Tracking Satyrs (312-402)

What name do you call it? Tell me, if you know any more.

The boy calls the animal a tortoise and the instrument a lyre.

⋯property⋯[*]

⋯ and this is his only consolation or cure for sorrow. He enjoys idly singing along; he coaxes Aeolian tunes from the lyre. Thus the boy made himself a voice from a dead animal.

A loud voice extends over the place,

flitting around like a bee over the flowers. As for the other matter, I am getting closer. Know this, goddess: whoever contrived this is none other than the thief. But don’t be angry or upset that I say this.

What delusion has come over you? Who are you blaming as a thief?

Not you, by Zeus; I don’t want to upset you, my lady.

Surely you’re not calling the son of Zeus a thief?

⋯this very theft.

⋯if what you say is true.

⋯I speak truth. ⋯ stolen ⋯ the cattle ⋯ it fits ⋯ cut [*]

⋯I understand finally ⋯ laughing at my foolishness ⋯ nothing, delight for the child. You can be reassured about me from now on, and laugh at me if you get some joy or profit from it. But do not mock the son of Zeus, making childish remarks about the child.

For he did not inherit a thief’s nature from his father, nor does thievery hold sway in his mother’s family. If there is any theft here, look for a poor man as your thief; but this boy’s house is hardly poor. Consider his family, and fit bad deeds to bad men; it’s hardly appropriate to him. But you are always a child, even though you’re a young man and your beard grows on your face like a goat’s. Stop stretching up your smooth bald head for caresses. I tell you this: if you think the gods are foolish or laughable,

you will soon be crying.

Turn and twist the words however you want, to find a clever story. You won’t convince me that the sewn-together hides are any others than the ones from the stolen cows of Loxias[*]. Don’t try to turn me aside.

Because Zeus ⋯

The child is no thief.

If he does bad things, then he is bad.

I don’t like to hear bad things about Zeus’s son.

But if it’s the truth, then I have to say it.

Don’t say ⋯ [*]

Where are the cattle pastured?

Most of them now ⋯

Who has them, wretch? Who ⋯

The boy has closed them up inside.

Stop saying bad things about Zeus’s son!

I would stop, if someone would bring out the cattle.

You’re choking me, you and those cows of yours.

⋯left ⋯ drive them out ⋯ [*]