The Idylliums of Theocritus Translated from the Greek. With notes critical and explanatory. By Francis Fawkes |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. | IDYLLIUM XXV. Hercules the Lion-slayer.
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| XXVI. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
 | The Idylliums of Theocritus |  |
236
IDYLLIUM XXV. Hercules the Lion-slayer.
ARGUMENT.
Hercules, having occasion to wait upon Augéas king of Elis, meets with an old herdsman, by whom he is introduced to the king, who, with his son Phyleus, had come into the country to take a view of his numerous herds: afterwards Hercules and Phyleus walk together to the city; in the way the prince admiring the monstrous lion's skin which Hercules wore, takes occasion to enquire where he had it; this introduces an account how Hercules slew the Nemean lion.
The good old herdsman laid his work aside,
And thus complacent to the chief reply'd:
And thus complacent to the chief reply'd:
237
‘Whate'er you ask, O stranger, I'll impart,
‘Whate'er you wish, and with a cheerful heart;
‘For much I venerate the son of May,
‘Who stands rever'd in every publick way:
‘Those most he hates, of all the gods on high,
‘Who the lone traveller's request deny.
‘Whate'er you wish, and with a cheerful heart;
‘For much I venerate the son of May,
‘Who stands rever'd in every publick way:
‘Those most he hates, of all the gods on high,
‘Who the lone traveller's request deny.
‘The numerous flocks your eyes behold around,
‘With which the vales are stor'd, the hills are crown'd,
‘Augéas owns; o'er various walks they spread,
‘In different meads, in different pastures fed;
‘Some on the banks of Elisuntus stray,
‘Some where divine Alphëus winds his way,
‘Some in Buprasium, where rich wines abound,
‘And some in this well-cultivated ground.
‘And though exceeding many flocks are told,
‘Each separate flock enjoys a separate fold.
‘Here, though of oxen numerous herds are seen,
‘Yet springs the herbage ever fresh and green
‘In the moist marsh of Menius: every mead,
‘And vale irriguous, where the cattle feed,
‘Produce sweet herbs, embalm'd in dewy tears,
‘Whose fragrant virtue fattens well the steers.
‘Behold that stall beyond the winding flood,
‘Which to the right appears by yonder wood
‘Where the wild olive, and perennial plane
‘Grow, spread, and flourish, great Apollo's fane,
‘To which the hinds, to which the shepherds bow,
‘And deem him greatest deity below!
‘Next are the stalls of swains, whose labours bring.
‘Abundant riches to the wealthy king;
‘Four times each year the fertile soil they plow,
‘And gather thrice the harvests which they sow;
‘The lab'ring hinds, whose hands the vineyards dress,
‘Whose feet the grapes in purple autumn press,
‘Know well the vast domain Augéas owns,
‘Rich fields whose lap the golden ear imbrowns,
‘Or shaded gardens, far as yonder hills,
‘Whose brows are water'd by resplendent rills;
‘This spacious tract we tend with daily care,
‘As fits those swains who rural labours share.
‘With which the vales are stor'd, the hills are crown'd,
‘Augéas owns; o'er various walks they spread,
‘In different meads, in different pastures fed;
‘Some on the banks of Elisuntus stray,
‘Some where divine Alphëus winds his way,
238
‘And some in this well-cultivated ground.
‘And though exceeding many flocks are told,
‘Each separate flock enjoys a separate fold.
‘Here, though of oxen numerous herds are seen,
‘Yet springs the herbage ever fresh and green
‘In the moist marsh of Menius: every mead,
‘And vale irriguous, where the cattle feed,
‘Produce sweet herbs, embalm'd in dewy tears,
‘Whose fragrant virtue fattens well the steers.
‘Behold that stall beyond the winding flood,
‘Which to the right appears by yonder wood
239
‘Grow, spread, and flourish, great Apollo's fane,
‘To which the hinds, to which the shepherds bow,
‘And deem him greatest deity below!
‘Next are the stalls of swains, whose labours bring.
