The Setting of Eclogue 2

         Eclogue 2 is set with greater specificity in respect to both place and time.  In fact, the passage of time is noted during the poem.  It starts at the hottest part of the day (sole sub ardenti); it closes at sunset (sol crescentis decedens duplicat umbras).  Such a lengthy passage of time appears, of course, incredible.  Also, as Coleman notes, the presence of reapers (messoribus) indicates that the harvest period is in full swing (ba-dum tis).  The Mediterranean agricultural calendar would place this in the Spring.

We also find out that we are in Sicily, the traditional Greek pastoral location.  The poem is, in fact, responsive to Theocritus’ Idyll 11, in which the Sicilian cyclops Polyphemus sings to Galatea.  Williams points out that Vergil adapts the contrast between Polyphemus (land) and Galatea (sea) to Corydon (rural) and Alexis (urban).  More specifically, Corydon sings to mountains and woods.  The terms used, montibus and silvis, suggest the wilderness, as compared to the more tame, pastoral grove (Coleman 92).  Such, then, is the location of the beech trees mentioned in line 3.  Corydon later admits his preference for such an environment (as compared to the urban life), nobis placeant omnia siluae.   

A few of Corydon’s references are noteworthy in their relation to setting.  Actaeo Aracyntho is a bit uncertain.  The Aracynthus mountain in Acarnania is more well-known, but Coleman suggests that it refers to a mountain on the border of Attica and Boeotia.  Further, Actaeo is not from actaeus (Greek aktaios ‘coastal’), but Akte, Aktaia was an ancient name for Attica (96-7).  Separately, the reference to Paris recalls the time when he was a herdsman on Mount Ida.  Shortly thereafter he will give his infamous judgment and acquire his own mate.  

A perk of the tardiness of this post is that I was inspired to share a piece of modern song as well:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-aK6JnyFmk (California Dreamin'). Considering our current locale, I think that we can relate. It is also worth a watch for its exhibition '60s costuming and white-people dancing.

Flock, Herd, Cattle: Animals in Eclogues II

This week I would like to (partially) devote my attention to pecus:  

pecus, -oris, n: a flock or herd, freq.; cattle
pecus, -udis, f: one animal of a flock or herd: an animal, a sheep

pecus, -us/-udis, m: a head of small cattle, one of a flock; a sheep

    Going through the first two Eclogues, I thought the only way to make a distinction between flock/herd/cattle, was through context.  Then I noticed their forms.  Please forgive me if this is obvious, it was a revelation for me...  Although all three words can mean flock/herd, in Eclogues I, II and III, it seems Virgil uses the neuter form in the singular when describing a flock of sheep or goats, as well as a single sheep:  

quam dives pecoris   (Eclogue II.20)

how rich in flocks

pecoris, n, gen., sing.

ite meae felix quandam pecus ite capellae   (Eclogue I.75)

Go, once happy flock, go my little goats

dic mihi Damoeta cuium pecus an Meliboei?   (Eclogue III.1)

Tell me, Damoetas of who is this flock, of Meliboeus?

pecus, n?, nom., sing.

et sucus pecori et lac subducitur agnis   (Eclogue III.6)

both the juice is taken from the sheep and milk from the lamb 

pecori, n, dat., sing.

But, uses the feminine plural when referring to a group of cattle:

nunc etiam pecudes umbras et frigora captant   (Eclogue II.8)

still now my cattle seek the cool and shade

pecudes, f, nom., pl.

    Sometimes when describing herds of sheep/goat Virgil uses the term grex (gregis, m) (Eclogue II.30; Eclogue III.32).  I assume the choice between his use of grex or pecus lies within meter....

Now that my mind is swimming with flocks of goats and herds of cattle, I looked to Theocritus for guidance but was met with more questions.  Eclogue III borrows the first line of Theocritus' Idyll 4: "Tell me, Corydon, whose cows are these? Do they belong to Philondas?". Theocritus makes clear which species of animal using the Greek αἱ βόες (fem., nom., pl.) meaning cows,  Εἰπέ μοι, ὦ Κορύδων, τίνος αἱ βόες; ἦ ῥα Φιλώνδα (Idyll 4.1).  Thus, if Virgil models this particular line in Ecolgue III so closely, is my analysis of pecus completely unhinged?  Is he in fact referring to cattle and not the flock?

