Dialogues of the Gods

1HERMESIs there a god in heaven, mother, more miserable than I am? MAIAHermes, dear, you mustn’t talk like that. HERMESWhy shouldn’t I, when I’m so busy—and the only one that does a hand’s turn, too—quite distracted with so many different jobs? I must be up at crack of dawn, and sweep the dining-room, seeing to the cushions on the couch and tidying everything up, and then be at Zeus’ beck and call, a courier to carry his messages high and low, and the moment I’m back, I’ve to lay out the ambrosia, without even time for a wash; and before his latest acquisition, thi nectar as well. But worst of all, it’s just the same at night. I’m the only one that loses hiss wine waiter, arrived, I used to pour out the sleep, and must be busy then too—for Pluto, this time, acting as guide of souls and usher of the dead, and then be on duty with Justice Rhadamanthys. My day’s work isn’t enough for me, it seems, on the go in the wrestling schools, announcing in parliament, and training speakers, but I’ve to help out with the dead as well, for they all want their share of me.

2HERMESYet Leda’s children†can take turns at being in heaven and Hades on alternate days, but I must carry out all those jobs every day in both places. Yes, and the sons of Alcmena and Semele,†whose mothers were only women, and came to a bad end, can gorge themselves without a care in the world, while I, the son of Maia, the daughter of Atlas, must wait on them hand and foot. Now I’m just back from Cadmus’ daughter at Sidon,†where he sent me to see how things were with her, and, without giving me time to get my breath back, he’s sent me off again to Argos to have a look at Danae, and “Then”, says he, “you’d better go on from there to Boeotia, and take a peep at Antiope on your way”. But I’m quite fagged out already. If only it were possible, I’d gladly have asked to be sold in the market, like slaves on earth who find their lot too bad.†MAIAEnough of that, my lad. You must do everything your father wants. You’re still a youngster. Off with you now to Argos, as you were told, and then to Boeotia, or you may get a whipping for dawdling. Lovers have sharp tempers.