Virgil: Ecologa Prima (complete)
The culmination of all of it, my last translation of senior year: the completed first chapter of Virgil’s Eclogues. Here is the Dialogue of Meliboeus and Tityrus!
Meliboeus
Tityrus, you, lying beneath the shade of the beech tree,
play again and again a delicate woodland song on your panpipe;
We forsake the borders of the fatherland and the sweet earth.
We flee the fatherland; you, Tityrus, sluggish in the shade
sing so that the beautiul woods resound with Amaryllida.
Tityrus
O Meliboeus, our god made these leisures.
In fact that god will always have been mine, a tender
lamb from our sheepfold often wets his altar.
He allows for my cows to wander, as you can see, and allows himself
who may want to play on the rustic panpipe.
Meliboeus
I do not envy, rather, I marvel; I approach
and all the time the whole countryside is disturbed on all sides.
Lo! Ill in myself, I drive on my goats; and I lead on these goats with difficulty, Tityrus.
Here among the dense hazel trees, the poor thing bore twins,
the hope of my flock, alas, she left them there on the bare stone.
Often I have remembered that this evil was prophesized to me
by the oak struck by the sky, if my mind had not been dulled.
But however, Tityrus, tell me who this god of yours is.
Tityrus
The city they call Rome, Meliboeus, I stupidly
thought that it was like ours, to which the shepherds
often were accustomed to herd the tender lambs of our sheepfold.
Thus I was accustomed to know puppies like dogs,
thus kids like mothers, thus small was built into large.
Truly this city raised its head so far between others
as cypress trees are accustomed to do among weeping willows.
Meliboeus
And what was the great cause for you to see Rome?
Tityrus
Liberty, which finally gazed, though late, in my idleness,
after the whiskers of my beard fell clear,
she gazed finally and came after a long time,
after Amaryllis had us, and Galatea left.
In fact - that is to say I will admit - while Galatea held me,
there was neither hope of liberty nor care of savings.
My hand never returned home heavy with money,
however much sacrifice put forth from my sheepfolds
and rich cheese pressed for the ungrateful city.
Meliboeus
Amaryllis, I wondered why you called so mournfully on the gods,
for whom you left the apples on the trees.
Tityrus was not here. For you, Tityrus, the pines themselves,
the very springs, the orchards themselves were calling out.
Tityrus
What could I do? I was not allowed to be rid of my servitude
and could not find gods so ready to help.
Here I saw that young man, Meliboeus, for whom
twice a year our altars smoke six days,
here he was first to respond to my ask
'Boy, graze your cattle as before, raise your bulls.'
Meliboeus
Fortunate old man, so these lands will remain yours
and big enough for you, however much bare stone
and muddy marsh cover all your pastures.
No strange plants will tempt your heavy ewes,
nor contagious disease from a neighbor’s flock will infect them.
Fortunate old man, here among noted streams
and scared springs you’ll find cool shade;
here for you, which always, from the neighboring limit, the hedge,
Hybla’s bees feed on flowers and willows
often will induce smooth sleep to enter, whispering;
here beneath the high cliff the gardener sings to the breeze,
meanwhile, for your care, the raucous wood-pigeons
and turtle doves do not cease to coo by the elm tree.
Tityrus
So the deer will be grazed before on the air
and the seas will draw back leaving nude fish on the shore,
the exiled Parthian will drink the Arar, or the German the Tigris,
both exiled and wondering each other’s boundaries,
before which his face will waver from my heart.
Meliboeus
But we must go there, some to the thirsting Africans,
some come to Scythia and Crete’s swift oxen
and the far off Britons wholly separated from the united world.
Lo! Will I ever gaze on the shores of my country, after a long time,
and my poor cottage, roof crowded with grass,
after so much, will I gaze on corn?
An impious soldier will have these so cherished fields,
a barbarian will hae these crops. Lo! What discord creates
miserable countrymen; we sowed our fields for this?!
Now plant, Meliboeus, your pear-tree, plant your rows of vines.
Go, my once-lucky flock, go, my goats.
I’ll no longer see you, abandoned in a green hollow
at a distance depending on rocks overgrown with thorn;
I’ll sing no more songs; I will not graze you, my goats,
and you will chew the flowering clover and the bitter willows.
Tityrus
Here you may rest with me this night
on green leaves. There are ripe apples for us here,
tender chestnuts and plenty of pressed cheese,
and now near the high roofs of the rustic homes, smoking,
long shadows fall from the high mountains.
This poem is such a cool one, and I’m glad I picked it as my last project! One of the things I love most about Vergil is his nature imagery, and there’s lots abound here. I think the contrast of Vergil’s nature imagery alongside his political commentary makes for a heartbreaking and honest slice of Roman agrarian life, which I thoroughly enjoyed.
Translating Latin is a window to the past, and it’s one of my favorite things on the planet. To be able to connect with the emotions of people who lived thousands of years ago is a certain kind of magic. I’m really proud of myself for translating this whole thing, it was certainly an undertaking.
