Part 4

Than such a boon What dearer could I deem? the boy himself Was worthy to be sung, and many a time Hath Stimichon to me your singing praised.

MENALCAS "In dazzling sheen with unaccustomed eyes Daphnis stands rapt before Olympus' gate, And sees beneath his feet the clouds and stars. Wherefore the woods and fields, Pan, shepherd-folk, And Dryad-maidens, thrill with eager joy; Nor wolf with treacherous wile assails the flock, Nor nets the stag: kind Daphnis loveth peace. The unshorn mountains to the stars up-toss Voices of gladness; ay, the very rocks, The very thickets, shout and sing, 'A god, A god is he, Menalcas "Be thou kind, Propitious to thine own. Lo! altars four, Twain to thee, Daphnis, and to Phoebus twain For sacrifice, we build; and I for thee Two beakers yearly of fresh milk afoam, And of rich olive-oil two bowls, will set; And of the wine-god's bounty above all, If cold, before the hearth, or in the shade At harvest-time, to glad the festal hour, From flasks of Ariusian grape will pour Sweet nectar. Therewithal at my behest Shall Lyctian Aegon and Damoetas sing, And Alphesiboeus emulate in dance The dancing Satyrs. This, thy service due, Shalt thou lack never, both when we pay the Nymphs Our yearly vows, and when with lustral rites The fields we hallow. Long as the wild boar Shall love the mountain-heights, and fish the streams, While bees on thyme and crickets feed on dew, Thy name, thy praise, thine honour, shall endure. Even as to Bacchus and to Ceres, so To thee the swain his yearly vows shall make; And thou thereof, like them, shalt quittance claim."

MOPSUS How, how repay thee for a song so rare? For not the whispering south-wind on its way So much delights me, nor wave-smitten beach, Nor streams that race adown their bouldered beds.

MENALCAS First this frail hemlock-stalk to you I give, Which taught me "Corydon with love was fired For fair Alexis," ay, and this beside, "Who owns the flock?- Meliboeus?"

MOPSUS

But take you This shepherd's crook, which, howso hard he begged, Antigenes, then worthy to be loved, Prevailed not to obtain- with brass, you see, And equal knots, Menalcas, fashioned fair!

ECLOGUE VI

TO VARUS

First my Thalia stooped in sportive mood To Syracusan strains, nor blushed within The woods to house her. When I sought to tell Of battles and of kings, the Cynthian god Plucked at mine ear and warned me: "Tityrus, Beseems a shepherd-wight to feed fat sheep, But sing a slender song." Now, Varus, I- For lack there will not who would laud thy deeds, And treat of dolorous wars- will rather tune To the slim oaten reed my silvan lay. I sing but as vouchsafed me; yet even this If, if but one with ravished eyes should read, Of thee, O Varus, shall our tamarisks And all the woodland ring; nor can there be A page more dear to Phoebus, than the page Where, foremost writ, the name of Varus stands.

Speed ye, Pierian Maids! Within a cave Young Chromis and Mnasyllos chanced to see Silenus sleeping, flushed, as was his wont, With wine of yesterday. Not far aloof, Slipped from his head, the garlands lay, and there By its worn handle hung a ponderous cup. Approaching- for the old man many a time Had balked them both of a long hoped-for song- Garlands to fetters turned, they bind him fast. Then Aegle, fairest of the Naiad-band, Aegle came up to the half-frightened boys, Came, and, as now with open eyes he lay, With juice of blood-red mulberries smeared him o'er, Both brow and temples. Laughing at their guile, And crying, "Why tie the fetters? loose me, boys; Enough for you to think you had the power; Now list the songs you wish for- songs for you, Another meed for her" -forthwith began. Then might you see the wild things of the wood, With Fauns in sportive frolic beat the time, And stubborn oaks their branchy summits bow. Not Phoebus doth the rude Parnassian crag So ravish, nor Orpheus so entrance the heights Of Rhodope or Ismarus: for he sang How through the mighty void the seeds were driven Of earth, air, ocean, and of liquid fire, How all that is from these beginnings grew, And the young world itself took solid shape, Then 'gan its crust to harden, and in the deep Shut Nereus off, and mould the forms of things Little by little; and how the earth amazed Beheld the new sun shining, and the showers Fall, as the clouds soared higher, what time the woods 'Gan first to rise, and living things to roam Scattered among the hills that knew them not. Then sang he of the stones by Pyrrha cast, Of Saturn's reign, and of Prometheus' theft, And the Caucasian birds, and told withal Nigh to what fountain by his comrades left The mariners cried on Hylas till the shore "Then Re-echoed "Hylas, Hylas! soothed Pasiphae with the love of her white bull- Happy if cattle-kind had never been!- O ill-starred maid, what frenzy caught thy soul The daughters too of Proetus filled the fields With their feigned lowings, yet no one of them Of such unhallowed union e'er was fain As with a beast to mate, though many a time On her smooth forehead she had sought for horns, And for her neck had feared the galling plough. O ill-starred maid! thou roamest now the hills, While on soft hyacinths he, his snowy side Reposing, under some dark ilex now Chews the pale herbage, or some heifer tracks Amid the crowding herd. Now close, ye Nymphs, Ye Nymphs of Dicte, close the forest-glades, If haply there may chance upon mine eyes The white bull's wandering foot-prints: him belike Following the herd, or by green pasture lured, Some kine may guide to the Gortynian stalls. Then sings he of the maid so wonder-struck With the apples of the Hesperids, and then With moss-bound, bitter bark rings round the forms Of Phaethon's fair sisters, from the ground Up-towering into poplars. Next he sings Of Gallus wandering by Permessus' stream, And by a sister of the Muses led To the Aonian mountains, and how all The choir of Phoebus rose to greet him; how The shepherd Linus, singer of songs divine, Brow-bound with flowers and bitter parsley, spake: "These reeds the Muses give thee, take them thou, Erst to the aged bard of Ascra given, Wherewith in singing he was wont to draw Time-rooted ash-trees from the mountain heights. With these the birth of the Grynean grove Be voiced by thee, that of no grove beside Apollo more may boast him." Wherefore speak Of Scylla, child of Nisus, who, 'tis said, Her fair white loins with barking monsters girt Vexed the Dulichian ships, and, in the deep Swift-eddying whirlpool, with her sea-dogs tore The trembling mariners? or how he told Of the changed limbs of Tereus- what a feast, What gifts, to him by Philomel were given; How swift she sought the desert, with what wings Hovered in anguish o'er her ancient home? All that, of old, Eurotas, happy stream, Heard, as Apollo mused upon the lyre, And bade his laurels learn, Silenus sang; Till from Olympus, loth at his approach, Vesper, advancing, bade the shepherds tell Their tale of sheep, and pen them in the fold.

