_The poet praises Ptolemy Philadelphus in a strain of almost religious
adoration_. _Hauler_, _in his Life of Theocritus_, _dates the poem
about_ 259 B.C., _but it may have been many years earlier_.
* * * * *
FROM Zeus let us begin, and with Zeus make end, ye Muses, whensoever we
chant in songs the chiefest of immortals! But of men, again, let Ptolemy
be named, among the foremost, and last, and in the midmost place, for of
men he hath the pre-eminence. The heroes that in old days were begotten
of the demigods, wrought noble deeds, and chanced on minstrels skilled,
but I, with what skill I have in song, would fain make my hymn of
Ptolemy, and hymns are the glorious meed, yea, of the very immortals.
When the feller hath come up to wooded Ida, he glances around, so many
are the trees, to see whence he should begin his labour. Where first
shall _I_ begin the tale, for there are countless things ready for the
telling, wherewith the Gods have graced the most excellent of kings?
Even by virtue of his sires, how mighty was he to accomplish some great
work,—Ptolemy son of Lagus,—when he had stored in his mind such a design,
as no other man was able even to devise! Him hath the Father stablished
in the same honour as the blessed immortals, and for him a golden mansion
in the house of Zeus is builded; beside him is throned Alexander, that
dearly loves him, Alexander, a grievous god to the white-turbaned
Persians.
And over against them is set the throne of Heracles, the slayer of the
Bull, wrought of stubborn adamant. There holds he festival with the rest
of the heavenly host, rejoicing exceedingly in his far-off children’s
children, for that the son of Cronos hath taken old age clean away from
their limbs, and they are called immortals, being his offspring. For the
strong son of Heracles is ancestor of the twain, I and both are reckoned
to Heracles, on the utmost of the lineage.
Therefore when he hath now had his fill of fragrant nectar, and is going
from the feast to the bower of his bed-fellow dear, to one of his
children he gives his bow, and the quiver that swings beneath his elbow,
to the other his knotted mace of iron. Then they to the ambrosial bower
of white-ankled Hera, convey the weapons and the bearded son of Zeus.
Again, how shone renowned Berenice among the wise of womankind, how great
a boon was she to them that begat her! Yea, in her fragrant breast did
the Lady of Cyprus, the queenly daughter of Dione, lay her slender hands,
wherefore they say that never any woman brought man such delight as came
from the love borne to his wife by Ptolemy. And verily he was loved
again with far greater love, and in such a wedlock a man may well trust
all his house to his children, whensoever he goes to the bed of one that
loves him as he loves her. But the mind of a woman that loves not is set
ever on a stranger, and she hath children at her desire, but they are
never like the father.
O thou that amongst the Goddesses hast the prize of beauty, O Lady
Aphrodite, thy care was she, and by thy favour the lovely Berenice
crossed not Acheron, the river of mourning, but thou didst catch her
away, ere she came to the dark water, and to the still-detested ferryman
of souls outworn, and in thy temple didst thou instal her, and gavest her
a share of thy worship. Kindly is she to all mortals, and she breathes
into them soft desires, and she lightens the cares of him that is in
longing.
O dark-browed lady of Argos, {93} in wedlock with Tydeus didst thou bear
slaying Diomede, a hero of Calydon, and, again, deep-bosomed Thetis to
Peleus, son of Aeacus, bare the spearman Achilles. But thee, O warrior
Ptolemy, to Ptolemy the warrior bare the glorious Berenice! And Cos did
foster thee, when thou wert still a child new-born, and received thee at
thy mother’s hand, when thou saw’st thy first dawning. For there she
called aloud on Eilithyia, loosener of the girdle; she called, the
daughter of Antigone, when heavy on her came the pangs of childbirth.
And Eilithyia was present to help her, and so poured over all her limbs
release from pain. Then the beloved child was born, his father’s very
counterpart. And Cos brake forth into a cry, when she beheld it, and
touching the child with kind hands, she said:
‘Blessed, O child, mayst thou be, and me mayst thou honour even as
Phoebus Apollo honours Delos of the azure crown, yea, stablish in the
same renown the Triopean hill, and allot such glory to the Dorians
dwelling nigh, as that wherewithal Prince Apollo favours Rhenaea.’
Lo, thus spake the Isle, but far aloft under the clouds a great eagle
screamed thrice aloud, the ominous bird of Zeus. This sign, methinks,
was of Zeus; Zeus, the son of Cronos, in his care hath awful kings, but
he is above all, whom Zeus loved from the first, even from his birth.
Great fortune goes with him, and much land he rules, and wide sea.
Countless are the lands, and tribes of men innumerable win increase of
the soil that waxeth under the rain of Zeus, but no land brings forth so
much as low-lying Egypt, when Nile wells up and breaks the sodden soil.
Nor is there any land that hath so many towns of men skilled in
handiwork; therein are three centuries of cities builded, and thousands
three, and to these three myriads, and cities twice three, and beside
these, three times nine, and over them all high-hearted Ptolemy is king.
Yea, and he taketh him a portion of Phoenicia, and of Arabia, and of
Syria, and of Libya, and the black Aethiopians. And he is lord of all
the Pamphylians, and the Cilician warriors, and the Lycians, and the
Carians, that joy in battle, and lord of the isles of the Cyclades,—since
his are the best of ships that sail over the deep,—yea, all the sea, and
land and the sounding rivers are ruled by Ptolemy. Many are his
horsemen, and many his targeteers that go clanging in harness of shining
bronze. And in weight of wealth he surpasses all kings; such treasure
comes day by day from every side to his rich palace, while the people are
busy about their labours in peace. For never hath a foeman marched up
the bank of teaming Nile, and raised the cry of war in villages not his
own, nor hath any cuirassed enemy leaped ashore from his swift ship, to
harry the kine of Egypt. So mighty a hero hath his throne established in
the broad plains, even Ptolemy of the fair hair, a spearman skilled,
whose care is above all, as a good king’s should be, to keep all the
heritage of his fathers, and yet more he himself doth win. Nay, nor
useless in _his_ wealthy house, is the gold, like piled stores of the
still toilsome ants, but the glorious temples of the gods have their rich
share, for constant first-fruits he renders, with many another due, and
much is lavished on mighty kings, much on cities, much on faithful
friends. And never to the sacred contests of Dionysus comes any man that
is skilled to raise the shrill sweet song, but Ptolemy gives him a
guerdon worthy of his art. And the interpreters of the Muses sing of
Ptolemy, in return for his favours. Nay, what fairer thing might befall
a wealthy man, than to win a goodly renown among mortals?
This abides even by the sons of Atreus, but all those countless treasures
that they won, when they took the mighty house of Priam, are hidden away
in the mist, whence there is no returning.
Ptolemy alone presses his own feet in the footmarks, yet glowing in the
dust, of his fathers that were before him. To his mother dear, and his
father he hath stablished fragrant temples; therein has he set their
images, splendid with gold and ivory, to succour all earthly men. And
many fat thighs of kine doth he burn on the empurpled altars, as the
months roll by, he and his stately wife; no nobler lady did ever embrace
a bridegroom in the halls, who loves, with her whole heart, her brother,
her lord. On this wise was the holy bridal of the Immortals, too,
accomplished, even of the pair that great Rhea bore, the rulers of
Olympus; and one bed for the slumber of Zeus and of Hera doth Iris strew,
with myrrh-anointed hands, the virgin Iris.
Prince Ptolemy, farewell, and of thee will I make mention, even as of the
other demigods; and a word methinks I will utter not to be rejected of
men yet unborn,—excellence, howbeit, thou shalt gain from Zeus.