E5 ^f(> CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND GIVEN IN 189I BY HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE Cornell University Library PA 4443.E5H18 3 1924 026 600 324 The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924026600324 THE IDYLLS OF THEOCRITUS THE IDYLLS OF THEOCRITUS TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE BY JAMES HENRY HALLARD M.A. OXON. Return, Sicilian Muse ' Milton, Lycidas LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. AND NEW YORK : 15 EAST i6th STREET 1834 [All rights reserved] ^. 77113 Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty. TO MY FRIEND DUNCAN JOHN ROBERTSON OF KIRKWALL THESE TRANSLATIONS ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED PREFACE In these translations I have endeavoured to satisfy the require- ments of the exacting scholar as well as those of the man of letters. To succeed in this dual aim with a verse translation is doubly hard, and I am fully sensible of the difficulty of the task I have undertaken ; but, my labour having been in every sense a labour of love, and therefore of delight, I already feel myself in large measure rewarded. With regard to the metres employed, it might be urged against me that while Theocritus only uses two or three (and indeed generally only one — the hexameter), my translation employs nearly a score. My reply would be that either blank verse alone, or English hexameters alone, would 'stale the infinite variety' which quantity and csesura give the original. The only chance for a translator of Theocritus (so it seems to me) is to vary his measures as much as possible. The prin- ciple on which I have gone is briefly this : to use blank verse for dialogue and description, anapaests for lyric passages, and hexa- meters for narrative. But I have not strictly adhered to this X PREFACE arrangement; I occasionally use the heroic couplet and other forms. Though sometimes altered a little, the lyric metres I employ are mainly those already familiar to us. Thanks to the metrical marvels that have been accomphshed in this field by the poets of ou rgeneration, a translator has here no difficulty in finding a beautiful mould for his work. One might add that much in the tone and even in the expression of modern English poetry is favourable to the translator of Greek poetry. For perhaps it may be said without cavil that no age has better under- stood both the spirit and the letter of Greek literature than our own. In our translations we no longer seek to foist in concep- tions foreign to the original, and in our desire to get as close as possible to the thought and expression of a Greek poet, we have sometimes even thrown aside verse altogether and used plain prose — and in certain famous instances with great success. Still, verse must remain the fitting medium for the translation of poetry. The only originality to which I venture to lay claim is in the structure of my hexameters. English hexameters will perhaps never become a standard form of verse, but still they may be made so as not to shock the ear with gross false quantities. I have endeavoured to avoid these by never letting the second or third syllable of a foot (when such syllable ends in two different consonants, or when it ends in one consonant, and the next word begins with a consonant also) remain short, unless one of these PREFACE xi consonants be h, w, y, or one of the liquids, or unless the syllable in question, ending in a consonant and coming before a conson- ant, be an easily slurred vocable like arid, with, etc. Doubtless, accent must largely take the place of quantity; but still, the nearer one can bring one's line to the classical model, the more harmonious it becomes. English poets who have employed this metre have universally neglected quantity. They have also neglected caesura — another principle which I have endeavoured to follow so far as it is possible in a language which, by its stress- accented nature, precludes the ictus of the verse from falling on an unaccented syllable. Caesuras in Enghsh must of necessity be mainly monosyllabic words. The disrepute which hexameters have incurred among us arises largely from the neglect of quantity and caesura which, as I have already said, our poets have shown. But still, naturally, the mere fact that the beat of the verse must in EngUsh coincide with the accent of the word, makes this metre a somewhat stilted one at best. Moreover, good spondees are rare in English, and the dactylic ' hit ' has a tendency, not usually recognised, to sound like prose. My friend Mr. J. A. Smith, fellow of Balliol, pointed out this last peculiarity to me. And now a word with regard to the language of my transla- tion. To many people it will appear — as it has already appeared to more than one authority — that the proper vehicle for trans- xii PREFACE lating Theocritus would be Scots. But apart from the fact that Scots has broader vowels than English, what other analogy does it bear to Dorian Greek ? Was Scots ever adopted by Enghsh poets as Doric was adopted for lyric purposes by the Attic trage- dians ? Had Dorian Greek in the time of Theocritus fallen into desuetude as Scots has ? Had it become the ail-but exclusive language of the common folk in lands of Dorian speech ? Had it, through corruption and degradation, come to sound vulgar in well-bred Dorian ears ? Again, are the associations of the Theo- critean idylls in any way comparable with anything in Scottish literature ? Do Allan Ramsay's people, for example, have the faintest far-away resemblance to those of Theocritus ? Can one imagine a Lothian shepherd pouring forth a passionate song about a beautiful youth ? To me it seems that all these ques- tions must be answered in the negative. Moreover, there are other reasons against translating Theocritus into" Scots, which in themselves would be sufficient. Theocritus does not write Doric alone, he also uses Aeolic, and Ionic — i.e. epic forms. These last naturally are taken from Homer and often occur. Now Homer to the Greeks was what the Bible and Shakespeare are to us. In translating Theocritus, therefore, one's diction ought sometimes perhaps to recall Shakespeare and the Bible. This reason alone might almost preclude Scots. But besides this, it cannot be too often insisted on that Theocritus, in spite of all his seeming PREFACE xiii naivetS, was not (as Burns on the whole was) an inspired peas- ant writing mainly for his own class. He was a subtle-minded, cultured, self-conscious and delicate artist, living at refined and voluptuous courts in a decadent age of literature, and writing for the pleasure of kings. His style is the flower of a literary hot-bed. It is composite, many-coloured, and rich in reminis- cence and archaism. How then could the language of such a poet be transmuted into the language of a people among whose literary quaUties delicacy and refinement can scarcely be reckoned prominent ? No doubt Theocritus had profoundly felt the charm of Sicilian peasant life, and so, it may be argued, had Allan Eamsay profoundly (?) felt the charm of the peasant life he knew. But what a difference there is in the two onUieux ! How« unlike Daphnis is to Patie ! How different are the wooded slopes of Etna from the bleak Pentland Hills! What a leap in the imagination from Arethusa to the springs^ of Habbie's Howe ! One concession however I have made to the claims of the dying Scottish tongue. I have occasionally used words which, though not unknown to English ears, are yet much commoner north of the Tweed, I mean homely and poetical words Hke whiles, yestreen, reTnede, etc. I have mainly consulted the admirable edition of Fritzsche, but I have not hesitated to borrow from Paley and Wordsworth when it seemed to me that their readings or interpretations xiv PREFACE were better. I have also availed myself of such help as I could derive from previous translations of the poet. My best thanks are due to my friend and former tutor, Mr. F. de Paravicini of Balliol — who kindly consented to revise miy work — for much acute criticism and much sound advice. I have also to thank my friend Mr. P. H. Pritchard for invaluable help and suggestions given me when I was correcting my proof-sheets. J. H. H. Edinburgh, Jamiary 1894. CONTENTS I. THE SONG OF THE DEATH OF DAPHNIS, II. THE INCANTATION, .... III. THE DESPERATE LOVEK, IV. COUNTRY TATTLE, V. THE SINGING-MATCH, VI. POLYPHEMUS AND GALATEA, VII. THE HARVEST-HOME, . VIII. THE DAWN OF LOVE, . IX. COUNTRY SONGS, X. THE TWO REAPERS, . XI. POLYPHEMUS'S COMPLAINT, XII. THE PASSIONATE FRIEND, . XIII. THE RAPE OF HYLAS, XIV. THE SLIGHTED LOVER, XV. THE LADIES AT THE FESTIVAL OF ADONIS, PAGE I IS iS 23 35 37 43 49 52 56 60 62 6S 70 XVI CONTENTS XVI. THE POET S PLEA, .... XVII. THE PKAISES OF PTOLEMY, . XVIIL THE MARRIAGE-SONG OF HELEN AND MENELAUS, XIX. EROS AND THE BEE, . XX. THE YOKEL AND THE LIGHT-O'-LOVE, . XXI. THE fisherman's DREAM, . XXIL THE PRAISES OF CASTOR AND POLYDEUCES. XXIII. THE VENGEANCE OF LOVE, . XXIV. THE CHILD HERACLES AND THE SNAKES, XXV. THE SLAYING OF THE NEMEAN LION BY HERACLES, XXVI. THE SLAYING OF PENTHEUS BY THE MAENADS, XXVII. THE LOVER AND HIS LASS, .... XXVIIL THE DISTAFF, . . . . XXIX. THE lover's COMPLAINT, XXX. THE lover's LAMENT, .... XXXI. THE FORGIVENESS OF APHRODITE, PAGE 79 84 91 94 95 98 102 112 "5 121 131 133 139 141 143 I4S THE SONG OF THE DEATH OF DAPHNIS THYRSIS Sweet is tlie murmur of yon rustling pine Beside the spring ; and, goatherd, sweetly too Thou pipest. Next to Pan's were thy award. Were his the horned sire, thine were the dam ; If his the she-goat, then the kid were thine, — And dainty is the flesh of unmilked kid. GOATHERD Sweeter thy singing, shepherd, is to me Than is the sound of yonder waterfall That plashes down the crag ; and were the ewe To be the Muses' guerdon, thine should be The lamb that keeps the fold ; chose they the lamb, Thine were the ewe. THYRSIS I prithee by the nymphs, Sit thee awhile upon this sloping knoU, THE SONG OF THE Where tamarisks make a shade, and pipe to me. And I will tend thy goats for thee the while. GOATHERD Nay, shepherd, nay, in the heat of summer noon I dare not pipe ; for at that hour doth Pan, Weary with hunting, take his rest, and him I fear. Morose of mood is he, and Wrath Sits like a watcher on his nostrils ever. But thou canst sing the song of Daphnis' woe. And well hast learned the shepherd Muse's lore. Come, sit we, Thyrsis, 'neath this elm-tree's shade Fronting Priapus and the nymphs that stand Among the oaks anigh the shepherds' seat. If but thou sing now as thou sangest once. Striving with Libyan Chromis, thine shall be Three milkings of this goat that suckles twins. Yet none the less two pailEuls more can yield ; And thine shall be a drinking-cup twy-eared. Wax- washed, new-wrought, fresh-smelling from the chisel. Around whose lip there twines an ivy-spray With everlastings starred, and at the base A tendril winds glad with gold fruit. Betwixt them A woman stands divinely wrought, adorned With robe and snood ; on either hand of her A man with fair long hair, who, each with other Wrangle in words nor move her heart at aU, But now she smiles and looks on one, now turns Her light mind to the other. They, poor swains. DEATH OF DAPHNIS Are heavy-eyed, and vex themselves in vain. An ag^d fisher, too, thereon is wrought. That standing on a rough rock drags his net With eager toil to make another throw. Bravely he labours ; every limb seems set On fishing, and each sinew on his neck Swells, for the old man's strength is Uke a youth's. Anigh that wave- worn sire a vineyard bows Beneath its comely load of ruddy grapes ; A little lad sits on a dry-stone waU On guard, two foxes round him roam ; One prowls among the vine-rows pUfering The ripest clusters, while the other plots A raid on the boy's wallet, and has vowed To wreck his morning meal. But he the while Weaves for himself a pretty locust-net With asphodel, and fits it on a reed, And recks not of his wallet or the vines. Too happy in his plaiting. Round the cup Pliant acanthus spreads — a marvel 'tis Of art AeoUan — a miracle, — To the ferryman of Calydon I gave A she-goat and a large white cheese for it. Ne'er has it touched my lips, but stiU it lies UnhanseUed. Gladly will I give it thee. If thou wilt sing me that delightful lay. I grudge it not. Come, friend, thou canst not take Thy songs with thee to the forgetful land. 4 THE SONG OF THE THYRSIS ' Oh, raise, dea/r Muses, raise the shepherds' song. Thyrsis of Etna am I ; 'tis Thyrsis' sweet voice singing. Where were ye.nymplis, where were ye,whenDaphnis waned away? Not where Anapus flows, or Acis' riU is springing ; Not on Etna were ye, but on Pindus, or Tempe's knolls that day. Oh, raise, dear Muses, raise the shepherds' song. Him the jackals bewailed, for him the wolves were moaning, And the Hon came from the copse and mourned for the fair dead youth. Oh, raise, dear Muses, raise the shepherds' song. At his feet was a throng of weeping kine and oxen groaning, The heifers and lowing calves lamented for pity and ruth. Oh, raise, ye Muses, raise the shepherds' song. First from the hill came Hermes and said : 'What woe assails thee, Daphnis, whom dost thou love ? come, dear lad, tell me true.' AU were gathered together and said : ' Oh, teU what ails thee ' — Shepherds and herdsmen and goatherds, and old Priapus too. Oh, raise, ye Muses, raise the shepherds' song. And the god said : ' Why, poor Daphnis, pine like an idle dreamer ? By every woodland and spring thy love is roaming now. Thee she desires, luckless in love, sorry schemer ; Neatherd once thou wert called, but now like a goatherd art thou. Oh, raise, ye Muses, raise the shepherds' song. DEATH OF DAPHNIS S When the goatherd sees the goats at their wanton amorous playing. He weeps and wishes that he had been born a he-goat too ; And thou, when thou seest the maidens laugh, wouldst fain be maying With them in the dance, fond youth, and thine eyes are wet with dew.' Oh, raise, ye Muses, raise the shepherds' song. Not a word did the herdsman speak, nor heeded their beguiling, But kept his love in his heart till the bitter end of death. Oh, raise, ye Muses, raise the shepherds' song. And then came Cypris there, sweet Cypris, softly smiling, But wrath at her heart she bore and a bitter word she saith : ' Daphnis, once thou didst boast that Love was a weakly foeman, Lo, thou hast tried a faU, and art thrown by the sore god now.' Oh, raise, ye Muses, raise the shepherds' song. And he answered and said : ' Fell Cypris, curst Cypris, dear to no man, Set is my latest sun ? Well, this word hearken thou, — E'en in the underworld shall Daphnis be Love's undoing. Oh, raise, ye Muses, raise the shepherds' song. To Ida begone, where of yore in the depths of an oak-wood vale To a herdsman's love thou didst yield, to the voice of Anchises' wooing ; Oak-woods are yonder — here is naught but galingale. 6 THE SONG OF THE In his bloom is Adonis now, his flock to the pasture leading ; His arrows smite the hare, and the chase is his deUght. Or hie thee to Tydeus' son, and say to him : " Daphnis is bleeding, Daphnis the herdsman — lo, thee too do I dare to the fight." Oh, raise, ye Muses, raise the shepherds' song. Ye jackals and wolves and bears that on hillsides make your lair, Farewell, for Daphnis the herdsman no longer shall ye see there ; No more shall the thickets know him, the groves shall know him no more ; Farewell, Arethusa, and ye fair streams that from Thymbris pour. Low lies Daphnis now that herded his kine once here, And led to the waterside his heifer-calf and steer. Oh, raise, ye Muses, raise the shepherds' song. O Pan, Pan, dost thou haunt the high Lycaean brow. Or rangest Maenalus' hiU ? To Sicily speed thee now. The barrow of Helice leave, Lycaon's daughter's grave, Dear to the blessed gods — come hither across the wave. Oh, cease, ye Muses, cease the shepherds' song. Come with thy shepherd's pipe wax-bound and lovely, bring The pipe that is honey-sweet, that glides on the Up, O King ; For Love will hale me down to Hades' house ere long. Oh, cease, ye Muses, cease the shepherds' song. From acanthus and brambles hereafter may violets now be born. And rife may the fair white lilies bloom on the juniper thorn ! All things madly be mingled, for Daphnis lies alow. DEATH OF DAPHNIS Hounds be baited by harts, and pears on the pine-tree grow, Owls of the hUl outvie the nightingales in song ! ' Oh, cease, ye Muses, cease the shepherds' song. These were his words, and he ceased, and the goddess was fain to restore him. But his life-thread came no more from the Fates, and now was an end. To the river of Death he sped, and away the waters bore him, A man by the nymphs beloved, and the Muses called him friend Oh, cease, ye Muses, cease the shepherds' song. Bring hither now the goat for me to milk, And give the cup, that to the Muses I May pour Ubation. Muses, fare ye weR — A long farewell. Some other while I '11 sing A sweeter song. GOATHERD O Thyrsis, may thy mouth Be fiUed with honey and the honeycomb ! Sweet figs of Aegilus be thine to eat ! For no cicala sings so sweet as thou. Take the cup, friend, and note how sweet it smells — Thou It ween that in the well-spring of the Hours It has Been dipped. Hither, Cissaetha, hither ! Go, milk her, thou. Ye other she-goats there. Beware the he-goat's horns and cease your skipping ! II THE INCANTATION Where are the bay-leaves ? — Bring them, ThestyUs. And where the drugs that work love-witcheries ? Go wreathe the bowl with yarn of crimson stain. That I may lure my love that cruel is. These twelve days past he hath not come to me, Nor knows he if ahve or dead I be ; He hath not beaten clamorous at my door ; Some new love holds his fickle fantasy. To-morrow to the wrestling-school I '11 go. And to his face upbraid him with my woe ; But now shall glamour bind him. Brightly shine, Moon, for to thee will I sing soft and low. I sing also to nether Hecate, Her whom the trembling hounds with terror see Moving athwart the barrows and dark blood — AU hail, dread goddess ! bide thou near to me. Make these drugs strong as those of Circe fair Or Perimede of the golden hair. THE INCANTATION That knew all poisons of the wide-way'd earth, And puissant as Medea's deadly snare. Turn, magic wheel, and lure iny lover home. The barley first shall smoulder ; sprinkle it, ThestyUs, — wench, whither is flown thy wit ? Wretch, am I e'en a mockery to thee ? Say : ' Delphis' bones I sprinkle with the grit.' Turn, magic wheel, and lure my lover Aome, Delphis hath wronged me, and I burn this bay In Delphis' name ; e'en as it wastes away Crackling and swift-consumed, no ashes seen. So be his flesh to fiery flames a prey ! Turn, magic wheel, and lure my lover home. Lo, as I melt this wax, and heaven implore. So may Love melt the Myndian to the core ; And as this brazen wheel goes whirling round. May he love-maddened eddy round my door ! Turn, magic wheel, and lure my lover home. The chaff I '11 burn now ; Artemis, thy spell Can shake the very adamant of Hell. Hark, Thestyhs, the dogs howl through the city ; The Queen is at the cross-roads — beat the bell. Turn, magic wheel, and lure m,y lover home. lo THE INCANTATION Lo now the winds and seas asleep are laid, But my heart's grievous sorrow is not stayed, Ah me, for I am aU aflame for him That left me not a wife nor yet a maid. Turn, magic wheel, and lure my lover home. Whether with girl or boy my love now lie, Thrice will I pour, Lady, thrice wiU cry : Be his new love forgot, as Theseus once Forgat his fair-tressed love in days gone by ! Turn, magic wheel, and lure my lover home. Upon Arcadia's hiUs a herb doth grow Whereof the swift mares taste, and madness loiow ; May I see Delphis from the wrestling-school Rush to my threshold