Sweetly the heifer bellows, and sweetly also the cow, and sweetly also the pipe and the herdsman, and sweetly also I.
§9.9ἔστι δέ μοι παρʼ ὕδωρ ψυχρὸν στιβάς, ἐν δὲ νένασται §9.10λευκᾶν ἐκ δαμαλᾶν καλὰ δέρματα, τάς μοι ἁπάσας §9.11λὶψ κόμαρον τρωγοίσας ἀπὸ σκοπιᾶς ἐτίναξε.
And by the cold water I have a bed of leaves, and on it are piled beautiful skins of white heifers, all of which, as they were browsing on arbutus, the south-west wind swept down from the cliff.
§9.12τῶ δὲ θέρευς φρύγοντος ἐγὼ τόσσον μελεδαίνω, §9.13ὅσσον ἐρῶντε πατρὸς μύθων καὶ ματρὸς ἀκούειν.
And of the scorching summer I care as much as lovers care to listen to the words of a father and mother.
§9.14οὑτῶς Δάφνις ἄεισεν ἐμίν, οὑτῶς δὲ Μενάλκας.
Thus Daphnis sang to me, and thus Menalcas.
§9.15Αἴτνα μᾶτερ ἐμά, κἠγὼ καλὸν ἄντρον ἐνοικέω §9.16κοίλαις ἐν πέτραισιν· ἔχω δέ τοι ὅσσʼ ἐν ὀνείρῳ §9.17φαίνονται, πολλὰς μὲν ὄις, πολλὰς δὲ χιμαίρας, §9.18ὧν μοι πρὸς κεφαλᾷ καὶ πρὸς ποσὶ κώεα κεῖται.
O my mother Etna, I too dwell in a beautiful cave in the hollow rocks; and indeed I have as many things as appear in dreams, many sheep and many goats, whose fleeces lie at my head and at my feet.
§9.19ἐν πυρὶ δὲ δρυίνῳ χόρια ζεῖ, ἐν πυρὶ δʼ αὖαι §9.20φαγοὶ χειμαίνοντος· ἔχω δέ τοι οὐδʼ ὅσον ὤραν §9.21χείματος ἢ νωδὸς καρύων ἀμύλοιο παρόντος.
On an oak fire entrails are boiling, and on the fire are dry beech-nuts in winter; and indeed I do not care even a jot for winter, any more than a toothless man cares for walnuts when soft cake is near.
§9.22τοῖς μὲν ἐπεπλατάγησα καὶ αὐτίκα δῶρον ἔδωκα, §9.23Δάφνιδι μὲν κορύναν, τάν μοι πατρὸς ἔτρεφεν ἀγρός, §9.24αὐτοφυῆ, τὰν οὐδʼ ἂν ἴσως μωμάσατο τέκτων, §9.25τήνῳ δὲ στρόμβω καλὸν ὄστρακον, ὧ κρέας αὐτὸς §9.26σιτήθην πέτραισιν ἐνἸκαρίαισι δοκεύσας, §9.27πέντε ταμὼν πέντʼ οὖσιν· ὁ δʼ ἐγκαναχήσατο κόχλῳ.
I clapped for them and straightway gave them a gift, to Daphnis a staff, which my father's field grew for me, self-grown, which even a craftsman could perhaps not find fault with, and to the other a beautiful triton-shell, whose meat I myself feasted on, having watched for them on the Icarian rocks, dividing five among five of us; and he blew a blast on his shell.
§9.28Βουκολικαὶ Μοῖσαι μάλα χαίρετε, φαίνετε δʼ ᾠδάς, §9.29τάς ποκʼ ἐγὼ τήνοισι παρὼν ἄεισα νομεῦσι, §9.30μηκέτʼ ἐπὶ γλώσσας ἄκρας ὀλοφυγγόνα φύσω.
Farewell indeed, pastoral Muses, and make known the songs which once I sang when present with those herdsmen; let me no longer grow a pimple on the tip of my tongue.
Cicada is friend to cicada, ant to ant, hawks to hawks, and to me the Muse and song.
§9.33τᾶς μοι πᾶς εἴη πλεῖος δόμος.
Of this may my whole house be full.
οὔτε γὰρ ὕπνος §9.34οὔτʼ ἔαρ ἐξαπίνας γλυκερώτερον, οὔτε μελίσσαις §9.35ἄνθεα· τόσσον ἐμὶν Μοῖσαι φίλαι.
For neither sleep nor spring coming suddenly is sweeter, nor to bees are flowers; so dear to me are the Muses.
οὓς μὲν ὁρεῦντι §9.36γαθεῦσαι, τοὺς δʼ οὔτι ποτῷ δαλήσατο Κίρκη.
Those whom they look upon with joy, Circe has never harmed with her potion.