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Two Idylls

by Bion of Smyrna
translated by Joseph S. Salemi

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Idyll V

Great Cypris stood before me in a dreamy haze
Holding by her fair hand the hand of baby Desire
Whose head hung heavily downward, in an earthbound gaze.
She spoke thus to me: Herdsman, take him and inspire
My child by teaching him to sing the rural lays.
She ordered, and I foolishly began to teach
As if the child were willing to pay heed and praise
To Pan, Athena, Hermes, Phoebus—all and each
Who made the pipes and lyre, flute and the sounding harp.
In vain I taught these things to him—he laughed, and then
Brushed them aside, and sang those love songs sweet and sharp,
Of his mother’s deeds, and the hungry lusts of gods and men.
And I forgot whatever I had tried to impart,
But all that Desire sang to me, I learned by heart.

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Idyll XII

Sea-born Cyprian, or the child
Of Zeus, dear goddess sweet and mild,
For what reason have you troubled
Gods and mortals with redoubled
Pain and torment? Why give birth
To Love, the scourge of all the earth?
A heartless savage, grim and fell
To humankind, and you as well.
Why plague us with this wingèd foe
Whose face shows no intended woe?
We’re doomed his helpless prey to be,
Unable to escape or flee.

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Translator’s Note

Bion of Smyrna lived between the first and second centuries before Christ. Little is known of his personal life or background, though he was most likely a native of Smyrna, an important Greek city on the coast of Anatolia. He lived in Sicily, where the Doric dialect of Greek was predominant. His own dialect was probably Aeolic, but he wrote exclusively in the Doric dialect since that was considered the proper medium for the bucolic genre. Bucolic verse (from boukolos, the Greek word for “herdsman”) was never really about rural life and labor, but was rather a fictive and idealized picture meant for a highly literate audience of city dwellers.

Bion was celebrated in his time as one of the three great bucolic poets (the others being Theocritus and Moschus) but his work is not primarily bucolic—that is, he does not deal exclusively with herdsmen, cattle, flocks, and the countryside, but often just alludes to them in passing. He also wrote erotic verse, not necessarily of an obscene nature, but focused on the goddess Aphrodite and her son Eros. These two small Idylls are on that subject.

Not much of his work survives. There is one long poem (“The Lament for Adonis”), and several smaller poems, quoted excerpts, and fragments. Bion’s work is an example of the aesthetic perfectionism that marks many Hellenistic poets, who tended to write in an archaizing style and on traditional mythological subjects. His long poem lamenting the death of Adonis was a primary influence on Percy Bysshe Shelley’s famous “Adonais,” the elegy for John Keats, although there were other Greek elegies on the subject that Shelley certainly knew.

All the poetry of Bion is written in dactylic hexameter, a standard meter in ancient Greek. I have translated Idyll V using English hexameters simply because they seemed to work out well for this particular piece. Idyll XII was translated into tetrameter rhyming couplets, again for no particular reason other than that the flow of the English version came easily and smoothly. Both Idylls are about the Cyprian goddess (Aphrodite) and her little son the god Eros, and the devastating power that both of them have over mortals and divinities.

The Greek text of these two poems has been taken from the edition of The Idylls and Epigrams of Theocritus Bion and Moschus published by the Bibliophile Society (Boston, 1905) under the editorship of Henry Aiken Metcalf. This is a rare three-volume edition limited to 477 copies.

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Original Greek text

ΕΙΔΥΛΛΙΟΝ V

Ἁ μεγάλα μοι Κύπρις ἔθ’ ὑπνώοντι παρέστα,
νηπίαχον τὸν ’Έρωτα καλᾶς ἐκ χειρὸς ἄγοισα
ἐς χθόνα νευστάζοντα, τόσον δέ μοι ἒφρασε μῦθον ̇
“μέλπειν μοι φίλε βοῦτα λαβὼν τὸν ’Έρωτα δίδασκε.”
ὣς λέγε ̇ χἃ μὲν ἀπῆλθεν, ἐγὼ δ’ ὅσα βουκολίασδον,
νήπιος ὡς ἐθέλοντα μαθεῖν τὸν ’Έρωτα δίδασκον,
ὡς εὗρε πλαγίαυλον ὁ Πάν, ὡς αὐλὸν Ἀθάνα,
ὡς χέλυν Ἑρμάων, κίθαριν ὡς ἄνυσ’ Ἀπόλλων.
ταῦτά μιν ἐξεδίδασκον ̇ ὃ δ’ οὐκ ἐμπάζετο μύθων,
ἀλλά μοι αὐτὸς ἄειδεν ἐρωτύλα, καί μ’ ἐδίδασκε
θνατῶν ἀθανάτων τε πόθως καὶ ματέρος ἔργα.
κἠγὼν ἐκλαθόμαν μὲν ὅσων τὸν ’Έρωτ’ ἐδίδασκον,
ὅσσα δ’ ’Έρως μ’ ἐδίδαξεν ἐρωτύλα πάντ’ ἐδιδάχθην.

ΕΙΔΥΛΛΙΟΝ XII

Ἅμερε Κυπρογένεια, Διὸς τέκος ἠὲ θαλάσσας,
τίπτε τόσον θνατοῖσι καὶ ἀθανάτοισι χαλέπτεις;
τυτθὸν ἔφαν ׄ τί νυ τόσσον ἀπήχθεο καὶ τὶν αὐτᾷ,
ταλίκον ὡς πάντεσσι κακὸν τὸν ’Έρωτα τεκέσθαι,
ἄγριον ἄστοργον, μορφᾷ νόον οὐδὲν ὁμοῖον;
ἐς τί δέ νιν πτανὸν καὶ ἑκαβόλον ὤπασας ἦμεν,
ὡς μὴ πικρὸν ἐόντα δυναίμεθα τῆνον ἀλύξαι;

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Joseph S. Salemi has published five books of poetry, and his poems, translations and scholarly articles have appeared in over one hundred publications world-wide.  He is the editor of the literary magazine TRINACRIA and writes for Expansive Poetry On-line. He teaches in the Department of Humanities at New York University and in the Department of Classical Languages at Hunter College.


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20 Responses

  1. Jeremiah Johnson

    I love “Idyll V” – the story aspect of it especially – the exposition of the mother bringing the child to the herdsman for an “education” – the rising action of the herdsman’s teaching, the child’s indifference and steady indoctrination of the herdsman – the climax of the herdsman’s realization – something like that. Reminds me of all those stories of crusty old bachelors/bachelorettes thrown in to encounters where they are handing down their wisdom to some kid off the streets and at the same time gain as much or more than they give. Anyways, I enjoyed this and plan to share it with my students. P.S. – On a somewhat connected note your poem brings to mind Dvorak’s “Songs My Mother Taught Me”.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Thank you, Jeremiah, and I am pleased that you like the poem enough to share it with students. It’s wonderful to think that the S.C.P. has become a teaching tool in the hands of the educators who come here.

      Reply
  2. Roy E. Peterson

    I always read your great explanatory notes first to set the stage and scene for understanding that with which I am not familiar and find I profit so much from your amazing poetry, whether translated or freshly written from your incomparable mind. “Idyll V” reminded me of all the songs I learned from my mother as a child and all the ones I tried to sing to her of contemporary Rock and Roll. Unlike the shepherd, though, she did not seem as entranced by them as I was. I remember in particular the song, “Everybody’s Somebody’s Fool.” After singing it, she simply replied, “I am nobody’s fool!” I was mesmerized by “Idyll XII,” which is brilliant in thought and in structural translation.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      I’m grateful for your praise, Roy — and what you have said about your mom has reminded me of something I had not thought of for years. My brother and I would frequently annoy our mom with requests that she translate certain popular American songs or TV musical themes into Italian.

      I recall how in 1959 we insisted that she translate the theme lyrics from “77 Sunset Strip” into Italian, so that we could recite them for our grandparents. Her title words “Settanta-sette, Via del Sol” still make me laugh — it was not a bad translation!

      Reply
  3. Maria

    This is so impressive. Thank you Professor Salemi .
    I can read both the English and the Greek and it is quite something to try and understand it let alone translate it. But you have made it so interesting to read bringing it to life as you have.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Thank you, Maria. I’m always happy when an obscure text from the ancient world can be brought back to human attention.

      Reply
  4. Brian A. Yapko

    It is exciting, Joe, to read these wonderful translations of ancient texts and to find in them so much artistry and so much humanity. The artistry is the result of a two-millenium-plus collaboration between you and Bion. It is greatly pleasing to me that a man of the 21st century can take poetry that predates Christ and present it with great sympathy and relatability. Who here has not cursed Love at some point as “a heartless savage”?

    Surely it takes a labor of love to not only translate Bion but to present his work in English-language poetic forms which, though not precisely true to the Period, translate that Period’s beauty into terms we can appreciate and understand. And is that not the translator’s best destiny? Anyone who speaks Greek can take the words and translate them. But to turn Idyll V into a perfect Shakespearian sonnet (smart choice) takes a true poetic heart as well as the academic rigor of a linguist, the imagination of a historian and a deep understanding of human psychology, no matter the era. It is so important for modern readers to understand that there is essentially no difference in human nature, intellect, ability or emotions between those who lived in Bion’s time and those who live now. Your fine translations here (and others you’ve done before) make that crucial point clear.

    And, for the record, translators are the unsung heroes of the poetry world.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Many thanks, Brian — I deeply appreciate your words.

      It is true that basic human nature does not change. The ancients had the same drives, impulses, aspirations, weaknesses, strengths, and emotions that we have — what might differ are the cultural appendages that are attached to all the various races, tribes, nations, and ethnic groups that comprise humanity. We have very specific inherited cultural identities that make us what we are, and which we should always take pride in.

      The dangers and pitfalls of love (Eros) seem to be recognized worldwide, and Graeco-Roman poetry loved to dwell on those dangers, as well as on the ecstasies and delights. We think of Cupid as just a comical, cute child on a Valentine’s Day card — a poet like Bion saw him more as a nasty little brat carrying an Uzi submachinegun. That’s a cultural difference, but the wider truth is that all human beings are aware of the pangs and tribulations that romantic love can bring.

      Reply
  5. C.B. Anderson

    I realized, as I read these translations, that I miss having pantheons of major and minor deities on which to project my thoughts and from which to draw intimations of personality profiles that mirror the entire range of sublunary human activity. In English poetry, Classical references are borrowed conventions, and I wonder what it was like for the Greeks themselves — something a bit less mythological and more immediately experiential? They did build temples, but for us it’s more about what goes on between our temples.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Among the Graeco-Romans, many were believers in the gods, but probably many others weren’t, and just kept quiet since religion was a part of their cultural and social milieu, and they saw no reason to kick against the traces. Also, religion had a political aspect in those days, and it was the better part of valor to not get too argumentative about it.

      The Olympian gods were assumed to be a natural part of the universe, with special powers and immortality. They were associated with specific emotional and cultural realities: Aphrodite was sexual desire, Zeus was political-legal power and paternal authority, Dionysus was drunkenness and impulsive behavior, Ares was the rage of combat, Demeter was maternal concern and fertility, Apollo was intelligence (and many other things).

      So the ancient poets could use these divine names as a shorthand to refer to aspects of human experience and behavior, even if they might be personally skeptical about the existence of the gods.

      Reply
  6. Yael

    These are beautiful English translation poems of something I never knew existed. Thank you for the illumination of a topic from the distant past, I learned something new again.

    Reply
  7. Drilon Bajrami

    I’m still quite unfamiliar with hexametres, even in languages where hexametres work better like German, I struggle to hear it. Though, it’s still the same for dactlyic and other more uncommon metres. An enjoyable read, nonetheless.

