Jason and the Argonauts (3 page)

A Note on the Text
and Translation

Based on the edition of Francis Vian and Émile Delage (published from 1974 to 1999), this is an unabridged English translation of Apollonius of Rhodes' ancient Greek epic
Argonautica
(
Jason and the Argonauts
). My intention with this project was to create the most engaging and readable translation of the poem available.

Given its large cast of characters and vast geographic scope,
Jason and the Argonauts
is rich in proper nouns. I opted for the Latin spellings of Greek names because they look less foreign to the reader and are more likely to be recognized. Thus, Zeus' father is “Cronus” and not “Kronos,” and Aphrodite is given the title “Cypris” instead of “Kypris” so that her connection to the island Cyprus would be clear. I translated Greek names that end in the letter
eta
with the Latin
a
(“Athena” instead of “Athene” and “Zona” instead of “Zone,” for example) to clarify their syllable counts. I did, however, allow for exceptions where the names are standard in English with an
e
ending: Alcimede, Antiope, Aphrodite, Arete, Ariadne, Chalciope, Circe, Cleite, Cyrene, Dicte, Hecate, Helle, Hypsipyle, and Terpsichore. I include diaeresis (
) in some names, again to assist with pronunciation and clarify syllable counts: Aeëtes, Alcinoös, Calaïs, Danaë, Laocoön, Nausithoös, Peirithoös, and Phaëthon.

In the lengthy roster of heroes (Book 1, lines 35–322), the names of the Argonauts are presented in boldface to make them stand out from the names of their fathers, grandfathers, mothers, home cities, and homelands. Furthermore, whereas editions of the Greek original present the reader with thousand-plus-line columns of text broken only at the ends of books, this translation takes the editorial license of breaking up the text into stanzas, easily digestible units of sense. I have also inserted, I hope unobtrusively,
in-text translations of Greek words and word roots in the few cases where they are essential to understanding the surrounding passage. Line numbers are provided every five lines, and every fifteen lines line numbers for the Greek original are provided in parentheses to facilitate cross-reference. In short, I have done all that I could to make this translation as reader- and scholar-friendly as possible.

I have felt for years that
Jason and the Argonauts
needed a verse translation in which the poetic rhythms reinforce syntactic units, as do the rhythms of the original, and in which the electricity of language we expect in poetry is sustained. I hope I have achieved these goals. My models were the great blank verse epics of the English language: John Milton's
Paradise Lost
and Alfred Lord Tennyson's
Idylls of the King
. Iambic pentameter has the advantage of being familiar to the English ear, as dactylic hexameter, the meter of the original, was to the ancient Greek one. Given the longer lines of the original and the compression of ancient Greek, my translation averages fifteen lines for every twelve of the Greek.

Again and again in
Jason and the Argonauts,
poetry works magic and effects rapture. For example, Apollonius informs us that, while Zethus, one of the founders of Thebes, struggled under the rock he was lugging to build the city walls, his brother Amphion “simply strolled along behind him / and strummed his golden lyre, and a boulder / twice as gigantic followed in his footsteps” (Book 1, 994–96). The mythic father of poets, Orpheus, is, in fact, one of the Argonauts, and we are told that he could “soften stubborn / mountain boulders and reverse a river's / current with the seduction of his songs” (Book 1, 39–41). The effect of his music on humans and animals is mesmerizing. We learn that, when Orpheus strummed his lyre from the deck of the
Argo,
“fish both big and small came leaping out of / the sea to revel in the vessel's wake” (Book 1, 774–75). At the conclusion of his song to the Argonauts around the campfire, we find the following description:

 

So Orpheus intoned, then hushed his lyre

at the same time as his ambrosial voice.

Though he had ceased, each of his comrades still

leaned forward longingly, their ears intent,

their bodies motionless with ecstasy.

(Book 1, 696–700)

 

John Milton was so smitten with this passage that he all but translated it for
Paradise Lost:

 

The Angel ended, and in Adam's Ear

So Charming left his voice, that he a while

Thought him still speaking, still stood fixt to hear.

(Book VIII, 1–3)

 

Apollonius is himself subject to the same rapt amazement. In what is, perhaps, his most emotional insertion of himself into the epic, he expresses awe at the fact that his character Medea is able to cast a spell that brings down bronze giant Talus:

 

Father Zeus, profound astonishment

has stormed my mind—to think that death can come

not only through disease and injury,

but people can undo us from afar,

just as that man, though made of bronze, surrendered

and fell down underneath the far-flung onslaught

of that ingenious conjurer, Medea.