‘Abundant riches to the wealthy king;
‘Four times each year the fertile soil they plow,
‘And gather thrice the harvests which they sow;
‘The lab'ring hinds, whose hands the vineyards dress,
‘Whose feet the grapes in purple autumn press,
‘Know well the vast domain Augéas owns,
‘Rich fields whose lap the golden ear imbrowns,
‘Or shaded gardens, far as yonder hills,
‘Whose brows are water'd by resplendent rills;
‘This spacious tract we tend with daily care,
‘As fits those swains who rural labours share.
‘But say, (and all my service you shall claim)
‘Say for what cause you here a stranger came:
‘Would you the king or his attendants see?
‘I can conduct you; only trust to me.
‘For such your form, and such your manly grace,
‘You seem deriv'd from no ignoble race:
‘Sure thus the gods, that boast celestial birth,
‘Appear majestic to the sons of earth.’
‘Say for what cause you here a stranger came:
‘Would you the king or his attendants see?
‘I can conduct you; only trust to me.
‘For such your form, and such your manly grace,
‘You seem deriv'd from no ignoble race:
240
‘Appear majestic to the sons of earth.’
He spoke, and thus Jove's valiant son reply'd;
“My wandering steps let some kind shepherd guide
“To king Augéas, whom these realms obey;
“To see Augéas am I come this way.
“But if fair justice the good monarch draws
“To Elis, to administer the laws;
“Conduct me to some honourable swain,
“Who here presides among his rural train,
“That I to him my purpose may disclose,
“And follow what his prudence shall propose:
“For heaven's eternal wisdom has decreed,
“That man of man should ever stand in need.”
“My wandering steps let some kind shepherd guide
“To king Augéas, whom these realms obey;
“To see Augéas am I come this way.
“But if fair justice the good monarch draws
“To Elis, to administer the laws;
“Conduct me to some honourable swain,
“Who here presides among his rural train,
“That I to him my purpose may disclose,
“And follow what his prudence shall propose:
“For heaven's eternal wisdom has decreed,
“That man of man should ever stand in need.”
Thus he; the good old herdsman thus reply'd:
‘Sure some immortal being is your guide:
‘For lo! your business is already done;
‘Last night the king, descendant of the sun,
‘With royal Phyleus, from the town withdrew,
‘His flocks unnumber'd, and his herds to view.
‘Thus when great kings their own concerns explore,
‘By wise attention they augment their store.
‘But let me quick, for time is on the wing,
‘In yonder tent conduct you to the king.’
‘Sure some immortal being is your guide:
‘For lo! your business is already done;
‘Last night the king, descendant of the sun,
‘With royal Phyleus, from the town withdrew,
‘His flocks unnumber'd, and his herds to view.
‘Thus when great kings their own concerns explore,
‘By wise attention they augment their store.
241
‘In yonder tent conduct you to the king.’
This said, he walk'd before his royal guest,
Much wondering, much revolving in his breast,
When at his back the lion's spoils he saw,
And in his hand the club infusing awe.
He wish'd to ask the hero, whence he sprung?
The rising query dy'd upon his tongue:
He fear'd the freedom might be deem'd a fault:
'Tis difficult to know another's thought.
Much wondering, much revolving in his breast,
When at his back the lion's spoils he saw,
And in his hand the club infusing awe.
He wish'd to ask the hero, whence he sprung?
The rising query dy'd upon his tongue:
He fear'd the freedom might be deem'd a fault:
'Tis difficult to know another's thought.
The watchful dogs, as near the stalls they went,
Perceiv'd their coming by their tread and scent,
With open mouths from every part they run,
And bay'd incessant great Amphitryon's son;
But round the swain they wagg'd their tales and play'd,
And gently whining secret joy betray'd.
Loose on the ground the stones that ready lay
Eager he snatch'd, and drove the dogs away;
With his rough voice he terrified them all,
Though pleas'd to find them guardians of his stall.
‘Ye gods! (the good old herdsman thus began)
‘What useful animals are dogs to man?
