In Roman literature, generally, as might be expected, with its more materialistic spirit, the romance of a friendship is little dwelt upon; though the grosser side of the passion, in such writers as Catullus and Martial, is much in evidence. Still we find in Virgil a notable instance. His 2nd Eclogue bears the marks of genuine feeling; and, according to some critics, he there under the guise of Shepherd Corydon’s love for Alexis celebrates his own attachment to the youthful Alexander:— “Corydon, keeper of cattle, once loved the fair lad Alexis; But he, the delight of his master, permitted no hope to the shepherd. Corydon, lovesick swain, went into the forest of beeches, And there to the mountains and woods—the one relief of his passion— With useless effort outpoured the following artless complainings:— Alexis, barbarous youth, say, do not my mournful lays move thee? Showing me no compassion, thou’lt surely compel me to perish. Even the cattle now seek after places both cool and shady; Even the lizards green conceal themselves in the thorn-bush. Thestylis, taking sweet herbs, such as garlic and thyme, for the reapers Faint with the scorching noon, doth mash them and bray in a mortar. Alone in the heat of the day am I left with the screaming cicalas, While patient in tracking thy path, I ever pursue thee, Belovéd.” _Trans. by J. W. Baylis._ [Sidenote: _Corydon and Alexis_] There is a translation of this same 2nd Eclogue, by Abraham Fraunce (1591) which is interesting not only on account of its felicity of phrase, but because, as in the case of some other Elizabethan hexameters, the metre is ruled by _quantity_, _i.e._, length of syllables, instead of by _accent_. The following are the first five lines of Fraunce’s translation:— “Silly shepherd Corydon lov’d hartyly fayre lad Alexis, His master’s dearling, but saw noe matter of hoping; Only amydst darck groves thickset with broade-shadoe beech-trees Dayly resort did he make, thus alone to the woods, to the mountayns, With broken speeches fond thoughts there vainly revealing.” [Sidenote: _Catullus to Quintius_] Catullus also (b. B.C. 87) has some verses of real feeling:— “Quintius, if ’tis thy wish and will That I should owe my eyes to thee, Or anything that’s dearer still, If aught that’s dearer there can be; Then rob me not of that I prize, Of the dear form that is to me, Oh! far far dearer than my eyes, Or aught, if dearer aught there be.” _Catullus_, _trans. Hon. J. Lamb_, 1821. [Sidenote: _To Juventius_] “If all complying, thou would’st grant Thy lovely eyes to kiss, my fair, Long as I pleased; oh! I would plant Three hundred thousand kisses there. Nor could I even then refrain, Nor satiate leave that fount of blisses, Tho’ thicker than autumnal grain Should be our growing crop of kisses.”