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

Theocritus rises above his pastoral stile when he celebrates the praises of Ptolemy Philadelphus, the son of Ptolemy Lagus and Berenice: he derives his race from Hercules; enumerates his many cities; describes his immense treasures, and though he extols him for his military preparations, he commends his love of peace: but above all he commemorates his royal munificence to the sons of the Muses.

With Jove begin, ye nine, and end with Jove,
Whene'er ye praise the greatest God above:

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But if of noblest men the song ye cast,
Let Ptolemy be first, and midst, and last.
Heroes of old, from demigods that sprung,
Chose lofty poets who their actions sung:
Well skill'd, I tune to Ptolemy my reed;
Hymns are of gods above the honour'd meed.
To Ida, when the woodman winds his way,
Where verdant pines their towering tops display,
Doubtful he stands, with undetermin'd look,
Where first to deal the meditated stroke:
And where shall I commence? new themes arise,
Deeds that exalt his glory to the skies.
If from his fathers we commence the plan,
Lagus, how great, how excellent a man!

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Who to no earthly potentate would yield
For wisdom at the board, or valour in the field:
Him with the gods Jove equals, and has given
A golden palace in the realms of heaven:
Near him sits Alexander, wise and great,
The fell destroyer of the Persian state.
Against them, thron'd in adamant, in view
Alcides, who the Cretan monster slew,
Reclines, and, as with Gods the feast he shares,
Glories to meet his own descendant heirs,
From age and pain's impediments repriev'd,
And in the rank of deities receiv'd.

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For in his line are both these heroes class'd,
And both deriv'd from Hercules the last.
Thence, when the nectar'd bowl his love inspires,
And to the blooming Hebe he retires,
To this his bow and quiver he allots,
To that his iron club, distinct with knots;
Thus Jove's great son is by his offspring led
To silver-footed Hebe's rosy bed.

How Berenice shone! her parents pride;
Virtue her aim, and wisdom was her guide:
Sure Venus with light touch her bosom prest,
Infusing in her soft ambrosial breast
Pure, constant love: hence faithful records tell,
No monarch ever lov'd his queen so well;
No queen with such undying passion burn'd,
For more than equal fondness she return'd.
Whene'er to love the chief his mind unbends,
To his son's care the kingdom he commends.
Unfaithful wives, dissatisfied at home,
Let their wild thoughts on joys forbidden roam:

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Their births are known, yet, of a numerous race,
None shows the features of the father's face.
Venus, than all the goddesses more fair,
The lovely Berenice was thy care;
To thee 'twas owing, gentle, kind and good,
She past not Acheron's woe-working flood.
Thou caught'st her e'er she went where spectres dwell,
Or Charon, the grim ferryman of hell;
And in thy temple plac'd the royal fair,
Thine own high honour's priviledge to share.
Thence gentle love in mortals she inspires,
And soft solicitudes, and sweet desires.
The fair Deïpyle to Tydeus bare
Stern Diomed, the thunderbolt of war:
And Thetis, goddess of the azure wave,
To Peleus brought Achilles, bold and brave:

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But Berenice nobler praise hath won,
Who bore great Ptolemy as great a son:
And sea-girt Cos receiv'd thee soon as born,
When first thine eyes beheld the radiant morn.
For there thy mother to Lucina pray'd,
Who sends, to those that suffer child-bed, aid.
She came, and friendly to the genial bed,
A placid, sweet tranquillity she shed
O'er all her limbs; and thus serene and mild,
Like his lov'd sire, was born the lovely child.
Cos saw, and fondling in her arms the boy,
Thus spoke, transported, with the voice of joy;
“Quick rise to light, auspicious babe be born!
“And me with equal dignity adorn

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“As Phœbus Delos:—on fam'd Triops' brow,
“And on the neighbouring Dorian race bestow
“Just honours, and as favourably smile,
“As the god views with joy Rhenæa's fertile isle.”
The island spoke; and thrice the bird of Jove
His pinions clang'd, resounding from above;
Jove's omen thunder'd from his eagle's wings;
Jove loves and honours venerable kings.
But whom in infancy his care befriends,
Him power, and wealth, and happiness attends:
He rules belov'd unbounded tracts of land,
And various oceans roll at his command.

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Unnumber'd nations view their happy plains,
Fresh fertiliz'd by Jove's prolific rains:
But none, like Egypt, can such plenty boast,
When genial Nile o'erflows the humid coast:

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No realm for numerous cities thus renown'd,
Where arts and fam'd artificers abound:
Three times ten thousand towery towns obey
Illustrious Ptolemy's pacific sway.
He o'er Phœnicia, Syria, Libya reigns,
Arabian deserts, Ethiopian plains,
Pamphylians, and Cilicians bold in war,
And Carians brave, and Lycians fam'd afar;
The distant Cyclades confess his reign,
Whose fleets assert the empire of the main;

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So far his ships their conquering flags display,
Him seas, and lands, and sounding floods obey.
Horsemen and spearmen guard the monarch round,
Their arms resplendent send a brazen sound;
Such tributes daily aggrandize his store,
No king e'er own'd such boundless wealth before.
His peaceful subjects ply at ease their toil,
No foes invade the fertile banks of Nile,

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Nor pitch their camps along the peaceful plains
With war to terrify the village swains:
No pirates haunt the shore in quest of prey,
Nor bear by stealth the lowing herds away;
For graceful Ptolemy renown'd in arms,
Guards his extended plains from hostile harms.
Like a wise king, the conquests of his sire
He knows to keep, and new ones to acquire.
And yet he hoards not up his useless store,
Like ants still labouring, still amassing more;
The holy shrines and temples are his care,
For they the first-fruits of his favour share:

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To mighty kings his bounties he extends,
To states confederate, and illustrious friends.
No bard at Bacchus' festival appears,
Whose lyre has power to charm the ravish'd ears,
But he bright honours and rewards imparts,
Due to his merits, equal to his arts:
And poets hence, for deathless song renown'd,
The generous fame of Ptolemy resound.
At what more glorious can the wealthy aim,
Than thus to purchase fair and lasting fame?
The great Atridæ this alone enjoy,
While all the wealth and spoil of plunder'd Troy,
That scap'd the raging flame, or whelming wave,
Lies buried in oblivion's greedy grave.
Close trode great Ptolemy, at virtue's call,
His father's footsteps, but surpast them all.

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He rear'd the fragrant temple, and the shrine,
And to his parents offer'd rites divine;
Whose forms in gold and ivory are design'd,
And worship'd as the guardians of mankind.
There oft as circling moons divide the year,
On the red altar bleeds the fatten'd steer;
His hands the thighs for holy flames divide,
Fair blooms the lov'd Arsinoë at his side;
Than whom no nobler queen of mortal race,
A greater prince detains in fond embrace;
And, as kind nature the soft tye approves,
Dearly the brother and the husband loves.
Such are the nuptials in the blest abodes,
And such the union of immortal gods:
Iris, who still retains her virgin bloom,
Whose radiant fingers breathe divine perfume,
For Jove prepares the bed, where at his side
Fair Juno sleeps, his sister and his bride.

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Hail, noble Ptolemy! illustrious king!
Thee peer to mighty demigods I'll sing;
And future ages shall the verse approve:
Hail! and fair virtue only ask of Jove.