A Golden Fish

By: Theocritus, Idyll

in English Verse by Henry Van Dyke

‘Tis Poverty own that starts

And it moves mankind to useful arts.

She keeps the sons of toil awake

When they would fain their slumber take;

Nay, even when they lightly doze,

With dreams she troubles their repose. 

Two fishers in their shanty lay,

Beside the waters of the bay. 

The fragile hut with waddled sides

Scarce rose above the murmuring tides. 

Of tangled weeds the fishers’ bed,

And all around their tackle spread. 

Their creels, their rods, their lines, their net,

With salt seawater glistening wet;

Outside, their ancient cobbled boat

Was half ashore and half afloat. 

These were their wealth and all their store,

To keep starvation from their door. 

They had no safe, no lock, no key;

They’re only watch-dog, Poverty;

And not a neighbor near to lend,

In time of need, help from a friend. 

Silent the hut, but faint outside

The delicate whisper of the tide,

And quiet harmony kept tune

With westward sinking of the moon. 

Before the dawn the fishers woke

And drowsily to each other spoke. 

ASPHALION:

Who says the lengthening summer day

Cuts short the night?  ‘Tis not that way

With me.  I’ve had a thousand dreams, --

This summer makes night long, meseems.

COMRADE:

You’re wrong, Asphalion. Don’t complain

That lovely summer caused your pain,

Or Father Time too slow did creep;

‘Twas care that robbed you of your sleep. 

ASPHALION:

Can you interpret dreams?  Then hear

This dream I had, and make it clear. 

COMRADE:

Go on.  We’re partners in our toil,

We share alike our finney spoil;

Why not our thoughts?  ‘Tis only fair

In friendship even dreams to share. 

ASPHALION:

Well then, last night, as you recall,

Our supper was uncommon small;

With belly light and heavy head

We said good-night, and so to bed. 

Then came my dream.  I found myself

A-sitting on a rocky shelf,

Watching for fish.  My rod was strong,

My line was extra fine and long;

I had a most alluring bait,

And all I had to do was wait. 

Then came a sudden glorious bite! 

I knew it was a fish of might;

I had him fast, I knew-for look,

A trace of blood behind the hook! 

My bending rod revealed the strain;

He ran.  I drew him in again;

I gave him line; capers he cut;

At last I gave that fish the butt. 

He yielded; he could fight no more;

And so I pulled him safe ashore. 

A marvel such as ne’er was told,-

The fish was made of solid gold! 

I was afraid that he might be

Poseidon’s pet, the god of the sea,

Or else a favorite of the flighty

And fair sea-goddess, Amphitrite.

To vex those gods I did not dare! 

So I unhooked the fish with care,

And on his head I rashly swore,

That being rich, I’d fished no more. 

Now what to do?  Where shall I go? 

Fishing’s the only trade I know! 

COMRADE:

Cheer up, old pal!  You still are free . 

Your catch and oath were dreams, you see;

And when your goldfish disappeared

You surely of your vow were cleared. 

Come on, my boy, shake  off your visions;

Let’s go to work and get provisions. 

A school of fish is in the bay:

We’ll make a splendid catch to-day.