poem 1

1.1
You, Tityrus, 'neath a broad beech-canopy
1.2
reclining, on the slender oat rehearse
1.3
your silvan ditties: I from my sweet fields,
1.4
and home's familiar bounds, even now depart.
1.5
Exiled from home am I; while, Tityrus, you
1.6
sit careless in the shade, and, at your call,
1.7
“Fair Amaryllis” bid the woods resound.
1.8
O Meliboeus, 'twas a god vouchsafed
1.9
this ease to us, for him a god will I
1.10
deem ever, and from my folds a tender lamb
1.11
oft with its life-blood shall his altar stain.
1.12
His gift it is that, as your eyes may see,
1.13
my kine may roam at large, and I myself
1.14
play on my shepherd's pipe what songs I will.
1.15
I grudge you not the boon, but marvel more,
1.16
such wide confusion fills the country-side.
1.17
See, sick at heart I drive my she-goats on,
1.18
and this one, O my Tityrus, scarce can lead:
1.19
for 'mid the hazel-thicket here but now
1.20
she dropped her new-yeaned twins on the bare flint,
1.21
hope of the flock—an ill, I mind me well,
1.22
which many a time, but for my blinded sense,
1.23
the thunder-stricken oak foretold, oft too
1.24
from hollow trunk the raven's ominous cry.
1.25
But who this god of yours? Come, Tityrus, tell.
1.26
The city, Meliboeus, they call Rome ,
1.27
I, simpleton, deemed like this town of ours,
1.28
whereto we shepherds oft are wont to drive
1.29
the younglings of the flock: so too I knew
1.30
whelps to resemble dogs, and kids their dams,