diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/thbm10.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/thbm10.txt | 6456 |
1 files changed, 6456 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/thbm10.txt b/old/thbm10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4f535f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/thbm10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6456 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Theocritus, Bion and Moschus +by Andrew Lang +(#35 in our series by Andrew Lang) + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Theocritus, Bion and Moschus rendered into English Prose + +Author: Andrew Lang + +Release Date: December, 2003 [EBook #4775] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 16, 2002] +[Most recently updated: March 16, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THEOCRITUS, BION AND MOSCHUS *** + + + + +Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk, from +the 1889 Macmillan and Co. edition. + +THEOCRITUS, BION AND MOSCHUS RENDERED INTO ENGLISH PROSE WITH AN +INTRODUCTORY ESSAY BY ANDREW LANG + + + + +LIFE OF THEOCRITUS +(From Suidas) + + + +Theocritus, the Chian. But there is another Theocritus, the son of +Praxagoras and Philinna (see Epigram XXIII), or as some say of +Simichus. (This is plainly derived from the assumed name Simichidas +in Idyl VII.) He was a Syracusan, or, as others say, a Coan settled +in Syracuse. He wrote the so-called Bucolics in the Dorian dialect. +Some attribute to him the following works:- The Proetidae, The +Pleasures of Hope ([Greek]), Hymns, The Heroines, Dirges, Ditties, +Elegies, Iambics, Epigrams. But it known that there are three +Bucolic poets: this Theocritus, Moschus of Sicily, and Bion of +Smyrna, from a village called Phlossa. + + + +LIFE OF THEOCRITUS +[Greek] +(Usually prefixed to the Idyls) + + + +Theocritus the Bucolic poet was a Syracusan by extraction, and the +son of Simichidas, as he says himself, Simichidas, pray whither +through the noon dost thou dray thy feet? (Idyl VII). Some say that +this was an assumed name, for he seems to have been snub-nosed +([Greek]), and that his father was Praxagoras, and his mother +Philinna. He became the pupil of Philetas and Asclepiades, of whom +he speaks (Idyl VII), and flourished about the time of Ptolemy Lagus. +He gained much fame for his skill in bucolic poetry. According to +some his original name was Moschus, and Theocritus was a name he +later assumed. + + + +THEOCRITUS AND HIS AGE + + + +At the beginning of the third century before Christ, in the years +just preceding those in which Theocritus wrote, the genius of Greece +seemed to have lost her productive force. Nor would it have been +strange if that force had really been exhausted. Greek poetry had +hitherto enjoyed a peculiarly free development, each form of art +succeeding each without break or pause, because each--epic, lyric, +dithyramb, the drama--had responded to some new need of the state and +of religion. Now in the years that followed the fall of Athens and +the conquests of Macedonia, Greek religion and the Greek state had +ceased to be themselves. Religion and the state had been the patrons +of poetry; on their decline poetry seemed dead. There were no heroic +kings, like those for whom epic minstrels had chanted. The cities +could no longer welcome an Olympian winner with Pindaric hymns. +There was no imperial Athens to fill the theatres with a crowd of +citizens and strangers eager to listen to new tragic masterpieces. +There was no humorous democracy to laugh at all the world, and at +itself, with Aristophanes. The very religion of Sophocles and +Aeschylus was debased. A vulgar usurper had stripped the golden +ornaments from Athene of the Parthenon. The ancient faith in the +protecting gods of Athens, of Sparta, and of Thebes, had become a lax +readiness to bow down in the temple of any Oriental Rimmon, of +Serapis or Adonis. Greece had turned her face, with Alexander of +Macedon, to the East; Alexander had fallen, and Greece had become +little better than the western portion of a divided Oriental empire. +The centre of intellectual life had been removed from Athens to +Alexandria (founded 332 B.C.) The new Greek cities of Egypt and +Asia, and above all Alexandria, seemed no cities at all to Greeks who +retained the pure Hellenic traditions. Alexandria was thirty times +larger than the size assigned by Aristotle to a well-balanced state. +Austere spectators saw in Alexandria an Eastern capital and mart, a +place of harems and bazaars, a home of tyrants, slaves, dreamers, and +pleasure-seekers. Thus a Greek of the old school must have despaired +of Greek poetry. There was nothing (he would have said) to evoke it; +no dawn of liberty could flush this silent Memnon into song. The +collectors, critics, librarians of Alexandria could only produce +literary imitations of the epic and the hymn, or could at best write +epigrams or inscriptions for the statue of some alien and luxurious +god. Their critical activity in every field of literature was +immense, their original genius sterile. In them the intellect of the +Hellenes still faintly glowed, like embers on an altar that shed no +light on the way. Yet over these embers the god poured once again +the sacred oil, and from the dull mass leaped, like a many-coloured +frame, the genius of THEOCRITUS. + +To take delight in that genius, so human, so kindly, so musical in +expression, requires, it may be said, no long preparation. The art +of Theocritus scarcely needs to be illustrated by any description of +the conditions among which it came to perfection. It is always +impossible to analyse into its component parts the genius of a poet. +But it is not impossible to detect some of the influences that worked +on Theocritus. We can study his early 'environment'; the country +scenes he knew, and the songs of the neatherds which he elevated into +art. We can ascertain the nature of the demand for poetry in the +chief cities and in the literary society of the time. As a result, +we can understand the broad twofold division of the poems of +Theocritus into rural and epic idyls, and with this we must rest +contented. + +It is useless to attempt a regular biography of Theocritus. Facts +and dates are alike wanting, the ancient accounts (p. ix) are clearly +based on his works, but it is by no means impossible to construct a +'legend' or romance of his life, by aid of his own verses, and of +hints and fragments which reach us from the past and the present. +The genius of Theocritus was so steeped in the colours of human life, +he bore such true and full witness as to the scenes and men he knew, +that life (always essentially the same) becomes in turn a witness to +his veracity. He was born in the midst of nature that, through all +the changes of things, has never lost its sunny charm. The existence +he loved best to contemplate, that of southern shepherds, fishermen, +rural people, remains what it always has been in Sicily and in the +isles of Greece. The habits and the passions of his countryfolk have +not altered, the echoes of their old love-songs still sound among the +pines, or by the sea-banks, where Theocritus 'watched the visionary +flocks.' + +Theocritus was probably born in an early decade of the third century, +or, according to Couat, about 315 B.C., and was a native of Syracuse, +'the greatest of Greek cities, the fairest of all cities.' So Cicero +calls it, describing the four quarters that were encircled by its +walls,--each quarter as large as a town,--the fountain Arethusa, the +stately temples with their doors of ivory and gold. On the fortunate +dwellers in Syracuse, Cicero says, the sun shone every day, and there +was never a morning so tempestuous but the sunlight conquered at +last, and broke through the clouds. That perennial sunlight still +floods the poems of Theocritus with its joyous glow. His birthplace +was the proper home of an idyllic poet, of one who, with all his +enjoyment of the city life of Greece, had yet been 'breathed on by +the rural Pan,' and best loved the sights and sounds and fragrant air +of the forests and the coast. Thanks to the mountainous regions of +Sicily, to Etna, with her volcanic cliffs and snow-fed streams, +thanks also to the hills of the interior, the populous island never +lost the charm of nature. Sicily was not like the overcrowded and +over-cultivated Attica; among the Sicilian heights and by the coast +were few enclosed estates and narrow farms. The character of the +people, too, was attuned to poetry. The Dorian settlers had kept +alive the magic of rivers, of pools where the Nereids dance, and +uplands haunted by Pan. This popular poetry influenced the literary +verse of Sicily. The songs of Stesichorus, a minstrel of the early +period, and the little rural 'mimes' or interludes of Sophron are +lost, and we have only fragments of Epicharmus. But it seems certain +that these poets, predecessors of Theocritus, liked to mingle with +their own composition strains of rustic melody, volks-lieder, +ballads, love-songs, ditties, and dirges, such as are still chanted +by the peasants of Greece and Italy. Thus in Syracuse and the other +towns of the coast, Theocritus would have always before his eyes the +spectacle of refined and luxurious manners, and always in his ears +the babble of the Dorian women, while he had only to pass the gates, +and wander through the fens of Lysimeleia, by the brackish mere, or +ride into the hills, to find himself in the golden world of pastoral. +Thinking of his early years, and of the education that nature gives +the poet, we can imagine him, like Callicles in Mr. Arnold's poem, +singing at the banquet of a merchant or a general - + + +'With his head full of wine, and his hair crown'd, +Touching his harp as the whim came on him, +And praised and spoil'd by master and by guests, +Almost as much as the new dancing girl.' + + +We can recover the world that met his eyes and inspired his poems, +though the dates of the composition of these poems are unknown. We +can follow him, in fancy, as he breaks from the revellers and wanders +out into the night. Wherever he turned his feet, he could find such +scenes as he has painted in the idyls. If the moon rode high in +heaven, as he passed through the outlying gardens he might catch a +glimpse of some deserted girl shredding the magical herbs into the +burning brazier, and sending upward to the 'lady Selene' the song +which was to charm her lover home. The magical image melted in the +burning, the herbs smouldered, the tale of love was told, and slowly +the singer 'drew the quiet night into her blood.' Her lay ended with +a passage of softened melancholy - + +'Do thou farewell, and turn thy steeds to Ocean, lady, and my pain I +will endure, even as I have declared. Farewell, Selene beautiful; +farewell, ye other stars that follow the wheels of Night.' + +A grammarian says that Theocritus borrowed this second idyl, the +story of Simaetha, from a piece by Sophron. But he had no need to +borrow from anything but the nature before his eyes. Ideas change so +little among the Greek country people, and the hold of superstition +is so strong, that betrayed girls even now sing to the Moon their +prayer for pity and help. Theocritus himself could have added little +passion to this incantation, still chanted in the moonlit nights of +Greece: {0a} + +'Bright golden Moon, that now art near to thy setting, go thou and +salute my lover, he that stole my love, and that kissed me, and said, +"Never will I leave thee." And, lo, he has left me, like a field +reaped and gleaned, like a church where no man comes to pray, like a +city desolate. Therefore I would curse him, and yet again my heart +fails me for tenderness, my heart is vexed within me, my spirit is +moved with anguish. Nay, even so I will lay my curse on him, and let +God do even as He will, with my pain and with my crying, with my +flame, and mine imprecations.' + +It is thus that the women of the islands, like the girl of Syracuse +two thousand years ago, hope to lure back love or avenged love +betrayed, and thus they 'win more ease from song than could be bought +with gold.' + +In whatever direction the path of the Syracusan wanderer lay, he +would find then, as he would find now in Sicily, some scene of the +idyllic life, framed between the distant Etna and the sea. If he +strayed in the faint blue of the summer dawn, through the fens to the +shore, he might reach the wattled cabin of the two old fishermen in +the twenty-first idyl. There is nothing in Wordsworth more real, +more full of the incommunicable sense of nature, rounding and +softening the toilsome days of the aged and the poor, than the +Theocritean poem of the Fisherman's Dream. It is as true to nature +as the statue of the naked fisherman in the Vatican. One cannot read +these verses but the vision returns to one, of sandhills by the sea, +of a low cabin roofed with grass, where fishing-rods of reed are +leaning against the door, while the Mediterranean floats up her waves +that fill the waste with sound. This nature, grey and still, seems +in harmony with the wise content of old men whose days are waning on +the limit of life, as they have all been spent by the desolate margin +of the sea. + +The twenty-first idyl is one of the rare poems of Theocritus that are +not filled with the sunlight of Sicily, or of Egypt. The landscapes +he prefers are often seen under the noonday heat, when shade is most +pleasant to men. His shepherds invite each other to the shelter of +oak-trees or of pines, where the dry fir-needles are strown, or where +the feathered ferns make a luxurious 'couch more soft than sleep,' or +where the flowers bloom whose musical names sing in the idyls. +Again, Theocritus will sketch the bare beginnings of the hillside, as +in the third idyl, just where the olive-gardens cease, and where the +short grass of the heights alternates with rocks, and thorns, and +aromatic plants. None of his pictures seem complete without the +presence of water. It may be but the wells that the maidenhair +fringes, or the babbling runnel of the fountain of the Nereids. The +shepherds may sing of Crathon, or Sybaris, or Himeras, waters so +sweet that they seem to flow with milk and honey. Again, Theocritus +may encounter his rustics fluting in rivalry, like Daphnis and +Menalcas in the eighth idyl, 'on the long ranges of the hills.' +Their kine and sheep have fed upwards from the lower valleys to the +place where + + +'The track winds down to the clear stream, +To cross the sparkling shallows; there +The cattle love to gather, on their way +To the high mountain pastures and to stay, +Till the rough cow-herds drive them past, +Knee-deep in the cool ford; for 'tis the last +Of all the woody, high, well-water'd dells +On Etna, . . . +. . . glade, +And stream, and sward, and chestnut-trees, +End here; Etna beyond, in the broad glare +Of the hot noon, without a shade, +Slope behind slope, up to the peak, lies bare; +The peak, round which the white clouds play.' {0b} + + +Theocritus never drives his flock so high, and rarely muses on such +thoughts as come to wanderers beyond the shade of trees and the sound +of water among the scorched rocks and the barren lava. The day is +always cooled and soothed, in his idyls, with the 'music of water +that falleth from the high face of the rock,' or with the murmurs of +the sea. From the cliffs and their seat among the bright red berries +on the arbutus shrubs, his shepherds flute to each other, as they +watch the tunny fishers cruising far below, while the echo floats +upwards of the sailors' song. These shepherds have some touch in +them of the satyr nature; we might fancy that their ears are pointed +like those of Hawthorne's Donatello, in 'Transformation.' + +It should be noticed, as a proof of the truthfulness of Theocritus, +that the songs of his shepherds and goatherds are all such as he +might really have heard on the shores of Sicily. This is the real +answer to the criticism which calls him affected. When mock +pastorals flourished at the court of France, when the long dispute as +to the merits of the ancients and moderns was raging, critics vowed +that the hinds of Theocritus were too sentimental and polite in their +wooings. Refinement and sentiment were to be reserved for princely +shepherds dancing, crook in hand, in the court ballets. Louis XIV +sang of himself - + + +'A son labeur il passe tout d'un coup, +Et n'ira pas dormir sur la fougere, +Ny s'oublier aupres d'une Bergere, +Jusques au point d'en oublier le Loup.' {0c} + + +Accustomed to royal goatherds in silk and lace, Fontenelle (a severe +critic of Theocritus) could not believe in the delicacy of a Sicilian +who wore a skin 'stripped from the roughest of he-goats, with the +smell of the rennet clinging to it still.' Thus Fontenelle cries, +'Can any one suppose that there ever was a shepherd who could say +"Would I were the humming bee, Amaryllis, to flit to thy cave, and +dip beneath the branches, and the ivy leaves that hide thee"?' and +then he quotes other graceful passages from the love-verses of +Theocritean swains. Certainly no such fancies were to be expected +from the French peasants of Fontenelle's age, 'creatures blackened +with the sun, and bowed with labour and hunger.' The imaginative +grace of Battus is quite as remote from our own hinds. But we have +the best reason to suppose that the peasants of Theocritus's time +expressed refined sentiment in language adorned with colour and +music, because the modern love-songs of Greek shepherds sound like +memories of Theocritus. The lover of Amaryllis might have sung this +among his ditties - + + +[Greek] + +'To flit towards these lips of thine, I fain would be a swallow, +To kiss thee once, to kiss thee twice, and then go flying homeward.' +{0d} + + +In his despair, when Love 'clung to him like a leech of the fen,' he +might have murmured - + + +[Greek] + +'Would that I were on the high hills, and lay where lie the stags, +and no more was troubled with the thought of thee.' + + +Here, again, is a love-complaint from modern Epirus, exactly in the +tone of Battus's song in the tenth idyl - + + +'White thou art not, thou art not golden haired, +Thou art brown, and gracious, and meet for love.' + + +Here is a longer love-ditty - + +'I will begin by telling thee first of thy perfections: thy body is +as fair as an angel's; no painter could design it. And if any man be +sad, he has but to look on thee, and despite himself he takes +courage, the hapless one, and his heart is joyous. Upon thy brows +are shining the constellated Pleiades, thy breast is full of the +flowers of May, thy breasts are lilies. Thou hast the eyes of a +princess, the glance of a queen, and but one fault hast thou, that +thou deignest not to speak to me.' + +Battus might have cried thus, with a modern Greek singer, to the +shade of the dead Amaryllis (Idyl IV), the 'gracious Amaryllis, +unforgotten even in death' - + +'Ah, light of mine eyes, what gift shall I send thee; what gift to +the other world? The apple rots, and the quince decayeth, and one by +one they perish, the petals of the rose! I send thee my tears bound +in a napkin, and what though the napkin burns, if my tears reach thee +at last!' + +The difficulty is to stop choosing, where all the verses of the +modern Greek peasants are so rich in Theocritean memories, so ardent, +so delicate, so full of flowers and birds and the music of fountains. +Enough has been said, perhaps, to show what the popular poetry of +Sicily could lend to the genius of Theocritus. + +From her shepherds he borrowed much,--their bucolic melody; their +love-complaints; their rural superstitions; their system of answering +couplets, in which each singer refines on the utterance of his rival. +But he did not borrow their 'pastoral melancholy.' There is little +of melancholy in Theocritus. When Battus is chilled by the thought +of the death of Amaryllis, it is but as one is chilled when a thin +cloud passes over the sun, on a bright day of early spring. And in +an epigram the dead girl is spoken of as the kid that the wolf has +seized, while the hounds bay all too late. Grief will not bring her +back. The world must go its way, and we need not darken its sunlight +by long regret. Yet when, for once, Theocritus adopted the accent of +pastoral lament, when he raised the rural dirge for Daphnis into the +realm of art, he composed a masterpiece, and a model for all later +poets, as for the authors of Lycidas, Thyrsis, and Adonais. + +Theocritus did more than borrow a note from the country people. He +brought the gifts of his own spirit to the contemplation of the +world. He had the clearest vision, and he had the most ardent love +of poetry, 'of song may all my dwelling be full, for neither is sleep +more sweet, nor sudden spring, nor are flowers more delicious to the +bees, so dear to me are the Muses.' . . . 'Never may we be sundered, +the Muses of Pieria and I.' Again, he had perhaps in greater measure +than any other poet the gift of the undisturbed enjoyment of life. +The undertone of all his idyls is joy in the sunshine and in +existence. His favourite word, the word that opens the first idyl, +and, as it were, strikes the keynote, is [Greek], sweet. He finds +all things delectable in the rural life: + +'Sweet are the voices of the calves, and sweet the heifers' lowing; +sweet plays the shepherd on the shepherd's pipe, and sweet is the +echo.' + +Even in courtly poems, and in the artificial hymns of which we are to +speak in their place, the memory of the joyful country life comes +over him. He praises Hiero, because Hiero is to restore peace to +Syracuse, and when peace returns, then 'thousands of sheep fattened +in the meadows will bleat along the plain, and the kine, as they +flock in crowds to the stalls, will make the belated traveller hasten +on his way.' The words evoke a memory of a narrow country lane in +the summer evening, when light is dying out of the sky, and the +fragrance of wild roses by the roadside is mingled with the perfumed +breath of cattle that hurry past on their homeward road. There was +scarcely a form of the life he saw that did not seem to him worthy of +song, though it might be but the gossip of two rude hinds, or the +drinking bout of the Thessalian horse-jobber, and the false girl +Cynisca and her wild lover AEschines. But it is the sweet country +that he loves best to behold and to remember. In his youth Sicily +and Syracuse were disturbed by civil and foreign wars, wars of +citizens against citizens, of Greeks against Carthaginians, and +against the fierce 'men of Mars,' the banded mercenaries who +possessed themselves of Messana. But this was not matter for his +joyous Muse - + + +[Greek] + +'Not of wars, not of tears, but of Pan would he chant, and of the +neatherds he sweetly sang, and singing he shepherded his flocks.' + + +This was the training that Sicily, her hills, her seas, her lovers, +her poet-shepherds, gave to Theocritus. Sicily showed him subjects +which he imitated in truthful art. Unluckily the later pastoral +poets of northern lands have imitated HIM, and so have gone far +astray from northern nature. The pupil of nature had still to be +taught the 'rules' of the critics, to watch the temper and fashion of +his time, and to try his fortune among the courtly poets and +grammarians of the capital of civilisation. Between the years of +early youth in Sicily and the years of waiting for court patronage at +Alexandria, it seems probable that we must place a period of +education in the island of Cos. The testimonies of the Grammarians +who handed on to us the scanty traditions about Theocritus, agree in +making him the pupil of Philetas of Cos. This Philetas was a critic, +a commentator on Homer, and an elegiac poet whose love-songs were +greatly admired by the Romans of the Augustan age. He is said to +have been the tutor of Ptolemy Philadelphus, who was himself born, as +Theocritus records, in the isle of Cos. It has been conjectured that +Ptolemy and Theocritus were fellow pupils, and that the poet may have +hoped to obtain court favour at Alexandria from this early +connection. About this point nothing is certainly known, nor can we +exactly understand the sort of education that was given in the school +of the poet Philetas. The ideas of that artificial age make it not +improbable that Philetas professed to teach the art of poetry. A +French critic and poet of our own time, M. Baudelaire, was willing to +do as much 'in thirty lessons.' Possibly Philetas may have imparted +technical rules then in vogue, and the fashionable knack of +introducing obscure mythological allusions. He was a logician as +well as a poet, and is fabled to have died of vexation because he +could not unriddle one of the metaphysical catches or puzzles of the +sophists. His varied activity seems to have worn him to a shadow; +the contemporary satirists bantered him about his leanness, and it +was alleged that he wore leaden soles to his sandals lest the wind +should blow him, as it blew the calves of Daphnis (Idyl IX) over a +cliff against the rocks, or into the sea. {0e} Philetas seems a +strange master for Theocritus, but, whatever the qualities of the +teacher, Cos, the home of the luxurious old age of Meleager, was a +beautiful school. The island was one of the most ancient colonies of +the Dorians, and the Syracusan scholar found himself among a people +who spoke his own broad and liquid dialect. The sides of the +limestone hills were clothed with vines, and with shadowy plane-trees +which still attain extraordinary size and age, while the wine-presses +where Demeter smiled, 'with sheaves and poppies in her hands,' +yielded a famous vintage. The people had a soft industry of their +own, they fashioned the 'Coan stuff,' transparent robes for woman's +wear, like the [Greek], the thin undulating tissues which Theugenis +was to weave with the ivory distaff, the gift of Theocritus. As a +colony of Epidaurus, Cos naturally cultivated the worship of +Asclepius, the divine physician, the child of Apollo. In connection +with his worship and with the clan of the Asclepiadae (that +widespread stock to which Aristotle belonged, and in which the +practice of leechcraft was hereditary), Cos possessed a school of +medicine. In the temple of Asclepius patients hung up as votive +offerings representations of their diseased limbs, and thus the +temple became a museum of anatomical specimens. Cos was therefore +resorted to by young students from all parts of the East, and +Theocritus cannot but have made many friends of his own age. Among +these he alludes in various passages to Nicias, afterwards a +physician at Miletus, to Philinus, noted in later life as the head of +a medical sect, and to Aratus. Theocritus has sung of Aratus's love- +affairs, and St. Paul has quoted him as a witness to man's +instinctive consent in the doctrine of the universal fatherhood of +God. These strangely various notices have done more for the memory +of Aratus than his own didactic poem on the meteorological theories +of his age. He lives, with Philinus and the rest of the Coan +students, because Theocritus introduced them into the picture of a +happy summer's day. In the seventh idyl, that one day of Demeter's +harvest-feast is immortal, and the sun never goes down on its +delight. We see Theocritus + + +[Greek] + +when he 'had not yet reached the mid-point of the way, nor had the +tomb yet risen on his sight.' He reveals himself as he was at the +height of morning, at the best moment of the journey, in midsummer of +a genius still unchecked by doubt, or disappointment, or neglect. +Life seems to accost him with the glance of the goatherd Lycidas, +'and still he smiled as he spoke, with laughing eyes, and laughter +dwelling on his lips.' In Cos, Theocritus found friendship, and met +Myrto, 'the girl he loved as dearly as goats love the spring.' Here +he could express, without any afterthought, an enthusiastic adoration +for the disinterested joys, the enchanted moments of human existence. +Before he entered the thronged streets of Alexandria, and tuned his +shepherd's pipe to catch the ear of princes, and to sing the +epithalamium of a royal and incestuous love, he rested with his +friends in the happy island. Deep in a cave, among the ruins of +ancient aqueducts, there still bubbles up, from the Coan limestone, +the well-spring of the Nymphs. 'There they reclined on beds of +fragrant rushes, lowly strown, and rejoicing they lay in new stript +leaves of the vine. And high above their heads waved many a poplar, +many an elm-tree, while close at hand the sacred water from the +nymph's own cave welled forth with murmurs musical' (Idyl VII). + +The old Dorian settlers in Syracuse pleased themselves with the fable +that their fountain, Arethusa, had been a Grecian nymph, who, like +themselves, had crossed the sea to Sicily. The poetry of Theocritus, +read or sung in sultry Alexandria, must have seemed like a new +welling up of the waters of Arethusa in the sandy soil of Egypt. We +cannot certainly say when the poet first came from Syracuse, or from +Cos, to Alexandria. It is evident however from the allusions in the +fifteenth and seventeenth idyls that he was living there after +Ptolemy Philadelphus married his own sister, Arsinoe. It is not +impossible to form some idea of the condition of Alexandrian society, +art, religion, literature and learning at the court of Ptolemy +Philadelphus. The vast city, founded some sixty years before, was +now completed. The walls, many miles in circuit, protected a +population of about eight hundred thousand souls. Into that changing +crowd were gathered adventurers from all the known world. +Merchantmen brought to Ptolemy the wares of India and the porcelains +of China. Marauders from upper Egypt skulked about the native +quarters, and sallied forth at night to rob the wayfarer. The king's +guards were recruited with soldiers from turbulent Greece, from Asia, +from Italy. Settlers were attracted from Syracuse by the prospect of +high wages and profitable labour. The Jewish quarters were full of +Israelites who did not disdain Greek learning. The city in which +this multitude found a home was beautifully constructed. The +Mediterranean filled the northern haven, the southern walls were +washed by the Mareotic lake. If the isle of Pharos shone dazzling +white, and wearied the eyes, there was shade beneath the long marble +colonnades, and in the groves and cool halls of the Museum and the +Libraries. The Etesian winds blew fresh in summer from the north, +across the sea, and refreshed the people in their gardens. No town +seemed greater nor wealthier to the voyager, who (like the hero of +the Greek novel Clitophon and Leucippe) entered by the gate of the +Sun, and found that, after nightfall, the torches borne by men and +women hastening to some religious feast, filled the dusk with a light +like that of 'the sun cut up into fragments.' At the same time no +town was more in need of the memories of the country, which came to +her in well-watered gardens, in landscape-paintings, and in the verse +of Theocritus. + +It is impossible to give a clearer idea of the opulence and luxury of +Alexandria and her kings, than will be conveyed by the description of +the coronation-feast of Ptolemy Philadelphus. This great masquerade +and banquet was prepared by the elder Ptolemy on the occasion of his +admitting his son to share his throne. The entertainment was +described (in a work now lost) by Callixenus of Rhodes, and the +record has been preserved by Atheneaus (v. 25). The inner pavilion +in which the guests of Ptolemy reclined, contained one hundred and +thirty-five couches. Over the roof was placed a scarlet awning, with +a fringe of white, and there were many other awnings, richly +embroidered with mythological designs. The pillars which sustained +the roof were shaped in the likeness of palm-trees, and of thyrsi, +the weapons of the wine-god Dionysus. Round three outer sides ran +arcades, draped with purple tissues, and with the skins of strange +beasts. The fourth side, open to the air, was shady with the foliage +of myrtles and laurels. Everywhere the ground was carpeted with +flowers, though the season was mid-winter, with roses and white +lilies and blossoms of the gardens. By the columns round the whole +pavilion were arrayed a hundred effigies in marble, executed by the +most famous sculptors, and on the middle spaces were hung works by +the painters of Sicyon and tapestry woven with stories of the +adventures of the gods. Above these, again, ran a frieze of gold and +silver shields, while in the higher niches were placed comic, tragic, +and satiric sculptured groups 'dressed in real clothes,' says the +historian, much admiring this realism. It is impossible to number +the tripods, and flagons, and couches of gold, resting on golden +figures of sphinxes, the salvers, the bowls, the jewelled vases. The +masquerade of this winter festival began with the procession of the +Morning-star, Heosphoros, and then followed a masque of kings and a +revel of various gods, while the company of Hesperus, the Evening- +star followed, and ended all. The revel of Dionysus was introduced +by men disguised as Sileni, wild woodland beings in raiment of purple +and scarlet. Then came scores of satyrs with gilded lamps in their +hands. Next appeared beautiful maidens, attired as Victories, waving +golden wings and swinging vessels of burning incense. The altar of +the God of the Vine was borne behind them, crowned and covered with +leaves of gold, and next boys in purple robes scattered fragrant +scents from golden salvers. Then came a throng of gold-crowned +satyrs, their naked bodies stained with purple and vermilion, and +among them was a tall man who represented the year and carried a horn +of plenty. He was followed by a beautiful woman in rich attire, +carrying in one hand branches of the palm-tree, in the other a rod of +the peach-tree, starred with its constellated flowers. Then the +masque of the Seasons swept by, and Philiscus followed, Philiscus the +Corcyraean, the priest of Dionysus, and the favourite tragic poet of +the court. After the prizes for the athletes had been borne past, +Dionysus himself was charioted along, a gigantic figure clad in +purple, and pouring libations out of a golden goblet. Around him lay +huge drinking-cups, and smoking censers of gold, and a bower of vine +leaves grew up, and shaded the head of the god. Then hurried by a +crowd of priests and priestesses, Maenads, Bacchantes, Bassarids, +women crowned with the vine, or with garlands of snakes, and girls +bearing the mystic vannus Iacchi. And still the procession was not +ended. A mechanical figure of Nysa passed, in a chariot drawn by +eighty men, among clusters of grapes formed of precious stones, and +the figure arose, and poured milk out of a golden horn. The Satyrs +and Sileni followed close, and behind them six hundred men dragged on +a wain, a silver vessel that held six hundred measures of wine. This +was only the first of countless symbolic vessels that were carried +past, till last came a multitude of sixteen hundred boys clad in +white tunics, and garlanded with ivy, who bore and handed to the +guests golden and silver vessels full of sweet wine. All this was +only part of one procession, and the festival ended when Ptolemy and +Berenice and Ptolemy Philadelphus had been crowned with golden crowns +from many subject cities and lands. + +This festival was obviously arranged to please the taste of a prince +with late Greek ideas of pictorial display, and with barbaric wealth +at his command. Theocritus himself enables us in the seventeenth +idyl to estimate the opulence and the dominion of Ptolemy. He was +not master of fertile Aegypt alone, where the Nile breaks the rich +dank soil, and where myriad cities pour their taxes into his +treasuries. Ptolemy held lands also in Phoenicia, and Arabia; he +claimed Syria and Libya and Aethiopia; he was lord of the distant +Pamphylians, of the Cilicians, the Lycians and the Carians, and the +Cyclades owned his mastery. Thus the wealth of the richest part of +the world flowed into Alexandria, attracting thither the priests of +strange religions, the possessors of Greek learning, the painters and +sculptors whose work has left its traces on the genius of Theocritus. + +Looking at this early Alexandrian age, three points become clear to +us. First, the fashion of the times was Oriental, Oriental in +religion and in society. Nothing could be less Hellenic, than the +popular cult of Adonis. The fifteenth idyl of Theocritus shows us +Greek women worshipping in their manner at an Assyrian shrine, the +shrine of that effeminate lover of Aphrodite, whom Heracles, +according to the Greek proverb, thought 'no great divinity.' The +hymn of Bion, with its luxurious lament, was probably meant to be +chanted at just such a festival as Theocritus describes, while a +crowd of foreigners gossiped among the flowers and embroideries, the +strangely-shaped sacred cakes, the ebony, the gold, and the ivory. +Not so much Oriental as barbarous was the impulse which made Ptolemy +Philadelphus choose his own sister, Arsinoe, for wife, as if absolute +dominion had already filled the mind of the Macedonian royal race +with the incestuous pride of the Incas, or of Queen Hatasu, in an +elder Egyptian dynasty. This nascent barbarism has touched a few of +the Alexandrian poems even of Theocritus, and his panegyric of +Ptolemy, of his divine ancestors, and his sister-bride is not much +more Greek in sentiment than are those old native hymns of Pentaur to +'the strong Bull,' or the 'Risen Sun,' to Rameses or Thothmes. + +Again, the early Alexandrian was what we call a 'literary' age. +Literature was not an affair of religion and of the state, but +ministered to the pleasure of individuals, and at their pleasure was +composed. {0f} The temper of the time was crudely critical. The +Museum and the Libraries, with their hundreds of thousands of +volumes, were hot-houses of grammarians and of learned poets. +Callimachus, the head librarian, was also the most eminent man of +letters. Unable, himself, to compose a poem of epic length and +copiousness, he discouraged all long poems. He shone in epigrams, +pedantic hymns, and didactic verses. He toyed with anagrams, and won +court favour by discovering that the letters of 'Arsinoe,' the name +of Ptolemy's wife, made the words [Greek], the violet of Hera. In +another masterpiece the genius of Callimachus followed the stolen +tress of Queen Berenice to the skies, where the locks became a +constellation. A contemporary of Callimachus was Zenodotus, the +critic, who was for improving the Iliad and Odyssey by cutting out +all the epic commonplaces which seemed to him to be needless +repetitions. It is pretty plain that, in literary society, Homer was +thought out of date and rococo. The favourite topics of poets were +now, not the tales of Troy and Thebes, but the amorous adventures of +the gods. When Apollonius Rhodius attempted to revive the epic, it +is said that the influence of Callimachus quite discomfited the young +poet. A war of epigrams began, and while Apollonius called +Callimachus a 'blockhead' (so finished was his invective), the +veteran compared his rival to the Ibis, the scavenger-bird. Other +singers satirised each others' legs, and one, the Aretino of the +time, mocked at king Ptolemy and scourged his failings in verse. The +literary quarrels (to which Theocritus seems to allude in Idyl VII, +where Lycidas says he 'hates the birds of the Muses that cackle in +vain rivalry with Homer') were as stupid as such affairs usually are. +The taste for artificial epic was to return; although many people +already declared that Homer was the world's poet, and that the world +needed no other. This epic reaction brought into favour Apollonius +Rhodius, author of the Argonautica. Theocritus has been supposed to +aim at him as a vain rival of Homer, but M. Couat points out that +Theocritus was seventy when Apollonius began to write. The literary +fashions of Alexandria are only of moment to us so far as they +directly affected Theocritus. They could not make him obscure, +affected, tedious, but his nature probably inclined him to obey +fashion so far as only to write short poems. His rural poems are +[Greek], 'little pictures.' His fragments of epic, or imitations of +the epic hymns are not + + +[Greek] + + +- not full and sonorous as the songs of Homer and the sea. 