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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=534616" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Eclogue VI</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">TO VARUS</div><div style="margin:10px 0">First my Thalia stooped in sportive mood<br>To Syracusan strains, nor blushed within<br>The woods to house her. When I sought to tell<br>Of battles and of kings, the Cynthian god<br>Plucked at mine ear and warned me: 'Tityrus,<br>Beseems a shepherd-wight to feed fat sheep,<br>But sing a slender song.' Now, Varus, I-<br>For lack there will not who would laud thy deeds,<br>And treat of dolorous wars- will rather tune<br>To the slim oaten reed my silvan lay.<br>I sing but as vouchsafed me; yet even this<br>If, if but one with ravished eyes should read,<br>Of thee, O Varus, shall our tamarisks<br>And all the woodland ring; nor can there be<br>A page more dear to Phoebus, than the page<br>Where, foremost writ, the name of Varus stands.<br>Speed ye, Pierian Maids! Within a cave<br>Young Chromis and Mnasyllos chanced to see<br>Silenus sleeping, flushed, as was his wont,<br>With wine of yesterday. Not far aloof,<br>Slipped from his head, the garlands lay, and there<br>By its worn handle hung a ponderous cup.<br>Approaching- for the old man many a time<br>Had balked them both of a long hoped-for song-<br>Garlands to fetters turned, they bind him fast.<br>Then Aegle, fairest of the Naiad-band,<br>Aegle came up to the half-frightened boys,<br>Came, and, as now with open eyes he lay,<br>With juice of blood-red mulberries smeared him o'er,<br>Both brow and temples. Laughing at their guile,<br>And crying, 'Why tie the fetters? loose me, boys;<br>Enough for you to think you had the power;<br>Now list the songs you wish for- songs for you,<br>Another meed for her' -forthwith began.<br>Then might you see the wild things of the wood,<br>With Fauns in sportive frolic beat the time,<br>And stubborn oaks their branchy summits bow.<br>Not Phoebus doth the rude Parnassian crag<br>So ravish, nor Orpheus so entrance the heights<br>Of Rhodope or Ismarus: for he sang<br>How through the mighty void the seeds were driven<br>Of earth, air, ocean, and of liquid fire,<br>How all that is from these beginnings grew,<br>And the young world itself took solid shape,<br>Then 'gan its crust to harden, and in the deep<br>Shut Nereus off, and mould the forms of things<br>Little by little; and how the earth amazed<br>Beheld the new sun shining, and the showers<br>Fall, as the clouds soared higher, what time the woods<br>'Gan first to rise, and living things to roam<br>Scattered among the hills that knew them not.<br>Then sang he of the stones by Pyrrha cast,<br>Of Saturn's reign, and of Prometheus' theft,<br>And the Caucasian birds, and told withal<br>Nigh to what fountain by his comrades left<br>The mariners cried on Hylas till the shore<br>'Then Re-echoed 'Hylas, Hylas! soothed<br>Pasiphae with the love of her white bull-<br>Happy if cattle-kind had never been!-<br>O ill-starred maid, what frenzy caught thy soul<br>The daughters too of Proetus filled the fields<br>With their feigned lowings, yet no one of them<br>Of such unhallowed union e'er was fain<br>As with a beast to mate, though many a time<br>On her smooth forehead she had sought for horns,<br>And for her neck had feared the galling plough.<br>O ill-starred maid! thou roamest now the hills,<br>While on soft hyacinths he, his snowy side<br>Reposing, under some dark ilex now<br>Chews the pale herbage, or some heifer tracks<br>Amid the crowding herd. Now close, ye Nymphs,<br>Ye Nymphs of Dicte, close the forest-glades,<br>If haply there may chance upon mine eyes<br>The white bull's wandering foot-prints: him belike<br>Following the herd, or by green pasture lured,<br>Some kine may guide to the Gortynian stalls.<br>Then sings he of the maid so wonder-struck<br>With the apples of the Hesperids, and then<br>With moss-bound, bitter bark rings round the forms<br>Of Phaethon's fair sisters, from the ground<br>Up-towering into poplars. Next he sings<br>Of Gallus wandering by Permessus' stream,<br>And by a sister of the Muses led<br>To the Aonian mountains, and how all<br>The choir of Phoebus rose to greet him; how<br>The shepherd Linus, singer of songs divine,<br>Brow-bound with flowers and bitter parsley, spake:<br>'These reeds the Muses give thee, take them thou,<br>Erst to the aged bard of Ascra given,<br>Wherewith in singing he was wont to draw<br>Time-rooted ash-trees from the mountain heights.<br>With these the birth of the Grynean grove<br>Be voiced by thee, that of no grove beside<br>Apollo more may boast him.' Wherefore speak<br>Of Scylla, child of Nisus, who, 'tis said,<br>Her fair white loins with barking monsters girt<br>Vexed the Dulichian ships, and, in the deep<br>Swift-eddying whirlpool, with her sea-dogs tore<br>The trembling mariners? or how he told<br>Of the changed limbs of Tereus- what a feast,<br>What gifts, to him by Philomel were given;<br>How swift she sought the desert, with what wings<br>Hovered in anguish o'er her ancient home?<br>All that, of old, Eurotas, happy stream,<br>Heard, as Apollo mused upon the lyre,<br>And bade his laurels learn, Silenus sang;<br>Till from Olympus, loth at his approach,<br>Vesper, advancing, bade the shepherds tell<br>Their tale of sheep, and pen them in the fold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Virgil">Virgil</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=534616" data-title="Eclogue VI de Virgil" data-description="TO VARUS

First my Thalia stooped in sportive mood
To Syracusan strains, nor blushed within
The woods to house her. When I sought to tell
Of battles and of kings, the Cynthian god
Plucked at mine ear and warned me: 'Tityrus,
Beseems a shepherd-wig..."></div>
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