Tityre, tu patulae recubans sub tegmine fagi
You, Tityrus, 'neath a broad beech-canopy
silvestrem tenui Musam meditaris avena;
reclining, on the slender oat rehearse
nos patriae fines et dulcia linquimus arva:
your silvan ditties: I from my sweet fields,
nos patriam fugimus; tu, Tityre, lentus in umbra
and home's familiar bounds, even now depart.
5
formosam resonare doces Amaryllida silvas.
Exiled from home am I; while, Tityrus, you
O Meliboee, deus nobis haec otia fecit:
sit careless in the shade, and, at your call,
namque erit ille mihi semper deus; illius aram
“Fair Amaryllis” bid the woods resound.
saepe tener nostris ab ovilibus imbuet agnus.
O Meliboeus, 'twas a god vouchsafed
Ille meas errare boves, ut cernis, et ipsum
this ease to us, for him a god will I
10
ludere, quae vellem, calamo permisit agresti
deem ever, and from my folds a tender lamb
Non equidem invideo; miror magis: undique totis
oft with its life-blood shall his altar stain.
usque adeo turbatur agris. En, ipse capellas
His gift it is that, as your eyes may see,
protinus aeger ago; hanc etiam vix, Tityre, duco:
my kine may roam at large, and I myself
hic inter densas corylos modo namque gemellos,
play on my shepherd's pipe what songs I will.
15
spem gregis, ah, silice in nuda conixa reliquit.
I grudge you not the boon, but marvel more,
Saepe malum hoc nobis, si mens non laeva fuisset,
such wide confusion fills the country-side.
de caelo tactas memini praedicere quercus:—
See, sick at heart I drive my she-goats on,
saepe sinistra cava praedixit ab ilice cornix.
and this one, O my Tityrus, scarce can lead:
Sed tamen, iste deus qui sit, da, Tityre, nobis.
for 'mid the hazel-thicket here but now
20
Urbem, quam dicunt Romam, Meliboee, putavi
she dropped her new-yeaned twins on the bare flint,
stultus ego huic nostrae similem, quo saepe solemus
hope of the flock—an ill, I mind me well,
pastores ovium teneros depellere fetus:
which many a time, but for my blinded sense,
sic canibus catulos similis, sic matribus haedos
the thunder-stricken oak foretold, oft too
noram, sic parvis componere magna solebam:
from hollow trunk the raven's ominous cry.
25
verum haec tantum alias inter caput extulit urbes,
But who this god of yours? Come, Tityrus, tell.
quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.
The city, Meliboeus, they call Rome,
Et quae tanta fuit Romam tibi causa videndi?
I, simpleton, deemed like this town of ours,
Libertas; quae sera, tamen respexit inertem,
whereto we shepherds oft are wont to drive
candidior postquam tondenti barba cadebat;
the younglings of the flock: so too I knew
30
respexit tamen, et longo post tempore venit,
whelps to resemble dogs, and kids their dams,
postquam nos Amaryllis habet, Galatea reliquit:
comparing small with great; but this as far
namque, fatebor enim, dum me Galatea tenebat,
above all other cities rears her head
nec spes libertatis erat, nec cura peculi:
as cypress above pliant osier towers.
quamvis multa meis exiret victima saeptis,
And what so potent cause took you to Rome?
35
pinguis et ingratae premeretur caseus urbi,
Freedom, which, though belated, cast at length
non umquam gravis aere domum mihi dextra redibat.
her eyes upon the sluggard, when my beard
Mirabar, quid maesta deos, Amarylli, vocares,
'gan whiter fall beneath the barber's blade—
cui pendere sua patereris in arbore poma:
cast eyes, I say, and, though long tarrying, came,
Tityrus hinc aberat. Ipsae te, Tityre, pinus,
now when, from Galatea's yoke released,
40
ipsi te fontes, ipsa haec arbusta vocabant.
