Greek Texts & Translations

The scene of this shepherd-mime is laid in the wooded pastures near the mouth of the river Crathis in the district of Sybaris and Thurii in Southern Italy. The foreground is the shore of a lagoon near which stand effigies of the Nymphs who preside over it, and there is close by a rustic statue of Pan of the seaside. The characters are a goatherd named Comatas and a young shepherd named Lacon who are watching their flocks. Having seated themselves some little distance apart, they proceed to converse in no very friendly spirit, and the talk gradually leads to a contest of song with a woodcutter named Maroson for the judge and a lamb and a goat for the stakes. The contest is spirits, not to say a bitter, one, and consists of a series of alternate couplets, the elder man first singing his couplet and the younger then trying to better him at the same theme. The themes Comatas chooses are various, but the dominant note, as often in Theocritus, is love. In some of the lines there is more meaning than appears on the surface. After fourteen pairs of couplets, Morson breaks in before Lacon has replied and wards his lamb to Comatas.

COMATAS
5.1 Beware, good my goats, of yonder shepherd from Sybaris, beware of Lacon; he stole my skin-coat yesterday.

LACON
5.4 Hey up! my pretty lambkins; away from the spring. See you not Comatas that stole my pipe two days agone?

COMATAS
5.6 Pipe? Sibyrtas’ bondman possessed of a pipe? he that was content to sit with Corydon and too t upon a parcel o’ straws?

LACON
5.8 Yes, master freeman, the pipe Lycon gave me. And as for your skin-coat, what skin-coat and when has ever Lacon carried off o’ yours? Tell me that, Comatas; why, your lord Eumaras, let alone his bondman, never had one even to sleep in.

COMATAS
5.11 ‘Tis that Crocylus gave me, the dapple skin, after that he sacrificed that she-goat to the Nymphs. And as your foul envious eyes watered for it then, so your foul envious hands have bid me go henceforth naked now.

LACON
5.14 Nay, nay by Pan o’ the Shore; Lacon son of Calaethis never filched coat of thine, fellow, may I run raving mad else and leap into the Crathis from yonder rock.

COMATAS
5.17 No, no, by these Nymphs o’ the lake, man; so surely as I wish ‘em kind and propitious, Comatas never laid sneaking hand on pipe o’ thine.

LACON
5.20 Heaven send me the affliction of Daphnis if e’er I believe that tale. But enough of this; if thou’lt wage me a kid – ‘tis not worth the candle, but nevertheless come on; I’ll have a contention o’ song with thee till thou cry hold.

COMATAS
5.23 ‘Tis the old story – teach thy grandam. ^note There; my wage is laid. And thou, for thine, lay me thy fine fat lamb against it.

LACON
5.25 Thou fox! prithee how shall such laying fadge? ^note As well might one shear himself hair when a’ might have wool, as well choose to milk a foul bitch before a young milch-goat.

COMATAS
5.28 He that’s as sure as thou that he’ll vanguish his neighbour is like the wasp buzzing against the cricket’s song. But ‘tis all one; my kid it seems is no fair stake. So look, I lay thee this full-grown he-goat; and now begin.

LACON
5.31 Soft, soft; no fire’s burning thee. You’ll sing better sitting under the wild olive and this coppice. There’s cool water falling yonder, and here’s grass and a greenbed, and the locusts at their prattling.

COMATAS
5.35 I’m in no haste, not I, but in sorrow rather that you dare look me in the face, I that had the teaching of you when you were but a child. Lord! look where kindness goes. Nurse a wolf-cub, – nay rather nurse a puppy-god – to be eaten for ‘t.

LACON
5.39 And when, pray, do I mind me to have learnt of heard aught of good from thee? Fie upon thee for a mere envious and churlish piece of a man!

COMATAS
5.41 When I was poking you and you were sore; and these she-kids were bleating and the billy-goat bored into them.

LACON
5.43 I hope you won’t be buried, hunchback, deeper that polang! But a truce, man; hither, come thou hither, and thou shalt sing thy country-song for the last time.

COMATAS
5.45 Thither will I never come. Here I have oaks and cyperus, and bees humming bravely at the hives, here’s two springs of cool water to thy one, and birds, not locusts, a-babbling upon the tree, and, for shade, thine’s not half so good; and what’s more the pine overhead is casting her nuts.

LACON
5.50 An you’ll come here, I’ll lay you shall tread lambskins and sheep’s wool as soft as sleep. Those buckgoat-pelts of thine smell e’en ranker than thou. And I’ll set up a great bowl of whitest milk to the Nymphs, and eke I’ll set up another of sweetest oil.

COMATAS
5.55 If come you do, you shall tread here taper fern and organy all a-blowing, and for your lying down there’s she-goat-skins four times as soft as those lambskins of thine. And I’ll set up to Pan eight pails of milk and eke eight pots of full honey-combs.

LACON
5.60 Go to; be where you will for me for the match o’ country-song. Go your own gate; you’re welcome to your oaks. But who’s to be our judge, say who? Would God neatherd Lycopas might come this way along.

COMATAS
5.63 I suffer no want of him. We’ll holla rather, an’t pleas ye, on yon woodcutter that is after fuel in the heather near where you be. Morson it is.

LACON
We will.

COMATAS
Call him, you.

LACON
5.66 Ho, friend! hither and lend us your ears awhile. We two have a match toward, to see who’s the better man at a country-song. (Morson approaches) Be you fair, good Morson; neither judge me out of favour nor yet be too kind to him.

COMATAS
5.70 ‘Fore the Nymphs, sweet Morson, pray you neither rule unto Comatas more than his due nor yet give your favour to Lacon. This flock o’ sheep, look you, is Sibyrtas’ of Thurii.

