by Theocritus
The t’other Fere would be in speech of Thessalye;
Each lov’d each, even-peise: O other golden days,
Wheas love-I love-you all men did hold for true!
[17] O would to thee, Father Zeus, and to you, unaging Host of Heaven, that when a hundred hundred years shall be passed away, one bring me word upon the prisoning bank of Acheron our love is yet upon every lip, upon the young men’s most of all! Be that or no the People of Heaven shall stablish as they will; for theirs is the dominion; now, when I sing thy praises, there shall no push-o’-leasing rise upon the tip of this tongue; for if e’er thou giv’st me torment, thou healest the wound out of hand, and I am better off than before, seeing I come away with over-measure.
[27] Heaven rest you glad, Nisaean masters o’ the oar, for that you have done such exceeding honour unto an Attic stranger – to with Diocles (who so loved his boys); about whose grave, so surely as Spring cometh round, your children vie in a kissing-match, and whosoever presseth lip sweetliest upon lip, cometh away to’s mother loaden with garlands. Happy the justicer holdeth that court of kissing! God wot he prays beamy Ganymed, and prays indeed, to make his lips like the touchstones which show the money-changer whether the gold be bold or dross.
IDYLL XIII. HYLAS
Theocritus tells his friend Nicas in epic shape the tale of the Apotheosis of Hylas, the beloved of Heracles. If, as is probable, the words ‘as we seem to think’ are a delicate way of saying ‘as you seem to think,’ the poem may well be an answer to a friendly rebuke of the author of XII, XXIX, and XXX.
[1] From what god soever sprung, Nicias, Love was not, as we seem to think, born for us alone; nor first unto us of mortal flesh that cannot see the morrow, look things of beauty beautiful. For Amphitryon’s brazen-heart son that braved the roaring lion, he too once loved a lad, to wit the beauteous Hylas of the curly locks, and even as father his son, had taught him all the lore that made himself a good man and brought him fame; and would never leave him, neither if Day had risen to the noon, nor when Dawn’s white steeds first galloped up in to the home of Zeus, nor yet when the twittering chickens went scurrying at the flapping of their mother’s wings to their bed upon the smoky hen-roost. This did he that he might have the lad fashioned to his mind, and that pulling a straight furrow from the outset the same might come to be a true man.
[16] Now when Jason son of Aeson was to go to fetch the Golden Fleece with his following of champions that were chosen of the best out of all the cities in the land, then came there with them to the rich Iolcus the great man of toil who was son of the high-born Alcmena of Midea, and went down with Hylas at his side to that good ship Argo, even to her that speeding ungrazed clean through the blue Clappers, ran into Phasis bay as an eagle into a great gulf whereafter those Clappers have stood still, reefs ever more.
[25] And at the rising of the Pleiads, what time of the waning spring the young lambs find pasture in the uplands, then it was that that divine flower of hero-folk was minded of its voyaging, and taking seat in the Argo’s hull came after two days’ blowing of the Southwind to the Hellespont, and made haven within Propontis at the spot where furrow is broadened and share brightened by the oxen of the Cianians. Being gone forth upon the strand, as for their supper they were making it ready thwart by thwart; but one couch was strown them for all, for they found to their hand a meadow that furnished good store of litter, and thence did cut them taper rushes and tall bedstraw.
[36] Meanwhile the golden-haired Hylas was gone to bring water against supper for his own Heracles and for the valiant Telamon – for they two did ever eat together at a common board – bone with a brazen ewer. Ere long he espied a spring; in a hollow it lay, whereabout there grew many herbs, as well blue swallow-wort and fresh green maidenhair as blooming parsley and tangled deergrass. Now in the midst of the water there was a dance of the Nymphs afoot, of those Nymphs who, like the water, take no rest, those Nymphs who are the dread Goddesses of the country-folk, Eunica to wit and Malis and Nycheia with the springtime eyes. And there, when the lad put forth the capacious pitcher in haste to dip it in, lo! with one accord they all clung fast to his arm, because love of the young Argive had fluttered all their render breasts. And down he sank into the black water headlong, as when a falling star will sink headlong in the main and a mariner cry to his shipmates ‘Hoist away, my lads; the breeze freshens.’ Then took the Nymphs the weeping lad upon their knees and offered him comfort of gentle speech.
