The Homeric Hymn to Demeter

Translation, Commentary, and Interpretive Essays

Helene P. Foley, Helene Foley

• Éditeur: Princeton University Press
• Année: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781400849086
• Sujet: History
• Sous-sujet: Greek Ancient History

The Homeric Hymn to Demeter, composed in the late seventh or early sixth century B.C.E., is a key to understanding the psychological and religious world of ancient Greek women. The poem tells how Hades, lord of the underworld, abducted the goddess Persephone and how her grieving mother, Demeter, the goddess of grain, forced the gods to allow Persephone to return to her for part of each year. Helene Foley presents the Greek text and an annotated translation of this poem, together with selected essays that give the reader a rich understanding of the Hymn 's structure and artistry, its role in the religious life of the ancient world, and its meaning for the modern world.

PART ONE

THE TEXT AND TRANSLATION, COMMENTARY, AND BACKGROUND

THE HOMERIC HYMN TO DEMETER

Translated by Helene P. Foley

Demeter I begin to sing,* the fair-tressed awesome goddess, herself and her slim-ankled daughter whom Aidoneus** seized; Zeus, heavy-thundering and mighty-voiced, gave her, without the consent of Demeter of the bright fruit and golden sword,	(1)
as she played with the deep-breasted daughters of Ocean, plucking flowers in the lush meadow—roses, crocuses, and lovely violets, irises and hyacinth and the narcissus, which Earth grew as a snare for the flower-faced maiden in order to gratify by Zeus’s design the Host-to-Many,**	(5)
a flower wondrous and bright, awesome for all to see, for the immortals above and for mortals below. From its root a hundredfold bloom sprang up and smelled so sweet that the whole vast heaven above and the whole earth laughed, and the salty swell of the sea.	(10)
The girl marveled and stretched out both hands at once to take the lovely toy. The earth with its wide ways yawned over the Nysian plain; the lord Host-to-Many rose up on her with his immortal horses, the celebrated son of Kronos; he snatched the unwilling maid into his golden chariot	(15)
and led her off lamenting. She screamed with a shrill voice, calling on her father, the son of Kronos highest and best. Not one of the immortals or of humankind heard her voice, nor the olives bright with fruit, except the daughter of Persaios; tender of heart	(20)
she heard it from her cave, Hekate of the delicate veil. And lord Helios, brilliant son of Hyperion, heard the maid calling her father the son of Kronos. But he sat apart from the gods, aloof in a temple ringing with prayers, and received choice offerings from humankind.	(25)
Against her will Hades took her by the design of Zeus with his immortal horses—her father’s brother, Commander- and Host-to-Many, the many-named son of Kronos. So long as the goddess gazed on earth and starry heaven, on the sea flowing strong and full of fish,	(30)
and on the beams of the sun, she still hoped to see her dear mother and the race of immortal gods. For so long hope charmed her strong mind despite her distress. The mountain peaks and the depths of the sea echoed in response to her divine voice, and her goddess mother heard.	(35)
Sharp grief seized her heart, and she tore the veil on her ambrosial hair with her own hands. She cast a dark cloak on her shoulders and sped like a bird over dry land and sea, searching. No one was willing to tell her the truth,	(40)
not one of the gods or mortals; no bird of omen came to her as truthful messenger. Then for nine days divine Deo*** roamed over the earth, holding torches ablaze in her hands; in her grief she did not once taste ambrosia	(45)
or nectar sweet-to-drink, nor bathed her skin. But when the tenth Dawn came shining on her, Hekate met her, holding a torch in her hands, to give her a message. She spoke as follows: “Divine Demeter, giver of seasons and glorious gifts,	(50)
who of the immortals or mortal men seized Persephone and grieved your heart? For I heard a voice but did not see with my eyes who he was. To you I tell at once the whole truth.” Thus Hekate spoke. The daughter of fair-tressed Rheia***	(55)
said not a word, but rushed off at her side holding torches ablaze in her hands. They came to Helios, observer of gods and mortals, and stood before his horses. The most august goddess*** spoke: “Helios, respect me as a god does a goddess, if ever	(60)
with word or deed I pleased your heart and spirit. The daughter I bore, a sweet offshoot noble in form— I heard her voice throbbing through the barren air as if she were suffering violence. But I did not see her with my eyes. With your rays you look down through the bright air	(65)
on the whole of the earth and the sea. Tell me the truth about my child. Have you somewhere seen who of gods or mortal men took her by force from me against her will and went away?” Thus she spoke and the son of Hyperion replied:	(70)
“Daughter of fair-tressed Rheia, mighty Demeter, you will know the truth. For I greatly revere and pity you grieving for your slim-ankled daughter. No other of the gods was to blame but cloud-gathering Zeus, who gave her to Hades his brother to be called	(75)
his fertile wife. With his horses Hades snatched her screaming into the misty gloom. But, Goddess, give up for good your great lamentation. You must not nurse in vain insatiable anger. Among the gods Aidoneus is not an unsuitable bridegroom,	(80)
Commander-to-Many and Zeus’s own brother of the same stock. As for honor, he got his third at the world’s first division and dwells with those whose rule has fallen to his lot.” He spoke and called to his horses. At his rebuke they bore the swift chariot lightly, like long-winged birds.	(85)
A more terrible and brutal grief seized the heart of Demeter, angry now at the son of Kronos with his dark clouds. Withdrawing from the assembly of the gods and high Olympus, she went among the cities and fertile fields of men, disguising her beauty for a long time. No one of men	(90)
nor deep-girt women recognized her when they looked, until she came to the house of skillful Keleos, the man then ruler of fragrant Eleusis. There she sat near the road, grief in her heart, where citizens drew water from the Maiden’s Well	(95)
in the shade—an olive bush had grown overhead— like a very old woman cut off from childbearing and the gifts of garland-loving Aphrodite. Such are the nurses to children of law-giving kings and the keepers of stores in their echoing halls.	(100)
The daughters of Keleos, son of Eleusis, saw her as they came to fetch water easy-to-draw and bring it in bronze vessels to their dear father’s halls. Like four goddesses they were in the flower of youth, Kallidikê, Kleisidikê, fair Demo, and Kallithoê,	(105)
who was the eld...