raving even so ! Tv/rn, magic wheel, and lure m,y lover home. This fringe did Delphis from his mantle shed ; The raging fire shall burn it shred by shred. Ah, grievous Love, why cling like fenny leech TiU all the dark blood from my flesh have bled ? Turn, Tnagic wheel, aud lure my lover hom^. To-morrow I will bruise an eft, and bear An evil draught to him. Now take with care These magic herbs and rub them, Thestylis, Upon his lintel — my poor heart hangs there. THE INCANTATION ii But little recks he of my tears and groans. Quick, hie thee there, and whisper in low tones (The while thou puttest forth a spitting-charm) : ' Upon this lintel I crush Delphis' bones.' TvA"n,, inagic wheel, and lure my lover home. Now she is gone, I wiU sing the tale of my miseries. Whence and from whom did they spring ? Euboulos' daughter young, Anaxo, basket on head, to the grove of Artemis Came with a wild-beast train and a lioness thereamong. Bethink thee. Lady Moon, whence carfie m,y love. Theucarides' Thracian maid, that, alive, was my nurse of yore. That dwelt anigh my home, besought me to go with her there, To view the pageant. I went, and a long linen robe I wore, And over it was flung Clearista's mantle fair. Bethink thee. Lady Moon, whence came my love. Midway, by the house of Lycon, I saw together go Delphis and Euthydemus ; their beards had the golden flame Of the everlasting-flowers, and their breasts a brighter glow Than thine, Moon ; for the youths from the glory of wrestling came. Bethink thee, Lady Moon, whence cavne m,y love, I saw and I maddened with love, deep-smitten to the core, And nought I recked of the pageant, and my beauty waned away ; 12 THE INCANTATION And how to my home I won I know not, but fever sore Wasted me on my couch for many a night and day. Bethink thee, Lady Moon, whence came Tiny love. And oft would my flesh grow pale as boxwood, and all my hair Fell from my head, and nought but skin and bones was I. To what wizard's or witch's abode did I not then repair ? But gat no healing thence, and the time went ever by. Bethink thee. Lady Moon, whence came m,y love. Then to my slave at the last I spake a word of sooth : ' Thestylis, find a cure for love and its grievous bhght ; The Myndian hath me in thrall ; go thou and watch for the youth By the wrestling-school, for there to seat him is his delight. Bethink thee, Lady Moon, whence caTne my love. And when thou seest him alone, nod gently and say in his ear : " Simaetha calls thee to her," then lead him hither,' I said. Swiftly she hied her and brought the smooth-hmbed Delphis here; And when I beheld him lightly over my threshold tread. Bethink thee, Lady Moon, whence came my love. Colder than snow I grew, and the sweat in a dewy stream Brake from my brow, and not so much could I say to him As a sleeping child to its mother may murmur in a dream ; But like a waxen image I stiffened in every limb. Bethink thee, Lady Moon, whence came m,y love. THE INCANTATION 13 And the cruel one looked upon me, then cast his eyes on the^floor, And sat him down on my bed, and sitting thus began.: ' Simaetha, thy summons outstripped my coming to thy door As "little as I the fair Philinus once outran. Bethink thee, Lady Moon, whence caTue Tny love. Yea, by sweet Love, I had come unbidden at fall of night With comrades two or three, the dearest I could find — In my bosom the Wine-god's fruit, on my head the poplar white, Heracles' sacred burgeon with fillets of purple twined. Bethink thee, Lady Moon, whence came Tny love. And well for you then had it been had ye opened, for all youths say That fair and fleet am I^; and my soul had been assuaged With one sweet kiss ; but had a barred door kept us away. Then surely had torch and axe their war against you waged. Bethink thee. Lady Moon, whence came m,y love. The Cyprian first, I ween, my thanks for this boon hath earned. And next, O lady, thou that hast reft me from the fire, By bidding me hither come that am nigh to ashes burned ; For fiercer than Lipara's flame is the flame of Love's desire. Bethink thee. Lady Moon, whence cam^e m.y love. Oft hath it scared from her bower the maid with passion mad, And the bride from her lord's warm couch.' He spake ; I heard and was glad, And took him by the hand and softly drew him alow On the soft bed by my side, and our limbs began to glow. 14 THE INCANTATION And hotter grew our cheeks and sweetly whispered we . . . But I need not babble all the tale, Moon, to thee. Love's rites were accomplished, and we both tasted of Love's delight ; And ever tUl yesterday I found favour in his sight. As he did in mine ; but to-day, what time the early Dawn Up from the sea to the sky by her fleet-foot steeds was drawn. The mother of Samian Philista the flute-girl hither came, And told me of many things, but chiefly of Delphis' flame ; But whether to girl or boy my love now homage pays. She knew not surely, she said, — this only, that in Love's praise He aye bade pour of the unmixed wine, and fled in the end, Vowing to deck with flowers the house of his darhng friend. These were her words, and true are they, for aforetime he Came oft and would leave his Dorian oil-flask here with me. But now twelve days have gone, yet I have seen him not, Sure he hath some new love and I am quite forgot. But now shall love-charms bind him ; and if he wrong me more. And knock not at mine, by the Fates, he shall knock at Hades' door. For in my cofler, Queen, drugs baneful and deadly lie Which an Assyrian stranger gave me in days gone by. And now farewell, Lady, and turn thy steeds to the sea, And I with a steadfast soul will endure this grievous bUght. Farewell, fair-limbed goddess Moon, and farewell, ye. Ye other stars that foUow the wheels of the quiet Night. Ill THE DESPERATE LOVER I 'll sing to Amaryllis, while my goats Tended by Tityrus browse along the hill, O Tityrus, O my loved one, feed my goats. And lead them to the spring, and oh ! beware The horns of yonder tawny Libyan buck. O fair AmaryUis, why no more dost thou welcome me To thy cave, nor peep and call me thy love ? Am I loathed by thee ? Is my nose too flat when thou seest me anear, is my chin too long ? O girl, thou wilt drive me to hang myself for this cruel wrong. Lo here, from the tree thou bad'st me to pluck them, half a score Of apples I bring, and to-morrow 1 11 bring thee as many more. Ah, look on my grievous woe ; ah, would that I could turn To a hununing-bee, and so win through to thy shy retreat, Lightly thridding the clinging ivy and sheltering fern ! Now know I Love and his grievous might. A honess' teat He sucked, and was reared by his dam in an oakwood's deep recess. He drives his dart to the bone ; I smoulder in his heat. i6 THE DESPERATE LOVER Beautiful-eyed, dark-eyebrow'd girl, pure loveliness, Fold thy goatherd to thee that I may kiss thee, dear, For e'en in an empty kiss is a sweet delightfulness. Thou wilt make me rend in shreds the coronal I bring here, With ivy and fragrant parsley and roses bound, for thee. What shall I do, ah me, poor wretch ? Wilt thou not give ear ? I shall doff my cloak and leap from yon headland into the sea Where Olpis the fisher watches the tunnies ia the bay ; And if I perish — well — my death wiU be joy to thee. I learned this bitter thing as I mused on thy love one day ; For a poppy-petal I smote as it lay on my elbow smooth, But it gave no crack, and the love-in-absence withered away. Agroio the sieve-divineress told me erewhUe this truth, And Paraibatis, she who culls her simples on the lea : ' Hers art wholly thou, but she recks not of thee, fond youth.' A white she-goat with two young kids had I kept for thee ; But Erithacis asks me for them — the girl with the dusky brow, And I will give them to her, for thou but playest with me. My right eye quivers — shall I see her now ? Here by this pine I '11 throw me down and sing ; Perchance she 'U cast on me a pitying look, For sure she is not made of adamant. THE DESPERATE LOVER 17 Hippomanes yearned a maid to wed — Apples he took and ran — Love's wave went o'er Atalanta's head When she beheld the man. Melampus the prophet drave his neat From Othrys to Pylos town, And Alphesiboea's mother sweet In Bias' arms lay down. Adonis, shepherd of the hill. So tangled in Love's maze Love's Queen, that from her bosom still She ne'er the dead youth lays. Happy Endymion is, I trow, Who sleepeth and waketh not, And ears profane shall never know How fair was Jason's lot. My head aches, but thou carest not ; I '11 sing No more, but here wlR lay me down and die ; And wolves shall batten on my flesh. May that Be sweet to thee as honey in the throat ! IV COUNTRY TATTLE BATTUS Say, Corydon, are these Philondas' kine ? CORYDON Nay, Aegon's ; but he gave them me to tend. BATTUS Dost milk them all at evening secretly ? CORYDON Nay, for the old man puts the calves himself Beneath the mothers, and keeps watch on me. BATTUS Whither is gone the master of the herd ? CORYDON Oh, knoVst thou not ? Milo hath ta'en him off Unto Olympia. BATTUS And when did Aegon Ever set eye upon the wrestler's oil ? COUNTRY TATTLE 19 CORTDON Men say lie is a match for Heracles In strength and lustihood. BATTUS My mother says That I a better man than Pollux am ! CORYDON He 's ta'en a hoe with him and twenty sheep ! BATTUS An easy task had Milo then, I ween ; Milo will teach the wolves to raven next ! CORYDON And now the heifers' lowing tells their loss. BATTUS Poor beasts ! a sorry master theirs has been ! CORYDON Poor beasts indeed ! they care no more to browse. BATTUS That heifer-calf is but a ruck of bones. Feeds it on dew-drops like the grasshopper ? CORYDON Nay ; whiles I lead her by Aesarus' banks, And give her a fair wisp of tender grass ; And whiles she skips anigh Latumnus' groves. 20 COUNTRY TATTLE BATTUS That red bull 's lean. Thy feUow-citizens, Lampriades, should get it when they make To Here sacrifice — the toTvnship 's needy. CORYDON Yet to the Mere's mouth, and to Physcus' fields The calf is driven, and Naeethus' banks, Where grows lush plenty of delightful herbs, Share-wood and endive and sweet-smeUing balm. BATTUS Alas ! the kine will go to Hades too. Fie, Aegon, on thy lust for victory ! 1 11 warrant, too, the pipe is mildewed o'er That erst I fashioned. CORYDON Nay, by the nymphs, not it. For when the master parted Pisa- wards. He left it as a gift to me, and I A player am, for sweetly can I raise The airs of Glauce and of Pyrrhus too, The praises of fair Croton and Zacynthus And easterly Lacinium, where of yore The boxer Aegon's single self devoured Four score of barley-cakes, and from the hiU Lugged by the hoof a bull, the which he gave To Amaryllis, and the women screamed, But he, the herdsman, laughed outright thereat. COUNTRY TATTLE 21 BATTUS Sweet Amaryllis, thou alone shalt ne'er Forgotten be by us, though dead thou art. Dear as my goats to me, so dear art thou. Dead sweetheart. Woe is me ! what cruel god Hath me in hold ? COEYDON Come, be of better cheer. Dear Battus ; on the morrow things will mend. The quick have hope, but hopeless are the dead. And whiles Zeus gives the sunshine, whiles the rain. BATTUS 'Tis nothing. Cudgel up the calves from there ! — The brutes are nibbling at the olive-shoots. Sh ! sh ! thou white-skin, sh ! CORYDON Sh! sh! Cymaetha! Up to the hill, I say ! By Pan, I 'U come And put harsh ending to thy pranks, unless Thou get from there ! See, how she edges back ! Had I but had my crooked shepherd's staff. How I had beat thee ! BATTUS Corydon, look here, In heaven's name ! A thorn has just run in Beneath my ankle-bone. How thick they grow The spindle-thistles ! Plague upon that calf ! 22 COUNTRY TATTLE I got the prick while gaping after her. Canst see the thorn ? COEYDON Yes, yes, I hold it now Between my finger-nails, and here it is ! BATTUS How small a wound can quell a vaHant man ! CORTDON Ne'er come thou bare-foot to the mountain, Battus ; For prickly-thorns and briars flourish there. BATTUS Come, tell me, Corydon, doth Aegon still Tumble that dark-haired beauty, once his flame ? CORYDON Still, rascal, still ! the other day I came And found him hard at work beside the byre. BATTUS Well done, old lecher ! Sure his lineage Rivals the Satyrs or the goat-foot Pans ! THE SINGING-MATCH COMATAS My she-goats, shun that shepherd of Sibyrtas, Lacon ; he stole my goatskin yesterday. LACON Sh ! ewe-lambs, from that weU. there ; see ye not Comatas, that once stole my shepherd's pipe ? COMATAS What pipe, thou slave, and when hadst thou a pipe ? And why dost thou no more with Corydon Blow scrannel music on thine oaten flute ? LACON The pipe that Lycon gave me once, sir fre&mam,. — But when did Lacon ever steal a fleece From thee, Comatas ? E'en Eumarides Thy master ne'er had aught to sleep upon. COMATAS 'Twas Crocylus gave it me — a dappled one — The day he slew the she-goat to the Nymphs ; And thou didst pine with envy even then. Thou knave, and now at length hast stripped me bare. 24 THE SINGING-MATCH LACON Nay, by the sea-shore Pan, it was not Lacon, Calaethis' son, that stole thy fleecy coat, — Else may I leap from yon rock into Crathis ! COMATAS Nay, nay, my friend, by those Nymphs of the mere (Gracious and kind to me may they be ever !), — 'Twas ne'er Comatas filched thy shepherd's pipe. LACON If I believed thee, Daphnis' woes be mine ! Yet if thou stake a kid — a paltry prize — Then I wiU sing against thee tiU thou yield. COMATAS ' The sow defied Athene ' — WeU, here stands The kid, and do thou stake the fatted lamb. LACON How, rogue, can this an equal bargain be ? Who would shear goats' hair rather than sheep's wool ? And who would choose to milk a wretched bitch More than a she-goat with a first-bom kid ? COMATAS He that would think like thee to worst his mate, A wasp 'gainst the cicala. But since thou Deem'st not the kid a stake of equal worth. Here is this he-goat — do thine uttermost. THE SINGING-MATCH 25 LACON Nay, why such haste ? Art not afire — wilt sing More at thine ease beneath this olive-tree, Where chiUy water flows anigh the woods. Here is lush grass, and here a couch is strewn, And here the locusts prattle pleasantly. COMATAS No whit I haste, but grieved at heart am I That thou shouldst dare, with those unswerving eyne. To look upon my face ; for thee I taught. When thou wert but a child — Charity, This is thine end ! Now go and rear wolf- whelps. As they were hounds, and be devoured by them. LACON When did I learn or hear aught fair from thee, Thou envious, unseemly mannikin ? COMATAS When I did that to thee which made thee weep. The while the he-goats topped the bleating shes. LACON Thy grave be shallow, hunchback, as that insult ! Hither and sing — 'twill be thy latest song. COMATAS Thither I will not. Oak and galingale Are here, and bees hum sweetly round the hives. 26 THE SINGING-MATCH Here be two springs of water fresh, and here The birds are twittering on the trees ; the shade Is cooler than by thee, and from on high The pine-tree flings her cones upon the ground. LACON Here thou shalt tread on sheep-skins and sheep's wool Softer than sleep. Thy goat-skins fouler smeU Than doth thyself A great bowl of white milk WiU I set forth, another of sweet oil Unto the Nymphs. COMATAS Come here, and thou shalt tread Soft feathery-fern and flowering penny-royal ; And 'neath thee shall be strewn my she-goats' fells. Far softer than thy lamb-skins, and eight pails Of mUk will I set forth to Pan, and eight Vessels with richest honeycombs therein. LACON Begin the singing-match from where thou art ; Tread thine own ground and keep thine oaks. But who Shall judge betwixt us, who ? Would old Lycopas The neatherd came this way ! COMATAS I want not him. But an thou wilt, let 's call yon woodcutter That gathers heather there nigh thee. 'Tis Morson. THE SINGING-MATCH 27 LACON Well, let us shout. COMATAS CaU thou. LACON Ho ! friend, come here. And hsten for a while ; for we two strive For mastery in song. Show me no favour, Morson, nor give to him more than his due. COMATAS Yea, by the Nymphs, dear Morson, to Comatas Grant only what is just, nor favour Lacon. Those sheep are Thurian Sibyrtas' flock. These goats, Eumarides the Sybarite's. LACON In God's name, rogue, who asked thee if the flock Were mine or master's ? — babbler that thou art ! COMATAS My best of men, I ever teU the truth. No boaster I — too saucy is thy tongue. LACON Come, say thy say, and let our friend return Unto the town alive, thou chatterer. 28 THE SINGING-MATCH COMATAS The Muses love me better far Than Daphnis, lord of lay ; For unto them I sacrificed Two kids upon a day. LACON Yea, and Apollo loves me well, And for his sake I rear A ram ; — The feast of Carnea Is drawing close anear. COMATAS The goats I milk have brought forth twins. And barren are but twain ; The maiden looked and cried, ' Alack, Dost milk alone, poor swain ? ' LACON Aha ! but Lacon fiUs a score Of baskets full of cheese, And fondly clasps his boyish love Upon the flowery leas. COMATAS With apples Clearista pelts Her goatherd driving by His she-goats, and with Ups that kiss She chirps right pleasantly. THE SINGING-MATCH 29 LACON To meet my smooth-cheeked Cratidas Makes me the shepherd mad, For softly float upon his neck The love-locks of the lad. COMATAS Nay, who the wild rose or wind-flower Would liken to the rose That in a bed beside the wall Within a garden grows ? LACON And who than apples of the hill Would acorns rather eat ? To these the oak gives bitter husks, But those are honey-sweet. COMATAS A cushat wiU I straightway steal From off the juniper, Whereon it ever wonts to brood, And give it unto her. LACON And I will give a wooUy fleece To Cratidas, my dear. To make a cloak withal when I The dusky ewe shall shear. 30 THE SINGING-MATCH COMATAS Sh ! from the olives, bleating goats, Come hither from below ; Here is a sloping knoU, and here Are tamarisks enow. LACON Back from that oak-tree, Conarus, Cymaetha, browse this way, Where old Phalarus crops the slope That fronts the rising day. COMATAS A pail of cypress-wood have I, Also a mixing-cup. The work of famed Praxiteles — For her I hoard them up. LACON My dog can throttle wolves, and holds The flock in loving thrall ; Him wUl I give to my belov'd To hunt wild beasts withal. COMATAS Locusts that overleap my hedge, For pity's sake, I pray, Oh, do no scathe unto my vines. For youngling plants are they THE SINGING-MATCH 31 LACON Ye grasshoppers, behold how I The goatherd sting, for ye Not otherwise the reapers vex By singing ceaselessly. COMATAS I loathe the foxes bushy-tailed, That come at shut of eve By Micon's vineyard-close, and aye Go prowling round to thieve. LACON I hate the lady-birds that come Wind- wafted to the trees, Wherefrom Philondas gathers figs, And feed their fiU on these. COMATAS Dost thou remember how I wrought A merry jest on thee. And how thou didst enjoy the sport And cling to yonder tree ? LACON Not I ; but well I mind that thou Wert bound to that same oak. And cudgelled by Eumarides, Who stinted ne'er a stroke. 