By mighty Cypris wounded at the heart, Who in his liver fixed her cruel dart. He found the cure while from the cliff he flung 66 Why, Galatea, scorn for love dost render? Whiter than fresh curds, than the lamb more tender; E'en as the sheep, the gray wolf seeing, flees. I loved when with my mother from the seas Thou first didst come, and seek the mountain-side Since then I never yet have ceased to love thee, A nostril broad. Such as I am, I keep, Drinking their best of milk, a thousand sheep; My cheeses fail not in their hurdled row In depth of winter nor in summer's glow. No Cyclops here can breathe the pipe like me, Who sing, when I should sleep, myself and thee, Sweet-apple! I for thee four bear-whelps rear, And eke eleven fawns that collars wear. Come live (thou shalt not fare the worse) with me, Thy nights will sweeter pass within my cave, That life and precious eye at once were brent. Come, Galatea! sparkling from the foam, And then, like me, forget to turn thee home. To milk my ewes, with runnet fix the cheese. My mother is in fault, and only she She never spake a friendly word for me; Milk the near ewe; Why one that, faster flies in vain pursue? A fairer Galatea you may find; Others are fair, and all are not unkind: For many a damsel, when eve's shadow falls, Me to sport with her fondly, sweetly calls; And all of them, with eyes that brightly glisten, That I am somebody on earth is plain." Thus Polypheme with song relieved love's pain; And from his ails himself did safer free, Than had he given a leech a golden fee. IDYL XII. THE FRIEND. ARGUMENT. In this piece one of two youthful friends addresses the other. He expresses a hope that their mutual friendship may last through their lives, and that the memory of it may survive them, and make them famous to late posterity. He then passes to the praise of the Megarians for the divine honours paid by them to Diocles, who lost his life in the defence of his friend. |