Say what was he, what God, that fashioned forthThis art for us, O Muses? of man's skillWhence came the new adventure? From thy vale,Peneian Tempe, turning, bee-bereft,So runs the tale, by famine and disease,Mournful the shepherd Aristaeus stoodFast by the haunted river-head, and thusWith many a plaint to her that bare him cried:“Mother, Cyrene, mother, who hast thy homeBeneath this whirling flood, if he thou sayest,Apollo, lord of Thymbra, be my sire,Sprung from the Gods' high line, why barest thou meWith fortune's ban for birthright? Where is nowThy love to me-ward banished from thy breast?O! wherefore didst thou bid me hope for heaven?Lo! even the crown of this poor mortal life,Which all my skilful care by field and fold,No art neglected, scarce had fashioned forth,Even this falls from me, yet thou call'st me son.Nay, then, arise! With thine own hands pluck upMy fruit-plantations: on the homestead flingPitiless fire; make havoc of my crops;Burn the young plants, and wield the stubborn axeAgainst my vines, if there hath taken theSuch loathing of my greatness.”
Quis deus hanc, Musae, quis nobis extudit artem?Unde nova ingressus hominum experientia cepit?Pastor Aristaeus fugiens Peneia Tempe,amissis, ut fama, apibus morboque fameque,tristis ad extremi sacrum caput adstitit amnismulta querens atque hac adfatus voce parentem:“Mater, Cyrene mater, quae gurgitis huiusima tenes, quid me praeclara stirpe deorum,si modo, quem perhibes, pater est Thymbraeus Apollo,invisum fatis genuisti? aut quo tibi nostripulsus amor? quid me caelum sperare iubebas?En etiam hunc ipsum vitae mortalis honorem,quem mihi vix frugum et pecudum custodia sollersomnia temptanti extuderat, te matre relinquo.Quin age et ipsa manu felices erue silvas,fer stabulis inimicum ignem atque interfice messes,ure sata et validam in vites molire bipennem,tanta meae si te ceperunt taedia laudis.”
But that cry,Even from her chamber in the river-deeps,His mother heard: around her spun the nymphsMilesian wool stained through with hyaline dye,Drymo, Xantho, Ligea, Phyllodoce,Their glossy locks o'er snowy shoulders shed,Cydippe and Lycorias yellow-haired,A maiden one, one newly learned even thenTo bear Lucina's birth-pang. Clio, too,And Beroe, sisters, ocean-children both,Both zoned with gold and girt with dappled fell,Ephyre and Opis, and from Asian meadsDeiopea, and, bow at length laid by,Fleet-footed Arethusa. But in their midstFair Clymene was telling o'er the taleOf Vulcan's idle vigilance and the stealthOf Mars' sweet rapine, and from Chaos oldCounted the jostling love-joys of the Gods.Charmed by whose lay, the while their woolly tasksWith spindles down they drew, yet once againSmote on his mother's ears the mournful plaintOf Aristaeus; on their glassy thronesAmazement held them all; but ArethuseBefore the rest put forth her auburn head,Peering above the wave-top, and from farExclaimed, “Cyrene, sister, not for naughtScared by a groan so deep, behold! 'tis he,Even Aristaeus, thy heart's fondest care,Here by the brink of the Peneian sireStands woebegone and weeping, and by nameCries out upon thee for thy cruelty.”To whom, strange terror knocking at her heart,“Bring, bring him to our sight,” the mother cried;“His feet may tread the threshold even of Gods.”So saying, she bids the flood yawn wide and yieldA pathway for his footsteps; but the waveArched mountain-wise closed round him, and withinIts mighty bosom welcomed, and let speedTo the deep river-bed. And now, with eyesOf wonder gazing on his mother's hallAnd watery kingdom and cave-prisoned poolsAnd echoing groves, he went, and, stunned by thatStupendous whirl of waters, separate sawAll streams beneath the mighty earth that glide,Phasis and Lycus, and that fountain-headWhence first the deep Enipeus leaps to light,Whence father Tiber, and whence Anio's flood,And Hypanis that roars amid his rocks,And Mysian Caicus, and, bull-browed'Twixt either gilded horn, Eridanus,Than whom none other through the laughing plainsMore furious pours into the purple sea.Soon as the chamber's hanging roof of stoneWas gained, and now Cyrene from her sonHad heard his idle weeping, in due courseClear water for his hands the sisters bring,With napkins of shorn pile, while others heapThe board with dainties, and set on afreshThe brimming goblets; with Panchaian firesUpleap the altars; then the mother spake,“Take beakers of Maconian wine,” she said,“Pour we to Ocean.” Ocean, sire of all,She worships, and the sister-nymphs who guardThe hundred forests and the hundred streams;Thrice Vesta's fire with nectar clear she dashed,Thrice to the roof-top shot the flame and shone:Armed with which omen she essayed to speak:
