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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Bucolics and Eclogues + +Author: Virgil + +Release Date: March 10, 2008 [EBook #230] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUCOLICS AND ECLOGUES *** + + + + + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<A NAME="book01"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +37 BC +</H3> + +<BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE ECLOGUES<BR> +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +by Virgil<BR> +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"><A HREF="#book01">ECLOGUE I</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"><A HREF="#book02">ECLOGUE II</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"><A HREF="#book03">ECLOGUE III</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="25%"><A HREF="#book04">ECLOGUE IV</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book05">ECLOGUE V</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book06">ECLOGUE VI</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book07">ECLOGUE VII</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book08">ECLOGUE VIII</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book09">ECLOGUE IX</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"><A HREF="#book10">ECLOGUE X</A></TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ECLOGUE I<BR> +</H3> + +<H3> +MELIBOEUS TITYRUS<BR> +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MELIBOEUS<BR> +You, Tityrus, 'neath a broad beech-canopy<BR> +Reclining, on the slender oat rehearse<BR> +Your silvan ditties: I from my sweet fields,<BR> +And home's familiar bounds, even now depart.<BR> +Exiled from home am I; while, Tityrus, you<BR> +Sit careless in the shade, and, at your call,<BR> +"Fair Amaryllis" bid the woods resound.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +TITYRUS<BR> +O Meliboeus, 'twas a god vouchsafed<BR> +This ease to us, for him a god will I<BR> +Deem ever, and from my folds a tender lamb<BR> +Oft with its life-blood shall his altar stain.<BR> +His gift it is that, as your eyes may see,<BR> +My kine may roam at large, and I myself<BR> +Play on my shepherd's pipe what songs I will.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MELIBOEUS<BR> +I grudge you not the boon, but marvel more,<BR> +Such wide confusion fills the country-side.<BR> +See, sick at heart I drive my she-goats on,<BR> +And this one, O my Tityrus, scarce can lead:<BR> +For 'mid the hazel-thicket here but now<BR> +She dropped her new-yeaned twins on the bare flint,<BR> +Hope of the flock- an ill, I mind me well,<BR> +Which many a time, but for my blinded sense,<BR> +The thunder-stricken oak foretold, oft too<BR> +From hollow trunk the raven's ominous cry.<BR> +But who this god of yours? Come, Tityrus, tell.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +TITYRUS<BR> +The city, Meliboeus, they call Rome,<BR> +I, simpleton, deemed like this town of ours,<BR> +Whereto we shepherds oft are wont to drive<BR> +The younglings of the flock: so too I knew<BR> +Whelps to resemble dogs, and kids their dams,<BR> +Comparing small with great; but this as far<BR> +Above all other cities rears her head<BR> +As cypress above pliant osier towers.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MELIBOEUS<BR> +And what so potent cause took you to Rome?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +TITYRUS<BR> +Freedom, which, though belated, cast at length<BR> +Her eyes upon the sluggard, when my beard<BR> +'Gan whiter fall beneath the barber's blade-<BR> +Cast eyes, I say, and, though long tarrying, came,<BR> +Now when, from Galatea's yoke released,<BR> +I serve but Amaryllis: for I will own,<BR> +While Galatea reigned over me, I had<BR> +No hope of freedom, and no thought to save.<BR> +Though many a victim from my folds went forth,<BR> +Or rich cheese pressed for the unthankful town,<BR> +Never with laden hands returned I home.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MELIBOEUS<BR> +I used to wonder, Amaryllis, why<BR> +You cried to heaven so sadly, and for whom<BR> +You left the apples hanging on the trees;<BR> +'Twas Tityrus was away. Why, Tityrus,<BR> +The very pines, the very water-springs,<BR> +The very vineyards, cried aloud for you.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +TITYRUS<BR> +What could I do? how else from bonds be freed,<BR> +Or otherwhere find gods so nigh to aid?<BR> +There, Meliboeus, I saw that youth to whom<BR> +Yearly for twice six days my altars smoke.<BR> +There instant answer gave he to my suit,<BR> +"Feed, as before, your kine, boys, rear your bulls."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MELIBOEUS<BR> +So in old age, you happy man, your fields<BR> +Will still be yours, and ample for your need!<BR> +Though, with bare stones o'erspread, the pastures all<BR> +Be choked with rushy mire, your ewes with young<BR> +By no strange fodder will be tried, nor hurt<BR> +Through taint contagious of a neighbouring flock.<BR> +Happy old man, who 'mid familiar streams<BR> +And hallowed springs, will court the cooling shade!<BR> +Here, as of old, your neighbour's bordering hedge,<BR> +That feasts with willow-flower the Hybla bees,<BR> +Shall oft with gentle murmur lull to sleep,<BR> +While the leaf-dresser beneath some tall rock<BR> +Uplifts his song, nor cease their cooings hoarse<BR> +The wood-pigeons that are your heart's delight,<BR> +Nor doves their moaning in the elm-tree top.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +TITYRUS<BR> +Sooner shall light stags, therefore, feed in air,<BR> +The seas their fish leave naked on the strand,<BR> +Germans and Parthians shift their natural bounds,<BR> +And these the Arar, those the Tigris drink,<BR> +Than from my heart his face and memory fade.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MELIBOEUS<BR> +But we far hence, to burning Libya some,<BR> +Some to the Scythian steppes, or thy swift flood,<BR> +Cretan Oaxes, now must wend our way,<BR> +Or Britain, from the whole world sundered far.<BR> +Ah! shall I ever in aftertime behold<BR> +My native bounds- see many a harvest hence<BR> +With ravished eyes the lowly turf-roofed cot<BR> +Where I was king? These fallows, trimmed so fair,<BR> +Some brutal soldier will possess these fields<BR> +An alien master. Ah! to what a pass<BR> +Has civil discord brought our hapless folk!<BR> +For such as these, then, were our furrows sown!<BR> +Now, Meliboeus, graft your pears, now set<BR> +Your vines in order! Go, once happy flock,<BR> +My she-goats, go. Never again shall I,<BR> +Stretched in green cave, behold you from afar<BR> +Hang from the bushy rock; my songs are sung;<BR> +Never again will you, with me to tend,<BR> +On clover-flower, or bitter willows, browse.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +TITYRUS<BR> +Yet here, this night, you might repose with me,<BR> +On green leaves pillowed: apples ripe have I,<BR> +Soft chestnuts, and of curdled milk enow.<BR> +And, see, the farm-roof chimneys smoke afar,<BR> +And from the hills the shadows lengthening fall!<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ECLOGUE II<BR> +</H3> + +<H3> +ALEXIS<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The shepherd Corydon with love was fired<BR> +For fair Alexis, his own master's joy:<BR> +No room for hope had he, yet, none the less,<BR> +The thick-leaved shadowy-soaring beech-tree grove<BR> +Still would he haunt, and there alone, as thus,<BR> +To woods and hills pour forth his artless strains.