by Theocritus
αἴκα τῆνος ἕλῃ κεραὸν τράγον, αἶγα τὺ λαψῇ.
αἴκα δ᾽ αἶγα λάβῃ τῆνος γέρας, ἐς τὲ καταρρεῖ 5
ἁ χίμαρος: χιμάρῳ δὲ καλὸν κρέας, ἕστέ κ᾽ ἀμέλξῃς.
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.
Αἴπολος
῞Αδιον ὦ ποιμὴν τὸ τεὸν μέλος ἢ τὸ καταχὲς
τῆν᾽ ἀπὸ τᾶς πέτρας καταλείβεται ὑψόθεν ὕδωρ.
αἴκα ταὶ Μοῖσαι τὰν οἰίδα δῶρον ἄγωνται,
ἄρνα τὺ σακίταν λαψῇ γέρας: αἰ δέ κ᾽ ἀρέσκῃ 10
τήναις ἄρνα λαβεῖν, τὺ δὲ τὰν ὄιν ὕστερον ἀξῇ.
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.
Θύρσις
λῇς ποτὶ τᾶν Νυμφᾶν, λῇς αἰπόλε τεῖδε καθίξας,
ὡς τὸ κάταντες τοῦτο γεώλοφον αἵ τε μυρῖκαι,
συρίσδεν; τὰς δ᾽ αἶγας ἐγὼν ἐν τῷδε νομευσῶ.
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.
Αἴπολος
οὐ θέμις ὦ ποιμὴν τὸ μεσαμβρινόν, οὐ θέμις ἄμμιν 15
συρίσδεν. τὸν Πᾶνα δεδοίκαμες: ἦ γὰρ ἀπ᾽ ἄγρας
τανίκα κεκμακὼς ἀμπαύεται: ἔστι δὲ πικρός,
καί οἱ ἀεὶ δριμεῖα χολὰ ποτὶ ῥινὶ κάθηται.
ἀλλὰ τὺ γὰρ δὴ Θύρσι τὰ Δάφνιδος ἄλγε᾽ ἀείδες
καὶ τᾶς βουκολικᾶς ἐπὶ τὸ πλέον ἵκεο μοίσας, 20
δεῦρ᾽ ὑπὸ τὰν πτελέαν ἑσδώμεθα, τῶ τε Πριήπω
καὶ τᾶν Κραναιᾶν κατεναντίον, ᾇπερ ὁ θῶκος
τῆνος ὁ ποιμενικὸς καὶ ταὶ δρύες. αἰ δέ κ᾽ ἀείσῃς
ὡς ὅκα τὸν Λιβύαθε ποτὶ Χρόμιν ᾆσας ἐρίσδων,
αἶγα δέ τοι δωσῶ διδυματόκον ἐς τρὶς ἀμέλξαι, 25
ἃ δύ᾽ ἔχοισ᾽ ἐρίφως ποταμέλγεται ἐς δύο πέλλας,
καὶ βαθὺ κισσύβιον κεκλυσμένον ἁδέι κηρῷ,
ἀμφῶες, νεοτευχές, ἔτι γλυφάνοιο ποτόσδον.
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.
τῶ περὶ μὲν χείλη μαρύεται ὑψόθι κισσός,
κισσὸς ἑλιχρύσῳ κεκονιμένος: ἁ δὲ κατ᾽ αὐτὸν 30
καρπῷ ἕλιξ εἱλεῖται ἀγαλλομένα κροκόεντι.
ἔντοσθεν δὲ γυνά, τί θεῶν δαίδαλμα τέτυκται,
ἀσκητὰ πέπλῳ τε καὶ ἄμπυκι. πὰρ δέ οἱ ἄνδρες
καλὸν ἐθειράζοντες ἀμοιβαδὶς ἄλλοθεν ἄλλος
νεικείουσ᾽ ἐπέεσσι. τὰ δ᾽ οὐ φρενὸς ἅπτεται αὐτᾶς:
ἀλλ᾽ ὁκὰ μὲν τῆνον ποτιδέρκεται ἄνδρα γελᾶσα,
ἄλλοκα δ᾽ αὖ ποτὶ τὸν ῥιπτεῖ νόον. οἱ δ᾽ ὑπ᾽ ἔρωτος
δηθὰ κυλοιδιόωντες ἐτώσια μοχθίζοντι.
τοῖς δὲ μετὰ γριπεύς τε γέρων πέτρα τε τέτυκται
λεπράς, ἐφ᾽ ᾇ σπεύδων μέγα δίκτυον ἐς βόλον ἕλκει
ὁ πρέσβυς, κάμνοντι τὸ καρτερὸν ἀνδρὶ ἐοικώς.
φαίης κεν γυίων νιν ὅσον σθένος ἐλλοπιεύειν:
ὧδέ οἱ ᾠδήκαντι κατ᾽ αὐχένα πάντοθεν ἶνες
καὶ πολιῷ περ ἐόντι, τὸ δὲ σθένος ἄξιον ἅβας.
[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.
