§3.57nunc frondent silvae, nunc formosissimus annus.
Now the woods are leafy, now is the fairest time of year.
§3.58Incipe, Darmoeta; tu deinde sequere Menalca:
Begin, Damoetas; then do you follow, Menalcas.
§3.59alternis dicetis; amant alterna Camenae.
You shall sing in alternate verses; the Muses love alternate song.
From Jove is our beginning, Muses; all things are full of Jove: he cherishes the earth, to him my songs are a care.
§3.62Et me Phoebus amat; Phoebo sua semper apud me §3.63munera sunt, lauri et suave rubens hyacinthus.
And Phoebus loves me; Phoebus always has his own gifts with me, gifts, laurels and the sweetly blushing hyacinth.
Galatea pelts me with an apple, wanton girl, and flees to the willows, and wishes to be seen first.
§3.66At mihi sese offert ultro, meus ignis, Amyntas, §3.67notior ut iam sit canibus non Delia nostris.
But Amyntas, my flame, offers himself to me of his own accord, so that now not even Delia is better known to our dogs.
Gifts are ready for my love; for I myself have marked the spot where the airy wood-pigeons have built.
What I could do, I sent to my boy, ten golden apples picked from a wild tree; tomorrow I will send another ten.
§3.72O quotiens et quae nobis Galatea locuta est!
O how often and what words Galatea has spoken to us!
§3.73partem aliquam, venti, divom referatis ad auris!
Some part of them, O winds, may you carry to the ears of the gods!
§3.74Quid prodest, quod me ipse animo non spernis, Amynta. §3.75si, dum tu sectaris apros, ego retia servo?
What does it profit, Amyntas, that you do not despise me in your heart, if, while you chase boars, I watch the nets?
§3.76Phyllida mitte mihi: meus est natalis, Iolla; §3.77cum faciam vitula pro frugibus, ipse venito.
Send Phyllis to me; it is my birthday, Iollas; when I make sacrifice with a heifer for the crops, come yourself.
§3.78Phyllida amo ante alias; nam me discedere flevit, §3.79et longum “formose, vale, vale,” inquit, “Iolla. ” §3.80Triste lupus stabulis, maturis frugibus imbres. §3.81arboribus venti, nobis Amaryllidis irae.
I love Phyllis before others; for she wept at my departing, and cried out long: "Farewell, fair youth, farewell, Iollas." A grim thing is the wolf to the folds, rains to the ripe crops, winds to the trees, and to us the anger of Amaryllis.
A sweet thing to the sown crops is moisture, the arbutus to weaned kids, the pliant willow to breeding flock, to me Amyntas alone.
Pollio loves our Muse, although she is rustic: Pierian Muses, pasture a heifer for your reader.
§3.86Pollio et ipse facit nova carmina: pascite taurum, §3.87iam cornu petat et pedibus qui spargat arenam.
Pollio himself also makes new songs: pasture a bull, one that already butts with his horn and scatters sand with his feet.
§3.88Qui te, Pollio, amat, veniat quo te quoque gaudet: §3.89mella fluant illi, ferat et rubus asper amomum.
Let him who loves you, Pollio, come where he rejoices that you too have come: let honey flow for him, and let the rough bramble bear spice.
Let him who does not hate Bavius love your songs, Maevius, and let the same man yoke foxes and milk he-goats.
§3.92Qui legitis flores et humi nascentia fraga, §3.93frigidus, O pueri, fugite hinc, latet anguis in herba.
You who gather flowers and strawberries growing on the ground, flee from here, boys, a cold snake lies hid in the grass.
§3.94Parcite, oves, nimium procedere; non bene ripae §3.95creditur; ipse aries etiam nunc vellera siccat.
Forbear, sheep, to advance too far; it is not well to trust the bank; the ram himself even now is drying his fleece.
Tityrus, drive back the grazing she-goats from the river: I myself, when the time comes, will wash them all in the spring.
§3.98Cogite ovis, pueri; si lac praeceperit aestus, §3.99ut nuper, frustra pressabimus ubera palmis.
Gather the sheep, boys; if the heat forestalls the milk, as recently, in vain shall we squeeze the udders with our hands.
§3.100Heu, heu, quam pingui macer est mihi taurus in ervo!
Alas, alas, how lean is my bull in a fat field of vetch!
§3.101Idem amor exitium est pecori pecorisque magistro.
The same love is destruction to the flock and to the master of the flock.
§3.102His certe neque amor causa est; vix ossibus haerent.
To these indeed love is not the cause; they scarcely cling to their bones.
§3.103nescio quis teneros oculus mihi fascinat agnos.
I know not what evil eye bewitches my tender lambs.
§3.104Dic, quibus in terris—et eris mihi magnus Apollo— §3.105tris pateat caeli spatium non amplius ulnas.
Tell me in what lands—and you shall be to me great Apollo— the space of heaven opens three ells and no more.
§3.106Dic, quibus in terris inscripti nomina regum §3.107nascantur flores, et Phyllida solus habeto.
Tell me in what lands flowers grow inscribed with the names of kings, and have Phyllis for your own.
§3.108Non nostrum inter vos tantas componere lites.
It is not for us to decide such great disputes between you.
§3.109Et vitula tu dignus, et hic, et quisquis amores §3.110aut metuet dulces, aut experietur amaros.
Both you are worthy of the heifer, and he, and whoever shall either fear sweet love, or experience bitter love.
§3.111Claudite iam rivos, pueri, sat prata biberunt.
Close now the sluices, boys, the meadows have drunk enough.