At mater sonitum thalamo sub fluminis altisensit. Eam circum Milesia vellera Nymphaecarpebant hyali saturo fucata colore,drymoque Xanthoque Ligeaque Phyllodoceque,caesariem effusae nitidam per candida colla,Nesaee Spioque Thaliaque Cymodoceque,Cydippeque et flava Lycorias, altera virgo,altera tum primos Lucinae experta labores,Clioque et Beroe soror, Oceanitides ambae,ambae auro, pictis incinctae pellibus ambae,atque Ephyre atque Opis et Asia Deiopeaet tandem positis velox Arethusa sagittis.Inter quas curam Clymene narrabat inanemVulcani Martisque dolos et dulcia furta,aque Chao densos divum numerabat amorescarmine quo captae dum fusis mollia pensadevolvunt, iterum maternas impulit auresluctus Aristaei, vitreisque sedilibus omnesobstipuere; sed ante alias Arethusa sororesprospiciens summa flavum caput extulit undaet procul: “O gemitu non frustra exterrita tanto,Cyrene soror, ipse tibi, tua maxima cura,tristis Aristaeus Penei genitoris ad undamstat lacrimans et te crudelem nomine dicit.”Huic percussa nova mentem formidine mater,“duc, age, duc ad nos; fas illi limina divumtangere,” ait. Simul alta iubet discedere lateflumina, qua iuvenis gressus inferret. At illumcurvata in montis faciem circumstetit undaaccepitque sinu vasto misitque sub amnem.Iamque domum mirans genetricis et umida regnaspeluncisque lacus clausos lucosque sonantesibat et ingenti motu stupefactus aquarumomnia sub magna labentia flumina terraspectabat diversa locis, Phasimque Lycumqueet caput, unde altus primum se erumpit Enipeusunde pater Tiberinus et unde Aniena fluentasaxosusque sonans Hypanis Mysusque Caicus,et gemina auratus taurino cornua vultuEridanus, quo non alius per pinguia cultain mare purpureum violentior effluit amnis.Postquam est in thalami pendentia pumice tectaperventum et nati fletus cognovit inanesCyrene, manibus liquidos dant ordine fontesgermanae tonsisque ferunt mantelia villis;pars epulis onerant mensas et plena reponuntpocula, Panchaeis adolescunt ignibus arae;et mater, “Cape Maeonii carchesia Bacchi:Oceano libemus,” ait. Simul ipsa precaturOceanumque patrem rerum Nymphasque sororescentum quae silvas, centum quae flumina servant.Ter liquido ardentem perfundit nectare Vestam,ter flamma ad summum tecti subiecta reluxit.Omine quo firmans animum sic incipit ipsa:
“In Neptune's gulf Carpathian dwells a seer,Caerulean Proteus, he who metes the mainWith fish-drawn chariot of two-footed steeds;Now visits he his native home once more,Pallene and the Emathian ports; to himWe nymphs do reverence, ay, and Nereus old;For all things knows the seer, both those which areAnd have been, or which time hath yet to bring;So willed it Neptune, whose portentous flocks,And loathly sea-calves 'neath the surge he feeds.Him first, my son, behoves thee seize and bindThat he may all the cause of sickness show,And grant a prosperous end. For save by forceNo rede will he vouchsafe, nor shalt thou bendHis soul by praying; whom once made captive, plyWith rigorous force and fetters; against theseHis wiles will break and spend themselves in vain.I, when the sun has lit his noontide fires,When the blades thirst, and cattle love the shade,Myself will guide thee to the old man's haunt,Whither he hies him weary from the waves,That thou mayst safelier steal upon his sleep.But when thou hast gripped him fast with hand and gyve,Then divers forms and bestial semblancesShall mock thy grasp; for sudden he will changeTo bristly boar, fell tigress, dragon scaled,And tawny-tufted lioness, or send forthA crackling sound of fire, and so shake ofThe fetters, or in showery drops anonDissolve and vanish. But the more he shiftsHis endless transformations, thou, my son,More straitlier clench the clinging bands, untilHis body's shape return to that thou sawest,When with closed eyelids first he sank to sleep.”
