Select Epigrams from the Greek Anthology Part 14

LIV INTER MINORA SIDERA MARCUS ARGENTARIUS

Pour ten cups for Lysidice, and for beloved Euphrante, slave, give me one cup. Thou wilt say I love Lysidice more? No, by sweet Bacchus, whom I drink deep in this bowl; Euphrante for me, one against ten; for the one splendour of the moon also outs.h.i.+nes the innumerable stars.

LV ROSA TRIPLEX MELEAGER

Pour for Heliodora as Persuasion, and as the Cyprian, and once more for her again as the sweet-speeched Grace; for she is enrolled as my one G.o.ddess, whose beloved name I will mix and drink in unmixed wine.

LVI LOVE IN ABSENCE MELEAGER

Pour, and again say, again, again, "Heliodora"; say it and mingle the sweet name with the unmixed wine; and wreath me with that garland of yesterday drenched with ointments, for remembrance of her. Lo, the lovers' rose sheds tears to see her away, and not on my bosom.

LVII LOVE'S PORTRAITURE MELEAGER

Who of my friends has imaged me sweet-voiced Zenophile? who has brought me one Grace of the three? Surely the man did a gracious deed who gave this gift, and in his grace gave Grace herself to me.

LVIII THE SEA'S WOOING MELEAGER

Fond Asclepias with her sparkling eyes as of Calm woos all to make the voyage of love.

LIX THE LIGHT OF TROY DIOSCORIDES

Athenion sang of that fatal horse to me; all Troy was in fire, and I kindled along with it, not fearing the ten years' toil of Greece; and in that single blaze Trojans and I perished together then.

LX LOVE AND MUSIC MELEAGER

Sweet is the tune, by Pan of Arcady, that thou playest on the harp, Zenophile, oversweet are the notes of the tune. Whither shall I fly from thee? on all hands the Loves encompa.s.s me, and let me not take breath for ever so little s.p.a.ce; for either thy form shoots longing into me, or again thy music or thy graciousness, or--what shall I say?

all of thee; I kindle in the fire.

LXI HONEY AND STING MELEAGER

Flower-fed bee, why touchest thou my Heliodora's skin, leaving outright the flower-bells of spring? Meanest thou that even the unendurable sting of Love, ever bitter to the heart, has a sweetness too? Yes, I think, this thou sayest; ah, fond one, go back again; we knew thy news long ago.

LXII LOVE'S MESSENGER MELEAGER

Fly for me, O gnat, a swift messenger, and touch Zenophile, and whisper lightly into her ears: "one awaits thee waking; and thou sleepest, O oblivious of thy lovers." Up, fly, yes fly, O musical one; but speak quietly, lest arousing her bedfellow too thou stir pangs of jealousy against me; and if thou bring my girl, I will adorn thee with a lion-skin, O gnat, and give thee a club to carry in thine hand.

LXIII LOVE THE SLAYER MELEAGER

I beseech thee, Love, charm asleep the wakeful longing in me for Heliodora, pitying my suppliant verse; for, by thy bow that never has learned to strike another, but always upon me pours its winged shafts, even though thou slay me I will leave letters uttering this voice, "Look, stranger, on Love's murdered man."

LXIV FORSAKEN MAECIUS

Why so woe-begone? and why, Philaenis, these reckless tearings of hair, and suffusion of sorrowful eyes? hast thou seen thy lover with another on his bosom? tell me; we know charms for grief. Thou weepest and sayest no: vainly dost thou essay to deny; the eyes are more trustworthy than the tongue.

LXV THE SLEEPLESS LOVER MELEAGER

Gra.s.shopper, beguilement of my longings, luller asleep, gra.s.shopper, muse of the cornfield, shrill-winged, natural mimic of the lyre, harp to me some tune of longing, striking thy vocal wings with thy dear feet, that so thou mayest rescue me from the all-wakeful trouble of my pains, gra.s.shopper, as thou makest thy love-luring voice tremble on the string; and I will give thee gifts at dawn, ever-fresh groundsel and dewy drops sprayed from the mouths of the watering-can.

LXVI REST AT NOON MELEAGER

Voiceful cricket, drunken with drops of dew thou playest thy rustic music that murmurs in the solitude, and perched on the leaf-edges shrillest thy lyre-tune with serrated legs and swart skin. But my dear, utter a new song for the tree-nymphs' delight, and make thy harp-notes echo to Pan's, that escaping Love I may seek out sleep at noon here lying under the shady plane.

LXVII THE BURDEN OF YOUTH ASCLEPIADES

I am not two and twenty yet, and I am weary of living; O Loves, why misuse me so? why set me on fire; for when I am gone, what will you do? Doubtless, O Loves, as before you will play with your dice, unheeding.

LXVIII BROKEN VOWS MELEAGER

Holy night, and thou, O lamp, you and none other we took to witness of our vows; and we swore, he that he would love me, and I that I would never leave him, and you kept witness between us. And now he says that these vows are written in running water, O lamp, and thou seest him on the bosom of another.

LXIX DOUBTFUL DAWN MELEAGER

O night, O wakeful longing in me for Heliodora, and eyes that sting with tears in the creeping grey of dawn, do some remnants of affection yet remain mine, and is her memorial kiss warm upon my cold picture?

has she tears for bedfellows, and does she clasp to her bosom and kiss a deluding dream of me? or has she some other new love, a new plaything? Never, O lamp, look thou on that, but be guardian of her whom I gave to thy keeping.

LXX THE DEW OF TEARS ASCLEPIADES

Stay there, my garlands, hanging by these doors, nor hastily scattering your petals, you whom I have wetted with tears (for lovers'

eyes are rainy); but when you see him as the door opens, drip my rain over his head, that so at least that golden hair may drink my tears.

LXXI LOVE'S GRAVE MELEAGER

When I am gone, Cleobulus--for what avails? cast among the fire of young loves, I lie a brand in the ashes--I pray thee make the burial- urn drunk with wine ere thou lay it under earth, and write thereon, "Love's gift to Death."

LXXII LOVE'S MASTERDOM MELEAGER

Terrible is Love, terrible; and what avails it if again I say and again, with many a moan, Terrible is Love? for surely the boy laughs at this, and is pleased with manifold reproaches; and if I say bitter things, they are meat and drink to him. And I wonder how thou, O Cyprian, who didst arise through the green waves, out of water hast borne a fire.