[55] Meantime the son of Amphitryon was grown troubled for the child, and gone forth with that bow of his that was bent Scythian-wise and the cudgel that was ever in the grasp of his right hand. Thrice cried he on Hylas as loud as his deep throttle could belch sound; thrice likewise did the child make answer, albeit his voice came thin from the water and he that was hard by seemed very far away. When a fawn cries in the hills, some ravening lion will speed from his lair to get him a meal so ready; and even so went Heracles wildly to and fro amid the pathless brake, and covered much country because of his longing for the child. As lovers know no flinching, so endless was the toil of his wandering by wood and wold, and all Jason’s business was but a by-end. And all the while the ship stood tackle aloft, and so far as might be, laden, and the heroes passed thee night a-clearing of the channel, waiting upon Heracles. But he alas! was running whithersoever his feet might carry him, in a frenzy, the god did rend so cruelly the heart within him.
[73] Thus came fairest Hylas to be numbered of the Blest, and the heroes to gird at Heracles for a deserter because he wandered and left the good ship of the thirty thwarts. Nevertheless he made the inhospitable land of the Colchians afoot.
IDYLL XIV. THE LOVE OF CYNISCA
The Love of Cynisca is a dialogue of common life. The scene is neither Egypt nor Sicily, perhaps Cos. The characters, middle-aged men, one of whom has been crossed in love, meet in the road, and in the ensuing conversation the lover tells the story of his quarrel with Cynisca, and ends with expressing his intention of going for a soldier abroad. His friend suggest that he should enlist in the army of Ptolemy, and gives that monarch a flattering testimonial, which betrays the hand of the rising poet who seeks for recognition at court.
AESCHINAS
[1] A very good day to master Thyonichus.
THYONICHUS
[1] To Aeschinas the same.
AESCHINAS
[2] Well met!
THYONICHUS
[2] Well met it is; but what ails ye?
AESCHINAS
[3] Luck’s way’s not my way, Thyonichus.
THYONICHUS
[3] Ah! that’s for why thou’rt so lean and the hair o’ thy lip so lank, and thy love-locks all-to-bemoiled. Thou’rt like one of your Pythagoreaners that came t’other day, pale-faced and never a shoe to’s foot; hailed from Athens, he said.
AESCHINAS
[7] And was he, too, in love?
THYONICHUS
[7] Aye, marry, was he – with a dish o’ porridge.
AESCHINAS
[8] Thou’lt be ever at thy quips, good lad, With me ’tis the pretty Cynisca, and she’s playing the jade. And I doubt ’tis but a hair’s-breadth betwixt me and a madman.
THYONICHUS
[10] ‘Faith, that’s ever my Aeschinas; something hastier than might be; will have all his own way. But come, what is it?
AESCHINAS
[12] There was the Argive and I and Agis the jockey out o’ Thessaly, and Cleunicus the man-at-arms a-drinking at my farm. I’d killed a pair of pullets, look you, and a suckling pig, and broached ’em a hogshead of Bibline fine and fragrant – four years in the cask, mark you, and yet, where new’s best, as good as new – and on the board a cuttlefish and cockles to boot; i’ faith, a jolly bout.
[18] To’t we went, and when things waxed warmer ’twas agreed we should toast every man his fancy; only we should give the name. But when we came to drink, the wench would not keep the bond like the rest of us, for all I was there. How, think you, I liked of that? ‘Wi
lt be mum?’ says one, and in jest, ‘Hast met a wolf?’ ‘O well said!’ cries she, and falls a-blushing like fire; Lord! you might have lit a candle at her face. One Wolf there is, look you, tall and sleek sort, in some folks’ eyes a proper man. ’Twas he she made so brave a show of pining for out o’ love. And I’d had wind o’t too, mind you, softly, somehow, and so-to-speak; but there! I never raised inquiry for all my beard’s so long.
[29] Be that as it may, we four good men were well in, when he of Larissa, like the mischief he was, fell a-singing a Thessalian catch beginning ‘My friend the Wolf’; whereupon Cynisca bursts out a-weeping and a-wailing like a six-year-old maiden in want of a lap. Then – you know me, Thyonichus, – I up and fetched her a clout o’ the ear, and again a clout. Whereat she catched up her skirts and was gone in a twink. ‘Am I not good enough, my sweet mischief? Hast ever a better in thy lap? Go to, pack, and be warming another. Yons he thou wee’pst apples over.’ Now a swallow, mark you, that bringeth her young eaves-dwellers their pap, gives and is gone again to get her more; so quickly that piece was up from her cushions and off through door-place and through door, howsoever her feet would carry her. Aye, ’tis an old story how the Centaur went through the wood.