I serve but Amaryllis: for I will own,
Quid facerem? Neque servitio me exire licebat,
while Galatea reigned over me, I had
nec tam praesentis alibi cognoscere divos.
no hope of freedom, and no thought to save.
hic illum vidi iuvenem, Meliboee, quot annis
Though many a victim from my folds went forth,
bis senos cui nostra dies altaria fumant;
or rich cheese pressed for the unthankful town,
45
hic mihi responsum primus dedit ille petenti:
never with laden hands returned I home.
“pascite, ut ante, boves, pueri, submittite tauros.”
I used to wonder, Amaryllis, why
Fortunate senex, ergo tua rura manebunt,
you cried to heaven so sadly, and for whom
et tibi magna satis, quamvis lapis omnia nudus
you left the apples hanging on the trees;
limosoque palus obducat pascua iunco!
'twas Tityrus was away. Why, Tityrus,
50
Non insueta gravis temptabunt pabula fetas,
the very pines, the very water-springs,
nec mala vicini pecoris contagia laedent.
the very vineyards, cried aloud for you.
Fortunate senex, hic, inter flumina nota
What could I do? how else from bonds be freed,
et fontis sacros, frigus captabis opacum!
or otherwhere find gods so nigh to aid?
hinc tibi, quae semper, vicino ab limite, saepes
There, Meliboeus, I saw that youth to whom
55
Hyblaeis apibus florem depasta salicti
yearly for twice six days my altars smoke.
saepe levi somnum suadebit inire susurro;
There instant answer gave he to my suit,
hinc alta sub rupe canet frondator ad auras;
“Feed, as before, your kine, boys, rear your bulls.”
nec tamen interea raucae, tua cura, palumbes,
So in old age, you happy man, your fields
nec gemere aëria cessabit turtur ab ulmo.
will still be yours, and ample for your need!
60
Ante leves ergo pascentur in aequore cervi,
Though, with bare stones o'erspread, the pastures all
et freta destituent nudos in litore pisces,
be choked with rushy mire, your ewes with young
ante pererratis amborum finibus exsul
by no strange fodder will be tried, nor hurt
aut Ararim Parthus bibet, aut Germania Tigrim,
through taint contagious of a neighbouring flock.
quam nostro illius labatur pectore voltus.
Happy old man, who 'mid familiar streams
65
At nos hinc alii sitientis ibimus Afros,
and hallowed springs, will court the cooling shade!
pars Scythiam et rapidum Cretae veniemus Oaxen,
Here, as of old, your neighbour's bordering hedge,
et penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos.
that feasts with willow-flower the Hybla bees,
En umquam patrios longo post tempore finis,
shall oft with gentle murmur lull to sleep,
pauperis et tuguri congestum caespite culmen,
while the leaf-dresser beneath some tall rock
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post aliquot mea regna videns mirabor aristas?
uplifts his song, nor cease their cooings hoarse
Impius haec tam culta novalia miles habebit,
the wood-pigeons that are your heart's delight,
barbarus has segetes? En, quo discordia civis
nor doves their moaning in the elm-tree top.
produxit miseros! His nos consevimus agros!
Sooner shall light stags, therefore, feed in air,
Insere nunc, Meliboee, piros, pone ordine vitis.
the seas their fish leave naked on the strand,
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Ite meae, felix quondam pecus, ite capellae.
germans and Parthians shift their natural bounds,
Non ego vos posthac, viridi proiectus in antro,
and these the Arar, those the Tigris drink,
dumosa pendere procul de rupe videbo;
than from my heart his face and memory fade.
carmina nulla canam; non, me pascente, capellae,
But we far hence, to burning Libya some,
florentem cytisum et salices carpetis amaras.
some to the Scythian steppes, or thy swift flood,
80
Hic tamen hanc mecum poteras requiescere noctem
cretan Oaxes, now must wend our way,
fronde super viridi: sunt nobis mitia poma,
or Britain, from the whole world sundered far.
castaneae molles, et pressi copia lactis;
Ah! shall I ever in aftertime behold
et iam summa procul villarum culmina fumant,
my native bounds—see many a harvest hence
maioresque cadunt altis de montibus umbrae.
with ravished eyes the lowly turf-roofed cot
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