32 THE SINGING-MATCH COMATAS Ha ! Morson, dost thou note how sore My gibes his bosom harrow ? — Go pluck me withered squills forthwith From off some dead man's barrow. LACON Methinks I 'm hurting somebody. Didst note it, Morson, then ? — Go hie thee unto Hales' banks, And dig up cyclamen. COMATAS May Himera now flow with mUk, And Crathis blush with wine. And berry-clusters rife and ripe Upon the marshwort shine ! LACON May Sybaris' fountain honey pour. That so at early dawn, Instead of water, honey-dew In the maid's pail be drawn ! COMATAS My she-goats browse on clover-shrub And goatswort on the lea ; They tread on lentisk leaves, and lie Beneath the strawberry-tree. THE SINGING-MATCH 33 LACON My ewes feed on the balsam sweet That on their pasture grows, And rock-flower blooming rife and fair With blossoms like the rose. COMATAS , Alcippe kissed me not when I r Gave her a cushat-dove, Nor took my face between her hands — Her I no longer love. LACON But dear to me Eumedes is, And dearly he loves me ; For when I gave a pipe to him, He kissed me heartily. COMATAS It is not meet the nightingale Be challenged by the jay. Nor swans by hoopoes — but, poor lad. Thou 'rt fain of fighting aye. MOKSON I bid the shepherd cease. To thee, Comatas, Morson awards the ewe-lamb. Sacrifice Her to the Nymphs, and unto Morson send Straightway a portion of her dainty flesh. D 34 THE SINGING-MATCH COMATAS By Pan, I '11 send it. Frolic, all my herd Of young he-goats, and mark how I shall crow Over the shepherd Lacon ; for at last I 've won the lamb. I '11 skip you to the sky. Cheerly, my horned goats ! to-morrow morn I '11 wash you all in Sybaris' lake. — Ho there ! Thou wanton white-face, if thou dare to back One of the shes, I 'U geld thee ere I slay The ewe-lamb to the Nymphs. — Again he tries ! May I become Melanthius, and no more Be called Comatas, an 1 geld thee not ! VI POLYPHEMUS AND GALATEA Damoetas and the herdsman Daphnis once Into one spot, Aratus, on a day Together drave their kine. The cheeks of one Were touched with ruddy down ; the other bore A youthful beard. Both sat them by a spring That summer morn, and sang these songs ; and first Daphnis began, for he had raised the strife. ' See how thy sweetheart pelts thy flock, Polyphemus, with apples. Mocking the "goatherd man," calling him "luckless-in-love"! Fool ! thou regardest not, but piping sweetly thou sittest. Ah ! look again, see there, look at her pelting the dog ! Faithful ward of the flock, he scampers along by the clear waves Softly that hiss on the shore, stares at her image and yelps. Take heed lest he leap on the Umbs of the maiden coming Forth from the sea, and the girl's beautiful body be torn. See how she plies her wanton wiles in the midst of the water. Light as a thistle's down dried by the midsummer sun ! Wooed, she will flee, but shunned, pursue, and hazard her utmost. Oft, Polyphemus, with Love evil and good are as one.' Damoetas, answering, began this lay : — 36 POLYPHEMUS AND GALATEA ' Yea, by Pan, I saw her when she was pelting my flock there, Saw with my one sweet eye — it shall be mine to the end ; Plague upon Telemus who once uttered curses about it — May they return and roost over the babes in his home ! I teaze her at times, and will not return her glances. Saying another girl hves with me now as my love. Jealous then is she and pines, I swear by Apollo, Eyeing from out of the sea wildly the caves and the flocks. Whiles I tarr my hound on to bark at her, for when I wooed her. He with a wistful whine nestled his nose on her thigh. Haply beholding oft these things she will send me an envoy ; But my door shall be shut till she shall swear with an oath She herself wiU spread my couch for me here on this island. Surely my shape is not all so uncouth to behold ! Once on a day as I gazed at my face in the calm of the ocean. Fair to me seemed my beard, lovely methought was my eye. Whiter my teeth too shone than the gleam of Parian marble ; Thrice did I spit in my breast lest I should envy arouse. This was a charm that aforetime old Cotyttaris learned me. She who fluted of yore unto Hippocoon's hinds.' ^ Thus sang Damoetas, and he kissed his friend, And gave a pipe, and Daphnis gave his flute. Damoetas fluted and the herdsman piped ; The heifer calves danced on the tender grass ; Neither prevailed ; unworsted were they both. ^ Probably interpolated from x. 16. VII THE HARVEST HOME Once on a time three friends strolled forth from the city together, Eucritus, I, and Amyntas, down to the river of Hales, Where Phrasidemus and Antigenes, two sons of Lycopas, Order'd a firstling-feast to Demeter, goddess of harvest ; Noble and sprung from the heroes they, from Clyte and Chalcon, Chalcon who knelt on the rock with might and smote from his heel there Fount Bourinna ; the elms and poplars clustering round it Tangled shadowy branches and arched thick green leaves over. Not midway were we yet, nor as yet had Brasilas' headstone Kis'n on our view, when lo ! we there by the grace of the Muses Met with a Cydon man named Lycidas — he was a goatherd. None could see him and err, — his guise was a goatherd's clearly. Down from the shoulder dangled a light-dun fleece of a he-goat, Hairy and shaggy and thick, still smelling fresh of the rennet. Round his breast was an ancient cloak broad-belted ; his right hand Wielded a goatherd's staff— 'twas fashioned of gnarled wild-ohve. Smiling boldly he hailed me with lips all trembling with laughter: ' Simichides, whither dragg'st thy feet in the blaze of the noonday. Now when the lizard sleeps on the wall and from tomb unto tombstone 38 THE HARVEST-HOME Flits not a lark ? To a feast art hieing thee now unbidden ? Tread'st thou the vat with a friend, so gaily the pebbles are rattling Under thy buskined feet on the roadway ? ' Him then I answered : — ' Lycidas, all men say that among both herdsmen and mowers Thy pipe first is of all, and for that my bosom rejoices. Natheless methinks I too were a rival to fear. This journey Tends to a firstling-feast ; for a band of companions is holding Festival joyous and due, to Demeter, the fair-robed goddess, Who with a bountiful hand hath filled their gamer with barley. Come.^or the day and the way are one to us, come let us now sing. Sing we a shepherd's song. Perchance we shall learn some secrets Each from the other, for I am a clear-toned voice of the Muses. All men call me the best of the bards, but I heed them never. No, by the God, not I ; for I wot that Samian poet. Good SiceUdes, yea, and PhUetas, would yet be my masters. Vainly in song should I strive with these as frogs with cicalas.' Guilefully so spake I, and the goatherd, smiling sweetly. Answered and said : — ' This goatherd's staff will I gladly award thee. Thou art a child of truth by the hand of the high god fashioned, Hated of me is a wright who seeks to upraise his roof-tree High as a monarch of hiUs ; I hate those chicks of the Muses, Whoso cackle in vain in strife with the minstrel of Chios. Come then, Simichides, let us raise some song of the shepherds. I shall begin. List, friend, and teU if the song content thee. Which on the mountain-side erewhile I wrought into music. " Fair shall Ageanax' convoy to Mytilene be. THE HARVEST-HOME 39 Though, the Kids be low in the west and the south wind drive the sea, And Orion all but seem to dip his foot in the wave, If he Avill have pity on Lycidas, Aphrodite's slave ; For love of the boy consumes my heart with a parching drouth. May halcyons luU the seas and the winds of the east and south, Halcyons dearest birds of the brine to Nereus' daughters. Winds that stir the wrack in the uttermost depths of the waters! Safe may Ageanax come to MytUene's shore, And safe in the haven rest where storm-winds rave no more ! That day shall my brows be bound with an odorous wreath of dill. Or roses or wall-flower sweet, and Pteleas wine shall fill The cup or the mixing-bowl as I he by the hearth at ease, Thinking of him I love ; and the wine shall be drained to the lees. And the couch with curling parsley and thyme shall be thickly strown. And asphodel elbow-deep, and beans on the embers be thrown. And shepherds twain shall pipe, and Tityrus standing by Shall sing how Daphnis of yore for a girl's love came to die. And how the hiUs complained, and the oaks made moan that day On Himera's river-banks, as the herdsman waned away Like snow that melts on the heights of Haemus or Khodope, Or Athos, or where the peaks of utmost Caucasus be. He shall sing how a Hving goatherd of yore on an evil tide By the cruel sin of his lord was laid in a coffer wide. And how the blunt-nosed bees to the scented cedar flew From the meads, and fed the man with flowers and honey-dew. For the Muses on his mouth their sweetest nectar had shed. Happy Comatas, this was thy joyful lot ; thy bed 40 THE HARVEST-HOME A coffer, and honeycomb thy food for a roUing year. Would that among the quick thou yet wert numbered here For gladly thy winsome flock from hill to hiU had I led, Listing the voice of thy singing, whilst thou on a grassy bed Under an oak wert lying, or under a pine-tree's shade. And thy mouth, divine Comatas, dehcious music made." ' Such was his lay, and he ceased ; and him I answered saying : — ' Lycidas, much have I learned from the nymphs as I roamed these mountains, Notable songs, whose fame, perchance, hath reached unto heaven. Yet wUl I offer the best of them all as a guerdon to thee now. Hearken, my friend, this song, for dear thou art to the Muses. " The Loves have sneezed good-luck on Simichides; he, poor thing, Is fain of his darling Myrto as goats are fain of the spring. But the friend of his heart, Aratus, for love of a boy makes moan. And Aristis the noble knows how Aratus is burnt to the bone, Aristis, whom Phoebus' self might hymn in a lofty strain. — Pan, Pan, thou whose portion is Homole's lovely plain. To the arms of Aratus bring PhUinus the gentle boy. Or haply some other one who shall yield him his love with joy. Pan, if thou do this thing, may the lads of Arcady, At a lean feast, lash thee not with squiUs on shoulder and thigh ; But if thou grant it not, may thy skin by their nails be shred. Scratched and torn and rent, and nettles be thy bed ! 'Mid the frore Edonian hills be thy dwelling in winter-time, Thy face to the river of Hebrus that flows by an icy clime ; In summer thy pasturing lie by the Aethiop's far demesne, Under the Blemyan rock whence Nile no more is seen ! — But ye, ye Loves, whose cheeks are red as an apple is. THE HARVEST-HOME 41 Oh leave the pleasant waters of BybUs and Hyetis, And Oikeus, lofty §eat of Dione with yellow hair. And smite with your arrows, smite Philinus the sweet and fair ! For the cruel boy recks not of my friend's love-misery, Though his bloom like an o'er-ripe pear fades, and the women cry : ' Ho, Philinus, the flower of thy beauty withers away ' ! — Let us weary our feet no more, no longer let us stay On watch by his threshold, Aratus ; let chanticleer's early note Call Molon alone to grievous chills and a choking throat ! Ours be a love of peace, and lest we come to harm, On us twain shall a beldam throw the might of a spitting-charm." ' These were my words, and he, as aforetime, smiling sweetly, Gave me the goatherd's staff as a parting gift of the Muses ; Then to the leftward sloping his way he made towards Pyxae, While to our host Phrasidemus' home we turned and departed, Eucritus, I, and the comely Amyntas, and there we laid us JoyfuUy down on a couch of fragrant rushes and vine-leaves. Over us masses of poplar and elm waved ; sacred water Babbling and murmuring gushed from a grot of the nymphs hard by us, Sunburnt merry cicalas aloft on the shadowy branches Phed their ceaseless song, and afar in the bushes of bramble Gaily the tree-frogs chirped, and the crested larks and the finches Sang, and the turtle moaned, and over a plashing water Darted golden bees ; all things smelt richly of summer. Richly of autumn ; pears and apples in bountiful plenty Rolled at our feet and sides, and down to the earth all round us Sloe-trees bent their trailing boughs thick-laden with berries. Then from the wine-jar's mouth was a four-year-old seal loosened. E 42 THE HARVEST-HOME Say, Castalian nymphs, who haunt Parnassus, was ever Cup Uke this in the rock-built cave of the centaur Pholus Held by Chiron the old unto Heracles ? yea, and the shepherd He who led his flock by the river Anapus, and pelted Vessels with rocks, that Cyclops huge, such nectar did he quaff, When that his legs were beguUed into dancing about his cavern, As that draught which then, O nymphs, ye slaked with the fountain, There by the altar-stone of Demeter, goddess of garners ? Whose heap'd barley among may I on another season Plant my ample fan, while she stands smiling anigh there. Holding in each hand wisps of corn and flowers of poppy ! VIII THE DAWN OF LOVE Menalcas once upon the lofty hills Tending his flock of sheep — so runs the tale — Met the fair Daphnis with his herd of kine. Both lads had ruddy hair, and both were young, And both were skilled to sing and play the pipe. Looking on Daphnis, thus Menalcas spake :— MENALCAS O Daphnis, herdsman of the lowing kine. Wilt sing with me ? Methinks that I, e'en I, ShaU vanquish thee, how short soe'er my song. To whom in this wise Daphnis made reply : — DAPHNIS Menalcas, shepherd of the woolly siieep, Sweet player on the pipe, not, an thou sang Till singing slew thee, wouldst thou vanquish me. MENALCAS WeU, wilt thou try, and wUt thou stake a prize ? DAPHNIS Yes, I will try, and I wUl stake a prize. 44 THE DAWN OF LOVE MENALCAS What shall we pledge that were a worthy meed ? DAPHNIS A calf wiU I, pledge thou the full-grown lamb. MENALCAS Ne'er will I gage the lamb, for stern my sire And mother are, and number all the sheep At eventide. DAPHNIS Well, what then shall we gage ? What vantage shall the victor gain ? MENALCAS A pipe That erst I fashioned, fair, with nine sweet stops Fastened with white wax smooth above, below ; That wUl I wager, not my father's wealth. DAPHNIS And I too have a pipe with nine sweet stops Fastened with white wax smooth above, below ; But late I fashioned it, for still this finger Aches where the split reed cut it. MENALCAS Who shall judge Betwixt us twain, and hearken to our songs ? THE DAWN OF LOVE 45 DAPHNIS What an we called yon goatherd, 'mongst whose kids The white-faced dog is barking ? So the lads Shouted ; the goatherd came to lend an ear ; And the lads they sang, the goatherd gladly judging; And first by lot clear- voiced Menalcas sang ; Then Daphnis in alternate strain took up The shepherd's lay, and thus Menalcas led : — MENALCAS Ye dells, and rivers of race divine. If ever my shepherd's pipe and I Made you rejoice with a soug of mine, Oh feed my ewe-lambs plenteously. If Daphnis his heifers this way bring. Let him not lack for anything. DAPHNIS Ye wells of water and browsing-vales. Ye grassy meadowlands lush and sweet. If Daphnis sings like the nightingales. Make fat with your fulness this herd of neat. His flock if Menalcas hither bring, Let him joy in abundance of pasturing. MENALCAS Sheep, and goats twin young ones bear. Bees fill hives with their honeycombs, 46 THE DAWN OF LOVE And oaks are taller than otherwhere Wherever the beautiful Milo roams. But whensoever away he turns, A drouth the shepherd and pasture burns. DAPHNIS Spring and pasture are everywhere. Milk from the swollen udder flows. The youngling cattle wax where'er The beautiful maiden / love goes. But when she will no longer stay. Neat and neatherd wither away. MENALCAS he-goat of the white herd king. To the boundless deep of the forest hie (Hither, ye blunt-nosed kids to the spring !), For yonder my love is wont to lie. Speed, hornless one, and say to the boy : ' Shepherding seals was a god's employ.' DAPHNIS ^ MENALCAS The land of Pelops is naught to me. Nor Croesus' bountiful store of gold ; 1 seek not swift as the wind to flee, But Airn, in my arms by this rock to hold. And watching our mingled flocks of sheep. To carol above the Sicilian deep. ' The principle of parallelism seems to postulate Ittcunas in the MS. here and on the next page. THE DAWN OF LOVE 47 DAPHNIS MENALCAS DAPHNIS Storm to tlie trees is a sore distress, To the waters, drouth, to the bird, the snare, Toils to the beasts of the wilderness. To a man, the love of a maiden fair. But I pine not alone, Zeus, O Sire ; For women thou too hast known desire. Thus sang the children in alternate strain. And thus Menalcas led the closing lay : — MENALCAS Pity my kids, wolf, to the mothers mercy show. Wrong me not for that a child with a many goats I go. O Lampouros, my dog, art bound in a heavy sleep ? Ne'er should a hound that herds with a small boy slumber deep. Fear not, my ewes, on the tender grass to feed your fill ; Never a whit shall ye lack when again it grows on the hilL Sh ! sh ! browse, oh, browse, and swoln let your udders be ; The lambs shall have some of the milk, and some shall be pressed by me. 48 THE DAWN OF LOVE Then Daphnis with clear voice began to sing : — DAPHNIS A maiden with fair wed brows gazed forth from a cave on me, As I herded my kine yestreen, and she said, ' Thou art fair to see.' To her not a single word in answer did I say. But kept my eyes on the ground, and slowly went my way. Sweet is the heifer's lowing, and sweet is the heifer's breath, And sweet in the summer to he by a brook that murmureth. Acorns grace the oak, and apples the apple-tree. The calf is the pride of the cow, and the kine are a glory to me. Thus sang the lads, and thus the goatherd spake : — GOATHERD Sweet is thy mouth, O Daphnis, and desired Thy voice ; thy song, more pleasing to the ear Than honey to the tongue. Take thou the pipes, For thou hast conquered in the singing-match. If thou wilt teach me as I tend my goats Anigh thee, this she-goat that hath no horns I '11 give thee as a schooling-fee ; (she fills The milk-pail ever till it overflows). The boy was glad and leaped and clapped his hands, A victor ; even as a fawn might leap About its dam. The other's smouldering heart Was tossed with grieving Uke a new-wed maid's. And from that day Daphnis was reckoned first Among the shepherds, and whUe yet a boy Took the fair Nais for his girlish bride. IX COUNTRY SONGS A SHEPHERD 1 Sing, Daplmis, sing a shepherd's song, and first Do thou begin, then let Menalcas follow. The calves beneath their mothers place, the bulls Lead to the barren kine, and let them browse Together o'er the grass the herd among. But do thou sing to me a random lay, In random song Menalcas answering. DAPHNIS' SONG ' Sweet is the lowing of calf and kine. And sweet is the pipe and the herdsman's song ; I sing sweetly ; a couch is mine The banks of a chilly brook along. With fair white heifers' hides 'tis strown — Heifers that cropped the strawberry-trees Once on the cliffs, and down were thrown By the gust of a whirling south-west breeze — And as httle I reck of the summer's fire As a lover may reck of mother and sire.' ^ Probably a lacuna here, in which the shepherd described his meeting Daphnis and Menalcas, and how he asked them to sing. F so COUNTRY SONGS Thus Daplmis sang to me, Menalcas thus : — MENALCAS' SONG ' Etna, my mother, I too live In a fair cave of the hollow rocks. All is mine that a dream may give, Sheep and goats in their countless flocks ; At my head and feet their fells are stro^vn, On an oak-fire boUs the savoury mess, Dry oak-nuts on the flames are thrown In time of the winter's windy stress ; And as little heed of the storm I take. As of nuts a toothless man that hath cake.' I clapped my hands, and straightway gave a gifib — A staff that in my father's field had grown, SeH-shapen, that no craftsman would have scomed- To Daphnis ; to the other, a fair shell, A whorled Triton's-horn that erst I spied On Hyccara's rocks, and on the flesh thereof Had feasted, sharing with four friends ; and he Winded the conch. HaU, shepherd Muses, hail ! Tell forth the song that to those herdsmen I, Standing anigh them, sang upon that tide. ' Never a falsehood iny tongue sear ! Grasshopper loves the grasshopper aye. And ants love ants, and the hawk is dear To the hawk, — and to me the Muse's lay. COUNTRY SONGS 51 With melody let my dwelling ring, For dear are the daughters of song to me, Sweeter than slumber or sudden spring. Sweeter than flowers to the honey-bee. For whomso they behold with joy. Him never could Circe's draught destroy.' THE TWO REAPERS MILO What ails thee now, Boucaios, wretched swam ? No longer canst thou guide thy swathe aright, Nor make thy sickle keep pace with thy mate's. But