Theocritus Part 6

Yet do I too tease her; I pa.s.s her by, Pretend to woo another:--and she hears (Heaven help me!) and is faint with jealousy; And hurrying from the sea-wave as if stung, Scans with keen glance my grotto and my flock.

'Twas I hissed on the dog to bark at her; For, when I loved her, he would whine and lay His muzzle in her lap. These things she'll note Mayhap, and message send on message soon: But I will bar my door until she swear To make me on this isle fair bridal-bed.

And I am less unlovely than men say.

I looked into the mere (the mere was calm), And goodly seemed my beard, and goodly seemed My solitary eye, and, half-revealed, My teeth gleamed whiter than the Parian marl.

Thrice for good luck I spat upon my robe: That learned I of the hag Cottytaris--her Who fluted lately with Hippoc.o.o.n's mowers."

Damoetas then kissed Daphnis lovingly: One gave a pipe and one a goodly flute.

Straight to the shepherd's flute and herdsman's pipe The younglings bounded in the soft green gra.s.s: And neither was o'ermatched, but matchless both.

IDYLL VII.

Harvest-Home.

Once on a time did Eucritus and I (With us Amyntas) to the riverside Steal from the city. For Lycopeus' sons Were that day busy with the harvest-home, Antigenes and Phrasidemus, sprung (If aught thou holdest by the good old names) By Clytia from great Chalcon--him who erst Planted one stalwart knee against the rock, And lo, beneath his foot Burine's rill Brake forth, and at its side poplar and elm Shewed aisles of pleasant shadow, greenly roofed By tufted leaves. Scarce midway were we now, Nor yet descried the tomb of Brasilas: When, thanks be to the Muses, there drew near A wayfarer from Crete, young Lycidas.

The horned herd was his care: a glance might tell So much: for every inch a herdsman he.

Slung o'er his shoulder was a ruddy hide Torn from a he-goat, s.h.a.ggy, tangle-haired, That reeked of rennet yet: a broad belt clasped A patched cloak round his breast, and for a staff A gnarled wild-olive bough his right hand bore.

Soon with a quiet smile he spoke--his eye Twinkled, and laughter sat upon his lip: "And whither ploddest thou thy weary way Beneath the noontide sun, Simichidas?

For now the lizard sleeps upon the wall, The crested lark folds now his wandering wing.

Dost speed, a bidden guest, to some reveller's board?

Or townward to the treading of the grape?

For lo! recoiling from thy hurrying feet The pavement-stones ring out right merrily."

Then I: "Friend Lycid, all men say that none Of haymakers or herdsmen is thy match At piping: and my soul is glad thereat.

Yet, to speak sooth, I think to rival thee.

Now look, this road holds holiday to-day: For banded brethren solemnise a feast To richly-dight Demeter, thanking her For her good gifts: since with no grudging hand Hath the boon G.o.ddess filled the wheaten floors.

So come: the way, the day, is thine as mine: Try we our woodcraft--each may learn from each.

I am, as thou, a clarion-voice of song; All hail me chief of minstrels. But I am not, Heaven knows, o'ercredulous: no, I scarce can yet (I think) outvie Philetas, nor the bard Of Samos, champion of Sicilian song.

They are as cicadas challenged by a frog."

I spake to gain mine ends; and laughing light He said: "Accept this club, as thou'rt indeed A born truth-teller, shaped by heaven's own hand!

I hate your builders who would rear a house High as Oromedon's mountain-pinnacle: I hate your song-birds too, whose cuckoo-cry Struggles (in vain) to match the Chian bard.

But come, we'll sing forthwith, Simichidas, Our woodland music: and for my part I-- List, comrade, if you like the simple air I forged among the uplands yesterday.

[_Sings_] Safe be my true-love convoyed o'er the main To Mitylene--though the southern blast Chase the lithe waves, while westward slant the Kids, Or low above the verge Orion stand-- If from Love's furnace she will rescue me, For Lycidas is parched with hot desire.

Let halcyons lay the sea-waves and the winds, Northwind and Westwind, that in sh.o.r.es far-off Flutters the seaweed--halcyons, of all birds Whose prey is on the waters, held most dear By the green Nereids: yea let all things smile On her to Mitylene voyaging, And in fair harbour may she ride at last.

I on that day, a chaplet woven of dill Or rose or simple violet on my brow, Will draw the wine of Pteleas from the cask Stretched by the ingle. They shall roast me beans, And elbow-deep in thyme and asphodel And quaintly-curling parsley shall be piled My bed of rushes, where in royal ease I sit and, thinking of my darling, drain With stedfast lip the liquor to the dregs.

I'll have a pair of pipers, shepherds both, This from Acharnae, from Lycope that; And t.i.tyrus shall be near me and shall sing How the swain Daphnis loved the stranger-maid; And how he ranged the fells, and how the oaks (Such oaks as Himera's banks are green withal) Sang dirges o'er him waning fast away Like snow on Athos, or on Haemus high, Or Rhodope, or utmost Caucasus.

