Navagero: ANDREA NAVAGERO (1483-1529)

Aspice, magna Ceres, tibi quos semente peracta
     Ducimus agrestes, rustica turba, choros.
Tu face, ne nimio semen putrescat ab imbre,
     Neu sulcos rapido frigore rumpat hiems.
Neu sterilis surgat silva infelicis avenae,
     Et quaecumque bonis frugibus herba nocet;
Neu terrae prostrata animosi flatibus Euri
     Decidat aut densa grandine laesa seges;
Neu direpta avidae rapiant frumenta volucres,
     Monstrave, quae terrae plurima saepe ferunt.

Look upon us, great Ceres, for whom, the sowing completed,
     we lead country dances, a rustic throng.
Do you see to it that the seed does not putrefy from too much rain,
     nor let winter with rapid frigidity break the furrows.
Nor let a sterile growth of ill-starred oats arise,
     and whatever herb harms good fruits;
Nor let the crop, prostrated by the blasts of bold Eurus,
     fall down, or, injured by dense hail;
Nor let ravenous birds plunder and snatch the grain,
     nor monsters, which the earth very often brings forth.

Sed quae credidimus bene cultis semina campis,
     Uberius largo foenere reddat ager.
Sic erit. Interea nivei carchesia lactis
     Fundite et annoso mella liquata mero,
Terque satas circum felix eat hostia fruges,
     Caesaque mox sanctos corruat ante focos.

But the seeds which we have entrusted to well-cultivated fields,
     let the field pay back more plentifully, with generous interest.
Thus it shall be. Meanwhile, pour cups of snowy milk,
     and honey clarified in aged wine,
And thrice may a fortunate victim go around the sown crops,
     and, once slain, soon fall before the holy hearths.

Nunc satis haec. Post messem alii reddentur honores,
Et sacras cingent spicea serta comas.

Now enough of these. After the harvest other honors will be rendered,
And spicate garlands will encircle the sacred locks.

Vota ad auras

Vows to the breezes

Aurae, quae levibus percurritis aera pennis,
     Et strepitis blando per nemora alta sono,
Serta dat haec vobis, vobis haec rusticus Idmon
     Spargit odorato plena canistra croco.
Vos lenite aestum et paleas seiungite inanes,
     Dum medio fruges ventilat ille die.

Breezes, who run through the air with light pinions,
     and resound with a soothing sound through the lofty groves,
he gives these garlands to you—these to you—rustic Idmon
     flings you baskets full of fragrant saffron.
You, soften the heat and separate the empty chaff,
     while he ventilates—winnows—the grain at midday.

III

Vota Iolae Pani agresti deo

Vows of Iole to Pan, the rustic god

Ille tuus, Pan montivage, venator Iolas
     Suetus in audaces cominus ire feras,
A quo et adhuc rictusque suum, exuviasque leonum
     Sacra tibi agrestis munera pinus habet,
Nunc iam annis gravis haec devicti cornua cervi
     Dedicat, imbelli congrua dona seni.
Cum tamen herculeae facta inter fortia clavae
     Is quoque sit laudem visus habere labor,
Tu, dive, haec inter viridis decora illa iuventae
     Suscipe, neve illis esse minora puta.

That your Iolas, Pan, mountain-roving, the hunter,
     Accustomed to go at close quarters against audacious beasts,
From whom even now the pine, rustic, holds for you as sacred gifts
     His jaws and the spoils of lions, offerings of the countryside,
Now, heavy with years, dedicates these antlers of a vanquished stag—
     Gifts congruent to an unwarlike old man.
Although, nevertheless, among the hardy deeds of the Herculean club
     This labor too has seemed to have praise,
Do you, divine one, receive these among those ornaments of verdant youth,
     And do not think them to be lesser than those.

Vota Damidis ad Bacchum pro vite

Vows of Damis to Bacchus for the vine

Hanc vitem, multa quae semper fertilis uva
     Haud unquam domini fallere vota solet,
Nunc etiam large florentem, consecrat ipse
     Vineti cultor Damis, Iacche, tibi.
Tu face, dive, tua haec spem non frustretur, et huius
     Exemplo fructum vinea tota ferat.

This vine, which, ever with fertile grape,
     is never wont to fail the master's vows,
now too, blooming abundantly, is consecrated by Damis himself,
     the cultivator of the vineyard, Iacchus, to you.
Do you make, O god, that this not frustrate your hope, and that by this one's
     example the whole vineyard may bear fruit.

Lyconis vota Pani deo

Lycon’s vows to the god Pan

Longius a pecore errantem per devia taurum
     Dum sequitur nemorum per iuga longa Lycon,
Errantem scopulo capream conspexit ab alto:
     Continuo certo deicit hanc iaculo.
Mox etiam catulos sola sub rupe iacentes
     Invenit: hos Crocali donat habere suae.
E caprea in viridi statuit convivia luco,
     Addidit et veteris pocula multa meri.

A bull wandering farther from the herd through trackless byways
     While he follows across the long ridges of the groves, Lycon,
He espied a straying roe-deer from a high crag:
     Straightway he casts her down with a sure javelin.
Soon too, the fawns lying all alone beneath a rock
     He finds: these he gifts to his Crocalis to have.
From the roe-deer he set convivial banquets in the green grove,
     And he added many cups of aged pure wine.

Quod reliquum est, Pan semicaper, cum cornibus ipsis
Suspensum e pinu hac tu tibi tergus habe.

What remains, Pan the half-goat, with the very horns themselves
Suspended from this pine, have the hide for yourself.

Thyrsidis vota Veneri

Thyrsis’s vows to Venus

Quod tulit optata tandem de Leucade Thyrsis
     Fructum aliquem, has violas dat tibi, sancta Venus.
Post sepem hanc sensim obrepens, tria basia sumpsi:
     Nil ultra potui, nam prope mater erat.
Nunc violas, sed plena feram si vota, dicabo
     Inscriptam hoc myrtum carmine, diva, tibi.

Since Thyrsis at last has brought from Leucate the desired fruit,
     he gives you these violets, holy Venus.
Stealing up softly past this hedge, I took three kisses:
     I could do nothing beyond, for her mother was near.
Now violets; but if I bring my vows fulfilled, I shall dedicate
     to you, goddess, a myrtle inscribed with this song.

'Hanc Veneri myrtum Thyrsis, quod amore potitus,
Dedicat, atque una seque suosque greges.'

'This myrtle to Venus, Thyrsis, since he has gained love,
dedicates, and along with it both himself and his flocks.'

VII

Thyrsidis vota et quercui et silvae

The vows of Thyrsis to both the oak and the forest

Et quercum et silvam hanc ante omnia Thyrsis amabit,
Et certo feret his annua vota die,
Dum poterit memor esse, quod hac primum ille sub umbra
Ultima de cara Leucade vota tulit.

And both the oak and this wood Thyrsis will love before all things,
And on a fixed day he will bring to these his yearly vows,
So long as he can be mindful that beneath this shade he first
Offered the last vows for dear Leucas.

VIII

Augonis venatici canis epitaphium

Epitaph of Augo's hunting dog

Venator celerem maerens Augona Melampus
     Confossum rapido dente ferocis apri,
Hac illi in ripa tumulum, frondente sub umbra,
     Erigit: hoc ipso concidit ille loco.
Non impune quidem praedo sceleratus abivit:
     Procubuit iaculis caesus et ore canum.
Tu tamen e cunctis canibus praestantior Augon,
     Fide Augon, silvis qui modo terror eras,
Tu, dilecte, iaces.

The hunter Melampus, mourning swift Augon,
     pierced by the rapid tooth of a ferocious boar,
on this bank for him a mound, beneath leafy shade,
     he raises: in this very place he fell.
Not, indeed, with impunity did the wicked marauder depart:
     he sank down, cut down by javelins and by the jaws of the dogs.
You, however, Augon, more preeminent than all dogs,
     for fidelity, Augon, you who just now were the terror of the woods,
you, beloved, lie.

Sed ab alta hac fascia pinu
Millusque, et millo vincula iuncta suo,
Quin decisa feri cervix tibi pendeat hostis,
Sintque una ex animo signa dolentis heri.

But from this high-banded pine
let the collar, and the vincula joined to its own collar,
nay, let the severed neck of the ferocious enemy hang for you,
and let there together be signs from the soul of the grieving master.

Invitatio ad amoenum fontem

Invitation to a delightful spring

Et gelidus fons est, et nulla salubrior unda,
     Et molli circum gramine terra viret,
Et ramis arcent soles frondentibus alni,
     Et levis in nullo gratior aura loco est,
Et medio Titan nunc ardentissimus axe est,
     Exustusque gravi sidere fervet ager.
Siste, viator, iter: nimio iam torridus aestu es,
     Iam nequeunt lassi longius ire pedes.
Accubitu langorem, aestum aura, umbraque virenti,
     Perspicuo poteris fonte levare sitim.

And the fountain is icy, and no water is more salubrious,
     And the ground around grows green with soft grass,
And the alders with leafy branches ward off the suns,
     And the light breeze is in no place more pleasing,
And now Titan is most ardent at the mid axle,
     And the field, scorched by the weighty star, seethes.
Halt your route, traveler: already you are parched by excessive heat,
     Now your weary feet are not able to go farther.
By reclining you can ease your weariness, the heat by the breeze, and by the green shade,
     your thirst you will be able to lighten by the limpid fountain.

De obitu Hylacis canis pastorii

On the death of Hylax, the shepherd dog

Ante canes omneis pastori carus Amyntae
     Nuper ab Illyrico littore missus Hylax,
Dum solitas agit excubias et septa tuetur,
     Nec vigilant socii cetera turba canes,
Qua rapidus se se media inter saxa Timavus
     Mergit et inde iterum prosilit amne novo,
Ille quidem saeva vitulos tutatus ab ursa est;
     Ipse sed ingenti vulnere caesus, obit.
Constituit viridi tumulum de caespite Amyntas:
     Haec voluit raram praemia habere fidem.
Maesta gemunt armenta, mali furesque lupique
     Exstincto hoc sibi iam cuncta licere putant.

Before all dogs, dear to the shepherd Amyntas,
     Hylax, recently sent from the Illyrian shore,
While he carries on his accustomed watches and guards the pens,
     nor do his fellow dogs, the rest of the pack, keep vigil,
Where the swift Timavus amidst the rocks
     plunges itself and thence again leaps forth with a new stream,
He indeed safeguarded the calves from a savage she-bear;
     but he himself, cut down by a huge wound, died.
Amyntas set up a mound of green turf:
     he wished that rare fidelity have these rewards.
The herds, mournful, groan, and evil thieves and wolves,
     with this one extinguished, now think everything permitted to them.

Vota Thelesonis Cereri, Bacco et Pali deae

Theleson’s vows to Ceres, Bacchus, and the goddess Pales

Dat Cereri has Teleson spicas, haec serta Lyaeo,
Haec nivei lactis pocula bina Pali.
Pro quibus arva Ceres, vites fecundet Iacchus,
Sufficiat pecori pabula laeta Pales.

Teleson gives to Ceres these ears of grain, these garlands to Lyaeus,
these twin cups of snowy milk to Pales.
In return for which, may Ceres make the fields fertile, may Iacchus make the vines fruitful,
may Pales supply glad fodder for the herd.

XII

Leucippem amicam spe praemiorum invitat

He invites his girlfriend Leucippe with the hope of rewards

Cum primum clauso pecus emittetur ovili,
Urbs, mea Leucippe, cras adeunda mihi est.
Huc ego venalemque agnum centumque, Chariclo
Ipsa mihi mater quae dedit, ova fero.
Afferri tibi vis croceos, niveosque cothurnos?

When first the flock is sent out from the closed sheepfold,
I must go to the City tomorrow, my Leucippe.
Thither I bring a lamb for sale and a hundred eggs, which Chariclo,
my mother herself, gave to me.
Do you wish saffron and snow-white buskins to be brought to you?

Anne colum, qualem nata Lyconis habet?
Ipse feram quae grata tibi. Tu basia iunge,
Gaudia, Leucippe, nec mihi grata nega.

Or a distaff, such as Lycon’s daughter has?
I myself will bring what is welcome to you. Do you join kisses,
Joy, Leucippe, and do not deny me what is pleasing.

Cras, ubi nox aderit, odiosae elabere matri,
Hasque inter corylos ad tua dona veni.

Tomorrow, when night comes, slip away from your hateful mother,
and among these hazels come for your gifts.

XIII

Vota Veneri ut amantibus faveat

Vows to Venus that she may favor lovers

Illi in amore pares, vicini cultor agelli
     Thyrsis, cumque suo Thyrside fida Nape,
Ponimus hos tibi, Cypri, immortales amaranthos
     Liliaque in sacras serta parata comas:
Scilicet exemplo hoc, nullo delebilis aevo
     Floreat aeternum fac, dea, noster amor.
Sit purus, talisque utriusque in pectore candor,
     In foliis qualem lilia cana ferunt.
Utque duo hi flores serto nectuntur in uno,
     Sic animos nectat una catena duos.

They, equal in love—the neighbor cultivator of a little field,
     Thyrsis, and, with her own Thyrsis, faithful Nape—
We place for you, Cypris, these immortal amaranths,
     and lilies prepared as garlands for sacred locks:
By this example, make our love flourish forever,
     indelible in any age, goddess.
Let it be pure, and such whiteness in the breast of each
     as hoary lilies bear in their leaves.
And as these two flowers are bound in a single garland,
     so let one chain bind the two souls.

