Monday, April 13, 2020

M/M: Be My King: Dionysus & Ampelos, Nonnos, Dion. X.193-216

Hunc quidem habens Bacchus consobrinum mollis ludens

querebat admirantem profundens ob pulchritudinem, vocem

tamquam mortalis: immortale v. dolosus abscondebat formam:

"Quis te pater plantavit? Quis caelestis (te) genuit venter?

Que Charitum te enixa? quis (te) aravit pulcher Apollo?

Dic amice, non absconde tuum genus. Siquidem venis

non alatus alter Cupido, telis sine, absque pharetra.

quis deorum te plantavit concumbens cum Venere?

namque ego formido tuam matrem, Cyprin dicere.

Ne genitorem Vulcanum aut Martem tuum dicam, 
sin vero tu, quem vocant ab aethere venisti Mercurius,

ostende mihi pennas leves, et vinas alas talarlium

qui habes intonsam sublimem super cervice comam

nisi mihi ipse veneris sine cithara. sine arcu

phoebus intonsus demissos cincinnos vibrans.

Si vero Saturnius me plantavit. Tu vero terrestri agenere

boum cornua habentium Satyrorum brevis qui sanguine fers,

aequaliter mihi regna deo mortalis, non enim arguet 
caelestem tuam imaginem caelestis sanguis Bacchi

sed quid voco te ex exigua aliqua familia.

Cognosco tuum sanguinem, quamvis tegere studes.

solite peperit concumbens Luna,

Narcisso gratioso prorsus similem. Caelestem enim

consimilem imaginem habes cornutae simulacrum lunae.

tale verbum dixit.
--Nonnus, Dionysiaca, X.193-216- Translated into Latin from the Greek by Eilhard Lubin

Bacchus hid his immortal form from the youth
And approached him as a mortal, flirting with him
with these words: “Who’s your father?
What immortal womb gave you life?
What Grace raised you? Admit it—Apollo’s your father!
Tell me, darling (amice), don’t hide your lineage.
You act like you’re some wingless Cupid, but without weapons and a bow.
What god courted Venus to create you?
For I hesitate to call Venus your mother,
Since Vulcan or Mars can’t be your father.
Or are you the god they call Mercury?
Then show me your feathers, and the wings on your ankles.
Your long hair flows down your neck, but you don’t have a cithara.
Are you Phoebus, shaking his long wavy hair—but without your signature bow?
If Jupiter is my father, but you are mortal-born,
A short-lived satyr with cow-like horns,
Be king alongside me, equal to equal, a god and a mortal together,
For no one would question your godhood
While you were by my side.
Oh! I recognize your lineage—the one you’re trying to hide!
The Moon herself is your mother, having united with the Sun,
You’re as beautiful as Narcissus. For you have the same
Heavenly form as the moon—you both have horns!”

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