Lucian, Gallus, Henry Watson Fowler (Translator), Francis George Fowler (Translator), 6

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Micyllus

Ah, cock, cock, I shall never forget it. That dream has left its honeyed spell on my eyelids; ’tis all I can do to open them; they would fain close once more in sleep. As a feather tickles the ear, so did that vision tickle my imagination.

Cock

Bless me, you seem to be very hard hit. Dreams are winged, so they say, and their flight circumscribed by sleep: this one seems to have broken bounds, and taken up its abode in wakeful eyes, transferring thither its honeyed spell, its lifelike presence, Tell me this dream of your desire.

Micyllus

With all my heart; it is a joy to remember it, and to speak of it. But what about your transformations?

Cock

They must wait till you have done dreaming, and wiped the honey from your eyelids. So you begin: I want to see which gates the dream came through, the ivory or the horn.

Micyllus

Through neither.

Cock

Well, but these are the only two that Homer mentions.

Micyllus

Homer may go hang: what does a babbling poet know about dreams? Pauper dreams may come through those gates, for all I know; that was the kind that Homer saw, and not over clearly at that, as he was blind. But my beauty came through golden gates, golden himself and clothed i in gold and bringing gold.

Cock

Enough of gold, most gentle Midas; for to a Midasptayer it is that I trace your vision; you must have dreamt whole minefuls.

Gallus. Lucian. Henry Watson Fowler (Translator), Francis George Fowler (Translator). Medford, MA, USA. 2023-08-01.

Current edition Perseus

The Cock (English) (The Works of Lucian of Samosata, Vol. 3. Fowler, Henry Watson and Fowler, Francis George, translators. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1905.)

Editions (1)

Ὄνειρος ἢ Ἀλεκτρυών Perseus (Lucian, Vol. 2. Harmon, Austin Morris, editor. London: William Heinemann, Ltd.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1915.) — 6 focus

Μίκυλλος

ἀλλʼ οὐδʼ ἐπιλήσομαί ποτε, ὦ ἀλεκτρυών, εὖ ἴσθι, τῆς ὄψεως ἐκείνης· οὕτω μοι πολὺ τὸ μέλι ἐν τοῖς ὀφθαλμοῖς ὁ ὄνειρος καταλιπὼν ᾤχετο, ὡς μόγις ἀνοίγειν τὰ βλέφαρα ὑπʼ αὐτοῦ εἰς ὕπνον αὖθις κατασπώμενα. οἷον γοῦν ἐν τοῖς ὠσὶ τὰ πτερὰ ἐργάζεται στρεφόμενα, τοιοῦτον γάργαλον παρείχετό μοι τὰ ὁρώμενα.

Ἀλεκτρυών

Ἡράκλεις, δεινόν τινα φὴς τὸν ὄνειρον,¹ εἴ γε πτηνὸς ὤν, ὥς φασιν, καὶ ὅρον ἔχων τῆς πτήσεως τὸν ὕπνον ὑπὲρ τὰ ἐσκαμμένα ἤδη πηδᾷ καὶ ἐνδιατρίβει ἀνεῳγόσι τοῖς ὀφθαλμοῖς μελιχρὸς οὕτως καὶ ἐναργὴς φαινόμενος· ἐθέλω γοῦν ἀκοῦσαι οἷός τίς ἐστιν οὕτω σοι τριπόθητος ὤν.

Μίκυλλος

ἕτοιμος λέγειν· ἡδὺ γοῦν τὸ μεμνῆσθαι καὶ διεξιέναι τι περὶ αὐτοῦ. σὺ δὲ πηνίκα, ὦ Πυθαγόρα, διηγήσῃ τὰ περὶ τῶν μεταβολῶν;

Ἀλεκτρυών

ἐπειδὰν σύ, ὦ Μίκυλλε, παύσῃ ὀνειρώττων καὶ ἀποψήσῃ ἀπὸ τῶν βλεφάρων τὸ μέλι· νῦν δὲ πρότερος εἰπέ, ὡς μάθω εἴτε διὰ τῶν ἐλεφαντίνων πυλῶν εἴτε διὰ τῶν κερατίνων σοι ὁ ὄνειρος ἧκε πετόμενος.

Μίκυλλος

οὐδὲ διʼ ἑτέρας τούτων, ὦ Πυθαγόρα.

Ἀλεκτρυών

καὶ μὴν Ὅμηρος δύο ταύτας μόνας λέγει.

