renowned Eleusinian Mysteries,
in the tales and rites of the Bora and the Nanga; in the beliefs and
practices of Pawnees and Larrakeah, Yao and Khond. But these tribes,
too, are human, and what they now or lately were, the remote ancestors
of the Greeks must once have been. All races have sought explanations
of their own ritual in the adventures of the Dream Time, the Alcheringa,
when beings of a more potent race, Gods or Heroes, were on earth, and
achieved and endured such things as the rites commemorate. And the
things thus endured and achieved, as I try to show, are everywhere of
much the same nature; whether they are now commemorated by
painted savages in the Bora or the Medicine Dance, or whether they
were exhibited and proclaimed by the Eumolpidae in a splendid hall, to
the pious of Hellas and of Rome. My attempt may seem audacious, and
to many scholars may even be repugnant; but it is on these lines, I
venture to think, that the darker problems of Greek religion and rite
must be approached. They are all survivals, however fairly draped and
adorned by the unique genius of the most divinely gifted race of
mankind.
The method of translation is that adopted by Professor Butcher and
myself in the Odyssey, and by me in a version of Theocritus, as well as
by Mr. Ernest Myers, who preceded us, in his Pindar. That method has
lately been censured and, like all methods, is open to objection. But I
confess that neither criticism nor example has converted me to the use
of modern colloquial English, and I trust that my persistence in using
poetical English words in the translation of Greek poetry will not
greatly offend. I cannot render a speech of Anchises thus:--
"If you really are merely a mortal, and if a woman of the normal kind
was your mother, while your father (as you lay it down) was the well-
known Otreus, and if you come here all through an undying person,
Hermes; and if you are to be known henceforward as my wife,--why,
then nobody, mortal or immortal, shall interfere with my intention to
take instant advantage of the situation."
That kind of speech, though certainly long-winded, may be the manner
in which a contemporary pastoralist would address a Goddess "in a
coming on humour." But the situation does not occur in the prose of our
existence, and I must prefer to translate the poet in a manner more
congenial, if less up to date. For one rare word "Etin" ([Greek text]) I
must apologise: it seems to me to express the vagueness of the
unfamiliar monster, and is old Scots, as in the tale of "The Red Etin of
Ireland."
THE HYMN TO APOLLO
The Hymn to Apollo presents innumerable difficulties, both of text,
which is very corrupt, and as to the whole nature and aim of the
composition. In this version it is divided into two portions, the first
dealing with the birth of Apollo, and the foundation of his shrine in the
isle of Delos; the second concerned with the establishment of his
Oracle and fane at Delphi. The division is made merely to lighten the
considerable strain on the attention of the English reader. I have no
pretensions to decide whether the second portion was by the author of
the first, or is an imitation by another hand, or is contemporary, or a
later addition, or a mere compilation from several sources. The first
part seems to find a natural conclusion, about lines 176-181. The blind
singer (who is quoted here by Thucydides) appears at that point to say
farewell to his cherished Ionian audience. What follows, in our second
part, appeals to hearers interested in the Apollo of Crisa, and of the
Delphian temple: the Pythian Apollo.
According to a highly ingenious, but scarcely persuasive theory of Mr.
Verrall's, this interest is unfriendly. {13} Our second part is no hymn at
all, but a sequel tacked on for political purposes only: and valuable for
these purposes because so tacked on.
From line 207 to the end we have this sequel, the story of Apollo's
dealings as Delphinian, and as Pythian; all this following on detached
fragments of enigmatic character, and containing also (305-355) the
intercalated myth about the birth of Typhaon from Hera's anger. In the
politically inspired sequel there is, according to Mr. Verrall, no living
zeal for the honour of Pytho (Delphi). The threat of the God to his
Cretan ministers,--"Beware of arrogance, or . . . "--must be a prophecy
after the event. Now such an event occurred, early in the sixth century,
when the Crisaeans were supplanted by the people of the town that had
grown up round the Oracle at Delphi. In them,
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