'Ce poete +est le moins naif qui se puisse rencontrer, et il se degage de son +oeuvre un parfum de naivete rustique.' {0g} They are, what a German +critic has called them, mythologischen genre-bilder, cabinet pictures +in the manner called genre, full of pretty detail and domestic +feeling. And this brings us to the third characteristic of the age,- +-its art was elaborately pictorial. Poetry seems to have sought +inspiration from painting, while painting, as we have said, inclined +to genre, to luxurious representations of the amours of the gods or +the adventures of heroes, with backgrounds of pastoral landscape. +Shepherds fluted while Perseus slew Medusa. + +The old order of things in Greece had been precisely the opposite of +this Alexandrian manner. Homer and the later Homeric legends, with +the tragedians, inspired the sculptors, and even the artisans who +decorated vases. When a new order of subjects became fashionable, +and when every rich Alexandrian had pictures or frescoes on his +walls, it appears that the painters took the lead, that the +initiative in art was theirs. The Alexandrian pictures perished long +ago, but the relics of Alexandrian style which remain in the buried +cities of Campania, in Pompeii especially, bear testimony to the +taste of the period. {0h} Out of nearly two thousand Pompeian +pictures, it is calculated that some fourteen hundred (roughly +speaking) are mythological in subject. The loves of the gods are +repeated in scores of designs, and these designs closely correspond +to the mythological poems of Theocritus and his younger +contemporaries Bion and Moschus. Take as an example the adventure of +Europa: Lord Tennyson's lines, in The Palace of Art are intended to +describe picture - + + +'Or sweet Europa's mantle blew unclasp'd, + From off her shoulder backward borne: +From one hand droop'd a crocus: one hand grasp'd + The mild bull's golden horn.' + + +The words of Moschus also seem as if they might have derived their +inspiration from a painting, the touches are so minute, and so +picturesque - + +'Meanwhile Europa, riding on the back of the divine bull, with one +hand clasped the beast's great horn, and with the other caught up her +garment's purple fold, lest it might trail and be drenched in the +hoar sea's infinite spray. And her deep robe was blown out in the +wind, like the sail of a ship, and lightly ever it wafted the maiden +onward.' + +Now every single 'motive' of this description,--Europa with one hand +holding the bull's horn, with the other lifting her dress, the wind +puffing out her shawl like a sail, is repeated in the Pompeian wall- +pictures, which themselves are believed to be derived from +Alexandrian originals. There are more curious coincidences than +this. In the sixth idyl of Theocritus, Damoetas makes the Cyclops +say that Galatea 'will send him many a messenger.' The mere idea of +describing the monstrous cannibal Polyphemus in love, is artificial +and Alexandrian. But who were the 'messengers' of the sea-nymph +Galatea? A Pompeian picture illustrates the point, by representing a +little Love riding up to the shore on the back of a dolphin, with a +letter in his hand for Polyphemus. Greek art in Egypt suffered from +an Egyptian plague of Loves. Loves flutter through the Pompeian +pictures as they do through the poems of Moschus and Bion. They are +carried about in cages, for sale, like birds. They are caught in +bird-traps. They don the lion-skin of Heracles. They flutter about +baskets laden with roses; round rosy Loves, like the cupids of +Boucher. They are not akin to 'the grievous Love,' the mighty +wrestler who threw Daphnis a fall, in the first idyl of Theocritus. +They are 'the children that flit overhead, the little Loves, like the +young nightingales upon the budding trees,' which flit round the dead +Adonis in the fifteenth idyl. They are the birds that shun the boy +fowler, in Bion's poem, and perch uncalled (as in a bronze in the +Uffizi) on the grown man. In one or other of the sixteen Pompeian +pictures of Venus and Adonis, the Loves are breaking their bows and +arrows for grief, as in the hymn of Bion. + +Enough has perhaps been said about the social and artistic taste of +Alexandria to account for the remarkable differences in manner +between the rustic idyls of Theocritus and the epic idyls of himself +and his followers Moschus and Bion. In the rural idyls, Theocritus +was himself and wrote to please himself. In the epic idyls, as in +the Hymn to the Dioscuri, and in the two poems on Heracles, he was +writing to please the taste of Alexandria. He had to choose epic +topics, but he was warned by the famous saying of Callimachus ('a +great book is a great evil') not to imitate the length of the epic. +{0i} He was also to shun close imitation of what are so easily +imitated, the regular recurring formulae, the commonplace of Homer. +He was to add minute pictorial touches, as in the description of +Alcmena's waking when the serpents attacked her child,--a passage +rich in domestic pathos and incident which contrast strongly with +Pindar's bare narrative of the same events. We have noted the same +pictorial quality in the Europa of Moschus. Our own age has often +been compared to the Alexandrian epoch, to that era of large cities, +wealth, refinement, criticism, and science; and the pictorial Idylls +of the King very closely resemble the epico-idyllic manner of +Alexandria. We have tried to examine the society in which Theocritus +lived. But our impressions about the poet are more distinct. In him +we find the most genial character; pious as Greece counted piety; +tender as became the poet of love; glad as the singer of a happy +southern world should be; gifted, above all, with humour, and with +dramatic power. 'His lyre has all the chords'; his is the last of +all the perfect voices of Hellas; after him no man saw life with eyes +so steady and so mirthful. + +About the lives of the three idyllic poets literary history says +little. About their deaths she only tells us through the dirge by +Moschus, that Bion was poisoned. The lovers of Theocritus would +willingly hope that he returned from Alexandria to Sicily, about the +time when he wrote the sixteenth idyl, and that he lived in the +enjoyment of the friendship and the domestic happiness and honour +which he sang so well, through the golden age of Hiero (264 B.C.) No +happier fortune could befall him who wrote the epigram of the lady of +heavenly love, who worshipped with the noble wife of Nicias under the +green roof of Milesian Aphrodite, and who prophesied of the return of +peace and of song to Sicily and Syracuse. + + + + +THEOCRITUS + + + + +IDYL I + + + +The shepherd Thyrsis meets a goatherd, in a shady place beside a +spring, and at his invitation sings the Song of Daphnis. This ideal +hero of Greek pastoral song had won for his bride the fairest of the +Nymphs. Confident in the strength of his passion, he boasted that +Love could never subdue him to a new question. Love avenged himself +by making Daphnis desire a strange maiden, but to this temptation he +never yielded, and so died a constant lover. The song tells how the +cattle and the wild things of the wood bewailed him, how Hermes and +Priapus gave him counsel in vain, and how with his last breath he +retorted the taunts of the implacable Aphrodite. + +The scene is in Sicily. + +Thyrsis. Sweet, meseems, is the whispering sound of yonder pine +tree, goatherd, that murmureth by the wells of water; and sweet are +thy pipings. After Pan the second prize shalt thou bear away, and if +he take the horned goat, the she-goat shalt thou win; but if he +choose the she-goat for his meed, the kid falls to thee, and dainty +is the flesh of kids e'er the age when thou milkest them. + +The Goatherd. Sweeter, O shepherd, is thy song than the music of +yonder water that is poured from the high face of the rock! Yea, if +the Muses take the young ewe for their gift, a stall-fed lamb shalt +thou receive for thy meed; but if it please them to take the lamb, +thou shalt lead away the ewe for the second prize. + +Thyrsis. Wilt thou, goatherd, in the nymphs' name, wilt thou sit +thee down here, among the tamarisks, on this sloping knoll, and pipe +while in this place I watch thy flocks? + +Goatherd. Nay, shepherd, it may not be; we may not pipe in the +noontide. 'Tis Pan we dread, who truly at this hour rests weary from +the chase; and bitter of mood is he, the keen wrath sitting ever at +his nostrils. But, Thyrsis, for that thou surely wert wont to sing +The Affliction of Daphnis, and hast most deeply meditated the +pastoral muse, come hither, and beneath yonder elm let us sit down, +in face of Priapus and the fountain fairies, where is that resting- +place of the shepherds, and where the oak trees are. Ah! if thou +wilt but sing as on that day thou sangest in thy match with Chromis +out of Libya, I will let thee milk, ay, three times, a goat that is +the mother of twins, and even when she has suckled her kids her milk +doth fill two pails. A deep bowl of ivy-wood, too, I will give thee, +rubbed with sweet bees'-wax, a twy-eared bowl newly wrought, smacking +still of the knife of the graver. Round its upper edges goes the ivy +winding, ivy besprent with golden flowers; and about it is a tendril +twisted that joys in its saffron fruit. Within is designed a maiden, +as fair a thing as the gods could fashion, arrayed in a sweeping +robe, and a snood on her head. Beside her two youths with fair love- +locks are contending from either side, with alternate speech, but her +heart thereby is all untouched. And now on one she glances, smiling, +and anon she lightly flings the other a thought, while by reason of +the long vigils of love their eyes are heavy, but their labour is all +in vain. + +Beyond these an ancient fisherman and a rock are fashioned, a rugged +rock, whereon with might and main the old man drags a great net for +his cast, as one that labours stoutly. Thou wouldst say that he is +fishing with all the might of his limbs, so big the sinews swell all +about his neck, grey-haired though he be, but his strength is as the +strength of youth. Now divided but a little space from the sea-worn +old man is a vineyard laden well with fire-red clusters, and on the +rough wall a little lad watches the vineyard, sitting there. Round +him two she-foxes are skulking, and one goes along the vine-rows to +devour the ripe grapes, and the other brings all her cunning to bear +against the scrip, and vows she will never leave the lad, till she +strand him bare and breakfastless. But the boy is plaiting a pretty +locust-cage with stalks of asphodel, and fitting it with reeds, and +less care of his scrip has he, and of the vines, than delight in his +plaiting. + +All about the cup is spread the soft acanthus, a miracle of varied +work, {6} a thing for thee to marvel on. For this bowl I paid to a +Calydonian ferryman a goat and a great white cream cheese. Never has +its lip touched mine, but it still lies maiden for me. Gladly with +this cup would I gain thee to my desire, if thou, my friend, wilt +sing me that delightful song. Nay, I grudge it thee not at all. +Begin, my friend, for be sure thou canst in no wise carry thy song +with thee to Hades, that puts all things out of mind! + +The Song of Thyrsis. + +Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song! Thyrsis of Etna am I, +and this is the voice of Thyrsis. Where, ah! where were ye when +Daphnis was languishing; ye Nymphs, where were ye? By Peneus's +beautiful dells, or by dells of Pindus? for surely ye dwelt not by +the great stream of the river Anapus, nor on the watch-tower of Etna, +nor by the sacred water of Acis. + +Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song! + +For him the jackals, for him the wolves did cry; for him did even the +lion out of the forest lament. Kine and bulls by his feet right +many, and heifers plenty, with the young calves bewailed him. + +Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song! + +Came Hermes first from the hill, and said, 'Daphnis, who is it that +torments thee; child, whom dost thou love with so great desire?' The +neatherds came, and the shepherds; the goatherds came: all they +asked what ailed him. Came also Priapus, - + +Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song! + +And said: 'Unhappy Daphnis, wherefore dost thou languish, while for +thee the maiden by all the fountains, through all the glades is +fleeting, in search of thee? Ah! thou art too laggard a lover, and +thou nothing availest! A neatherd wert thou named, and now thou art +like the goatherd: + +Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song! + +'For the goatherd, when he marks the young goats at their pastime, +looks on with yearning eyes, and fain would be even as they; and +thou, when thou beholdest the laughter of maidens, dost gaze with +yearning eyes, for that thou dost not join their dances.' + +Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song! + +Yet these the herdsman answered not again, but he bare his bitter +love to the end, yea, to the fated end he bare it. + +Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song! + +Ay, but she too came, the sweetly smiling Cypris, craftily smiling +she came, yet keeping her heavy anger; and she spake, saying: +'Daphnis, methinks thou didst boast that thou wouldst throw Love a +fall, nay, is it not thyself that hast been thrown by grievous Love?' + +Begin ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song! + +But to her Daphnis answered again: 'Implacable Cypris, Cypris +terrible, Cypris of mortals detested, already dost thou deem that my +latest sun has set; nay, Daphnis even in Hades shall prove great +sorrow to Love. + +Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song! + +'Where it is told how the herdsman with Cypris--Get thee to Ida, get +thee to Anchises! There are oak trees--here only galingale blows, +here sweetly hum the bees about the hives! + +Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song! + +'Thine Adonis, too, is in his bloom, for he herds the sheep and slays +the hares, and he chases all the wild beasts. Nay, go and confront +Diomedes again, and say, "The herdsman Daphnis I conquered, do thou +join battle with me." + +Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song! + +'Ye wolves, ye jackals, and ye bears in the mountain caves, farewell! +The herdsman Daphnis ye never shall see again, no more in the dells, +no more in the groves, no more in the woodlands. Farewell Arethusa, +ye rivers, good-night, that pour down Thymbris your beautiful waters. + +Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song! + +'That Daphnis am I who here do herd the kine, Daphnis who water here +the bulls and calves. + +'O Pan, Pan! whether thou art on the high hills of Lycaeus, or +rangest mighty Maenalus, haste hither to the Sicilian isle! Leave +the tomb of Helice, leave that high cairn of the son of Lycaon, which +seems wondrous fair, even in the eyes of the blessed. {9} + +Give o'er, ye Muses, come, give o'er the pastoral song! + +'Come hither, my prince, and take this fair pipe, honey-breathed with +wax-stopped joints; and well it fits thy lip: for verily I, even I, +by Love am now haled to Hades. + +Give o'er, ye Muses, come, give o'er the pastoral song! + +'Now violets bear, ye brambles, ye thorns bear violets; and let fair +narcissus bloom on the boughs of juniper! Let all things with all be +confounded,--from pines let men gather pears, for Daphnis is dying! +Let the stag drag down the hounds, let owls from the hills contend in +song with the nightingales.' + +Give o'er, ye Muses, come, give o'er the pastoral song! + +So Daphnis spake, and ended; but fain would Aphrodite have given him +back to life. Nay, spun was all the thread that the Fates assigned, +and Daphnis went down the stream. The whirling wave closed over the +man the Muses loved, the man not hated of the nymphs. + +Give o'er, ye Muses, come, give o'er the pastoral song! + +And thou, give me the bowl, and the she-goat, that I may milk her and +poor forth a libation to the Muses. Farewell, oh, farewells +manifold, ye Muses, and I, some future day, will sing you yet a +sweeter song. + +The Goatherd. Filled may thy fair mouth be with honey, Thyrsis, and +filled with the honeycomb; and the sweet dried fig mayst thou eat of +Aegilus, for thou vanquishest the cicala in song! Lo here is thy +cup, see, my friend, of how pleasant a savour! Thou wilt think it +has been dipped in the well-spring of the Hours. Hither, hither, +Cissaetha: do thou milk her, Thyrsis. And you young she-goats, +wanton not so wildly lest you bring up the he-goat against you. + + + +IDYL II + + + +Simaetha, madly in love with Delphis, who has forsaken her, +endeavours to subdue him to her by magic, and by invoking the Moon, +in her character of Hecate, and of Selene. She tells the tale of the +growth of her passion, and vows vengeance if her magic arts are +unsuccessful. + +The scene is probably some garden beneath the moonlit shy, near the +town, and within sound of the sea. The characters are Simaetha, and +Thestylis, her handmaid. + +Where are my laurel leaves? come, bring them, Thestylis; and where +are the love-charms? Wreath the bowl with bright-red wool, that I +may knit the witch-knots against my grievous lover, {11} who for +twelve days, oh cruel, has never come hither, nor knows whether I am +alive or dead, nor has once knocked at my door, unkind that he is! +Hath Love flown off with his light desires by some other path--Love +and Aphrodite? To-morrow I will go to the wrestling school of +Timagetus, to see my love and to reproach him with all the wrong he +is doing me. But now I will bewitch him with my enchantments! Do +thou, Selene, shine clear and fair, for softly, Goddess, to thee will +I sing, and to Hecate of hell. The very whelps shiver before her as +she fares through black blood and across the barrows of the dead. + +Hail, awful Hecate! to the end be thou of our company, and make this +medicine of mine no weaker than the spells of Circe, or of Medea, or +of Perimede of the golden hair. + +My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love! + +Lo, how the barley grain first smoulders in the fire,--nay, toss on +the barley, Thestylis! Miserable maid, where are thy wits wandering? +Even to thee, wretched that I am, have I become a laughing-stock, +even to thee? Scatter the grain, and cry thus the while, ''Tis the +bones of Delphis I am scattering!' + +My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love! + +Delphis troubled me, and I against Delphis am burning this laurel; +and even as it crackles loudly when it has caught the flame, and +suddenly is burned up, and we see not even the dust thereof, lo, even +thus may the flesh of Delphis waste in the burning! + +My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love! + +Even as I melt this wax, with the god to aid, so speedily may he by +love be molten, the Myndian Delphis! And as whirls this brazen +wheel, {13} so restless, under Aphrodite's spell, may he turn and +turn about my doors. + +My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love! + +Now will I burn the husks, and thou, O Artemis, hast power to move +hell's adamantine gates, and all else that is as stubborn. +Thestylis, hark, 'tis so; the hounds are baying up and down the town! +The Goddess stands where the three ways meet! Hasten, and clash the +brazen cymbals. + +My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love! + +Lo, silent is the deep, and silent the winds, but never silent the +torment in my breast. Nay, I am all on fire for him that made me, +miserable me, no wife but a shameful thing, a girl no more a maiden. + +My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love! + +Three times do I pour libation, and thrice, my Lady Moon, I speak +this spell:- Be it with a friend that he lingers, be it with a leman +he lies, may he as clean forget them as Theseus, of old, in Dia--so +legends tell--did utterly forget the fair-tressed Ariadne. + +My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love! + +Coltsfoot is an Arcadian weed that maddens, on the hills, the young +stallions and fleet-footed mares. Ah! even as these may I see +Delphis; and to this house of mine, may he speed like a madman, +leaving the bright palaestra. + +My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love! + +This fringe from his cloak Delphis lost; that now I shred and cast +into the cruel flame. Ah, ah, thou torturing Love, why clingest thou +to me like a leech of the fen, and drainest all the black blood from +my body? + +My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love! + +Lo, I will crush an eft, and a venomous draught to-morrow I will +bring thee! + +But now, Thestylis, take these magic herbs and secretly smear the +juice on the jambs of his gate (whereat, even now, my heart is +captive, though nothing he recks of me), and spit and whisper, ''Tis +the bones of Delphis that I smear.' + +My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love! + +And now that I am alone, whence shall I begin to bewail my love? +Whence shall I take up the tale: who brought on me this sorrow? The +maiden-bearer of the mystic vessel came our way, Anaxo, daughter of +Eubulus, to the grove of Artemis; and behold, she had many other wild +beasts paraded for that time, in the sacred show, and among them a +lioness. + +Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon! + +And the Thracian servant of Theucharidas,--my nurse that is but +lately dead, and who then dwelt at our doors,--besought me and +implored me to come and see the show. And I went with her, wretched +woman that I am, clad about in a fair and sweeping linen stole, over +which I had thrown the holiday dress of Clearista. + +Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon! + +Lo! I was now come to the mid-point of the highway, near the +dwelling of Lycon, and there I saw Delphis and Eudamippus walking +together. Their beards were more golden than the golden flower of +the ivy; their breasts (they coming fresh from the glorious +wrestler's toil) were brighter of sheen than thyself Selene! + +Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon! + +Even as I looked I loved, loved madly, and all my heart was wounded, +woe is me, and my beauty began to wane. No more heed took I of that +show, and how I came home I know not; but some parching fever utterly +overthrew me, and I lay a-bed ten days and ten nights. + +Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon! + +And oftentimes my skin waxed wan as the colour of boxwood, and all my +hair was falling from my head, and what was left of me was but skin +and bones. Was there a wizard to whom I did not seek, or a crone to +whose house I did not resort, of them that have art magical? But +this was no light malady, and the time went fleeting on. + +Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon! + +Thus I told the true story to my maiden, and said, 'Go, Thestylis, +and find me some remedy for this sore disease. Ah me, the Myndian +possesses me, body and soul! Nay, depart, and watch by the +wrestling-ground of Timagetus, for there is his resort, and there he +loves to loiter. + +Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon! + +'And when thou art sure he is alone, nod to him secretly, and say, +"Simaetha bids thee to come to her," and lead him hither privily.' +So I spoke; and she went and brought the bright-limbed Delphis to my +house. But I, when I beheld him just crossing the threshold of the +door, with his light step, - + +Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon! + +Grew colder all than snow, and the sweat streamed from my brow like +the dank dews, and I had no strength to speak, nay, nor to utter as +much as children murmur in their slumber, calling to their mother +dear: and all my fair body turned stiff as a puppet of wax. + +Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon! + +Then when he had gazed on me, he that knows not love, he fixed his +eyes on the ground, and sat down on my bed, and spake as he sat him +down: 'Truly, Simaetha, thou didst by no more outrun mine own coming +hither, when thou badst me to thy roof, than of late I outran in the +race the beautiful Philinus: + +Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon! + +'For I should have come; yea, by sweet Love, I should have come, with +friends of mine, two or three, as soon as night drew on, bearing in +my breast the apples of Dionysus, and on my head silvery poplar +leaves, the holy boughs of Heracles, all twined with bands of purple. + +Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon! + +'And if you had received me, they would have taken it well, for among +all the youths unwed I have a name for beauty and speed of foot. +With one kiss of thy lovely mouth I had been content; but an if ye +had thrust me forth, and the door had been fastened with the bar, +then truly should torch and axe have broken in upon you. + +Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon! + +'And now to Cypris first, methinks, my thanks are due, and after +Cypris it is thou that hast caught me, lady, from the burning, in +that thou badst me come to this thy house, half consumed as I am! +Yea, Love, 'tis plain, lights oft a fiercer blaze than Hephaestus the +God of Lipara. + +Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon! + +'With his madness dire, he scares both the maiden from her bower and +the bride from the bridal bed, yet warm with the body of her lord!' + +So he spake, and I, that was easy to win, took his hand, and drew him +down on the soft bed beside me. And immediately body from body +caught fire, and our faces glowed as they had not done, and sweetly +we murmured. And now, dear Selene, to tell thee no long tale, the +great rites were accomplished, and we twain came to our desire. +Faultless was I in his sight, till yesterday, and he, again, in mine. +But there came to me the mother of Philista, my flute player, and the +mother of Melixo, to-day, when the horses of the Sun were climbing +the sky, bearing Dawn of the rosy arms from the ocean stream. Many +another thing she told me; and chiefly this, that Delphis is a lover, +and whom he loves she vowed she knew not surely, but this only, that +ever he filled up his cup with the unmixed wine, to drink a toast to +his dearest. And at last he went off hastily, saying that he would +cover with garlands the dwelling of his love. + +This news my visitor told me, and she speaks the truth. For indeed, +at other seasons, he would come to me thrice, or four times, in the +day, and often would leave with me his Dorian oil flask. But now it +is the twelfth day since I have even looked on him! Can it be that +he has not some other delight, and has forgotten me? Now with magic +rites I will strive to bind him, {19} but if still he vexes me, he +shall beat, by the Fates I vow it, at the gate of Hell. Such evil +medicines I store against him in a certain coffer, the use whereof, +my lady, an Assyrian stranger taught me. + +But do thou farewell, and turn thy steeds to Ocean, Lady, and my pain +I will bear, as even till now I have endured it. Farewell, Selene +bright and fair, farewell ye other stars, that follow the wheels of +quiet Night. + + + +IDYL III + + + +A goatherd, leaving his goats to feed on the hillside, in the charge +of Tityrus, approaches the cavern of Amaryllis, with its veil of +ferns and ivy, and attempts to win back the heart of the girl by +song. He mingles promises with harmless threats, and repeats, in +exquisite verses, the names of the famous lovers of old days, +Milanion and Endymion. Failing to move Amaryllis, the goatherd +threatens to die where he has thrown himself down, beneath the trees. + +Courting Amaryllis with song I go, while my she-goats feed on the +hill, and Tityrus herds them. Ah, Tityrus, my dearly beloved, feed +thou the goats, and to the well-side lead them, Tityrus, and 'ware +the yellow Libyan he-goat, lest he butt thee with his horns. + +Ah, lovely Amaryllis, why no more, as of old, dust thou glance +through this cavern after me, nor callest me, thy sweetheart, to thy +side. Can it be that thou hatest me? Do I seem snub-nosed, now thou +hast seen me near, maiden, and under-hung? Thou wilt make me +strangle myself! + +Lo, ten apples I bring thee, plucked from that very place where thou +didst bid me pluck them, and others to-morrow I will bring thee. + +Ah, regard my heart's deep sorrow! ah, would I were that humming bee, +and to thy cave might come dipping beneath the fern that hides thee, +and the ivy leaves! + +Now know I Love, and a cruel God is he. Surely he sucked the +lioness's dug, and in the wild wood his mother reared him, whose fire +is scorching me, and bites even to the bone. + +Ah, lovely as thou art to look upon, ah heart of stone, ah dark- +browed maiden, embrace me, thy true goatherd, that I may kiss thee, +and even in empty kisses there is a sweet delight! + +Soon wilt thou make me rend the wreath in pieces small, the wreath of +ivy, dear Amaryllis, that I keep for thee, with rose-buds twined, and +fragrant parsley. Ah me, what anguish! Wretched that I am, whither +shall I turn! Thou dust not hear my prayer! + +I will cast off my coat of skins, and into yonder waves I will +spring, where the fisher Olpis watches for the tunny shoals, and even +if I die not, surely thy pleasure will have been done. + +I learned the truth of old, when, amid thoughts of thee, I asked, +'Loves she, loves she not?' and the poppy petal clung not, and gave +no crackling sound, but withered on my smooth forearm, even so. {21} + +And she too spoke sooth, even Agroeo, she that divineth with a sieve, +and of late was binding sheaves behind the reapers, who said that I +had set all my heart on thee, but that thou didst nothing regard me. + +Truly I keep for thee the white goat with the twin kids that +Mermnon's daughter too, the brown-skinned Erithacis, prays me to give +her; and give her them I will, since thou dost flout me. + +My right eyelid throbs, is it a sign that I am to see her? Here will +I lean me against this pine tree, and sing, and then perchance she +will regard me, for she is not all of adamant. + +Lo, Hippomenes when he was eager to marry the famous maiden, took +apples in his hand, and so accomplished his course; and Atalanta saw, +and madly longed, and leaped into the deep waters of desire. +Melampus too, the soothsayer, brought the herd of oxen from Othrys to +Pylos, and thus in the arms of Bias was laid the lovely mother of +wise Alphesiboea. + +And was it not thus that Adonis, as he pastured his sheep upon the +hills, led beautiful Cytherea to such heights of frenzy, that not +even in his death doth she unclasp him from her bosom? Blessed, +methinks is the lot of him that sleeps, and tosses not, nor turns, +even Endymion; and, dearest maiden, blessed I call Iason, whom such +things befell, as ye that be profane shall never come to know. + +My head aches, but thou carest not. I will sing no more, but dead +will I lie where I fall, and here may the wolves devour me. + +Sweet as honey in the mouth may my death be to thee. + + + +IDYL IV + + + +Battus and Corydon, two rustic fellows, meeting in a glade, gossip +about their neighbour, Aegon, who has gone to try his fortune at the +Olympic games. After some random banter, the talk turns on the death +of Amaryllis, and the grief of Battus is disturbed by the roaming of +his cattle. Corydon removes a thorn that has run into his friend's +foot, and the conversation comes back to matters of rural scandal. + +The scene is in Southern Italy. + +Battus. Tell me, Corydon, whose kine are these,--the cattle of +Philondas? + +Corydon. Nay, they are Aegon's, he gave me them to pasture. + +Battus. Dost thou ever find a way to milk them all, on the sly, just +before evening? + +Corydon. No chance of that, for the old man puts the calves beneath +their dams, and keeps watch on me. + +Battus. But the neatherd himself,--to what land has he passed out of +sight? + +Corydon. Hast thou not heard? Milon went and carried him off to the +Alpheus. + +Battus. And when, pray, did HE ever set eyes on the wrestlers' oil? + +Corydon. They say he is a match for Heracles, in strength and +hardihood. + +Battus. And I, so mother says, am a better man than Polydeuces. + +Corydon. Well, off he has gone, with a shovel, and with twenty sheep +from his flock here. {24} + +Battus. Milo, thou'lt see, will soon be coaxing the wolves to rave! + +Corydon. But Aegon's heifers here are lowing pitifully, and miss +their master. + +Battus. Yes, wretched beasts that they are, how false a neatherd was +theirs! + +Corydon. Wretched enough in truth, and they have no more care to +pasture. + +Battus. Nothing is left, now, of that heifer, look you, bones, +that's all. She does not live on dewdrops, does she, like the +grasshopper? + +Corydon. No, by Earth, for sometimes I take her to graze by the +banks of Aesarus, fair handfuls of fresh grass I give her too, and +otherwhiles she wantons in the deep shade round Latymnus. + +Battus. How lean is the red bull too! May the sons of Lampriades, +the burghers to wit, get such another for their sacrifice to Hera, +for the township is an ill neighbour. + +Corydon. And yet that bull is driven to the mere's mouth, and to the +meadows of Physcus, and to the Neaethus, where all fair herbs bloom, +red goat-wort, and endive, and fragrant bees-wort. + +Battus. Ah, wretched Aegon, thy very kine will go to Hades, while +thou too art in love with a luckless victory, and thy pipe is flecked +with mildew, the pipe that once thou madest for thyself! + +Corydon. Not the pipe, by the nymphs, not so, for when he went to +Pisa, he left the same as a gift to me, and I am something of a +player. Well can I strike up the air of Glauce and well the strain +of Pyrrhus, and the praise of Croton I sing, and Zacynthus is a +goodly town, and Lacinium that fronts the dawn! There Aegon the +boxer, unaided, devoured eighty cakes to his own share, and there he +caught the bull by the hoof, and brought him from the mountain, and +gave him to Amaryllis. Thereon the women shrieked aloud, and the +neatherd,--he burst out laughing. + +Battus. Ah, gracious Amaryllis! Thee alone even in death will we +ne'er forget. Dear to me as my goats wert thou, and thou art dead! +Alas, too cruel a spirit hath my lot in his keeping. + +Corydon. Dear Battus, thou must needs be comforted. The morrow +perchance will bring better fortune. The living may hope, the dead +alone are hopeless. Zeus now shows bright and clear, and anon he +rains. + +Battus. Enough of thy comforting! Drive the calves from the lower +ground, the cursed beasts are grazing on the olive-shoots. Hie on, +white face. + +Corydon. Out, Cymaetha, get thee to the hill! Dost thou not hear? +By Pan, I will soon come and be the death of you, if you stay there! +Look, here she is creeping back again! Would I had my crook for hare +killing: how I would cudgel thee. + +Battus. In the name of Zeus, prithee look here, Corydon! A thorn +has just run into my foot under the ankle. How deep they grow, the +arrow-headed thorns. An ill end befall the heifer; I was pricked +when I was gaping after her. Prithee dost see it? + +Corydon. Yes, yes, and I have caught it in my nails, see, here it +is. + +Battus. How tiny is the wound, and how tall a man it masters! + +Corydon. When thou goest to the hill, go not barefoot, Battus, for +on the hillside flourish thorns and brambles plenty. + +Battus. Come, tell me, Corydon, the old man now, does he still run +after that little black-browed darling whom he used to dote on? + +Corydon. He is after her still, my lad; but yesterday I came upon +them, by the very byre, and right loving were they. + +Battus. Well done, thou ancient lover! Sure, thou art near akin to +the satyrs, or a rival of the slim-shanked Pans! {26} + + + +IDYL V + + + +This Idyl begins with a ribald debate between two hirelings, who, at +last, compete with each other in a match of pastoral song. No other +idyl of Theocritus is so frankly true to the rough side of rustic +manners. The scene is in Southern Italy. + +Comatas. Goats of mine, keep clear of that notorious shepherd of +Sibyrtas, that Lacon; he stole my goat-skin yesterday. + +Lacon. Will ye never leave the well-head? Off, my lambs, see ye not +Comatas; him that lately stole my shepherd's pipe? + +Comatas. What manner of pipe might that be, for when gat'st THOU a +pipe, thou slave of Sibyrtas? Why does it no more suffice thee to +keep a flute of straw, and whistle with Corydon? + +Lacon. What pipe, free sir? why, the pipe that Lycon gave me. And +what manner of goat-skin hadst thou, that Lacon made off with? Tell +me, Comatas, for truly even thy master, Eumarides, had never a goat- +skin to sleep in. + +Comatas. 