Μίκυλλος

ἔα χαίρειν τὸν λῆρον ἐκεῖνον ποιητὴν οὐδὲν εἰδότα ὀνείρων πέρι. οἱ πένητες ἴσως ὄνειροι διὰ τῶν τοιούτων ἐξίασιν, οἵους ἐκεῖνος ἑώρα οὐδὲ πάνυ σαφῶς τυφλὸς αὐτὸς ὤν, ἐμοὶ δὲ διὰ χρυσῶν τινων πυλῶν ὁ ἥδιστος ἀφίκετο, χρυσοῦς καὶ αὐτὸς καὶ χρυσᾶ πάντα περιβεβλημένος καὶ πολὺ ἐπαγόμενος χρυσίον.

Ἀλεκτρυών

παῦε, ὦ Μίδα βέλτιστε, χρυσολογῶν· ἀτεχνῶς γὰρ ἐκ τῆς ἐκείνου σοι εὐχῆς τὸ ἐνύπνιον καὶ μέταλλα ὅλα χρύσεια κεκοιμῆσθαί μοι δοκεῖς.

Translations (2)

The Dream, or the Cock Perseus (Lucian, Vol. 2. Harmon, Austin Morris, editor. London: William Heinemann, Ltd.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1915.) — 6 focus

MICYLLUS

Why, I shall never forget that vision, cock, you may be sure. The dream left so much honied sweetness in my eyes when it went away that I can hardly open my lids, for it drags them down in sleep again. In fact, what I saw gave me as pleasant a titillation as a feather twiddled in one’s ear.

COCK

Heracles! By what you say, Master Dream is an adept indeed. Rumour says that he has wings and can fly to the limit set by sleep, but now he “jumps over the pit”¹ and lingers in eyes that are open, presenting himself in a form so honey-sweet and palpable. At all events I should be glad to hear what he is like, since you hold him so very dear.

MICYLLUS

I am ready to tell; in fact, it will be delightful to think and talk about it. But when are you going to tell me about your transmigrations, Pythagoras?

COCK

When you stop dreaming, Micyllus, and rub the honey out of your eyes. At present, you speak first, so that I may find out whether it was through the gates of ivory or the gates of horn that the dream winged its way to you.

MICYLLUS

Not through either of them, Pythagoras.

COCK

Well, Homer mentions only those two.²

MICYLLUS

Let that silly poet go hang! He knows nothing about dreams. Perhaps the beggarly dreams go out through those gates, dreams like those he used to see; and he couldn’t see them very plainly at that, for he was blind! But my darling dream came through gates of gold, and it was gold itself and all dressed in gold and brought heaps of gold with it.

COCK

Stop babbling of gold, most noble Midas. Really your dream was just like Midas’ prayer, and you appear to me to have slept yourself into whole goldmines.

The Cock Perseus (Lucian. Selections from Lucian. Smith, Emily James, translator. New York: Harper Brothers, 1892.) — 6 focus

Mikyllos

I can tell you, Cock, that I will never forget that vision. The dream as it went left so much honey in my eyes that I can hardly lift my lids, for it drags them down again to sleep. You know the tickling you get if you twirl a feather in your ear; well, that is just the sensation I had from my dream.

Cock

By Herakles, this is a marvellous love that you declare for a dream! They say dreams are winged and their flight is bounded by sleep, but this one has leaped beyond the mark and lingers in open eyes, seeming so honey-sweet and vivid. I should really like to hear what it was like, since you long for it so.

Mikyllos

I am ready to tell you, for it is a pleasure to me to recall and describe something of it. But when will you, Pythagoras, tell me about your transformations?

Cock

When you, Mikyllos, stop dreaming and rub the honey from your eyelids. But tell me this first, whether your dream was sent through the gates of ivory or the gates of horn.

Mikyllos

Through neither, Pythagoras.

Cock

But Homer tells of these two only.

Mikyllos

Don't talk to me about that fool of a poet, who knew nothing about dreams. Perhaps poor dreams such as he used to see-not very clearly, either, for he was blind-came through such gates; but mine, the most beautiful, came through golden gates, and itself was golden and clothed all in gold, and brought heaps of gold with it.

Cock

Stop your tale of gold, you Midas!

Lucian Gallus 6

Henry Watson Fowler (Translator), Francis George Fowler (Translator)

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Micyllus

Ah, cock, cock, I shall never forget it. That dream has left its honeyed spell on my eyelids; ’tis all I can do to open them; they would fain close once more in sleep. As a feather tickles the ear, so did that vision tickle my imagination.

