---
title: "Eclogues · Eclogae"
author: "Virgil"
translator: "James Rhoades"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
url: https://scriptura.si/works/virgil-eclogues/
cite: "Virgil, tr. James Rhoades, Eclogues · Eclogae. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/virgil-eclogues/"
---

# Eclogues · Eclogae

*Virgil, tr. James Rhoades*

Ten pastoral poems of shepherds, singing contests, lost land and the child of a coming golden age.

> Latin: ed. J. B. Greenough, from the Perseus Digital Library (canonical-latinLit, phi0690.phi001, CC BY-SA 4.0).

> English: James Rhoades, from the Perseus Digital Library (phi0690.phi001.perseus-eng2). Notes are not included.

> Rows follow the references the two texts share (chapters and sections), cut where both reach the end of a sentence.

## Contents

1. [Poems 1–5](https://scriptura.si/works/virgil-eclogues/1.md)
2. [Poems 5–10](https://scriptura.si/works/virgil-eclogues/2.md)

## 1. Poems 1–5

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/virgil-eclogues/1/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/virgil-eclogues/1/#p-N

[¶0] MELIBOEUS:
You, Tityrus, 'neath a broad beech-canopy
reclining, on the slender oat rehearse
your silvan ditties: I from my sweet fields,
and home's familiar bounds, even now depart.
Exiled from home am I; while, Tityrus, you
sit careless in the shade, and, at your call,
“Fair Amaryllis” bid the woods resound.

> Latin: Meliboeus:
Tityre, tu patulae recubans sub tegmine fagi
silvestrem tenui Musam meditaris avena;
nos patriae fines et dulcia linquimus arva:
nos patriam fugimus; tu, Tityre, lentus in umbra
formosam resonare doces Amaryllida silvas.

[¶1] TITYRUS:
O Meliboeus, 'twas a god vouchsafed
this ease to us, for him a god will I
deem ever, and from my folds a tender lamb
oft with its life-blood shall his altar stain.
His gift it is that, as your eyes may see,
my kine may roam at large, and I myself
play on my shepherd's pipe what songs I will.

> Latin: Tityrus:
O Meliboee, deus nobis haec otia fecit:
namque erit ille mihi semper deus; illius aram
saepe tener nostris ab ovilibus imbuet agnus.
Ille meas errare boves, ut cernis, et ipsum
ludere, quae vellem, calamo permisit agresti

[¶2] MELIBOEUS:
I grudge you not the boon, but marvel more,
such wide confusion fills the country-side.
See, sick at heart I drive my she-goats on,
and this one, O my Tityrus, scarce can lead:
for 'mid the hazel-thicket here but now
she dropped her new-yeaned twins on the bare flint,
hope of the flock—an ill, I mind me well,
which many a time, but for my blinded sense,
the thunder-stricken oak foretold, oft too
from hollow trunk the raven's ominous cry.
But who this god of yours? Come, Tityrus, tell.

> Latin: Meliboeus:
Non equidem invideo; miror magis: undique totis
usque adeo turbatur agris. En, ipse capellas
protinus aeger ago; hanc etiam vix, Tityre, duco:
hic inter densas corylos modo namque gemellos,
spem gregis, ah, silice in nuda conixa reliquit.
Saepe malum hoc nobis, si mens non laeva fuisset,
de caelo tactas memini praedicere quercus:—
[saepe sinistra cava praedixit ab ilice cornix.]
Sed tamen, iste deus qui sit, da, Tityre, nobis.

[¶3] TITYRUS:
The city, Meliboeus, they call Rome,
I, simpleton, deemed like this town of ours,
whereto we shepherds oft are wont to drive
the younglings of the flock: so too I knew
whelps to resemble dogs, and kids their dams,
comparing small with great; but this as far
above all other cities rears her head
as cypress above pliant osier towers.

> Latin: Tityrus:
Urbem, quam dicunt Romam, Meliboee, putavi
stultus ego huic nostrae similem, quo saepe solemus
pastores ovium teneros depellere fetus:
sic canibus catulos similis, sic matribus haedos
noram, sic parvis componere magna solebam:
verum haec tantum alias inter caput extulit urbes,
quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.

[¶4] MELIBOEUS:
And what so potent cause took you to Rome?

> Latin: Meliboeus:
Et quae tanta fuit Romam tibi causa videndi?

[¶5] TITYRUS:
Freedom, which, though belated, cast at length
her eyes upon the sluggard, when my beard
'gan whiter fall beneath the barber's blade—
cast eyes, I say, and, though long tarrying, came,
now when, from Galatea's yoke released,
I serve but Amaryllis: for I will own,
while Galatea reigned over me, I had
no hope of freedom, and no thought to save.
Though many a victim from my folds went forth,
or rich cheese pressed for the unthankful town,
never with laden hands returned I home.

> Latin: Tityrus:
Libertas; quae sera, tamen respexit inertem,
candidior postquam tondenti barba cadebat;
respexit tamen, et longo post tempore venit,
postquam nos Amaryllis habet, Galatea reliquit:
namque, fatebor enim, dum me Galatea tenebat,
nec spes libertatis erat, nec cura peculi:
quamvis multa meis exiret victima saeptis,
pinguis et ingratae premeretur caseus urbi,
non umquam gravis aere domum mihi dextra redibat.

[¶6] MELIBOEUS:
I used to wonder, Amaryllis, why
you cried to heaven so sadly, and for whom
you left the apples hanging on the trees;
'twas Tityrus was away. Why, Tityrus,
the very pines, the very water-springs,
the very vineyards, cried aloud for you.

> Latin: Meliboeus:
Mirabar, quid maesta deos, Amarylli, vocares,
cui pendere sua patereris in arbore poma:
Tityrus hinc aberat. Ipsae te, Tityre, pinus,
ipsi te fontes, ipsa haec arbusta vocabant.

[¶7] TITYRUS:
What could I do? how else from bonds be freed,
or otherwhere find gods so nigh to aid?
There, Meliboeus, I saw that youth to whom
yearly for twice six days my altars smoke.
There instant answer gave he to my suit,
“Feed, as before, your kine, boys, rear your bulls.”

> Latin: Tityrus:
Quid facerem? Neque servitio me exire licebat,
nec tam praesentis alibi cognoscere divos.
hic illum vidi iuvenem, Meliboee, quot annis
bis senos cui nostra dies altaria fumant;
hic mihi responsum primus dedit ille petenti:
“pascite, ut ante, boves, pueri, submittite tauros.”

[¶8] MELIBOEUS:
So in old age, you happy man, your fields
will still be yours, and ample for your need!
Though, with bare stones o'erspread, the pastures all
be choked with rushy mire, your ewes with young
by no strange fodder will be tried, nor hurt
through taint contagious of a neighbouring flock.
Happy old man, who 'mid familiar streams
and hallowed springs, will court the cooling shade!
Here, as of old, your neighbour's bordering hedge,
that feasts with willow-flower the Hybla bees,
shall oft with gentle murmur lull to sleep,
while the leaf-dresser beneath some tall rock
uplifts his song, nor cease their cooings hoarse
the wood-pigeons that are your heart's delight,
nor doves their moaning in the elm-tree top.

> Latin: Meliboeus:
Fortunate senex, ergo tua rura manebunt,
et tibi magna satis, quamvis lapis omnia nudus
limosoque palus obducat pascua iunco!
Non insueta gravis temptabunt pabula fetas,
nec mala vicini pecoris contagia laedent.
Fortunate senex, hic, inter flumina nota
et fontis sacros, frigus captabis opacum!
hinc tibi, quae semper, vicino ab limite, saepes
Hyblaeis apibus florem depasta salicti
saepe levi somnum suadebit inire susurro;
hinc alta sub rupe canet frondator ad auras;
nec tamen interea raucae, tua cura, palumbes,
nec gemere aëria cessabit turtur ab ulmo.

[¶9] TITYRUS:
Sooner shall light stags, therefore, feed in air,
the seas their fish leave naked on the strand,
germans and Parthians shift their natural bounds,
and these the Arar, those the Tigris drink,
than from my heart his face and memory fade.

> Latin: Tityrus:
Ante leves ergo pascentur in aequore cervi,
et freta destituent nudos in litore pisces,
ante pererratis amborum finibus exsul
aut Ararim Parthus bibet, aut Germania Tigrim,
quam nostro illius labatur pectore voltus.

[¶10] MELIBOEUS:
But we far hence, to burning Libya some,
some to the Scythian steppes, or thy swift flood,
cretan Oaxes, now must wend our way,
or Britain, from the whole world sundered far.
Ah! shall I ever in aftertime behold
my native bounds—see many a harvest hence
with ravished eyes the lowly turf-roofed cot
where I was king? These fallows, trimmed so fair,
some brutal soldier will possess these fields
an alien master. Ah! to what a pass
has civil discord brought our hapless folk!
For such as these, then, were our furrows sown!
Now, Meliboeus, graft your pears, now set
your vines in order! Go, once happy flock,
my she-goats, go. Never again shall I,
stretched in green cave, behold you from afar
hang from the bushy rock; my songs are sung;
never again will you, with me to tend,
on clover-flower, or bitter willows, browse.

> Latin: Meliboeus:
At nos hinc alii sitientis ibimus Afros,
pars Scythiam et rapidum Cretae veniemus Oaxen,
et penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos.
En umquam patrios longo post tempore finis,
pauperis et tuguri congestum caespite culmen,
post aliquot mea regna videns mirabor aristas?
Impius haec tam culta novalia miles habebit,
barbarus has segetes? En, quo discordia civis
produxit miseros! His nos consevimus agros!
Insere nunc, Meliboee, piros, pone ordine vitis.
Ite meae, felix quondam pecus, ite capellae.
Non ego vos posthac, viridi proiectus in antro,
dumosa pendere procul de rupe videbo;
carmina nulla canam; non, me pascente, capellae,
florentem cytisum et salices carpetis amaras.

[¶11] TITYRUS:
Yet here, this night, you might repose with me,
on green leaves pillowed: apples ripe have I,
soft chestnuts, and of curdled milk enow.
And, see, the farm-roof chimneys smoke afar,
and from the hills the shadows lengthening fall!

> Latin: Tityrus:
Hic tamen hanc mecum poteras requiescere noctem
fronde super viridi: sunt nobis mitia poma,
castaneae molles, et pressi copia lactis;
et iam summa procul villarum culmina fumant,
maioresque cadunt altis de montibus umbrae.