<BR> +"Cruel Alexis, heed you naught my songs?<BR> +Have you no pity? you'll drive me to my death.<BR> +Now even the cattle court the cooling shade<BR> +And the green lizard hides him in the thorn:<BR> +Now for tired mowers, with the fierce heat spent,<BR> +Pounds Thestilis her mess of savoury herbs,<BR> +Wild thyme and garlic. I, with none beside,<BR> +Save hoarse cicalas shrilling through the brake,<BR> +Still track your footprints 'neath the broiling sun.<BR> +Better have borne the petulant proud disdain<BR> +Of Amaryllis, or Menalcas wooed,<BR> +Albeit he was so dark, and you so fair!<BR> +Trust not too much to colour, beauteous boy;<BR> +White privets fall, dark hyacinths are culled.<BR> +You scorn me, Alexis, who or what I am<BR> +Care not to ask- how rich in flocks, or how<BR> +In snow-white milk abounding: yet for me<BR> +Roam on Sicilian hills a thousand lambs;<BR> +Summer or winter, still my milk-pails brim.<BR> +I sing as erst Amphion of Circe sang,<BR> +What time he went to call his cattle home<BR> +On Attic Aracynthus. Nor am I<BR> +So ill to look on: lately on the beach<BR> +I saw myself, when winds had stilled the sea,<BR> +And, if that mirror lie not, would not fear<BR> +Daphnis to challenge, though yourself were judge.<BR> +Ah! were you but content with me to dwell.<BR> +Some lowly cot in the rough fields our home,<BR> +Shoot down the stags, or with green osier-wand<BR> +Round up the straggling flock! There you with me<BR> +In silvan strains will learn to rival Pan.<BR> +Pan first with wax taught reed with reed to join;<BR> +For sheep alike and shepherd Pan hath care.<BR> +Nor with the reed's edge fear you to make rough<BR> +Your dainty lip; such arts as these to learn<BR> +What did Amyntas do?- what did he not?<BR> +A pipe have I, of hemlock-stalks compact<BR> +In lessening lengths, Damoetas' dying-gift:<BR> +'Mine once,' quoth he, 'now yours, as heir to own.'<BR> +Foolish Amyntas heard and envied me.<BR> +Ay, and two fawns, I risked my neck to find<BR> +In a steep glen, with coats white-dappled still,<BR> +From a sheep's udders suckled twice a day-<BR> +These still I keep for you; which Thestilis<BR> +Implores me oft to let her lead away;<BR> +And she shall have them, since my gifts you spurn.<BR> +Come hither, beauteous boy; for you the Nymphs<BR> +Bring baskets, see, with lilies brimmed; for you,<BR> +Plucking pale violets and poppy-heads,<BR> +Now the fair Naiad, of narcissus flower<BR> +And fragrant fennel, doth one posy twine-<BR> +With cassia then, and other scented herbs,<BR> +Blends them, and sets the tender hyacinth off<BR> +With yellow marigold. I too will pick<BR> +Quinces all silvered-o'er with hoary down,<BR> +Chestnuts, which Amaryllis wont to love,<BR> +And waxen plums withal: this fruit no less<BR> +Shall have its meed of honour; and I will pluck<BR> +You too, ye laurels, and you, ye myrtles, near,<BR> +For so your sweets ye mingle. Corydon,<BR> +You are a boor, nor heeds a whit your gifts<BR> +Alexis; no, nor would Iollas yield,<BR> +Should gifts decide the day. Alack! alack!<BR> +What misery have I brought upon my head!-<BR> +Loosed on the flowers Siroces to my bane,<BR> +And the wild boar upon my crystal springs!<BR> +Whom do you fly, infatuate? gods ere now,<BR> +And Dardan Paris, have made the woods their home.<BR> +Let Pallas keep the towers her hand hath built,<BR> +Us before all things let the woods delight.<BR> +The grim-eyed lioness pursues the wolf,<BR> +The wolf the she-goat, the she-goat herself<BR> +In wanton sport the flowering cytisus,<BR> +And Corydon Alexis, each led on<BR> +By their own longing. See, the ox comes home<BR> +With plough up-tilted, and the shadows grow<BR> +To twice their length with the departing sun,<BR> +Yet me love burns, for who can limit love?<BR> +Ah! Corydon, Corydon, what hath crazed your wit?<BR> +Your vine half-pruned hangs on the leafy elm;<BR> +Why haste you not to weave what need requires<BR> +Of pliant rush or osier? Scorned by this,<BR> +Elsewhere some new Alexis you will find."<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ECLOGUE III<BR> +</H3> + +<H3> +MENALCAS DAMOETAS PALAEMON<BR> +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +Who owns the flock, Damoetas? Meliboeus?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +Nay, they are Aegon's sheep, of late by him<BR> +Committed to my care.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 13em">O every way</SPAN><BR> +Unhappy sheep, unhappy flock! while he<BR> +Still courts Neaera, fearing lest her choice<BR> +Should fall on me, this hireling shepherd here<BR> +Wrings hourly twice their udders, from the flock<BR> +Filching the life-juice, from the lambs their milk.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +Hold! not so ready with your jeers at men!<BR> +We know who once, and in what shrine with you-<BR> +The he-goats looked aside- the light nymphs laughed-<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +Ay, then, I warrant, when they saw me slash<BR> +Micon's young vines and trees with spiteful hook.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +Or here by these old beeches, when you broke<BR> +The bow and arrows of Damon; for you chafed<BR> +When first you saw them given to the boy,<BR> +Cross-grained Menalcas, ay, and had you not<BR> +Done him some mischief, would have chafed to death.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +With thieves so daring, what can masters do?<BR> +Did I not see you, rogue, in ambush lie<BR> +For Damon's goat, while loud Lycisca barked?<BR> +And when I cried, "Where is he off to now?<BR> +Gather your flock together, Tityrus,"<BR> +You hid behind the sedges.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 13em">Well, was he</SPAN><BR> +Whom I had conquered still to keep the goat.<BR> +Which in the piping-match my pipe had won!<BR> +You may not know it, but the goat was mine.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +You out-pipe him? when had you ever pipe<BR> +Wax-welded? in the cross-ways used you not<BR> +On grating straw some miserable tune<BR> +To mangle?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 6.5em">Well, then, shall we try our skill</SPAN><BR> +Each against each in turn? Lest you be loth,<BR> +I pledge this heifer; every day she comes<BR> +Twice to the milking-pail, and feeds withal<BR> +Two young ones at her udder: say you now<BR> +What you will stake upon the match with me.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +Naught from the flock I'll venture, for at home<BR> +I have a father and a step-dame harsh,<BR> +And twice a day both reckon up the flock,<BR> +And one withal the kids. But I will stake,<BR> +Seeing you are so mad, what you yourself<BR> +Will own more priceless far- two beechen cups<BR> +By the divine art of Alcimedon<BR> +Wrought and embossed, whereon a limber vine,<BR> +Wreathed round them by the graver's facile tool,<BR> +Twines over clustering ivy-berries pale.<BR> +Two figures, one Conon, in the midst he set,<BR> +And one- how call you him, who with his wand<BR> +Marked out for all men the whole round of heaven,<BR> +That they who reap, or stoop behind the plough,<BR> +Might know their several seasons? Nor as yet<BR> +Have I set lip to them, but lay them by.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +For me too wrought the same Alcimedon<BR> +A pair of cups, and round the handles wreathed<BR> +Pliant acanthus, Orpheus in the midst,<BR> +The forests following in his wake; nor yet<BR> +Have I set lip to them, but lay them by.