Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN 
 
 . J 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 

 
 LYRICS AND BUCOLICS.
 
 \XSRJKSTf 
 
 rv>? f 1 k. T < ; -' "*'*" ' 
 
 LYRICS AND 'BUCOLICS. 
 
 THE ECLOGUES OF VIRGIL, 
 
 A SELECTION FROM THE ODES OF HORACE, 
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE SIBYLL 
 
 TRANSLATED 
 
 BY T. HERBERT NOYES, JUN R - 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR. 
 
 JOHN C A M DEN II O T T E N, P I C C A D I L L Y. 
 1868.
 
 WYMAN AND SONS, 
 51EXTAI., CLASSICAL, AND GENERAL PRINTERS, 
 
 GREAT QUEEN STREET, \v.c.
 
 ?A 
 GIG4 
 
 N 677 
 
 D ED 1C A TION. 
 
 VIRGIL to Varus once inscribed his lays, 
 
 And deem'd the' illustrious name would lustre lend 
 To his sweet strains, which needed no such glaze ; 
 
 Now Varus lives by virtue of his friend : 
 Friendship still lingers in our later days 
 
 On whom shall I my little dole expend I 
 
 Unknown to fame, to fortune quite unknown 
 The Dame I mean her daughter knows me well ! 
 
 I scarce dare hope, that all the wit I own. 
 Will win for me one whiff of Maro's spell, 
 
 ( )r set me on a footstool by his throne. 
 
 Then why should I engraft upon my page 
 The name I fain would honor, if my lays 
 
 Will lift it to no dais on the stage 1 
 
 I'll pay no honest debts with worthless praise.
 
 vi DEDICATION. 
 
 Then should I rather take some titled name, 
 And dub it for the nonce " my noble friend, "- 
 
 The royal road to cheap and spurious fame, 
 And flaunt whatever lustre that can lend I 
 
 So let the ruck : No borrowed plumes for me, 
 I'll don my own, or else put up with none : 
 
 I scoff at no time-honoured pedigree, 
 But tinsel gauds, that glitter in the sun, 
 
 I spurn them all. Content to bide my time, 
 I'll grasp the thorns, and trust to find the rose 
 
 I will not give my friends untested rhyme ; 
 I'll dedicate this venture to my foes.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Preface 
 
 THE BUCOLICS OF VIRGIL. 
 
 Eclogue I. Tityrus ... ... ... ... i 
 
 Eclogue II. Alexis ... 8 
 
 Eclogue III. Palcemon ... ... ... ... 14 
 
 Eclogue IV. Pollio ... ... 24 
 
 Eclogue V. Daphnis ... ... ... ... 32 
 
 Eclogue VI. Silenus ... ... ... ... 43 
 
 Eclogue VII. Melibceus ... ... ... ... 53 
 
 Eclogue VI II. Pharniaceutria ... .. ... 60 
 
 Eclogue IX. Mocris ... ... ... ... 70 
 
 Eclogue X. Callus ... ... ... ... 77 
 
 THE ODES OE HORACE. 
 
 Index ... ... ... ... ... 86 
 
 Lib. I. Ode III. To the ship which was to take Virgil 
 
 to Athens ... ... ... ... ... 87 
 
 Lib. I. Ode V. To Pyrrha ... ... 89 
 
 Lib. I. Ode IX. To Thaliarch ... ... ... 91 
 
 Lib. I. Ode XI. To Leuconoe. ... ... 93 
 
 Lib. I. Ode XV. The Prophecy of Nereus. ... ... 94
 
 viii COX TENTS. 
 
 Lib. I. Ode XXIII. To Chloe ... Page 97 
 
 Lib. I. Ode XXXVII. To his Boon Companions ... 98 
 
 Lib. I. Ode XXXVIII. To his Sen-ing Man ... 100 
 
 Lib. II. Ode III. To Delius ... 101 
 
 Lib. II. Ode X. To Licinius ... 104 
 
 Lib. II. Ode XIII. To a Falling Tree ... 106 
 
 Lib. II. Ode XIV. To Posthumus ... 109 
 
 Lib. II. Ode XVIII. The Vanity of Luxury ... in 
 
 Lib. III. Ode II. To the Romans ... ... ... 113 
 
 Lib. III. Ode III. The efficacy of Virtue and Resolu- 
 tion... ... ... ... ... ..: 116 
 
 Lib. III. Ode XIX. To Telephus... ... 120 
 
 Lib. III. Ode XXII. To Diana ... 122 
 
 Lib. III. Ode XXVI. To Venus ... ... 123 
 
 Lib. IV. Ode VII. To Torquatus ... ... 124 
 
 Lib V. Ode II. Country Life ... ... 127 
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE SIBVLL. 
 
 A Free Translation from Ovid's Metamorphoses and the 
 
 .Eneid ... ... ... ... ... 131 
 
 THE EPILOGUE. 
 
 Sonnet I. --The Death ... ... 139 
 
 Sonnet II. The Dinre 140
 
 P REFA CE 
 
 T T seems superfluous to explain to my readers that 
 * the term " Bucolics," usually but incorrectly 
 translated " Pastorals," means simply the " Lays of 
 the Ox-herds." 
 
 The term " Eclogue," by which the several lays 
 are generally known, means nothing more than 
 "Selections," and answers to the term " Idylls," used 
 by Theocritus, whom Virgil imitated in these poems. 
 They are said to have been begun by the poet at the 
 age of twenty-nine, and to have been completed in 
 three years. A.U.C. 713-716. Their publication 
 created no small sensation at Rome, and it was their 
 beauty which induced Meccenas to propose to the poet 
 to follow them up with the Georgics, which were not 
 completed till his forty-fifth year, and not till then 
 was the .Eneid begun. I do not propose to enlarge 
 upon the life of Virgil in introducing these, his 
 earliest lays, in a new dress to an English audience.
 
 x PREFACE. 
 
 My classical readers will know already all that I could 
 tell them ; and if I should be so fortunate as to 
 interest any whose studies have led them to browse 
 exclusively in other than classic pastures, they will be 
 at no loss where to turn for the missing lore. But I 
 am told that the event is unlikely, for that in these 
 practical days poetry has lost its ancient hold on the 
 imaginations of men that the writers of fiction stand 
 now where poets stood of yore, and that of the very 
 small portion of popular favour still bestowed on 
 rhymes, pastorals enjoy the smallest fraction, and are 
 least in unison with the spirit of the age. It may be 
 so. We are doubtless a great deal wiser than our 
 ancestors, and little in the habit of echoing the 
 sentiments of Virgil's friend, 
 
 -ICtas parcntum, pejor avis, tulit 
 Nos nequiores : 
 
 And perhaps the old Romans, who applauded the 
 lays of the ox-herds, were quite in the wrong. But 
 I will not think so. To paraphrase what an eminent 
 philosopher has said with regard to the study of 
 metaphysics : " Whatever nation has given up 
 poetry is in a state of intellectual insolvency. Though 
 its granaries should be bursting, its territories netted 
 with railroads, its mills and founderies the busiest in
 
 PREFACE. xi 
 
 the world, the mark of the beast is on it, and it is 
 going the way of all brutality." Well, I am slow to 
 believe that we have embarked on that voyage. I 
 am inclined to think that it is the fault of modern 
 poets, rather than their readers, if much modern 
 poetry does not gain a hearing nowadays. It is 
 either too abstruse, and requires too much thought 
 and study to take a swift hold of the imagination ; 
 or the beauty of the shell, maybe, is not sufficiently 
 attractive to make up for the emptiness of the kernel. 
 And the attempt to transplant the acknowledged 
 gems of other languages into our own, is too often 
 marred by a servile adherence to the letter ; the 
 result being that the poet is made to speak with a 
 foreign accent, which is an insuperable drawback to 
 his popularity. No two languages, that I know of, 
 admit of a literal interchange of ideas, or precise 
 identity of phraseology ; and I hold that whoever 
 sacrifices the idiom of his mother tongue, or forces 
 its phraseology in deference to the language trans- 
 lated, violates a golden rule and misapprehends the 
 true functions and purpose of poetry. Whatever 
 may be the merit of closely adhering to the letter 
 of the original, I apprehend that an approximation 
 to the spirit is of far greater consequence ; and I 
 find that an old English poet of the seventeenth
 
 xii PREFACE. 
 
 century has expressed himself on this subject so 
 admirably, that I cannot do better than quote his 
 words in support of my position. In reference to 
 Fanshawe's version of Guarini, Sir John Denham 
 writes : 
 
 That servile path thou nobly dost decline, 
 
 Of tracing word by word and line by line, 
 
 Those are the laboured birth of slavish brains, 
 
 Xot the effect of poetry, but pains, 
 
 Cheap vulgar arts, whose narrowness affords 
 
 No flight for thoughts, but poorly stick at words : 
 
 A new and nobler way thou dost pursue 
 
 To make translations and translators too ; 
 
 They but preserve the ashes, thou the flame, 
 
 True to his sense, but truer to his fame. 
 
 Need I say more ? If only my practice \vere equal 
 to his theory, or my own, further preface would be 
 superfluous : but the practice of preachers is apt to 
 be below their own standard, and a translator's path 
 notoriously lies betwixt Scylla and Charybdis. Few, 
 if any, have ever yet steered clear of the shoals on 
 either side, so it will be as well to apologi/e before- 
 hand for the aberrations of the pilot. I trust that 
 my wish to be a faithful interpreter has not been 
 marred either by lack of care or any misapprehension 
 of my master's meaning ; but huinaniiin <;;/ crrarc. 
 If my rendering should, now and then, seem at
 
 PREFACE. xiii 
 
 first sight to be somewhat loose, or the exigencies 
 of rhyme should entail a few apparent interpola- 
 tions, I trust that it will be found, on examination, 
 that I have not unjustifiably paraphrased, or amplified, 
 my master's own pregnant words. It will be for 
 the critic to determine how far I have succeeded 
 in what, to use the hackneyed expression, has been 
 my labour of love. If I should obtain a verdict in 
 my favour, I shall be well content ; if I should be 
 so fortunate as to add any to the number of those 
 who honor Dante's worshipful guide, I shall be well 
 rewarded. 
 
 In adopting different variations of the ballad 
 metres, and octosyllabics, I have been guided by my 
 judgment of what appeared most suitable to the 
 several lays. But I am inclined to regret not having 
 made more use of the metre I have chosen for the 
 seventh Eclogue, which appears to me peculiarly 
 appropriate to this variety of poem. Professor 
 Conington, in his admirable version of the ./Eneid, 
 remarks that the number of syllables in two octo- 
 syllabic lines is very little in excess of the average 
 number of syllables in an hexameter. The choice 
 of a metre, containing the same number of syllables 
 as the original, is, I think, very conducive to the 
 faithfulness of a translation. Pregnant and concise
 
 xiv PREFA CE 
 
 as the Latin has been always considered, our own 
 tongue will, if this test be applied, prove to be 
 a closer rival to it than it has usually been deemed. 
 It is too much to expect that our old heroic line 
 of ten syllables should comprise all that can be 
 said in an hexameter, which averages fifteen ; and 
 I take it to be a most mistaken idea to restrict 
 a translation to the identical number of lines of the 
 original, irrespective of their length. This applies 
 with especial force to the Odes of Horace and 
 I regret to find my opinion here at variance with 
 that of Professor Conington. The restriction may 
 sometimes lead to happy results, earning the credit 
 due to successful tours de force, but, as a rule, it is 
 apt to necessitate omissions, which are to be depre- 
 cated, far more, I think, than interpolations, which, 
 if judiciously, and sparingly introduced, and indicated 
 by brackets, appear to me to be a legitimate, if not 
 an indispensable, item among the resources of the 
 translator. For every poet of necessity modifies 
 his phraseology according to the requirements of 
 his metre, and thinks out thoughts to replace such 
 as will not fit the space for which they were intended. 
 This is but the "lima: labor' 1 ' 1 preached and practised 
 by the great Professor Horace himself. And can it 
 be supposed for a moment that, if the poet had
 
 PREFACE. xv 
 
 written in our own language, he would have retained 
 precisely the same expressions, and the same 
 metaphors, and excluded others which the genius 
 of the language would have suggested to him 1 
 Assuredly not. And if we are to make his rhymes 
 as acceptable to our contemporaries as he would 
 have done and that is surely the main object of a 
 translation a similar license must be conceded to 
 us in this respect. It is the abuse, and not the 
 use, of such a license which is, in my judgment, to 
 be deprecated. 
 
 I have thought it not inappropriate to place within 
 these boards a few of the Lyrics of the great master's 
 no less distinguished friend. He has found so many 
 interpreters of late, that it seemed superfluous to 
 undertake another version of the whole. But I could 
 see no valid reason why I should not attempt a few 
 especial favourites from among them. While I have 
 generally inclined to popular English measures, I 
 have thought it not amiss to render some few odes 
 into the original metres, abandoning rhyme for 
 rhythm. The difficulties of the Alcaic are con- 
 siderable, though not insurmountable ; but it is 
 questionable how far the metre, even if mastered, 
 will ever be naturalized. It certainly never can 
 be popular, unless a natural system of prosody be
 
 xvi PREFACE. 
 
 adopted, which will enable it to be read, with 
 ease and fluency, by those who are altogether un- 
 acquainted with the classical originals. I am not 
 unconscious of the shortcomings of these experi- 
 ments but if I have not altogether fallen short of 
 the standard of my predecessors, I shall have no 
 reason to -regret the few pleasant hours I have 
 spent over my alluring task. 
 
 It only remains for me to record my obligations 
 to several kind friends for their judicious criticisms, 
 and especially to the Rev. G. W. Kitchin, of Ch. 
 Ch., Oxon, for the trouble he has taken in looking 
 through my proof-sheets, and for many valuable 
 suggestions ; and, in conclusion, to express a hope 
 that my reception on this new stage may not be 
 such as to discourage my speedy reappearance on 
 the boards. 
 
 T. HERBERT XOYES, Jux K - 
 
 UNITED UNIVERSITY CLUB, 
 December, 1867.
 
 THE BUCOLICS 
 
 ECLOGUE I. TITYRUS. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 When Octavian (afterwards Augustus Csesar) had rewarded 
 his veterans by a grant of confiscated land in the neighbourhood 
 of Cremona and Mantua, Virgil, among others, was de- 
 spoiled of his Mantuan estate, but recovered what he had lost 
 through the interest of Asinius Pollio with Mecsenas, and 
 through him with Octavian. So, in this first Eclogue he sings 
 the praises of Octavian, his own good fortune under the 
 pseudonym of Tityrus, and the evil fortunes of the Mantuans 
 represented by the exiled Melibceus. 
 
 McL Ah ! Tityrus, in this sweet glade 
 Beneath the beeches' branching shade, 
 'Tis thine to dream at ease, and woo 
 The sylvan muse, the summer through, 
 
 Upon the rustic reed. 
 But we must quit our native land, 
 The fields we love, a homeless band, 
 Whilst thou dost make the groves around 
 Thine Amaryllid's name resound, 
 
 Nor lack of leisure plead. 10 
 
 Tit. Oh, Melibceus, he whose nod 
 Hath wrought this leisure is a God ; 
 B
 
 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 At least, to me, will ever be, 
 
 Whatever betide, a Deity ; 
 
 For him our folds shall oft supply 
 
 A tender lamb foredoomed to die 
 
 Upon his altars, evermore 
 
 Imbrued with sacrificial gore. 
 
 For he it is who, as you see, 
 
 Hath left my kine at large, and me 20 
 
 At liberty to pipe and plead, 
 
 All day upon my rustic reed. 
 
 Mel. Indeed, my friend, I grudge it not, 
 I rather marvel at thy lot, 
 Amid such ruin as prevails 
 Throughout these whilom happy dales. 
 I, but a feeble invalid, 
 My flock of milch-goats forth must speed, 
 Yet scarce can stir this one poor ewe, 
 For in this hazel copse she threw, 30 
 
 Just now, the promise of my flock 
 Twin kidlings on the barren rock, 
 Abandoned, as you see, to die ! 
 What wonder, then, that I should sigh ! 
 Now well I wot that, if my mind 
 Had not been once perversely blind, 
 Full oft the lightning-blasted oak, 
 And eke the boding raven's croak 
 From out the hollow ilex tree, 
 When I would neither hear nor see, 40 
 
 Predicted all these ills to me.
 
 ECLOGUE I.TITYRUS. 3 
 
 But, Tityrus, old friend, I pray 
 What Deity protects thee, say ? 
 
 Tit. The city, friend, whose name is Rome, 
 I idly deemed like ours at home ; 
 Our Mantua, where, thou know'st it well, 
 The produce of our flocks we sell ; 
 So whelps I knew were like their dams, 
 So ewes were like the tender lambs, 
 And so I always thought it fair 50 
 
 Great things with little to compare ; 
 But soon I found that Rome, so vast, 
 All other cities far surpassed 
 As cypresses, that soar so high, 
 The lowly osier brakes outvie. 
 
 Mel. But tell me, now, what made thee go 
 To visit Rome ? I fain would know. 
 
 Tit. Freedom, which smiled at last, though 
 
 late, 
 
 On me, submissive to my fate : 
 How late, why let the barber say 60 
 
 Who found my beard was tinged with grey. 
 'Twas when, by Amaryllid's smiles, 
 Released from Galatea's wiles, 
 I learnt the worth of liberty ; 
 For I must needs confess that I 
 My hopes had all resigned, 
 And found my cash would never last 
 While Galatea held me fast 
 
 Within her bonds confined. 
 B 2
 
 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 Though many a victim from my fold 70 
 
 Was in the Mantuan market sold, 
 
 And busily my press would squeeze 
 
 For thankless cits a wealth of cheese, 
 
 It never was my lot to find 
 
 That wealth of gold remained behind. 
 Mel. I know now, Amaryllis, why 
 
 So sadly thou wert wont to sigh, 
 
 Invoking Heaven, and allow 
 
 The fruit, dead ripe, to weight the bough : 
 
 It was that Tityrus could be 80 
 
 Impassive to thy sighs and thee ! 
 
 The very springs, the very pines, 
 
 The very tendrils of the vines, 
 Oh ! faithless Tityrus, I see, 
 Were vainly beckoning to thee. 
 
