Greek Texts & Translations

The poet begins with a dedication in the manner of XI, and passes quickly to his story. Two fishermen lie awake at night in their cabin on the shore, and one of them tells a dream he has just had of the catching of a golden fish. He asks his friend what the dream may mean, for he fears he may have to break his dream-oath that he would be a fisherman no longer. To this the friend replies that it was no oath he took, and that the moral of the dream is that his only wealth is the sea. Many considerations go to show that the traditional ascription of the poem to Theocritus is mistaken.

21.1 There’s but one stirrer-up of the crafts, Diophantus, and her name is Poverty. She is the true teacher of labour; for a man of toil may not so much as sleep for the disquietude of his heart. Nay, if he nod ever so little o’ nights, then is his slumber broke suddenly short by the cares that beset him.

21.6 One night against the leafy wall of a wattled cabin there lay together upon a bed of dry tangle two old catchers of fish. Beside them were laid the instruments of their calling; their creels, their rods their hooks, their weedy nets and lines, their weels and rush-woven lobster-pots, some net-ropes, a pair of oars, and upon its props an aged coble. Beneath their heads lay a little mat, and for coverlets they had their jackets of frieze. This was all the means and all the riches of these poor fishermen. Key, door, watchdog, had they none; all such things were ill-store to the likes of them, seeing in that house kept Poverty watch and ward; neither dwelt there any neighbour at their gates, but the very cabin-walls were hemmed by the soft and delicate upflowing of the sea.

21.19 Now or ever the chariot of the Moon was half-way of its course, the fishermen’s labour and trouble did rouse them, and thrusting slumber from their eyelids stirred up speech in their hearts.

ASPHALION
21.22 It seems they speak not true, friend, that say the summer nights grow less when they bring us the long days. Already I have had a thousand dreams, and the dawn is not yet. Or am I wrong when I say how long the watches of these nights are?

FRIEND
21.26 Asphalion, the pretty summer deserves not thy fault-finding. ‘Tis not that Time hath truly and in himself over-run his course, but Care makes thy night long by curtailing thy slumber.

ASPHALION
21.29 Hast ever learnt to interpret a dream? I’ve had a good one this night, and am fain thou go shares in’t.

FRIEND
21.31 Aye, we share our catch, and e’en let’s share all our dreams. For shall I not be making conjecture of thee according to the saying, the best interpreter of dreams is he that learns of understanding? And what’s more, we have time and to spare, for there’s little enough for a man to do lying sleepless in a greenbed beside the sea. ‘Faith, ‘tis the ass in the thorns and the lamp in the town-hall, and they are the morals for waking. ^note Come, thy dream; for a friend, look you, is always told a man’s dreams.

ASPHALION
21.39 When I fell asleep last night after my labours o’ the sea – and faith, ‘twas not for fulness, if you mind, seeing we supped early to give our bellies short commons – I dreamt I was hard at my work upon a rock, seated watching for the fish and dangling my piece of deception from my rod’s end, when there rose me a right gallant fellow – for mark you, I surmise a fish as a sleeping dog will a bear, – well hooked too, for ‘a showed blood, and my rod all bended wi’ the pull of him, bended straining and bowing in my hand, insomuch that I questioned me sore how I was to deal with so great a fish with so weak tools to my hand. Howbeeit I gently pricked him to mind him o’ the hook, and pricking let him have line, ^note and when he ran not away showed him the butt. Now was the prize mine. I drew up a golden fish, a fish smothered in gold, such indeed that I feared me lest he were a fish favoured of Poseidon, or mayhap a treasured possession of sea-green Amphitritè; aye, and unhooked him very carefully and slow lest ever the tackle should come away with gold from his mouth. Then, standing over, I sang the praises of that my glorious catch, my seaman made landsman, and sware I’ld nevermore set foot o’ the sea, but I would rest ashore rather and king it there with my gold. And with that I awoke. And now, good friend, it remains for you to lend me your understanding; for troth, that oath I sware –

FRIEND
21.63 Be of good cheer; never you fear that. ‘Twas no swearing when you sware that oath any more than ‘twas seeing when you saw the golden fish. Howbeit there’s wisdom to be hand of empty shows; for if you will make real and waking search in these places there’s hope of your sleep and your dreams. ^note Go seek the fish of flesh and blood, or you’ll die of hunger and golden visions.