by Theocritus
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 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.
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.
J. M. EDMONDS, LOEB TRANSLATION, 1912
Translated by J. M. Edmonds for The Loeb Classical Library
CONTENTS
PREFACE
The Idylls
IDYLL I. THYRSIS
IDYLL II. THE SPELL
IDYLL III. THE SERENADE
IDYLL IV. THE HERDSMEN
IDYLL V. THE GOATHERD AND THE SHEPHERD
IDYLL VI. A COUNTRY SINGING MATCH
IDYLL VII. THE HARVEST-HOME
IDYLL VIII. THE SECOND COUNTRY SINGING-MATCH
IDYLL IX. THE THIRD COUNTRY SINGING-MATCH
IDYLL X. THE REAPERS
IDYLL XI. THE CYCLOPS
IDYLL XII. THE BELOVED
IDYLL XIII. HYLAS
IDYLL XIV. THE LOVE OF CYNISCA
IDYLL XV. THE WOMEN AT THE ADONIS FESTIVAL
IDYLL XVI. THE CHARITES
IDYLL XVII. THE PANEGYRIC OF PTOLEMY
IDY
LL XVIII. THE EPITHALAMY OF HELEN
IDYLL XIX. THE HONEY-STEALER
IDYLL XX. THE YOUNG COUNTRYMAN
IDYLL XXI. THE FISHERMEN
IDYLL XXII. THE DIOSCURI
IDYLL XXIII. THE LOVER
IDYLL XXIV. THE LITTLE HERACLES
IDYLL XXV. HOW HERACLES SLEW THE LION
IDYLL XXVI. THE BACCHANALS
IDYLL XXVII. THE LOVER’S TALK
IDYLL XXVIII. THE DISTAFF
IDYLL XXIX. THE FIRST LOVE-POEM
IDYLL XXX. THE SECOND LOVE-POEM
The Inscriptions
I. [AN INSCRIPTION FOR A PICTURE]
II. [FOR A PICTURE]
III. [FOR A PICTURE]
IV. [A LOVE-POEM IN THE FORM OF A WAYSIDE INSCRIPTION]
V. [AN INSCRIPTION FOR A PICTURE]
VI. [FOR A PICTURE]
VII. [FOR THE GRAVE OF A YOUNG FATHER]
VIII. [FOR NICIAS’ NEW STATUE OF ASCLEPIUS]
IX. [FOR THE GRAVE OF A LANDED GENTLEMAN]
X. [FOR AN ALTAR WITH A FRIEZE OF THE MUSES]
XI. [FORTE GRAVE OF A STROLLING PHYSIOGNOMIST]
XII. [FOR A PRIZE TRIPOD]
XIII. [FOR A COAN LADY’S NEW STATUE OF APHRODITE]
XIV. [FOR THE TABLE OF A BARBARIAN MONEY-CHANGER]
XV. [FOR THE GRAVE OF A BRAVE MAN]
XVI. [FOR THE GRAVE OF TWO LITTLE CHILDREN]
XVII. [FOR A STATUE OF ANACREON OF TEOS]
XVIII. [FOR A STATUE OF EPICHARMUS IN THE THEATRE OF SYRACUSE]
XIX. [A NEW INSCRIPTION FOR THE GRAVE OF HIPPONAX]
XX. [AN INSCRIPTION FOR THE GRAVE OF A NURSE]
XXI. [FOR THE STATUE OF ARCHILOCHUS]
XXII. [FOR A STATUE OF PEISANDER AT CAMIRUS]
XXIII. [FOR THE GRAVE OF ONE GLAUCE]
XXIV. [FOR A NEW BASE TO SOME OLD OFFERINGS]
The Fragments
FRAGMENT I.
FRAGMENT II.
FRAGMENT III.
PREFACE
THE translator wishes to record his indebtedness to many predecessors, from the author of the Sixe Idillia to the late Andrew Lang. His thanks are also due, among other friends, to Mr. A, S. F. Gow for allowing him access to the unpublished results of his investigations into the “Bucolic Masquerade” and the Pattern-Poems.
24, HALIFAX ROAD, CAMBRIDGE.
8 October, 1912.
The Idylls
IDYLL I. THYRSIS
A shepherd and a goatherd meet in the pastures one noontide, and compliment each other upon their piping. The shepherd, Thyrsis by name, is persuaded by the other – for a cup which he describes but does not at first show – to sing him The Affliction of Daphnis, a ballad which tells how the ideal shepherd, friend not only of Nymphs and Muse, but of all the wild creatures, having vowed to his first love that she should be his last, pined and died for the love of another. The ballad is divided into three parts marked by changes in the refrain. The first part, after a complaint to the Nymphs of their neglect, tells how the herds and the herdsmen gathered about the dying man, and Hermes his father, and Priapus the country-god of fertility whom he had flouted, came and spoke and got no answer. In the second part, the slighted Love-Goddess comes, and gently upbraids him, whereat he breaks silence with a threat of vengeance after death. The lines of his speech which follow tell in veiled ironic terms what he vengeance of this friend of wild things will be; for Anchises was afterwards blinded by bees, Adonis slain by a boar, and Cypris herself wounded by Diomed. The speech is continued with a farewell to the wild creatures, and to the wells and rivers of Syracuse. In the third part the bequeaths his pipe to Pan, ends his dying speech with an address to all Nature, and is overwhelmed at last in the river of Death. The scene of the mime is Cos, but Thyrsis comes from Sicily, and Sicily is the scene of his song.