“Est in Carphatio Neptuni gurgite vatescaeruleus Proteus, magnum qui piscibus aequoret iuncto bipedum curru metitur equorum.Hic nunc Emathiae portus patriamque revisitPallenen, hunc et Nymphae veneramur et ipsegrandaevus Nereus; novit namque omnia vates,quae sint, quae fuerint, quae mox ventura trahantur;quippe ita Neptuno visum est, immania cuiusarmenta et turpes pascit sub gurgite phocas.Hic tibi, nate, prius vinclis capiendus, ut omnemexpediat morbi causam eventusque secundet.Nam sine vi non ulla dabit praecepta, neque illumorando flectes; vim duram et vincula captotende; doli circum haec demum frangentur inanes.Ipsa ego, te, medios cum sol accenderit aestus,cum sitiunt herbae et pecori iam gratior umbra est,in secreta senis ducam, quo fessus ab undisse recipit, facile ut somno adgrediare iacentem.Verum ubi correptum manibus vinclisque tenebis,tum variae eludent species atque ora ferarumFiet enim subito sus horridus atraque tigrissquamosusque draco et fulva cervice leaena,aut acrem flammae sonitum dabit atque ita vinclisexcidet, aut in aquas tenues dilapsus abibit.Sed quanto ille magis formas se vertet in omnes,tanto, nate, magis contende tenacia vincla,donec talis erit mutato corpore, qualemvideris, incepto tegeret cum lumina somno.”
So saying, an odour of ambrosial dewShe sheds around, and all his frame therewithSteeps throughly; forth from his trim-combed locksBreathed effluence sweet, and a lithe vigour leaptInto his limbs. There is a cavern vastScooped in the mountain-side, where wave on waveBy the wind's stress is driven, and breaks far upIts inmost creeks—safe anchorage from of oldFor tempest-taken mariners: therewithin,Behind a rock's huge barrier, Proteus hides.Here in close covert out of the sun's eyeThe youth she places, and herself the whileSwathed in a shadowy mist stands far aloof.And now the ravening dog-star that burns upThe thirsty Indians blazed in heaven; his courseThe fiery sun had half devoured: the bladesWere parched, and the void streams with droughty jawsBaked to their mud-beds by the scorching ray,When Proteus seeking his accustomed caveStrode from the billows: round him frolickingThe watery folk that people the waste seaSprinkled the bitter brine-dew far and wide.Along the shore in scattered groups to feedThe sea-calves stretch them: while the seer himself,Like herdsman on the hills when evening bidsThe steers from pasture to their stall repair,And the lambs' bleating whets the listening wolves,Sits midmost on the rock and tells his tale.But Aristaeus, the foe within his clutch,Scarce suffering him compose his aged limbs,With a great cry leapt on him, and ere he roseForestalled him with the fetters; he nathless,All unforgetful of his ancient craft,Transforms himself to every wondrous thing,Fire and a fearful beast, and flowing stream.But when no trickery found a path for flight,Baffled at length, to his own shape returned,With human lips he spake, “Who bade thee, then,So reckless in youth's hardihood, affrontOur portals? or what wouldst thou hence?”—But he,“Proteus, thou knowest, of thine own heart thou knowest;For thee there is no cheating, but cease thouTo practise upon me: at heaven's behestI for my fainting fortunes hither comeAn oracle to ask thee.” There he ceased.Whereat the seer, by stubborn force constrained,Shot forth the grey light of his gleaming eyesUpon him, and with fiercely gnashing teethUnlocks his lips to spell the fates of heaven:
Haec ait et liquidum ambrosiae defundit odorem,quo totum nati corpus perduxit; at illidulcis compositis spiravit crinibus auraatque habilis membris venit vigor. Est specus ingensexesi latere in montis, quo plurima ventocogitur inque sinus scindit sese unda reductos,deprensis olim statio tutissima nautis;intus se vasti Proteus tegit obice saxi.Hic iuvenem in latebris aversum a lumine Nymphacollocat; ipsa procul nebulis obscura resistit.Iam rapidus torrens sitientes Sirius Indosardebat, caelo et medium sol igneus orbemhauserat; arebant herbae et cava flumina siccisfaucibus ad limum radii tepefacta coquebant:cum Proteus consueta petens e fluctibus antraibat; eum vasti circum gens umida pontiexsultans rorem late dispergit amarum.Sternunt se somno diversae in litore phocae.Ipse, velut stabuli custos in montibus olim,vesper ubi e pastu vitulos ad tecta reducit,auditisque lupos acuunt balatibus agni,considit scopulo medius numerumque recenset.Cuius Aristaeo quoniam est oblata facultas,vix defessa senem passus componere membracum clamore ruit magno manicisque iacentemoccupat. Ille suae contra non immemor artisomnia transformat sese in miracula rerum,ignemque horribilemque feram fluviumque liquentem.Verum ubi nulla fugam reperit fallacia, victusin sese redit atque hominis tandem ore locutus:“Nam quis te, iuvenum confidentissime, nostrasiussit adire domos? Quidve hinc petis?” inquit. At ille:“Scis, Proteu, scis ipse; neque est te fallere quicquamsed tu desine velle. Deum praecepta secutivenimus hinc lapsis quaesitum oracula rebus.”Tantum effatus. Ad haec vates vi denique multaardentes oculos intorsit lumine glaucoet graviter frendens sic fatis ora resolvit.
