"And what the prize of the victorious fist?" The vanquished shall become the victor's thrall."

"Red-crested cocks so fight, and so desist." "Cock-like, or lion-like the combat call; This is the prize for which we fight, or none at all."

Then on a conch he blew a mighty blast:
The long-haired Bebryces, hearing the sound,
Under the shady plains assembled fast;
And likewise Castor, in the fight renowned,
Hastened and called his comrades to the
ground

From the Magnesian ship. With gauntlets both

Armed their strong hands; their wrists and

arms they bound

With the long thongs; with one another wroth, Each breathing blood and death, they stood up nothing loth.

First each contended which should get the sun
Of his antagonist; but much in sleight
That huge man, Pollux! was by thee outdone;
And Amycus was dazzled with the light;
But raging rushed straight forward to the fight,
Aiming fierce blows; but wary Pollux met
him,

Striking the chin of his vast opposite,

Who fiercer battled, for the blow did fret him, And leaning forward tried unto the ground to get him.

Shouted the Bebryces; and, for they feared The man-like Tityus might their friend downweigh

The more he toiled; Muse! for 'tis thine to know,

And mine to give interpretation true, Tell how the son of Zeus that mighty bulk o'erthrew.

Aiming at something great, the big Bebrycian
The left of Pollux with his left hand caught,
Obliquely leaning out from his position,
And from his flank his huge right hand he
brought,

And had he hit him would have surely wrought
Pollux much damage; but escape he found,
Stooping his head, and smote him, quick as
thought,

On the left temple; from the gaping wound A bubbling gush of gore out-spurted on the ground.

Right on his mouth his left hand then he dashed;

Rattled his teeth; and with a quicker hail Of blows he smote him, till his cheeks he smashed:

Stretched out he lay; his senses all did fail, Save that he owned the other did prevail By holding up his hands: nor thou didst claim The forfeit, Pollux, taking of him bail Of a great oath in his own father's name, Strangers to harm no more with word or deed of shame.

FROM IDYL XXIV. THE INFANT HERCULES.

With many feints, and seeing his confusion
Mid-front he struck a heavy blow and sore,
And to the bone his forehead gashing tore;
Instant he fell, and at his length he lay
On the green leaves; but fiercely as before,
On his uprising, they renewed the fray,
Aiming terrific blows, as with intent to slay.

But the Bebrycian champion strove to place
His blows upon the broad breast of his foe,
Who ceaselessly disfigured all his face :
His flesh with sweating shrunk, that he did
show,

From huge, but small; but larger seemed to

grow

The limbs of Pollux, and of fresher hue

To both her heavy boys, laid them to rest.
Their cradle was a noble shield of brass,
Won by her lord from slaughter'd Pterilas.
Gently she laid them down, and gently laid
Her hand on both their heads, and yearned, and

The melody of the original breathes an exquisite and soothing repose: no lullably was ever more delightful. Ενδοτ ̓ ἐμὰ βρέφια γλυκερὸν καὶ ἐγερσιμον ὕπνον, Ευδετ' ἐμὰ ψυχὰ, δι' αδελφε, εὐσία τέκνα, Ολβιοι συνάξοισθε, καὶ ολβιοι αν ἵκοισθε

The celebrated song of Simonides is of a similar character.

An evil fire out of their eyes came lamping;
A heavy poison dropp'd about their champing.
And now they have arrived, and think to fall
To their dread meal, when lo! (for Jove sees
all,)

The house is lit as with the morning's break,
And the dear children of Alcmena wake.
The younger one, as soon as he beheld
The evil creatures coming on the shield,
And saw their loathsome teeth, began to cry
And shriek, and kick away the clothes, and try
All his poor little instincts of escape;

The other, grappling, seized them by the nape
Of either poisonous neck, for all their twists,
And held like iron in his little fists.

Alcmena heard the noise, and "Wake!" she

Bring lights here from the hearth! lights! lights! and guard

The doorways! rise, ye ready labourers hard!"
He said; and lights came pouring in, and all
The busy house was up in bow'r and hall;
But when they saw the little suckler, how
He grasped the monsters, and with earnest brow
Kept beating them together, playthingwise,
They shrieked aloud: but he, with laughing
eyes,

Soon as he saw Amphitryon, leaped and sprung, Child like, and at his feet the dead disturbers flung.

FROM IDYL XXV.

HERCULES, THE LION-SLAYER.

