Two cups, with new milk foaming, year by

year;

Two goblets filled with richest olive-oil:

And, first with much wine making glad the
feast-

At the fireside in snowtime, 'neath the trees
In harvest-pour, rare nectar, from the can
The wines of Chios. Lyctian Ægon then
Shall sing me songs, and to Damœtas' pipe
Alphesibous dance his Satyr-dance.

And this shalt thou lack never: when we

pay

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The Nymphs our vows, and when we cleanse

the fields.

While boars haunt mountain-heights, and fishes
streams,

Bees feed on thyme, and grasshoppers on dew,
Thy name, thy deeds, thy glory shall abide.
As Bacchus and as Ceres, so shalt thou
Year after year the shepherd's vows receive;
So bind him to the letter of his vow.

Mo. What can I give thee, what, for such a song?

Less sweet to me the coming South-wind's sigh, The sea-wave breaking on the shore, the noise

Of rivers, rushing through the stony vales. Me. First I shall offer you this brittle pipe.

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This taught me how to sing, "For one fair face:"

This taught me "Whose flock? Melibaus's?" Mo. Take thou this crook; which oft Antigenes

Asked-and he then was loveable-in vain ;
Brass-tipped and even-knotted-beautiful!

ECLOGUE VI.

My muse first stooped to trifle, like the Greek's,
In numbers; and, unblushing, dwelt in woods.
I sang embattled kings: but Cynthius plucked
My ear, and warned me: "Tityrus, fat should be
A shepherd's wethers, but his lays thin-drawn."
So for enough and more will strive to tell,
Varus, thy deeds, and pile up grisly wars-
On pipe of straw will I my wood-notes sing:
I sing not all unbid. Yet oh! should one

Smit by great love, should one read this my

lay

Then with thee, Varus, shall our myrtle-groves,
And all these copses, ring. Right dearly loves
Phoebus the page that opens with thy name.

On, sisters!

-Chromis and Mnasylus saw

(Two lads) Silents in a cave asleep:

As usual, swoln with yesterday's debauch.

ΙΟ

Just where it fell his garland lay hard by;
And on worn handle hung his ponderous can.
They-for the old man oft had cheated each
Of promised songs-draw near, and make his
wreaths

20

Fetters to bind him. Ægle makes a third,
(Egle, the loveliest of the Naiad maids,)
To back their fears: and, as his eyes unclose,
Paints brow and temples red with mulberry.
He, laughing at the trick, cries, "Wherefore weave
These fetters? Lads, unbind me; 'tis enough
But to have seemed to have me in your power.
Ye ask a song; then listen. You I'll pay
With song: for her I've other meed in store."
And forthwith he begins. Then might you see 30

Move to the music Faun and forest-beast,

And tall oaks bow their heads. Not so delights Parnassus in Apollo: not so charmed

At Orpheus Rhodope and Ismarus.

For this he sang:-How, drawn from that vast

void,

Gathered the germs of earth and air and sea

I

And liquid flame. How the Beginning sprang Thence, and the young world waxed into a ball. Then Earth, grown harder, walled the sea-god off In seas, and slowly took substantial form:

40

Till on an awed world dawned the wondrous sun,
And straight from heaven, by clouds unbroken, fell
The showers: as woods first bourgeoned, here and
there

A wild beast wandering over hills unknown.
Of Pyrrha casting stones, and Saturn's reign,

The stolen fire, the eagles of the rock,

He sings and then, beside what spring last

seen

The sailors called for Hylas-till the shore

All rang with 'Hylas,' 'Hylas :'-and consoles
(Happy if horned herds never had been born,) 50
With some fair bullock's love Pasiphae.
Ah! hapless maid! What madness this of thine?
Once a king's daughters made believe to low,
And ranged the leas: but neither stooped to ask
Those base beasts' love: though each had often
feared

To find the ploughman's gear about her neck,