he Hollow Land was dear, but
the high suns of Sicily and the brown cheeks of the country maidens were
happiness enough. For thee, therefore, methinks, surely is reserved an
Elysium beneath the summer of a far-off system, with stars not ours
and alien seasons. There, as Bion prayed, shall Spring, the thrice
desirable, be with thee the whole year through, where there is neither
frost, nor is the heat so heavy on men, but all is fruitful, and all
sweet things blossom, and evenly meted are darkness and dawn. Space is
wide, and there be many worlds, and suns enow, and the Sun-god surely
has had a care of his own. Little didst thou need, in thy native land,
the isle of the three capes, little didst thou need but sunlight on
land and sea. Death can have shown thee naught dearer than the fragrant
shadow of the pines, where the dry needles of the fir are strewn, or
glades where feathered ferns make 'a couch more soft than Sleep.' The
short grass of the cliffs, too, thou didst love, where thou wouldst lie,
and watch, with the tunny watcher till the deep blue sea was broken by
the burnished sides of the tunny shoal, and afoam with their gambols in
the brine. There the Muses met thee, and the Nymphs, and there Apollo,
remembering his old thraldom with Admetus, would lead once more a
mortal's flocks, and listen and learn, Theocritus, while thou, like
thine own Comatas, 'didst sweetly sing.'

There, methinks, I see thee as in thy happy days, 'reclined on deep beds
of fragrant lentisk, lowly strewn, and rejoicing in new stript leaves
of the vine, while far above thy head waved many a poplar, many an
elm-tree, and close at hand the sacred waters sang from the mouth of the
cavern of the nymphs.' And when night came, methinks thou wouldst flee
from the merry company and the dancing girls, from the fading crowds of
roses or white violets, from the cottabos, and the minstrelsy, and the
Bibline wine, from these thou wouldst slip away into the summer night.
Then the beauty of life and of the summer would keep thee from thy
couch, and wandering away from Syracuse by the sandhills and the
sea, thou wouldst watch the low cabin, roofed with grass, where
the fishing-rods of reed were leaning against the door, while the
Mediterranean floated up her waves, and filled the waste with sound.
There didst thou see thine ancient fishermen rising ere the dawn from
their bed of dry sea-weed, and heardst them stirring, drowsy, among
their fishing gear, and