The Hymn To Demeter pt 2
Translation of the Hymn to Demeter lines 1–44
I begin and sing of rich-haired Demeter, woeful goddess.
Hades, permitted by all-seeing thundering Zeus, stole her daughter
While Demeter, lady of fruits and swords all golden
Played with her and the daughters of Oceanus in a meadow
Where roses, crocuses, violets, irises, and hyacinths sprang
Among them the snare of the Host of Many: a narcissus flower
For the bloom-like girl. A marvelous, radiant flower
A thing of awe for a mortal or deathless god or goddess
From its root a hundred sweet-smelling blooms sprang
so all wide heaven and earth and sea laughed with Demeter’s daughter
when she reached out with both hands to pluck it from the meadow
but the earth yawned wide and out erupted under the sun so golden
the One with Many Names in his chariot golden
to pluck for his wife the gods’ sweetest flower
She cried out with her shrill voice for her father Zeus in the meadow
But nobody of either mortal men or deathless god or goddess,
or olive-tree heard, save tender-hearted Hecate, Persaeus’ daughter
and Helios, Hyperion’s bright son, when out the Host of Many sprang
And her father, the son of Cronos, did not know what from the earth sprang
But sat up above in his temple, where mortal men gave him offerings golden.
So the One with Many Names bore away his unwilling daughter
From where she laughed and picked a flower
On his chariot pulled by undead horses away from her goddess
mother who searched for her long and far in the meadow.
And the young girl, as she still spied heaven and fish and meadow
hoped to see how the tribe of eternal gods sprang
to her aid, and that hope calmed the great heart of the young goddess
while she spied the strong-flowing sea and the sun’s rays golden
And the starry heaven under which she had reached for a flower
And her cries rang so that her mother would come for her daughter.
The heights of the mountains and depths of the sea rang with the daughter
of Demeter’s immortal voice. And Demeter ran the length of the meadow
and despaired when she could not find her sweetest flower
And, seizing her heart, bitter pain sprang
and she rent with her hands the covering on her divine hair golden
and with a dark cloak on her shoulders, like a wild-bird the goddess
sought her daughter. Over firm land she sprang
through every meadow under the sun golden
and yielding sea, seeking her child the flower goddess.
