Formosum pastor Corydon ardebat Alexim,
the shepherd Corydon with love was fired
delicias domini, nec quid speraret habebat;
for fair Alexis, his own master's joy:
tantum inter densas, umbrosa cacumina, fagos
no room for hope had he, yet, none the less,
adsidue veniebat. Ibi haec incondita solus
the thick-leaved shadowy-soaring beech-tree grove
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montibus et silvis studio iactabat inani:
still would he haunt, and there alone, as thus,
O crudelis Alexi, nihil mea carmina curas?
to woods and hills pour forth his artless strains.
Nil nostri miserere? Mori me denique coges.
“Cruel Alexis, heed you naught my songs?
nunc etiam pecudes umbras et frigora captant;
Have you no pity? you'll drive me to my death.
nunc viridis etiam occultant spineta lacertos,
Now even the cattle court the cooling shade
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Thestylis et rapido fessis messoribus aestu
and the green lizard hides him in the thorn:
alia serpyllumque herbas contundit olentis.
now for tired mowers, with the fierce heat spent,
at mecum raucis, tua dum vestigia lustro,
pounds Thestilis her mess of savoury herbs,
sole sub ardenti resonant arbusta cicadis.
wild thyme and garlic. I, with none beside,
Nonne fuit satius tristis Amaryllidis iras
save hoarse cicalas shrilling through the brake,
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atque superba pati fastidia, nonne Menalcan,
still track your footprints 'neath the broiling sun.
quam vis ille niger, quamvis tu candidus esses ?
Better have borne the petulant proud disdain
o formose puer, nimium ne crede colori!
of Amaryllis, or Menalcas wooed,
alba ligustra cadunt, vaccinia nigra leguntur.
albeit he was so dark, and you so fair!
Despectus tibi sum, nec qui sim quaeris, Alexi,
Trust not too much to colour, beauteous boy;
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quam dives pecoris, nivei quam lactis abundans.
white privets fall, dark hyacinths are culled.
mille meae Siculis errant in montibus agnae;
You scorn me, Alexis, who or what I am
lac mihi non aestate novum, non frigore defit;
care not to ask—how rich in flocks, or how
canto quae solitus, si quando armenta vocabat,
in snow-white milk abounding: yet for me
Amphion Dircaeus in Actaeo Aracimtho.
roam on Sicilian hills a thousand lambs;
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Nec sum adeo informis: nuper me in litore vidi,
summer or winter, still my milk-pails brim.
cum placidum ventis staret mare; non ego Daphnim
I sing as erst Amphion of Circe sang,
iudice te metuam, si numquam fallit imago.
what time he went to call his cattle home
O tantum libeat mecum tibi sordida rura
on Attic Aracynthus. Nor am I
atque humilis habitare casas, et figere cervos,
so ill to look on: lately on the beach
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haedorumque gregem viridi compellere hibisco!
I saw myself, when winds had stilled the sea,
Mecum una in silvis imitabere Pana canendo.
and, if that mirror lie not, would not fear
Pan primus calamos cera coniungere pluris
daphnis to challenge, though yourself were judge.
instituit; Pan curat ovis oviumque magistros.
Ah! were you but content with me to dwell.
Nec te paeniteat calamo trivisse labellum:
Some lowly cot in the rough fields our home,
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haec eadem ut sciret, quid non faciebat Amyntas?
shoot down the stags, or with green osier-wand
est mihi disparibus septem compacta cicutis
round up the straggling flock! There you with me
fistula, Damoetas dono mihi quam dedit olim,
in silvan strains will learn to rival Pan.
et dixit moriens: “Te nunc habet ista secundum.”
Pan first with wax taught reed with reed to join;
dixit Damoetas, invidit stultus Amyntas.
for sheep alike and shepherd Pan hath care.
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Praeterea duo, nec tuta mihi valle reperti,
Nor with the reed's edge fear you to make rough
capreoli, sparsis etiam nunc pellibus albo,
your dainty lip; such arts as these to learn
bina die siccant ovis ubera; quos tibi servo:
what did Amyntas do?—what did he not?
iam pridem a me illos abducere Thestylis orat;
A pipe have I, of hemlock-stalks compact
et faciet, quoniam sordent tibi munera nostra.
in lessening lengths, Damoetas' dying-gift:
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Huc ades, O formose puer: tibi lilia plenis
‘Mine once,’ quoth he, ‘now yours, as heir to own.’
ecce ferunt Nymphae calathis; tibi candida Nais,
Foolish Amyntas heard and envied me.
pallentis violas et summa papavera carpens,
Ay, and two fawns, I risked my neck to find
narcissum et florem iungit bene olentis anethi;
in a steep glen, with coats white-dappled still,
tum casia atque aliis intexens suavibus herbis,
from a sheep's udders suckled twice a day—
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mollia luteola pingit vaccinia calta.
these still I keep for you; which Thestilis
Ipse ego cana legam tenera lanugine mala,
implores me oft to let her lead away;
castaneasque nuces, mea quas Amaryllis amabat;
and she shall have them, since my gifts you spurn.
addam cerea pruna: honos erit huic quoque pomo;
Come hither, beauteous boy; for you the Nymphs
et vos, O lauri, carpam, et te, proxima myrte,
bring baskets, see, with lilies brimmed; for you,
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sic positae quoniam suavis miscetis odores.
plucking pale violets and poppy-heads,
Rusticus es, Corydon: nec munera curat Alexis,
now the fair Naiad, of narcissus flower
nec, si muneribus certes, concedat Iollas.
and fragrant fennel, doth one posy twine—
Heu, heu, quid volui misero mihi! Floribus austrum
with cassia then, and other scented herbs,
perditus et liquidis inmisi fontibus apros.
blends them, and sets the tender hyacinth off
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Quem fugis, ah, demens? Habitarunt di quoque silvas,
with yellow marigold. I too will pick
Dardaniusque Paris. Pallas, quas condidit arces,
quinces all silvered-o'er with hoary down,
ipsa colat; nobis placeant ante omnia silvae.
chestnuts, which Amaryllis wont to love,
Torva leaena lupum sequitur; lupus ipse capellam;
and waxen plums withal: this fruit no less
florentem cytisum sequitur lasciva capella;
shall have its meed of honour; and I will pluck
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te Corydon, o Alexi: trahit sua quemque voluptas.
you too, ye laurels, and you, ye myrtles, near,
Aspice, aratra iugo referunt suspensa iuvenci,
for so your sweets ye mingle. Corydon,
et sol crescentis decedens duplicat umbras:
you are a boor, nor heeds a whit your gifts
me tamen urit amor; quis enim modus adsit amori?
alexis; no, nor would Iollas yield,
Ah, Corydon, Corydon, quae te dementia cepit!
should gifts decide the day. Alack! alack!
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Semiputata tibi frondosa vitis in ulmo est;
What misery have I brought upon my head!—
quin tu aliquid saltem potius, quorum indiget usus,
loosed on the flowers Siroces to my bane,
viminibus mollique paras detexere iunco?
and the wild boar upon my crystal springs!
Invenies alium, si te hic fastidit, Alexim.
Whom do you fly, infatuate? gods ere now,
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