[¶12] the shepherd Corydon with love was fired
for fair Alexis, his own master's joy:
no room for hope had he, yet, none the less,
the thick-leaved shadowy-soaring beech-tree grove
still would he haunt, and there alone, as thus,
to woods and hills pour forth his artless strains.
“Cruel Alexis, heed you naught my songs?
Have you no pity? you'll drive me to my death.
Now even the cattle court the cooling shade
and the green lizard hides him in the thorn:
now for tired mowers, with the fierce heat spent,
pounds Thestilis her mess of savoury herbs,
wild thyme and garlic. I, with none beside,
save hoarse cicalas shrilling through the brake,
still track your footprints 'neath the broiling sun.
Better have borne the petulant proud disdain
of Amaryllis, or Menalcas wooed,
albeit he was so dark, and you so fair!
Trust not too much to colour, beauteous boy;
white privets fall, dark hyacinths are culled.
You scorn me, Alexis, who or what I am
care not to ask—how rich in flocks, or how
in snow-white milk abounding: yet for me
roam on Sicilian hills a thousand lambs;
summer or winter, still my milk-pails brim.
I sing as erst Amphion of Circe sang,
what time he went to call his cattle home
on Attic Aracynthus. Nor am I
so ill to look on: lately on the beach
I saw myself, when winds had stilled the sea,
and, if that mirror lie not, would not fear
daphnis to challenge, though yourself were judge.
Ah! were you but content with me to dwell.
Some lowly cot in the rough fields our home,
shoot down the stags, or with green osier-wand
round up the straggling flock! There you with me
in silvan strains will learn to rival Pan.
Pan first with wax taught reed with reed to join;
for sheep alike and shepherd Pan hath care.
Nor with the reed's edge fear you to make rough
your dainty lip; such arts as these to learn
what did Amyntas do?—what did he not?
A pipe have I, of hemlock-stalks compact
in lessening lengths, Damoetas' dying-gift:
‘Mine once,’ quoth he, ‘now yours, as heir to own.’
Foolish Amyntas heard and envied me.
Ay, and two fawns, I risked my neck to find
in a steep glen, with coats white-dappled still,
from a sheep's udders suckled twice a day—
these still I keep for you; which Thestilis
implores me oft to let her lead away;
and she shall have them, since my gifts you spurn.
Come hither, beauteous boy; for you the Nymphs
bring baskets, see, with lilies brimmed; for you,
plucking pale violets and poppy-heads,
now the fair Naiad, of narcissus flower
and fragrant fennel, doth one posy twine—
with cassia then, and other scented herbs,
blends them, and sets the tender hyacinth off
with yellow marigold. I too will pick
quinces all silvered-o'er with hoary down,
chestnuts, which Amaryllis wont to love,
and waxen plums withal: this fruit no less
shall have its meed of honour; and I will pluck
you too, ye laurels, and you, ye myrtles, near,
for so your sweets ye mingle. Corydon,
you are a boor, nor heeds a whit your gifts
alexis; no, nor would Iollas yield,
should gifts decide the day. Alack! alack!
What misery have I brought upon my head!—
loosed on the flowers Siroces to my bane,
and the wild boar upon my crystal springs!
Whom do you fly, infatuate? gods ere now,
and Dardan Paris, have made the woods their home.
Let Pallas keep the towers her hand hath built,
us before all things let the woods delight.
The grim-eyed lioness pursues the wolf,
the wolf the she-goat, the she-goat herself
in wanton sport the flowering cytisus,
and Corydon Alexis, each led on
by their own longing. See, the ox comes home
with plough up-tilted, and the shadows grow
to twice their length with the departing sun,
yet me love burns, for who can limit love?
Ah! Corydon, Corydon, what hath crazed your wit?
Your vine half-pruned hangs on the leafy elm;
why haste you not to weave what need requires
of pliant rush or osier? Scorned by this,
elsewhere some new Alexis you will find.”

> Latin: Formosum pastor Corydon ardebat Alexim,
delicias domini, nec quid speraret habebat;
tantum inter densas, umbrosa cacumina, fagos
adsidue veniebat. Ibi haec incondita solus
montibus et silvis studio iactabat inani:
O crudelis Alexi, nihil mea carmina curas?
Nil nostri miserere? Mori me denique coges.
nunc etiam pecudes umbras et frigora captant;
nunc viridis etiam occultant spineta lacertos,
Thestylis et rapido fessis messoribus aestu
alia serpyllumque herbas contundit olentis.
at mecum raucis, tua dum vestigia lustro,
sole sub ardenti resonant arbusta cicadis.
Nonne fuit satius tristis Amaryllidis iras
atque superba pati fastidia, nonne Menalcan,
quam vis ille niger, quamvis tu candidus esses?
o formose puer, nimium ne crede colori!
alba ligustra cadunt, vaccinia nigra leguntur.
Despectus tibi sum, nec qui sim quaeris, Alexi,
quam dives pecoris, nivei quam lactis abundans.
mille meae Siculis errant in montibus agnae;
lac mihi non aestate novum, non frigore defit;
canto quae solitus, si quando armenta vocabat,
Amphion Dircaeus in Actaeo Aracimtho.
Nec sum adeo informis: nuper me in litore vidi,
cum placidum ventis staret mare; non ego Daphnim
iudice te metuam, si numquam fallit imago.
O tantum libeat mecum tibi sordida rura
atque humilis habitare casas, et figere cervos,
haedorumque gregem viridi compellere hibisco!
Mecum una in silvis imitabere Pana canendo.
Pan primus calamos cera coniungere pluris
instituit; Pan curat ovis oviumque magistros.
Nec te paeniteat calamo trivisse labellum:
haec eadem ut sciret, quid non faciebat Amyntas?
est mihi disparibus septem compacta cicutis
fistula, Damoetas dono mihi quam dedit olim,
et dixit moriens: “Te nunc habet ista secundum.”
dixit Damoetas, invidit stultus Amyntas.
Praeterea duo, nec tuta mihi valle reperti,
capreoli, sparsis etiam nunc pellibus albo,
bina die siccant ovis ubera; quos tibi servo:
iam pridem a me illos abducere Thestylis orat;
et faciet, quoniam sordent tibi munera nostra.
Huc ades, O formose puer: tibi lilia plenis
ecce ferunt Nymphae calathis; tibi candida Nais,
pallentis violas et summa papavera carpens,
narcissum et florem iungit bene olentis anethi;
tum casia atque aliis intexens suavibus herbis,
mollia luteola pingit vaccinia calta.
Ipse ego cana legam tenera lanugine mala,
castaneasque nuces, mea quas Amaryllis amabat;
addam cerea pruna: honos erit huic quoque pomo;
et vos, O lauri, carpam, et te, proxima myrte,
sic positae quoniam suavis miscetis odores.
Rusticus es, Corydon: nec munera curat Alexis,
nec, si muneribus certes, concedat Iollas.
Heu, heu, quid volui misero mihi! Floribus austrum
perditus et liquidis inmisi fontibus apros.
Quem fugis, ah, demens? Habitarunt di quoque silvas,
Dardaniusque Paris. Pallas, quas condidit arces,
ipsa colat; nobis placeant ante omnia silvae.
Torva leaena lupum sequitur; lupus ipse capellam;
florentem cytisum sequitur lasciva capella;
te Corydon, o Alexi: trahit sua quemque voluptas.
Aspice, aratra iugo referunt suspensa iuvenci,
et sol crescentis decedens duplicat umbras:
me tamen urit amor; quis enim modus adsit amori?
Ah, Corydon, Corydon, quae te dementia cepit!
Semiputata tibi frondosa vitis in ulmo est;
quin tu aliquid saltem potius, quorum indiget usus,
viminibus mollique paras detexere iunco?
Invenies alium, si te hic fastidit, Alexim.

[¶13] MENALCAS:
Who owns the flock, Damoetas? Meliboeus?

> Latin: Menalcas:
Dic mihi, Damoeta, cuium pecus, an Meliboei?

[¶14] DAMOETAS:
Nay, they are Aegon's sheep, of late by him
committed to my care.

> Latin: Damoetas:
Non, verum Aegonis; nuper mihi tradidit Aegon.

[¶15] MENALCAS:
O every way
unhappy sheep, unhappy flock! while he
still courts Neaera, fearing lest her choice
should fall on me, this hireling shepherd here
wrings hourly twice their udders, from the flock
filching the life-juice, from the lambs their milk.

> Latin: Menalcas:
Infelix o semper, ovis, pecus, ipse Neaeram
dum fovet, ac ne me sibi praeferat illa veretur,
hic alienus ovis custos bis mulget in hora,
et sucus pecori et lac subducitur agnis.

[¶16] DAMOETAS:
Hold! not so ready with your jeers at men!
We know who once, and in what shrine with you—
the he-goats looked aside—the light nymphs laughed—

> Latin: Damoetas:
Parcius ista viris tamen obicienda memento:
novimus et qui te, transversa tuentibus hircis,
et quo—sed faciles Nymphae risere—sacello.

[¶17] MENALCAS:
Ay, then, I warrant, when they saw me slash
micon's young vines and trees with spiteful hook.

> Latin: Menalcas:
Tum, credo, cum me arbustum videre Miconis
atque mala vitis incidere falce novellas.

[¶18] DAMOETAS:
Or here by these old beeches, when you broke
the bow and arrows of Damon; for you chafed
when first you saw them given to the boy,
cross-grained Menalcas, ay, and had you not
done him some mischief, would have chafed to death.

> Latin: Damoetas:
Aut hic ad veteres fagos cum Daphnidis arcum
fregisti et calamos quae tu, perverse Menalca,
et cum vidisti puero donata, dolebas,
et si non aliqua nocuisses, mortuus esses.

[¶19] MENALCAS:
With thieves so daring, what can masters do?
Did I not see you, rogue, in ambush lie
for Damon's goat, while loud Lycisca barked?
And when I cried, “Where is he off to now?
Gather your flock together, Tityrus,”
you hid behind the sedges.

> Latin: Menalcas:
Quid domini faciant, audent cum talia fures!
non ego te vidi Damonis, pessime, caprum
excipere insidiis, multum latrante Lycisca?
et cum clamarem: “Quo nunc se proripit ille?
Tityre, coge pecus,” tu post carecta latebas.

[¶20] DAMOETAS:
Well, was he
whom I had conquered still to keep the goat.
Which in the piping-match my pipe had won!
You may not know it, but the goat was mine.

> Latin: Damoetas:
An mihi cantando victus non redderet ille
quem mea carminibus meruisset fistula caprum?
Si nescis, meus ille caper fuit; et mihi Damon
ipse fatebatur, sed reddere posse negabat.

[¶21] MENALCAS:
You out-pipe him? when had you ever pipe
wax-welded? in the cross-ways used you not
on grating straw some miserable tune
to mangle?

> Latin: Menalcas:
Cantando tu illum, aut umquam tibi fistula cera
iuncta fuit? Non tu in triviis, indocte, solebas
stridenti miserum stipula disperdere carmen?

[¶22] DAMOETAS:
Well, then, shall we try our skill
each against each in turn? Lest you be loth,
I pledge this heifer; every day she comes
twice to the milking-pail, and feeds withal
two young ones at her udder: say you now
what you will stake upon the match with me.

> Latin: Damoetas:
Vis ergo inter nos quid possit uterque vicissim
experiamur? Ego hanc vitulam—ne forte recuses,
bis venit ad mulctram, binos alit ubere fetus—
depono: tu dic, mecum quo pignore certes.

[¶23] MENALCAS:
Naught from the flock I'll venture, for at home
I have a father and a step-dame harsh,
and twice a day both reckon up the flock,
and one withal the kids. But I will stake,
seeing you are so mad, what you yourself
will own more priceless far—two beechen cups
by the divine art of Alcimedon
wrought and embossed, whereon a limber vine,
wreathed round them by the graver's facile tool,
twines over clustering ivy-berries pale.
Two figures, one Conon, in the midst he set,
and one—how call you him, who with his wand
marked out for all men the whole round of heaven,
that they who reap, or stoop behind the plough,
might know their several seasons? Nor as yet
have I set lip to them, but lay them by.

> Latin: Menalcas:
De grege non ausim quicquam deponere tecum.
Est mihi namque domi pater, est iniusta noverca;
bisque die numerant ambo pecus, alter et haedos.
Verum, id quod multo tute ipse fatebere maius,
insanire libet quoniam tibi, pocula ponam
fagina, caelatum divini opus Alcimedontis;
lenta quibus torno facili superaddita vitis
diffusos hedera vestit pallente corymbos:
in medio duo signa, Conon, et—quis fuit alter,
descripsit radio totum qui gentibus orbem,
tempora quae messor, quae curvus arator haberet?
Necdum illis labra admovi, sed condita servo.

[¶24] DAMOETAS:
For me too wrought the same Alcimedon
a pair of cups, and round the handles wreathed
pliant acanthus, Orpheus in the midst,
the forests following in his wake; nor yet
have I set lip to them, but lay them by.
Matched with a heifer, who would prate of cups?

> Latin: Damoetas:
Et nobis idem Alcimedon duo pocula fecit,
et molli circum est ansas amplexus acantho,
Orpheaque in medio posuit silvasque sequentis.
Necdum illis labra admovi, sed condita servo:
si ad vitulam spectas, nihil est quod pocula laudes.