 Tit. What could I do ? I could not fly 
 My bondage, nor as yet descry 
 What good the Gods had yet in store 
 For me \\hsn all my woes were o'er. 
 But 'twas si Rome, my friend, I found 90 
 
 The youth to me so justly dear ; 
 The youth for whom, as moons come round, 
 
 My altars smoke twelve times a year : 
 'Twas he conceded me, so soon 
 As it was craved, the welcome boon : 
 ' Go, feed your beeves, boys, as before, 
 And let your bulls be yoked once more." 
 
 Mel. Well clone, old friend ; I see the charm
 
 ECLOGUE I. TITYRUS. 5 
 
 By which thou dost retain thy farm ! 
 
 A farm sufficient for thy need. 100 
 
 Though stony be the soil indeed, 
 
 Though crusty peat and treacherous bog 
 
 With slimy rush the pastures clog, 
 
 No bane of unaccustomed herbs 
 
 Those flocks of lambing ewes disturbs, 
 
 Nor murrain, brought by neighbouring kine, 
 
 Endangers those sleek beeves of thine ; 
 
 But here, my good old friend, it seems, 
 
 Beside the old familiar streams 
 
 And sacred springs, thou'lt still enjoy no 
 
 Cool blissful shade without annoy ; 
 
 Here, by thy fringe of willows, where 
 
 The bees of Hybla oft repair 
 
 The luscious honey-dew to sip 
 
 Its blossoms offer to their lip, 
 
 Their constant hum will challenge sleep, 
 
 While o'er thy couch the willows weep ; 
 
 While from the crags upon the breeze 
 
 Vine-dressers fling wild melodies ; 
 
 And at the caves thy favourite cloves 120 
 
 Exchange the stories of their loves ; 
 
 And turtles on the lofty elms 
 
 With cooings fill their leafy realms. 
 
 Tit. Therefore the hinds shall first repair 
 To goodly pastures in the air, 
 The teaming seas, alive no more, 
 Shall strand their fish upon the shore,
 
 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 The banished Parthian shall drink 
 
 His fill beside the Arar's brink, 
 
 The German sip the Tigris' waves, 130 
 
 Transplanted to the realms it laves, 
 
 Before his image shall depart 
 
 The mindful mirror of my heart. 
 
 Mel. But we to Afric's burning sands 
 Must wander off, and further lands : 
 To Scythia some, and some to Crete, 
 Where swift Oaxes' waters meet 
 The sea ; and some to Britain's coasts, 
 Which in its isolation boasts. 
 Oh ! shall I ever in lapse of time 140 
 
 Again behold my native clime ; 
 My humble cottage, with its roof 
 Of turf, securely weather-proof ? 
 My little farm, my own domain, 
 When shall I see your garbs again ? 
 Shall some wild trooper's wantonness 
 My own spruce tillage lands possess ? 
 Some rude barbarian reap my corn 
 While I am left bereft, forlorn ? 
 To what a pass hath civil strife 150 
 
 Reduced the burden of our life ! 
 For whom have we poor wretches sown 
 The fields we fondly deemed our own ? 
 Go, Melibceus, graft thy pears, 
 And range thy budding vines in layers.
 
 ECLOGUE I.TITYRUS. 7 
 
 My whilom happy flock, proceed, 
 My milch goats, follow, where I lead : 
 Henceforth no more where creepers twine 
 Round some green cave may I recline, 
 And all your agile tricks survey 160 
 
 While on the briery crags you play. 
 Henceforth no songs for me no more 
 'It will be my lot to lead you o'er 
 The mountain paths, and bid you crop 
 The cytisus and willow top. 
 
 Tit. Yet stay one night, my friend, with me ; 
 I'll strew a couch of leaves for thee : 
 Of mellow fruit I have a store, 
 Sweet chestnuts too, and, what is more, 
 Of curded milk a good supply ; 170 
 
 Already now the night is nigh ; 
 From distant chimneys, there, the smoke 
 Is curling up ; and, see, the oak 
 Throws lengthening shadows from the hills 
 The spreading gloom the valley fills.
 
 ECLOGUE //.ALEXIS. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 The loves of two shepherds, Corydon and Alexis. Corydon 
 commences with a complaint that Alexis spurns him, and pro- 
 ceeds to boast of his wealth, his musical talents, and his personal 
 appearance. He celebrates the praises of a rural life, promises 
 him liberal presents, and finally reproaches himself with his 
 folly, and returns to his home pursuits. 
 
 THE shepherd Corydon's chief joy 
 
 Was fair Alexis lovely boy 
 
 His lord's delight ; tho' all in vain 
 
 He strove the youthful heart to gain, 
 
 But none the less would he frequent 
 
 The beech-groves, dense of shade, intent 
 
 On trilling this, his artless song, 
 
 The lonely hills and glades among. 
 
 " Cruel Alexis ! Why despise 
 
 The burden of my songs and sighs? 10 
 
 Hast thou no pity to bestow ? 
 
 Wouldst drive me to the shades below ? 
 
 Now even the flocks for shade retreat 
 
 To cool dark groves and shun the heat ;
 
 ECLOGUE II. ALEXIS. 
 
 And all the emerald lizards fly 
 For refuge to the brambles nigh ; 
 While Thestylis is pounding, see, 
 The garlic-cloves, and betony 
 With garden herbs, good viands meet 
 For reapers wearied with the heat. 
 But as for me, while I pursue 
 
 Beneath the scorching sun's fierce beam 
 Thy flying steps the noontide through 
 
 I hear but shrill tree-crickets scream ! 
 Oh ! was it not enough, and more, 
 To suffer as I did before, 
 When Amaryllid's cold disdain 
 And peevish passion was my bane 1 
 Menalcas too, that faithless friend ! 
 (When will my many troubles end 1) 
 Yet boast not, boy, thy golden hair, 
 Tho' he was dark, and thou art fair ; 
 Unmarked fair privet berries fall, 
 Black bilberries are dear to all. 
 I count for nothing in thine eyes ! 
 Alexis ! witless of thy prize, 
 Thou heedest not my depth of sighs. 
 What wealth of flocks, what dairy store, 
 What streams of milk are mine ! What's more, 
 A thousand little lambs for me 40 
 
 Upon Sicilian hills there be ; 
 New milk in summer fills my cans, 
 Nor yet in winter fail my pans ;
 
 io THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 The songs Amphion used to sing, 
 
 Who made the echoing welkin ring ; 
 
 What time he called his kine to leave 
 
 The Aracynthian slopes at eve ; 
 
 I sing them all. And then, confess, 
 
 I am not void of comeliness, 
 
 For lately, standing on the shore, 50 
 
 I scanned the glassy mirror o'er, 
 
 And saw my image in the sea ; 
 
 And, if its witness faithful be, 
 
 I fear not Daphnid's rivalry ! 
 
 Oh ! would it were thy will to share 
 
 My humble roof, my humbler fare ; 
 
 With me pursue the fleet wild roe, 
 
 Or drive the kids where mallows grow : 
 
 Along with me in wood and lea 
 
 To mimic Pan in minstrelsy. 60 
 
 For Pan it was erst showed the way 
 
 To join with wax the reeds we play ; 
 
 And Pan it is who guards our folds, 
 
 And us, their masters, harmless holds. 
 
 Then, prithee, why my Art disdain 1 
 
 And from the pipes thy lips refrain ? 
 
 Who knows not what unflagging zeal 
 
 Amyntas for his task could feel 1 
 
 A pipe compactly framed I own, 
 
 Seven reeds well tuned, of perfect tone : 70 
 
 Long since Damostas gave it me, 
 
 And dying said, ' 'Tis thou wilt be
 
 ECLOGUE IL ALEXIS. 11 
 
 The second master it has had,' 
 And envy made Amyntas sad. 
 Moreover, two young roes I feed, 
 Two little roes of mountain breed, 
 Which in a dangerous glen I caught, 
 And hardly to my homestead brought 
 Their sides already flecked with white 
 They drain one ewe's two udders quite : 80 
 Long since have they been begged of 
 
 me 
 
 By Thestylis, but kept for thee ! 
 But soon I'll yield them to her sighs 
 Since thou dost all my gifts despise. 
 Come hither, then, my lovely boy, 
 Behold the nymphs, no longer coy, 
 For thee their brimming vases bear 
 All crowned with lilies sweetly fair ; 
 The lovely Naiad plucks for thee 
 White violets and rosemary, 90 
 
 And in her hearty zeal to please 
 Adds vermeil poppy-heads to these, 
 With hyacinths and yellow dill, 
 Whose blossoms balmy scents distil ; 
 And deftly blends with sober flowers 
 Rich marigolds in golden showers. 
 Their gift with quinces I will crown, 
 Hoar quinces clad with velvet down ; 
 And chestnuts too, so dear you know 
 To Amaryllis long ago ; 100
 
 12 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 I'll add some golden plums to these ; 
 
 These apples too may chance to please ; 
 
 These fronds of bay I'll pluck in turn, 
 
 This myrtle next, in hopes to earn 
 
 The favour that my heart entreats 
 
 By studied interchange of sweets. 
 
 Poor Corydon 's a country lout ; 
 
 Alexis can well do without 
 
 Such gifts as his and if, indeed, 
 
 It is with gifts he hopes to plead, 1 1 o 
 
 How hard soever he may try 
 
 With Julius can he hope to vie 1 
 
 Fool that I am ! what have I done ? 
 
 Methinks that all my wits are gone 1 
 
 I have let the wind among the flowers, 
 
 The pigs in these pure founts of ours ! 
 
 Whom, madman, are you fleeing now ] 
 
 The Gods once dwelt in woods, I trow ; 
 
 And Paris too. Let Pallas dwell 120 
 
 In her own chosen citadel ; 
 
 The woods for me ! that life so free, 
 
 The sylvan life is the life for me ! 
 
 The savage lioness pursues 
 
 The wolf: the wolf itself will choose 
 
 The goat for food, that wanton chews 
 
 The cytisus, sweet harmless flower ; 
 
 And Corydon this very hour 
 
 Pursues Alexis to his bower ! 
 
 Each one pursues his own delight, 130
 
 ECLOGUE II. ALEXIS. 13 
 
 Whatever is pleasing in his sight. 
 
 See now the beeves returning here 
 
 Their plough-shares all thrown out of gear, 
 
 And now the setting sun invades 
 
 The landscape with its lengthening shades ; 
 
 Yet love still rages in my breast ; 
 
 Can any bounds love's course arrest ? 
 
 Ah, Corydon ! poor Corydon ! 
 
 What phrenzy moves thee, simpleton '? 
 
 Upon the un trimmed elm thy vine 140 
 
 Is left, I see, half-dressed to twine ! 
 
 Come then, no longer now disdain 
 
 To weave with lithesome rush or cane 
 
 Some handy household implement, 
 
 Nor let thy time be all misspent. 
 
 What if Alexis deal thee scorn, 
 
 Thou wilt not long be left forlorn."
 
 ECLOGUE III. PAUEMON. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 This Eclogue, which is an imitation of the fourth and fifth 
 Idylls of Theocritus, purports to be the record of a musical 
 competition between two shepherds, Menalcas and Damoetas, 
 Palsemon intervening as umpire. It has been held that Virgil 
 intended Damoetas to personate himself, and Menalcas some 
 now unknown rival. Asinius Pollio, whose praises it celebrates 
 incidentally, was governor of the Mantuan territory about A. C. 
 43, which is supposed to be the date of the composition of the 
 Eclogue. 
 
 Men. Whose flocks are these, Damoetas, say, 
 Doth Meliboeus own them, pray 1 
 
 Dam. Not so, but ^Egon ; it was he 
 Who gave them all in charge to me. 
 
 Men. Oh ever luckless flock ! poor sheep ! 
 While he is doubtless gone to keep 
 A watch on Neaera, in his fright 
 Lest I should prove her dear delight ! 
 This stranger's hand will surely milk 
 The hapless ewes twice o'er, and bilk 10
 
 ECLOGUE III.PAL/EMON. 15 
 
 The flock of half its dues, and cheat 
 The lambkins of their wonted teat. 
 
 Darn. Such slanderous taunts 'twere best to 
 
 throw 
 
 More sparingly, I'd have you know. 
 Of you we know a thing or two, 
 What late our goat-herds saw you do ! 
 What honour in the nymph's fair shrine 
 You pleased to pay to things divine ! 
 
 Men. No doubt 'twas when I chanced to see 
 Poor Mice's vineyard cruelly 20 
 
 Maltreated, and each tender vine 
 All hacked about with fell design. 
 
 Dam. Or when by that old beech, you know. 
 You broke poor little Daphnid's bow 
 And arrow, no long while ago, 
 For envy, which you felt so soon 
 As he received the welcome boon ! 
 If you had had no tooth to bite 
 You would soon, I'm sure, have died of spite ! 
 
 Men. Whatever will our masters do 30 
 
 When thieves have got so daring too ! 
 Did I not see you, rascal, aim 
 At catching Damon's goat 1 For shame ! 
 Lycisca barked the while hard by, 
 And when I cried Hi ! Tityrus, hi ! 
 Wherever did the rascal fly 1 
 Drive in the flock behind the hedge 
 You lurked the while among the sedge.
 
 1 6 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 Dam. And why should not the vanquished 
 
 pay 
 
 The prize my pipe had won me, pray ? 40 
 That goat was mine of right, you know, 
 Damon himself avowed it so, 
 While he denied his power to pay. 
 
 Men. Your pipe ! it vanquished him, you say? 
 As if, forsooth, you had e'er been worth 
 A pipe since first you cumbered earth ! 
 Yet stay, I had forgotten, true, 
 The bungler at the crossways, who 
 Of late upon a squeaking straw 
 Was wont to ply his tuneless jaw ! 50 
 
 Dam. Well, then, suppose that you and I 
 Each others' skill at once should try ; 
 I'll stake this heifer without fail 
 Twice daily faithful to the pail, 
 Twin calves she suckles ; who would choose 
 So notable a prize refuse 1 
 But tell us now what stake you wage 1 
 
 Men. I would not venture on a gage 
 From this my flock for I've, in truth, 
 A sire at home, and, to my ruth, 60 
 
 A stepmother and twice a day 
 They count the flock ; whate'er I say, 
 One counts the kids they never fail 
 The other takes the hoggets' tale. 
 But yet I fain would gratify 
 Your madness, though it aim so high ;
 
 ECLOGUE III. PAL^EMON. 17 
 
 Two beechen flagons I will stake, 
 
 Alcimedon's, his famous make, 
 
 Well fashioned on the facile lathe ; 
 
 The vine-leaves, mixed with ivy, swathe 70 
 
 Their rim with wreaths and berries there, 
 
 And clustering grapes attest his care. 
 
 Below two central figures stand, 
 
 Chased richly by his master hand, 
 
 Great Conon* there, and he who well 
 
 Described the globe whereon we dwell, 
 
 And all its seasons, when the plough, 
 
 And when the sickle rules, and how : 
 
 As yet untouched by lips are they, 
 
 Both kept securely stowed away. 80 
 
 Dam. The same Alcimedon for me 
 Two flagons made, as you shall see; 
 Acanthus wreath their handles knits, 
 Their central figure, Orpheus, sits; 
 The green woods follow in his train ; 
 A worthier prize you would seek in vain. 
 Quite innocent of lips are they, 
 Both kept quite snugly stowed away ; 
 But if my heifer 'tis you want, 
 Your flagons all in vain you vaunt. 90 
 
 Men. Think not to 'scape me so at all, 
 On any terms I'm yours at call ; 
 Here comes Palasmon, we are three, 
 The judge between us he shall be ; 
 
 * A friend of Archimedes. 
 C
 
 1 8 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 I'll take good care your voice shall bane 
 No gentle ears henceforth again. 
 
 Dam. Come, then, if you have aught to say, 
 It is not I who would delay, 
 Afraid of none am I ; but, friend 
 Palasmon, you must comprehend 100 
 
 Of how much moment is the fray : 
 So give it all your heed, I pray. 
 
 Pal. Proceed, now we have found a seat 
 Upon the turf so soft and sweet ; 
 The season this for every field 
 And every tree its best to yield ; 
 The woods are green ; we see the year 
 In grandest gala suit appear. 
 Do you, Damoetas, lead the way; 
 Menalcas follow with your lay ; no 
 
 Alternately your lays recite, 
 Alternate strains the Muse delight. 
 
 Dam. 
 
 Jove is the true primeval source, 
 
 He makes the cornlands bear ; 
 All things from Jove derive their force, 
 
 He makes my lays his care. 
 
 Men. 
 
 But I to Phoebus most am dear, 
 His gifts are my heirloom,
 
 ECLOGUE III.PAL&MON. 19 
 
 His bays upon my brow I wear, 
 
 His hyacinthine bloom. 120 
 
 Dam. 
 Tis Galatea, wanton minx, 
 
 Pelts me with fruit and flies 
 Towards the willows, where she thinks 
 
 And longs to catch my eyes. 
 
 Men. 
 Amyntas is the friend so dear 
 
 Who never flies from me j 
 Not Delia's self, so oft she is here, 
 
 My dogs more often see. 
 
 Dam. 
 Gifts ready for my love have I, 
 
 For I have marked the spot 130 
 
 Where wheeling flights of ring-doves fly, 
 
 Beside a sylvan grot. 
 
 Men, 
 Ten golden quinces plucked for me 
 
 I have sent my love to-day, 
 The best I could to-morrow she 
 
 Shall have the rest, I say. 
 
 Dam. 
 My love's own wealth of whispers I 
 
 So sweet and pleasant find, 
 I often think they ought to fly 
 To Heaven upon the wind. 140 
 
 c 2
 
 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 Men. 
 
 What boots it that you spurn me not, 
 
 If with the hounds you ride, 
 Amyntas, while I am oft forgot, 
 
 And with the nets must bide. 
 
 Dam. 
 
 My birthday 'tis my Phillis send 
 
 To glad me with her eyes, 
 You, too, lulus must attend 
 
 My harvest sacrifice. 
 
 Men. 
 
 I love sweet Phillis most of all, 
 
 It is the truth I tell, 150 
 
 She wept my footsteps to recall, 
 
 And sighed one long farewell. 
 
 Dam. 
 
 The wolf 's a caution to the fold, 
 
 The tempest to the tree, 
 To ripened fruit the showers cold, 
 
 Amaryllid's wrath to me. 
 
 Men. 
 