[44] Let me see, ’twas the twentieth o’ the month. Eight, nine, ten; to-day’s the eleventh. You’ve only to add ten days and ‘twill be two months since we parted; and I may be Thracian-cropped for aught she knows. Ah! ’tis all Wolf nowadays; Wolf hath the door left open for him o’ nights; as for me, I forsooth am altogether beside the reckoning, like miserable Megara, last i’ the list. ’Tis true, if I would but take my love off the wench, all would go well. But alack! how can that be? When mouse tastes pitch, Thyonichus – ; and what may be the medicine for love there’s no getting away from, ‘faith, I know not – sae that Simus that fell in love, as the saying is, with Mistress Brassbound and went overseas, he came home whole; a mate of mine he was. Suppose I cross the water, like him; your soldier’s life, as ’tis not maybe o’ the highest, so is it not o’ the lowest, but ’tis e’en as good as another.
THYONICHUS
[56] I would indeed thy desire had run smooth, Aeschinas. But if so be thy mind is made up to go thy ways abroad, I’ll e’en tell thee the best paymaster a freeman can have; King Ptolemy.
AESCHINAS
[59] And what sort of man is he in other ways.
THYONICHUS
[60] This pick o’ the best: a kind heart, man of parts, a true gallant, and the top o’ good-fellowship; knows well the colour of a friend, and still better the look of a foe; like a true king, gives far and wide and says no man nay – albeit one should not be for ever asking, Aeschians. (in mock-heroic strain) So an thou be’st minded to clasp the warrior’s cloak about thee, and legs astride to abide the onset of the hardy foeman, to Egypt with thee. To judge by our noddles we’re all waxing old, and old Time comes us grizzling line by line down the cheek. We must fain be up and doing while there’s sap in our legs.
IDYLL XV. THE WOMEN AT THE ADONIS FESTIVAL
The scene of this mime is Alexandria, and the chief characters are two fellow-countrywomen of the author. Gorgo, paying a morning call, finds Praxinoa, with her two-year-old child, superintending the spinning of her maids, and asks her tom come with her to the Festival of Adonis at the palace of Ptolemy II. Praxinoa makes some demur, but at last washes and dresses and sallies forth with her visitor and their two maids. After sundry encounters in the crowded streets, they enter the palace, and soon after, the prima donna begins the Drie – which is really a wedding-song containing a forecast of a dirge – with an address to the bride Aphrodite and a reference to the deification of the queen of Ptolemy I. The song describes the scene – the offerings displayed about the marriage-bed, the two canopies of greenery above it, the bedstead with its representation of the Rape of Ganymede, the coverlets which enwrap the effigies of Adonis and Aphrodite, the image of the holy bridegroom himself – and ends with an anticipation of the choral dirge to be sung on the morrow at the funeral of Adonis.
GORGO (with her maid Etychis at the door, as the maid Eunoa opens it)
[1] Praxinoa at home?
PRAXINOA (running forward)
[1] Dear Gorgo! at last! she is at home. I quite thought you’d forgotten me. (to the maid) Here, Eunoa, a chair of the lady, and a cushion on it.
GORGO (refusing the cushion)
[3] No, thank you, really.
PRAXINOA
[3] Do sit down.
GORGO (sitting)
[4] O what a silly I was to come! What with the crush and the horses, Praxinoa, I’ve scarcely got here alive. It’s all big boots and people in uniform. And the street was never-ending, and you can’t think how far your house is along it.
PRAXINOA
[8] That’s my lunatic; came and took one at the end of the world, and more an animal’s den, too, than a place of a human being to live in, just to prevent you and me being neighbours, out of sheer spite, the jealous old wretch! He’s always the same.
GORGO
[11] My dear, pray don’t call your good Dinon such names before Baby. See how he’s staring at you. (to the child) It’s all right, Zopyrion, my pet. It’s not dad-dad she’s talking about.
PRAXINOA
[14] Upon my word, the child understands.
GORGO
[14] Nice dad-dad.
PRAXINOA
[15] And yet that dad-dad of his the other day – the other day, now I tell him ‘Daddy, get mother some soap and rouge from the shop,’ and, would you believe it? back he came with a packet of salt, the great six feet of folly!