[¶25] MENALCAS:
You shall not balk me now; where'er you bid,
I shall be with you; only let us have
for auditor—or see, to serve our turn,
yonder Palaemon comes! In singing-bouts
i'll see you play the challenger no more.

> Latin: Menalcas:
Nunquam hodie effugies; veniam, quocumque vocari
audiat haec tantum—vel qui venit ecce Palaemon
efficiam posthac ne quemquam voce lacessas.

[¶26] DAMOETAS:
Out then with what you have; I shall not shrink,
nor budge for any man: only do you,
neighbour Palaemon, with your whole heart's skill—
for it is no slight matter—play your part.
PALAEMON:
Say on then, since on the greensward we sit,
and now is burgeoning both field and tree;
now is the forest green, and now the year
at fairest. Do you first, Damoetas, sing,
then you, Menalcas, in alternate strain:
alternate strains are to the Muses dear.

> Latin: Damoetas:
Quin age, si quid habes, in me mora non erit ulla,
nec quemquam fugio: tantum, vicine Palaemon,
sensibus haec imis, res est non parva, reponas.
Palaemon:
Dicite, quandoquidem in molli consedimus herba:
et nunc omnis ager, nunc omnis parturit arbos,
nunc frondent silvae, nunc formosissimus annus.
Incipe, Darmoeta; tu deinde sequere Menalca:
alternis dicetis; amant alterna Camenae.

[¶27] DAMOETAS:
“From Jove the Muse began; Jove filleth all,
makes the earth fruitful, for my songs hath care.”

> Latin: Damoetas:
Ab Iove principium, Musae; Iovis omnia plena:
ille colit terras, illi mea carmina curae.

[¶28] MENALCAS:
“Me Phoebus loves; for Phoebus his own gifts,
bays and sweet-blushing hyacinths, I keep.”

> Latin: Menalcas:
Et me Phoebus amat; Phoebo sua semper apud me
munera sunt, lauri et suave rubens hyacinthus.

[¶29] DAMOETAS:
“Gay Galatea throws an apple at me,
then hies to the willows, hoping to be seen.”

> Latin: Damoetas:
Malo me Galatea petit, lasciva puella,
et fugit ad salices, et se cupit ante videri.

[¶30] MENALCAS:
“My dear Amyntas comes unasked to me;
not Delia to my dogs is better known.”

> Latin: Menalcas:
At mihi sese offert ultro, meus ignis, Amyntas,
notior ut iam sit canibus non Delia nostris.

[¶31] DAMOETAS:
“Gifts for my love I've found; mine eyes have marked
where the wood-pigeons build their airy nests.”

> Latin: Damoetas:
Parta meae Veneri sunt munera: namque notavi
ipse locum, aëriae quo congessere palumbes.

[¶32] MENALCAS:
“Ten golden apples have I sent my boy,
all that I could, to-morrow as many more.”

> Latin: Menalcas:
Quod potui, puero silvestri ex arbore lecta
aurea mala decem misi; cras altera mittam.

[¶33] DAMOETAS:
“What words to me, and uttered O how oft,
hath Galatea spoke! waft some of them,
ye winds, I pray you, for the gods to hear.”

> Latin: Damoetas:
O quotiens et quae nobis Galatea locuta est!
partem aliquam, venti, divom referatis ad auris!

[¶34] MENALCAS:
“It profiteth me naught, Amyntas mine,
that in your very heart you spurn me not,
if, while you hunt the boar, I guard the nets.”

> Latin: Menalcas:
Quid prodest, quod me ipse animo non spernis, Amynta.
si, dum tu sectaris apros, ego retia servo?

[¶35] DAMOETAS:
“Prithee, Iollas, for my birthday guest
send me your Phyllis; when for the young crops
I slay my heifer, you yourself shall come.”

> Latin: Damoetas:
Phyllida mitte mihi: meus est natalis, Iolla;
cum faciam vitula pro frugibus, ipse venito.

[¶36] MENALCAS:
“I am all hers; she wept to see me go,
and, lingering on the word, ‘farewell’ she said,
‘My beautiful Iollas, fare you well.’”

> Latin: Menalcas:
Phyllida amo ante alias; nam me discedere flevit,
et longum “formose, vale, vale,” inquit, “Iolla.”

[¶37] DAMOETAS:
“Fell as the wolf is to the folded flock,
rain to ripe corn, Sirocco to the trees,
the wrath of Amaryllis is to me.”

> Latin: Damoetas:
Triste lupus stabulis, maturis frugibus imbres.
arboribus venti, nobis Amaryllidis irae.

[¶38] MENALCAS:
“As moisture to the corn, to ewes with young
lithe willow, as arbute to the yeanling kids,
so sweet Amyntas, and none else, to me.”

> Latin: Menalcas:
Dulce satis umor, depulsis arbutus haedis,
lenta salix feto pecori, mihi solus Amyntas.

[¶39] DAMOETAS:
“My Muse, although she be but country-bred,
is loved by Pollio: O Pierian Maids,
pray you, a heifer for your reader feed!”

> Latin: Damoetas:
Pollio amat nostram, quamvis est rustica, Musam:
Pierides vitulam lectori pascite vestro.
Menalcas:
Pollio et ipse facit nova carmina: pascite taurum,
iam cornu petat et pedibus qui spargat arenam.

[¶40] DAMOETAS:
“Pollio himself too doth new verses make:
feed ye a bull now ripe to butt with horn,
and scatter with his hooves the flying sand.”
DAMOETAS:
“Who loves thee, Pollio, may he thither come
where thee he joys beholding; ay, for him
let honey flow, the thorn-bush spices bear.”

> Latin: Damoetas:
Qui te, Pollio, amat, veniat quo te quoque gaudet:
mella fluant illi, ferat et rubus asper amomum.

[¶41] MENALCAS:
“Who hates not Bavius, let him also love
thy songs, O Maevius, ay, and therewithal
yoke foxes to his car, and he-goats milk.”

> Latin: Menalcas:
Qui Bavium non odit, amet tua carmina, Maevi,
atque idem iungat vulpes et mulgeat hircos.

[¶42] DAMOETAS:
“You, picking flowers and strawberries that grow
so near the ground, fly hence, boys, get you gone!
There's a cold adder lurking in the grass.”

> Latin: Damoetas:
Qui legitis flores et humi nascentia fraga,
frigidus, O pueri, fugite hinc, latet anguis in herba.

[¶43] MENALCAS:
“Forbear, my sheep, to tread too near the brink;
yon bank is ill to trust to; even now
the ram himself, see, dries his dripping fleece!”

> Latin: Menalcas:
Parcite, oves, nimium procedere; non bene ripae
creditur; ipse aries etiam nunc vellera siccat.

[¶44] DAMOETAS:
“Back with the she-goats, Tityrus, grazing there
so near the river! I, when time shall serve,
will take them all, and wash them in the pool.”

> Latin: Damoetas:
Tityre, pascentes a flumine reice capellas:
ipse ubi tempus erit, omnis in fonte lavabo.

[¶45] MENALCAS:
“Boys, get your sheep together; if the heat,
as late it did, forestall us with the milk,
vainly the dried-up udders shall we wring.”

> Latin: Menalcas:
Cogite ovis, pueri; si lac praeceperit aestus,
ut nuper, frustra pressabimus ubera palmis.

[¶46] DAMOETAS:
“How lean my bull amid the fattening vetch!
Alack! alack! for herdsman and for herd!
It is the self-same love that wastes us both.”

> Latin: Damoetas:
Heu, heu, quam pingui macer est mihi taurus in ervo!
Idem amor exitium est pecori pecorisque magistro.

[¶47] MENALCAS:
“These truly—nor is even love the cause—
scarce have the flesh to keep their bones together
some evil eye my lambkins hath bewitched.”

> Latin: Menalcas:
His certe neque amor causa est; vix ossibus haerent.
nescio quis teneros oculus mihi fascinat agnos.

[¶48] DAMOETAS:
“Say in what clime—and you shall be withal
my great Apollo—the whole breadth of heaven
opens no wider than three ells to view.”

> Latin: Damoetas:
Dic, quibus in terris—et eris mihi magnus Apollo—
tris pateat caeli spatium non amplius ulnas.

[¶49] MENALCAS:
“Say in what country grow such flowers as bear
the names of kings upon their petals writ,
and you shall have fair Phyllis for your own.”
PALAEMON:
Not mine betwixt such rivals to decide:
you well deserve the heifer, so does he,
with all who either fear the sweets of love,
or taste its bitterness. Now, boys, shut off
the sluices, for the fields have drunk their fill.

> Latin: Menalcas:
Dic, quibus in terris inscripti nomina regum
nascantur flores, et Phyllida solus habeto.
Palaemon:
Non nostrum inter vos tantas componere lites.
Et vitula tu dignus, et hic, et quisquis amores
aut metuet dulces, aut experietur amaros.
Claudite iam rivos, pueri, sat prata biberunt.

[¶50] muses of Sicily, essay we now
a somewhat loftier task! Not all men love
coppice or lowly tamarisk: sing we woods,
woods worthy of a Consul let them be.
Now the last age by Cumae's Sibyl sung
has come and gone, and the majestic roll
of circling centuries begins anew:
justice returns, returns old Saturn's reign,
with a new breed of men sent down from heaven.
Only do thou, at the boy's birth in whom
the iron shall cease, the golden race arise,
befriend him, chaste Lucina; 'tis thine own
apollo reigns. And in thy consulate,
this glorious age, O Pollio, shall begin,
and the months enter on their mighty march.
Under thy guidance, whatso tracks remain
of our old wickedness, once done away,
shall free the earth from never-ceasing fear.
He shall receive the life of gods, and see
heroes with gods commingling, and himself
be seen of them, and with his father's worth
reign o'er a world at peace. For thee, O boy,
first shall the earth, untilled, pour freely forth
her childish gifts, the gadding ivy-spray
with foxglove and Egyptian bean-flower mixed,
and laughing-eyed acanthus. Of themselves,
untended, will the she-goats then bring home
their udders swollen with milk, while flocks afield
shall of the monstrous lion have no fear.
Thy very cradle shall pour forth for thee
caressing flowers. The serpent too shall die,
die shall the treacherous poison-plant, and far
and wide Assyrian spices spring. But soon
as thou hast skill to read of heroes' fame,
and of thy father's deeds, and inly learn
what virtue is, the plain by slow degrees
with waving corn-crops shall to golden grow,
from the wild briar shall hang the blushing grape,
and stubborn oaks sweat honey-dew. Nathless
yet shall there lurk within of ancient wrong
some traces, bidding tempt the deep with ships,
gird towns with walls, with furrows cleave the earth.
Therewith a second Tiphys shall there be,
her hero-freight a second Argo bear;
new wars too shall arise, and once again
some great Achilles to some Troy be sent.
Then, when the mellowing years have made thee man,
no more shall mariner sail, nor pine-tree bark
ply traffic on the sea, but every land
shall all things bear alike: the glebe no more
shall feel the harrow's grip, nor vine the hook;
the sturdy ploughman shall loose yoke from steer,
nor wool with varying colours learn to lie;
but in the meadows shall the ram himself,
now with soft flush of purple, now with tint
of yellow saffron, teach his fleece to shine.
While clothed in natural scarlet graze the lambs.
“Such still, such ages weave ye, as ye run,”
sang to their spindles the consenting Fates
by Destiny's unalterable decree.
Assume thy greatness, for the time draws nigh,
dear child of gods, great progeny of Jove!
See how it totters—the world's orbed might,
earth, and wide ocean, and the vault profound,
all, see, enraptured of the coming time!
Ah! might such length of days to me be given,
and breath suffice me to rehearse thy deeds,
nor Thracian Orpheus should out-sing me then,
nor Linus, though his mother this, and that
his sire should aid—Orpheus Calliope,
and Linus fair Apollo. Nay, though Pan,
with Arcady for judge, my claim contest,
with Arcady for judge great Pan himself
should own him foiled, and from the field retire.
Begin to greet thy mother with a smile,
o baby-boy! ten months of weariness
for thee she bore: O baby-boy, begin!
For him, on whom his parents have not smiled,
gods deem not worthy of their board or bed.

