Page:Eclogues of Virgil (1908).djvu/34

 But, as this great match was by Corydon

And Thyrsis planned, I must prefer their joy

To my affairs. So both began the fray

In verse alternate. Muses, lend your aid

To 'mind me of the answering of their verse.

These Corydon did say, and Thyrsis those.

Nymphs of Libethins, I your worshipper

Now crave from you this boon, either to grant

To me the gift of song, as once ye gave

To Codrus, who strings verses that may rank

Nearest to Phœbus' own—or, as indeed

Not all of us may win, then will I hang

My tuneful pipe upon your sacred pine.

Arcadian shepherds, deck with ivy wreaths

Your rising poet, that with envy torn

Codrus may burst, or, should he praise too much

Then bind my brow with foxglove, that his tongue

May work no evil to the future bard.

O Delia, at thy feet now lay I down

An offering—this head of bristled boar;

And the young Micon prays thee to accept

The branching antlers of the long-lived stag.

Had it been fitting, thou shouldst stand erect

In polished marble shown, with buskins red.

A bowl of milk, Priapus, and these cakes,

Thou, year by year, mayest look for, and no more.

Of a poor garden, thou the keeper art.

For the time being, marble is thy form,

But, should the flock increase, 'twill be of gold.