    In Greek, βοῦς can either be masculine or feminine depending on the, well, author, and what they are referring to-- ox or cow.  When referring to oxen, rather than using the masculine, pecus, Virgil uses the term iuvencus (-i, m) meaning a "bullock" a.k.a. ox (yes, I had to google bullock) or young man-- I am sure this has to do with meter as well...

aspice aratra iugo referunt suspensa iuvenci     (Eclogue II.66)

look, the oxen bring back the plough having been hung from the yoke

To end, how does one yoke an ox?  Every time I read this line I just picture a dozen egg yokes dripping from the top of a cow's head.  That must be wrong.  In antiquity an ox, or cow, rarely an ass, but preferably an ox, would be yoked either from the horns or the neck using a piece of wood fitted to go over the oxen's horns, or fitted above the oxen's necks and secured by either leather straps or a U-shape lock that is inserted into the wood piece.  Did I do a terrible job of explaining that?  I am sure of it, so here is a video, albeit modern:

The plough would then be attached to the yoke, either from the middle:

(Thank you https://collection.sciencemuseumgroup.org.uk/objects/co38798/model-of-ancient-roman-plough-model-representation)

or from the sides:

Silver coin, Octavian, veiled and laureate, ploughing with yoke of oxen right, holding whip in left hand. (reverse) Head of Apollo, laureate, right. (obverse), 29BC-27BC, Minted in: Italy (Brundisium and Rome?), The British Museum, R.6171

The oxen pulled plough first appeared on coins in the Republic, usually with the bust of the goddess Ceres on the other side. This coin, however, was minted after Augustus founded the city of Nicopolis in honor of his victory at the Battle of Actium, so humble. It shows Augustus literally ploughing the foundation lines of the city. Holy cow, I digress... I believe we shall meet the plough again in Virgil's Georgics, so let this be our aperitif.  

 An example of adynata from the 1970s!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EsQUDm1m0gs

Mama Cass had an amazing voice, a colorful (to say the least)  life, and a horrible (to say the least) death: Mama Cass Rolling Stone

Alert--keep an eye out for adynata in Ecl.4!  Meanwhile, enjoy these from Ovid Met 1--as always, Ovid takes a trope and takes it one step beyond:


 Occupat hic collem, cumba sedet alter adunca
et ducit remos illic, ubi nuper arabat:
ille supra segetes aut mersae culmina villae               295
navigat, hic summa piscem deprendit in ulmo.
figitur in viridi, si fors tulit, ancora prato,
aut subiecta terunt curvae vineta carinae;
et, modo qua graciles gramen carpsere capellae,
nunc ibi deformes ponunt sua corpora phocae.               300
mirantur sub aqua lucos urbesque domosque
Nereides, silvasque tenent delphines et altis
incursant ramis agitataque robora pulsant.
  There one man escapes to a hilltop, while another seated in his rowing boat pulls the oars over places where lately he was ploughing. One man sails over his cornfields or over the roof of his drowned farmhouse, while another man fishes in the topmost branches of an elm. Sometimes, by chance, an anchor embeds itself in a green meadow, or the curved boats graze the tops of vineyards. Where lately lean goats browsed shapeless seals play. The Nereids are astonished to see woodlands, houses and whole towns under the water. There are dolphins in the trees: disturbing the upper branches and stirring the oak-trees as they brush against them. Wolves swim among the sheep, and the waves carry tigers and tawny lions. The boar has no use for his powerful tusks, the deer for its quick legs, both are swept away together, and the circling bird, after a long search for a place to land, falls on tired wings into the water.  (translation: Kline)

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Shades, Colors, and Time: Eclogues 2