‘Had heav'n but sent intelligence to know
‘On whom to rage, the friendly or the foe,
‘No creature then could challenge honour more,
‘But now too furious, and too fierce they roar.’
Perceiv'd their coming by their tread and scent,
With open mouths from every part they run,
And bay'd incessant great Amphitryon's son;
But round the swain they wagg'd their tales and play'd,
And gently whining secret joy betray'd.
Loose on the ground the stones that ready lay
Eager he snatch'd, and drove the dogs away;
242
Though pleas'd to find them guardians of his stall.
‘Ye gods! (the good old herdsman thus began)
‘What useful animals are dogs to man?
‘Had heav'n but sent intelligence to know
‘On whom to rage, the friendly or the foe,
‘No creature then could challenge honour more,
‘But now too furious, and too fierce they roar.’
He spoke; the growling mastives ceas'd to bay,
And stole obsequious to their stalls away.
The sun now westward drove his radiant steeds,
And evening mild the noontide heat succeeds;
His orb declining from the pastures calls
Sheep to their folds, and oxen to their stalls.
Herd following herd, it joy'd the chief to see
Unnumber'd cattle winding o'er the lea.
Like watery clouds arising thick in heaven,
By the rough South, or Thracian Boreas driven;
So fast the shadowy vapours mount on high,
They cover all the region of the sky;
Still more and more the gathering tempest brings,
And weightier burdens on its weary wings.
Thus thickening march the cattle o'er the plain,
More than the roads or meadows can contain,
The lusty herds incessant bellowing keep,
The stalls are fill'd with steers, the folds with sheep.
Though numerous slaves stand round of every kind,
All have their several offices assign'd.
Some tie the cow's hind legs, to make her stand
Still, and obedient to the milker's hand:
Some give to tender calves the swelling teat,
Their sides distend with milky beverage sweet.
Some form fat cheeses with the housewife's art,
Some drive the heifers from the bulls apart.
Augéas visited the stalls around,
To see what stores in herds and flocks abound;
With curious eye he mov'd majestic on,
Join'd by Alcides and his royal son.
Here Hercules, of great and steady soul,
Whom mean amazement never could controll,
Admir'd such droves in myriads to behold,
Such spreading flocks, that never could be told,
Not one king's wealth he thought them, nor of ten,
Though greatest of the rulers over men:
The Sun his sire this privilege assign'd,
To be in flocks and herds more rich than all mankind:
These still increas'd; no plague e'er render'd vain
The gainful labour of the shepherd-swain;
Year following year his industry was blest,
More calves were rear'd, and still the last were best.
No cows e'er cast their young, or e'er declin'd,
The calves were chiefly of the female kind.
With these three hundred bulls, a comely sight,
Whose horns were crooked, and whose legs were white;
And twice an hundred of bright glossy red,
By whom the business of increase was sped:
But twelve, the flower of all, exulting run
In the green pastures, sacred to the sun;
The stately swan was not so silver white,
And in the meads they took ineffable delight:
These, when gaunt lions from the mountain's brow
Descend terrific on the herds below,
Rush to the war, the savage foe they gore,
Their eyes look death, and horribly they roar.
But most majestic these bold bulls among
Stalk'd Phaëton, the sturdy and the strong;
So radiant, so refulgent from afar,
The shepherd-swains compar'd him to a star.
When round the shoulders of the chief he spy'd,
Alarming sight! the lion's tawny hide,
Full at his flank he aim'd his iron head,
And proudly doom'd the matchless hero dead:
But watchful Hercules, devoid of fear,
Seiz'd his left horn, and stopp'd his mad career;
Prone to the earth his stubborn neck he prest,
Then writh'd him round, and bruis'd his ample chest,
At one bold push exerted all his strength,
And high in air upheld him at arm's length.
Through all the wondering train amazement ran,
Silent they gaz'd, and thought him more than man.
And stole obsequious to their stalls away.