LACON
5.74 Zeus! and who asked thee, foul knave, ^note whether the flock was mine or Sibyrtas’? Lord, what a babbler is here!

COMATAS
5.76 Most excellent blockhead, all I say, I, is true, though for my part, I’m no braggart; but Lord! what a railer is here!

LACON
5.78 Come, come; say thy say and be done, and let’s suffer friend Morson to come off with his life. Apollo save us, Comatas! thou hast the gift o’ the gab.

(The Singing Match)

COMATAS
5.80 The Muses bear me greater love than Daphnis ^note ere did see;
And well they may, for t’other day they had two goats for me.

LACON
5.82 But Apollo loves me all as well, and an offering too have I,
A fine fat ram a-batt’ning; for Apollo’s feast draws nigh.

COMATAS
5.84 Night all my goats have twins at teat; there’s only two with one;
And the damsel sees and the damsel says ‘Poor lad, dost milk alone?’

LACON
5.86 O tale of woe! here's Lacon, though, fills cheese-racks well-nigh twenty
And fouls his dear not a youth but a boy mid flowers that blow so plenty.

COMATAS
5.88 But when her goatherd boy goes by you should see my Cleärist
Fling apples, and her pretty lips call pouting to be kissed.

LACON
5.90 But madness ‘tis for the shepherd to meet the shepherd’s love,
So brown and bright the tresses light that toss that shoulder above.

COMATAS
5.92 Ah! but there’s no comparing windflower with rose at all,
Nor wild dog-róse with her that blows beside the trim orchard’s wall.

LACON
5.94 There’s no better likeness, neither, ‘twixt fruit of pear ^note and holm;
The acorn savours flat and stale, the pear’s like honeycomb.

COMATAS
5.96 In yonder juniper-thicket a cushat sits on her nest;
I’ll go this day and fetch her away for the maiden I love best.

LACON
5.98 So soon as e’er my sheep I shear, a rare fine gift I’ll take;
I’ll give yon black ewe’s pretty coat my darling’s cloak to make.

COMATAS
5.100 Hey, bleaters! away from the olive; where would be grazing then?
Your pasture’s where the tamarisk grows and the slope hill drops to the glen.

LACON
5.102 Where are ye browsing, Crumple? and, Browning, where are ye?
Graze up the hill as Piebad will, and let the oak-leaves be.

COMATAS
5.104 I’ve laid up a piggin of cypress-wood and a bowl for mixing wine,
The work of great Praxiteles, ^note both for that lass of mine.

LACON
5.106 And I, I have a flock-dog, a wolver of good fame,
Shall go a gift to my dearest and hunt him all manner of game.

COMATAS
5.108 Avaunt, avaunt, ye locusts o’er master’s fence that spring;
These be none of your common vines; have done your ravaging.

LACON
5.110 See, crickets, see how vexed he be! see master Goatherd boiling!
‘Tis even so you vex, I trow, the reapers at their toiling. ^note

COMATAS
5.112 I hate the brush-tail foxes, that soon as day declines
Come creeping to their vintaging mid goodman Micon’s vines.

LACON
5.114 So too I hate the beetles come riding on the breeze,
Guttle Philondas’ choicest figs, and off as quick as you please.

COMATAS
5.116 Don’t you remember when I poked you, and you
Grinning jerked your tail finely at me, and clung to that oak-tree?

LACON
5.118 That indeed I don’t remember; however, when Eumaras
fastened you up here and cleaned you out – that anyway I know all about.

COMATAS
5.120 Somebody’s waxing wild, Morson; see you not what is plain?
Go pluck him squills from an oldwife’s grave to cool his heated brain.

LACON
5.122 Nay, I be nettling somebody; do you not see it, then?
Be off to Haleis bank, Morson, and dig him some cyclamen.

COMATAS
5.124 Let Himera’s stream run white with cream, and Crathis, as for thine,
Mid apple-bearing beds or reed may it run red with wine.

LACON
5.126 Let Sybaris’ well spring honey for me, and ere the sun is up
May the wench that goes for water draw honeycombs for my cup.

COMATAS
5.128 My goats eat goat-grass, mine, and browze upon the clover,
Tread mastich green and lie between the arbutes waving over.

LACON
5.130 It may be so, but I’ld have ye know these pretty sheep of mine
Browze rock-roses in plenty and sweet as eglantine.

COMATAS
5.132 When I brought the cushat ‘tother night ‘tis true Alcippa kissed me,
But alack! she forgot to kiss by the pot, ^note and since, poor wench, she’s missed me.

LACON
5.134 When fair Eumédes took the pipe that was his lover’s token
He kissed him sweet as sweet could be; his lover’s love unbroken.

COMATAS
5.136 ‘Tis nature’s law that no jackdaw with nightingale shall bicker,
Nor owl ^note with swan, but poor Lacòn was born a quarrel-picker.

MORSON
5.138 I bid the shepherd cease. You, Comatas, may take the lamb; and when you offer her to the Nymphs be sure you presently send poor Morson a well-laden platter.

COMATAS
5.140 That will I, ‘fore Pan. Come, snort ye, my merry buck-goats all. Look you how great a laugh I have of shepherd Lacon for that I have at last achieved the lamb. Troth, I’ll caper you to the welkin. Horned she-goats mine, frisk it and be merry; tomorrow I’ll wash you one and all in Sybaris’ lake. What, Whitecoat, thou butt-head! if thou leave not poke the she’s, before ever I sacrifice the lamb to the Nymphs I’ll break every bone in thy body. Lo there! he’s at it again. If I break thee not, be my last end the end of Melanthius. ^note