XIV

Vota Niconoes ad Dianam

Vows of Niconoe to Diana

Candida Niconoe, viduae spes una Terillae
     Montivagas iaculo figere certa feras,
Hunc tibi silvipotens arcum, Latonia, ponit,
     Atque haec in pharetra condita tela sua.
Illam cara parens tenero sociavit Icasto,
     Ignotique iubet iura subire tori.
Tu, dea, si silvis aegre discedit ab altis,
     Si lacrimans coetus deserit illa tuos,
Tu bona sis, felixque illi: tu nomine dextro
     Optata laetam fac, dea, prole domum.

Fair Niconoe, the sole hope of widowed Terilla,
     sure to transfix the mountain-wandering beasts with the javelin,
sets for you, sylvan-powerful, O Latonia, this bow,
     and these her shafts stowed in the quiver.
Her dear parent has joined her to tender Icastus,
     and bids her undergo the laws of an unknown marriage-bed.
You, goddess, if she hardly departs from the high forests,
     if weeping she leaves your companies,
be good and propitious to her: you, with a favorable omen,
     make, goddess, the home glad with longed-for progeny.

Vota pro vite Baccho et satyris

Vows for the vine to bacchus and the satyrs

Quae duo fert collis fecundi vinitor Acmon
     Expressi primum cymbia plena meri,
Haec avidis musti satyris mustique parenti
     Dat iucunde tibi vitis, Iacche, sator.
Illi illaesa suis linquant vineta rapinis,
     Tu tua fac largis auctibus uva fluat.

The two which the vintner Acmon bears from the fecund hill
     first, cups full of pure expressed wine,
to the satyrs avid for must and to the parent of must
     the vine pleasantly gives these to you, Iacche, sower.
Let them leave the vineyards unharmed by their own rapines,
     you, make your grape flow with lavish increases.

XVI

Vota Acmonis Vulcano

Vows of Acmon to Vulcan

Has, Vulcane, dicat silvas tibi villicus Acmon:
     Tu sacris illas ignibus ure, pater.
Crescebant ducta e Stati propagine silvis,
     Iamque erat ipsa bonis frugibus umbra nocens.
Ure simul silvas: terra simul igne soluta
     Fertilior largo foenere messis eat.

These things, Vulcan, let the farm-steward Acmon say to you:
     Do you, father, burn those with sacred fires.
They were growing, drawn from Statius’s stock, in the woods,
     and already the shade itself was harmful to good crops.
Burn the woods as well: the earth at the same time, loosened by fire,
     let the harvest go forth more fertile with large interest.

Ure istas: Phrygio nuper mihi consita colle
Fac, pater, a flammis tuta sit illa tuis.

Burn those: the one recently planted for me on a Phrygian hill,
make, father, that one safe from your flames.

XVII

Defectio Euphronis a Pallade ad Venerem

Euphron’s Defection from Pallas to Venus

Iam telas calathosque omnesque perosa labores,
     Quos vitae quaestus pauperioris habet,
Palladio radium cum templo appenderet Euphro,
     Iamque sequi Venerem constituisset, ait:
'Hactenus o mihi culta, vale dea; et haec tua multi
     Instrumenta tibi plena laboris habe.
Iam tua perpessam dudum mala, lenis habebit
     Adiungetque suo me Cytherea choro.
Nec mirum, quam praetulerit Phryx arbiter, a me
     Si praelata tibi nunc quoque Cypris erit.'

Now, having come to hate the webs and the baskets and all the labors,
     which the gain of a poorer livelihood has,
when Euphro was hanging her shuttle in the Palladian temple,
     and had now resolved to follow Venus, she said:
'Hitherto, O goddess worshiped by me, farewell; and take these, your many
     instruments full of toil, for yourself.
Now, having long endured your evils, gentle Cytherea will have me
     and will join me to her own chorus.
Nor is it a wonder, the one whom the Phrygian arbiter preferred,
     if Cypris will now also be preferred by me to you.'

XVIII

In Almonem Alcippes fastidio mortuum

On Almo, dead through Alcippe’s fastidiousness

Dum furit Alcippes forma Nonacrius Almo,
     Crudeli demum tabe peresus obit,
Almo capripedi non impar arundine Pani,
     Quo nullus nymphis gratior Arcas erat.
Spargite odorato, pastores, flore sepulchrum,
     Et simul infusum lacque merumque fluat.
Non iacet ille sub hac (ut vos male creditis) ulmo:
     In nemus Idalium transtulit alma Venus.

While Alcippes, the Nonacrian, is mad for Almo’s form,
     at last, consumed by cruel wasting, he dies;
Almo, not unequal to goat‑footed Pan in the reed‑pipe,
     than whom no Arcadian was more pleasing to the nymphs.
Scatter, shepherds, the tomb with fragrant flower,
     and at the same time let milk and pure wine, poured in, flow.
He does not lie beneath this elm (as you wrongly believe):
     kindly Venus has transferred him into the Idalian grove.

Hic Veneris pascitque greges, cantatque: canentis
     Una adstant Charites versibus, adstat Amor.
Quin etiam hunc Paphii nymphe non ultima coetus
     Deperit, et parilis fervor utrumque tenet.
Nimirum felix Almo: modo perfida virgo
     Aspera saevitiae det documenta suae.

Here he both pastures the flocks of Venus and sings; as he sings,
     Together the Graces stand by his verses, Love stands by.
Indeed even a Paphian nymph, not the least of the company,
     is desperately in love with him, and an equal fervor holds them both.
Assuredly happy Almo: only let the treacherous maiden
     give harsh proofs of her own savagery.

Pastoris pereat succensa informis amore,
Respuat assiduas surdior ille preces.
Praebeat hinc saevis tam dura exempla puellis,
Formosa ut fastus discat habere modum.

Let the formless maiden, enkindled by love of the shepherd, perish,
let that one, deafer, spurn the assiduous prayers.
Let him from this provide such severe examples to savage maidens,
so that the beautiful maiden may learn to have a measure of her haughtiness.

XIX

Acon

Candida nympha olim, et Pani dilecta Lyceo,
     Crinibus et culto conspicienda sinu,
Nunc vox, flebilibus quae semper maesta querelis
     Desertos scopulos deviaque antra colis,
Salve, Echo officiosa. Tibi sub rupe cavata
     Ipse ego lanigeri ductor Acon pecoris
Constituam umbrosum frondenti ex ilice lucum,
     Molliaque ex hedera serta virente feram.
Tu levibus allecta modis silvestris avenae
     Excipis e summo carmina nostra iugo;
Tu, quoties querimur, duros miserata dolores
     Nescio quid tristi flebile voce gemis.

Once a bright nymph, and beloved by Lycaean Pan,
     conspicuous for your tresses and your well-adorned bosom,
now a voice, which always, sad with plaintive laments,
     you inhabit deserted crags and trackless caves,
hail, obliging Echo. For you beneath a hollowed rock
     I myself, Acon, leader of the wool-bearing flock,
will set a shady grove from a leafy holm-oak,
     and I will bring soft garlands from green ivy.
Tu, enticed by the light measures of the sylvan oaten reed,
     you take up our songs from the topmost ridge;
you, whenever we lament, pitying our harsh pains,
     you moan I know not what with a sad, weeping voice.

Nec mirum, quod tu lacrimis movearis amantum:
     Perdidit, infelix, te quoque durus Amor.
Ah misera, ipsa quidem et strophio subnectis olenti,
     Et longa molles excolis arte comas.
Ipse puer cultus, ipse omnes odit amores,
     Insequiturque vagas per iuga summa feras.

Nor is it a wonder that you are moved by the tears of lovers:
     Harsh Love, unlucky one, has destroyed you too.
Ah wretched girl, you even fasten on a perfumed strophium,
     And with long, elaborate art you beautify your soft tresses.
The boy himself, well-groomed, he himself hates every love,
     And he pursues the wandering wild beasts over the highest ridges.

Quin humiles addis voces, et verba precantis
     Effugit, atque omnes negligit ille preces.
Siste gradum, immitis: non te violenta leaena,
     Non curvo sequitur dente timendus aper,
Sed quae candenti facie niveisque papillis
     Vel magno possit nympha placere Iovi.
Haec aget et celeres tecum per saxa lacaenas,
     Eque suis tendet retia rara plagis.

Nay, you add humble voices, and the words of a suppliant,
     yet he flees, and he neglects all those prayers.
Halt your step, ruthless one: not a violent lioness
     nor a boar to be feared with curved tusk follows you,
but a nymph who, with a candescent face and snow-white nipples,
     could even please great Jove. She will drive with you the swift Laconian hounds over the rocks,
     and from her own snares she will stretch the open-meshed nets.

Siste gradum, immitis: et quas nunc tendis ad undas
     Effuge: causa tuae fons erit ille necis.
Heu miserande puer, tales ten solvere poenas,
     Ten decuit tam crudelia fata pati?
Magna parens, quae cuncta leves producis in auras,
     Totaque diverso germine picta nites,
Quae passim arboribus, passim surgentibus herbis
     Sufficis omnifero larga alimenta sinu,
Excipe languentem puerum moribundaque membra,
     Aeternumque tua fac, dea, vivat ope.

Halt your step, cruel one: and to the waves which you now aim at
     Flee: that spring will be the cause of your death.
Alas, boy to be pitied, was it yours to discharge such penalties,
     Was it fitting for you to suffer such cruel fates?
Great Parent, who produce all things into the airs,
     And, all painted with diverse seed, you shine,
Who everywhere to the trees, everywhere to the rising herbs
     Supply lavish aliments from your all-bearing bosom,
Receive the languishing boy and his dying limbs,
     And make, goddess, that he live eternal by your aid.

Vivet, et ille vetus Zephyro redeunte quotannis
In niveo candor flore perennis erit.
Tu mecum socias, Echo, coniunge querelas,
Et percussa novis fletibus antra sonent.
Crudelis Telayra, meos quid spernis amores?

He will live, and that ancient candor, with Zephyr returning each year,
will be perennial in the snow-white flower.
You, Echo, join with me allied laments,
and let the caverns, struck by new weepings, resound.
Cruel Telayra, why do you spurn my amours?

     Quid miseras surda despicis aure preces?
Hei mihi, nulla ovium tangit me cura mearum,
     Ex quo me iste tuus, perfida, torret amor.
It miserum pecus, et seri sub vesperis umbras
     Per se ipsi redeunt in sua tecta greges.

     Why do you despise wretched prayers with a deaf ear?
Alas for me, no care of my sheep touches me,
     Since that love of yours, perfidious one, sears me.
The wretched herd goes, and late beneath the evening shades
     All by themselves the flocks return into their own folds.

Nec mihi iam niveo complent mulctralia lacte,
     Densaque permisso vellere terga gerunt.
Quin etiam aucupii studium, quo clarus habebar,
     Languenti penitus excidit ex animo.
Ite leves passim silvis impune, volucres:
     Cuncta novus nostra e mente fugavit amor.

Nor now do they fill for me the milking-pails with snowy milk,
     and their backs carry dense fleece, the wool permitted to grow.
Nay even the zeal for fowling, in which I was held renowned,
     has completely fallen out from my languishing mind.
Go, light birds, everywhere through the woods with impunity:
     a new love has driven all things from my mind.

Otia agunt pedicae, et lento lita vimina visco,
In tenebris amites, nexaque lina iacent.

The snares sit idle, and osier withes smeared with viscous bird-lime,
in the dark the fowling-rods, and the knotted lines lie.

Damon

Vos mecum e vitreis, nymphae Naucelides, antris,
Vos mecum viridi paulum considite in herba,
Atque hoc, quem canimus, dignum concedite carmen.
Sic vobis patrias circum vernantia ripas
Prata, neque hibernis nivibus viduata neque aestu,
Sufficiant varios in serta nitentia flores.
Quis dolor, o silvae, quae vos, o prata, tenebat
Maestities; quanto squalebant omnia luctu,
Cum ferus e gelidis descenderet Alpibus hostis
Assidue, et Latias in praedam verteret oras?

You, with me from glassy caverns, Naucelid nymphs,
You, with me, sit a little on the green grass,
And grant that this song, which we sing, be worthy.
Thus for you, around your native banks,
The meadows, neither despoiled by wintry snows nor by heat,
May suffice with various flowers shining for garlands.
What grief, O woods, what sadness held you, O meadows—
How squalid all things were with mourning—
When the fierce foe kept descending from the icy Alps
Incessantly, and was turning the Latian shores into prey?

Tum (reor) invita creverunt pabula terra,
Invitae e densis ceciderunt frondibus umbrae.
Quippe abigi raptas pecudes, passimque videbant
Pastorum rapidos tectis involvier ignes.
Ipsi etiam hircipedes Fauni, Satyrique bicornes,
Ipsae etiam in solos Nymphae fugere recessus,
Et se se ignotis occultavere latebris.

Then (I reckon) from an unwilling earth the pastures grew,
Unwilling the shades fell from the dense leaves.
Indeed the snatched flocks were driven off, and everywhere they saw
the shepherds’ swift fires envelop the roofs.
The goat-footed Fauns themselves, and the two-horned Satyrs,
The Nymphs themselves too fled into lonely recesses,
And hid themselves in unknown hiding-places.

