The Idylliums of Theocritus Translated from the Greek. With notes critical and explanatory. By Francis Fawkes |
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| XV. | IDYLLIUM XV. The Syracusian Gossips. |
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| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
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| XXVI. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
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 | The Idylliums of Theocritus |  |
132
IDYLLIUM XV. The Syracusian Gossips.
ARGUMENT.
Two Syracusian women, who had travelled to Alexandria, go to see the solemnity of Adonis's festival, which had been prepared by Arsinoe, the queen of Ptolemy Philadelphus: the humours of these gossips are naturally described. Theocritus, to gratify the queen, introduces a Grecian singing-girl, who rehearses the magnificence of the pomp which Arsinoe had provided.
GORGO.
Pray, is Praxinoe at home?
EUNOE.
Dear Gorgo, yes—how late you come!
PRAXINOE.
Well! is it you? Maid, bring a chair
And cushion.
And cushion.
Gor.
Thank you.
Prax.
Pray sit there.
GORGO.
Lord bless me! what a bustling throng!
I scarce could get alive along:
In chariots such a heap of folks!
And men in arms, and men in cloaks—
Besides I live so distant hence
The journey really is immense.
I scarce could get alive along:
133
And men in arms, and men in cloaks—
Besides I live so distant hence
The journey really is immense.
PRAXINOE.
My husband, heav'n his senses mend!
Here will inhabit the world's end,
This horrid house, or rather den;
More fit for savages than men.
This scheme with envious aim he labours,
Only to separate good neighbours—
My plague eternal!
Here will inhabit the world's end,
This horrid house, or rather den;
More fit for savages than men.
This scheme with envious aim he labours,
Only to separate good neighbours—
My plague eternal!
GORGO.
Softly, pray,
The child attends to all you say;
Name not your husband when he's by—
Observe how earnest is his eye!—
The child attends to all you say;
Name not your husband when he's by—
Observe how earnest is his eye!—
PRAXINOE.
Sweet Zopy! there's a bonny lad,
Cheer up! I did not mean your dad.
GORGO.
'Tis a good dad.—I'll take an oath,
The urchin understands us both.
134
(Let's talk as if some time ago,
And then we shall be safe, you know)
This person happen'd once to stop
To purchase nitre at a shop,
And what d' ye think? the silly creature
Bought salt, and took it for salt-petre.
GORGO.
My husband's such another honey,
And thus, as idly, spends his money;
Five fleeces for seven drachms he bought,
Coarse as dog's hair, not worth a groat.
But take your cloak, and garment grac'd
With clasps, that lightly binds your waste;
Adonis' festival invites,
And Ptolemy's gay court delights:
Besides our matchless queen, they say,
Exhibits some grand sight to-day.
PRAXINOE.
No wonder—every body knows
Great folks can always make fine shows:
135
And what you heard—'tis new to me.
GORGO.
The feast now calls us hence away,
And we shall oft keep holiday.
PRAXINOE.
Maid! water quickly—set it down—
Lord! how indelicate you're grown!
Disperse these cats that love their ease—
But first the water, if you please—
Quick! how she creeps; pour, hussey, pour;
You've spoil'd my gown—so, so—no more.
Well, now I'm wash'd—ye Gods be blest!—
Here—bring the key of my large chest.
GORGO.
This robe becomes you mighty well;
What might it cost you? can you tell?
PRAXINOE.
Three pounds, or more; I'd not have done it,
But that I'd set my heart upon it.
GORGO.
'Tis wonderous cheap.
Prax.
You think so?—maid,
Fetch my umbrella, and my shade;
So, put it on—fye, Zopy, fye!
Stay within doors, and don't you cry:
The horse will kick you in the dirt—
Roar as you please, you shan't get hurt.
Pray, maid, divert him—come, 'tis late:
Call in the dog, and shut the gate.
Fetch my umbrella, and my shade;
So, put it on—fye, Zopy, fye!
Stay within doors, and don't you cry:
136
Roar as you please, you shan't get hurt.
Pray, maid, divert him—come, 'tis late:
Call in the dog, and shut the gate.
Lord! here's a bustle and a throng—
How shall we ever get along!
Such numbers cover all the way,
Like emmets on a summer's day.
How shall we ever get along!
Such numbers cover all the way,
Like emmets on a summer's day.
O Ptolemy, thy fame exceeds
Thy godlike sire's in noble deeds!