Hero with the prodigious breadth of breast,-
In his right hand his club, the lion's hide
Hung from his shoulders by the fore feet tied,-
To the rich vale of fruitful Elis came,
Where the sweet waters of Alpheus glide,
Seeing herds, flocks, and pastures, none might
claim,

But only wealthiest lord, some prince well known to fame,

He asked a countryman, whose watchful care O'erlooked the grounds (his task was his delight,)

"Good friend! wilt tell a traveller, whose are These herds, and flocks, and pastures infinite? He is, I well may guess, the favourite Of the Olympian gods. Here should abide Those I am come to seek." The man, at sight

And claim of stranger, quickly laid aside The work he had in hand, and courteously re

plied:

"What thou dost ask I willingly will tell,
Good stranger! for I fear the heavy wrath
Of Hermes, the way-god; of all who dwell
Above us, most is he provoked, when scath
Or scorn is done to him who asks his path.
Not in one pasture all the flocks appear,
Nor in one region, King Augeias hath :
Some pasture where Elisson glides; some,
where

Alpheus; at vine-clad Buprasion some; some, here:

"And every flock has its particular fold. Their pasture never fails his numerous kine In the green lowlands that receiving hold The gush of Peneus, and the dew divine: As in the genial moisture they recline, The meads throw up soft herbage, which supplies

The strength of the horned kind. Beyond the shine

Of the far-gliding river-turn your eyes A little to the left-their stalled enclosure lies; "Yonder, where the perennial planes elate Stand lordly, and the green wild-olives grow,— A grove to King Apollo dedicate, The pastoral god, most perfect god we know. Hard by, our dwellings in a lengthened row; Our labour an immense revenue yields

To our good lord, as often as we sow, When thrice or four times ploughed, the fallow fields:

while they inspect the stalls and the business going on there. In the morning he accompanies Phyleus to the city, and communicates to him, on the road, the particulars of his adventure with the Nemean lion, whose hide is hanging from his shoulders. The beginning, and some think the conclusion also, of this Idyl is wanting in the original.

WHEN to perform his fated lord's behest, Amphitryon's son, with toils and perils tried,

wields,

"Earthing the vine-roots, or at vintage-tide Toils at the wine-press, knows where the domain

Of rich Augeias ends on every side.
For his is all the far-extended plain,
Orchards thick-set with trees, and fields with

grain,

E'en to the fount-full hill-tops far away;
All which we work at (as behoves the swain,

Whose life is spent a-field) through all the day. Why thou art come-to tell may be thy profit

say.

"Dost seek Augeias, or some one of those
Who serve him? I will give an answer clear,
And to the point, as one that fully knows.
Not mean art thou, nor of mean sires, I'd swear,
So grand thy form. The sons of gods appear
Such among men." To him Jove's son replied:
"In truth, old man! for that did bring me
here,

Augeias I would see: if it betide
Th' Epean chief doth in the city now abide,

"And, caring for the folk, as judge fulfils
True judgment; bid his trusty steward me
speed,

With whom as guide I may converse. God wills

That mortal men should one another need." To him the husbandman: "It seems, indeed, Thy way was heaven-appointed: in thine aim, E'en to thy wish, thou dost at once succeed; For yesterday Augeias hither came, With his illustrious son, Phyleûs hight by name.

"After long time, his rural wealth to see, He came to this e'en princes are not blind, The master there, his house will safer be. But let us to the stall; there shall we find Augeias." Led the way that old man kind: Seeing the great hand-filling club, and spoil Of the wild beast, he puzzled much his mind, Who he could be, come from what natal soil; And with desire to ask him this did inward boil,

But caught the word just to his lips proceeding, For fear he might with question indiscreet, Or out of place, annoy the stranger speeding: 'Tis a hard thing another's thought to weet. The hounds both ways, by scent and fall of feet, Perceived them from afar. At Hercules They flew, loud barking at him, but did greet The old man, whining gently as you please, And round him wagged their tails, and fawning licked his knees.

Innumerous; as watery clouds on high,

By south or west wind driven in dense array, One on another press, and forward fly, Numberless, without end, along the thickened sky;

So many upon so many impels the wind;
Others on others drive their crests to twine:
So many herds so many pressed behind;
The plain, the ways, were filled in breadth and
line:

The fields were straitened with the lowing kine.
The sheep were folded soon; the cattle, too,
That inward, as they walk, their knees incline,
Were all installed, a multitude to view:
No man stood idly by for want of work to do.

Some to the kine their wooden shoes applied, And bound with thongs; while some in station

near

To milk them took their proper place beside: One to the dams let go their younglings dear, Mad for the warm milk; while another there The milk-pail held, the curds to cheese one turned:

Meanwhile Augeias went by every where, And with his own eyes for himself he learned What revenue for him his cattle-keepers earned.