 Soft rain to growing corn is sweet, 
 
 Limp withes to lambing ewes, 
 Kids deem the arbutus a treat, 
 
 Amyntas I would choose. 160
 
 ECLOGUE III.- PALsEMON. 21 
 
 Dam. 
 
 'Tis Pollio loves my rustic Muse, 
 
 Though homely it appear ; 
 Kind Muses, do not then refuse 
 
 For him a calf to rear. 
 
 Men. 
 
 But Pollio's self can sonnets write, 
 
 So he must have a steer, 
 Who with his horns and hoofs can fight, 
 
 And fling sand far and near. 
 
 Dam. 
 
 Who loves thee, Pollio, let him go 
 
 Where thou hast won the palm ; 170 
 
 For him let streams of honey flow, 
 
 The brambles bear him balm. 
 
 Men. 
 
 Who hates not Bavius let him love 
 
 With Msevius to sigh ; 
 Let him yoke foxes too, sweet dove ! 
 
 And milk the he-goat dry. 
 
 Dam. 
 
 Ho ! boys, that cull the flowers take care ! 
 
 Fly quickly, boys, I quake ! 
 Come, leave your flowers and strawberries there, 
 
 The grass conceals a snake ! 180
 
 THE BUCOLICS. 
 Men. 
 
 Haste not, my ewes, so fast, but stay, 
 
 For see the ram your guide, 
 (The treacherous banks have given way), 
 
 He shakes his dripping hide. 
 
 Dam. 
 
 Go, Tityrus, drive the goats away, 
 They are browsing on the bank ; 
 
 I'll take them all myself some day, 
 And wash them in the tank. 
 
 Men. 
 
 Drive home the ewes, lad : should the heat 
 Once strike my poor milch ewes, 190 
 
 As erst, in vain we'll strain the teat, 
 Their milk we'll surely lose. 
 
 Dam. 
 
 Was ever bull so lean as mine 
 
 Among such rich lucerne 1 
 'Tis love that makes the cattle pine, 
 
 And makes the master burn. 
 
 Men. 
 
 It is not love my lambkins harms, 
 
 They are but bones and skin ; 
 I wish I knew whose evil charms 
 
 Have made them all so thin. 200
 
 ECLOGUE III.PALJLMON. 23 
 
 Dam. 
 
 Come, tell me, and I'll vote you now 
 Apollo's wreath to grace your brow, 
 Where in the world can you descry 
 No more than just three ells of sky t 
 
 Men. 
 
 Where in the world, come, tell me now, 
 And Phillis shall be yours I vow, 
 Are monarchs' names who reign on earth 
 Inscribed on fairy flowers at birth 1 
 
 Pal. It cannot be, my friends, that I 
 Betwixt your merits should descry, 210 
 
 Whether of prosperous loves your song, 
 Or darker days when all went wrong 
 (But if the verdict I pronounce, 
 I say the scale swerves not an ounce) ; 
 And both deserve alike, I find, 
 A heifer with bay-wreaths entwined. 
 Shut up the sluices, lads, indeed 
 The meadows now have all they need !
 
 ECLOGUE IV. POLLIO. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 This remarkable Eclogue was expounded by no less a person 
 than Constantine the Great, as a prophecy of the Messiah's coming! 
 It was afterwards thought by some to be an adulatory prophecy of 
 the fortunes of an expected child of the poet's patron, Pollio. Mr. 
 Granville Penn published a volume to prove that it was really a 
 poem in honour of Augustus Caesar, written A. C. 39, when the 
 peace of iSrundusium had laid the foundations of his Imperial 
 power. Mr. Penn holds that the whole poem, after the first 
 four lines, is to be interpreted as proceeding from the mouth of 
 the Cumxan Sibyll. 
 
 I. 
 
 COME, Muse of Etna, let us chant 
 
 A somewhat loftier lay, 
 We do not all for ever pant 
 
 In tamarisk scrub to play. 
 
 2. 
 If forests needs must be our theme, 
 
 Imperial glades we'll choose ; 
 The age that crowned the Sibyll's dream 
 
 Is come proclaim the news.
 
 ECLOGUE IV.POLLIO. 25 
 
 3- 
 
 The world's vast cycle once again 
 
 Begins its course anew, 10 
 
 The Virgin now returns to reign, 
 
 Now Saturn's reign is due. 
 
 4- 
 A babe of heaven is born on earth, 
 
 Blest guerdon of the sky ! 
 Lucina, do thou bless his birth, 
 
 Thy Phoebus reigns on high ! 
 
 5- 
 He is the babe in whom, I ween, 
 
 The iron age expires ; 
 The age of gold will soon be seen 
 
 To crown our hearts' desires. 26. 
 
 6. 
 
 Great Pollio, 'tis thy consulate 
 
 Will see this age begin, 
 The illustrious file is at the gate, 
 
 The file of months steps in. 
 
 7- 
 All traces of what sins remain 
 
 To mar our happy earth, 
 Effaced in thy propitious reign, 
 
 No fears will frighten mirth.
 
 26 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 8. 
 
 Thou babe, the heir of life divine, 
 
 The demigods wilt see, 30 
 
 Commingled with the heavenly line, 
 And seen of them wilt be. 
 
 9- 
 
 Thou'lt rule, with all thy father's worth, 
 
 The world in peace at last, 
 While at thy feet the sons of earth 
 
 Their first-fruits freely cast. 
 
 10. 
 
 The earth untilled will not withhold 
 
 From thee its gifts of balm, 
 And cassia, worth its weight in gold, 
 
 Acanthus wreaths and palm. 40 
 
 1 1. 
 
 With brimming dugs the ewes will fare 
 
 Unbidden to the fold ; 
 The lion's roar will fail to scare 
 
 The herds, securely bold. 
 
 12. 
 
 Thy very cradle, too, will bud, 
 
 And burst forth into bloom ; 
 The earth will drink the serpent's blood, 
 
 And poisonous herbs consume.
 
 ECLOGUE IV.POLLIO. 27 
 
 13- 
 
 Then everywhere, in every mead, 
 
 The Assyrian balm will spring, 50 
 
 (And every noxious germ and seed 
 
 From this our globe take wing). 
 
 14. 
 
 So soon thou canst the annals read 
 
 Of thine ancestral line, 
 And prove that virtue is indeed 
 
 In quality divine. 
 
 IS- 
 
 The ripening ears of corn will turn 
 
 To gold upon the earth, 
 (And all discordant chords will learn 
 
 The harmonies of mirth). 60 
 
 16. 
 
 Then by the rugged paths the grape, 
 The sweet blush grape, will sway, 
 
 And eke the hardy oaks agape 
 Their honeyed stores display. 
 
 Yet haply of the ancient vice 
 Some traces will survive, 
 
 Which mortal men will still entice 
 With ocean's might to strive.
 
 28 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 18. 
 
 Walls still shall girdle cities then, 
 
 The spade still score the lea, 70 
 
 The ploughshare still will busy men, 
 Sailors still tempt the sea. 
 
 19. 
 
 With other pilots at the helm, 
 
 New Argos then will speed, 
 To waft the heroes of the realm 
 
 In other wars to bleed. 
 
 20. 
 
 For other wars there yet must be 
 
 (The antidote of joy) ; 
 The great Achilles we shall see 
 
 Again despatched to Troy. 80 
 
 21. 
 
 But later, when of age mature, 
 
 Thou donn'st the virile gown, 
 (When on thy brow there rests secure 
 
 The glory of a crown), 
 
 The merchant then will wholly cease 
 
 To cross the briny sea ; 
 No merchandise in time of peace 
 
 For barter there will be.
 
 ECLOGUE IV.POLLIO. 29 
 
 23- 
 For every soil will freely bear 
 
 All produce on its breast ; 90 
 
 No harrow then the field will tear ; 
 
 The pruning-hook will rest. 
 
 24. 
 
 The sturdy ploughman, too, will free 
 
 His oxen from the yoke ; 
 (No more for toil of husbandry 
 
 Their steaming sides will smoke). 
 
 25- 
 No wool will then be taught to feign 
 
 The tints of varied dyes ; 
 His fleece the ram himself will stain 
 
 To pleasure his own eyes. 100 
 
 26. 
 
 With hyacinthine purple now, 
 
 And now with crocus gold 
 Nature herself will paint, I trow, 
 
 The lambkins of the fold. 
 
 27. 
 
 For thus, in harmony with fate, 
 
 The Parcse have decreed, 
 " In its own cycle at due date 
 Let such an acre succeed."
 
 30 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 28. 
 
 Then haste thy coming, babe divine, 
 Great son of highest Jove ; 
 
 Assume the honours that are thine, 
 Dear infant of our love. 
 
 29. 
 
 Behold the world inclining low 
 Beneath its heavenly load ; 
 
 Earth, sea, and heaven saluting bow 
 (In unaccustomed mode). 
 
 See all creation joyous hail 
 The glorious coming age ; 
 
 Oh, may my span of years not fail, 
 Nor turn life's latest page ; 
 
 Nor breath run short, ere I have time 
 
 To celebrate thy name, 
 In fitting staves of faultless rhyme 
 
 To herald forth thy fame. 
 
 3 2 - 
 Then neither Orpheus, he of Thrace, 
 
 In song shall rival me, 
 Nor Linus, though their parents' grace 
 
 Should aid their progeny.
 
 ECLOGUE IV.POLLIO. 31 
 
 33- 
 
 And 'twas the muse, Calliope, 
 
 Gave noble Orpheus birth : 130 
 
 Apollo's faultless symmetry 
 
 Gave Linus to the earth. 
 
 34- 
 Should Pan himself the contest dare 
 
 Our umpire Arcady, 
 To Pan would Arcady declare 
 
 That he must yield to me. 
 
 35- 
 Come, babe, return her smiles, and cheer 
 
 Thy own fond mother's heart ; 
 These ten long months for thee, I fear, 
 
 Have borne her many a smart. 1 40 
 
 36. 
 Come, babe ! The wight whose parents spare 
 
 Such* smiles their love to vouch, 
 His future feasts no God will share, 
 
 No goddess grace his couch. 
 
 * Attia, the mother of Augustus, claimed Venus for her an- 
 cestress. The myth lent a special value to her smiles divine. 
 (Vide Penn., p. 94.)
 
 ECLOGUE V. DAPHNIS. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Two shepherds, Mopsus and Menalcas, competing in rival 
 songs, celebrate the praises of Daphnis, their lost friend. There 
 nas been some difference of opinion as to the identity of the 
 personage represented by Daphnis. Some have identified him 
 with the Sicilian shepherd, in whose honour Theocritus wrote 
 his first Idyll ; others with the son of Pollio, to whom they 
 believe the preceding Eclogue was intended to refer ; others 
 have even referred it to the Saviour. But Scaliger is doubtless 
 right, who considers that Daphnis is no other than Julius Caesar, 
 to whom divine honours were decreed by the Triumvirs in A. U. C. 
 712, at a time when Brutus and Cassius were still in the field ; 
 and it was not impolitic to veil his name under that of a Sicilian 
 shepherd. 
 
 I. 
 
 WHY, Mopsus, now that we have met, 
 
 Both masters of our arts, 
 One on the pipes no mean adept, 
 
 One good at song in parts. 
 
 2. 
 3 Why not beneath these elms, among 
 
 The hazels here recline, 
 And in some little flights of song 
 Our energies combine 1
 
 ECLOGUE V.DAPHNIS. 33 
 
 3- 
 'Tis thine, Menalcas, to command, 
 
 Mine rather to obey; 10 
 
 But why, by draughty breezes fanned, 
 
 In shade so chequered stay 1 
 
 4- 
 
 Why not to that sweet grot repair, 
 See, round its mouth there twine 
 
 The tendrils fair, the clusters rare 
 Of that unkempt wild vine. 
 
 5- 
 Men. Tut, Mopsus, thro' our hills alone 
 
 With thee Amyntas vies. 
 Mop. And he with Phoebus, I must own, 
 
 Might well dispute the prize. 20 
 
 6. 
 
 Men. Begin then, Mopsus, first recite 
 
 Our Phillid's flames to-day ; 
 Or Alcon's prowess, or the fight 
 Which Codrus fought, I pray. 
 
 7- 
 
 Begin, the browsing kids for us 
 
 Our Tityrus will mind. 
 Mop. Well, hear this song I wrote it thus 
 Upon the green beech rind. 
 
 D
 
 34 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 And harmonized it as I lay, 
 
 Noting in turn the tune; 30 
 
 Come, listen, and maybe you 'will say 
 We 'will beat Amyntas soon. 
 
 9- 
 
 Men. So far the humble osiers yield 
 
 To olives pale the palm; 
 Or pinky willow herbs afield, 
 To rosebeds breathing balm. 
 
 So far we readily declare 
 
 Amyntas yields to thee 
 Mop. Enough, such homage, lad, forbear 
 
 Here in the cave are we. 40 
 
 The cruel death of Daphnis dear 
 The Nymphs were wont to wail ; 
 
 Ye hazel groves, ye streamlets here 
 Saw ceaseless grief prevail. 
 
 What time his weeping mother fell 
 
 Upon his woeful face ; 
 Blaming the stars, and Heaven as well, 
 
 Between each wild embrace.
 
 ECLOGUE V.VAPHNIS. 35 
 
 No herdsmen in those days for grief 
 
 Drove cattle to the pool, 50 
 
 That so their thirst might find relief 
 In waters fresh and cool. 
 
 14. 
 
 The very beasts themselves forbore 
 
 Their appetites to sate ; 
 Even the Punic lions sore 
 
 Bewailed thy hapless fate. 
 
 The mountains, Daphnis, clad with oak, 
 
 Dank forests moaned for thee, 
 Armenian tigers from thy yoke 
 
 Cared little to be free. 60 
 
 16. 
 
 'Twas Daphnis led the circling dance 
 
 Of Bacchanalian bands ; 
 And wreathed the thyrsus and the lance 
 
 With foliage-twisted strands. 
 
 17- 
 
 As vines upon the sheltering trees : 
 
 As grapes upon the vine : 
 As corn among the smiling leas : 
 
 As bulls among the kine : 
 
 D 2
 
 36 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 18. 
 
 Even so thou ever wert of thine 
 
 The matchless grace and crown ; 70 
 
 And when at last the Fates malign 
 Swept all thy glory down, 
 
 19. 
 
 Then Pales left the fields her care, 
 
 Apollo left them too ; 
 Now all that is noxious harbours there 
 
 Where golden treasures grew. 
 
 20. 
 
 The furrows where good barley seed 
 
 Once carefully was sown, 
 With vile wild oats and darnel weed 
 
 Are now all overgrown. 80 
 
 Where once was scented violet bloom, 
 
 And purple daffodil, 
 Sharp thorns and thistles in their room 
 
 The rugged landscape fill. 
 
 Come shepherd, strewtheground with flowers, 
 And where cool fountains flow, 
 
 Go plant for shelter shady bo\vers 3 
 Good Daphnis willed it so.
 
 ECLOGUE V.DAPHNIS. 37 
 
 23- 
 And rear for him a tomb, and write 
 
 This epitaph thereon 90 
 
 [That all who pass the sacred site 
 
 The happy rhymes may con.] 
 
 24. 
 
 " Daphnis am I the starry host 
 My bruited fame could see ; 
 No fairer flock than mine could boast 
 A fairer hind than me." 
 
 25- 
 
 Men. As on the meads the overflow 
 
 Of brooks in summer time ; 
 
 As sleep, the antidote of woe, 
 
 Upon a bed of thyme. 100 
 
 26. 
 
 So falls thy song, oh bard divine, 
 
 Most sweetly on our ears ; 
 This heavenly melody of thine 
 
 Our inmost spirit cheers. 
 
 27. 
 
 As well in music as in song, 
 
 Thy master's rival now, 
 My fortune-favoured youth, ere long 
 
 Thou'lt be his peer, I vow.
 
 38 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 28. 
 
 But now it 'is time that we in turn 
 
 Begin to tune our lay, 
 In praise of thy good Daphnis, learn 
 
 That we have much to say. 
 
 29. 
 
 His fame we fain would celebrate, 
 And hymn it to the sky, 
 
 For Daphnis loved us also, mate, 
 That is the reason why ! 
 
 Mop. What higher prize could be bestowed 
 
 That we could well receive ^ 
 And who so worthy of an ode 
 
 As he for whom we grieve. 120 
 
 3 1 - 
 
 'Twas Stimicon, some while ago, 
 Who came and brought us word 
 
 How sweetly all thy stanzas flow, 
 Which he had lately heard. 
 
 3 2 - 
 Men. Our Daphnis, now a child of light, 
 
 To Heaven's gate draws near, 
 The clouds, the stars a wondrous sight 
 Beneath his feet appear.
 
 ECLOGUE V.DAPHN1S. 39 
 
 33- 
 
 And this is why the fields rejoice, 
 
 The country shouts for joy, 130 
 
 And teeming woodlands all their voice 
 In melody employ. 
 
 34- 
 And this is why in pastoral choir 
 
 Great Pan himself is glad, 
 And Nymphs and Dryads all aspire 
 
 Their symphony to add. 
 
 35- 
 And this is why the wolves forbear 
 
 To chase the timid sheep ; 
 And no vile toils the wild deer scare : 
 
 He would that none should weep. 140 
 
 36. 
 The very rugged hills for joy 
 
 Their choral voices raise ; 
 The very rocks themselves employ 
 
 Their echoes in his praise. 
 
 37- 
 The very coppices proclaim 
 
 That he is now divine ; 
 Then come, Menalcas, bless his name, 
 
 And rear for him a shrine.
 
 40 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 38. 
 Do thou propitious be, and kind, 
 
 Thine aid, good Daphnis, deign : 150 
 Four shrines are here and two designed 
 
 For thee for Phoebus twain. 
 
 39- 
 Two bowls of milk fresh filled for thee, 
 
 An annual offering ; 
 Two vases full as they can be 
 
 Of purest oil I'll bring. 
 
 40. 
 
 At many a joyous banquet, too, 
 
 The rosy wine shall flow, 
 In shady groves the summer thro', 
 
 Beside the hearth, in snow. 160 
 
 41. 
 For thee new nectar shall distil 
 
 From the Arvisian vine ; 
 Good ^Egon and Damcetas trill 
 
 For thee their notes divine. 
 
 42. 
 
 Alphesiboeus, too, shall ape 
 
 The Satyr's dance for thee ; 
 For thee all honours of the grape 
 
 And all festivity.
 
