The Bucolics and Eclogues Part 3

No Phyllis or Alcippe left at home Had I, to shelter my new-weaned lambs, And no slight matter was a singing-bout 'Twixt Corydon and Thyrsis. Howsoe'er, I let my business wait upon their sport.

So they began to sing, voice answering voice In strains alternate- for alternate strains The Muses then were minded to recall- First Corydon, then Thyrsis in reply.

CORYDON "Libethrian Nymphs, who are my heart's delight, Grant me, as doth my Codrus, so to sing- Next to Apollo he- or if to this We may not all attain, my tuneful pipe Here on this sacred pine shall silent hang."

THYRSIS "Arcadian shepherds, wreathe with ivy-spray Your budding poet, so that Codrus burst With envy: if he praise beyond my due, Then bind my brow with foxglove, lest his tongue With evil omen blight the coming bard."

CORYDON "This bristling boar's head, Delian Maid, to thee, With branching antlers of a sprightly stag, Young Micon offers: if his luck but hold, Full-length in polished marble, ankle-bound With purple buskin, shall thy statue stand."

THYRSIS "A bowl of milk, Priapus, and these cakes, Yearly, it is enough for thee to claim; Thou art the guardian of a poor man's plot.

Wrought for a while in marble, if the flock At lambing time be filled,stand there in gold."

CORYDON "Daughter of Nereus, Galatea mine, Sweeter than Hybla-thyme, more white than swans, Fairer than ivy pale, soon as the steers Shall from their pasture to the stalls repair, If aught for Corydon thou carest, come."

THYRSIS "Now may I seem more bitter to your taste Than herb Sardinian, rougher than the broom, More worthless than strewn sea-weed, if to-day Hath not a year out-lasted! Fie for shame!

Go home, my cattle, from your grazing go!"

CORYDON "Ye mossy springs, and gra.s.s more soft than sleep, And arbute green with thin shade sheltering you, Ward off the solstice from my flock, for now Comes on the burning summer, now the buds Upon the limber vine-shoot 'gin to swell."

THYRSIS "Here is a hearth, and resinous logs, here fire Unstinted, and doors black with ceaseless smoke.

Here heed we Boreas' icy breath as much As the wolf heeds the number of the flock, Or furious rivers their restraining banks."

CORYDON "The junipers and p.r.i.c.kly chestnuts stand, And 'neath each tree lie strewn their several fruits, Now the whole world is smiling, but if fair Alexis from these hill-slopes should away, Even the rivers you would ; see run dry."

THYRSIS "The field is parched, the gra.s.s-blades thirst to death In the faint air; Liber hath grudged the hills His vine's o'er-shadowing: should my Phyllis come, Green will be all the grove, and Jupiter Descend in floods of fertilizing rain."

CORYDON "The poplar doth Alcides hold most dear, The vine Iacchus, Phoebus his own bays, And Venus fair the myrtle: therewithal Phyllis doth hazels love, and while she loves, Myrtle nor bay the hazel shall out-vie."

THYRSIS "Ash in the forest is most beautiful, Pine in the garden, poplar by the stream, Fir on the mountain-height; but if more oft Thou'ldst come to me, fair Lycidas, to thee Both forest-ash, and garden-pine should bow."

MELIBOEUS These I remember, and how Thyrsis strove For victory in vain. From that time forth Is Corydon still Corydon with us.

ECLOGUE VIII

TO POLLIO DAMON ALPHESIBOEUS

Of Damon and Alphesiboeus now, Those shepherd-singers at whose rival strains The heifer wondering forgot to graze, The lynx stood awe-struck, and the flowing streams, Unwonted loiterers, stayed their course to hear- How Damon and Alphesiboeus sang Their pastoral ditties, will I tell the tale.

Thou, whether broad Timavus' rocky banks Thou now art pa.s.sing, or dost skirt the sh.o.r.e Of the Illyrian main,- will ever dawn That day when I thy deeds may celebrate, Ever that day when through the whole wide world I may renown thy verse- that verse alone Of Sophoclean buskin worthy found?

With thee began, to thee shall end, the strain.

