it has scarcely formed in the calyx;
I destroy those who ravage the balmy terrace gardens like a deadly
plague; all these gnawing crawling creatures perish beneath the lash of
my wing. I hear it proclaimed everywhere: "A talent for him who shall
kill Diagoras of Melos,[305] and a talent for him who destroys one of the
dead tyrants. "[306] We likewise wish to make our proclamation: "A talent
to him among you who shall kill Philocrates, the Strouthian;[307] four,
if he brings him to us alive. For this Philocrates skewers the finches
together and sells them at the rate of an obolus for seven. He tortures
the thrushes by blowing them out, so that they may look bigger, sticks
their own feathers into the nostrils of blackbirds, and collects pigeons,
which he shuts up and forces them, fastened in a net, to decoy others. "
That is what we wish to proclaim. And if anyone is keeping birds shut up
in his yard, let him hasten to let them loose; those who disobey shall be
seized by the birds and we shall put them in chains, so that in their
turn they may decoy other men.
Happy indeed is the race of winged birds who need no cloak in winter!
Neither do I fear the relentless rays of the fiery dog-days; when the
divine grasshopper, intoxicated with the sunlight, when noon is burning
the ground, is breaking out into shrill melody, my home is beneath the
foliage in the flowery meadows. I winter in deep caverns, where I frolic
with the mountain nymphs, while in spring I despoil the gardens of the
Graces and gather the white, virgin berry on the myrtle bushes.
I want now to speak to the judges about the prize they are going to
award; if they are favourable to us, we will load them with benefits far
greater than those Paris[308] received. Firstly, the owls of
Laurium,[309] which every judge desires above all things, shall never be
wanting to you; you shall see them homing with you, building their nests
in your money-bags and laying coins. Besides, you shall be housed like
the gods, for we shall erect gables[310] over your dwellings; if you hold
some public post and want to do a little pilfering, we will give you the
sharp claws of a hawk. Are you dining in town, we will provide you with
crops. [311] But, if your award is against us, don't fail to have metal
covers fashioned for yourselves, like those they place over statues;[312]
else, look out! for the day you wear a white tunic all the birds will
soil it with their droppings.
PISTHETAERUS. Birds! the sacrifice is propitious. But I see no messenger
coming from the wall to tell us what is happening. Ah! here comes one
running himself out of breath as though he were running the Olympic
stadium.
MESSENGER. Where, where is he? Where, where, where is he? Where, where,
where is he? Where is Pisthetaerus, our leader?
PISTHETAERUS. Here am I.
MESSENGER. The wall is finished.
PISTHETAERUS. That's good news.
MESSENGER. 'Tis a most beautiful, a most magnificent work of art. The
wall is so broad, that Proxenides, the Braggartian, and Theogenes could
pass each other in their chariots, even if they were drawn by steeds as
big as the Trojan horse.
PISTHETAERUS. 'Tis wonderful!
MESSENGER. Its length is one hundred stadia; I measured it myself.
PISTHETAERUS. A decent length, by Posidon! And who built such a wall?
MESSENGER. Birds--birds only; they had neither Egyptian brickmaker, nor
stonemason, nor carpenter; the birds did it all themselves, I could
hardly believe my eyes. Thirty thousand cranes came from Libya with a
supply of stones,[313] intended for the foundations. The water-rails
chiselled them with their beaks. Ten thousand storks were busy making
bricks; plovers and other water fowl carried water into the air.
PISTHETAERUS. And who carried the mortar?
MESSENGER. Herons, in hods.
PISTHETAERUS. But how could they put the mortar into hods?
MESSENGER. Oh! 'twas a truly clever invention; the geese used their feet
like spades; they buried them in the pile of mortar and then emptied them
into the hods.
PISTHETAERUS. Ah! to what use cannot feet be put? [314]
MESSENGER. You should have seen how eagerly the ducks carried bricks. To
complete the tale, the swallows came flying to the work, their beaks full
of mortar and their trowel on their back, just the way little children
are carried.
PISTHETAERUS. Who would want paid servants after this? But, tell me, who
did the woodwork?
MESSENGER. Birds again, and clever carpenters too, the pelicans, for they
squared up the gates with their beaks in such a fashion that one would
have thought they were using axes; the noise was just like a dockyard.
Now the whole wall is tight everywhere, securely bolted and well guarded;
it is patrolled, bell in hand; the sentinels stand everywhere and beacons
burn on the towers. But I must run off to clean myself; the rest is your
business.
CHORUS. Well! what do you say to it? Are you not astonished at the wall
being completed so quickly?
PISTHETAERUS. By the gods, yes, and with good reason. 'Tis really not to
be believed. But here comes another messenger from the wall to bring us
some further news! What a fighting look he has!
SECOND MESSENGER. Oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! oh!
PISTHETAERUS. What's the matter?
SECOND MESSENGER. A horrible outrage has occurred; a god sent by Zeus has
passed through our gates and has penetrated the realms of the air without
the knowledge of the jays, who are on guard in the daytime.
PISTHETAERUS. Tis an unworthy and criminal deed. What god was it?
SECOND MESSENGER. We don't know that. All we know is, that he has got
wings.
PISTHETAERUS.