'Twas the skin that Crocylus gave me, the dappled one, when +he sacrificed the she-goat to the nymphs; but thou, wretch, even then +wert wasting with envy, and now, at last, thou hast stripped me bare! + +Lacon. Nay verily, so help me Pan of the seashore, it was not Lacon +the son of Calaethis that filched the coat of skin. If I lie, +sirrah, may I leap frenzied down this rock into the Crathis! + +Comatas. Nay verily, my friend, so help me these nymphs of the mere +(and ever may they be favourable, as now, and kind to me), it was not +Comatas that pilfered thy pipe. + +Lacon. If I believe thee, may I suffer the afflictions of Daphnis! +But see, if thou carest to stake a kid--though indeed 'tis scarce +worth my while--then, go to, I will sing against thee, and cease not, +till thou dust cry 'enough!' + +Comatas. The sow defied Athene! See, there is staked the kid, go +to, do thou too put a fatted lamb against him, for thy stake. + +Lacon. Thou fox, and where would be our even betting then? Who ever +chose hair to shear, in place of wool? and who prefers to milk a +filthy bitch, when he can have a she-goat, nursing her first kid? + +Comatas. Why, he that deems himself as sure of getting the better of +his neighbour as thou dost, a wasp that buzzes against the cicala. +But as it is plain thou thinkst the kid no fair stake, lo, here is +this he-goat. Begin the match! + +Lacon. No such haste, thou art not on fire! More sweetly wilt thou +sing, if thou wilt sit down beneath the wild olive tree, and the +groves in this place. Chill water falls there, drop by drop, here +grows the grass, and here a leafy bed is strown, and here the locusts +prattle. + +Comatas. Nay, no whit am I in haste, but I am sorely vexed, that +thou shouldst dare to look me straight in the face, thou whom I used +to teach while thou wert still a child. See where gratitude goes! +As well rear wolf-whelps, breed hounds, that they may devour thee! + +Lacon. And what good thing have I to remember that I ever learned or +heard from thee, thou envious thing, thou mere hideous manikin! + +* * * + +But come this way, come, and thou shalt sing thy last of country +song. + +Comatas. That way I will not go! Here be oak trees, and here the +galingale, and sweetly here hum the bees about the hives. There are +two wells of chill water, and on the tree the birds are warbling, and +the shadow is beyond compare with that where thou liest, and from on +high the pine tree pelts us with her cones. + +Lacon. Nay, but lambs' wool, truly, and fleeces, shalt thou tread +here, if thou wilt but come,--fleeces more soft than sleep, but the +goat-skins beside thee stink--worse than thyself. And I will set a +great bowl of white milk for the nymphs, and another will I offer of +sweet olive oil. + +Comatas. Nay, but an if thou wilt come, thou shalt tread here the +soft feathered fern, and flowering thyme, and beneath thee shall be +strown the skins of she-goats, four times more soft than the fleeces +of thy lambs. And I will set out eight bowls of milk for Pan, and +eight bowls full of the richest honeycombs. + +Lacon. Thence, where thou art, I pray thee, begin the match, and +there sing thy country song, tread thine own ground and keep thine +oaks to thyself. But who, who shall judge between us? Would that +Lycopas, the neatherd, might chance to come this way! + +Comatas. I want nothing with him, but that man, if thou wilt, that +woodcutter we will call, who is gathering those tufts of heather near +thee. It is Morson. + +Lacon. Let us shout, then! + +Comatas. Call thou to him. + +Lacon. Ho, friend, come hither and listen for a little while, for we +two have a match to prove which is the better singer of country song. +So Morson, my friend, neither judge me too kindly, no, nor show him +favour. + +Comatas. Yes, dear Morson, for the nymphs' sake neither lean in thy +judgment to Comatas, nor, prithee, favour HIM. The flock of sheep +thou seest here belongs to Sibyrtas of Thurii, and the goats, friend, +that thou beholdest are the goats of Eumarides of Sybaris. + +Lacon. Now, in the name of Zeus did any one ask thee, thou make- +mischief, who owned the flock, I or Sibyrtas? What a chatterer thou +art! + +Comatas. Best of men, I am for speaking the whole truth, and +boasting never, but thou art too fond of cutting speeches. + +Lacon. Come, say whatever thou hast to say, and let the stranger get +home to the city alive; oh, Paean, what a babbler thou art, Comatas! + + +THE SINGING MATCH. + + +Comatas. The Muses love me better far than the minstrel Daphnis; but +a little while ago I sacrificed two young she-goats to the Muses. + +Lacon. Yea, and me too Apollo loves very dearly, and a noble ram I +rear for Apollo, for the feast of the Carnea, look you, is drawing +nigh. + +Comatas. The she-goats that I milk have all borne twins save two. +The maiden saw me, and 'alas,' she cried, 'dost thou milk alone?' + +Lacon. Ah, ah, but Lacon here hath nigh twenty baskets full of +cheese, and Lacon lies with his darling in the flowers! + +Comatas. Clearista, too, pelts the goatherd with apples as he drives +past his she-goats, and a sweet word she murmurs. + +Lacon. And wild with love am I too, for my fair young darling, that +meets the shepherd, with the bright hair floating round the shapely +neck. + +Comatas. Nay, ye may not liken dog-roses to the rose, or wind- +flowers to the roses of the garden; by the garden walls their beds +are blossoming. + +Lacon. Nay, nor wild apples to acorns, for acorns are bitter in the +oaken rind, but apples are sweet as honey. + +Comatas. Soon will I give my maiden a ring-dove for a gift; I will +take it from the juniper tree, for there it is brooding. + +Lacon. But I will give my darling a soft fleece to make a cloak, a +free gift, when I shear the black ewe. + +Comatas. Forth from the wild olive, my bleating she-goats, feed here +where the hillside slopes, and the tamarisks grove. + +Lacon. Conarus there, and Cynaetha, will you never leave the oak? +Graze here, where Phalarus feeds, where the hillside fronts the dawn. + +Comatas. Ay, and I have a vessel of cypress wood, and a mixing bowl, +the work of Praxiteles, and I hoard them for my maiden. + +Lacon. I too have a dog that loves the flock, the dog to strangle +wolves; him I am giving to my darling to chase all manner of wild +beasts. + +Comatas. Ye locusts that overleap our fence, see that ye harm not +our vines, for our vines are young. + +Lacon. Ye cicalas, see how I make the goatherd chafe: even so, +methinks, do ye vex the reapers. + +Comatas. I hate the foxes, with their bushy brushes, that ever come +at evening, and eat the grapes of Micon. + +Lacon. And I hate the lady-birds that devour the figs of Philondas, +and flit down the wind. + +Comatas. Dost thou not remember how I cudgelled thee, and thou didst +grin and nimbly writhe, and catch hold of yonder oak? + +Lacon. That I have no memory of, but how Eumarides bound thee there, +upon a time, and flogged thee through and through, that I do very +well remember. + +Comatas. Already, Morson, some one is waxing bitter, dust thou see +no sign of it? Go, go, and pluck, forthwith, the squills from some +old wife's grave. + +Lacon. And I too, Morson, I make some one chafe, and thou dost +perceive it. Be off now to the Hales stream, and dig cyclamen. + +Comatas. Let Himera flow with milk instead of water, and thou, +Crathis, run red with wine, and all thy reeds bear apples. + +Lacon. Would that the fount of Sybaris may flow with honey, and may +the maiden's pail, at dawning, be dipped, not in water, but in the +honeycomb. + +Comatas. My goats eat cytisus, and goatswort, and tread the lentisk +shoots, and lie at ease among the arbutus. + +Lacon. But my ewes have honey-wort to feed on, and luxuriant +creepers flower around, as fair as roses. + +Comatas. I love not Alcippe, for yesterday she did not kiss me, and +take my face between her hands, when I gave her the dove. + +Lacon. But deeply I love my darling, for a kind kiss once I got, in +return for the gift of a shepherd's pipe. + +Comatas. Lacon, it never was right that pyes should contend with the +nightingale, nor hoopoes with swans, but thou, unhappy swain, art +ever for contention. + +Morson's Judgement. I bid the shepherd cease. But to thee, Comatas, +Morson presents the lamb. And thou, when thou hast sacrificed her to +the nymphs, send Morson, anon, a goodly portion of her flesh. + +Comatas. I will, by Pan. Now leap, and snort, my he-goats, all the +herd of you, and see here how loud I ever will laugh, and exult over +Lacon, the shepherd, for that, at last, I have won the lamb. See, I +will leap sky high with joy. Take heart, my horned goats, to-morrow +I will dip you all in the fountain of Sybaris. Thou white he-goat, I +will beat thee if thou dare to touch one of the herd before I +sacrifice the lamb to the nymphs. There he is at it again! Call me +Melanthius, {34} not Comatas, if I do not cudgel thee. + + + +IDYL VI + + + +Daphnis and Damoetas, two herdsmen of the golden age, meet by a well- +side, and sing a match, their topic is the Cyclops, Polyphemus, and +his love for the sea-nymph, Galatea. + +The scene is in Sicily. + +Damoetas, and Daphnis the herdsman, once on a time, Aratus, led the +flock together into one place. Golden was the down on the chin of +one, the beard of the other was half-grown, and by a well-head the +twain sat them down, in the summer noon, and thus they sang. 'Twas +Daphnis that began the singing, for the challenge had come from +Daphnis. + +Daphnis's Song of the Cyclops. + +Galatea is pelting thy flock with apples, Polyphemus, she says the +goatherd is a laggard lover! And thou dost not glance at her, oh +hard, hard that thou art, but still thou sittest at thy sweet piping. +Ah see, again, she is pelting thy dog, that follows thee to watch thy +sheep. He barks, as he looks into the brine, and now the beautiful +waves that softly plash reveal him, {36} as he runs upon the shore. +Take heed that he leap not on the maiden's limbs as she rises from +the salt water, see that he rend not her lovely body! Ah, thence +again, see, she is wantoning, light as dry thistle-down in the +scorching summer weather. She flies when thou art wooing her; when +thou woo'st not she pursues thee, she plays out all her game and +leaves her king unguarded. For truly to Love, Polyphemus, many a +time doth foul seem fair! + +He ended and Damoetas touched a prelude to his sweet song. + +I saw her, by Pan, I saw her when she was pelting my flock. Nay, she +escaped not me, escaped not my one dear eye,--wherewith I shall see +to my life's end,--let Telemus the soothsayer, that prophesies +hateful things, hateful things take home, to keep them for his +children! But it is all to torment her, that I, in my turn, give not +back her glances, pretending that I have another love. To hear this +makes her jealous of me, by Paean, and she wastes with pain, and +springs madly from the sea, gazing at my caves and at my herds. And +I hiss on my dog to bark at her, for when I loved Galatea he would +whine with joy, and lay his muzzle on her lap. Perchance when she +marks how I use her she will send me many a messenger, but on her +envoys I will shut my door till she promises that herself will make a +glorious bridal-bed on this island for me. For in truth, I am not so +hideous as they say! But lately I was looking into the sea, when all +was calm; beautiful seemed my beard, beautiful my one eye--as I count +beauty--and the sea reflected the gleam of my teeth whiter than the +Parian stone. Then, all to shun the evil eye, did I spit thrice in +my breast; for this spell was taught me by the crone, Cottytaris, +that piped of yore to the reapers in Hippocoon's field. + +Then Damoetas kissed Daphnis, as he ended his song, and he gave +Daphnis a pipe, and Daphnis gave him a beautiful flute. Damoetas +fluted, and Daphnis piped, the herdsman,--and anon the calves were +dancing in the soft green grass. Neither won the victory, but both +were invincible. + + + +IDYL VII + + + +The poet making his way through the noonday heat, with two friends, +to a harvest feast, meets the goatherd, Lycidas. To humour the poet +Lycidas sings a love song of his own, and the other replies with +verses about the passion of Aratus, the famous writer of didactic +verse. After a courteous parting from Lycidas, the poet and his two +friends repair to the orchard, where Demeter is being gratified with +the first-fruits of harvest and vintaging. + +In this idyl, Theocritus, speaking of himself by the name of +Simichidas, alludes to his teachers in poetry, and, perhaps, to some +of the literary quarrels of the time. + +The scene is in the isle of Cos. G. Hermann fancied that the scene +was in Lucania, and Mr. W. R. Paton thinks he can identify the places +named by the aid of inscriptions (Classical Review, ii. 8, 265). See +also Rayet, Memoire sur l'ile de Cos, p. 18, Paris, 1876. + +The Harvest Feast. + +It fell upon a time when Eucritus and I were walking from the city to +the Hales water, and Amyntas was the third in our company. The +harvest-feast of Deo was then being held by Phrasidemus and +Antigenes, two sons of Lycopeus (if aught there be of noble and old +descent), whose lineage dates from Clytia, and Chalcon himself-- +Chalcon, beneath whose foot the fountain sprang, the well of Burine. +He set his knee stoutly against the rock, and straightway by the +spring poplars and elm trees showed a shadowy glade, arched overhead +they grew, and pleached with leaves of green. We had not yet reached +the mid-point of the way, nor was the tomb of Brasilas yet risen upon +our sight, when,--thanks be to the Muses--we met a certain wayfarer, +the best of men, a Cydonian. Lycidas was his name, a goatherd was +he, nor could any that saw him have taken him for other than he was, +for all about him bespoke the goatherd. Stripped from the roughest +of he-goats was the tawny skin he wore on his shoulders, the smell of +rennet clinging to it still, and about his breast an old cloak was +buckled with a plaited belt, and in his right hand he carried a +crooked staff of wild olive: and quietly he accosted me, with a +smile, a twinkling eye, and a laugh still on his lips:- + +'Simichidas, whither, pray, through the noon dost thou trail thy +feet, when even the very lizard on the rough stone wall is sleeping, +and the crested larks no longer fare afield? Art thou hastening to a +feast, a bidden guest, or art thou for treading a townsman's wine- +press? For such is thy speed that every stone upon the way spins +singing from thy boots!' + +'Dear Lycidas,' I answered him, 'they all say that thou among +herdsmen, yea, and reapers art far the chiefest flute-player. In +sooth this greatly rejoices our hearts, and yet, to my conceit, +meseems I can vie with thee. But as to this journey, we are going to +the harvest-feast, for, look you some friends of ours are paying a +festival to fair-robed Demeter, out of the first-fruits of their +increase, for verily in rich measure has the goddess filled their +threshing-floor with barley grain. But come, for the way and the day +are thine alike and mine, come, let us vie in pastoral song, +perchance each will make the other delight. For I, too, am a clear- +voiced mouth of the Muses, and they all call me the best of +minstrels, but I am not so credulous; no, by Earth, for to my mind I +cannot as yet conquer in song that great Sicelidas--the Samian--nay, +nor yet Philetas. 'Tis a match of frog against cicala!' + +So I spoke, to win my end, and the goatherd with his sweet laugh, +said, 'I give thee this staff, because thou art a sapling of Zeus, +and in thee is no guile. For as I hate your builders that try to +raise a house as high as the mountain summit of Oromedon, {40} so I +hate all birds of the Muses that vainly toil with their cackling +notes against the Minstrel of Chios! But come, Simichidas, without +more ado let us begin the pastoral song. And I--nay, see friend--if +it please thee at all, this ditty that I lately fashioned on the +mountain side!' + +The Song of Lycidas. + +Fair voyaging befall Ageanax to Mytilene, both when the Kids are +westering, and the south wind the wet waves chases, and when Orion +holds his feet above the Ocean! Fair voyaging betide him, if he +saves Lycidas from the fire of Aphrodite, for hot is the love that +consumes me. + +The halcyons will lull the waves, and lull the deep, and the south +wind, and the east, that stirs the sea-weeds on the farthest shores, +{41} the halcyons that are dearest to the green-haired mermaids, of +all the birds that take their prey from the salt sea. Let all things +smile on Ageanax to Mytilene sailing, and may he come to a friendly +haven. And I, on that day, will go crowned with anise, or with a +rosy wreath, or a garland of white violets, and the fine wine of +Ptelea I will dip from the bowl as I lie by the fire, while one shall +roast beans for me, in the embers. And elbow-deep shall the flowery +bed be thickly strewn, with fragrant leaves and with asphodel, and +with curled parsley; and softly will I drink, toasting Ageanax with +lips clinging fast to the cup, and draining it even to the lees. + +Two shepherds shall be my flute-players, one from Acharnae, one from +Lycope, and hard by Tityrus shall sing, how the herdsman Daphnis once +loved a strange maiden, and how on the hill he wandered, and how the +oak trees sang his dirge--the oaks that grow by the banks of the +river Himeras--while he was wasting like any snow under high Haemus, +or Athos, or Rhodope, or Caucasus at the world's end. + +And he shall sing how, once upon a time, the great chest prisoned the +living goatherd, by his lord's infatuate and evil will, and how the +blunt-faced bees, as they came up from the meadow to the fragrant +cedar chest, fed him with food of tender flowers, because the Muse +still dropped sweet nectar on his lips. {42} + +O blessed Comatas, surely these joyful things befell thee, and thou +wast enclosed within the chest, and feeding on the honeycomb through +the springtime didst thou serve out thy bondage. Ah, would that in +my days thou hadst been numbered with the living, how gladly on the +hills would I have herded thy pretty she-goats, and listened to thy +voice, whilst thou, under oaks or pine trees lying, didst sweetly +sing, divine Comatas! + +When he had chanted thus much he ceased, and I followed after him +again, with some such words as these:- + +'Dear Lycidas, many another song the Nymphs have taught me also, as I +followed my herds upon the hillside, bright songs that Rumour, +perchance, has brought even to the throne of Zeus. But of them all +this is far the most excellent, wherewith I will begin to do thee +honour: nay listen as thou art dear to the Muses.' + +The Song of Simichidas. + +For Simichidas the Loves have sneezed, for truly the wretch loves +Myrto as dearly as goats love the spring. {43} But Aratus, far the +dearest of my friends, deep, deep his heart he keeps Desire,--and +Aratus's love is young! Aristis knows it, an honourable man, nay of +men the best, whom even Phoebus would permit to stand and sing lyre +in hand, by his tripods. Aristis knows how deeply love is burning +Aratus to the bone. Ah, Pan, thou lord of the beautiful plain of +Homole, bring, I pray thee, the darling of Aratus unbidden to his +arms, whosoe'er it be that he loves. If this thou dost, dear Pan, +then never may the boys of Arcady flog thy sides and shoulders with +stinging herbs, when scanty meats are left them on thine altar. But +if thou shouldst otherwise decree, then may all thy skin be frayed +and torn with thy nails, yea, and in nettles mayst thou couch! In +the hills of the Edonians mayst thou dwell in mid-winter time, by the +river Hebrus, close neighbour to the Polar star! But in summer mayst +thou range with the uttermost AEthiopians beneath the rock of the +Blemyes, whence Nile no more is seen. + +And you, leave ye the sweet fountain of Hyetis and Byblis, and ye +that dwell in the steep home of golden Dione, ye Loves as rosy as red +apples, strike me with your arrows, the desired, the beloved; strike, +for that ill-starred one pities not my friend, my host! And yet +assuredly the pear is over-ripe, and the maidens cry 'alas, alas, thy +fair bloom fades away!' + +Come, no more let us mount guard by these gates, Aratus, nor wear our +feet away with knocking there. Nay, let the crowing of the morning +cock give others over to the bitter cold of dawn. Let Molon alone, +my friend, bear the torment at that school of passion! For us, let +us secure a quiet life, and some old crone to spit on us for luck, +and so keep all unlovely things away. + +Thus I sang, and sweetly smiling, as before, he gave me the staff, a +pledge of brotherhood in the Muses. Then he bent his way to the +left, and took the road to Pyxa, while I and Eucritus, with beautiful +Amyntas, turned to the farm of Phrasidemus. There we reclined on +deep beds of fragrant lentisk, lowly strown, and rejoicing we lay in +new stript leaves of the vine. And high above our heads waved many a +poplar, many an elm tree, while close at hand the sacred water from +the nymphs' own cave welled forth with murmurs musical. On shadowy +boughs the burnt cicalas kept their chattering toil, far off the +little owl cried in the thick thorn brake, the larks and finches were +singing, the ring-dove moaned, the yellow bees were flitting about +the springs. All breathed the scent of the opulent summer, of the +season of fruits; pears at our feet and apples by our sides were +rolling plentiful, the tender branches, with wild plums laden, were +earthward bowed, and the four-year-old pitch seal was loosened from +the mouth of the wine-jars. + +Ye nymphs of Castaly that hold the steep of Parnassus, say, was it +ever a bowl like this that old Chiron set before Heracles in the +rocky cave of Pholus? Was it nectar like this that beguiled the +shepherd to dance and foot it about his folds, the shepherd that +dwelt by Anapus, on a time, the strong Polyphemus who hurled at ships +with mountains? Had these ever such a draught as ye nymphs bade flow +for us by the altar of Demeter of the threshing-floor? + +Ah, once again may I plant the great fan on her corn-heap, while she +stands smiling by, with sheaves and poppies in her hands. + + + +IDYL VIII + + + +The scene is among the high mountain pastures of Sicily:- + +'On the sword, at the cliff top +Lie strewn the white flocks,' + +and far below shines and murmurs the Sicilian sea. Here Daphnis and +Menalcas, two herdsmen of the golden age, meet, while still in their +earliest youth, and contend for the prize of pastoral. Their songs, +in elegiac measure, are variations on the themes of love and +friendship (for Menalcas sings of Milon, Daphnis of Nais), and of +nature. Daphnis is the winner,- it is his earliest victory, and the +prelude to his great renown among nymphs and shepherds. In this +version the strophes are arranged as in Fritzsche's text. Some +critics take the poem to be a patchwork by various hands. + +As beautiful Daphnis was following his kine, and Menalcas shepherding +his flock, they met, as men tell, on the long ranges of the hills. +The beards of both had still the first golden bloom, both were in +their earliest youth, both were pipe-players skilled, both skilled in +song. Then first Menalcas, looking at Daphnis, thus bespoke him. + +'Daphnis, thou herdsman of the lowing kine, art thou minded to sing a +match with me? Methinks I shall vanquish thee, when I sing in turn, +as readily as I please.' + +Then Daphnis answered him again in this wise, 'Thou shepherd of the +fleecy sheep, Menalcas, the pipe-player, never wilt thou vanquish me +in song, not thou, if thou shouldst sing till some evil thing befall +thee!' + +Menalcas. Dost thou care then, to try this and see, dost thou care +to risk a stake? + +Daphnis. I do care to try this and see, a stake I am ready to risk. + +Menalcas. But what shall we stake, what pledge shall we find equal +and sufficient? + +Daphnis. I will pledge a calf, and do thou put down a lamb, one that +has grown to his mother's height. + +Menalcas. Nay, never will I stake a lamb, for stern is my father, +and stern my mother, and they number all the sheep at evening. + +Daphnis. But what, then, wilt thou lay, and where is to be the +victor's gain? + +Menalcas. The pipe, the fair pipe with nine stops, that I made +myself, fitted with white wax, and smoothed evenly, above as below. +This would I readily wager, but never will I stake aught that is my +father's. + +Daphnis. See then, I too, in truth, have a pipe with nine stops, +fitted with white wax, and smoothed evenly, above as below. But +lately I put it together, and this finger still aches, where the reed +split, and cut it deeply. + +Menalcas. But who is to judge between us, who will listen to our +singing? + +Daphnis. That goatherd yonder, he will do, if we call him hither, +the man for whom that dog, a black hound with a white patch, is +barking among the kids. + +Then the boys called aloud, and the goatherd gave ear, and came, and +the boys began to sing, and the goatherd was willing to be their +umpire. And first Menalcas sang (for he drew the lot) the sweet- +voiced Menalcas, and Daphnis took up the answering strain of pastoral +song--and 'twas thus Menalcas began: + +Menalcas. Ye glades, ye rivers, issue of the Gods, if ever Menalcas +the flute-player sang a song ye loved, to please him, feed his lambs; +and if ever Daphnis come hither with his calves, nay he have no less +a boon. + +Daphnis. Ye wells and pastures, sweet growth o' the world, if +Daphnis sings like the nightingales, do ye fatten this herd of his, +and if Menalcas hither lead a flock, may he too have pasture +ungrudging to his full desire! + +Menalcas. There doth the ewe bear twins, and there the goats; there +the bees fill the hives, and there oaks grow loftier than common, +wheresoever beautiful Milon's feet walk wandering; ah, if he depart, +then withered and lean is the shepherd, and lean the pastures + +Daphnis. Everywhere is spring, and pastures everywhere, and +everywhere the cows' udders are swollen with milk, and the younglings +are fostered, wheresoever fair Nais roams; ah, if she depart, then +parched are the kine, and he that feeds them! + +Menalcas. O bearded goat, thou mate of the white herd, and O ye +blunt-faced kids, where are the manifold deeps of the forest, thither +get ye to the water, for thereby is Milon; go, thou hornless goat, +and say to him, 'Milon, Proteus was a herdsman, and that of seals, +though he was a god.' + +Daphnis. . . . + +Menalcas. Not mine be the land of Pelops, not mine to own talents of +gold, nay, nor mine to outrun the speed of the winds! Nay, but +beneath this rock will I sing, with thee in mine arms, and watch our +flocks feeding together, and, before us, the Sicilian sea. + +Daphnis . . . . + +Menalcas . . . . + +Daphnis. Tempest is the dread pest of the trees, drought of the +waters, snares of the birds, and the hunter's net of the wild beasts, +but ruinous to man is the love of a delicate maiden. O father, O +Zeus, I have not been the only lover, thou too hast longed for a +mortal woman. + +Thus the boys sang in verses amoebaean, and thus Menalcas began the +crowning lay: + +Menalcas. Wolf, spare the kids, spare the mothers of my herd, and +harm not me, so young as I am to tend so great a flock. Ah, +Lampurus, my dog, dost thou then sleep so soundly? a dog should not +sleep so sound, that helps a boyish shepherd. Ewes of mine, spare ye +not to take your fill of the tender herb, ye shall not weary, 'ere +all this grass grows again. Hist, feed on, feed on, fill, all of +you, your udders, that there may be milk for the lambs, and somewhat +for me to store away in the cheese-crates. + +Then Daphnis followed again, and sweetly preluded to his singing: + +Daphnis. Me, even me, from the cave, the girl with meeting eyebrows +spied yesterday as I was driving past my calves, and she cried, 'How +fair, how fair he is!' But I answered her never the word of railing, +but cast down my eyes, and plodded on my way. + +Sweet is the voice of the heifer, sweet her breath, {50} sweet to lie +beneath the sky in summer, by running water. + +Acorns are the pride of the oak, apples of the apple tree, the calf +of the heifer, and the neatherd glories in his kine. + +So sang the lads; and the goatherd thus bespoke them, 'Sweet is thy +mouth, O Daphnis, and delectable thy song! Better is it to listen to +thy singing, than to taste the honeycomb. Take thou the pipe, for +thou hast conquered in the singing match. Ah, if thou wilt but teach +some lay, even to me, as I tend the goats beside thee, this blunt- +horned she-goat will I give thee, for the price of thy teaching, this +she-goat that ever fills the milking pail above the brim.' + +Then was the boy as glad,--and leaped high, and clapped his hands +over his victory,--as a young fawn leaps about his mother. + +But the heart of the other was wasted with grief, and desolate, even +as a maiden sorrows that is newly wed. + +From this time Daphnis became the foremost among the shepherds, and +while yet in his earliest youth, he wedded the nymph Nais. + + + +IDYL IX + + + +Daphnis and Menalcas, at the bidding of the poet, sing the joys of +the neatherds and of the shepherds life. Both receive the thanks of +the poet, and rustic prizes--a staff and a horn, made of a spiral +shell. Doubts have been expressed as to the authenticity of the +prelude and concluding verses. The latter breathe all Theocritus's +enthusiastic love of song. + +Sing, Daphnis, a pastoral lay, do thou first begin the song, the song +begin, O Daphnis; but let Menalcas join in the strain, when ye have +mated the heifers and their calves, the barren kine and the bulls. +Let them all pasture together, let them wander in the coppice, but +never leave the herd. Chant thou for me, first, and on the other +side let Menalcas reply. + +Daphnis. Ah, sweetly lows the calf, and sweetly the heifer, sweetly +sounds the neatherd with his pipe, and sweetly also I! My bed of +leaves is strown by the cool water, and thereon are heaped fair skins +from the white calves that were all browsing upon the arbutus, on a +time, when the south-west wind dashed me them from the height. + +And thus I heed no more the scorching summer, than a lover cares to +heed the words of father or of mother. + +So Daphnis sang to me, and thus, in turn, did Menalcas sing. + +Menalcas. Aetna, mother mine, I too dwell in a beautiful cavern in +the chamber of the rock, and, lo, all the wealth have I that we +behold in dreams; ewes in plenty and she-goats abundant, their +fleeces are strown beneath my head and feet. In the fire of oak- +faggots puddings are hissing-hot, and dry beech-nuts roast therein, +in the wintry weather, and, truly, for the winter season I care not +even so much as a toothless man does for walnuts, when rich pottage +is beside him. + +Then I clapped my hands in their honour, and instantly gave each a +gift, to Daphnis a staff that grew in my father's close, self-shapen, +yet so straight, that perchance even a craftsman could have found no +fault in it. To the other I gave a goodly spiral shell, the meat +that filled it once I had eaten after stalking the fish on the +Icarian rocks (I cut it into five shares for five of us),--and +Menalcas blew a blast on the shell. + +Ye pastoral Muses, farewell! Bring ye into the light the song that I +sang there to these shepherds on that day! Never let the pimple grow +on my tongue-tip. {53} + +Cicala to cicala is dear, and ant to ant, and hawks to hawks, but to +me the Muse and song. Of song may all my dwelling be full, for sleep +is not more sweet, nor sudden spring, nor flowers are more delicious +to the bees--so dear to me are the Muses. {54} Whom they look on in +happy hour, Circe hath never harmed with her enchanted potion. + + + +IDYL X--THE REAPERS + + + +This is an idyl of the same genre as Idyl IV. The sturdy reaper, +Milon, as he levels the swathes of corn, derides his languid and +love-worn companion, Buttus. The latter defends his gipsy love in +verses which have been the keynote of much later poetry, and which +echo in the fourth book of Lucretius, and in the Misanthrope of +Moliere. Milon replies with the song of Lityerses--a string, +apparently, of popular rural couplets, such as Theocritus may have +heard chanted in the fields. + +Milan. Thou toilsome clod; what ails thee now, thou wretched fellow? +Canst thou neither cut thy swathe straight, as thou wert wont to do, +nor keep time with thy neighbour in thy reaping, but thou must fall +out, like an ewe that is foot-pricked with a thorn and straggles from +the herd? What manner of man wilt thou prove after mid-noon, and at +evening, thou that dost not prosper with thy swathe when thou art +fresh begun? + +Battus. Milon, thou that canst toil till late, thou chip of the +stubborn stone, has it never befallen thee to long for one that was +not with thee? + +Milan. Never! What has a labouring man to do with hankering after +what he has not got? + +Battus. Then it never befell thee to lie awake for love? + +Milan. Forbid it; 'tis an ill thing to let the dog once taste of +pudding. + +Battus. But I, Milon, am in love for almost eleven days! + +Milan. 