Eclogues

Perseus Latin · Perseus Latin · 1,060 sections

5.85
two beakers yearly of fresh milk afoam,
5.86
and of rich olive-oil two bowls, will set;
5.87
and of the wine-god's bounty above all,
5.88
if cold, before the hearth, or in the shade
5.89
at harvest-time, to glad the festal hour,
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from flasks of Ariusian grape will pour
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sweet nectar. Therewithal at my behest
5.92
shall Lyctian Aegon and Damoetas sing,
5.93
and Alphesiboeus emulate in dance
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the dancing Satyrs. This, thy service due,
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shalt thou lack never, both when we pay the Nymphs
5.96
our yearly vows, and when with lustral rites
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the fields we hallow. Long as the wild boar
5.98
shall love the mountain-heights, and fish the streams,
5.99
while bees on thyme and crickets feed on dew,
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thy name, thy praise, thine honour, shall endure.
5.101
Even as to Bacchus and to Ceres, so
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to thee the swain his yearly vows shall make;
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and thou thereof, like them, shalt quittance claim.”
5.104
How, how repay thee for a song so rare?
5.105
For not the whispering south-wind on its way
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so much delights me, nor wave-smitten beach,
5.107
nor streams that race adown their bouldered beds.
5.108
First this frail hemlock-stalk to you I give,
5.109
which taught me “Corydon with love was fired
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for fair Alexis,” ay, and this beside,
5.111
“Who owns the flock?—Meliboeus?”
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But take you
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this shepherd's crook, which, howso hard he begged,
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antigenes, then worthy to be loved,
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prevailed not to obtain—with brass, you see,
5.116
and equal knots, Menalcas, fashioned fair!
6.1
first my Thalia stooped in sportive mood
6.2
to Syracusan strains, nor blushed within
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the woods to house her. When I sought to tell
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of battles and of kings, the Cynthian god
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plucked at mine ear and warned me: “Tityrus,
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beseems a shepherd-wight to feed fat sheep,
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but sing a slender song.” Now, Varus, I—
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for lack there will not who would laud thy deeds,
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and treat of dolorous wars—will rather tune
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to the slim oaten reed my silvan lay.
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I sing but as vouchsafed me; yet even this
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if, if but one with ravished eyes should read,
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of thee, O Varus, shall our tamarisks
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and all the woodland ring; nor can there be
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a page more dear to Phoebus, than the page
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where, foremost writ, the name of Varus stands.
6.17
Speed ye, Pierian Maids! Within a cave
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young Chromis and Mnasyllos chanced to see
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silenus sleeping, flushed, as was his wont,
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with wine of yesterday. Not far aloof,
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slipped from his head, the garlands lay, and there
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by its worn handle hung a ponderous cup.
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Approaching—for the old man many a time
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had balked them both of a long hoped-for song—
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garlands to fetters turned, they bind him fast.
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Then Aegle, fairest of the Naiad-band,
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aegle came up to the half-frightened boys,
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came, and, as now with open eyes he lay,
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with juice of blood-red mulberries smeared him o'er,
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both brow and temples. Laughing at their guile,
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and crying, “Why tie the fetters? loose me, boys;
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enough for you to think you had the power;
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now list the songs you wish for—songs for you,
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another meed for her”—forthwith began.
6.35
Then might you see the wild things of the wood,
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with Fauns in sportive frolic beat the time,
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and stubborn oaks their branchy summits bow.
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Not Phoebus doth the rude Parnassian crag
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so ravish, nor Orpheus so entrance the heights
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of Rhodope or Ismarus: for he sang
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how through the mighty void the seeds were driven
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of earth, air, ocean, and of liquid fire,
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how all that is from these beginnings grew,
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and the young world itself took solid shape,
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then 'gan its crust to harden, and in the deep
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shut Nereus off, and mould the forms of things
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little by little; and how the earth amazed
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beheld the new sun shining, and the showers
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fall, as the clouds soared higher, what time the woods
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'gan first to rise, and living things to roam
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scattered among the hills that knew them not.
6.52
Then sang he of the stones by Pyrrha cast,
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of Saturn's reign, and of Prometheus' theft,
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and the Caucasian birds, and told withal
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nigh to what fountain by his comrades left
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the mariners cried on Hylas till the shore
6.57
then re-echoed “Hylas, Hylas!” soothed
6.58
pasiphae with the love of her white bull—
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happy if cattle-kind had never been!—
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o ill-starred maid, what frenzy caught thy soul
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the daughters too of Proetus filled the fields
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with their feigned lowings, yet no one of them
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of such unhallowed union e'er was fain
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as with a beast to mate, though many a time
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on her smooth forehead she had sought for horns,
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and for her neck had feared the galling plough.
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O ill-starred maid! thou roamest now the hills,
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while on soft hyacinths he, his snowy side

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.