like a sheep whose foot the thorns have gashed. That straggles from the flock, so laggest thou. How shalt thou fare, poor wight, at afternoon. That thus at morn thy furrow wilt not mow ? BOUCAIOS Untiring reaper, chip of stubborn stone, Milo, hast never longed for one afar ? MILO Never ; what would a swain with roving dreams ? BOUCAIOS Hast never haply lain awake for love ? MILO The gods forfend ! Let once the dog taste blood . . BOUCAIOS But I have been in love these ten days, Milo THE TWO REAPERS 53 MILO 'Tis clear that thou dost drain the wine-barrel ; But scarce enough of vinegar have I. BOUCAIOS — And so my garden all unweeded lies. MILO What girl afflicts thee ? BOUCAIOS Polybotas' daughter, That piped aforetime to Hippocoon's hinds. MILO The gods have caught the knave ; for thou shalt have Thy darling wish. The ' grasshopper-girl ' shall lie With thee the hvelong night. BOUCAIOS Thou mock'st at me ; But not alone the god of Wealth is bUnd, Blind, too, is thoughtless Love ; — so boast thee not. MILO I boast me not. Do thou lay low the corn. And sing some love-song in thy darling's praise, For sweeter thus thy toil shall seem to thee. A singer surely wert thou once of yore. BOUCAIOS Aid me to sing the slender maiden, ye Muses, aid. Goddesses, whatsoever ye touch, it is lovely made. 54 THE TWO REAPERS Sweet Bombyca, a ' gipsy-girl ' all men call tliee ; To them thou art ' wizened ' and ' swart,' but ' honey-wan ' to me. Dark are violets too, and the hyacinth writ with woe ; Natheless in coronals these are the flowers that foremost show. The clover lures the goat, the goat from the wolf must flee. The cranes follow after the plough, and I rave after thee. Would that the fabled wealth of Croesus of yore were mine ! Golden images twain had been placed in Cjrpris' shrine — Thou with thy pipe and a rose, mayhap, or an apple too, I with my dancing robe, and shod with the Spartan shoe. O fair love, like twinkling dice are thy dainty feet, Dreamy thy voice, thy ways, ah ! who can teU how sweet ! MILO Our Boucos was a maker of sweet songs All imbeknown to us ! How weU he shaped And meted out the verse ! Beshrew my beard Which aU for nought I 've grown ! But hearken now The song that god-like Lityerses made. ' Lady of fruits and corn, Demeter, make this field Easy to tiU with the plough, and the fulness of plenty to yield. Gatherers, bind the sheaves, lest some one passing by, " Worthless men are those ; not worth their wage," should cry. Facing the wind of the North let your swathes of mown com be. Or facing the wind of the West ; for thus they shall ripened be. ^ THE TWO REAPERS 55 All unmeet is slumber at noon for the threshing men ; The chaff from the stalks of corn most easily parteth then. Ye that reap the fields, begin when the lark doth wake, Cease your toil when he sleepeth, at noon your pleasure take. The frog hath a jolly hfe, my lads; no need there is Of a cup-bearer for him ; for oceans of drink are his. Miserly steward, boU the lentils ! Better, I ween. This, than to cut thy hand whittling the cumin bean.' That is a song for toilers in the sun. Thy starveling love, Boucaios, should be told At dawn beside thy waking mother's bed. XI POLYPHEMUS'S COMPLAINT NiciAS, there is no other drug on earth, Or smeared or sprinkled, which can conquer love, But song alone. Soothing and sweet to men Is this remede, albeit hard to find. But thou a wise physician art, and dear Unto the sacred Nine, and needs must know this. The Cyclops Polyphemus here of yore In Sicily his sorrow charmed with song. For Galatea was his flame, and he. The firstling down upon his chin and cheeks. But aU unskilled in Love's sweet ministries, Profiered nor rose nor apple nor shorn curl, Deeming such trifles vain, but raved and mourned In lonely wretchedness. And oft his flock Unshepherded would leave the pastures green And seek the fold alone. But he the while Would seat him on a seaward promontory. Wave-washed and tangle-girt, and there would sing From dawn till eve, sore-smitten in the heart By Cjrpris' arrow, but gat healing thus. So sitting on the lofty rocky brow. And gazing oceanward he sang this lay : — POLYPHEMUS'S COMPLAINT 57 ' Fair Galatea, why my love disdain ? Thou that art whiter than the curd I strain, Lambhke in gentleness, but frolic too As sportive kid, and fresher to the view Than grapes unreddened by the autumn sun. Thou stealest towards me when the day is done, And I asleep am laid ; but when I wake. Away thou speedest, as from out the brake A hoary wolf had sprung. I loved thee first When but a child thou with my mother durst Roam o'er these hills to pluck the hyacinth-flowers. I led the way, and since those bygone hours, I cannot cease from gazing at thy grace. What carest thou ? Nothing, I ween. My face Affrights thee — one shag eyebrow's lowering dip From ear to ear, nose flattened on the Up, And one great eye midmost my forehead set. Thus ugly am I, lovely maiden ; yet A thousand sheep I pasture on these hills, Wherefrom the sweetest mUk my pitcher fills. Summer and fall no lack of cheese is known. And in mid-wintertime my cheese-crates groan. Sweetly I pipe (no Cyclops pipes hke me) At dead of night my love, myself, and thee. Eleven kids with moon-flecks on the brow, And four bear-whelps I foster for thee now. Oh come to me ; the land wiU give thee more Than this green sea that rolls upon the shore. Sweeter the night shall be within my lair ; G 58 POLYPHEMUS'S COMPLAINT Laurels and tender cjrpresses are there, And ivy dark and the sweet-fruited vine. And water chill which Etna, clad with pine. Sends from her white snows everlastingly Unto this grot to make a well for me. Then who would choose the sea before such joys ? But if my shaggy hairiness annoys, — WeU, I have plenteous store of logs of oak, And on my hearth a fire no ashes choke. Bum out my eye as thou hast burned my heart ; Dear though it be, I 'd gladly bear the smart. Why did my dam not give me fins at birth ? To kiss thy hand I'd plunged into the firth, (Thy mouth perchance denied) and brought with me White lilies and red poppy-flowers for thee, LUies in winter, poppy-flowers in May — For both I had not brought upon a day. But I win straightway learn me how to swim ; Haply some shipman here wUl come ; from him I 'U learn the art, and seek what sweet things dwell Down in the deeps that hold thee with their spell. Come, Galatea, come, remembering not Thy homeward way as I have mine forgot. Come, tend the flocks with me and milk the ewes. Nor to make cheese with curdled mUk refuse. My mother wrongs me, her alone I blame, For ne'er she says a kind word for my flame. Yet daily sees me pining for thy sake. — Now will I say my head and two feet ache. POLYPHEMUS'S COMPLAINT 59 That so she may be vexed as well as I. — Ah Cyclops, Cyclops, how thy loose wits fly ! Go weave thy baskets, and pluck tender shoots, And bear them to thy lambs ; this rather boots. Hold what thou hast — why chase what flees away ? A fairer maiden shalt thou find one day. Many there be that bid me sport by night With them in dalliance and love's delight. All softly laugh whene'er I list their call. On land, methinks, I 'm some one after all.' Thus Polyphemus soothed his aching heart With song, nor sought with gold the healer's aid. XII THE PASSIONATE FRIEND Thou art come, dear youth, art come; three nights and days thou hast tarried. (Alas ! for the sad love-longing that makes men old in a day ! ) As a maiden is fairer far than she that hath thrice been married, As apples are sweeter than sloes, and sweeter than winter, May ; As kids are swifter than calves, ewe's fleece than her yeanling's rarer, And the nightingale shriUy-sweet outsings all birds of the glade ; So over-gladly I sped towards thee, as a worn wayfarer Speeds from the scorching ray to the spreading beech-tree's shade. Would that a breath on us fell from the Love that hath Love to brother. That thus we twain might be sung by men in the after-days : ' Of yore two godlike youths abode the one with the other As " Leader " sung by Dorian, and " Led " by Thessalian lays, And the yoke of their love was level, the ways of men were golden. For the lover was dear to the lad in the days that are no more.' To the gods that wax not old may I be for that beholden. And this be the word in my ear long hence on the Stygian shore : ' How thou didst love, and how thy darling did truly love thee, Is a song on the lips of all men and chiefly of youths unwed.' THE PASSIONATE FRIEND 6i But are not the lords of these things the heavenly gods above me Who will rule it as they will ? — but yet shall this be said : ' Fair boy, though I praise thy sweetness, my brow shall not bhster with lying. For when thou hast done me a hurt, thou straightway healest me, And when for passion of love at thy feet my heart is dying, I have risen with twofold guerdon and more than a lover's fee. Megarian sons of Nisos, ye that excel in rowing. At ease may ye dwell in the land, for ye honoured your Attic guest, Him who died for his friend when the tide of war was flowiug. Diodes, lover of boyhood, who fell at Love's behest ! And ever in early spring-time the youths at his tomb are thronging. Eager to win the award which the kiss that is sweetest earns. For the lad whose Hps are pressed on Hps with the tenderest longing, Smothered in wreaths of flowers to his joyful mother returns. Blest in the kissing-combat is he who judges and chooses. And thus will he sometimes swear by the bright-eyed Ganymede : " My mouth is as Lydian stone which the money-changer uses To sever the gilded guile from what is gold indeed." ' XIII THE RAPE OF HYLAS Not for us twain and none other, as once dreamt thou and I, Was Love begot on his mother by some divinity. Not to us, Nicias, first did fair things lovely seem — To-day may be ours, but we durst not so of the morrow deem — The son of Amphitryon, too, the man of the iron heart, Albeit the lion he slew, was smit by the Love-god's dart For Hylas, fair and sweet, with love-locks ringleted. Whom he led in all things meet as a father a son had led. All things comely and strong whereby he himself had won Guerdon of deathless song and all men's benison. Never he left his love, not at midnoon's sultry time. Nor when to the heaven above the Dawn's white coursers climb. Nor yet when to roost and dream the chicken brood upsprings, And aloft on the smoky beam the mother flaps her wings. That so the soul of the boy might be fashioned to his mood. And sharing his yoke in joy wax strong in lustihood. And when for the fleece of gold the son of Aeson sailed With a band of chieftains bold from many a city hailed. The son of Alcmena came to lolchos rich in com, And many another name, the noblest of men then born ; And Hylas came with him there to the good ship Argo's side — (As an eagle cleaves the air, through the rocks that clash and gride, THE RAPE OF HYLAS 63 Scatheless she sped on her way to the deep-soiled Phasian shore And the rocks that clashed that day lie motionless evermore) — But already the Pleiads glow, and to pasture in far fields The weanling lambkins go, and Spring to Summer yields. And the heroes — a godlike bloom — bethink them of seafaring. And gather in Argo's womb, and their sail to the breezes fling. Three days the south wind blew and bare them along on its breath. And onward the good ship flew where the Hellespont thundereth. And down on Propontic sand they cast their anchoring-gear Anigh the wide-fuxrowed land where ploughs the Cyanian steer. ^ Forth on the shore they leaped, and orderly dight the feast At sunset ; and after, they slept together the best with the least. For before them lay a mead, and bedding therein without fail, And they cut thin flowering-reed and low-lying galingale ; And fair-haired Hylas ran for water to mix with the wine Of Telamon, stubborn man, and Heracles' self divine — At the board those comrade kings sat ever side by side — A brazen pitcher he swings in his hand, and soon he spied A spring in a lowly dell ; lush reeds about it grew. The swallow- wort's purple bell and maiden-hair pale of hue, And parsley blooming fair and marsh-loving marigold. In the midst of the water there the nymphs a revel hold. Sleepless goddesses three, whom the peasant may not abide, Mahs, Eunice, and Nycheia April-eyed. As the boy leaned over the brink his pitcher wide of Hp, Letting it downward sink, his hand was held in their grip ; For passion had made mad their gentle minds with its spell For the sake of the Argive lad ; and into the shadowy well Down with a plunge slipped he, as a red star shoots from the sky, 64 THE RAPE OF HYLAS And plunges into the sea, and the sailor's mate will cry : ' Ho, lads ! shake out sail, for fresh the breezes blow.' But the well-nymphs gently hale the lad and lay him alow On their knees, and soothe his tears with gentle words and mild ; But Heracles' soul with fears was troubled for the child. In Scythian wise he flings on his shoulder his well-bent bow, In his strong right hand he swings the club that he ne'er lets go. And forth he speeds, and thrice from the depths of his throat he cried ' Hylas ' ! . . . and Hylas thrice heard, and in vain replied. From the depth of the crystal spring the voice came faint on the ear, And the sound had a far-off ring, albeit close anear. As a Hon leaps from his lair a man^d ravening beast. Of a hill-faAvn's bleating ware, and speeds to the ready feast, So madly roamed the god, in quest of his darling lost, Through acanthus-fields untrod, and many a region he crossed. Lovers are hard to repel ; measureless toil was his lot. As he ranged o'er brake and fell, and Jason was clean forgot. And Argo's sails in the breeze stUl fluttered, the heroes abode Awaiting Heracles, and at night the sails they stowed. At the will of his wandering feet he roamed with a frenzied heart, Whose quick still burned with the heat of the cruel goddess's dart. Thus Hylas the fair was ta'en to the ranks of the blest that day, And the heroes in disdain called Heracles ' Kunaway ' ; For he ran from Argo then with its thirty brace of oars Afoot to the Colchian men and Phasis' sullen shores. XIV THE SLIGHTED LOVER AESCHINES Greeting to friend Thyonichus ! THYONICHUS The same To Aeschines ! AESCHINES Thou 'rt late in coming. THYONICHUS Late? What is the matter ? AESCHINES Things go ill with me, Thyonichus. THYONICHUS Ah, therefore art thou lean, Thy upper lip untrimmed, and love-locks dry. Only the other day in plight like thine A wan Pythagorean hither came Barefooted — an Athenian bom, he said. He too, methinks, a lover was, and pined . . . For wheaten cakes. H 66 THE SLIGHTED LOVER AESCHINES Thou It ever have thy jest. My friend ; but me the fair Cynisca flouts, And one day I shall suddenly go mad. Indeed, I 'm on the brink of it already. THYONICHUS 'Tis ever thus with thee, dear Aeschines ; A touch too keen, thou wouldst have everything Upon the instant. What 's the story now ? AESCHINES I and the Argive, the Thessahan rider Apis, and Cleunicus, man-at-arms, Were drinking at my farm, and I had killed Two pullets and a sucking-pig, and broached My four-year Biblian wine for them ; it smelt As fragrant as it had but left the vat. Truffles and clams and oysters were fetched forth ; It was a joUy drinking-bout; the fun Was waxing gaily, when the fancy struck us To bid the unmixed wine be poured In pledge of each man's love ; but each must name His toast. We named, and duly drained the cup ; But nought said she, though I myself was there. How think'st thou I felt then ? Then one in jest Said : ' Art thou dumb from having met a wolf ? ' Quoth she : ' WeU guessed,' and blushed ; one could with ease Have lit a lamp then at her face. Alas ! There is a Wolf, a Wolf there is, the son THE SLIGHTED LOVER 67 Of neighbour Labes, Lycus, tall and smooth, Deemed fair by many ; for his noble sake Her heart was pining. And a breath of this Once murmured ia my ear, but I, poor fool. Sifted the matter not, shame on my beard ! And now deep in our cups were we four men. When for mere wantonness the Larissaean Kaised the Thessalian catch ' My wolf,' and sang From first to finish ; and Cynisca wept All of a sudden hotter tears than weeps Beside her mother's knee a six-year maid That would be lifted on her mother's lap. Then I (thou know'st my humour) with clenched fist Smote her upon the temple once, and once Again, and gathering up her robes she fled Forth on the instant. ' Plague of my life,' I cried, ' Do I not please thee ? Doth some dearer one Lie on thy breast ? Away with thee and cherish Some other lover ; 'tis for him thy tears. Harlot, are flowing.' As the mother-swallow, When she hath brought a morsel to her brood Beneath the eaves, darts back to seek for more. E'en swifter from off her soft seat darted she Straight through the vestibule and folding doors In random race. An ancient proverb runs : ' BuU fled, bull sped.' Now twenty days have passed And eight and nine and ten others beside. To-day's the eleventh, add two more — two months Have flown since we two parted, and my hair 68 THE SLIGHTED LOVER Has ne'er been shorn e'en Thracianwise. Now Wolf, Lycus, is all in all to her ; to Lycus Her door 's ajar by night ; of none account Am I, not in the reckoning, but like The poor Megarians, in the lowest place. And could I cease to love, then all were well ; But how can this e'er be ? The mouse of the adage Hath tasted pitch, my friend, and what remede For desperate love there be I know not. Yet I know that Simus, smitten with desire For Epichalcas' daughter, sailed away And came back whole — a friend of mine own years. I too win o'er the sea and be a soldier, Better and worse than some, but good as most. THYONICHUS Would thy desires had been more fortunate, Aeschines ! But an thou wilt abroad indeed, The best pay-master for a free-born man Is Ptolemy. AESCHINES And what besides is he ? THYONICHUS A kindly man, a Mend of art and song, A lover, and the pink of courtesy ; A man that knows his friend, his enemy Still better, giving largess unto many, Nor aught denies, that may beseem a king, THE SLIGHTED LOVER 69 To him that craves a boon. But, Aeschines, We must not always ask. So, an thou hke On thy right shoulder the cloak's tip to pin, And on both feet wilt dare to bide the brunt Of sturdy targeteers, to Egypt hie. We all get grizzled from the temples down, And slowly on our chin the frosts of eld Creep. Let 's do somewhat while our knees are young ! XV THE LADIES AT THE FESTIVAL OF ADONIS GORGO Pbaxinoe, art thou in ? PRAXINOE How late thou art, Dear Gorgo ! Yes, I 'm in. A marvel 'tis That thou art come at all. Quick, Eunoe, fetch A chair for her, and put a cushion on 't. GORGO Nay, leave it as it is. PRAXINOE Come, sit thee down. GORGO How out of breath I am ! I hardly reached Thy house alive, Praxinoe — such crowds Of carriages and people — soldiers' boots And cloaks here, there, and everywhere — I thought The way would never end. Thy house, my dear, Is truly much too far away from ours. THE FESTIVAL OF ADONIS 71 PRAXINOE My madcap husband's fault. He came and took At world's-end here a beast's hole, not a house, Just to keep us apart, the jealous wretch ! And all for spite as usual. GOEGO Hush, my dear ! Rate not thy husband so before the child. Look, woman, how he eyes thee. Never mind, Zopyrion dear, sweet boy, 'tis not papa That mother talks of. By our Lady Goddess, The baby understands us ! — Pretty papa ! PRAXINOE Well, that papa of his the other day — For everything 's ' the other day ' with us — Went to the shop to buy me soap and rouge. And brought me salt instead, the hulking oaf ! GORGO My spendthrift Diocleid is just as bad. Seven fleeces (heaven help us all !) he bought. And paid seven drachmas for them yesterday — Dogskins, old wallet shreds, mere trash and trouble. But come, put on thy kirtle and thy cloak, And let 's be off to Ptolemy's palace-grounds To see the 'Adonis.' It is said the queen Prepares a glorious show. 72 THE LADIES AT PRAXINOE In rich men's homes All things are rich. GORGO Think what a tale thou It have One day to tell thy country cousins ! Come, 'Tis time to move. PRAXINOE 'Tis ever hoUday With idlers. Eunoe, put up the yam, Thou lazy wench — the cats dehght to sleep On woolly beds. Now then, bestir thyself And bring me water ; water 's what I want First — and she brings me soap ! WeU, give it me ; Not too much, wasteful girl ! Now pour. The wretch ! My smock is drenched — stop — Well, my washing 's done As heaven pleased. Where is the coffer key ? Bring it me here. GORGO That full gown suits thee well, Praxinoe. What did it cost thee fresh From off the loom ? PRAXINOE Nay, mind me not o't. Gorge — More than two good white minas, and I spent My soul in stitching. THE FESTIVAL OF ADONIS 73 GOKGO It is featly fashioned. PRAXINOE I warrant thee. Girl, bring my cloak and set My bonnet nicely on my head. — No, child, I wiU not take thee. Boo, the horse will bite ! — Oh, cry thy fill, I AviU not have thee lamed. Let us be moving ! Phrygia, take the boy And play with him, caU ia the dog and shut The outer door. Oh heavens, what a crowd ! How shall we elbow through this coil ? 