'Tis easily seen that thou drawest from a wine-cask, while +even vinegar is scarce with me. + +Battus. And for Love's sake, the fields before my doors are untilled +since seed-time. + +Milan. But which of the girls afflicts thee so? + +Battus. The daughter of Polybotas, she that of late was wont to pipe +to the reapers on Hippocoon's farm. + +Milan. God has found out the guilty! Thou hast what thou'st long +been seeking, that grasshopper of a girl will lie by thee the night +long! + +Battus. Thou art beginning thy mocks of me, but Plutus is not the +only blind god; he too is blind, the heedless Love! Beware of +talking big. + +Milan. Talk big I do not! Only see that thou dust level the corn, +and strike up some love-ditty in the wench's praise. More pleasantly +thus wilt thou labour, and, indeed, of old thou wert a melodist. + +Battus. Ye Muses Pierian, sing ye with me the slender maiden, for +whatsoever ye do but touch, ye goddesses, ye make wholly fair. + +They all call thee a GIPSY, gracious Bombyca, and LEAN, and SUNBURNT, +'tis only I that call thee HONEY-PALE. + +Yea, and the violet is swart, and swart the lettered hyacinth, but +yet these flowers are chosen the first in garlands. + +The goat runs after cytisus, the wolf pursues the goat, the crane +follows the plough, but I am wild for love of thee. + +Would it were mine, all the wealth whereof once Croesus was lord, as +men tell! Then images of us twain, all in gold, should be dedicated +to Aphrodite, thou with thy flute, and a rose, yea, or an apple, and +I in fair attire, and new shoon of Amyclae on both my feet. + +Ah gracious Bombyca, thy feet are fashioned like carven ivory, thy +voice is drowsy sweet, and thy ways, I cannot tell of them! {57} + +Milan. Verily our clown was a maker of lovely songs, and we knew it +not! How well he meted out and shaped his harmony; woe is me for the +beard that I have grown, all in vain! Come, mark thou too these +lines of godlike Lityerses + +THE LITYERSES SONG. + +Demeter, rich in fruit, and rich in grain, may this corn be easy to +win, and fruitful exceedingly! + +Bind, ye bandsters, the sheaves, lest the wayfarer should cry, 'Men +of straw were the workers here, ay, and their hire was wasted!' + +See that the cut stubble faces the North wind, or the West, 'tis thus +the grain waxes richest. + +They that thresh corn should shun the noon-day steep; at noon the +chaff parts easiest from the straw. + +As for the reapers, let them begin when the crested lark is waking, +and cease when he sleeps, but take holiday in the heat. + +Lads, the frog has a jolly life, he is not cumbered about a butler to +his drink, for he has liquor by him unstinted! + +Boil the lentils better, thou miserly steward; take heed lest thou +chop thy fingers, when thou'rt splitting cumin-seed. + +'Tis thus that men should sing who labour i' the sun, but thy +starveling love, thou clod, 'twere fit to tell to thy mother when she +stirs in bed at dawning. + + + +IDYL XI--THE CYCLOPS IN LOVE + + + +Nicias, the physician and poet, being in love, Theocritus reminds him +that in song lies the only remedy. It was by song, he says, that the +Cyclops, Polyphemus, got him some ease, when he was in love with +Galatea, the sea-nymph. + +The idyl displays, in the most graceful manner, the Alexandrian taste +for turning Greek mythology into love stories. No creature could be +more remote from love than the original Polyphemus, the cannibal +giant of the Odyssey. + +There is none other medicine, Nicias, against Love, neither unguent, +methinks, nor salve to sprinkle,--none, save the Muses of Pieria! +Now a delicate thing is their minstrelsy in man's life, and a sweet, +but hard to procure. Methinks thou know'st this well, who art +thyself a leech, and beyond all men art plainly dear to the Muses +nine. + +'Twas surely thus the Cyclops fleeted his life most easily, he that +dwelt among us,--Polyphemus of old time,--when the beard was yet +young on his cheek and chin; and he loved Galatea. He loved, not +with apples, not roses, nor locks of hair, but with fatal frenzy, and +all things else he held but trifles by the way. Many a time from the +green pastures would his ewes stray back, self-shepherded, to the +fold. But he was singing of Galatea, and pining in his place he sat +by the sea-weed of the beach, from the dawn of day, with the direst +hurt beneath his breast of mighty Cypris's sending,--the wound of her +arrow in his heart! + +Yet this remedy he found, and sitting on the crest of the tall cliff, +and looking to the deep, 'twas thus he would sing:- + +Song of the Cyclops. + +O milk-white Galatea, why cast off him that loves thee? More white +than is pressed milk to look upon, more delicate than the lamb art +thou, than the young calf wantoner, more sleek than the unripened +grape! Here dust thou resort, even so, when sweet sleep possesses +me, and home straightway dost thou depart when sweet sleep lets me +go, fleeing me like an ewe that has seen the grey wolf. + +I fell in love with thee, maiden, I, on the day when first thou +camest, with my mother, and didst wish to pluck the hyacinths from +the hill, and I was thy guide on the way. But to leave loving thee, +when once I had seen thee, neither afterward, nor now at all, have I +the strength, even from that hour. But to thee all this is as +nothing, by Zeus, nay, nothing at all! + +I know, thou gracious maiden, why it is that thou dust shun me. It +is all for the shaggy brow that spans all my forehead, from this to +the other ear, one long unbroken eyebrow. And but one eye is on my +forehead, and broad is the nose that overhangs my lip. Yet I (even +such as thou seest me) feed a thousand cattle, and from these I draw +and drink the best milk in the world. And cheese I never lack, in +summer time or autumn, nay, nor in the dead of winter, but my baskets +are always overladen. + +Also I am skilled in piping, as none other of the Cyclopes here, and +of thee, my love, my sweet-apple, and of myself too I sing, many a +time, deep in the night. And for thee I tend eleven fawns, all +crescent-browed, {61} and four young whelps of the bear. + +Nay, come thou to me, and thou shalt lack nothing that now thou hast. +Leave the grey sea to roll against the land; more sweetly, in this +cavern, shalt thou fleet the night with me! Thereby the laurels +grow, and there the slender cypresses, there is the ivy dun, and the +sweet clustered grapes; there is chill water, that for me deep-wooded +AEtna sends down from the white snow, a draught divine! Ah who, in +place of these, would choose the sea to dwell in, or the waves of the +sea? + +But if thou dust refuse because my body seems shaggy and rough, well, +I have faggots of oakwood, and beneath the ashes is fire unwearied, +and I would endure to let thee burn my very soul, and this my one +eye, the dearest thing that is mine. + +Ah me, that my mother bore me not a finny thing, so would I have gone +down to thee, and kissed thy hand, if thy lips thou would not suffer +me to kiss! And I would have brought thee either white lilies, or +the soft poppy with its scarlet petals. Nay, these are summer's +flowers, and those are flowers of winter, so I could not have brought +thee them all at one time. + +Now, verily, maiden, now and here will I learn to swim, if perchance +some stranger come hither, sailing with his ship, that I may see why +it is so dear to thee, to have thy dwelling in the deep. + +Come forth, Galatea, and forget as thou comest, even as I that sit +here have forgotten, the homeward way! Nay, choose with me to go +shepherding, with me to milk the flocks, and to pour the sharp rennet +in, and to fix the cheeses. + +There is none that wrongs me but that mother of mine, and her do I +blame. Never, nay, never once has she spoken a kind word for me to +thee, and that though day by day she beholds me wasting. I will tell +her that my head, and both my feet are throbbing, that she may +somewhat suffer, since I too am suffering. + +O Cyclops, Cyclops, whither are thy wits wandering? Ah that thou +wouldst go, and weave thy wicker-work, and gather broken boughs to +carry to thy lambs: in faith, if thou didst this, far wiser wouldst +thou be! + +Milk the ewe that thou hast, why pursue the thing that shuns thee? +Thou wilt find, perchance, another, and a fairer Galatea. Many be +the girls that bid me play with them through the night, and softly +they all laugh, if perchance I answer them. On land it is plain that +I too seem to be somebody! + + +Lo, thus Polyphemus still shepherded his love with song, and lived +lighter than if he had given gold for ease. + + + +IDYL XII--THE PASSIONATE FRIEND + + + +This is rather a lyric than an idyl, being an expression of that +singular passion which existed between men in historical Greece. The +next idyl, like the Myrmidons of Aeschylus, attributes the same +manners to mythical and heroic Greece. It should be unnecessary to +say that the affection between Homeric warriors, like Achilles and +Patroclus, was only that of companions in arms and was quite unlike +the later sentiment. + +Hast thou come, dear youth, with the third night and the dawning; +hast thou come? but men in longing grow old in a day! As spring than +the winter is sweeter, as the apple than the sloe, as the ewe is +deeper of fleece than the lamb she bore; as a maiden surpasses a +thrice-wedded wife, as the fawn is nimbler than the calf; nay, by as +much as sweetest of all fowls sings the clear-voiced nightingale, so +much has thy coming gladdened me! To thee have I hastened as the +traveller hastens under the burning sun to the shadow of the ilex +tree. + +Ah, would that equally the Loves may breathe upon us twain, may we +become a song in the ears of all men unborn. + +'Lo, a pair were these two friends among the folk of former time,' +the one 'the Knight' (so the Amyclaeans call him), the other, again, +'the Page,' so styled in speech of Thessaly. + +'An equal yoke of friendship they bore: ah, surely then there were +golden men of old, when friends gave love for love!' + +And would, O father Cronides, and would, ye ageless immortals, that +this might be; and that when two hundred generations have sped, one +might bring these tidings to me by Acheron, the irremeable stream. + +'The loving-kindness that was between thee and thy gracious friend, +is even now in all men's mouths, and chiefly on the lips of the +young.' + +Nay, verily, the gods of heaven will be masters of these things, to +rule them as they will, but when I praise thy graciousness no blotch +that punishes the perjurer shall spring upon the tip of my nose! +Nay, if ever thou hast somewhat pained me, forthwith thou healest the +hurt, giving a double delight, and I depart with my cup full and +running over! + +Nisaean men of Megara, ye champions of the oars, happily may ye +dwell, for that ye honoured above all men the Athenian stranger, even +Diodes, the true lover. Always about his tomb the children gather in +their companies, at the coming in of the spring, and contend for the +prize of kissing. And whoso most sweetly touches lip to lip, laden +with garlands he returneth to his mother. Happy is he that judges +those kisses of the children; surely he prays most earnestly to +bright-faced Ganymedes, that his lips may be as the Lydian touchstone +wherewith the money-changers try gold lest, perchance base metal pass +for true. + + + +IDYL XIII--HYLAS AND HERACLES + + + +As in the eleventh Idyl, Nicias is again addressed, by way of +introduction to the story of Hylas. This beautiful lad, a favourite +companion of Heracles, took part in the Quest of the Fleece of Gold. +As he went to draw water from a fountain, the water-nymphs dragged +him down to their home, and Heracles, after a long and vain search, +was compelled to follow the heroes of the Quest on foot to Phasis. + +Not for us only, Nicias, as we were used to deem, was Love begotten, +by whomsoever of the Gods was the father of the child; not first to +us seemed beauty beautiful, to us that are mortal men and look not on +the morrow. Nay, but the son of Amphitryon, that heart of bronze, +who abode the wild lion's onset, loved a lad, beautiful Hylas--Hylas +of the braided locks, and he taught him all things as a father +teaches his child, all whereby himself became a mighty man, and +renowned in minstrelsy. Never was he apart from Hylas, not when +midnoon was high in heaven, not when Dawn with her white horses +speeds upwards to the dwelling of Zeus, not when the twittering +nestlings look towards the perch, while their mother flaps her wings +above the smoke-browned beam; and all this that the lad might be +fashioned to his mind, and might drive a straight furrow, and come to +the true measure of man. + +But when Iason, Aeson's son, was sailing after the fleece of gold +(and with him followed the champions, the first chosen out of all the +cities, they that were of most avail), to rich Iolcos too came the +mighty man and adventurous, the son of the woman of Midea, noble +Alcmene. With him went down Hylas also, to Argo of the goodly +benches, the ship that grazed not on the clashing rocks Cyanean, but +through she sped and ran into deep Phasis, as an eagle over the +mighty gulf of the sea. And the clashing rocks stand fixed, even +from that hour! + +Now at the rising of the Pleiades, when the upland fields begin to +pasture the young lambs, and when spring is already on the wane, then +the flower divine of Heroes bethought them of sea-faring. On board +the hollow Argo they sat down to the oars, and to the Hellespont they +came when the south wind had been for three days blowing, and made +their haven within Propontis, where the oxen of the Cianes wear +bright the ploughshare, as they widen the furrows. Then they went +forth upon the shore, and each couple busily got ready supper in the +late evening, and many as they were one bed they strewed lowly on the +ground, for they found a meadow lying, rich in couches of strown +grass and leaves. Thence they cut them pointed flag-leaves, and deep +marsh-galingale. And Hylas of the yellow hair, with a vessel of +bronze in his hand, went to draw water against suppertime, for +Heracles himself, and the steadfast Telamon, for these comrades twain +supped ever at one table. Soon was he ware of a spring, in a hollow +land, and the rushes grew thickly round it, and dark swallow-wort, +and green maiden-hair, and blooming parsley, and deer-grass spreading +through the marshy land. In the midst of the water the nymphs were +arraying their dances, the sleepless nymphs, dread goddesses of the +country people, Eunice, and Malis, and Nycheia, with her April eyes. +And now the boy was holding out the wide-mouthed pitcher to the +water, intent on dipping it, but the nymphs all clung to his hand, +for love of the Argive lad had fluttered the soft hearts of all of +them. Then down he sank into the black water, headlong all, as when +a star shoots flaming from the sky, plumb in the deep it falls, and a +mate shouts out to the seamen, 'Up with the gear, my lads, the wind +is fair for sailing.' + +Then the nymphs held the weeping boy on their laps, and with gentle +words were striving to comfort him. But the son of Amphitryon was +troubled about the lad, and went forth, carrying his bended bow in +Scythian fashion, and the club that is ever grasped in his right +hand. Thrice he shouted 'Hylas!' as loud as his deep throat could +call, and thrice again the boy heard him, and thin came his voice +from the water, and, hard by though he was, he seemed very far away. +And as when a bearded lion, a ravening lion on the hills, hears the +bleating of a fawn afar off, and rushes forth from his lair to seize +it, his readiest meal, even so the mighty Heracles, in longing for +the lad, sped through the trackless briars, and ranged over much +country. + +Reckless are lovers: great toils did Heracles bear, in hills and +thickets wandering, and Iason's quest was all postponed to this. Now +the ship abode with her tackling aloft, and the company gathered +there, {70} but at midnight the young men were lowering the sails +again, awaiting Heracles. But he wheresoever his feet might lead him +went wandering in his fury, for the cruel Goddess of love was rending +his heart within him. + +Thus loveliest Hylas is numbered with the Blessed, but for a runaway +they girded at Heracles, the heroes, because he roamed from Argo of +the sixty oarsmen. But on foot he came to Colchis and inhospitable +Phasis. + + + +IDYL XIV + + + +This Idyl, like the next, is dramatic in form. One Aeschines tells +Thyonichus the story of his quarrel with his mistress Cynisca. He +speaks of taking foreign service, and Thyonichus recommends that of +Ptolemy. The idyl was probably written at Alexandria, as a +compliment to Ptolemy, and an inducement to Greeks to join his +forces. There is nothing, however, to fix the date. + +Aeschines. All hail to the stout Thyonichus! + +Thyonichus. As much to you, Aeschines. + +Aeschines. How long it is since we met! + +Thyonichus. Is it so long? But why, pray, this melancholy? + +Aeschines. I am not in the best of luck, Thyonichus. + +Thyonichus. 'Tis for that, then, you are so lean, and hence comes +this long moustache, and these love-locks all adust. Just such a +figure was a Pythagorean that came here of late, barefoot and wan,-- +and said he was an Athenian. Marry, he too was in love, methinks, +with a plate of pancakes. + +Aeschines. Friend, you will always have your jest,--but beautiful +Cynisca,--she flouts me! I shall go mad some day, when no man looks +for it; I am but a hair's-breadth on the hither side, even now. + +Thyonichus. You are ever like this, dear Aeschines, now mad, now +sad, and crying for all things at your whim. Yet, tell me, what is +your new trouble? + +Aeschines. The Argive, and I, and the Thessalian rough rider, Apis, +and Cleunichus the free lance, were drinking together, at my farm. I +had killed two chickens, and a sucking pig, and had opened the +Bibline wine for them,--nearly four years old,--but fragrant as when +it left the wine-press. Truffles and shellfish had been brought out, +it was a jolly drinking match. And when things were now getting +forwarder, we determined that each of us should toast whom he +pleased, in unmixed wine, only he must name his toast. So we all +drank, and called our toasts as had been agreed. Yet She said +nothing, though I was there; how think you I liked that? 'Won't you +call a toast? You have seen the wolf!' some one said in jest, 'as +the proverb goes,' {72} then she kindled; yes, you could easily have +lighted a lamp at her face. There is one Wolf, one Wolf there is, +the son of Labes our neighbour,--he is tall, smooth-skinned, many +think him handsome. His was that illustrious love in which she was +pining, yes, and a breath about the business once came secretly to my +ears, but I never looked into it, beshrew my beard! + +Already, mark you, we four men were deep in our cups, when the +Larissa man out of mere mischief, struck up, 'My Wolf,' some +Thessalian catch, from the very beginning. Then Cynisca suddenly +broke out weeping more bitterly than a six-year-old maid, that longs +for her mother's lap. Then I,--you know me, Thyonichus,--struck her +on the cheek with clenched fist,--one two! She caught up her robes, +and forth she rushed, quicker than she came. 'Ah, my undoing' (cried +I), 'I am not good enough for you, then--you have a dearer +playfellow? well, be off and cherish your other lover, 'tis for him +your tears run big as apples!' {73} + +And as the swallow flies swiftly back to gather a morsel, fresh food, +for her young ones under the eaves, still swifter sped she from her +soft chair, straight through the vestibule and folding-doors, +wherever her feet carried her. So, sure, the old proverb says, 'the +bull has sought the wild wood.' + +Since then there are twenty days, and eight to these, and nine again, +then ten others, to-day is the eleventh, add two more, and it is two +months since we parted, and I have not shaved, not even in Thracian +fashion. {74a} + +And now Wolf is everything with her. Wolf finds the door open o' +nights, and I am of no account, not in the reckoning, like the +wretched men of Megara, in the place dishonourable. {74b} + +And if I could cease to love, the world would wag as well as may be. +But now,--now,--as they say, Thyonichus, I am like the mouse that has +tasted pitch. And what remedy there may be for a bootless love, I +know not; except that Simus, he who was in love with the daughter of +Epicalchus, went over seas, and came back heart-whole,--a man of my +own age. And I too will cross the water, and prove not the first, +maybe, nor the last, perhaps, but a fair soldier as times go. + +Thyonichus. Would that things had gone to your mind, Aeschines. But +if, in good earnest, you are thus set on going into exile, PTOLEMY is +the free man's best paymaster! + +Aeschines. And in other respects, what kind of man? + +Thyonichus. The free man's best paymaster! Indulgent too, the +Muses' darling, a true lover, the top of good company, knows his +friends, and still better knows his enemies. A great giver to many, +refuses nothing that he is asked which to give may beseem a king, +but, Aeschines, we should not always be asking. Thus, if you are +minded to pin up the top corner of your cloak over the right +shoulder, and if you have the heart to stand steady on both feet, and +bide the brunt of a hardy targeteer, off instantly to Egypt! From +the temples downward we all wax grey, and on to the chin creeps the +rime of age, men must do somewhat while their knees are yet nimble. + + + +IDYL XV + + + +This famous idyl should rather, perhaps, be called a mimus. It +describes the visit paid by two Syracusan women residing in +Alexandria, to the festival of the resurrection of Adonis. The +festival is given by Arsinoe, wife and sister of Ptolemy +Philadelphus, and the poem cannot have been written earlier than his +marriage, in 266 B.C. [?] Nothing can be more gay and natural than +the chatter of the women, which has changed no more in two thousand +years than the song of birds. Theocritus is believed to have had a +model for this idyl in the Isthmiazusae of Sophron, an older poet. +In the Isthmiazusae two ladies described the spectacle of the +Isthmian games. + +Gorgo. Is Praxinoe at home? + +Praxinoe. Dear Gorgo, how long it is since you have been here! She +IS at home. The wonder is that you have got here at last! Eunoe, +see that she has a chair. Throw a cushion on it too. + +Gorgo. It does most charmingly as it is. + +Praxinoe. Do sit down. + +Gorgo. Oh, what a thing spirit is! I have scarcely got to you +alive, Praxinoe! What a huge crowd, what hosts of four-in-hands! +Everywhere cavalry boots, everywhere men in uniform! And the road is +endless: yes, you really live TOO far away! + +Praxinoe. It is all the fault of that madman of mine. Here he came +to the ends of the earth and took--a hole, not a house, and all that +we might not be neighbours. The jealous wretch, always the same, +ever for spite! + +Gorgo. Don't talk of your husband, Dinon, like that, my dear girl, +before the little boy,--look how he is staring at you! Never mind, +Zopyrion, sweet child, she is not speaking about papa. + +Praxinoe. Our Lady! the child takes notice. {77} + +Gorgo. Nice papa! + +Praxinoe. That papa of his the other day--we call every day 'the +other day'--went to get soap and rouge at the shop, and back he came +to me with salt--the great big endless fellow! + +Gorgo. Mine has the same trick, too, a perfect spendthrift-- +Diocleides! Yesterday he got what he meant for five fleeces, and +paid seven shillings a piece for--what do you suppose?--dogskins, +shreds of old leather wallets, mere trash--trouble on trouble. But +come, take your cloak and shawl. Let us be off to the palace of rich +Ptolemy, the King, to see the Adonis; I hear the Queen has provided +something splendid! + +Praxinoe. Fine folks do everything finely. + +Gorgo. What a tale you will have to tell about the things you have +seen, to any one who has not seen them! It seems nearly time to go. + +Praxinoe. Idlers have always holiday. Eunoe, bring the water and +put it down in the middle of the room, lazy creature that you are. +Cats like always to sleep soft! {78a} Come, bustle, bring the water; +quicker. I want water first, and how she carries it! give it me all +the same; don't pour out so much, you extravagant thing. Stupid +girl! Why are you wetting my dress? There, stop, I have washed my +hands, as heaven would have it. Where is the key of the big chest? +Bring it here. + +Gorgo. Praxinoe, that full body becomes you wonderfully. Tell me +how much did the stuff cost you just off the loom? + +Praxinoe. Don't speak of it, Gorgo! More than eight pounds in good +silver money,--and the work on it! I nearly slaved my soul out over +it! + +Gorgo. Well, it is MOST successful; all you could wish. {78b} + +Praxinoe. Thanks for the pretty speech! Bring my shawl, and set my +hat on my head, the fashionable way. No, child, I don't mean to take +you. Boo! Bogies! There's a horse that bites! Cry as much as you +please, but I cannot have you lamed. Let us be moving. Phrygia take +the child, and keep him amused, call in the dog, and shut the street +door. + +[They go into the street. + +Ye gods, what a crowd! How on earth are we ever to get through this +coil? They are like ants that no one can measure or number. Many a +good deed have you done, Ptolemy; since your father joined the +immortals, there's never a malefactor to spoil the passer-by, +creeping on him in Egyptian fashion--oh! the tricks those perfect +rascals used to play. Birds of a feather, ill jesters, scoundrels +all! Dear Gorgo, what will become of us? Here come the King's war- +horses! My dear man, don't trample on me. Look, the bay's rearing, +see, what temper! Eunoe, you foolhardy girl, will you never keep out +of the way? The beast will kill the man that's leading him. What a +good thing it is for me that my brat stays safe at home. + +Gorgo. Courage, Praxinoe. We are safe behind them, now, and they +have gone to their station. + +Praxinoe. There! I begin to be myself again. Ever since I was a +child I have feared nothing so much as horses and the chilly snake. +Come along, the huge mob is overflowing us. + +Gorgo (to an old Woman). Are you from the Court, mother? + +Old Woman. I am, my child. + +Praxinoe. Is it easy to get there? + +Old Woman. The Achaeans got into Troy by trying, my prettiest of +ladies. Trying will do everything in the long run. + +Gorgo. The old wife has spoken her oracles, and off she goes. + +Praxinoe. Women know everything, yes, and how Zeus married Hera! + +Gorgo. See Praxinoe, what a crowd there is about the doors. + +Praxinoe. Monstrous, Gorgo! Give me your hand, and you, Eunoe, +catch hold of Eutychis; never lose hold of her, for fear lest you get +lost. Let us all go in together; Eunoe, clutch tight to me. Oh, how +tiresome, Gorgo, my muslin veil is torn in two already! For heaven's +sake, sir, if you ever wish to be fortunate, take care of my shawl! + +Stranger. I can hardly help myself, but for all that I will be as +careful as I can. + +Praxinoe. How close-packed the mob is, they hustle like a herd of +swine. + +Stranger. Courage, lady, all is well with us now. + +Praxinoe. Both this year and for ever may all be well with you, my +dear sir, for your care of us. A good kind man! We're letting Eunoe +get squeezed--come, wretched girl, push your way through. That is +the way. We are all on the right side of the door, quoth the +bridegroom, when he had shut himself in with his bride. + +Gorgo. Do come here, Praxinoe. Look first at these embroideries. +How light and how lovely! You will call them the garments of the +gods. + +Praxinoe. Lady Athene, what spinning women wrought them, what +painters designed these drawings, so true they are? How naturally +they stand and move, like living creatures, not patterns woven. What +a clever thing is man! Ah, and himself--Adonis--how beautiful to +behold he lies on his silver couch, with the first down on his +cheeks, the thrice-beloved Adonis,--Adonis beloved even among the +dead. + +A Stranger. You weariful women, do cease your endless cooing talk! +They bore one to death with their eternal broad vowels! + +Gorgo. Indeed! And where may this person come from? What is it to +you if we ARE chatterboxes! Give orders to your own servants, sir. +Do you pretend to command ladies of Syracuse? If you must know, we +are Corinthians by descent, like Bellerophon himself, and we speak +Peloponnesian. Dorian women may lawfully speak Doric, I presume? + +Praxinoe. Lady Persephone, never may we have more than one master. +I am not afraid of YOUR putting me on short commons. + +Gorgo. Hush, hush, Praxinoe--the Argive woman's daughter, the great +singer, is beginning the Adonis; she that won the prize last year for +dirge-singing. {82} I am sure she will give us something lovely; +see, she is preluding with her airs and graces. + +The Psalm of Adonis. + +O Queen that lovest Golgi, and Idalium, and the steep of Eryx, O +Aphrodite, that playest with gold, lo, from the stream eternal of +Acheron they have brought back to thee Adonis--even in the twelfth +month they have brought him, the dainty-footed Hours. Tardiest of +the Immortals are the beloved Hours, but dear and desired they come, +for always, to all mortals, they bring some gift with them. O +Cypris, daughter of Dione, from mortal to immortal, so men tell, thou +hast changed Berenice, dropping softly in the woman's breast the +stuff of immortality. + +Therefore, for thy delight, O thou of many names and many temples, +doth the daughter of Berenice, even Arsinoe, lovely as Helen, cherish +Adonis with all things beautiful. + +Before him lie all ripe fruits that the tall trees' branches bear, +and the delicate gardens, arrayed in baskets of silver, and the +golden vessels are full of incense of Syria. And all the dainty +cakes that women fashion in the kneading-tray, mingling blossoms +manifold with the white wheaten flour, all that is wrought of honey +sweet, and in soft olive oil, all cakes fashioned in the semblance of +things that fly, and of things that creep, lo, here they are set +before him. + +Here are built for him shadowy bowers of green, all laden with tender +anise, and children flit overhead--the little Loves--as the young +nightingales perched upon the trees fly forth and try their wings +from bough to bough. + +O the ebony, O the gold, O the twin eagles of white ivory that carry +to Zeus the son of Cronos his darling, his cup-bearer! O the purple +coverlet strewn above, more soft than sleep! So Miletus will say, +and whoso feeds sheep in Samos. + +Another bed is strewn for beautiful Adonis, one bed Cypris keeps, and +one the rosy-armed Adonis. A bridegroom of eighteen or nineteen +years is he, his kisses are not rough, the golden down being yet upon +his lips! And now, good-night to Cypris, in the arms of her lover! +But lo, in the morning we will all of us gather with the dew, and +carry him forth among the waves that break upon the beach, and with +locks unloosed, and ungirt raiment falling to the ankles, and bosoms +bare will we begin our shrill sweet song. + +Thou only, dear Adonis, so men tell, thou only of the demigods dost +visit both this world and the stream of Acheron. For Agamemnon had +no such lot, nor Aias, that mighty lord of the terrible anger, nor +Hector, the eldest born of the twenty sons of Hecabe, nor Patroclus, +nor Pyrrhus, that returned out of Troyland, nor the heroes of yet +more ancient days, the Lapithae and Deucalion's sons, nor the sons of +Pelops, and the chiefs of Pelasgian Argus. Be gracious now, dear +Adonis, and propitious even in the coming year. Dear to us has thine +advent been, Adonis, and dear shall it be when thou comest again. + +Gorgo. Praxinoe, the woman is cleverer than we fancied! Happy woman +to know so much, thrice happy to have so sweet a voice. Well, all +the same, it is time to be making for home. Diocleides has not had +his dinner, and the man is all vinegar,--don't venture near him when +he is kept waiting for dinner. Farewell, beloved Adonis, may you +find us glad at your next coming! + + + +IDYL XVI + + + +In 265 B.C. Sicily was devastated by the Carthaginians, and by the +companies of disciplined free-lances who called themselves +Mamertines, or Mars's men. The hopes of the Greek inhabitants of the +island were centred in Hiero, son of Hierocles, who was about to +besiege Messana (then held by the Carthaginians) and who had revived +the courage of the Syracusans. To him Theocritus addressed this +idyl, in which he complains of the sordid indifference of the rich, +rehearses the merits of song, dilates on the true nature of wealth, +and of the happy lift, and finally expresses his hope that Hiero will +rid the isle of the foreign foe, and will restore peace and pastoral +joys. The idyl contains some allusions to Simonides, the old lyric +poet, and to his relations with the famous Hiero tyrant of Syracuse. + +Ever is this the care of the maidens of Zeus, ever the care of +minstrels, to sing the Immortals, to sing the praises of noble men. +The Muses, lo, are Goddesses, of Gods the Goddesses sing, but we on +earth are mortal men; let us mortals sing of mortals. Ah, who of all +them that dwell beneath the grey morning, will open his door and +gladly receive our Graces within his house? who is there that will +not send them back again without a gift? And they with looks +askance, and naked feet come homewards, and sorely they upbraid me +when they have gone on a vain journey, and listless again in the +bottom of their empty coffer, they dwell with heads bowed over their +chilly knees, where is their drear abode, when gainless they return. + +Where is there such an one, among men to-day? Where is he that will +befriend him that speaks his praises? I know not, for now no longer, +as of old, are men eager to win the renown of noble deeds, nay, they +are the slaves of gain! Each man clasps his hands below the purse- +fold of his gown, and looks about to spy whence he may get him money: +the very rust is too precious to be rubbed off for a gift. Nay, each +has his ready saw; the shin is further than the knee; first let me +get my own! 