<BR> +Matched with a heifer, who would prate of cups?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +You shall not balk me now; where'er you bid,<BR> +I shall be with you; only let us have<BR> +For auditor- or see, to serve our turn,<BR> +Yonder Palaemon comes! In singing-bouts<BR> +I'll see you play the challenger no more.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +Out then with what you have; I shall not shrink,<BR> +Nor budge for any man: only do you,<BR> +Neighbour Palaemon, with your whole heart's skill-<BR> +For it is no slight matter-play your part.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +PALAEMON<BR> +Say on then, since on the greensward we sit,<BR> +And now is burgeoning both field and tree;<BR> +Now is the forest green, and now the year<BR> +At fairest. Do you first, Damoetas, sing,<BR> +Then you, Menalcas, in alternate strain:<BR> +Alternate strains are to the Muses dear.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +"From Jove the Muse began; Jove filleth all,<BR> +Makes the earth fruitful, for my songs hath care."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +"Me Phoebus loves; for Phoebus his own gifts,<BR> +Bays and sweet-blushing hyacinths, I keep."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +"Gay Galatea throws an apple at me,<BR> +Then hies to the willows, hoping to be seen."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +"My dear Amyntas comes unasked to me;<BR> +Not Delia to my dogs is better known."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +"Gifts for my love I've found; mine eyes have marked<BR> +Where the wood-pigeons build their airy nests."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +"Ten golden apples have I sent my boy,<BR> +All that I could, to-morrow as many more."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +"What words to me, and uttered O how oft,<BR> +Hath Galatea spoke! waft some of them,<BR> +Ye winds, I pray you, for the gods to hear."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +"It profiteth me naught, Amyntas mine,<BR> +That in your very heart you spurn me not,<BR> +If, while you hunt the boar, I guard the nets."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +"Prithee, Iollas, for my birthday guest<BR> +Send me your Phyllis; when for the young crops<BR> +I slay my heifer, you yourself shall come."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +"I am all hers; she wept to see me go,<BR> +And, lingering on the word, 'farewell' she said,<BR> +'My beautiful Iollas, fare you well.'"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +"Fell as the wolf is to the folded flock,<BR> +Rain to ripe corn, Sirocco to the trees,<BR> +The wrath of Amaryllis is to me."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +"As moisture to the corn, to ewes with young<BR> +Lithe willow, as arbute to the yeanling kids,<BR> +So sweet Amyntas, and none else, to me."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +"My Muse, although she be but country-bred,<BR> +Is loved by Pollio: O Pierian Maids,<BR> +Pray you, a heifer for your reader feed!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 0.5em">MENALCAS</SPAN><BR> +"Pollio himself too doth new verses make:<BR> +Feed ye a bull now ripe to butt with horn,<BR> +And scatter with his hooves the flying sand."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +"Who loves thee, Pollio, may he thither come<BR> +Where thee he joys beholding; ay, for him<BR> +Let honey flow, the thorn-bush spices bear."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +"Who hates not Bavius, let him also love<BR> +Thy songs, O Maevius, ay, and therewithal<BR> +Yoke foxes to his car, and he-goats milk."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +"You, picking flowers and strawberries that grow<BR> +So near the ground, fly hence, boys, get you gone!<BR> +There's a cold adder lurking in the grass."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +"Forbear, my sheep, to tread too near the brink;<BR> +Yon bank is ill to trust to; even now<BR> +The ram himself, see, dries his dripping fleece!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +"Back with the she-goats, Tityrus, grazing there<BR> +So near the river! I, when time shall serve,<BR> +Will take them all, and wash them in the pool."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +"Boys, get your sheep together; if the heat,<BR> +As late it did, forestall us with the milk,<BR> +Vainly the dried-up udders shall we wring."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +"How lean my bull amid the fattening vetch!<BR> +Alack! alack! for herdsman and for herd!<BR> +It is the self-same love that wastes us both."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +"These truly- nor is even love the cause-<BR> +Scarce have the flesh to keep their bones together<BR> +Some evil eye my lambkins hath bewitched."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMOETAS<BR> +"Say in what clime- and you shall be withal<BR> +My great Apollo- the whole breadth of heaven<BR> +Opens no wider than three ells to view."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +"Say in what country grow such flowers as bear<BR> +The names of kings upon their petals writ,<BR> +And you shall have fair Phyllis for your own."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +PALAEMON<BR> +Not mine betwixt such rivals to decide:<BR> +You well deserve the heifer, so does he,<BR> +With all who either fear the sweets of love,<BR> +Or taste its bitterness. Now, boys, shut off<BR> +The sluices, for the fields have drunk their fill.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ECLOGUE IV<BR> +</H3> + +<H3> +POLLIO<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Muses of Sicily, essay we now<BR> +A somewhat loftier task! Not all men love<BR> +Coppice or lowly tamarisk: sing we woods,<BR> +Woods worthy of a Consul let them be.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Now the last age by Cumae's Sibyl sung<BR> +Has come and gone, and the majestic roll<BR> +Of circling centuries begins anew:<BR> +Justice returns, returns old Saturn's reign,<BR> +With a new breed of men sent down from heaven.<BR> +Only do thou, at the boy's birth in whom<BR> +The iron shall cease, the golden race arise,<BR> +Befriend him, chaste Lucina; 'tis thine own<BR> +Apollo reigns. And in thy consulate,<BR> +This glorious age, O Pollio, shall begin,<BR> +And the months enter on their mighty march.<BR> +Under thy guidance, whatso tracks remain<BR> +Of our old wickedness, once done away,<BR> +Shall free the earth from never-ceasing fear.<BR> +He shall receive the life of gods, and see<BR> +Heroes with gods commingling, and himself<BR> +Be seen of them, and with his father's worth<BR> +Reign o'er a world at peace. For thee, O boy,<BR> +First shall the earth, untilled, pour freely forth<BR> +Her childish gifts, the gadding ivy-spray<BR> +With foxglove and Egyptian bean-flower mixed,<BR> +And laughing-eyed acanthus. Of themselves,<BR> +Untended, will the she-goats then bring home<BR> +Their udders swollen with milk, while flocks afield<BR> +Shall of the monstrous lion have no fear.