# Eclogues of Virgil (1908)/Eclogue 1

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ECLOGUE I.
TITYRUS AND MELIBŒUS.
Tityrus mine, reclining in the shade Of spreading beech, thou canst invoke the muse Of the still forest, with thy slender reed. But we forsake our dear, our native fields, We fly our country, Tityrus, whilst thou In easy shelter, dost inform the woods Of Amaryllis' charms. Tityrus.O Melibœus It was a god that helped us to this ease Always a god to me; and from my fold A tender lamb shall often, from this time Be offered at his shrine; 'tis by his will That, as thou seest, my cattle wander free, Whilst I can here indulge in rustic song. Melibœus.Indeed, I envy not, but wonder more For in all parts the country is disturbed. See, I myself, in weary mood, drive forth My flock of goats—look! scarcely can I drag This one along—she, just now, hath borne twins. Hope of my flock! in thickest hazel copse. But—having brought them forth—she left them then On the bare rock, deserted. This our grief ​I call to mind, erewhile was prophesied To our slow sense, by lightning-scathed oaks (As oft the crow from hollow ilex warns Of black disaster.) Tityrus, now tell Of this thy god, to us, who know him not. Tityrus.The city they call Rome, O Melibœus, I likened in my foolish mind to ours, Where we are wont to drive our new-weaned lambs. So one compares the little things with large Kids with their mothers, puppies with their sires; But, as the cypress towers o'er hedgerow shrubs. So lifts fair Rome her head o'er other towns. Melibœus.And what great cause led to thy seeing Rome? Tityrus.The cause was Freedom; she though late did yet At length regard her tardy follower. Such long delay—his beard was whitening fast! Until she looked, and after long time came. Since Amaryllis holds and Galatea yields! For I confess, whilst Galatea reigned No hope of freedom had I, nor of gain. Though many victims from my folds were sent To the unthankful town, and from my press Good store of cheeses rich, but never yet With my hand full of coin did I return. Melibœus.Ah, Amaryllis, I had wondered much Why thou so sadly didst adjure the gods? Why was the fruit left hanging on the trees? Tityrus wandered far. Yes, e'en the pines, The springs, the orchards, called for Tityrus. ​Tityrus.What could I do? Not be from service free, Nor find elsewhere the gods that give us aid. Here, Melibœus, that young man I saw To whom, year after year, our altars smoke For twice six days: at once unto my prayer He made reply: "My children, feed your herds, And train your bulls, as ye have done of yore." Melibœus.How blest is thy old age! thou hast the fields That meet thy wants, albeit the pastures all Are covered with bare stones, or marsh-grown reeds. Thy breeding ewes will eat accustomed food Nor from a neighbour's flock take any ill. O fortunate old friend! Near well-known streams And hallowed fountains canst thou woo cool shade Near boundary hedge, where bees from Hybla, take Their fill of honeyed willow-blossom, thou By their sweet murmurous hum wilt oft be lulled To softest slumber! Here beneath high rocks The gatherers of leaves, with cheerful songs Fill the high winds. Meanwhile thy turtle doves And hoarse wood pigeons from the lofty elms Make endless moan. Tityrus.And so shall never fade His visage from my heart: sooner than that May the wild stags be pastured on the air Or the sea waves cast fishes on the shore! Or exiled Parthians, breaking bounds, shall drink Of Arar's stream—Germans, of Tigris old. Melibœus.But as for us, we turn our weary steps ​Some to parched Africa, to Scythia some Or to Oaxes, the swift Cretan stream Or distant Britain, cut off from the world. Ah me! shall I, long hence, my native land Revisit, and with wonder gaze upon My poor turf-covered hut, by scanty corn Surrounded? Shall these oft-tilled fields be then By lawless soldiery possessed? these crops Of waving corn shall the barbarians own? Lo! what great misery has discord wrought Amongst us all! Ah to what end have we Patiently sown our fields—for others' gain!? Ha! Melibœus, wilt thou graft thy trees Or set thy vines along in order now?——— Go hence, my she-goats, my once happy flock Never again may I, from distant cave Gaze on your frolics, hanging from the rock Midst the thick bushes; no more songs I sing Nor can I watch you, O my goats, whilst ye Crop flowering cytisus, or willows harsh! Tityrus.Yet, for this night with me, thou mayst repose On green leaves heaped; good store of fruit have we Of mellow apples, chestnuts ripe, and milk Fresh-curdled: thou canst see afar the smoke Rise from farm-roofs, the lengthening shadows too From the high hills are cast: the day is done.