# Eclogues of Virgil (1908)/Eclogue 9

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ECLOGUE IX.
MŒRIS.
Lycidas.Whither away, oh Mœris? To the town? Mœris.Ah, Lycidas, that which we never feared We yet have lived to see our grievous lot, That alien owners of our whilom fields Can say to us, "Begone, ye tresspassers, "This land is ours."—Well, fortune turns her wheel! So we are sending to our conqueror These kids of ours—(may ill luck go with them!) Lycidas.Nay, surely we had heard that, by his songs Menalcas had redeemed that grassy slope Left by the hills, beneath their steeper ridge, Down to the water-side, and where atop Decaying beech-trees stand. Mœris.So was it said. But, Lycidas, against the will of Mars Our songs are powerless, as Chaonian does 'Gainst swooping eagles. Yet was I fore-warned From hollow ilex, by the raven's croak To end the dire dispute, by any means. Else would thy friend, thy Mœris, not be here, Nor yet Menalcas. ​Lycidas.Ah, tis hard to bear! When will the wicked cease? That we should risk The loss of all our help and joy in thee! Ah, who would then have chanted of the Nymphs Who, with sweet flowering herbs, have strewn the ground Or cast shade o'er the springs, or sung those lays Which lately, from Menalcas, I have learned? One ran—"Now, Tityrus, whilst I am gone, But a short way—thou must the she-goats feed— When satisfied, then drive them to their drink, But take heed to avoid the he-goat's path, For with his horn he strikes." Mœris.Nay, rather this: Which, tho' unfinished, he to Varus sang— "Varus, thy name shall to the stars be raised. "Let but our Mantua remain for us, "Tho' near Cremona, the ill-fated town." Lycidas.Now may thy honied swarms avoid the yews Of Corsica, and may thy cows, full-fed, Pastured on cytisus, give richest milk, And even I, a poet, have been made By Pierus' daughters; even I sing songs. The Shepherds call me bard; I heed them not. As yet I am not worthy to be called Of Varro, or of Cinna, follower. 'Tis but a cackle mine, midst singing swans. Mœris.And 'tis the same with me—I even now Am much considering as to this song— My memory tells me, tis no common one. ​"Come to us here, oh Galatea fair! "Why ling'rest thou, rejoicing in the wave? "We name the glowing spring.—The sparkling streams, "Fill the warm earth with blossoms manifold— "The tall white poplar overhangs the cave, "And clinging vines weave for us bowers of shade. "Come hither! leave the tossing floods to beat "Upon the shore." Lycidas.What were those verses then, Which once I heard thee sing, as thou didst roam In the clear night? Familiar seems the time, Could I the words remember. Mœris."Daphnis, tell "Why thou dost watch alway the old-time signs "Now that the star of Cæsar mounts aloft? "Beneath his star, we know, the fields of corn "Were to rejoice, and on the sunny hills "The grapes would purple glow. Now, Daphnis, graft "Thy pear trees, that thy children's children may "Eat of their fruit. How time wears all things out! "Even the memory. I can call to mind "Long days of summer, in my boyhood spent, "Singing the hours away—but now, alas! "I have forgotten many of my songs— "And Mœris too—his voice begins to fail "As old folks say—Wolves caught first sight of him" But for those songs—Menalcas willingly Will sing them to thee. Lycidas.Make no more excuse ​As that but strengthens our delayed desire See too, the mere is calm and still, and now The murmurs of the breeze have died away. But still before us lies our journey's half, For we have nearly reached Bianor's tomb. Here may we sing, oh Mœris—here put down Thy kids, for even so we'll reach the town: Or if we fear lest night should gather rain Let us go singing to beguile our way. See, I will take thy burden on my back That we may still with song enliven toil! Mœris.Nay, cease to urge me—rather let us mind That which concerns us now. When he shall come We may the better sing Menalcas' songs.