 ECLOGUE V.DAPHNIS. 41 
 
 43- 
 So oft the Dryads' feast comes round, 
 
 So oft the lustral rites, 170 
 
 So long as fish in streams abound, 
 
 And game on mountain heights. 
 
 44. 
 
 So long as bees delight in thyme, 
 
 And grasshoppers in dew, 
 Thy name, thy praise in every clime, 
 
 Our memories shall imbue. 
 
 45- 
 As now to Bacchus rustics pay, 
 
 And Ceres annual vows, 
 So now henceforth thy name, I say, 
 
 Their fealty shall arouse. 180 
 
 46. 
 
 Mop. What gifts shall now my thanks express 
 
 For such a song as thine, 
 For not the wild wind's wantonness, 
 With all its charm divine ; 
 
 47- 
 Nor yet the throbbing of the waves 
 
 Upon the answering shore j 
 Nor yet the gurgling brook that laves 
 
 The pebbles evermore ;
 
 42 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 Could ever yet to me afford 
 
 Such raptures of delight, 190 
 
 As these melodious strains out-poured 
 
 From thy kind lips to-night ! 
 
 49. 
 
 Men. Yet first from us this fragile reed 
 
 Our gift, accept, we pray ; 
 It oft hath earned us goodly meed 
 In many a former lay. 
 
 On this we sang " Young Corydon, V 
 
 The lonely Shepherd's joy," 
 We sang of Agon's sheep upon 
 
 This very reed, my boy. 20 
 
 5 1 - 
 Mop. Do thou accept from me this crook, 
 
 To many a suit denied, 
 For it, with many a wistful look, 
 Antigenes hath sighed, 
 
 52. 
 In vain, although a valued friend, 
 
 Menalcas, it is thine ; 
 'Tis knotted well from end to end, 
 
 And shod with brass so fine.
 
 ( 43 
 
 ECLOGUE VI. SILENUS. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 This Eclogue is dedicated to the same Varus to whom Horace 
 addressed the eighteenth ode of his first Book. It was, no 
 doubt, to pleasure him as an Epicurean that he puts into the 
 mouth of Silenus, the demigod, a discourse on the tenets of that 
 philosophy, and sundry mythological legends which would have 
 been somewhat out of place in the mouth of a shepherd. 
 
 I. 
 
 OUR muse did not at first disdain 
 
 Sicilian airs to play, 
 Nor blushed among her rustic train 
 
 In sylvan scenes to stray. 
 
 2. 
 
 Nay, when we first inclined to make 
 
 Wars' episodes our care, 
 Apollo touched our ear, and spake, 
 
 " Good Tityrus, beware." 
 
 3- 
 
 " A careful shepherd it beseems 
 
 His own sleek flock to tend, i o 
 
 On plain and unpretending themes 
 His lyric powers to spend."
 
 44 THE BUCOLICS, 
 
 4- 
 So now upon my slender reed 
 
 I 'will practise rustic lays, 
 For, Varus, there are bards indeed 
 
 Enough to sing thy praise. 
 
 5- 
 Enough to sing of warriors I 
 
 My monitor obey, 
 Yet should some sympathetic eye 
 
 Peruse my simple lay, 
 
 Our tamarisks, Varus, I'll engage, 
 Our groves shall sing of thee ; 
 
 Aye, to the God of Lyres no page 
 Will more delightful be, 
 
 7- 
 Than that to which thy noble name, 
 
 Prefixed, its light shall lend. 
 Proceed, ye Muses, with the game 
 
 Of Chromis and his friend. 
 
 Mnasilus, who once haply caught 
 
 Silenus sound asleep, 30 
 
 Within the grotto he had sought 
 
 Fresh from potations deep,
 
 ECLOGUE VLSILENUS. 45 
 
 9- 
 
 As was his wont. The wreath he wore 
 
 Had fallen off his head, 
 And lay neglected on the floor ; 
 
 His full jug by his bed, 
 
 10. 
 
 With well-worn handles. Him they seized, 
 And bound his wreath their thong : 
 
 For had he not, though often teased, 
 
 Delayed their promised song 1 40 
 
 The fair nymph ^Egle's timid grace 
 
 Came shyly to their side, 
 And helped to stain his brow and face 
 
 With mulberry-juice applied. 
 
 12. 
 
 He, waking, asks, with laughter, " Why, 
 
 Why bind me thus at all ? 
 Release me, lads ; enough that I 
 
 Have seemed to be your thrall. 
 
 The melodies you fain, would hear, 
 
 I'll sing them now for you. 50 
 
 Some other boon for ^Egle here 
 
 I'll shortly find her too."
 
 46 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 14. 
 
 No sooner said than he began 
 'Twas marvellous to see 
 
 Innumerable Satyrs ran, 
 And frisked about in glee. 
 
 The very oaks began to nod 
 
 Their rigid tops in time ; 
 Parnassus hailed not so the God 
 
 Of Lyres in his prime. 60 
 
 16. 
 
 So Ismarus did never yet 
 
 For Orpheus, loved so well ; 
 So Rhodope would oft forget 
 
 To recognize his spell. 
 
 For as he sang he told us how 
 
 The germs of earth, and sea, 
 And fire, and all that breathes below, 
 
 Through space were wont to flee. 
 
 1 8. 
 
 And how, from such their elements, 
 
 All things at prime were made, 70 
 
 Until the globe's magnificence 
 Stood forth at last displayed.
 
 ECLOGUE VI.SILENUS. 47 
 
 19. 
 
 Then first the soil grew hard and dry, 
 
 And set the bounds of seas, 
 And all that lives beneath the sky 
 
 Was fashioned by degrees. 
 
 20. 
 
 'It was then that earth, amazed, beheld 
 
 The sunlight's earliest dawn ; 
 Then first the welcome showers welled 
 
 From cloudlets upward drawn. 80 
 
 21. 
 
 Then first the woods began to sprout, 
 
 And yield a welcome shade ; 
 Beasts rare as yet to prowl about 
 
 Each new-found hill and glade. 
 
 He told what stones once Pyrrha threw ; 
 
 In Saturn's glorious reign ; 
 Told of the ravening vultures, too, 
 
 Prometheus' theft and pain. 
 
 23- 
 Of Hylas, too the drowned whose name 
 
 Re-echoed from the shore, 90 
 
 What time his searching shipmates came, 
 
 Who found him never more.
 
 48 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 24. 
 
 And all about Pasiphae, 
 
 Who loved the snow-white steer, 
 
 Who, had she never chanced to see 
 A herd, had known more cheer. 
 
 25- 
 Alas ! what novel madness so 
 
 Possessed thee, hapless maid ! 
 But next he sang their kindred woe, 
 
 Whose lowings filled the glade. 
 
 26. 
 
 Poor Proeto's daughters, who believed 
 Themselves transformed to kine, 
 
 And though less cruelly deceived, 
 Yet feared they must resign 
 
 27. 
 
 Their shoulders to the ploughman's yoke, 
 
 And sought in daily doubt 
 Upon their foreheads 'tis no joke 
 
 To feel the long horns sprout. 
 
 28. 
 
 Oh, hapless maid ! upon the hills 
 
 Thou sighest still, maybe ; 
 Thy steer the while his gullet fills 
 
 Without a thought of thee !
 
 ECLOGUE VI.SILENUS. 49 
 
 29. 
 
 Or on some hyacinthine bed, 
 
 Luxuriously reclined, 
 Lies ruminating, where o'erhead 
 
 Dark ilex boughs are twined. 
 
 Or from the jealous herd, maybe, 
 
 Some favourite pursues : 
 " Kind Cretan nymphs, enlighten me, 
 
 And give me of his news ; 120 
 
 3 1 - 
 
 Close in the glades, that we may seek 
 
 His footprints in the reeds ; 
 It well may be, in some mad freak, 
 
 He'is oft" to other meads ; 
 
 32. 
 
 That some fair heifers have decoyed 
 
 Their far too willing thrall, 
 And led him off quite overjoyed 
 
 To some Gortynian stall." 
 
 33- 
 
 And then he sang the' Hesperian fruit, 
 
 And her it led astray ; 130 
 
 Thy daughters, too, he dared to bruit, 
 Rash Phaeton, they say, 
 

 
 50 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 34- 
 The maidens who were sudden found 
 
 Encased in mossy bark, 
 And firmly rooted in the ground, 
 
 Tall alder trees of mark. 
 
 35- 
 To Gallus next the minstrel strayed, 
 
 Whom, by Permesso's rills, 
 A muse encountered, and conveyed 
 
 To her Aonian hills. 140 
 
 36. 
 And told how all the virgin nine 
 
 To do him honour rose, 
 How Linus, stirred with fire divine, 
 
 Their purpose did disclose. 
 
 37- 
 
 Thus Linus, crowned with wreath of flowers, 
 
 And aromatic thyme : 
 " The muses [in their native bowers, 
 
 Which thou hast learnt to climb] 
 
 33. 
 Present thee with these reeds of theirs ; 
 
 Accept them they are thine ; 150 
 
 'Twas Hesiod owned them once his airs 
 
 We know were all divine.
 
 ECLOGUE VI.SILENUS. 51 
 
 39- 
 
 The sturdy mountain ash with these 
 From mountain heights he'd bring ; 
 
 Gryneum's grove with these thou'wilt please, 
 The sacred grove to sing. 
 
 40. 
 So sing that in no other grove, 
 
 In all the world beside, 
 Apollo shall so care to rove, 
 
 Or feel such honest pride." 160 
 
 41. 
 
 Why tell how well he told the tale 
 
 Of Scylla, widely known, 
 Who, 'midst the howling monsters pale, 
 
 Which served her for a zone, 
 
 42. 
 
 Ulysses' fated vessels drew 
 
 Within the whirlpool's bounds, 
 And tore to rags the frightened crew 
 
 Among her fierce sea hounds. 
 
 43- 
 Or Tereus' legend ; and how changed 
 
 In form his every limb, 170 
 
 What dainties Philomela ranged 
 On tables set for him. 
 E 2
 
 52 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 44. 
 
 How to the wilderness she fled 
 
 So soon the truth he knew ; 
 How over his own roof he sped, 
 
 And with what wings he flew. 
 
 45- 
 'Twas just as Phoebus chanted erst 
 
 The very selfsame lays ; 
 Eurotas heard them sung, and durst 
 
 Confide them to his bays. 180 
 
 46. 
 
 Thence learnt, he sang [till every bird 
 Was hushed in mute surprise] ; 
 
 He sang, the echoing valleys heard, 
 And told the listening skies. 
 
 47- 
 He sang till Hesperus bade them take 
 
 Their cattle home to bed, 
 And made the lord of light forsake 
 
 His azure throne o'erhead.
 
 ( 53 ) 
 
 ECLOGUE VII. MELIBCEUS. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 This Eclogue, which appears to be founded on the eighth 
 Idyll of Theocritus, records a vocal competition between two 
 shepherds, Corydon and Thyrsis, in the presence of Daphnis 
 and Melibceus. The latter officiates as umpire, and assigns the 
 palm to Corydon. 
 
 I. 
 
 Mel. Beneath a whispering ilex 
 
 It chanced that Daphnis lay, 
 Where Corydon and Thyrsis, 
 
 Had led their flocks that day. 
 One owned the sheep, the other 
 
 Goats destined for the pail ; 
 Both in the prime of manhood, 
 
 Both of the Arcadian vale. 
 
 2. 
 
 Both skilled in song, and either 
 
 For either part prepared ; 10 
 
 'It was thither that the patriarch 
 Of all my goats had fared ;
 
 54 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 While I was busy shielding 
 
 My myrtles from the frost, 
 'Twas so I spied good Daphnis, 
 
 Who knew what I had lost. 
 
 3- 
 
 And cried, " Here, Meliboeus, 
 
 Your goats, your kids have strayed ; 
 They are safe then if at leisure 
 
 Come share our pleasant shade. 20 
 
 Your steers across the meadow 
 
 Will come themselves to drink, 
 Here where the Mincio's rushes 
 
 Conceal his verdant brink. 
 
 4- 
 Here, where the bees are swarming 
 
 About the old oak tree." 
 What could I do ? No Phillis, 
 
 No Alcippe for me 
 Was left to nurse my weanlings, 
 
 Or shut my lambkins in ; 30 
 
 And Corydon and Thyrsis 
 
 Were eager to begin. 
 
 5- 
 
 So I for once abandoned 
 
 My business for their play ; 
 They with alternate stanzas 
 
 At once began the fray.
 
 ECLOGUE VII.MELIBCEUS. 55 
 
 The Muses love part singing, 
 Wherein they both were versed, 
 
 So Thyrsis took the second, 
 
 And Corydon the first. 40 
 
 6. 
 Cor. Ye Heliconian darlings, 
 
 Your faithful bard inspire, 
 As Codrus erst who rivalled 
 
 The patron of the lyre. 
 If with the highly favoured 
 
 Such boon may not be mine, 
 My pipes for ever silent 
 
 Shall grace this hallowed pine. 
 
 7- 
 Thy. For your young bard, ye shepherds, 
 
 Come, weave an ivy crown, 50 
 
 That Codrus, late his rival, 
 
 May wear an envious frown ; 
 Or else with some charmed chaplet 
 
 Protect us from his praise, 
 Lest his malignant utterance 
 Bewitch our future lays. 
 
 Cor. Young Mico brings thee, Dian, 
 
 This bristling wild-boar's head, 
 This pair of branching antlers 
 
 That some fine stag has shed ; Oo
 
 56 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 A polished marble statue 
 
 Shall be my gift, I swear, 
 With purple buskins garnished, 
 
 If thou wilt hear my prayer. 
 
 9- 
 
 Thy. This bowl of milk, Priapus, 
 
 This dish of cakes each year, 
 For such a sorry garden 
 
 Is all thy tithe, I fear : 
 Thy image now is marble, 
 
 'It was all we could afford, 70 
 
 But should our flocks prove fruitful, 
 
 In gold thou'wilt be adored. 
 
 10. 
 
 Cor. Oh, Galatea Nerina, 
 
 Than Hybla's sweets more rare, 
 More lovely than white ivy, 
 
 Than fairest swan more fair : 
 So soon the steers from pasture 
 
 Come trotting home to rest, 
 If Corydon'is your darling, 
 
 Come, nestle on his breast. So 
 
 ii. 
 
 Thy. Esteem me yet more bitter 
 
 Than crow's-foot evermore, 
 Rougher than gorse, and viler 
 Than seaweed cast ashore,
 
 ECLOGUE VILMELIBCEUS. 57 
 
 If this day seem not longer 
 
 To me than all a year : 
 Go home for shame, ye gluttons, 
 
 Keep me no longer here. 
 
 12. 
 
 Cor. Oh, ye kind mossy fountains, 
 
 Ye grasses soft as sleep, 90 
 
 Ye scanty tufts of arbutus, 
 
 I pray you guard my sheep 
 Throughout the summer solstice ; 
 
 For lo, the summer'is here, 
 And summer shoots are sprouting, 
 
 The vine's fresh buds appear. 
 
 Thy. Our hearth is primed with fir-cones, 
 
 And piled with blazing oak, 
 And see the fire-dogs blackened 
 
 With never-failing smoke ; 
 We care no more for north winds 
 
 Than wolves for tale of sheep, 
 No more than mountain torrents 
 
 Within their beds to keep. 
 
 14. 
 Cor. The junipers in beauty, 
 
 The prickly chestnuts see, 
 The golden apples scattered 
 Beneath each groaning tree ;
 
 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 All nature now is smiling, 
 
 But should Alexis fly no 
 
 From these his native mountains, 
 
 The streams would soon run dry. 
 
 Thy. The fields are scorched, the herbage 
 
 In all the meads is sere, 
 Bacchus denies the mountains 
 
 Their cloak of vines this year \ 
 But at our Phillid's coming 
 
 The groves will sprout again, 
 And all the dome of heaven 
 
 Descend in copious rain. 120 
 
 16. 
 Cor. Alcides loves the poplar, 
 
 And Bacchus loves the vine, 
 Fair Venus loves the myrtle, 
 
 And Phcebus bays are thine ; 
 But Phillis loves the hazels, 
 While hazels pleasure her, 
 I will not choose the myrtle, 
 Nor yet the bay prefer. 
 
 i7- 
 
 Thy. The ash reigns o'er the forest, 
 
 The cedar o'er the lea, 130 
 
 The poplar o'er the rivers, 
 O'er hills the tall fir tree ;
 
 ECLOGUE VII.MELIB(EUS. 59 
 
 For Lycidas, if only 
 
 He'will be my frequent guest, 
 
 Before the ash or cedar 
 
 My choice shall be confessed. 
 
 18. 
 
 Mel. My well-considered verdict 
 
 Dooms Thyrsis to defeat ; 
 Thee, Corydon our Corydon, 
 Our laureate we greet !
 
 60 
 
 ECLOGUE VIII. PHARMACEUTRIA. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 In the first part of this Eclogue, which is imitated from the 
 third Idyll of Theocritus, the shepherd Damon relates how a 
 youthful suitor of the faithless Nisa bewailed her preference for 
 his rival, Mopso. In the second part, derived from Theocritus' 
 second Idyll, Alphesiboeo relates how a fair sorceress used 
 sundry incantations to charm Daphnis back to her arms. This 
 beautiful Eclogue is dedicated to Pollio, who about the time 
 it was written, A. U. C. 715, won a triumph by a victory over the 
 Parthians. 
 
 Pha. How once Alphesiboeo strove 
 With Damon, and what strains they wove ; 
 What time the enraptured heifer stood 
 And hearkened, heedless of her food ; 
 While listening lynxes were amazed 
 At all the worthy shepherd phrased ; 
 And all the streamlets in the glade 
 From sheer delight their currents stayed : 
 Yes, 'it is Alphesiboeo's Muse, 
 And Damon's, for our theme we choose ; 10 
 Tell me, my Pollio, whether now 
 Thou'art scaling old Timavo's brow, 
 Or coasting by the Illyrian strand, 
 If, as I hope, the day's at hand,
 
 ECLOGUE VIII.PHARMACEUTRIA. 61 
 
 The happy day, when I am free 
 
 To celebrate thy deeds and thee ; 
 
 The day when I may loud proclaim 
 
 To all the world the well-earned fame 
 
 Of those grand tragedies of thine 
 
 Which Sophocles might vote divine 20 
 
 (Of thy grand dramas, which I wage 
 
 Would well beseem the Athenian stage). 
 
