Eclogues
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- to the slim oaten reed my silvan lay.
- I sing but as vouchsafed me; yet even this
- if, if but one with ravished eyes should read,
- of thee, O Varus, shall our tamarisks
- and all the woodland ring; nor can there be
- a page more dear to Phoebus, than the page
- where, foremost writ, the name of Varus stands.
- Speed ye, Pierian Maids! Within a cave
- young Chromis and Mnasyllos chanced to see
- silenus sleeping, flushed, as was his wont,
- with wine of yesterday. Not far aloof,
- slipped from his head, the garlands lay, and there
- by its worn handle hung a ponderous cup.
- Approaching—for the old man many a time
- had balked them both of a long hoped-for song—
- garlands to fetters turned, they bind him fast.
- Then Aegle, fairest of the Naiad-band,
- aegle came up to the half-frightened boys,
- came, and, as now with open eyes he lay,
- with juice of blood-red mulberries smeared him o'er,