Volume 19, 2007 - Brown University

98 Peter Catsimpiris
Immediately after recounting another tale of love’s excesses and the devastating
effects that they can have on human life, Virgil abruptly shifts to describing
his own devotion to relating beauty through his poetry—“love transports me
to Parnassus’ steeps; . . . [d]own to Castalia’s spring. Now, gracious Pales,
inspire me now to sing in lofty tones” (Geor. 3.290, 3.293-4). Virgil thus
presents a perspective on love seemingly incongruous with his characterization
of the feeling as brutal and destructive in nature: while he earlier spoke of it
resulting in actual bodily harm to those who felt it too strongly, the poet now
attributes to this powerful emotion the special ability to transport the human soul
to the very font of beauty represented by the mountain of the Muses and
Castalia’s spring. While this presentation of love’s essence as at once terribly
harmful and yet uniquely capable of affording man transcendence past the veil
of physical reality to the realm of beauty and truth is paradoxical, Virgil
reconciles these two disparate powers of love by maintaining that it need not be
injurious, but may in fact be molded into a beneficial force, so long as it is
properly tended.
Virgil first relates the need to cultivate love in the story of the shepherd
Corydon’s unrequited affection for the youth Alexis in Eclogue II. No longer
able to enjoy the cooling shade synonymous with balance in pastoral imagery,
Corydon’s lustful obsession condemns him to painfully “burn in love’s fire” (Ec.
2.68). Unable to “set bounds to love,” Corydon succumbs to its negative pressure,
pursuing Alexis like a mere animal “at pleasure’s pull” and wandering
aimlessly, spewing an “artless monologue” lamenting his situation (Ec. 2.68,
2.65, 2.5). Distraught with his inability to woo the lad with his rustic gifts, the
shepherd bewails his lack of refinement—“Corydon, you’re a yokel”—realizing
the internal damage that his consequent lack of control over his passion has
caused —“[a]las, what have I done, poor lunatic, unleashing Auster on flowerbeds
and wild boar on clear springs!” (Ec. 2.56, 2.58-9). Thus recognizing that
he has been overtaken by dementia at the hands of his own obsession, he sees
that he has left the “vine” of his own emotions “half-pruned upon a leafy elm,”
having neglected to work against their detrimental tendencies in order to mold
them into feelings capable of spurring creation rather than destruction (Ec. 2.70).
It is in the final lines of Eclogue II that Virgil reinforces the notion that love is
quite dangerous which he presented in the tale of the sparring bulls, but he also
maintains that it can be cultivated and “pruned” so as to yield beneficial results.
Thus Corydon realizes that he should turn from pointlessly wallowing in the
pain caused by his rejection and instead, “at least prepare to weave of osiers and
supple rushes something practical” (Ec. 2.71-2). In stressing art as the proper
application of Corydon’s devotion and the gift of a skillfully woven basket as
sophisticated enough to impress his would-be lover, Virgil reconciles the two
seemingly contradictory viewpoints put forth in Book 3 of the Georgics: while
love left unchecked works against man’s interest, if it is harnessed, its power can
lead to the creation of great art and even to its own satisfaction.