Eclogues
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- “Fell as the wolf is to the folded flock,
- rain to ripe corn, Sirocco to the trees,
- the wrath of Amaryllis is to me.”
- “As moisture to the corn, to ewes with young
- lithe willow, as arbute to the yeanling kids,
- so sweet Amyntas, and none else, to me.”
- “My Muse, although she be but country-bred,
- is loved by Pollio: O Pierian Maids,
- pray you, a heifer for your reader feed!”
- “Pollio himself too doth new verses make:
- feed ye a bull now ripe to butt with horn,
- and scatter with his hooves the flying sand.”
- “Who loves thee, Pollio, may he thither come
- where thee he joys beholding; ay, for him
- let honey flow, the thorn-bush spices bear.”
- “Who hates not Bavius, let him also love
- thy songs, O Maevius, ay, and therewithal
- yoke foxes to his car, and he-goats milk.”
- “You, picking flowers and strawberries that grow
- so near the ground, fly hence, boys, get you gone!