from

THEOGONY

after Hesiod



III.

And then Earth coupled with Uranos: it was bound
to happen. A shower of sperm like spring rain
fell on the hills and hollows, pooling on the ground
and soaking in. Earth became pregnant again.

Her fertility was prodigious: out
came the twelve Titans, born to be overthrown --
the first being Oceanus, who girdled her about
with a river, silver setting for the blue-green stone.

He and his siblings were not gods exactly,
more like divine giants. Here’s the complete list:
Koios came next, then Kreius, Iepatos, Hyperion,

Theia, Rhea, Themis, Mnemosyne,
“lovely” Thetys (more accurately, “much-kissed”),
Phoebe, and lastly Cronos, the malevolent one.


IV.

Earth also had some even stranger progeny
by Uranos: a rabble of monstrous anthropods.
Among them were the terrifying Cyclopes, three
one-eyed simpletons, even less like proper gods

than their Titan kinsfolk. Brontes, Steropes
and Arges were their names. They had tattooed faces.
They were skilled at forging swords, uprooting trees
and building walls -- hardly the Three Graces.

As we shall see, these were the ones who found
the thunder and the lightning-bolt and gave
them to Zeus. Three other sons, no less belligerent,

had a hundred arms and fifty heads to astound
their enemies -- so easy to be brave
when thus equipped. (Their names are unimportant.)


V.

Now Uranos loathed his hideous offspring
and banished them from the moment of their birth
to a secret hiding-place, pitch-black and stifling ...
where better than the bowels of Mother Earth?

Savouring this wickedness, he dribbled, crazy-eyed.
Earth, in mourning, felt her belly stretch and strain,
punched by windmilling arms, a brawl inside
her making her nauseous, dizzy with pain.

Grief-stricken for her children, angry, she hatched a plan.
Quarrying from herself a mineral, “adamant”,
invincibly hard, she fashioned a mighty sickle.

Then she addressed her Titans: “You must unman
your evil father. I‘m sick of this heartless torment.
I thirst for revenge -- don’t tell me you’re fickle!”


VI.

Hearing these words, the Titans, filled with alarm,
fell silent for a minute. Then, tremblingly,
Cronos, who’d always wished his father harm,
spoke out: “Dear Mother, you can rely on me.

I’ve hated that monstrous tyrant from the start --
without him there’d be no such thing as shame.
Proudly for you I’ll take the hero’s part
and in a brave venture earn a hero’s name.”

All this great Earth was gratified to hear.
Taking Cronos aside, she talked him through her scheme
and placed in his hands the saw-toothed scimitar.

Concealed, he waited till the Sky god tiptoed near
under cover of Night to inseminate Earth’s dream --
careless, as all excited lovers are.


VII.

Longing for love he lay across the land,
fully extended. Cronos, spying on his lust
from behind a stone, reached out with his right hand
to grab his bush, then with his left hand thrust

the jagged blade to harvest the genitals,
which he flung behind him with a mighty throw
so they went spinning high over hills and dales.
From his wound, blood gouts fell on Earth below.

Nine months later Earth bore the Erinnyes -- furies
who avenge parricide eternally
to discourage jealous sons from gross defiance

(that this deterrent fails to work is curious).
Also from that blood sprang the Meliae --
nymphs of the ash; also, some say, the Giants.


VIII.

The massive organs, landing with a splash,
sluiced in the waves like a wounded whale.
White foam frothed out around the immortal flesh,
and in that tent of spittle hatched a girl.

From embryo to child to woman she grew,
impatiently, as the strange craft drifted west
to holy Cythera, till a sudden storm blew
the foamy thing to Cyprus where it came to rest.

Then out she stepped: Aphrodite. Goddess.
Irresistible, and already beloved
by Love. Yet friendly. Kind. Thoughtful in bed.

The shore was pebbly, nevertheless
flowers sprang up from her footsteps as she moved
up the beach. Doves cooed around her lovely head.