With him his son and mighty Hercules
Through his exceeding show of riches went.
And though his mind Amphitryonides
Was wont to keep on balance and unbent,
At sight thereof he was in wonderment:
Had he not seen it, he'd have thought it fable
That any one, however eminent

The richest of all kings, to show such wealth
For wealth, or any ten, in fold, stall, stable,

were able.

Hyperion gave unto his son most dear,

That he should all in flocks and herds excel. His care increased them more from year to

year;

For on his herds no sort of ailment fell,
Such as destroys the cattle: his grew well,
In pith improving still. None cast their young,
Which almost all were female. He could tell
Three hundred white-skinned bulls his kine
among.

strain,

sprung.

Twelve swan-white bulls were sacred to the

sun,

All inknee'd bulls excelling; these apart Cropped the green pasture, and were never

done

Exulting; when from thicket shag did dart Wild beasts, among the herds to play their part, These twelve first rushed, death-looking, to the

war,

Roaring most terribly. In pride of heart Did liken him) was first, mid many seen afar. And strength great Phaethon (men to a star

When this bull saw the tawny lion's hide,
He rush'd on watchful Hercules, intent
To plunge his armed forehead in his side:
But then the hero grasped incontinent

The bull's left horn, and to the ground back bent

His heavy neck; then backward pressed his might.

The bull, more struggling as more backward sent,

At last stood, stretching every nerve, upright. The king, and prince, and swains, all marvelled at the sight.

But to the city, on the following day,
Bold Hercules and Prince Phyleüs sped.

At first their path through a thick vineyard lay,

Narrow, and 'mid the green, through which it

led,

Half-hid. This past, Phyleûs turned his head
O'er his right shoulder, soon as they did reach
The public road, and to the hero said,
Who walked behind him-" Friend, I did im-
peach

Myself as having lost, concerning thee, some speech.

"I long since heard: now I remember me, A young Achæan hither on a day From Argos came, from sea-shore Helice, Who, many Epeans present, then did say He saw an Argive man a monster slay, A lion, dread of all the country round, Whose lair in grove of Zeus the Nemean lay: I am not sure if on Tirynthian ground, Or else in Argos born, or in Mycenian bound; "But said, if I remember rightly now, The hero sprung from Perseus: I confess Methinks none other Argive man but thou Dared that adventure: yea! that piece of dress, The lion's hide avows that hardiness. Then, hero, first of all explain to me,

That I may know if right or wrong my guess, Whether thou art in truth that very he, Whose deed was told us by the man of Helice.

"Next, tell how thou didst slay the dreadful

beast,

And how his way to Nemean haunt he found: One, if he searched in Apian land at least, Such monster could not find, though bears abound,

Boars and destructive wolves, the country round:

Wherefore all marvelled at the man's recital, And thought the traveller, with idle sound Of his invented wonders, in requital Of hospitable rites, was striving to delight all." Then from the mid-path to the road-side near Phyleûs kept, that both abreast might find Sufficient room, and he might better hear What Hercules should say, who still behind To him replied: "Not from the truth declined, But with just balance thou hast judged it well;

Since thou would'st hear, I with a willing mind

Will tell, Phyleûs, how the monster fell. But whence he came nor I, nor Argive else can

tell:

"Only we think that some Immortal sent,
For holy rites profaned or left undone,
That ill on the Phoronians; forth he went,
And the Piseäns, like a flood, o'errun:
The Bembinæans least of all could shun
His fateful wrath; they, nearest, fared the

worst:

To slay that terrible redoubted one Was task enjoined me by Eurystheus erst: His wish I undertook-of my set toils the first. "My flexile bow I took, and quiver full Of arrows, and my club, the bark still on, The stem of a wild olive I did pull Up by the roots, when thither I was gone, Under the brow of holy Helicon.

But when I came to the huge lion's lair, I to the tip the string did straightway don, And fix'd one of the arrows which I bare: To see, ere I was seen, I looked around with care. It was the mid-day, and not yet I found His traces: nor could hear his mighty roar. I saw no herdsman, ploughman on the ground, To point me where I should his haunt explore: Green fear kept every man within his door. Nor till I saw him and his vigour tried, Ceased I to search the sylvan mountain o'er; And ere came on the cool of eventide, Back to his cavern, gorged with flesh and blood he hied.

"His dew-lap, savage face, and mane, were

gory;

He licked his beard, while I, yet unespied,
Lurked in a thicket of the promontory;
But as he nearer came, at his left side

I shot an arrow, but it did not glide,
Though sharp, into his flesh, but with rebound
Fell on the grass. The thick he closely eyed,
His bloody head up-lifting from the ground,
And ghastly grinned, showing his teeth's terrific
round.

