§3.1Κωμάσδω ποτὶ τὰν Ἀμαρυλλίδα, ταὶ δέ μοι αἶγες §3.2βόσκονται κατʼ ὄρος, καὶ ὁ Τίτυρος αὐτὰς ἐλαύνει.
I will go to serenade Amaryllis, while my goats graze on the mountain, and Tityrus drives them.
§3.3Τίτυρʼ ἐμὶν τὸ καλὸν πεφιλαμένε, βόσκε τὰς αἶγας, §3.4καὶ ποτὶ τὰν κράναν ἄγε Τίτυρε, καὶ τὸν ἐνόρχαν §3.5τὸν Λιβυκὸν κνάκωνα φυλάσσεο, μή τι κορύψῃ.
Tityrus, dearly beloved by me, feed the goats, and lead them to the spring, Tityrus; and watch out for the Libyan tawny uncastrated goat, lest he butt you.
O charming Amaryllis, why no longer do you peek out of this cave and call me, your sweetheart?
ἦ ῥά με μισεῖς;
Do you indeed hate me?
Or indeed, do I appear to you, when seen close up, flat-nosed, maiden, and prominent-chinned?
ἀπάγξασθαί με ποησεῖς.
You will make me hang myself.
§3.10ἠνίδε τοι δέκα μᾶλα φέρω· τηνῶθε καθεῖλον, §3.11ὧ μʼ ἐκέλευ καθελεῖν τύ· καὶ αὔριον ἄλλά τοι οἰσῶ.
Behold, I bring you ten apples; I gathered them from there, where you bade me gather them; and tomorrow I will bring you others.
§3.12θᾶσαι μὰν θυμαλγὲς ἐμὸν ἄχος· αἴθε γενοίμαν §3.13ἁ βομβεῦσα μέλισσα καὶ ἐς τεὸν ἄντρον ἱκοίμαν §3.14τὸν κισσὸν διαδὺς καὶ τὰν πτέριν, ᾇ τὺ πυκάσδῃ.
Look, indeed, at my heart-painful grief; would that I might become the buzzing bee and enter into your cave, slipping through the ivy and the fern with which you are covered.
§3.15νῦν ἔγνων τὸν Ἔρωτα· βαρὺς θεός·
Now I know Eros; a cruel god!
ἦ ῥα λεαίνας §3.16μαζὸν ἐθήλαζε, δρυμῷ τέ νιν ἔτρεφε μάτηρ, §3.17ὅς με κατασμύχων καὶ ἐς ὀστίον ἄχρις ἰάπτει.
Indeed, he must have sucked a lioness's breast, and in the forest his mother reared him; who burns me with slow fire and hurts me to the very bone.
§3.18ὦ τὸ καλὸν ποθορεῦσα, τὸ πᾶν λίθος·
O you who look with beautiful eyes, but are wholly stone!
ὦ κυάνοφρυ §3.19νύμφα, πρόσπτυξαί με τὸν αἰπόλον, ὥς τυ φιλάσω.
O dark-browed maiden, embrace me, your goat-herd, so that I may kiss you.
§3.20ἔστι καὶ ἐν κενεοῖσι φιλάμασιν ἁδέα τέρψις.
Even in empty kisses there is sweet delight.
§3.21τὸν στέφανον τῖλαί με κατʼ αὐτίκα λεπτὰ ποησεῖς, §3.22τόν τοι ἐγὼν Ἀμαρυλλὶ φίλα κισσοῖο φυλάσσω §3.23ἀμπλέξας καλύκεσσι καὶ εὐόδμοισι σελίνοις. —
You will make me tear this garland into small pieces straightway, which, dear Amaryllis, I keep for you, having woven it of ivy mixed with rosebuds and fragrant parsley.
§3.24Ὤμοι ἐγώ, τί πάθω;
Ah me, what will become of me?
τί ὁ δύσσοος;
What am I to do, wretched that I am?
οὐχ ὑπακούεις; —
Do you not listen?
§3.25τὰν βαίταν ἀποδὺς ἐς κύματα τηνῶ ἁλεῦμαι, §3.26ὧπερ τὼς θύννως σκοπιάζεται Ὄλπις ὁ γριπεύς· §3.27καἴκα δἠποθάνω, τό γε μὰν τεὸν ἁδὺ τέτυκται.
Stripping off my cloak, I will leap into the waves over there, where Olpis the fisherman keeps watch for the tunnies; and even if I die, that at least is a sweet thing to you.
