The Bucolics and Ecloges [English] | Page 7

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
veilSo
Daphnis to his memory bids be doneAnd
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
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, IFor
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 songGarlands
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