<BR> +Thy very cradle shall pour forth for thee<BR> +Caressing flowers. The serpent too shall die,<BR> +Die shall the treacherous poison-plant, and far<BR> +And wide Assyrian spices spring. But soon<BR> +As thou hast skill to read of heroes' fame,<BR> +And of thy father's deeds, and inly learn<BR> +What virtue is, the plain by slow degrees<BR> +With waving corn-crops shall to golden grow,<BR> +From the wild briar shall hang the blushing grape,<BR> +And stubborn oaks sweat honey-dew. Nathless<BR> +Yet shall there lurk within of ancient wrong<BR> +Some traces, bidding tempt the deep with ships,<BR> +Gird towns with walls, with furrows cleave the earth.<BR> +Therewith a second Tiphys shall there be,<BR> +Her hero-freight a second Argo bear;<BR> +New wars too shall arise, and once again<BR> +Some great Achilles to some Troy be sent.<BR> +Then, when the mellowing years have made thee man,<BR> +No more shall mariner sail, nor pine-tree bark<BR> +Ply traffic on the sea, but every land<BR> +Shall all things bear alike: the glebe no more<BR> +Shall feel the harrow's grip, nor vine the hook;<BR> +The sturdy ploughman shall loose yoke from steer,<BR> +Nor wool with varying colours learn to lie;<BR> +But in the meadows shall the ram himself,<BR> +Now with soft flush of purple, now with tint<BR> +Of yellow saffron, teach his fleece to shine.<BR> +While clothed in natural scarlet graze the lambs.<BR> +"Such still, such ages weave ye, as ye run,"<BR> +Sang to their spindles the consenting Fates<BR> +By Destiny's unalterable decree.<BR> +Assume thy greatness, for the time draws nigh,<BR> +Dear child of gods, great progeny of Jove!<BR> +See how it totters- the world's orbed might,<BR> +Earth, and wide ocean, and the vault profound,<BR> +All, see, enraptured of the coming time!<BR> +Ah! might such length of days to me be given,<BR> +And breath suffice me to rehearse thy deeds,<BR> +Nor Thracian Orpheus should out-sing me then,<BR> +Nor Linus, though his mother this, and that<BR> +His sire should aid- Orpheus Calliope,<BR> +And Linus fair Apollo. Nay, though Pan,<BR> +With Arcady for judge, my claim contest,<BR> +With Arcady for judge great Pan himself<BR> +Should own him foiled, and from the field retire.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Begin to greet thy mother with a smile,<BR> +O baby-boy! ten months of weariness<BR> +For thee she bore: O baby-boy, begin!<BR> +For him, on whom his parents have not smiled,<BR> +Gods deem not worthy of their board or bed.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ECLOGUE V<BR> +</H3> + +<H3> +MENALCAS MOPSUS<BR> +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +Why, Mopsus, being both together met,<BR> +You skilled to breathe upon the slender reeds,<BR> +I to sing ditties, do we not sit down<BR> +Here where the elm-trees and the hazels blend?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MOPSUS<BR> +You are the elder, 'tis for me to bide<BR> +Your choice, Menalcas, whether now we seek<BR> +Yon shade that quivers to the changeful breeze,<BR> +Or the cave's shelter. Look you how the cave<BR> +Is with the wild vine's clusters over-laced!<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +None but Amyntas on these hills of ours<BR> +Can vie with you.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MOPSUS<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 8.5em">What if he also strive</SPAN><BR> +To out-sing Phoebus?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 10em">Do you first begin,</SPAN><BR> +Good Mopsus, whether minded to sing aught<BR> +Of Phyllis and her loves, or Alcon's praise,<BR> +Or to fling taunts at Codrus. Come, begin,<BR> +While Tityrus watches o'er the grazing kids.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MOPSUS<BR> +Nay, then, I will essay what late I carved<BR> +On a green beech-tree's rind, playing by turns,<BR> +And marking down the notes; then afterward<BR> +Bid you Amyntas match them if he can.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +As limber willow to pale olive yields,<BR> +As lowly Celtic nard to rose-buds bright,<BR> +So, to my mind, Amyntas yields to you.<BR> +But hold awhile, for to the cave we come.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MOPSUS<BR> +"For Daphnis cruelly slain wept all the Nymphs-<BR> +Ye hazels, bear them witness, and ye streams-<BR> +When she, his mother, clasping in her arms<BR> +The hapless body of the son she bare,<BR> +To gods and stars unpitying, poured her plaint.<BR> +Then, Daphnis, to the cooling streams were none<BR> +That drove the pastured oxen, then no beast<BR> +Drank of the river, or would the grass-blade touch.<BR> +Nay, the wild rocks and woods then voiced the roar<BR> +Of Afric lions mourning for thy death.<BR> +Daphnis, 'twas thou bad'st yoke to Bacchus' car<BR> +Armenian tigresses, lead on the pomp<BR> +Of revellers, and with tender foliage wreathe<BR> +The bending spear-wands. As to trees the vine<BR> +Is crown of glory, as to vines the grape,<BR> +Bulls to the herd, to fruitful fields the corn,<BR> +So the one glory of thine own art thou.<BR> +When the Fates took thee hence, then Pales' self,<BR> +And even Apollo, left the country lone.<BR> +Where the plump barley-grain so oft we sowed,<BR> +There but wild oats and barren darnel spring;<BR> +For tender violet and narcissus bright<BR> +Thistle and prickly thorn uprear their heads.<BR> +Now, O ye shepherds, strew the ground with leaves,<BR> +And o'er the fountains draw a shady veil-<BR> +So Daphnis to his memory bids be done-<BR> +And rear a tomb, and write thereon this verse:<BR> +'I, Daphnis in the woods, from hence in fame<BR> +Am to the stars exalted, guardian once<BR> +Of a fair flock, myself more fair than they.'"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +So is thy song to me, poet divine,<BR> +As slumber on the grass to weary limbs,<BR> +Or to slake thirst from some sweet-bubbling rill<BR> +In summer's heat. Nor on the reeds alone,<BR> +But with thy voice art thou, thrice happy boy,<BR> +Ranked with thy master, second but to him.<BR> +Yet will I, too, in turn, as best I may,<BR> +Sing thee a song, and to the stars uplift<BR> +Thy Daphnis- Daphnis to the stars extol,<BR> +For me too Daphnis loved.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MOPSUS<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 14em">Than such a boon</SPAN><BR> +What dearer could I deem? the boy himself<BR> +Was worthy to be sung, and many a time<BR> +Hath Stimichon to me your singing praised.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +"In dazzling sheen with unaccustomed eyes<BR> +Daphnis stands rapt before Olympus' gate,<BR> +And sees beneath his feet the clouds and stars.<BR> +Wherefore the woods and fields, Pan, shepherd-folk,<BR> +And Dryad-maidens, thrill with eager joy;<BR> +Nor wolf with treacherous wile assails the flock,<BR> +Nor nets the stag: kind Daphnis loveth peace.<BR> +The unshorn mountains to the stars up-toss<BR> +Voices of gladness; ay, the very rocks,<BR> +The very thickets, shout and sing, 'A god,<BR> +A god is he, Menalcas "Be thou kind,<BR> +Propitious to thine own. Lo! altars four,<BR> +Twain to thee, Daphnis, and to Phoebus twain<BR> +For sacrifice, we build; and I for thee<BR> +Two beakers yearly of fresh milk afoam,<BR> +And of rich olive-oil two bowls, will set;<BR> +And of the wine-god's bounty above all,<BR> +If cold, before the hearth, or in the shade<BR> +At harvest-time, to glad the festal hour,<BR> +From flasks of Ariusian grape will pour<BR> +Sweet nectar. Therewithal at my behest<BR> +Shall Lyctian Aegon and Damoetas sing,<BR> +And Alphesiboeus emulate in dance<BR> +The dancing Satyrs. This, thy service due,<BR> +Shalt thou lack never, both when we pay the Nymphs<BR> +Our yearly vows, and when with lustral rites<BR> +The fields we hallow. Long as the wild boar<BR> +Shall love the mountain-heights, and fish the streams,<BR> +While bees on thyme and crickets feed on dew,<BR> +Thy name, thy praise, thine honour, shall endure.