'Tis the Gods' affair to honour minstrels! Homer is +enough for every one, who wants to hear any other? He is the best of +bards who takes nothing that is mine. + +O foolish men, in the store of gold uncounted, what gain have ye? +Not in this do the wise find the true enjoyment of wealth, but in +that they can indulge their own desires, and something bestow on one +of the minstrels, and do good deeds to many of their kin, and to many +another man; and always give altar-rites to the Gods, nor ever play +the churlish host, but kindly entreat the guest at table, and speed +him when he would be gone. And this, above all, to honour the holy +interpreters of the Muses, that so thou mayest have a goodly fame, +even when hidden in Hades, nor ever moan without renown by the chill +water of Acheron, like one whose palms the spade has hardened, some +landless man bewailing the poverty that is all his heritage. + +Many were the thralls that in the palace of Antiochus, and of king +Aleuas drew out their monthly dole, many the calves that were driven +to the penns of the Scopiadae, and lowed with the horned kine: +countless on the Crannonian plain did shepherds pasture beneath the +sky the choicest sheep of the hospitable Creondae, yet from all this +they had no joy, when once into the wide raft of hateful Acheron they +had breathed sweet life away! Yea, unremembered (though they had +left all that rich store), for ages long would they have lain among +the dead forlorn, if a name among later men the skilled Ceian +minstrel had spared to bestow, singing his bright songs to a harp of +many strings. Honour too was won by the swift steeds that came home +to them crowned from the sacred contests. + +And who would ever have known the Lycian champions of time past, who +Priam's long-haired sons, and Cycnus, white of skin as a maiden, if +minstrels had not chanted of the war cries of the old heroes? Nor +would Odysseus have won his lasting glory, for all his ten years +wandering among all folks; and despite the visit he paid, he a living +man, to inmost Hades, and for all his escape from the murderous +Cyclops's cave,--unheard too were the names of the swineherd Eumaeus, +and of Philoetius, busy with the kine of the herds; yea, and even of +Laertes, high of heart; if the songs of the Ionian man had not kept +them in renown. + +From the Muses comes a goodly report to men, but the living heirs +devour the possessions of the dead. But, lo, it is as light labour +to count the waves upon the beach, as many as wind and grey sea-tide +roll upon the shore, or in violet-hued water to cleanse away the +stain from a potsherd, as to win favour from a man that is smitten +with the greed of gain. Good-day to such an one, and countless be +his coin, and ever may he be possessed by a longing desire for more! +But I for my part would choose honour and the loving-kindness of men, +far before wealth in mules and horses. + +I am seeking to what mortal I may come, a welcome guest, with the +help of the Muses, for hard indeed do minstrels find the ways, who go +uncompanioned by the daughters of deep-counselling Zeus. Not yet is +the heaven aweary of rolling the months onwards, and the years, and +many a horse shall yet whirl the chariot wheels, and the man shall +yet be found, who will take me for his minstrel; a man of deeds like +those that great Achilles wrought, or puissant Aias, in the plain of +Simois, where is the tomb of Phrygian Ilus. + +Even now the Phoenicians that dwell beneath the setting sun on the +spur of Libya, shudder for dread, even now the Syracusans poise +lances in rest, and their arms are burdened by the linden shields. +Among them Hiero, like the mighty men of old, girds himself for +fight, and the horse-hair crest is shadowing his helmet. Ah, Zeus, +our father renowned, and ah, lady Athene, and O thou Maiden that with +the Mother dost possess the great burg of the rich Ephyreans, by the +water of Lusimeleia, {89} would that dire necessity may drive our +foemen from the isle, along the Sardinian wave, to tell the doom of +their friends to children and to wives--messengers easy to number out +of so many warriors! But as for our cities may they again be held by +their ancient masters,--all the cities that hostile hands have +utterly spoiled. May our people till the flowering fields, and may +thousands of sheep unnumbered fatten 'mid the herbage, and bleat +along the plain, while the kine as they come in droves to the stalls +warn the belated traveller to hasten on his way. May the fallows be +broken for the seed-time, while the cicala, watching the shepherds as +they toil in the sun, in the shade of the trees doth sing on the +topmost sprays. May spiders weave their delicate webs over martial +gear, may none any more so much as name the cry of onset! + +But the fame of Hiero may minstrels bear aloft, across the Scythian +sea, and where Semiramis reigned, that built the mighty wall, and +made it fast with slime for mortar. I am but one of many that are +loved by the daughters of Zeus, and they all are fain to sing of +Sicilian Arethusa, with the people of the isle, and the warrior +Hiero. O Graces, ye Goddesses, adored of Eteocles, ye that love +Orchomenos of the Minyae, the ancient enemy of Thebes, when no man +bids me, let me abide at home, but to the houses of such as bid me, +boldly let me come with my Muses. Nay, neither the Muses nor you +Graces will I leave behind, for without the Graces what have men that +is desirable? with the Graces of song may I dwell for ever! + + + +IDYL XVII + + + +The poet praises Ptolemy Philadelphus in a strain of almost religious +adoration. Hauler, in his Life of Theocritus, dates the poem about +259 B.C., but it may have been many years earlier. + +From Zeus let us begin, and with Zeus make end, ye Muses, whensoever +we chant in songs the chiefest of immortals! But of men, again, let +Ptolemy be named, among the foremost, and last, and in the midmost +place, for of men he hath the pre-eminence. The heroes that in old +days were begotten of the demigods, wrought noble deeds, and chanced +on minstrels skilled, but I, with what skill I have in song, would +fain make my hymn of Ptolemy, and hymns are the glorious meed, yea, +of the very immortals. + +When the feller hath come up to wooded Ida, he glances around, so +many are the trees, to see whence he should begin his labour. Where +first shall _I_ begin the tale, for there are countless things ready +for the telling, wherewith the Gods have graced the most excellent of +kings? + +Even by virtue of his sires, how mighty was he to accomplish some +great work,--Ptolemy son of Lagus,--when he had stored in his mind +such a design, as no other man was able even to devise! Him hath the +Father stablished in the same honour as the blessed immortals, and +for him a golden mansion in the house of Zeus is builded; beside him +is throned Alexander, that dearly loves him, Alexander, a grievous +god to the white-turbaned Persians. + +And over against them is set the throne of Heracles, the slayer of +the Bull, wrought of stubborn adamant. There holds he festival with +the rest of the heavenly host, rejoicing exceedingly in his far-off +children's children, for that the son of Cronos hath taken old age +clean away from their limbs, and they are called immortals, being his +offspring. For the strong son of Heracles is ancestor of the twain, +I and both are reckoned to Heracles, on the utmost of the lineage. + +Therefore when he hath now had his fill of fragrant nectar, and is +going from the feast to the bower of his bed-fellow dear, to one of +his children he gives his bow, and the quiver that swings beneath his +elbow, to the other his knotted mace of iron. Then they to the +ambrosial bower of white-ankled Hera, convey the weapons and the +bearded son of Zeus. + +Again, how shone renowned Berenice among the wise of womankind, how +great a boon was she to them that begat her! Yea, in her fragrant +breast did the Lady of Cyprus, the queenly daughter of Dione, lay her +slender hands, wherefore they say that never any woman brought man +such delight as came from the love borne to his wife by Ptolemy. And +verily he was loved again with far greater love, and in such a +wedlock a man may well trust all his house to his children, +whensoever he goes to the bed of one that loves him as he loves her. +But the mind of a woman that loves not is set ever on a stranger, and +she hath children at her desire, but they are never like the father. + +O thou that amongst the Goddesses hast the prize of beauty, O Lady +Aphrodite, thy care was she, and by thy favour the lovely Berenice +crossed not Acheron, the river of mourning, but thou didst catch her +away, ere she came to the dark water, and to the still-detested +ferryman of souls outworn, and in thy temple didst thou instal her, +and gavest her a share of thy worship. Kindly is she to all mortals, +and she breathes into them soft desires, and she lightens the cares +of him that is in longing. + +O dark-browed lady of Argos, {93} in wedlock with Tydeus didst thou +bear slaying Diomede, a hero of Calydon, and, again, deep-bosomed +Thetis to Peleus, son of Aeacus, bare the spearman Achilles. But +thee, O warrior Ptolemy, to Ptolemy the warrior bare the glorious +Berenice! And Cos did foster thee, when thou wert still a child new- +born, and received thee at thy mother's hand, when thou saw'st thy +first dawning. For there she called aloud on Eilithyia, loosener of +the girdle; she called, the daughter of Antigone, when heavy on her +came the pangs of childbirth. And Eilithyia was present to help her, +and so poured over all her limbs release from pain. Then the beloved +child was born, his father's very counterpart. And Cos brake forth +into a cry, when she beheld it, and touching the child with kind +hands, she said: + +'Blessed, O child, mayst thou be, and me mayst thou honour even as +Phoebus Apollo honours Delos of the azure crown, yea, stablish in the +same renown the Triopean hill, and allot such glory to the Dorians +dwelling nigh, as that wherewithal Prince Apollo favours Rhenaea.' + +Lo, thus spake the Isle, but far aloft under the clouds a great eagle +screamed thrice aloud, the ominous bird of Zeus. This sign, +methinks, was of Zeus; Zeus, the son of Cronos, in his care hath +awful kings, but he is above all, whom Zeus loved from the first, +even from his birth. Great fortune goes with him, and much land he +rules, and wide sea. + +Countless are the lands, and tribes of men innumerable win increase +of the soil that waxeth under the rain of Zeus, but no land brings +forth so much as low-lying Egypt, when Nile wells up and breaks the +sodden soil. Nor is there any land that hath so many towns of men +skilled in handiwork; therein are three centuries of cities builded, +and thousands three, and to these three myriads, and cities twice +three, and beside these, three times nine, and over them all high- +hearted Ptolemy is king. + +Yea, and he taketh him a portion of Phoenicia, and of Arabia, and of +Syria, and of Libya, and the black Aethiopians. And he is lord of +all the Pamphylians, and the Cilician warriors, and the Lycians, and +the Carians, that joy in battle, and lord of the isles of the +Cyclades,--since his are the best of ships that sail over the deep,-- +yea, all the sea, and land and the sounding rivers are ruled by +Ptolemy. Many are his horsemen, and many his targeteers that go +clanging in harness of shining bronze. And in weight of wealth he +surpasses all kings; such treasure comes day by day from every side +to his rich palace, while the people are busy about their labours in +peace. For never hath a foeman marched up the bank of teaming Nile, +and raised the cry of war in villages not his own, nor hath any +cuirassed enemy leaped ashore from his swift ship, to harry the kine +of Egypt. So mighty a hero hath his throne established in the broad +plains, even Ptolemy of the fair hair, a spearman skilled, whose care +is above all, as a good king's should be, to keep all the heritage of +his fathers, and yet more he himself doth win. Nay, nor useless in +HIS wealthy house, is the gold, like piled stores of the still +toilsome ants, but the glorious temples of the gods have their rich +share, for constant first-fruits he renders, with many another due, +and much is lavished on mighty kings, much on cities, much on +faithful friends. And never to the sacred contests of Dionysus comes +any man that is skilled to raise the shrill sweet song, but Ptolemy +gives him a guerdon worthy of his art. And the interpreters of the +Muses sing of Ptolemy, in return for his favours. Nay, what fairer +thing might befall a wealthy man, than to win a goodly renown among +mortals? + +This abides even by the sons of Atreus, but all those countless +treasures that they won, when they took the mighty house of Priam, +are hidden away in the mist, whence there is no returning. + +Ptolemy alone presses his own feet in the footmarks, yet glowing in +the dust, of his fathers that were before him. To his mother dear, +and his father he hath stablished fragrant temples; therein has he +set their images, splendid with gold and ivory, to succour all +earthly men. And many fat thighs of kine doth he burn on the +empurpled altars, as the months roll by, he and his stately wife; no +nobler lady did ever embrace a bridegroom in the halls, who loves, +with her whole heart, her brother, her lord. On this wise was the +holy bridal of the Immortals, too, accomplished, even of the pair +that great Rhea bore, the rulers of Olympus; and one bed for the +slumber of Zeus and of Hera doth Iris strew, with myrrh-anointed +hands, the virgin Iris. + +Prince Ptolemy, farewell, and of thee will I make mention, even as of +the other demigods; and a word methinks I will utter not to be +rejected of men yet unborn,--excellence, howbeit, thou shalt gain +from Zeus. + + + +IDYL XVIII + + + +This epithalamium may have been written for the wedding of a friend +of the poet's. The idea is said to have been borrowed from an old +poem by Stesichorus. The epithalamium was chanted at night by a +chorus of girls, outside the bridal chamber. Compare the conclusion +of the hymn of Adonis, in the fifteenth Idyl. + +In Sparta, once, to the house of fair-haired Menelaus, came maidens +with the blooming hyacinth in their hair, and before the new painted +chamber arrayed their dance,--twelve maidens, the first in the city, +the glory of Laconian girls,--what time the younger Atrides had wooed +and won Helen, and closed the door of the bridal-bower on the beloved +daughter of Tyndarus. Then sang they all in harmony, beating time +with woven paces, and the house rang round with the bridal song. + +The Chorus. + +Thus early art thou sleeping, dear bridegroom, say are thy limbs +heavy with slumber, or art thou all too fond of sleep, or hadst thou +perchance drunken over well, ere thou didst fling thee to thy rest? +Thou shouldst have slept betimes, and alone, if thou wert so fain of +sleep; thou shouldst have left the maiden with maidens beside her +mother dear, to play till deep in the dawn, for to-morrow, and next +day, and for all the years, Menelaus, she is thy bride. + +O happy bridegroom, some good spirit sneezed out on thee a blessing, +as thou wert approaching Sparta whither went the other princes, that +so thou mightst win thy desire! Alone among the demigods shalt thou +have Zeus for father! Yea, and the daughter of Zeus has come beneath +one coverlet with thee, so fair a lady, peerless among all Achaean +women that walk the earth. Surely a wondrous child would she bear +thee, if she bore one like the mother! + +For lo, we maidens are all of like age with her, and one course we +were wont to run, anointed in manly fashion, by the baths of Eurotas. +Four times sixty girls were we, the maiden flower of the land, {98} +but of us all not one was faultless, when matched with Helen. + +As the rising Dawn shows forth her fairer face than thine, O Night, +or as the bright Spring, when Winter relaxes his hold, even so +amongst us still she shone, the golden Helen. Even as the crops +spring up, the glory of the rich plough land; or, as is the cypress +in the garden; or, in a chariot, a horse of Thessalian breed, even so +is rose-red Helen the glory of Lacedaemon. No other in her basket of +wool winds forth such goodly work, and none cuts out, from between +the mighty beams, a closer warp than that her shuttle weaves in the +carven loom. Yea, and of a truth none other smites the lyre, hymning +Artemis and broad-breasted Athene, with such skill as Helen, within +whose eyes dwell all the Loves. + +O fair, O gracious damsel, even now art thou a wedded wife; but we +will go forth right early to the course we ran, and to the grassy +meadows, to gather sweet-breathing coronals of flowers, thinking +often upon thee, Helen, even as youngling lambs that miss the teats +of the mother-ewe. For thee first will we twine a wreath of lotus +flowers that lowly grow, and hang it on a shadowy plane tree, for +thee first will we take soft oil from the silver phial, and drop it +beneath a shadowy plane tree, and letters will we grave on the bark, +in Dorian wise, so that the wayfarer may read: + +WORSHIP ME, I AM THE TREE OF HELEN. + +Good night, thou bride, good night, thou groom that hast won a mighty +sire! May Leto, Leto, the nurse of noble offspring, give you the +blessing of children; and may Cypris, divine Cypris, grant you equal +love, to cherish each the other; and may Zeus, even Zeus the son of +Cronos, give you wealth imperishable, to be handed down from +generation to generation of the princes. + +Sleep ye, breathing love and desire each into the other's breast, but +forget not to wake in the dawning, and at dawn we too will come, when +the earliest cock shrills from his perch, and raises his feathered +neck. + +Hymen, O Hymenae, rejoice thou in this bridal. + + + +IDYL XIX + + + +This little piece is but doubtfully ascribed to Theocritus. The +motif is that of a well-known Anacreontic Ode. The idyl has been +translated by Ronsard. + +The thievish Love,--a cruel bee once stung him, as he was rifling +honey from the hives, and pricked his finger-tips all; then he was in +pain, and blew upon his hand, and leaped, and stamped the ground. +And then he showed his hurt to Aphrodite, and made much complaint, +how that the bee is a tiny creature, and yet what wounds it deals! +And his mother laughed out, and said, 'Art thou not even such a +creature as the bees, for tiny art thou, but what wounds thou +dealest!' + + + +IDYL XX + + + +A herdsman, who had been contemptuously rejected by Eunica, a girl of +the town, protests that he is beautiful, and that Eunica is prouder +than Cybele, Selene, and Aphrodite, all of whom loved mortal +herdsmen. For grammatical and other reasons, some critics consider +this idyl apocryphal. + +Eunica laughed out at me when sweetly I would have kissed her, and +taunting me, thus she spoke: 'Get thee gone from me! Wouldst thou +kiss me, wretch; thou--a neatherd? I never learned to kiss in +country fashion, but to press lips with city gentlefolks. Never hope +to kiss my lovely mouth, nay, not even in a dream. How thou dost +look, what chatter is thine, how countrified thy tricks are, how +delicate thy talk, how easy thy tattle! And then thy beard--so soft! +thy elegant hair! Why, thy lips are like some sick man's, thy hands +are black, and thou art of evil savour. Away with thee, lest thy +presence soil me!' These taunts she mouthed, and thrice spat in the +breast of her gown, and stared at me all over from head to feet; +shooting out her lips, and glancing with half-shut eyes, writhing her +beautiful body, and so sneered, and laughed me to scorn. And +instantly my blood boiled, and I grew red under the sting, as a rose +with dew. And she went off and left me, but I bear angry pride deep +in my heart, that I, the handsome shepherd, should have been mocked +by a wretched light-o'-love. + +Shepherds, tell me the very truth; am I not beautiful? Has some God +changed me suddenly to another man? Surely a sweet grace ever +blossomed round me, till this hour, like ivy round a tree, and +covered my chin, and about my temples fell my locks, like curling +parsley-leaves, and white shone my forehead above my dark eyebrows. +Mine eyes were brighter far than the glance of the grey-eyed Athene, +my mouth than even pressed milk was sweeter, and from my lips my +voice flowed sweeter than honey from the honeycomb. Sweet too, is my +music, whether I make melody on pipe, or discourse on the flute, or +reed, or flageolet. And all the mountain-maidens call me beautiful, +and they would kiss me, all of them. But the city girl did not kiss +me, but ran past me, because I am a neatherd, and she never heard how +fair Dionysus in the dells doth drive the calves, and knows not that +Cypris was wild with love for a herdsman, and drove afield in the +mountains of Phrygia; ay, and Adonis himself,--in the oakwood she +kissed, in the oakwood she bewailed him. And what was Endymion? was +he not a neatherd? whom nevertheless as he watched his herds Selene +saw and loved, and from Olympus descending she came to the Latmian +glade, and lay in one couch with the boy; and thou, Rhea, dust weep +for thy herdsman. + +And didst not thou, too, Son of Cronos, take the shape of a wandering +bird, and all for a cowherd boy? + +But Eunica alone would not kiss the herdsman; Eunica, she that is +greater than Cybele, and Cypris, and Selene! + +Well, Cypris, never mayst thou, in city or on hillside, kiss thy +darling, {104} and lonely all the long night mayst thou sleep! + + + +IDYL XXI + + + +After some verses addressed to Diophantus, a friend about whom +nothing is known, the poet describes the toilsome life of two old +fishermen. One of them has dreamed of catching a golden fish, and +has sworn, in his dream, never again to tempt the sea. The other +reminds him that his oath is as empty as his vision, and that he must +angle for common fish, if he would not starve among his golden +dreams. The idyl is, unfortunately, corrupt beyond hope of certain +correction. + +'Tis Poverty alone, Diophantus, that awakens the arts; Poverty, the +very teacher of labour. Nay, not even sleep is permitted, by weary +cares, to men that live by toil, and if, for a little while, one +close his eyes {105} in the night, cares throng about him, and +suddenly disquiet his slumber. + +Two fishers, on a time, two old men, together lay and slept; they had +strown the dry sea-moss for a bed in their wattled cabin, and there +they lay against the leafy wall. Beside them were strewn the +instruments of their toilsome hands, the fishing-creels, the rods of +reed, the hooks, the sails bedraggled with sea-spoil, {106a} the +lines, the weds, the lobster pots woven of rushes, the seines, two +oars, {106b} and an old coble upon props. Beneath their heads was a +scanty matting, their clothes, their sailor's caps. Here was all +their toil, here all their wealth. The threshold had never a door, +nor a watch-dog; {106c} all things, all, to them seemed superfluity, +for Poverty was their sentinel. They had no neighbour by them, but +ever against their narrow cabin gently floated up the sea. + +The chariot of the moon had not yet reached the mid-point of her +course, but their familiar toil awakened the fishermen; from their +eyelids they cast out slumber, and roused their souls with speech. +{106d} + +Asphalion. They lie all, my friend, who say that the nights wane +short in summer, when Zeus brings the long days. Already have I seen +ten thousand dreams, and the dawn is not yet. Am I wrong, what ails +them, the nights are surely long? + +The Friend. Asphalion, thou blamest the beautiful summer! It is not +that the season hath wilfully passed his natural course, but care, +breaking thy sleep, makes night seem long to thee. + +Asphalion. Didst ever learn to interpret dreams? for good dreams +have I beheld. I would not have thee to go without thy share in my +vision; even as we go shares in the fish we catch, so share all my +dreams! Sure, thou art not to be surpassed in wisdom; and he is the +best interpreter of dreams that hath wisdom for his teacher. +Moreover, we have time to idle in, for what could a man find to do, +lying on a leafy bed beside the wave and slumbering not? Nay, the +ass is among the thorns, the lantern in the town hall, for, they say, +it is always sleepless. {107} + +The Friend. Tell me, then, the vision of the night; nay, tell all to +thy friend. + +Asphalion. As I was sleeping late, amid the labours of the salt sea +(and truly not too full-fed, for we supped early if thou dost +remember, and did not overtax our bellies), I saw myself busy on a +rock, and there I sat and watched the fishes, and kept spinning the +bait with the rods. And one of the fish nibbled, a fat one, for in +sleep dogs dream of bread, and of fish dream I. Well, he was tightly +hooked, and the blood was running, and the rod I grasped was bent +with his struggle. So with both hands I strained, and had a sore +tussle for the monster. How was I ever to land so big a fish with +hooks all too slim? Then just to remind him he was hooked, I gently +pricked him, {108a} pricked, and slackened, and, as he did not run, I +took in line. My toil was ended with the sight of my prize; I drew +up a golden fish, lo you, a fish all plated thick with gold! Then +fear took hold of me, lest he might be some fish beloved of Posidon, +or perchance some jewel of the sea-grey Amphitrite. Gently I +unhooked him, lest ever the hooks should retain some of the gold of +his mouth. Then I dragged him on shore with the ropes, {108b} and +swore that never again would I set foot on sea, but abide on land, +and lord it over the gold. + +This was even what wakened me, but, for the rest, set thy mind to it, +my friend, for I am in dismay about the oath I swore. + +The Friend. Nay, never fear, thou art no more sworn than thou hast +found the golden fish of thy vision; dreams are but lies. But if +thou wilt search these waters, wide awake, and not asleep, there is +some hope in thy slumbers; seek the fish of flesh, lest thou die of +famine with all thy dreams of gold! + + + +IDYL XXII--THE DIOSCURI + + + +This is a hymn, in the Homeric manner, to Castor and Polydeuces. +Compare the life and truth of the descriptions of nature, and of the +boxing-match, with the frigid manner of Apollonius Rhodius.-- +Argonautica, II. I. seq. + +We hymn the children twain of Leda, and of aegis-bearing Zeus,-- +Castor, and Pollux, the boxer dread, when he hath harnessed his +knuckles in thongs of ox-hide. Twice hymn we, and thrice the +stalwart sons of the daughter of Thestias, the two brethren of +Lacedaemon. Succourers are they of men in the very thick of peril, +and of horses maddened in the bloody press of battle, and of ships +that, defying the stars that set and rise in heaven, have encountered +the perilous breath of storms. The winds raise huge billows about +their stern, yea, or from the prow, or even as each wind wills, and +cast them into the hold of the ship, and shatter both bulwarks, while +with the sail hangs all the gear confused and broken, and the storm- +rain falls from heaven as night creeps on, and the wide sea rings, +being lashed by the gusts, and by showers of iron hail. + +Yet even so do ye draw forth the ships from the abyss, with their +sailors that looked immediately to die; and instantly the winds are +still, and there is an oily calm along the sea, and the clouds flee +apart, this way and that, also the Bears appear, and in the midst, +dimly seen, the Asses' manger, declaring that all is smooth for +sailing. + +O ye twain that aid all mortals, O beloved pair, ye knights, ye +harpers, ye wrestlers, ye minstrels, of Castor, or of Polydeuces +first shall I begin to sing? Of both of you will I make my hymn, but +first will I sing of Polydeuces. + +Even already had Argo fled forth from the Clashing Rocks, and the +dread jaws of snowy Pontus, and was come to the land of the Bebryces, +with her crew, dear children of the gods. There all the heroes +disembarked, down one ladder, from both sides of the ship of Iason. +When they had landed on the deep seashore and a sea-bank sheltered +from the wind, they strewed their beds, and their hands were busy +with firewood. {111} + +Then Castor of the swift steeds, and swart Polydeuces, these twain +went wandering alone, apart from their fellows, and marvelling at all +the various wildwood on the mountain. Beneath a smooth cliff they +found an ever-flowing spring filled with the purest water, and the +pebbles below shone like crystal or silver from the deep. Tall fir +trees grew thereby, and white poplars, and planes, and cypresses with +their lofty tufts of leaves, and there bloomed all fragrant flowers +that fill the meadows when early summer is waning--dear work-steads +of the hairy bees. But there a monstrous man was sitting in the sun, +terrible of aspect; the bruisers' hard fists had crushed his ears, +and his mighty breast and his broad back were domed with iron flesh, +like some huge statue of hammered iron. The muscles on his brawny +arms, close by the shoulder, stood out like rounded rocks, that the +winter torrent has rolled, and worn smooth, in the great swirling +stream, but about his back and neck was draped a lion's skin, hung by +the claws. Him first accosted the champion, Polydeuces. + +Polydeuces. Good luck to thee, stranger, whosoe'er thou art! What +men are they that possess this land? + +Amycus. What sort of luck, when I see men that I never saw before? + +Polydeuces. Fear not! Be sure that those thou look'st on are +neither evil, nor the children of evil men. + +Amycus. No fear have I, and it is not for thee to teach me that +lesson. + +Polydeuces. Art thou a savage, resenting all address, or some +vainglorious man? + +Amycus. I am that thou see'st, and on thy land, at least, I trespass +not. + +Polydeuces. Come, and with kindly gifts return homeward again! + +Amycus. Gift me no gifts, none such have I ready for thee. + +Polydeuces. Nay, wilt thou not even grant us leave to taste this +spring? + +Amycus. That shalt thou learn when thirst has parched thy shrivelled +lips. + +Polydeuces. Will silver buy the boon, or with what price, prithee, +may we gain thy leave? + +Amycus. Put up thy hands and stand in single combat, man to man. + +Polydeuces. A boxing-match, or is kicking fair, when we meet eye to +eye? + +Amycus. Do thy best with thy fists and spare not thy skill! + +Polydeuces. And who is the man on whom I am to lay my hands and +gloves? + +Amycus. Thou see'st him close enough, the boxer will not prove a +maiden! + +Polydeuces. And is the prize ready, for which we two must fight? + +Amycus. Thy man shall I be called (shouldst thou win), or thou mine, +if I be victor. + +Polydeuces. On such terms fight the red-crested birds of the game. + +Amycus. Well, be we like birds or lions, we shall fight for no other +stake. + +So Amycus spoke, and seized and blew his hollow shell, and speedily +the long-haired Bebryces gathered beneath the shadowy planes, at the +blowing of the shell. And in likewise did Castor, eminent in war, go +forth and summon all the heroes from the Magnesian ship. And the +champions, when they had strengthened their fists with the stout ox- +skin gloves, and bound long leathern thongs about their arms, stepped +into the ring, breathing slaughter against each other. Then had they +much ado, in that assault,--which should have the sun's light at his +back. But by thy skill, Polydeuces, thou didst outwit the giant, and +the sun's rays fell full on the face of Amycus. Then came he eagerly +on in great wrath and heat, making play with his fists, but the son +of Tyndarus smote him on the chin as he charged, maddening him even +more, and the giant confused the fighting, laying on with all his +weight, and going in with his head down. The Bebryces cheered their +man, and on the other side the heroes still encouraged stout +Polydeuces, for they feared lest the giant's weight, a match for +Tityus, might crush their champion in the narrow lists. But the son +of Zeus stood to him, shifting his ground again and again, and kept +smiting him, right and left, and somewhat checked the rush of the son +of Posidon, for all his monstrous strength. Then he stood reeling +like a drunken man under the blows, and spat out the red blood, while +all the heroes together raised a cheer, as they marked the woful +bruises about his mouth and jaws, and how, as his face swelled up, +his eyes were half closed. Next, the prince teased him, feinting on +every side but seeing now that the giant was all abroad, he planted +his fist just above the middle of the nose, beneath the eyebrows, and +skinned all the brow to the bone. Thus smitten, Amycus lay stretched +on his back, among the flowers and grasses. There was fierce +fighting when he arose again, and they bruised each other well, +laying on with the hard weighted gloves; but the champion of the +Bebryces was always playing on the chest, and outside the neck, while +unconquered Polydeuces kept smashing his foeman's face with ugly +blows. The giant's flesh was melting away in his sweat, till from a +huge mass he soon became small enough, but the limbs of the other +waxed always stronger, and his colour better, as he warmed to his +work. + +How then, at last, did the son of Zeus lay low the glutton? say +goddess, for thou knowest, but I, who am but the interpreter of +others, will speak all that thou wilt, and in such wise as pleases +thee. + +Now behold the giant was keen to do some great feat, so with his left +hand he grasped the left of Polydeuces, stooping slantwise from his +onset, while with his other hand he made his effort, and drove a huge +fist up from his right haunch. Had his blow come home, he would have +harmed the King of Amyclae, but he slipped his head out of the way, +and then with his strong hand struck Amycus on the left temple, +putting his shoulder into the blow. Quick gushed the black blood +from the gaping temple, while Polydeuces smote the giant's mouth with +his left, and the close-set teeth rattled. And still he punished his +face with quick-repeated blows, till the cheeks were fairly pounded. +Then Amycus lay stretched all on the ground, fainting, and held out +both his hands, to show that he declined the fight, for he was near +to death. + +There then, despite thy victory, didst thou work him no insensate +wrong, O boxer Polydeuces, but to thee he swore a mighty oath, +calling his sire Posidon from the deep, that assuredly never again +would he be violent to strangers. + +Thee have I hymned, my prince; but thee now, Castor, will I sing, O +son of Tyndarus, O lord of the swift steeds, O wielder of the spear, +thou that wearest the corselet of bronze. + +Now these twain, the sons of Zeus, had seized and were bearing away +the two daughters of Lycippus, and eagerly in sooth these two other +brethren were pursuing them, the sons of Aphareus, even they that +should soon have been the bridegrooms,--Lynceus and mighty Idas. But +when they were come to the tomb of the dead Aphareus, then forth from +their chariots they all sprang together, and set upon each other, +under the weight of their spears and hollow shields. But Lynceus +again spake, and shouted loud from under his vizor:- + +'Sirs, wherefore desire ye battle, and how are ye thus violent to win +the brides of others with naked swords in your hands. To us, behold, +did Leucippus betroth these his daughters long before; to us this +bridal is by oath confirmed. And ye did not well, in that to win the +wives of others ye perverted him with gifts of oxen, and mules, and +other wealth, and so won wedlock by bribes. Lo many a time, in face +of both of you, I have spoken thus, I that am not a man of many +words, saying,--"Not thus, dear friends, does it become heroes to woo +their wives, wives that already have bridegrooms betrothed. Lo +Sparta is wide, and wide is Elis, a land of chariots and horses, and +Arcadia rich in sheep, and there are the citadels of the Achaeans, +and Messenia, and Argos, and all the sea-coast of Sisyphus. There be +maidens by their parents nurtured, maidens countless, that lack not +aught in wisdom or in comeliness. Of these ye may easily win such as +ye will, for many are willing to be the fathers-in-law of noble +youths, and ye are the very choice of heroes all, as your fathers +were, and all your father's kin, and all your blood from of old. +But, friends, let this our bridal find its due conclusion, and for +you let all of us seek out another marriage." + +'Many such words I would speak, but the wind's breath bare them away +to the wet wave of the sea, and no favour followed with my words. +For ye twain are hard and ruthless,--nay, but even now do ye listen, +for ye are our cousins, and kin by the father's side. But if your +heart yet lusts for war, and with blood we must break up the kindred +strife, and end the feud, {118} then Idas and his cousin, mighty +Polydeuces, shall hold their hands and abstain from battle, but let +us twain, Castor and I, the younger born, try the ordeal of war! Let +us not leave the heaviest of grief to our fathers! Enough is one +slain man from a house, but the others will make festival for all +their friends, and will be bridegrooms, not slain men, and will wed +these maidens. Lo, it is fitting with light loss to end a great +dispute.' + +So he spake, and these words the gods were not to make vain. For the +elder pair laid down their harness from their shoulders on the +ground, but Lynceus stepped into the midst, swaying his mighty spear +beneath the outer rim of his shield, and even so did Castor sway his +spear-points, and the plumes were nodding above the crests of each. +With the sharp spears long they laboured and tilted at each other, if +perchance they might anywhere spy a part of the flesh unarmed. But +ere either was wounded the spear-points were broken, fast