> Latin: Sicelides Musae, paulo maiora canamus!
Non omnis arbusta iuvant humilesque myricae;
si canimus silvas, silvae sint consule dignae.
Ultima Cumaei venit iam carminis aetas;
magnus ab integro saeclorum nascitur ordo:
iam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna;
iam nova progenies caelo demittitur alto.
Tu modo nascenti puero, quo ferrea primum
desinet ac toto surget gens aurea mundo,
casta fave Lucina: tuus iam regnat Apollo.
Teque adeo decus hoc aevi te consule inibit,
Pollio, et incipient magni procedere menses.
te duce, si qua manent sceleris vestigia nostri,
inrita perpetua solvent formidine terras.
ille deum vitam accipiet, divisque videbit
permixtos heroas, et ipse videbitur illis,
pacatumque reget patriis virtutibus orbem.
At tibi prima, puer, nullo munuscula cultu
errantis hederas passim cum baccare tellus
mixtaque ridenti colocasia fundet acantho.
Ipsae lacte domum referent distenta capellae
ubera, nec magnos metuent armenta leones;
ipsa tibi blandos fundent cunabula flores,
occidet et serpens, et fallax herba veneni
occidet, Assyrium volgo nascetur amomum.
at simul heroum laudes et facta parentis
iam legere et quae sit poteris cognoscere virtus,
molli paulatim flavescet campus arista,
incultisque rubens pendebit sentibus uva,
et durae quercus sudabunt roscida mella
Pauca tamen suberunt priscae vestigia fraudis,
quae temptare Thetim ratibus, quae cingere muris
oppida, quae iubeant telluri infindere sulcos:
alter erit tum Tiphys, et altera quae vehat Argo
delectos Heroas; erunt etiam altera bella,
atque iterum ad Troiam magnus mittetur Achilles.
Hinc, ubi iam firmata virum te fecerit aetas,
cedet et ipse mari vector, nec nautica pinus
mutabit merces: omnis feret omnia tellus:
non rastros patietur humus, non vinea falcem;
robustus quoque iam tauris iuga solvet arator;
nec varios discet mentiri lana colores:
ipse sed in pratis aries iam suave rubenti
murice, iam croceo mutabit vellera luto;
sponte sua sandyx pascentis vestiet agnos.
Talia saecla, suis dixerunt, currite, fusis
concordes stabili fatorum numine Parcae.
Adgredere o magnos—aderit iam tempus—honores,
cara deum suboles, magnum Iovis incrementum!
Aspice convexo nutantem pondere mundum,
terrasque tractusque maris caelumque profundum!
Aspice, venturo laetentur ut omnia saeclo!
O mihi tam longae maneat pars ultima vitae,
spiritus et quantum sat erit tua dicere facta!
Non me carminibus vincet nec Thracius Orpheus,
nec Linus, huic mater quamvis atque huic pater adsit,
Orphei Calliopea, Lino formosus Apollo,
Pan etiam, Arcadia mecum si iudice certet,
Pan etiam Arcadia dicat se iudice victum.
Incipe, parve puer, risu cognoscere matrem,
matri longa decem tulerunt fastidia menses.
Incipe, parve puer, cui non risere parentes,
nec deus hunc mensa, dea nec dignata cubili est.

[¶51] MENALCAS:
Why, Mopsus, being both together met,
you skilled to breathe upon the slender reeds,
I to sing ditties, do we not sit down
here where the elm-trees and the hazels blend?

> Latin: Menalcas:
Cur non, Mopse, boni quoniam convenimus ambo,
tu calamos inflare levis, ego dicere versus,
hic corylis mixtas inter consedimus ulmos?

[¶52] MOPSUS:
You are the elder, 'tis for me to bide
your choice, Menalcas, whether now we seek
yon shade that quivers to the changeful breeze,
or the cave's shelter. Look you how the cave
is with the wild vine's clusters over-laced!

> Latin: Mopsus:
Tu maior; tibi me est aequum parere, Menalca,
sive sub incertas zephyris motantibus umbras,
sive antro potius succedimus: aspice, ut antrum
silvestris raris sparsit labrusca racemis.

[¶53] MENALCAS:
None but Amyntas on these hills of ours
can vie with you.

> Latin: Menalcas:
Montibus in nostris solus tibi certat Amyntas.

[¶54] MOPSUS:
What if he also strive
to out-sing Phoebus?

> Latin: Mopsus:
Quid, si idem certet Phoebum superare canendo?

[¶55] MENALCAS:
Do you first begin,
good Mopsus, whether minded to sing aught
of Phyllis and her loves, or Alcon's praise,
or to fling taunts at Codrus. Come, begin,
while Tityrus watches o'er the grazing kids.

> Latin: Menalcas:
Incipe, Mopse, prior, si quos aut Phyllidis ignes,
aut Alconis habes laudes, aut iurgia Codri:
incipe, pascentis servabit Tityrus haedos.

[¶56] MOPSUS:
Nay, then, I will essay what late I carved
on a green beech-tree's rind, playing by turns,
and marking down the notes; then afterward
bid you Amyntas match them if he can.

> Latin: Mopsus:
Immo haec, in viridi nuper quae cortice fagi
carmina descripsi et modulans alterna notavi,
experiar, tu deinde iubeto ut certet Amyntas.

[¶57] MENALCAS:
As limber willow to pale olive yields,
as lowly Celtic nard to rose-buds bright,
so, to my mind, Amyntas yields to you.
But hold awhile, for to the cave we come.

> Latin: Menalcas:
Lenta salix quantum pallenti cedit olivae,
puniceis humilis quantum saliunca rosetis,
iudicio nostro tantum tibi cedit Amyntas.
sed tu desine plura, puer; successimus antro.

[¶58] MOPSUS:
“For Daphnis cruelly slain wept all the Nymphs—
ye hazels, bear them witness, and ye streams—
when she, his mother, clasping in her arms
the hapless body of the son she bare,
to gods and stars unpitying, poured her plaint.
Then, Daphnis, to the cooling streams were none
that drove the pastured oxen, then no beast
drank of the river, or would the grass-blade touch.
Nay, the wild rocks and woods then voiced the roar
of Afric lions mourning for thy death.
Daphnis, 'twas thou bad'st yoke to Bacchus' car
armenian tigresses, lead on the pomp
of revellers, and with tender foliage wreathe
the bending spear-wands. As to trees the vine
is crown of glory, as to vines the grape,
bulls to the herd, to fruitful fields the corn,
so the one glory of thine own art thou.
When the Fates took thee hence, then Pales' self,
and even Apollo, left the country lone.
Where the plump barley-grain so oft we sowed,
there but wild oats and barren darnel spring;
for tender violet and narcissus bright
thistle and prickly thorn uprear their heads.
Now, O ye shepherds, strew the ground with leaves,
and o'er the fountains draw a shady veil—
so Daphnis to his memory bids be done—
and rear a tomb, and write thereon this verse:
‘I, Daphnis in the woods, from hence in fame
am to the stars exalted, guardian once
of a fair flock, myself more fair than they.’”

> Latin: Mopsus:
Extinctum nymphae crudeli funere Daphnim
flebant; vos coryli testes et flumina nymphis;
cum complexa sui corpus miserabile nati,
atque deos atque astra vocat crudelia mater.
Non ulli pastos illis egere diebus
frigida, Daphni, boves ad flumina; nulla neque amnem
libavit quadrupes, nec graminis attigit herbam.
Daphni, tuum Poenos etiam ingemuisse leones
interitum montesque feri silvaeque loquuntur.
Daphnis et Armenias curru subiungere tigres
instituit; Daphnis thiasos inducere Bacchi,
et foliis lentas intexere mollibus hastas.
Vitis ut arboribus decori est, ut vitibus uvae,
ut gregibus tauri, segetes ut pinguibus arvis,
tu decus omne tuis. Postquam te fata tulerunt,
ipsa Pales agros atque ipse reliquit Apollo.
Grandia saepe quibus mandavimus hordea sulcis,
infelix lolium et steriles nascuntur avenae;
pro molli viola, pro purpureo narcisso,
carduus et spinis surgit paliurus acutis.
Spargite humum foliis, inducite fontibus umbras,
pastores, mandat fieri sibi talia Daphnis;
et tumulum facite, et tumulo superaddite carmen:
DAPHNIS EGO IN SILVIS HINC VSQUE AD SIDERA NOTVS
FORMONSI PECORIS CVSTOS FORMONSIOR IPSE.

[¶59] MENALCAS:
So is thy song to me, poet divine,
as slumber on the grass to weary limbs,
or to slake thirst from some sweet-bubbling rill
in summer's heat. Nor on the reeds alone,
but with thy voice art thou, thrice happy boy,
ranked with thy master, second but to him.
Yet will I, too, in turn, as best I may,
sing thee a song, and to the stars uplift
thy Daphnis—Daphnis to the stars extol,
for me too Daphnis loved.

> Latin: Menalcas:
Tale tuum carmen nobis, divine poeta,
quale sopor fessis in gramine, quale per aestum
dulcis aquae saliente sitim restinguere rivo:
nec calamis solum aequiparas, sed voce magistrum.
[Fortunate puer, tu nunc eris alter ab illo.]
Nos tamen haec quocumque modo tibi nostra vicissim
dicemus, Daphnimque tuum tollemus ad astra;
Daphnin ad astra feremus: amavit nos quoque Daphnis.

[¶60] MOPSUS:
Than such a boon
what dearer could I deem? the boy himself
was worthy to be sung, and many a time
hath Stimichon to me your singing praised.

> Latin: Mopsus:
An quicquam nobis tali sit munere maius
Et puer ipse fuit cantari dignus, et ista
iam pridem Stimichon laudavit carmina nobis.

[¶61] MENALCAS:
“In dazzling sheen with unaccustomed eyes
daphnis stands rapt before Olympus' gate,
and sees beneath his feet the clouds and stars.
Wherefore the woods and fields, Pan, shepherd-folk,
and Dryad-maidens, thrill with eager joy;
nor wolf with treacherous wile assails the flock,
nor nets the stag: kind Daphnis loveth peace.
The unshorn mountains to the stars up-toss
voices of gladness; ay, the very rocks,
the very thickets, shout and sing, ‘A god,
a god is he, Menalcas’ Be thou kind,
propitious to thine own. Lo! altars four,
twain to thee, Daphnis, and to Phoebus twain
for sacrifice, we build; and I for thee
two beakers yearly of fresh milk afoam,
and of rich olive-oil two bowls, will set;
and of the wine-god's bounty above all,
if cold, before the hearth, or in the shade
at harvest-time, to glad the festal hour,
from flasks of Ariusian grape will pour
sweet nectar. Therewithal at my behest
shall Lyctian Aegon and Damoetas sing,
and Alphesiboeus emulate in dance
the dancing Satyrs. This, thy service due,
shalt thou lack never, both when we pay the Nymphs
our yearly vows, and when with lustral rites
the fields we hallow. Long as the wild boar
shall love the mountain-heights, and fish the streams,
while bees on thyme and crickets feed on dew,
thy name, thy praise, thine honour, shall endure.
Even as to Bacchus and to Ceres, so
to thee the swain his yearly vows shall make;
and thou thereof, like them, shalt quittance claim.”