Et furor is fines prope iam pervaserat omnes,
Iamque fugae deerat nobis locus, undique saevos
Cernere erat latis hostes discurrere campis.
Nulla usquam tam secretis lustra abdita silvis,
Nulla aditu est tam difficili, tamque invia rupes,
Quo non saepe greges subitis incursibus acti
Fessa reclinarint in nudo corpora saxo.
Et tamen hinc etiam crebri eiecere tumultus,
Insuetaeque maris pecudes (miserabile visu),
Qua pelagi mediis iter intercluditur undis,
Adriacos videre sinus, et litore curvo,
Pro viridi cytiso, pro molli graminis herba,
Et spinis paliuri et acuta carice pastae,
Potarunt salsas nitidis pro fontibus undas,
Et saepe irati timuerunt murmura ponti.

And that fury had by now nearly pervaded all the borders,
and now there was lacking to our flight any place; on every side one could see
the savage enemies running to and fro across the broad fields.
No lairs anywhere so hidden in most secret woods,
no crag with approach so difficult and so pathless,
where not often the flocks, driven by sudden incursions,
have laid their weary bodies on the bare rock.
And yet from here also frequent tumults cast them out,
and the flocks unaccustomed to the sea (pitiful to see),
where the path is shut off amid the waters of the sea,
saw the Adriatic bays, and on the curved shore,
instead of green cytisus, instead of the soft herb of grass,
fed on the thorns of paliurus and sharp carex-sedge,
drank salty waves instead of shining springs,
and often feared the murmurs of the irate sea.

Quod si non novus ex alto demissus Olympo,
Hanc cladem nostris deus avertisset ab oris,
Ausoniis esset nullus iam pastor in agris.
Nos miseri patria extorres, rerum omnium egeni,
Ah dolor, externas longe erraremus ad urbes.
Hic nobis dulces saltus, hic pascua nota
Restituit: 'Tutique,' inquit 'iam pascite tauros:
Iam solitas tuti collo suspendite avenas,
Et desueta diu responsent carmina colles.'
Ergo omnes, veluti et Phoebo Panique, quotannis
Pastores certis statuent tibi sacra diebus,
Magne pater, nostrisque diu cantabere silvis.

But if a new god, sent down from lofty Olympus,
had not averted this disaster from our shores,
there would by now be no shepherd in the Ausonian fields.
We wretched, exiles from our fatherland, destitute of all things—
ah, grief—far away we would be wandering to foreign cities.
Here he restored to us the sweet glades, here the well-known pastures:
'And safely,' he says, 'now pasture the bulls:
now, safe, hang the accustomed oaten-pipes from the neck,
and let the hills, long unaccustomed, answer with songs.'
Therefore all shepherds, as for Phoebus and Pan, each year
will set up sacred rites for you on fixed days,
great father, and you shall be sung for a long time in our woods.

Te rupes, te saxa, cavae te, maxime Iuli,
Convalles, nemorumque frequens iterabit imago.
At vero in nostris quaecumque in saltibus usquam
Quercus erit, ut quaeque suos dant tempora flores,
Semper erit variis ramos innexa coronis,
Inscriptumque geret felici nomine truncum.
Tum quoties pastum expellet, pastasve reducet
Nostrum aliquis pecudes, toties id mente revolvens,
Ut liceat factum esse tuo, pater optime, ductu,
Nullus erit, qui non libeat tibi lacte recenti,
Nullus erit, qui non teneros tibi nutriat agnos.

You the cliffs, you the rocks, you, greatest Julius, the hollow valleys,
and the frequent echo of the groves will repeat.
But indeed whatever oak shall anywhere be in our glades,
as the seasons each give their own flowers,
it will always have its branches intertwined with various garlands,
and will bear its trunk inscribed with your felicitous name.
Then as often as any one of ours drives the flocks out to pasture or leads them back fed,
so often, revolving this in mind,
that it has been permitted to be accomplished by your guidance, best father,
there will be no one who does not gladly present you with fresh milk,
there will be no one who does not nourish tender lambs for you.

Quin audire preces nisi dedignabere agrestes,
Tu nostra ante deos in vota vocaberis omnes.
Ipse ego bina tibi solemni altaria ritu
Et geminos sacra e quercu lauroque virenti
Vicino lucos Nauceli in litore ponam.
Hic ripa passim in molli viridante sub umbra,
Vere novo dum floret ager, dum germinat arbos,
Dum vario resonant volucrum nemora avia cantu,
Annua constituam festis convivia ludis.

Why, unless you will disdain to hear rustic prayers,
you will be called into our vows before all the gods.
I myself for you, with solemn rite, two altars,
and twin sacred groves of oak and green laurel,
will set on the nearby shore of Naucelus.
Here, along the bank everywhere beneath the soft, greening shade,
while in new spring the field flowers, while the tree germinates,
while the pathless groves resound with the various song of birds,
I will establish yearly banquets with festal games.

Ductores pecudum hic omnes, rurisque coloni
Contendent iaculo et rapidi certamine cursus,
Horridaque agresti nudabunt membra palaestra.
Ipse pecu et tenero victor donabitur haedo.
Praeterea dulci cantabit harundine Damon
Carmina, quae puerum docuit Sebetheius Aegon.

Here all the leaders of the herds, and the farmers of the countryside,
will contend with the javelin and in the swift contest of running,
and the rustic palaestra will strip their rough limbs.
He himself, as victor, will be gifted with livestock and a tender kid.
Moreover Damon will sing with the sweet reed
songs which Sebetheian Aegon taught the boy.

Olim cum procul hinc illis habitaret in oris.
Scilicet ut quondam Assyrii pastoris amore
Capta dea, et caelum et fulgentia sidera linquens,
Omnibus his cari praeferret Adonidis ignes.
Fortunate puer, tecum formosa Dione
Una tondet oves, una ad mulctralia ducit,
Atque immunda premit caelestibus ubera palmis.

Once, when far from here she dwelt on those shores.
Namely, as once by the love of the Assyrian shepherd
the goddess, captured, leaving both heaven and the gleaming stars,
preferred to all these the fires of dear Adonis.
Fortunate boy, with you the beautiful Dione
together shears the sheep, together leads them to the milking-stalls,
and with celestial palms presses the unclean udders.

Dum te complexu teneat, non illa recusat
Tecum inter pecudes vili requiescere culmo.
At Mars ipse deae cura tabescit inani.
Fortunate puer, mediis pecus errat in agris:
Tu, viridi deiectus in umbra, aut carmina cantas,
Aut posita in Veneris gremio cervice recumbis.

While she holds you in an embrace, she does not refuse
to rest with you among the flocks on mean straw.
But Mars himself wastes away with inane care for the goddess.
Fortunate boy, the herd wanders in the midst of the fields:
You, cast down in green shade, either you sing songs,
or, your neck placed in the lap of Venus, you recline.

Illa tibi amplexus molles, illa oscula iungit,
Caraque odoratis exornat tempora sertis.
Sed tu nimirum, sed felix tu quoque, Damon,
Cui licuit toties Aegonem audire canentem,
Divinique senis sacros ediscere cantus.
Quod mihi, magne pater, divum si fata dedissent,
O quales tibi cantaret mea fistula laudes!

She for you entwines soft embraces, she presses kisses,
and adorns your dear temples with fragrant garlands.
But you surely—yes, happy you too, Damon,
to whom it was permitted so often to hear Aegon singing,
and to learn by heart the sacred chants of the divine old man.
What, to me, great father, if the fates of the gods had granted it,
O what lauds would my reed-pipe sing to you!

Et quodcumque tamen felix concedet Apollo,
Hoc te unum canet, hoc uni tibi serviet omne.
Nec quidquam magis optarim, quam digna triumphis
Posse tuis, videorque canens tua maxima facta,
Inferior nullo, non ipso Aegone futurus.
Ipse suo certet mecum si carmine Daphnis,
Ipse suo Daphnis cum carmine victus abibit.

And whatever, nevertheless, propitious Apollo will grant,
this will sing of you alone; this, all of it, will serve you alone.
Nor would I wish anything more than to be able [to sing] things worthy of your triumphs,
and, singing your greatest deeds, I seem
destined to be inferior to no one, not even to Aegon himself.
Let Daphnis himself contend with me with his own song,
Daphnis himself with his own song will depart conquered.

Interea, agrestis dignatus sibila cannae,
Dexter ades nobis, et quae facis, otia serva.

Meanwhile, you who have deigned the hisses of the rustic reed,
be present to us, propitious, and preserve the leisures which you make.

XXI

De Cupidine et Hyella

On Cupid and Hyella

Florentes dum forte vagans mea Hyella per hortos
     Texit odoratis lilia cana rosis,
Ecce rosas inter latitantem invenit Amorem
     Et simul annexis floribus implicuit.
Luctatur primo, et contra nitentibus alis
     Indomitus tentat solvere vincla puer.
Mox ubi lacteolas et dignas matre papillas
     Vidit, et ora ipsos nata movere deos,
Impositosque comae ambrosios ut sensit odores,
     Quosque legit diti messe beatus Arabs:
'I,' dixit 'mea, quaere novum tibi, mater, Amorem;
     Imperio sedes haec erit apta meo.'

While, as it happened, my Hyella wandering through blooming gardens
     covered the hoary-white lilies with odorous roses,
behold, among the roses she found Love hiding
     and at once entangled him with conjoined flowers.
He struggles at first, and with his gleaming wings beating in resistance
     the indomitable boy attempts to dissolve the bonds.
Soon, when he saw the milk-white breasts, worthy of a mother,
     and a face born to move the very gods,
and when he sensed the ambrosial odors laid upon her hair,
     and those which the blessed Arab gathers from a wealthy harvest:
'Go,' he said, 'my mother, seek a new Love for yourself;
     but this seat will be apt for my dominion.'

XXII

Ad Noctem

To Night

Nox bona, quae tacitis terras amplexa tenebris
     Dulcia iucundae furta tegis Veneris,
Dum propero in carae amplexus et mollia Hyellae
     Oscula, tu nostrae sis comes una viae.
Neve aliquis nostros possit deprendere amores,
     Aera coge atras densius in nebulas.
Gaudia qui credit cuiquam sua, dignus ut unquam
     Dicier illius nulla puella velit.

Good night, who, having embraced the lands with silent darknesses,
     you cloak the sweet thefts of pleasing Venus,
While I hasten into the embraces of dear Hyella and her soft kisses,
     be the sole companion of our way.
And lest anyone may be able to catch our loves,
     pack the air more densely into black clouds.
He who entrusts his joys to anyone,
     is worthy that no girl would ever wish to be said to be his.

Non sola occultanda cavis sunt orgia cistis,
     Solave Eleusinae sacra silenda deae.
Ipse etiam sua celari vult furta Cupido,
     Saepius et poenas garrula lingua dedit.
Una meos, quos et miserata est, novit amores,
     Officiis nutrix cognita fida suis:
Haec quae me foribus vigilans expectat in ipsis,
     Inque sinum dominae sedula ducit anus.

Not only are orgies to be concealed in hollow cists,
     nor are the sacred rites of the Eleusinian goddess alone to be hushed.
Cupid himself too wants his thefts to be concealed,
     and the garrulous tongue has more often paid penalties.
One alone knows my loves—she also has pitied them—
     a nurse known faithful in her own services:
She it is who, keeping watch, waits for me right at the very doors,
     and the sedulous old woman leads me into my mistress’s bosom.

Hanc praeter, tu sancta, latent qua cuncta silentque,
Tu, dea, sis flammae conscia sola meae,
Quaeque libens adstat nostrorum testis amorum
Nobiscum tota nocte lucerna vigil.

Apart from her, you, holy one, under whom all things lie latent and are silent,
you, goddess, be the lone one privy to my flame,
and the lamp, gladly standing as witness of our loves,
the wakeful lamp with us through the whole night.

XXIII

Laurus

Laurel

Oppositae obstabant nostris prius auctibus aedes,
     Nec nos caelum ulla, solve iuvabat ope:
Disiectis herus his, solemque admisit, et aura
     Concessit nobis liberiore frui.
Hinc nos in tenues certatim tollimur auras,
     Ornamurque novae frondis honore caput.
At tibi, cui sacris Musarum et Apollinis umbris
     Extructas libuit posthabuisse domos,
Perpetuo similes nostris sint frondibus anni,
     Nobiscum augescant et tibi cuncta bona.

Opposing houses stood in the way of our earlier growth,
     Nor did the sky, by any aid, help to unbind us:
With these scattered, the master admitted the sun, and
     Granted us to enjoy a freer breeze.
From here we are raised, vying, into the thin airs,
     And our head is adorned with the honor of new frond.
But for you, who took delight in having set below
     Built houses the sacred shades of the Muses and Apollo,
May your years be perpetually like our fronds,
     And may all good things grow with us for you.

XXIV

De Pythagorae Simulacro

On the Simulacrum of Pythagoras

Quem toties vixisse anima redeunte renatum
     Mutato fama est corpore Pythagoram,
Cerne iterum ut docti caelo generatus Asylae
     Vivat, ut antiquum servet in ore decus.
Dignum aliquid certe volvit: sic fronte severa est,
     Sic in se magno pectore totus abit.
Posset et ille altos animi depromere sensus,
     Sed veteri obstrictus religione silet.

Whom fame says has lived so many times, reborn as the soul returned,
     with the body changed, Pythagoras—
Behold again how, born from heaven of learned Asyla,
     he lives, how he preserves the ancient grace in his face.
Surely he revolves something worthy: so stern is his brow,
     so he withdraws wholly into himself within his great breast.
He too could draw forth the lofty senses of the mind,
     but, bound by ancient religion, he is silent.