The sun now westward drove his radiant steeds,
And evening mild the noontide heat succeeds;
His orb declining from the pastures calls
Sheep to their folds, and oxen to their stalls.
Herd following herd, it joy'd the chief to see
Unnumber'd cattle winding o'er the lea.
Like watery clouds arising thick in heaven,
By the rough South, or Thracian Boreas driven;
243
They cover all the region of the sky;
Still more and more the gathering tempest brings,
And weightier burdens on its weary wings.
Thus thickening march the cattle o'er the plain,
More than the roads or meadows can contain,
The lusty herds incessant bellowing keep,
The stalls are fill'd with steers, the folds with sheep.
Though numerous slaves stand round of every kind,
All have their several offices assign'd.
Some tie the cow's hind legs, to make her stand
Still, and obedient to the milker's hand:
Some give to tender calves the swelling teat,
Their sides distend with milky beverage sweet.
Some form fat cheeses with the housewife's art,
Some drive the heifers from the bulls apart.
Augéas visited the stalls around,
To see what stores in herds and flocks abound;
With curious eye he mov'd majestic on,
Join'd by Alcides and his royal son.
244
Whom mean amazement never could controll,
Admir'd such droves in myriads to behold,
Such spreading flocks, that never could be told,
Not one king's wealth he thought them, nor of ten,
Though greatest of the rulers over men:
The Sun his sire this privilege assign'd,
To be in flocks and herds more rich than all mankind:
These still increas'd; no plague e'er render'd vain
The gainful labour of the shepherd-swain;
Year following year his industry was blest,
More calves were rear'd, and still the last were best.
No cows e'er cast their young, or e'er declin'd,
The calves were chiefly of the female kind.
With these three hundred bulls, a comely sight,
Whose horns were crooked, and whose legs were white;
And twice an hundred of bright glossy red,
By whom the business of increase was sped:
But twelve, the flower of all, exulting run
In the green pastures, sacred to the sun;
245
And in the meads they took ineffable delight:
These, when gaunt lions from the mountain's brow
Descend terrific on the herds below,
Rush to the war, the savage foe they gore,
Their eyes look death, and horribly they roar.
But most majestic these bold bulls among
Stalk'd Phaëton, the sturdy and the strong;
So radiant, so refulgent from afar,
The shepherd-swains compar'd him to a star.
When round the shoulders of the chief he spy'd,
Alarming sight! the lion's tawny hide,
Full at his flank he aim'd his iron head,
And proudly doom'd the matchless hero dead:
But watchful Hercules, devoid of fear,
Seiz'd his left horn, and stopp'd his mad career;
Prone to the earth his stubborn neck he prest,
Then writh'd him round, and bruis'd his ample chest,
At one bold push exerted all his strength,
And high in air upheld him at arm's length.
Through all the wondering train amazement ran,
Silent they gaz'd, and thought him more than man.
246
Phyleus and Hercules (the day far spent)
Left the rich pastures, and to Elis went;
The footpath first, which tow'rd the city lay,
Led from the stalls, but narrow was the way;
Through vineyards next it past, and gloomy glades,
Hard to distinguish in the greenwood shades.
The devious way as noble Phyleus led,
To his right shoulder he inclined his head,
And slowly marching through the verdant grove,
Thus mild bespoke the progeny of Jove:
Left the rich pastures, and to Elis went;
The footpath first, which tow'rd the city lay,
Led from the stalls, but narrow was the way;
Through vineyards next it past, and gloomy glades,
Hard to distinguish in the greenwood shades.
The devious way as noble Phyleus led,
To his right shoulder he inclined his head,
And slowly marching through the verdant grove,
Thus mild bespoke the progeny of Jove:
‘By your last bold achievement it appears,
‘Great chief, your fame long since has reach'd my ears.
