The Eclogues

But I discern their flattery from their praise.

The mountain-tops unshorn, the rocks rejoice;

The lowly shrubs partake of human voice.

Shut off the springs now, lads; the meadows have drunk enough.

We fear not more the winds and wintry cold,

Than streams the banks, or wolves the bleating fold.

Both young Arcadians, both alike inspired

To sing, and answer as the song required.

Now the Virgin returns, the reign of Saturn returns.

Is it true, or the dream of a lover's desire?

Ye who cull flowers and low-growing strawberries, away from here, lads; a chill snake lurks in the grass.

'Tis not for us to end such great disputes.

Loose me, lads; enough that you have shown your power.

Daphnis, in radiant beauty, marvels at Heaven's unfamiliar threshold, and beneath his feet beholds the clouds and stars.

Sicilian Muses, let us sing a somewhat loftier strain.

She sighed, she sobbed, and furious with despair,

Accused all the gods, and every star.

My serious business gave way to their playing.

Your lay, heavenly bard, is to me even as sleep on the grass to the weary.

Time robs us of all, even of memory.

To sing thy praise, would heaven my breath prolong,

Infusing spirits worthy such a song.

Nothing is wanting here except a song.

Now a new generation descends from heaven on high.

Here are cold springs, Lycoris, here soft meadows, here woodland; here, with thee, time alone would wear me away.

Let owls too vie with swans.

Once more, ye woods, farewell!

In the moment I saw you I lost my heart, and a fatal frenzy swept me away.

We sing to no deaf ears; the woods echo every note.

Songs can even draw the moon down from heaven.

Begin, baby boy! The child who has not won a smile from his parents, no god ever honored with his table, no goddess with her bed!

Trust not too much to that enchanting face;

Beauty's a charm, but soon the charm will pass.

To compare great things with small.

We are leaving our country's bounds and sweet fields.

Ah, lovely boy, trust not too much to your bloom!

The Britons utterly separated from the whole world.

We cannot all do everything.

Time bears away all things, even our minds.

Galatea aims an apple at me, naughty girl,

And flees into the willows—and wants to be seen first.

Well, I grudge you not – rather I marvel.

Begin, baby boy, to recognize your mother with a smile.

Even the gods have dwelt in the woods.

What madness has seized you?

Every field, every tree is now budding; now the woods are green, now the year is at its loveliest.

Look over there—smoke rises already from the rooftops

And longer fall the shadows cast by the mountain heights.

Fierce lioness goes after wolf, wolf after goat,

The wanton goat goes after the flowering clover, and I

Go after you, Alexis—each towed by his own fancy.

The great line of the centuries begins anew.

Thus I knew puppies were like dogs, and kids like their dams; thus I used to compare great things with small.

Love conquers all; let us, too, yield to Love!

With Jove my song begins; of Jove all things are full.

God gave us this leisure.

The trees are clothed with leaves, the fields with grass;

The blossoms blow; the birds on bushes sing;

And Nature has accomplished all the spring.

Happy old man! Here, amid familiar streams and sacred springs, you shall enjoy the cooling shade.

Each is led by his liking.

A shepherd, Corydon, burned with love for his master’s favourite,

Handsome Alexis.

Look, ploughs feather the ground as the ox-teams draw them home,

And a declining sun enlarges the lengthening shadows:

Yet love still scorches me—love has no lull, no limit.

Everyone is dragged on by their favorite pleasure.

Let us go singing as far as we go: the road will be less tedious.

Freedom, which came at length, though slow to come.

Numero deus impare gaudet.

Argutos inter strepere anser olores.

Carpent tua poma nepotes.

Latet anguis in herba.

Nunc scio quid sit Amor.