Eclogue III (Fairclough)

MENALCAS

Tell me, Damoetas, who owns the flock? Is it Meliboeus?

DAMOETAS

No, but Aegon. Aegon the other day turned it over to me.

MENALCAS

Poor sheep, ever luckless flock! While your master courts Neaera, and fears lest she prefer me to him, this hireling keeper milks his ewes twice an hour, and the flock are robbed of strength and the lambs of milk.

DAMOETAS

Yet have a care to fling these taunts more sparingly at men. We know who was with you while the goats looked askance, and in what chapel — but the easy Nymphs laughed.

MENALCAS

The day, of course, when they saw me hacking Micon's plantation and his young vines with malicious knife.

DAMOETAS

Or it was here, by the old beeches, when you broke Daphnis' bow and arrows; for you were sore, you spiteful Menalcas, when you saw them given to the boy, and could you not have harmed him in some way, you would have died.

MENALCAS

What are masters like to do, if their knaves are so bold? Did I not see you, rascal, snaring Damon's goat, while his mongrel barked madly? And when I cried: "Where is yon fellow running? Tityrus, round up the flock!" you were skulking beyond the sedge.

DAMOETAS

Did I not beat him in singing, and was he not to pay me the goat my pipe had won by its songs? If you must know, that goat was mine; Damon himself owned to it, but said he could not pay.

MENALCAS

You beat him in singing? Why, did you ever own a wax-jointed pipe? Was it not you, Master Dunce, who at the cross-roads used to murder a sorry tune on a scrannel straw?

DAMOETAS

Well, would you have us try together, turn about, what each can do? I'll stake this cow. Now, don't draw back! She comes twice a day to the milking-pail, and suckles two calves. Now tell me, for what stake you will match me.

MENALCAS

From the herd I'd dare not stake anything with you. I have at home a harsh father and stepmother; and twice a day both count the flock, and one of them the kids as well. But — and you will yourself own it for a far greater wager — since you are on folly bent, I will stake two beechen cups, the embossed work of divine Alcimedon. On these a pliant vine, laid on by the graver's skill, is entwined with spreading clusters of pale ivy. In the midst are two figures, Conon and — who was the other, who marked out with his rod the whole heavens for man, what seasons the reaper should claim, what the stooping ploughman? Nor have I yet put my lips to them, but keep them in store.

DAMOETAS

I also have two cups, made for me by the same Alcimedon, and he has clasped their handles with twining acanthus, and in the centre placed Orpheus with the woods that follow him. Nor have I yet put my lips to them, but keep them in store. If you but look at the cow, you will have no praise for the cups.

MENALCAS

You shall never, never get off! Wherever you call me, I will meet you. Only let the one to hear us be — or take the man coming yonder, Palaemon. I will see that hereafter you challenge nobody to sing.

DAMOETAS

Nay come, if you have any song; with me there shall be no delay. No umpire do I shun. Only, neighbour Palaemon, give this your closest heed; it is no trifling matter.

PALAEMON

Sing on, now that we are seated on the soft grass. Even now every field, every tree is budding; now the woods are green, and the year is at its fairest. Begin, Damoetas; then you, Menalcas, must follow. Turn about you shall sing; singing by turns the Muses love.

DAMOETAS

With Jove I begin, ye Muses; of Jove all things are full. He makes the earth fruitful; he pays heed to my songs.

MENALCAS

And me Phoebus loves; Phoebus ever finds with me the offerings he loves, laurels and sweet-blushing hyacinths.

DAMOETAS

Galatea, saucy girl, pelts me with an apple, then runs off to the willows — and hopes to be seen first.

MENALCAS

But my flame Amyntas comes to me unsought, so that now Delia is not better known to my dogs.

DAMOETAS

Gifts I have found for my love; for I have myself marked where the wood-pigeons have been building high in the air.

MENALCAS

I have sent my boy — 'twas all I could do — ten golden apples, culled from a tree in the wood. Tomorrow I will send a second ten.

DAMOETAS

O the times and the things Galatea has spoken to me! Waft some part, ye winds, to the ears of the gods.

MENALCAS

What boots it, Amyntas, that you yourself scorn me not in heart, if, while you follow the boars, I watch the nets?

DAMOETAS

Send Phyllis to me; it is my birthday, Iollas. When I sacrifice a heifer for the harvest, come yourself.

MENALCAS

Phyllis I love beyond all; for she wept at my leaving, and in lingering tones cried: "Farewell, farewell, my lovely Iollas!"

DAMOETAS

Baneful to the folds is the wolf, to the ripe crop the rains, to trees the gales, and to me the anger of Amaryllis!

MENALCAS

Sweet to the corn is a shower, to the new-weaned kids the arbute, to the breeding flock the bending willow, and to me Amyntas alone!

DAMOETAS

Pollio loves my Muse, homely though she be; Pierian sisters, feed a calf for your reader!

MENALCAS

Pollio himself, too, makes new songs. Feed ye a bull, able even now to butt with the horn and to spurn the sand with his hoofs.

DAMOETAS

May he who loves you, Pollio, come where he joys that you, too, have come! For him may honey flow, and the rough bramble bear spices!

MENALCAS

Let him who hates not Bavius love your songs, Maevius; and let him also yoke foxes and milk he-goats.

DAMOETAS

Ye who cull flowers and low-growing strawberries, away from here, lads; a chill snake lurks in the grass.

MENALCAS

Forbear, my sheep, to go too far; 'tis ill to trust the bank. The ram himself is even now drying his fleece.

DAMOETAS

Tityrus, turn back from the stream the grazing goats; when the time comes, I'll wash them all in the spring myself.

MENALCAS

Round up the sheep, my lads; if the heat forestalls the milk, as it did of late, in vain shall our palms press the teats.

DAMOETAS

Alas, alas! how lean is my bull amid the fattening tares! The same love is the bane of the herd and the herd's master.

MENALCAS

As to mine at least — and love is not to blame — their skin scarce clings to the bones. Some evil eye bewitches my tender lambs.

DAMOETAS

Tell me in what land — and you shall be my great Apollo — Heaven's space is but three ells broad.

MENALCAS

Tell me in what land spring up flowers with royal names written thereon — and have Phyllis to yourself!

PALAEMON

It is not for me to settle so high a contest between you. You deserve the heifer, and he also — and whoever shall fear the sweets or taste the bitters of love. Shut off the rills now, my lads; the meadows have drunk enough.