‘For here arriv'd a youthful Argive swain,
‘From Helicé that borders on the main,
‘Who for a truth among th'Epëans told,
‘That late he saw a Grecian, brave and bold,
‘Slay a fell lion, fell to husbandmen,
‘That in the Nemean forest made his den:
‘Whether the chief from sacred Argos came,
‘Or proud Mycené, or Tirynthé claim
‘His birth, I heard not; yet he trac'd his line,
‘If true my tale, from Perseus the divine.
‘No Greek but you could such a toil sustain;
‘I reason from that mighty monster slain,
‘A perilous encounter! whose rough hide
‘Protects your shoulders, and adorns your side.
‘Say then, if you are he, the Grecian bold,
‘Of whom the Argive's wonderous tale was told:
‘Say, what dread weapon drank the monster's blood,
‘And how he wander'd to the Nemean wood.
‘For not in Greece such savages are found,
‘No beasts thus huge infest Achaian ground;
‘She breeds the ravenous wolf, the bear, the boar,
‘Pernicious monsters! but she breeds no more.
‘Some wonder'd at accounts so strange and new,
‘Thought the Greek boastful, and his tale untrue.’
Thus Phyleus spoke, and as the path grew wide,
He walk'd attentive by the hero's side,
To hear distinct the toil-sustaining man,
Who thus, obsequious to the prince, began:
‘Great chief, your fame long since has reach'd my ears.
‘For here arriv'd a youthful Argive swain,
‘From Helicé that borders on the main,
‘Who for a truth among th'Epëans told,
‘That late he saw a Grecian, brave and bold,
‘Slay a fell lion, fell to husbandmen,
‘That in the Nemean forest made his den:
‘Whether the chief from sacred Argos came,
‘Or proud Mycené, or Tirynthé claim
247
‘If true my tale, from Perseus the divine.
‘No Greek but you could such a toil sustain;
‘I reason from that mighty monster slain,
‘A perilous encounter! whose rough hide
‘Protects your shoulders, and adorns your side.
‘Say then, if you are he, the Grecian bold,
‘Of whom the Argive's wonderous tale was told:
‘Say, what dread weapon drank the monster's blood,
‘And how he wander'd to the Nemean wood.
‘For not in Greece such savages are found,
‘No beasts thus huge infest Achaian ground;
‘She breeds the ravenous wolf, the bear, the boar,
‘Pernicious monsters! but she breeds no more.
‘Some wonder'd at accounts so strange and new,
‘Thought the Greek boastful, and his tale untrue.’
Thus Phyleus spoke, and as the path grew wide,
He walk'd attentive by the hero's side,
To hear distinct the toil-sustaining man,
Who thus, obsequious to the prince, began:
248
“Son of Augéas, what of me you heard
“Is strictly true, nor has the stranger err'd.
“But since you wish to know, my tongue shall tell,
“From whence the monster came, and how he fell:
“Though many Greeks have mention'd this affair,
“None can the truth with certainty declare.
“'Tis thought some god, by vengeful anger sway'd,
“Sent this sore plague for sacrifice unpaid,
“To punish the Phoroneans; like a flood
“He delug'd the Pisæan fields with blood:
“The Bembinæans, miserable men,
“Felt his chief rage, the neighbours to his den.
“The hardy task, this hideous beast to kill,
“Eurystheus first enjoin'd me to fulfill,
“But hop'd me slain: on the bold conflict bent,
“Arm'd to the field with bow and darts I went:
“A solid club, of rude wild olive made,
“Rough in its rugged rind my right hand sway'd:
“On Helicon's fair hill the tree I found,
“And with the roots I wrench'd it from the ground.
“When the close covert I approach'd, where lay
“The lordly lion lurking for his prey,
“I bent my bow, firm fix'd the string, and strait
“Notch'd on the nerve the messenger of fate:
“Then circumspect I pry'd with curious eye,
“First, unobserv'd, the ravenous beast to spy.
“Now mid-day reign'd; I neither could explore
“His paw's broad print, nor hear his hideous roar;
“Nor labouring rustic find, nor shepherd-swain,
“Nor cowherd tending cattle on the plain,
“To point the lion's lair: fear chill'd them all,
“And kept the herds and herdsmen in the stall.
