MENALCAS:First this frail hemlock-stalk to you I give,which taught me “Corydon with love was firedfor fair Alexis,” ay, and this beside,“Who owns the flock?—Meliboeus?”
Menalcas:Hac te nos fragili donabimus ante cicuta:haec nos, “Formosum Corydon ardebat Alexim,”haec eadem docuit, “Cuium pecus, an Meliboei?”
MOPSUS:But take youthis 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!
Mopsus:At tu sume pedum, quod, me cum saepe rogaret,non tulit Antigenes—et erat tum dignus amari—formosum paribus nodis atque aere, Menalca.
first my Thalia stooped in sportive moodto Syracusan strains, nor blushed withinthe woods to house her. When I sought to tellof battles and of kings, the Cynthian godplucked 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 tuneto the slim oaten reed my silvan lay.I sing but as vouchsafed me; yet even thisif, if but one with ravished eyes should read,of thee, O Varus, shall our tamarisksand all the woodland ring; nor can there bea page more dear to Phoebus, than the pagewhere, foremost writ, the name of Varus stands.Speed ye, Pierian Maids! Within a caveyoung Chromis and Mnasyllos chanced to seesilenus sleeping, flushed, as was his wont,with wine of yesterday. Not far aloof,slipped from his head, the garlands lay, and thereby its worn handle hung a ponderous cup.Approaching—for the old man many a timehad 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 cragso ravish, nor Orpheus so entrance the heightsof Rhodope or Ismarus: for he sanghow through the mighty void the seeds were drivenof 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 deepshut Nereus off, and mould the forms of thingslittle by little; and how the earth amazedbeheld the new sun shining, and the showersfall, as the clouds soared higher, what time the woods'gan first to rise, and living things to roamscattered 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 withalnigh to what fountain by his comrades leftthe mariners cried on Hylas till the shorethen re-echoed “Hylas, Hylas!” soothedpasiphae with the love of her white bull—happy if cattle-kind had never been!—o ill-starred maid, what frenzy caught thy soulthe daughters too of Proetus filled the fieldswith their feigned lowings, yet no one of themof such unhallowed union e'er was fainas with a beast to mate, though many a timeon 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 sidereposing, under some dark ilex nowchews the pale herbage, or some heifer tracksamid the crowding herd. Now close, ye Nymphs,ye Nymphs of Dicte, close the forest-glades,if haply there may chance upon mine eyesthe white bull's wandering foot-prints: him belikefollowing the herd, or by green pasture lured,some kine may guide to the Gortynian stalls.Then sings he of the maid so wonder-struckwith the apples of the Hesperids, and thenwith moss-bound, bitter bark rings round the formsof Phaethon's fair sisters, from the groundup-towering into poplars. Next he singsof Gallus wandering by Permessus' stream,and by a sister of the Muses ledto the Aonian mountains, and how allthe choir of Phoebus rose to greet him; howthe 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 drawtime-rooted ash-trees from the mountain heights.With these the birth of the Grynean grovebe voiced by thee, that of no grove besideapollo more may boast him.” Wherefore speakof Scylla, child of Nisus, who, 'tis said,her fair white loins with barking monsters girtvexed the Dulichian ships, and, in the deepswift-eddying whirlpool, with her sea-dogs torethe trembling mariners? or how he toldof the changed limbs of Tereus—what a feast,what gifts, to him by Philomel were given;how swift she sought the desert, with what wingshovered 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 telltheir tale of sheep, and pen them in the fold.
Prima Syracosio dignata est ludere versu,nostra nec erubuit silvas habitare Thalia.Cum canerem reges et proelia, Cynthius auremvellit, et admonuit: “Pastorem, Tityre, pinguispascere 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 quiscaptus 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 antroSilenum 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 amboluserat—iniciunt ipsis ex vincula sertis:addit se sociam, timidisque supervenit Aegle,—Aegle, Naiadum pulcherrima,—iamque videntisanguineis 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 videresludere, tum rigidas motare cacumina quercus;nec tantum Phoebo gaudet Parnasia rupes,nec tantum Rhodope miratur et Ismarus Orphea.Namque canebat, uti magnum per inane coactasemina terrarumque animaeque marisque fuissent,et liquidi simul ignis; ut his exordia primisomnia et ipse tener mundi concreverit orbis;tum durare solum et discludere Nerea pontocoeperit, et rerum paulatim sumere formas;iamque novum terrae stupeant lucescere solem,altius atque cadant submotis nubibus imbres;incipiant silvae cum primum surgere, cumquerara per ignaros errent animalia montis.Hinc lapides Pyrrhae iactos, Saturnia regna,Caucasiasque refert volucres, furtumque Promethei:his adiungit, Hylan nautae quo fonte relictumclamassent, 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 estconcubitus, 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 nostriserrabunda 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 amarocorticis, atque solo proceras erigit alnos.Tum canit, errantem Permessi ad flumina GallumAonas 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 solebatcantando 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 estcandida succinctam latrantibus inguina monstrisDulichias 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 anteinfelix sua tecta supervolitaverit alis?Omnia, quae Phoebo quondam meditante, beatusaudiit Eurotas, iussitque ediscere laurus,ille canit: pulsae referunt ad sidera valles;cogere donec ovis stabulis numerumque referriiussit, et invito processit Vesper Olympo.
