The Eclogues

But I discern their flattery from their praise.

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

She sighed, she sobbed, and furious with despair,

Accused all the gods, and every star.

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

Time robs us of all, even of memory.

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

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

Songs can even draw the moon down from heaven.

Trust not too much to that enchanting face;

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

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

We cannot all do everything.

Time bears away all things, even our minds.

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

Even the gods have dwelt in the woods.

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

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

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.

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.

Carpent tua poma nepotes.

Latet anguis in herba.

Nunc scio quid sit Amor.