The Bucolics and Eclogues — Inside the Classic

What did Amyntas do?- what did he not? A pipe have I, of hemlock-stalks compact In lessening lengths, Damoetas' dying-gift: 'Mine once,' quoth he, 'now yours, as heir to own.' Foolish Amyntas heard and envied me. Ay, and two fawns, I risked my neck to find In a steep glen, with coats white-dappled still, From a sheep's udders suckled twice a day- These still I keep for you; which Thestilis Implores me oft to let her lead away; And she shall have them, since my gifts you spurn. Come hither, beauteous boy; for you the Nymphs Bring baskets, see, with lilies brimmed; for you, Plucking pale violets and poppy-heads, Now the fair Naiad, of narcissus flower And fragrant fennel, doth one posy twine- With cassia then, and other scented herbs, Blends them, and sets the tender hyacinth off With yellow marigold. I too will pick Quinces all silvered-o'er with hoary down, Chestnuts, which Amaryllis wont to love, And waxen plums withal: this fruit no less Shall have its meed of honour; and I will pluck You too, ye laurels, and you, ye myrtles, near, For so your sweets ye mingle. Corydon, You are a boor, nor heeds a whit your gifts Alexis; no, nor would Iollas yield, Should gifts decide the day. Alack! alack! What misery have I brought upon my head!- Loosed on the flowers Siroces to my bane, And the wild boar upon my crystal springs! Whom do you fly, infatuate? gods ere now, And Dardan Paris, have made the woods their home. Let Pallas keep the towers her hand hath built, Us before all things let the woods delight. The grim-eyed lioness pursues the wolf, The wolf the she-goat, the she-goat herself In wanton sport the flowering cytisus, And Corydon Alexis, each led on By their own longing. See, the ox comes home With plough up-tilted, and the shadows grow To twice their length with the departing sun, Yet me love burns, for who can limit love? Ah! Corydon, Corydon, what hath crazed your wit? Your vine half-pruned hangs on the leafy elm; Why haste you not to weave what need requires Of pliant rush or osier? Scorned by this, Elsewhere some new Alexis you will find."

MENALCAS DAMOETAS PALAEMON

MENALCAS Who owns the flock, Damoetas? Meliboeus?

DAMOETAS Nay, they are Aegon's sheep, of late by him Committed to my care.

O every way Unhappy sheep, unhappy flock! while he Still courts Neaera, fearing lest her choice Should fall on me, this hireling shepherd here Wrings hourly twice their udders, from the flock Filching the life-juice, from the lambs their milk.

DAMOETAS Hold! not so ready with your jeers at men! We know who once, and in what shrine with you- The he-goats looked aside- the light nymphs laughed-

MENALCAS Ay, then, I warrant, when they saw me slash Micon's young vines and trees with spiteful hook.

DAMOETAS Or here by these old beeches, when you broke The bow and arrows of Damon; for you chafed When first you saw them given to the boy, Cross-grained Menalcas, ay, and had you not Done him some mischief, would have chafed to death.

MENALCAS With thieves so daring, what can masters do? Did I not see you, rogue, in ambush lie For Damon's goat, while loud Lycisca barked? And when I cried, "Where is he off to now? Gather your flock together, Tityrus," You hid behind the sedges.

Well, was he Whom I had conquered still to keep the goat. Which in the piping-match my pipe had won! You may not know it, but the goat was mine.

MENALCAS You out-pipe him? when had you ever pipe Wax-welded? in the cross-ways used you not On grating straw some miserable tune To mangle?

Well, then, shall we try our skill Each against each in turn? Lest you be loth, I pledge this heifer; every day she comes Twice to the milking-pail, and feeds withal Two young ones at her udder: say you now What you will stake upon the match with me.

MENALCAS Naught from the flock I'll venture, for at home I have a father and a step-dame harsh, And twice a day both reckon up the flock, And one withal the kids. But I will stake, Seeing you are so mad, what you yourself Will own more priceless far- two beechen cups By the divine art of Alcimedon Wrought and embossed, whereon a limber vine, Wreathed round them by the graver's facile tool, Twines over clustering ivy-berries pale. Two figures, one Conon, in the midst he set, And one- how call you him, who with his wand Marked out for all men the whole round of heaven, That they who reap, or stoop behind the plough, Might know their several seasons? Nor as yet Have I set lip to them, but lay them by.

DAMOETAS For me too wrought the same Alcimedon A pair of cups, and round the handles wreathed Pliant acanthus, Orpheus in the midst, The forests following in his wake; nor yet Have I set lip to them, but lay them by. Matched with a heifer, who would prate of cups?

MENALCAS You shall not balk me now; where'er you bid, I shall be with you; only let us have For auditor- or see, to serve our turn, Yonder Palaemon comes! In singing-bouts I'll see you play the challenger no more.

DAMOETAS Out then with what you have; I shall not shrink, Nor budge for any man: only do you, Neighbour Palaemon, with your whole heart's skill- For it is no slight matter-play your part.

PALAEMON Say on then, since on the greensward we sit, And now is burgeoning both field and tree; Now is the forest green, and now the year At fairest. Do you first, Damoetas, sing, Then you, Menalcas, in alternate strain: Alternate strains are to the Muses dear.

DAMOETAS "From Jove the Muse began; Jove filleth all, Makes the earth fruitful, for my songs hath care."

MENALCAS "Me Phoebus loves; for Phoebus his own gifts, Bays and sweet-blushing hyacinths, I keep."

DAMOETAS "Gay Galatea throws an apple at me, Then hies to the willows, hoping to be seen."

MENALCAS "My dear Amyntas comes unasked to me; Not Delia to my dogs is better known."

DAMOETAS "Gifts for my love I've found; mine eyes have marked Where the wood-pigeons build their airy nests."

MENALCAS "Ten golden apples have I sent my boy, All that I could, to-morrow as many more."

DAMOETAS "What words to me, and uttered O how oft, Hath Galatea spoke! waft some of them, Ye winds, I pray you, for the gods to hear."

MENALCAS "It profiteth me naught, Amyntas mine, That in your very heart you spurn me not, If, while you hunt the boar, I guard the nets."

DAMOETAS "Prithee, Iollas, for my birthday guest Send me your Phyllis; when for the young crops I slay my heifer, you yourself shall come."

MENALCAS "I am all hers; she wept to see me go, And, lingering on the word, 'farewell' she said, 'My beautiful Iollas, fare you well.'"

DAMOETAS "Fell as the wolf is to the folded flock, Rain to ripe corn, Sirocco to the trees, The wrath of Amaryllis is to me."

MENALCAS "As moisture to the corn, to ewes with young Lithe willow, as arbute to the yeanling kids, So sweet Amyntas, and none else, to me."

DAMOETAS "My Muse, although she be but country-bred, Is loved by Pollio: O Pierian Maids, Pray you, a heifer for your reader feed!"

MENALCAS "Pollio himself too doth new verses make: Feed ye a bull now ripe to butt with horn, And scatter with his hooves the flying sand."

DAMOETAS "Who loves thee, Pollio, may he thither come Where thee he joys beholding; ay, for him Let honey flow, the thorn-bush spices bear."

MENALCAS "Who hates not Bavius, let him also love Thy songs, O Maevius, ay, and therewithal Yoke foxes to his car, and he-goats milk."

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.

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.

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.

What if he also strive To out-sing Phoebus?

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.

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?"

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!

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.