daphnis beneath a rustling ilex-treehad sat him down; Thyrsis and Corydonhad 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 fendmy 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 steerswill through the meadows, of their own free will,untended come to drink. Here Mincius hathwith tender rushes rimmed his verdant banks,and from yon sacred oak with busy humthe bees are swarming.” What was I to do?No Phyllis or Alcippe left at homehad 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 voicein strains alternate—for alternate strainsthe 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 thiswe may not all attain, my tuneful pipehere on this sacred pine shall silent hang.”
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 Daphnimaspicio. 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 ripasMincius, 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 ambocoepere; alternos Musae meminisse volebant.hos Corydon, illos referebat in ordine Thyrsis.Corydon:Nymphae, noster amor, Libethrides, aut mihi carmen,quale meo Codro, concedite: proxima Phoebiversibus ille facit; aut, si non possumus omnes,hic arguta sacra pendebit fistula pinu.
THYRSIS:“Arcadian shepherds, wreathe with ivy-sprayyour budding poet, so that Codrus burstwith envy: if he praise beyond my due,then bind my brow with foxglove, lest his tonguewith evil omen blight the coming bard.”
Thyrsis:Pastores, hedera crescentem ornate poetam,Arcades, invidia rumpantur ut ilia Codro;aut si ultra placitum laudarit, baccare frontemcingite, ne vati noceat mala lingua futuro.
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-boundwith purple buskin, shall thy statue stand.”
Corydon:Saetosi caput hoc apri tibi, Delia, parvuset ramosa Micon vivacis cornua cervi.Si proprium hoc fuerit, levi de marmore totapuniceo stabis suras evincta coturno.
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 flockat lambing time be filled, stand there in gold.”
Thyrsis:Sinum lactis et haec te liba, Priape, quotannisexspectare sat est: custos es pauperis horti.Nunc te marmoreum pro tempore fecimus; at tu,si fetura gregem suppleverit, aureus esto.
CORYDON:“Daughter of Nereus, Galatea mine,sweeter than Hybla-thyme, more white than swans,fairer than ivy pale, soon as the steersshall from their pasture to the stalls repair,if aught for Corydon thou carest, come.”
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.
THYRSIS:“Now may I seem more bitter to your tastethan herb Sardinian, rougher than the broom,more worthless than strewn sea-weed, if to-dayhath not a year out-lasted! Fie for shame!Go home, my cattle, from your grazing go!”
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.
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 nowcomes on the burning summer, now the budsupon the limber vine-shoot 'gin to swell.”
Corydon:Muscosi fontes et somno mollior herba,et quae vos rara viridis tegit arbutus umbra,solstitium pecori defendite; iam venit aestastorrida, iam lento turgent in palmite gemmae.
THYRSIS:“Here is a hearth, and resinous logs, here fireunstinted, and doors black with ceaseless smoke.Here heed we Boreas' icy breath as muchas the wolf heeds the number of the flock,or furious rivers their restraining banks.”
Thyrsis:Hic focus et taedae pingues, hic plurimus ignissemper, et adsidua postes fuligine nigri;hic tantum Boreae curamus frigora, quantumaut numerum lupus, aut torrentia flumina ripas.
CORYDON:“The junipers and prickly chestnuts stand,and 'neath each tree lie strewn their several fruits,now the whole world is smiling, but if fairalexis from these hill-slopes should away,even the rivers you would; see run dry.”
Corydon:Stant et iuniperi, et castaneae hirsutae;strata iacent passim sua quaque sub arbore poma;omnia nunc rident: at si formosus Alexismontibus his abeat, videas et flumina sicca.