THYRSIS
[1] Something sweet is the whisper of the pine that makes her music by yonder springs, and sweet no less, master Goatherd, the melody of your pipe. Pan only shall take place and prize afore you; and if they give him a horny he-goat, then a she shall be yours; and if a she be for him, why, you shall have her kid; and kid’s meat’s good eating till your kids be milch-goats.
GOATHERD
[7] As sweetly, good Shepherd, falls your music as the resounding water that gushes down from the top o’ yonder rock. If the Muses get the ewe-lamb to their meed, you shall carry off the cosset, the ewe-lamb come to you.
THYRSIS
[12] ‘Fore the Nymphs I pray you, master Goatherd, come now and sit ye down here by this shelving bank and these brush tamarisks and play me a tune. I’ll keep your goats the while.
GOATHERD
[15] No, no man; there’s no piping for me at high noon. I go in too great dread of Pan for that. I wot high noon’s his time for taking rest after the swink o’ the chase; and he’s one o’ the tetchy sort; his nostril’s ever sour wrath’s abiding-place. But for singing, you, Thyrsis, used to sing The Affliction of Daphnis as well as any man; you are no ‘prentice in the art of country music. So let’s come and sit yonder beneath the elm, this way, over against Priapus and the fountain-goddesses, where that shepherd’s seat is and those oak-trees. And if you but sing as you sang that day in the match with Chromis of Libya, I’ll not only grant you three milkings of a twinner goat that for all her two young yields two pailfuls, but I’ll give you a fine great mazer to boot, well scoured with sweet beeswax, and of two lugs, bran-span-new and the smack of he graver upon it yet.
[29] The lip of it is hanged about with curling ivy, ivy freaked with a cassidony which goes twisting and twining among the leaves in the pride of her saffron fruitage. And within this bordure there’s a woman, fashioned as a god might fashion her, lapped in a robe and snood about her head. And either side the woman a swain with fair and flowing locks, and they bandy words the one with the other. Yet her heart is not touched by aught they say; for now ’tis a laughing glance to this, and anon a handful of regard to that, and for all their eyes have been so long hollow for love of her, they spend their labour in vain. Besides these there’s an old fisher wrought on’t and a rugged rock, and there stands gaffer gathering up his great net for a cast with a right good will like one that toils might and main. You would say that man went about his fishing with all the strength o’s limbs, he stands every sinew in his neck, for all his grey hairs, puffed and swollen; for his strength is the strength of youth.
[45] And but a little removed from master Weather-beat there’s a vineyard well laden with clusters red to the ripening, and a little lad seated watching upon a hedge. And on either side of him two foxes; this ranges to and fro along the rows and pilfers all such grapes as be ready for eating, while that setteth all his cunning at the lad’s wallet, and vows he will not let him be till he have set him breaking his fast with but poor victuals to his drink. And all the time the urchin’s got star-flower-stalks a-platting to a reed for to make him a pretty gin for locusts, and cares never so much, not he, for his wallet or his vines as he takes pleasure in his platting. And for an end, mark you, spread all about he cup goes the lissom bear’s-foot, a sight worth the seeing with its writhen leaves; ’tis a marvellous work, ‘twill amaze your heart.
[57] Now for that cup a ferryman of Calymnus had a goat and a gallant great cheese-loaf of me, and never yet hath it touched my lip; it still lies unhandselled by. Yet right welcome to it art thou, if like a good fellow thou’lt sing me that pleasing and delightful song. Nay, not so; I am in right earnest. To’t, good friend; sure thou wilt not be hoarding that song against thou be’st come where all’s forgot?
THYRSIS (sings)
Country-song, sing country-song, sweet Muses.
[65] ’Tis Thyrsis sings, of Etna, and a rare sweet voice hath he.
Where were ye, Nymphs, when Daphnis pined? ye Nymphs, O where were ye?
Was it Peneius’ pretty vale, or Pindus’ glens? ’twas never
Anápus’ flood nor Etna’s pike nor Acis’ holy river.
Country-song, sing coun
try-song, sweet Muses.
[71] When Daphnis died the foxes wailed and the wolves they wailed full sore,
The lion from the greenward wept when Daphnis was no more.
Country-song, sing country-song, sweet Muses.
[74] O many the lusty steers at his feet, and may the heifers slim,
Many the claves and many the kine that made their moan for him.
Country-song, sing country-song, sweet Muses.
[77] Came Hermes first, from the hills away, and said “O Daphnis tell,
“Who is’t that fretteth thee, my son? whom lovest thou so well?”
Country-song, sing country-song, sweet Muses.
[80] The neatherds came, the shepherds came, and the goatherds him beside,
All fain to hear what ail’d him; Priapus came and cried
“Why peak and pine, unhappy wight, when thou mightest bed a bride?
“For there’s nor wood nor water but hath seen her footsteps flee –
Country-song, sing country-song, sweet Muses –
[85] “In search o’ thee. O a fool-in-love and a feeble is here, perdye!
“Neatherd, forsooth? ’tis goatherd now, or ‘faith, ’tis like to be;
“When goatherd in the rutting-time the skipping kids doth scan,
“His eye grows soft, his eye grows sad, because he’s born a man; –
Country-song, sing country-song, sweet Muses –
