With dogs coming up in several current threads, I thought it was time to let this one off its chain.
5.266—Paulus Silentiarius (6th century A.D.)
Many a man, so they say, overcome by a dog’s rabid venom,
looks in the water and there glimpses the beast looking back.
Eros has surely gone mad, sinking fangs in my flesh until madness
cruelly ravaged my heart. Look where I may now, it’s you,
you whose alluring reflection I see in the waves by the seashore,
you in the eddying stream, you in the wine-bearing cup.
Edit
L2: sees the mad > glimpses the
Original
Ἀνέρα λυσσητῆρι κυνὸς βεβολημένον ἰῷ
ὕδασι θηρείην εἰκόνα φασὶ βλέπειν.
λυσσώων τάχα πικρὸν Ἔρως ἐνέπηξεν ὀδόντα
εἰς ἐμὲ καὶ μανίαις θυμὸν ἐληΐσατο.
σὴν γὰρ ἐμοὶ καὶ πόντος ἐπήρατον εἰκόνα φαίνει
καὶ ποταμῶν δῖναι καὶ δέπας οἰνοχόον.
Perseus clickable version:
https://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper... 2008.01.0472
In lieu of a crib, here are Paton’s early-20th-century prose translation and a recent update by David Tueller, both for the Loeb Classical Library:
They say a man bitten by a mad dog sees the brute’s image in the water. I ask myself, Did Love go rabid, and fix his bitter fangs in me, and lay my heart waste with madness? For thy beloved image meets my eyes in the sea and in the eddying stream and in the wine-cup.*
They say a man bitten by a dog’s rabid barb sees the brute’s image in water. Perhaps rabid Love fixed his bitter fangs in me and ravaged my heart with madness, for your lovely image appears to me in the sea, in rivers’ eddies, and in the cup that stewards my wine.*
* Katharine Washburn comments: “Goblets passed around at banquets frequently were inscribed with a small, obscene sketch of lovemaking at the bottom. Conventional medical wisdom in antiquity believed that the human victim of rabies feared water because he saw reflected in it the image of the animal which infected him.”