Eclogues

Virgil

Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.

slipped from his head, the garlands lay, and there

by its worn handle hung a ponderous cup.

Approaching—for the old man many a time

had balked them both of a long hoped-for song—

garlands to fetters turned, they bind him fast.

Then Aegle, fairest of the Naiad-band,

aegle came up to the half-frightened boys,

came, and, as now with open eyes he lay,

with juice of blood-red mulberries smeared him o'er,

both brow and temples. Laughing at their guile,

and crying, “Why tie the fetters? loose me, boys;

enough for you to think you had the power;

now list the songs you wish for—songs for you,

another meed for her”—forthwith began.

Then might you see the wild things of the wood,

with Fauns in sportive frolic beat the time,

and stubborn oaks their branchy summits bow.

Not Phoebus doth the rude Parnassian crag

so ravish, nor Orpheus so entrance the heights

of Rhodope or Ismarus: for he sang