I’ve been reading through Virgil’s eclogues recently and, this morning, just completed the third. Most of it wasn’t too hard, especially with the help of Page’s notes, but there’s one couplet whose grammar is a bit perplexing to me.
The context is a sort of poetry slam between Menalcas and Damoetas, who get a bit nasty when they see each at the beginning of the poem. So here’s one of the exchanges: the idea is for the first poet to make some sort of claim and the second poet to show up the former, if possible.
Damoetas (64-65):
malo me Galatea petit, lasciua puella,
et fugit ad salices, et se cupit ante uideri
Menalcas (66-67):
at mihi sese offert ultro meus ignis Amyntas,
notior ut iam sit canibus non Delia nostris
Translation:
Galatea pelts me with apples, that playful girl,
and then she hightails it to the willows…but hopes I see her before she gets there.
Yeah? Amyntas, my hot mama, tells me I can have her without my asking:
my pets already know her better than they know Delia!
When I first read the couplet, I thought “notior ut iam non sit” means “to famous for Delia to already be to my dogs,” which didn’t make a lick of sense. The notes in the back, though, suggest that Delia is a close friend, so the shepherd’s dogs know her well. The point being that Amyntas is even closer than Delia.
So is the whole ut clause a result triggered by “offert,” that is, literally, she offers herself to me, with the result that Delia is already no more familiar to our dogs"? In which case the normal syntax would be “ut Delia iam notior nostris canibus non sit.” It seems more natural to read notior with Amyntas, but that way lies the land of nonsense.
Cheers,
David
PS - and do lines 7-9 (parcius ista uiris tamen obicienda memento.
nouimus, et qui te, transuersa tuentibus hircis,
et quo–sed faciles Nymphae risere–sacello) really mean “Remember, you should be more careful when you insult men. I know who you were with, with the goats eyeing you sideways, and the chapel where it happened–with the Nymphs laughing slyly.” Page’s note is determinedly obscure, vague, and prudish.