the  cyclops
strophe
You there, with the fine pedigree
on both sides, dam and sire,
why run for the rocks?
Haven't you here a quiet breeze,
green grass for the grazing?	45
Look: the water from the brook
beside the cave
swirls through your troughs
and the small lambs bleat.
(To an obstinate ram.]
Hey, you too? Are you off as well
to crop on the dew on the hill?	50
Move, or I'll pelt you with stones!
In with you, horny-head, move along
into the fold of Shepherd Cyclops!
(To a stubborn ewe.)
antistrophe
Relieve your swollen teats!	55
Come, suckle your young whom you left
all alone in the lamb-pens!
Asleep all day, your new-born lambs
bleat that they want you.
Leave your cropping and into the fold,	60
into the rocks of Etna!
[Hey, you too? Are you off as well
to crop on the dew on the hill?
Move, or I'll pelt you with stones!
In with you, horny-head, move along
into the fold of Shepherd Cyclops!]
epode
No Bacchus here! Not here the dance,
or the women whirling the thyrsos,
or the timbrels shaken,	65
where the springs rill up!