Eclogues, The

<SPAN name="book04"></SPAN> <h3> ECLOGUE IV<br/> </h3> <h3> POLLIO<br/> </h3> <p class="poem"> Muses of Sicily, essay we now<br/> A somewhat loftier task! Not all men love<br/> Coppice or lowly tamarisk: sing we woods,<br/> Woods worthy of a Consul let them be.<br/></p> <p class="poem"> Now the last age by Cumae's Sibyl sung<br/> Has come and gone, and the majestic roll<br/> Of circling centuries begins anew:<br/> Justice returns, returns old Saturn's reign,<br/> With a new breed of men sent down from heaven.<br/> Only do thou, at the boy's birth in whom<br/> The iron shall cease, the golden race arise,<br/> Befriend him, chaste Lucina; 'tis thine own<br/> Apollo reigns. And in thy consulate,<br/> This glorious age, O Pollio, shall begin,<br/> And the months enter on their mighty march.<br/> Under thy guidance, whatso tracks remain<br/> Of our old wickedness, once done away,<br/> Shall free the earth from never-ceasing fear.<br/> He shall receive the life of gods, and see<br/> Heroes with gods commingling, and himself<br/> Be seen of them, and with his father's worth<br/> Reign o'er a world at peace. For thee, O boy,<br/> First shall the earth, untilled, pour freely forth<br/> Her childish gifts, the gadding ivy-spray<br/> With foxglove and Egyptian bean-flower mixed,<br/> And laughing-eyed acanthus. Of themselves,<br/> Untended, will the she-goats then bring home<br/> Their udders swollen with milk, while flocks afield<br/> Shall of the monstrous lion have no fear.<br/> Thy very cradle shall pour forth for thee<br/> Caressing flowers. The serpent too shall die,<br/> Die shall the treacherous poison-plant, and far<br/> And wide Assyrian spices spring. But soon<br/> As thou hast skill to read of heroes' fame,<br/> And of thy father's deeds, and inly learn<br/> What virtue is, the plain by slow degrees<br/> With waving corn-crops shall to golden grow,<br/> From the wild briar shall hang the blushing grape,<br/> And stubborn oaks sweat honey-dew. Nathless<br/> Yet shall there lurk within of ancient wrong<br/> Some traces, bidding tempt the deep with ships,<br/> Gird towns with walls, with furrows cleave the earth.<br/> Therewith a second Tiphys shall there be,<br/> Her hero-freight a second Argo bear;<br/> New wars too shall arise, and once again<br/> Some great Achilles to some Troy be sent.<br/> Then, when the mellowing years have made thee man,<br/> No more shall mariner sail, nor pine-tree bark<br/> Ply traffic on the sea, but every land<br/> Shall all things bear alike: the glebe no more<br/> Shall feel the harrow's grip, nor vine the hook;<br/> The sturdy ploughman shall loose yoke from steer,<br/> Nor wool with varying colours learn to lie;<br/> But in the meadows shall the ram himself,<br/> Now with soft flush of purple, now with tint<br/> Of yellow saffron, teach his fleece to shine.<br/> While clothed in natural scarlet graze the lambs.<br/> "Such still, such ages weave ye, as ye run,"<br/> Sang to their spindles the consenting Fates<br/> By Destiny's unalterable decree.<br/> Assume thy greatness, for the time draws nigh,<br/> Dear child of gods, great progeny of Jove!<br/> See how it totters- the world's orbed might,<br/> Earth, and wide ocean, and the vault profound,<br/> All, see, enraptured of the coming time!<br/> Ah! might such length of days to me be given,<br/> And breath suffice me to rehearse thy deeds,<br/> Nor Thracian Orpheus should out-sing me then,<br/> Nor Linus, though his mother this, and that<br/> His sire should aid- Orpheus Calliope,<br/> And Linus fair Apollo. Nay, though Pan,<br/> With Arcady for judge, my claim contest,<br/> With Arcady for judge great Pan himself<br/> Should own him foiled, and from the field retire.<br/></p> <p class="poem"> Begin to greet thy mother with a smile,<br/> O baby-boy! ten months of weariness<br/> For thee she bore: O baby-boy, begin!<br/> For him, on whom his parents have not smiled,<br/> Gods deem not worthy of their board or bed.<br/></p> <br/><br/><br/> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />