Theocritus was an Hellenistic Greek poet. The history of the pastoral begins with him, and in him the form seems to have reached its height.
Theocritus was probably born in an early decade of the third century,
or, according to Couat, about 315 B.C., and was a native of Syracuse,
'the greatest of Greek cities, the fairest of all cities.' So Cicero
calls it. He was the son of Praxagoras and Philinna.
Most of what is known of Theocritus comes from his Idylls. His poetic style is filled with the characters and nature which surrounded him. The existence
he loved best to contemplate, that of southern shepherds, fishermen, rural people, remains what it ... more »
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The Psalm Of Adonis - from Fifteenth Idy...
O Queen that loves Golgi, and Idalium, And the steep of Eryx, O Aphrodite, that playes with gold, Lo, from the stream eternal of Acheron
When Cypris saw Adonis, In death already lying With all his locks dishevelled, And cheeks turned wan and ghastly,
Art come, dear youth? two days and nights away! (Who burn with love, grow aged in a day.) As much as apples sweet the damson crude Excel; the blooming spring the winter rude;
Love Stealing Honey
Once thievish Love the honeyed hives would rob, When a bee stung him: soon he felt a throb Through all his finger-tips, and, wild with pain, Blew on his hands and stamped and jumped in vain.
Where are the bay-leaves, Thestylis, and the charms? Fetch all; with fiery wool the caldron crown; Let glamour win me back my false lord's heart! Twelve days the wretch hath not come nigh to me,
A Countryman's Wooing
THE MAIDEN. How fell sage Helen? through a swain like thee. DAPHNIS. Nay the true Helen's just now kissing me.
Heracles the Lion Slayer
To whom thus spake the herdsman of the herd, Pausing a moment from his handiwork: 'Friend, I will solve thy questions, for I fear The angry looks of Hermes of the roads.
The Battle of the Bards
COMETAS. Goats, from a shepherd who stands here, from Lacon, keep away: Sibyrtas owns him; and he stole my goatskin yesterday.
I pipe to Amaryllis; while my goats, Tityrus their guardian, browse along the fell. O Tityrus, as I love thee, feed my goats: And lead them to the spring, and, Tityrus, 'ware
Epitaph of Eusthenes
Here the shrewd physiognomist Eusthenes lies, Who could tell all your thoughts by a glance at your eyes. A stranger, with strangers his honoured bones rest; They valued sweet song, and he gave them his best. All the honours of death doth the poet possess: If a small one, they mourned for him nevertheless.
For a Statue of the Heavenly Aphrodite
Aphrodite stands here; she of heavenly birth; Not that base one who's wooed by the children of earth. 'Tis a goddess; bow down. And one blemishless all, Chrysogone, placed her in Amphicles' hall:
Once on a time did Eucritus and I (With us Amyntas) to the riverside Steal from the city. For Lycopeus' sons Were that day busy with the harvest-home,
The Death of Adonis
Cythera saw Adonis And knew that he was dead; She marked the brow, all grisly now, The cheek no longer red;
The Giant's Wooing
Methinks all nature hath no cure for Love, Plaster or unguent, Nicias, saving one; And this is light and pleasant to a man, Yet hard withal to compass-minstrelsy.
Comments about Theocritus
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The Psalm Of Adonis - from Fifteenth Idyll
O Queen that loves Golgi, and Idalium,
And the steep of Eryx,
O Aphrodite, that playes with gold,
Lo, from the stream eternal of Acheron
They have brought back to you Adonis---
Even in the twelfth month they have brought him,
The dainty-footed Hours.
Tardiest of the Immortals are the beloved Hours,
But dear and desired they come,
For always, to all mortals,
They bring some gift with them.
O Cypris, daughter of Dione,
From mortal to immortal, so men tell,
You have changed Berenice, dropping softly in
The woman's breast the stuff of ...