‘With one another other sisters sleep, but I lie alone, and alone,
maiden, dost thou lie, both being girls unwedded of like age, both fair,
and single both in bed do we sleep. The wicked Nysa, the crafty nurse it
is that cruelly severs me from thee. For not of thee have I . . . ’
III
THE SEASONS
_Cleodamus and Myrson discuss the charms of the seasons_, _and give the
palm to a southern spring_.
* * * * *
_Cleodamus_. Which is sweetest, to thee, Myrson, spring, or winter or
the late autumn or the summer; of which dost thou most desire the coming?
Summer, when all are ended, the toils whereat we labour, or the sweet
autumn, when hunger weighs lightest on men, or even idle winter, for even
in winter many sit warm by the fire, and are lulled in rest and
indolence. Or has beautiful spring more delight for thee? Say, which
does thy heart choose? For our leisure lends us time to gossip.
_Myrson_. It beseems not mortals to judge the works of God; for sacred
are all these things, and all are sweet, yet for thy sake I will speak
out, Cleodamus, and declare what is sweeter to me than the rest. I would
not have summer here, for then the sun doth scorch me, and autumn I would
not choose, for the ripe fruits breed disease. The ruinous winter,
bearing snow and frost, I dread. But spring, the thrice desirable, be
with me the whole year through, when there is neither frost, nor is the
sun so heavy upon us. In springtime all is fruitful, all sweet things
blossom in spring, and night and dawn are evenly meted to men.
IV
THE BOY AND LOVE
A fowler, while yet a boy, was hunting birds in a woodland glade, and
there he saw the winged Love, perched on a box-tree bough. And when he
beheld him, he rejoiced, so big the bird seemed to him, and he put
together all his rods at once, and lay in wait for Love, that kept
hopping, now here, now there. And the boy, being angered that his toil
was endless, cast down his fowling gear, and went to the old husbandman,
that had taught him his art, and told him all, and showed him Love on his
perch. But the old man, smiling, shook his head, and answered the lad,
‘Pursue this chase no longer, and go not after this bird. Nay, flee far
from him. ’Tis an evil creature. Thou wilt be happy, so long as thou
dost not catch him, but if thou comest to the measure of manhood, this
bird that flees thee now, and hops away, will come uncalled, and of a
sudden, and settle on thy head.’
V
THE TUTOR OF LOVE
Great Cypris stood beside me, while still I slumbered, and with her
beautiful hand she led the child Love, whose head was earthward bowed.
This word she spake to me, ‘Dear herdsman, prithee, take Love, and teach
him to sing.’ So said she, and departed, and I—my store of pastoral song
I taught to Love, in my innocence, as if he had been fain to learn. I
taught him how the cross-flute was invented by Pan, and the flute by
Athene, and by Hermes the tortoise-shell lyre, and the harp by sweet
Apollo. All these things I taught him as best I might; but he, not
heeding my words, himself would sing me ditties of love, and taught me
the desires of mortals and immortals, and all the deeds of his mother.
And I clean forgot the lore I was teaching to Love, but what Love taught
me, and his love ditties, I learned them all.
VI
LOVE AND THE MUSES
The Muses do not fear the wild Love, but heartily they cherish, and
fleetly follow him. Yea, and if any man sing that hath a loveless heart,
him do they flee, and do not choose to teach him. But if the mind of any
be swayed by Love, and sweetly he sings, to him the Muses all run
eagerly. A witness hereto am I, that this saying is wholly true, for if
I sing of any other, mortal or immortal, then falters my tongue, and
sings no longer as of old, but if again to Love, and Lycidas I sing, then
gladly from my lips flows forth the voice of song.