Part 3

DAMOETAS "You, picking flowers and strawberries that grow So near the ground, fly hence, boys, get you gone! There's a cold adder lurking in the grass."

MENALCAS "Forbear, my sheep, to tread too near the brink; Yon bank is ill to trust to; even now The ram himself, see, dries his dripping fleece!"

DAMOETAS "Back with the she-goats, Tityrus, grazing there So near the river! I, when time shall serve, Will take them all, and wash them in the pool."

MENALCAS "Boys, get your sheep together; if the heat, As late it did, forestall us with the milk, Vainly the dried-up udders shall we wring."

DAMOETAS "How lean my bull amid the fattening vetch! Alack! alack! for herdsman and for herd! It is the self-same love that wastes us both."

MENALCAS "These truly- nor is even love the cause- Scarce have the flesh to keep their bones together Some evil eye my lambkins hath bewitched."

DAMOETAS "Say in what clime- and you shall be withal My great Apollo- the whole breadth of heaven Opens no wider than three ells to view."

MENALCAS "Say in what country grow such flowers as bear The names of kings upon their petals writ, And you shall have fair Phyllis for your own."

PALAEMON Not mine betwixt such rivals to decide: You well deserve the heifer, so does he, With all who either fear the sweets of love, Or taste its bitterness. Now, boys, shut off The sluices, for the fields have drunk their fill.

ECLOGUE IV

POLLIO

Muses of Sicily, essay we now A somewhat loftier task! Not all men love Coppice or lowly tamarisk: sing we woods, Woods worthy of a Consul let them be.

Now the last age by Cumae's Sibyl sung Has come and gone, and the majestic roll Of circling centuries begins anew: Justice returns, returns old Saturn's reign, With a new breed of men sent down from heaven. Only do thou, at the boy's birth in whom The iron shall cease, the golden race arise, Befriend him, chaste Lucina; 'tis thine own Apollo reigns. And in thy consulate, This glorious age, O Pollio, shall begin, And the months enter on their mighty march. Under thy guidance, whatso tracks remain Of our old wickedness, once done away, Shall free the earth from never-ceasing fear. He shall receive the life of gods, and see Heroes with gods commingling, and himself Be seen of them, and with his father's worth Reign o'er a world at peace. For thee, O boy, First shall the earth, untilled, pour freely forth Her childish gifts, the gadding ivy-spray With foxglove and Egyptian bean-flower mixed, And laughing-eyed acanthus. Of themselves, Untended, will the she-goats then bring home Their udders swollen with milk, while flocks afield Shall of the monstrous lion have no fear. Thy very cradle shall pour forth for thee Caressing flowers. The serpent too shall die, Die shall the treacherous poison-plant, and far And wide Assyrian spices spring. But soon As thou hast skill to read of heroes' fame, And of thy father's deeds, and inly learn What virtue is, the plain by slow degrees With waving corn-crops shall to golden grow, From the wild briar shall hang the blushing grape, And stubborn oaks sweat honey-dew. Nathless Yet shall there lurk within of ancient wrong Some traces, bidding tempt the deep with ships, Gird towns with walls, with furrows cleave the earth. Therewith a second Tiphys shall there be, Her hero-freight a second Argo bear; New wars too shall arise, and once again Some great Achilles to some Troy be sent. Then, when the mellowing years have made thee man, No more shall mariner sail, nor pine-tree bark Ply traffic on the sea, but every land Shall all things bear alike: the glebe no more Shall feel the harrow's grip, nor vine the hook; The sturdy ploughman shall loose yoke from steer, Nor wool with varying colours learn to lie; But in the meadows shall the ram himself, Now with soft flush of purple, now with tint Of yellow saffron, teach his fleece to shine. While clothed in natural scarlet graze the lambs. "Such still, such ages weave ye, as ye run," Sang to their spindles the consenting Fates By Destiny's unalterable decree. Assume thy greatness, for the time draws nigh, Dear child of gods, great progeny of Jove! See how it totters- the world's orbed might, Earth, and wide ocean, and the vault profound, All, see, enraptured of the coming time! Ah! might such length of days to me be given, And breath suffice me to rehearse thy deeds, Nor Thracian Orpheus should out-sing me then, Nor Linus, though his mother this, and that His sire should aid- Orpheus Calliope, And Linus fair Apollo. Nay, though Pan, With Arcady for judge, my claim contest, With Arcady for judge great Pan himself Should own him foiled, and from the field retire.

Begin to greet thy mother with a smile, O baby-boy! ten months of weariness For thee she bore: O baby-boy, begin! For him, on whom his parents have not smiled, Gods deem not worthy of their board or bed.

ECLOGUE V

MENALCAS MOPSUS

MENALCAS Why, Mopsus, being both together met, You skilled to breathe upon the slender reeds, I to sing ditties, do we not sit down Here where the elm-trees and the hazels blend?

MOPSUS You are the elder, 'tis for me to bide Your choice, Menalcas, whether now we seek Yon shade that quivers to the changeful breeze, Or the cave's shelter. Look you how the cave Is with the wild vine's clusters over-laced!

MENALCAS None but Amyntas on these hills of ours Can vie with you.

MOPSUS

What if he also strive To out-sing Phoebus?

MENALCAS

Do you first begin, Good Mopsus, whether minded to sing aught Of Phyllis and her loves, or Alcon's praise, Or to fling taunts at Codrus. Come, begin, While Tityrus watches o'er the grazing kids.

MOPSUS Nay, then, I will essay what late I carved On a green beech-tree's rind, playing by turns, And marking down the notes; then afterward Bid you Amyntas match them if he can.

MENALCAS As limber willow to pale olive yields, As lowly Celtic nard to rose-buds bright, So, to my mind, Amyntas yields to you. But hold awhile, for to the cave we come.

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

MENALCAS So is thy song to me, poet divine, As slumber on the grass to weary limbs, Or to slake thirst from some sweet-bubbling rill In summer's heat. Nor on the reeds alone, But with thy voice art thou, thrice happy boy, Ranked with thy master, second but to him. Yet will I, too, in turn, as best I may, Sing thee a song, and to the stars uplift Thy Daphnis- Daphnis to the stars extol, For me too Daphnis loved.

MOPSUS