“Doubt not 'tis wrath divine that plagues thee thus,Nor light the debt thou payest; 'tis Orpheus' self,Orpheus unhappy by no fault of his,So fates prevent not, fans thy penal fires,Yet madly raging for his ravished bride.She in her haste to shun thy hot pursuitAlong the stream, saw not the coming death,Where at her feet kept ward upon the bankIn the tall grass a monstrous water-snake.But with their cries the Dryad-band her peersFilled up the mountains to their proudest peaks:Wailed for her fate the heights of Rhodope,And tall Pangaea, and, beloved of Mars,The land that bowed to Rhesus, Thrace no lessWith Hebrus' stream; and Orithyia wept,Daughter of Acte old. But Orpheus' self,Soothing his love-pain with the hollow shell,Thee his sweet wife on the lone shore alone,Thee when day dawned and when it died he sang.Nay to the jaws of Taenarus too he came,Of Dis the infernal palace, and the groveGrim with a horror of great darkness—came,Entered, and faced the Manes and the KingOf terrors, the stone heart no prayer can tame.Then from the deepest deeps of Erebus,Wrung by his minstrelsy, the hollow shadesCame trooping, ghostly semblances of formsLost to the light, as birds by myriads hieTo greenwood boughs for cover, when twilight-hourOr storms of winter chase them from the hills;Matrons and men, and great heroic framesDone with life's service, boys, unwedded girls,Youths placed on pyre before their fathers' eyes.Round them, with black slime choked and hideous weed,Cocytus winds; there lies the unlovely swampOf dull dead water, and, to pen them fast,Styx with her ninefold barrier poured between.Nay, even the deep Tartarean Halls of deathStood lost in wonderment, and the Eumenides,Their brows with livid locks of serpents twined;Even Cerberus held his triple jaws agape,And, the wind hushed, Ixion's wheel stood still.And now with homeward footstep he had passedAll perils scathless, and, at length restored,Eurydice to realms of upper airHad well-nigh won, behind him following—So Proserpine had ruled it—when his heartA sudden mad desire surprised and seized—Meet fault to be forgiven, might Hell forgive.For at the very threshold of the day,Heedless, alas! and vanquished of resolve,He stopped, turned, looked upon EurydiceHis own once more. But even with the look,Poured out was all his labour, broken the bondOf that fell tyrant, and a crash was heardThree times like thunder in the meres of hell.
