Idyll 11.1–18
Theocritus, Idyll 11.1–18 — to Nikias: there is no cure for love but song, as Polyphemus found (Doric) · 19 lines
1–2οὐδὲν ποττὸν ἔρωτα πεφύκει φάρμακον ἄλλο, Νικία, οὔτ᾽ ἔγχριστον, ἐμὶν δοκεῖ, οὔτ᾽ ἐπίπαστον,
No other remedy for love has ever grown, Nikias — neither ointment, it seems to me, nor powder —
3ἢ ταὶ Πιερίδες· κοῦφον δέ τι τοῦτο καὶ ἁδύ
than the Pierian Muses. And this is a light and sweet thing
4γίνετ᾽ ἐπ᾽ ἀνθρώποις, εὑρεῖν δ᾽ οὐ ῥᾴδιόν ἐστι.
among men, but it is not easy to find.
5–6γινώσκειν δ᾽ οἶμαί τυ καλῶς ἰατρὸν ἐόντα καὶ ταῖς ἐννέα δὴ πεφιλημένον ἔξοχα Μοίσαις.
And I think you know it well, being a doctor and, besides, especially beloved of the nine Muses.
7–8οὕτω γοῦν ῥάιστα διᾶγ᾽ ὁ Κύκλωψ ὁ παρ᾽ ἁμῖν, ὡρχαῖος Πολύφαμος, ὅκ᾽ ἤρατο τᾶς Γαλατείας,
At any rate it was thus that the Cyclops in our parts got through most easily — Polyphemus of old — when he was in love with Galateia,
9ἄρτι γενειάσδων περὶ τὸ στόμα τὼς κροτάφως τε.
with the beard just coming about his mouth and his temples.
10–11ἤρατο δ᾽ οὐ μάλοις οὐδὲ ῥόδῳ οὐδὲ κικίννοις, ἀλλ᾽ ὀρθαῖς μανίαις, ἁγεῖτο δὲ πάντα πάρεργα.
And he loved not with apples nor with a rose nor with love-locks, but with sheer madness, and he counted everything else as by-work.
12–13πολλάκι ταὶ ὄιες ποτὶ τωὔλιον αὐταὶ ἀπῆνθον χλωρᾶς ἐκ βοτάνας·
Often the sheep came home to the fold by themselves from the green pasture;
13–14ὁ δὲ τὰν Γαλάτειαν ἀείδων αὐτὸς ἐπ᾽ ἀϊόνος κατετάκετο φυκιοέσσας
but he, singing of Galateia, lay wasting away by himself on the seaweed-strewn shore
15–16ἐξ ἀοῦς, ἔχθιστον ἔχων ὑποκάρδιον ἕλκος, Κύπριδος ἐκ μεγάλας τό οἱ ἥπατι πᾶξε βέλεμνον.
from dawn, with a most hateful wound beneath his heart, which the shaft of mighty Cypris had fixed in his liver.
17–18ἀλλὰ τὸ φάρμακον εὗρε, καθεζόμενος δ᾽ ἐπὶ πέτρας ὑψηλᾶς ἐς πόντον ὁρῶν ἄειδε τοιαῦτα·
But he found the remedy, and sitting on a high rock, looking out to sea, he would sing songs like these: