Extremum hunc, Arethusa, mihi concede laborem:
This now, the very latest of my toils,
pauca meo Gallo, sed quae legat ipsa Lycoris,
vouchsafe me, Arethusa! needs must I
carmina sunt dicenda. neget quis carmina Gallo?
sing a brief song to Gallus—brief, but yet
sic tibi, cum fluctus subterlabere Sicanos,
such as Lycoris' self may fitly read.
5
Doris amara suam non intermisceat undam.
Who would not sing for Gallus? So, when thou
incipe; sollicitos Galli dicamus amores,
beneath Sicanian billows glidest on,
dum tenera attondent simae virgulta capellae.
may Doris blend no bitter wave with thine,
non canimus surdis; respondent omnia silvae.
begin! The love of Gallus be our theme,
Quae nemora, aut qui vos saltus habuere, puellae
and the shrewd pangs he suffered, while, hard by,
10
Naides, indigno cum Gallus amore peribat?
the flat-nosed she-goats browse the tender brush.
nam neque Parnasi vobis iuga, nam neque Pindi
We sing not to deaf ears; no word of ours
ulla moram fecere, neque Aoniae Aganippe.
but the woods echo it. What groves or lawns
Illum etiam lauri, etiam flevere myricae.
held you, ye Dryad-maidens, when for love—
Pinifer illum etiam sola sub rupe iacentem
love all unworthy of a loss so dear—
15
Maenalus, et gelidi fleverunt saxa Lycaei.
Gallus lay dying? for neither did the slopes
Stant et oves circum;—nostri nec poenitet illas,
of Pindus or Parnassus stay you then,
nec te poeniteat pecoris, divine poeta;—
no, nor Aonian Aganippe. Him
et formosus ovis ad flumina pavit Adonis;
even the laurels and the tamarisks wept;
venit et upilio; tardi venere subulci;
for him, outstretched beneath a lonely rock,
20
uvidus hiberna venit de glande Menalcas.
wept pine-clad Maenalus, and the flinty crags
Omnes “Unde amor iste” rogant “tibi?” Venit Apollo:
of cold Lycaeus. The sheep too stood around—
“Galle, quid insanis?” inquit; “tua cura Lycoris
of us they feel no shame, poet divine;
perque nives alium perque horrida castra secuta est.”
nor of the flock be thou ashamed: even fair
Venit et agresti capitis Silvanus honore,
Adonis by the rivers fed his sheep—
25
florentis ferulas et grandia lilia quassans.
came shepherd too, and swine-herd footing slow,
Pan deus Arcadiae venit, quem vidimus ipsi
and, from the winter-acorns dripping-wet
sanguineis ebuli bacis minioque rubentem.
Menalcas. All with one accord exclaim:
“Ecquis erit modus?” inquit; “Amor non talia curat;
“From whence this love of thine?” Apollo came;
nec lacrimis crudelis Amor, nec gramina rivis,
“Gallus, art mad?” he cried, “thy bosom's care
30
nec cytiso saturantur apes, nec fronde capellae.”
another love is following.” Therewithal
Tristis at ille: “Tamen cantabitis, Arcades,” inquit
Silvanus came, with rural honours crowned;
“montibus haec vestris: soli cantare periti
the flowering fennels and tall lilies shook
Arcades. O mihi tum quam molliter ossa quiescant,
before him. Yea, and our own eyes beheld
vestra meos olim si fistula dicat amores!
pan, god of Arcady, with blood-red juice
35
Atque utinam ex vobis unus, vestrique fuissem
of the elder-berry, and with vermilion, dyed.
aut custos gregis, aut maturae vinitor uvae!
“Wilt ever make an end?” quoth he, “behold
Certe, sive mihi Phillis, sive esset Amyntas,
love recks not aught of it: his heart no more
seu quicumque furor—quid tum, si fuscus Amyntas;
with tears is sated than with streams the grass,
et nigrae violae sunt et vaccinia nigra—
bees with the cytisus, or goats with leaves.”
40
mecum inter salices lenta sub vite iaceret;
“Yet will ye sing, Arcadians, of my woes
serta mihi Phyllis legeret, cantaret Amyntas.
upon your mountains,” sadly he replied—
Hic gelidi fontes, hic mollia prata, Lycori,
“Arcadians, that alone have skill to sing.
hic nemus; hic ipso tecum consumerer aevo.
O then how softly would my ashes rest,
Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis
if of my love, one day, your flutes should tell!
45
tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes:
And would that I, of your own fellowship,
tu procul a patria (nec sit mihi credere tantum!)
or dresser of the ripening grape had been,
Alpinas, ah dura, nives et frigora Rheni
or guardian of the flock! for surely then,
me sine sola vides: ah, te ne frigora laedant!
let Phyllis, or Amyntas, or who else,
ah, tibi ne teneras glacies secet aspera plantas!
bewitch me—what if swart Amyntas be?
50
Ibo, et, Chalcidico quae sunt mihi condita versu
Dark is the violet, dark the hyacinth—
carmina, pastoris Siculi modulabor avena.
among the willows, 'neath the limber vine,
certum est in silvis, inter spelaea ferarum
reclining would my love have lain with me,
malle pati, tenerisque meos incidere amores
Phyllis plucked garlands, or Amyntas sung.
arboribus; crescent illae, crescetis, amores.
Here are cool springs, soft mead and grove, Lycoris;
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Interea mixtis lustrabo Maenala nymphis,
here might our lives with time have worn away.
aut acris venabor apros: non me ulla vetabunt
But me mad love of the stern war-god holds
frigora Parthenios canibus circumdare saltus.
armed amid weapons and opposing foes.
iam mihi per rupes videor lucosque sonantis
Whilst thou—Ah! might I but believe it not!—
ire; libet Partho torquere Cydonia cornu
alone without me, and from home afar,
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spicula:—tamquam haec sit nostri medicina furoris,
look'st upon Alpine snows and frozen Rhine.
ut deus ille malis hominum mitescere discat!
Ah! may the frost not hurt thee, may the sharp
Iam neque hamadryades rursus nec carmina nobis
and jagged ice not wound thy tender feet!
ipsa placent; ipsae rursus concedite silvae.
I will depart, re-tune the songs I framed
non illum nostri possunt mutare labores,
in verse Chalcidian to the oaten reed
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nec si frigoribus mediis Hebrumque bibamus,
of the Sicilian swain. Resolved am I
Sithoniasque nives hiemis subeamus aquosae,
in the woods, rather, with wild beasts to couch,
nec si, cum moriens alta liber aret in ulmo,
and bear my doom, and character my love
Aethiopum versemus ovis sub sidere Cancri.
upon the tender tree-trunks: they will grow,
omnia vincit Amor; et nos cedamus Amori.”
and you, my love, grow with them. And meanwhile
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Haec sat erit, divae, vestrum cecinisse poetam,
I with the Nymphs will haunt Mount Maenalus,
dum sedet et gracili fiscellam texit hibisco,
or hunt the keen wild boar. No frost so cold
Pierides; vos haec facietis maxima Gallo—
but I will hem with hounds thy forest-glades,
Gallo, cuius amor tantum mihi crescit in horas,
parthenius. Even now, methinks, I range
quantum vere novo viridis se subicit alnus.
o'er rocks, through echoing groves, and joy to launch
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Surgamus; solet esse gravis cantantibus umbra;
Cydonian arrows from a Parthian bow.—
iuniperi gravis umbra; nocent et frugibus umbrae.
as if my madness could find healing thus,
Ite domum saturae, venit Hesperus, ite capellae.
or that god soften at a mortal's grief!
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