Go, friend, go where I send you, for without you my orders
cannot be obeyed. For myself, I want to sacrifice to the new god,
and I am going to summon the priest who must preside at the
ceremony. Slaves! slaves! bring forward the basket and the lustral
I do as you do, and I wish as you wish, and I implore you to
address powerful and solemn prayers to the gods, and in addition to
immolate a sheep as a token of our gratitude. Let us sing the
Pythian chant in honour of the god, and let Chaeris accompany our
Enough! but, by Heracles! what is this? Great gods! I have seen
many prodigious things, but I never saw a muzzled raven. (The PRIEST
arrives.) Priest! it's high time! Sacrifice to the new gods.
I begin, but where is the man with the basket? Pray to the
Hestia of the birds, to the kite, who presides over the hearth, and to
all the god and goddess-birds who dwell in Olympus...
Oh! Hawk, the sacred guardian of Sunium, oh, god of the storks!
...to the swan of Delos, to Leto the mother of the quails, and to
Artemis, the goldfinch...
It's no longer Artemis Colaenis, but Artemis the goldfinch.
...to Bacchus, the finch and Cybele, the ostrich and mother of the
gods and mankind...
Oh! sovereign ostrich Cybele, mother of Cleocritus!
...to grant health and safety to the Nephelococcygians as well as
to the dwellers in Chios...
The dwellers in Chios! Ah! I am delighted they should be thus
mentioned on all occasions.
...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...
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.
(The PRIEST departs.)
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.
Let us address our sacrifices and our prayers to the winged gods.
(A POET enters.)
Oh, Muse! celebrate happy Nephelococcygia in your hymns.
What have we here? Where did you come from, tell me? Who are you?
I am he whose language is sweeter than honey, the zealous slave of