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Escape me. Name your spot, and I'll be there.
Our umpire be-Palæmon; here he comes !

I'll teach you how to challenge folks to sing. D. Come on, if aught is in you. I'm not loth,

I shrink from no man. Only, neighbour, thou

('Tis no small matter) lay this well to heart. P. Say on, since now we sit on softest grass ;

And now buds every field and every tree,
And woods are green, and passing fair the year.
Damoetas, lead. Menalcas, follow next. 60
Sing verse for verse: such songs the Muses

love.

D. With Jove we open. Jove fills everything,

He walks the earth, he listens when I sing. M. Me Phoebus loves. I still have offerings meet

For Phoebus; bay, and hyacinth blushing sweet. D. Me Galatea pelts with fruit, and flies

(Wild girl) to the woods: but first would catch

my eyes. M. Unbid Amyntas comes to me, my flame;

With Delia's self my dogs are not more tame. D. Gifts have I for my fair: who marked but I 70

The place where doves had built their nest sky

high? M. I've sent my poor gift, which the wild wood bore,

Ten golden apples. Soon I'll send ten more. D. Oft Galatea tells me—what sweet tales !

Waft to the god's ears just a part, ye gales.
M. At heart Amyntas loves me. Yet what then?

He mates with hunters, I with servingmen.
Send me thy Phillis, good Iolas, now.
Today's my birthday. When I slay my cow
To help my harvest-come, and welcome,
thou.

80 M. Phillis is my love. When we part, she'll cry;

And fain would bid Iolas' self ood bye. D. Wolves kill the flocks, and storms the ripened

corn;

And winds the tree; and me a maiden's scorn. M. Rain is the land's delight, weaned kids the

vine;

Big ewes' lithe willow; and one fair face mine. · D. Pollio loves well this homely muse of mine.

For a new votary fat a calf, ye Nine. .. M. Pollio makes songs. For him a bull demand,

Who butts, whose hoofs already spurn the sand.

90 D. Who loves thee, Pollio, go where thou art gone, . For him Aow honey, thorns sprout cinnamon, M. Who loathes not Bavius, let him love thy

notes, Mævius:and yoke the fox, and milk he-goats, D. Flowers and ground-strawberries while your

prize ye make, Cold in the grass—fly hence, lads-lurks the

snake. M. Sheep, banks are treacherous: draw not over

nigh:

See, now. the lordly ram his fleece doth dry. D. Tityrus, yon she-goats from the river bring.

I in due time will wash them at the spring. M. Call, lads, your sheep. Once more our hands, should heat

101 O'ertake the milk, will press in vain the teat. D. How rich these vetches, yet how lean my ox.

Love kills alike the herdsman and the flocks. M. My lambs—and here love's not in fault, you'll

own

Witched by some jealous eye, are skin and bone. D. Say in what land—and great Apollo be

To me-heaven's arch extends just cubits three. M. Say in what land with kings' names grav'n are

grown Flowers — and be Phyllis yours and yours alone.

11ο P. Not mine such strife to settle. You have earned

A cow, and you: and whoso else shall e'er
Shrink from love's sweets or prove his bitter-

'ness.
Close, lads, the springs. The meads have drunk

enough.

ECLOGUE IV.

MUSES of Sicily, a loftier song
Wake we! Some tire of shrubs and myrtles low.
Are woods our theme? Then princely be the woods.

Come are those last days that the Sybil sang :
The ages' mighty march begins anew.
Now comes the virgin, Satum reigns again :
Now from high heaven descends a wondrous race.
Thou on the newborn babe—who first shall end
That age of iron, bid a golden dawn
Upon the broad world-chaste Lucina, smile: 10
Now thy Apollo reigns. And, Pollio, thou
Shalt be our Prince, when he that grander age
Opens, and onward roll the mighty moons :
Thou, trampling out what prints our crimes have

left,
Shalt free the nations from perpetual fear.
While he to bliss shall waken; with the Blest
See the Brave mingling, and be seen of them,

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