In this translation, I've woven in some anachronistic allusions- for which I beg the reader's indulgence.
Ion in the Delphic Dawn
By Euripides (Ion.81-111)
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Apollo driving horse-drawn dawn
Veers over earth, on his trail-blazed arc,
With fire that drives the stars away
Into the sacred dark.
The trackless peaks of mount Parnassus
Are floodlit in the blue
As beacons to receive for us this day
The wheeling sun we pray for.
O things of old forever new!
The desert incense rises to the rafters
Of the Sunlord. The holy-throated priestess,
Sits there on the gods' tripod, towers
On the seat of truthful power,
Ready to be how Apollo speaks,
A voice that cries from the mind's wilderness
Crying to the Greeks!
O hallowed be Thy flame, Apollo!
And you, his Delphic servants, go
To silver-haired Castalia,
That living spring where men drink genius down.
Go, purify your hair in those pure waters
Which a god consecrated to his arts.
Then make way to the temple with your gifts
And in god-fearing silence stand.
Guard the goodness of your lips
That you may be well-spoken, speak pure omen
To all who crave the oracle's commands.
But I, as I have done since childhood,
Shall do the services of a glad child:
With brooms of holy laurel boughs
I'll sweep Apollo's entryway,
Bring waterdrops to wet his blessed earth.
And as I bow to him, so with my bow
I shall bring down the birds' unholy hordes
That foul the sacred offerings.
I, motherless and fatherless from birth,
Honor these shrines with all the love of a son,
Apollo's shrines that raised me as their own.
The Original:
Ἅρματα μὲν τάδε λαμπρὰ τεθρίππων
Ἥλιος ἤδη κάμπτει κατὰ γῆν,
ἄστρα δὲ φεύγει πυρὶ τῷδ' αἰθέρος
ἐς νύχθ' ἱεράν·
Παρνησιάδες δ' ἄβατοι κορυφαὶ
καταλαμπόμεναι τὴν ἡμερίαν
ἁψῖδα βροτοῖσι δέχονται.
Σμύρνης δ' ἀνύδρου καπνὸς εἰς ὀρόφους
Φοίβου πέταται.
Θάσσει δὲ γυνὴ τρίποδα ζάθεον
Δελφίς, ἀείδουσ' Ἕλλησι βοάς,
ἃς ἂν Ἀπόλλων κελαδήσῃ.
Ἀλλ', ὦ Φοίβου Δελφοὶ θέραπες,
τὰς Κασταλίας ἀργυροειδεῖς
βαίνετε δίνας, καθαραῖς δὲ δρόσοις
ἀφυδρανάμενοι στείχετε ναούς·
στόμα τ' εὔφημον φρουρεῖτ' ἀγαθόν,
φήμας τ' ἀγαθὰς
τοῖς ἐθέλουσιν μαντεύεσθαι
γλώσσης ἰδίας ἀποφαίνειν.
Ἡμεῖς δέ, πόνους οὓς ἐκ παιδὸς
μοχθοῦμεν ἀεί, πτόρθοισι δάφνης
στέφεσίν θ' ἱεροῖς ἐσόδους Φοίβου
καθαρὰς θήσομεν, ὑγραῖς τε πέδον
ῥανίσιν νοτερόν· πτηνῶν τ' ἀγέλας,
αἳ βλάπτουσιν σέμν' ἀναθήματα,
τόξοισιν ἐμοῖς φυγάδας θήσομεν·
ὡς γὰρ ἀμήτωρ ἀπάτωρ τε γεγὼς
τοὺς θρέψαντας
Φοίβου ναοὺς θεραπεύω.
Ion in the Delphic Dawn
By Euripides (Ion.81-111)
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Apollo driving horse-drawn dawn
Veers over earth, on his trail-blazed arc,
With fire that drives the stars away
Into the sacred dark.
The trackless peaks of mount Parnassus
Are floodlit in the blue
As beacons to receive for us this day
The wheeling sun we pray for.
O things of old forever new!
The desert incense rises to the rafters
Of the Sunlord. The holy-throated priestess,
Sits there on the gods' tripod, towers
On the seat of truthful power,
Ready to be how Apollo speaks,
A voice that cries from the mind's wilderness
Crying to the Greeks!
O hallowed be Thy flame, Apollo!
And you, his Delphic servants, go
To silver-haired Castalia,
That living spring where men drink genius down.
Go, purify your hair in those pure waters
Which a god consecrated to his arts.
Then make way to the temple with your gifts
And in god-fearing silence stand.
Guard the goodness of your lips
That you may be well-spoken, speak pure omen
To all who crave the oracle's commands.
But I, as I have done since childhood,
Shall do the services of a glad child:
With brooms of holy laurel boughs
I'll sweep Apollo's entryway,
Bring waterdrops to wet his blessed earth.
And as I bow to him, so with my bow
I shall bring down the birds' unholy hordes
That foul the sacred offerings.
I, motherless and fatherless from birth,
Honor these shrines with all the love of a son,
Apollo's shrines that raised me as their own.
The Original:
Ἅρματα μὲν τάδε λαμπρὰ τεθρίππων
Ἥλιος ἤδη κάμπτει κατὰ γῆν,
ἄστρα δὲ φεύγει πυρὶ τῷδ' αἰθέρος
ἐς νύχθ' ἱεράν·
Παρνησιάδες δ' ἄβατοι κορυφαὶ
καταλαμπόμεναι τὴν ἡμερίαν
ἁψῖδα βροτοῖσι δέχονται.
Σμύρνης δ' ἀνύδρου καπνὸς εἰς ὀρόφους
Φοίβου πέταται.
Θάσσει δὲ γυνὴ τρίποδα ζάθεον
Δελφίς, ἀείδουσ' Ἕλλησι βοάς,
ἃς ἂν Ἀπόλλων κελαδήσῃ.
Ἀλλ', ὦ Φοίβου Δελφοὶ θέραπες,
τὰς Κασταλίας ἀργυροειδεῖς
βαίνετε δίνας, καθαραῖς δὲ δρόσοις
ἀφυδρανάμενοι στείχετε ναούς·
στόμα τ' εὔφημον φρουρεῖτ' ἀγαθόν,
φήμας τ' ἀγαθὰς
τοῖς ἐθέλουσιν μαντεύεσθαι
γλώσσης ἰδίας ἀποφαίνειν.
Ἡμεῖς δέ, πόνους οὓς ἐκ παιδὸς
μοχθοῦμεν ἀεί, πτόρθοισι δάφνης
στέφεσίν θ' ἱεροῖς ἐσόδους Φοίβου
καθαρὰς θήσομεν, ὑγραῖς τε πέδον
ῥανίσιν νοτερόν· πτηνῶν τ' ἀγέλας,
αἳ βλάπτουσιν σέμν' ἀναθήματα,
τόξοισιν ἐμοῖς φυγάδας θήσομεν·
ὡς γὰρ ἀμήτωρ ἀπάτωρ τε γεγὼς
τοὺς θρέψαντας
Φοίβου ναοὺς θεραπεύω.
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