Eclogues
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- or guardian of the flock! for surely then,
- let Phyllis, or Amyntas, or who else,
- bewitch me—what if swart Amyntas be?
- Dark is the violet, dark the hyacinth—
- among the willows, 'neath the limber vine,
- reclining would my love have lain with me,
- Phyllis plucked garlands, or Amyntas sung.
- Here are cool springs, soft mead and grove, Lycoris;
- here might our lives with time have worn away.
- But me mad love of the stern war-god holds
- armed amid weapons and opposing foes.
- Whilst thou—Ah! might I but believe it not!—
- alone without me, and from home afar,
- look'st upon Alpine snows and frozen Rhine.
- Ah! may the frost not hurt thee, may the sharp
- and jagged ice not wound thy tender feet!
- I will depart, re-tune the songs I framed