DIALOGUES OF THE SEA-GODS.

I.

DORIS RIDICULES THE FIGURE AND MANNERS OF POLYPHEMUS, THE LOVER OF GALATEIA.

Doris and Galateia.1

Doris. A handsome lover, my dear Galateia, that Sicilian shepherd they say is so madly in love with you!

Galateia. Don't sneer, Doris, for he is Poseidon's son, whatever he may be like.

Doris. What then? If he were even the son of Zeus himself, and showed so savage and uncouth a figure; and, most unsightly of all his uglinesses, possessed only one eye, do you imagine his birth would at all avail him, in comparison with his shape?

Galateia. Not even his uncouthness and his savageness (as you call it) is without its charm-for it gives him a manly air; and his eye becomes his forehead, and sees not less than if there were two.

Doris. You seem, Galateia, to consider your Polyphemus not as the courting, but as the courted, one, such are your praises of him.

Galateia. Courted, no, but I cannot endure that excessive proclivity of yours to finding fault, and you others seem to me to do it from envy; because, when, some time ago, he was tending his flocks, and had a glimpse of us from his cliff, as we were sporting upon the shore, at the foot of Etna, where it extends between the mountain and the sea, he did not even look at you others, whereas I appeared to

1 Cf. Theok. Eid. xi. (where the Cyclops charges the Sea-Nymph with cruelty and vaunts his merits), and vi.; Kallim. 'Eл. xlix. Ov. Metam. xiii. 7. Virgil, Ec. vii. 37, ix. 39, and see 'Od. ix. One of the Eikóves of Philostratus is founded on this subject.

him as the most beautiful of all of us, and so he kept his eye upon me alone. It is this that vexes you, for it is a proof that I am superior, and deserving to be loved; while you other Nymphs have been neglected.

Doris. If you appear beautiful to the eyes of a keeper of sheep and to a fellow who wants an eye, do you suppose you are an object of envy? and, besides, what else had he to commend in you than your white skin? and that, I suppose, because he is accustomed to cheese and milk: everything, therefore, resembling those things he considers beautiful.1 For as to other charms, whenever you wish to discover what you are really like, stoop from some rock, when the sea is calm, over the water, and behold yourself to be nothing else than an exceedingly white skin; and that is not commended unless, too, there is colour to set it off.

Galateia. Yet I, so purely white as I am, nevertheless have a lover, though it's only he; whereas there is not one of you whom either shepherd, or sailor, or boatman praises. And my Polyphemus, among other merits, is also musical.

3

Doris. Hold your tongue, Galateia; we heard his singing, when but now he came serenading to you. So may Aphrodite be my friend, one would have imagined an ass was braying. And his very lyre-what a thing it was! The bare skull of a stag, and the horns served as the handles, and he bridged them, and fitted in the strings, without even twisting them round a peg, and then began to perform some horribly unmusical and unmelodious melody; himself roaring out one thing, and his lyre accompanying him to something else, so that we could not even restrain our laughter at that fine love ditty. Why, Echo would not even return any reply to his bellowing, loquacious

1 Polyphemus, in such preference, is not without high authority. With the poets, indeed, extreme whiteness has been one of the principal characteristics of feminine beauty. Spenser's Una is even "whiter than snow." As for Galateia, she has her name from her complexion. Ex re nomen habet.

2 A suggested alternative reading is "Amphitrite."

Lehmann de

fends the received text on the ground that the Nymphs are discoursing of love matters. But, it will be observed, Doris disclaims the power of the Goddess of Love.

3 See . A. vii.

as she is; but was ashamed to appear to imitate his uncouth, ridiculous music. And, then, the amiable creature was carrying in his arms, for a plaything, a bear's cub, resembling himself in shagginess. Who, pray, would not envy you, my Galateia, such a lover?

Galateia. Do you then, my dear Doris, show us your own adorer, who is, doubtless, handsomer, and more of a musician, and better skilled in performing on the cithara.

Doris. Nay, I have no adorer, nor do I pride myself on being admired. But as for your Cyclops, such as he is, with the rank odour of a he-goat-a cannibal, as they say, and who feeds upon strangers who come to his countrymay he be yours and welcome, and may you fully return his affection!

II.

POLYPHEMUS COMPLAINS TO POSEIDON, HIS FATHER, OF HIS TREATMENT AT THE HANDS OF ODYSSEUS.1

Cyclops and Poseidon.

Cyclops (blubbering). O father, what have I endured at the hands of the cursed stranger, who made me drunk and put out my eye, assaulting me when I was lulled to sleep. Poseidon. Who dared to do this, my poor Polyphemus? Cyclops. In the first instance, he called himself Outis;2 but, when he had got clear away, and was out of reach of my arrow, he said that his name was Odysseus.