Unfortunately, this post will be a little shorter than usual. There is not much in regards to shade, but it is still a great facet in this "monologue." In Eclogues 2, shade plays a different role. Shade and shadow are used almost as a replacement for the romantic gestures found in Eclogues 1. What was once used as a rest now brings turmoil and loneliness! Tragic. Light and dark are also mentioned here, but in terms of color (often in comparison), and not in lighting. The following are mentions of shade, shadow, and light/dark themes:

tantum inter densas, umbrosa cacumina, fagos adsidue veniebat. (2.3-4)

    He is alone, under the cover of trees. It is a scene that invokes anger and loneliness.

nunc etiam pecudes umbras et frigora captant. (2.9)

    The sheep also desire to remove   themselves from the warm sun (which is now burning) - also showing that this is no longer a pleasant and relaxing moment like it was seen in Eclogues 1.

nonne Menalcan, quam vis ille niger, quamvis tu candidus esses?

...alba ligustra cadunt, vaccinia nigra leguntur. (2.15-18)

    The difference between light and dark (white and black) in skin color, but Menalcan should not believe that color means much to her love. O beautiful boy, do not believe too much in the colors!

Before, we saw the use of light and dark as a passage of time (we still sort of see this throughout the monologue, but not as definite as Eclogues 1). Now, we see light and dark as physical markers. Things are dark, black, light, and white in our observation of the world in Eclogues 2. The ripe colors of fruits, the flowers that fall versus the ones are chosen - the world is expanded beyond shaded tree areas. I think it could be argued that these uses also show longer passages of time, like noting the seasons, especially for harvesting.

The Quince: A Quaint Fruit in Eclogue 2

    In Eclogue 2 the main mention of food is in the middle of the speech Corydon flings at the countryside. In lines 51 – 53, Corydon says, “Ipse ego cana legam tenera lanugine mala, / castaneasque nuces, mea quas Amaryllis amabat; / addam cerea pruna: honos erit huic quoque pomo; (I myself will pick quinces with white, soft down, and chestnuts, which my Amaryllis used to love; I will add waxen plums: this fruit too will be honored).”  The words I would like to draw attention to are mala and pomo. Here are the Lewis and Short definitions for both:

malum, -i, n.: an apple, i. e. any tree-fruit fleshy on the outside, and having a kernel within (opp. nux); hence, applied also to quinces, pomegranates, peaches, oranges, lemons, etc.)

            pomum, -i n.: fruit of any kind (apples, cherries, nuts, berries, figs, dates, etc.)

Malum and pomum cover a lot of ground (not unlike strawberry plants) in the world of Latin fruit terminology: the former meaning a large category of fruits and the latter meaning fruit in general. Malum, in particular, piqued my interest since in this context it means “quince” a fruit with which I am not familiar. According to my Wegmans app, quinces taste like a cross between an apple and a pear (with an “astringent, tart flavor”). They are dry with hard, yellowish-white flesh, better when cooked, and 2 for $4.00 (at least at the Alberta Drive location). I also came across a book by W. W. Meech (the secretary of the Vineland Horticultural Society, and an honorary member of the New Jersey State Horticultural Society) published in 1888, titled, Quince Culture: An Illustrated Hand-Book for the Propagation and Cultivation of the Quince, with Descriptions of its Varieties, Insect Enemies, Diseases and their Remedies. In the preface to his work, Meech states, “The demand for a work on quince culture is urgent, and is shown by many letters of inquiry from all parts of the country. Solicitations have been numerous, asking the author to write this book and give the world the results of his experience” (9). And so, Meech answered the call.

