Eclogues

Perseus Latin · Perseus Latin · 1,060 sections

4.64
earth, and wide ocean, and the vault profound,
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all, see, enraptured of the coming time!
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Ah! might such length of days to me be given,
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and breath suffice me to rehearse thy deeds,
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nor Thracian Orpheus should out-sing me then,
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nor Linus, though his mother this, and that
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his sire should aid—Orpheus Calliope,
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and Linus fair Apollo. Nay, though Pan,
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with Arcady for judge, my claim contest,
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with Arcady for judge great Pan himself
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should own him foiled, and from the field retire.
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Begin to greet thy mother with a smile,
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o baby-boy! ten months of weariness
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for thee she bore: O baby-boy, begin!
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For him, on whom his parents have not smiled,
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gods deem not worthy of their board or bed.
5.1
Why, Mopsus, being both together met,
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you skilled to breathe upon the slender reeds,
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I to sing ditties, do we not sit down
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here where the elm-trees and the hazels blend?
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You are the elder, 'tis for me to bide
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your choice, Menalcas, whether now we seek
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yon shade that quivers to the changeful breeze,
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or the cave's shelter. Look you how the cave
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is with the wild vine's clusters over-laced!
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None but Amyntas on these hills of ours
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can vie with you.
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What if he also strive
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to out-sing Phoebus?
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Do you first begin,
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good Mopsus, whether minded to sing aught
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of Phyllis and her loves, or Alcon's praise,
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or to fling taunts at Codrus. Come, begin,
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while Tityrus watches o'er the grazing kids.
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Nay, then, I will essay what late I carved
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on a green beech-tree's rind, playing by turns,
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and marking down the notes; then afterward
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bid you Amyntas match them if he can.
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As limber willow to pale olive yields,
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as lowly Celtic nard to rose-buds bright,
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so, to my mind, Amyntas yields to you.
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But hold awhile, for to the cave we come.
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“For Daphnis cruelly slain wept all the Nymphs—
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ye hazels, bear them witness, and ye streams—
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when she, his mother, clasping in her arms
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the hapless body of the son she bare,
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to gods and stars unpitying, poured her plaint.
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Then, Daphnis, to the cooling streams were none
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that drove the pastured oxen, then no beast
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drank of the river, or would the grass-blade touch.
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Nay, the wild rocks and woods then voiced the roar
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of Afric lions mourning for thy death.
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Daphnis, 'twas thou bad'st yoke to Bacchus' car
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armenian tigresses, lead on the pomp
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of revellers, and with tender foliage wreathe
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the bending spear-wands. As to trees the vine
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is crown of glory, as to vines the grape,
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bulls to the herd, to fruitful fields the corn,
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so the one glory of thine own art thou.
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When the Fates took thee hence, then Pales' self,
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and even Apollo, left the country lone.
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Where the plump barley-grain so oft we sowed,
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there but wild oats and barren darnel spring;
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for tender violet and narcissus bright
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thistle and prickly thorn uprear their heads.
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Now, O ye shepherds, strew the ground with leaves,
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and o'er the fountains draw a shady veil—
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so Daphnis to his memory bids be done—
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and rear a tomb, and write thereon this verse:
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‘I, Daphnis in the woods, from hence in fame
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am to the stars exalted, guardian once
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of a fair flock, myself more fair than they.’”
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So is thy song to me, poet divine,
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as slumber on the grass to weary limbs,
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or to slake thirst from some sweet-bubbling rill
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in summer's heat. Nor on the reeds alone,
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but with thy voice art thou, thrice happy boy,
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ranked with thy master, second but to him.
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Yet will I, too, in turn, as best I may,
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sing thee a song, and to the stars uplift
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thy Daphnis—Daphnis to the stars extol,
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for me too Daphnis loved.
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Than such a boon
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what dearer could I deem? the boy himself
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was worthy to be sung, and many a time
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hath Stimichon to me your singing praised.
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“In dazzling sheen with unaccustomed eyes
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daphnis stands rapt before Olympus' gate,
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and sees beneath his feet the clouds and stars.
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Wherefore the woods and fields, Pan, shepherd-folk,
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and Dryad-maidens, thrill with eager joy;
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nor wolf with treacherous wile assails the flock,
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nor nets the stag: kind Daphnis loveth peace.
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The unshorn mountains to the stars up-toss
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voices of gladness; ay, the very rocks,
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the very thickets, shout and sing, ‘A god,
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a god is he, Menalcas’ Be thou kind,
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propitious to thine own. Lo! altars four,
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twain to thee, Daphnis, and to Phoebus twain
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for sacrifice, we build; and I for thee

Perseus Latin. CTS URN phi0690.phi001.perseus-eng2. Via the Perseus Digital Library / Open Greek and Latin TEI corpora. Licence: CC BY-SA 4.0. Source.