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Briefly translated out of Lucian
THE SEA NYMPHS late did play them on the shore, | |
| And smiled to see such sport was new begun: | |
| A strife in love, the like not heard before; | |
| Two Nymphs contend, Which had the conquest won? | |
| DORIS the fair, with GALATE did chide. | 5 |
| She liked her choice, and to her taunts replied. | |
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DORIS Thy Love, fair Nymph! that courts thee on this plain, | |
| As shepherds say, and all the World can tell, | |
| Is that foul rude Sicilian CYCLOP-swain. | |
| A shame, sweet Nymph, that he with thee should mell [mix]! | 10 |
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GALATEA Smile not, fair DORIS! though he foul do seem. | |
| Let pass thy words that savour of disgrace! | |
| He’s worth my love, and so I him esteem. | |
| Renowned by birth, and comes of NEPTUNE’s race. | |
| NEPTUNE, that doth the glassy ocean tame; | 15 |
| NEPTUNE, by birth from mighty JOVE which came. | |
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DORIS I grant an honour to be NEPTUNE’s child; | |
| A grace to be so near with JOVE allied: | |
| But yet, sweet Nymph! with this be not beguiled; | |
| Where Nature’s graces are by looks descried. | 20 |
| So foul, so rough, so ugly-like a Clown; | |
| And worse than this, a Monster with one eye. | |
| Foul is not gracèd, though it wear a Crown! | |
| But fair is Beauty. None can that deny. | |
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GALATEA Nor is he foul, or shapeless, as you say | 25 |
| Or worse: for that he clownish seems to be. | |
| Rough, Saytr-like, the better he will play: | |
| And manly looks the fitter are for me. | |
| His frowning smiles are gracèd by his beard: | |
| His eye-light, sun-like, shrouded is in one. | 30 |
| This me contents; and others makes afeard. | |
| He sees enough, and therefore wanteth none. With one eye. | |
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DORIS Nay, then I see, sweet Nymph: thou art in love; | |
| And loving, doat’st; and doating, dost commend | |
| Foul to be Fair. This oft do Lovers prove. | 35 |
| I wish him fairer, or thy love an end! | |
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GALATEA DORIS, I love not: yet I hardly bear | |
| Disgraceful terms, which you have spoke in scorn. | |
| You are not loved: and that ’s the cause I fear. | |
| For why, my Love of JOVE himself was born. | 40 |
| Feeding his sheep of late, amidst this plain. | |
| When as we Nymphs did sport us on the shore: | |
| He scorned you all, my love for to obtain. | |
| That grieved your hearts. I knew as much before. | |
| Nay, smile not Nymphs! The truth I only tell. | 45 |
| For few can brook that others should excel. | |
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DORIS Should I envy that Blind did you that spite; | |
| Or that your shape doth please so foul a Groom? | |
| The Shepherd thought of milk. You looked so white. | |
| The Clown did err, and foolish was his doom. | 50 |
| Your look was pale, and so his stomach fed: | |
| But far from fair, where white doth want his red. | |
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GALATEA Though pale my look; yet he my love did crave; | |
| And lovely You, unliked, unloved, I view. | |
| It ’s better far, one base, than none, to have. | 55 |
| Your fair is foul, to whom there’s none will sue. | |
| My Love doth tune his love unto his harp: | |
| His shape is rude; but yet his wit is sharp. | |
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DORIS Leave off, sweet Nymph! to grace a worthless Clown | |
| He itched with love; and then did sing, or say. | 60 |
| The noise was such as all the Nymphs did frown, | |
| And well suspected that some ass did bray. | |
| The woods did chide, to hear this ugly sound: | |
| The prating ECHO scorned for to repeat. | |
| This grisly voice did fear the hollow ground, | 65 |
| Whilst Art-less fingers did his harp-strings beat. | |
| Two bear whelps in his arms this Monster bore: | |
| With these new puppies did this Wanton play! | |
| Their skins were rough; but yet your loves were more. | |
| He fouler was and far more fierce than they. | 70 |
| I cannot choose, sweet Nymph! to think, but smile, | |
| That some of us thou fearest, will thee beguile. | |
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GALATEA Scorn not my Love! until it can be known | |
| That you have one that ’s better, of your own. | |
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DORIS I have no Love: nor, if I had, would boast: | 75 |
| Yet wooed have been by such as well might speed. | |
| But him to love, the Shame of all the coast! | |
| So ugly foul, as yet, I have no need. | |
| Now thus we learn what foolish love can do? | |
| To think him fair, that ’s foul and ugly too. | 80 |
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| To hear this talk I sat behind an oak; | |
| And marked their words and penned them as they spoke | |
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Ad Lectorem, distichon | |
cujusdam de Autore. | |
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Lascivi quæres fuerit cur carminis Autor; | 85 |
Carmine lascivus, mente pudicus erat. | |
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