37
��LATIN POEMS
��Sicubi ramosse densantur vallibus umbrae; Hie serum expecto; supra caput imber et
Eurus 60
Triste sonant, fractseque agitata crepuscula
silvse. "Ite domum impasti; domino jam uon
vacat, agni. Hen ! quam culta inihi prius arva procaci-
bus herbis
Involvuntur, et ipsa situ seges alta fatiscit ! Innuba neglecto marcescit et uva racemo, Nee myrteta juvant; ovium quoque tsedet,
at ilhe Moarent, inque suum convertunt ora magis-
trum. "Ite domum impasti; domino jam non
vacat, agni. Tityrus ad corylos vocat, Alphesibceus ad
ornos, Ad salices JEgon, ad flumina pulcher Amyn-
tas: 70
' Hie gelidi fontes, hie illita gramina musco, Hie Zephyri, hie placidas interstrepit arbu- tus undas.' Ista canunt surdo; frutices ego nactus abi-
bam. "Ite domum impasti; domino jam non
vacat, agni. Mopsus ad hsec, nam me redeuntem forte
notarat
(Et callebat avium linguas et sidera Mop- sus), ' Thyrsi, quid hoc?' dixit; 'quse te coquit
improbabilis ? Aut te perdit amor, aut te male fasciuat
astrum ; 79
Saturni grave ssepe fuit pastoribus astrum,
Intimaque obliquo figit prsecordia plumbo.'
"Ite domum impasti; domino jam non
vacat, agni. Mirantur nymphse, et ' Quid te, Thyrsi,
futurum est ? Quid tibi vis?' aiunt: 'non hsec solet esse
juventse Nubila frons, oculique truces, vultusque
severi: Ilia choros, lususque leves, et semper amo-
rem
Jure petit; bis ille miser qui serus amavit.' "Ite domum impasti; domino jam non
vacat, agni. Venit Hyas, Dryopeque, et filia Baucidis
-ffigle, Docta modos, citharseque sciens, sed per-
dita fastu;
��alone now ; where the shadows of the branches thicken in the valley, I wait the evening; over my head the wind and the rain-cloud make a mourning sound, and the forest twilight is all astir with gleams and shadows.
"Go to your folds unfed, my lambs ; your master is troubled. Alas, how my fields, once well - tended, are overgrown with weeds ! The high corn cracks open with blight; the grape-clusters hang with- ered, unmarried to the stalk. My myrtles do not thrive; my sheep sicken, and turn their mournful eyes upon their master.
" Go to your folds unfed, my lambs ; your master is troubled. Tityrus calls to the hazels, Alphesibceus to the ash-trees, .ZEgon to the willows; to the rivers beauti- ful Amyntas calls: ' Here,' they cry, ' are cool fountains, here the sward is soft with moss, here are gentle winds, here the arbu- tus murmurs in the placid stream.' They sing to a deaf ear; I plunge into the bushes and leave them.
"Go to your folds unfed, my lambs; your master is troubled. Mopsus chances to see me returning (skilled in the stars and in the speech of birds is Mopsus), and adds his voice to theirs. ' What ails thee, Thyrsis,' he says, ' what naughty flirt tor- ments thee ? Either love wastes thee, or some star has cast on thee a baleful charm: Saturn's star has oft been bitter to shepherds, and with his slant dart of lead has pierced their inmost hearts.'
"Go to your folds unfed, my lambs; your master is troubled. The nymphs gaze at me astonished, and ' Thyrsis,' they say, ' what is in store for thee ? what wilt thou ? This cloudy brow, these threaten- ing eyes, this gloomy face, these belong not to youth. Youth cares for dancing and gaiety, and follows after love as its right; twice wretched is he who loves late.'
"Go to your folds unfed, my lambs; your master is troubled. Hyas comes, and Dryope; JEgle comes, daughter of Baucis, skilled in numbers and the lyre, and deadly
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