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Of glorious deeds, to heed thy gentle She might, no more from human union flame.
Burn for a nursling of mortality.
Of the wild woods, the bow, the...
Is hers, and men who know and do the Could bring at will to the assembled
Nor Saturn's first-born daughter, Vesta The mortal tenants of earth's dark
Whom Neptune and Apollo wooed the And mortal offspring from a deathless
Such was the will of ægis-bearing Jove, She could produce in scorn and spite of
An oath not unperformed, that evermore
She sits and feeds luxuriously. O'er all
These spirits she persuades not, nor
Her unseen toils; nor mortal men, nor
Who live secure in their unseen abodes.
Is thunder-first in glory and in might.
Therefore he poured desire into her breast
Of young Anchises,
Feeding his herds among the mossy fountains
Of the wide Ida's many-folded mount-
Like wasting fire her senses wild among.
A SATYRIC DRAMA
TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF
Silenus. O Bacchus, what a world
With mortal limbs his deathless limbs And ere these limbs were overworn with
Whom to wise Saturn ancient Rhea bare The mountain-nymphs who nurst thee,
By the strange madness Juno sent upon thee;
Then in the battle of the sons of Earth,
When I stood foot by foot close to thy With this great iron rake, so to receive side,
My absent master and his evening sheep
No unpropitious fellow-combatant,
Is it a dream of which I speak to thee? Ha!
My children tending the flocks hitherward.
what is this? are your Sicinnian
Even now the same, as when with dance and song
And now I suffer more than all before.
For when I heard that Juno had de- You brought young Bacchus to Althea's vised
The man-destroying Cyclopses inhabit,
To be his slaves; and so, for all delight
We keep this lawless giant's wandering flocks.
Some impious and abominable meal
Chorus of Satyrs
Where has he of race divine
Wandered in the winding rocks?
For the father of the flocks;—
Of the lawny uplands feeding?
Will I throw to mend your breed-
And now I must scrape up the littered floor
Get along, you horned thing,
An Iacchic melody
To the golden Aphrodite
My sons indeed, on far declivities,
Young things themselves, tend on the Bacchus, O beloved, where,
Shaking wide thy yellow hair,
But I remain to fill the water casks,
Seeking her and her delight
To the one-eyed Cyclops, we,
Minister in misery,
In these wretched goat-skins clad,
What! do they
Ulysses. The Ithacan Ulysses and Is his own flesh.
Ulysses. The Cyclops now-where
Ulysses. Know'st thou what thou
must do to aid us hence?
Silenus. I know not: we will help you all we can.
Ulysses. Provide us food, of which we are in want.
Silenus. Here is not anything, as I Joy! joy! said, but meat.
Ulysses. But meat is a sweet remedy
Silenus. Cow's milk there is, and
Silenus. But how much gold will you engage to give? Ulysses. I bring no gold, but Bacchic juice. Silenus. 'Tis long since these dry lips were wet Yes, let me drink one cup, and I will with wine.
Ulysses. Maron, the son of the God, All that the Cyclops feed upon their gave it me. mountains. Silenus. Whom I have nursed a baby in my arms.
Ulysses. The son of Bacchus, for your clearer knowledge.
Silenus. Have you it now?—or is it in the ship?
Ulysses. Here is the cup, together with the skin.
Ulysses. Old man, this skin contains
Silenus. The wanton wretch! she was bewitched to see
it, which you see. Silenus. Why this would hardly be The many-coloured anklets and the
a mouthful for me.
Ulysses. Nay, twice as much as you Of woven gold which girt the neck of
can draw from thence. Silenus. You speak of a fair fountain, sweet to me. Ulysses. Would you first taste of the unmingled wine? Silenus. 'Tis just-tasting invites the purchaser.
Ulysses. Taste, that you may not praise it in words only.
Silenus. Babai! Great Bacchus calls me forth to dance!
sweet smell it has!
Did it flow sweetly down your throat? Silenus. So that it tingled to my very nails.
Ulysses. And in addition I will give you gold.
Silenus. Let gold alone! only unlock the cask.
Here are unsparing cheeses of pressed milk;
Silenus. Pour that the draught may Take them; depart with what good speed fillip my remembrance.
Papaiax! what a
You see it then?
Ulysses. Bring out some cheeses now, or a young goat.
That will I do, despising
Chorus. Ye have taken Troy and laid your hands on Helen ? Ulysses. And utterly destroyed the race of Priam.
And so she left that good man Menelaus. There should be no more women in the world
First leaving my reward, the Bacchic dew Of joy-inspiring grapes. Ulysses. Ah me! Alas! By Jove, no! but I What shall we do? the Cyclops is at hand!
But such as are reserved for me alone.-
Old man, we perish! whither can we So you may drink a tunful if you will.
Cyclops. Is it ewe's milk or cow's
Hide yourselves quick within that hollow rock. Ulysses. "Twere perilous to fly into
Silenus. The cavern has recesses numberless;
What is this crowd I see beside the stalls?
Outlaws or thieves? for near my cavernhome,
disgraced I see my young lambs coupled two by two If I should fly one man. How many With willow bands; mixed with my
Have I withstood, with shield immov- Their implements; and this old fellow able, here
Ten thousand Phrygians!-if I needs Has his bald head broken with stripes. must die, Silenus. Ah me! I have been beaten till I burn with fever.
Yet will I die with glory;-if I live, The praise which I have gained will yet remain.
Hide yourselves quick.
That will I never do! The mighty Troy would be indeed
Silenus. What, ho! assistance, comrades, haste, assistance!
The CYCLOPS, SILENUS, ULYSSES;
Cyclops. What is this tumult? Bac-
Nor tympanies nor brazen castanets.
Look up, not downwards when I speak to you.
Cyclops. By whom? Who laid his
Silenus. I told them so, but they
Their dams or playing by their sides? And ate the cheese in spite of all I said,
The new cheese pressed into the bull-
They'd pin you down with a three-cubit collar,
Speak! I'll beat some of you till you rain tears
And pull your vitals out through your
I am a God, sprung from the race of heaven?
Torture your back with stripes, then binding you,
Silenus. See! I now gape at Jupiter himself, I stare upon Orion and the stars. Cyclops. Well, is the dinner fitly And then deliver you, a slave, to move cooked and laid? Enormous rocks, or found a vestibule. Cyclops. In truth? Nay, haste, and ready too. place in order quickly Cyclops. Are the bowls full of milk The cooking knives, and heap upon the besides?
Silenus. All ready, if your throat is
O'er-brimming; | And kindle it, a great faggot of wood
Throw you as ballast into the ship's hold,