> Latin: Menalcas:
Candidus insuetum miratur limen Olympi,
sub pedibusque videt nubes et sidera Daphnis.
ergo alacris silvas et cetera rura voluptas
Panaque pastoresque tenet, Dryadasque puellas;
nec lupus insidias pecori, nec retia cervis
ulla dolum meditantur: amat bonus otia Daphnis.
ipsi laetitia voces ad sidera iactant
intonsi montes; ipsae iam carmina rupes,
ipsa sonant arbusta: “Deus, deus ille, Menalca.”
Sis bonus O felixque tuis! En quattuor aras:
ecce duas tibi, Daphni, duas altaria Phoebo.
pocula bina novo spumantia lacte quotannis,
craterasque duo statuam tibi pinguis olivi,
et multo in primis hilarans convivia Baccho,—
ante focum, si frigus erit, si messis, in umbra,—
vina novum fundam calathis Ariusia nectar.
cantabunt mihi Damoetas et Lyctius Aegon;
saltantis satyros imitabitur Alphesiboeus.
Haec tibi semper erunt, et cum solemnia vota
reddemus Nymphis, et cum lustrabimus agros.
Dum iuga montis aper, fluvios dum piscis amabit,
dumque thymo pascentur apes, dum rore cicadae,
semper honos nomenque tuum laudesque manebunt;
ut Baccho Cererique, tibi sic vota quotannis
agricolae facient: damnabis tu quoque votis.

[¶62] MOPSUS:
How, how repay thee for a song so rare?
For not the whispering south-wind on its way
so much delights me, nor wave-smitten beach,
nor streams that race adown their bouldered beds.

> Latin: Mopsus:
Quae tibi, quae tali reddam pro carmine dona?
Nam neque me tantum venientis sibilus austri,
nec percussa iuvant fluctu tam litora, nec quae
saxosas inter decurrunt flumina valles.

## 2. Poems 5–10

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/virgil-eclogues/2/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/virgil-eclogues/2/#p-N

[¶0] MENALCAS:
First this frail hemlock-stalk to you I give,
which taught me “Corydon with love was fired
for fair Alexis,” ay, and this beside,
“Who owns the flock?—Meliboeus?”

> Latin: Menalcas:
Hac te nos fragili donabimus ante cicuta:
haec nos, “Formosum Corydon ardebat Alexim,”
haec eadem docuit, “Cuium pecus, an Meliboei?”

[¶1] MOPSUS:
But take you
this shepherd's crook, which, howso hard he begged,
antigenes, then worthy to be loved,
prevailed not to obtain—with brass, you see,
and equal knots, Menalcas, fashioned fair!

> Latin: Mopsus:
At tu sume pedum, quod, me cum saepe rogaret,
non tulit Antigenes—et erat tum dignus amari—
formosum paribus nodis atque aere, Menalca.

[¶2] first my Thalia stooped in sportive mood
to Syracusan strains, nor blushed within
the woods to house her. When I sought to tell
of battles and of kings, the Cynthian god
plucked at mine ear and warned me: “Tityrus,
beseems a shepherd-wight to feed fat sheep,
but sing a slender song.” Now, Varus, I—
for lack there will not who would laud thy deeds,
and treat of dolorous wars—will rather tune
to the slim oaten reed my silvan lay.
I sing but as vouchsafed me; yet even this
if, if but one with ravished eyes should read,
of thee, O Varus, shall our tamarisks
and all the woodland ring; nor can there be
a page more dear to Phoebus, than the page
where, foremost writ, the name of Varus stands.
Speed ye, Pierian Maids! Within a cave
young Chromis and Mnasyllos chanced to see
silenus sleeping, flushed, as was his wont,
with wine of yesterday. Not far aloof,
slipped from his head, the garlands lay, and there
by its worn handle hung a ponderous cup.
Approaching—for the old man many a time
had balked them both of a long hoped-for song—
garlands to fetters turned, they bind him fast.
Then Aegle, fairest of the Naiad-band,
aegle came up to the half-frightened boys,
came, and, as now with open eyes he lay,
with juice of blood-red mulberries smeared him o'er,
both brow and temples. Laughing at their guile,
and crying, “Why tie the fetters? loose me, boys;
enough for you to think you had the power;
now list the songs you wish for—songs for you,
another meed for her”—forthwith began.
Then might you see the wild things of the wood,
with Fauns in sportive frolic beat the time,
and stubborn oaks their branchy summits bow.
Not Phoebus doth the rude Parnassian crag
so ravish, nor Orpheus so entrance the heights
of Rhodope or Ismarus: for he sang
how through the mighty void the seeds were driven
of earth, air, ocean, and of liquid fire,
how all that is from these beginnings grew,
and the young world itself took solid shape,
then 'gan its crust to harden, and in the deep
shut Nereus off, and mould the forms of things
little by little; and how the earth amazed
beheld the new sun shining, and the showers
fall, as the clouds soared higher, what time the woods
'gan first to rise, and living things to roam
scattered among the hills that knew them not.
Then sang he of the stones by Pyrrha cast,
of Saturn's reign, and of Prometheus' theft,
and the Caucasian birds, and told withal
nigh to what fountain by his comrades left
the mariners cried on Hylas till the shore
then re-echoed “Hylas, Hylas!” soothed
pasiphae with the love of her white bull—
happy if cattle-kind had never been!—
o ill-starred maid, what frenzy caught thy soul
the daughters too of Proetus filled the fields
with their feigned lowings, yet no one of them
of such unhallowed union e'er was fain
as with a beast to mate, though many a time
on her smooth forehead she had sought for horns,
and for her neck had feared the galling plough.
O ill-starred maid! thou roamest now the hills,
while on soft hyacinths he, his snowy side
reposing, under some dark ilex now
chews the pale herbage, or some heifer tracks
amid the crowding herd. Now close, ye Nymphs,
ye Nymphs of Dicte, close the forest-glades,
if haply there may chance upon mine eyes
the white bull's wandering foot-prints: him belike
following the herd, or by green pasture lured,
some kine may guide to the Gortynian stalls.
Then sings he of the maid so wonder-struck
with the apples of the Hesperids, and then
with moss-bound, bitter bark rings round the forms
of Phaethon's fair sisters, from the ground
up-towering into poplars. Next he sings
of Gallus wandering by Permessus' stream,
and by a sister of the Muses led
to the Aonian mountains, and how all
the choir of Phoebus rose to greet him; how
the shepherd Linus, singer of songs divine,
brow-bound with flowers and bitter parsley, spake:
“These reeds the Muses give thee, take them thou,
erst to the aged bard of Ascra given,
wherewith in singing he was wont to draw
time-rooted ash-trees from the mountain heights.
With these the birth of the Grynean grove
be voiced by thee, that of no grove beside
apollo more may boast him.” Wherefore speak
of Scylla, child of Nisus, who, 'tis said,
her fair white loins with barking monsters girt
vexed the Dulichian ships, and, in the deep
swift-eddying whirlpool, with her sea-dogs tore
the trembling mariners? or how he told
of the changed limbs of Tereus—what a feast,
what gifts, to him by Philomel were given;
how swift she sought the desert, with what wings
hovered in anguish o'er her ancient home?
All that, of old, Eurotas, happy stream,
heard, as Apollo mused upon the lyre,
and bade his laurels learn, Silenus sang;
till from Olympus, loth at his approach,
vesper, advancing, bade the shepherds tell
their tale of sheep, and pen them in the fold.

> Latin: Prima Syracosio dignata est ludere versu,
nostra nec erubuit silvas habitare Thalia.
Cum canerem reges et proelia, Cynthius aurem
vellit, et admonuit: “Pastorem, Tityre, pinguis
pascere oportet ovis, deductum dicere carmen.”
Nunc ego—namque super tibi erunt, qui dicere laudes,
Vare, tuas cupiant, et tristia condere bella—
agrestem tenui meditabor arundine Musam.
Non iniussa cano: si quis tamen haec quoque, si quis
captus amore leget, te nostrae, Vare, myricae,
te nemus omne canet; nec Phoebo gratior ulla est,
quam sibi quae Vari praescripsit pagina nomen.
Pergite, Pierides! Chromis et Mnasyllos in antro
Silenum pueri somno videre iacentem,
inflatum hesterno venas, ut semper, Iaccho:
serta procul tantum capiti delapsa iacebant,
et gravis attrita pendebat cantharus ansa.
Adgressi—nam saepe senex spe carminis ambo
luserat—iniciunt ipsis ex vincula sertis:
addit se sociam, timidisque supervenit Aegle,—
Aegle, Naiadum pulcherrima,—iamque videnti
sanguineis frontem moris et tempora pingit.
Ille dolum ridens, “Quo vincula nectitis?” inquit;
“solvite me, pueri; satis est potuisse videri:
carmina, quae voltis, cognoscite; carmina vobis,
huic aliud mercedis erit.” Simul incipit ipse.
Tum vero in numerum Faunosque ferasque videres
ludere, tum rigidas motare cacumina quercus;
nec tantum Phoebo gaudet Parnasia rupes,
nec tantum Rhodope miratur et Ismarus Orphea.
Namque canebat, uti magnum per inane coacta
semina terrarumque animaeque marisque fuissent,
et liquidi simul ignis; ut his exordia primis
omnia et ipse tener mundi concreverit orbis;
tum durare solum et discludere Nerea ponto
coeperit, et rerum paulatim sumere formas;
iamque novum terrae stupeant lucescere solem,
altius atque cadant submotis nubibus imbres;
incipiant silvae cum primum surgere, cumque
rara per ignaros errent animalia montis.
Hinc lapides Pyrrhae iactos, Saturnia regna,
Caucasiasque refert volucres, furtumque Promethei:
his adiungit, Hylan nautae quo fonte relictum
clamassent, ut litus “Hyla, Hyla!” omne sonaret.
et fortunatam, si numquam armenta fuissent,
Pasiphaen nivei solatur amore iuvenci.
ah, virgo infelix, quae te dementia cepit!
Proetides inplerunt falsis mugitibus agros:
at non tam turpis pecudum tamen ulla secuta est
concubitus, quamvis collo timuisset aratrum,
et saepe in levi quaesisset cornua fronte.
ah, virgo infelix, tu nunc in montibus erras:
ille, latus niveum molli fultus hyacintho,
ilice sub nigra pallentis ruminat herbas,
aut aliquam in magno sequitur grege. “Claudite, nymphae,
Dictaeae nymphae, nemorum iam claudite saltus,
si qua forte ferant oculis sese obvia nostris
errabunda bovis vestigia; forsitan illum,
aut herba captum viridi, aut armenta secutum,
perducant aliquae stabula ad Gortynia vaccae.”
Tum canit Hesperidum miratam mala puellam;
tum Phaethontiades musco circumdat amaro
corticis, atque solo proceras erigit alnos.
Tum canit, errantem Permessi ad flumina Gallum
Aonas in montis ut duxerit una sororum,
utque viro Phoebi chorus adsurrexerit omnis;
ut Linus haec illi, divino carmine pastor,
floribus atque apio crinis ornatus amaro,
dixerit: “Hos tibi dant calamos, en accipe, Musae,
Ascraeo quos ante seni, quibus ille solebat
cantando rigidas deducere montibus ornos:
his tibi Grynei nemoris dicatur origo,
ne quis sit lucus, quo se plus iactet Apollo.”
Quid loquar aut Scyllam Nisi, quam fama secuta est
candida succinctam latrantibus inguina monstris
Dulichias vexasse rates, et gurgite in alto,
ah, timidos nautas canibus lacerasse marinis,
aut ut mutatos Terei narraverit artus;
quas illi Philomela dapes, quae dona pararit,
quo cursu deserta petiverit, et quibus ante
infelix sua tecta supervolitaverit alis?
Omnia, quae Phoebo quondam meditante, beatus
audiit Eurotas, iussitque ediscere laurus,
ille canit: pulsae referunt ad sidera valles;
cogere donec ovis stabulis numerumque referri
iussit, et invito processit Vesper Olympo.