“Non te nullius exercent numinis irae;magna luis commissa: tibi has miserabilis Orpheushaudquaquam ob meritum poenas, ni fata resistant,suscitat et rapta graviter pro coniuge saevit.Illa quidem, dum te fugeret per flumina praeceps,immanem ante pedes hydrum moritura puellaservantem ripas alta non vidit in herba.At chorus aequalis Dryadum clamore supremosimplerunt montes; flerunt Rhodopeiae arcesaltaque Pangaea et Rhesi mavortia tellusatque Getae atque Hebrus et Actias Orithyia.Ipse cava solans aegrum testudine amoremte, dulcis coniunx, te solo in litore secum,te veniente die, te decedente canebat.Taenarias etiam fauces, alta ostia Ditis,et caligantem nigra formidine lucumingressus manesque adiit regemque tremendumnesciaque humanis precibus mansuescere corda.At cantu commotae Erebi de sedibus imisumbrae ibant tenues simulacraque luce carentum,quam multa in foliis avium se milia conduntvesper ubi aut hibernus agit de montibus imber,matres atque viri defunctaque corpora vitamagnanimum heroum, pueri innuptaeque puellae,impositique rogis iuvenes ante ora parentum,quos circum limus niger et deformis harundoCocyti tardaque palus inamabilis undaalligat et noviens Styx interfusa coercet.Quin ipsae stupuere domus atque intima Letitartara caeruleosque implexae crinibus anguesEumenides, tenuitque inhians tria Cerberus oraatque Ixionii vento rota constitit orbis.Iamque pedem referens casus evaserat omnes;redditaque Eurydice superas veniebat ad auras,pone sequens, namque hanc dederat Proserpina legem,cum subita incautum dementia cepit amantem,ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere manes.Restitit Eurydicenque suam iam luce sub ipsaimmemor heu! victusque animi respexit. Ibi omniseffusus labor atque immitis rupta tyrannifoedera, terque fragor stagnis auditus Avernis.
‘Orpheus! what ruin hath thy frenzy wroughtOn me, alas! and thee? Lo! once againThe unpitying fates recall me, and dark sleepCloses my swimming eyes. And now farewell:Girt with enormous night I am borne away,Outstretching toward thee, thine, alas! no more,These helpless hands.’ She spake, and suddenly,Like smoke dissolving into empty air,Passed and was sundered from his sight; nor himClutching vain shadows, yearning sore to speak,Thenceforth beheld she, nor no second timeHell's boatman brooks he pass the watery bar.What should he do? fly whither, twice bereaved?Move with what tears the Manes, with what voiceThe Powers of darkness? She indeed even nowDeath-cold was floating on the Stygian barge!For seven whole months unceasingly, men say,Beneath a skyey crag, by thy lone wave,Strymon, he wept, and in the caverns chillUnrolled his story, melting tigers' hearts,And leading with his lay the oaks along.As in the poplar-shade a nightingaleMourns her lost young, which some relentless swain,Spying, from the nest has torn unfledged, but sheWails the long night, and perched upon a sprayWith sad insistence pipes her dolorous strain,Till all the region with her wrongs o'erflows.No love, no new desire, constrained his soul:By snow-bound Tanais and the icy north,Far steppes to frost Rhipaean forever wed,Alone he wandered, lost EurydiceLamenting, and the gifts of Dis ungiven.Scorned by which tribute the Ciconian dames,Amid their awful Bacchanalian ritesAnd midnight revellings, tore him limb from limb,And strewed his fragments over the wide fields.Then too, even then, what time the Hebrus stream,Oeagrian Hebrus, down mid-current rolled,Rent from the marble neck, his drifting head,The death-chilled tongue found yet a voice to cry‘Eurydice! ah! poor Eurydice!’With parting breath he called her, and the banksFrom the broad stream caught up ‘Eurydice!’”
Illa, “Quis et me,” inquit, “miseram et te perdidit, Orpheu,quis tantus furor? En iterum crudelia retroFata vocant, conditque natantia lumina somnus.Iamque vale: feror ingenti circumdata nocteinvalidasque tibi tendens, heu non tua, palmas!”dixit et ex oculis subito, ceu fumus in aurascommixtus tenues, fugit diversa, neque illum,prensantem nequiquam umbras et multa volentemdicere, praeterea vidit, nec portitor Orciamplius obiectam passus transire paludem.Quid faceret? Quo se rapta bis coniuge ferret?Quo fletu Manis, quae numina voce moveret?Illa quidem Stygia nabat iam frigida cumba.Septem illum totos perhibent ex ordine mensesrupe sub aeria deserti ad Strymonis undamflesse sibi et gelidis haec evolvisse sub antrismulcentem tigres et agentem carmine quercus;qualis populea maerens philomela sub umbraamissos queritur fetus, quos durus aratorobservans nido implumes detraxit; at illaflet noctem ramoque sedens miserabile carmenintegrat et maestis late loca questibus implet.Nulla Venus, non ulli animum flexere hymenaei.Solus Hyperboreas glacies Tanaimque nivalemarvaque Rhipaeis numquam viduata pruinislustrabat raptam Eurydicen atque inrita Ditisdona querens; spretae Ciconum quo munere matresinter sacra deum nocturnique orgia Bacchidiscerptum latos iuvenem sparsere per agros.Tum quoque marmorea caput a cervice revulsumgurgite cum medio portans Oeagrius Hebrusvolveret, Eurydicen vox ipsa et frigida lingua“ah miseram Eurydicen!” anima fugiente vocabat:“Eurydicen” toto referebant flumine ripae.”
