So Diomedes said. And when he left
that region, Venulus went past the bay
of the Peucetians and then the lands
of the Messapians, in which he saw—
hid in a great and shadowed forest—caves
concealed by supple, slender reeds that swayed.
The half-goat Pan has made that place his home;
but long ago, it was the dwelling-place
of nymphs. But they had taken flight, afraid
Latin [496–517]
of an Apulian shepherd; in dismay—
he’d burst upon them suddenly—they ran
away; but soon, with their good sense regained,
they saw who’d chased them off and, taunting him,
they danced with agile feet—a choral dance.
The shepherd mocked them; and in mime, he pranced
with loutish steps, and added insults, spat
obscenities. His blabber did not stop
until the tree-bark cloaking him climbed up
around his neck: he’s now a tree, in fact.
And from the juice and fruit one can divine
the nature of that shepherd; as a sign
of what he was, his tongue has left its mark:
the fruit of the wild olive tree is harsh;
the berries bear the trace of his rude words.