Theocritus, Bion and Moschus |
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Author:
| Theocritus, |
ISBN: | 978-0-217-29950-3 |
Publication Date: | Aug 2009 |
Publisher: | General Books LLC
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Book Format: | Paperback |
List Price: | USD $19.99 |
Book Description:
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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: BION. t ItprjS oXryij Ai/3ds, aicpov aarov.Cdllimachus. Bion was born at Smyrna, one of the towns which claimed the honour of being Homer's birthplace. If we could believe a possibly apocryphal verse of the dirge by Moschus, it might be thought that Theocritus survived Bion. The same dirge tells us that...
More DescriptionPurchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: BION. t ItprjS oXryij Ai/3ds, aicpov aarov.Cdllimachus. Bion was born at Smyrna, one of the towns which claimed the honour of being Homer's birthplace. If we could believe a possibly apocryphal verse of the dirge by Moschus, it might be thought that Theocritus survived Bion. The same dirge tells us that Bion was poisoned by certain enemies, and that while he left to others his wealth, to Moschus he left his minstrelsy. BION. I. THE LAMENT FOR ADONIS. This poem was probably intended to be sung at one of the spring celebrations of the festival of Adonis, like that described by Theocritus in his fifteenth idyl. WOE, woe for Adonis, he hath perished, the beauteous Adonis, dead is the beauteous Adonis, the Loves join in the lament. No more in thy purple raiment, Cypris, do thou sleep; arise, thou wretched one, sable-stoled, and beat thy breasts, and say to all, ' he hath perished, the lovely Adonis ' Woe, woe for Adonis, the Loves join in the lament Low on the hills is lying the lovely Adonis, and his thigh with the boar's tusk, his white thigh with the boar's tusk is wounded, and sorrow on Cypris he brings, as softly he breathes his life away. His dark blood drips down his skin of snow, beneath his brows his eyes wax heavy and dim, and the rose flees from his lip, and thereon the very kiss is dying, the kiss that Cypris will never forego. To Cypris his kiss is dear, though he lives no longer, but Adonis knew not that she kissed him as he died. Woe, woe for Adonis, the Loves join in the lament I A cruel, cruel wound on his thigh hath Adonis, but a deeper wound in her heart doth Cytherea bear. About him his dear hounds are loudly baying, and the nymphs of the wild wood wail him; but Aphrodite with unbound locks through the glades goes wandering, ...