THYRSIS:“The field is parched, the grass-blades thirst to deathin the faint air; Liber hath grudged the hillshis vine's o'er-shadowing: should my Phyllis come,green will be all the grove, and Jupiterdescend in floods of fertilizing rain.”
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.
CORYDON:“The poplar doth Alcides hold most dear,the vine Iacchus, Phoebus his own bays,and Venus fair the myrtle: therewithalphyllis doth hazels love, and while she loves,myrtle nor bay the hazel shall out-vie.”
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.
THYRSIS:“Ash in the forest is most beautiful,pine in the garden, poplar by the stream,fir on the mountain-height; but if more oftthou'ldst come to me, fair Lycidas, to theeboth forest-ash, and garden-pine should bow.”MELIBOEUS:These I remember, and how Thyrsis strovefor victory in vain. From that time forthis Corydon still Corydon with us.
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.
of Damon and Alphesiboeus now,those shepherd-singers at whose rival strainsthe 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 sangtheir pastoral ditties, will I tell the tale.Thou, whether broad Timavus' rocky banksthou now art passing, or dost skirt the shoreof the Illyrian main,—will ever dawnthat day when I thy deeds may celebrate,ever that day when through the whole wide worldI may renown thy verse—that verse aloneof 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 creepthis ivy-chaplet 'twixt the conquering bays.Scarce had night's chilly shade forsook the skywhat time to nibbling sheep the dewy grasstastes sweetest, when, on his smooth shepherd-staffof olive leaning, Damon thus began.DAMON:“Rise, Lucifer, and, heralding the light,bring in the genial day, while I make moanfooled by vain passion for a faithless bride,for Nysa, and with this my dying breathcall 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 grovesand whispering pines, and ever hears the songsof love-lorn shepherds, and of Pan, who firstbrooked not the tuneful reed should idle lie.‘Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.’Nysa to Mopsus given! what may not thenwe lovers look for? soon shall we see mategriffins with mares, and in the coming ageshy deer and hounds together come to drink.‘Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.’Now, Mopsus, cut new torches, for they bringyour 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 elsethou scornest, and with loathing dost beholdmy shepherd's pipe, my goats, my shaggy brow,and untrimmed beard, nor deem'st that any godfor 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 yearI scarce had entered, and could barely reachthe 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 rockstmaros 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 heartwith her own offspring's blood her hands to imbrue:mother, thou too wert cruel; say wert thoumore 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-treesbloom with narcissus-flower, the tamarisksweat with rich amber, and the screech-owl viein singing with the swan: let Tityrusbe 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 peakof yon aerial rock will headlong plungeinto 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 howalphesiboeus to his strain replied.ALPHESIBOEUS:“Bring water, and with soft wool-fillet bindthese altars round about, and burn thereonrich vervain and male frankincense, that Imay strive with magic spells to turn astraymy lover's saner senses, whereuntothere lacketh nothing save the power of song.‘Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.’Songs can the very moon draw down from heavencirce with singing changed from human formthe comrades of Ulysses, and by songis the cold meadow-snake, asunder burst.‘Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.’These triple threads of threefold colour firstI twine about thee, and three times withalaround 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 knotsthe threefold colours; ply them fast, and saythis 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 fireharder 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 steerthrough woodland and deep grove, sinks wearied outon 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 hersmay 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 theehere 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 changeto 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 brookfling them, nor look behind: with these willupon 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 themselveshave caught the altar with a flickering flame,while I delay to fetch them: may the signprove lucky! something it must mean, for sure,and Hylax on the threshold 'gins to bark!May we believe it, or are lovers stillby their own fancies fooled?Give o'er, my songs,daphnis is coming from the town, give o'er.”
Pastorem Musam Damonis et Alphesiboei—immemor herbarum quos est mirata iuvencacertantis, 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 umquamille dies, mihi cum liceat tua dicere facta?en erit ut liceat totum mihi ferre per orbemsola Sophocleo tua carmina digna coturno?A te principium, tibi desinam: accipe iussiscarmina coepta tuis, atque hanc sine tempora circuminter 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 amoredum queror, et divos, quamquam nil testibus illisprofeci, extrema moriens tamen adloquor hora.Incipe Maenalios mecum, mea tibia, versus.Maenalus argutumque nemus pinosque loquentissemper 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 sequenticum 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 illumaut Tmaros, aut Rhodope, aut extremm Garamantes,nec generis nostri puerum nec sanguinis edunt.Incipe Maenalios mecum, mea tibia, versus.saevus Amor docuit natorum sanguine matremcommaculare 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 duraemala 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 undasdeferar; 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 sacrisexperiar 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 colorelicia circumdo, terque haec altaria circumeffigiem 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 liquescituno 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 iuvencumper nemora atque altos quaerendo bucula lucospropter 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 venenaipse dedit Moeris; nascuntur plurima Ponto.His ego saepe lupum fieri et se condere silvisMoerim, saepe animas imis excire sepulcris,atque satas alio vidi traducere messis.Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim.Fer cineres, Amarylli, foras, rivoque fluentitransque caput iace, nec respexeris: his ego Daphnimadgrediar, nihil ille deos, nil carmina curat.Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim.Aspice, corripuit tremulis altaria flammissponte 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.
