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His banks with delicate bullrush, and a noise
Of wild bees rises from the sacred oak,”

What could I do? Alcippe I had none,
Nor Phyllis, to shut up my new-weaned

lambs :
Then, there was war on foot-a mighty war-
Thyrsis and Corydon !_So in the end 20
I made my business wait upon their sport.-
So singing verse for verse--that well the Muse
Might mark it—they began their singing-match.
Thus Corydon, thus Thyrsis sang in turn.

(They sing) C. “Ye Fountain Nymphs, my loves! Grant me

to sing Like Codrus :-next Apollo's rank his lines:Or here—if all may scarce do everything

I'll hang my pipe up on these sacred pines.” T. “Swains! a new minstrel deck with ivy now, Till Codrus burst with envy! Or, should

30 Flatter o'ermuch, twine foxglove o'er my brow,

Lest his knave's-flattery spoil the bard to be.”

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C. To Dian, from young Micon: this boar's head,

And these broad antlers of a veteran buck, Full-length in marble-ancle-bound with red Buskins—I'll rear her, should to-day bring

luck." T. “Ask but this bowl, Priapus, and this cake

Each year: for poor the garden thou dost keep. Our small means made thee marble: whom

we'll make Of gold, should lambing multiply our

sheep." C. “Maid of the seas! more sweet than Hybla's

thyme, Graceful as ivy, white as is the swan! When home the fed flocks wend at evening's

prime, Then come if aught thou car'st for Cory

don.” T. “Hark! bitterer than wormwood may I be,

Bristling as broom, as drifted sea-weed cheap, If this day seem not a long year to me! Home, home for very shame, my o'er-fed

sheep!"

th

C. “Ye mossy rills, and lawns more soft than

dreams, Thinly roofed over by these leaves of green:

50 From the great heat-now summer's come,

now teems The jocund vine with buds--my cattle

screen." T. “Warm hearth, good faggots, and great fires

you'll find In my home: black with smoke are all its

planks : We laugh, who 're in it, at the chill north

wind, As wolves at troops of sheep, mad streams

at banks.” C. “Here furry chesnuts rise and juniper:

Heaped 'neath each tree the fallen apples

lie: All smiles. But, once let fair Alexis stir From off these hills—and lo! the streams

are dry."

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T. “Thirsts in parched lands and dies the blighted

grass; Vines lend no shadow to the mountain-height; But groves shall bloom again, when comes my

lass;

And in glad showers Jove descend in might." C. “Poplars Alcides likes, and Bacchus vines;

Fair Venus myrtle, and Apollo bay:
But while to hazel-leaves my love inclines,

Nor bays nor myrtles greater are than they.” T. “Fair in woods ash; and pine on garden-grass:

On tall cliffs fir; by pools the poplar-tree. 70 But if thou come here oft, sweet Lycidas, Lawn-pine and mountain-ash must yield to

thee."
M. All this I've heard before : remember well

How Thyrsis strove in vain against defeat.
From that day forth 'twas ‘Corydon' for me.

ECLOGUE VIII.

ALPHESIBEUS's and Damon's muse-
Charmed by whose strife the steer forgot to graze;
Whose notes made lynxes motionless, and bade
Rivers turn back and listen-sing we next:
Alphesiboeus's and Damon's muse.

Winn'st thou the crags of great Timavus now,
Or skirtest strands where break Illyrian seas?
I know not. But oh when shall that day dawn
When I may tell thy deeds? give earth thy lays,
That match alone the pomp of Sophocles? 10
With thee began, with thee shall end, my song:
Accept what thou didst ask; and round thy brow
Twine this poor ivy with thy victor bays.

'Twas at the hour when night's cold shadow scarce
Had left the skies; when, blest by herdsmen, hangs
The dewdrop on the grass; that Damon leaned
On his smooth olive-staff, and thus began.

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