<BR> +Even as to Bacchus and to Ceres, so<BR> +To thee the swain his yearly vows shall make;<BR> +And thou thereof, like them, shalt quittance claim."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MOPSUS<BR> +How, how repay thee for a song so rare?<BR> +For not the whispering south-wind on its way<BR> +So much delights me, nor wave-smitten beach,<BR> +Nor streams that race adown their bouldered beds.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MENALCAS<BR> +First this frail hemlock-stalk to you I give,<BR> +Which taught me "Corydon with love was fired<BR> +For fair Alexis," ay, and this beside,<BR> +"Who owns the flock?- Meliboeus?"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MOPSUS<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 17em">But take you</SPAN><BR> +This shepherd's crook, which, howso hard he begged,<BR> +Antigenes, then worthy to be loved,<BR> +Prevailed not to obtain- with brass, you see,<BR> +And equal knots, Menalcas, fashioned fair!<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ECLOGUE VI<BR> +</H3> + +<H3> +TO VARUS<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +First my Thalia stooped in sportive mood<BR> +To Syracusan strains, nor blushed within<BR> +The woods to house her. When I sought to tell<BR> +Of battles and of kings, the Cynthian god<BR> +Plucked at mine ear and warned me: "Tityrus,<BR> +Beseems a shepherd-wight to feed fat sheep,<BR> +But sing a slender song." Now, Varus, I-<BR> +For lack there will not who would laud thy deeds,<BR> +And treat of dolorous wars- will rather tune<BR> +To the slim oaten reed my silvan lay.<BR> +I sing but as vouchsafed me; yet even this<BR> +If, if but one with ravished eyes should read,<BR> +Of thee, O Varus, shall our tamarisks<BR> +And all the woodland ring; nor can there be<BR> +A page more dear to Phoebus, than the page<BR> +Where, foremost writ, the name of Varus stands.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Speed ye, Pierian Maids! Within a cave<BR> +Young Chromis and Mnasyllos chanced to see<BR> +Silenus sleeping, flushed, as was his wont,<BR> +With wine of yesterday. Not far aloof,<BR> +Slipped from his head, the garlands lay, and there<BR> +By its worn handle hung a ponderous cup.<BR> +Approaching- for the old man many a time<BR> +Had balked them both of a long hoped-for song-<BR> +Garlands to fetters turned, they bind him fast.<BR> +Then Aegle, fairest of the Naiad-band,<BR> +Aegle came up to the half-frightened boys,<BR> +Came, and, as now with open eyes he lay,<BR> +With juice of blood-red mulberries smeared him o'er,<BR> +Both brow and temples. Laughing at their guile,<BR> +And crying, "Why tie the fetters? loose me, boys;<BR> +Enough for you to think you had the power;<BR> +Now list the songs you wish for- songs for you,<BR> +Another meed for her" -forthwith began.<BR> +Then might you see the wild things of the wood,<BR> +With Fauns in sportive frolic beat the time,<BR> +And stubborn oaks their branchy summits bow.<BR> +Not Phoebus doth the rude Parnassian crag<BR> +So ravish, nor Orpheus so entrance the heights<BR> +Of Rhodope or Ismarus: for he sang<BR> +How through the mighty void the seeds were driven<BR> +Of earth, air, ocean, and of liquid fire,<BR> +How all that is from these beginnings grew,<BR> +And the young world itself took solid shape,<BR> +Then 'gan its crust to harden, and in the deep<BR> +Shut Nereus off, and mould the forms of things<BR> +Little by little; and how the earth amazed<BR> +Beheld the new sun shining, and the showers<BR> +Fall, as the clouds soared higher, what time the woods<BR> +'Gan first to rise, and living things to roam<BR> +Scattered among the hills that knew them not.<BR> +Then sang he of the stones by Pyrrha cast,<BR> +Of Saturn's reign, and of Prometheus' theft,<BR> +And the Caucasian birds, and told withal<BR> +Nigh to what fountain by his comrades left<BR> +The mariners cried on Hylas till the shore<BR> +"Then Re-echoed "Hylas, Hylas! soothed<BR> +Pasiphae with the love of her white bull-<BR> +Happy if cattle-kind had never been!-<BR> +O ill-starred maid, what frenzy caught thy soul<BR> +The daughters too of Proetus filled the fields<BR> +With their feigned lowings, yet no one of them<BR> +Of such unhallowed union e'er was fain<BR> +As with a beast to mate, though many a time<BR> +On her smooth forehead she had sought for horns,<BR> +And for her neck had feared the galling plough.<BR> +O ill-starred maid! thou roamest now the hills,<BR> +While on soft hyacinths he, his snowy side<BR> +Reposing, under some dark ilex now<BR> +Chews the pale herbage, or some heifer tracks<BR> +Amid the crowding herd. Now close, ye Nymphs,<BR> +Ye Nymphs of Dicte, close the forest-glades,<BR> +If haply there may chance upon mine eyes<BR> +The white bull's wandering foot-prints: him belike<BR> +Following the herd, or by green pasture lured,<BR> +Some kine may guide to the Gortynian stalls.<BR> +Then sings he of the maid so wonder-struck<BR> +With the apples of the Hesperids, and then<BR> +With moss-bound, bitter bark rings round the forms<BR> +Of Phaethon's fair sisters, from the ground<BR> +Up-towering into poplars. Next he sings<BR> +Of Gallus wandering by Permessus' stream,<BR> +And by a sister of the Muses led<BR> +To the Aonian mountains, and how all<BR> +The choir of Phoebus rose to greet him; how<BR> +The shepherd Linus, singer of songs divine,<BR> +Brow-bound with flowers and bitter parsley, spake:<BR> +"These reeds the Muses give thee, take them thou,<BR> +Erst to the aged bard of Ascra given,<BR> +Wherewith in singing he was wont to draw<BR> +Time-rooted ash-trees from the mountain heights.<BR> +With these the birth of the Grynean grove<BR> +Be voiced by thee, that of no grove beside<BR> +Apollo more may boast him." Wherefore speak<BR> +Of Scylla, child of Nisus, who, 'tis said,<BR> +Her fair white loins with barking monsters girt<BR> +Vexed the Dulichian ships, and, in the deep<BR> +Swift-eddying whirlpool, with her sea-dogs tore<BR> +The trembling mariners? or how he told<BR> +Of the changed limbs of Tereus- what a feast,<BR> +What gifts, to him by Philomel were given;<BR> +How swift she sought the desert, with what wings<BR> +Hovered in anguish o'er her ancient home?<BR> +All that, of old, Eurotas, happy stream,<BR> +Heard, as Apollo mused upon the lyre,<BR> +And bade his laurels learn, Silenus sang;<BR> +Till from Olympus, loth at his approach,<BR> +Vesper, advancing, bade the shepherds tell<BR> +Their tale of sheep, and pen them in the fold.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ECLOGUE VII<BR> +</H3> + +<H3> +MELIBOEUS CORYDON THYRSIS<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Daphnis beneath a rustling ilex-tree<BR> +Had sat him down; Thyrsis and Corydon<BR> +Had gathered in the flock, Thyrsis the sheep,<BR> +And Corydon the she-goats swollen with milk-<BR> +Both in the flower of age, Arcadians both,<BR> +Ready to sing, and in like strain reply.<BR> +Hither had strayed, while from the frost I fend<BR> +My tender myrtles, the he-goat himself,<BR> +Lord of the flock; when Daphnis I espy!