Cock

Bless me, you seem to be very hard hit. Dreams are winged, so they say, and their flight circumscribed by sleep: this one seems to have broken bounds, and taken up its abode in wakeful eyes, transferring thither its honeyed spell, its lifelike presence, Tell me this dream of your desire.

Micyllus

With all my heart; it is a joy to remember it, and to speak of it. But what about your transformations?

Cock

They must wait till you have done dreaming, and wiped the honey from your eyelids. So you begin: I want to see which gates the dream came through, the ivory or the horn.

Micyllus

Through neither.

Cock

Well, but these are the only two that Homer mentions.

Cock

Enough of gold, most gentle Midas; for to a Midasptayer it is that I trace your vision; you must have dreamt whole minefuls.

Current edition Perseus

Μίκυλλος

ἕτοιμος λέγειν· ἡδὺ γοῦν τὸ μεμνῆσθαι καὶ διεξιέναι τι περὶ αὐτοῦ. σὺ δὲ πηνίκα, ὦ Πυθαγόρα, διηγήσῃ τὰ περὶ τῶν μεταβολῶν;

Μίκυλλος

οὐδὲ διʼ ἑτέρας τούτων, ὦ Πυθαγόρα.

Ἀλεκτρυών

καὶ μὴν Ὅμηρος δύο ταύτας μόνας λέγει.

Ἀλεκτρυών

παῦε, ὦ Μίδα βέλτιστε, χρυσολογῶν· ἀτεχνῶς γὰρ ἐκ τῆς ἐκείνου σοι εὐχῆς τὸ ἐνύπνιον καὶ μέταλλα ὅλα χρύσεια κεκοιμῆσθαί μοι δοκεῖς.

MICYLLUS

I am ready to tell; in fact, it will be delightful to think and talk about it. But when are you going to tell me about your transmigrations, Pythagoras?

COCK

When you stop dreaming, Micyllus, and rub the honey out of your eyes. At present, you speak first, so that I may find out whether it was through the gates of ivory or the gates of horn that the dream winged its way to you.

MICYLLUS

Not through either of them, Pythagoras.

COCK

Well, Homer mentions only those two.²

COCK

Stop babbling of gold, most noble Midas. Really your dream was just like Midas’ prayer, and you appear to me to have slept yourself into whole goldmines.

Mikyllos

I am ready to tell you, for it is a pleasure to me to recall and describe something of it. But when will you, Pythagoras, tell me about your transformations?

Cock

When you, Mikyllos, stop dreaming and rub the honey from your eyelids. But tell me this first, whether your dream was sent through the gates of ivory or the gates of horn.

Mikyllos

Through neither, Pythagoras.

Cock

But Homer tells of these two only.

Cock

Stop your tale of gold, you Midas!

Stable identifiers

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Micyllus Ah, cock, cock, I shall never forget it. That dream has left its honeyed spell on my eyelids; ’tis all I can do to open them; they would fain close once more in sleep. As a feather tickles the ear, so did that vision tickle my imagination.

Cock Bless me, you seem to be very hard hit. Dreams are winged, so they say, and their flight circumscribed by sleep: this one seems to have broken bounds, and taken up its abode in wakeful eyes, transferring thither its honeyed spell, its lifelike presence, Tell me this dream of your desire.

Micyllus With all my heart; it is a joy to remember it, and to speak of it. But what about your transformations?

Cock They must wait till you have done dreaming, and wiped the honey from your eyelids. So you begin: I want to see which gates the dream came through, the ivory or the horn.

Micyllus Through neither.

Cock Well, but these are the only two that Homer mentions.

Cock Enough of gold, most gentle Midas; for to a Midasptayer it is that I trace your vision; you must have dreamt whole minefuls.

Current edition Perseus

Μίκυλλος ἕτοιμος λέγειν· ἡδὺ γοῦν τὸ μεμνῆσθαι καὶ διεξιέναι τι περὶ αὐτοῦ. σὺ δὲ πηνίκα, ὦ Πυθαγόρα, διηγήσῃ τὰ περὶ τῶν μεταβολῶν;

Μίκυλλος οὐδὲ διʼ ἑτέρας τούτων, ὦ Πυθαγόρα.

Ἀλεκτρυών καὶ μὴν Ὅμηρος δύο ταύτας μόνας λέγει.