Poseidon. I know whom you speak of him of Ithaka, and he was on his return-voyage from Ilium. But how did he do it, for he is, by no means, a man of too much courage?

Cyclops. Returning from my accustomed tending of my flocks, I caught a number of fellows in my cave, evidently having designs on my herds: for, when I placed the stone block against the door-the rock is of huge size—and had lighted the fire by igniting the tree which I brought from

Cf. 'Od. ix.; Ov. Metam. xiii. 7; xiv. 4; Euripides, Kúrλw; Æn. iii. 613-683.

2 "Nobody." Some of the Homeric commentators ingeniously have accounted for the name by attributing to the hero of many wiles remarkably large ears (Ούς-ὦτος).

the mountain, evidently they appeared to be trying to conceal themselves. Well, when I had got hold of some of them, I devoured them for a pack of thieves, as was reasonable. Hereupon that most villainous rascal, whether he was Outis or Odysseus, pours out a sort of drug and gives me to drink-sweet, indeed, and of delicious smell, but most insidious, and which caused great disorder in my head: for immediately upon my drinking everything seemed to me to be in a whirl, and the cave itself was turned upside down, and I was no longer at all in my senses; and, at last, I was dragged down into sleep. Then sharpening the bar, and igniting it besides, he blinded me as I slept, and from that time, I am a blind man, at your service, Poseidon.

Poseidon. How soundly you slept, my son, that you did not jump up while you were being blinded! But as for this Odysseus, then, how did he escape? For he could not -I am well assured that he could not-move away the rock from the door.

Cyclops. Yes, but it was I who removed it, that I might the better catch him as he was going out; and, sitting. down close to the door, I groped for him with extended hands, letting only my sheep pass out to pasture, after having given instructions to the ram what he was to do in my place.

Poseidon. I understand, they slipped away under them unnoticed. But you ought to have shouted, and called the rest of the Cyclopes to your aid against him.

Cyclops. I did summon them, father, and they came. But when they asked the sneaking rascal's name, and I said it was Outis, thinking I was in a mad fit, they took themselves off at once. Thus the cursed fellow tricked me with his name; and what especially vexes me is, that actually throwing my misfortune in my teeth, "Not even,” says he, "will your father Poseidon cure you."

1 See 'Od. ix. 525, and the anguished cry for vengeance of the Cyclops in Ov. Met. xiv. 192-197 :

"O si quis referat mihi casus Ulyssen,

Quàm nullum aut leve sit damnum mihi lucis ademptæ."

Cf. Macrobius, Sat. v. 13.

Poseidon. Never mind, my child, for I will revenge myself upon him, that he may learn that, even if it is not possible for me to heal the mutilation of people's eyes, at all events the fate of voyagers is in my hands. And he is still at sea.

III.

POSEIDON QUESTIONS ALPHEIUS, A RIVER-GOD, RESPECTING HIS AMOUR WITH THE NYMPH ARETHUSA.

Poseidon and Alpheius.1

Poseidon. What's this, Alpheius? Of all rivers you are the only one that falls into the sea without mingling with the salt water, as is the custom of other streams, nor do you rest from pouring yourself along; but, in your passage through the sea, contracting and keeping sweet your waters, still unmixed and pure, you hasten I know not where, diving into the depths, like the sea-gulls and herons; and yet you seem to be ready to pop up somewhere or other, and again discover yourself.

Alpheius. Something of a love-affair, Poseidon, so don't scold. Even you yourself often have been in love.

Poseidon. Is it a woman or a Nymph, or, indeed, one of the Nereids themselves you are in love with?

Alpheius. No, but with a Fountain, Poseidon.

Poseidon. And she-where in the world does she flow? Alpheius. She is a Sicilian islander. They call her Arethusa.

Poseidon. I am aware, Alpheius, she is no ugly creature— this Arethusa. On the contrary, she is beautifully clear and transparent, and gushes out in a pure stream, and the

1 The Alpheius, the modern Rufia, rising in the mountains of Arcadia, disappears after a short course and, again appearing, unites with the Eurotas. The two rivers, some two miles from their conjunction, sink below the earth, to reappear in Arcadia. The mysterious river empties itself into the Ionian Sea, not far from Olympia, in Elis. According to the myth, the nymph Arethusa, one of the Nereids beloved by the river-god, was pursued by him until she was transformed by Artemis into the Sicilian fountain. Alpheius, however, still vainly pursues her. See Ovid's beautiful description, Met. v. 572-641.

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