---
title: "Eclogues · Eclogae"
author: "Virgil"
translator: "James Rhoades"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
section: 2 of 2
url: https://scriptura.si/works/virgil-eclogues/2/
cite: "Virgil, tr. James Rhoades, Eclogues · Eclogae, section 2. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/virgil-eclogues/2/"
---

# 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.

## 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.