<BR> +Soon as he saw me, "Hither haste," he cried,<BR> +"O Meliboeus! goat and kids are safe;<BR> +And, if you have an idle hour to spare,<BR> +Rest here beneath the shade. Hither the steers<BR> +Will through the meadows, of their own free will,<BR> +Untended come to drink. Here Mincius hath<BR> +With tender rushes rimmed his verdant banks,<BR> +And from yon sacred oak with busy hum<BR> +The bees are swarming." What was I to do?<BR> +No Phyllis or Alcippe left at home<BR> +Had I, to shelter my new-weaned lambs,<BR> +And no slight matter was a singing-bout<BR> +'Twixt Corydon and Thyrsis. Howsoe'er,<BR> +I let my business wait upon their sport.<BR> +So they began to sing, voice answering voice<BR> +In strains alternate- for alternate strains<BR> +The Muses then were minded to recall-<BR> +First Corydon, then Thyrsis in reply.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +CORYDON<BR> +"Libethrian Nymphs, who are my heart's delight,<BR> +Grant me, as doth my Codrus, so to sing-<BR> +Next to Apollo he- or if to this<BR> +We may not all attain, my tuneful pipe<BR> +Here on this sacred pine shall silent hang."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +THYRSIS<BR> +"Arcadian shepherds, wreathe with ivy-spray<BR> +Your budding poet, so that Codrus burst<BR> +With envy: if he praise beyond my due,<BR> +Then bind my brow with foxglove, lest his tongue<BR> +With evil omen blight the coming bard."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +CORYDON<BR> +"This bristling boar's head, Delian Maid, to thee,<BR> +With branching antlers of a sprightly stag,<BR> +Young Micon offers: if his luck but hold,<BR> +Full-length in polished marble, ankle-bound<BR> +With purple buskin, shall thy statue stand."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +THYRSIS<BR> +"A bowl of milk, Priapus, and these cakes,<BR> +Yearly, it is enough for thee to claim;<BR> +Thou art the guardian of a poor man's plot.<BR> +Wrought for a while in marble, if the flock<BR> +At lambing time be filled,stand there in gold."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +CORYDON<BR> +"Daughter of Nereus, Galatea mine,<BR> +Sweeter than Hybla-thyme, more white than swans,<BR> +Fairer than ivy pale, soon as the steers<BR> +Shall from their pasture to the stalls repair,<BR> +If aught for Corydon thou carest, come."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +THYRSIS<BR> +"Now may I seem more bitter to your taste<BR> +Than herb Sardinian, rougher than the broom,<BR> +More worthless than strewn sea-weed, if to-day<BR> +Hath not a year out-lasted! Fie for shame!<BR> +Go home, my cattle, from your grazing go!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +CORYDON<BR> +"Ye mossy springs, and grass more soft than sleep,<BR> +And arbute green with thin shade sheltering you,<BR> +Ward off the solstice from my flock, for now<BR> +Comes on the burning summer, now the buds<BR> +Upon the limber vine-shoot 'gin to swell."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +THYRSIS<BR> +"Here is a hearth, and resinous logs, here fire<BR> +Unstinted, and doors black with ceaseless smoke.<BR> +Here heed we Boreas' icy breath as much<BR> +As the wolf heeds the number of the flock,<BR> +Or furious rivers their restraining banks."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +CORYDON<BR> +"The junipers and prickly chestnuts stand,<BR> +And 'neath each tree lie strewn their several fruits,<BR> +Now the whole world is smiling, but if fair<BR> +Alexis from these hill-slopes should away,<BR> +Even the rivers you would ; see run dry."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +THYRSIS<BR> +"The field is parched, the grass-blades thirst to death<BR> +In the faint air; Liber hath grudged the hills<BR> +His vine's o'er-shadowing: should my Phyllis come,<BR> +Green will be all the grove, and Jupiter<BR> +Descend in floods of fertilizing rain."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +CORYDON<BR> +"The poplar doth Alcides hold most dear,<BR> +The vine Iacchus, Phoebus his own bays,<BR> +And Venus fair the myrtle: therewithal<BR> +Phyllis doth hazels love, and while she loves,<BR> +Myrtle nor bay the hazel shall out-vie."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +THYRSIS<BR> +"Ash in the forest is most beautiful,<BR> +Pine in the garden, poplar by the stream,<BR> +Fir on the mountain-height; but if more oft<BR> +Thou'ldst come to me, fair Lycidas, to thee<BR> +Both forest-ash, and garden-pine should bow."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MELIBOEUS<BR> +These I remember, and how Thyrsis strove<BR> +For victory in vain. From that time forth<BR> +Is Corydon still Corydon with us.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ECLOGUE VIII<BR> +</H3> + +<H3> +TO POLLIO DAMON ALPHESIBOEUS<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Of Damon and Alphesiboeus now,<BR> +Those shepherd-singers at whose rival strains<BR> +The heifer wondering forgot to graze,<BR> +The lynx stood awe-struck, and the flowing streams,<BR> +Unwonted loiterers, stayed their course to hear-<BR> +How Damon and Alphesiboeus sang<BR> +Their pastoral ditties, will I tell the tale.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thou, whether broad Timavus' rocky banks<BR> +Thou now art passing, or dost skirt the shore<BR> +Of the Illyrian main,- will ever dawn<BR> +That day when I thy deeds may celebrate,<BR> +Ever that day when through the whole wide world<BR> +I may renown thy verse- that verse alone<BR> +Of Sophoclean buskin worthy found?<BR> +With thee began, to thee shall end, the strain.<BR> +Take thou these songs that owe their birth to thee,<BR> +And deign around thy temples to let creep<BR> +This ivy-chaplet 'twixt the conquering bays.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Scarce had night's chilly shade forsook the sky<BR> +What time to nibbling sheep the dewy grass<BR> +Tastes sweetest, when, on his smooth shepherd-staff<BR> +Of olive leaning, Damon thus began.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +DAMON<BR> +"Rise, Lucifer, and, heralding the light,<BR> +Bring in the genial day, while I make moan<BR> +Fooled by vain passion for a faithless bride,<BR> +For Nysa, and with this my dying breath<BR> +Call on the gods, though little it bestead-<BR> +The gods who heard her vows and heeded not.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.<BR> +Ever hath Maenalus his murmuring groves<BR> +And whispering pines, and ever hears the songs<BR> +Of love-lorn shepherds, and of Pan, who first<BR> +Brooked not the tuneful reed should idle lie.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.<BR> +Nysa to Mopsus given! what may not then<BR> +We lovers look for? soon shall we see mate<BR> +Griffins with mares, and in the coming age<BR> +Shy deer and hounds together come to drink.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.<BR> +Now, Mopsus, cut new torches, for they bring<BR> +Your bride along; now, bridegroom, scatter nuts:<BR> +Forsaking Oeta mounts the evening star!<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.<BR> +O worthy of thy mate, while all men else<BR> +Thou scornest, and with loathing dost behold<BR> +My shepherd's pipe, my goats, my shaggy brow,<BR> +And untrimmed beard, nor deem'st that any god<BR> +For mortal doings hath regard or care.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.