[311] The meaning is as follows: Asphalion is complaining of wakefulness, and he compares his condition to two things; to a donkey in a furze-bush (as we might say), and to the light of the town-hall, whose sacred flame was perpetual (Snow).
[312] Mr. Lang adopts the reading ἄρτον, bread; Ahrens substitutes ἄρκτον, bear, which seems to fit the context far better, as it keeps up the whole spirit of, “I dreamed of large-sized fish, and a lively fight, just as a sleeping dog dreams of chasing bears.” Cf. Tennyson’s Locksley Hall—
“Like a dog he hunts in dreams,”
and his Lucretius—
“As the dog With inward yelp and restless forefoot plies His function of the woodland,”
passages alike inspired by the lines in which Lucretius (iv. 991 f.) proves that waking instincts are reflected in dreams—
“venantumque canes in molli sæpe quiete jactant crura tamen subito.”
[313] This is but one instance of anachronistic translation, or the use of terms, which, if true of our modern line, are inapplicable to ancient angling, for if, as I have shown in the Introduction, all ancient angling was with a tight line, the operation translated as “I took in line” should rather be rendered “I tightened on him.” The alternation of easing and tightening is a well-known device. It is a question of the degree of strain involved. If you want to keep a big fish quiet in a confined space or in difficult circumstances, you can generally do so by keeping a very light strain on him, so that, though the line is never absolutely slack, he hardly knows that he is hooked and is often landed without the angler having to yield a foot of his line. Thus the roach-fisher without a reel sometimes lands a 4 lb. chub or bream with a foot link of single hair, entirely by this method of suaviter in modo. There seems no particular reason why Asphalion should not have been cognisant of these secrets, which three lines in James Thomson’s The Seasons, although the fight is, I admit, with a running line, fairly disclose.
“With yielding hand That feels him still, yet to his furious course Gives way, you, now retiring, following now Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage.”
[314] To a practical angler this passage is not clear. How is it possible, after you have taken out the hook (the only apparent method of holding the big fish), to fasten round him ropes and drag him ashore, unless he were beached high and dry? Of this we have no evidence beyond ἀνείλκυσα, if used here in its nautical sense “to haul up high and dry.” The readings suggested by Wordsworth and others are numerous, but none seem quite satisfactory, even those preferred by J. M. Edmonds, The Greek Bucolic Poets, London, 1912, and R. J. Cholmeley, op. cit. Perhaps the least improbable text is that given by E. Hiller (Leipzig, 1881), καὶ τὸν μὲν πίστευσα καλῶς ἒχεν ἠπειρώταν, “and I really believed that I had him fairly landed.” This has the positive merit of sticking close to the manuscript reading, and the negative merit of refusing to admit the absurd ‘ropes.’