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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=534622" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ecologue IX</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">LYCIDAS, MOERIS</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lycidas.<br>Say whither, Moeris?- Make you for the town,<br>Or on what errand bent?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Moeris. O Lycidas,<br>We have lived to see, what never yet we feared,<br>An interloper own our little farm,<br>And say, 'Be off, you former husbandmen!<br>These fields are mine.' Now, cowed and out of heart,<br>Since Fortune turns the whole world upside down,<br>We are taking him- ill luck go with the same!-'<br>These kids you see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lycidas.<br>But surely I had heard<br>That where the hills first draw from off the plain,<br>And the high ridge with gentle slope descends,<br>Down to the brook-side and the broken crests<br>Of yonder veteran beeches, all the land<br>Was by the songs of your Menalcas saved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Moeris.<br>Heard it you had, and so the rumour ran,<br>But 'mid the clash of arms, my Lycidas,<br>Our songs avail no more than, as 'tis said,<br>Doves of Dodona when an eagle comes.<br>Nay, had I not, from hollow ilex-bole<br>Warned by a raven on the left, cut short<br>The rising feud, nor I, your Moeris here,<br>No, nor Menalcas, were alive to-day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lycidas.<br>Alack! could any of so foul a crime<br>Be guilty? Ah! how nearly, thyself,<br>Reft was the solace that we had in thee,<br>Menalcas! Who then of the Nymphs had sung,<br>Or who with flowering herbs bestrewn the ground,<br>And o'er the fountains drawn a leafy veil?-<br>Who sung the stave I filched from you that day<br>To Amaryllis wending, our hearts' joy?-<br>'While I am gone, 'tis but a little way,<br>Feed, Tityrus, my goats, and, having fed,<br>Drive to the drinking-pool, and, as you drive,<br>Beware the he-goat; with his horn he butts.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Moeris.<br>Ay, or to Varus that half-finished lay,<br>'Varus, thy name, so still our Mantua live-<br>Mantua to poor Cremona all too near-<br>Shall singing swans bear upward to the stars.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lycidas.<br>So may your swarms Cyrnean yew-trees shun,<br>Your kine with cytisus their udders swell,<br>Begin, if aught you have. The Muses made<br>Me too a singer; I too have sung; the swains<br>Call me a poet, but I believe them not:<br>For naught of mine, or worthy Varius yet<br>Or Cinna deem I, but account myself<br>A cackling goose among melodious swans.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Moeris.<br>'Twas in my thought to do so, Lycidas;<br>Even now was I revolving silently<br>If this I could recall- no paltry song:<br>'Come, Galatea, what pleasure is 't to play<br>Amid the waves? Here glows the Spring, here earth<br>Beside the streams pours forth a thousand flowers;<br>Here the white poplar bends above the cave,<br>And the lithe vine weaves shadowy covert: come,<br>Leave the mad waves to beat upon the shore.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lycidas.<br>What of the strain I heard you singing once<br>On a clear night alone? the notes I still<br>Remember, could I but recall the words.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Moeris.<br>'Why, Daphnis, upward gazing, do you mark<br>The ancient risings of the Signs? for look<br>Where Dionean Caesar's star comes forth<br>In heaven, to gladden all the fields with corn,<br>And to the grape upon the sunny slopes<br>Her colour bring! Now, the pears;<br>So shall your children's children pluck their fruit.<br>Time carries all things, even our wits, away.<br>Oft, as a boy, I sang the sun to rest,<br>But all those songs are from my memory fled,<br>And even his voice is failing Moeris now;<br>The wolves eyed Moeris first: but at your wish<br>Menalcas will repeat them oft enow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lycidas.<br>Your pleas but linger out my heart's desire:<br>Now all the deep is into silence hushed,<br>And all the murmuring breezes sunk to sleep.<br>We are half-way thither, for Bianor's tomb<br>Begins to show: here, Moeris, where the hinds<br>Are lopping the thick leafage, let us sing.<br>Set down the kids, yet shall we reach the town;<br>Or, if we fear the night may gather rain<br>Ere we arrive, then singing let us go,<br>Our way to lighten; and, that we may thus<br>Go singing, I will case you of this load.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Moeris.<br>Cease, boy, and get we to the work in hand:<br>We shall sing better when himself is come</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=534622" data-title="Ecologue IX de Virgil" data-description="LYCIDAS, MOERIS

Lycidas.
Say whither, Moeris?- Make you for the town,
Or on what errand bent?

Moeris. O Lycidas,
We have lived to see, what never yet we feared,
An interloper own our little farm,
And say, 'Be off, you former husbandmen!
These fi..."></div>
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