τυτθὸν δ᾽ ὅσσον ἄπωθεν ἁλιτρύτοιο γέροντος 45
πυρναίαις σταφυλαῖσι καλὸν βέβριθεν ἀλωά,
τὰν ὀλίγος τις κῶρος ἐφ᾽ αἱμασιαῖσι φυλάσσει
ἥμενος: ἀμφὶ δέ νιν δύ᾽ ἀλώπεκες ἁ μὲν ἀν᾽ ὄρχως
φοιτῇ σινομένα τὰν τρώξιμον, ἁ δ᾽ ἐπὶ πήρᾳ
πάντα δόλον κεύθοισα τὸ παιδίον οὐ πρὶν ἀνησεῖν 50
φατὶ πρὶν ἢ ἀκράτιστον ἐπὶ ξηροῖσι καθίξῃ.
αὐτὰρ ὅγ᾽ ἀνθερίκοισι καλὰν πλέκει ἀκριδοθήραν
σχοίνῳ ἐφαρμόσδων: μέλεται δέ οἱ οὔτέ τι πήρας
οὔτε φυτῶν τοσσῆνον, ὅσον περὶ πλέγματι γαθεῖ.
παντᾷ δ᾽ ἀμφὶ δέπας περιπέπταται ὑγρὸς ἄκανθος:
αἰολικόν τι θέαμα, τέρας κέ τυ θυμὸν ἀτύξαι.
[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 p
ilfers 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.
τῶ μὲν ἐγὼ πορθμεῖ Καλυδωνίῳ αἶγά τ᾽ ἔδωκα
ὦνον καὶ τυρόεντα μέγαν λευκοῖο γάλακτος:
οὐδέ τί πω ποτὶ χεῖλος ἐμὸν θίγεν, ἀλλ᾽ ἔτι κεῖται
ἄχραντον. τῷ καί τυ μάλα πρόφρων ἀρεσαίμαν, 60
αἴκά μοι τὺ φίλος τὸν ἐφίμερον ὕμνον ἀείσῃς.
κοὔτί τυ κερτομέω. πόταγ᾽ ὦγαθέ: τὰν γὰρ ἀοιδὰν
οὔτί πᾳ εἰς ᾿Αίδαν γε τὸν ἐκλελάθοντα φυλαξεῖς.
Θύρσις
῎Αρχετε βουκολικᾶς Μοῖσαι φίλαι ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶς.
[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.
Θύρσις ὅδ᾽ ὡξ Αἴτνας, καὶ Θύρσιδος ἁδέα φωνά. 65
πᾷ ποκ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἦσθ᾽, ὅκα Δάφνις ἐτάκετο, πᾷ ποκα Νύμφαι;
ἢ κατὰ Πηνειῶ καλὰ τέμπεα; ἢ κατὰ Πίνδω;
οὐ γὰρ δὴ ποταμοῖο μέγαν ῥόον εἴχετ᾽ ᾿Ανάπω,
οὐδ᾽ Αἴτνας σκοπιάν, οὐδ᾽ ῎Ακιδος ἱερὸν ὕδωρ.
ἄρχετε βουκολικᾶς Μοῖσαι φίλαι ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶς. 70
[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 country-song, sweet Muses.
τῆνον μὰν θῶες, τῆνον λύκοι ὠρύσαντο,
τῆνον χὡκ δρυμοῖο λέων ἔκλαυσε θανόντα.
ἄρχετε βουκολικᾶς Μοῖσαι φίλαι ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶς.
[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.
πολλαί οἱ πὰρ ποσσὶ βόες, πολλοὶ δέ τε ταῦροι,
πολλαὶ δ᾽ αὖ δαμάλαι καὶ πόρτιες ὠδύραντο. 75
ἄρχετε βουκολικᾶς Μοῖσαι φίλαι ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶς.
[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.
ἦνθ᾽ ῾Ερμῆς πράτιστος ἀπ᾽ ὤρεος, εἶπε δέ: ‘Δάφνι,
τίς τυ κατατρύχει; τίνος ὦγαθὲ τόσσον ἐρᾶσαι;’
ἄρχετε βουκολικᾶς Μοῖσαι φίλαι ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶς.
[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.
ἦνθον τοὶ βοῦται, τοὶ ποιμένες, ᾡπόλοι ἦνθον: 80
πάντες ἀνηρώτευν, τί πάθοι κακόν. ἦνθ᾽ ὁ Πρίηπος
κἤφα: ‘Δάφνι τάλαν, τί τὺ τάκεαι, ἁ δέ τε κώρα
πάσας ἀνὰ κράνας, πάντ᾽ ἄλσεα ποσσὶ φορεῖται —
ἄρχετε βουκολικᾶς Μοῖσαι φίλαι ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶσ —
[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 –
ζάτεισ᾽; ἆ δύσερώς τις ἄγαν καὶ ἀμήχανος ἐσσί. 85
βούτας μὰν ἐλέγευ, νῦν δ᾽ αἰπόλῳ ἀνδρὶ ἔοικας.
ᾡπόλος ὅκκ᾽ ἐσορῇ τὰς μηκάδας οἷα βατεῦνται,
τάκεται ὀφθαλμώς, ὅτι οὐ τράγος αὐτὸς ἔγεντο.