LYCIDAS:Say whither, Moeris?—Make you for the town,or on what errand bent?
Lycidas:te, Moeri, pedes? an, quo via ducit, in urbem?
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.
Moeris:O Lycida, vivi pervenimus, advena nostri(quod numquam veriti sumus) ut possessor agellidiceret: “Haec mea sunt; veteres migrate coloni!”nunc victi, tristes, quoniam Fors omnia versat,hos illi—quod nec vertat bene—mittimus haedos.
LYCIDAS:But surely I had heardthat 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 crestsof yonder veteran beeches, all the landwas by the songs of your Menalcas saved.
Lycidas:Certe equidem audieram, qua se subducere collesincipiunt, mollique iugum demittere clivo,usque ad aquam et veteres (iam fracta cacumina) fagosomnia carminibus vestrum servasse Menalcan.
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-bolewarned by a raven on the left, cut shortthe rising feud, nor I, your Moeris here,no, nor Menalcas, were alive to-day.
Moeris:Audieras, et fama fuit; sed carmina tantumnostra valent, Lycida, tela inter Martia, quantumChaonias dicunt aquila veniente columbas.quod nisi me quacumque novas incidere litesante Sinistra cava monuisset ab ilice cornix,nec tuus hic Moeris, nec viveret ipse Menalcas.
LYCIDAS:Alack! could any of so foul a crimebe 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 dayto 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.“
Lycidas:Heu, cadit in quemquam tantum scelus? Heu, tua nobispaene simul tecum solatia rapta, Menalca?quis caneret nymphas; quis humum florentibus herbisspargeret, 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 agendumoccursare capro, cornu ferit ille, caveto.
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.”
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.”
LYCIDAS:So may your swarms Cyrnean yew-trees shun,your kine with cytisus their udders swell,begin, if aught you have. The Muses mademe too a singer; I too have sung; the swainscall me a poet, but I believe them not:for naught of mine, or worthy Varius yetor Cinna deem I, but account myselfa cackling goose among melodious swans.
Lycidas:Sic tua Cyrneas fugiant examina taxos;sic cytiso pastae distendant ubera vaccae!Incipe, si quid habes: et me fecere poetamPierides; sunt et mihi carmina; me quoque dicuntvatem pastores, sed non ego credulus illis.Nam neque adhuc Vario videor, nec dicere Cinnadigna, sed argutos inter strepere anser olores.
MOERIS:'Twas in my thought to do so, Lycidas;even now was I revolving silentlyif this I could recall—no paltry song:“Come, Galatea, what pleasure is 't to playamid the waves? Here glows the Spring, here earthbeside 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.”
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 undishic ver purpureum; varios hic flumina circumfundit humus flores; hic candida populus antroimminet, et lentae texunt umbracula vites.huc ades: insani feriant sine litora fluctus.
LYCIDAS:What of the strain I heard you singing onceon a clear night alone? the notes I stillremember, could I but recall the words.
Lycidas:Quid, quae te pura solum sub nocte canentemaudieram? Numeros memini, si verba tenerem.“Daphni, quid antiquos signorum suspicis ortus?Ecce Dionaei processit Caesaris astrum,astrum, quo segetes gauderent frugibus, et quoduceret apricis in collibus uva colorem.insere, Daphni, piros: carpent tua poma nepotes.”
MOERIS:“Why, Daphnis, upward gazing, do you markthe ancient risings of the Signs? for lookwhere Dionean Caesar's star comes forthin heaven, to gladden all the fields with corn,and to the grape upon the sunny slopesher 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 wishMenalcas will repeat them oft enow.
Moeris:Omnia fert aetas, animum quoque: saepe ego longoscantando puerum memini me condere soles:nunc oblita mihi tot carmina; vox quoque Moerimiam fugit ipsa; lupi Moerim videre priores.Sed tamen ista satis referet tibi saepe Menalcas.
