Which harder? her heart or that knavish boy's? Knavish the boy, and hard was her heart too. "Now let the wolf first turn and fly the sheep: And earth become mid ocean. Woods, farewell! I'll fling me. Take this last gift ere I die. Thus Damon. How the other made reply Sing, sisters. Scarce may all do everything. A. "Fetch water: wreathe yon altar with soft wool: 70 And burn rich vervain and brave frankincense: That I may try my lord's clear sense to warp With dark rites. Naught is lacking save the songs. Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home. "Songs can bring down the very moon from heaven. Circe with songs transformed Ulysses' crew. Songs shall in sunder burst the cold grasssnake. Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home. "Three threads about thee, of three several hues, I twine; and thrice-(odd numbers please the god) Carry thy image round the altar-stones. 80 Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home. Weave, Amaryllis, in three knots three hues. Just weave and say 'I'm weaving chains of love.' Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home. "As this clay hardens, melts this wax, at one And the same flame: so Daphnis 'neath my love. Strew meal, and light with pitch the crackling bay. Daphnis burns me; for Daphnis burn these bays. Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home, 90 "Be his such longing as the heifer feels, When, faint with seeking her lost mate through copse And deepest grove, beside some water-brook "Pledges of love, these clothes the traitor once Bequeathed me. I commit them, Earth, to thee Here at my threshold. He is bound by these. Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home. 100 These deadly plants great Moeris gave to me, In Pontus plucked: in Pontus thousands grow. By their aid have I seen him skulk in woods A wolf, unsepulchre the buried dead, And charm to other fields the standing corn. Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home. "Go, Amaryllis, ashes in thy hand: Throw them-and look not backwards-o'er thy head Into a running stream. These next I'll try ΙΙΟ On Daphnis; who regards not gods nor songs. Bring, songs, bring Daphnis from the city home. "See! While I hesitate, a quivering flame home !" ECLOGUE IX. LYCIDAS. MORIS. L. MORIS, on foot? and on the road to town? M. Oh Lycidas-we live to tell, how one(Who dreamed of this?)-a stranger-holds our farm, And says, ""Tis mine: its ancient lords, begone!" Beaten, cast down-for Chance is lord of all We send him-bootlessly mayhap-these kids. L. Yet all, I heard, from where we lose yon hills, With gradual bend down-sloping to the brook, And those old beeches, broken columns now, Had your Menalcas rescued by his songs. ΙΟ M. Thou heardst. Fame said so. But our songs avail, Moris, no more 'mid warspears than, they say, A boding raven from a rifted oak K |