ἄρχετε βουκολικᾶς Μοῖσαι φίλαι ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶς.
[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 –
καὶ τὺ δ᾽ ἐπεί κ᾽ ἐσορῇς τὰς παρθένος οἶα γελᾶντι,
τάκεαι ὀφθαλμώς, ὅτι οὐ μετὰ ταῖσι χορεύεις.’
τὼς δ᾽ οὐδὲν ποτελέξαθ᾽ ὁ βουκόλος, ἀλλὰ τὸν αὐτῶ
ἄνυε πικρὸν ἔρωτα, καὶ ἐς τέλος ἄνυε μοίρας:
ἄρχετε βουκολικᾶς Μοῖσαι πάλιν ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶς.
[90] “So you, when ye see the lasses laughing in gay riot,
“Your eye grows soft, your eye grows sad, because you share it not.”
But never a word said the poor neathérd, for a bitter love bare he;
And he bare it well, as I shall tell, to the end that was to be.
Country-song, more country-song, ye Muses.
ἦνθέ γε μὰν ἁδεῖα καὶ ἁ Κύπρις γελάοισα, 95
λάθρια μὲν γελάοισα, βαρὺν δ᾽ ἀνὰ θυμὸν ἔχοισα,
κεἶπε: ‘τύ θην τὸν ῎Ερωτα κατεύχεο Δάφνι λυγιξεῖν:
ἦ ῥ᾽ οὐκ αὐτὸς ῎Ερωτος ὑπ᾽ ἀργαλέω ἐλυγίχθης;’
ἄρχετε βουκολικᾶς Μοῖσαι πάλιν ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶς. 100
[95] But and the Cyprian came him to, and smiled on him full sweetly –
For thou she fain would foster wrath, she could not choose but smile –
And cried “Ah, braggart Daphnis, that wouldst throw Love so featly!
“Thou’rt thrown, methinks, thyself of Love’s so grievous guile.”
Country-song, more country-song, ye Muses.
τὰν δ᾽ ἄρα χὡ Δάφνις ποταμείβετο: ‘Κύπρι βαρεῖα,
Κύπρι νεμεσσατά, Κύπρι θνατοῖσιν ἀπεχθής:
ἤδη γὰρ φράσδῃ πάνθ᾽ ἅλιο�
� ἄμμι δεδύκειν:
[100] Then out he spake; “O Cypris cruel, Cypris vengeful yet,
“Cypris hated of all flesh! think’st all my sun be set?
“I tell thee even ‘mong the dead Daphnis shall work thee ill:-
Country-song, more country-song, ye Muses.
Δάφνις κἠν ᾿Αίδα κακὸν ἔσσεται ἄλγος ῎Ερωτι.
ἄρχετε βουκολικᾶς Μοῖσαι πάλιν ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶς.
ὧ λέγεται τὰν Κύπριν ὁ βουκόλοσ — ἕρπε ποτ᾽ ῎Ιδαν,
ἕρπε ποτ᾽ ᾿Αγχίσην. τηνεῖ δρύες, ἔνθα κύπειρος:
ἄρχετε βουκολικᾶς Μοῖσαι φίλαι ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶς.
[104] “Men talk of Cypris and the hind; begone to Ida hill,
“Begone to hind Anchises; sure bedstraw there doth thrive
“And fine oak-trees and pretty bees all humming at the hive.
Country-song, more country-song, ye Muses.
ὡραῖος χὥδωνις, ἐπεὶ καὶ μᾶλα νομεύει.
καὶ πτῶκας βάλλει καὶ θηρία πάντα διώκει. 110
ἄρχετε βουκολικᾶς Μοῖσαι φίλαι ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶς.
[109] “Adonis too is ripe to woo, for a ‘tends his sheep o’ the lea
“And shoots the hare and a-hunting goes of all the beasts there be.
Country-song, more country-song, ye Muses.
αὖθις ὅπως στασῇ Διομήδεος ἆσσον ἰοῖσα,
καὶ λέγε: τὸν βούταν νικῶ Δάφνιν, ἀλλὰ μάχευ μοι.’
ἄρχετε βουκολικᾶς Μοῖσαι πάλιν ἄρχετ᾽ ἀοιδᾶς.
[112] And then I’ld have thee take thy stand by Diomed, and say
“‘I slew the neatherd Daphis; fight me thou to-day.’
Country-song, more country-song, ye Muses.
ὦ λύκοι, ὦ θῶες, ὦ ἀν᾽ ὤρεα φωλάδες ἄρκτοι, 115
χαίρεθ᾽. ὁ βουκόλος ὔμμιν ἐγὼ Δάφνις οὐκέτ᾽ ἀν᾽ ὕλαν,
οὐκέτ᾽ ἀνὰ δρυμώς, οὐκ ἄλσεα. χαῖρ᾽ ᾿Αρέθοισα,
καὶ ποταμοί, τοὶ χεῖτε καλὸν κατὰ Θύμβριδος ὕδωρ.