[¶3] daphnis beneath a rustling ilex-tree
had sat him down; Thyrsis and Corydon
had gathered in the flock, Thyrsis the sheep,
and Corydon the she-goats swollen with milk—
both in the flower of age, Arcadians both,
ready to sing, and in like strain reply.
Hither had strayed, while from the frost I fend
my tender myrtles, the he-goat himself,
lord of the flock; when Daphnis I espy!
Soon as he saw me, “Hither haste,” he cried,
“O Meliboeus! goat and kids are safe;
and, if you have an idle hour to spare,
rest here beneath the shade. Hither the steers
will through the meadows, of their own free will,
untended come to drink. Here Mincius hath
with tender rushes rimmed his verdant banks,
and from yon sacred oak with busy hum
the bees are swarming.” What was I to do?
No Phyllis or Alcippe left at home
had I, to shelter my new-weaned lambs,
and no slight matter was a singing-bout
'twixt Corydon and Thyrsis. Howsoe'er,
I let my business wait upon their sport.
So they began to sing, voice answering voice
in strains alternate—for alternate strains
the Muses then were minded to recall—
first Corydon, then Thyrsis in reply.
CORYDON:
“Libethrian Nymphs, who are my heart's delight,
grant me, as doth my Codrus, so to sing—
next to Apollo he—or if to this
we may not all attain, my tuneful pipe
here on this sacred pine shall silent hang.”

> Latin: Meliboeus:
Forte sub arguta consederat ilice Daphnis,
compulerantque greges Corydon et Thyrsis in unum,
Trhyrsis ovis, Corydon distentas lacte capellas,
ambo florentes aetatibus, Arcades ambo,
et cantare pares, et respondere parati.
Huc mihi, dum teneras defendo a frigore myrtos,
vir gregis ipse caper deerraverat; atque ego Daphnim
aspicio. Ille ubi me contra videt: “Ocius” inquit
“huc ades, O Meliboee, caper tibi salvus et haedi;
et, si quid cessare potes, requiesce sub umbra.
huc ipsi potum venient per prata iuvenci,
hic viridis tenera praetexit arundine ripas
Mincius, eque sacra resonant examina quercu.”
Quid facerem? Neque ego Alcippen, nec Phyllida habebam,
depulsos a lacte domi quae clauderet agnos,
et certamen erat, Corydon cum Thyrside, magnum.
posthabui tamen illorum mea seria ludo:
alternis igitur contendere versibus ambo
coepere; alternos Musae meminisse volebant.
hos Corydon, illos referebat in ordine Thyrsis.
Corydon:
Nymphae, noster amor, Libethrides, aut mihi carmen,
quale meo Codro, concedite: proxima Phoebi
versibus ille facit; aut, si non possumus omnes,
hic arguta sacra pendebit fistula pinu.

[¶4] THYRSIS:
“Arcadian shepherds, wreathe with ivy-spray
your budding poet, so that Codrus burst
with envy: if he praise beyond my due,
then bind my brow with foxglove, lest his tongue
with evil omen blight the coming bard.”

> Latin: Thyrsis:
Pastores, hedera crescentem ornate poetam,
Arcades, invidia rumpantur ut ilia Codro;
aut si ultra placitum laudarit, baccare frontem
cingite, ne vati noceat mala lingua futuro.

[¶5] CORYDON:
“This bristling boar's head, Delian Maid, to thee,
with branching antlers of a sprightly stag,
young Micon offers: if his luck but hold,
full-length in polished marble, ankle-bound
with purple buskin, shall thy statue stand.”

> Latin: Corydon:
Saetosi caput hoc apri tibi, Delia, parvus
et ramosa Micon vivacis cornua cervi.
Si proprium hoc fuerit, levi de marmore tota
puniceo stabis suras evincta coturno.

[¶6] THYRSIS:
“A bowl of milk, Priapus, and these cakes,
yearly, it is enough for thee to claim;
thou art the guardian of a poor man's plot.
Wrought for a while in marble, if the flock
at lambing time be filled, stand there in gold.”

> Latin: Thyrsis:
Sinum lactis et haec te liba, Priape, quotannis
exspectare sat est: custos es pauperis horti.
Nunc te marmoreum pro tempore fecimus; at tu,
si fetura gregem suppleverit, aureus esto.

[¶7] CORYDON:
“Daughter of Nereus, Galatea mine,
sweeter than Hybla-thyme, more white than swans,
fairer than ivy pale, soon as the steers
shall from their pasture to the stalls repair,
if aught for Corydon thou carest, come.”

> Latin: Corydon:
Nerine Galatea, thymo mihi dulcior Hyblae,
candidior cycnis, hedera formosior alba,
cum primum pasti repetent praesepia tauri,
si qua tui Corydonis habet te cura, venito.

[¶8] THYRSIS:
“Now may I seem more bitter to your taste
than herb Sardinian, rougher than the broom,
more worthless than strewn sea-weed, if to-day
hath not a year out-lasted! Fie for shame!
Go home, my cattle, from your grazing go!”

> Latin: Thyrsis:
Immo ego Sardoniis videar tibi amarior herbis,
horridior rusco, proiecta vilior alga,
si mihi non haec lux toto iam longior anno est.
Ite domum pasti, si quis pudor, ite iuvenci.

[¶9] CORYDON:
“Ye mossy springs, and grass more soft than sleep,
and arbute green with thin shade sheltering you,
ward off the solstice from my flock, for now
comes on the burning summer, now the buds
upon the limber vine-shoot 'gin to swell.”

> Latin: Corydon:
Muscosi fontes et somno mollior herba,
et quae vos rara viridis tegit arbutus umbra,
solstitium pecori defendite; iam venit aestas
torrida, iam lento turgent in palmite gemmae.

[¶10] THYRSIS:
“Here is a hearth, and resinous logs, here fire
unstinted, and doors black with ceaseless smoke.
Here heed we Boreas' icy breath as much
as the wolf heeds the number of the flock,
or furious rivers their restraining banks.”

> Latin: Thyrsis:
Hic focus et taedae pingues, hic plurimus ignis
semper, et adsidua postes fuligine nigri;
hic tantum Boreae curamus frigora, quantum
aut numerum lupus, aut torrentia flumina ripas.

[¶11] CORYDON:
“The junipers and prickly chestnuts stand,
and 'neath each tree lie strewn their several fruits,
now the whole world is smiling, but if fair
alexis from these hill-slopes should away,
even the rivers you would; see run dry.”

> Latin: Corydon:
Stant et iuniperi, et castaneae hirsutae;
strata iacent passim sua quaque sub arbore poma;
omnia nunc rident: at si formosus Alexis
montibus his abeat, videas et flumina sicca.

[¶12] THYRSIS:
“The field is parched, the grass-blades thirst to death
in the faint air; Liber hath grudged the hills
his vine's o'er-shadowing: should my Phyllis come,
green will be all the grove, and Jupiter
descend in floods of fertilizing rain.”

> Latin: Thyrsis:
Aret ager; vitio moriens sitit aeris herba;
Liber pampineas invidit collibus umbras:
Phyllidis adventu nostrae nemus omne virebit,
Iuppiter et laeto descendet plurimus imbri.

[¶13] CORYDON:
“The poplar doth Alcides hold most dear,
the vine Iacchus, Phoebus his own bays,
and Venus fair the myrtle: therewithal
phyllis doth hazels love, and while she loves,
myrtle nor bay the hazel shall out-vie.”

> Latin: Corydon:
Populus Alcidae gratissima, vitis Iaccho,
formosae myrtus Veneri, sua laurea Phoebo;
Phyllis amat corylos: illas dum Phyllis amabit,
nec myrtus vincet corylos, nec laurea Phoebi.

[¶14] THYRSIS:
“Ash in the forest is most beautiful,
pine in the garden, poplar by the stream,
fir on the mountain-height; but if more oft
thou'ldst come to me, fair Lycidas, to thee
both forest-ash, and garden-pine should bow.”
MELIBOEUS:
These I remember, and how Thyrsis strove
for victory in vain. From that time forth
is Corydon still Corydon with us.

> Latin: Thyrsis:
Fraxinus in silvis pulcherrima, pinus in hortis,
populus in fluviis, abies in montibus altis:
saepius at si me, Lycida formose, revisas,
fraxinus in silvis cedat tibi, pinus in hortis.
Haec memini, et victum frustra contendere Thyrsim:
ex illo Corydon Corydon est tempore nobis.

[¶15] of Damon and Alphesiboeus now,
those shepherd-singers at whose rival strains
the heifer wondering forgot to graze,
the lynx stood awe-struck, and the flowing streams,
unwonted loiterers, stayed their course to hear—
how Damon and Alphesiboeus sang
their pastoral ditties, will I tell the tale.
Thou, whether broad Timavus' rocky banks
thou now art passing, or dost skirt the shore
of the Illyrian main,—will ever dawn
that day when I thy deeds may celebrate,
ever that day when through the whole wide world
I may renown thy verse—that verse alone
of Sophoclean buskin worthy found?
With thee began, to thee shall end, the strain.
Take thou these songs that owe their birth to thee,
and deign around thy temples to let creep
this ivy-chaplet 'twixt the conquering bays.
Scarce had night's chilly shade forsook the sky
what time to nibbling sheep the dewy grass
tastes sweetest, when, on his smooth shepherd-staff
of olive leaning, Damon thus began.
DAMON:
“Rise, Lucifer, and, heralding the light,
bring in the genial day, while I make moan
fooled by vain passion for a faithless bride,
for Nysa, and with this my dying breath
call on the gods, though little it bestead—
the gods who heard her vows and heeded not.
‘Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.’
Ever hath Maenalus his murmuring groves
and whispering pines, and ever hears the songs
of love-lorn shepherds, and of Pan, who first
brooked not the tuneful reed should idle lie.
‘Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.’
Nysa to Mopsus given! what may not then
we lovers look for? soon shall we see mate
griffins with mares, and in the coming age
shy deer and hounds together come to drink.
‘Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.’
Now, Mopsus, cut new torches, for they bring
your bride along; now, bridegroom, scatter nuts:
forsaking Oeta mounts the evening star!
‘Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.’
O worthy of thy mate, while all men else
thou scornest, and with loathing dost behold
my shepherd's pipe, my goats, my shaggy brow,
and untrimmed beard, nor deem'st that any god
for mortal doings hath regard or care.
‘Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.’
Once with your mother, in our orchard-garth,
a little maid I saw you—I your guide—
plucking the dewy apples. My twelfth year
I scarce had entered, and could barely reach
the brittle boughs. I looked, and I was lost;
a sudden frenzy swept my wits away.
‘Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.’
Now know I what Love is: 'mid savage rocks
tmaros or Rhodope brought forth the boy,
or Garamantes in earth's utmost bounds—
no kin of ours, nor of our blood begot.
‘Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.’
Fierce Love it was once steeled a mother's heart
with her own offspring's blood her hands to imbrue:
mother, thou too wert cruel; say wert thou
more cruel, mother, or more ruthless he?
Ruthless the boy, thou, mother, cruel too.
‘Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.’
Now let the wolf turn tail and fly the sheep,
tough oaks bear golden apples, alder-trees
bloom with narcissus-flower, the tamarisk
sweat with rich amber, and the screech-owl vie
in singing with the swan: let Tityrus
be Orpheus, Orpheus in the forest-glade,
arion 'mid his dolphins on the deep.
‘Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.’
Yea, be the whole earth to mid-ocean turned!
Farewell, ye woodlands I from the tall peak
of yon aerial rock will headlong plunge
into the billows: this my latest gift,
from dying lips bequeathed thee, see thou keep.
Cease now, my flute, now cease Maenalian lays.’”
thus Damon: but do ye, Pierian Maids—
we cannot all do all things—tell me how
alphesiboeus to his strain replied.
ALPHESIBOEUS:
“Bring water, and with soft wool-fillet bind
these altars round about, and burn thereon
rich vervain and male frankincense, that I
may strive with magic spells to turn astray
my lover's saner senses, whereunto
there lacketh nothing save the power of song.
‘Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.’
Songs can the very moon draw down from heaven
circe with singing changed from human form
the comrades of Ulysses, and by song
is the cold meadow-snake, asunder burst.
‘Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.’
These triple threads of threefold colour first
I twine about thee, and three times withal
around these altars do thine image bear:
uneven numbers are the god's delight.
‘Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.’
Now, Amaryllis, ply in triple knots
the threefold colours; ply them fast, and say
this is the chain of Venus that I ply.
‘Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.’
As by the kindling of the self-same fire
harder this clay, this wax the softer grows,
so by my love may Daphnis; sprinkle meal,
and with bitumen burn the brittle bays.
Me Daphnis with his cruelty doth burn,
I to melt cruel Daphnis burn this bay.
‘Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.’
As when some heifer, seeking for her steer
through woodland and deep grove, sinks wearied out
on the green sedge beside a stream, love-lorn,
nor marks the gathering night that calls her home—
as pines that heifer, with such love as hers
may Daphnis pine, and I not care to heal.
‘Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.’
These relics once, dear pledges of himself,
the traitor left me, which, O earth, to thee
here on this very threshold I commit—
pledges that bind him to redeem the debt.
‘Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.’
These herbs of bane to me did Moeris give,
in Pontus culled, where baneful herbs abound.
With these full oft have I seen Moeris change
to a wolf's form, and hide him in the woods,
oft summon spirits from the tomb's recess,
and to new fields transport the standing corn.
‘Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.’
Take ashes, Amaryllis, fetch them forth,
and o'er your head into the running brook
fling them, nor look behind: with these will
upon the heart of Daphnis make essay.
Nothing for gods, nothing for songs cares he.
‘Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.’
Look, look I the very embers of themselves
have caught the altar with a flickering flame,
while I delay to fetch them: may the sign
prove lucky! something it must mean, for sure,
and Hylax on the threshold 'gins to bark!
May we believe it, or are lovers still
by their own fancies fooled?
Give o'er, my songs,
daphnis is coming from the town, give o'er.”