    The second poem has a lovely rhythm and rhyme scheme, you compose tetrametre couplets very well and these types of poems are always enjoyable. I hope you can bring more ancient Greek poetry to life in English, Joe.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Thank you, Drilon. An English poet who wrote some excellent hexameters was Ernest Dowson, from the late 19th century. Look at his wonderful poem with this long Latin title:

      NON SUM QUALIS ERAM BONAE SUB REGNO CYNARAE

      (Dowson always fully capitalized his poem titles.) The poem with this long title is a brilliant piece on spending a night with a prostitute. Here are the first two lines:

      Last night, ah yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine,
      There fell thy shadow, Cynara, and the night was thine…

      Reply
  8. James Sale

    Idyll V is particularly beautiful, a variation on the Shakespearian sonnet form it seems to me (though didn’t Sidney use the hexameter in his opening to Astrophel and Stella?); and the concluding couplet is masterful – with all the shades of the ‘Fall’ in it, as what we know in this way tends to master us rather than the other way round. Very great writing.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Thank you, James. Yes, the first sonnet in the Astrophel and Stella sequence is in hexameters. Sidney may have done it to show respect for classical meters, as there was a serious argument in his day about whether English poetry should switch over to quantitative Latin meters. Here’s the first line of the first sonnet:

      / x x / x / x / x / x /
      Loving in trueth, and feyne in verse my love to show…

      A perfect hexameter, with a trochaic start.

      Reply
  9. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    Joe, these superb translations are one of the significant reasons I’m still a member of this gift of a site. You keep the heart of ancient literary marvels beating and I am most grateful for the opportunity to understand the beauty of wondrous words brought to my doorstep for enjoyment. Thank you!

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Thank you so much Susan, for these words. Just to please you, I will submit another pair of exquisite ancient Greek poems to the SCP, with my translations. There are some Greek pieces so strikingly elegant that I despair of being able to produce anything that approaches their quality.

      All the best to you, and I hope you are feeling better.

      Reply
  10. Margaret Coats

    Joe, your first here is a fine brief poem complete in itself, and thus I suppose it may be one you regard as complete in the original. I have been reading both Greek and English–without much capacity to comment on when a fragment is fragmentary. I learned long ago to regard all of Bion except the Adonis poem as precious relics where unity and particular identification of the kind of lyric are not to be sought. Idyll and eclogue and pastoral and bucolic and even georgic overlap so much, even in original English works, that it always seems simplistic to attempt definitions (i.e., pastoral concerns keeping flocks of sheep, bucolic is about herding of cattle). From another perspective, we could call both of these poems by the more modern name of “complaint.” As you indicate in your note, the audience for the ancient poems is an educated and urban one. If you have more to say about the function of “markers” for these varied kinds (ancient or modern), or about their overall resemblance, I’d enjoy hearing a bit–not to demand an essay! I do of course delight in your clear and vivid work to present these two.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Yes, I do think Idyll V is a complete poem, since it narrates a unified (though short) story that has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Idyll XII might be a fragment of some longer piece, because one could imagine it being continued to greater length. Since nearly all that we have of Bion is in the form of excerpts and quotations from later scholiasts, this might mean that XII is incomplete as it stands.

      As for markers, the only two that I can point to here are “herdsman” and “rural lays” and “pipes” and “flutes” in the first poem — all of which tend to be typical vocabulary for bucolic-pastoral verse; and in the second poem the mention of Aphrodite and Eros as dangerous gods. Of course these markers could just as well be used in other types of verse, simply because they had become somewhat stereotyped and cliched, and it might not be easy to pigeonhole a particular piece as fitting precisely into one of the genre categories that you mention. We wouldn’t call Shakespeare’s “Venus and Adonis” pastoral-bucolic, even though it takes place outdoors in the countryside and involves the dangers of the goddess of sex.

      Reply

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