Take thou these songs that owe their birth to thee, And deign around thy temples to let creep This ivy-chaplet 'twixt the conquering bays.

Scarce had night's chilly shade forsook the sky What time to nibbling sheep the dewy gra.s.s Tastes sweetest, when, on his smooth shepherd-staff Of olive leaning, Damon thus began.

DAMON "Rise, Lucifer, and, heralding the light, Bring in the genial day, while I make moan Fooled by vain pa.s.sion for a faithless bride, For Nysa, and with this my dying breath Call on the G.o.ds, though little it bestead- The G.o.ds who heard her vows and heeded not.

"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.

Ever hath Maenalus his murmuring groves And whispering pines, and ever hears the songs Of love-lorn shepherds, and of Pan, who first Brooked not the tuneful reed should idle lie.

"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.

Nysa to Mopsus given! what may not then We lovers look for? soon shall we see mate Griffins with mares, and in the coming age Shy deer and hounds together come to drink.

"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.

Now, Mopsus, cut new torches, for they bring Your bride along; now, bridegroom, scatter nuts: Forsaking Oeta mounts the evening star!

"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.

O worthy of thy mate, while all men else Thou scornest, and with loathing dost behold My shepherd's pipe, my goats, my s.h.a.ggy brow, And untrimmed beard, nor deem'st that any G.o.d For mortal doings hath regard or care.

"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.

Once with your mother, in our orchard-garth, A little maid I saw you- I your guide- Plucking the dewy apples. My twelfth year I scarce had entered, and could barely reach The brittle boughs. I looked, and I was lost; A sudden frenzy swept my wits away.

"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.

Now know I what Love is: 'mid savage rocks Tmaros or Rhodope brought forth the boy, Or Garamantes in earth's utmost bounds- No kin of ours, nor of our blood begot.

"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.

Fierce Love it was once steeled a mother's heart With her own offspring's blood her hands to imbrue: Mother, thou too wert cruel; say wert thou More cruel, mother, or more ruthless he?

Ruthless the boy, thou, mother, cruel too.

"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.

Now let the wolf turn tail and fly the sheep, Tough oaks bear golden apples, alder-trees Bloom with narcissus-flower, the tamarisk Sweat with rich amber, and the screech-owl vie In singing with the swan: let t.i.tyrus Be Orpheus, Orpheus in the forest-glade, Arion 'mid his dolphins on the deep.

"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian lays.

Yea, be the whole earth to mid-ocean turned!

Farewell, ye woodlands I from the tall peak Of yon aerial rock will headlong plunge Into the billows: this my latest gift, From dying lips bequeathed thee, see thou keep.

Cease now, my flute, now cease Maenalian lays."

Thus Damon: but do ye, Pierian Maids- We cannot all do all things- tell me how Alphesiboeus to his strain replied.

ALPHESIBOEUS "Bring water, and with soft wool-fillet bind These altars round about, and burn thereon Rich vervain and male frankincense, that I May strive with magic spells to turn astray My lover's saner senses, whereunto There lacketh nothing save the power of song.

"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.

Songs can the very moon draw down from heaven Circe with singing changed from human form The comrades of Ulysses, and by song Is the cold meadow-snake, asunder burst.

"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.

These triple threads of threefold colour first I twine about thee, and three times withal Around these altars do thine image bear: Uneven numbers are the G.o.d's delight.

"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.

Now, Amaryllis, ply in triple knots The threefold colours; ply them fast, and say This is the chain of Venus that I ply.

"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.

As by the kindling of the self-same fire Harder this clay, this wax the softer grows, So by my love may Daphnis; sprinkle meal, And with bitumen burn the brittle bays.

Me Daphnis with his cruelty doth burn, I to melt cruel Daphnis burn this bay.

"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.

As when some heifer, seeking for her steer Through woodland and deep grove, sinks wearied out On the green sedge beside a stream, love-lorn, Nor marks the gathering night that calls her home- As pines that heifer, with such love as hers May Daphnis pine, and I not care to heal.

"Draw from the town, my songs, draw Daphnis home.