            While Meech’s work is thorough, illuminating, and quite informative, and I hope everyone reads it in its entirety (amateur entomologists would particularly enjoy chapter 19 on the “Insect Enemies of the Quince” (“The insect enemies of the quince exceed [four to six], but are not so numerous as the enemies of the apple”(97)), for our purposes, chapter 1 on the “History of the Quince” is the most relevant. The quince is native to southern Europe and western Asia and it was not the apple in the Garden of Eden myth which tempted Eve, but the quince, a misconception perpetuated no doubt by the popularized use of “apple” as a definition for malum (dare I say this is the tyranny of the apple?). The Greeks called the quince the “Cydonian Apple” after a city on Crete where it grew abundantly and Meech states that the Greeks “found it then, as now, ‘both toothsome and wholesome’” (14) though he does not say which Greeks, past or contemporary, said this. Apparently, the Greeks also dedicated quinces to Venus, and, “according to Plutarch, Solon enacted a law that this fruit should be the invariable feast of each newly-wedded pair before they retired to their nuptial couch,” an association perhaps being put to use in the second Eclogue.

            Indeed, Meech noticed the quince’s appearance in Vergil, and since there is no way I could do justice to Meech’s prose by paraphrasing, allow me to quote him:

From the classic plains of Greece, where it may have formed the sacred shade of Academus, this golden fruit, in genial fellowship with literature and the arts, traveled into Italy, where Virgil, the prince of Latin poets, threw over its own inherent charms the rhythmic spell of his enchanting lays. One of the magic effusions of his genius appears in the beautiful lament of the shepherd Damon, in the VIIIth Eclogue, where he honors the quince by placing it among the select exponents of a higher order of nature, hypothetically conceived to illustrate the irremediable determination of the lover’s despair. (14)    

Forget waxy plums, honos erat huic quoque pomo.

            But though the quince’s poetic uses are numerous (and if I hadn’t just used the phrase “waxy plums”, know that I would have made some joke about waxing poetic here), Corydon was picking the fruit for a more gastronomic purpose. As Professor Malamud explained last class, quinces are best enjoyed not when freshly picked, although according to Meech, the variety of quince that grew in Hebron in the West Bank (and maybe ancient Italy?) was mild enough to eat raw, but when they have been cooked. And cook them we should, since quinces, according to both Meech (they will basically cure your dropsy!) and more recent sources like healthline.com (please consult your doctor before making any changes to your diet) and at least one article in the Journal of the Science of Food and Agriculture, quinces are packed full of all sorts of vitamins and enough antioxidants to take care of all your free radicals. Even if your primary method of quince consumption is through jam, you don’t have to worry about losing any of those antioxidants to the cooking process thanks to research presented in the article titled “Changes in the Antioxidant Properties of Quince Fruit (Cydonia oblonga Miller) during Jam Production at Industrial Scale”. If, however, you prefer marmalade to jam… I don’t have an article about the changes in antioxidant properties during marmalade production. But Meech would want you to know that the Portuguese word for quince is “marmelo” which is where the word marmalade comes from (15-16). I know I for one will be adding quinces to my grocery list (if they ever go on sale because seriously you could get 3lbs of apples for a dollar less than the price of one quince) and perhaps I’ll make Quince Biscuit Pie, described as a “…homey dessert of quince simmered in maple syrup and baked with cornmeal biscuits … made ethereal by clouds of maple whipped cream” or maybe just a simple quince jam. As we have seen, the humble quince is poetic all on its own, even without the etherealizing help of maple whipped cream clouds.     

    I will end this post with a final quotation from Quince Culture that truly encapsulates the not-yet-met potential of the quince and its most quintessential qualities. And so, once more into the Meech: “Let this fruit, for which there is no substitute, be no longer only a luxury within the means of the rich, but become so common and abundant that it may be enjoyed by all. It will greatly increase the true wealth of the nation to provide all classes with all varieties of fruits in their seasons, and so extend the means of health and happiness” (12). 

The Uncouth Caesura, or Just Greek? Some Metrical Considerations of Eclogue 2

R. D. Williams points out verses in Eclogue 2 that show peculiar rhythms, and here I want to look at some of these in a bit more detail, specifically in reference to the the main caesura (sense pause) of each. As far as I can tell, the rhythmically peculiar lines are 4, 6, 7, 24 (pointed out by Prof. Malamud in class), 53, and 65. 