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 tombbegins to show: here, Moeris, where the hindsare 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 rainere we arrive, then singing let us go,our way to lighten; and, that we may thusgo singing, I will case you of this load.
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 sepulcrumincipit adparere Bianoris: hic ubi densasagricolae 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.
MOERIS:Cease, boy, and get we to the work in hand:we shall sing better when himself is come.
Moeris:Desine plura, puer, et quod nunc instat agamus:carmina tum melius, cum venerit ipse, canemus.
This now, the very latest of my toils,vouchsafe me, Arethusa! needs must Ising a brief song to Gallus—brief, but yetsuch as Lycoris' self may fitly read.Who would not sing for Gallus? So, when thoubeneath 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 oursbut the woods echo it. What groves or lawnsheld you, ye Dryad-maidens, when for love—love all unworthy of a loss so dear—Gallus lay dying? for neither did the slopesof Pindus or Parnassus stay you then,no, nor Aonian Aganippe. Himeven the laurels and the tamarisks wept;for him, outstretched beneath a lonely rock,wept pine-clad Maenalus, and the flinty cragsof cold Lycaeus. The sheep too stood around—of us they feel no shame, poet divine;nor of the flock be thou ashamed: even fairAdonis by the rivers fed his sheep—came shepherd too, and swine-herd footing slow,and, from the winter-acorns dripping-wetMenalcas. All with one accord exclaim:“From whence this love of thine?” Apollo came;“Gallus, art mad?” he cried, “thy bosom's careanother love is following.” TherewithalSilvanus came, with rural honours crowned;the flowering fennels and tall lilies shookbefore him. Yea, and our own eyes beheldpan, god of Arcady, with blood-red juiceof the elder-berry, and with vermilion, dyed.“Wilt ever make an end?” quoth he, “beholdlove recks not aught of it: his heart no morewith tears is sated than with streams the grass,bees with the cytisus, or goats with leaves.”“Yet will ye sing, Arcadians, of my woesupon 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 holdsarmed 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 sharpand jagged ice not wound thy tender feet!I will depart, re-tune the songs I framedin verse Chalcidian to the oaten reedof the Sicilian swain. Resolved am Iin the woods, rather, with wild beasts to couch,and bear my doom, and character my loveupon the tender tree-trunks: they will grow,and you, my love, grow with them. And meanwhileI with the Nymphs will haunt Mount Maenalus,or hunt the keen wild boar. No frost so coldbut I will hem with hounds thy forest-glades,parthenius. Even now, methinks, I rangeo'er rocks, through echoing groves, and joy to launchCydonian 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 songsdelight me more: ye woods, away with you!No pangs of ours can change him; not though wein the mid-frost should drink of Hebrus' stream,and in wet winters face Sithonian snows,or, when the bark of the tall elm-tree boleof 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 sufficeyour 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 bebaneful to singers; baneful is the shadecast by the juniper, crops sicken tooin shade. Now homeward, having fed your fill—eve's star is rising—go, my she-goats, go.
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, puellaeNaides, indigno cum Gallus amore peribat?nam neque Parnasi vobis iuga, nam neque Pindiulla moram fecere, neque Aoniae Aganippe.Illum etiam lauri, etiam flevere myricae.Pinifer illum etiam sola sub rupe iacentemMaenalus, 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 Lycorisperque 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 ipsisanguineis 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 peritiArcades. O mihi tum quam molliter ossa quiescant,vestra meos olim si fistula dicat amores!Atque utinam ex vobis unus, vestrique fuissemaut 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 armistela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes:tu procul a patria (nec sit mihi credere tantum!)Alpinas, ah dura, nives et frigora Rhenime sine sola vides: ah, te ne frigora laedant!ah, tibi ne teneras glacies secet aspera plantas!Ibo, et, Chalcidico quae sunt mihi condita versucarmina, pastoris Siculi modulabor avena.certum est in silvis, inter spelaea ferarummalle pati, tenerisque meos incidere amoresarboribus; crescent illae, crescetis, amores.Interea mixtis lustrabo Maenala nymphis,aut acris venabor apros: non me ulla vetabuntfrigora Parthenios canibus circumdare saltus.iam mihi per rupes videor lucosque sonantisire; libet Partho torquere Cydonia cornuspicula:—tamquam haec sit nostri medicina furoris,ut deus ille malis hominum mitescere discat!Iam neque hamadryades rursus nec carmina nobisipsa 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.