 In thee my strains begin and end ; 
 
 Accept their dedication, friend ! 
 
 Since at thy bidding they were framed, 
 
 There 'is no presumption to be blamed, 
 
 Should I my ivy wreath display 
 
 Amidst thine own triumphant bay. 
 
 Scarce from the silver-spangled sky 
 
 Chill shades of Night had turned to fly, 30 
 
 And still we saw the dew-drops steep 
 
 The tender blades, so dear to sheep, 
 
 When Damon on his olive leant, 
 
 And thus began the tournament. 
 
 i. 
 
 Dam. Rise, Lucifer ! be pleased, I pray, 
 To herald us a genial day, 
 While, flouted by the heartless jilt, 
 I rail at cruel Nisa's guilt, 
 And with my latest breath appeal 
 To outraged deities to heal 4
 
 62 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 The wounds of broken faith. As yet 
 But little profit I can get 
 From their late sanction to our pact, 
 Since they no penalty exact. 
 Begin, my own sad flute, with me 
 The plaintive strains of Arcady. 
 
 2. 
 
 Mount Masnalus, the whispering pine, 
 
 The vocal grove, is ever thine ; 
 
 The loves of shepherds must appear 
 
 Familiar to thy well-trained ear, 50 
 
 For was not Pan, who first for men 
 
 Made vocal reeds, thy denizen 1 
 
 Begin, my own sad flute, with me 
 
 The plaintive strains of Arcady. 
 
 3- 
 
 My Nisa now is Mopso's bride ! 
 
 What may not lovers soon betide ? 
 
 Griffins and mares will shortly mate, 
 
 And, at no very distant date, 
 
 We 'will surely see the timid does 
 
 Carousing with the hounds, their foes : 60 
 
 Some bran-new torches, Mopso, cleave, 
 
 Your bride will be brought home at eve ; 
 
 Go, bridegroom, haste your nuts to strew 
 
 From ^Eta, Hesperus flies for you. 
 
 Begin, my own sad flute, with me 
 
 The plaintive strains of Arcady.
 
 ECLOGUE VI1I.PHARMACEUTRIA. 63 
 
 4- 
 
 Oh, mated with a worthy mate, 
 Since worthier suitors you could hate, 
 Since e'en my flute you dare despise, 
 Nor do my milch goats in your eyes 70 
 
 Find favour, and my length of beard, 
 My shaggy brows are unrevered ; 
 Too clear it is you disbelieve 
 That mortals' wrongs the gods aggrieve. 
 Begin, my own sad flute, with me 
 The plaintive strains of Arcady. 
 
 5- 
 
 How well I still remember you 
 Out gathering apples in the dew, 
 An infant at your mother's side, 
 In our own orchard, I your guide ; . 80 
 Myself as yet not twelve years old 
 (As I have often since been told), 
 Yet tall enough, as oft .we found, 
 To reach small branches from the ground ; 
 I saw, and, to my sorrow, sighed, 
 But now I wish I first had died. 
 Begin, my own sad flute, with me 
 The plaintive strains of Arcady. 
 
 6. 
 
 What love is now, full well I wis, 
 
 And whereabouts his birthplace is ; 90
 
 64 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 No scion of our blood or race : 
 Upon the rugged hills of Thrace, 
 There was he born, or it may be 
 On Tmarus, or on Rhodope, 
 Or where the Garamantes dwell 
 (In furthest Libya, nearest hell). 
 Begin, my own sad flute, with me 
 The plaintive strains of Arcady. 
 
 7- 
 
 'Twas cruel love which once imbrued 
 A mother's hands with infant blood 
 Her children's blood altho' it's true 
 The mother's heart was cruel too. 
 But was the mother most to blame ? 
 Or greater far thy infant shame ? 
 Her blame I'll not extenuate, 
 Thee, guilty wretch, I loathe and hate. 
 Begin, my own sad flute, with me 
 The plaintive strains of Arcady. 
 
 What if the wolf should shun the fold, 
 The oak yield apples all of gold, 
 The alder bear Narcissus flowers, 
 The tamarisk weep rich amber showers, 
 The owl pretend with swans to vie, 
 And Tityrus Orpheus' self defy !
 
 ECLOGUE VIII.PHARMACEUTRIA. 65 
 
 An Orpheus in the groves, at sea 
 Arion, Dolphin-king, is he. 
 Begin, my own sweet flute, with me 
 A plaintive strain of Arcady. 
 
 9- 
 
 What if the sea should rage and swell, 
 
 And whelm us all : ye woods, farewell ! 120 
 
 From some high cliff I down will spring, 
 
 And headlong in the breakers fling 
 
 My broken heart this legacy 
 
 A dying man bequeaths to thee. 
 
 Cease now, my own sad lute, with me 
 
 The plaintive strains of Arcady. 
 
 So Damon sang come, Muses, say 
 
 What next Alphesiboeo's lay 1 
 
 Without your aid we could not sing, 
 
 We cannot all do everything. 130 
 
 i. 
 
 Alp. Come bring us water, and around 
 These altars be a fillet bound, 
 And burn some sweet verbenas here, 
 And frankincense, to mortals dear, 
 That I by magic rites may try 
 My spouse's mind to modify. 
 The charms are ready there I vow 
 That only rhymes are missing now 
 F
 
 66 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 Ye potent spells my efforts crown, 
 
 And fetch me Daphnis home from town. 140 
 
 2. 
 
 Such spells can do their work on high, 
 And move the moon from out the sky ; 
 Circe transformed Ulysses' crew 
 By the magic spells she knew ; 
 A potent spell avails to break 
 The backbone of the frigid snake. 
 Ye potent spells my efforts crown, 
 And fetch me Daphnis home from town. 
 
 3- 
 
 These threads, all three of diverse dye, 
 Around this sacred form I tie ; 150 
 
 And thrice around these altars draw 
 The holy image such the law 
 It must be thrice to work aright, 
 Odd numbers all the powers delight. 
 Ye potent spells my efforts crown, 
 And fetch me Daphnis home from town. 
 
 4- 
 
 Take, Amaryllis, my advice, 
 And knot the triple colours thrice, 
 And while you knot them, mind you cry, 
 " The knots of Venus, lo ! I tie." 160
 
 ECLOGUE VII1.PHARMACEUTRIA. 67 
 
 Ye potent spells my efforts crown, 
 And fetch me Daphnis home from town. 
 
 As this clay hardens, and this wax 
 
 Doth at the self-same fire relax 
 
 Its firm cohesion, even so, 
 
 Let Daphnis when my love 'is aglow ; 
 
 Now sprinkle meal, and light me then 
 
 The twigs of bay with bitumen ; 
 
 As cruel Daphnis burns my heart, 
 
 Ye burning bays make Daphnis smart ; 170 
 
 Ye potent spells my efforts crown, 
 
 And fetch me Daphnis home from town. 
 
 6. 
 
 Such love for Daphnis I would choose 
 
 As hers the heifer, who pursues 
 
 With weary steps the recreant steer, 
 
 Thro' groves and thickets far and near, 
 
 Till lost at last, beside a brook 
 
 She crouches in some sedgy nook, 
 
 And when night gathers, sick at heart, 
 
 Makes not an effort to depart ; i So 
 
 Such love as this may Daphnis feel, 
 
 Such love I would not care to heal. 
 
 Ye potent spells my efforts crown, 
 
 And fetch me Daphnis home from town. 
 F 2
 
 68 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 These keepsakes once, perfidious man, 
 He left me, when away he ran, 
 Dear pledges of his love to me, 
 But now beneath my threshold, see, 
 I 'will soon commit them to the earth, 
 Daphnis shall know what they are worth. 190 
 Ye potent spells my efforts crown, 
 And fetch me Daphnis home from town. 
 
 These herbs these poisons, all for me, 
 
 Were gathered by the Euxine Sea, 
 
 Full many by the Euxine grow, 
 
 'It was Mceris gave them us, you know ; 
 
 I 'have seen him often cross the leas, 
 
 A wolf at will, transformed by these. 
 
 I 'have seen him often raise the ghosts 
 
 From out the sepulchres in hosts, 200 
 
 And charm his neighbour's crops with ease 
 
 Into his private granaries. 
 
 Ye potent spells my efforts crown, 
 
 And fetch me Daphnis home from town. 
 
 These ashes, Amaryllis, now 
 
 Take out of doors, and mind you throw
 
 ECLOGUE VIII.PIIARMACEUTRIA. 69 
 
 Them o'er your head into the brook, 
 
 And pray be careful not to look ; 
 
 Daphnis with these I 'will now assail 
 
 Since other spells and philtres fail. 210 
 
 Ye potent spells my efforts crown, 
 
 And bring me Daphnis home from town. 
 
 10. 
 
 Look there, while I too long delay 
 To take the glowing ash away, 
 The flickering flames themselves have caught 
 The altars may it bode us nought 
 But what is good. What's that 1 but hark 1 
 Did Hylax at the threshold bark 1 
 I dreamed, but then, alas, it 'is plain 
 That those who love oft dream in vain. 220 
 Come, lay your spells and philtres down, 
 Here 'is Daphnis now, come home from town.
 
 ECLOGUE IX. MOERIS. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 When the military colonists, referred to in the first Eclogue, 
 took possession of the lands assigned them at Mantua and Cre- 
 mona, it is related that Virgil was subjected to some rough 
 usage by the Centurion, Arius, who was to be the new proprie- 
 tor of his confiscated acres, and only saved his life by a swim 
 across the Mincio. He thereupon started for Rome to obtain 
 redress from Octavian, leaving his steward, Mceris, at home, 
 with instructions to propitiate the intruder by soft words and 
 polite attentions. The opening scene of this Eclogue exhibits 
 Mceris on his way into Mantua with presents for his foe, and 
 engaged in conversation with his friend, Lycidas, whom he has 
 met, on the fortunes of the Poet under the pseudonym of 
 Menalcas, 
 
 Lycidas. 
 
 Is it to town that Mceris speeds ? 
 To Mantua that highway leads, 
 
 Mceris. 
 
 Ah, Lycidas, to our dismay 
 We have lived to see the evil day 
 We little thought to see ; and hear. 
 What we had never learnt to fear,
 
 ECLOGUE IX.MCERIS. 71 
 
 An alien Lord's ejectment writ, 
 "These lands are mine, old Tenants quit !" 
 And we, poor victims, forth must go, 
 Since Fortune turns the tables so ; 10 
 
 These kids of ours we send him now 
 With no good wishes, I avow. 
 
 Lyridas. 
 
 Your tidings fill me with surprise, 
 For I had certainly been told 
 
 That your Menalcas, void of wrongs, 
 
 Had saved his acres by his songs. 
 Permitted still his lands to hold, 
 
 That pretty farm of his that lies 
 Just where the bluffs, no longer bold, 
 
 Fall off in gentle slopes, that sink 20 
 
 To where those veteran beeches grow, 
 
 Whose age their battered branches show, 
 Beside the Mincio's brink. 
 
 Morris. 
 
 No doubt, for so the rumour ran ; 
 
 But our songs, Lycidas, my man, 
 
 Among the rampant soldiers here 
 
 Are worth about as much, I fear, 
 
 As cooings, where the eagle roves, 
 
 To doves that haunt Chaonian groves : 
 
 For if the raven's boding croak, 30 
 
 Resounding from the hollow oak,
 
 72 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 Had failed to warn us, at all cost, 
 Conciliation to exhaust, 
 No Mceris here alive you'd see ; 
 Menalcas with the shades would be. 
 
 Lycidas. 
 
 Ah ! I could scarcely have believed 
 Such wickedness had been conceived ! 
 And we 'have so nearly been deprived 
 Of you, and all the joys derived 
 From your sweet lays, Menalcas ! who 40 
 But you, would sing of nymphs, and strew 
 The land with flowers ? or laud the shade 
 Where fountains bubble in the glade ? 
 Such lays as late by stealth I heard 
 Low-read and drank in every word. 
 'It was at our Amaryllid's whom 
 You went to visit in her room 
 " Oh Tityrus, till I come back 
 I pray you see my milch goats lack 
 Nor food nor water short the way, 50 
 
 'It is not my purpose to delay, 
 But while you tend them have a care, 
 The old goat butts so pray beware ! " 
 
 Mosris. 
 
 Or such as these unfinished lines 
 Which he for Varus now designs
 
 ECLOGUE IX.MCERIS. 73 
 
 " Oh, Varus, if but Mantua still 
 Be left to us your friends to till, 
 Our Mantua alas, too near 
 To poor Cremona, much I fear, 
 The swans shall bear your name on high, 60 
 And hymn your praises to the sky." 
 
 Lyridas. 
 
 Come now so may your swarms eschew 
 
 The poisonous flowers of the yew, 
 
 So may the Cytisus befriend 
 
 Your heifers and their dugs distend. 
 
 Begin, and let us hear you sing, 
 
 And make the woods with music ring. 
 
 A bard am I, I 'have written lays 
 
 And shepherds oft my powers praise 
 
 (But some, maybe, would praise the crows). 70 
 
 On me no flatterers impose, 
 
 For nothing in my songs I find 
 
 Worthy of Cinna, to my mind, 
 
 Or Varus, nay, I only seem 
 
 A goose, among the swans to scream. 
 
 Mccris. 
 
 I do as much and, all this while, 
 My seeming silence I beguile 
 In striving to recall one, lad, 
 I have it now it 'is not so bad.
 
 74 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 He sings. 
 
 " What pleasure is there on the waves 80 
 
 Whose perils Galatea braves ? 
 Come hither, maid, the gorgeous spring 
 In beauty mantles every thing : 
 She clothes the spangled ground with flowers, 
 The clambering vine festoons the bowers, 
 The poplar quivers o'er the cave, 
 Its threshold running waters lave ; 
 Come hither, then, and mind no more 
 The wild waves dashing on the shore." 
 
 Lycidas. 
 
 One starlight night I heard a song 90 
 
 By gentle zephyrs borne along. 
 What was it ] Well I knew the tune, 
 The words escaped me all too soon. 
 
 M&ris. 
 
 " Oh, Daphnis, why in rapt surprise 
 Watch ancient constellations rise 1 
 'It is Caesar's constellation now 
 Should occupy your thoughts, I trow, 
 His star which raises harvest hopes 
 And tints the grape on sunny slopes. 
 Come, Daphnis, graft your pears, their fruit 100 
 Will haply be your grandson's loot." 
 Age robs us all of everything, 
 And memory itself takes wing.
 
 ECLOGUE IX.MCERIS. 75 
 
 How often, when myself a boy, 
 
 Long days in music I'd employ ; 
 
 Now half my songs have left my head, 
 
 My very voice itself has fled. 
 
 And why 1 before I chanced to see 
 
 The wolf, the vagabond saw me ! 
 
 Let that suffice ; Menalcas soon no 
 
 Will sing the whole in better tune. 
 
 Lycidas. 
 
 Our mouths but water all the more 
 
 For all the excuses that you pour ! 
 
 Now all the broad expanse of lake 
 
 Is smooth and silent for your sake, 
 
 The whispering winds are hushed and still. 
 
 And we have reached our half-way hill ; 
 
 For now I see Bianor's tomb 
 
 O'ershadowed by the thicket's gloom, 
 
 Where oft the peasants lop the boughs 120 
 
 A spot well suited to our vows ; 
 
 Let 'us put the kids down here, and sing ; 
 
 We 'will reach the town ere evening : 
 
 Or, if we should have cause for fear 
 
 That night will gather rain-clouds here, 
 
 Why let us then indulge in song, 
 
 As cheerily we march along, 
 
 So best our journey we 'will beguile ; 
 
 I 'will ease you of your load the while.
 
 76 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 Mceris. 
 
 No more, my lads, let's mind our business 
 now, 130 
 
 We'll sing much better when he comes, I 
 trow.
 
 ( 77 ) 
 
 ECLOGUE X. GALLUS. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 This Eclogue, a love lay, which owes a great deal to the first 
 Idyll of Theocritus, appears to have been written at the request 
 of Gallus, a favourite lieutenant of Octavian, on the subject of 
 his luckless love affairs with the Actress Cytheris, under the 
 pseudonym of Lycoris. Gallus is represented as driven by his 
 despair into Arcadia, where his friends, human and divine, 
 assemble to console him. [The end of Gallus was unfortunate. 
 He was made Governor of Egypt, and it is related of him that 
 during his term of office he destroyed Thebes. He was spoiled 
 by prosperity, and finally showed a rebellious spirit towards his 
 benefactor, was disgraced, and destroyed himself; but was, 
 nevertheless, much lamented by his Imperial friend.] 
 
 DEIGN, Arethusa, what I ask, 
 
 To undertake but one more task. 
 
 So. when beneath Sicilian brine 
 
 Thou flowest shall it ne'er be thine 
 
 To mingle with the bitter waves 
 
 That sea-nymphs brew in ocean caves ; 
 
 For still to me it now remains 
 
 To sing for Gallus some few strains.
 
 7% TUB BUCOLICS. 
 
 And, if Lycoris read them, well ! 
 
 Let Gallus freely use their spell ! 10 
 
 Come then, begin, for I propose 
 
 The loves of Gallus to disclose ! 
 
 Our dainty goats will browse the while 
 
 The tender shrubs and camomile 
 
 Nature 'is not deaf to whom we sing, 
 
 We 'will make the echoing woodlands ring. 
 
 What were the groves, and what the glades, 
 
 Which so detained ye, thoughtless maids 1 
 
 Ye Naiads, while to love resigned 
 
 Unworthy love our Gallus pined. 20 
 
 'It was not by Pindus, I 'am assured, 
 
 Nor yet Parnassus, so allured, - 
 
 Nor Aganippe's crystal fount 
 
 That wells from out the Aonian mount. 
 
 Why, e'ven the bays bemoaned his lot, 
 
 That Tamarisks wept I marvel not, 
 
 And Msenalus, with all its pines, 
 
 For he had sought its lonely shrines, 
 
 And all the many ice-clad stones 
 
 Which snow-capped mount Lycaeus 30 
 
 owns ; 
 
 Aye, as he lay beneath the rocks 
 There gathered round him all the flocks ; 
 The gentle sheep would not despise 
 Their shepherd; wherefore, in your eyes, 
 Great Poet, should they seem so vile ? 
 Adonis led them many a mile.
 