So Proteus ending plunged into the deep,And, where he plunged, beneath the eddying whirlChurned into foam the water, and was gone;But not Cyrene, who unquestioned thusBespake the trembling listener: “Nay, my son,From that sad bosom thou mayst banish care:Hence came that plague of sickness, hence the nymphs,With whom in the tall woods the dance she wove,Wrought on thy bees, alas! this deadly bane.Bend thou before the Dell-nymphs, gracious powers:Bring gifts, and sue for pardon: they will grantPeace to thine asking, and an end of wrath.But how to approach them will I first unfold—Four chosen bulls of peerless form and bulk,That browse to-day the green Lycaean heights,Pick from thy herds, as many kine to match,Whose necks the yoke pressed never: then for theseBuild up four altars by the lofty fanes,And from their throats let gush the victims' blood,And in the greenwood leave their bodies lone.Then, when the ninth dawn hath displayed its beams,To Orpheus shalt thou send his funeral dues,Poppies of Lethe, and let slay a sheepCoal-black, then seek the grove again, and soonFor pardon found adore EurydiceWith a slain calf for victim.”
Haec Proteus, et se iactu dedit aequor in altum,quaque dedit, spumantem undam sub vertice torsit.At non Cyrene; namque ultro adfata timentem:“Nate, licet tristes animo deponere curas.Haec omnis morbi causa; hinc miserabile Nymphae,cum quibus illa choros lucis agitabat in altis,exitium misere apibus. Tu munera supplextende petens pacem et faciles venerare Napaeas;namque dabunt veniam votis irasque remittent.Sed modus orandi qui sit, prius ordine dicam.Quattuor eximios praestanti corpore tauros,qui tibi nunc viridis depascunt summa Lycaei,delige et intacta totidem cervice iuvencas.Quattuor his aras alta ad delubra dearumconstitue et sacrum iugulis demitte cruorem,corporaque ipsa boum frondoso desere luco.Post, ubi nona suos Aurora ostenderit ortus,inferias Orphei Lethaea papavera mitteset nigram mactabis ovem lucumque revises:placatam Eurydicen vitula venerabere caesa.”
No delay:The self-same hour he hies him forth to doHis mother's bidding: to the shrine he came,The appointed altars reared, and thither ledFour chosen bulls of peerless form and bulk,With kine to match, that never yoke had known;Then, when the ninth dawn had led in the day,To Orpheus sent his funeral dues, and soughtThe grove once more. But sudden, strange to tellA portent they espy: through the oxen's flesh,Waxed soft in dissolution, hark! there humBees from the belly; the rent ribs overboilIn endless clouds they spread them, till at lastOn yon tree-top together fused they cling,And drop their cluster from the bending boughs.
Haud mora; continuo matris praecepta facessit;ad delubra venit, monstratas excitat aras,quattuor eximios praestanti corpore taurosducit et intacta totidem cervice iuvencas.Post, ubi nona suos Aurora induxerat ortus,inferias Orphei mittit lucumque revisit.Hic vero subitum ac dictu mirabile monstrumadspiciunt, liquefacta boum per viscera totostridere apes utero et ruptis effervere costis,immensasque trahi nubes, iamque arbore summaconfluere et lentis uvam demittere ramis.
So sang I of the tilth of furrowed fields,Of flocks and trees, while Caesar's majestyLaunched forth the levin-bolts of war by deepEuphrates, and bare rule o'er willing folkThough vanquished, and essayed the heights of heaven.I Virgil then, of sweet ParthenopeThe nursling, wooed the flowery walks of peaceInglorious, who erst trilled for shepherd-wightsThe wanton ditty, and sang in saucy youthThee, Tityrus, 'neath the spreading beech tree's shade.
Haec super arvorum cultu pecorumque canebamet super arboribus, Caesar dum magnus ad altumfulminat Euphraten bello victorque volentesper populos dat iura viamque adfectat Olympo.Illo Vergilium me tempore dulcis alebatParthenope studiis florentem ignobilis oti,carmina qui lusi pastorum audaxque iuventa,Tityre, te patulae cecini sub tegmine fagi.