Eclogues
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- now all the deep is into silence hushed,
- and all the murmuring breezes sunk to sleep.
- We are half-way thither, for Bianor's tomb
- begins to show: here, Moeris, where the hinds
- are lopping the thick leafage, let us sing.
- Set down the kids, yet shall we reach the town;
- or, if we fear the night may gather rain
- ere we arrive, then singing let us go,
- our way to lighten; and, that we may thus
- go singing, I will case you of this load.
- Cease, boy, and get we to the work in hand:
- we shall sing better when himself is come.
- This now, the very latest of my toils,
- vouchsafe me, Arethusa! needs must I
- sing a brief song to Gallus—brief, but yet
- such as Lycoris' self may fitly read.
- Who would not sing for Gallus? So, when thou
- beneath Sicanian billows glidest on,
- may Doris blend no bitter wave with thine,
- begin! The love of Gallus be our theme,