stuck in +the linden shields. Then both drew their swords from the sheaths, +and again devised each the other's slaying, and there was no truce in +the fight. Many a time did Castor smite on broad shield and horse- +hair crest, and many a time the keen-sighted Lynceus smote upon his +shield, and his blade just shore the scarlet plume. Then, as he +aimed the sharp sword at the left knee, Castor drew back with his +left foot, and hacked the fingers off the hand of Lynceus. Then he +being smitten cast away his sword, and turned swiftly to flee to the +tomb of his father, where mighty Idas lay, and watched this strife of +kinsmen. But the son of Tyndarus sped after him, and drove the broad +sword through bowels and navel, and instantly the bronze cleft all in +twain, and Lynceus bowed, and on his face he lay fallen on the +ground, and forthwith heavy sleep rushed down upon his eyelids. + +Nay, nor that other of her children did Laocoosa see, by the hearth +of his fathers, after he had fulfilled a happy marriage. For lo, +Messenian Idas did swiftly break away the standing stone from the +tomb of his father Aphareus, and now he would have smitten the slayer +of his brother, but Zeus defended him and drave the polished stone +from the hands of Idas, and utterly consumed him with a flaming +thunderbolt. + +Thus it is no light labour to war with the sons of Tyndarus, for a +mighty pair are they, and mighty is he that begat them. + +Farewell, ye children of Leda, and all goodly renown send ye ever to +our singing. Dear are all minstrels to the sons of Tyndarus, and to +Helen, and to the other heroes that sacked Troy in aid of Menelaus. + +For you, O princes, the bard of Chios wrought renown, when he sang +the city of Priam, and the ships of the Achaeans, and the Ilian war, +and Achilles, a tower of battle. And to you, in my turn, the charms +of the clear-voiced Muses, even all that they can give, and all that +my house has in store, these do I bring. The fairest meed of the +gods is song. + + + +IDYL XXIII--THE VENGEANCE OF LOVE + + + +A lover hangs himself at the gate of his obdurate darling who, in +turn, is slain by a statue of Love. + +This poem is not attributed with much certainty to Theocritus, and is +found in but a small proportion of manuscripts. + +A love-sick youth pined for an unkind love, beautiful in form, but +fair no more in mood. The beloved hated the lover, and had for him +no gentleness at all, and knew not Love, how mighty a God is he, and +what a bow his hands do wield, and what bitter arrows he dealeth at +the young. Yea, in all things ever, in speech and in all approaches, +was the beloved unyielding. Never was there any assuagement of +Love's fires, never was there a smile of the lips, nor a bright +glance of the eyes, never a blushing cheek, nor a word, nor a kiss +that lightens the burden of desire. Nay, as a beast of the wild wood +hath the hunters in watchful dread, even so did the beloved in all +things regard the man, with angered lips, and eyes that had the +dreadful glance of fate, and the whole face was answerable to this +wrath, the colour fled from it, sicklied o'er with wrathful pride. +Yet even thus was the loved one beautiful, and the lover was the more +moved by this haughtiness. At length he could no more endure so +fierce a flame of the Cytherean, but drew near and wept by the +hateful dwelling, and kissed the lintel of the door, and thus he +lifted up his voice: + +'O cruel child, and hateful, thou nursling of some fierce lioness, O +child all of stone unworthy of love; I have come with these my latest +gifts to thee, even this halter of mine; for, child, I would no +longer anger thee and work thee pain. Nay, I am going where thou +hast condemned me to fare, where, as men say, is the path, and there +the common remedy of lovers, the River of Forgetfulness. Nay, but +were I to take and drain with my lips all the waters thereof, not +even so shall I quench my yearning desire. And now I bid my farewell +to these gates of thine. + +'Behold I know the thing that is to be. + +'Yea, the rose is beautiful, and Time he withers it; and fair is the +violet in spring, and swiftly it waxes old; white is the lily, it +fadeth when it falleth; and snow is white, and melteth after it hath +been frozen. And the beauty of youth is fair, but lives only for a +little season. + +'That time will come when thou too shalt love, when thy heart shall +burn, and thou shalt weep salt tears. + +'But, child, do me even this last favour; when thou comest forth, and +see'st me hanging in thy gateway,--pass me not careless by, thy +hapless lover, but stand, and weep a little while; and when thou hast +made this libation of thy tears, then loose me from the rope, and +cast over me some garment from thine own limbs, and so cover me from +sight; but first kiss me for that latest time of all, and grant the +dead this grace of thy lips. + +'Fear me not, I cannot live again, no, not though thou shouldst be +reconciled to me, and kiss me. A tomb for me do thou hollow, to be +the hiding-place of my love, and if thou departest, cry thrice above +me, - + +O friend, thou liest low! + +And if thou wilt, add this also, - + +Alas, my true friend is dead! + +'And this legend do thou write, that I will scratch on thy walls, - + +This man Love slew! Wayfarer, pass not heedless by, +But stand, and say, "he had a cruel darling."' + +Therewith he seized a stone, and laid it against the wall, as high as +the middle of the doorposts, a dreadful stone, and from the lintel he +fastened the slender halter, and cast the noose about his neck, and +kicked away the support from under his foot, and there was he hanged +dead. + +But the beloved opened the door, and saw the dead man hanging there +in the court, unmoved of heart, and tearless for the strange, woful +death; but on the dead man were all the garments of youth defiled. +Then forth went the beloved to the contests of the wrestlers, and +there was heart-set on the delightful bathing-places, and even +thereby encountered the very God dishonoured, for Love stood on a +pedestal of stone above the waters. {124} And lo, the statue leaped, +and slew that cruel one, and the water was red with blood, but the +voice of the slain kept floating to the brim. + +Rejoice, ye lovers, for he that hated is slain. Love, all ye +beloved, for the God knoweth how to deal righteous judgment. + + + +IDYL XXIV--THE INFANT HERACLES + + + +This poem describes the earliest feat of Heracles, the slaying of the +snakes sent against him by Hera, and gives an account of the hero's +training. The vivacity and tenderness of the pictures of domestic +life, and the minute knowledge of expiatory ceremonies seem to stamp +this idyl as the work of Theocritus. As the following poem also +deals with an adventure of Heracles, it seems not impossible that +Theocritus wrote, or contemplated writing, a Heraclean epic, in a +series of idyls. + +When Heracles was but ten months old, the lady of Midea, even +Alcmena, took him, on a time, and Iphicles his brother, younger by +one night, and gave them both their bath, and their fill of milk, +then laid them down in the buckler of bronze, that goodly piece +whereof Amphitryon had strippen the fallen Pterelaus. And then the +lady stroked her children's heads, and spoke, saying:- + +'Sleep, my little ones, a light delicious sleep; sleep, soul of mine, +two brothers, babes unharmed; blessed be your sleep, and blessed may +ye come to the dawn.' + +So speaking she rocked the huge shield, and in a moment sleep laid +hold on them. + +But when the Bear at midnight wheels westward over against Orion that +shows his mighty shoulder, even then did crafty Hera send forth two +monstrous things, two snakes bristling up their coils of azure; +against the broad threshold, where are the hollow pillars of the +house-door she urged them; with intent that they should devour the +young child Heracles. Then these twain crawled forth, writhing their +ravenous bellies along the ground, and still from their eyes a +baleful fire was shining as they came, and they spat out their deadly +venom. But when with their flickering tongues they were drawing near +the children, then Alcmena's dear babes wakened, by the will of Zeus +that knows all things, and there was a bright light in the chamber. +Then truly one child, even Iphicles, screamed out straightway, when +he beheld the hideous monsters above the hollow shield, and saw their +pitiless fangs, and he kicked off the woollen coverlet with his feet, +in his eagerness to flee. But Heracles set his force against them, +and grasped them with his hands, binding them both in a grievous +bond, having got them by the throat, wherein lies the evil venom of +baleful snakes, the venom detested even by the gods. Then the +serpents, in their turn, wound with their coils about the young +child, the child unweaned, that wept never in his nursling days; but +again they relaxed their spines in stress, of pain, and strove to +find some issue from the grasp of iron. + +Now Alcmena heard the cry, and wakened first, - + +'Arise, Amphitryon, for numbing fear lays hold of me: arise, nor +stay to put shoon beneath thy feet! Hearest thou not how loud the +younger child is wailing? Mark'st thou not that though it is the +depth of the night, the walls are all plain to see as in the clear +dawn? {127} There is some strange thing I trow within the house, +there is, my dearest lord!' + +Thus she spake, and at his wife's bidding he stepped down out of his +bed, and made for his richly dight sword that he kept always hanging +on its pin above his bed of cedar. Verily he was reaching out for +his new-woven belt, lifting with the other hand the mighty sheath, a +work of lotus wood, when lo, the wide chamber was filled again with +night. Then he cried aloud on his thralls, who were drawing the deep +breath of sleep, - + +'Lights! Bring lights as quick as may be from the hearth, my +thralls, and thrust back the strong bolts of the doors. Arise, ye +serving-men, stout of heart, 'tis the master calls.' + +Then quick the serving-men came speeding with torches burning, and +the house waxed full as each man hasted along. Then truly when they +saw the young child Heracles clutching the snakes twain in his tender +grasp, they all cried out and smote their hands together. But he +kept showing the creeping things to his father, Amphitryon, and +leaped on high in his childish glee, and laughing, at his father's +feet he laid them down, the dread monsters fallen on the sleep of +death. Then Alcmena in her own bosom took and laid Iphicles, dry- +eyed and wan with fear; {128} but Amphitryon, placing the other child +beneath a lamb's-wool coverlet, betook himself again to his bed, and +gat him to his rest. + +The cocks were now but singing their third welcome to the earliest +dawn, when Alcmena called forth Tiresias, the seer that cannot lie, +and told him of the new portent, and bade him declare what things +should come to pass. + +'Nay, and even if the gods devise some mischief, conceal it not from +me in ruth and pity; and how that mortals may not escape the doom +that Fate speeds from her spindle, O soothsayer Euerides, I am +teaching thee, that thyself knowest it right well.' + +Thus spake the Queen, and thus he answered her: + +'Be of good cheer, daughter of Perseus, woman that hast borne the +noblest of children [and lay up in thy heart the better of the things +that are to be]. For by the sweet light that long hath left mine +eyes, I swear that many Achaean women, as they card the soft wool +about their knees, shall sing at eventide, of Alcmena's name, and +thou shalt be honourable among the women of Argos. Such a man, even +this thy son, shall mount to the starry firmament, the hero broad of +breast, the master of all wild beasts, and of all mankind. Twelve +labours is he fated to accomplish, and thereafter to dwell in the +house of Zeus, but all his mortal part a Trachinian pyre shall +possess. + +'And the son of the Immortals, by virtue of his bride, shall he be +called, even of them that urged forth these snakes from their dens to +destroy the child. Verily that day shall come when the ravening +wolf, beholding the fawn in his lair, will not seek to work him harm. + +'But lady, see that thou hast fire at hand, beneath the embers, and +let make ready dry fuel of gorse, or thorn, or bramble, or pear +boughs dried with the wind's buffeting, and on the wild fire burn +these serpents twain, at midnight, even at the hour when they would +have slain thy child. But at dawn let one of thy maidens gather the +dust of the fire, and bear and cast it all, every grain, over the +river from the brow of the broken cliff, {129} beyond the march of +your land, and return again without looking behind. Then cleanse +your house with the fire of unmixed sulphur first, and then, as is +ordained, with a filleted bough sprinkle holy water over all, mingled +with salt. {130} And to Zeus supreme, moreover, do ye sacrifice a +young boar, that ye may ever have the mastery over all your enemies.' + +So spake he, and thrust back his ivory chair, and departed, even +Tiresias, despite the weight of all his many years. + +But Heracles was reared under his mother's care, like some young +sapling in a garden close, being called the son of Amphitryon of +Argos. And the lad was taught his letters by the ancient Linus, +Apollo's son, a tutor ever watchful. And to draw the bow, and send +the arrow to the mark did Eurytus teach him, Eurytus rich in wide +ancestral lands. And Eumolpus, son of Philammon, made the lad a +minstrel, and formed his hands to the boxwood lyre. And all the +tricks wherewith the nimble Argive cross-buttockers give each other +the fall, and all the wiles of boxers skilled with the gloves, and +all the art that the rough and tumble fighters have sought out to aid +their science, all these did Heracles learn from Harpalacus of +Phanes, the son of Hermes. Him no man that beheld, even from afar, +would have confidently met as a wrestler in the lists, so grim a brow +overhung his dreadful face. And to drive forth his horses 'neath the +chariot, and safely to guide them round the goals, with the naves of +the wheels unharmed, Amphitryon taught his son in his loving- +kindness, Amphitryon himself, for many a prize had he borne away from +the fleet races in Argos, pasture-land of steeds, and unbroken were +the chariots that he mounted, till time loosened their leathern +thongs. + +But to charge with spear in rest, against a foe, guarding, meanwhile, +his back with the shield, to bide the biting swords, to order a +company, and to measure, in his onslaught, the ambush of foemen, and +to give horsemen the word of command, he was taught by knightly +Castor. An outlaw came Castor out of Argos, when Tydeus was holding +all the land and all the wide vineyards, having received Argos, a +land of steeds, from the hand of Adrastus. No peer in war among the +demigods had Castor, till age wore down his youth. + +Thus did his dear mother let train Heracles, and the child's bed was +made hard by his father's; a lion's skin was the coverlet he loved; +his dinner was roast meat, and a great Dorian loaf in a basket, a +meal to satisfy a delving hind. At the close of day he would take a +meagre supper that needed no fire to the cooking, and his plain +kirtle fell no lower than the middle of his shin. + + + +IDYL XXV--HERACLES THE LION-SLAVER + + + +This is another idyl of the epic sort. The poet's interest in the +details of the rural life, and in the description of the herds of +King Augeas, seem to mark it as the work of Theocritus. It has, +however, been attributed by learned conjecture to various writers of +an older age. The idyl, or fragment, is incomplete. Heracles visits +the herds of Augeas (to clean their stalls was one of his labours), +and, after an encounter with a bull, describes to the king's son his +battle with the lion of Nemea. + +. . . Him answered the old man, a husbandman that had the care of the +tillage, ceasing a moment from the work that lay betwixt his hands-- +'Right readily will I tell thee, stranger, concerning the things +whereof thou inquirest, for I revere the awful wrath of Hermes of the +roadside. Yea he, they say, is of all the heavenly Gods the most in +anger, if any deny the wayfarer that asks eagerly for the way. + +'The fleecy flocks of the king Augeas feed not all on one pasture, +nor in one place, but some there be that graze by the river-banks +round Elisus, and some by the sacred stream of divine Alpheius, and +some by Buprasium rich in clusters of the vine, and some even in this +place. And behold, the pens for each herd after its kind are builded +apart. Nay, but for all the herds of Augeas, overflowing as they be, +these pasture lands are ever fresh and flowering, around the great +marsh of Peneus, for with herbage honey-sweet the dewy water-meadows +are ever blossoming abundantly, and this fodder it is that feeds the +strength of horned kine. And this their steading, on thy right hand +stands all plain to view, beyond the running river, there, where the +plane-trees grow luxuriant, and the green wild olive, a sacred grove, +O stranger, of Apollo of the pastures, a God most gracious unto +prayer. Next thereto are builded long rows of huts for the country +folk, even for us that do zealously guard the great and marvellous +wealth of the king; casting in season the seed in fallow lands, +thrice, ay, and four times broken by the plough. As for the marches, +truly, the ditchers know them, men of many toils, who throng to the +wine-press at the coming of high summer tide. For, behold, all this +plain is held by gracious Augeas, and the wheat-bearing plough-land, +and the orchards with their trees, as far as the upland farm of the +ridge, whence the fountains spring; over all which lands we go +labouring, the whole day long, as is the wont of thralls that live +their lives among the fields. + +'But, prithee, tell thou me, in thy turn (and for thine own gain it +will be), whom comest thou hither to seek; in quest, perchance, of +Augeas, or one of his servants? Of all these things, behold, I have +knowledge, and could tell thee plainly, for methinks that thou, for +thy part, comest of no churlish stock, nay, nor hath thy shape aught +of the churl, so excellent in might shows thy form. Lo, now, even +such are the children of the immortal Gods among mortal men.' Then +the mighty son of Zeus answered him, saying - + +'Yea, old man, I fain would see Augeas, prince of the Epeans, for +truly 'twas need of him that brought me hither. If he abides at the +town with his citizens, caring for his people, and settling the +pleas, do thou, old man, bid one of the servants to guide me on the +way, a head-man of the more honourable sort in these fields, to whom +I may both tell my desire, and learn in turn what I would, for God +has made all men dependent, each on each.' + +Then the old man, the worthy husbandman, answered him again - + +'By the guidance of some one of the immortals hast thou come hither, +stranger, for verily all that thou requirest hath quickly been +fulfilled. For hither hath come Augeas, the dear son of Helios, with +his own son, the strong and princely Phyleus. But yesterday he came +hither from the city, to be overseeing after many days his substance, +that he hath uncounted in the fields. Thus do even kings in their +inmost hearts believe that the eye of the master makes the house more +prosperous. Nay come, let us hasten to him, and I will lead thee to +our dwelling, where methinks we shall find the king.' + +So he spake, and began to lead the way, but in his mind, as he marked +the lion's hide, and the club that filled the stranger's fist, the +old man was deeply pondering as to whence he came, and ever he was +eager to inquire of him. But back again he kept catching the word as +it rose to his lips, in fear lest he should speak somewhat out of +season (his companion being in haste) for hard it is to know +another's mood. + +Now as they began to draw nigh, the dogs from afar were instantly +aware of them, both by the scent, and by the sound of footsteps, and, +yelling furiously, they charged from all sides against Heracles, son +of Amphitryon, while with faint yelping, on the other side, they +greeted the old man, and fawned around him. But he just lifted +stones from the ground, {135} and scared them away, and, raising his +voice, he right roughly chid them all, and made them cease from their +yelping, being glad in his heart withal for that they guarded his +dwelling, even when he was afar. Then thus he spake - + +'Lo, what a comrade for men have the Gods, the lords of all, made in +this creature, how mindful is he! If he had but so much wit within +him as to know against whom he should rage, and with whom he should +forbear, no beast in the world could vie with his deserts. But now +he is something over-fierce and blindly furious.' + +So he spake, and they hastened, and came even to that dwelling +whither they were faring. + +Now Helios had turned his steeds to the west, bringing the late day, +and the fatted sheep came up from the pastures to the pens and folds. +Next thereafter the kine approaching, ten thousand upon ten thousand, +showed for multitude even like the watery clouds that roll forward in +heaven under the stress of the South Wind, or the Thracian North (and +countless are they, and ceaseless in their airy passage, for the +wind's might rolls up the rear as numerous as the van, and hosts upon +hosts again are moving in infinite array), even so many did herds +upon herds of kine move ever forwards. And, lo, the whole plain was +filled, and all the ways, as the cattle fared onwards, and the rich +fields could not contain their lowing, and the stalls were lightly +filled with kine of trailing feet, and the sheep were being penned in +the folds. + +There no man, for lack of labour, stood idle by the cattle, though +countless men were there, but one was fastening guards of wood, with +shapely thongs, about the feet of the kine, that he might draw near +and stand by, and milk them. And another beneath their mothers kind +was placing the calves right eager to drink of the sweet milk. Yet +another held a milking pail, while his fellow was fixing the rich +cheese, and another led in the bulls apart from the cows. Meanwhile +Augeas was going round all the stalls, and marking the care his +herdsmen bestowed upon all that was his. And the king's son, and the +mighty, deep-pondering Heracles, went along with the king, as he +passed through his great possessions. Then though he bore a stout +spirit in his heart, and a mind stablished always imperturbable, yet +the son of Amphitryon still marvelled out of measure, as he beheld +these countless troops of cattle. Yea none would have deemed or +believed that the substance of one man could be so vast, nay, nor ten +men's wealth, were they the richest in sheep of all the kings in the +world. But Helios to his son gave this gift pre-eminent, namely to +abound in flocks far above all other men, and Helios himself did ever +and always give increase to the cattle, for upon his herds came no +disease, of them that always minish the herdman's toil. But always +more in number waxed the horned kine, and goodlier, year by year, for +verily they all brought forth exceeding abundantly, and never cast +their young, and chiefly bare heifers. + +With the kine went continually three hundred bulls, white-shanked, +and curved of horn,--and two hundred others, red cattle,--and all +these already were of an age to mate with the kine. Other twelve +bulls, again, besides these, went together in a herd, being sacred to +Helios. They were white as swans, and shone among all the herds of +trailing gait. And these disdaining the herds grazed still on the +rich herbage in the pastures, and they were exceeding high of heart. +And whensoever the swift wild beasts came down from the rough oakwood +to the plain, to seek the wilder cattle, afield went these bulls +first to the fight, at the smell of the savour of the beasts, +bellowing fearfully, and glancing slaughter from their brows. + +Among these bulls was one pre-eminent for strength and might, and for +reckless pride, even the mighty Phaethon, that all the herdsmen still +likened to a star, because he always shone so bright when he went +among the other cattle, and was right easy to be discerned. Now when +this bull beheld the dried skin of the fierce-faced lion, he rushed +against the keen-eyed Heracles himself, to dash his head and stalwart +front against the sides of the hero. Even as he charged, the prince +forthwith grasped him with strong hand by the left horn, and bowed +his neck down to the ground, puissant as he was, and, with the weight +of his shoulder, crushed him backwards, while clear stood out the +strained muscle over the sinews on the hero's upper arm. Then +marvelled the king himself, and his son, the warlike Phyleus, and the +herdsmen that were set over the horned kine,--when they beheld the +exceeding strength of the son of Amphitryon. + +Now these twain, even Phyleus and mighty Heracles, left the fat +fields there, and were making for the city. But just where they +entered on the highway, after quickly speeding over the narrow path +that stretched through the vineyard from the farmhouses, a dim path +through the green wood, thereby the dear son of Augeas bespake the +child of supreme Zeus, who was behind him, slightly turning his head +over his right shoulder, + +'Stranger, long time ago I heard a tale, which, as of late I guess, +surely concerneth thee. For there came hither, in his wayfaring out +of Argos, a certain young Achaean, from Helice, by the seashore, who +verily told a tale and that among many Epeians here,--how, even in +his presence, a certain Argive slew a wild beast, a lion dread, a +curse of evil omen to the country folk. The monster had its hollow +lair by the grove of Nemean Zeus, but as for him that slew it, I know +not surely whether he was a man of sacred Argos, there, or a dweller +in Tiryns city, or in Mycenae, as he that told the tale declared. By +birth, howbeit, he said (if rightly, I recall it) that the hero was +descended from Perseus. Methinks that none of the Aegialeis had the +hardihood for this deed save thyself; nay, the hide of the beast that +covers thy sides doth clearly proclaim the mighty deed of thy hands. +But come now, hero, tell thou me first, that truly I may know, +whether my foreboding be right or wrong,--if thou art that man of +whom the Achaean from Helice spake in our hearing, and if I read thee +aright. Tell me how single-handed thou didst slay this ruinous pest, +and how it came to the well-watered ground of Nemea, for not in Apis +couldst thou find,--not though thou soughtest after it,--so great a +monster. For the country feeds no such large game, but bears, and +boars, and the pestilent race of wolves. Wherefore all were in amaze +that listened to the story, and there were some who said that the +traveller was lying, and pleasing them that stood by with the words +of an idle tongue.' + +Thus Phyleus spake, and stepped out of the middle of the road, that +there might be space for both to walk abreast, and that so he might +hear the more easily the words of Heracles who now came abreast with +him, and spake thus, + +'O son of Augeas, concerning that whereof thou first didst ask me, +thyself most easily hast discerned it aright. Nay then, about this +monster I will tell thee all, even how all was done,--since thou art +eager to hear,--save, indeed, as to whence he came, for, many as the +Argives be, not one can tell that clearly. Only we guess that some +one of the Immortals, in wrath for sacrifice unoffered, sent this +bane against the children of Phoroneus. For over all the men of Pisa +the lion swept, like a flood, and still ravaged insatiate, and +chiefly spoiled the Bembinaeans, that were his neighbours, and +endured things intolerable. + +'Now this labour did Eurystheus enjoin on me to fulfil the first of +all, and bade me slay the dreadful monster. So I took my supple bow, +and hollow quiver full of arrows, and set forth; and in my other hand +I held my stout club, well balanced, and wrought, with unstripped +bark, from a shady wild olive-tree, that I myself had found, under +sacred Helicon, and dragged up the whole tree, with the bushy roots. +But when I came to the place whereby the lion abode, even then I +grasped my bow and slipped the string up to the curved tip, and +straightway laid thereon the bitter arrow. Then I cast my eyes on +every side, spying for the baneful monster, if perchance I might see +him, or ever he saw me. It was now midday, and nowhere might I +discern the tracks of the monster, nor hear his roaring. Nay, nor +was there one man to be seen with the cattle, and the tillage through +all the furrowed lea, of whom I might inquire, but wan fear still +held them all within the homesteads. Yet I stayed not in my going, +as I quested through the deep-wooded hill, till I beheld him, and +instantly essayed my prowess. Now early in the evening he was making +for his lair, full fed with blood and flesh, and all his bristling +mane was dashed with carnage, and his fierce face, and his breast, +and still with his tongue he kept licking his bearded chin. Then +instantly I hid me in the dark undergrowth, on the wooded hill, +awaiting his approach, and as he came nearer I smote him on the left +flank, but all in vain, for naught did the sharp arrow pierce through +his flesh, but leaped back, and fell on the green grass. Then +quickly he raised his tawny head from the ground, in amaze, glancing +all around with his eyes, and with jaws distent he showed his +ravenous teeth. Then I launched against him another shaft from the +string, in wrath that the former flew vainly from my hand, and I +smote him right in the middle of the breast, where the lung is +seated, yet not even so did the cruel arrow sink into his hide, but +fell before his feet, in vain, to no avail. Then for the third time +was I making ready to draw my bow again, in great shame and wrath, +but the furious beast glanced his eyes around, and spied me. With +his long tail he lashed his flanks, and straightway bethought him of +battle. His neck was clothed with wrath, and his tawny hair bristled +round his lowering brow, and his spine was curved like a bow, his +whole force being gathered up from under towards his flanks and +loins. And as when a wainwright, one skilled in many an art, doth +bend the saplings of seasoned fig-tree, having first tempered them in +the fire, to make tires for the axles of his chariot, and even then +the fig-tree wood is like to leap from his hands in the bending, and +springs far away at a single bound, even so the dread lion leaped on +me from afar, huddled in a heap, and keen to glut him with my flesh. +Then with one hand I thrust in front of me my arrows, and the double +folded cloak from my shoulder, and with the other raised the seasoned +club above my head, and drove at his crest, and even on the shaggy +scalp of the insatiate beast brake my grievous cudgel of wild olive- +tree. Then or ever he reached me, he fell from his flight, on to the +ground, and stood on trembling feet, with wagging head, for darkness +gathered about both his eyes, his brain being shaken in his skull +with the violence of the blow. Then when I marked how he was +distraught with the grievous torment, or ever he could turn and gain +breath again, I fell on him, and seized him by the column of his +stubborn neck. To earth I cast my bow, and woven quiver, and +strangled him with all my force, gripping him with stubborn clasp +from the rear, lest he should rend my flesh with his claws, and I +sprang on him and kept firmly treading his hind feet into the soil +with my heels, while I used his sides to guard my thighs, till I had +strained his shoulders utterly, then lifted him up, all breathless,-- +and Hell took his monstrous life. + +'And then at last I took thought how I should strip the rough hide +from the dead beast's limbs, a right hard labour, for it might not be +cut with steel, when I tried, nor stone, nor with aught else. {143} +Thereon one of the Immortals put into my mind the thought to cleave +the lion's hide with his own claws. With these I speedily flayed it +off, and cast it about my limbs, for my defence against the brunt of +wounding war. + +'Friend, lo even thus befel the slaying of the Nemean Lion, that +aforetime had brought many a bane on flocks and men.' + + + +IDYL XXVI + + + +This idyl narrates the murder of Pentheus, who was torn to pieces +(after the Dionysiac Ritual) by his mother, Agave, and other Theban +women, for having watched the celebration of the mysteries of +Dionysus. It is still dangerous for an Australian native to approach +the women of the tribe while they are celebrating their savage rites. +The conservatism of Greek religion is well illustrated by +Theocritus's apology for the truly savage revenge commemorated in the +old Theban legend. + +Ino, and Autonoe, and Agave of the apple cheeks,--three bands of +Maenads to the mountain-side they led, these ladies three. They +stripped the wild leaves of a rugged oak, and fresh ivy, and asphodel +of the upper earth, and in an open meadow they built twelve altars; +for Semele three, and nine for Dionysus. The mystic cakes {144} from +the mystic chest they had taken in their hands, and in silence had +laid them on the altars of new-stripped boughs; so Dionysus ever +taught the rite, and herewith was he wont to be well pleased. + +Now Pentheus from a lofty cliff was watching all, deep hidden in an +ancient lentisk hush, a plant of that land. Autonoe first beheld +him, and shrieked a dreadful yell, and, rushing suddenly, with her +feet dashed all confused the mystic things of Bacchus the wild. For +these are things unbeholden of men profane. Frenzied was she, and +then forthwith the others too were frenzied. Then Pentheus fled in +fear, and they pursued after him, with raiment kirtled through the +belt above the knee. + +This much said Pentheus, 'Women, what would ye?' and thus answered +Autonoe, 'That shalt thou straightway know, ere thou hast heard it.' + +The mother seized her child's head, and cried loud, as is the cry of +a lioness over her cubs, while Ino, for her part, set her heel on the +body, and brake asunder the broad shoulder, shoulder-blade and all, +and in the same strain wrought Autonoe. The other women tore the +remnants piecemeal, and to Thebes they came, all bedabbled with +blood, from the mountains bearing not Pentheus but repentance. {145} + +I care for none of these things, nay, nor let another take thought to +make himself the foe of Dionysus, not though one should suffer yet +greater torments than these,--being but a child of nine years old or +entering, perchance, on his tenth year. For me, may I be pure and +holy, and find favour in the eyes of the pure! + +From aegis-bearing Zeus hath this augury all honour, 'to the children +of the godly the better fortune, but evil befall the offspring of the +ungodly.' + +'Hail to Dionysus, whom Zeus supreme brought forth in snowy Dracanus, +when he had unburdened his mighty thigh, and hail to beautiful +Semele: and to her sisters,--Cadmeian ladies honoured of all +daughters of heroes,--who did this deed at the behest of Dionysus, a +deed not to be blamed; let no man blame the actions of the gods.' + + + +IDYL XXVII--THE WOOING OF DAPHNIS + + + +The authenticity of this idyl has been denied, partly because the +Daphnis of the poem is not identical in character with the Daphnis of +the first idyl. But the piece is certainly worthy of a place beside +the work of Theocritus. The dialogue is here arranged as in the text +of Fritzsche. + +The Maiden. Helen the wise did Paris, another neatherd, ravish! + +Daphnis. 'Tis rather this Helen that kisses her shepherd, even me! +{147} + +The Maiden. Boast not, little satyr, for kisses they call an empty +favour. + +Daphnis. Nay, even in empty kisses there is a sweet delight. + +The Maiden. I wash my lips, I blow away from me thy kisses! + +Daphnis. Dost thou wash thy lips? Then give me them again to kiss! + +The Maiden. 