"Then on the string another shaft I placed, And shot-vext that the former idly flew : Mid-breast I hit him, where the lungs are

placed:

His hide the sharp, sharp arrow pierced not through,

But at his feet fell ineffectual too: Again a third I was in act to shoot, Enraged to think in vain my bow I drew, When I was seen by the blood-thirsty brute, Who to the battle-thought his angry signs did suit. "With his long tail he lashed himself; and all His neck was filled with wrath: the fiery glow Of his vext mane up-bristled; in a ball He gathered up himself, till like a bow His spine was arched: as when one, who doth know

Chariots to build, excelling in his art, Having first heated in a fire-heat slow Bends for his wheel a fig-branch; with a start The fissile wild-fig flies far from his hands apart. "Collected for the spring, and mad to rend me, So leapt the lion from afar: I strove

With one hand; with the other I up-hove

My weighty club, and on his temple drove, But broke in pieces the rough olive wood On his hard shaggy head: he from above Fell ere he reached me, by the stroke subdued, And nodding with his head on trembling feet he stood.

"Darkness came over both his eyes: his brain Was shaken in the bone; but when I spied The monster stunned and reeling from his pain,

I cast my quiver and my bow aside, And to his neck my throttling hands applied, Before he could recover. I did bear me With vigour in the death-clutch, and astride His body from behind from scath did clear me, So that he could not or with jaw or talons tear

"I tried, and failed with iron, wood, and flint;
For none of these his skin could penetrate;
Then some Immortal gave to me a hint
With his own talons I might separate
The carcass and the hide: success did wait
The trial of this thought; he soon was flayed.
I wear his hide, that serves me to rebate
Sharp-cutting war. The Nemean beast was
laid

Sit, therefore, in that spot; and pray the god,
Gracious Priapus, to release this heart
From love of Daphne. Promise at my hand
Three victims I devote in sacrifice-
A goodly kid; but, if he still deny,
Fed in the stall; and may the god be kind!
A heifer, and a shagged goat, and lamb

Another translation of the Same.

TURNING down, goatherd, by the oaks, you'll see
A fig-tree statue, put up recently,
Three-footed, with the bark on, without ears;
Yet plain enough Priapus it appears.
A sacred hedge runs round it; and a brook,
Flowing from out a little gravelly nook,
Keeps green the laurel and the myrtle trees
And odorous cypresses:

And there's a vine there, heaping all about
Its tendrilled clusters out;

And vernal blackbirds through the sprays
Shake their shrill notes a thousand ways;
And yellow nightingales reply,

havoc made."

ON THE STATUE OF ESCULAPIUS.
THE Son of Pæon to Miletus came
To meet his Nicias of illustrious name;
He, in deep reverence of his guest divine,
Deck'd with the daily sacrifice his shrine;
And of the god this cedar statue bought-
A finish'd work, by skilled Eetion wrought.
The sculptor, with a lavish sum repaid,
Here all the wonders of his art display'd.

Another translation of the Same.
AT fam'd Miletus, Pæon's son the wise
Arriv'd, with learned Nicias to advise,
Who to his shrine with daily offerings came,
And rais'd this cedar statue to his fame;
The cedar statue by Eëtion wrought,
Illustrious artist! for large sums he bought:
The work is finish'd to the owner's will,
For here the sculptor lavish'd all his skill.

A VOW TO PRIAPUS.

O GOATHERD! wind adown that village road, Where oaks are growing. Thou wilt find beyond

| Sit you down there, and the kind god implore,
That I may yearn for Psamathe no more;
Myself, with a fine kid, will follow you,
And sacrifice; and should the deity nod,
A heifer and a goat shall thank him too,
And a house-lamb. Hear, then, kind-hearted god!

EPITAPH

ON EUSTHENES THE PHYSIOGNOMIST.

To Eusthenes, the first in wisdom's list,
Philosopher and Physiognomist,

This tomb is rais'd: he from the eye could scan
The cover'd thought, and read the very man.
By strangers was his decent bier adorn'd,
By strangers honour'd, and by poets mourn'd:
Whate'er the Sophist merited he gain'd,
And dead, a grave in foreign realms obtain'd.

ON ANACREON.

STRANGERS, who near this statue chance to roam,
Let it awhile your studious eyes engage;
And you may say, returning to your home,
"I've seen the image of the Teïan sage-
Best of the bards, who grace the Muses' page."