<BR> +Once with your mother, in our orchard-garth,<BR> +A little maid I saw you- I your guide-<BR> +Plucking the dewy apples. My twelfth year<BR> +I scarce had entered, and could barely reach<BR> +The brittle boughs. I looked, and I was lost;<BR> +A sudden frenzy swept my wits away.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.<BR> +Now know I what Love is: 'mid savage rocks<BR> +Tmaros or Rhodope brought forth the boy,<BR> +Or Garamantes in earth's utmost bounds-<BR> +No kin of ours, nor of our blood begot.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.<BR> +Fierce Love it was once steeled a mother's heart<BR> +With her own offspring's blood her hands to imbrue:<BR> +Mother, thou too wert cruel; say wert thou<BR> +More cruel, mother, or more ruthless he?<BR> +Ruthless the boy, thou, mother, cruel too.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.<BR> +Now let the wolf turn tail and fly the sheep,<BR> +Tough oaks bear golden apples, alder-trees<BR> +Bloom with narcissus-flower, the tamarisk<BR> +Sweat with rich amber, and the screech-owl vie<BR> +In singing with the swan: let Tityrus<BR> +Be Orpheus, Orpheus in the forest-glade,<BR> +Arion 'mid his dolphins on the deep.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.<BR> +Yea, be the whole earth to mid-ocean turned!<BR> +Farewell, ye woodlands I from the tall peak<BR> +Of yon aerial rock will headlong plunge<BR> +Into the billows: this my latest gift,<BR> +From dying lips bequeathed thee, see thou keep.<BR> +Cease now, my flute, now cease Maenalian lays."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Thus Damon: but do ye, Pierian Maids-<BR> +We cannot all do all things- tell me how<BR> +Alphesiboeus to his strain replied.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +ALPHESIBOEUS<BR> +"Bring water, and with soft wool-fillet bind<BR> +These altars round about, and burn thereon<BR> +Rich vervain and male frankincense, that I<BR> +May strive with magic spells to turn astray<BR> +My lover's saner senses, whereunto<BR> +There lacketh nothing save the power of song.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.<BR> +Songs can the very moon draw down from heaven<BR> +Circe with singing changed from human form<BR> +The comrades of Ulysses, and by song<BR> +Is the cold meadow-snake, asunder burst.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.<BR> +These triple threads of threefold colour first<BR> +I twine about thee, and three times withal<BR> +Around these altars do thine image bear:<BR> +Uneven numbers are the god's delight.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.<BR> +Now, Amaryllis, ply in triple knots<BR> +The threefold colours; ply them fast, and say<BR> +This is the chain of Venus that I ply.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.<BR> +As by the kindling of the self-same fire<BR> +Harder this clay, this wax the softer grows,<BR> +So by my love may Daphnis; sprinkle meal,<BR> +And with bitumen burn the brittle bays.<BR> +Me Daphnis with his cruelty doth burn,<BR> +I to melt cruel Daphnis burn this bay.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.<BR> +As when some heifer, seeking for her steer<BR> +Through woodland and deep grove, sinks wearied out<BR> +On the green sedge beside a stream, love-lorn,<BR> +Nor marks the gathering night that calls her home-<BR> +As pines that heifer, with such love as hers<BR> +May Daphnis pine, and I not care to heal.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.<BR> +These relics once, dear pledges of himself,<BR> +The traitor left me, which, O earth, to thee<BR> +Here on this very threshold I commit-<BR> +Pledges that bind him to redeem the debt.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.<BR> +These herbs of bane to me did Moeris give,<BR> +In Pontus culled, where baneful herbs abound.<BR> +With these full oft have I seen Moeris change<BR> +To a wolf's form, and hide him in the woods,<BR> +Oft summon spirits from the tomb's recess,<BR> +And to new fields transport the standing corn.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.<BR> +Take ashes, Amaryllis, fetch them forth,<BR> +And o'er your head into the running brook<BR> +Fling them, nor look behind: with these will<BR> +Upon the heart of Daphnis make essay.<BR> +Nothing for gods, nothing for songs cares he.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.<BR> +Look, look I the very embers of themselves<BR> +Have caught the altar with a flickering flame,<BR> +While I delay to fetch them: may the sign<BR> +Prove lucky! something it must mean, for sure,<BR> +And Hylax on the threshold 'gins to bark!<BR> +May we believe it, or are lovers still<BR> +By their own fancies fooled?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 13.5em">Give o'er, my songs,</SPAN><BR> +Daphnis is coming from the town, give o'er."<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ECLOGUE IX<BR> +</H3> + +<H3> +LYCIDAS MOERIS<BR> +</H3> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +LYCIDAS<BR> +Say whither, Moeris?- Make you for the town,<BR> +Or on what errand bent?<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MOERIS<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 15em">O Lycidas,</SPAN><BR> +We have lived to see, what never yet we feared,<BR> +An interloper own our little farm,<BR> +And say, "Be off, you former husbandmen!<BR> +These fields are mine." Now, cowed and out of heart,<BR> +Since Fortune turns the whole world upside down,<BR> +We are taking him- ill luck go with the same!-'<BR> +These kids you see.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +LYCIDAS<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 11em">But surely I had heard</SPAN><BR> +That where the hills first draw from off the plain,<BR> +And the high ridge with gentle slope descends,<BR> +Down to the brook-side and the broken crests<BR> +Of yonder veteran beeches, all the land<BR> +Was by the songs of your Menalcas saved.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MOERIS<BR> +Heard it you had, and so the rumour ran,<BR> +But 'mid the clash of arms, my Lycidas,<BR> +Our songs avail no more than, as 'tis said,<BR> +Doves of Dodona when an eagle comes.<BR> +Nay, had I not, from hollow ilex-bole<BR> +Warned by a raven on the left, cut short<BR> +The rising feud, nor I, your Moeris here,<BR> +No, nor Menalcas, were alive to-day.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +LYCIDAS<BR> +Alack! could any of so foul a crime<BR> +Be guilty? Ah! how nearly, thyself,<BR> +Reft was the solace that we had in thee,<BR> +Menalcas! Who then of the Nymphs had sung,<BR> +Or who with flowering herbs bestrewn the ground,<BR> +And o'er the fountains drawn a leafy veil?-<BR> +Who sung the stave I filched from you that day<BR> +To Amaryllis wending, our hearts' joy?-<BR> +"While I am gone, 'tis but a little way,<BR> +Feed, Tityrus, my goats, and, having fed,<BR> +Drive to the drinking-pool, and, as you drive,<BR> +Beware the he-goat; with his horn he butts."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MOERIS<BR> +Ay, or to Varus that half-finished lay,<BR> +"Varus, thy name, so still our Mantua live-<BR> +Mantua to poor Cremona all too near-<BR> +Shall singing swans bear upward to the stars."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +LYCIDAS<BR> +So may your swarms Cyrnean yew-trees shun,<BR> +Your kine with cytisus their udders swell,<BR> +Begin, if aught you have. The Muses made<BR> +Me too a singer; I too have sung; the swains<BR> +Call me a poet, but I believe them not:<BR> +For naught of mine, or worthy Varius yet<BR> +Or Cinna deem I, but account myself<BR> +A cackling goose among melodious swans.