Theocritus
Idyll I
THYRSIS.
The whisper of the wind in
that pine tree,
goatherd,
is sweet as the murmur of live water;
likewise
your flute notes. After Pan
you shall bear away second prize.
And if he
take the goat
with the horns,
the she-goat
is yours: but if
he chooses the she-goat,
the kid will fall
to your lot.
And the flesh of the kid
is dainty
before they begin milking them.
GOATHERD.
Your song is sweeter,
shepherd,
than the music
of the water as it plashes
from the high face
of yonder rock!
If the Muses
choose the young ewe
you shall receive
a stall-fed lamb
as your reward,
but if
they prefer the lamb
you
shall have the ewe for
second prize.
THYRSIS.
Will you not, goatherd,
in the Nymph's name
take your place on this
sloping knoll
among the tamarisks
and pipe for me
while I tend my sheep.
GOATHERD.
No, shepherd,
nothing doing;
it's not for us
to be heard during the noon hush.
We dread Pan,
who for a fact
is stretched out somewhere,
dog tired from the chase;
his mood is bitter,
anger ready at his nostrils.
But, Thyrsis,
since you are good at
singing of The Afflictions of Daphnis,
and have most deeply
meditated the pastoral mood
come here,
let us sit down,
under this elm
facing Priapus and the fountain fairies,
here where the shepherds come
to try themselves out
by the oak trees.
Ah! may you sing
as you sang that day
facing Chromis out of Libya,
I will let you milk, yes,
three times over,
a goat that is the mother of twins
and even when
she has sucked her kids
her milk fills
two pails. I will give besides,
new-made, a two-eared bowl
of ivy-wood,
rubbed with beeswax
that smacks still
of the knife of the carver.
Round its upper edges
winds the ivy, ivy
flecked with yellow flowers
and about it
is twisted
a tendril joyful with the saffron fruit.
Within,
is limned a girl,
as fair a thing as the gods have made,
dressed in a sweeping
gown.
Her hair
is confined by a snood.
Beside her
two fair-haired youths
with alternate speech
are contending
but her heart is
untouched.
Now,
she glances at one,
smiling,
and now, lightly
she flings the other a thought,
while their eyes,
by reason of love's
long vigils, are heavy
but their labors
all in vain.
In addition
there is fashioned there
an ancient fisherman
and a rock,
a rugged rock,
on which
with might and main
the old man poises a great net
for the cast
as one who puts his whole heart into it.
One would say
that he was fishing
with the full strength of his limbs
so big do his muscles stand out
about the neck.
Gray-haired though he be,
he has the strength
of a young man.
Now, separated
from the sea-broken old man
by a narrow interval
is a vineyard
heavy
with fire-red clusters,
and on a rude wall
sits a small boy
guarding them.
Round him
two she-foxes are skulking.
One
goes the length of the vine-rows
to eat the grapes
while the other
brings all her cunning to bear,
by what has been set down,
vowing
she will never quit the lad
until
she leaves him bare
and breakfastless.
But the boy
is plaiting a pretty
cage of locust stalks and asphodel,
fitting the reeds
and cares less for his scrip
and the vines
than he takes delight
in his plaiting.
All about the cup
is draped the mild acanthus
a miracle of varied work,
a thing for you to marvel at.
I paid
a Caledonian ferryman
a goat and a great white
cream-cheese
for the bowl.
It is still virgin to me,
its lip has never touched mine.
To gain my desire,
I would gladly
give this cup
if you, my friend,
will sing for me
that delightful song.
I hold nothing back.
Begin, my friend,
for you cannot,
you may be sure,
take your song,
which drives all things out of mind,
with you to the other world.
Greek; trans. William Carlos Williams
Theocritus, "Idyll I", Greek, trans. William Carlos Williams,
The Collected Poems of Williams Carlos Williams, Volume II, 1939-1962,
New Directions Publishing Corp., 1962.