 ECLOGUE X. CALLUS. 79 
 
 The shepherds too came ; then at last, 
 
 The cowherds never over fast. 
 Menalcas then, drenched through and 
 through 
 
 From gathering acorns in the dew. 40 
 
 One query one and all propose, 
 "Whence that delirious passion flows?" 
 
 Apollo in his turn inquires 
 " What phrensy now your soul inspires? 
 
 Lycoris for another swain 
 
 Braves realms of snow and frozen rain." 
 
 Sylvanus, next in turn, comes round, 
 
 His head with rustic honours crowned, 
 
 With tiger-lilies for a brand, 
 
 And fennel-flowers in his hand. 50 
 
 Pan next, the Arcadian god appeared, 
 
 We saw him with his face besmeared 
 
 With crimson elderberry juice, 
 
 And eke vermilion dyes profuse, 
 
 And he the same demand propounds 
 " What ! has this passion then no bounds ? 
 
 Think not fell love can so be eased, 
 
 Nor with such glut of tears appeased. 
 
 I know not who 'ever sated sees 
 
 With brooks the meads, with trefoil bees." 60 
 
 But he, still sick at heart, replied : 
 "Ye kind Arcadians, I confide 
 
 In you to make your mountains ring, 
 
 And sing as none but you can sing
 
 8o THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 My sorrows : then my bones will lie 
 
 In mother earth, how tranquilly ! 
 
 Then let your vocal reeds all tell 
 
 How I have loved so long, so well. 
 
 I would that I had erst been born 
 
 As one of you, and ne'ver been torn 70 
 
 From my own native shepherd's cot, 
 
 Or some ancestral vine-clad spot ; 
 
 For Phyllis then, as I opine, 
 
 Or else Amyntas had been mine, 
 
 Or else some other flame as dear 
 
 (And what if good Amyntas here 
 
 Be dusky, are not violets dark, 
 
 And hyacinths both flowers of mark ?) 
 
 Then by the olive or the vine, 
 
 My love with me would oft recline. So 
 
 Then Phyllis would my chaplets tie, 
 
 Amyntas warble cheerily 
 
 Here all the crystal founts are cool, 
 
 Soft meadows here surround each pool, 
 
 And grove here, sweet Lycoris, too, 
 
 How happy could I be with you, 
 
 And spend my life so void of care, 
 
 That nought but time my frame would 
 
 wear. 
 
 Now cruel Mars my homage claims, 
 And to the camp my fortune chains, 90 
 
 While in the midst of arms and foes, 
 I suffer passion's phrensied throes ;
 
 ECLOGUE X. CALLUS. Si 
 
 And you, the while, afar from home, 
 
 I scarce believe it, lonely roam 
 
 Amidst the cruel Alpine snows, 
 
 Or Rhenish frosts may be who knows 1 
 
 Oh ! may the frosts not harm thee, sweet, 
 
 Or rough ice cut thy tender feet. 
 
 Well, now, methinks, that I'll rehearse 
 
 My treasure of Euboeic verse i oo 
 
 The while my reed in concert dares 
 
 The old Sicilian shepherd's airs. 
 
 Ah, well I know I 'would rather brood 
 
 Upon my woes in solitude, 
 
 Among the savage wild beasts' dens, 
 
 Among the thickets in the glens, 
 
 And carve my tale of love at ease 
 
 Upon the tender bark of trees ; 
 
 So carved that with their growth 'it would 
 
 grow. 
 
 But now among the nymphs I 'will go no 
 To Maenalus, and ramble o'er 
 His rugged crags, or hunt the boar. 
 No snows shall stop, no frosts shall stay 
 My ardour for the hunt to-day : 
 My rattling hounds shall make their raid 
 Upon each wild Parthenian glade : 
 Already now my spirit roves 
 Among the rocks and ringing groves ; 
 Already now I seem to throw 
 The Cretan dart from Parthian bow : 120
 
 82 THE BUCOLICS. 
 
 As if such remedies could cure 
 
 The phrensy that I now endure ! 
 
 As if the God of love aye thrills 
 
 With pity for our human ills ! 
 
 So now of these delights I tire, 
 
 And not the lays that ye inspire 
 
 O, Hamadryads ! can appease 
 
 My pains no more the woodlands please ; 
 
 How far so 'ever our art may range, 
 
 The course of love we cannot change. 130 
 
 Not should we, half frost-bitten, drink 
 
 At Thracian Hebro's frozen brink, 
 
 Or, in mid-winter, undergo 
 
 The horrors of Sithonian snow. 
 
 Not if we led our sheep to graze 
 
 Beneath the tropics, where the rays 
 
 Of Nubian suns, (God save the mark), 
 
 Would scorch the tall elms' inner bark. 
 
 Triumphant love is lord of all, 
 
 Then let us at his footstool fall. 140 
 
 Suffice it, muses, that your bard 
 Should sing thus far, upon the sward 
 The while he sits, and nimbly plaits 
 With supple flag the basket mats. 
 And now we pray that ye will cause 
 Gallus to hear him with applause : 
 Gallus, for whom our love still grows 
 From hour to hour, as each day shows,
 
 ECLOGUE X. CALLUS. 83 
 
 As fast as alders, when in spring 
 
 Their early shoots are lengthening. 150 
 
 Come, let us rise, for evening shade 
 
 May harm the minstrel in the glade. 
 
 Of shade the crops at times complain, 
 
 And deem it baneful to the grain ; 
 
 Hie homeward, goats, hie, gluttons, hie, 
 
 There 'is Hesperus rising in the sky. 
 
 G 2
 
 ODES of HORACE,
 
 INDEX. 
 
 1 
 
 w 
 
 o 
 
 u 
 O 
 
 S 
 
 rt.S 
 i 1 i-J 
 
 X . 
 
 ^= <5 
 
 fco.5 
 
 w J 
 
 Title or 
 Inscription. 
 
 First Lines. 
 
 M 
 
 
 
 I. 
 
 3 
 
 40 
 
 46 
 
 To Virgil 
 
 Sic te diva potens... 
 
 87 
 
 
 5 
 
 16 
 
 20 
 
 To Pyrrha 
 
 Quis multa gracilis 
 
 89 
 
 
 9 
 
 24 
 
 24 
 
 To Thaliarch . 
 
 Vides ut alta stet ... 
 
 91 
 
 
 ii 
 
 8 
 
 20 
 
 To Leuconoe... 
 
 Tu ne quaesieris ... 
 
 93 
 
 
 15 
 
 36 
 
 56 
 
 The Prophecy 
 
 Pastor cum traheret 
 
 94 
 
 
 
 
 
 of Nereus 
 
 
 
 
 23 
 
 12 
 
 15 
 
 To Chloe 
 
 Vitas hinnuleo 
 
 97 
 
 
 37 
 
 32 
 
 32 
 
 To his Boon 
 
 Nunc est bibenclum 
 
 98 
 
 
 
 
 
 Companions 
 
 
 
 
 18 
 
 8 
 
 8 
 
 To his Servinf 
 
 Persicos odi 
 
 IOO 
 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 Man 
 
 
 
 II. 
 
 3 
 
 28 
 
 42 
 
 To Delius 
 
 ^Equam memento . . . 
 
 101 
 
 
 10 
 
 2A 
 
 2A 
 
 To Licinius 
 
 Rectius vives 
 
 104 
 
 
 13 
 
 **! 
 
 40 
 
 T- 
 
 5 
 
 To a Falling 
 
 Ille et nefasto 
 
 106 
 
 
 
 
 
 Tree 
 
 
 
 
 
 28 
 
 A 2 
 
 To Postliurnus. 
 
 Eheu fugaces 
 
 109 
 
 
 18 
 
 40 
 
 *r* 
 
 52 
 
 The Vanity of 
 
 Non ebur neque... 
 
 in 
 
 
 
 
 
 Luxury 
 
 aureum 
 
 
 III. 
 
 2 
 
 32 
 
 48 
 
 To the Romans 
 
 Angustam, amici ... 
 
 "3 
 
 
 3 
 
 72 
 
 72 
 
 The Efficacy of 
 
 Justum et tenacem . . . 
 
 116 
 
 
 
 
 
 Virtue and 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Resolution 
 
 
 
 
 19 
 
 28 
 
 35 
 
 To Telephus . . . 
 
 Quantum distet ab 
 
 120 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Inacho 
 
 
 
 22 
 
 8 
 
 10 
 
 To Diana 
 
 Montium Custos ... 
 
 122 
 
 
 26 
 
 12 
 
 12 
 
 To Venus 
 
 Vixi puellis 
 
 12T, 
 
 IV. 
 
 7 
 
 28 
 
 42 
 
 To Torquatus . 
 
 Diffugcre nives 
 
 j 
 
 124 
 
 V. 
 
 2 
 
 70 
 
 7 
 
 Country Life ... 
 
 Beatus ille qui 
 
 127 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 procul 

 
 87 
 
 LIB. I. ODE III. 
 
 TO THE SHIP WHICH WAS TO TAKE VIRGIL TO 
 ATHENS. 
 
 Sic te diva potens Cypri. 
 
 I PRAY the Cyprian goddess queen, 
 
 And Helen's twin kin-stars of glorious sheen, 
 I pray the parent of the gales 
 
 Protect thee, by withholding from thy sails 
 All but the breeze which eastward blows, 
 
 If thou, O ! ship, in answer to my vows, 
 Wilt only, as is meet, restore 
 
 Our Virgil safely to the Attic shore, 
 And so preserve full half my soul, 
 
 Entrusted for the nonce to thy control. n 
 Breastplate of brass in triple fold 
 
 He surely wore, who whilom was so bold, 
 As first of men to venture to consign 
 
 His fragile pinnace to the ruthless brine ; 
 Nor held in awe the fearful shock 
 
 Of Boreas wrestling with the dread Siroc; 
 Nor yet the Hyads, boding rain, 
 
 Nor yet the wild South-wester's hurricane,
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Who, sternest lord that Hadria knows, 
 
 Calls her sea-waves to anger or repose. 20 
 
 What form of death could he have feared, 
 
 To whose unshrinking eye there first appeared 
 The monsters of the deep ( \ who first 
 
 Saw the seas lash Keraunian cliffs accursed 1 
 Jove's caution purposed, all in vain, 
 
 To part the earth for ever from the main 
 If impious rafts persistently 
 
 Will dare to trespass on the holy sea. 
 Mankind is ever prone to dare 
 
 All dangers, and in paths forbidden fare. 30 
 The daring once of Japhet's race 
 
 Abstracted fire from out the realms of space : 
 When fire was first brought down to earth, 
 
 A brood of ghastly evils had their birth ! 
 Consumption then, and fevers dire 
 
 Provoked his tardy hand to swifter ire, 
 And quickened then death's lagging pace 
 
 Then Daedalus essayed to traverse space 
 On pinions never meant for man, 
 
 The toils of Hercules attained to span 40 
 The floods of Acheron what then ! 
 
 There is nothing left too arduous for men ! 
 Our folly even soars so high, 
 
 That we aspire to scale the very sky, 
 Nor will our wild and wicked pride 
 
 Let Jove's hand lay his bolts of wrath aside.
 
 ( 89 ) 
 LIB. I. ODE V. 
 
 TO PYRRHA. 
 
 Quis rmilta gracilis te puer in rosa. 
 
 I. 
 
 OH, who is the stripling so scented and slim, 
 Who now in your pleasant grot, Pyrrha, reposes 
 
 On litter of roses, 
 
 Still cooing and wooing ? 
 Those tresses of gold you have braided for him, 
 
 2. 
 
 With charming simplicity ! ere very long, 
 For all he is now so confiding a lover, 
 
 He 'will surely discover 
 
 Sad treason in season, 
 The smooth waters ruffled by breezes so strong. 
 
 3- 
 
 Fond fool ! he believes you as sterling as gold, 
 And trusts he will find you for ever as tender, 
 As prone to surrender ; 
 Not ruing what's brewing, 
 
 Alas ! for the wights who 'have not known thee of 
 old.
 
 90 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 4- 
 
 The walls of the temple bear witness for me, 
 Who hung up my raiment just after one dipping, 
 
 All soaking and dripping ; 
 
 My motive was votive ; 
 My thanks they were due to the God of the Sea.
 
 LIB. I. ODE IX. 
 
 TO THALIARCH. 
 Vicles ut alta stet nive candidum, 
 
 SEE how Soracte's towering crest 
 
 Gleams white with snow, and the laden Li'ees 
 How they creak and groan with the weight 
 oppressed ! 
 
 See how the torrents freeze ! 
 
 Consume the cold ! here, logs of pine 
 
 Come, heap up the hearth with good dry 
 wood ! 
 
 Bring up, if you please, the Sabine wine, 
 The four-year old the good ! 
 
 Leave all the rest to heaven, for when 
 
 The Gods have allayed the fierce Siroc i 
 
 That wars with the waves, no cypress then, 
 Or mountain ash will rock. 
 
 Seek not to dip in the well of time, 
 
 Each day that the fates accord, set down 
 
 As so much gain, nor in youth's glad prime 
 Despise SAveet love, nor frown
 
 92 ODES OF HORA CE. 
 
 Upon the dance while the sap is green, 
 And surly age keeps aloof ; but now 
 
 For sports and pastimes, sweet seventeen, 
 
 The twilight-whispered vow, 20 
 
 The tell-tale laugh of the girl we love, 
 From the nook she has made her lair 
 
 Come, wrest from her hand a scarf or glove, 
 In spite of her feigned " forbear."
 
 93 
 
 LIB. I. ODE XL 
 
 TO LEUCONOE. 
 Tu ne qurcsieris. 
 
 WHAT the term of clays awarded 
 
 By the Gods to thee to me, 
 Ask not ! it is forbidden knowledge 
 
 Banned of heaven, Leuconoe. 
 Question not the magic tables 
 
 Of the Babylonian seer, 
 Better brave whate'er may happen, 
 
 Whether Jove designs us here 
 Many winters, or has destined 
 
 This to be our very last, 
 This, which wastes the Tuscan billows 
 
 By the fury of its blast. 
 Come, be wise, and let the vintage 
 
 Melt the mellow grape to wine, 
 Brief as is the destined season, 
 
 Length of hope must not be thine. 
 Even now, while we are speaking, 
 
 Time impatient flits away ; 
 Trust but little to to-morrow, 
 
 Make the utmost of to-day
 
 ( 94 ) 
 
 LIB. I. ODE XV. 
 
 THE PROPHECY OF NEREUS. 
 Pastor cum traheret. 
 
 WHEN the shepherd prince was taking 
 
 Ravished Helen o'er the seas. 
 Treacherously seized and borne in 
 
 Phrygian bark to Trojan leas, 
 Father Nereus left the swift winds, 
 
 Left them to unwonted ease 
 While he sang the awful burden 
 
 Of their hidden destinies. 
 
 Evil omens thus he chanted, 
 Evil omens tend the bride, 
 
 Whom united Greece will follow 
 Follow up with all her pride, 
 
 Sworn to break the fatal nuptials, 
 Priam's ancient throne beside.
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Sorry work for horse and rider, 
 Sorry work for son and sire. 
 
 Ah ! what mourning you will cause by 
 Many a sad Dardanian pyre ; 
 
 Pallas now prepares her oegis, 
 Helm, and car, with reckless ire. 
 
 All in vain you comb those tresses, 
 
 Fondly trusting Venus' aids ; 
 All in vain you touch those harp-strings, 
 
 Striking chords erst left for maids ; 
 Softest couches will not shield you 
 
 Shield you from the Grecian blades. 
 
 Surely 'it is not so you purpose 
 
 Shunning winged Cretan bows, 
 Shunning all the din of battle, 
 
 Ajax fleetest of your foes, 30 
 
 Vainly ! that vile head is destined, 
 
 None too soon, to feed the crows. 
 
 See you not Laertes' offspring ! 
 
 Bane of your devoted race ? 
 See you not the honoured Nestor ? 
 
 Teucer, too, whom you must face ? 
 Salamis will find him for you, 
 
 Warrior of unequalled grace.
 
 9 6 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 See you not that matchless soldier, 
 
 Sthenelus, so skilled to tame 4 
 
 Fiery steeds ; and noble Meryon ? 
 Well, methinks, you know his name ! 
 
 See, Tydides burns to find you, 
 Born to dim his father's fame. 
 
 Like a frightened stag you'will flee him, 
 Stag that hears the baying hound, 
 
 And, unmindful of his grazing, 
 
 Spurns the turf with lightest bound. 
 
 Panting with a craven sighing, 
 
 Was it thus your bride was found ? 50 
 
 See, it comes, the day of reckoning, 
 
 Grecian fleet to Ilion's strand, 
 Woe betiding Phrygian matrons, 
 
 Woe betiding Phrygian land. 
 Not many winters more, and then, 
 
 Trojan homes for Grecian brand ! 
 
 NOTE. This Ode was translated at sea, in sight of the Plains 
 >f Troy, in July, 1864.
 
 ( 97 ) 
 
 LIB. I. ODE XXIII. 
 
 TO CHLOE. 
 Vitas hinnuleo. 
 
 I. 
 
 CHLOE ! CHLOE ! wherefore fly 
 
 Like a filly, young and shy, 
 
 Seeking a'mid the maze of hills 
 
 Its frightened dam, -whom panic thrills, 
 
 At every breeze that stirs the trees ? 
 
 2. 
 
 When winds whispering " spring is nigh" 
 Through the rustling leaflets sigh ; 
 When bright green lizards as they glide 
 Just push the tangled brakes aside ; 
 See ! how heart-tremor shakes her knees. 
 
 3- 
 
 No fierce tiger, puss, am I, 
 
 No wild lion who would try 
 
 To eat you up ! Then wherefore flee 1 
 
 Come, leave your mother's side for me 
 
 A woman now, and born to please ! 
 
 H
 
 LIB. I. ODE XXXVII. 
 
 TO HIS BOON COMPANIONS. 
 Nunc est bibendum. 
 
 Now fill your glasses, now foot it merrily, 
 Strike up the galop, now for your banquetings, 
 
 Now deck the Gods' shrines with your gar- 
 lands, 
 
 Now is the time for your fetes, my comrades. 
 
 Not one day sooner were you at liberty 
 Out of the cherished bins of your ancestors, 
 
 To drink the choice wines, while the mad 
 queen 
 
 Plotted the downfall of Roman grandeur. 
 
