The Idylliums of Theocritus :: :: University of Virginia Library

This piece is a dialogue between two fishermen, which for its singular simplicity of sentiment, as well as character, is peculiarly beautiful and regular: one of them relates his dream, which was, that he had caught a large fish of solid gold, on which he resolves to follow his laborious occupation no longer, but live luxuriously: in the morning his fish and his hopes vanish, and necessity compels him to return to his accustomed labours. This Idyllium admonishes every one to rest content with his lot; and under the shadow of a golden dream, beautifully displays the vanity of all human hopes and desires.

Need, Diophantus, ready with imparts,
Is Labour's mistress, and the nurse of Arts:

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Corroding cares the toiling wretch infest,
And spoil the peaceful tenor of his breast;
And if soft slumbers on his eye-lids creep,
Some cursed care steals in, and murders sleep.

Two antient fishers in a straw-thatcht shed,
Leaves were their walls, and sea-weed was their bed,
Reclin'd their weary limbs: hard by were laid
Baskets, and all their implements of trade,
Rods, hooks, and lines compos'd of stout horse-hairs,
And nets of various sorts, and various snares,
The seine, the cast-net, and the wicker maze,
To waste the watery tribes a thousand ways:

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A crazy boat was drawn upon a plank;
Matts were their pillow, wove of osiers dank,
Skins, caps and rugged coats a covering made:
This was their wealth, their labour, and their trade.
No pot to boil, no watch-dog to defend;
Yet blest they liv'd, with Penury their friend.
None visited their shed, save, every tide,
The wanton waves that wash'd its tottering side.
When half her course the Moon's bright car had sped,
Joint labour rouz'd the tenants of the shed.
The dews of slumber from their eyes they clear'd,
And thus their minds with pleasing parley cheer'd:

ASPHALION.
I hold, my friend, that trite opinion wrong,
That summer-nights are short, when days are long.
Yes—I have seen a thousand dreams to-night,
And yet no morn appears nor morning-light:
Sure on my mind some strange illusions play,
And make short nights wear heavily away.

FRIEND.
Fair summer-seasons you unjustly blame,
Their bounds are equal, and their pace the same;

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But cares, Asphalion, in a busy throng,
Break on your rest, and make the night seem long.

ASPHALION.
Say, hast thou genius to interpret right
My dream? I've had a jolly one to-night.
Thou shalt go halves, and more thou canst not wish,
We'll share the vision, as we share our fish.
I know thee shrewd, expert of dreams to spell;
He's the best judge, who can conjecture well.
We've leisure time, which can't be better spent
By wretched carles in wave-wash'd cabin pent,
And lodg'd on leaves; yet why should we repine,
While living lights in Prytaneum shine?

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FRIEND.
To thy fast friendeach circumstance recite,
And let me hear this vision of the night.

ASPHALION.
Last evening, weary with the toils of day,
Lull'd in the lap of rest secure I lay;
Full late we sup'd, and sparingly we eat;
No danger of a surfeit from our meat.
Methought I sat upon a shelfy steep,
And watch'd the fish that gambol'd in the deep:
Suspended by my rod, I gently shook
That bait fallacious, which a huge one took;

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(Sleeping we image what awake we wish;
Dogs dream of bones, and fishermen of fish)
Bent was my rod, and from his gills the blood,
With crimson stream, distain'd the silver flood.
I stretcht my arm out, lest the line should break;
The fish so vigorous, and my hook so weak!
Anxious I gaz'd, he struggled to be gone;
‘You're wounded—I'll be with you, friend, anon’—
‘Still do you teize me?’ for he plagu'd me sore;
At last, quite spent, I drew him safe on shore,
Then graspt him with my hand, for surer hold,
A noble prize, a fish of solid gold!
But fears suspicious in my bosom throng'd,
Lest to the god of ocean he belong'd;
Or, haply wandering in the azure main,
Some favourite fish of Amphitrite's train.
My prize I loos'd, and strictest caution took,
For fear some gold might stick about the hook;
Then safe secur'd him, and devoutly swore,
Never to venture on the ocean more;

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But live on land as happy as a king:
At this I wak'd: what think you of the thing?
Speak free, for know, I am extremely loth,
And greatly fear, to violate my oath.

FRIEND.
Fear not, old friend; you took no oath, for why?
You took no fish—your vision's all a lye.
Go search the shoals, not sleeping, but awake,
Hunger will soon discover your mistake;
Catch real fish; you need not, sure, be told,
Those fools must starve who only dream of gold.