Kitap 16
1
Why so down in the mouth, Apollo?
1
It’s my bad luck in love, Hermes.
1
Ah, yes, that could well make a chap sad. But what’s your bad luck? Still sore about Daphne?
1
Oh, no; I’m in mourning for my Laconian darling, Oebalus’ son.
1
Is Hyacinthus dead then?
1
He certainly is.
1
Who did it, Apollo? Who was so insensible to charm as to kill that lovely boy?
1
I did it with my own hand.
1
What! Were you mad, Apollo?
1
No, it was an unlucky accident.
1
How? I’d like to hear how it happened.
2
He was learning to throw the quoit, and I was throwing it with him, when Zephyrus did it—curse that wind above them all—Zephyrus, too, had been in love with him for a long time, but the boy wouldn’t look at him, and he couldn’t stand his contempt. Well, I threw my quoit as usual, and Zephyrus blew down from Taygetus, and dashed it down on the boy’s head. Blood poured out where it hit him, and he died on the spot, poor lad. I shot back at Zephyrus with my arrows and chased him hard, all the way back to the mountain. The boy I’ve had buried in Amyclae, where he was struck down by the discus, and I’ve made the earth send up from his blood the sweetest and fairest flower of them all, one which bears lettering A sort of iris forming the letters of AIAI (alas); cf. Ovid, Met. 10, 215 and The Dance 45. of mourning for the dead one. Do you think it’s unreasonable of me to have a broken heart?
2
Yes I do, my good chap. You knew you’d chosen a mortal to love; so you mustn’t be vexed at his death.
