A young shepherd named Gallus is lost to a hopeless passion, and the natural world seems to echo his grief. The speaker calls on the nymph Arethusa to lend her stream’s spirit to this song, asking where the Naiads were when Gallus needed them. Mountains like Maenalus and Lycaeus, along with the god Sylvan carrying lilies and budding wands, all weep for him; even Pan, the Arcadian god, looks on with knowing sadness. The mood is tender, full of a quiet, spreading sympathy—not a loud lament but a sorrow that seeps into forests and crags, turning them into witnesses. Toward the end, a blunt question cuts through: “What madness is this, Gallus?” His heart’s devotion willingly chases someone who doesn’t want him. The speaker feels that ache deeply, his voice blending with the ancient landscape’s grief. Shelley makes the reader sense how love can madden, making a man pursue his own pain as if stepping toward a beautiful wound.
From Vergil's Tenth Eclogue — Summary
[VERSES 1-26.]
Melodious Arethusa, o'er my verse Shed thou once more the spirit of thy stream: Who denies verse to Gallus? So, when thou Glidest beneath the green and purple gleam Of Syracusan waters, mayst thou flow Unmingled with the bitter Doric dew! Begin, and, whilst the goats are browsing now The soft leaves, in our way let us pursue The melancholy loves of Gallus. List! We sing not to the dead: the wild woods knew His sufferings, and their echoes... Young Naiads,...in what far woodlands wild Wandered ye when unworthy love possessed Your Gallus? Not where Pindus is up-piled, Nor where Parnassus' sacred mount, nor where Aonian Aganippe expands... The laurels and the myrtle-copses dim. The pine-encircled mountain, Maenalus, The cold crags of Lycaeus, weep for him; And Sylvan, crowned with rustic coronals, Came shaking in his speed the budding wands And heavy lilies which he bore: we knew Pan the Arcadian.
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'What madness is this, Gallus? Thy heart's care With willing steps pursues another there.'