And he shall sing me how the big chest held (All through the maniac malice of his lord) A living goatherd: how the round-faced bees, Lured from their meadow by the cedar-smell, Fed him with daintiest flowers, because the Muse Had made his throat a well-spring of sweet song.

Happy Cometas, this sweet lot was thine!

Thee the chest prisoned, for thee the honey-bees Toiled, as thou slavedst out the mellowing year: And oh hadst thou been numbered with the quick In my day! I had led thy pretty goats About the hill-side, listening to thy voice: While thou hadst lain thee down 'neath oak or pine, Divine Cometas, warbling pleasantly."

He spake and paused; and thereupon spake I.

"I too, friend Lycid, as I ranged the fells, Have learned much lore and pleasant from the Nymphs, Whose fame mayhap hath reached the throne of Zeus.

But this wherewith I'll grace thee ranks the first: Thou listen, since the Muses like thee well.

[_Sings_] On me the young Loves sneezed: for hapless I Am fain of Myrto as the goats of Spring.

But my best friend Aratus inly pines For one who loves him not. Aristis saw-- (A wondrous seer is he, whose lute and lay Shrined Apollo's self would scarce disdain)-- How love had scorched Aratus to the bone.

O Pan, who hauntest h.o.m.ole's fair champaign, Bring the soft charmer, whosoe'er it be, Unbid to his sweet arms--so, gracious Pan, May ne'er thy ribs and shoulderblades be lashed With squills by young Arcadians, whensoe'er They are scant of supper! But should this my prayer Mislike thee, then on nettles mayest thou sleep, Dinted and sore all over from their claws!

Then mayest thou lodge amid Edonian hills By Hebrus, in midwinter; there subsist, The Bear thy neighbour: and, in summer, range With the far aethiops 'neath the Blemmyan rocks Where Nile is no more seen! But O ye Loves, Whose cheeks are like pink apples, quit your homes By Hyetis, or Byblis' pleasant rill, Or fair Dione's rocky pedestal, And strike that fair one with your arrows, strike The ill-starred damsel who disdains my friend.

And lo, what is she but an o'er-ripe pear?

The girls all cry 'Her bloom is on the wane.'

We'll watch, Aratus, at that porch no more, Nor waste shoe-leather: let the morning c.o.c.k Crow to wake others up to numb despair!

Let Molon, and none else, that ordeal brave: While we make ease our study, and secure Some witch, to charm all evil from our door."

I ceased. He smiling sweetly as before, Gave me the staff, 'the Muses' parting gift,'

And leftward sloped toward Pyxa. We the while, Bent us to Phrasydeme's, Eucritus and I, And baby-faced Amyntas: there we lay Half-buried in a couch of fragrant reed And fresh-cut vineleaves, who so glad as we?

A wealth of elm and poplar shook o'erhead; Hard by, a sacred spring flowed gurgling on From the Nymphs' grot, and in the sombre boughs The sweet cicada chirped laboriously.

Hid in the thick thorn-bushes far away The treefrog's note was heard; the crested lark Sang with the goldfinch; turtles made their moan, And o'er the fountain hung the gilded bee.

All of rich summer smacked, of autumn all: Pears at our feet, and apples at our side Rolled in luxuriance; branches on the ground Sprawled, overweighed with damsons; while we brushed From the cask's head the crust of four long years.

Say, ye who dwell upon Parna.s.sian peaks, Nymphs of Castalia, did old Chiron e'er Set before Heracles a cup so brave In Pholus' cavern--did as nectarous draughts Cause that Anapian shepherd, in whose hand Rocks were as pebbles, Polypheme the strong, Featly to foot it o'er the cottage lawns:-- As, ladies, ye bid flow that day for us All by Demeter's shrine at harvest-home?

Beside whose cornstacks may I oft again Plant my broad fan: while she stands by and smiles, Poppies and cornsheaves on each laden arm.

IDYLL VIII.

The Triumph of Daphnis.

_DAPHNIS. MENALCAS. A GOATHERD_.

Daphnis, the gentle herdsman, met once, as legend tells, Menalcas making with his flock the circle of the fells.

Both chins were gilt with coming beards: both lads could sing and play: Menalcas glanced at Daphnis, and thus was heard to say:-- "Art thou for singing, Daphnis, lord of the lowing kine?

I say my songs are better, by what thou wilt, than thine."

Then in his turn spake Daphnis, and thus he made reply: "O shepherd of the fleecy flock, thou pipest clear and high; But come what will, Menalcas, thou ne'er wilt sing as I."

MENALCAS.

This art thou fain to ascertain, and risk a bet with me?

DAPHNIS.

This I full fain would ascertain, and risk a bet with thee.

MENALCAS.

But what, for champions such as we, would, seem a fitting prize?

DAPHNIS.

I stake a calf: stake thou a lamb, its mother's self in size.

MENALCAS.

A lamb I'll venture never: for aye at close of day Father and mother count the flock, and pa.s.sing strict are they.

DAPHNIS.

Then what shall be the victor's fee? What wager wilt thou lay?

MENALCAS.

A pipe discoursing through nine mouths I made, full fair to view; The wax is white thereon, the line of this and that edge true.