Eclogues
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- and you, my love, grow with them. And meanwhile
- I with the Nymphs will haunt Mount Maenalus,
- or hunt the keen wild boar. No frost so cold
- but I will hem with hounds thy forest-glades,
- parthenius. Even now, methinks, I range
- o'er rocks, through echoing groves, and joy to launch
- Cydonian arrows from a Parthian bow.—
- as if my madness could find healing thus,
- or that god soften at a mortal's grief!
- Now neither Hamadryads, no, nor songs
- delight me more: ye woods, away with you!
- No pangs of ours can change him; not though we
- in the mid-frost should drink of Hebrus' stream,
- and in wet winters face Sithonian snows,
- or, when the bark of the tall elm-tree bole
- of drought is dying, should, under Cancer's Sign,
- in Aethiopian deserts drive our flocks.
- Love conquers all things; yield we too to love!”
- These songs, Pierian Maids, shall it suffice
- your poet to have sung, the while he sat,