Eclogues
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- and the shrewd pangs he suffered, while, hard by,
- the flat-nosed she-goats browse the tender brush.
- We sing not to deaf ears; no word of ours
- but the woods echo it. What groves or lawns
- held you, ye Dryad-maidens, when for love—
- love all unworthy of a loss so dear—
- Gallus lay dying? for neither did the slopes
- of Pindus or Parnassus stay you then,
- no, nor Aonian Aganippe. Him
- even the laurels and the tamarisks wept;
- for him, outstretched beneath a lonely rock,
- wept pine-clad Maenalus, and the flinty crags
- of cold Lycaeus. The sheep too stood around—
- of us they feel no shame, poet divine;
- nor of the flock be thou ashamed: even fair
- Adonis by the rivers fed his sheep—
- came shepherd too, and swine-herd footing slow,
- and, from the winter-acorns dripping-wet
- Menalcas. All with one accord exclaim:
- “From whence this love of thine?” Apollo came;