The Idylliums of Theocritus Translated from the Greek. With notes critical and explanatory. By Francis Fawkes |
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| VII. |
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| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. | IDYLLIUM XXIII. The Despairing Lover.
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| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
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| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
 | The Idylliums of Theocritus |  |
218
IDYLLIUM XXIII. The Despairing Lover.
ARGUMENT.
An unhappy lover, despairing to gain the affections of his mistress, by whom he is despised, makes away with himself: the cruel fair is soon after killed by the image of Cupid that fell upon her as she was bathing.
An amorous shepherd lov'd a cruel fair;
The haughty beauty plung'd him in despair:
She loath'd the swain, nor aught her breast could move,
She scorn'd the lover, and the god of love;
Nor knew the puissance of his bow and darts,
To tame the stubborness of human hearts.
With cold disdain she griev'd the shepherd sore,
The more he sigh'd, she scorn'd him still the more.
No solace she afforded, no soft look,
Nor e'er the words of sweet compassion spoke:
Her eye, her cheek ne'er glow'd, her flame to prove,
No kiss she gave, the lenient balm of love:
But as a lion, on the desert plain,
With savage pleasure views the hunter train;
Thus in her scorn severe delight she took;
Her words, her eyes were fierce, and death was in her look.
She look'd her soul; her face was pal'd with ire;
Yet she was fair; her frowns but rais'd desire.
At length, he could no more, but sought relief
From tears, the dumb petitioners of grief;
Before her gate he wept, with haggard look,
And, kissing the bare threshold, thus he spoke:
The haughty beauty plung'd him in despair:
She loath'd the swain, nor aught her breast could move,
She scorn'd the lover, and the god of love;
Nor knew the puissance of his bow and darts,
To tame the stubborness of human hearts.
219
The more he sigh'd, she scorn'd him still the more.
No solace she afforded, no soft look,
Nor e'er the words of sweet compassion spoke:
Her eye, her cheek ne'er glow'd, her flame to prove,
No kiss she gave, the lenient balm of love:
But as a lion, on the desert plain,
With savage pleasure views the hunter train;
Thus in her scorn severe delight she took;
Her words, her eyes were fierce, and death was in her look.
She look'd her soul; her face was pal'd with ire;
Yet she was fair; her frowns but rais'd desire.
At length, he could no more, but sought relief
From tears, the dumb petitioners of grief;
Before her gate he wept, with haggard look,
And, kissing the bare threshold, thus he spoke:
220
‘Ah, savage fair, whom no entreaties move!
‘Hard heart of stone, unworthy of my love!
‘Accept this cord, 'tis now in vain to live,
‘This friendly gift, the last that I shall give;
‘I go where doom'd; my love, my life are o'er,
‘No more I grieve, and you are teaz'd no more;
‘I go the last kind remedy to prove,
‘And drink below oblivion to my love.
‘But, ah! what draughts my fierce desires can tame,
‘Or quench the raging fury of my flame?
‘Adieu, ye doors! eternally adieu!
‘I see the future, and I know it true.
‘Fragrant the rose, but soon it fades away;
‘The violet sweet, but quickly will decay;
‘The lily fair a transient beauty wears;
‘And the white snow soon weeps away in tears:
‘Such is the bloom of beauty, cropt by time,
‘Full soon it fades, and withers in its prime.
‘The days will come when your hard heart shall burn
‘In scorching flames, yet meet no kind return.
‘Yet grant this boon, the last that I implore:
‘When you shall see, suspended at your door,
‘This wretched corse, pass not unheeding by,
‘But let the tear of sorrow dim your eye:
‘Then loose the fatal cord, and from your breast,
‘Lend the light robe, and skreen me with your vest:
‘Imprint one kiss when my sad soul is fled;
‘Ah, grudge not thus to gratify the dead!
‘Fear not—your kisses cannot life restore:
‘Though you relent, yet I shall wake no more.
‘And last, a decent monument prepare,
‘And bury with my love my body there;
‘And thrice repeat, “Here rests my friend his head;”
‘Or rather add, “My dearest lover's dead.”
‘With this inscription be the stone supplied;
“By Cupid's dart this hapless shepherd dy'd:
“Ah! passenger, a little moment spare
“To stop, and say, He lov'd a cruel fair.”
This said, he tries against the wall to shove
A mighty stone, and to a beam above
Suspends the cord, impatient of delay,
Fits the dire noose, and spurns the stone away;
Quivering in air he hung, till welcome death
Securely clos'd the avenues of breath.
The fair one, when the pendent swain she saw,
Nor pity felt, nor reverential awe;
But as she pass'd, for not a tear she shed,
Her garments were polluted by the dead.
Then to the circus, where the wrestlers fought,
Or the more pleasing bath of love she sought:
High on a marble pedestal above,
Frown'd the dread image of the god of love,
Aiming in wrath the meditated blow,
Then fell revengeful on the nymph below;
With the pure fountain mix'd her purple blood—
These words were heard emerging from the flood:
“Lovers, farewell, nor your admirers slight;
“Resign'd I die, for Heav'n pronounces right.”
‘Hard heart of stone, unworthy of my love!
‘Accept this cord, 'tis now in vain to live,
‘This friendly gift, the last that I shall give;
‘I go where doom'd; my love, my life are o'er,
‘No more I grieve, and you are teaz'd no more;
‘I go the last kind remedy to prove,
‘And drink below oblivion to my love.
‘But, ah! what draughts my fierce desires can tame,
‘Or quench the raging fury of my flame?
‘Adieu, ye doors! eternally adieu!
‘I see the future, and I know it true.
‘Fragrant the rose, but soon it fades away;
‘The violet sweet, but quickly will decay;
‘The lily fair a transient beauty wears;
‘And the white snow soon weeps away in tears:
‘Such is the bloom of beauty, cropt by time,
‘Full soon it fades, and withers in its prime.
221
‘In scorching flames, yet meet no kind return.
‘Yet grant this boon, the last that I implore:
‘When you shall see, suspended at your door,
‘This wretched corse, pass not unheeding by,
‘But let the tear of sorrow dim your eye:
‘Then loose the fatal cord, and from your breast,
‘Lend the light robe, and skreen me with your vest:
‘Imprint one kiss when my sad soul is fled;
‘Ah, grudge not thus to gratify the dead!
‘Fear not—your kisses cannot life restore:
‘Though you relent, yet I shall wake no more.
‘And last, a decent monument prepare,
‘And bury with my love my body there;
‘And thrice repeat, “Here rests my friend his head;”
‘Or rather add, “My dearest lover's dead.”
‘With this inscription be the stone supplied;
“By Cupid's dart this hapless shepherd dy'd:
“Ah! passenger, a little moment spare
“To stop, and say, He lov'd a cruel fair.”
222
A mighty stone, and to a beam above
Suspends the cord, impatient of delay,
Fits the dire noose, and spurns the stone away;
Quivering in air he hung, till welcome death
Securely clos'd the avenues of breath.
The fair one, when the pendent swain she saw,
Nor pity felt, nor reverential awe;
But as she pass'd, for not a tear she shed,
Her garments were polluted by the dead.
Then to the circus, where the wrestlers fought,
Or the more pleasing bath of love she sought:
High on a marble pedestal above,
Frown'd the dread image of the god of love,
Aiming in wrath the meditated blow,
Then fell revengeful on the nymph below;
With the pure fountain mix'd her purple blood—
These words were heard emerging from the flood:
223
“Resign'd I die, for Heav'n pronounces right.”
| The Idylliums of Theocritus | |