Sweèter, O shèpherd, thy sìnging is, thàn the sonòrous
Gùsh from abòve of the wàterfall oùt of the ròck-stone.
There is no imitative attempt of another sort in this version. It is given simply to show a general likeness to the measure. The sound of the original, as everybody will discern, is much more to the purpose, though judges will differ perhaps as to whether it is more effective in softness or in strength, in leap or in volume. We are obliged to adapt the spelling, in one or two instances, to the necessities of the pronunciation. The literal Greek order of the words would, in English, be:—
Sweeter, O shepherd, the thy song, than the sonorous
That (or yonder) from the rock-stone much flows from above water.
Hàdion o poiman to teòn melos è to katàches
Teen appo tas pètras katalèibetai hèupsothen hèudor.
Katalèibetai (much, or strongly, or abundantly, flows), with the accent on the diphthong ei, is certainly a fine strenuous word, at once strong and liquid, and appreciable by any ear. And hèupsothen hèudor (from above water), with its two successive u’s, will be equally admitted, we think, to express the constant yearning rush of the water from inside the well.
The goatherd promises the shepherd, if he will sing to him, the gift of a huge wine-cup, adorned with figures. The following exquisite picture is among them. We give it in the version of Mr. M. J. Chapman, a living writer, not unworthy his venerable namesake, and by far the best translator of Theocritus that has appeared:—
Ἔντοσθεν δὲ γυνὰ, &c.
With flowing robe, and Lydian head-dress on,
Within, a woman to the life is done—
An exquisite design! On either side
Two men with flowing locks each other chide,
By turns contending for the woman’s love;
But not a whit her mind their pleadings move:
One while she gives to this a glance and smile,
And turns and smiles on that another while.
To the apparently formidable objection made by some critics, that no artist could make a woman look on two people one after the other, Mr. Chapman happily answers:—“Theocritus described an image that was before his mind’s eye, and for so doing he needs no defence; but the matter-of-fact critic may be able, perhaps, to obtain an approximation to the idea, by considering attentively the print of ‘Garrick divided between Tragedy and Comedy.’”[5]
This picture is followed by one of an old able-bodied fisherman at his labours, with the muscles of his neck swelling like those of a strong young man; and to this succeeds a third, as good as that of the Coquette—some will think better. It is a boy so intent upon making a trap, that he is not aware of the presence of two foxes, one of whom is meditating to abduct his breakfast.
A little boy sits by the thorn-edge trim,
To watch the grapes—two foxes watching him;
(The version of this line is original in the turn of it, and very happy.)