Stasimon 2
[Lyric-Scene 1]
It is imperative that I sing another sacred chant for the rite of the lustral water, and that I invoke
895
Chorus
the immortals, or at least one of them, provided always that you have some suitable food to offer him; from what I see here, in the shape of gifts, there is naught whatever but horn and hair.
900
Pisthetaerus
Let us address our sacrifices and our prayers to the winged gods.
[Lyric-Scene]
Oh, Muse! celebrate happy Nephelococcygia in your hymns.
Pisthetaerus
What have we here? Where did you come from, tell me? Who are you?
Poet
I am he whose language is sweeter than honey, the zealous slave of the Muses,
Pisthetaerus
You a slave! and yet you wear your hair long?
Poet
No, but the fact is all we poets are the assiduous slaves of the Muses, according to Homer.
Pisthetaerus
In truth your little cloak is quite holy too through zeal! But, poet, what ill wind drove you here?
915
Poet
I have composed verses in honor of your Nephelococcygia, a host of splendid dithyrambs and parthenia worthy of Simonides himself.
Pisthetaerus
And when did you compose them? How long since?
920
Poet
Oh! 'tis long, aye, very long, that I have sung in honor of this city.
Pisthetaerus
But I am only celebrating its foundation with this sacrifice; I have only just named it, as is done with little babies.
Poet
Just as the chargers fly with the speed of the wind, so does the voice of the Muses take its flight. Oh! thou noble founder of the town of Aetna thou, whose name recalls the holy sacrifices,
make us such gift as thy generous heart shall suggest.
He puts out his hand.
930
Pisthetaerus
He will drive us silly if we do not get rid of him by some present.
To the Priest's acolyte. Here! you, who have a fur as well as your tunic, take it off and give it to this clever poet. Come,
take this fur; you look to me to be shivering with cold.
935
Poet
My Muse will gladly accept this gift; but engrave these verses of Pindar's on your mind.
Pisthetaerus
Oh! what a pest! It's impossible then to get rid of him!
940
