Book 6
1
Even if I have done something wrong, Zeus, please forgive me, for I’m only a child, and still without sense.
1
You a child, you Eros, who are far older than Iapetus Cf. Hesiod, Theogony, 120 and 134, and, for the proverbial expression, p. 293. ! Just because you have no heard or grey hairs, do you really think you should be considered a babe in arms, you old villain?
1
What great harm have I, old villain as you call me, done you, that you even think of putting me in chains?
1
Curse you, do you think it no great harm when you make such a fool of me that you’ve turned me into everything under the sun—satyr, bull, shower of gold, swan, eagle? I.e. when in pursuit of Antiope, Europa, Danae, Leda and Ganymede respectively. Yet you’ve never made one woman fall for me in my true colours, and, as far as I know, I’ve not got you to thank for any of my conquests, but I’ve to practise black magic to win the ladies, hiding my true self. They’ve plenty of affection for the bull or the swan, but if they see me as I really am, they’re frightened to death.
2
That’s only natural. The sight of your face is too much for mortal women like them.
2
How, then, is Apollo so popular with Branchus and Hyacinthus?
2
And yet even he had Daphne run from him, for all his flowing locks and beardless face. But if you want them to fall for you, you mustn’t go shaking that shield of yours or carrying your thunderbolt around with you, but make yourself as attractive as you can and tender to behold. Let your hair grow down in curls, do them up with a ribbon like Bacchus, wear a purple robe and golden slippers, and come dancing in to the music of pipes and timbrels, and you’ll find you have more of them running after you than all his Bacchantes put together.
2
Be off with you. I’d rather they didn’t fall for me, if I’ve to be like that.
2
Then give up all ideas of romance, Zeus. That’s a simple enough way out.