§3.28ἔγνων πρᾶν, ὅκα μευ μεμναμένω, εἰ φιλέεις με, §3.29οὐδὲ τὸ τηλέφιλον ποτεμάξατο, τὸ πλατάγημα, §3.30ἀλλʼ αὔτως ἁπαλῷ ποτὶ πάχεος ἐξεμαράνθη.
I knew it lately, when, wondering if you loved me, not even the telephilon leaf clung with a popping sound, but withered away uselessly against my smooth forearm.
§3.31εἶπε καὶ ἀγροιῶτις ἀλαθέα κοσκινόμαντις, §3.32ἁ πρᾶν ποιολογεῦσα Παραιβάτις, οὕνεκʼ ἐγὼ μὲν §3.33τὶν ὅλος ἔγκειμαι, τὺ δέ μευ λόγον οὐδένα ποιῇ.
And the sieve-divining countrywoman spoke the truth, Paraibatis, who was gathering herbs lately, that while I am wholly devoted to you, you make no account of me.
§3.34ἦ μάν τοι λευκὰν διδυματόκον αἶγα φυλάσσω, §3.35τάν με καὶ ἁ Μέρμνωνος ἐριθακὶς ἁ μελανόχρως §3.36αἰτεῖ, καὶ δωσῶ οἱ, ἐπεὶ τύ μοι ἐνδιαθρύπτῃ.
Indeed, I keep for you a white she-goat that has borne twins, which Mermnon's dark-skinned servant-girl also begs of me; and I will give it to her, since you play the coquette with me.
My right eye twitches; shall I indeed see her?
ᾀσεῦμαι ποτὶ τὰν πίτυν ὧδʼ ἀποκλινθείς, §3.39καί κέ μʼ ἴσως ποτίδοι, ἐπεὶ οὐκ ἀδαμαντίνα ἐστίν.
I will sing leaning against this pine tree here, and perhaps she might look upon me, since she is not made of adamant.
§3.40Ἱππομένης ὅκα δὴ τὰν παρθένον ἤθελε γᾶμαι, §3.41μᾶλʼ ἐν χερσὶν ἑλὼν δρόμον ἄνυεν· ἁ δʼ Ἀταλάντα §3.42ὡς ἴδεν, ὡς ἐμάνη, ὡς ἐς βαθὺν ἅλατʼ ἔρωτα.
Hippomenes, when indeed he wished to marry the maiden, took apples in his hands and finished the race; and Atalanta, as she saw, so she went mad, so she leapt into deep love.
§3.43τὰν ἀγέλαν χὡ μάντις ἀπʼ Ὄθρυος ἆγε Μελάμπους §3.44ἐς Πύλον· ἁ δὲ Βίαντος ἐν ἀγκοίναισιν ἐκλίνθη, §3.45μάτηρ ἁ χαρίεσσα περίφρονος Ἀλφεσιβοίης.
And the seer Melampus drove the herd from Othrys to Pylos; and she was laid in the arms of Bias, the beautiful mother of wise Alphesiboea.
§3.46τὰν δὲ καλὰν Κυθέρειαν ἐν ὤρεσι μᾶλα νομεύων §3.47οὐχ οὑτῶς ὥδωνις ἐπὶ πλέον ἄγαγε λύσσας, §3.48ὥστʼ οὐδὲ φθίμενόν νιν ἄτερ μαζοῖο τίθητι;
And did not Adonis, pasturing his sheep in the mountains, lead the beautiful Cytherea to such a height of madness, so that even now that he is dead, she does not put him down from her breast?
§3.49ζαλωτὸς μὲν ἐμὶν ὁ τὸν ἄτροπον ὕπνον ἰαύων §3.50Ἐνδυμίων, ζαλῶ δὲ φίλα γύναιἸασίωνα, §3.51ὃς τοσσῆνʼ ἐκύρησεν, ὅσʼ οὐ πευσεῖσθε βέβαλοι.
Enviable to me is he who sleeps the sleep that knows no waking, Endymion; and I envy, dear woman, Iasion, who obtained so many things as you profane ones shall never learn.
§3.52Ἀλγέω τὰν κεφαλάν, τὶν δʼ οὐ μέλει.
My head aches, but you do not care.
οὐκέτʼ ἀείδω, §3.53κεισεῦμαι δὲ πεσών, καὶ τοὶ λύκοι ὧδέ μʼ ἔδονται.
I will sing no more, but will lie where I fall, and the wolves shall devour me here.
§3.54ὡς μέλι τοι γλυκὺ τοῦτο κατὰ βρόχθοιο γένοιτο.
May this be as sweet honey going down your throat.