* I will be using the ‘/’ to denote caesurae, ‘--’ for long syllables, ‘u’ for short syllables, ‘x’ for anceps, ‘|’ for feet.

**For reference, I am using The Meters of Greek and Latin Poetry, by Halporn, Ostwald, and Rosenmeyer (1994). 

Both Greek and Latin epic hexameter (based on the verses of Homer), as we know, share many of the same qualities (and quantities). Any given line consists of six metrical units of either dactyls (-- u u) or spondees (-- --), where any two shorts can be replaced by one long (but not vice versa). The last unit of the line is always disyllabic (-- x).

Before I note any differences, we should first note the rhythm—and I am speaking here of ‘rhythm’ in a narrow sense, as determined by the location of the main caesura in a line—that is most common to both Greek and Latin: where the caesura appears after the third longum (i.e, the first syllable of the third foot). To get a sense of this, we only need to look at two of the most famous lines in epic poetry, Iliad 1.1 and Aeneid 1.1.:

Μῆνιν ἄειδε, θεὰ, / Πηληιάδεω Ἀχιλῆος     

Arma virumque cano / Troiae qui primus ab oris

In both opening lines, the caesura appears in its typical position: after the third longum. Homer pauses after the vocative ‘goddess’; Vergil after ‘I sing’. The pauses effectively set apart “Sing wrath, goddess” from “of Peleus’ son Achilles”; and “I sing of arms and a man” from “who first from the shores of Troy.” Such pauses can be used to great effect in any given line.

The lines in question of Eclogue 2 are ‘unusual’ in the sense that they depart from this scheme—not towards an alternative scheme that is common in Latin hexameter, but towards one that is much more common in Greek. Lines 4, 6, 7, 24, 53, and 65 all shift the pause one syllable farther, after the first brevis (short) of the third foot. So, for instance, line 4:

adsidue veniebat. / ibi haec incondita solus

The typical spot for the caesura would be at venie/bat, but that can’t be the case here because it is the middle of a word. So in lines 6-7:

O crudelis Alexi, / nihil mea carmina curas?

Nil nostri miserere? / mori me denique cogis?

Here too, a typical caesura would have cut up Alexi and miserere, and so the pause is moved to the end of the word (where it usually appears). These lines, each with its caesura after the third short, might remind you of another very famous line, Odyssey 1.1.:

Ἄνδρα μοι ἔννεπε, Μοῦσα, / πολύτροπον, ὃς μάλα πολλὰ

Here, there is a pause after Μοῦσα. But since this placement is typical for Greek but not Latin, it could easily lead one to wonder why Vergil has done it—and so many times in one poem (see also vv. 24, 53, 65). Does it convey uncouthness or Greekness? Is it meant to convey either one of these, or could they be signs of a young Vergil? It makes me think of Nozomu’s comments on whether or not Vergil could be ‘trying out’ certain things in the mouth of a poetaster such as Corydon. Interesting that five of the six lines occur during Corydon’s song.

It is, of course, very likely that Vergil did this deliberately, for reasons of poetics. Line 24, mentioned in class, seems to be one of these:

            Amphion Dircaeus / in Actaeo Aracyntho.

Since the line’s heaviness was mentioned in class, I have scanned it here:

            --      --|--  --|  -- u / u|  --  -- |-- u u| --   --.

            Amphion Dircaeus in Actaeo Aracyntho.        (Note the hiatus in the fifth foot.)

As Prof. Malamud said, all of these words refer to Greek names. Three of the lines with this type of caesura occur in direct addresses (or questions) to Alexis (vv. 6-7, 65), who has, notably, a Greek name, and is the subject of Corydon’s incondita. What to make of Vergil connecting Greek caesurae with Greek subjects? The whole poem, after all, is Greek in a sense. Should we even care about these specific lines? Again, the frequency of them and their contexts, in my mind, make them worthy of further consideration.  