'Tis for thee to caress thy kine, not a maiden unwed. + +Daphnis. Boast not, for swiftly thy youth flits by thee, like a +dream. + +The Maiden. The grapes turn to raisins, not wholly will the dry rose +perish. + +Daphnis. Come hither, beneath the wild olives, that I may tell thee +a tale. + +The Maiden. I will not come; ay, ere now with a sweet tale didst +thou beguile me. + +Daphnis. Come hither, beneath the elms, to listen to my pipe! + +The Maiden. Nay, please thyself, no woful tune delights me. + +Daphnis. Ah maiden, see that thou too shun the anger of the Paphian. + +The Maiden. Good-bye to the Paphian, let Artemis only be friendly! + +Daphnis. Say not so, lest she smite thee, and thou fall into a trap +whence there is no escape. + +The Maiden. Let her smite an she will; Artemis again would be my +defender. Lay no hand on me; nay, if thou do more, and touch me with +thy lips, I will bite thee. {148} + +Daphnis. From Love thou dost not flee, whom never yet maiden fled. + +The Maiden. Escape him, by Pan, I do, but thou dost ever bear his +yoke. + +Daphnis. This is ever my fear lest he even give thee to a meaner +man. + +The Maiden. Many have been my wooers, but none has won my heart. + +Daphnis. Yea I, out of many chosen, come here thy wooer. + +The Maiden. Dear love, what can I do? Marriage has much annoy. + +Daphnis. Nor pain nor sorrow has marriage, but mirth and dancing. + +The Maiden. Ay, but they say that women dread their lords. + +Daphnis. Nay, rather they always rule them,--whom do women fear? + +The Maiden. Travail I dread, and sharp is the shaft of Eilithyia. + +Daphnis. But thy queen is Artemis, that lightens labour. + +The Maiden. But I fear childbirth, lest, perchance, I lose my +beauty. + +Daphnis. Nay, if thou bearest dear children thou wilt see the light +revive in thy sons. + +The Maiden. And what wedding gift dost thou bring me if I consent? + +Daphnis. My whole flock, all my groves, and all my pasture land +shall be thine. + +The Maiden. Swear that thou wilt not win me, and then depart and +leave me forlorn. + +Daphnis. So help me Pan I would not leave thee, didst thou even +choose to banish me! + +The Maiden. Dost thou build me bowers, and a house, and folds for +flocks? + +Daphnis. Yea, bowers I build thee, the flocks I tend are fair. + +The Maiden. But to my grey old father, what tale, ah what, shall I +tell? + +Daphnis. He will approve thy wedlock when he has heard my name. + +The Maiden. Prithee, tell me that name of thine; in a name there is +often delight. + +Daphnis. Daphnis am I, Lycidas is my father, and Nomaea is my +mother. + +The Maiden. Thou comest of men well-born, but there I am thy match. + +Daphnis. I know it, thou art of high degree, for thy father is +Menalcas. {150a} + +The Maiden. Show me thy grove, wherein is thy cattle-stall. + +Daphnis. See here, how they bloom, my slender cypress-trees. + +The Maiden. Graze on, my goats, I go to learn the herdsman's +labours. + +Daphnis. Feed fair, my bulls, while I show my woodlands to my lady! + +The Maiden. What dost thou, little satyr; why dost thou touch my +breast? + +Daphnis. I will show thee that these earliset apples are ripe. +{150b} + +The Maiden. By Pan, I swoon; away, take back thy hand. + +Daphnis. Courage, dear girl, why fearest thou me, thou art over +fearful! + +The Maiden. Thou makest me lie down by the water-course, defiling my +fair raiment! + +Daphnis. Nay, see, 'neath thy raiment fair I am throwing this soft +fleece. + +The Maiden. Ah, ah, thou hast snatched my girdle too; why hast thou +loosed my girdle? + +Daphnis. These first-fruits I offer, a gift to the Paphian. + +The Maiden. Stay, wretch, hark; surely a stranger cometh; nay, I +hear a sound. + +Daphnis. The cypresses do but whisper to each other of thy wedding. + +The Maiden. Thou hast torn my mantle, and unclad am I. + +Daphnis. Another mantle I will give thee, and an ampler far than +thine. + +The Maiden. Thou dost promise all things, but soon thou wilt not +give me even a grain of salt. + +Daphnis. Ah, would that I could give thee my very life. + +The Maiden. Artemis, be not wrathful, thy votary breaks her vow. + +Daphnis. I will slay a calf for Love, and for Aphrodite herself a +heifer. + +The Maiden. A maiden I came hither, a woman shall I go homeward. + +Daphnis. Nay, a wife and a mother of children shalt thou be, no more +a maiden. + +So, each to each, in the joy of their young fresh limbs they were +murmuring: it was the hour of secret love. Then she arose, and +stole to herd her sheep; with shamefast eyes she went, but her heart +was comforted within her. And he went to his herds of kine, +rejoicing in his wedlock. + + + +IDYL XXVIII + + + +This little piece of Aeolic verse accompanied the present of a +distaff which Theocritus brought from Syracuse to Theugenis, the wife +of his friend Nicias, the physician of Miletus. On the margin of a +translation by Longepierre (the famous book-collector), Louis XIV +wrote that this idyl is a model of honourable gallantry. + +O distaff, thou friend of them that spin, gift of grey-eyed Athene to +dames whose hearts are set on housewifery; come, boldly come with me +to the bright city of Neleus, where the shrine of the Cyprian is +green 'neath its roof of delicate rushes. Thither I pray that we may +win fair voyage and favourable breeze from Zeus, that so I may +gladden mine eyes with the sight of Nicias my friend, and be greeted +of him in turn;--a sacred scion is he of the sweet-voiced Graces. +And thee, distaff, thou child of fair carven ivory, I will give into +the hands of the wife of Nicias: with her shalt thou fashion many a +thing, garments for men, and much rippling raiment that women wear. +For the mothers of lambs in the meadows might twice be shorn of their +wool in the year, with her goodwill, the dainty-ankled Theugenis, so +notable is she, and cares for all things that wise matrons love. + +Nay, not to houses slatternly or idle would I have given thee, +distaff, seeing that thou art a countryman of mine. For that is thy +native city which Archias out of Ephyre founded, long ago, the very +marrow of the isle of the three capes, a town of honourable men. +{153} But now shalt thou abide in the house of a wise physician, who +has learned all the spells that ward off sore maladies from men, and +thou shalt dwell in glad Miletus with the Ionian people, to this +end,--that of all the townsfolk Theugenis may have the goodliest +distaff and that thou mayst keep her ever mindful of her friend, the +lover of song. + +This proverb will each man utter that looks on thee, 'Surely great +grace goes with a little gift, and all the offerings of friends are +precious.' + + + +IDYL XXIX + + + +This poem, like the preceding one, is written in the Aeolic dialect. +The first line is quoted from Alcaeus. The idyl is attributed to +Theocritus on the evidence of the scholiast on the Symposium of +Plato. + +'Wine and truth,' dear child, says the proverb, and in wine are we, +and the truth we must tell. Yes, I will say to thee all that lies in +my soul's inmost chamber. Thou dost not care to love me with thy +whole heart! I know, for I live half my life in the sight of thy +beauty, but all the rest is ruined. When thou art kind, my day is +like the days of the Blessed, but when thou art unkind, 'tis deep in +darkness. How can it be right thus to torment thy friend? Nay, if +thou wilt listen at all, child, to me, that am thine elder, happier +thereby wilt thou be, and some day thou wilt thank me. Build one +nest in one tree, where no fierce snake can come; for now thou dost +perch on one branch to-day, and on another to-morrow, always seeking +what is new. And if a stranger see and praise thy pretty face, +instantly to him thou art more than a friend of three years' +standing, while him that loved thee first thou holdest no higher than +a friend of three days. Thou savourest, methinks, of the love of +some great one; nay, choose rather all thy life ever to keep the love +of one that is thy peer. If this thou dost thou wilt be well spoken +of by thy townsmen, and Love will never be hard to thee, Love that +lightly vanquishes the minds of men, and has wrought to tenderness my +heart that was of steel. Nay, by thy delicate mouth I approach and +beseech thee, remember that thou wert younger yesteryear, and that we +wax grey and wrinkled, or ever we can avert it; and none may +recapture his youth again, for the shoulders of youth are winged, and +we are all too slow to catch such flying pinions. + +Mindful of this thou shouldst be gentler, and love me without guile +as I love thee, so that, when thou hast a manly beard, we may be such +friends as were Achilles and Patroclus! + +But, if thou dost cast all I say to the winds to waft afar, and cry, +in anger, 'Why, why, dost thou torment me?' then I,--that now for thy +sake would go to fetch the golden apples, or to bring thee Cerberus, +the watcher of the dead,--would not go forth, didst thou stand at the +court-doors and call me. I should have rest from my cruel love. + + + +FRAGMENT OF THE BERENICE. + + + +Athenaeus (vii. 284 A) quotes this fragment, which probably was part +of a panegyric on Berenice, the mother of Ptolemy Philadelphus. + +And if any man that hath his livelihood from the salt sea, and whose +nets serve him for ploughs, prays for wealth, and luck in fishing, +let him sacrifice, at midnight, to this goddess, the sacred fish that +they call 'silver white,' for that it is brightest of sheen of all,-- +then let the fisher set his nets, and he shall draw them full from +the sea. + + + +IDYL XXX--THE DEAD ADONIS + + + +This idyl is usually printed with the poems of Theocritus, but almost +certainly is by another hand. I have therefore ventured to imitate +the metre of the original. + +When Cypris saw Adonis, +In death already lying +With all his locks dishevelled, +And cheeks turned wan and ghastly, +She bade the Loves attendant +To bring the boar before her. + +And lo, the winged ones, fleetly +They scoured through all the wild wood; +The wretched boar they tracked him, +And bound and doubly bound him. +One fixed on him a halter, +And dragged him on, a captive, +Another drave him onward, +And smote him with his arrows. +But terror-struck the beast came, +For much he feared Cythere. +To him spake Aphrodite, - +'Of wild beasts all the vilest, +This thigh, by thee was 't wounded? +Was 't thou that smote my lover?' +To her the beast made answer - +'I swear to thee, Cythere, +By thee, and by thy lover, +Yea, and by these my fetters, +And them that do pursue me, - +Thy lord, thy lovely lover +I never willed to wound him; +I saw him, like a statue, +And could not bide the burning, +Nay, for his thigh was naked, +And mad was I to kiss it, +And thus my tusk it harmed him. +Take these my tusks, O Cypris, +And break them, and chastise them, +For wherefore should I wear them, +These passionate defences? +If this doth not suffice thee, +Then cut my lips out also, +Why dared they try to kiss him?' + +Then Cypris had compassion; +She bade the Loves attendant +To loose the bonds that bound him. +From that day her he follows, +And flees not to the wild wood +But joins the Loves, and always +He bears Love's flame unflinching. + + + +EPIGRAMS + + + +The Epigrams of Theocritus are, for the most part, either +inscriptions for tombs or cenotaphs, or for the pedestals of statues, +or (as the third epigram) are short occasional pieces. Several of +them are but doubtfully ascribed to the poet of the Idyls. The Greek +has little but brevity in common with the modern epigram. + +I--For a rustic Altar. + +These dew-drenched roses and that tufted thyme are offered to the +ladies of Helicon. And the dark-leaved laurels are thine, O Pythian +Paean, since the rock of Delphi bare this leafage to thine honour. +The altar this white-horned goat shall stain with blood, this goat +that browses on the tips of the terebinth boughs. + +II--For a Herdsman's Offering. + +Daphnis, the white-limbed Daphnis, that pipes on his fair flute the +pastoral strains offered to Pan these gifts,--his pierced reed-pipes, +his crook, a javelin keen, a fawn-skin, and the scrip wherein he was +wont, on a time, to carry the apples of Love. + +III--For a Picture. + +Thou sleepest on the leaf-strewn ground, O Daphnis, resting thy weary +limbs, and the stakes of thy nets are newly fastened on the hills. +But Pan is on thy track, and Priapus, with the golden ivy wreath +twined round his winsome head,--both are leaping at one bound into +thy cavern. Nay, flee them, flee, shake off thy slumber, shake off +the heavy sleep that is falling upon thee. + +IV--Priapus. + +When thou hast turned yonder lane, goatherd, where the oak-trees are, +thou wilt find an image of fig-tree wood, newly carven; three-legged +it is, the bark still covers it, and it is earless withal, yet meet +for the arts of Cypris. A right holy precinct runs round it, and a +ceaseless stream that falleth from the rocks on every side is green +with laurels, and myrtles, and fragrant cypress. And all around the +place that child of the grape, the vine, doth flourish with its +tendrils, and the merles in spring with their sweet songs utter their +wood-notes wild, and the brown nightingales reply with their +complaints, pouring from their bills the honey-sweet song. There, +prithee, sit down and pray to gracious Priapus, that I may be +delivered from my love of Daphnis, and say that instantly thereon I +will sacrifice a fair kid. But if he refuse, ah then, should I win +Daphnis's love, I would fain sacrifice three victims,--and offer a +calf, a shaggy he-goat, and a lamb that I keep in the stall, and oh +that graciously the god may hear my prayer. + +V--The rural Concert. + +Ah, in the Muses' name, wilt thou play me some sweet air on the +double flute, and I will take up the harp, and touch a note, and the +neatherd Daphnis will charm us the while, breathing music into his +wax-bound pipe. And beside this rugged oak behind the cave will we +stand, and rob the goat-foot Pan of his repose. + +VI--The Dead are beyond hope. + +Ah hapless Thyrsis, where is thy gain, shouldst thou lament till thy +two eyes are consumed with tears? She has passed away,--the kid, the +youngling beautiful,--she has passed away to Hades. Yea, the jaws of +the fierce wolf have closed on her, and now the hounds are baying, +but what avail they when nor bone nor cinder is left of her that is +departed? + +VII--For a statue of Asclepius. + +Even to Miletus he hath come, the son of Paeon, to dwell with one +that is a healer of all sickness, with Nicias, who even approaches +him day by day with sacrifices, and hath let carve this statue out of +fragrant cedar-wood; and to Eetion he promised a high guerdon for his +skill of hand: on this work Eetion has put forth all his craft. + +VIII--Orthon's Grave. + +Stranger, the Syracusan Orthon lays this behest on thee; go never +abroad in thy cups on a night of storm. For thus did I come by my +end, and far from my rich fatherland I lie, clothed on with alien +soil. + +IX--The Death of Cleonicus. + +Man, husband thy life, nor go voyaging out of season, for brief are +the days of men! Unhappy Cleonicus, thou wert eager to win rich +Thasus, from Coelo-Syria sailing with thy merchandise,--with thy +merchandise, O Cleonicus, at the setting of the Pleiades didst thou +cross the sea,--and didst sink with the sinking Pleiades! + +X--A Group of the Muses. + +For your delight, all ye Goddesses Nine, did Xenocles offer this +statue of marble, Xenocles that hath music in his soul, as none will +deny. And inasmuch as for his skill in this art he wins renown, he +forgets not to give their due to the Muses. + +XI--The Grave of Eusthenes. + +This is the memorial stone of Eusthenes, the sage; a physiognomist +was he, and skilled to read the very spirit in the eyes. Nobly have +his friends buried him--a stranger in a strange land--and most dear +was he, yea, to the makers of song. All his dues in death has the +sage, and, though he was no great one, 'tis plain he had friends to +care for him. + +XII--The Offering of Demoteles. + +'Twas Demoteles the choregus, O Dionysus, who dedicated this tripod, +and this statue of thee, the dearest of the blessed gods. No great +fame he won when he gave a chorus of boys, but with a chorus of men +he bore off the victory, for he knew what was fair and what was +seemly. + +XIII--For a statue of Aphrodite. + +This is Cypris,--not she of the people; nay, venerate the goddess by +her name--the Heavenly Aphrodite. The statue is the offering of +chaste Chrysogone, even in the house of Amphicles, whose children and +whose life were hers! And always year by year went well with them, +who began each year with thy worship, Lady, for mortals who care for +the Immortals have themselves thereby the better fortune. + +XIV--The Grave of Euryrnedon. + +An infant son didst thou leave behind, and in the flower of thine own +age didst die, Eurymedon, and win this tomb. For thee a throne is +set among men made perfect, but thy son the citizens will hold in +honour, remembering the excellence of his father. + +XV--The Grave of Eurymedon. + +Wayfarer, I shall know whether thou dost reverence the good, or +whether the coward is held by thee in the same esteem. 'Hail to this +tomb,' thou wilt say, for light it lies above the holy head of +Eurymedon. + +XVI--For a statue of Anacreon. + +Mark well this statue, stranger, and say, when thou hast returned to +thy home, 'In Teos I beheld the statue of Anacreon, who surely +excelled all the singers of times past.' And if thou dost add that +he delighted in the young, thou wilt truly paint all the man. + +XVII--For a statue of Epicharmus. + +Dorian is the strain, and Dorian the man we sing; he that first +devised Comedy, even Epicharmus. O Bacchus, here in bronze (as the +man is now no more) they have erected his statue, the colonists {165} +that dwell in Syracuse, to the honour of one that was their fellow- +citizen. Yea, for a gift he gave, wherefore we should be mindful +thereof and pay him what wage we may, for many maxims he spoke that +were serviceable to the life of all men. Great thanks be his. + +XVIII--The Grave of Cleita. + +The little Medeus has raised this tomb by the wayside to the memory +of his Thracian nurse, and has added the inscription - + +HERE LIES CLEITA. + +The woman will have this recompense for all her careful nurture of +the boy,--and why?--because she was serviceable even to the end. + +XIX--The statue of Archilochus. + +Stay, and behold Archilochus, him of old time, the maker of iambics, +whose myriad fame has passed westward, alike, and towards the dawning +day. Surely the Muses loved him, yea, and the Delian Apollo, so +practised and so skilled he grew in forging song, and chanting to the +lyre. + +XX--The statue of Pisander. + +This man, behold, Pisander of Corinth, of all the ancient makers was +the first who wrote of the son of Zeus, the lion-slayer, the ready of +hand, and spake of all the adventures that with toil he achieved. +Know this therefore, that the people set him here, a statue of +bronze, when many months had gone by and many years. + +XXI--The Grave of Hipponax. + +Here lies the poet Hipponax! If thou art a sinner draw not near this +tomb, but if thou art a true man, and the son of righteous sires, sit +boldly down here, yea, and sleep if thou wilt. + +XXII--For the Bank of Caicus. + +To citizens and strangers alike this counter deals justice. If thou +hast deposited aught, draw out thy money when the balance-sheet is +cast up. Let others make false excuse, but Caicus tells back money +lent, ay, even if one wish it after nightfall. + +XXIII--On his own Poems. {167} + +The Chian is another man, but I, Theocritus, who wrote these songs, +am a Syracusan, a man of the people, being the son of Praxagoras and +renowned Philinna. Never laid I claim to any Muse but mine own. + + + + +BION + + + + +[Greek].--Callimachus. + +Bion was born at Smyrna, one of the towns which claimed the honour of +being Homer's birthplace. On the evidence of a detached verse (94) +of the dirge by Moschus, some have thought that Theocritus survived +Bion. In that case Theocritus must have been a preternaturally aged +man. The same dirge tells us that Bion was poisoned by certain +enemies, and that while he left to others his wealth, to Moschus he +left his minstrelsy. + + + +I--THE LAMENT FOR ADONIS + +This poem was probably intended to be sung at one of the spring +celebrations of the festival of Adonis, like that described by +Theocritus in his fifteenth idyl. + +Woe, woe for Adonis, he hath perished, the beauteous Adonis, dead is +the beauteous Adonis, the Loves join in the lament. No more in thy +purple raiment, Cypris, do thou sleep; arise, thou wretched one, +sable-stoled, and beat thy breasts, and say to all, 'He hath +perished, the lovely Adonis!' + +Woe, woe for Adonis, the Loves join in the lament! + +Low on the hills is lying the lovely Adonis, and his thigh with the +boar's tusk, his white thigh with the boar's tusk is wounded, and +sorrow on Cypris he brings, as softly he breathes his life away. + +His dark blood drips down his skin of snow, beneath his brows his +eyes wax heavy and dim, and the rose flees from his lip, and thereon +the very kiss is dying, the kiss that Cypris will never forego. + +To Cypris his kiss is dear, though he lives no longer, but Adonis +knew not that she kissed him as he died. + +Woe, woe for Adonis, the Loves join in the lament! + +A cruel, cruel wound on his thigh hath Adonis, but a deeper wound in +her heart doth Cytherea bear. About him his dear hounds are loudly +baying, and the nymphs of the wild wood wail him; but Aphrodite with +unbound locks through the glades goes wandering,--wretched, with hair +unbraided, with feet unsandaled, and the thorns as she passes wound +her and pluck the blossom of her sacred blood. Shrill she wails as +down the long woodlands she is borne, lamenting her Assyrian lord, +and again calling him, and again. But round his navel the dark blood +leapt forth, with blood from his thighs his chest was scarlet, and +beneath Adonis's breast, the spaces that afore were snow-white, were +purple with blood. + +Woe, woe for Cytherea, the Loves join in the lament! + +She hath lost her lovely lord, with him she hath lost her sacred +beauty. Fair was the form of Cypris, while Adonis was living, but +her beauty has died with Adonis! Woe, woe for Cypris, the mountains +all are saying, and the oak-trees answer, Woe for Adonis. And the +rivers bewail the sorrows of Aphrodite, and the wells are weeping +Adonis on the mountains. The flowers flush red for anguish, and +Cytherea through all the mountain-knees, through every dell doth +shrill the piteous dirge. + +Woe, woe for Cytherea, he hath perished, the lovely Adonis! + +And Echo cried in answer, He hath perished, the lovely Adonis. Nay, +who but would have lamented the grievous love of Cypris? When she +saw, when she marked the unstaunched wound of Adonis, when she saw +the bright red blood about his languid thigh, she cast her arms +abroad and moaned, 'Abide with me, Adonis, hapless Adonis abide, that +this last time of all I may possess thee, that I may cast myself +about thee, and lips with lips may mingle. Awake Adonis, for a +little while, and kiss me yet again, the latest kiss! Nay kiss me +but a moment, but the lifetime of a kiss, till from thine inmost soul +into my lips, into my heart, thy life-breath ebb, and till I drain +thy sweet love-philtre, and drink down all thy love. This kiss will +I treasure, even as thyself; Adonis, since, ah ill-fated, thou art +fleeing me, thou art fleeing far, Adonis, and art faring to Acheron, +to that hateful king and cruel, while wretched I yet live, being a +goddess, and may not follow thee! Persephone, take thou my lover, my +lord, for thy self art stronger than I, and all lovely things drift +down to thee. But I am all ill-fated, inconsolable is my anguish, +and I lament mine Adonis, dead to me, and I have no rest for sorrow. + +'Thou diest, O thrice-desired, and my desire hath flown away as a +dream. Nay, widowed is Cytherea, and idle are the Loves along the +halls! With thee has the girdle of my beauty perished. For why, ah +overbold, didst thou follow the chase, and being so fair, why wert +thou thus overhardy to fight with beasts?' + +So Cypris bewailed her, the Loves join in the lament: + +Woe, woe for Cytherea, he hath perished the lovely Adonis! + +A tear the Paphian sheds for each blood-drop of Adonis, and tears and +blood on the earth are turned to flowers. The blood brings forth the +rose, the tears, the wind-flower. + +Woe, woe for Adonis, he hath perished; the lovely Adonis! + +No more in the oak-woods, Cypris, lament thy lord. It is no fair +couch for Adonis, the lonely bed of leaves! Thine own bed, Cytherea, +let him now possess,--the dead Adonis. Ah, even in death he is +beautiful, beautiful in death, as one that hath fallen on sleep. Now +lay him down to sleep in his own soft coverlets, wherein with thee +through the night he shared the holy slumber in a couch all of gold, +that yearns for Adonis, though sad is he to look upon. Cast on him +garlands and blossoms: all things have perished in his death, yea +all the flowers are faded. Sprinkle him with ointments of Syria, +sprinkle him with unguents of myrrh. Nay, perish all perfumes, for +Adonis, who was thy perfume, hath perished. + +He reclines, the delicate Adonis, in his raiment of purple, and +around him the Loves are weeping, and groaning aloud, clipping their +locks for Adonis. And one upon his shafts, another on his bow is +treading, and one hath loosed the sandal of Adonis, and another hath +broken his own feathered quiver, and one in a golden vessel bears +water, and another laves the wound, and another from behind him with +his wings is fanning Adonis. + +Woe, woe for Cytherea, the Loves join in the lament! + +Every torch on the lintels of the door has Hymenaeus quenched, and +hath torn to shreds the bridal crown, and Hymen no more, Hymen no +more is the song, but a new song is sung of wailing. + +'Woe, woe for Adonis,' rather than the nuptial song the Graces are +shrilling, lamenting the son of Cinyras, and one to the other +declaring, He hath perished, the lovely Adonis. + +And woe, woe for Adonis, shrilly cry the Muses, neglecting Paeon, and +they lament Adonis aloud, and songs they chant to him, but he does +not heed them, not that he is loth to hear, but that the Maiden of +Hades doth not let him go. + +Cease, Cytherea, from thy lamentations, to-day refrain from thy +dirges. Thou must again bewail him, again must weep for him another +year. + + + +II--THE LOVE OF ACHILLES + + + +Lycidas sings to Myrson a fragment about the loves of Achilles and +Deidamia. + +Myrson. Wilt thou be pleased now, Lycidas, to sing me sweetly some +sweet Sicilian song, some wistful strain delectable, some lay of +love, such as the Cyclops Polyphemus sang on the sea-banks to +Galatea? + +Lycidas. Yes, Myrson, and I too fain would pipe, but what shall I +sing? + +Myrson. A song of Scyra, Lycidas, is my desire,--a sweet love- +story,--the stolen kisses of the son of Peleus, the stolen bed of +love how he, that was a boy, did on the weeds of women, and how he +belied his form, and how among the heedless daughters of Lycomedes, +Deidamia cherished Achilles in her bower. {176} + +Lycidas. The herdsman bore off Helen, upon a time, and carried her +to Ida, sore sorrow to OEnone. And Lacedaemon waxed wroth, and +gathered together all the Achaean folk; there was never a Hellene, +not one of the Mycenaeans, nor any man of Elis, nor of the Laconians, +that tarried in his house, and shunned the cruel Ares. + +But Achilles alone lay hid among the daughters of Lycomedes, and was +trained to work in wools, in place of arms, and in his white hand +held the bough of maidenhood, in semblance a maiden. For he put on +women's ways, like them, and a bloom like theirs blushed on his cheek +of snow, and he walked with maiden gait, and covered his locks with +the snood. But the heart of a man had he, and the love of a man. +From dawn to dark he would sit by Deidamia, and anon would kiss her +hand, and oft would lift the beautiful warp of her loom and praise +the sweet threads, having no such joy in any other girl of her +company. Yea, all things he essayed, and all for one end, that they +twain might share an undivided sleep. + +Now he once even spake to her, saying - + +'With one another other sisters sleep, but I lie alone, and alone, +maiden, dost thou lie, both being girls unwedded of like age, both +fair, and single both in bed do we sleep. The wicked Nysa, the +crafty nurse it is that cruelly severs me from thee. For not of thee +have I . . . ' + + + +III--THE SEASONS + + + +Cleodamus and Myrson discuss the charms of the seasons, and give the +palm to a southern spring. + +Cleodamus. Which is sweetest, to thee, Myrson, spring, or winter or +the late autumn or the summer; of which dost thou most desire the +coming? Summer, when all are ended, the toils whereat we labour, or +the sweet autumn, when hunger weighs lightest on men, or even idle +winter, for even in winter many sit warm by the fire, and are lulled +in rest and indolence. Or has beautiful spring more delight for +thee? Say, which does thy heart choose? For our leisure lends us +time to gossip. + +Myrson. It beseems not mortals to judge the works of God; for sacred +are all these things, and all are sweet, yet for thy sake I will +speak out, Cleodamus, and declare what is sweeter to me than the +rest. I would not have summer here, for then the sun doth scorch me, +and autumn I would not choose, for the ripe fruits breed disease. +The ruinous winter, bearing snow and frost, I dread. But spring, the +thrice desirable, be with me the whole year through, when there is +neither frost, nor is the sun so heavy upon us. In springtime all is +fruitful, all sweet things blossom in spring, and night and dawn are +evenly meted to men. + + + +IV--THE BOY AND LOVE + + + +A fowler, while yet a boy, was hunting birds in a woodland glade, and +there he saw the winged Love, perched on a box-tree bough. And when +he beheld him, he rejoiced, so big the bird seemed to him, and he put +together all his rods at once, and lay in wait for Love, that kept +hopping, now here, now there. And the boy, being angered that his +toil was endless, cast down his fowling gear, and went to the old +husbandman, that had taught him his art, and told him all, and showed +him Love on his perch. But the old man, smiling, shook his head, and +answered the lad, 'Pursue this chase no longer, and go not after this +bird. Nay, flee far from him. 'Tis an evil creature. Thou wilt be +happy, so long as thou dost not catch him, but if thou comest to the +measure of manhood, this bird that flees thee now, and hops away, +will come uncalled, and of a sudden, and settle on thy head.' + + + +V--THE TUTOR OF LOVE + + + +Great Cypris stood beside me, while still I slumbered, and with her +beautiful hand she led the child Love, whose head was earthward +bowed. This word she spake to me, 'Dear herdsman, prithee, take +Love, and teach him to sing.' So said she, and departed, and I--my +store of pastoral song I taught to Love, in my innocence, as if he +had been fain to learn. I taught him how the cross-flute was +invented by Pan, and the flute by Athene, and by Hermes the tortoise- +shell lyre, and the harp by sweet Apollo. All these things I taught +him as best I might; but he, not heeding my words, himself would sing +me ditties of love, and taught me the desires of mortals and +immortals, and all the deeds of his mother. And I clean forgot the +lore I was teaching to Love, but what Love taught me, and his love +ditties, I learned them all. + + + +VI--LOVE AND THE MUSES + + + +The Muses do not fear the wild Love, but heartily they cherish, and +fleetly follow him. Yea, and if any man sing that hath a loveless +heart, him do they flee, and do not choose to teach him. But if the +mind of any be swayed by Love, and sweetly he sings, to him the Muses +all run eagerly. A witness hereto am I, that this saying is wholly +true, for if I sing of any other, mortal or immortal, then falters my +tongue, and sings no longer as of old, but if again to Love, and +Lycidas I sing, then gladly from my lips flows forth the voice of +song. + + + +FRAGMENTS +VII + + + +I know not the way, nor is it fitting to labour at what we have not +learned. + + + +VIII + + + +If my ditties be fair, lo these alone will win me glory, these that +the Muse aforetime gave to me. And if these be not sweet, what gain +is it to me to labour longer? + + + +IX + + + +Ah, if a double term of life were given us by Zeus, the son of +Cronos, or by changeful Fate, ah, could we spend one life in joy and +merriment, and one in labour, then perchance a man might toil, and in +some later time might win his reward. But if the gods have willed +that man enters into life but once (and that life brief, and too +short to hold all we desire), then, wretched men and weary that we +are, how sorely we toil, how greatly we cast our souls away on gain, +and laborious arts, continually coveting yet more wealth! Surely we +have all forgotten that we are men condemned to die, and how short in +the hour, that to us is allotted by Fate. {181} + + + +X + + + +Happy are they that love, when with equal love they are rewarded. +Happy was Theseus, when Pirithous was by his side, yea, though he +went down to the house of implacable Hades. Happy among hard men and +inhospitable was Orestes, for that Pylades chose to share his +wanderings. And HE was happy, Achilles AEacides, while his darling +lived,--happy was he in his death, because he avenged the dread fate +of Patroclus. + + + +XI + + + +Hesperus, golden lamp of the lovely daughter of the foam, dear +Hesperus, sacred jewel of the deep blue night, dimmer as much than +the moon, as thou art among the stars pre-eminent, hail, friend, and +as I lead the revel to the shepherd's hut, in place of the moonlight +lend me thine, for to-day the moon began her course, and too early +she sank. I go not free-booting, nor to lie in wait for the +benighted traveller, but a lover am I, and 'tis well to favour +lovers. + + + +XII + + + +Mild goddess, in Cyprus born,--thou child, not of the sea, but of +Zeus,--why art thou thus vexed with mortals and immortals? Nay, my +word is too weak, why wert thou thus bitterly wroth, yea, even with +thyself, as to bring forth Love, so mighty a bane to all,--cruel and +heartless Love, whose spirit is all unlike his beauty? And wherefore +didst thou furnish him with wings, and give him skill to shoot so +far, that, child as he is, we never may escape the bitterness of +Love. + +XIII + +Mute was Phoebus in this grievous anguish. All herbs he sought, and +strove to win some wise healing art, and he anointed all the wound +with nectar and ambrosia, but remedeless are all the wounds of Fate. + +XIV + +But I will go my way to yon sloping hill; by the sand and the sea- +banks murmuring my song, and praying to the cruel Galatea. But of my +sweet hope never will I leave hold, till I reach the uttermost limit +of old age. + +XV + +It is not well, my friend, to run to the craftsman, whatever may +befall, nor in every matter to need another's aid, nay, fashion a +pipe thyself, and to thee the task is easy. + +XVI + +May Love call to him the Muses, may the Muses bring with them Love. +Ever may the Muses give song to me that yearn for it,--sweet song,-- +than song there is no sweeter charm. + +XVII + +The constant dropping of water, says the proverb, it wears a hole in +a stone. + +XVIII + +Nay, leave me not unrewarded, for even Phoebus sang for his reward. +And the meed of honour betters everything. + +XIX + +Beauty is the glory of womankind, and strength of men. + +XX + +All things, god-willing, all things may be achieved by mortals. From +the hands of the blessed come tasks most easy, and that find their +accomplishment. + + + + +MOSCHUS + + + + +Our only certain information about Moschus is contained in his own +Dirge for Bion. He speaks of his verse as 'Ausonian song,' and of +himself as Mion's pupil and successor. It is plain that he was +acquainted with the poems of Theocritus. + + + +IDYL I--LOVE THE RUNAWAY + + + +Cypris was raising the hue and cry for Love, her child,--'Who, where +the three ways meet, has seen Love wandering? He is my runaway, +whosoever has aught to tell of him shall win his reward. His prize +is the kiss of Cypris, but if thou bringest him, not the bare kiss, O +stranger, but yet more shalt thou win. The child is most notable, +thou couldst tell him among twenty together, his skin is not white, +but flame coloured, his eyes are keen and burning, an evil heart and +a sweet tongue has he, for his speech and his mind are at variance. +Like honey is his voice, but his heart of gall, all tameless is he, +and deceitful, the truth is not in him, a wily brat, and cruel in his +pastime. The locks of his hair are lovely, but his