The Bucolics and Ecloges [English] | Page 7

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 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 bullHappy?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