'tis like A swarm of countless ants. Ptolemy, Many the noble deeds that thou hast done Since that thy sire was numbered with the gods ! No rascal now skulks up, Egyptianwise, To maul the passer-by, as once they did, The lumps of villainy, drolls, jesting knaves. Each bad as other, scoundrels every one. P Gorgo, dear, what will become of us ? Here come the king's war-horses. — My good man, Trample me not. — His roan is rearing — see, How fierce it is ! O Eunoe, bold girl, Eun ; it will throw its rider. What a blessing The babe 's at home ! GORGO Cheer up, Praxinoe, We 've got behind them now, and they 're in line. I \: 74 THE LADIES AT PRAXINOE I breathe again. But ever since a child Horses and chilly snakes have been my dread. Let 's on. Oh what a crowd is rushing down ! Art from the court, good mother ? OLD WOMAN Ay, my dears. GORGO Is entrance easy ? OLD WOMAN The Achaeans came, By trying, into Troy town, pretty lass ; Venture and win ! GORGO Off goes Dame Oracle ! PRAXINOE Women know all — e'en how Zeus wedded Here, GORGO Praxinoe, see that crush about the doors ! PRAXINOE Oh, terrible ! Gorgo, give me thy hand, And Eunoe, take Eutychis' — hold tight — No straggling — ^let us all get in together. Alack, alack, my veil is torn ! Sir, As thou wouldst thrive hereafter, mind my cloak! THE FESTIVAL OF ADONIS 75 STRANGER I scarcely can, but I will do my best. PBAXINOE Oh, what a crowd ! They push like pigs. STRANGER Take heart, Madam, 'tis well with us now. PRAXINOE Oh, thanks, indeed — Well may it be for ever and a day With thee, kind Sir, for shielding us ! — A good And courtly gentleman ! — Poor Eunoe 's squeezed. Push, silly, push ! That 's right ! ' Now all are in,' As cries the groomsman when he shuts the door. GjJRGO Oh come and look first at those broideries, Subtle and lovely as the work of gods ! PRAXINOE I wonder who the weaving-women were. And who the draughtsmen that so deftly limned These pictures ! How like life they stand and move ! People, not pictures ! Wonderful is man ! And oh, how fair-to-see Adonis lies Upon his silver couch, youth's early down Upon his tender cheek, the thrice-beloved. Dear both to us and those that dwell below ! 76 THE LADIES AT ANOTHER STRANGER A plague upon your endless pigeon-prattle ! They kiU a body with their Dorian drawl. GORGO Whence did this fellow come ? What 's that to thee If we be prattlers ? Lord it o'er the slaves That thou hast paid for ! Bully us, forsooth ! — Ladies of Syracuse, who came of old From Corinth, like BeUerophon — mark that — And talk like people in the Chersonese ! Since when may Dorians not talk Dorian ? PRAXINOE By Proserpine, no master will 1 have But one — thy cheating wage is not for me. GORGO Hush, hush, Praxinoe ! The Argive girl. That clever songstress, is about to sing The Adonis-lay. Last year she won the prize For dirges. She will warble well, I know. Already she puts on her languid airs. SINGING WOMAN ' Lady and lover of Golgoi, Idalion and Eryx steep. Thou that toyest with gold, Aphrodite goddess, lo In the twelfth month of the year from Acheron's ceaseless flow The soft-foot Hours have brought Adonis from the deep. Tardy goddesses they, the boon Hours, but caressed THE FESTIVAL OF ADONIS ^^ They come, and ever bring to mortals pleasure and ache. Cypris, child of Dione, men say that thou didst make Berenice, a mortal, immortal and fill with ambrosia her breast. O thou that art hailed in many a shrine by many a name, This day Berenice's daughter, the queen Arsinoe, Adorns, with all things lovely, Adonis in grace of thee — Arsinoe fair as Helen that set the world aflame. Beside him are ripe fruits lying from every fruit-tree shaken, And tussocks of tender plants in caskets of silver are there. Golden boxes of Syrian nard and dainties rare Ejieaded on platters by woijien, of snowy wheatmeal baken. Honey and oil therein are mingled and many a flower. And the shapes are as birds and beasts; and young loves fluttering Like nestling-nightingales try from spray to spray their wing, And covered with delicate anise is every green-arched bower. ebony bound with gold, and eagles fashioned Of ivory white that bear to Cronides his love. The boy that fills the cup ! O hangings of purple above ! " Softer than sleep " Miletus and shepherds of Samos had said. Nigh him a couch is spread for the beauteous Cyprian queen, In another Adonis lies, and rosy-armed is he. Soft is the dgaoi on his Hp, and soft will his kisses be. For scarcely a scSr^ of years hath the youthful bridegroom seen. And now farewell, dear Cypris ! Enjoy thy love. On the morrow With dawn and the dew we shall gather together and bear him away To the waves tliat foam on the beach, and with hair in disarray, 78 THE FESTIVAL OF ADONIS Robes dropped to our ankles, and bosoms bare, we shall sing our sorrow. Alone of the demi-gods Adonis this boon hath earned, From Acheron hither to wend ; not this Agamemnon won. Nor Ajax, vrrathful hero, nor Hecuba's eldest son. Nor yet Patroclus, nor Pjorhus that safe from Troy returned. No, nor the Lapithae, nor the sons of Deucalion of yore. Nor Pelops' children, nor Argos' crown, the Pelasgian men. Be gracious now, Adonis, and next year smile again ; For dear is thy coming now and hereafter as heretofore.' GORGO What tops a woman's wit, Praxinoe ; How happy must she be to know so much. And happier still to have so sweet a voice ! Let 's homeward now ! My good-man 's diimerless. And when he 's hungry he 's aU vinegar ; Approach him not ! Farewell ! beloved Adonis ! And welfare still be ours at thy return ! XVI THE POET'S PLEA Ever a care is this to the daughters of Zeus and to minstrels, Duly to sing of the deathless gods and the glory of heroes. Muses goddesses are, and goddesses hymn the Immortals ; Children of earth are we, let mortals sing but of menfolk. Ah, but of those that now tarry under the grey of the morning. Who that wLU ope his door and joyfully take our Graces Into his house, nor send them away from the gate unguerdoned ? Wroth to their home they return, feet bare, and sorely revile me. For that in vain on a journey they went, and again they will seat them Down in the depths of the coffer's void, heart- wearily biding. Heads on dull knees bowed, where aye their accustomed seat is. What time they from a fruitless quest come back to me empty. Who will to-day be a friend to the singer who sings his praises ? I know not ; for men no longer desire as aforetime Grlory for fair deeds done ; but Money is lord and master. Each man keepeth his hand on the purse in his robe's bosom, eyeing Chances of silver and gold, and would offer to none as a guerdon Even the rubbed-off rust, but would utter his ready rejoinder : — ' Eoiee before shin ! Fair fall myself! God cares for the poets. Homer enough for us all is, and who would list to another ? Best of the bards is he who takes no part of my substance.' 8o THE POET'S PLEA Fools, what gain is a world of wealth in your houses lying ? Wise men deem that in that dwells not true pleasure of riches, But to delight one's soul, and somewhat give to a comrade — Good deeds done to a host of kinsmen, and many a stranger — Due rites, too, to the gods performed on their altars always — Aye to be kind to a guest, and first at your board to regale him Ere he be sped on his way, whenso that he list to depart thence — Chiefest honour to pay to the sacred priests of the Muses, So that a goodly renown ye may have in the darkness of Hades, Yea, nor inglorious weep by Acheron's ice-chill waters. Like to a beggarly man with palms made hard by the mattock. Wailing his luckless lot that came from a father aforetime. Monthly to many a thrall in the courts of the kingly Aleuas Duly a dole was made, and many the calves that were driven Lowing along with the horned kine to the stalls of the Scopads ; Many a chosen flock strayed o'er Crannonian pastures, Driven afield each day for the bountiful children of Creon ; Yet no pleasure therein was theirs when their spirit was wafted Unto the ample raft upon Acheron's loathed waters. An that wealth foregone, they had lain forgotten of all men Many and many a year in the place of the dreary departed. Had not a Cean bard, that wonderful, clear- voiced singer. Wed to his harp of divers tones their names as a glory Unto a later race, and given a measure of honour Unto their fleet-foot steeds that back from the sacred contests Came to them crowned with flowers. Whoe'er would have heard of the Lycian Chiefs, or the long-haired sons of Priam, or white-skinned Cycnus THE POET'S PLEA 8i Fair as a maid, had bards not sung of the battles of old time ? Yea, and Odysseus too, that roamed for a score and a hundred Months amid all strange folk, and came unto utmost Hades Scatheless, and scatheless fled from the den of the terrible Cyclops, Had not gained him a lasting fame. Forgotten in silence Were swineherd Eumaeus, and he that abode by the oxen, Yea, and unheard the renown of Laertes valorous-hearted. Had not a bard of Ionia told of them aU in a sweet song. Only the Muses grant unto mortals a guerdon of glory. Dead men's wealth shall be spent by the quick that are heirs to their riches ; But 'twere an equal task on the shore of the ocean to number Waves that a wind may drive to the beach with surge of the green sea, Yea, or from bricks to remove their colour in limpid water, As to entreat that man whom hunger of pelf hath smitten. Farewell such ! May their wealth of gold and silver be endless, Ay, and a craving lust for more be their master for ever ! I would rather choose to be honoured and loved of my fellows, Than to be lord of a thousand droves of mules and of horses. Therefore I seek what man wiH joyfuUy give me a welcome. Me and the Muses. — Rough are the ways of the world unto min- strels Reft of the daughters of Zeus that alone is mighty in counsel. Heaven is not yet aweary of driving the years and the seasons ; Oft shall the wheels of his waiu be whirled by the coursers onward ; Yea, and a man shall yet be fain of me as his minstrel, K 82 THE POET'S PLEA One that hath like things done as Ajax wroth or Achilles Wrought on Simois' meads by the grave of the Phrygian Ilus. Lo, already Phoenician men that dwell on the utmost Spur of the Libyan land, not far from the sunset, are shaken ; Ay, and already the men of SicUy poise their lances, Bearing upon their shoulder the weight of their willowy bucklers Like to the mighty of old time Hiero standeth among them, Girt for the fray, and his horse-hair plumes o'ershadow his hel- met. Zeus, thou father of all Most High, and Lady Athene, Thou, Persephone, too, who with thy mother befriendest That rich Ephyran town by the waters of Lusimeleia, Oh that an evil fate may drive from the shores of our island O'er Sardinian waves but a tithe of the host of our foemen. So they may teU to the wives and children the doom of their loved ones ! Oh for their ancient lords to abide once more in the cities Which by the hands of the foe were of yore so grievously wasted Tilled be the fertile fields, and the sheep in many a thousand, Fatted with pasture, bleat on the plains, and the kine to the byre come Herding together ! — a hint for the late wayfarer to hasten. Ploughed be the faUow fields for the seed, what time the cicala. Watching the shepherds toil in the sun from the topmost branches. Sings ; let spiders weave their gossamer webs on the armour. Yea, and the name itself of battle for ever be silenced ! But let bards upraising the glory of Hiero, waft it THE POET'S PLEA 83 Over the Scytliian sea, and where in the dimness of old time Queenly Semiramis reared her a broad wall sodered with asphalt ! I am but one of the many belov'd by the daughters of Heaven. Oh for them all to -be fain to renown the Sicilian fountain, Our Arethusa, our folk, and Hiero, splendour of spearmen ! ye Graces, dear to Eteocles, ye who befriended Minyan Orchomenos that strove with the Thebans in old days, Unbid forth, I shall bide ; but gladly to those that entreat me 1 and my Muses wiU come, and ne'er shall I leave you behind me. You, ye Graces. — Apart from the Graces nothing is lovely Here in the world of men. — May I ever abide with the Graces ! XVII THE PRAISES OF PTOLEMY To Zeus, Muses, first and latest praise, When we to Heaven's King would lift our lays ; To Ptolemy, first, last, and midmost, when We sing the praises of the king of men ! The deeds of heroes in the olden time Gat aye the guerdon of a minstrel's rhyme. I 'U sing of Ptolemy, — a minstrel I — Song is the meed of gods who never die. When unto Ida many-forested A woodman cometh, he is hard bested. And gazes round on all that wealth of wood. Uncertain where to try his lustihood. — What first to hymn amid the countless things Wherewith Zeus glorifies the king of kings ? How great to accomplish mighty deeds was he, That high-born son of Lagus, Ptolemy, When that his spirit had conceived a plan Bafiling the wisdom of a lesser man ! 'Twas his from Zeus an equal meed to get With gods immortal ; his gold throne is set THE PRAISES OF PTOLEMY 85 In Zeus's halls, and, friend-like, him anigh Sits Alexander, dread divinity Unto the Persian folk with turbans gay. In front sits Heracles that erst did slay The buU, — his throne with adamant is strong — There holds he revel with the heavenly throng. Much joying in his latest heritage Of children whom Zeus made exempt from age, And glad his sons are hailed as deities (For through a later child of Heracles, Stalwart Coranus, both their lineage trace To Heracles, the founder of their race). When from the feast, with nectar satisfied, He goes to seek the chamber of his bride, His dangling quiver and his bow he hands To Alexander, and his mace with bands Of iron and gnarled knobs to Ptolemy ; And these twain straightway bear him company Unto white-ankled Hebe's blest abode. The armour-bearers of the bearded god. How 'mong the women that were wise of heart Shone Berenice, famed for every art. To mother and to sire a dear delight ! Clone's daughter, Cyprus' queen of might, On that sweet bosom pressed her gentle hands, And so men say that never in all lands Did woman please her lord as much as she Was dear unto her husband Ptolemy. 86 THE PRAISES OF PTOLEMY Yet even more beloved was he again. Unto his children may a man give then Lightly the care of all his livelihood, When wife and husband love as lovers should. But loveless wives a stranger aye desire, With ease have children, but unlike their sire. Loveliest goddess. Aphrodite, Queen, Thy care was she, and for thy sake I ween Fair Berenice passed not Acheron, That wailful water, but or e'er she won Unto the sombre-coloured barge's side, Whereon the souls of dead folk o'er the tide By that aye-loathfed ferryman are ta'en. To set her in a temple thou didst deign. And equal honours with thyself to give ; And now she gently breathes on all that live Loves that are gentle, and the pining swain She graciously wiU ease from aU his pain. Dark-eyebrow'd girl of Argos, thou didst bear The warrior Diomede as Tydeus' heir— That erst was called the man of Calydon — Deep-girdled Thetis bare a warrior son To Peleus, son of Oeacus — his name, Achilles, javelin-thrower rich in fame, And glorious Berenice brought forth thee A warrior to a warrior Ptolemy. When first thou saw'st the light, Cos' fostering land Took thee, a suckling, from thy mother's hand — THE PRAISES OF PTOLEMY 87 For there the daughter of Antigone In throes of labour cried aloud on thee, O Ilithyia, girdle-loosener ; And graciously thou earnest unto her, Shedding release from pain in every limb. And so a son was born most hke to him That was his sire. Cos, seeing, cried with joy. And thus she spake, holding the infant boy : ' child, be blest, and grant me such renown As Phoebus gave to Delos with its crown Of azure sea, and show to Triops' hill. With all its Dorian folk, the like goodwill As from Apollo on Rhenaea beamed.' Thus spake the Isle — thrice a great eagle screamed From the high clouds, bird-seer of future things, A sign, methinks, from Zeus ; for awful kings Are Zeus's care. He only waxes great Whom at his birth Zeus loves ; on him shall wait Much wealth ; wide sea and land his sway shall own. On many a field by many a folk is grown The com that waxes with the heaven-sent rain ; But none so fruitful is as Egypt's plain. When Nile upon the sodden earth comes down In flood, — so many cities, of renown For cunning craftsmen, hath no other land. Therein three centuries of cities stand. And eke three thousand and three myriad. Twice three, and thereunto thrice nine more add ; 88 THE PRAISES OF PTOLEMY And o'er them all brave Ptolemy bears sway. The frontier of his empire cuts away Phoenician lands, parts of Arabia, Syria, Libya and dark Africa. O'er all Pamphylians, and CiHcians That poise the spear, Lycians, and Carians Whom war delights, he rules, and his behest The Cyclads hear ; for his ships are the best That sail the deep ; the whole earth and the sea And sounding rivers wait on Ptolemy. And many a horseman, many a targeteer Around him moves in shining brazen gear. His wealth could whelm the treasures of all kings, — Each day such store to his rich palace brings From far and near. At ease men ply their trades, For never foot of foe the Nile invades. That many-monstered flood ; nor foreign men The war-shout raise in hamlets alien. No mailed warrior from a fleet ship's side Hath ever leaped upon the shore and tried To harry Egypt's kine ; so strong is he Whose throne is in the broad plains, Ptolemy, The fair-haired king weU skilled to wield the lance. And ward his fathers' wealth from evil chance. As doth beseem a goodly prince. Himself Adds to the store ; nor, like the heaped-up pelf Of toilsome ants, doth his gold useless lie In his rich haUs, but ever bounteously THE PRAISES OF PTOLEMY 89 With first-fruits and all other offerings In heaven's fair shrines is laid, and puissant kings Get guerdon great therefrom, and cities too, And faithful friends ; and never one that knew To raise the voice of singing musical Hath come to Bacchus' holy festival, Nor got meed worthy of his mastery. The Muses' servants sing of Ptolemy For aU his benefits. What fairer thing. Could ever hap unto a wealthy king Than good renown amongst his fellow-men ? This the Atreidae won ; but aU that store They reft from Priam's mighty house of yore, Is hid in Hades, whence no wight returns. No man of old, and none whose treading burns The dust to-day with imprint of his