Eclogues
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- hope of the flock—an ill, I mind me well,
- which many a time, but for my blinded sense,
- the thunder-stricken oak foretold, oft too
- from hollow trunk the raven's ominous cry.
- But who this god of yours? Come, Tityrus, tell.
- The city, Meliboeus, they call Rome,
- I, simpleton, deemed like this town of ours,
- whereto we shepherds oft are wont to drive
- the younglings of the flock: so too I knew
- whelps to resemble dogs, and kids their dams,
- comparing small with great; but this as far
- above all other cities rears her head
- as cypress above pliant osier towers.
- And what so potent cause took you to Rome?
- Freedom, which, though belated, cast at length
- her eyes upon the sluggard, when my beard
- 'gan whiter fall beneath the barber's blade—
- cast eyes, I say, and, though long tarrying, came,
- now when, from Galatea's yoke released,
- I serve but Amaryllis: for I will own,