No, not a particle; go a-weeping elsewhere.
Oh! oh! oh! my poor beasts!
This man has discovered the sweetest enjoyment in peace; he will share it
Pour honey over this tripe; set it before the fire to dry.
What lofty tones he uses! Did you hear him?
Get the eels on the gridiron!
You are killing me with hunger; your smoke is choking your
neighbours, and you split our ears with your bawling.
Have this fried and let it be nicely browned.
Who are you?
A young bridegroom sends you these viands from the marriage feast.
Whoever he be, I thank him.
And in return, he prays you to pour a glass of peace into this vase,
that he may not have to go to the front and may stay at home
to do his duty to his young wife.
Take back, take back your viands; for a thousand drachmae I
would not give a drop of peace; but who are you, pray?
I am the bridesmaid; she wants to say something to you
from the bride privately.
Come, what do you wish to say? (THE BRIDESMAID WHISPERS IN
HIS EAR.) Ah! what a ridiculous demand! The bride burns with longing
to keep by her her husband's weapon. Come! \bring hither my truce; to
her alone will I give some of it, for she is a woman, and, as such,
should not suffer under the war. Here, friend, reach hither your vial.
And as to the manner of applying this balm, tell the bride, when a
levy of soldiers is made to rub some in bed on her husband, where
most needed. There, slave, take away my truce! Now, quick, bring me
the wine-flagon, that I may fill up the drinking bowls!
I see a man, striding along apace, with knitted brows; he seems
to us the bearer of terrible tidings.
Oh! toils and battles, 'tis Lamachus!
What noise resounds around my dwelling, where shines the glint
The Generals order you forthwith to take your battalions and
your plumes, and, despite the snow, to go and guard our borders.
They have learnt that a band of Boeotians intend taking advantage
of the Feast of Cups to invade our country.
Ah! the Generals! they are numerous, but not good for much!
It's cruel, not to be able to enjoy the feast!
Oh! warlike host of Lamachus!
Wretch! do you dare to jeer me?
Do you want to fight this four-winged Geryon?
Oh! oh! what fearful tidings!
Ah! ah! I see another herald running up; what news does he bring me?
What is the matter?
Come quickly to the feast and bring your basket and your cup;
'tis the priest of Bacchus who invites you. But hasten, the guestsDownload<<BackPagesMainNext>>