Thanks for the gist of the Georgians. Here's one translation of the opening
lines of Virgil's Eclogues. This is by J. B. Greenough and is in the public
domain. I got it from Project Perseus, where the gods themselves surf.
You, Tityrus, 'neath a broad beech-canopy
reclining, on the slender oat rehearse
your silvan ditties: I from my sweet fields,
and home's familiar bounds, even now depart.
Exiled from home am I; while, Tityrus, you
sit careless in the shade, and, at your call,
“Fair Amaryllis” bid the woods resound.
The book begins with exile from the country. Frank Kermode writes that pastoral
flourishes when "the relationship of metropolis and country is still evident,
and there are no children (as there are now) who have never seen a cow" and
although the metropolitan children have all seen cows, the “town has viciously
supplied imagined wants in nature with the art of brick and stone.”
[Frank Kermode, _English Pastoral Poetry: From the Beginnings to Marvell_
(London: George G. Harrap & Co. Ltd., 1952) 15.]
This sounds like your nostalgia, but it is not a desire to live a bucolic life,
but to explore a relationship that is partly alive within the guts and partly
within the head. Virgil's Eclogues had much to do with the Roman civil war.
Treat yourself to David Ferry's translation. To anything David Ferry writes.
I read a scholarly article about the spelling of V's name and regret not
remembering the source. Something to do with overcorrecting the Latin in
English and so being incorrect. Gunnar will know.