(Book 4, 2158–64)

 

Thus I found justification for a verse translation of the epic within the epic itself—a prose version would have captured the meaning but left out the magic. Though Orpheus, Medea, and Apollonius himself are stiff competition, I can console myself with the knowledge that I did my best to make my translation a tribute to their powers.

In addition to being thoroughly endearing, Apollonius' voice is elastic—it rises to Homeric heights, slips into the “storybook” tone of fairy tale and indulges in genealogical, mythological, and geographic asides, to which it enjoys calling attention (“wait, why have I digressed so widely, talking / about Aethalides?”, Book 1, 874–75). Furthermore, though he was head librarian at the Great Library of Alexandria, Apollonius is no mere pedant. He is as much a psychological realist as Henry James when it comes to matters of love and sex (“devastating / affection crept up over him, because / she was a maiden, crying,” Book 3, 1391–93), and his characters, especially the females, are capable of operatic pathos. Take, for example, Medea's contemplation of suicide as she decides whether to help Jason win the contest of the bulls:

 

I cannot hope that, even when he dies,

I will be free from anguish. He will be

a curse on me when he has lost his life.

So good-bye, modesty. Good-bye, fair name.

Once I have saved him, let him go unharmed

wherever he desires while I, the day

that he completes the contest, leave this life

by dangling my body from a rafter

or taking drugs, the kind that kill the heart . . .

(Book 3, 1032–40)

 

Unlike Homer, Apollonius provides occasional comic relief, and sexual innuendo is not too lowbrow for his Muse. We are told that, when Medea's handmaids teased the Argonauts over the paltry offerings they were giving the gods, “the men responded / with crude suggestions, and delightful insults / and sweet harassment sparkled back and forth / among them” (Book 4, 2227–30). It took perseverance to find a voice that could accommodate this range of modes, tones, and character voices, but I am confident the voice I found is Apollonius' own.

For as long as I have known the ancient Greek language, I have been certain that Apollonius is a great poet and that
Jason and the Argonauts
is a great epic. My translation, a labor of love, is an attempt to convince Greekless readers that this is so. I hope that the poem becomes, like Homer's
Iliad
and
Odyssey
, essential reading for a cultured individual. This project would have been much slower reaching completion without the financial support of the National Endowment for the Arts, to which I am very grateful.

AARON POOCHIGIAN

BOOK 1

Taking my lead
from you, Phoebus Apollo,

I shall commemorate the deeds of men

born long ago. King Pelias insisted,

so they drove the tautly fitted
Argo

5
up through the narrows of the Pontic Sea

and past the Cobalt Clashing Rocks to win

the golden fleece.

Pelias had received

a prophecy: a miserable doom

awaited him, a murder brought about

10
by someone he would see come from the country

wearing a single sandal. Soon thereafter

the prophecy came true: that winter Jason

was fording the Apidanus at flood time

and only saved one sandal from the mud—

15 (11)
the river current snatched the other one.

He simply left it in the depths and strode on

straight to the court of Pelias to take

a portion of the feast the king was hosting

in honor of his father lord Poseidon

20
and all the other sacred gods, excepting

Hera the goddess of Pelasgia,

to whom he paid no mind.

Soon as the king

saw Jason, he was sure he was the man

and right away contrived a labor for him,

25
a cruel voyage, in the hope that he

would die at sea or fighting savages

and never make the journey home to Greece.

Past poets have already told in song

how Argus with Athena's guidance built

30 (20)
a ship, the
Argo
. I intend to tell you

the names and lineages of the heroes,

their travels on the wide-paved sea, and all

that they accomplished in their wanderings.

Come, Muses, be the
surrogates of my song.

35
Orpheus
is the first we should remember.

They say it was
Calliope that bore him

beneath the peak of Mount Pimpleia after

she coupled with Oeagrus king of Thrace.

The legends say their son could soften stubborn

40
mountain boulders and reverse a river's

current with the seduction of his songs.

The wild oaks his lyre charmed and marched

down out of Mount Pieria
still today

are flourishing in dense, well-ordered ranks

45 (29)
at Zona headland
on the Thracian coast—

clear proof of what his music could accomplish.

