1Tell me, Damoetas, whose flock is this? Meliboeus'? 2No, it is Aegon's; 2Aegon handed it over to me lately. 3O sheep, ever an unlucky flock! While he himself fondles Neaera, and fears she may prefer me to him, this hired keeper milks the ewes twice in an hour, and the strength is drained from the flock and the milk from the lambs. 7Still, remember that such taunts should be thrown at men more sparingly: we know who had you, while the he-goats looked askance, and in what shrine—but the Nymphs were easygoing and laughed. 10Then, I suppose, when they saw me slashing at Micon's orchard and young vines with a spiteful pruning-knife.
12Or here by the old beeches, when you broke Daphnis' bow and reeds, perverse Menalcas; you were aggrieved when you saw them given to the boy, and had you not done him some harm, you would have died. 16What can masters do, when thieves dare such things! 17Did I not see you, you scoundrel, catching Damon's goat in an ambush, while Lycisca barked loudly? 19and when I shouted, 'Where is he rushing off to now? 20Tityrus, gather the flock,' you were hiding behind the sedges. 21Was he not to give me, beaten in singing, the goat my pipe had won by its songs? 23In case you do not know, that goat was mine; 23and Damon himself admitted it to me, but said he could not give it up.
25You beat him in singing? Or did you ever own a pipe joined with wax? 26Were you not the one, you dunce, who used to murder a wretched tune on a screeching straw at the crossroads? 28Do you want us, then, to test between us in turn what each can do? 29I stake this heifer—in case you should refuse, she comes twice a day to the milking-pail and feeds two calves at her udder—: you say what stake you will match against me. 32I would not dare to stake anything from the flock against you. 33For I have a father at home, and an unjust stepmother; 34and twice a day they both count the flock, and one of them the kids as well.
35But, something you yourself will admit is far greater, since you are set on playing the madman, I will stake beechwood cups, the carved work of divine Alcimedon; 38on them a pliant vine, added by a deft lathe, clothes clusters of berries spread with pale ivy: in the middle are two figures, Conon, and—who was the other, who marked out with his rod the whole heavens for the nations, what seasons the reaper, what seasons the bent ploughman should keep? 43I have not yet put my lips to them, but keep them stored away. 44For me too the same Alcimedon made two cups, and wreathed the handles round with soft acanthus, and set Orpheus in the middle and the woods following him.
47I have not yet put my lips to them, but keep them stored away: if you look at the heifer, there is nothing to praise in the cups. 49You will never escape today; 49I will come wherever you call me; only let him hear this—even he who is coming, look, Palaemon—I will make sure you never challenge anyone with your voice again. 52Come on, then, if you have anything; there will be no delay on my part, nor do I flee from anyone: only, neighbour Palaemon, lay this deep in your mind—it is no small matter. 55Sing, since we have sat down on the soft grass: and now every field, now every tree is bearing, now the woods are in leaf, now the year is at its loveliest.
58Begin, Damoetas; 58you then follow, Menalcas: you will sing in turn; 59the Camenae love alternate song. 60From Jupiter is the beginning, Muses; 60all things are full of Jupiter: he tends the earth, my songs are his concern. 62And Phoebus loves me; 62Phoebus' own gifts are always with me, laurels and the sweetly blushing hyacinth. 64Galatea pelts me with an apple, a playful girl, and runs off to the willows, and wants to be seen first. 66But my flame Amyntas offers himself to me unasked, so that now even Delia is no better known to my dogs. 68I have gifts ready for my Venus: for I have marked myself the place where the airy wood-pigeons have built.
70What I could, I have sent the boy: ten golden apples picked from a woodland tree; 71tomorrow I will send ten more. 72O how often, and what words, Galatea has spoken to me! 73Some part of them, winds, carry to the ears of the gods! 74What good is it, Amyntas, that you yourself do not spurn me in your heart. 75if, while you hunt the boars, I am left to watch the nets? 76Send me Phyllis: it is my birthday, Iollas; 77when I sacrifice a heifer for the crops, come yourself. 78I love Phyllis above all others; 78for she wept when I left, and said a long 'Farewell, farewell, lovely Iollas.' 80The wolf is a grim thing to the folds, rain to the ripe crops.
81winds to the trees, to me the anger of Amaryllis. 82Moisture is sweet to the sown corn, the arbutus to the weaned kids, the pliant willow to the breeding flock, to me Amyntas alone. 84Pollio loves our Muse, though she is rustic: Pierian Muses, fatten a heifer for your reader. 86Pollio himself too makes new songs: fatten a bull that already butts with its horn and scatters the sand with its hooves. 88May he who loves you, Pollio, come where he may rejoice that you too have come: may honey flow for him, and the rough bramble bear spice. 90Let him who does not hate Bavius love your songs, Maevius, and let him also yoke foxes and milk he-goats.
92You who gather flowers and strawberries growing low on the ground, flee from here, O boys: a chill snake lurks in the grass. 94Sheep, do not go too far forward; 94the bank is not safely trusted; 95the ram himself is even now drying his fleece. 96Tityrus, drive the grazing she-goats back from the river: when it is time, I myself will wash them all in the spring. 98Gather the sheep, boys; 98if the heat dries up the milk first, as it did lately, we shall squeeze the udders with our palms in vain. 100Alas, alas, how lean my bull is amid the rich vetch! 101The same love is ruin to the herd and to the herd's master.
102With these, surely, it is not even love that is the cause; 102they scarcely cling to their bones. 103Some evil eye or other bewitches my tender lambs. 104Tell me in what lands—and you will be great Apollo to me—the expanse of the sky lies open no more than three ells wide. 106Tell me in what lands flowers grow inscribed with the names of kings, and have Phyllis for yourself alone. 108It is not for me to settle so great a dispute between you. 109You deserve the heifer, and so does he, and so does whoever will either fear the sweetness of love or taste its bitterness. 111Close the channels now, boys; the meadows have drunk enough.