ECLOGUE VI.
SILENUS.
My Muse at first did condescend to sing
In Syracusan verse, nor did she blush
To dwell in simple woodland. As for me,
As I was praising battles fierce, and kings,
Apollo twitched my ear, with this advice:
"A shepherd, Tityrus, may tend fat sheep,
But it becomes him to subdue his song."
Now will I hold my slender reed awhile
And meditate upon the Muse of fields;
For there be many, Varus, who will long
To tell thy praises, and describe grim wars.
Nor do I sing a quite unbidden strain:
But if there should be one to read my verse,
Induced by love—oh, Varus, every grove
And all our shrubs shall surely sing of thee.
There is no page that pleases Phœbus more
Than does that one that Varus' name doth bear.
Muses, continue. In a cave, two boys
Chromis, and Mnasylos, Silenus found
Lying asleep, all swollen with the wine
Of yesterday, as always he is seen.
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