Meanwhile best friend of friends, do thou, If this the cruel fates allow, By death’s dark river, Among those shadowy people, drink No drop for me on Lethe’s brink: Forget me never!’” _The Greek Poets_, vol. 2, p. 298. Theocritus, though coming late in the Greek age (about 300 B.C.) when Athens had yielded place to Alexandria, still carried on the Greek tradition in a remarkable way. A native of Syracuse, he caught and echoed in a finer form the life and songs of the country folk of that region—themselves descendants of Dorian settlers. Songs and ballads full of similar notes linger among the Greek peasants, shepherds and fisher-folk, even down to the present day. [Sidenote: _Theocritus Idyl XII._] The following poem (trans. by M. J. Chapman, 1836) is one of the best known and most beautiful of his Idyls:— IDYL XII. “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; In fleece the sheep her lamb; the maid in sweetness The thrice-wed dame; the fawn the calf in fleetness; The nightingale in song all feathered kind— So much thy longed-for presence cheers my mind. To thee I hasten, as to shady beech, The traveller, when from the heaven’s reach The sun fierce blazes. May our love be strong, To all hereafter times the theme of song! ‘Two men each other loved to that degree, That either friend did in the other see A dearer than himself. They lived of old Both golden natures in an age of gold.’ O father Zeus! ageless immortals all! Two hundred ages hence may one recall, Down-coming to the irremeable river, This to my mind, and this good news deliver: ‘E’en now from east to west, from north to south, Your mutual friendship lives in every mouth.’ This, as they please, th’ Olympians will decide: Of thee, by blooming virtue beautified, My glowing song shall only truth disclose; With falsehood’s pustules I’ll not shame my nose. If thou dost sometime grieve me, sweet the pleasure Of reconcilement, joy in double measure To find thou never didst intend the pain, And feel myself from all doubt free again. And ye Megarians, at Nisæa dwelling, Expert at rowing, mariners excelling, Be happy ever! for with honours due Th’ Athenian Diocles, to friendship true Ye celebrate. With the first blush of spring The youth surround his tomb: there who shall bring The sweetest kiss, whose lip is purest found, Back to his mother goes with garlands crowned. Nice touch the arbiter must have indeed, And must, methinks, the blue-eyed Ganymede Invoke with many prayers—a mouth to own True to the touch of lips, as Lydian stone To proof of gold—which test will instant show The pure or base, as money changers know.” [Sidenote: _Idyl XXIX._] The following Idyl, of which I append a rendering, is attributed to Theocritus:— IDYL XXIX.