XXV

Veris Descriptio, Ad Turrium

Description of Spring, To Turrius

Iam tristi canos glacie concreta capillos
     Afflatu tepidi fugit hiems Zephyri.
Iam nitidum os ver molle auras in luminis audet
     Proferre, et teneros ferre per arva pedes;
Tempora diversis tollens halantia sertis
     Purpureo matris Chloridos e gremio,
Summittit varios tellus fecunda colores,
     Convertit molles quo puer ipse gradus;
Et passim, quacumque vagos deflectit ocellos,
     Diffugiunt toto nubila cuncta polo.
It prope, et incutiens blandas in pectore flammas,
     Omnia iucundo accendit amore Venus.

Now winter, its hoary hairs congealed with sad ice,
     flees at the breath of tepid Zephyr.
Now gentle spring dares to bring forth its shining face
     into the airs of light, and to carry tender feet over the fields;
lifting its temples, exhaling with diverse garlands,
     from the purple bosom of mother Chloris,
the fertile earth sends up various colors,
     toward which the boy himself turns his soft steps;
and everywhere, wherever he bends aside his wandering little eyes,
     all the clouds scatter from the whole sky.
She goes near, and, striking gentle flames in the breast,
     Venus kindles all things with a pleasant love.

Quam circum vario texunt e flore coronas
     Perfusae Assyrio rore comam Charites.
Hinc atque hinc mille aligeri pueri assultantes
     Coniciunt certa spicula acuta manu.
Concipiunt dulces animalia cuncta calores,
     Persultantque vagi pabula laeta greges.

Around whom from varied flower they weave crowns
     the Charites, their hair drenched with Assyrian dew.
On this side and that a thousand winged boys, leaping,
     hurl sharp darts with an unerring hand.
All animals conceive sweet ardors,
     and the wandering herds frisk across the joyful pastures.

Ipse suam de colle canens Amaryllida pastor
     Pascentes tenui carmine mulcet oves,
Percussaeque nova dulcedine corda volucres
     Dant laetos passim per nemora alta sonos.
Sola gemit, ramoque sedens miserabilis alto
     Absumptum mater Thracia plorat Itym.
Di bene, quod nostrae tam longe a finibus orae
     Exactum hoc dira est in regione scelus.

The shepherd himself, singing of his Amaryllis from the hill,
     soothes the grazing sheep with a slender song,
and the birds, their hearts smitten by a new sweetness,
     give joyful sounds everywhere through the tall groves.
Only she groans, and sitting on a high branch, pitiable,
     the Thracian mother laments Itys, taken away.
Good gods, that so far from the borders of our shore
     this dire crime has been carried out in another region.

Heu puer infelix, matri dum bracchia tendit
     Assueto cupiens se implicuisse sinu,
Illa ferox animi, caecoque agitata furore
     Avulsum duro diripit ense caput.
Quid facis, ah demens? Ferro quem perdis iniquo,
     Is lac dulce tuis hausit ab uberibus.

Alas, unhappy boy, while he stretches his arms to his mother,
     longing to have entwined himself in the accustomed bosom,
she, ferocious in spirit, agitated by blind frenzy,
     tears off the head, torn away, with the hard sword.
What are you doing, ah demented one? He whom you destroy with iniquitous iron,
     he drank sweet milk from your breasts.

Huic tu longinquam votis optare senectam,
     Huic solita es teneras dicere blanditias.
Heu miserum, genitor nati infelixque sepulcrum,
     Ut tibi nunc toto pectore sensus abit,
Infandae nosti cum coniugis impia facta
     Atque epulas mensis tristibus appositas!
Nempe furis, strictoque ruis violentior ense,
     Sed sublata alis effugit illa novis.

To this one you used to wish with vows a far-off old age,
     to this one you were accustomed to speak tender blandishments.
Alas, wretched—father of the boy, and the unlucky tomb—,
     how now from your whole breast your feeling departs,
when you have learned the impious deeds of your unspeakable spouse
     and the feast set upon sorrowful tables!
Surely you rage, and with drawn sword you rush more violently,
     but she, lifted on new wings, fled away.

Perpetuum fleat, ut merita est, longisque querelis
     Antiqui poenas persoluat sceleris.
Nos, Turri, dum florifero vere omnia rident,
     Spirat et e summis gratior aura iugis,
Nos hic, qua nitida pellucens rivulus unda
     Labitur et leni murmure dulce sonat,
Cantemus molles formosae Amathusidos ignes,
     Quidque ferox arcu, quid face possit Amor.
Armenias domat hic tigres, saevasque leaenas;
     Eripit hic summo, cum libet, arma Iovi.

Let her weep perpetually, as she has merited, and with long laments
     let her pay in full the penalties of the ancient crime.
We, Turri, while in floriferous spring all things smile,
     and a more pleasing breeze breathes from the loftiest ridges,
We here, where the bright pellucid rivulet’s wave
     glides and with gentle murmur sounds sweetly,
let us sing the soft fires of the beauteous Amathusian,
     and what Love, fierce with the bow, what with the torch, can do.
He tames Armenian tigers and savage lionesses;
     he snatches the arms from highest Jove when he pleases.

Hoc duce pallentes umbras Oeagrius Orpheus,
     Tristiaque horrendi limina regis adit,
Nec timuit saevaeve Hecates immania monstra,
     Armatasve atris Eumenidas facibus.
Hoc cogente, omni cum pectore consternatus
     Abrupto nollet vivere coniugio.
Paulatim Eurydices veterumque oblitus amorum,
     In Calaim tota mente Boreiadem
Exarsit, penitusque insano perditus igne
     Sensit ferventes intima ad ossa faces.

With this leader the Oeagrian Orpheus approaches the pallid shades,
     and the sad thresholds of the horrendous king;
nor did he fear the immense monsters of savage Hecate,
     or the Eumenides armed with black torches.
Under this compulsion, dismayed in all his breast,
     he would not wish to live with his wedlock torn away.
Little by little, forgetful of Eurydice and of former loves,
     upon Calaïs, the Boreiad, with his whole mind
he blazed, and, utterly undone by insane fire,
     he felt the burning brands to his inmost bones.

Formose o Calai, pulchrae genus Orythiae,
Te virides silvae, te cava saxa sonant.
In te suspirat, solum te cogitat Orpheus,
Per te sollicito nulla quies animo est.

Fair, O Calais, offspring of fair Orithyia,
The verdant woods, the hollow rocks resound with you.
For you Orpheus sighs, of you alone he thinks,
Through you there is no rest for his solicitous mind.

XXVI

Ad Gelliam rusticantem

To Gellia rusticating

Dum te blanda tenent aestivas rura per umbras,
     Deliciis nimium rura beata tuis,
Ecqua tui, mea lux, tangit te cura poetae,
     An meus e toto pectore cessit amor?
Cessit amor certe, soliti cessere calores:
     Absentis meminit nulla puella viri.
Non ita concussae versantur in arbore frondes,
     Cum gravis adversum verberat aura nemus,
Quam facile instabilem permutat femina mentem,
     Exclusus queritur, qui modo carus erat.

While the coaxing fields hold you through the summer shades,
     fields over-blessed by your delights,
Does any care for your poet touch you, my light,
     or has my love departed from your whole heart?
Love has withdrawn surely; the accustomed heats have ceased:
     no girl remembers an absent man.
Not so do shaken leaves revolve upon the tree,
     when a heavy breeze beats adverse against the grove,
as easily as a woman alters her unstable mind—
     shut out, he complains who just now was dear.

Non sic Penelope, non sic Capaneia coniunx
     Antiqui meruit temporis esse decus.
Altera defuncti maerens ad busta mariti,
     Noluit abrepto vivere sola viro.
Altera bis denos potuit durare per annos,
     Dum cupidos cauta detinet arte procos.

Not so Penelope, not so the consort of Capaneus
     deserved to be the glory of ancient time.
The one, grieving, at the funeral pyres of her deceased husband,
     did not wish to live alone with her man snatched away.
The other was able to endure for twenty years,
     while, cautious, she by her art holds back desirous suitors.

Femina nunc varias tantum connectere fraudes
Novit, et in nulla certa manere fide.
Quid queror haec demens? Durae procul ite querelae,
Ite: decent tristes tristia verba viros.

A woman now knows only to connect various frauds,
and to remain fixed in no certain fidelity.
Why do I, demented, complain of these things? Harsh complaints, go far away,
go: sad words befit sad men.

Laetus ego: hos neque enim sequitur mea Gallia mores,
Mutare incertos nec solet illa toros.
Quin et mansit amor, soliti mansere calores:
Absentis meminit nostra puella viri.
Multa tamen timeo: tu multa ignosce timenti.

I am glad: for my Gallia does not follow these manners,
nor is she wont to change inconstant marriage-beds.
Nay rather, love has remained, the accustomed heats have remained:
our girl remembers her absent man.
Yet I fear many things: do you forgive many things in one who fears.

     Hei mihi, pars nostro nulla timore vacat.
Ah quoties vereor, dum picta per arva vagaris,
     Dum rutilae texis florida serta comae,
Ne ruat e summis in te Saturnius astris,
     Sisve alii cuivis grata rapina deo.
Pressit Amymonen mediis Neptunus in arvis,
     Dum premeret summum virginis urna caput.

     Alas for me, no part is free from my fear.
Ah how often I dread, while you wander through the painted fields,
     While you weave flowery garlands for your ruddy-golden hair,
Lest the Saturnian plunge from the highest stars upon you,
     Or you be a welcome prey for any other god.
Neptune pressed Amymone in the midst of the fields,
     While the urn pressed the top of the maiden’s head.

In mediis Io campis perpessa Tonantem est,
     Horridaque hirsuta cornua fronte tulit.
Hinc quoque Tartareo raptam Deoida curru
     Abstulit infernus in sua regna pater.
Sidonis errabat nitidos Europa per agros,
     Cum medium ficto per mare vecta bove est.

In the midst of the fields Io endured the Thunderer,
     and she bore on her brow rough and shaggy horns.
Hence too the daughter of Deo, snatched away by a Tartarean chariot
     the infernal father carried off into his own realms.
Europa of Sidon was wandering through the shining fields,
     when she was borne through the midst of the sea by a feigned bull.

Non tamen hos tantum causantur prata timores:
     Hei mihi quam multos dat quoque silva metus.
Hic habitant Satyrique, et agrestia numina Panes,
     Et timor errantum Faunus Hamadryadum.
Hic versa in virides Daphne Peneia frondes,
     Hic fera mutato Parrhasis ore fuit.

Not, however, do the meadows allege only these fears:
     Alas for me, how many fears the forest also gives.
Here dwell the Satyrs too, and the rustic numina, the Pans,
     and Faunus, the terror of the wandering Hamadryads.
Here Penean Daphne was turned into green fronds,
     here the Parrhasian maiden was a wild beast with her face changed.

Hic et semicaper spreta Nonacrius Aegla
     Arcadicae forma virginis incaluit.
Quod si tecum isdem pariter versarer in arvis,
     Et domus unanimes clauderet una duos,
Non ego caelicolum fraudes, non furta timerem:
     Undique me socio, Gellia, tuta fores.
Si versa est Daphne, Sicula Proserpina ab Aetna
     Si vecta est Stygiis in nova regna rotis,
Quid mirum?

Here too the Nonacrian half-goat, with Aegle spurned,
     grew heated at the form of an Arcadian maiden.
But if I were to dwell together with you in the same fields,
     and one house were to enclose two of one mind,
I would not fear the frauds of the heaven-dwellers, nor thefts:
     on all sides, with me as companion, Gellia, you would be safe.
If Daphne was turned, if Sicilian Proserpina from Aetna
     was borne by Stygian wheels into new realms,
what wonder?

Facile est deceptas fraude puellas
     Fallere, nullius quas tueatur amor.
Ipse ego perpetuo tecum mea vita manerem:
     Sic possem nullos extimuisse deos.
Saepe pererrabat tacitos Atalanta recessus:
     Tuta tamen fido Mimalione fuit.

It is easy to cheat girls with fraud
     to deceive those whom no one's love protects.
I myself would remain with you perpetually, my life:
     thus I could have feared no gods at all.
Often Atalanta roamed through silent recesses:
     yet she was safe thanks to faithful Mimalion.

Cingeret obsessos seu curva indagine colles,
     Seu cuperet saevas comminus ire feras,
Haerebat lateri semper comes ille, nec unquam
     A domina lato longius ungue fuit.
Ergo huic non summi fraudes nocuere Tonantis,
     Inque suo nullos sensit amore dolos.
Sic ego per silvas tecum et per prata vagarer:
     Grata essent sine te gaudia nulla mihi.

Whether he would gird the besieged hills with a curved indaginate of toils,
     or wished to go at close quarters against savage beasts,
that companion always stuck to her side, and never
     was farther from his mistress by a broad finger’s nail.
Therefore against him the deceits of the Highest Thunderer did not avail,
     and in his own love he felt no guiles at all.
Thus I would wander with you through woods and through meadows:
     no joys would be welcome to me without you.

Nunc pariter nitida recubare iuvaret in umbra,
     Et capere in viridi somnia grata toro.
Nunc pariter nuda fontes invadere sura,
     Torrida dum siccus finderet arva canis.
Saepius in silvis lepores captare fugaces,
     Et volucres fictis fallere carminibus.

Now it would delight to recline together in the bright shade,
     and to take pleasant dreams on the green couch.
Now together with bare calf to wade into the springs,
     while the dry Dog-star would split the torrid fields.
More often in the woods to try to capture the fleet hares,
     and to beguile the birds with feigned songs.

Saepius in denso convicia dicere luco,
     Et madidas verno flore ligare comas.
Saepius umbroso choreas ductare sub antro,
     Cum daret agrestes tibia pulsa sonos.
Ah quoties tales inter, mea Gellia, lusus
     Inicerem cupidas in tua colla manus,
Dulciaque e roseis furarer basia labris,
     Basia mi cunctis anteferenda bonis.

More often to bandy raillery in the dense grove,
     And to bind moist tresses with vernal flower.
More often beneath the shadowy cave to lead choruses,
     When the pipe, struck, gave agrestic sounds.
Ah how often, amid such games, my Gellia,
     Would I fling eager hands upon your neck,
And steal sweet kisses from your rosy lips,
     Kisses for me to be preferred to all goods.

O niveam, siqua haec referet mihi gaudia, lucem!
Gratior optatis non erit ulla meis.
Semper Erythreis signabitur illa lapillis:
Semper erit sacros inter habenda dies.

O snow-white light, if in any way this will bring back joys to me!
No other will be more grateful to my desires.
Always shall that day be marked with Erythraean pebbles:
Always shall it be held among sacred days.

Nunc, quoniam tecum me non licet esse, caveto
Mutuus extincto ne cadet igne calor.

Now, since it is not permitted for me to be with you, beware,
lest the mutual heat fall when the fire is extinguished.

XXVII

Iolas

Pascite, oves, teneras herbas per pabula laeta,
Pascite, nec plenis ignavae parcite campis:
Quantum vos tota minuetis luce, refectum
Fecundo tantum per noctem rore resurget:
Hinc dulci distenta tumescent ubera lacte,
Sufficientque simul fiscellae et mollibus agnis.
Tu vero vigil atque canum fortissime Teucon,
Dum pascent illae late per prata, luporum
Incursus subitos saevasque averte rapinas.
Interea hic ego muscoso prostratus in antro
Ipse meos solus mecum meditabor amores,
Atque animi curas dulci solabor avena.

Graze, sheep, the tender grasses through the joyous pastures,
Graze, and, sluggards, do not spare the fields when they are full:
As much as you will diminish through the whole daylight, so much restored
will rise again by night from the fecund dew:
Hence the udders, distended, will swell with sweet milk,
and at the same time the little baskets and the gentle lambs will be supplied.
But you, watchful and bravest of the dogs, Teucon,
while they graze far and wide through the meadows, avert the sudden
incursions of wolves and savage rapines.
Meanwhile here I, stretched out in a mossy cavern,
I myself, alone with myself, will meditate my loves,
and I will solace the cares of my spirit with the sweet oaten pipe.

O formosa Amarylli, nihil te absente videtur
Dulce mihi: nunc et nitido vere omnia rident,
Et vario resonant volucrum nemora avia cantu;
Exultim virides ludunt armenta per herbas,
Lascivique agni, infirmisque artubus haedi
Cornigeras matres per florida prata sequuntur.
Non tamen ista magis sine te mihi laeta videntur,
Quam si tristis hiems, nimbisque rigentibus horrens
Agglomeret gelido canas Aquilone pruinas.
Dulce apibus flores, rivi sitientibus herbis,
Gramen ovi, caprae cytisus, Amaryllis Iolae.

O beautiful Amaryllis, nothing, with you absent, seems sweet to me:
Now too in shining spring all things smile,
And the pathless groves resonate with the varied song of birds;
Exultingly the herds play green across the grasses,
And wanton lambs, and kids with feeble limbs,
Follow their horn-bearing mothers through flowery meadows.
Not, however, do these things seem more joyful to me without you,
Than if sad winter, bristling with rigid clouds,
Should heap together hoary frosts with the icy Aquilo (North Wind).
Sweet to bees are flowers, to streams the thirsty grasses,
Grass to the sheep, to the she-goat cytisus, Amaryllis to Iolas.

Non ego opes mihi, non cursu praevertere ventos
Optarim magis, aut pecoris quodcumque per orbem est,
Quam te, Amarylli, meis vinctam retinere lacertis,
Et tecum has inter vitam deducere silvas.
Est mihi praeruptis ingens sub rupibus antrum,
Quod croceis hederae circum sparsere corymbis,
Vestibulumque ipsum silvestris obumbrat oliva:
Hanc prope fons, lapide effusus qui desilit alto,
Defertur rauco per levia saxa susurro.
Hinc late licet immensi vasta aequora ponti
Despicere, et longe venientes cernere fluctus.

I would not choose riches for myself, nor to outstrip the winds by running,
nor whatever herd-beasts there are throughout the orb,
more than to hold you, Amaryllis, bound in my arms,
and with you to draw out life among these woods.
I have a huge cavern beneath precipitous crags,
which the ivy has sprinkled around with saffron-hued corymbs,
and a wild olive shades the very threshold:
near this, a spring, poured from a high rock that leaps down,
is carried with a hoarse whisper through the smooth stones.
From here one may, far and wide, look down upon the vast levels of the immense sea,
and from afar discern the waves coming in.

Hoc mecum simul incoleres, Amarylli, simulque
Mecum ageres primo pecudes in pascua sole,
Mecum abeunte die pecudes cava in antra vocares.
Saepe etiam denso in nemore aut convalle virenti
Dum tenue arguta modularer harundine carmen,
Tu mecum ipsa esses simul, astaresque canenti,
Quin et nunc pariter caneres, nunc dulcia nostro
Basiaque et veneris misceres gaudia cantu.
O solum hoc, superi, misero concedite amanti!

This place you would inhabit with me, Amaryllis, and together
with me you would drive the flocks into the pastures at the first sun,
with me, as the day was departing, you would call the flocks into hollow caves.
Often too in the dense grove or the green valley,
while I modulated a slender song with the tuneful reed,
you yourself would be with me at the same time, and you would stand by me as I sang,
nay even now you would sing together, now you would mix with our song the sweet joys, both of kisses and of Venus.
O grant only this, O gods above, to the wretched lover!

Tum licet et rapiantur oves, rapiantur et agni,
Ipse tamen Croeso mihi ditior esse videbor.
Mollibus in pratis Lycidae post Daphnidis hortos,
Purpureos flores texenda in serta legebas,
Cum te, succincta tunica fusisque capillis,
Et vidi simul, et totis simul ossibus arsi.
Pone sequebatur Gorge soror, et tamen audax
Accessi, sumque ipse meos tibi fassus amores.

Then let even the sheep be snatched, let the lambs too be snatched away,
I myself, however, shall seem to me richer than Croesus.
In the soft meadows, Lycidas, behind Daphnis’s gardens,
you were picking purple flowers to be woven into garlands,
when you, with tunic girt and hair loosed,
both I saw at once, and at once I burned in all my bones.
Behind there followed your sister Gorge, and yet, bold,
I approached, and I myself confessed my loves to you.

Risisti, et sertum, nitida quod fronte gerebas,
Tamquam ex se cecidisset humi, iecisti, abiensque
Liquisti, advertens collegi protinus ipse:
Servavique, et adhuc tamquam tua munera servo.
Et quamvis dudum foliis languentibus aret,
Non tamen est serto quidquam mihi carius illo.
Ex illo, semperque fui tibi deditus uni,
Pulchraque nulla meis oculis te praeter habetur.

You smiled, and the wreath, which you were wearing on your shining brow,
as though it had fallen of itself to the ground, you cast it down; and going away
you left it; noticing, I straightway gathered it myself:
and I kept it, and even now I keep it as your gifts.
And although long since it withers with languishing leaves,
yet nothing is dearer to me than that wreath.
From that moment, and ever since, I have been devoted to you alone,
and no fair one is held by my eyes except you.

Saepe mihi Alcippe vicina et munera misit,
Et dixit: 'Formose puer, quae munera mittit,
Mittit et ipsum animum: tu et munera suscipe, et illum.'
Sed potius, Amarylli, alio quam tangar amore,
Sudabunt humiles flaventia mella genistae
Et molles violae dura nascentur in orno,
Incultique ferent candentia lilia vepres,
Et maestis ululae cedet philomela querelis.
Quantum ver formosum hieme est iucundius atra,
Quantum mite pirum sorbis est dulcius ipsis,
Quantum hirsuta capella suo setosior haedo,
Quantum nocturnis obscuri vesperis umbris
Puniceo exsurgens aurora nitentior ortu est:
Tantum, Amarylli, aliis mihi carior ipsa puellis.
Hae testes mihi sunt silvae, vicinaque silvis
Populus haec, cuius tale est in cortice carmen:
'Vellera cum setis aries mutarit, et hircus
Velleribus setas, Amaryllida linquet Iolas.'
Sed nos dum longum canimus, iam roscida luna
Apparet caelo, et rapidus deferbuit ardor
Demerso iam sole: tamen miser ardet Iolas.

Often Alcippe, my neighbor, sent gifts to me,
and said: 'Handsome boy, she who sends gifts
sends her very spirit: do you accept both the gifts, and that.'
But rather, Amaryllis, than that I be touched by another love,
the lowly brooms will sweat yellowing honey,
and soft violets will be born on the hard ash,
and untended brambles will bear shining-white lilies,
and to the mournful laments of owls Philomel will yield.
As much as lovely spring is more pleasant than dark winter,
as much as the mild pear is sweeter than serviceberries themselves,
as much as the shaggy she-goat is more bristly than her own kid,
as much as, to the nocturnal evening shadows,
dawn rising with crimson sunrise is more resplendent:
by that much, Amaryllis, you yourself are dearer to me than other girls.
These woods are witnesses for me, and near the woods
this poplar, on whose bark such a song is inscribed:
'When the ram shall have exchanged fleeces for bristles, and the he-goat
bristles for fleeces, Iolas will leave Amaryllis.'
But while we sing at length, now the dewy moon
appears in the sky, and the swift ardor has cooled down
now that the sun has sunk: nevertheless wretched Iolas burns.

Nimirum nostros nequeunt lenire calores
Nec quaecumque rigent Ripheo in monte pruinae,
Nec quaecumque simul gelido durantur in Hebro:
Fors tamen hos illa ipsa, potest quae sola, levabit.
Sperando interea duros solabimur ignes,
At vos, ne sero dum nox insurgit Olympo,
Praesidio umbrarum fretus malus ingruat hostis,
Iam pasti secura, greges, in ovilia abite.

Surely our ardors cannot be soothed
Nor whatever hoarfrosts stiffen on the Rhipaean mountain,
Nor whatever as well are hardened in icy Hebrus:
Perhaps, however, she herself—she who alone can—will lighten these.
Meanwhile by hoping we shall solace the harsh fires,
But you, lest, as night rises on Olympus, too late,
the wicked foe, trusting in the protection of shadows, fall upon,
Now full-fed, secure, flocks, go into the sheepfolds.

XXVIII

Imaginem sui Hyellae mittit

He sends an image of himself to Hyella.

Quam tibi nunc Iani donamus, Hyella, calendis,
     Exprimit haec vultus parva tabella meos.
Nulla fuit cuiquam similis mage: pallet imago,
     Assiduus nostro pallor in ore sedet.
Est excors, sine corde et ego, quod pectore nostro
     Ipse Amor ereptum sub tua iura dedit.

Which I now give to you on Janus’s Calends, Hyella,
     this little tablet expresses my features.
Never was any more similar to anyone: the image grows pale,
     the constant pallor sits upon my face.
It is heartless, and I too am without a heart, because from my breast
     Love himself has given it, snatched away, under your jurisdiction.

Non loquitur, mihi sic tua cum datur ora tueri,
     Torpet nescio quo lingua retenta metu.
Unum dissimile est nobis: felicior uno est,
     Tam saeva quod non uritur illa face.
Quod si etiam uretur, tuo enim sub lumine quidquam
     Illaesum flammis non licet ire tuis,
Non ut ego assiduo infelix torrebitur igne:
     In cinerem primo corruet illa foco.

It does not speak; thus, when it is granted me to gaze upon your face,
     my tongue grows torpid, held back by I-know-not-what fear.
One thing is dissimilar to us: it is more felicitous in one respect,
     because it is not burned by so savage a torch.
But if it should even be burned—for beneath your light it is not permitted
     that anything go unharmed by your flames—
Not as I, unhappy, will it be scorched by the assiduous fire:
     it will collapse into ash at the first hearth.

XXIX

Ad somnum

To sleep

Beate somne, nocte qui hesterna mihi
     Tot attulisti gaudia,
Utinam deorum rector ille caelitum
     Te e coetu eorum miserit,
Quae saepius mortalibus vera assolent
     Mitti futuri nuntia.
Tu, quae furenti surdior freto meas
     Superba contemnit preces,
Facilem Neaeram praebuisti: quin mihi
     Mille obtulit sponte oscula,
Oscula, quae Hymetti dulciora sint favis,
     Quae suaviora nectare.
Vere beate somne, quod si saepius
     His, dive, me afficias bonis,
Felicior caelestibus deis ero,
     Summo nec inferior Iove.

Blessed Sleep, who last night to me
     brought so many joys,
Would that the ruler of the gods of the heaven-dwellers
     had sent you out from their company,
things which very often are wont to mortals
     to be sent, true messengers of the future.
You made Neaera compliant, she who,
     deafer than the raging sea, proudly scorns my prayers,
nay, to me she offered of her own accord
     a thousand kisses,
kisses that are sweeter than the honeycombs of Hymettus,
     which are sweeter than nectar.
Truly blessed Sleep, for if more often
     with these goods, divine one, you should favor me,
I shall be happier than the celestial gods,
     nor inferior to highest Jove.