GORGO
[17] Mine’s just the same. Diocleidas is a perfect spendthrift. Yesterday he gave seven shillings a piece for mere bits of dog’s hair, mere pluckings of old handbags, five of them, all filth, all work to be done over again. But come, my dear, get your cloak and gown. I want you to come with me (grandly) to call on our high and mighty Prince Ptolemy to see the Adonis. I hear the Queen’s getting up something quite splendid this year.
PRAXINOA (hesitating)
[24] Fine folks, fine ways.
GORGO
[25] Yes; but sightseers make good gossips, you know, if you’ve been and other people haven’t. It’s time we were on the move.
PRAXINOA (still hesitating)
[26] It’s always holiday with people who’ve nothing to do. (suddenly making up her mind) Here, Eunoa, you scratch-face, take up the spinning and put it away with the rest. Cats always will lie soft. Come, bestir yourself. Quick, some water! (to Gorgo) Water’s wanted first, and she brings the soap. (to Eunoa) Never mind; give it me. (Eunoa pours out the powdered soap) Not all that, you wicked waste! Pour out the water. (Eunoa washes her mistress’s hands and face) Oh, you wretch! What do you mean by wetting my bodice like that? That’s enough. (to Gorgo) I’ve got myself washed somehow, thank goodness. (to Eunoa) Now where’s the key of the big cupboard? Bring it here. (Takes out a Dorian pinner – a gown fastened with pins or brooches to the shoulders and reaching to the ground, with an overfold coming to the waist – and puts it on with Eunoa’s aid over the inner garment with short sleeves which she wears indoors)
GORGO (referring to the style of the overfold)
[34] Praxinoa, that full gathering suits you really well. Do tell me what you gave for the material.
PRAXINOA
[36] Don’t speak of it, Gorgo; it was more than eight golden sovereigns, and I can tell you I put my very soul into making it up.
GORGO
[38] Well, all I can say is, it’s most successful.
PRAXINOA
[38] I’m inclined to agree with you. (to Eunoa) Come, put on my cloak and hat for me, and mind you do it properly. (Eunoa puts her cloak about her head and shoulders and pins the straw sun-hat to it). (taking up the child) No; I’m not going to take you, Baby. Horse-bogey bites little boys. (the child cries) You may cry as much as you like; I’m not going to have you lamed for life. (to Gorgo, giving the child to
the nurse) Come along. Take Baby and amuse him, Phyrgia, and call the dog indoors and lock he front-door.
(in the street) GORGO
[44] Heavens, what a crowd! How we’re to get through this awful crush and how long it’s going to take us, I can’t imagine. Talk of an antheap!
PRAXINOA
[46] I must say, you’ve done us many a good turn, my good Ptolemy, since your father went to heaven. We have no villains sneaking up to murder us in the streets nowadays in the good old Egyptian style. They don’t play those awful games now – the thorough-paced rogues, every one of them the same, all queer!
[51] Gorgo dearest! what shall we do? The Royal Horse! Don’t run me down, my good man. That bay’s rearing. Look, what temper! Stand back, Eunoa, you reckless girl! He’ll be the death of that man. Thank goodness I left Baby at home!
GORGO
[56] It’s all right, Praxinoa, We’ve got well behind them, you see. They’re all where they ought to be, now.
PRAXINOA (recovering)
[57] And fortunately I can say the same of my poor wits. Ever since I was a girl, two things have frightened me more than anything else, a horrid chilly snake and a horse. Let’s go on. Here’s ever such a crowd pouring after us.
GORGO (to an Old Woman)
[60] Have you come from the palace, mother?
OLD WOMAN
[60] Yes, my dears.
GORGO
[60] Then we can get there all right, can we?
OLD WOMAN
[61] Trying took Troy, my pretty; don’t they say where there’s a will there’s a way?
GORGO
[63] That old lady gave us some oracles, didn’t she?
PRAXINOA (mock-sententiously)
[64] My dear, women knew everything. They know all about Zeus marrying Hera.
GORGO
[65] Do look, Praxinoa; what a crowd there is at the door! It’s marvellous!
PRAXINOA
[66] Give me your arm, Gorgo; and you take hold of Eutychis’ arm, Eunoa; and you take care, Eutychis, not to get separated. We’ll all go in together. Mind you keep hold of me, Eunoa. Oh dear, oh dear, Gorgo! my summer cloak’s torn right in two (to a stranger) For Heaven’s sake, as you wish to be saved, mind my cloak, sir.