feet. Hath ever raised a shrine with incense sweet To mother and to sire, and 'stablished there Themselves with gold and ivory made fair. To aU earth's sons a very present aid. Full many fatted thighs of oxen laid On blood-red altars, as the months return. He and his glorious spouse together burn, Than whom no nobler wife did e'er embrace Her lord within the palace of his race. Loving her husband-brother heartily. On this wise was the holy bridal tie 'Twixt Rhea's children on Olympus' throne. — L 90 THE PRAISES OF PTOLEMY One couch for Here and for Zeus is strown By virgin Iris' hands with scent made sweet. Farewell, prince Ptolemy ; my song shall treat Of thee as of the other heroes dead ; And only one word more shall yet be said, — To men unborn, methinks of noble use — True worth is gotten at the hand of Zeus. XVIII THE MARRIAGE-SONG OF HELEN AND MENELAUS And so in Sparta long ago the maids, With blooming hyacinth their locks among, In fair-haired Menelaus' halls, before The newly-limned bridal-chamber, set Their dances — twelve fair girls, the city's pride, The flower of Lacedemon's maids, — what time The younger son of Atreus wooed and won Helen, the darling child of Tyndareus, And took her to his bower. In one accord They sang, with measured beat and woven steps. While loud the haUs rang with the marriage-lay. ' Slumberest thou thus early, and art thou so fain of sleeping. Bridegroom dear ? are thy limbs already drowsy with sleep ? Down thou art flung on thy couch ; but if sleep thy soul was steeping. Why not have bedded alone and betimes ? Hast thou drunken deep ? Why not have suffered the maiden to play with the maids by her mother Till the glimmer of early dawn ? For thine shall the bride be now, 92 THE MARRIAGE-SONG OF To-morrow and yet to-morrow, while year follows after another. Menelaus, a husband blest above aU art thou ! Surely a friendly man sneezed luck on thy coming here To Sparta, where other chiefs came wooing, and thou didst win. To thee alone of heroes shall Zeus be a father dear, For the daughter of Zeus shall lie with thee one bed within. Peerless is she among women that walk the Achaean land. And a wondrous child shall be hers if it bear its mother's face. All of an age are we that upon Eurotas' strand Together, with limbs oiled manhke run by the bathing-place — Four times sixty girls, fresh flower of youthful maids ; — But none of us can compare with Helen in flawlessness. As a rising Dawn shows fairer than Night's departing shades, Or Spring shines brightly forth in the slack of the Winter's stress, E'en so did the golden Helen amongst her playmates gleam. As springing com is a glory unto the fertile loam. To a garden the cypress-tree, to a car the Thessalian team. So is the rose-red Helen the grace of her Spartan home. None can spin such thread as from her reel goes to the scuttle. None can a closer warp cut off from the loom-beams high. Whereon the chequered web is woven with restless shuttle. And none can smite the lyre with a hand as masterly. When she sings broad-bosom'd Athene and' maiden Artemis. None are as Helen whose eyes the abode of all loves be. Maiden most fair and sweet, a matron art thou Igr this. At mom" to the running-place and the grassy meads will we. We shall go to pluck us a crown of fragrant blosso ms, and oft, HELEN AND MENELAUS 93 Oft shall we think of thee, dear Helen, as all in vain A yeanling yearns for the teat of his dam. We shall hang aloft A chaplet of traihng lotus for thee on a leafy plane. And taking the liquid anointing-oil from a silver cruse, Under the leafy plane we shall pour it forth for thee, And upon the bark shall be graven in words that Dorians use, For the passer-by to read, ' Adore, I am Helen's tree.' Farewell, bride ! fare thee well, that art wed with heaven above ! May Leto, mother of youths, grant children many a one. And Cypris, the goddess, yield you the joy of an equal love, And Zeus give boundless wealth from noble sire to son ! Slumber and breathe forth love and desire in each other's breast ; But mind ye be stirring at dawn ; at dawn we shall hie us away When the first cock shrills as he raises his feathery neck from his rest. Hymen, god of Wedlock, be glad of this bridal day ! XIX EROS AND THE BEE The Love-god on a day Wandered the hives among, To steal a comb away, And by a bee was stung. And all his finger-tips Tingled, and with his lips Blowing his hand, he skips, And stamps upon the lea. To Cypris then he hies. And shows the cruel sting. And bitterly he cries : ' How can so small a thing Raise such a mighty ache ? ' His mother, laughing, spake : ' Thyself, though small, canst make Like mischief as the bee.' XX THE YOKEL AND THE LIGHT-O'-LOVE When I would kiss Eunice, loud laughed she, And taunting cried : ' Thou boor, begone from me ! Wouldst kiss me, wretch ? — I cannot kiss a clown — No Ups press I but such as hail from town. To touch my dainty mouth thou shalt not dare, Not even in thy dreams. How thou dost stare ! How gross thy speech, how coarse thy pla3rfulness ! — What winning words, what delicate address. Thy beard how soft, thy hair how fine ! — Alack, — Thy lips are sickly- wan, thy hands are black. And evil is thy smell. Away with thee ! And do not sully me.' With these words she Thrice in her bosom spat, with look askance Eyeing me head to foot with steady glance, And shooting out her lips she laughed at me With haughty sneer and shudderings womanly. My blood boiled straightway and I crimson grew Under the smart, as doth a rose with dew. Away she fled. With rage my soul is torn That such a wanton should my beauty scora 96 THE YOKEL AND Shepherds, am I not fair ? Speak sooth to me. Hath some god made me other, suddenly ? A charm once blossomed round me, beautiful As ivy round a stem ; my beard was fuU ; Like parsley on my temples curled my hair. And o'er swart eyebrows gleamed my forehead fair ; My eyes outshone Athene's eyes of blue. Softer my mouth than curd, than honey-dew More sweetly from my lips did language flow. Sweetly to sing and sweetly play I know On pipe or reed or flute or oboe shrill. That I am fair aU women on the hiU Confess, and kiss me. But that city she, She kissed me not, but ran away from me. Hath she not heard how Bacchus drives along His heifers through the dells, nor learned in song How once in days gone by the Cyprian Queen On Phrygian hiUs a shepherdess was seen ; And how she maddened for a herdsman's sake, And kissed and wailed Adonis ia the brake ? What was Endjnnion, Selene's flame ? What but a hind ? And yet from heaven she came To Latmos' vale to share a herd-boy's bed. A swain thou weepest, Khea ; and 'tis said That for a pretty lad that drave a herd The son of Cronos wandered as a bird. Alone of all, Eunice wUl not kiss THE LIGHT-O'-LOVE 97 A neatherd, she that greatly better is Than Cybele and Cjrpris and the Moon ! Cj^ris, may'st thou never, late or soon, Thine Ares kiss in town or on hill-side But lonely sleeping the night long abide ! M XXI THE FISHERMAN'S DREAM Want is the waker of the Arts, my friend. And Labour's teacher ; for the folk who toil Are ever let fi-om sleep by carking cares ; Or if they close an eye by night, then, lo ! These standing at their elbow frighten sleep. Two aged fishermen together lay Within their wattled hut, where they had strown Dry sea- wrack, and upon this leafy couch Were flung. The gear of their hard handicraft Beside them lay, the creels and rods and hooks. The weed-bedraggled bait, the lines and weels, The bow-nets made of rush, the cords, the oars. And an old coble set on props. Beneath Their head a matting scant ; for coverlet Their clothes. These were the fishers' only means. Their only wealth ; nor bolt, nor door, nor dog Had they, and aU such things were deemed by them Superfluous ; for Want their watcher was. No neighbour dwelt anigh them, but the sea Came softly rippling up a narrow creek Close to their cabin. THE FISHERMAN'S DREAM 99 And the car of the Moon Had not yet reached the middle of its course, When call to labour waked the fishermen. They from their eyelids chasing sleep away Roused up their drowsy minds to utter speech. First Fisherman. Liars are they, mate, whosoever said That nights grow short o' summer, when Zeus brings Long days ; for countless dreams have I beheld, Yet dawn is not. Am I at fault, mate, or What ails the nights that they be grown so long ? Second Fisherman. Dost chide the lovely summer-time ? 'Tis not The seasons that outrun their course ; but Care Troubling thy slumber makes the night seem long. First Fisherman. Hast ever learned to interpret dreams ? I saw The fairest things. I would not have thee lack Thy portion in my vision. Share my dream E'en as thou shar'st the catch. Wise seer art thou, Such sense is thine. — Best dream-interpreter Is he who hearkens to the voice of Sense — Time and to spare is ours. What can we do Awake on leafy couch beside the sea ? ' The ass is in the prickles,' and ' the lamp Is in the Prytaneum.' — These, they say, Can never sleep. lOO THE FISHERMAN'S DREAM Second Fisherman. Thy vision of the night Unfold to me, if thou wilt teU a mate. First Fisherman. When mid our fisher toils I fell asleep In the afternoon, I was not full of meat, For we had supped betimes, nor overtasked Our bellies, an thou mind'st. I saw myself Upon a rock, and sitting down, I watched For fish, and dangled up and down my bait. A fat one made for it — for as in dreams A dog gets scent of bears, so I, of fish — He fastened on the hook, and the blood flowed. I grasped my rod, which doubled with his rush, And bending, tussled sore with straining hands, And wondered how to land the mighty fish With fish-hooks all too sHght ; next, gently pricked him. To mind him of the wound, and slacked my line. But, as he would not budge, I puUed it taut. And so the fight was over, and I drew up A golden fish, all plated thick with gold. And terror seized me lest it were a fish Loved of Poseidon, or perchance a jewel Of sea-green Amphitrite. From the hook I loosed him gently, lest the barb should tear The gilding from his mouth, and on a string I fastened him, a fish of the dry land now. And then I sware that never on the sea THE FISHERMAN'S DREAM loi Should I set foot again, but on the shore Should bide henceforward and enjoy my wealth. And that awaked me. Now, my friend, do thou Cheer up my spirits, for I fear the oath Which then I sware. Second Fisherman. Nay, fear thee not at all. Thou art not sworn, for thou hast not found true The golden fish thou sawest, and the vision Was but a lie. But if unslumbering Thou search those waters, then perchance thy sleep Hath augured luck. Go seek the fish of flesh. Lest thou of hunger die and golden dreams. XXII THE PRAISES OF CASTOR AND POLYDEUCES Sing we the sons of Leda and Zeus that is lord of the aegis. Castor and him that binding the ox-hide thongs on his knuckles Fights with terrible fists, Polydeuces ; ay, let us hyjnn them Twice and again, those stalwart sons of the daughter of Thestios, Spartan brethren, the aids of men when peril is utmost. Rescuing steeds run mad in the clash of the blood-stained battle, Rescuing ships that brave stars setting and rising in heaven, Yea, and encounter the breath of grievous gales that upraising Billows mighty astem or astern, or as each of them Usteth, Dash these into the hold, and rive both sides of the vessel — SaU and gear hang tangled and rent, and down in a deluge Rain from the sky falls, night creeps on, and loudly the sea roars Smitten of blasts and of iron hail — Yet, nevertheless, ye Drag from the nether abyss both craft and crew despairing. Quickly the storm-winds cease, and a smooth calm over the ocean Spreads, and the clouds flee apart, and the Bears shine forth, and the Asses' Manger amidst of these gleams dimly and harbingers all things Fair for voyaging. — ye friends and helpers of menfolk. Horsemen and players both on the harp, ye minstrels and singers. Which of you first shall I sing, first Castor or first Polydeuces ? Lo, I wiQ hymn you both, but first shall be sung Polydeuces. PRAISES OF CASTOR AND POLYDEUCES 103 Scatheless had Argo 'scaped from the rocks which hurtle together, Forth from the terrible mouth of Pontus frore, and had wafted Unto the land of Bebrycia her freight of sons of Immortals. Down by a ladder, set each side of the vessel of Jason, Swarmed that band, and leaped on the low shore hid from the breezes. There they their couches spread, and eagerly handle the fire- sticks. Then Polydeuces swart, and Castor, lord of the swift steeds, Wandered away from their mates, these twain, and marvelling gazed at Boskage of every sort on the hill, and under a smooth rock Came on a flowing spring that was ever full of the clearest Water ; the pebbles gleamed from the depths like silver or crystal, Pine-trees tall, white planes, and tufted cypress anigh it Flourished, and sweet blooms, too, by the toilsome velvety bees loved. Yea, all blooms that are rife on the meads in the wane of the spring-time. There sat a man in the sun gigantic and awful to look on. Torn were his ears by the boxer's blows, and orbed were his monstrous Bosom and back with flesh Uke iron ; like to a mighty Statue was he. On the sinewy arms, right up to the shoulder, Firm stood his muscles like those boulders which by a wintry Torrent are whirled, and rounded smooth by the might of the eddies. Over his neck and back was dangling the fell of a lion Tied by the paws. Him accosts Polydeuces, winner of contests. 104 THE PRAISES OF POLTDEUCES Hail, friend unknown ! What folk, what land is this ? AMYOUS What hail to me that see a stranger's face ? POLYDEUCES Take heart. Nor knaves nor sons of knaves are we. AMYCUS My heart is stout. Unmeet thy schooling is. POLYDEUCES Art thou a savage churl, or arrogant ? AMYOUS E'en as thou seest. I tread not on thy land. POLYDEUCES Come, and with parting gifts return again. AMYOUS Give me no gifts, for I have none to give. POLYDEUOES What ? E'en a draught from this spring wouldst thou grudge ? AMYOUS That shalt thou learn, if that thy lips be parched. POLYDEUCES With silver or what guerdon can we move thee ? CASTOR AND POLYDEUCES 105 AMYOUS Only lay putting hands up, man to man. POLYDEUCES Fists only, or with kicks, and face to face ? AMYOUS Strive with thy fists, and spare thy skill no whit. POLYDEUCES With whom, then, shall I clash my thong-bound hands ? AMYOUS With me. No man shall call the ' boxer ' girl. POLYDEUCES Is there a prize for which we twain shall fight ? AMYOUS The vanquished shall be called the victor's thrall. POLYDEUCES On this wise are the frays of red-combed cocks. AMYOUS Lions or cocks, for this alone we '11 fight. So spake Amycus. He then a hollow sea-shell uplifting Trumpeted. Under the shade of the palm-trees speedily gathered Long-haired men of Bebrycia at moan of the winded sea-shell. Likewise Castor, the lord of battle, departed and summoned All that band of chiefs from the fair Magnessian vessel. So, when their fists were bound with thongs of force-giving ox-skin, N io6 THE PRAISES OF Coiling the long bands round their arms, they met in the mid-ring, Breathing slaughter against each other, and fiercely they struggled, Whose back lay to the sun. By skill thou won'st, Polydeuces, This from the giant, and aU his face was smitten with sun-rays. Sore was his wrath, and forward he lunged with feints at his rival. Him smote Tyndarides on the chin as he charged, and his anger Thereby fiercer was roused, and dealing buffets at random Onward he came, head down. The Bebrycians uttered a loud cry ; Yea, and in answer the heroes cheered on stout Polydeuces, Fearing lest in so narrow a place that Tityan giant Bore him down with his weight. But shifting hither and thither, Yet close ever, the son of Zeus dealt bruises with both fists. Thwarting the onset wUd of the monstrous child of Poseidon. Drunken with blows he stood spitting forth red blood, and the heroes All roared loudly for joy when they saw weals grievous arising Over his mouth and jowl. Half-closed were the eyes on the swollen Face. With feints all round him the hero baffled and vexed him. Then, when he marked him weary and wildered he smote him with closed fist Just where nose meets forehead, and skinned his brow to the bare bone. Smitten, he backward fell full length in the midst of the herbage. Grimly the fight was renewed when he rose ; each battered his rival. Smiting with hard thongs. Wildly and wide the Bebrycian leader Drave at breast and neck. Polydeuces, peerless in combat, Mangled his enemy's face all over with blows unsightly. CASTOR AND POLYDEUCES 107 Quickly the giant waned, his flesh quite melted with sweating ; Waxed stiU larger that other's limbs as he tackled his hard task, Haler his hue. Oh, tell me now, thou daughter of heaven. How that son of Zeus laid low that gluttonous monster ? Thou goddess, yea thou alone dost know ; I am but a mouthpiece. Yea, and will speak what things soe'er and howe'er thou desirest. Amycus, wishful to work some deed of might, from an onset Sloping aslant, Polydeuces' left hand seized with his left hand. Then with a lunge drave upward his open fist from his right thigh. Had but he hit, he had harmed his foeman, the king of Amyclae ; But flinging sideward his head he balked that blow, and with stout hand Smote Amycus' left temple a blow right forth from the shoulder. Swiftly the dark blood gushed from a gaping wound on the temple. Smiting his mouth with the other, he rattled his ranges of tushes. Ever with swifter stroke his visage bruising, and pounded Both his cheeks, till aswoon fell he at last on the meadow All his length, and with outstretched hands sought truce from the combat. Being anigh unto death. No wanton cruelty didst thou Conquering wreak upon him, Polydeuces, peerless of boxers ; Yet did he swear a big oath by the Sea, his father Poseidon, Never again any more to be troublesome unto a stranger. Now I have hymned thy praises, king ; next sing I of Castor, Tyndarus' offspring, lord of steeds, bronze-corseleted lanceman. io8 THE PRAISES OF These twin sons of Zeus had stol'n Leucippus's maiden- Daughters two, and brethren twain swift after them hasted. All but bridegrooms they, Aphareus' sons, Idas and Lynceus. When they had won to the tomb of their dead sire, forth from their chariots Leaping, together they dashed in an onset of lances and bucklers. Lynceus then through his helmet shouts and speaks to them these words : — ' Sirs, why seek ye to fight, and why for the wives of your fellows Rage ye, and hold bare knives in your hands ? Long since imto us twain Did Leucippus his maidens plight with an oath we should wed them; But ye wrongfully sought with gifts of mules and of oxen, Ay, and with gold, your neighbours' brides, and have won to your wishes (SteaUng a wedlock with gifts) their sire. How oft to your faces Unto you twain have I said, and that though a man but of few words ! — " Friends, it is all unmeet great heroes woo upon this wise Wives already betrothed ; lo, wide are Sparta and Elis, Land of steeds, Arcadia, land of sheep, the Achaean Towns Messene and Argos and all the Corinthian foreland. Many the maidens there that are reared by father and mother. Lacking for naught in shape or mind ; of these ye may lightly Choose you a bride to your will, for many were glad to be fathers Unto as noble youths that are kings in the kinship of heroes, Ye and your fathers and all their blood from their fathers afore- time. CASTOR AND POLYDEUCES 109 Come, friends, let this wedlock of ours be duly accomplished, Yea, and let all seek out and devise other bridal for you twain." These were my words oftwhUes, but storm- winds unto the wet sea Bare them away ; no favour my words gat. Stubborn are ye twain Ever, and hard ; but list e'en now, for ye both are our cousins, — Kin by the father's side ; but an if your heart is on war set. Yea, and we must dip spears in the blood of an equal combat, Idas and stout Polydeuces, kinsmen, shaU. from the conflict Hold them and stay their hands, while we twain. Castor and I, fight. We that are younger born, that so we may leave to our parents No great woe — one corse from one house surely sufficeth. Then shall the winners feast, being brought from death unto wedlock. All their companions, ay, and shaU take these maidens in marriage. So were a great dispute well laid, and with but a light loss.' These were his words, and the god was minded then to fulfil them. Quickly the elders doffed their gear from their shoulders and placed it Down on the ground. Then Lynceus stepped forth shaking his huge spear Under the buckler's rim, and in like wise Castor a keen lance Brandished, and horsehair plumes nodded over the helmet of either. First with their spears they toiled, each aiming a blow at his rival Wheresoever he spied any part of the foeman unguarded ; Natheless, ere either was hurt their spear-points snapped in their bucklers. no THE PRAISES OF Then from the sheaths they drew their swords, with a murderous onslaught Rushing together again ; no surcease was there of combat. Many a blow from Castor fell on the shield of his rival. Fell on his horsehair crest, and often the keen-eyed Lynceus Smote his shield, but he shore but a crimson tuft from his helm- crest. Castor then slipping back his left foot severed his rival's Fingers as he with his edg'd sword volleyed a blow at his left knee. Smitten, he dropped his blade, and swift to the tomb of the father Fled, where Idas brave was leaning and watching the kinsmen Battling together ; and swiftly the son of Tyndsirus after Dashed and drave his broadsword right through the flank to the navel, Spilling the bowels ; and Lynceus fell down prone on his mouth there, While on his eyelids rushed that sleep that knows not of waking. Nay, nor that other one of her children did Laocoosa See by the hearth in his home having made sweet ending of bridal. Wrenching quickly the standing stone from the tomb of their father, Idas was ready to slay his brother's slayer, and had slain. But Zeus came to his aid, and dashed from the hands of the thrower That wrought slab, consuming the man with bolts of his lightning. 