 With all her vile suite, nourished in infamy, 
 Perished with riot, was there a hope for her? 
 What tho' she was drunk with good fortune, 
 Soon she had need to restrain her phrensy.
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 99 
 
 Scarce of her whole fleet was there a vessel left, 
 Such conflagration ! Caesar was terrible. 
 
 He taught her, though wine-drenched, what 
 fear was, 
 
 When in a panic he drove her homewards, 
 
 Plying his oars well just as a sparrow-hawk 
 
 Chases a ringdove, or as the harriers 
 
 Hunt down the poor hare in the lowlands, 
 White with the flakes of the driving snow- 
 storm. 20 
 
 He would have chained his mischievous enemy, 
 She dared to choose death rather than misery ; 
 
 She had no woman's fear of cold steel ; 
 
 She would not hide with her fleet in corners. 
 
 She dared re-seek her desolate palaces : 
 Calm on her brave face, she could manipulate 
 Rude asps without flinching, and welcome 
 Venomous fangs on her splendid bosom. 
 
 In her determined death more invincible 
 Than Cresar's wild Liburnian savages; 30 
 
 Her woman's pride never could stoop to 
 Dangle her chains in the victor's triumph !
 
 LIB. I. ODE XXXVIII. 
 
 TO HIS SERVING MAN. 
 Persicos odi, puer, apparatus. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE gay gauds of Persia, I hate them, my lad, 
 And ribanded wreaths I'd rather not see ; 
 
 Why search if there 'is still a late rose to be had ? 
 The last rose of summer is nothing to me. 
 
 2. 
 
 Mere myrtle is ample for all that I care, 
 
 Pray mingle nought else with that myrtle of 
 mine ; 
 
 It is not too fine for a flunkey to wear, 
 
 Or his wine-bibbing liege in his arbour of vine.
 
 101 ) 
 
 LIB. II. ODE III. 
 
 TO DELIUS. 
 
 .Equam memento rebus in arduis. 
 
 IN adversity remember 
 To preserve an even mind, 
 
 So in prosperous days your spirits 
 In due bounds will be confined, 
 
 Free from arrogance, my friend, 
 
 Not unmindful of your end. 
 
 2. 
 
 Whether all your life is sadness, 
 Or at ease, on some green knoll, 
 
 Through long days of endless revel 
 You have comforted your soul 
 
 With Falernian, from the bin 
 
 Of your favourite brand within.
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 3- 
 Where huge pines and hoary poplars 
 
 Love to weave a grateful shade, 
 Waving welcome with their branches, 
 
 While the streamlet in the glade 
 Winding, delving through the soil, 
 Seems to tremble with its toil. 
 
 4- 
 Thither with the wine and perfumes, 
 
 Bid them bring the sweet frail rose, 20 
 While as yet on youth fair fortune 
 
 All its choicest gifts bestows, 
 And the sisters that we dread 
 Leave uncut the triple thread. 
 
 5- 
 You must leave your purchased forest, 
 
 You must leave your mountain home, 
 You must leave your villa, watered 
 
 By the Tiber's yellow foam ; 
 And some reckless heir will spend 
 Heaps of wealth you loved to tend. 30 
 
 6. 
 
 Whether you are born a Dives, 
 
 With an ancient pedigree, 
 Little matters, or a pauper 
 
 Living 'neath the open sky ;
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 103 
 
 Ruthless fate will have its way ! 
 You must be the spoiler's prey ! 
 
 7- 
 One sure road we all must travel, 
 
 For us all there is an urn, 
 Which one day must be inverted, 
 
 And our lot be drawn in turn : 40 
 
 O'er the ferry to be sent 
 To eternal banishment !
 
 104 
 
 LIB. II. ODE X. 
 
 TO LICINIUS. 
 Rectius vives, Licini, neque altum. 
 
 MY rule of life, Licinius, hear ! 
 
 Tempt not for aye the open sea ; 
 Nor yet, through dread of tempests, steer 
 
 Too close beside the rock-bound lee. 
 Whoever loves the golden mean, 
 
 Will keep his roof in good repair, 
 Too simple in his tastes, I ween, 
 
 For modern modes to care. 
 
 The largest pine in wintry squalls 
 
 Most often rocks ; with heaviest crash 
 The tallest turret ever falls : 
 
 High peaks attract the lightning's flash. 
 With hope, when fortune favours not, 
 
 When fortune smiles, why, then with fear 
 The well-trained mind regards its lot, 
 
 For Jupiter is near ;
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 105 
 
 Who, after winter, sends us springs. 
 
 Do not our troubles come and go 1 
 Apollo takes his harp and sings, 
 
 And does not always bend his bow. 20 
 
 What, if your means are narrow ; wear 
 
 A dauntless face, and never quail, 
 But if the gales blow fresh and fair, 
 
 Be wise, and shorten sail.
 
 ( io6 ) 
 
 LIB. II. ODE XIII. 
 
 TO A FALLING TREE. 
 
 Ille et nefasto te posuit die. 
 
 I. 
 
 IT was a luckless day, O tree, 
 When he whoever planted thee 
 First set thee out, with impious hand, 
 To be the by-word of the land, 
 The bane of his own progeny. 
 
 2. 
 
 I could believe that fellow broke 
 His father's neck, and stained the oak 
 Of his own inner chamber floor 
 With his confiding guest's sprent gore, 
 And dealt in venoms with the folk 
 
 3- 
 
 Of Colchis ; ay and foremost led 
 What villanies were ever bred ; 
 Who set thee in this field of mine, 
 To fall one day, O log malign, 
 Upon my harmless head.
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 107 
 
 4- 
 
 To shun what hourly dangers need 
 Most caution, men take little heed ; 
 The mariners of Carthage hate 
 The Bosphorus, heedless if swift fate 
 
 From other source proceed. 20 
 
 Reluctantly the soldier dares 
 The flying Parthian, who forswears 
 Italian prisons ; but the might 
 Of death is ever apt to smite 
 Its victims unawares. 
 
 6. 
 
 How very nearly it was mine 
 
 To view the realms of Proserpine, 
 
 And ^Eacus upon his seat 
 
 Of judgment, and the sure retreat, 
 
 Where shades in bliss recline : 30 
 
 7- 
 
 Where Sappho sweeps her plaintive strings, 
 And of her favoured sisters sings ; 
 While perils of the sea, and eke 
 The woes of war, and exile, wake 
 Alceeo's grander carollings.
 
 io8 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 8. 
 
 With sacred silence, as is right, 
 The listening shades the twain requite ; 
 But tales of tyrants overthrown, 
 And martial strains do most, I own, 
 
 The thronging crowds delight. 40 
 
 9- 
 
 What wonder ! when, beneath their spell, 
 The hundred-headed hound of hell 
 Droops his black ears ; and pleasure wakes 
 Contortions in the coil of snakes 
 
 That wreathe the locks of Furies fell. 
 
 10. 
 
 Prometheus also, and the sire 
 Of Pelops, feel their labour dire 
 Beguiled by those harmonious airs : 
 Orion's self no longer cares 
 
 For timid lynx, or lion's ire. 50
 
 ( 109 ) 
 
 LIB. II. ODE XIV. 
 
 TO POSTHUMUS. 
 Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume. 
 
 I. 
 
 FLEETING, oh ! how swiftly fleeting, 
 
 Speed the rolling years away ! 
 Virtue will not smooth the wrinkles, 
 Will not thaw the snow that sprinkles 
 Locks of eld, nor serve to stay 
 Death's approaches for a day. 
 
 2. 
 No, my friend, if thrice a hundred 
 
 Bulls were daily sacrificed, 
 On the red and reeking altars 
 Of the God who never falters, 
 
 Nor relaxes his firm hold 
 
 On the mighty men of old. 
 
 3- 
 Thou wouldst not appease his craving ; 
 
 All the souls that people earth, 
 Whatsoever their condition, 
 Whether peasant or patrician, 
 
 Must at length, by sure decree, 
 
 Sail across his gloomy sea.
 
 ODES OF HORA CE. 
 
 4- 
 Vainly shall we shirk the perils 
 
 Of the ocean and the land ; 20 
 
 Vainly shun the fields of battle, 
 Or the rocks where tempests rattle ; 
 Vainly take a timely flight, 
 From the East wind and the blight. 
 
 5- 
 
 We must visit black Cocytus, 
 Flowing with its languid stream ; 
 
 We must go where Danaus' daughters 
 
 Expiate those fearful slaughters ; 
 Where his task, in shadowy guise, 
 Sisyphus for ever plies. 30 
 
 6. 
 We must leave both wife and children, 
 
 We must leave both house and home ; 
 None, of all thy pet plantation, 
 Coaxed by careful cultivation, 
 
 Save the hated cypress tree 
 
 Shall attend its brief lessee. 
 
 7- 
 Some more worthy heir will revel 
 
 In the choicest stoups of wine, 
 In thy secret cellar hoarded : 
 And, with liqueurs not accorded 40 
 
 To the Pontiff's pampered suite, 
 
 Stain the pavement at his feet.
 
 ( III ) 
 
 LIB. II. ODE XVIII. 
 
 THE VANITY OF LUXURY. 
 Non ebur neque aureum. 
 
 IN my home no gilded ceilings 
 
 Gleam on ivory and gold, 
 No columns hewn in Libyan quarries 
 
 Beams of polished oak uphold. 
 I lord it o'er no miser's palace, 
 
 Like some unknown upstart heir ; 
 To woo my vote with webs of purple, 
 
 Fawning matrons never care. 
 But I am trusty, and of humour 
 
 I possess a pleasant vein ; 10 
 
 Tho' I 'am poor, the rich affect me, 
 
 Wherefore, then, should I complain ? 
 With continual suits to pester 
 
 Friends in power I'am little prone ; 
 Quite content among the Sabines, 
 
 With the little farm I own, 
 So one day succeeds another 
 
 Like the billows on the main, 
 So my life's calm glamour passes 
 
 While the new moons wax and wane. 20
 
 ODES OF HORA CE. 
 
 As for you, you 'are planning mansions, 
 
 Thoughtless of the yawning tomb, 
 Sending marbles to the mason, 
 
 Close upon your day of doom. 
 On the pleasant Bay of Baise 
 
 Gyves for Neptune you prepare, 
 Discontented with the limits 
 
 That his shores have set you there. 
 Must you move your neighbour's land- 
 marks ? 
 
 Where will Avarice stay its hand ? 30 
 
 Must you trespass on the borders 
 
 Of your humble tenant's land ? 
 Drive him forth with his Penates, 
 
 Wildly clasping to his breast 
 Weeping wife and squalid children, 
 
 (At his wits' end where to rest ?) 
 Yet no palace is more surely 
 
 Trimmed for Dives, at the last, 
 Than the bourne of ravening Orcus, 
 
 When his lease of life is past. 40 
 
 Earth, impartial, bares her bosom, 
 
 Whither then extends your aim ? 
 As for peasants, so for princes ; 
 
 Meting out to all the same. 
 Hell would not release Prometheus, 
 
 Nor its Usher take a bribe ; 
 He it is who curbs the miser, 
 
 And the miser's hated tribe ;
 
 ODES OF HORA CE. 113 
 
 He it is who frees the pauper, 
 
 When his life-long toil is o'er; 50 
 
 He it is who comes when summoned, 
 
 Comes unsummoned to the door ! 
 
 LIB. III. ODE II. 
 
 TO THE ROMANS. 
 Angustam, amici, pauperiem pati. 
 
 IN the school of active warfare 
 Let thy boy, my friend, be reared, 
 
 To endure good sharp privation, 
 As a trooper to be feared ; 
 
 Let him check the foe's advance 
 
 With the terror of his lance. 
 
 2. 
 
 Let him rough, it in the open, 
 Let him live in war's alarms, 
 
 So that when, from walls beleaguered, 
 Royal ladies flaunt their charms, 
 
 He may catch the matron's eye, 
 
 While the daughter, with a sigh,
 
 1 14 ODES OF HORA CE. 
 
 3- 
 
 Whispers, " May my precious husband, 
 Deeds of war unused to dare, 
 
 Never venture to encounter 
 That fierce lion in his lair, 
 
 Whom such fury doth impel 
 
 Thro' the bloody jaws of hell." 
 
 4- 
 Oh, how sweet it is, and glorious, 
 
 For one's fatherland to die ! 
 Death pursues the flying coward, 
 
 Harmless youth 'it will not pass by, 
 Tho' his timid knees should quake, 
 Tho' his back a target make. 
 
 5- 
 Valour, petty buffets scorning, 
 
 Wears its gold without a stain, 
 Will not raise or sink its standard ; 
 
 Will not bate its proud disdain, 
 At the bidding of the crowd, 
 Tho' its voice be raised aloud. 
 
 6. 
 
 Valour, opening heaven's portals 
 For the men who should not die, 
 
 Strives to travel paths forbidden 
 To the regions of the sky ;
 
 ODES OF HORA CE. 115 
 
 Spurning, like a strong-winged bird, 
 Earth, and all the vulgar herd. 
 
 7- 
 And, moreover, sound discretion 
 
 Wins its own assured reward ; 
 He who blabs the rites of Ceres 
 
 Shall not share my sacred board ; 40 
 
 Nor his frail bark put to sea, 
 If I have my will, with me. 
 
 Heaven hath often, in one ruin, 
 To avenge its slighted shrine, 
 
 Overwhelmed both saint and sinner 
 In a flood of wrath divine : 
 
 Justice, tho' it seem to halt, 
 
 Rarely will be found at fault. 
 
 I 2
 
 LIB. III. ODE III. 
 
 THE EFFICACY OF VIRTUE AND RESOLUTION. 
 Justum et tenaccm propositi viruni. 
 
 I. 
 
 ONE of determined purpose and honesty 
 No, not the wrath of wrong-headed citizens, 
 No, nor the tyrant's frowning visage, 
 
 Turns from his purpose aside ; no storm wind, 
 
 2. 
 
 Reigning resistless, mistress of Adria ; 
 
 No, nor Jove's right hand wielding the thunder- 
 bolt : 
 
 If all around him fell the crushed globe, 
 Fearless he 'would perish among the ruins. 
 
 3- 
 
 'Twas thus did Pollux, thus the great Hercules, 
 Ascend the glowing heights of the firmament, 
 Twixt whom the great Caesar, reclining, 
 
 Sips with his roseate lips the nectar.
 
 ODES OF HORA CE. 117 
 
 4- 
 
 Thus was it, Bacchus, thy lot of Tiger whelps 
 Learnt to submit their necks to the collar 
 
 strap, 
 Untamed aforetime : so Quirinus 
 
 'Scaped Acheron with the steeds of Mayors. 
 
 Welcome the speech that Juno pronounced before 
 
 The Gods in Council. Ilion, Ilion, 
 
 That dissolute damned arbiter, that 
 Frailest of foreigners, overthrew thee, 20 
 
 Laid thee low-lying ; ay, when Laomedon 
 Forswore his pledged words, cheated the Gods 
 
 above, 
 
 Then, with thy false king and thy people, 
 Doomed both by me and by chaste Minerva. 
 
 7- 
 
 No more the splendid Spartan adulteress, 
 Nor her seducer, reigns in impunity, 
 
 Nor does the perjured house of Priam 
 Brave my good Greeks by the might of Hector.
 
 1 1 8 ODES OF HORA CE. 
 
 8. 
 
 No more the conflict through our Olympian 
 Strife is protracted. Time I should yield to 
 
 Mars 30 
 
 . My wrath, and his hated descendant, 
 Born of the Priestess of Troy's High Altar. 
 
 9- 
 
 Him, of my free grace, I will admit to the 
 Mansions celestial, not without liberty 
 
 To quaff the rich nectar, and write his 
 Name on the rolls of the Gods Olympic. 
 
 10. 
 
 So long the salt waves roll between Ilion 
 And distant Rome, so long let the exiles reign 
 Uncursed in what home they 'have adopted, 
 If but the cattle range unmolested, 40 
 
 ii. 
 
 And hateful wild beasts kennel their progeny 
 On those dishonoured bones of their ancestors ; 
 
 While Rome gives her laws to the wide world, 
 And her proud Capitol stands in splendour. 
 
 12. 
 
 So let her name be feared to the uttermost 
 Corner of earth's bounds, where the mid ocean 
 
 Divideth our Europe from Afric, 
 Where the rich corn-levels hail the Nile flood,
 
 ODES OF HORA CE. 119 
 
 Strong in her scorn of gold yet invisible, 
 
 Gold, which were better down in the mine below, 50 
 
 Than won for the service of mortals 
 By sacrilegious and reckless robbers. 
 
 14. 
 
 Yes ! whatsoever shores be earth's boundaries, 
 Her arms shall reach them, all undeterred by the 
 
 Fierce shocks of convulsions volcanic, 
 Or the damp mists of eternal showers. 
 
 15- 
 
 This only caution, mandate of destiny, 
 Bind those Quirites : let not their piety, 
 
 Confiding in fortune's caresses, 
 Dare to repair the old walls of Priam. 60 
 
 1 6. 
 
 Phcenix-like else will Troy's evil genius, 
 Hungering for slaughter, shake his foul pinions, 
 
 Myself, Jove's sister-wife, relentless, 
 Heading the hosts of avenging armies. 
 
 17- 
 
 Thrice if her walls rose, forged in the brass furnace, 
 By Phoebus's own hands, thrice should they levelled 
 
 be- 
 
 Razed by my Argives ; thrice her widows 
 Mourn in captivity all their slain sons.
 
 120 -ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 18. 
 
 Ah ! these are strains too sad for my minstrelsy ; 
 
 Whither, oh ! wayward Muse, art thou wander- 
 ing? 70 
 The Speech of Immortals befits not 
 Melodies never yet tuned for grand themes. 
 
 LIB. III. ODE XIX. 
 
 TO TELEPHUS. 
 Quantum distet ab Inacho. 
 
 You tell us, no doubt it is perfectly true, 
 How long after Inachus Codrus came, 
 Of his death and about the ./Eacidas too, 
 And what were the wars which set Troy in 
 
 a flame. 
 
