 | The Birds of Aristophanes |  |
127
SCENE VI.
Pisthetærus. Chorus, Cinesias.Cinesias.
‘On wings fluttering light,
To Olympus my flight,
Through many a lay,
Winds its aery way.’
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This thing doth want a ballast of stout pennons.
Cinesias.
‘Undaunted the spirit
And frame I inherit,
That would ever pursue
Varied numbers light and new.’
Pisthetærus.
We greet the linden lath, Cinesias.
Why hast thou hither wheel'd thy limping gait?
Cinesias.
‘My ambition presumes
At sweet Philomel's plumes.’
Pisthetærus.
Nay, cease thy warbling. Tell me what thou mean'st.
Cinesias.
This plainly. I would fain be fledg'd by thee,
And soar aloft, and pluck me some new ditties
Air-whirled, and snow-smitten from the clouds.
Pisthetærus.
What, and could one pluck ditties from the clouds?
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Our art depends thence; for in dithyrambics
The finest things are all aërial,
Shadowy, dim-gleaming, like to viewless plumes
That pant and whirl along th'etherial void.
But thou shalt have an instance.
Pisthetærus.
Nay, not I.
Cinesias.
By Hercules, but thou shalt; for I will course
All air through for thee.
‘Winged ghosts in airy rank
Stretching long necks, lean and lank’—
Pisthetærus.
Soho! soho!
Cinesias.
‘Oh for a blast of the invisible breeze,
My wings to uplift,
And send me adrift
Wand'ring, wand'ring, wand'ring,
Wand'ring o'er the wavy seas!’
Pisthetærus.
By Jove, I'll put a period to thy blasts.
Cinesias.
‘Now a southward voyage steering,
Now to north my body nearing;
Cutting the havenless furrow of the air.’
[Pisthetærus whips him.
A tricksy rare device of thine, old gentleman.
Pisthetærus.
Does not this whirling suit thy fancy? I thought
Thou hadst liked whirling.
Cinesias.
Is it thus thou dost
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Whom all the tribes contend for?
Pisthetærus.
Wilt thou stay
With us, and be the Master to a Chorus
Of flying fowl; cramming the tribe of Cecrops
For Leotrophidas?
Cinesias.
I mark thy jeering.
But be assured of this; I will not stop
Till I get wings, and cleave the buxom air.
| The Birds of Aristophanes | |