At tu, proterva, quolibet fuge, eripe
     Complexibus te te meis:
Si somnus iste me frequens reviserit,
     Tenebo te, invitam licet.
Quin dura sis, sis quamlibet ferox: eris
     Et mitis, et facilis tamen.

But you, insolent one, flee wherever you please, snatch yourself, yourself, from my embraces:
If that sleep frequently revisits me,
I will hold you, though unwilling.
Nay, be hard, be as fierce as you please: you will be
both gentle and compliant nevertheless.

XXX

Ad Canalem et Bembum

To Canal and Bembo

Canale optime, tuque Bembe, nostri
Amantissimi utrique, amati utrique
A me non minus atque utrique ocelli,
Quid rerum geritis? Valetis? Atque
Absentis memores sodalis estis?

Best Canale, and you too, Bembe, most devoted to me,
both of you most loving, both of you beloved
by me no less than both my little eyes,
what affairs are you conducting? Are you well? And
are you mindful of your comrade who is absent?

Quid vestrae faciunt bonae Camenae?
Scripseruntne aliquid novi meum post
Discessum? Puto: namque quicquid oti
Per vestras datur occupationes,
Id vos in studiis bonis locatis.

What are your good Camenae doing?
Have they written anything new of mine after
my departure? I think so: for whatever leisure
is granted through your occupations,
that you invest in good studies.

Ad me mittite siquid edidistis,
Oro, nec socium bonum negate
Vestri participem leporis esse.
Sed quid cum Venere ipsa, amoribusque
Quam vobis bene convenit? Caletis?

Send to me, if you have published anything, I beg, and do not deny a good companion to be a participant of your charm.
But how is it with Venus herself, and with love-affairs—how well does it suit you?
Are you burning?

Amatisne? Dei deaeque faxint
Et feliciter et bene ipsi ametis,
Quamque ego leviusque, leniusque.
Heu heu me miserum, mei sodales,
Quam saevo teneor furore!

Do you love? May the gods and goddesses bring it to pass
and that you yourselves love both felicitously and well,
and more lightly and more gently than I.
Alas, alas, wretched me, my companions,
By what savage fury I am held!

Quam mi
Totus, quam gravis incubat Cupido!
Non quod non amer: intimis medullis
Ardet me mea Hyella, perditeque,
Quantum quid pote perditissimum esse.
Verum hoc me excruciat magis: potiri
Mea nam vetitum mihi puella.

How upon me
how wholly, how heavy Cupid broods!
Not that I do not love: to my inmost marrow
my Hyella burns me, and desperately,
as much as anything can be most desperate.
But this excruciates me more: to possess
my girl is forbidden me.

Quod si quando licet, nihil levatur,
Sed ferus magis excitatur ardor.
Nam cum nec saturum recedat inde
Cor mi, nec furor expleatur unquam
Caris basiolis papillulisque,
Atque his, qui miserum necant, ocellis,
Augescit magis, et magis. quid heu heu
Adverso paterer deo atque iniquo,
Si haec incommoda sunt secundo amore?

But if ever it is permitted, nothing is lightened,
but the wild ardor is more excited.
For since my heart does not depart from there sated
my heart, nor is the fury ever fulfilled
by dear little kisses and little nipples,
and by those little eyes which slay me, a wretch,
it augments more and more. what, alas alas,
would I suffer under a god adverse and iniquitous,
if these incommodities are in a favorable love?

XXXI

In Vancium vicum Patavinum amoenissimum

In Vancium, the most pleasant Paduan village

Blanda o Naiadum cohors sororum,
Quae Vanci nitido latetis amne,
Fusae colla decentibus capillis,
Quos large ambrosii rigant liquores,
Comptae et carbaseo sinus amictu,
Exite e liquidis simul latebris,
In vestros simul hic adeste lusus,
Quos large Zephyro favente tellus
Vernos florida suggerit per agros.
En scandentibus hinc et hinc flagellis
Per flavas salicum comas pererrans
Vitis pampineas ministrat umbras,
Per quas sibila murmurantis aurae
Iucundum tenero strepunt susurro.
Hic gemmantibus hinc et hinc rosetis
Cultas texere vos licet coronas,
Et passim simul omnium colorum
Lectos in calathis referre flores.

Charming, O cohort of sister Naiads,
who lie hidden in the shining stream of Vancium,
with necks graced by becoming tresses,
which the ambrosial liquors soak abundantly,
and your bosoms adorned with a carbasine mantle—
come out together from the liquid lairs,
and here likewise be present at your own play,
which the earth, in flower, with Zephyr favoring,
lavishly supplies through the vernal fields.
Lo, with climbing tendrils here and there
wandering through the golden locks of the willows,
the vine furnishes pampineous shades,
through which the hissings of the murmuring breeze
rustle a pleasant sound with a tender susurrus.
Here, with budding rose-beds here and there,
it is permitted you to weave well-tended garlands,
and everywhere at once, of every color,
to carry back in baskets the gathered flowers.

Queis comptas pariter comas revinctae,
Queis sparsae teretes simul papillas,
Ductetis pariter choros licentes,
Ductetis hilares simul choreas.
Sed quid splendidius nitescit aer?
Quid fragrantius huc feruntur aurae?

By which, alike, your groomed tresses are bound,
by which, sprinkled, your rounded breasts as well,
lead equally unbridled choruses,
lead merry dances as well.
But what more splendidly does the air shine?
What breezes more fragrant are borne hither?

Rident omnia, et aere in sereno
Spirarunt Cyprii, Syrique odores.
Agnosco. Resonis strepunt querelis
Olores Paphii, Cupidinumque
Concussae ex humero sonant pharetrae.

All things smile, and in the serene air
Cyprian and Syrian odors have breathed forth.
I recognize it. With echoing laments resound
the Paphian swans, and the quivers of the Cupids,
shaken from the shoulder, rattle.

Ad flores properat suos Dione.
Nunc vos Vanciades simul sorores
Instaurate choros licentiores.
Et novae Venerem <decent> choreae,
Et chori Venerem licentiores.

Dione hastens to her own flowers.
Now you, Vanciades, sisters together,
Renew the more licentious choruses.
And the new dances <befit> Venus,
And the more licentious choruses befit Venus.

Huc mitis, dea, mitiorque semper
Adsis muneribus benigna nostris,
Quae versis tibi fundimus quasillis,
Quae pictis tibi teximus coronis.
Incultis, face, Vancium rosetis
Paestum vincere, floridumque Tibur.
Haec non bruma rigens, calorque laedat,
Haec non flamina pestilentis Austri;
Sed semper tibi cultius nitescant,
Sed semper genitalibus Favoni
Tua in munera mulceantur auris.

Hither gentle, goddess, and ever gentler,
be present, benign, to our gifts,
which we pour out for you from upturned little baskets,
which we weave for you with painted garlands.
Make, with uncultivated rose-gardens, Vancium surpass Paestum, and flowery Tibur.
Let not rigid brumal cold, nor heat, harm these,
let not the blasts of the pestilent Auster;
but let them always shine more carefully for you,
but let your gifts always be soothed by the generative breezes of Favonius.

XXXII

In Hyellae ocellos

On Hyella’s little eyes

Quamvis te peream aeque, Hyella, totam,
Nec pars sit, mea lux, tui ulla, quae me
Saevo non penitus perurat igne,
Fulgentes tamen illi, amabilesque
Illi, sideribus pares ocelli
Nostri maxima causa sunt furoris.
O cari nimis, o benigna ocelli,
O dulci mihi melle dulciores,
Quando vos misero mihi licebit
Usque ad millia millies trecenta,
Aut ultra haec etiam, suaviari?
Di, concedite mi hoc misello amanti;
Dein nil grave perpeti recuso:
Quin et si peream, lubens peribo.

Though I perish for you, Hyella, all of you alike,
nor is there any part of you, my light, which does not burn me through
with cruel fire;
yet those shining and lovable—those little eyes,
equal to the stars—are the greatest cause of our fury.
O too dear, O benign little eyes,
O to me sweeter than sweet honey,
When will it be permitted for me, wretched me,
up to three hundred thousand thousand,
or even beyond these, to kiss you?
Gods, grant me this, to me a poor little lover;
then I refuse to endure nothing grievous:
nay, even if I perish, I shall perish willingly.

XXXIII

Ad Hyellam

To Hyella

Dispeream nisi tu vita mihi carior ipsa,
     Atque anima, atque oculis es, mea Hyella, meis.
Dispeream nisi ego vita tibi carior ipsa,
     Atque anima, atque oculis sum, mea Hyella, tuis.
Nec satis hoc: vellem pote quicquam his esset haberi
     Carius, ut posses carior esse mihi.

May I perish unless you are to me dearer than life itself,
     and than my soul, and than my eyes, my Hyella, mine.
May I perish unless I am to you dearer than life itself,
     and than your soul, and than your eyes, my Hyella.
Nor is this enough: I would that it were possible for anything to be held
     dearer than these, so that you could be dearer to me.

Tu quoque idem velles, pote quicquam his esset haberi
Carius, ut possem carior esse tibi.
Di, facite haec longos concordia duret in annos,
Tamque bonos mutent saecula nulla animos.

You too would wish the same, if anything could be held
dearer than these, so that I might be dearer to you.
O gods, make this concord endure through long years,
and let no ages change such good spirits.

XXXIV

Hymnus in Gabrielem Archangelum

Hymn to Gabriel the Archangel

Iam caeli reserat fores
     Aurato e thalamo exiens
     Mater Memnonis, et diem
     Laeto provocat ore.
Nos te maxime maximi
     Minister canimus Patris,
     Quo nullus, qui hominum genus
     Tam praesens iuvet, usquam est.
Tu, nostras celer ad preces,
     Aures protinus ad deum has
     Defers, nec tenues sinis
     Evanescere in auras.

Now she unbars the doors of heaven—
     coming forth from her gilded thalamus,
     the Mother of Memnon, and with a joyful countenance
     she calls forth the day.
We sing you, most mighty Minister
     of the most mighty Father,
     than whom there is nowhere anyone
     so present to aid the human race.
You, swift to our prayers,
     straightway bear these unto God’s ears,
     nor do you allow them, slight as they are,
     to evanesce into the airs.

Tu, dum fers nova nuntia
     Virgini aetherio Patri
     Dilectae, quibus indicas
     Magni vota Tonantis,
Nobis fers nova nuntia,
     Quis, e faucibus impii
     Erepti hostis, in aurea
     Caeli templa vocamur.
Adsis, o bone, et in dies
     Semper nos propius iuva,
     Nec patrocinio tuo
     Unquam mitte tueri.

You, while you bear new announcements
     to the Virgin beloved by the ethereal Father,
     by which you indicate
     the vows of the Great Thunderer,
To us you bring new announcements,
     by which, from the jaws of the impious
     enemy snatched, into the golden
     temples of heaven we are called.
Be present, O good one, and day by day
     always help us nearer,
     nor by your patronage
     ever omit to watch over us.

XXXV

De Patavio a militibus vastata

On Padua devastated by soldiers

Urbs, quam vetusto vectus ab Ilio
     Post fata Troum tristia, post graves
     Tot patriae exhaustos iniquo
     Tempore, tot pelago labores,
Ducente demum Pallade, qua rapax
     Cultos per agros Medoacus fluit,
     Dis fretus Antenor secundis
     Condidit, Euganeis in oris;
Tu, nuper <et> flos et decus urbium,
     Quascumque tellus Itala continet,
     Magnas tot artes, tot virorum
     Ingenia, et studia una alebas.
Te septicornis Danubii accola,
     Te fulva potant flumina qui Tagi,
     Longeque semoti Britanni
     Cultum animi ad capiendum adibant.
At nunc, acerbi heu saeva necessitas
     Fati, severas ut pateris vices!

City, which, borne from ancient Ilium
     After the sad fates of the Trojans, after the grave
     So many labors of the fatherland drained in an unjust
     Time, so many toils on the sea,
With Pallas at last leading, where the rapacious
     Medoacus flows through the cultivated fields,
     Relying on favorable gods, Antenor
     Founded you on the Euganean shores;
You, recently <and> the flower and ornament of the cities
     Whatever the Italian land contains,
     So many great arts, so many men’s
     Talents and pursuits you alone were nourishing.
Te the dweller by the seven-horned Danube,
     Those who drink the tawny waters of the Tagus,
     And the Britons far removed
     Used to come to take on cultivation of mind.
But now, alas, cruel necessity
     Of bitter fate, how stern changes you endure!

     Ut te ipse vastatem vel hosti
     Conspicio miserandam iniquo!
Quid culta tot pomaria conquerar?
     Tot pulchra flammis hausta suburbia?

     How I myself behold you laid waste,
     pitiable even to an unjust enemy!
Why should I lament so many cultivated orchards?
     So many beautiful suburbs consumed by flames?

     Quid glande deturbata ahena
     Moenia, praecipitemque saevi
Mavortis iram, bellaque persequar
     Horrenda? Squammis ille adamantinis,
     Ferroque consertam rigenti
     Induerat chlamydem trilicem.
Fremensque, et atrum letifera manu
     Telum coruscans, secum odia, et necis
     Contemptum, et insanos tumultus,
     Secum animos, rabiemque agebat.

     Why should I recount the walls driven down by a bronze bullet,
     the headlong wrath of savage Mavors,
shall I pursue the wars
     horrendous? He, with adamantine scales,
     and a triple-twilled chlamys fastened with rigid iron,
     he had put on.
And roaring, and with his death-bringing hand
     brandishing a dark weapon, he bore with him hatreds, and contempt
     of death, and insane tumults,
     he bore with him spirits, and rabid fury.

