_The Epigrams of Theocritus are_, _for the most part_, _either
inscriptions for tombs or cenotaphs_, _or for the pedestals of statues_,
_or_ (_as the third epigram_) _are short occasional pieces_. _Several of
them are but doubtfully ascribed to the poet of the Idyls_. _The Greek
has little but brevity in common with the modern epigram_.
I
_For a rustic Altar_.
THESE dew-drenched roses and that tufted thyme are offered to the ladies
of Helicon. And the dark-leaved laurels are thine, O Pythian Paean,
since the rock of Delphi bare this leafage to thine honour. The altar
this white-horned goat shall stain with blood, this goat that browses on
the tips of the terebinth boughs.
II
_For a Herdsman’s Offering_.
DAPHNIS, the white-limbed Daphnis, that pipes on his fair flute the
pastoral strains offered to Pan these gifts,—his pierced reed-pipes, his
crook, a javelin keen, a fawn-skin, and the scrip wherein he was wont, on
a time, to carry the apples of Love.
III
_For a Picture_.
THOU sleepest on the leaf-strewn ground, O Daphnis, resting thy weary
limbs, and the stakes of thy nets are newly fastened on the hills. But
Pan is on thy track, and Priapus, with the golden ivy wreath twined round
his winsome head,—both are leaping at one bound into thy cavern. Nay,
flee them, flee, shake off thy slumber, shake off the heavy sleep that is
falling upon thee.
IV
_Priapus_.
WHEN thou hast turned yonder lane, goatherd, where the oak-trees are,
thou wilt find an image of fig-tree wood, newly carven; three-legged it
is, the bark still covers it, and it is earless withal, yet meet for the
arts of Cypris. A right holy precinct runs round it, and a ceaseless
stream that falleth from the rocks on every side is green with laurels,
and myrtles, and fragrant cypress. And all around the place that child
of the grape, the vine, doth flourish with its tendrils, and the merles
in spring with their sweet songs utter their wood-notes wild, and the
brown nightingales reply with their complaints, pouring from their bills
the honey-sweet song. There, prithee, sit down and pray to gracious
Priapus, that I may be delivered from my love of Daphnis, and say that
instantly thereon I will sacrifice a fair kid. But if he refuse, ah
then, should I win Daphnis’s love, I would fain sacrifice three
victims,—and offer a calf, a shaggy he-goat, and a lamb that I keep in
the stall, and oh that graciously the god may hear my prayer.
V
_The rural Concert_.
AH, in the Muses’ name, wilt thou play me some sweet air on the double
flute, and I will take up the harp, and touch a note, and the neatherd
Daphnis will charm us the while, breathing music into his wax-bound pipe.
And beside this rugged oak behind the cave will we stand, and rob the
goat-foot Pan of his repose.
VI
_The Dead are beyond hope_.
AH hapless Thyrsis, where is thy gain, shouldst thou lament till thy two
eyes are consumed with tears? She has passed away,—the kid, the
youngling beautiful,—she has passed away to Hades. Yea, the jaws of the
fierce wolf have closed on her, and now the hounds are baying, but what
avail they when nor bone nor cinder is left of her that is departed?
VII
_For a statue of Asclepius_.
EVEN to Miletus he hath come, the son of Paeon, to dwell with one that is
a healer of all sickness, with Nicias, who even approaches him day by day
with sacrifices, and hath let carve this statue out of fragrant
cedar-wood; and to Eetion he promised a high guerdon for his skill of
hand: on this work Eetion has put forth all his craft.
VIII
_Orthon’s Grave_.
STRANGER, the Syracusan Orthon lays this behest on thee; go never abroad
in thy cups on a night of storm. For thus did I come by my end, and far
from my rich fatherland I lie, clothed on with alien soil.
IX
_The Death of Cleonicus_.
MAN, husband thy life, nor go voyaging out of season, for brief are the
days of men! Unhappy Cleonicus, thou wert eager to win rich Thasus, from
Coelo-Syria sailing with thy merchandise,—with thy merchandise, O
Cleonicus, at the setting of the Pleiades didst thou cross the sea,—and
didst sink with the sinking Pleiades!
X
_A Group of the Muses_.
FOR your delight, all ye Goddesses Nine, did Xenocles offer this statue
of marble, Xenocles that hath music in his soul, as none will deny. And
inasmuch as for his skill in this art he wins renown, he forgets not to
give their due to the Muses.
XI
_The Grave of Eusthenes_.
THIS is the memorial stone of Eusthenes, the sage; a physiognomist was
he, and skilled to read the very spirit in the eyes. Nobly have his
friends buried him—a stranger in a strange land—and most dear was he,
yea, to the makers of song. All his dues in death has the sage, and,
though he was no great one, ’tis plain he had friends to care for him.
XII
_The Offering of Demoteles_.
’TWAS Demoteles the choregus, O Dionysus, who dedicated this tripod, and
this statue of thee, the dearest of the blessed gods. No great fame he
won when he gave a chorus of boys, but with a chorus of men he bore off
the victory, for he knew what was fair and what was seemly.
XIII
_For a statue of Aphrodite_.
THIS is Cypris,—not she of the people; nay, venerate the goddess by her
name—the Heavenly Aphrodite. The statue is the offering of chaste
Chrysogone, even in the house of Amphicles, whose children and whose life
were hers! And always year by year went well with them, who began each
year with thy worship, Lady, for mortals who care for the Immortals have
themselves thereby the better fortune.
XIV
_The Grave of Euryrnedon_.
AN infant son didst thou leave behind, and in the flower of thine own age
didst die, Eurymedon, and win this tomb. For thee a throne is set among
men made perfect, but thy son the citizens will hold in honour,
remembering the excellence of his father.
XV
_The Grave of Eurymedon_.
WAYFARER, I shall know whether thou dost reverence the good, or whether
the coward is held by thee in the same esteem. ‘Hail to this tomb,’ thou
wilt say, for light it lies above the holy head of Eurymedon.
XVI
_For a statue of Anacreon_.
MARK well this statue, stranger, and say, when thou hast returned to thy
home, ‘In Teos I beheld the statue of Anacreon, who surely excelled all
the singers of times past.’ And if thou dost add that he delighted in
the young, thou wilt truly paint all the man.
XVII
_For a statue of Epicharmus_.
DORIAN is the strain, and Dorian the man we sing; he that first devised
Comedy, even Epicharmus. O Bacchus, here in bronze (as the man is now no
more) they have erected his statue, the colonists {165} that dwell in
Syracuse, to the honour of one that was their fellow-citizen. Yea, for a
gift he gave, wherefore we should be mindful thereof and pay him what
wage we may, for many maxims he spoke that were serviceable to the life
of all men. Great thanks be his.
XVIII
_The Grave of Cleita_.
THE little Medeus has raised this tomb by the wayside to the memory of
his Thracian nurse, and has added the inscription—