No robber now with Pharian wiles
The stranger of his purse beguiles;
No ruffians now infest the street,
And stab the passengers they meet.
Thy godlike sire's in noble deeds!
No robber now with Pharian wiles
The stranger of his purse beguiles;
No ruffians now infest the street,
And stab the passengers they meet.
What shall we do? lo here advance
The king's war-horses—how they prance!
Don't tread upon me, honest friend—
Lord, how that mad horse rears an end!
He'll throw his rider down, I fear—
I'm glad I left the child, my dear.
The king's war-horses—how they prance!
Don't tread upon me, honest friend—
Lord, how that mad horse rears an end!
He'll throw his rider down, I fear—
I'm glad I left the child, my dear.
137
Don't be afraid; the danger's o'er;
The horses, see! are gone before.
PRAXINOE.
I'm better now, but always quake
Whene'er I see a horse or snake;
They rear, and look so fierce and wild—
I own, I've loath'd them from a child.
Walk quicker—what a crowd is this!
GORGO.
Pray, come you from the palace?
Old-woman.
Yes.
GORGO.
Can we get in, d'ye think?
Old-wo.
Make trial—
The steady never take denial;
The steady Greeks old Ilium won:
By trial, all things may be done.
GORGO.
Gone, like a riddle, in the dark;
These crones, if we their tales remark,
Know better far than I or you know
How Jupiter was join'd to Juno.
138
PRAXINOE.
Immense, indeed! Your hand, my dear:
And let the maids join hands, and close us,
Lest in the bustle they should lose us.
Let's crowd together through the door—
Heav'ns bless me! how my gown is tore!
By Jove, but this is past a joke—
Pray, good sir, don't you rend my cloak.
MAN.
I can't avoid it; I'm so prest.
PRAXINOE.
Like pigs they justle, I protest.
MAN.
Cheer up, for now we're safe and sound.
PRAXINOE.
May you in happiness abound;
For you have serv'd us all you can—
Gorgo!—a mighty civil man—
See how the folks poor Eunoe justle!
Push through the crowd, girl!—bustle, bustle—
Now we're all in; as Dromo said,
When he had got his bride in bed.
139
Lo! what rich hangings grace the rooms—
Sure they were wove in heavenly looms.
PRAXINOE.
Gracious! how delicately fine
The work! how noble the design!
How true, how happy is the draught!
The figures seem inform'd with thought—
No artists sure the story wove;
They're real men—they live, they move.
From these amazing works we find,
How great, how wise the human mind.
Lo! stretch'd upon a silver bed,
(Scarce has the down his cheeks o'erspread)
140
Lov'd by the sable Pow'rs below.
STRANGER.
Hist! your Sicilian prate forbear;
Your mouths extend from ear to ear,
Like turtles that for ever moan;
You stun us with your rustick tone.
GORGO.
Sure! we may speak! what fellow's this?
And do you take it, sir, amiss?
Go, keep Ægyptian slaves in awe:
Think not to give Sicilians law:
Besides, we're of Corinthian mould,
As was Bellerophon of old:
Our language is entirely Greek—
The Dorians may the Doric speak.
PRAXINOE.
O sweet Proserpina, sure none
Presumes to give us law but one!
To us there is no fear you shou'd
Do harm, who cannot do us good.
141
Hark! the Greek girl's about to raise
Her voice in fair Adonis' praise;
She's a sweet pipe for funeral airs:
She's just beginning, she prepares:
She'll Sperchis, and the world excell,
That by her prelude you may tell.
The Greek Girl sings.
“O chief of Golgos, and the Idalian grove,
And breezy Eryx, beauteous queen of Love!
Once more the soft-foot hours approaching slow,
Restore Adonis from the realms below;
Welcome to man they come with silent pace,
Diffusing benisons to human race.
O Venus, daughter of Dione fair,
You gave to Berenice's lot to share
Immortal joys in heavenly regions blest,
And with divine Ambrosia fill'd her breast.
And now in due return, O heavenly born!
Whose honour'd name a thousand fanes adorn,
Arsinoe pays the pompous rites divine,
Rival of Helen, at Adonis' shrine;
All fruits she offers that ripe autumn yields,
The produce of the gardens, and the fields;
All herbs and plants which silver baskets hold;
And Syrian unguents flow from shells of gold.
