Page:Eclogues of Virgil (1908).djvu/26



Sore wept the Nymphs at sight of Daphnis slain.

O hazel brakes and running rivers, ye

Witnessed their sorrow! there whilst she embraced

Her son's poor corpse, his mother called to gods

And to the stars that pitied not her woe.

In those sad days, Daphnis, men did neglect

To drive their cattle, as was once their wont

To the cool streams—so the four-footed tribe

Pined, but in vain, for pasture and for drink.

Daphnis, the hills and woods tell wondrous tales

How Punic lions mourned at thy decease.

Ofttimes, at Daphnis' bidding, men did bind

Tigresses of Armenia to his car

And worshippers of Bacchus proudly stepped

Their tall wands twisted round with foliage soft.

The glory of the vine makes fair the elm

As do her grapes the vine. Bulls are the pride

Of the mild lowing herds: the golden corn

Adorns the smiling fields. So thou alone

Didst glorify thy race—but—thou art gone!

By cruel fate. Since then the land is left

By Pales and Apollo, desolate.

In the warm furrows, where our barley grew

Now spring the barren darnel, and wild oats.

Violets have let sharp thistles take their place

And thorny shrubs banished Narcissus bright.

Oh shepherds! Daphnis bids you strew green leaves