Parerga/Chorus from the Oedipus Coloneus
< Parerga
CHORUS
FROM THE ŒDIPUS COLONEUS.
(668-718.)
Εὐίππου, ξένε, τᾶσδε χώρας
Ἵκου τὰ κράτιστα γᾶς ἔπαυλα, κ.τ.λ.
Ἵκου τὰ κράτιστα γᾶς ἔπαυλα, κ.τ.λ.
Thou hast found the fairest seat
Of this bright and broad domain,
Where the noblest coursers' feet
Tread the Colonean plain.
Here the melodious nightingale
Loves to tell her plaintive tale,
Where the thickest copses bloom,
Hid beneath the ivy's gloom,
Or 'neath that sacred foliage veil'd,
Where thousand blossoms spring,
In vain by fiercest noon assail'd,
Unswept by the tempest's wing.
For Bacchus loves these chosen groves,
Where oft his feet have trod;
While mid the bands of Nymphs he roves,
That nursed the Infant God.
Of this bright and broad domain,
Where the noblest coursers' feet
Tread the Colonean plain.
Here the melodious nightingale
Loves to tell her plaintive tale,
Where the thickest copses bloom,
Hid beneath the ivy's gloom,
Or 'neath that sacred foliage veil'd,
Where thousand blossoms spring,
In vain by fiercest noon assail'd,
Unswept by the tempest's wing.
For Bacchus loves these chosen groves,
Where oft his feet have trod;
While mid the bands of Nymphs he roves,
That nursed the Infant God.
Here, wet with dews that freshly fall,
Narcissus clusters wild,
For thee the ancient coronal,
Great Ceres, and thy child.
Here the golden crocus beams;
Nor ever fail the sleepless streams
That o'er the plains in tribute glide,
Cephisus, to thy silvery tide.
Hence springs the tree, hence blooms the flower,
With early radiance drest,
While weep the heavens their purest shower
On the earth's fruitful breast.
Nor do the Muses' circling feet
Abhor this verdant plain;
Nor is it the least-favour'd seat
Of Aphroditè's reign.
Narcissus clusters wild,
For thee the ancient coronal,
Great Ceres, and thy child.
Here the golden crocus beams;
Nor ever fail the sleepless streams
That o'er the plains in tribute glide,
Cephisus, to thy silvery tide.
Hence springs the tree, hence blooms the flower,
With early radiance drest,
While weep the heavens their purest shower
On the earth's fruitful breast.
Nor do the Muses' circling feet
Abhor this verdant plain;
Nor is it the least-favour'd seat
Of Aphroditè's reign.
Not in the sunny lands that smile
In Asia's realm of gold,
Not in the mighty Dorian Isle
Where Pelops reign'd of old,
Flourishes that holy plant
Which loves th' Athenian soil,
Whose fruit is Earth's own bounteous grant,
Unvex'd by human toil.
The Olive, strong mid hostile spears,
Which not the force of youthful years
Nor all the skill of hoary age
Could e'er destroy in vengeful rage.
For the all-seeing care of Jove
Forbids that sacred stem to die,
And fair Athenè from above
Bends o'er its growth her azure eye.
In Asia's realm of gold,
Not in the mighty Dorian Isle
Where Pelops reign'd of old,
Flourishes that holy plant
Which loves th' Athenian soil,
Whose fruit is Earth's own bounteous grant,
Unvex'd by human toil.
The Olive, strong mid hostile spears,
Which not the force of youthful years
Nor all the skill of hoary age
Could e'er destroy in vengeful rage.
For the all-seeing care of Jove
Forbids that sacred stem to die,
And fair Athenè from above
Bends o'er its growth her azure eye.
Glorious city, shrine of power,
Shrine of freedom in the land,
Deities upon thee shower
Choicest gifts with lavish hand.
Gallant steeds of purest strain
Are thy fertile valleys' boast;
Friendly is the deep-blue main,
Laving round thy favour'd coast.
Son of Saturn, Neptune, King,
'Tis from thee these blessings spring;
Thou first upon this grassy mead
Gav'st dominion o'er the steed:
Thou gav'st the skill to stem the tide
All whiten'd by the dashing oar,
While, swiftly as the Nereids glide,
The galley bounds mid ocean's roar.
Shrine of freedom in the land,
Deities upon thee shower
Choicest gifts with lavish hand.
Gallant steeds of purest strain
Are thy fertile valleys' boast;
Friendly is the deep-blue main,
Laving round thy favour'd coast.
Son of Saturn, Neptune, King,
'Tis from thee these blessings spring;
Thou first upon this grassy mead
Gav'st dominion o'er the steed:
Thou gav'st the skill to stem the tide
All whiten'd by the dashing oar,
While, swiftly as the Nereids glide,
The galley bounds mid ocean's roar.