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ECLOGUE 8, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Alphesiboeus's and damon's muse
Last Line: "cease, songs, cease. Daphnis comes from the city home!"
Alternate Author Name(s): Virgil; Vergil


ALPHESIBOEUS'S and Damon's muse --
Charmed by whose strife the steer forgot to graze;
Whose notes made lynxes motionless, and bade
Rivers turn back and listen -- sing we next:
Alphesiboeus's and Damon's muse.

Winn'st thou the crags of great Timavus now,
Or skirtest strands where break Illyrian seas?
I know not. But oh when shall that day dawn
When I may tell thy deeds? give earth thy lays,
That match alone the pomp of Sophocles?
With thee began, with thee shall end, my song:
Accept what thou didst ask; and round thy brow
Twine this poor ivy with thy victor bays.
'Twas at the hour when night's cold shadow scarce
Had left the skies; when, blest by herdsmen, hangs
The dewdrop on the grass; that Damon leaned
On his smooth olive-staff, and thus began.

"Wake, morning star! Prevent warm day, and come!
While, duped and humbled, I -- because I loved
Nisa with all a husband's love -- complain;
And call the gods, (though naught their cognizance
Availed,) at my last hour, a dying man.
Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady.

"There forests murmur aye, and pines discourse;
And lovelorn swains, and Pan, who first reclaimed
From idleness the reed, hath audience there,
Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady.

"Nisa -- is aught impossible in love? --
Is given to Mopsus. Griffins next will mate
With mares: our children see the coward deer
Come with the hound to drink. Go, shape the torch,
Mopsus! fling, bridegroom, nuts! Thou lead'st a wife
Home, and o'er OEta peers the evening star.
Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady.

"Oh, mated with a worthy husband! thou
Who scorn'st mankind -- abhorr'st this pipe, these goats
Of mine, and shaggy brows, and hanging beard:
Nor think'st that gods can see what mortals do!
Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady.

"Within our orchard-walls I saw thee first,
A wee child with her mother -- (I was sent
To guide you) -- gathering apples wet with dew.
Ten years and one I scarce had numbered then;
Could scarce on tiptoe reach the brittle boughs.
I saw, I fell, I was myself no more.
Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady.

"Now know I what love is. On hard rocks born
Tmaros, or Rhodope, or they who dwell
In utmost Africa do father him;
No child of mortal blood or lineage.
Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady.

"In her son's blood a mother dipped her hands
At fierce love's bidding. Hard was her heart too --
Which harder? her heart or that knavish boy's?
Knavish the boy, and hard was her heart too.
Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady.

"Now let the wolf first turn and fly the sheep:
Hard oaks bear golden apples: daffodil
Bloom on the alder: and from myrtle-stems
Ooze richest amber. Let owls vie with swans;
And be as Orpheus -- Orpheus in the woods,
Arion with the dolphins -- every swain,
(Begin, my flute, a song of Arcady)

"And earth become mid ocean. Woods, farewell!
Down from some breezy mountain height to the waves
I'll fling me. Take this last gift ere I die.
Unlearn, my flute, the songs of Arcady."

Thus Damon. How the other made reply
Sing, sisters. Scarce may all do everything.

A.

"Fetch water: wreathe yon altar with soft wool:
And burn rich vervain and brave frankincense;
That I may try my lord's clear sense to warp
With dark rites. Naught is lacking save the songs.
Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home.

"Songs can bring down the very moon from heaven.
Circe with songs transformed Ulysses' crew.
Songs shall in sunder burst the cold grass-snake.
Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home.

"Three threads about thee, of three several hues,
I twine; and thrice -- (odd numbers please the god) --
Carry thy image round the altar-stones.
Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home.

"Weave, Amaryllis, in three knots three hues.
Just weave and say 'I'm weaving chains of love.'
Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home.

"As this clay hardens, melts this wax, at one
And the same flame: so Daphnis 'neath my love.
Strew meal, and light with pitch the crackling bay.
Daphnis burns me; for Daphnis burn these bays.
Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home.

"Be his such longing as the heifer feels,
When, faint with seeking her lost mate through copse
And deepest grove, beside some water-brook
In the green grass she sinks in her despair,
Nor cares to yield possession to the night.
Be his such longing: mine no wish to heal.
Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home.

"Pledges of love, these clothes the traitor once
Bequeathed me. I commit them. Earth, to thee
Here at my threshold. He is bound by these.
Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home.

"These deadly plants great Moeris gave to me,
In Pontus plucked: in Pontus thousands grow.
By their aid have I seen him skulk in woods
A wolf, unsepulchre the buried dead,
And charm to other fields the standing corn.
Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home.

"Go, Amaryllis, ashes in thy hand:
Throw them -- and look not backwards -- o'er thy head
Into a running stream. These next I'll try
On Daphnis; who regards not gods nor songs.
Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home.

"See! While I hesitate, a quivering flame
Hath clutched the wood, self-issuing from the ash.
May this mean good! Something -- for Hylas too
Barks at the gate -- it must mean. Is it true?
Or are we lovers dupes of our own dreams?
Cease, songs, cease. Daphnis comes from the city home!"





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