Gallus

Lucian of Samosata

The Works of Lucian of Samosata, complete, with exceptions specified in thepreface, Vol. 3. Fowler, H. W. and Fowlere, F.G., translators. Oxford at the Clarendon Press, 1905.

Micyllus Gold upon gold was there; picture if you can that glorious lightning-flash! What is it that Pindar says about gold? Can you help me to it? He says water is best, and then very properly ‘proceeds to sing the praises of gold; it comes at the beginning of the book, and a beautiful ode it is.

Cock What about this?

  • Chiefest of all good we hold
  • Water: even so doth gold,
  • Like a fire that flameth through the night,
  • Shine mid lordly wealth most lordly bright.

    • Micyllus The very words; I could fancy that Pindar had seen my vision. And now, my philosophic cock, I will proceed to details. That I did not dine at home last night, you are already aware; the wealthy Eucrates had met me in the morning, and told me to come to dinner after my bath at his usual hour.

    Cock Too well do I know it, after starving all day long. It was quite late before you came home—half-seas over—and

    v.3.p.110
    gave me those five beans; rather short commons for a cock who has been an athlete in his day, and contended at Olympia, not without distinction.

    Micyllus Well, so when I got back, and had given is the beans, I went to sleep, and Through the ambrosial night a dream divine— ah, divine indeed!—

    Cock Wait: let us have Eucrates first. What sort of a dinner wasit? Tell me all about it. Seize the opportunity: dine once more in waking dream; chew the cud of prandial reminiscence.

    Micyllus I thought all that would bore you; however, if you are curious, all right. I had never dined at a great house in my life before, when yesterday, in a lucky hour for me, I fell in with Eucrates. After saluting him respectfully as usual, I was making off—not to bring discredit on him by walking at his side in my shabby clothes—when he spoke to me: ‘Micyllus,’ he said, ‘it is my daughter’s birthday to-day, and I have invited a number of friends to celebrate it. One of them, I hear, is indisposed, and will not be able to come; you can take his place, always provided that I do not hear from him, for at present I do not know whether to expect him or not.’ I made my bow, and departed, praying that ague, pleurisy, and gout might light upon the invalid whose appetite I had the honour to represent. I thought bath-time would never come; I could not keep my eyes off the dial: where was the shadow now? could I go yet? At last it really was time: I scraped the dirt off, and made myself smart, turning my cloak inside out, so that the clean side might be uppermost.