Lycidas

But surely I had heardThat where the hills first draw from off the plain,And the high ridge with gentle slope descends,Down to the brook-side and the broken crestsOf yonder veteran beeches, all the landWas by the songs of your Menalcas saved.

Heard it you had, and so the rumour ran,But 'mid the clash of arms, my Lycidas,Our songs avail no more than, as 'tis said,Doves of Dodona when an eagle comes.Nay, had I not, from hollow ilex-boleWarned by a raven on the left, cut shortThe rising feud, nor I, your Moeris here,No, nor Menalcas, were alive to-day.

Alack! could any of so foul a crimeBe guilty? Ah! how nearly, thyself,Reft was the solace that we had in thee,Menalcas! Who then of the Nymphs had sung,Or who with flowering herbs bestrewn the ground,And o'er the fountains drawn a leafy veil?-Who sung the stave I filched from you that dayTo Amaryllis wending, our hearts' joy?-"While I am gone, 'tis but a little way,Feed, Tityrus, my goats, and, having fed,Drive to the drinking-pool, and, as you drive,Beware the he-goat; with his horn he butts."

Ay, or to Varus that half-finished lay,"Varus, thy name, so still our Mantua live-Mantua to poor Cremona all too near-Shall singing swans bear upward to the stars."

So may your swarms Cyrnean yew-trees shun,Your kine with cytisus their udders swell,Begin, if aught you have. The Muses madeMe too a singer; I too have sung; the swainsCall me a poet, but I believe them not:For naught of mine, or worthy Varius yetOr Cinna deem I, but account myselfA cackling goose among melodious swans.

'Twas in my thought to do so, Lycidas;Even now was I revolving silentlyIf this I could recall- no paltry song:"Come, Galatea, what pleasure is 't to playAmid the waves? Here glows the Spring, here earthBeside the streams pours forth a thousand flowers;Here the white poplar bends above the cave,And the lithe vine weaves shadowy covert: come,Leave the mad waves to beat upon the shore."

What of the strain I heard you singing onceOn a clear night alone? the notes I stillRemember, could I but recall the words.

"Why, Daphnis, upward gazing, do you markThe ancient risings of the Signs? for lookWhere Dionean Caesar's star comes forthIn heaven, to gladden all the fields with corn,And to the grape upon the sunny slopesHer colour bring! Now, the pears;So shall your children's children pluck their fruit.

Time carries all things, even our wits, away.Oft, as a boy, I sang the sun to rest,But all those songs are from my memory fled,And even his voice is failing Moeris now;The wolves eyed Moeris first: but at your wishMenalcas will repeat them oft enow.

Your pleas but linger out my heart's desire:Now all the deep is into silence hushed,And all the murmuring breezes sunk to sleep.We are half-way thither, for Bianor's tombBegins to show: here, Moeris, where the hindsAre lopping the thick leafage, let us sing.Set down the kids, yet shall we reach the town;Or, if we fear the night may gather rainEre we arrive, then singing let us go,Our way to lighten; and, that we may thusGo singing, I will case you of this load.

Cease, boy, and get we to the work in hand:We shall sing better when himself is come.