> Latin: Pastorem Musam Damonis et Alphesiboei—
immemor herbarum quos est mirata iuvenca
certantis, quorum stupefactae carmine lynces,
et mutata suos requierunt flumina cursus—
Illonis Musam dicemus et Alphesiboei.
Tu mihi seu magni superas iam saxa Timavi,
sive oram Illyrici legis aequoris, en erit umquam
ille dies, mihi cum liceat tua dicere facta?
en erit ut liceat totum mihi ferre per orbem
sola Sophocleo tua carmina digna coturno?
A te principium, tibi desinam: accipe iussis
carmina coepta tuis, atque hanc sine tempora circum
inter victrices hederam tibi serpere laurus.
Frigida vix caelo noctis decesserat umbra,
cum ros in tenera pecori gratissimus herba;
incumbens tereti Damon sic coepit olivae.
Damon:
Nascere, praeque diem veniens age, Lucifer, almum,
coniugis indigno Nisae deceptus amore
dum queror, et divos, quamquam nil testibus illis
profeci, extrema moriens tamen adloquor hora.
Incipe Maenalios mecum, mea tibia, versus.
Maenalus argutumque nemus pinosque loquentis
semper habet; semper pastorum ille audit amores,
Panaque, qui primus calamos non passus inertis.
Incipe Maenalios mecum, mea tibia, versus.
Mopso Nisa datur: quid non speremus amantes?
Iungentur iam grypes equis, aevoque sequenti
cum canibus timidi venient ad pocula dammae.
Mopse, novas incide faces: tibi ducitur uxor;
sparge, marite, nuces: tibi deserit Hesperus Oetam.
Incipe Maenalios mecum, mea tibia, versus.
O digno coniuncta viro, dum despicis omnes,
dumque tibi est odio mea fistula, dumque capellae,
hirsutumque supercilium promissaque barba,
nec curare deum credis mortalia quemquam!
Incipe Maenalios mecum, mea tibia, versus.
Saepibus in nostris parvam te roscida mala—
dux ego vester eram—vidi cum matre legentem.
Alter ab undecimo tum me iam acceperat annus;
iam fragilis poteram ab terra contingere ramos.
Ut vidi, ut perii! Ut me malus abstulit error!
Incipe Maenalios mecum, mea tibia, versus.
Nunc scio, quid sit Amor: duris in cotibus illum
aut Tmaros, aut Rhodope, aut extremm Garamantes,
nec generis nostri puerum nec sanguinis edunt.
Incipe Maenalios mecum, mea tibia, versus.
saevus Amor docuit natorum sanguine matrem
commaculare manus; crudelis tu quoque, mater:
crudelis mater magis, an puer improbus ille?
improbus ille puer; crudelis tu quoque, mater.
Incipe Maenalios mecum, mea tibia, versus.
nunc et ovis ultro fugiat lupus; aurea durae
mala ferant quercus; narcisso floreat alnus;
pinguia corticibus sudent electra myricae;
certent et cycnis ululae; sit Tityrus Orpheus,
Orpheus in silvis, inter delphinas Arion.
Incipe Maenalios mecum, mea tibia, versus.
Omnia vel medium fiant mare: vivite, silvae!
praeceps aerii specula de montis in undas
deferar; extremum hoc munus morientis habeto.
desine Maenalios, iam desine, tibia, versus.
Haec Damon: vos, quae responderit Alphesiboeus,
dicite, Pierides; non omnia possumus omnes.
Alphesiboeus:
Effer aquam, et molli cinge haec altaria vitta,
verbenasque adole pinguis et mascula tura,
coniugis ut magicis sanos avertere sacris
experiar sensus nihil hic nisi carmina desunt.
Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim.
Carmina vel caelo possunt deducere Lunam;
carminibus Circe socios mutavit Ulixi;
frigidus in pratia cantando rumpitur anguis.
Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim.
terna tibi haec primum triplici diversa colore
licia circumdo, terque haec altaria circum
effigiem duco: numero deus impare gaudet.
Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim.
Necte tribus nodis ternos, Amarylli, colores,
necte, Amarylli, modo, et “Veneris” dic “vincula necto.”
Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim.
Limus ut hic durescit et haec ut cera liquescit
uno eodemque igni, sic nostro Daphnis amore.
Sparge molam, et fragilis incende bitumine laurus.
Daphnis me malus urit, ego hanc in Daphnide laurum.
Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim.
Talis amor Daphnim, qualis cum fessa iuvencum
per nemora atque altos quaerendo bucula lucos
propter aquae rivum viridi procumbit in ulva,
perdita, nec serae meminit decedere nocti,
talis amor teneat, nec sit mihi cura mederi.
Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim.
Has olim exuvias mihi perfidus ille reliquit,
pignora cara sui, quae nunc ego limine in ipso,
terra, tibi mando; debent haec pignora Daphnim.
Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim.
Has herbas atque haec Ponto mihi lecta venena
ipse dedit Moeris; nascuntur plurima Ponto.
His ego saepe lupum fieri et se condere silvis
Moerim, saepe animas imis excire sepulcris,
atque satas alio vidi traducere messis.
Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim.
Fer cineres, Amarylli, foras, rivoque fluenti
transque caput iace, nec respexeris: his ego Daphnim
adgrediar, nihil ille deos, nil carmina curat.
Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim.
Aspice, corripuit tremulis altaria flammis
sponte sua, dum ferre moror, cinis ipse: bonum sit!
Nescio quid certe est, et Hylas in limine latrat.
Credimus, an, qui amant, ipsi sibi somnia fingunt?
Parcite, ab urbe venit, iam carmina, parcite, Daphnis.

[¶16] LYCIDAS:
Say whither, Moeris?—Make you for the town,
or on what errand bent?

> Latin: Lycidas:
te, Moeri, pedes? an, quo via ducit, in urbem?

[¶17] MOERIS:
O Lycidas,
we have lived to see, what never yet we feared,
an interloper own our little farm,
and say, “Be off, you former husbandmen!
These fields are mine.” Now, cowed and out of heart,
since Fortune turns the whole world upside down,
we are taking him—ill luck go with the same!—
these kids you see.

> Latin: Moeris:
O Lycida, vivi pervenimus, advena nostri
(quod numquam veriti sumus) ut possessor agelli
diceret: “Haec mea sunt; veteres migrate coloni!”
nunc victi, tristes, quoniam Fors omnia versat,
hos illi—quod nec vertat bene—mittimus haedos.

[¶18] LYCIDAS:
But surely I had heard
that where the hills first draw from off the plain,
and the high ridge with gentle slope descends,
down to the brook-side and the broken crests
of yonder veteran beeches, all the land
was by the songs of your Menalcas saved.

> Latin: Lycidas:
Certe equidem audieram, qua se subducere colles
incipiunt, mollique iugum demittere clivo,
usque ad aquam et veteres (iam fracta cacumina) fagos
omnia carminibus vestrum servasse Menalcan.

[¶19] MOERIS:
Heard it you had, and so the rumour ran,
but 'mid the clash of arms, my Lycidas,
our songs avail no more than, as 'tis said,
doves of Dodona when an eagle comes.
Nay, had I not, from hollow ilex-bole
warned by a raven on the left, cut short
the rising feud, nor I, your Moeris here,
no, nor Menalcas, were alive to-day.

> Latin: Moeris:
Audieras, et fama fuit; sed carmina tantum
nostra valent, Lycida, tela inter Martia, quantum
Chaonias dicunt aquila veniente columbas.
quod nisi me quacumque novas incidere lites
ante Sinistra cava monuisset ab ilice cornix,
nec tuus hic Moeris, nec viveret ipse Menalcas.

[¶20] LYCIDAS:
Alack! could any of so foul a crime
be guilty? Ah! how nearly, thyself,
reft was the solace that we had in thee,
Menalcas! Who then of the Nymphs had sung,
or who with flowering herbs bestrewn the ground,
and o'er the fountains drawn a leafy veil?—
who sung the stave I filched from you that day
to Amaryllis wending, our hearts' joy?—
“While I am gone, 'tis but a little way,
feed, Tityrus, my goats, and, having fed,
drive to the drinking-pool, and, as you drive,
beware the he-goat; with his horn he butts.“

> Latin: Lycidas:
Heu, cadit in quemquam tantum scelus? Heu, tua nobis
paene simul tecum solatia rapta, Menalca?
quis caneret nymphas; quis humum florentibus herbis
spargeret, aut viridi fontes induceret umbra?
vel quae sublegi tacitus tibi carmina nuper,
cum te ad delicias ferres, Amaryllida, nostras?
Tityre, dum redeo—brevis est via—pasce capellas,
et potum pastas age, Tityre, et inter agendum
occursare capro, cornu ferit ille, caveto.

[¶21] MOERIS:
Ay, or to Varus that half-finished lay,
“Varus, thy name, so still our Mantua live—
Mantua to poor Cremona all too near—
shall singing swans bear upward to the stars.”

> Latin: Moeris:
Immo haec, quae Varo necdum perfecta canebat:
“Vare, tuum nomen, superet modo Mantua nobis—
Mantua, vae miserae nimium vicina Cremonae—
cantantes sublime ferent ad sidera cycni.”

[¶22] LYCIDAS:
So may your swarms Cyrnean yew-trees shun,
your kine with cytisus their udders swell,
begin, if aught you have. The Muses made
me too a singer; I too have sung; the swains
call me a poet, but I believe them not:
for naught of mine, or worthy Varius yet
or Cinna deem I, but account myself
a cackling goose among melodious swans.

> Latin: Lycidas:
Sic tua Cyrneas fugiant examina taxos;
sic cytiso pastae distendant ubera vaccae!
Incipe, si quid habes: et me fecere poetam
Pierides; sunt et mihi carmina; me quoque dicunt
vatem pastores, sed non ego credulus illis.
Nam neque adhuc Vario videor, nec dicere Cinna
digna, sed argutos inter strepere anser olores.