“I search'd the groves and saw my foe at length;
“Then was the moment to exert my strength.
“Long ere dim evening clos'd, he sought his den,
“Gorg'd with the flesh of cattle and of men:
“With slaughter stain'd his squalid mane appear'd,
“Stern was his face, his chest with blood besmear'd,
“And with his pliant tongue he lick'd his gory beard.
“Mid shady shrubs I hid myself with care,
“Expecting he might issue from his lair.
“Full at his flank I sent a shaft, in vain,
“The harmless shaft rebounded on the plain.
“Stunn'd at the shock, from earth the savage rais'd
“His tawny head, and all around him gaz'd;
“Wondering from whence the feather'd vengeance flew,
“He gnash'd his horrid teeth, tremendous to the view.
“Vex'd that the first had unavailing fled,
“A second arrow from the nerve I sped:
“In his broad chest, the mansion of his heart,
“I lanch'd the shaft with ineffectual art;
“His hair, his hide the feather'd death repell;
“Before his feet it innocently fell.
“Enrag'd, once more, I try'd my bow to draw,
“Then first his foe the furious monster saw:
“He lash'd his sturdy sides with stern delight,
“And rising in his rage prepar'd for fight.
“With instant ire his mane erected grew,
“His hair look'd horrid, of a brindled hue;
“Circling his back, he seem'd in act to bound,
“And like a bow he bent his body round:
“As when the fig-tree skilful wheelers take,
“For rolling chariots rapid wheels to make;
“The fellies first, in fires that gently glow,
“Gradual they heat, and like a circle bow;
“Awhile in curves the pliant timber stands,
“Then springs at once elastic from their hands.
“On me thus from afar, his foe to wound,
“Sprung the fell lion with impetuous bound.
“My left hand held my darts direct before,
“Around my breast a thick strong garb I wore;
“My right, club-guarded, dealt a deadly blow
“Full on the temples of the rushing foe:
“So hard his skull, that with the sturdy stroke,
“My knotted club of rough wild-olive broke:
“Yet ere I clos'd, his savage fury fled,
“With trembling legs he stood, and nodding head;
“The forceful onset had contus'd his brain,
“Dim mists obscur'd his eyes, and agonizing pain.
“This I perceiv'd; and now, an easy prey,
“I threw my arrows and my bow away,
“And ere the beast recover'd of his wound,
“Seiz'd his thick neck, and pinn'd him to the ground;
“With all my might on his broad back I prest,
“Lest his fell claws should tear my adverse breast;
“Then mounting, close my legs in his I twin'd,
“And with my feet secur'd his paws behind;
“My thighs I guarded, and with all my strength
“Heav'd him from earth, and held him at arm's length,
“And strangled thus the fellest of the fell;
“His mighty soul descending sunk to hell.
“The conquest gain'd, fresh doubts my mind divide,
“How shall I strip the monster's shaggy hide?
“Hard task! for the tough skin repell'd the dint
“Of pointed wood, keen steel, or sharpest flint:
“Some god inspir'd me, standing still in pause,
“To flay the lion with the lion's claws.
“This I accomplish'd, and the spoil now yields
“A firm security in fighting fields:
“Thus, Phyleus, was the Nemean monster slain,
“The terror of the forest and the plain,
“That flocks and herds devour'd, and many a village swain.”
“Is strictly true, nor has the stranger err'd.
“But since you wish to know, my tongue shall tell,
“From whence the monster came, and how he fell:
“Though many Greeks have mention'd this affair,
“None can the truth with certainty declare.
“'Tis thought some god, by vengeful anger sway'd,
“Sent this sore plague for sacrifice unpaid,
“To punish the Phoroneans; like a flood
“He delug'd the Pisæan fields with blood:
“The Bembinæans, miserable men,
“Felt his chief rage, the neighbours to his den.
