Sharrukin's Palace

Here’s another of the Homeric Hymns in English translation. This time I was a little more free with the translation, to make it fit the needs of my story more closely. Even admitting that, I’m not entirely confident in the translation – ancient Greek grammar is a bear if you’re not experienced with it – but it will do for a rough draft. This is #30 from the canonical list: To Earth the Mother of All.

---

I will sing of well-founded Earth, Mother of all, most revered,
Who feeds all creatures that walk upon the lands,
That voyage in the paths of the sea, or that fly in the air,
All these are nourished from thy bounty.

From you, O Queen, come fine children and bountiful harvests,
You who grant life to mortals and can take it away.

Happy are the people it pleases you to honor!
Your bounty is there all around them.

Their tilled fields are laden with corn,
Their flocks thrive, their houses are filled with good things,
In good order they rule their cities of fair women,
Happiness and prosperity are with them.

Their sons walk proudly in vigor and delight,
Their daughters dance with joy in garlanded companies,
Playing and skipping across the flowers of soft grass,
All those whom thou honor, revered goddess, with bountiful spirit.

Hail, Mother of gods, Queen of star-filled Heaven,
For this, my song, freely bestow life upon me to uplift my heart.
I shall remember thee, and now another song as well.

As part of the novel I’m writing, I’ve had occasion to look for a bit of Ancient Greek religious poetry that I could quote in the story. I ended up settling on #27 from the canonical list of the Homeric Hymns, To Artemis. Rather than use an existing translation, I went back to the original Greek text and roughed out my own. Not the easiest job, given how wobbly my Greek is. Still, I’m not too unhappy with the result, and it seems to be within striking distance of the canonical translations I’ve compared it to. Here it is:

---

I sing of Artemis with the distaff of gold, the terrible one,
Worshipful maiden, huntress of deer, fierce archer,
Own sister to Apollo of the golden sword.

Over the shadowy hills and windy mountain heights
She delights to draw her golden bow
Sending out grievous shafts. The heads of lofty mountains
And the deep-shadowed forests tremble
With the fearful cries of her prey, shaking both the lands
And the seas full of fish: bearing a brave heart
She turns to every side to destroy the family of wild beasts.

Yet when she is satisfied, this archer who pursues the hunt,
Her mind made glad, she sets aside her well-bent bow
And goes to the great hall of her belovéd brother
Phoibos Apollo, in the rich land of Delphi,
To oversee the dance of the beautiful Muses and Graces.

There she hangs up her crescent bow and arrows.
Commanding and setting them in order all around
She leads the dance: with divine voices
They sing of Leto of the lovely ankles, who bore
Immortals supreme in both thought and deed.

Hail to thee, children of Zeus and fair-haired Leto!
I shall remember thee, and now another song as well.

---

I’ll probably come back to this again when I start polishing up the compete rough draft of the novel, but for now it seems to work well enough.