brow is impudent, +and tiny are his little hands, yet far he shoots his arrows, shoots +even to Acheron, and to the King of Hades. + +'The body of Love is naked, but well is his spirit hidden, and winged +like a bird he flits and descends, now here, now there, upon men and +women, and nestles in their inmost hearts. He hath a little bow, and +an arrow always on the string, tiny is the shaft, but it carries as +high as heaven. A golden quiver on his back he bears, and within it +his bitter arrows, wherewith full many a time he wounds even me. + +'Cruel are all these instruments of his, but more cruel by far the +little torch, his very own, wherewith he lights up the sun himself. + +'And if thou catch Love, bind him, and bring him, and have no pity, +and if thou see him weeping, take heed lest he give thee the slip; +and if he laugh, hale him along. + +'Yea, and if he wish to kiss thee, beware, for evil is his kiss, and +his lips enchanted. + +'And should he say, "Take these, I give thee in free gift all my +armoury," touch not at all his treacherous gifts, for they all are +dipped in fire.' + + + +IDYL II--EUROPA AND THE BULL + + + +To Europa, once on a time, a sweet dream was sent by Cypris, when the +third watch of the night sets in, and near is the dawning; when sleep +more sweet than honey rests on the eyelids, limb-loosening sleep, +that binds the eyes with his soft bond, when the flock of truthful +dreams fares wandering. + +At that hour she was sleeping, beneath the roof-tree of her home, +Europa, the daughter of Phoenix, being still a maid unwed. Then she +beheld two Continents at strife for her sake, Asia, and the farther +shore, both in the shape of women. Of these one had the guise of a +stranger, the other of a lady of that land, and closer still she +clung about her maiden, and kept saying how 'she was her mother, and +herself had nursed Europa.' But that other with mighty hands, and +forcefully, kept haling the maiden, nothing loth; declaring that, by +the will of AEgis-bearing Zeus, Europa was destined to be her prize. + +But Europa leaped forth from her strown bed in terror, with beating +heart, in such clear vision had she beheld the dream. Then she sat +upon her bed, and long was silent, still beholding the two women, +albeit with waking eyes; and at last the maiden raised her timorous +voice + +'Who of the gods of heaven has sent forth to me these phantoms? What +manner of dreams have scared me when right sweetly slumbering on my +strown bed, within my bower? Ah, and who was the alien woman that I +beheld in my sleep? How strange a longing for her seized my heart, +yea, and how graciously she herself did welcome me, and regard me as +it had been her own child. + +'Ye blessed gods, I pray you, prosper the fulfilment of the dream.' + +Therewith she arose, and began to seek the dear maidens of her +company, girls of like age with herself, born in the same year, +beloved of her heart, the daughters of noble sires, with whom she was +always wont to sport, when she was arrayed for the dance, or when she +would bathe her bright body at the mouths of the rivers, or would +gather fragrant lilies on the leas. + +And soon she found them, each bearing in her hand a basket to fill +with flowers, and to the meadows near the salt sea they set forth, +where always they were wont to gather in their company, delighting in +the roses, and the sound of the waves. But Europa herself bore a +basket of gold, a marvel well worth gazing on, a choice work of +Hephaestus. He gave it to Libya, for a bridal-gift, when she +approached the bed of the Shaker of the Earth, and Libya gave it to +beautiful Telephassa, who was of her own blood; and to Europa, still +an unwedded maid, her mother, Telephassa, gave the splendid gift. + +Many bright and cunning things were wrought in the basket: therein +was Io, daughter of Inachus, fashioned in gold; still in the shape of +a heifer she was, and had not her woman's shape, and wildly wandering +she fared upon the salt sea-ways, like one in act to swim; and the +sea was wrought in blue steel. And aloft upon the double brow of the +shore, two men were standing together and watching the heifer's sea- +faring. There too was Zeus, son of Cronos, lightly touching with his +divine hand the cow of the line of Inachus, and her, by Nile of the +seven streams, he was changing again, from a horned heifer to a +woman. Silver was the stream of Nile, and the heifer of bronze and +Zeus himself was fashioned in gold. And all about, beneath the rim +of the rounded basket, was the story of Hermes graven, and near him +lay stretched out Argus, notable for his sleepless eyes. And from +the red blood of Argus was springing a bird that rejoiced in the +flower-bright colour of his feathers, and spreading abroad his tail, +even as some swift ship on the sea doth spread all canvas, was +covering with his plumes the lips of the golden vessel. Even thus +was wrought the basket of the lovely Europa. + +Now the girls, so soon as they were come to the flowering meadows, +took great delight in various sorts of flowers, whereof one would +pluck sweet-breathed narcissus, another the hyacinth, another the +violet, a fourth the creeping thyme, and on the ground there fell +many petals of the meadows rich with spring. Others again were +emulously gathering the fragrant tresses of the yellow crocus; but in +the midst of them all the princess culled with her hand the splendour +of the crimson rose, and shone pre-eminent among them all like the +foam-born goddess among the Graces. Verily she was not for long to +set her heart's delight upon the flowers, nay, nor long to keep +untouched her maiden girdle. For of a truth, the son of Cronos, so +soon as he beheld her, was troubled, and his heart was subdued by the +sudden shafts of Cypris, who alone can conquer even Zeus. Therefore, +both to avoid the wrath of jealous Hera, and being eager to beguile +the maiden's tender heart, he concealed his godhead, and changed his +shape, and became a bull. Not such an one as feeds in the stall nor +such as cleaves the furrow, and drags the curved plough, nor such as +grazes on the grass, nor such a bull as is subdued beneath the yoke, +and draws the burdened wain. Nay, but while all the rest of his body +was bright chestnut, a silver circle shone between his brows, and his +eyes gleamed softly, and ever sent forth lightning of desire. From +his brow branched horns of even length, like the crescent of the +horned moon, when her disk is cloven in twain. He came into the +meadow, and his coming terrified not the maidens, nay, within them +all wakened desire to draw nigh the lovely bull, and to touch him, +and his heavenly fragrance was scattered afar, exceeding even the +sweet perfume of the meadows. And he stood before the feet of fair +Europa, and kept licking her neck, and cast his spell over the +maiden. And she still caressed him, and gently with her hands she +wiped away the deep foam from his lips, and kissed the bull. Then he +lowed so gently, ye would think ye heard the Mygdonian flute uttering +a dulcet sound. + +He bowed himself before her feet, and, bending back his neck, he +gazed on Europa, and showed her his broad back. Then she spake among +her deep-tressed maidens, saying - + +'Come, dear playmates, maidens of like age with me, let us mount the +bull here and take our pastime, for truly, he will bear us on his +back, and carry all of us; and how mild he is, and dear, and gentle +to behold, and no whit like other bulls. A mind as honest as a man's +possesses him, and he lacks nothing but speech.' + +So she spake, and smiling, she sat down on the back of the bull, and +the others were about to follow her. But the bull leaped up +immediately, now he had gotten her that he desired, and swiftly he +sped to the deep. The maiden turned, and called again and again to +her dear playmates, stretching out her hands, but they could not +reach her. The strand he gained, and forward he sped like a dolphin, +faring with unwetted hooves over the wide waves. And the sea, as he +came, grew smooth, and the sea-monsters gambolled around, before the +feet of Zeus, and the dolphin rejoiced, and rising from the deeps, he +tumbled on the swell of the sea. The Nereids arose out of the salt +water, and all of them came on in orderly array, riding on the backs +of sea-beasts. And himself, the thund'rous Shaker of the World, +appeared above the sea, and made smooth the wave, and guided his +brother on the salt sea path; and round him were gathered the +Tritons, these hoarse trumpeters of the deep, blowing from their long +conches a bridal melody. + +Meanwhile Europa, riding on the back of the divine bull, with one +hand clasped the beast's great horn, and with the other caught up the +purple fold of her garment, lest it might trail and be wet in the +hoar sea's infinite spray. And her deep robe was swelled out by the +winds, like the sail of a ship, and lightly still did waft the maiden +onward. But when she was now far off from her own country, and +neither sea-beat headland nor steep hill could now be seen, but +above, the air, and beneath, the limitless deep, timidly she looked +around, and uttered her voice, saying - + +'Whither bearest thou me, bull-god? What art thou? how dost thou +fare on thy feet through the path of the sea-beasts, nor fearest the +sea? The sea is a path meet for swift ships that traverse the brine, +but bulls dread the salt sea-ways. What drink is sweet to thee, what +food shalt thou find from the deep? Nay, art thou then some god, for +godlike are these deeds of thine? Lo, neither do dolphins of the +brine fare on land, nor bulls on the deep, but dreadless dost thou +rush o'er land and sea alike, thy hooves serving thee for oars. + +'Nay, perchance thou wilt rise above the grey air, and flee on high, +like the swift birds. Alas for me, and alas again, for mine +exceeding evil fortune, alas for me that have left my father's house, +and following this bull, on a strange sea-faring I go, and wander +lonely. But I pray thee that rulest the grey salt sea, thou Shaker +of the Earth, propitious meet me, and methinks I see thee smoothing +this path of mine before me. For surely it is not without a god to +aid, that I pass through these paths of the waters!' + +So spake she, and the horned bull made answer to her again - + +'Take courage, maiden, and dread not the swell of the deep. Behold I +am Zeus, even I, though, closely beheld, I wear the form of a bull, +for I can put on the semblance of what thing I will. But 'tis love +of thee that has compelled me to measure out so great a space of the +salt sea, in a bull's shape. Lo, Crete shall presently receive thee, +Crete that was mine own foster-mother, where thy bridal chamber shall +be. Yea, and from me shalt thou bear glorious sons, to be sceptre- +swaying kings over earthly men. + +So spake he, and all he spake was fulfilled. And verily Crete +appeared, and Zeus took his own shape again, and he loosed her +girdle, and the Hours arrayed their bridal bed. She that before was +a maiden straightway became the bride of Zeus, and she bare children +to Zeus, yea, anon she was a mother. + + + +IDYL III--THE LAMENT FOR BION + + + +Wail, let me hear you wail, ye woodland glades, and thou Dorian +water; and weep ye rivers, for Bion, the well beloved! Now all ye +green things mourn, and now ye groves lament him, ye flowers now in +sad clusters breathe yourselves away. Now redden ye roses in your +sorrow, and now wax red ye wind-flowers, now thou hyacinth, whisper +the letters on thee graven, and add a deeper ai ai to thy petals; he +is dead, the beautiful singer. + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +Ye nightingales that lament among the thick leaves of the trees, tell +ye to the Sicilian waters of Arethusa the tidings that Bion the +herdsman is dead, and that with Bion song too has died, and perished +hath the Dorian minstrelsy. + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +Ye Strymonian swans, sadly wail ye by the waters, and chant with +melancholy notes the dolorous song, even such a song as in his time +with voice like yours he was wont to sing. And tell again to the +OEagrian maidens, tell to all the Nymphs Bistonian, how that he hath +perished, the Dorian Orpheus. + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +No more to his herds he sings, that beloved herdsman, no more 'neath +the lonely oaks he sits and sings, nay, but by Pluteus's side he +chants a refrain of oblivion. The mountains too are voiceless: and +the heifers that wander by the bulls lament and refuse their pasture. + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +Thy sudden doom, O Bion, Apollo himself lamented, and the Satyrs +mourned thee, and the Priapi in sable raiment, and the Panes sorrow +for thy song, and the fountain fairies in the wood made moan, and +their tears turned to rivers of waters. And Echo in the rocks +laments that thou art silent, and no more she mimics thy voice. And +in sorrow for thy fall the trees cast down their fruit, and all the +flowers have faded. From the ewes hath flowed no fair milk, nor +honey from the hives, nay, it hath perished for mere sorrow in the +wax, for now hath thy honey perished, and no more it behoves men to +gather the honey of the bees. + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +Not so much did the dolphin mourn beside the sea-banks, nor ever sang +so sweet the nightingale on the cliffs, nor so much lamented the +swallow on the long ranges of the hills, nor shrilled so loud the +halcyon o'er his sorrows; + +(Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.) + +Nor so much, by the grey sea-waves, did ever the sea-bird sing, nor +so much in the dells of dawn did the bird of Memnon bewail the son of +the Morning, fluttering around his tomb, as they lamented for Bion +dead. + +Nightingales, and all the swallows that once he was wont to delight, +that he would teach to speak, they sat over against each other on the +boughs and kept moaning, and the birds sang in answer, 'Wail, ye +wretched ones, even ye!' + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +Who, ah who will ever make music on thy pipe, O thrice desired Bion, +and who will put his mouth to the reeds of thine instrument? who is +so bold? + +For still thy lips and still thy breath survive, and Echo, among the +reeds, doth still feed upon thy songs. To Pan shall I bear the pipe? +Nay, perchance even he would fear to set his mouth to it, lest, after +thee, he should win but the second prize. + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +Yea, and Galatea laments thy song, she whom once thou wouldst +delight, as with thee she sat by the sea-banks. For not like the +Cyclops didst thou sing--him fair Galatea ever fled, but on thee she +still looked more kindly than on the salt water. And now hath she +forgotten the wave, and sits on the lonely sands, but still she keeps +thy kine. + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +All the gifts of the Muses, herdsman, have died with thee, the +delightful kisses of maidens, the lips of boys; and woful round thy +tomb the loves are weeping. But Cypris loves thee far more than the +kiss wherewith she kissed the dying Adonis. + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +This, O most musical of rivers, is thy second sorrow, this, Meles, +thy new woe. Of old didst thou lose Homer, that sweet mouth of +Calliope, and men say thou didst bewail thy goodly son with streams +of many tears, and didst fill all the salt sea with the voice of thy +lamentation--now again another son thou weepest, and in a new sorrow +art thou wasting away. + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +Both were beloved of the fountains, and one ever drank of the +Pegasean fount, but the other would drain a draught of Arethusa. And +the one sang the fair daughter of Tyndarus, and the mighty son of +Thetis, and Menelaus Atreus's son, but that other,--not of wars, not +of tears, but of Pan, would he sing, and of herdsmen would he chant, +and so singing, he tended the herds. And pipes he would fashion, and +would milk the sweet heifer, and taught lads how to kiss, and Love he +cherished in his bosom and woke the passion of Aphrodite. + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +Every famous city laments thee, Bion, and all the towns. Ascra +laments thee far more than her Hesiod, and Pindar is less regretted +by the forests of Boeotia. Nor so much did pleasant Lesbos mourn for +Alcaeus, nor did the Teian town so greatly bewail her poet, while for +thee more than for Archilochus doth Paros yearn, and not for Sappho, +but still for thee doth Mytilene wail her musical lament; + +[Here seven verses are lost.] + +And in Syracuse Theocritus; but I sing thee the dirge of an Ausonian +sorrow, I that am no stranger to the pastoral song, but heir of the +Doric Muse which thou didst teach thy pupils. This was thy gift to +me; to others didst thou leave thy wealth, to me thy minstrelsy. + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +Ah me, when the mallows wither in the garden, and the green parsley, +and the curled tendrils of the anise, on a later day they live again, +and spring in another year; but we men, we, the great and mighty, or +wise, when once we have died, in hollow earth we sleep, gone down +into silence; a right long, and endless, and unawakening sleep. And +thou too, in the earth wilt be lapped in silence, but the nymphs have +thought good that the frog should eternally sing. Nay, him I would +not envy, for 'tis no sweet song he singeth. + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +Poison came, Bion, to thy mouth, thou didst know poison. To such +lips as thine did it come, and was not sweetened? What mortal was so +cruel that could mix poison for thee, or who could give thee the +venom that heard thy voice? surely he had no music in his soul. + +Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge. + +But justice hath overtaken them all. Still for this sorrow I weep, +and bewail thy ruin. But ah, if I might have gone down like Orpheus +to Tartarus, or as once Odysseus, or Alcides of yore, I too would +speedily have come to the house of Pluteus, that thee perchance I +might behold, and if thou singest to Pluteus, that I might hear what +is thy song. Nay, sing to the Maiden some strain of Sicily, sing +some sweet pastoral lay. + +And she too is Sicilian, and on the shores by Aetna she was wont to +play, and she knew the Dorian strain. Not unrewarded will the +singing be; and as once to Orpheus's sweet minstrelsy she gave +Eurydice to return with him, even so will she send thee too, Bion, to +the hills. But if I, even I, and my piping had aught availed, before +Pluteus I too would have sung. + + + +IDYL IV + + + +A sad dialogue between Megara the wife and Alcmena the mother of the +wandering Heracles. Megara had seen her own children slain by her +lord, in his frenzy, while Alcmena was constantly disquieted by +ominous dreams. + +My mother, wherefore art thou thus smitten in thy soul with exceeding +sorrow, and the rose is no longer firm in thy cheeks as of yore? why, +tell me, art thou thus disquieted? Is it because thy glorious son is +suffering pains unnumbered in bondage to a man of naught, as it were +a lion in bondage to a fawn? Woe is me, why, ah why have the +immortal gods thus brought on me so great dishonour, and wherefore +did my parents get me for so ill a doom? Wretched woman that I am, +who came to the bed of a man without reproach and ever held him +honourable and dear as mine own eyes,--ay and still worship and hold +him sacred in my heart--yet none other of men living hath had more +evil hap or tasted in his soul so many griefs. In madness once, with +the bow Apollo's self had given him--dread weapon of some Fury or +spirit of Death--he struck down his own children, and took their dear +life away, as his frenzy raged through the house till it swam in +blood. With mine own eyes, I saw them smitten, woe is me, by their +father's arrows--a thing none else hath suffered even in dreams. Nor +could I aid them as they cried ever on their mother; the evil that +was upon them was past help. As a bird mourneth for her perishing +little ones, devoured in the thicket by some terrible serpent while +as yet they are fledglings, and the kind mother flutters round them +making most shrill lament, but cannot help her nestlings, yea, and +herself hath great fear to approach the cruel monster; so I unhappy +mother, wailing for my brood, with frenzied feet went wandering +through the house. Would that by my children's side I had died +myself, and were lying with the envenomed arrow through my heart. +Would that this had been, O Artemis, thou that art queen chief of +power to womankind. Then would our parents have embraced and wept +for us and with ample obsequies have laid us on one common pyre, and +have gathered the bones of all of us into one golden urn, and buried +them in the place where first we came to be. But now they dwell in +Thebes, fair nurse of youth, ploughing the deep soil of the Aonian +plain, while I in Tiryns, rocky city of Hera, am ever thus wounded at +heart with many sorrows, nor is any respite to me from tears. My +husband I behold but a little time in our house, for he hath many +labours at his hand, whereat he laboureth in wanderings by land and +sea, with his soul strong as rock or steel within his breast. But +thy grief is as the running waters, as thou lamentest through the +nights and all the days of Zeus. + +Nor is there any one of my kinsfolk nigh at hand to cheer me: for it +is not the house wall that severs them, but they all dwell far beyond +the pine-clad Isthmus, nor is there any to whom, as a woman all +hapless, I may look up and refresh my heart, save only my sister +Pyrrha; nay, but she herself grieves yet more for her husband +Iphicles thy son: for methinks 'tis thou that hast borne the most +luckless children of all, to a God, and a mortal man. {205} + +Thus spake she, and ever warmer the tears were pouring from her eyes +into her sweet bosom, as she bethought her of her children and next +of her own parents. And in like manner Alcmena bedewed her pale +cheeks with tears, and deeply sighing from her very heart she thus +bespoke her dear daughter with thick-coming words: + +'Dear child, what is this that hath come into the thoughts of thy +heart? How art thou fain to disquiet us both with the tale of griefs +that cannot be forgotten? Not for the first time are these woes wept +for now. Are they not enough, the woes that possess us from our +birth continually to our day of death? In love with sorrow surely +would he be that should have the heart to count up our woes; such +destiny have we received from God. Thyself, dear child, I behold +vext by endless pains, and thy grief I can pardon, yea, for even of +joy there is satiety. And exceedingly do I mourn over and pity thee, +for that thou hast partaken of our cruel lot, the burden whereof is +hung above our heads. For so witness Persephone and fair-robed +Demeter (by whom the enemy that wilfully forswears himself, lies to +his own hurt), that I love thee no less in my heart than if thou +hadst been born of my womb, and wert the maiden darling of my house: +nay, and methinks that thou knowest this well. Therefore say never, +my flower, that I heed thee not, not even though I wail more +ceaselessly than Niobe of the lovely locks. No shame it is for a +mother to make moan for the affliction of her son: for ten months I +went heavily, even before I saw him, while I bare him under my +girdle, and he brought me near the gates of the warden of Hell; so +fierce the pangs I endured in my sore travail of him. And now my son +is gone from me in a strange land to accomplish some new labour; nor +know I in my sorrow whether I shall again receive him returning here +or no. Moreover in sweet sleep a dreadful dream hath fluttered me; +and I exceedingly fear for the ill-omened vision that I have seen, +lest something that I would not be coming on my children. + +It seemed to me that my son, the might of Heracles, held in both +hands a well-wrought spade, wherewith, as one labouring for hire, he +was digging a ditch at the edge of a fruitful field, stripped of his +cloak and belted tunic. And when he had come to the end of all his +work and his labours at the stout defence of the vine-filled close, +he was about to lean his shovel against the upstanding mound and don +the clothes he had worn. But suddenly blazed up above the deep +trench a quenchless fire, and a marvellous great flame encompassed +him. But he kept ever giving back with hurried feet, striving to +flee the deadly bolt of Hephaestus; and ever before his body he kept +his spade as it were a shield; and this way and that he glared around +him with his eyes, lest the angry fire should consume him. Then +brave Iphicles, eager, methought, to help him, stumbled and fell to +earth ere he might reach him, nor could he stand upright again, but +lay helpless, like a weak old man, whom joyless age constrains to +fall when he would not; so he lieth on the ground as he fell, till +one passing by lift him up by the hand, regarding the ancient +reverence for his hoary beard. Thus lay on the earth Iphicles, +wielder of the shield. But I kept wailing as I beheld my sons in +their sore plight, until deep sleep quite fled from my eyes, and +straightway came bright morn. Such dreams, beloved, flitted through +my mind all night; may they all turn against Eurystheus nor come nigh +our dwelling, and to his hurt be my soul prophetic, nor may fate +bring aught otherwise to pass. + + + +IDYL V + + + +When the wind on the grey salt sea blows softly, then my weary +spirits rise, and the land no longer pleases me, and far more doth +the calm allure me. {208} But when the hoary deep is roaring, and +the sea is broken up in foam, and the waves rage high, then lift I +mine eyes unto the earth and trees, and fly the sea, and the land is +welcome, and the shady wood well pleasing in my sight, where even if +the wind blow high the pine-tree sings her song. Surely an evil life +lives the fisherman, whose home is his ship, and his labours are in +the sea, and fishes thereof are his wandering spoil. Nay, sweet to +me is sleep beneath the broad-leaved plane-tree; let me love to +listen to the murmur of the brook hard by, soothing, not troubling +the husbandman with its sound. + + + +IDYL VI + + + +Pan loved his neighbour Echo; Echo loved +A gamesome Satyr; he, by her unmoved, +Loved only Lyde; thus through Echo, Pan, +Lyde, and Satyr, Love his circle ran. +Thus all, while their true lovers' hearts they grieved, +Were scorned in turn, and what they gave received. +O all Love's scorners, learn this lesson true; +Be kind to Love, that he be kind to you. + + + +IDYL VII + + + +Alpheus, when he leaves Pisa and makes his way through beneath the +deep, travels on to Arethusa with his waters that the wild olives +drank, bearing her bridal gifts, fair leaves and flowers and sacred +soil. Deep in the waves he plunges, and runs beneath the sea, and +the salt water mingles not with the sweet. Nought knows the sea as +the river journeys through. Thus hath the knavish boy, the maker of +mischief, the teacher of strange ways--thus hath Love by his spell +taught even a river to dive. + + + +IDYL VIII + + + +Leaving his torch and his arrows, a wallet strung on his back, +One day came the mischievous Love-god to follow the plough-share's +track: +And he chose him a staff for his driving, and yoked him a sturdy +steer, +And sowed in the furrows the grain to the Mother of Earth most dear. +Then he said, looking up to the sky: 'Father Zeus, to my harvest be +good, +Lest I yoke that bull to my plough that Europa once rode through the +flood!' + + + +IDYL IX + + + +Would that my father had taught me the craft of a keeper of sheep, +For so in the shade of the elm-tree, or under the rocks on the steep, +Piping on reeds I had sat, and had lulled my sorrow to sleep. {210} + + + +Footnotes + +{0a} This fragment is from the collection of M. Fauriel; Chants +Populaires de le Grece. + +{0b} Empedocles on Etna. + +{0c} Ballet des Arts, danse par sa Majeste; le 8 janvier, 1663. A +Paris, par Robert Ballard, MDCLXIII. + +{0d} These and the following ditties are from the modern Greek +ballads collected by MM. Fauriel and Legrand. + +{0e} See Couat, La Poesie Alexandrine, p. 68 et seq., Paris 1882. + +{0f} See Couat, op. cit. p. 395. + +{0g} Couat, p. 434. + +{0h} See Helbig, Campenische Wandmalerie, and Brunn, Die +griechischen Bukoliker und die Bildende Kunst. + +{0i} The Hecale of Callimachus, or Theseus and the Marathonian Bull, +seems to have been rather a heroic idyl than an epic. + +{6} Or reading [Greek]=Aeolian, cf. Thucyd. iii. 102. + +{9} These are places famous in the oldest legends of Arcadia. + +{11} Reading, [Greek]. Cf. Fritzsche's note and Harpocration, s.v. + +{13} On the word [Greek], see Lobeck, Aglaoph. p. 700; and 'The Bull +Roarer,' in the translator's Custom and Myth. + +{19} Reading [Greek]. Cf. line 3, and note. + +{21} He refers to a piece of folk-lore. + +{24} The shovel was used for tossing the sand of the lists; the +sheep were food for Aegon's great appetite. + +{26} Reading [Greek]. + +{34} Melanthius was the treacherous goatherd put to a cruel death by +Odysseus. + +{36} Ameis and Fritzsche take [Greek] (as here) to be the dog, not +Galatea. The sex of the Cyclops's sheep-dog makes the meaning +obscure. + +{40} Or, [Greek]. Hermann renders this domum Oromedonteam a +gigantic house.' Oromedon or Eurymedon was the king of the Gigantes, +mentioned in Odyssey vii. 58. + +{41} [Greek]. This is taken by some to mean algam infimam, 'the +bottom weeds of the deepest seas', by others, the sea-weed highest on +the shore, at high watermark. + +{42} Comatas was a goatherd who devoutly served the Muses, and +sacrificed to them his masters goats. His master therefore shut him +up in a cedar chest, opening which at the year's end he found Comatas +alive, by miracle, the bees having fed him with honey. Thus, in a +mediaeval legend, the Blessed Virgin took the place, for a year, of +the frail nun who had devoutly served her. + +{43} Sneezing in Sicily, as in most countries, was a happy omen. + +{50} A superfluous and apocryphal line is here omitted. + +{53} An allusion to the common superstition (cf. Idyl xii. 24) that +perjurers and liars were punished by pimples and blotches. The old +Irish held that blotches showed themselves on the faces of Brehons +who gave unjust judgments. + +{54} Spring in the south, like Night in the tropics, comes 'at one +stride'; but Wordsworth finds the rendering distasteful 'neque sic +redditum valde placet.' + +{57} 'Quant a ta maniere, je ne puis la rendre.'--SAINTE-BEUVE. + +{61} Reading [Greek]. + +{70} Cf. Wordsworth's proposed conjecture - + +[Greek]. + +Meineke observes 'tota haec carminis pars luxata et foedissime +depravata est'. There seems to be a rude early pun in lines 73, 74. + +{72} The reading - + +[Greek],--makes good sense. [Greek] is put in the mouth of the girl, +and would mean 'a good guess'! The allusion of a guest to the +superstition that the wolf struck people dumb is taken by Cynisca for +a reference to young Wolf, her secret lover. + +{73} Or, as Wordsworth suggests, reading [Greek], 'for him your +cheeks are wet with tears.' + +{74a} Shaving in the bronze, and still more, of course, in the stone +age, was an uncomfortable and difficult process. The backward and +barbarous Thracians were therefore trimmed in the roughest way, like +Aeschines, with his long gnawed moustache. + +{74b} The Megarians having inquired of the Delphic oracle as to +their rank among Greek cities, were told that they were absolute +last, and not in the reckoning at all. + +{77} Our Lady, here, is Persephone. The ejaculation served for the +old as well as for the new religion of Sicily. The dialogue is here +arranged as in Fritzsche's text, and in line 8 his punctuation is +followed. + +{78a} If cats are meant, the proverb is probably Alexandrian. +Common as cats were in Egypt, they were late comers in Greece. + +{78b} Most of the dialogue has been distributed as in the text of +Fritzsche. + +{82} Reading [Greek]. + +{89} I.e. Syracuse, a colony of the Ephyraeans or Corinthians. The +Maiden is Persephone, the Mother Demeter. + +{93} Deipyle, daughter of Adrastus. + +{98} Reading--[Greek]. See also Wordsworth's note on line 26. + +{104} For [Greek] Wordsworth and Hermann conjecture [Greek]. The +sense would be that Eunica, who thinks herself another Cypris, or +Aphrodite is, in turn, to be rejected by her Ares, her soldier-lover, +as she has rejected the herdsman. + +{105} Reading [Greek]. + +{106a} Reading [Greek]. + +{106b} [Greek]. + +{106c} [Greek], and in the next line [Greek]. + +{106d} [Greek]. + +{107} Reading, with Fritzsche - + +[Greek] + +The lines seem to contain two popular saws, of which it is difficult +to guess the meaning. The first saw appears to express helplessness; +the second, to hint that such comforts as lamps lit all night long +exist in towns, but are out of the reach of poor fishermen. + +{108a} Reading [Greek]. Asphalion first hooked his fish, which ran +gamely, and nearly doubled up the rod. Then the fish sulked, and the +angler half despaired of landing him. To stir the sullen fish, he +reminded him of his wound, probably, as we do now, by keeping a tight +line, and tapping the butt of the rod. Then he slackened, giving the +fish line in case of a sudden rush; but as there was no such rush, he +took in line, or perhaps only showed his fish the butt (for it is not +probable that Asphalion had a reel), and so landed him. The +Mediterranean fishers generally toss the fish to land with no display +of science, but Asphalion's imaginary capture was a monster. + +{108b} It is difficult to understand this proceeding. Perhaps +Asphalion had some small net fastened with strings to his boat, in +which he towed fish to shore, that the contact with the water might +keep them fresher than they were likely to be in the bottom of the +coble. On the other hand, Asphalion was fishing from a rock. His +dream may have been confused. + +{111} [Greek] appear to have been 'fire sticks,' by rubbing which +together the heroes struck a light. + +{118} Or [Greek], 'wash the spears,' as in the Zulu idiom. + +{124} In line 57 for [Greek] read Wordsworth's conjecture [Greek] = +[Greek]. + +{127} Odyssey. xix. 36 seq. (Reading [Greek] not [Greek].) +'Father, surely a great marvel is this that I behold with mine eyes +meseems, at least, that the walls of the hall . . . are bright as it +were with flaming fire' . . . 'Lo! this is the wont of the gods that +hold Olympus.' + +{128} [Greek], prae timore non lacrymantem (Paley). + +{129} Reading, after Fritzsche, [Greek]. We should have expected +the accursed ashes (like those of Wyclif) to be thrown into the +river; cf. Virgil, Ecl. viii. 101, 'Fer cineres, Amarylli, foras, +rivoque fluenti transque caput lace nec respexeris.' Virgil's +knowledge of these observances was not inferior to that of +Theocritus. + +{130} Reading [Greek]. If [Greek] is read, the phrase will mean +'pure brimming water.' + +{135} Reading [Greek]. + +{143} Reading [Greek], as in Wordsworth's conjecture, instead of +[Greek]. + +{144} Reading [Greek]. + +{145} [Greek], a play on words difficult to retain in English. +Compare Idyl xiii. line 74. + +{147} The conjecture [Greek] gives a good sense, mea vero Helena me +potius ultra petit. + +{148} Reading, as in Wordsworth's conjecture, [Greek]. + +{150a} Reading [Greek], with Fritzsche. Compare the conjecture of +Wordsworth, [Greek]. + +{150b} See Wordsworth's explanation. + +{153} Syracuse. + +{165} Reading, [Greek] (that is, the Corinthian founders of +Syracuse), and following Wordsworth's other conjectures. + +{167} This epigram may have been added by the first editor of +Theocritus, Artemidorus the Grammarian. + +{176} This conjecture of Meineke's offers, at least, a meaning. + +{181} Les hommes sont tous condamnes a mort, avec des sursis +indefinis.--VICTOR HUGO. + +{205} Alcmena bore Iphicles to Amphictyon, Hercules to Zeus. + +{208} Reading, with Weise, [Greek]. + +{210} For the translations into verse I have to thank Mr. Ernest +Myers. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THEOCRITUS, BION AND MOSCHUS *** + +This file should be named thbm10.txt or thbm10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, thbm11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, thbm10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + |