“Galatea, fairer than the leaf of the snow-white privet, more flowering than meadows, taller than the high alder, brighter than crystal, more playful than a tender kid, your complexion smoother than shell polished by constant seas, more pleasing than sun in winter and the summer shade, more stately than the fruit-trees, more eye-catching than the plane-tree, more brilliant than ice, sweeter than the ripened grape, softer than swansdown and curdled milk and, when you are not running away, more beautiful than a well-watered garden. And the same Galatea, more savage than untamed young bulls, harder than seasoned oak, unpredictable as the waves, tougher than willow-withies and the pale grapevine, more immovable than these crags, more violent than a river, prouder than the lauded peacock, fiercer than fire, pricklier than a thistle, more quarrelsome than a pregnant she-bear, deafer than the sea, fiercer than a trodden snake, and – if only I could take this from you – faster in flight, not just than a stag chased by belling hounds, than the winds and the rushing air! But if you knew me well, you’d be sorry you ran away, blame yourself for being standoffish and take pains to keep me! I have caves, set in the mountain, and overhanging the living rock, where you don’t feel the sun inside at the height of summer or the cold in winter; I have apples weighing down the branches and grapes like gold in bunches on long vine-stems, and red ones too, and I am keeping both for you! You will pick tender strawberries with your own hands in the woodland shade, and cornel-cherries in autumn, and not just plums that are bursting with dark juice, but the really choicest kind as well, looking just like fresh beeswax! With me as your husband, you won’t be short of chestnuts, nor arbutus-fruits, every tree will be there for you! This flock is all mine, and many more are wandering in the dells, and there are lots in the wood, and lots folded in my caves, and if you asked me, I couldn’t tell you how many there are – counting sheep is for poor people! Don’t take my word for how good they are – if you went, you could see for yourself how they can hardly walk, their udders are so full! And I’ve got young stock, lambs in warm pens, and kids the same age penned separate. I’ve always got snowy milk, some kept for drinking, and some that gets hardened with liquid rennet. And it won’t just be ordinary pleasures and common gifts for you, but does and hares and a billy-goat and a pair of doves and their nest brought from the treetops! I found twin cubs of a shaggy she-bear high on the mountain, so alike you can hardly tell one from the other, that could play with you, when I found them, I said, ‘we’ll keep those for our lady!’ Now just put that shining head of yours out of the blue sea, Galatea, come now, don’t look down on what I have to give! I surely saw and recognised myself just now in a reflection in the water, and I liked what I saw. Look how big I am! Jupiter in the sky isn’t bigger than this body of mine, or so you people say, I don’t know who this King Jove is. I’ve got lots of hair hanging over my wild face and shading my shoulders like a grove of trees. And don’t think that my body’s ugly because it’s packed so thickly with wiry bristles – ugly is a tree without leaves, or a horse with no mane to cover its golden neck! Birds wear feathers, and sheep’s wool suits them: it’s a beard suits men, and wiry bristles on your body! I’ve got one eye on my forehead, but it’s like a great big shield. So what? Doesn’t the great Sun see all there is from the sky? The Sun’s only got one eye! What’s more, my father is the ruler in your sea. That’s who I’m giving you as a father-in-law. Only, have pity, and hear a suppliant’s prayer, because I have fallen for you alone. I am one who spurns Jove and Heaven and his piercing lightning, but, my Nereid, I worship you – your anger is fiercer than any thunderbolt. I’d suffer this contempt better if you avoided all men, but why do you turn down a Cyclops and then love Acis, and prefer Acis to my embraces? I’d rather let him please himself, and good luck to him, but I don’t want him to please you, Galatea! Just give me a chance, and he’ll find out how much strength I’ve got in a body as big as mine! I’ll rip out his living entrails, tear him apart and scatter the bits through your waters – let him become one with you that way! Because I’m burning, and a fire that’s poked burns all the stronger, and I seem to be carrying Etna lodged in my chest with all of its power, and you, Galatea, will not be moved!”