The Sk8ter Boi and the Ballerina: Characters in Eclogue 2

 

Corydon: Corydon is our main character of Eclogue 2 and the sole narrator, different from the dialogue we see in Eclogue 1. His soliloquy is reminiscent of Avril Lavigne’s “Sk8er Boi” when he laments the differences in himself and Alexis. Coleman compares Corydon’s words with those of Theocritus’ Polyphemus in Idylls 11. As an enslaved goatherd, Corydon must resign to the fact of his own ineligibility.

Etymology: Corydon come from the Greek Κόρυδος meaning crested lark. Just as a bird sings in the trees, Corydon uses poetry to express his emotions about the unrequited love in his life.

Idylls: In Theocritus, the name Corydon appears twice, once in the entirety Idylls 4 as an unattractive goatherd and again in Idylls 5.6 as a bad musician. Vergil mentions his possible ugliness as well in line 25.

Other Eclogues: Corydon is named a second time in Eclogue 7 throughout the entire poem. He is a goatherd and a competitor in a rap battle against the shepherd Thyrsis (and won).

 

Alexis: The object of Corydon’s affection, Alexis is the handsome slave with the same master as Corydon. Unlike his secret admirer, Alexis is the favorite of the master, which most likely gained him special privileges, allowing him to remain “formonsus” and untouched by the sunlight.

Etymology: Alexis comes from the Greek Άλεξις meaning helper or defender (from ἀλέξω). The verb sometimes means “to ward off,” which is precisely what this character is doing to Corydon.

Idylls: The name Alexis does not appear in pastoral (besides in Vergil) and, according to Coleman, belongs to the elegiac genre of poetry.

Other Eclogues: However, Alexis shows up again in Eclogue 7.55, spoken about as “formonsus Alexis” by Corydon himself.

 

Thestylis: In Eclogue 2 Thestylis is depicted as a cook, appearing the first time to be making a concoction and the second time to be asking for Corydon’s animals (assumingly to cook them).

Etymology: Unfortunately, I was not able to find an etymology for this name, but I did find that the “Prioneris Thestylis” is a type of butterfly.

Idylls: Thestylis is mentioned in Idylls 2 as the slave to a sorceress, being ordered to do something. In Idylls 3 she is not mentioned by name, but the goatherd is describing how a servant girl wants his white she-goat with her two children, putting Vergil’s Thestylis in a similar situation.

Other Eclogues: Thestylis is only mentioned in the second Eclogue.

 

Amaryllis: In Eclogue 2 Amaryllis plays the role of disdainful ex-lover. Her anger and haughtiness is put in comparison to Alexis’ indifference.

Etymology: Coming from the Greek word αμαρύσσειν meaning “to sparkle,” the name Amaryllis is still present today. However, anyone named that now is most likely named after the flower. Even a minor planet was named 1085 Amaryllis.

Idylls: Theocritus uses this name as well in Idylls 4.36 and the entirety of Idylls 3 as a girl refusing a man’s pursuits.

Other Eclogues: As we have seen before, Amaryllis is the current girlfriend of Tityrus, one of the main characters in Eclogue 1. Looking ahead, we will see her again in 3.81, 8.77, and 9.22.

Menalcas: This character is another one of Corydon’s previous significant others.

Etymology: I could not find anything for Menalcas’ etymology, and in dictionaries it is defined as “the name of a shepherd.”

Idylls: Menalcas appears in Idylls 8 and 9 as a shepherd and a competitor in poetry battles.

Other Eclogues: In Eclogue 3 Menalcas has a main role as a competitor in a poetry battle again. In Eclogues 5 and 9 Coleman suggests that Menalcas is a representation of Vergil. Menalcas is mentioned once more in Eclogue 10.20 gathering acorns.

 

Amphion: Here, Vergil makes a reference to the Amphion of Greek mythology, a son of Zeus that, along with his twin brother Zethus, built a wall around the city of Thebes. Amphion helped build this wall by using his lyre to move the stones into place

Etymology: The name Ἀμφίων in Ancient Greek means “native of two lands.”

Idylls: Amphion is not mentioned in Theocritus’ Idylls.