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MOERIS<BR> +'Twas in my thought to do so, Lycidas;<BR> +Even now was I revolving silently<BR> +If this I could recall- no paltry song:<BR> +"Come, Galatea, what pleasure is 't to play<BR> +Amid the waves? Here glows the Spring, here earth<BR> +Beside the streams pours forth a thousand flowers;<BR> +Here the white poplar bends above the cave,<BR> +And the lithe vine weaves shadowy covert: come,<BR> +Leave the mad waves to beat upon the shore."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +LYCIDAS<BR> +What of the strain I heard you singing once<BR> +On a clear night alone? the notes I still<BR> +Remember, could I but recall the words.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MOERIS<BR> +"Why, Daphnis, upward gazing, do you mark<BR> +The ancient risings of the Signs? for look<BR> +Where Dionean Caesar's star comes forth<BR> +In heaven, to gladden all the fields with corn,<BR> +And to the grape upon the sunny slopes<BR> +Her colour bring! Now, the pears;<BR> +So shall your children's children pluck their fruit.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Time carries all things, even our wits, away.<BR> +Oft, as a boy, I sang the sun to rest,<BR> +But all those songs are from my memory fled,<BR> +And even his voice is failing Moeris now;<BR> +The wolves eyed Moeris first: but at your wish<BR> +Menalcas will repeat them oft enow.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +LYCIDAS<BR> +Your pleas but linger out my heart's desire:<BR> +Now all the deep is into silence hushed,<BR> +And all the murmuring breezes sunk to sleep.<BR> +We are half-way thither, for Bianor's tomb<BR> +Begins to show: here, Moeris, where the hinds<BR> +Are lopping the thick leafage, let us sing.<BR> +Set down the kids, yet shall we reach the town;<BR> +Or, if we fear the night may gather rain<BR> +Ere we arrive, then singing let us go,<BR> +Our way to lighten; and, that we may thus<BR> +Go singing, I will case you of this load.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +MOERIS<BR> +Cease, boy, and get we to the work in hand:<BR> +We shall sing better when himself is come.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="book10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ECLOGUE X<BR> +</H3> + +<H3> +GALLUS<BR> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +This now, the very latest of my toils,<BR> +Vouchsafe me, Arethusa! needs must I<BR> +Sing a brief song to Gallus- brief, but yet<BR> +Such as Lycoris' self may fitly read.<BR> +Who would not sing for Gallus? So, when thou<BR> +Beneath Sicanian billows glidest on,<BR> +May Doris blend no bitter wave with thine,<BR> +Begin! The love of Gallus be our theme,<BR> +And the shrewd pangs he suffered, while, hard by,<BR> +The flat-nosed she-goats browse the tender brush.<BR> +We sing not to deaf ears; no word of ours<BR> +But the woods echo it. What groves or lawns<BR> +Held you, ye Dryad-maidens, when for love-<BR> +Love all unworthy of a loss so dear-<BR> +Gallus lay dying? for neither did the slopes<BR> +Of Pindus or Parnassus stay you then,<BR> +No, nor Aonian Aganippe. Him<BR> +Even the laurels and the tamarisks wept;<BR> +For him, outstretched beneath a lonely rock,<BR> +Wept pine-clad Maenalus, and the flinty crags<BR> +Of cold Lycaeus. The sheep too stood around-<BR> +Of us they feel no shame, poet divine;<BR> +Nor of the flock be thou ashamed: even fair<BR> +Adonis by the rivers fed his sheep-<BR> +Came shepherd too, and swine-herd footing slow,<BR> +And, from the winter-acorns dripping-wet<BR> +Menalcas. All with one accord exclaim:<BR> +"From whence this love of thine?" Apollo came;<BR> +"Gallus, art mad?" he cried, "thy bosom's care<BR> +Another love is following."Therewithal<BR> +Silvanus came, with rural honours crowned;<BR> +The flowering fennels and tall lilies shook<BR> +Before him. Yea, and our own eyes beheld<BR> +Pan, god of Arcady, with blood-red juice<BR> +Of the elder-berry, and with vermilion, dyed.<BR> +"Wilt ever make an end?" quoth he, "behold<BR> +Love recks not aught of it: his heart no more<BR> +With tears is sated than with streams the grass,<BR> +Bees with the cytisus, or goats with leaves."<BR> +"Yet will ye sing, Arcadians, of my woes<BR> +Upon your mountains," sadly he replied-<BR> +"Arcadians, that alone have skill to sing.<BR> +O then how softly would my ashes rest,<BR> +If of my love, one day, your flutes should tell!<BR> +And would that I, of your own fellowship,<BR> +Or dresser of the ripening grape had been,<BR> +Or guardian of the flock! for surely then,<BR> +Let Phyllis, or Amyntas, or who else,<BR> +Bewitch me- what if swart Amyntas be?<BR> +Dark is the violet, dark the hyacinth-<BR> +Among the willows, 'neath the limber vine,<BR> +Reclining would my love have lain with me,<BR> +Phyllis plucked garlands, or Amyntas sung.<BR> +Here are cool springs, soft mead and grove, Lycoris;<BR> +Here might our lives with time have worn away.<BR> +But me mad love of the stern war-god holds<BR> +Armed amid weapons and opposing foes.<BR> +Whilst thou- Ah! might I but believe it not!-<BR> +Alone without me, and from home afar,<BR> +Look'st upon Alpine snows and frozen Rhine.<BR> +Ah! may the frost not hurt thee, may the sharp<BR> +And jagged ice not wound thy tender feet!<BR> +I will depart, re-tune the songs I framed<BR> +In verse Chalcidian to the oaten reed<BR> +Of the Sicilian swain. Resolved am I<BR> +In the woods, rather, with wild beasts to couch,<BR> +And bear my doom, and character my love<BR> +Upon the tender tree-trunks: they will grow,<BR> +And you, my love, grow with them. And meanwhile<BR> +I with the Nymphs will haunt Mount Maenalus,<BR> +Or hunt the keen wild boar. No frost so cold<BR> +But I will hem with hounds thy forest-glades,<BR> +Parthenius. Even now, methinks, I range<BR> +O'er rocks, through echoing groves, and joy to launch<BR> +Cydonian arrows from a Parthian bow.-<BR> +As if my madness could find healing thus,<BR> +Or that god soften at a mortal's grief!<BR> +Now neither Hamadryads, no, nor songs<BR> +Delight me more: ye woods, away with you!<BR> +No pangs of ours can change him; not though we<BR> +In the mid-frost should drink of Hebrus' stream,<BR> +And in wet winters face Sithonian snows,<BR> +Or, when the bark of the tall elm-tree bole<BR> +Of drought is dying, should, under Cancer's Sign,<BR> +In Aethiopian deserts drive our flocks.<BR> +Love conquers all things; yield we too to love!"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +These songs, Pierian Maids, shall it suffice<BR> +Your poet to have sung, the while he sat,<BR> +And of slim mallow wove a basket fine:<BR> +To Gallus ye will magnify their worth,<BR> +Gallus, for whom my love grows hour by hour,<BR> +As the green alder shoots in early Spring.<BR> +Come, let us rise: the shade is wont to be<BR> +Baneful to singers; baneful is the shade<BR> +Cast by the juniper, crops sicken too<BR> +In shade. Now homeward, having fed your fill--<BR> +Eve's star is rising-go, my she-goats, go.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bucolics and Eclogues, by Virgil + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUCOLICS AND ECLOGUES *** + +***** This file should be named 230-h.htm or 230-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/230/ + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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