With finest meal sweet paste the women make,
Oil, flowers and honey mingling in the cake:
Earth and the air afford a large supply
Of animals that creep, and birds that fly.
Green bow'rs are built with dill sweet-smelling crown'd,
And little Cupids hover all around;
And, as young nightingales their wings essay,
Skip here and there, and hop from spray to spray.
What heaps of golden vessels glittering bright!
What stores of ebon black, and ivory white!
In ivory carv'd large eagles seem to move,
And through the clouds bear Ganymede to Jove.
Lo! purple tapestry arrang'd on high
Charms the spectators with the Tyrian dye,
The Samian and Milesian swains, who keep
Large flocks, acknowledge 'tis more soft than sleep:
Of this Adonis claims a downy bed,
And lo! another for fair Venus spread!
Her bridegroom scarce attains to nineteen years,
Rosy his lips, and no rough beard appears.
Let raptur'd Venus now enjoy her mate,
While we, descending to the city gate,
Array'd in decent robes that sweep the ground,
With naked bosoms, and with hair unbound,
Bring forth Adonis, slain in youthful years,
Ere Phœbus drinks the morning's early tears.
And while to yonder flood we march along,
With tuneful voices raise the funeral song.
And breezy Eryx, beauteous queen of Love!
Once more the soft-foot hours approaching slow,
Restore Adonis from the realms below;
Welcome to man they come with silent pace,
Diffusing benisons to human race.
O Venus, daughter of Dione fair,
You gave to Berenice's lot to share
Immortal joys in heavenly regions blest,
And with divine Ambrosia fill'd her breast.
142
Whose honour'd name a thousand fanes adorn,
Arsinoe pays the pompous rites divine,
Rival of Helen, at Adonis' shrine;
All fruits she offers that ripe autumn yields,
The produce of the gardens, and the fields;
All herbs and plants which silver baskets hold;
And Syrian unguents flow from shells of gold.
With finest meal sweet paste the women make,
Oil, flowers and honey mingling in the cake:
Earth and the air afford a large supply
Of animals that creep, and birds that fly.
143
And little Cupids hover all around;
And, as young nightingales their wings essay,
Skip here and there, and hop from spray to spray.
What heaps of golden vessels glittering bright!
What stores of ebon black, and ivory white!
144
And through the clouds bear Ganymede to Jove.
Lo! purple tapestry arrang'd on high
Charms the spectators with the Tyrian dye,
145
Large flocks, acknowledge 'tis more soft than sleep:
Of this Adonis claims a downy bed,
And lo! another for fair Venus spread!
Her bridegroom scarce attains to nineteen years,
Rosy his lips, and no rough beard appears.
Let raptur'd Venus now enjoy her mate,
While we, descending to the city gate,
Array'd in decent robes that sweep the ground,
With naked bosoms, and with hair unbound,
Bring forth Adonis, slain in youthful years,
Ere Phœbus drinks the morning's early tears.
And while to yonder flood we march along,
With tuneful voices raise the funeral song.
Adonis, you alone of demigods,
Now visit earth, and now hell's dire abodes:
Not fam'd Atrides could this favour boast,
Nor furious Ajax, though himself an host;
Nor Hector, long his mother's grace and joy
Of twenty sons, not Pyrrhus safe from Troy,
Not brave Patroclus of immortal fame,
Nor the fierce Lapithæ, a deathless name;
Nor sons of Pelops, nor Deucalion's race,
Nor stout Pelasgians, Argos' honour'd grace.
Now visit earth, and now hell's dire abodes:
Not fam'd Atrides could this favour boast,
Nor furious Ajax, though himself an host;
Nor Hector, long his mother's grace and joy
Of twenty sons, not Pyrrhus safe from Troy,
Not brave Patroclus of immortal fame,
Nor the fierce Lapithæ, a deathless name;
146
Nor stout Pelasgians, Argos' honour'd grace.
As now, divine Adonis, you appear
Kind to our prayers, O bless the future year!
As now propitious to our vows you prove,
Return with meek benevolence and love.
Kind to our prayers, O bless the future year!
As now propitious to our vows you prove,
Return with meek benevolence and love.
147
O, fam'd for knowledge in mysterious things!
How sweet, Praxinoë, the damsel sings!
Time calls me home to keep my husband kind,
He's prone to anger if he has not din'd.
Farewell, Adonis, lov'd and honour'd boy;
O come, propitious, and augment our joy.
| The Idylliums of Theocritus | |