Ille urbe ab imis sedibus eruta
     Implesset omnes funeribus domos,
     Non ille vel sexu, vel ullo
     Efferus abstinuisset aevo.

He, with the city torn up from its deepest foundations,
     would have filled all houses with funerals,
     he, savage, would have spared neither sex, nor any
     age.

XXXVI

Ad Bembium

To Bembo

Qui modo ingentes animo parabam,
     Bembe, bellorum strepitusque et arma
     Scribere, hoc vix exiguo male audax
          carmine serpo.
Nempe Amor magnos violentus ausus
     Fregit iratus: velut hic Tonantem
     Cogit et fulmen trifidum rubenti
          ponere dextra.
Sic eat, fors et sua laus sequetur
     Candidae vultus Lalages canentem et
     Purius claro radiantis astro
          frontis honores.

I, who but now was preparing in spirit
     Bembe, the clamors of wars and arms
     to write, with this very scant song, ill-daring,
          I crawl.
Indeed Love, violent, my great ventures
     has broken in wrath: even as this one the Thunderer
     he compels to lay the trifid thunderbolt
          from his ruddy right hand.
So let it go; perhaps too its own laud will follow—
     singing the candid face of Lalage and
     the honors of a brow shining more purely than a clear
          star.

Nota Lesboae lyra blanda Sapphus,
     Notus Alcaei Lycus, altiori
     Scripserit quamvis animosum Homerus
          pectine Achillem.
XXXVII

Well-known is Sappho of Lesbos with her charming lyre,
     Known is Lycus of Alcaeus, although with a loftier
     Homer has written spirited Achilles
          with his plectrum.
37

In Auroram

To Dawn

Dia Tithoni senioris uxor,
     Quae diem vultu radiante pandis,
     Cum genas effers roseas rubenti
          praevia soli,
Roscidos ut nunc per agros vagari
     Sub tuo adventu iuvat, et recentis,
     Quae tuos semper comitantur axes,
          excipere auras.
Sicca iam saevus calor uret arva,
     Iam vagi aurarum levium silescent
     Spiritus, iam sol rapidus furentes
          exeret ignes.
Dum licet, laeti simul ite, amantes,
     Dum licet, molles pariter puellae
     Ite, flaventes vario capillos
          nectite serto.

Goddess, wife of Tithonus the elder,
     you who with a radiant visage unfold the day,
     when you lift your rosy cheeks, going before
          the reddening sun,
how it delights, now, to wander through dewy fields
     at your arrival, and to catch the fresh
     breezes which always accompany
          your axles.
Already the savage heat will burn the fields dry,
     already the roving spirits of the light breezes will fall silent,
     already the rapid sun will draw forth
          raging fires.
While it is allowed, go together, happy lovers,
     while it is allowed, gentle maidens likewise,
     go, and bind your blond hair
          with a varied garland.

Nunc simul telis positis Amores
     Matris haerentes lateri et decentes
     Gratiae plenos referunt resecto
          flore quasillos.
Per feros saltus, per iniqua lustra,
     Undique occultas agitans latebras,
     Fertur, et silvas varia ferarum
          strage cruentat
Clara Latonae soboles: nitenti
     Huic comae in nodum religantur auro,
     Pendet aurata ex humeris pharetra:
          pendet et arcus.
Circum eunt nymphae simul: illa cursu
     Gaudet effusos agitare cervos,
     Hanc iuvat certis iaculis fugaces
          figere lyncas.

Now at once, with weapons laid aside, the Loves,
     clinging to their Mother’s side, and the becoming
     Graces, carry back little baskets filled
          with cut blossom.
Through wild glades, through rugged lairs,
     ferreting out hidden hiding-places on every side,
     she is borne, and with manifold slaughter of beasts
          she bloodies the woods—
the illustrious offspring of Latona: for her,
     the hair is bound into a knot with shining gold,
     a gilded quiver hangs from her shoulders;
          the bow hangs too.
Around her the nymphs go together: one
     delights, at a run, to drive the scattered stags;
     another it pleases with sure javelins to pierce
          the fleeing lynxes.

Nunc ab umbroso simul esculeto
     Daulias late queritur, querelas
     Consonum circa nemus et iocosa
          reddit imago.

Now at once from the shadowy oak-grove
     the Daulian nightingale laments far and wide, the complaints
     the consonant grove around and the jocose
          echo gives back.

XXXVIII

De Hyella

On Hyella

Nil tecum mihi iam Phoebe est, nil Nox mihi tecum,
     A vobis non est noxve, diesve mihi.
Quantum ad me, ut libet auricomo Sol igneus axe
     Exeat Eoae Tethyos e gremio,
Ut libet, inducat tacitas Nox atra tenebras:
     Fert mihi noctem oculis, fert mihi Hyella diem.
Nam quoties a me nitidos avertit ocellos,
     Ipsa in luce etiam nox tenebrosa premit.

I have nothing now with you, Phoebus, nothing with you, Night,
     From you there is for me neither night nor day.
As for me, let the fiery Sun on his golden-haired axle,
     Go forth from the bosom of Eastern Tethys,
As it pleases, let black Night draw on her tacit shadows:
     She brings me night to my eyes; Hyella brings me day.
For as often as she turns her shining little eyes away from me,
     Even in the very light a tenebrous night presses me down.

At quoties in me nitidos convertit ocellos,
Candida et in media fit mihi nocte dies.

But whenever she turns her bright little eyes upon me,
even in the midst of night a bright day is made for me.

XXXIX

De Menalca

On Menalcas

Iverat ad Phylirem media de nocte Menalcas,
     Posset ut ad patrios mane redire greges.
Iamque fores lento religatas vimine pressa
     Suspensis manibus solverat ille anima.
Prospectansque oculis <semiaperta> per ostia, limen
     Protenso poterat transiliisse pede,
Cum sensere canes; quo murmure victus, ut ira
     Ardebat, tales iecit in astra sonos:
'Cinge triumphali, puer o, tua tempora lauro,
     Qui redis ad patrios tutus, ut ante, greges.'

Menalcas had gone to Phylire in the middle of the night,
     so that at morning he might be able to return to his fathers’ flocks.
And now, the door-leaves fastened with a pliant osier, with breath pressed
     and with hands held up, he had unbound them.
And peering with his eyes through the <half-open> doorways, the threshold
     he could have leapt across with outstretched foot,
when the dogs sensed him; overcome by that growl, as his anger
     blazed, he hurled such sounds to the stars:
“Gird, O boy, your temples with triumphal laurel,
     you who return safe to your fathers’ flocks, as before.”

De Lodovico Pannoniae rege

On Louis, king of Pannonia

Danubii ad ripas primo rex flore iuventae,
     Caesus pro patria, cum patria hic iaceo.
Nec queror, immiti quod sim prostratus ab hoste,
     Sed quod me reges deseruere pii,
Qui, dum alia ex aliis inter se proelia miscent,
     Et me et se rabidis hostibus obiciunt.

By the banks of the Danube, a king in the first bloom of youth,
     slain for the fatherland, with the fatherland I lie here.
Nor do I complain that I was prostrated by a merciless enemy,
     but that the pious kings deserted me,
who, while among themselves they mix one battle after another,
     expose both me and themselves to rabid enemies.

XLI

Ad Venerem ut pertinacem Lalagem molliat

To Venus, that she may soften pertinacious Lalage

Diva, quae has caeli generatim in auras
     Cuncta producis, cupidumque amorem
     Undique infundens, facis ut perenne
          saecla propagent;
Qua nihil laetum sine, amabile est nil
     Nilque iucundum, sine qua nec ipsae
     Gratae erunt cuiquam Charites, nec ipsa
          blanda voluptas;
Dum tibi laetus reparatur orbis,
     Dum per herbosos pecus omne campos
     Vim tuam sentit, tibi plaudit omnis,
          diva, volucris;
Dum nihil, quamvis rigidum, feroxque est,
     Ossibus quod non penitus sub imis
     Sit tua tactum face, quod tuos non
          sentiat ignes,
Una erit flammarum et amoris expers?
     Una secura his Lalage resistet?
     Tange age ultrici, dea, pertinacem
          tange flagello.

Goddess, who by kind into these airs of heaven
     you bring forth all things, and, pouring desirous Love
     on every side, you bring it about that
          generations propagate perennially;
Without whom nothing is joyful, nothing is lovable,
     and nothing pleasant; without whom not even the
     Graces themselves will be pleasing to anyone, nor
          alluring pleasure itself;
While for you the world is gladly renewed,
     while through grassy fields every herd
     feels your force, to you every winged creature
          applauds, goddess;
While there is nothing, however rigid and fierce,
     whose inmost bones are not thoroughly
     touched by your torch, that does not
          feel your fires,
Will there be one alone devoid of flames and of love?
     Will Lalage alone, secure from these, resist?
     Touch her, come now, with the avenging lash,
          touch the stubborn one, goddess.

Quod si ita tanges, fera ut obstinatum
     Applicet nostris animum querelis,
     Nec preces ultra miseras superba
          negligat aure,
Conseram laetam tibi, diva, myrtum,
     Vancius qua se rosifer revolvit:
     Hanc mero supplex, niveo et rigabo
          lacte quotannis.
Hanc et immistae pueris puellae
     Circum agent laetas pariter choreas,
     Teque prima unam, simul ultima unam
          voce canent te.
Te canent unam, volucremque natum
     Qui ferox, duro et similis parenti,
     Acer et flamma est, et agente certum
          cuspide vulnus.
Spargam odoratas violas rosasque
     Ipse ego, votique reus secabo
     Grata torquatae ante tuas columbae
          guttura flammas.

But if you thus touch her, so that the wild one
     May apply her obstinate spirit to our complaints,
     Nor any longer with a proud ear neglect
          our wretched prayers,
I will plant for you, goddess, a joyful myrtle,
     Where the dewy Vancius winds itself around:
     This I, a suppliant, will irrigate with mere wine
          and snowy milk each year.
And both girls mingled with boys
     Will lead glad choruses around it together,
     And with one voice first you alone, and likewise last,
          will they sing—yes, you.
You alone will they sing, and your winged son,
     Who is fierce, and like his hardy parent,
     Keen, and is a flame, and with a driven
          spear-cusp makes a sure wound.
I myself will strew fragrant violets and roses,
     And, debtor to my vow, I will cut
     The pleasing throats of the ring-necked dove
          before your flames.

XLII

De imagine sui armata

On her armed image

Quid magis adversum bello est, bellique tumultu,
Quam Venus? Ad teneros aptior illa iocos.
Et tamen armatam hanc magni pinxere Lacones,
Imbellique data est bellica parma deae.

What is more adverse to war, and to the tumult of war,
than Venus? She is more apt for tender jests.
And yet the great Laconians painted this one armed,
and to the unwarlike goddess a warlike shield was given.

Quippe erat id signum forti Lacedaemone natum
     Saepe et femineum bella decere genus.
Sic quoque, non quod sim pugna versatus in ulla,
     Haec humeris pictor induit arma meis,
Verum hoc quod bello, hoc patriae quod tempore iniquo,
     Ferre vel imbellem quemlibet arma decet.

For indeed that image was born in brave Lacedaemon,
     and often even the feminine race do wars befit.
Thus too, not because I am experienced in any fight,
     the painter has put these arms upon my shoulders,
but because in this war, in this iniquitous time for the fatherland,
     it befits even any unwarlike man to bear arms.

XLIII

In obitum Borgetti catuli

On the death of Borgetti the puppy

Borgettus lepidus catellus ille,
Cuius blanditias proterviores
Et lusus herus ipse tantum amabat,
Quantum tale aliquid potest amari.
Nec mirum: dominum suum ipse norat,
Caram bima velut puella matrem,
Et nunc illius in sinu latebat,
Nunc blande assiliebat huc et illuc
Ludens, atque avido appetebat ore.
Erectis modo cruribus, bipesque,
Mensae astabat herili, heroque ab ipso
Latratu tenero cibum petebat.

Borgettus, that charming little puppy,
whose more forward blandishments
and games the master himself so loved,
as much as such a thing can be loved.
Nor is it a wonder: he knew his own master,
like a dear two-year-old girl her mother,
and now he would lie hidden in his lap,
now he would sweetly leap up here and there
playing, and with an avid mouth he would seek.
With his legs just now raised, and as a biped,
he would stand by the master’s table, and from the master himself
with a tender bark he would beg for food.

Nunc raptus rapido maloque fato,
Ad manes abiit tenebricosos.
Miselle o canis, o miser catelle,
Nigras parvulus ut timebis umbras!
Ut saepe et dominum tuum requires!

Now, snatched by a rapid and evil fate,
He has gone away to the tenebrous Manes.
Poor little wretch, O dog, O miserable puppy,
Little one, how you will fear the black shades!
How often too you will seek your master!

Cui pro deliciis, iocisque longum
Heu desiderium tui relinquis.

To whom, in place of delights and jests, you leave a long
Alas, desire for you.

XLIV

Genethliacon pueri nobilis

Genethliacon of a noble boy

Vos mihi nunc magnos partus ortusque beatos
Felicis pueri, quo pinguia culta vetusti
Naonis exultant, quo Carnia tota superbit,
Dicite, Pierides. Vos illum e matre cadentem
Excepstisque sinu et vestris fovistis in ulnis
Et teneram molli cinxistis baccare frontem.
Nec vero vos tantum has accessistis ad oras,
Nec solae venistis ad haec vos munera, Musae:
Affuit ipsa etiam pariter, spargensque salubres
Pyxidos arcanae succos, partusque dolores
Leniit et matrem fetu Lucina levavit.