[¶23] MOERIS:
'Twas in my thought to do so, Lycidas;
even now was I revolving silently
if this I could recall—no paltry song:
“Come, Galatea, what pleasure is 't to play
amid the waves? Here glows the Spring, here earth
beside the streams pours forth a thousand flowers;
here the white poplar bends above the cave,
and the lithe vine weaves shadowy covert: come,
leave the mad waves to beat upon the shore.”

> Latin: Moeris:
Id quidem ago et tacitus, Lycida, mecum ipse voluto,
si valeam meminisse; neque est ignobile carmen:
`huc ades, O Galatea; quis est nam ludus in undis
hic ver purpureum; varios hic flumina circum
fundit humus flores; hic candida populus antro
imminet, et lentae texunt umbracula vites.
huc ades: insani feriant sine litora fluctus.

[¶24] LYCIDAS:
What of the strain I heard you singing once
on a clear night alone? the notes I still
remember, could I but recall the words.

> Latin: Lycidas:
Quid, quae te pura solum sub nocte canentem
audieram? Numeros memini, si verba tenerem.
“Daphni, quid antiquos signorum suspicis ortus?
Ecce Dionaei processit Caesaris astrum,
astrum, quo segetes gauderent frugibus, et quo
duceret apricis in collibus uva colorem.
insere, Daphni, piros: carpent tua poma nepotes.”

[¶25] MOERIS:
“Why, Daphnis, upward gazing, do you mark
the ancient risings of the Signs? for look
where Dionean Caesar's star comes forth
in heaven, to gladden all the fields with corn,
and to the grape upon the sunny slopes
her colour bring! Now, the pears;
so shall your children's children pluck their fruit.”
Time carries all things, even our wits, away.
Oft, as a boy, I sang the sun to rest,
but all those songs are from my memory fled,
and even his voice is failing Moeris now;
the wolves eyed Moeris first: but at your wish
Menalcas will repeat them oft enow.

> Latin: Moeris:
Omnia fert aetas, animum quoque: saepe ego longos
cantando puerum memini me condere soles:
nunc oblita mihi tot carmina; vox quoque Moerim
iam fugit ipsa; lupi Moerim videre priores.
Sed tamen ista satis referet tibi saepe Menalcas.

[¶26] LYCIDAS:
Your pleas but linger out my heart's desire:
now all the deep is into silence hushed,
and all the murmuring breezes sunk to sleep.
We are half-way thither, for Bianor's tomb
begins to show: here, Moeris, where the hinds
are lopping the thick leafage, let us sing.
Set down the kids, yet shall we reach the town;
or, if we fear the night may gather rain
ere we arrive, then singing let us go,
our way to lighten; and, that we may thus
go singing, I will case you of this load.

> Latin: Lycidas:
Causando nostros in longum ducis amores:
et nunc omne tibi stratum silet aequor, et omnes,
aspice, ventosi ceciderunt murmuris aurae.
hinc adeo media est nobis via; namque sepulcrum
incipit adparere Bianoris: hic ubi densas
agricolae stringunt frondes, hic, Moeri, canamus;
hic haedos depone: tamen veniemus in urbem.
aut si, nox pluviam ne colligat ante, veremur,
cantantes licet usque (minus via laedit) eamus;
cantantes ut eamus, ego hoc te fasce levabo.

[¶27] MOERIS:
Cease, boy, and get we to the work in hand:
we shall sing better when himself is come.

> Latin: Moeris:
Desine plura, puer, et quod nunc instat agamus:
carmina tum melius, cum venerit ipse, canemus.

[¶28] This now, the very latest of my toils,
vouchsafe me, Arethusa! needs must I
sing a brief song to Gallus—brief, but yet
such as Lycoris' self may fitly read.
Who would not sing for Gallus? So, when thou
beneath Sicanian billows glidest on,
may Doris blend no bitter wave with thine,
begin! The love of Gallus be our theme,
and the shrewd pangs he suffered, while, hard by,
the flat-nosed she-goats browse the tender brush.
We sing not to deaf ears; no word of ours
but the woods echo it. What groves or lawns
held you, ye Dryad-maidens, when for love—
love all unworthy of a loss so dear—
Gallus lay dying? for neither did the slopes
of Pindus or Parnassus stay you then,
no, nor Aonian Aganippe. Him
even the laurels and the tamarisks wept;
for him, outstretched beneath a lonely rock,
wept pine-clad Maenalus, and the flinty crags
of cold Lycaeus. The sheep too stood around—
of us they feel no shame, poet divine;
nor of the flock be thou ashamed: even fair
Adonis by the rivers fed his sheep—
came shepherd too, and swine-herd footing slow,
and, from the winter-acorns dripping-wet
Menalcas. All with one accord exclaim:
“From whence this love of thine?” Apollo came;
“Gallus, art mad?” he cried, “thy bosom's care
another love is following.” Therewithal
Silvanus came, with rural honours crowned;
the flowering fennels and tall lilies shook
before him. Yea, and our own eyes beheld
pan, god of Arcady, with blood-red juice
of the elder-berry, and with vermilion, dyed.
“Wilt ever make an end?” quoth he, “behold
love recks not aught of it: his heart no more
with tears is sated than with streams the grass,
bees with the cytisus, or goats with leaves.”
“Yet will ye sing, Arcadians, of my woes
upon your mountains,” sadly he replied—
“Arcadians, that alone have skill to sing.
O then how softly would my ashes rest,
if of my love, one day, your flutes should tell!
And would that I, of your own fellowship,
or dresser of the ripening grape had been,
or guardian of the flock! for surely then,
let Phyllis, or Amyntas, or who else,
bewitch me—what if swart Amyntas be?
Dark is the violet, dark the hyacinth—
among the willows, 'neath the limber vine,
reclining would my love have lain with me,
Phyllis plucked garlands, or Amyntas sung.
Here are cool springs, soft mead and grove, Lycoris;
here might our lives with time have worn away.
But me mad love of the stern war-god holds
armed amid weapons and opposing foes.
Whilst thou—Ah! might I but believe it not!—
alone without me, and from home afar,
look'st upon Alpine snows and frozen Rhine.
Ah! may the frost not hurt thee, may the sharp
and jagged ice not wound thy tender feet!
I will depart, re-tune the songs I framed
in verse Chalcidian to the oaten reed
of the Sicilian swain. Resolved am I
in the woods, rather, with wild beasts to couch,
and bear my doom, and character my love
upon the tender tree-trunks: they will grow,
and you, my love, grow with them. And meanwhile
I with the Nymphs will haunt Mount Maenalus,
or hunt the keen wild boar. No frost so cold
but I will hem with hounds thy forest-glades,
parthenius. Even now, methinks, I range
o'er rocks, through echoing groves, and joy to launch
Cydonian arrows from a Parthian bow.—
as if my madness could find healing thus,
or that god soften at a mortal's grief!
Now neither Hamadryads, no, nor songs
delight me more: ye woods, away with you!
No pangs of ours can change him; not though we
in the mid-frost should drink of Hebrus' stream,
and in wet winters face Sithonian snows,
or, when the bark of the tall elm-tree bole
of drought is dying, should, under Cancer's Sign,
in Aethiopian deserts drive our flocks.
Love conquers all things; yield we too to love!”
These songs, Pierian Maids, shall it suffice
your poet to have sung, the while he sat,
and of slim mallow wove a basket fine:
to Gallus ye will magnify their worth,
Gallus, for whom my love grows hour by hour,
as the green alder shoots in early Spring.
Come, let us rise: the shade is wont to be
baneful to singers; baneful is the shade
cast by the juniper, crops sicken too
in shade. Now homeward, having fed your fill—
eve's star is rising—go, my she-goats, go.

> Latin: Extremum hunc, Arethusa, mihi concede laborem:
pauca meo Gallo, sed quae legat ipsa Lycoris,
carmina sunt dicenda. neget quis carmina Gallo?
sic tibi, cum fluctus subterlabere Sicanos,
Doris amara suam non intermisceat undam.
incipe; sollicitos Galli dicamus amores,
dum tenera attondent simae virgulta capellae.
non canimus surdis; respondent omnia silvae.
Quae nemora, aut qui vos saltus habuere, puellae
Naides, indigno cum Gallus amore peribat?
nam neque Parnasi vobis iuga, nam neque Pindi
ulla moram fecere, neque Aoniae Aganippe.
Illum etiam lauri, etiam flevere myricae.
Pinifer illum etiam sola sub rupe iacentem
Maenalus, et gelidi fleverunt saxa Lycaei.
Stant et oves circum;—nostri nec poenitet illas,
nec te poeniteat pecoris, divine poeta;—
et formosus ovis ad flumina pavit Adonis;
venit et upilio; tardi venere subulci;
uvidus hiberna venit de glande Menalcas.
Omnes “Unde amor iste” rogant “tibi?” Venit Apollo:
“Galle, quid insanis?” inquit; “tua cura Lycoris
perque nives alium perque horrida castra secuta est.”
Venit et agresti capitis Silvanus honore,
florentis ferulas et grandia lilia quassans.
Pan deus Arcadiae venit, quem vidimus ipsi
sanguineis ebuli bacis minioque rubentem.
“Ecquis erit modus?” inquit; “Amor non talia curat;
nec lacrimis crudelis Amor, nec gramina rivis,
nec cytiso saturantur apes, nec fronde capellae.”
Tristis at ille: “Tamen cantabitis, Arcades,” inquit
“montibus haec vestris: soli cantare periti
Arcades. O mihi tum quam molliter ossa quiescant,
vestra meos olim si fistula dicat amores!
Atque utinam ex vobis unus, vestrique fuissem
aut custos gregis, aut maturae vinitor uvae!
Certe, sive mihi Phillis, sive esset Amyntas,
seu quicumque furor—quid tum, si fuscus Amyntas;
et nigrae violae sunt et vaccinia nigra—
mecum inter salices lenta sub vite iaceret;
serta mihi Phyllis legeret, cantaret Amyntas.
Hic gelidi fontes, hic mollia prata, Lycori,
hic nemus; hic ipso tecum consumerer aevo.
Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis
tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes:
tu procul a patria (nec sit mihi credere tantum!)
Alpinas, ah dura, nives et frigora Rheni
me sine sola vides: ah, te ne frigora laedant!
ah, tibi ne teneras glacies secet aspera plantas!
Ibo, et, Chalcidico quae sunt mihi condita versu
carmina, pastoris Siculi modulabor avena.
certum est in silvis, inter spelaea ferarum
malle pati, tenerisque meos incidere amores
arboribus; crescent illae, crescetis, amores.
Interea mixtis lustrabo Maenala nymphis,
aut acris venabor apros: non me ulla vetabunt
frigora Parthenios canibus circumdare saltus.
iam mihi per rupes videor lucosque sonantis
ire; libet Partho torquere Cydonia cornu
spicula:—tamquam haec sit nostri medicina furoris,
ut deus ille malis hominum mitescere discat!
Iam neque hamadryades rursus nec carmina nobis
ipsa placent; ipsae rursus concedite silvae.
non illum nostri possunt mutare labores,
nec si frigoribus mediis Hebrumque bibamus,
Sithoniasque nives hiemis subeamus aquosae,
nec si, cum moriens alta liber aret in ulmo,
Aethiopum versemus ovis sub sidere Cancri.
omnia vincit Amor; et nos cedamus Amori.”
Haec sat erit, divae, vestrum cecinisse poetam,
dum sedet et gracili fiscellam texit hibisco,
Pierides; vos haec facietis maxima Gallo—
Gallo, cuius amor tantum mihi crescit in horas,
quantum vere novo viridis se subicit alnus.
Surgamus; solet esse gravis cantantibus umbra;
iuniperi gravis umbra; nocent et frugibus umbrae.
Ite domum saturae, venit Hesperus, ite capellae.