“The hardy task, this hideous beast to kill,
“Eurystheus first enjoin'd me to fulfill,
249
“Arm'd to the field with bow and darts I went:
“A solid club, of rude wild olive made,
“Rough in its rugged rind my right hand sway'd:
“On Helicon's fair hill the tree I found,
“And with the roots I wrench'd it from the ground.
“When the close covert I approach'd, where lay
“The lordly lion lurking for his prey,
“I bent my bow, firm fix'd the string, and strait
“Notch'd on the nerve the messenger of fate:
“Then circumspect I pry'd with curious eye,
“First, unobserv'd, the ravenous beast to spy.
“Now mid-day reign'd; I neither could explore
“His paw's broad print, nor hear his hideous roar;
“Nor labouring rustic find, nor shepherd-swain,
“Nor cowherd tending cattle on the plain,
“To point the lion's lair: fear chill'd them all,
“And kept the herds and herdsmen in the stall.
“I search'd the groves and saw my foe at length;
“Then was the moment to exert my strength.
250
“Gorg'd with the flesh of cattle and of men:
“With slaughter stain'd his squalid mane appear'd,
“Stern was his face, his chest with blood besmear'd,
“And with his pliant tongue he lick'd his gory beard.
“Mid shady shrubs I hid myself with care,
“Expecting he might issue from his lair.
“Full at his flank I sent a shaft, in vain,
“The harmless shaft rebounded on the plain.
“Stunn'd at the shock, from earth the savage rais'd
“His tawny head, and all around him gaz'd;
“Wondering from whence the feather'd vengeance flew,
“He gnash'd his horrid teeth, tremendous to the view.
“Vex'd that the first had unavailing fled,
“A second arrow from the nerve I sped:
“In his broad chest, the mansion of his heart,
“I lanch'd the shaft with ineffectual art;
“His hair, his hide the feather'd death repell;
“Before his feet it innocently fell.
“Enrag'd, once more, I try'd my bow to draw,
“Then first his foe the furious monster saw:
“He lash'd his sturdy sides with stern delight,
“And rising in his rage prepar'd for fight.
251
“His hair look'd horrid, of a brindled hue;
“Circling his back, he seem'd in act to bound,
“And like a bow he bent his body round:
“As when the fig-tree skilful wheelers take,
“For rolling chariots rapid wheels to make;
“The fellies first, in fires that gently glow,
“Gradual they heat, and like a circle bow;
“Awhile in curves the pliant timber stands,
“Then springs at once elastic from their hands.
“On me thus from afar, his foe to wound,
“Sprung the fell lion with impetuous bound.
“My left hand held my darts direct before,
“Around my breast a thick strong garb I wore;
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“Full on the temples of the rushing foe:
“So hard his skull, that with the sturdy stroke,
“My knotted club of rough wild-olive broke:
“Yet ere I clos'd, his savage fury fled,
“With trembling legs he stood, and nodding head;
“The forceful onset had contus'd his brain,
“Dim mists obscur'd his eyes, and agonizing pain.
“This I perceiv'd; and now, an easy prey,
“I threw my arrows and my bow away,
“And ere the beast recover'd of his wound,
“Seiz'd his thick neck, and pinn'd him to the ground;
“With all my might on his broad back I prest,
“Lest his fell claws should tear my adverse breast;
“Then mounting, close my legs in his I twin'd,
“And with my feet secur'd his paws behind;
“My thighs I guarded, and with all my strength
“Heav'd him from earth, and held him at arm's length,
“And strangled thus the fellest of the fell;
“His mighty soul descending sunk to hell.
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“How shall I strip the monster's shaggy hide?
“Hard task! for the tough skin repell'd the dint
“Of pointed wood, keen steel, or sharpest flint:
“Some god inspir'd me, standing still in pause,
“To flay the lion with the lion's claws.
“This I accomplish'd, and the spoil now yields
“A firm security in fighting fields:
“Thus, Phyleus, was the Nemean monster slain,
“The terror of the forest and the plain,
“That flocks and herds devour'd, and many a village swain.”
| The Idylliums of Theocritus | |