Your search returned 7 results in 7 document sections:
Pisthetaerus What! there are other gods besides you, barbarian gods who dwell above Olympus? Prometheus If there were no barbarian gods, who would be the patron of Execestides? Pisthetaerus And what is the name of these gods? Prometheus Their name? Why, the Triballi. Pisthetaerus Ah, indeed! 'tis from that no doubt that we derive the word ‘tribulation.' Prometheus Most likely. But one thing I can tell you for certain, namely, that Zeus and the celestial Triballi are going to send deputies here to sue for peace. Now don't you treat with them, unless Zeus restores the scepter to the birds and gives you Basileia in marriage. Pisthetaerus Who is this Basileia? Prometheus A very fine young damsel, who makes the lightning for Zeus; all things come from her, wisdom, good laws, virtue, the fleet, calumnies, the public paymaster and the triobolus. Pisthetaerus Ah! then she is a sort of general manageress to the god. Prometheus Yes, precisely. If he gives you her for your wife, yours
The Parricide departs, and the dithyrambic poet Cinesias arrives. Cinesias Singing. “On my light pinions I soar off to Olympus; in its capricious flight my Muse flutters along the thousand paths of poetry in turn ...” Pisthetaerus This is a fellow will need a whole shipload of wings. Cinesias Singing. “... and being fearless and vigorous, it is seeking fresh outlet.” Pisthetaerus Welcome, Cinesias, you lime-wood man! Why have you come here twisting your game leg in circles? Cinesias Singing. “I want to become a bird, a tuneful nightingale.” Pisthetaerus Enough of that sort of ditty. Tell me what you want. Cinesias Give me wings and I will fly into the topmost airs to gather fresh songs in the clouds, in the midst of the vapors and the fleecy snow. Pisthetaerus Gather songs in the clouds? Cinesias 'Tis on them the whole of our latter-day art depends. The most brilliant dithyrambs are those that flap their wings in empty space and are clothed in mist and dense obscurity
Pisthetaerus To the flute-player. Enough! but, by Heracles! what is this? Great gods! I have seen many prodigious things, but I never saw a muzzled raven.The Priest arrives.Priest! it's high time! Sacrifice to the new gods. Priest I begin, but where is the man with the basket? Pray to the Hestia of the birds, to the kite, who presides over the hearth, and to all the god and goddess-birds who dwell in Olympus . . . Pisthetaerus Oh! Hawk, the sacred guardian of Sunium, oh, god of the storks! Priest . . . to the swan of Delos, to Leto the mother of the quails, and to Artemis, the goldfinch . . . Pisthetaerus It's no longer Artemis Colaenis, but Artemis the goldfinch. Priest . . . to Bacchus, the finch and Cybele, the ostrich and mother of the godsand mankind. . . Pisthetaerus Oh! sovereign ostrich Cybele, mother of Cleocritus! Priest . . . to grant health and safety to the Nephelococcygians as well as to the dwellers in Chios . . . Pisthetaerus The dwellers in Chios! Ah!
Second Semi-Chorus Singing. So the swans on the banks of the Hebrus, tiotiotiotiotiotinx, mingle their voices to serenade Apollo, tiotiotiotinx, flapping their wings the while, tiotiotiotinx; their notes reach beyond the clouds of heaven; they startle the various tribes of the beasts; a windless sky calms the waves, totototototototototinx; all Olympus resounds, and astonishment seizes its rulers; the Olympian graces and Muses cry aloud the strain, tiotiotiotinx.