You now tell me the great delivery and the blessed origins
of the boy Felix, at whose coming the rich tilled fields of ancient
Naonis exult, at whom all Carnia is proud—
say it, Pierides. You received him, as he fell from his mother,
into your bosom and cherished him in your arms,
and you wreathed his tender brow with soft baccar.
Nor indeed did you alone come to these shores,
nor did you, Muses, come alone to these offices:
She herself too was present as well, and, sprinkling the health-giving
juices from a secret pyxis, Lucina soothed the pains
of childbirth and lightened the mother of her offspring.

Affuit Idalio veniens e colle Dione,
Nectare odorato crines perfusa fluentes,
Assuetaeque leves Charites ductare choreas.
Hae simul ambrosia puerum lavere liquenti,
Et parvas tenui cunas stravere ligustro.
Venit et undifluis properans Naucelus ab antris,
Quem prope caeruleo e fluctu formosa Metune
Ibat: eos circum violasque rosasque rubentes
Vimineis nymphae calathis et serta ferebant
Purpureo e narcisso, eque auricomo chrysantho.

Dione was present, coming from the Idalian hill,
her flowing hair suffused with fragrant nectar,
and the light Graces, accustomed to lead the dances.
These at once bathed the boy with flowing ambrosia,
and strewn with slender privet the small cradle.
And Naucelus too came hastening from the wave-flowing caverns,
near whom from the cerulean wave fair Metune
was going: around them the nymphs were bearing violets and reddening roses
in wicker baskets, and garlands
from purple narcissus, and from golden‑haired chrysanthemum.

Quae postquam totas passim sparsere per aedes,
Iucundoque domus late fragravit odore,
Protinus ecce Iovis magni de limine Parcae,
Antiquae Parcae, niveo queis corpore amictu,
Canaque Chaonia velantur tempora quercu.
Hae postquam et matrem complexae et fronte serena
Oscula iunxerunt parvo felicia nato,
Candida versato torquentes vellera fuso,
Fatidico tales funderunt pectore voces:
'O fausto nimium caelo divisque benignis
Nate puer, cresce, et dulces solare parentes,
Et fatis laetare tuis. Tuque, optima mater,
Tuque, boni genitor pueri, quos omine dextro
Castus hymen quondam thalamo sociavit in uno,
Accipite haec laetis animis, neu posse moveri
Credite quae vero concordes ore canemus.

After they had scattered these things everywhere through the whole house,
and the home far and wide breathed with a pleasant odor,
straightway, behold, from the threshold of great Jove, the Parcae,
the ancient Parcae, whose bodies are veiled with snow-white vesture,
and whose temples are veiled with hoary Chaonian oak.
These, after they had embraced the mother as well, and with serene brow
they joined felicitous kisses to the little-born son,
twisting the white fleeces as the spindle was turned,
from their fatidic breast poured forth such voices:
'O child, born under all-too-auspicious heaven and kindly divinities,
boy, grow, and solace your sweet parents,
and rejoice in your fates. And you too, best mother,
and you too, good begetter of the boy, whom, by a right-hand omen,
chaste Hymen once united in one bridal chamber,
receive these things with joyful spirits, and do not believe that what
we, harmonious, shall sing with a true mouth can be moved.

Qualis in aprico se tollit amaracus horto,
Quam studio solers omni formosa puella
Ipsa suos alit in lusus et lenibus undis
Irrigat, illa leves paulatim surgit in auras
Pulchrior et dulcem late diffundit odorem;
Sic puer augescens primo se toilet in aevo,
Nec se quisquam illi formoso conferet ore.
Mox ubi iam validus teneris excesserit annis,
Tunc illum sacras artes doctaeque docebunt
Aonides princepsque chori formosus Apollo,
Illi et divini latices Aganippidos undae
Et virides Haemi saltus Pindique patebunt.
Mars quoque bellipotens simul, et Tritonia virgo
Muneribus bellorum et saevis instruet armis.

As in a sunlit garden the marjoram lifts itself,
which, with every zeal, a skillful, beautiful girl
herself nourishes for her own play and with gentle waters
irrigates; that plant little by little rises into the light breezes,
more lovely, and far and wide diffuses a sweet odor;
so the boy, growing, in his first age will lift himself,
nor will anyone compare himself to him in his beautiful countenance.
Soon, when now strong he shall have passed beyond his tender years,
then the learned Aonides and fair Apollo, leader of the choir,
will teach him sacred arts; and to him the divine liquors of Aganippe’s waves
and the green glades of Haemus and of Pindus will lie open.
Mars too, war-potent, and the Tritonian virgin as well
will equip him with the gifts of wars and with savage arms.

Doctior haud illo quisquam seu cominus ense,
Seu sit opus valida concurrere longius hasta,
Sive inflectere equum, atque arctis compescere habenis,
Seu libeat laxare et aperto currere campo.
O quoties medio ferventem in turbine belli
Conversae fugient acies, at percitus ille
Obvia quaeque metet infesto corpora ferro.
Non secus ac praeceps hiberno flumine torrens,
Cum tumidus late ac pluviis hiemalibus auctus
Proruit adversas insano vortice silvas,
Obstantesque trahit ripas, camposque per omnes
Cum sonitu ruit, et rapido rotat omnia fluctu.

No one more skilled than him, whether at close quarters with the sword,
or if there is need to clash from farther off with a sturdy spear,
or to bend the horse and restrain with tight reins,
or if it please to slacken them and to run over the open field.
O how often, burning in the mid whirlwind of war,
the ranks, turned to flight, will flee; but he, impelled,
will reap whatever bodies meet him with hostile iron.
No otherwise than a headlong torrent in a wintry river,
when swollen far and wide and augmented by winter rains,
dashes down the opposing woods with a mad vortex,
and drags the banks that stand in the way, and through all the fields
with a roar it rushes, and with a rapid flood it whirls all things.

Fortunate puer, numquam non victor in hostem
Bella geres, magnique aequabis facta parentis.
Ille olim magnos Gallorum stravit acervos,
Italaque hostili manarunt arva cruore,
Tum, cum caesa virum serpens per corpora Lyris
Aequoreas cursum vix tandem invenit in undas.
Ille idem, gelida cum gens immanis ab Arcto
Ausonios passim se se effudisset in agros,
Audaces animos ingenti strage repressit,
Alpinasque nives Germano sanguine tinxit.

Fortunate boy, ever a victor against the foe
you will wage wars, and you will equal the deeds of your great parent.
He once laid low great heaps of the Gauls,
and the Italian fields ran with hostile gore,
then, when the Liris, serpent-like through the hewn bodies of men,
scarcely at last found its course into the sea-waves.
That same man, when a monstrous tribe from the icy North
had everywhere poured itself into the Ausonian fields,
he checked audacious spirits with enormous slaughter,
and dyed the Alpine snows with German blood.

Nunc quoque fallaces abrupto foedere Gallos
In Latios iterum fines praedamque ruentes
Proteret, et victos (divinis credite Parcis)
Italia expellet, caeloque aequabit honores.
At tu, siqua tuo restabunt bella parenti,
Ausoniam infenso nec dum pacarit ab hoste,
Ipse tua fidens animi virtute subibis
Haec primum, mox externas egressus in oras
Implebis totum factis audacibus orbem.
Te duce, et Ausoniae rursum rediviva resurget
Gloria, et antiquum late victricibus armis
Reddetur Latio imperium.

Now also the deceitful Gauls, the compact broken, rushing again into the Latin borders and for booty,
he will trample down, and the conquered (believe the divine Fates)
he will expel from Italy, and will match honors to heaven.
But you, if any wars shall remain for your parent,
and not yet shall he have pacified Ausonia from the hostile foe,
you yourself, trusting in the virtue of your spirit, will undergo
these first; soon, having gone forth to foreign shores,
you will fill the whole orb with audacious deeds.
With you as leader, the Glory of Ausonia, reborn, will rise again
and far and wide, by victorious arms, the ancient dominion
will be restored to Latium.

Tua signa timebunt
Una omnes passim populi, quaque incidit alto
Aequore et Oceano ferventes abluit axes,
Quaque coloratis effert se Phoebus ab Indis.
Tum demum placida contentus pace quiesces,
Saevaque mitescet posito discordia ferro.
Aurea tum veniet saeclis melioribus aetas,
Felicesque anni, et Saturnia regna redibunt;
Tum Pax alma colet terras, Astreaque virgo,
Immersumque gemet Stygio scelus omne baratro.

At your standards all peoples everywhere as one will fear,
and wherever it falls upon the deep
sea, and Ocean bathes the burning poles,
and wherever Phoebus bears himself forth from the color-stained Indians.
Then at last, content with placid peace, you will rest,
and savage Discord will grow mild with the iron laid down.
Then there will come, for better ages, a Golden age,
and happy years, and the Saturnian realms will return;
then kindly Peace will till the lands, and the maiden Astraea,
and every crime, plunged in the Stygian abyss, will groan.

Felices, qui tam laeto nascentur in aevo.
Tu vero, ante alias superis gratissima tellus,
Quam tanto divum genitor dignatur alumno,
Tu nitidas passim fruges arbustaque laeta,
Sponte tua nulloque hominum cogente labore,
Produces; humiles sudabunt mella genistae,
Incultique ferent candentia lilia vepres.
Finierant Parcae.

Happy, they who will be born in so joyful an age.
But you indeed, before others, a land most pleasing to the gods above,
whom the father of the gods deigns to honor with so great an alumnus,
you everywhere will bring forth shining crops and glad orchards,
of your own accord and with no labor of men compelling,
you will produce; lowly broom-shrubs will exude honey,
and untended briars will bear candescent lilies.
The Fates had finished.

Tum Iuppiter aethere ab alto
Intonuit laevum, et caeli de parte serena
Perspicuus multo fulgor cum lumine fulsit.

Then Jupiter from the high ether
thundered on the left-hand side, and from the serene part of the sky
a perspicuous splendor flashed with much light.

XLV

Ex Philemone

From Philemon

Siquid remedi lacrimae afferrent malis,
Minorque semper fieret lugenti dolor,
Auro parandae lacrimae nobis forent.
Sed nil here istaec prosunt, res ipsae nihil
Moventur istis: sive tu semper fleas,
Seu nunquam, eandem pergere insistent viam.
Quid his iuvamur ergo?

If tears brought any remedy to evils,
and the grieving one’s pain always became lesser,
tears would have to be procured for us by gold.
But these things, indeed, profit nothing; the things themselves
are not moved by them: whether you always weep,
or never, they will persist to go on the same way.
What then are we helped by these?

Nil certe: at dolor,
Ut ipsa fructus arbor, sic lacrimas habet.

Certainly nothing: but grief,
as the tree itself has fruit, so grief has tears.

XLVI

Ex Menandro

From Menander

Nam si te, alumne, genetrix cum peperit tua,
Hac sorte es unus omnium in lucem editus,
Tibi cuncta ut evenirent quae velles bona,
Idque annuit magnorum quispiam deum,
Iure optimo indignaris: valde enim is tibi
Fallax repertus. Quod, si eisdem legibus
Quibus nos omnes (tragicis ut verbis loquar)
Aeque patentem cunctis aerem trahis,
Ferenda sunt haec levius, et omnis rectius
Ratio habenda. Denique haec summa est: puta
Hominem esse te, quo nullum animantium omnium
Extolli, itemque deprimi citius solet.

For if, fosterling, when your genetrix bore you,
you were, alone of all, brought forth into the light with this lot,
that all good things which you might wish would eventuate for you,
and some one of the great gods nodded assent to that,
you are with very good right indignant: for he has to you
been found fallacious. But if, by the same laws
by which we all (to speak in tragic words),
you draw the air equally patent to all,
these things must be borne more lightly, and every
reckoning must be held more rightly. Finally, this is the sum: suppose
that you are a human being, than which of all animate creatures none
is wont to be lifted up, and likewise to be pressed down, more swiftly.

Ipsumque id haud iniuria: minimarum enim
Id virium est, et maximis semper studet,
Plurimaque secum commoda conterit cadens.
Tu vero et magna non amisisti bona,
Et mediocria sunt ipsa ea, quae pateris mala.
Ergo et modeste, alumne, quod reliquum est feras.

And this itself not unjustly: for it is of the least powers,
and it always strives for the greatest things,
and, falling, it crushes very many advantages along with itself.
But you, in truth, have not even lost your great goods,
and the very evils which you suffer are mediocre.
Therefore, alumnus, bear with modesty what remains.

XLVII

Cum ex Hispanica legatione in Italiam reverteretur

When he was returning from the Hispanic legation to Italy

Salve, cura deum, mundi felicior ora,
Formosae Veneris dulces salvete recessus:
Ut vos, post tantos animi mentisque labores,
Aspicio lustroque libens! Ut munere vestro
Sollicitas toto depello e pectore curas!
Non aliis Charites perfundunt candida lymphis
Corpora, non alios contexunt serta per agros.

Hail, care of the gods, happier shores of the world,
sweet recesses of fair Venus, hail:
how, after so many labors of soul and mind,
I behold and survey you gladly! How by your gift
I drive anxious cares from my whole breast!
The Graces do not bathe other bodies with clear lymphs,
nor do they weave garlands for others through the fields.

[Desunt nonnulla quae erant in litura.]

[Some things are missing which were in the erasure.]