Such, then, was Orpheus, the king of all

Bistonian Pieria, and Jason

invited him to join the expedition

50
just as the Centaur Cheiron had advised.

Cometes' son
Asterion
arrived

without delay. He hailed from Peiresiae

under Mount Phylleius on the banks

of the sublime but wild Apidanus

55
right where it weds the noble Enipeus.

(Both rivers travel far to reach that union.)

Next
Polyphemus,
offspring of Eilatus,

forsook his native Larissa to join them.

Back in his adolescence he had fought

60 (41)
beside the mighty Lapiths when they waged

war on the Centaurs. Though his limbs had since

grown burdensome, his heart remained as keen

for battle as it had been in his prime.

Since he was Jason's uncle,
Iphiclus

65
did not remain at leisure in Phylaca.

Aeson, you see, was wedded to the sister

of Iphiclus (and daughter of Phylacus),

and ties of blood and marriage left no choice—

Iphiclus had to be included, too.

70
Nor did
Admetus,
king of sheep-rich Pherae,

hang back beneath the peak of Chalcedon.

Echion
and
Erytus,
both ingenious

at artifice, both sons of Hermes, rushed

to leave behind the wheat fields of Alopa.

75 (54)
As they were setting out,
Aethalides,

half brother to them on their father's side,

ran out to catch their march and be the third

in their brigade. Phthian Eupolemeia,

Myrmidon's daughter, bore him on the banks

80
of the Amphryssus, and Menetes' daughter

Antianeira bore the other two.

Next Caeneus' son
Coronus
left

Gyrton, a wealthy town, to make the journey.

Yes, he was brave, but not his father's equal.

85
Poets recount how Caeneus went down,

while still alive, beneath the Centaurs' clubs.

All alone, separated from his comrades,

he still routed the Centaurs from the field.

When they stampeded back, they failed to break

90 (63)
or slay him, so
he sank into the earth,

invincible, triumphant, hammered down

by a relentless rain of pine-wood clubs.

Mopsus
the Titaresian also joined them.

Leto's son had taught him how to read

95
the sacred signs exhibited by birds

better than any other man alive.

Eurydamas
the son of Ctimenos

came, too. He left a home in Dolopian

Ctimena beside lake Xynias.

100
Actor allowed his son
Menoetius

to leave their home in Opus, so that he

could see the world with distinguished men.

Eurytion
and valiant
Eurybotes

were also quick to join. One was the son

105 (72)
of Iros son of Actor; one the son

of Teleon. (In all truth Teleon

had sired world-famous Eurybotes,

and Iros had begot Eurytion.)

Oileus
joined them as a third, a man

110
of giant strength and matchless at harassing

foes from behind once he had turned the lines.

Euboean
Canthus
joined them next. His father

Cerinthus son of Abas gave him leave

since he insisted on the quest. But no

115
homecoming had been fated for him, no

return to fair Cerinthus. Fate had ruled

that he and the distinguished seer
Mopsus

would wander to the farthest ends of Libya

and perish there. Wherever people travel,

120 (82)
catastrophe is waiting—so those two

were laid to rest in
Libya, a land

as far from Colchis as the space between

the rising and the setting of the sun.

Next came those wardens of Oechalia,

125
Clytius, Iphitus,
sons of cruel Eurytus,

to whom Far-Shooting Phoebus gave his bow.

Eurytus, though, did not enjoy it long

because he dared defy the god who gave it.

Aeacus' two sons arrived at different

130
times and from distant points of origin.

You see, they accidentally had murdered

their brother Phocus and had fled at once

to separate exiles outside Aegina:

while
Telamon
had claimed the Attic Island,

135 (94)
Peleus
had erected walls in Phthia.

Next, from the land of Cecrops came the soldier

Boutes,
the son of noble Teleon,

and with him came the staunch spearman
Phalerus.

His father Alcon let him go. Although

140
there were no other sons to tend his age

and mind the homestead, Alcon all the same

sent him—his only heir, his best beloved—

to win renown among courageous heroes.

(Though Theseus was mightier than all

145
the other offspring of Erechtheus,

he never came. Invisible restraints

detained him in the earth beneath Taenarus

where he had traveled with Peirithoös—

a wasted trip. They would have made this quest

150 (104)
much easier for everyone who sailed.)