'Tis not a task that is easy to war with Tyndarus' offspring ; Mighty are they themselves, and mighty the sire who begat them. CASTOR AND POLYDEUCES in Farewell, sons of Leda, and aye grant fame to my verses ! Friends are the children of song to the sons of Tyndarus ever, Yea, and to Helen and heroes all, that with king Menelaus Utterly sacked Troy town. For you that minstrel of Chios Glory devised, kings, by singing the city of Priam, Greek ships, Ilion's wars and Achilles, tower of battle. I, too, bring you the honied charm of the clear-voiced Muses, Theirs, yea and mine, for songs are the fairest meed of Immortals. XXIII THE VENGEANCE OF LOVE A LOVE-SICK man pined for a haughty youth Of beauteous form but of unbeauteous ways, And harsh to him that loved him. Nothing kind Was his ; nor knew he what a god is Love, How strong the bow he wields, with what keen arrows He wounds men's hearts ; but ever cold was he To speech and greeting. No assuagement was Of passion, not a smile of lip, no soft Glance from the eye, no blush, no word, no kiss That lightens love ; but like a woodland beast That casts a wild shy look upon the hunter. E'en so was he unto the man ; and fierce His lips were set against him, and his eyes Gleamed with the stern and dreadful glance of Fate. His look would change with anger, and the flush That lay like raiment on his lovely Umbs Would flee away ; yet was he fair e'en thus. His very wrath charming his lovers more. At length that one no longer could endure Such fire of passionate love, and sought the house Of his hard-hearted darling, and there he wept. And kissed the door-post, lifting up his voice : — THE VENGEANCE OF LOVE 113 ' Cruel and hateful boy, some horrible lioness Suckled thee, boy of stone, Love's shame. I come to thee With a latest gift, this noose for my neck, thy wrathfulness Never to rouse any more, for I go where thou doomest me, To the place where men say lovers shall find a remede for woe. And the stream of Forgetfulness is. But e'en did I drink it dry. Putting my Ups thereto, I could not quench the glow Of passionate desire ; but now I will say good-bye Unto thy gates. — Eight well do I know what thing will be. Fair is the rose, but Time doth make it to wither away, And rathe the violet fades that in spring is fair to see, The white lily fades and falls, and the white snow will not stay, And fair is the beauty of boys, yet it hves but a httle space; And lo, that morrow will dawn when Love shall make thee mad. And thy heart shall be burning within thee, and bitter tears on thy face. But now show unto me this last favour, I pray thee, lad. — When at thy coming forth thou shalt see me hanging here At thy gateway, pass me not coldly by for pity's sake. But stand and sorrow a while ; and having shed a tear. Loose me from off the rope ; from thy limbs a garment take, And fold it about me, and hide me, and give me a last sweet kiss, Gracing the dead with thy lips, and have no fear of me ; I cannot kiss ,thee again. Depart, having granted this. And pile me a barrow wherein my love shall hidden be. And cry thrice over me, " Eest in peace " ; then onward speed. — Yea, this too, an thou wilt, " I have lost my comrade true," And write (on the wall shall I grave it), " Stop, traveller, stand and read ; Here Ues one whom his love for a cruel comrade slew." ' • o 114 THE VENGEANCE OF LOVE He spake, and took a stone, and leaning it Against the wall to half the doorpost's height, A dreadful stone, he fastened from the lintel A slender rope, and cast about his neck The noose, and kicked the prop away, and so Was hanged to death. And that one oped his door. And saw the corse from his own lintel hanging. Nor yet was wrung in soul, nor wept the strange Sad end, nor soiled with death his boy's fair weeds ; But hied him to the wrestlers' sports, and there. Far from his friends, bethought him of the baths, And came unto the very god that he Had slighted so. On pedestal of stone Love stood above the waters, and the statue Leaped on that youth and slew him ; and the wave Was crimson'd with his blood, and o'er the brim The voice of the beloved floated on : — ' ye lovers, rejoice ; for he that hated is slain, ye beloved, love ; for the god hath vengeance ta'en.' XXIV THE CHILD HERACLES AND THE SNAKES When Heracles was only ten months old, Alcmena took him and his brother twin, Younger by one night, Iphicles, 'tis told. And bathed and suckled them, then soft within A brazen shield Amphitryon did win From Pterelaus, a graven shield and fair, She laid them down, and stroked her babies' haii-. ' Sleep, baby boys, a sweet and healthful sleep. Oh sleep, my darlings, safely through the night ; In joy, baby brethren, slumber deep, In joy behold the morrow's dawning light.' So they were rocked asleep. But when the bright Orion's shoulder ghmmered, and the Bear Was sloping downward to his midnight lair. Unto the threshold wide of that demesne. Where stood the hollow doorposts of the gate. Two monster snakes in bristling steely sheen Did guileful Here send in bitter hate Upon the babes their maw to satiate ; And so, uncoiling, those soft-gliding two Along the ground their ravening bellies drew. ii6 THE CHILD HERACLES And from their eyne leapt forth an evil flame, And from their mouths envenom'd ooze did fall, As ever nearer to the babes they came With flickering tongues. But Zeus, who knoweth all, Wakened the boys ; his glory filled the hall, And loud screamed Iphicles when he espied Those monsters' teeth above the buckler wide. And with his feet he spumed the coverlet, Striving to flee, but out flung Heracles Both hands, and round the brutes' necks tightly set (For there the poisons lie that no man sees Of cruel snakes — the gods themselves hate these). And round the suckling babe the coUs were spread, The nursling that a tear had never shed. Quickly they loosed their aching spine again. Striving from out their bondage to be free. Alcmena heard the cry and wakened then. — ' Amphitryon, rise ; for fear hath hold of me. Arise, and put not sandals on ; for see At dead of night the halls are glimmering As with the dawn. Surely a dreadful thing Hath happed within the house. Didst thou not hear How loud a cry, dear friend, our youngest gave ? ' She spake. He to his wife lent ready ear, And leaped from bed, and seized his graven glaive That ever o'er his cedarn couch did wave. AND THE SNAKES 117 One hand reached for the woven baldric good, The other for the sheath of lotus-wood. The chamber wide again was filled with night. Then called he on his drowsy-breathing thralls : ' Fire from the hearth quick bring, the strong bolts smite.' — ' Kise, sturdy slaves ; it is the master calls.' So cried a stranger slave-girl through the halls, Whose bed was by the miU-stones nigh the porch ; And quickly slaves came forth with blazing torch. AU hastened, and the house was fiUed with din. And when they saw the baby Heracles With two dead snakes his tender fists within, Astonied all cried out ; but he took these, And leaped for gladness, and, his sire to please, Pointed at those two snakes with death fordone, And laughing laid them nigh Amphitryon. Alcmena to her bosom pressed his brother, Iphicles, stiff and very pale with dread ; Amphitryon 'neath a lamb's fleece laid that other. And then betook himself to rest and bed. When thrice the cocks had sung Dawn's early red, Alcmena bade Teiresias to her view. The truthful seer, and told the wonder new. And bade him say what thing soe'er should be. ' Nor, an the gods,' said she, ' devise me woes. Hide it in ruth ; no need to teU. to thee Man must abide what from Fate's spindle flows.' ii8 THE CHILD HERACLES So spake the queen. His voice in answer rose : ' Mother of noble children, have good cheer ; Daughter of Perseus, cease from boding fear. For by the sweet light vanished from my eyne, Henceforth at eve Achaean women oft Shall sing the glory of that name of thine. As on their knees they card the wool-yam soft. So great is he, thy son, who up aloft To starry heaven shall go, so broad of breast. Both man and beast shall hearken his behest. His shall it be twelve labours to fulfil, And then in Zeus's halls to dwell for aye. A Trachis funeral-pyre shall work its will On all that served him for his mortal day ; And from the gods his bride shall be, — 'twas they Roused from their lair these snakes to slay the child — Then fawns shall couch with wolves, and wolves be mild. — ^ But, lady ! 'neath the ashes nurse a fire. And gather fuel of gorse, of thorn, or pear. Dried by the tempest's whirl ; bring wilding briar. And burn on those rough brands these two snakes there At midnight (when they hither did repair To slay thy child), and let a serving-may ' Gather the dust and bear it far away At dawn ; and from a ragged precipice Across the river's boundary fling all, ^ Perhaps an interpolation. AND THE SNAKES 119 And hie her back with unreverted eyes. Then first with fire of sulphur cleanse the hall, Next salted water of the ritual Sprinkle from wreathed bough, and slay a boar To Zeus above — so shall your foes give o'er.' He spake, pushed back the chair of ivory, And went his way though laden sore with years. And Heracles beneath his mother's eye Waxed Hke a sapling that some vineyard rears, And hight Amphitryon's son in all men's ears. Old Linus learned the lad in charactery, A demi-god and watchful teacher he. Eurytus, wealthy in ancestral lands, Taught him to draw the bow and aim aright ; Eumolpus learned him song, and trained his hands To play the boxwood lyre ; and every sleight That men of Argos in the wrestling-fight Against each other use, each artful wile Of thong-armed boxers, the pancratiast's guile, — All these and more he learnt from Hermes' son, Harpalycus of Phanes, whom descried, A wrestler in the lists afar, no one— For fear of his grim face — could well abide. Amphitryon gladly taught the boy to ride Upon the chariot, and to drive his yoke . Safe round the goal and keep his nave unbroke. I20 THE CHILD HERACLES AND THE SNAKES For oft in Argos, pasture-land of steeds, Full many a treasure unto his abode Had he as guerdon ta'en for mighty deeds. Unbroken were the chariots he rode ; Time only did their leathern thongs corrode. And Castor taught him how with lance in rest, Shield backward thrown, to pierce his foeman's breast ; To bide the biting of a foeman's blade, To range the phalanx and command the horse, To gauge the number of an ambuscade Ere swooping down on it in headlong course ; For Castor, son of Hippalus, perforce ' Had come from Argos, when that vineyard land Was ta'en by Tydeus from Adrastus' hand. No warrior was ever Castor's peer Among the demi-gods ere eld did waste His youth. On this wise did his mother rear Her son. Anigh his sire's his bed was placed. Which by the lion's fell he loved was graced. He dined on roasted flesh and Dorian bread • Piled in a crate in plenty to have fed A garden thrall ; a slender meal ate he Uncooked at eve ; a plain weed girt his knee. XXV THE SLAYING OF THE NEMEAN LION BY HERACLES Him then the aged swain and faithful ward of the corn-crops, Ceasing the work of his hands, addressed : ' Right gladly to thee, friend. All thy request wiU I grant, dreading Hermes, god of the roadway; Ay, for they say his wrath is most among all the Immortals, If that a man should refuse to be guide unto one that entreats him. Not one pasture and not one place do the herds of the wise king Augeas browse ; some feed on the banks of the river Elisus, Some by Alpheus' sacred stream, some near the Bouprasian Vineyards, here too some, and apart are the steadings buUded. Yet these blooming meads are ever teeming with oxen Nigh unto Memos' wide-spread pool, for the meadow and lowland Dewy are rich in lush sweet grass, giving strength to the cattle. Lo, on thy right hand shows their stall seen clearly by all men. There on the farther side of the stream where abundance of plane-trees, Yea, and wild-olive is, that sacred plant of Apollo, God of pasture, a god most mighty of all, stranger. Nigh them are builded fair large bields for the hinds and the neatherds, Us that are careful wards of the king's unspeakable plenty. 122 THE SLAYING OF THE Casting the seed in the thrice-ploughed field and eke in the four-times. Only the delving, hard-wrought thralls know where are his marches, Who to the wine- vats troop when summer comes to the fulness. Yea, for the meads and the tilth and the orchards green are the wise king's Up to the farthest mountain-ridge many-fountain'd, and all day We tend these, as thralls are wont who live in the open. Come now and teU thou to me (for so it were better for thee, friend) Why thou art here. Seek'st Augeas' self, or one of his home- thralls? Gladly to thee will I speak, with knowledge. Sure from a noble Kace art thou, not mean ; so goodly the shape of thy body. Yea, upon this wise tarry the sons of the gods among menfolk.' Him then in answering speech addressed Zeus' glorious offspring : ' Yea, old sir, I desire to behold the Epeian leader, Augeas ; him to behold am I come ; but and if in the township He with the council abides, and taking heed for the people Sets them laws, old sir, then lead me unto a chief thrall. One placed over the hinds, and to him wiU I make my request known; Yea, and from him shall I learn what I would, for the wiU of the gods is Each man here among men should have ever need of another.' Him then again that swain so goodly and ancient answered : ' friend, surely the word of a god was a guide to thee hither. All thy desires being granted straight; for the child of the Sun-god, Augeas, here is at hand with his lordly and strong son Phyleus. NEMEAN LION BY HERACLES 123 Hither he came from the town yestreen his cattle in myriads Over the fields to review many days, for to kings doth it aye seem Safer to heed their house themselves ; but go we towards him. I will be thy guide to the fold where haply the prince is.' These were his words, and he led then the way and greatly he wondered. Seeing the wild beast's fell and the club that lay in his right hand, Whence were the stranger come, and was eager to question him ; natheless Fear bade him hold his word on the lip, lest haply he uttered Words untimed, unmeet, in his haste ; for it is not a light thing Throughly to know what a man may think. And sudden the watch-dogs Felt their approach from afar by their scent and the sound of their footsteps. Loudly they barked and leaped each side of Amphitryon's offspring. Then fawned wheedling about that sire, but he from the roadway Lifted a stone (no more) and scared them, and many a loud threat Uttered against them, and stayed their barking, inly rejoicing These were as wards ever guarding the fold though the master was absent. Thus then he spake : ' Lo, now, what a wonderful beast the Im- mortals Here have giv'n to abide with man, how easily ordered ; If but his inward mind were wise, and he gathered at what times Angry to be, and friend from foe he knew, not another Beast would have earned such praise, but now too wrathful and over- Fiery is he.' So spake he, and swiftly they came to the steading. 124 THE SLAYING OF THE Lo, and already the Sun-god's steeds were sloping to westward. Bringing the eventide, and the flocks came up from the pasture Unto the steading-folds ; then the kine in countless thousands Showed on their forward march like storm-clouds such as are driven Up by the wind of the south or the might of the Thracian north wind — (Numberless on they move in the air, for the might of the tempest Rolls along many ahead, and many another behind them Rears its crest). E'en so came herd upon herd ever onward. Thronged are the pastures all, and on all ways hasten the cattle. Lowing along, and the folds are speedily filled with the oxen Twisted of horn, and the folded sheep lie down in the sheep-pens. Then not a man of the many who stood by the cattle was idle. Lacking a task, but one with smooth thongs fastened a hopple Round their feet and stood close by them to milk, and another Under the mothers set their youngling calves that were thirsting Sore for the rich sweet milk, and another the milk-pail handled. This one curdled a creaming cheese, yet another the bulls led Into a steading apart from the kine, and Augeas noted Going to every byre how his wealth was watched by his herdsmen. There with him went his son, and Heracles mighty in counsel Followed along with the king as he moved in the midst of his riches. Then Amphitryon's heir, albeit a soul in his inward Bosom he bore unbroke, and not to be shaken for ever. Greatly was moved to behold this countless guerdon of heaven. Little had he ever deemed one man to possess this abundant Wealth of neat, nay, not ten kings most wealthy of aU kings. NEMEAN LION BY HERACLES 125 This most bountiful gift was made by the Sun to his offspring, So that 'mong all others he should rich be in sheep and in cattle ; Yea, and himself to the herds gave increase ever ; on those herds Never a murrain came, that bane of the toil of the herdsmen. Ever the horned kine waxed more, ever better and better Year by year, and they all bare live young, all bare heifers. 