Bion of Smyrna Poems : The Teacher Taught

By me in my fresh prime did Cypris stand,
Leading the child Love in her lovely hand;
He kept his eyes fixt, downcast on the ground,
While in mine ears his mother's words did sound;--
'Dear herdsman, take and teach for me, I pray,
Eros to sing;' she said, and went her way.
Him, as one fain to learn, without ado
I then began to teach whate'er I knew--
Fool that I was!--how first great Pan did suit
With numerous tones his new-invented flute;
Athene wise the straight pipe's reedy hollow;
Hermes his shell; his cithern sweet Apollo.
I taught him this; he heeded not my lore,
But sang me his love ditties evermore--
His mother's doings--how Immortals yearn
With fond desires, and how poor mortals burn.
All I taught Eros I have quite forgot;
But his love ditties--I forget them not.