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The Idyllia, Epigrams, and Fragments, of Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus

with the Elegies of Tyrtaeus, Translated from the Greek into English Verse. To which are Added, Dissertations and Notes. By the Rev. Richard Polwhele
Polwhele, Richard (1760-1838)
  
[dedication]

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THE IDYLLIA and EPIGRAMS OF THEOCRITUS.
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[subsection]
 I. 
IDYLLIUM the FIRST. THYRSIS,
 II. 
IDYLLIUM the SECOND. PHARMACEUTRIA.
 III. 
IDYLLIUM the THIRD. AMARYLLIS.
 IV. 
IDYLLIUM the FOURTH. The SWAINS.
 V. 
IDYLLIUM the FIFTH. The TRAVELLERS.
 VI. 
IDYLLIUM the SIXTH. The HERDSMEN.
 VII. 
IDYLLIUM the SEVENTH. The HARVEST-FEAST,
 VIII. 
IDYLLIUM the EIGHTH. The BUCOLIC SINGERS.
 IX. 
IDYLLIUM the NINTH. The SHEPHERD.
 X. 
IDYLLIUM the TENTH. The REAPERS.
 XI. 
IDYLLIUM the ELEVENTH. The CYCLOPS.
 XII. 
IDYLLIUM the TWELFTH. To a FRIEND.
 XIII. 
IDYLLIUM the THIRTEENTH. HYLAS.
 XIV. 
IDYLLIUM the FOURTEENTH. CYNISCA's LOVE.
 XVI. 
IDYLLIUM the SIXTEENTH. The GRACES,
 XVII. 
IDYLLIUM the SEVENTEENTH. PTOLEMY.
 XVIII. 
IDYLLIUM the EIGHTEENTH. The EPITHALAMIUM of HELEN.
 XIX. 
IDYLLIUM the NINETEENTH. The HONEY-STEALER.
 XX. 
IDYLLIUM the TWENTIETH. EUNICA,
 XXI. 
IDYLLIUM the TWENTY-FIRST. The FISHERMEN.
 XXII. 
IDYLLIUM the TWENTY-SECOND. CASTOR and POLLUX.
 XXIII. 
IDYLLIUM the TWENTY-THIRD. The DESPAIRING LOVER.
 XXIV. 
IDYLLIUM the TWENTY-FOURTH. The YOUNG HERCULES.
 XXV. 
IDYLLIUM the TWENTY-FIFTH. HERCULES the LION-SLAYER.
 XXVI. 
IDYLLIUM the TWENTY-SIXTH. BACCHÆ.
 XXIX. 
IDYLLIUM the TWENTY-NINTH. The CAPRICIOUS FRIEND.
 XXX. 
IDYLLIUM the THIRTIETH. The DEATH of ADONIS.
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EPIGRAMS.
  
THE IDYLLIA and FRAGMENTS OF BION.
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THE IDYLLIA OF MOSCHUS.
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THE ELEGIES OF TYRTÆUS.

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88

IDYLLIUM the TENTH. The REAPERS.

MILO and BATTUS.
MILO.
What ails thee, Battus, that thou reap'st awry;
And flinching, let'st thy Neighbour pass thee by?
How, thro' hot Noon, 'till Evening, wilt thou reap,
Thus early lagging, like a wounded Sheep?

BATTUS.
Thy Drudgeries Noon and Night, be thine to brag:
But tell me, Fragment of the flinty Crag!
Did never in thy Heart a Kindness lurk,
That, for a Moment's Pause, delay'd thy Work?

MILO.
No—No—such Thoughts should ne'er the Laborer haunt!
Thy silly Dream of Idleness avaunt!

89

BATTUS.
But, Milo, didst thou never watch for Love?

MILO.
Not I!—Love's Watchings may I never prove.
His Tongue in Lambkins-Blood if Rover steep;
Rover will ever feel a Thirst for Sheep.

BATTUS.
Ah Milo! I have lov'd ten Days and more!

MILO.
Enjoy it, Friend! I envy not the Store!
Of meagre Vinegar I've scarce a Flask!
Thou, rich in Wine, canst pierce the purple Cask!

BATTUS.
Ah! hence it is, my Fallows are unsown.

MILO.
But who's the woundy Nymph!

BATTUS.
To thee I own,
Old Polybutas' Girl, whose Madrigal
So seiz'd our Reapers' Ears, and charm'd them all.

90

MILO.
Faith, thou art rightly serv'd! a luscious Bite!
Go clasp her! Hug thy little chirping Fright.

BATTUS.
Hah! mouthing it so big! Thou need'st not flout!
Cupid's as well as Plutus' Eyes are out.

MILO.
I mouth it—no—but throw thy Sickle by—
Come—come—cheer up! Some amorous Ditty try.
Deftly thy Tale of sweet Bombyce tell!
For once, if well I ween, few sung so well!

BATTUS.
Pierian Muses! be my Nymph your Care!
My slender Nymph! for all ye touch are fair!
Sweet Girl! So sunburnt and so thin, 'tis said,
Yet, in my Eyes, a honey-color'd Maid!
The letter'd Hyacinth and Vi'let brown
Are the first Flowers that grace the rural Crown!
Kids follow Thyme, and Wolves soft Kids, the Crane
Pursues the Plough—and thee, thy faithful Swain!
91

O that the Wealth of Crœsus were but mine,
Then would we stand, at Venus' sacred Shrine,
Two richly-sculptur'd Images of Gold;
While thy dear Hand a Rose or Lute should hold,
Or vermeil Apple, and thy Swain be drest,
New-sandal'd, in a Dancer's gaudy Vest.
Delightful Girl! How beauteous are thy Feet!
And O! the Music of thy Voice how sweet!
How smooth thy Ankles, with so soft a Swell!
But for thy Manners—no rude Song can tell!

MILO.
Hah! we mistook his Talents! What a Strain!
He hath not measur'd Harmony in vain!
Hah! no more Wisdom! Yet so wise a Beard!
But hast thou Lytierses' Numbers heard?
‘Prolific Ceres, bless our fruitful Soil,
‘Ripen the redd'ning Ear, and crown our Toil.
‘Bind—bind your Sheaves; lest Travellers scoffing say
“Such wooden Fellows ill deserve their Pay.”
92

‘Rear to the North or West, ye Reaping-Train,
‘Your Shocks; so Gales salubrious swell the Grain.
‘Sleep not at Noon, ye Threshers; from the Corn
‘When in brisk Eddies the light Chaff is borne.
‘Rise, Reapers, with the Lark (yet seek the Shed
‘At Noon) and with the Lark retire to Bed.
‘Sweet is the Life of Frogs: They never thirst,
‘For they may drink, my Striplings, 'till they burst.
‘Boil, Pinch-penny, the Lentils whole, nor stint
‘Your Slaves; You'd slit a Bean, or flay a Flint.’
Thus should the Reapers carol Toil away;
Thus pass, with useful Songs, the sultry Day.
But go—such love-sick Lays as fill thy Head—
Such Dreams may suit thy Mother's Ears in Bed!

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