Tiphys
the son of Hagnias forsook

Siphae, a Thespian harbor town, to join

the heroes' party. When it came to knowing

when breakers would disturb the sea's expanse,

155
anticipating stormy gales and plotting

course headings by the sun and stars, he was

a mastermind. Tritonian Athena

had packed him off to join the expedition,

and his arrival cheered a crew in need

160
of naval knowledge. After she designed

the speedy ship, Argus, Arestor's son,

had worked with her and built it to her order,

and that is why, of all the watercraft

that ever challenged ocean with their oars,

165 (114)
the
Argo
was the most remarkable.

Pleias,
the next to join them, had forsaken

Araethyraea where he had been living

in luxury because he was the son

of Dionysos. The estate he left there

170
was very near the source of the Asopus.

Talaus
and
Areios
, sons of Bias,

marched out of Argos, and beside them marched

courageous Leodocus. Pero, daughter

of Neleus, had borne all three of them—

175
this was the Pero for whose sake Melampus,

Aeolid Melampus, had endured

hard sorrow in the stalls of Iphicles.

No story claims strong-willed, invulnerable

Heracles
failed to answer Jason's summons.

180 (124)
When he got word the heroes were assembling,

he was just crossing from Arcadia

into Lyrceian Argos, on his shoulder

a big live boar that had of late been grazing

the meadows of Lampeia all along

185
the Erymanthian swamp. He slid it down,

netted and muzzled, from his massive back

there in the Mycenaeans' meeting place

and freely hastened off to join the quest

against the orders of Eurystheus.

190
With him went
Hylas
in the prime of youth,

a noble squire, to bear his bow and arrows.

Next came divine Danaus' descendant

Nauplius.
As the son of Clytonaeus,

he was, of course, grandson to Naubolus.

195 (135)
Naubolus had been sired by Lernus, Lernus

by Proteus, and Proteus in turn

by Nauplius the Elder. Long ago

Amymona the daughter of Danaus

had lain in love beneath the god Poseidon

200
and borne this Nauplius, and Nauplius

had bested all men in the art of sailing.

Of all the heroes reared in Argos,
Idmon

came latest. Though he had foreseen his death

in bird signs, he enlisted all the same

205
so that his town would not deny him glory.

Idmon was not, in fact, the son of Abas—

Apollo had begotten him on one

of far-famed Aeolus' many daughters.

Phoebus himself had taught him to divine

210 (145)
future events by closely studying

bird omens and the flames of sacrifice.

Leda of Aetolia dispatched

thick-sinewed
Polydeuces
and his brother

Castor,
master of swift-hoofed steeds, from Sparta.

215
She bore her much-beloved sons together

as twins in King Tyndareus' palace

and, when they begged to go, she gave them leave

to prove Zeus was their sire by worthy deeds.

Two sons of Aphareus,
Lynceus

220
and firebrand
Idas,
marched out of Arena,

both of them glorying in boundless courage.

Lynceus also was endowed with vision

keener than that of any man alive.

They say that he could easily project

225 (155)
his eye beams even underneath the earth.

Periclymenus,
Neleus' son,

joined up as well. He was the eldest born

of all the offspring Neleus had fathered

at Pylos, and Poseidon had bestowed

230
infinite strength upon him and the power

to change into whatever shape he wished

so that he could survive the shock of battle.

Next,
Cepheus
and
Amphidamus
left

Arcadia and came. Sons of Aleus,

235
they marched out of a home in Tegea,

Apheidas' estate. Their elder brother

Lycurgus had released his son
Ancaeus

to be the third man in their company.

Yes, though Lycurgus stayed behind at home

240 (166)
to tend Aleus who was weak with age,

he couldn't keep his son from setting out.

The boy wore only a Maenalian bearskin,

lugged only a gigantic ax. You see,

his grandfather had hidden all the other

245
arms and armor in the granary,

hoping to keep the lad from going, too.

Augeas
also joined the voyage. Fame

pronounces him the son of Helius.

King over Elis, he enjoyed his wealth

250
but greatly wished to see the Colchian land

and King Aeëtes of the Colchians.

Next came
Asterius
and
Amphion
,

both sons of Hyperasius. They forsook

Pellena in Achaea to enlist—