ECLOGUE VII

MELIBOEUS CORYDON THYRSIS

Daphnis beneath a rustling ilex-tree Had sat him down; Thyrsis and Corydon Had gathered in the flock, Thyrsis the sheep, And Corydon the she-goats swollen with milk- Both in the flower of age, Arcadians both, Ready to sing, and in like strain reply. Hither had strayed, while from the frost I fend My tender myrtles, the he-goat himself, Lord of the flock; when Daphnis I espy! Soon as he saw me, "Hither haste," he cried, "O Meliboeus! goat and kids are safe; And, if you have an idle hour to spare, Rest here beneath the shade. Hither the steers Will through the meadows, of their own free will, Untended come to drink. Here Mincius hath With tender rushes rimmed his verdant banks, And from yon sacred oak with busy hum The bees are swarming." What was I to do? No Phyllis or Alcippe left at home Had I, to shelter my new-weaned lambs, And no slight matter was a singing-bout 'Twixt Corydon and Thyrsis. Howsoe'er, I let my business wait upon their sport. So they began to sing, voice answering voice In strains alternate- for alternate strains The Muses then were minded to recall- First Corydon, then Thyrsis in reply.

CORYDON "Libethrian Nymphs, who are my heart's delight, Grant me, as doth my Codrus, so to sing- Next to Apollo he- or if to this We may not all attain, my tuneful pipe Here on this sacred pine shall silent hang."

THYRSIS "Arcadian shepherds, wreathe with ivy-spray Your budding poet, so that Codrus burst With envy: if he praise beyond my due, Then bind my brow with foxglove, lest his tongue With evil omen blight the coming bard."

CORYDON "This bristling boar's head, Delian Maid, to thee, With branching antlers of a sprightly stag, Young Micon offers: if his luck but hold, Full-length in polished marble, ankle-bound With purple buskin, shall thy statue stand."

THYRSIS "A bowl of milk, Priapus, and these cakes, Yearly, it is enough for thee to claim; Thou art the guardian of a poor man's plot. Wrought for a while in marble, if the flock At lambing time be filled,stand there in gold."

CORYDON "Daughter of Nereus, Galatea mine, Sweeter than Hybla-thyme, more white than swans, Fairer than ivy pale, soon as the steers Shall from their pasture to the stalls repair, If aught for Corydon thou carest, come."

THYRSIS "Now may I seem more bitter to your taste Than herb Sardinian, rougher than the broom, More worthless than strewn sea-weed, if to-day Hath not a year out-lasted! Fie for shame! Go home, my cattle, from your grazing go!"

CORYDON "Ye mossy springs, and grass more soft than sleep, And arbute green with thin shade sheltering you, Ward off the solstice from my flock, for now Comes on the burning summer, now the buds Upon the limber vine-shoot 'gin to swell."

THYRSIS "Here is a hearth, and resinous logs, here fire Unstinted, and doors black with ceaseless smoke. Here heed we Boreas' icy breath as much As the wolf heeds the number of the flock, Or furious rivers their restraining banks."

CORYDON "The junipers and prickly chestnuts stand, And 'neath each tree lie strewn their several fruits, Now the whole world is smiling, but if fair Alexis from these hill-slopes should away, Even the rivers you would ; see run dry."

THYRSIS "The field is parched, the grass-blades thirst to death In the faint air; Liber hath grudged the hills His vine's o'er-shadowing: should my Phyllis come, Green will be all the grove, and Jupiter Descend in floods of fertilizing rain."

CORYDON "The poplar doth Alcides hold most dear, The vine Iacchus, Phoebus his own bays, And Venus fair the myrtle: therewithal Phyllis doth hazels love, and while she loves, Myrtle nor bay the hazel shall out-vie."

THYRSIS "Ash in the forest is most beautiful, Pine in the garden, poplar by the stream, Fir on the mountain-height; but if more oft Thou'ldst come to me, fair Lycidas, to thee Both forest-ash, and garden-pine should bow."

MELIBOEUS These I remember, and how Thyrsis strove For victory in vain. From that time forth Is Corydon still Corydon with us.

ECLOGUE VIII

TO POLLIO DAMON ALPHESIBOEUS