Other Eclogues: He is also not mentioned in any of the other Eclogues.

 

Daphnis: Daphnis is one of the chief names in pastoral poetry as a renowned musician. He is a son of Mercury living in Theocritus’ Sicily and is thought to be the inventor of pastoral poetry. Corydon’s statement that he is in fact not Daphnis is in reference to the latter’s beauty and musical prowess and the former’s lack thereof.

Etymology: Daphnis comes from the Greek δαφνή meaning bay tree, under which this demigod was born. Daphnis is also the name of a moon orbiting Saturn.

Idylls: Idylls 1 is entirely about the life of Daphnis. He is mentioned as the same character in Idylls 5 and 7. In Idylls 6, 8, 9, and 27 Daphnis competes in a signing competition.

Other Eclogues: Eclogue 5 shows the characters mourn Daphnis’ death, and Eclogue 7 he appears as a spectator of the singing competition and possibly a judge. Eclogue 8 and 9 involve the characters invocating Daphnis as one would to a Muse.

 

Pan: Pan is the wild god of the pastoral lifestyle. He appears as half goat, half man.

Etymology: According to the Homeric Hymn to Hermes, Pan is from πάν meaning all/everything because “he delights all.”

Idylls: Pan is mentioned (as himself) in Idylls 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 27. He is usually mentioned either as a paragon of music-playing or as an oath.

Other Eclogues: In Eclogue 4 Vergil compares the child’s (Pollio’s son) musical skills to Pan’s with Arcadia serving as judge. In Eclogues 5,7, and 10 Pan is mentioned in the context of a pastoral scene.

 

Amyntas: Amyntas is an envious shepherd and a peer of Corydon.

Etymology: In Greek ἀμύντης means “defender.” Perhaps he wishes that he was the defender of the panpipe handed down from Damoetas.

Idylls: Amyntas appears in Idylls 7 as a companion to Simichidas.

Other Eclogues: Amyntas is a common name in the Eclogues mentioned in 3.66 and 10.37 as a lover and, similarly to Eclogue 2, the name appears as a jealous rival in Eclogue 5.

 

Damoetas: Damoetas is another shepherd friend of Corydon, to whom the former gifted a panpipe.

Etymology: I wasn’t able to find any etymology for Damoetas (or Δαμοίτας), but the damoetas nitidus is a genus of Australian jumping spiders. Spooky!

Idylls: Damoetas competes in Idylls 6 against the renowned Daphnis in a singing competition.

Other Eclogues: In Eclogue 3 Vergil uses Damoetas again in another singing competition, this time against Menalcas.

 

Iollas: Iollas is the assumed master of both Corydon and Alexis. At the very least, he is the “dives amator” of Alexis, his “delicias.”

Etymology: I was not sure about the etymology of this name, but Iollas appears in Vergil’s Aeneid as a companion of Aeneas.

Idylls: Iollas does not appear in Theocritus’ Idylls.

Other Eclogues: Iollas does reappear in Eclogue 3.76 again as a figure of authority.

 

Paris: A character from the Trojan war saga, the Trojan prince was a shepherd before the three goddesses came to him with the golden apple. Coleman supposes that this reference was an attempt on the character Corydon to sound intelligent.

Etymology: It was a common Greek name, possibly from the word πήρα, meaning bag or purse.

Idylls: Paris appears as an allusion in Idylls 27. Idylls 18 is a poem about Helen’s marriage to Menelaus before she and Paris met.

Other Eclogues: Paris does not appear anywhere else in the Eclogues.

 

Pallas: Pallas is another name for the goddess of wisdom Athena. She is mentioned in comparison to the rustic background of Corydon’s environment. She is also one of the goddesses whom Paris rejected along with Hera, with Paris standing in for the pastoral ideals.

Etymology: The word Πάλλας is derived from πάλλω meaning “to brandish [a spear].”

Idylls: Athena is mentioned in Idylls 25 and 26 as herself.

Other Eclogues: The goddess is not mentioned again in Vergil’s Eclogues.