for love of the Argive lad had fluttered the soft hearts of all of them. Then down he sank into the black water, headlong all, as when a star shoots flaming from the sky, plumb in the deep it falls, and a mate shouts out to the seamen, ‘Up with the gear, my lads, the wind is fair for sailing.’ Then the nymphs held the weeping boy on their laps, and with gentle words were striving to comfort him. But the son of Amphitryon was troubled about the lad, and went forth, carrying his bended bow in Scythian fashion, and the club that is ever grasped in his right hand. Thrice he shouted ‘Hylas!’ as loud as his deep throat could call, and thrice again the boy heard him, and thin came his voice from the water, and, hard by though he was, he seemed very far away. And as when a bearded lion, a ravening lion on the hills, hears the bleating of a fawn afar off, and rushes forth from his lair to seize it, his readiest meal, even so the mighty Heracles, in longing for the lad, sped through the trackless briars, and ranged over much country. Reckless are lovers: great toils did Heracles bear, in hills and thickets wandering, and Iason’s quest was all postponed to this. Now the ship abode with her tackling aloft, and the company gathered there, {70} but at midnight the young men were lowering the sails again, awaiting Heracles. But he wheresoever his feet might lead him went wandering in his fury, for the cruel Goddess of love was rending his heart within him. Thus loveliest Hylas is numbered with the Blessed, but for a runaway they girded at Heracles, the heroes, because he roamed from Argo of the sixty oarsmen. But on foot he came to Colchis and inhospitable Phasis. IDYL XIV _This Idyl_, _like the next_, _is dramatic in form_. _One Aeschines tells Thyonichus the story of his quarrel with his mistress Cynisca_. _He speaks of taking foreign service_, _and Thyonichus recommends that of Ptolemy_. _The idyl was probably written at Alexandria_, _as a compliment to Ptolemy_, _and an inducement to Greeks to join his forces_. _There is nothing_, _however_, _to fix the date_. * * * * * _Aeschines_. All hail to the stout Thyonichus! _Thyonichus_. As much to you, Aeschines. _Aeschines_. How long it is since we met! _Thyonichus_. Is it so long? But why, pray, this melancholy? _Aeschines_. I am not in the best of luck, Thyonichus. _Thyonichus_. ’Tis for that, then, you are so lean, and hence comes this long moustache, and these love-locks all adust. Just such a figure was a Pythagorean that came here of late, barefoot and wan,—and said he was an Athenian. Marry, he too was in love, methinks, with a plate of pancakes. _Aeschines_. Friend, you will always have your jest,—but beautiful Cynisca,—she flouts me! I shall go mad some day, when no man looks for it; I am but a hair’s-breadth on the hither side, even now.