Eclogues
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- while Galatea reigned over me, I had
- no hope of freedom, and no thought to save.
- Though many a victim from my folds went forth,
- or rich cheese pressed for the unthankful town,
- never with laden hands returned I home.
- I used to wonder, Amaryllis, why
- you cried to heaven so sadly, and for whom
- you left the apples hanging on the trees;
- 'twas Tityrus was away. Why, Tityrus,
- the very pines, the very water-springs,
- the very vineyards, cried aloud for you.
- What could I do? how else from bonds be freed,
- or otherwhere find gods so nigh to aid?
- There, Meliboeus, I saw that youth to whom
- yearly for twice six days my altars smoke.
- There instant answer gave he to my suit,
- “Feed, as before, your kine, boys, rear your bulls.”
- So in old age, you happy man, your fields
- will still be yours, and ample for your need!
- Though, with bare stones o'erspread, the pastures all