 It is all very well, but what has it to do 
 With the price of a cask of old Chian ? or who 
 Shall heat us the water, and make the brew 
 
 boil, 
 
 When we are quite fagged with pedestrian toil 
 Up there on the Apennines? nor have you 
 
 said 
 Who 'will ask us to dinner, or find us a bed. j
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 121 
 
 Come, fill up your glasses, and drink to the 
 
 moon, 
 And drink to the cock-crow ! what, drained 
 
 them so soon 1 
 
 Then toast the new Augur, Muraena, for he 
 Must receive all the honours, thrice-over the 
 
 three. 
 Yes, the priest of the Muses who frequently 
 
 feels 
 
 Their divine inspiration which over him steals, 
 Could not put up with less than thrice-over 
 
 the three : 
 The graces, fair girls, with their charms so 
 
 free, 
 Fear a breach of the peace, and would only 
 
 have three. 
 
 But it is good to be daft, just for once in a way : 20 
 Then, oh ! why should the fife be silent to-day? 
 And wherefore, oh wherefore, now hang up the 
 
 lyre? 
 
 A fig for the fingers that know how to tire : 
 Come, shower the roses, and never you fear 
 If Lycus, old churl, our revels should hear ; 
 I'll be bound it is envy he 'will feel to the core, 
 And his ill-mated lenian will feel it yet more. 
 Oh ! Telephus, Rhoda, the rosebud of girls, 
 
 Just out in the world, why, she runs after you, 
 She has fallen in love with your glossy black 
 
 curls ; 30
 
 122 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 And dreams you so handsome, so spruce, 
 
 and so true, 
 
 As bright and as pure as the star of the Eve ! 
 Your triumphs it is not for me to achieve ; 
 My love is consuming me slowly, you see, 
 For Glycera is not so loving to me ! 
 
 LIB. III. ODE XXII. 
 
 TO DIANA. 
 
 Montium Gustos. 
 I. 
 
 On'goddess, guardian of the hill and glade, 
 Who, thrice invoked, art prompt to lend thine 
 
 aid 
 
 To young expectant mothers in their pangs, 
 And snatch them scatheless from death's cruel 
 
 fangs, 
 
 Diana, triune maid ! 
 
 2. 
 
 Know that henceforth I dedicate to thee 
 This pine that shades my cottage, noble tree, 
 A wild boar's blood, slain ere 'it can bestow, 
 With slanting tusks, the meditated blow, 
 
 Shall be its annual fee. 10
 
 LIB. III. ODE XXVI. 
 
 TO VENUS. 
 Vixi puellis. 
 
 I 'HAVE lived a lady's man till now, 
 And have not served without repute ; 
 But now I have finished with my lute, 
 
 I 'will hang up all the kit, I vow, 
 
 2. 
 
 At Venus' shrine the left-hand wall ; 
 
 Yes, that's the place, come now, my lambs , 
 Hang there the crowbars, links, and rams 
 
 I used to breach the doors withal : 
 
 3- 
 
 O goddess of the Cyprian isle, 
 
 And Memphis never vexed with snow, 10 
 Oh raise thy lash for one smart blow, 
 
 And punish Chloe for her guile.
 
 LIB. IV. ODE VII. 
 
 TO TORQUATUS. 
 Diffugere nives. 
 
 I. 
 
 GONE are the snows, and the grasses 
 Are showing their face on the meadows, 
 So are the fronds on the trees. 
 
 2. 
 
 Earth is renewing her seasons, 
 The brooks to their banks are withdrawing 
 Waters which covered the leas. 
 
 3- 
 
 Nymphs with the graces are tripping 
 Away thro' the maze of the dances, 
 Careless of hiding their charms. 
 
 4- 
 
 Time, which makes havoc of pleasure, 
 And seasons forbid us to cherish 
 Hopes of immortal delight.
 
 ODES OF If OR A CE. 125 
 
 5- 
 
 Frosts are expelled by the zephyrs, 
 The spring is expelled by the summer, 
 Destined to die in its turn : 
 
 6. 
 
 When, with its apples, old autumn 
 Has gathered the spoils of the harvest, 
 Winter is on us again. 
 
 7- 
 
 Moons may be swift to recover 
 The losses they suffer in waning, 20 
 
 We, when we fall, like the leaves, 
 
 Whither did father ^Eneas, 
 And Tullus the monarch, and Ancus, 
 Turn into shadow and dust. 
 
 9- 
 
 Who can say, whether the purpose 
 Of God is to add an hereafter 
 For us to the boon of to-day ? 
 
 10. 
 
 Heirs cannot easily plunder, 
 How grasping soever their fingers, 
 Gifts thou hast made to thy mind.
 
 126 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 II. 
 
 Once thou art dead, and old Minos 
 Hath had thee arraigned, and pronounced his 
 Last solemn judgment on thee, 
 
 12. 
 
 Eloquence, virtue, or birthright, 
 Will serve thee but little thereafter 
 To win back thy former degree. 
 
 Out of the shadows of Orcus 
 
 Not even Diana herself could 
 
 Rescue Hippolyta's son ; 
 
 14. 
 
 Vain was the prowess of Theseus, 40 
 
 When he from the fetters of Lethe 
 Sought to deliver his friend.
 
 ( 127 ) 
 
 LIB. V. ODE II. 
 
 COUNTRY LIFE. 
 Beatus ille qui procul negotiis. 
 
 How happy is the man who free from busy care, 
 
 As were the primal races of the earth, 
 Can till his own paternal acres with his team, 
 
 By mortgages unburdened, or by debt ; 
 Who is not, like the soldier, by the bugle roused, 
 
 Nor has to fear the raging of the sea; 
 Who keeps quite clear of " Change," and enters not 
 the door 
 
 Of proud and influential citizens. 
 And so he either weds the lofty poplar trees 
 
 To the adult young offshoots of the vine ; i o 
 
 Or keeps an eye upon his lowing herds, which graze 
 
 In some sequestered glen among the hills ; 
 Or trims away the barren branches with his shears, 
 
 And grafts productive offsets in their room ; 
 Or stores in well-rinsed wine-jars honey from the 
 comb, 
 
 Or shears the fleeces of his fly-baned ewes ; 
 Or when old Autumn shows his honest head 
 abroad
 
 128 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 With crown of mellow apples on his hair, 
 Oh then how proud he feels in plucking grafted 
 
 pears, 
 
 And grapes in purple clusters from the vine, 20 
 
 To offer them as gifts, Priapus, at thy shrine, 
 
 And thine, Silvanus, guardian God of bounds. 
 He loves to lie at times beneath the old holm 
 
 oak, 
 
 Or sometimes on the velvet of the turf, 
 While, 'twixt their high banks, flow the waters of 
 
 the brook, 
 
 And sylvan warblers twitter in the shade ; 
 While from the gushing founts the bubbling wa- 
 ters run, 
 
 And challenge gentle slumbers by their tune. 
 But when the howling winter, dear to thundering 
 
 Jove, 
 Comes laden with its snowstorms and its 30 
 
 showers, 
 He either beats the coverts with his baying pack, 
 
 To drive the savage boars among his toils ; 
 Or on his slender poles sets net, with meshes fine, 
 
 To trap the greedy thrushes on the lawn ; 
 Or snares the timid hare, may be, some roaming 
 
 crane, 
 
 And feels no little triumph in his feat. 
 Oh ! who would not forget amid such scenes as 
 
 these 
 The carking cares which anxious lovers feel ?
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 129 
 
 But if some virtuous matron take her proper charge 
 
 Of cares domestic, and of infant loves, 40 
 
 As doth the Sabine dame or ruddy sunburnt wife 
 Who rules the sturdy boor's Apulian home ; 
 And pile well-seasoned logs upon his sacred hearth 
 
 What time her weary spouse is due at home ; 
 And drive the willing flock betwixt the wattled 
 
 fence, 
 
 And drain the milk from their distended dugs; 
 And drawing jugs of home-made wine from out 
 
 the cask, 
 
 Provide impromptu feasts without a charge : 
 No Lucrine natives then would suit my taste so 
 
 well, 
 
 Xo royal dish to set before a king, 50 
 
 If haply wild south-easters, thundering in the air, 
 
 Should bring some finny dainties to our coast ; 
 Xor would the Libyan sandgrouse please my palate 
 
 more, 
 
 Nor would Ionian quails me more delight 
 Than home-grown olives plucked from over-laden 
 
 boughs, 
 
 In my paternal grove of ancient trees, 
 Than would the simple dish of homely sorrel- 
 leaves, 
 
 And wholesome mallows, good for invalids, 
 Than would the lamb that 'is killed at boundary 
 
 festivals, 
 Than would the kid we rescued from the wolf. 60 
 
 K
 
 130 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Amidst such simple feasts how sweet it is to see 
 
 The sheep led home from pasture to the fold : 
 To see the wearied oxen droop the languid neck, 
 
 As home they drag the ploughshare upside down ; 
 And all the household-swarm that people well to do 
 
 Are wont to gather round their groaning board. 
 In some such strain as this the usurer, Alpheus ? 
 spake ; 
 
 He always meant to lead a country life, 
 And so, called all his monies in upon the Ides, 
 
 But, now the Kalends come, would put them 70 
 out.
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE SIBYLL. 
 
 A Free Translation from Ovid's Metamorphoses and the .'Eneid. 
 
 I 'WILL tell you a tale, if you'll listen, 
 That Ovid once told with applause, 
 
 And who would affirm the old Romans 
 Applauded without any cause 1 
 
 It happened to Father 
 
 That once, on his journey, he passed 
 The spot where his pilot, Misenus, 
 
 A permanent anchor had cast. 
 
 So soon as the turrets of Naples 
 
 Had faded away in his wake, 10 
 
 Fair Naples, whose sorrowing minstrels 
 
 Long wailed for Parthenope's sake, 
 
 He steered for the harbour of Cumae, 
 
 That marshy malarious shore, 
 Where once in her marvellous cavern 
 
 The Sibyll resided of yore. 
 K 2
 
 132 THE LEGEND OF THE SIBYLL. 
 
 Deep down in the heart of the mountain 
 Which springs from the edge of the lake, 
 
 Whose ominous name of Avernus 
 
 Its waters will never forsake. 2c 
 
 The mountain was dear to Apollo, 
 The God who inspired her strain, 
 
 Among the grim crags on the summit 
 He owned a magnificent fane. 
 
 Dim, gloomy, and vast was the cavern 
 Where dwelt his high priestess below ; 
 
 In vain had men often been eager 
 Its secret recesses to know. 
 
 It owned to a hundred windings, 
 
 A hundred mouths did it own, 30 
 
 Whence rolled like the far-distant thunder 
 
 The oracle's mystical moan. 
 
 Unveiling the womb of the future, 
 The purport and aim of the past ; 
 
 Yet dealing in dubious phrases, 
 
 Lest men should grow wise' over fast. 
 
 So dread was the scene and the Priestess, 
 Her votaries trembled with awe ; 
 
 /Eneas ne'er paused at the portals, 
 
 He quaked not for all that he saw. 40
 
 THE LEGEND OP THE SIBYLL. 133 
 
 He entered her cave, and besought her 
 To grant him the wish of his heart, 
 
 Permission to visit Avernus 
 And talk with his father apart. 
 
 In silence she heard his petition, 
 
 And fastened her eyes on the ground ; 
 
 His heart it beat loud till she raised them. 
 And glanced with a wild look around. 
 
 The form of her visage was altered, 
 
 And flushed was the hue of her face ; 50 
 
 Her long flowing tresses, dishevelled, 
 She shook from their fillets apace. 
 
 Her stature grew more than a mortal's, 
 Nor feminine now was her mien, 
 
 Her accents no longer they sounded 
 At all like a woman's, I ween. 
 
 She felt the Divine inspiration, 
 
 It maddened her under its yoke, 
 It coursed through her veins in its fury, 
 
 It racked her full heart as she spoke. 60 
 
 " Oh, great is the boon that thou seekest, 
 Unheard of, great hero," she said, 
 
 " But great is the fame of thy valour, 
 Thy piety's fame is wide spread.
 
 134 THE LEGEND OF THE SIBYLL. 
 
 " Then be of good courage, O Trojan, 
 
 The boon that thou seekest is thine ! 
 Wouldst thou visit the regions of Orcus, 
 The charge of thy journey be mine ! 
 
 " I'll show thee the halls of Elysium, 
 
 Thy parent his face thou shalt see, 70 
 There's no path that may not be trodden 
 When valour like thine is the plea." 
 
 She spoke, and revealed to his vision 
 A bough that was gleaming with gold, 
 
 A bough that hung do\vn in the forest 
 Which Juno once owned, as I'm told. 
 
 She pointed it out, and then bade him 
 Go pluck it in haste from the tree; 
 
 ^neas obeyed in a moment 
 His eyes were enabled to see 
 
 The wonders of terrible Orcus, 
 
 Its ghostly mysterious glades, 
 The spirits of all his forefathers, 
 
 The wealth and the ways of the shades. 
 
 He saw there his father Anchises, 
 
 No longer weighed down by his years ; 
 
 He learnt all the laws of his prison ; 
 He told him his hopes and his fears :
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE SIBYLL. 135 
 
 He opened the books of the Parcse, 
 
 And mused on the mystical page ; 90 
 
 Learnt what were his hopes for the future, 
 And what were the wars he should wage. 
 
 Till, weary at last, he bethought him, 
 When little was left him to learn, 
 
 That back to the regions of daylight 
 It might be as well to return. 
 
 Now, while he was slowly retracing 
 His steps with the dame by his side, 
 
 He thought he would solace his journey 
 By chatting awhile with his guide. 100 
 
 ]know not," he said, " if thou really 
 Art that which thy bearing implies, 
 A child of the gods, or a goddess, 
 But such thou must rank in my eyes. 
 
 " I owe thee no small obligation, 
 
 A sight of the regions of Death, 
 And safety amidst all the perils 
 
 That threatened to cut off my breath, 
 
 " For this, thy fair favour, I'll promise 
 
 So soon I return to the light, 1 1 o 
 
 I'll rear thee a shrine and a temple, 
 And pay thee all honours aright ! "
 
 136 THE LEGEND OF THE SIBYLL. 
 
 The Prophetess heard his avowal, 
 
 And heaved such a terrible sigh ; 
 " I am not a Goddess," she answered ; 
 " Unworthy of incense am I. 
 
 " I will not attempt to mislead thee, 
 
 My case it is sad, thou must know ; 
 Thou wilt not refuse to believe me 
 
 On hearing the tale of my woe. i 20 
 
 " I once was beloved, and my suitor 
 Was Phoebus himself, I declare; 
 He offered to make me immortal, 
 If only his couch I would share. 
 
 " But while he was sighing and suing, 
 
 And bribing me not to decline, 
 
 Said he: ' My fair damsel of Cumae 
 
 Whatever thou askest is thine !' 
 
 " I scooped up the sand, a good quantum, 
 
 And showed him the handful I held, 130 
 And asked, oh ! the foolish delusion, 
 Doomed soon to be rued and dispelled 
 
 " ' Oh grant me,' I said, 'great Apollo, 
 
 So many long years to exist, 
 As granules of sand can be counted 
 Among what I hold in my fist.'
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE SIBYLL. 137 
 
 " Alas for my thoughtless omission, 
 
 Alas, I forgot, to my ruth, 
 To ask that my years of existence 
 
 Might bloom with perpetual youth. 140 
 
 " Yet even this too he had granted, 
 
 He would not have grudged me the boon, 
 Had I but agreed to his fancy, 
 
 And danced for a while to his tune. 
 
 " Alas, his fond suit I rejected, 
 And so I continue unwed 
 And years now sit heavily on me, 
 My youth and my beauty are fled. 
 
 ' My steps, see they totter already, 
 
 My prospect o'erwhelms me with dread, 150 
 The troubles of age are upon me, 
 I very much wish I were dead ! 
 
 " Ten centuries I had petitioned, 
 
 But seven as yet have gone by, 
 And still to complete the full number, 
 Three more must elapse ere I die. 
 
 " Three hundred more seasons of harvest, 
 
 Three hundred more seasons of spring ; 
 Alas, what a terrible torment, 
 
 Oh, would that my soul could take wing ! 1 60
 
 138 THE LEGEND OF THE SIBYLL. 
 
 " It will not be long ere my body 
 Will wholly be wasted away ; 
 I shall not have so much to carry, 
 That much will be well, I dare say. 
 
 " None then will believe that I ever 
 
 Could once have been dear to the god, 
 And Phoebus himself will deny it, 
 And sanction his no with a nod. 
 
 " But tho' I shall be so much altered 
 
 That none would my lineaments own, 170 
 My voice, it has never yet faltered, 
 By that will the Sibyll be known." 
 
 ^Eneas, much moved with compassion, 
 Expressed his regret at her choice ; 
 
 But long generations of Romans 
 
 Remembered and honoured her voice.
 
 ( 139 ) 
 
 THE EPILOGUE. 
 
 -o- 
 
 SONNET I. 
 
 THE DEATH. 
 
 As, when the baying hounds pick up the scent 
 Some royal stag hath left upon the leas, 
 And rouse him from the covert, where, at ease, 
 
 Among the brakes he lies, in calm content ; 
 
 And chase him up and down, till he is spent 
 
 With heat and toil, and courts the treacherous 
 
 breeze 
 Which fans his throbbing flanks and trembling 
 
 knees, 
 Or plunges in some pool, improvident, 
 
 Destined to die amongst the ravening pack, 
 Which rend him limb from limb, amidst the 
 
 brook ; 
 While horns ring out, and lashes loudly crack : 
 
 So when the cry of critics scent my book, 
 
 They 'will run it down, once they are on the track, 
 While I ring out its dirge, and take one last fond look.
 
 140 EPILOGUE. 
 
 SONNET II. 
 
 THE DIRGE. 
 
 The Master of the Forest and the stags 
 
 Is sometimes Master of the hounds as well ; 
 He urges on the chase o'er flood and fell, 
 
 And feels no pang what time the quarry flags. 
 
 Why should he ? Are there not beyond the crags 
 A hundred more that in his forest dwell 
 Who both in points and pace may yet excel 1 
 
 Then wherefore wince if one be torn to rags ? 
 
 He will not stay the chase, but take the horn, 
 And blow the blast himself; for in the fray 
 His brave stags will not all be overborne. 
 
 He knows full well that some will stand at bay, 
 
 And turn upon the hounds with scathing scorn ; 
 Then why should heart be faint, or spirit flag to-day ? 
 
 THE END. 
 
 ll'ynian 6f= Sens, Printers, Great Queen Street, London. U'.C
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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