'Mongst these went three hundred bulls, white-legged and swart- hued, Other two hundred were red, all breeding males, and amid these Fed twelve, white as swans, the peculiar care of the Sun-god. Brightly they shone amid all that crowd of the shambling oxen. Far from the herd they browsed on the grass that bloomed on their pastures. Such their wanton pride was ; and when from the tangled thicket Down on the meadow the swift wild beasts leaped forth for the kine's sake, These went first to the fight, from afar having scent of the odour. Dread then their bellowing was, and their eyes held death in their glances. Leader of all in strength and might and glory of valour Came great Phaethon ; him all neatherds unto a bright star Likened, for that he shone far-seen in the throng of the oxen. He, then, beholding the well-tanned fell of the bright-eyed lion Wildly on keen-eyed Heracles rushed, and strove with a fierce front Him on the thigh to assail ; but swiftly the hero with stout hand Seized on the leftmost horn as he charged, and bended his heavy Neck to the ground, and forced him back with a thrust of the shoulder. 126 THE SLAYING OF THE Stretclied on the tendons of slioulder and arm, straight out stood his muscle. Him that prince did admire, and the prince's son, wise Phyleus, Yea, and the wards of the homfed kine, when they saw the stupendous Might of the son of Amphitryon. Then straightway to the city, Leaving the champaign rich, in company Phyleus and mighty Heracles wend their way; and close by the edge of the high- road. After they swiftly the path had trod which stretched from the steading Down through the vineyard, a path obscure in the winding green- wood, Augeas' son, with his head just turned on the rightmost shoulder, Spake to the son of Zeus most Highest following after : ' Stranger, of old I heard some tale of thee — it was running Even now in my mind — for of thee that story, methinks, was. Wave-washed Helice once on a day sent hither a young man Forth out of Argos, who told in the midst of many Epeians How that an Argive man (he present) slaughtered a lion Wild and dreadful, the bane of the field-folk, having his hollow Lair by the grove of Nemean Zeus ; and rightly he knew not Whether from Argos he came or Tiryns or from Mycenae. So spake he, and he said, if aright my memory serves me, He was of Perseus' race ; and methiaks that of all men of Argos Thou, friend, didst this thing; for the beast's fell clearly be- tokens Some strong deed of thy hands, — that fell thy thighs are en- wrapt in. NEMEAN LION BY HERACLES 127 Come, first tell unto me, that so my soul may have knowledge. Hero, whether my thought be a true one or no, — an thou be that Argive, Helice-born, and my guess be aright — unfolding How thou alone didst slay that baneful brute ; yea, and tell me How to the watered land of Nemea came he, for no such Monster is reared on the Apian soil, nor couldst thou behold one E'en an thou wouldst, but bears and boars, and the kindred of fell wolves. Wherefore we wondered, hearing the tale then ; and some said a falsehood Spake that stranger, and lavished a lying tongue on his hearers.' So said Phyleus, and swerved from the mid-way, so that both men Room might have, and so he could hearken to Heracles' answer. Walking beside him the hero spake and addressed him on this wise: ' O son of Augeas, what thou first didst ask me thyself hast EasUy guessed and aright, and to thee will I tell how the monster Met with his end, since learn thou wouldst. But one thing I cannot Say ; for whence he came I know not, and none of the Argives Rightly can tell — this only — we deem that a god in his anger, Rites being unfulfilled, this plague on the sons of Pheroneus Sent ; for the lion came, as a torrent bursts on the meadows, Ravaging all therein, |)ut mostly the Bembinaeans. Their home nearest lay to the beast, and great were their sorrows. This first toil Eurystheus laid upon me to accomplish. Bidding me slaughter the dreadful brute. So, taking my lissom 128 THE SLAYING OF THE Bow and my quiver full of shafts in the one hand, I sallied Forth ; in the other, a cudgel of wild-olive, unbarked, pithy. Which myself once found 'neath Helicon holy and tore it Up by the roots entire ; and when to the haunt of the lion Now was I come, I seized my bow, and over the bow-tip SHpping the twisted cord, I speedUy fastened a fatal Arrow thereon, and cast my eyes all round for the monster, Hoping to see him first ere he was ware of my coming. Lo, now 'twas mid-day, and as yet no trace of him was there. Nought could I see, no roar could I hear, no man by the oxen. None by the furrowed corn-field stood whom I could inquire of; Pale fear held them bound in the steadings. Over the woody Mountain I ranged with a restless foot, till at last I beheld him, Then made trial at once of my strength. He unto his autre Slowly was moving before night fell, having gorged on a bloody Carcass; his dust-clotted mane, his chest and joyfully-glancing Face were dabbled with gore ; his tongue was licking his long beard. Swiftly I crouched in the shade of the scrub on a wood-covered high rock Watching whence he should leap, and his left flank shot as he neared me — All in vain, for my shaft pierced not through the flesh of the creature. Back on the grass it fell ; and swiftly he raised his tawny Head from the ground in amaze, and cast his glances about him, Showing the lustful teeth in his open maw, and against him Shooting another shaft from the string, in wrath that yon other Sped from my hand in vain, right there in the midst of the bosom. NEMEAN LION BY HERACLES 129 Where are the lungs, I smote him. The stinging arrow rebounded Back from his hide, and fell quite spent by the feet of the monster. Terribly wroth in soul, once more my bow was I drawing. When that ravening beast with wild eyes glancing around him Spied me, and lashed his flanks with his long tail, eager for battle. Swoln was his neck with wrath, and his red mane bristled with anger. Curved his back as a bended bow, and huddled his whole bulk Under his loins and flanks. And e'en as a skilful wainwright Bends soft fig-boughs warmed in the fire as tires for a chariot (Forth from his handhng the thin bent wood springs tar with a single Bound), so leaped that lion dread from afar upon me then. Lusting fiercely my flesh to devour ; but swift with my left hand Holding my arrows forth and the double cloak from my shoulder, WhUe with the other above my neck I Ufted my bludgeon. Him I smote on the head, and shattered my wild-olive weapon Over the brow of the ravening brute, and ere that he reached me Down to the earth he fell, and stood on his wavering feet there Swaying his head, and night came over his eyne ; for the brain reeled Under the smitten skull ; and seeing him dazed with the anguish, Ere he agaia could breathe, I smote his neck on the sudden Just on the nape with my fist, having flung my bow and my well- sewed Quiver down on the ground, and with stout hands pressing together Q I30 SLAYING OF THE LION BY HERACLES Throttled him hard from behind for fear his claws should assail me, Weighing his hind-feet down with my heels and heavily on him Standing, and with my thighs gripping fast his ribs, tUl I held him Up by the paws stretched out full length, aU breath from the body Gone, and Hades vast had gotten the soul of him. Then I Wondered how I should rip that rough-maned hide from the corse's Limbs, — no Ught task that ; no iron or stone could cut it, No, nor what else that I tried. Some god then gave me the counsel How with his own claws I should flay that lion, and swiftly Him I flayed, and about my Hmbs his hide for a mantle Flung as a ward 'gainst havoc of war. So, friend, was an ending Made of the Nemean beast that vexed men and cattle aforetime.' XXVI THE SLAYING OF PENTHEUS BY THE MAENADS Three Maenads, Ino and Autonoe And apple-cheek'd Agave led to the hill Three bands of Bassarids, and stripping bare The shaggy oak of all its wilding leaves, And plucking ivy lush and asphodel Of upper earth, they built them altars twelve, AH in an open mead, to Semele three. To Dionysus nine ; and from the coffer Taking the secret cakes, they silently Laid them upon the altars of fresh leaves ; For so the god himself had taught, and so Would have it. Pentheus from a lofty rock. Where 'mid the wither'd reeds that grew thereon He lay, saw all. Him first Autonoe spied, And shrieked aloud, and dashing forward, wrecked The rites of raving Bacchus with her feet — Rites ever unbeholden of men profane. She maddened, and the others maddened too. And Pentheus fled in fear, but they pursued With raiment gather'd up about the thigh. Then Pentheus cried : ' Women, what would ye do ? ' Answered Autonoe : ' Thou shalt quickly know — Ere thou hast heard.' 132 SLAYING OF PENTHEUS BY THE MAENADS His mother seized the head Of her own child, and gave a long loud cry, As howls the new-deliver'd lioness. Then Ino, setting heel upon his belly, Tore the great shoulder and the shoulder-blade From off the man. Like was Autonoe's way. The others rent the remnant of his flesh Among themselves, and so to Thebes all passed. Dabbled with blood, and from the mountain brought Not Pentheus, but the sorrow of his name. I heed it not ; nor any care be mine Of other foe of Bacchus, though he met Worse things, — were he a child of nine years old. Or nigh his tenth. May I be pure and holy, And with the pure and holy favour find ! From aegis-bearing Zeus this augury Hath praise : ' Fair fall the children of the pious, But to the children of the impious woe ! ' Hail, Dionysus, whom most Highest Zeus In snowy Dracanus drew forth, when he Had oped his mighty thigh, and aU hail thou. Fair Semele, and sisterhood Cadmean Of hero's daughters, dear to many a one ! At Dionysus' best ye wrought this deed — A deed not to be blamed in any wise ; Let no man blame the workings of the gods ! XXVII THE LOVER AND HIS LASS THE GIKL . . . Ay, and a neatherd ravished the wise Helen. DAPHNIS Nay, Helen won him with a willing kiss. GIRL Boast not, young s&tjv, for a kiss is nought. DAPHNIS Yet empty kisses have a sweet delight. GIRL I rub my mouth and blow thy kiss away. DAPHNIS Dost rub thy lips ? Give them again to kiss ! GIRL Heifers shouldst thou kiss, not a maid unwed. DAPHNIS Boast not, for Youth drifts by thee like a dream. GIRL But raisins come from grapes, the dried rose lives. 134 THE LOVER AND HIS LASS DAPHNIS I, too, age ; let me drink that milk and honey ! THE GIRL Keep off thy hands ! — Wouldst dare ? — I '11 scratch thy lips ! DAPHNIS Come 'neath yon olives ! I would tell a tale. GIRL Nay, with a sweet tale thou beguil'dst me once. DAPHNIS Come 'neath yon elms, and listen to my pipe ! GIRL Pleasure thyself ! No ditty sad love I. DAPHNIS Ah, maiden, maiden, dread the Paphian's wrath ! GIRL Good-bye to her, if Artemis be kind ! DAPHNIS Hush, lest she fling thee in her scapeless toils ! GIRL Nay, let her fliug me ! Artemis wiU save. DAPHNIS Thou canst not flee from Love ; no maiden can. GIRL By Pan, I do ! But thou aye bear'st his yoke. THE LOVER AND HIS LASS 135 DAPHNIS I fear he give thee to a meaner man. THE GIRL Many my wooers, but none hath my heart. DAPHNIS A wooer, too, 'mongst many here I come. GIEL What shall I do, friend ? Full of woe is wedlock. DAPHNIS Nor woe nor pain hath marriage, but a dance. GIRL Ay, but they say that women dread their lords. DAPHNIS Nay, rule them rather. What do women fear ? GIRL Travail I dread. Keen pangs hath childbearing. DAPHNIS Thy lady, Artemis, will ease the pain. GIRL But I fear childbirth for my beauty's sake. DAPHNIS A mother, thou shalt glory in thy sons. GIRL What wedding-gift dost bring, if I say ' yes ' ? 136 THE LOVER AND HIS LASS DAPHNIS My herd, my woodland, and my pasturing. THE GIRL Swear not to leave me after to my woe ! DAPHNIS Never, by Pan, e'en didst thou drive me forth ! GIRL Wilt build a chamber'd house and folds for me ? DAPHNIS I '11 build a chamber'd house, and tend thy flocks. GIRL But oh ! what shall I tell my aged sire ? DAPHNIS He '11 praise thy wedlock, when he learns my name. GIRL Tell me thy name. A name oft gives dehght. DAPHNIS Daphnis — Nomaea's child and Lycidas'. GIRL Well-born indeed ! But no less well am I. DAPHNIS Of honoured birth, I know. Thy sire 's Menalcas. GIRL Show me thy grove where stands thy cattle-stall ! THE LOVER AND HIS LASS 137 DAPHNIS Hither, and see how soft my cypress blooms ! THE GIEL Browse, goats ; I go to view the herdsman's place ! DAPHNIS Feed, bulls ; I '11 show my grove unto the maid. GIRL What dost thou, satjrr ? Why dost touch my breasts ? DAPHNIS To know if these young apples are in bloom. GIRL By Pan, I faint ! Take back that hand of thine ! DAPHNIS Courage, dear girl ! Why shak'st thou so for fear ? GIRL Wouldst thrust me in the brook and wet my gown ? DAPHNIS See, I will, throw this fleece beneath thy robe. GIRL My girdle is torn off ! Why didst thou loose it ? DAPHNIS I vow this firstling to the Paphian. GIRL Oh wait ! ... If some one came ! . . I hear a noise ! R 138 THE LOVER AND HIS LASS DAPHNIS The cypresses are murmuring of our love. THE GIRL My kirtle is in rags, and I am naked. DAPHNIS An ampler kirtle will I give to thee . . . GIRL Promise of all to-day, scarce salt to-morrow. DAPHNIS And oh to give my life along with it ! GIRL Forgive me, Artemis ; I break thy vow ! DAPHNIS I 'U slay a calf to Love, the cow to Cypris. GIRL A maid I hither came, a wife I '11 go. So^these twam, joying in their youthful limbs, Babbled together, and Love's stolen sweet Tasted. Then up she rose, and silently Moved off to tend her flock, her eyes downcast. But gladness in her heart. He towards his herd Of bulls departed full of Love's delight. XXVIII THE DISTAFF Distaff dear to the spinning women, given Unto such as are wise of heart by Pallas, Boldly come with me unto Neleus' lordly Township, where is a holy fane of Cypris, Green-ht under a roof of tender rushes. Waft me yonder, ye kindly winds of heaven, So that I may behold my friend with gladness. And be kissed in return by him, by Nicias, Sacred child of the passion-breathing Graces. Thee too into the hand of Nicias' helpmeet, Child of ivory carved with labour endless I will give ; for with her much wealth of woven Work, men's raiment and women's wavy garments, Shalt thou fashion ; for twice a year the fleeces Soft of ewe-mothers rear'd in grassy meadows Would Theogenis, lovely-ankled lady. Shear, so toilsome she is and fond of wise ways. Not to easy and lazy houses would I Grant this gift from the land that is my birthplace ; For thy city did Archias of old time, He from Ephyra, build, to be the marrow Of Trinacria, and the town of great men. I40 THE DISTAFF Therefore now thou shalt lie within the dwelling Of that man who is wise in many cunning Drugs which cure men of all their dire diseases. Thou shalt dwell in the fair Ionian city Miletus, that amongst her feUow-women There, Theogenis have the best of distaffs. And thou may'st ever call to mind the poet Once her guest ; for whoever looks upon thee Shall say : ' Surely a mighty favour follows With small gifts, — any gifts of friends are precious.' XXIX THE LOVER'S COMPLAINT Wine, men say, is a friend of Truth ; And we in our cups must truthful be. I will say what lurks in my soul, dear youth — With a whole heart thou dost not love me. Well know I this ; for half my while Is lived in thy loveliness with joy, And the rest is ruin, — for if thou smile, A day of the blessed is mine, dear boy. But if thou frown, it is night with me. Is it weU to wrong thy lover so ? Oh, hearken unto an elder than thee, — Thou It thank me in happier days, I know. Thy one nest make upon one tree-bough Whither no feU snake shall climb ; nor perch (As thou dost) upon this branch now, and now Upon that, ever shifting with restless search. If a man thy beautiful body praise. He is more than a three-year's friend to thee, And thy first lover reckon'd of but three days. With a great one's airs thou slightest me ; 142 THE LOVER'S COMPLAINT But ever an equal love, for so Much fame shall be thine as a citizen, And the Love-god never will work thee woe, Though lightly he conquers the hearts of men. He hath made my iron heart to bow. — By thy tender mouth, remember, I pray. Thou wert younger yester-year than now. And old we grow ere a man cry ' nay ' ; And wrinMes come, and Youth will flee Beyond recapture, for shoulder-wings He bears, and all too slow are we To catch with our hands such fleeting things. Bethink thee of this, and be less coy. And love thy lover guilelessly. That, thou being no more a beardless boy, Achilles and his friend we may be. The gold apples now for thee would I bring. Or Cerberus, ward of the dead below ; But if my words to the winds thou fling, Murmuring ' Oh, why vex me so ? ' — Then, not though thou called aloud at my door, Would I come ; — for my grievous love were o'er. XXX THE LOVER'S LAMENT Alas for this malady sore and dread ! — For a boy have I fever'd many a -week. Not passing fair, but foot to head All grace, and a sweet smile on his cheek. And now my suffering comes and goes — To-day I am held, to-morrow, free ; But soon I shall know nor sleep nor repose, For yesterday he cast upward at me, As he passed on his way, a shy swift look, For to meet my eyes had been too bold ; And rosy he flushed, and my heart was took In the grasp of Love with a firmer hold. And home I hied with a fresh heeirt-sore. And bitterly charging my soul I said : ' What dost thou ? Fool, wilt not give o'er ? See'st not these silver hairs on thy head ? 'Tis time thou wert wise that hoary art. And for follies of young men all unmeet. Nay more, it were better to keep thy heart From love of a fair boy grievous and sweet. 144 THE LOVER'S LAMENT For his life fleets by like a fleet-foot fawn,— To-morrow he sails for another shore, And the perfect flower of his youth's sweet dawn Shall bloom 'mid his boyish mates no more. But Love and Desire shall aye devour The heart of his lover remembering Him in dreams of the midnight hour. And a year no cure to his woe can bring. And many another word of blame I spake to my soul, but it answered me : ' Whioso would think to put to shame The wily Love-god, a braggart is he, And would think to number the stars above. Setting them all in nines arow ; And now I must bear the yoke of Love With outstretch'd neck if I will or no ; For this, poor wight, is the Love-god's way — O'er Zeus and Cypris he oft prevails. I am a leaf that lives but a day. Wafted by light winds, driven by gales.' XXXI THE FORGIVENESS OF APHRODITE When Cythera saw her dead Adonis lying there, With cheeks all pale and wan, and soilure on his hair, She bade the young Loves bring the boar unto her view. And away on the wing they sped and ranged the forest through ; And they found the hateful boar and bound him with rope and thong, And they set a noose on his neck and haled him captive along. One drave behind and smote him with arrows from his bow, And dreading the goddess's wrath the beast went fuU of woe. ' O cruellest beast of all ! ' to him Aphrodite saith, ' Didst wound that thigh ? Hast smitten my dear love to the death ? ' And the beast said : ' Cythera, I truly swear to thee By thyself, thy love, these bonds, and them that have taken me, I sought not to wound thy leman fair, but I gazed on him As he were a statue, and madly I yearned to kiss that limb, For sore was the heat of my love, and fair was his thigh to see ; And now, O goddess, wreak thine utmost anger on me. Take these unruly tushes and break them off, for why Should I bear such amorous things, what need of them have I ? And if this be not enough, then cut my lips off too ; For why did I dare to kiss ? ' And Cypris pity knew, s 146 THE FORGIVENESS OF APHRODITE And bade the young Loves loosen his trammels and set him free. And ever from that day forward he followed her faithfully, And ne'er to the wild wood went, but would come at her beck and call To fawn at the goddess's feet and the feet of the young Loves all. Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty, at the Edinburgh University Press.