IDYL XVII.

PTOLEMY.

Muses! begin and end the song with Zeus,
When of immortals we the chief extol:

Of men the name of Ptolemy produce
First, last, and midst-for he is chief of all.
For their exploits the seed heroical
Of demigods life-giving minstrels found:

I, skilled to sing, will Ptolemy install

Theme of my song-and glowing hymns redound E'en to their praise, who dwell th' Olympian heights around.

In Ida's thick of wood, perplex'd with choice,
Which to begin with, the wood-cutter flings
His glance around: to what shall I give voice
First out of all the many blessed things,

With which the gods have graced the best of kings? How great the son of Lagus from his birth! Born for what deeds! what great imaginings His mind conceived beyond the sons of earth! Up to the gods by Zeus exalted for his worth!

In Jove's own house his golden couch is spread,
And by him sits his friend in royal pride,
Great Alexander, the portentous dread

Of Persians glittering with the turban pied:
And Hercules, the vast Centauricide,

Sits opposite on adamantine throne;

There with the gods he banquets gratified,

In his sons' sons rejoicing as his own,

Made free of age by Zeus, and as immortals known.

For from heroic Hercules the twain

Descended: therefore when he goes content
From the gods' banquet to his wife again,
Sated with nectar of a fragrant scent,
To one his quiver and his bow unbent

Ever he hands, and to that other blest
His iron-shotted club, with knobs besprent;
And so they marshal him unto his rest

In his ambrosial home, white-ankled Hebe's nest.

How excellent of dames was Berenice!

To her dear parents what a wealth of pleasure!
Dionis wiped her fingers on the spicy

Swell of her bosom. No man in such measure
E'er loved his wife, as Ptolemy's best leisure
Doted on her; and she with him contended

In love-yea! loved him more: his house and treasure Thus to his sons he with full trust commended, Since, loving, he the couch of loving wife ascended.

Some stranger draws the wanton's fancy flightyHer children many, like the father none ! Loveliest of goddesses! bright Aphrodite! Through thee, the way of wailful Acheron Was ne'er by lovely Berenice gone : Her, thy sweet care, from the Cyanean river, And death's grim ferryman, the gloomy one! Thou didst, soft-placing in thy fane, deliver, And a conceded share of thine own honours give her.

Soft loves on mortal kind she breathes benign,
And makes his love-care light to every lover.
Thou, who in Argos didst with Tydeus twine,
Dark brows thy gentle eye-lids arching over,

Didst Diomede to light of day discover;

To Peleus the full-bosomed Thetis bore

Achilles; thee (for there the birth-pang drove her The aid of Eileithuia to implore),

Bright Berenice brought forth on the Coan shore:

The Woman-helper stood benignant by,
Her limbs from pain composing, till she smiled
On thee new-born to warrior Ptolemy -
And like his father was the lovely child.

Exulting Cos, with jubilant rapture wild,
Fondled the babe, loud-hymning at the sight:-
"Boy! be thou blest; for me be honours piled
On thy account, such as the Delian bright

Hung round the blue-crowned isle, on which he sprung to light.

From thee to Triop's hill such honour follow,
And no less to the Dorians dwelling nigh,

As his Rhenæa had from King Apollo !"
Thus Cos: the bird of Zeus, up-poised on high,
Under the clouds, well-omened thrice did cry:
From king-protecting Zeus the sign was sent ;
But when from birth he marks a royalty,