Ἀλεκτρυών παῦε, ὦ Μίδα βέλτιστε, χρυσολογῶν· ἀτεχνῶς γὰρ ἐκ τῆς ἐκείνου σοι εὐχῆς τὸ ἐνύπνιον καὶ μέταλλα ὅλα χρύσεια κεκοιμῆσθαί μοι δοκεῖς.

MICYLLUS I am ready to tell; in fact, it will be delightful to think and talk about it. But when are you going to tell me about your transmigrations, Pythagoras?

COCK When you stop dreaming, Micyllus, and rub the honey out of your eyes. At present, you speak first, so that I may find out whether it was through the gates of ivory or the gates of horn that the dream winged its way to you.

MICYLLUS Not through either of them, Pythagoras.

COCK Well, Homer mentions only those two. 2

COCK Stop babbling of gold, most noble Midas. Really your dream was just like Midas’ prayer, and you appear to me to have slept yourself into whole goldmines.

Mikyllos I am ready to tell you, for it is a pleasure to me to recall and describe something of it. But when will you, Pythagoras, tell me about your transformations?

Cock When you, Mikyllos, stop dreaming and rub the honey from your eyelids. But tell me this first, whether your dream was sent through the gates of ivory or the gates of horn.

Mikyllos Through neither, Pythagoras.

Cock But Homer tells of these two only.

Cock Stop your tale of gold, you Midas!

Stable identifiers

Micyllus

Ah, cock, cock, I shall never forget it. That dream has left its honeyed spell on my eyelids; ’tis all I can do to open them; they would fain close once more in sleep. As a feather tickles the ear, so did that vision tickle my imagination.

Cock

Bless me, you seem to be very hard hit. Dreams are winged, so they say, and their flight circumscribed by sleep: this one seems to have broken bounds, and taken up its abode in wakeful eyes, transferring thither its honeyed spell, its lifelike presence, Tell me this dream of your desire.

Micyllus

With all my heart; it is a joy to remember it, and to speak of it. But what about your transformations?

Cock

They must wait till you have done dreaming, and wiped the honey from your eyelids. So you begin: I want to see which gates the dream came through, the ivory or the horn.

Micyllus

Through neither.

Cock

Well, but these are the only two that Homer mentions.

Cock

Enough of gold, most gentle Midas; for to a Midasptayer it is that I trace your vision; you must have dreamt whole minefuls.

Μίκυλλος

ἕτοιμος λέγειν· ἡδὺ γοῦν τὸ μεμνῆσθαι καὶ διεξιέναι τι περὶ αὐτοῦ. σὺ δὲ πηνίκα, ὦ Πυθαγόρα, διηγήσῃ τὰ περὶ τῶν μεταβολῶν;

Μίκυλλος

οὐδὲ διʼ ἑτέρας τούτων, ὦ Πυθαγόρα.

Ἀλεκτρυών

καὶ μὴν Ὅμηρος δύο ταύτας μόνας λέγει.

Ἀλεκτρυών

παῦε, ὦ Μίδα βέλτιστε, χρυσολογῶν· ἀτεχνῶς γὰρ ἐκ τῆς ἐκείνου σοι εὐχῆς τὸ ἐνύπνιον καὶ μέταλλα ὅλα χρύσεια κεκοιμῆσθαί μοι δοκεῖς.

MICYLLUS

I am ready to tell; in fact, it will be delightful to think and talk about it. But when are you going to tell me about your transmigrations, Pythagoras?

COCK

When you stop dreaming, Micyllus, and rub the honey out of your eyes. At present, you speak first, so that I may find out whether it was through the gates of ivory or the gates of horn that the dream winged its way to you.

MICYLLUS

Not through either of them, Pythagoras.

COCK

Well, Homer mentions only those two.²

COCK

Stop babbling of gold, most noble Midas. Really your dream was just like Midas’ prayer, and you appear to me to have slept yourself into whole goldmines.

Mikyllos

I am ready to tell you, for it is a pleasure to me to recall and describe something of it. But when will you, Pythagoras, tell me about your transformations?

Cock

When you, Mikyllos, stop dreaming and rub the honey from your eyelids. But tell me this first, whether your dream was sent through the gates of ivory or the gates of horn.

Mikyllos

Through neither, Pythagoras.

Cock

But Homer tells of these two only.

Cock

Stop your tale of gold, you Midas!