CORYDON.

Yet at the lake-mouth he doth take his fill,
Browses on Physcus, or at times doth go
Where the sweet waters of Neæthus flow;

There the best herbs are freshened by the shower,
Wild thyme, and fleabane, and the honey-flower.

BATTUS.

Ah, wretched Ægon! thy poor kine will die,
Whilst thou dost aim at evil victory.

Even the pipe, which thou didst whilom make,
Lying neglected, doth defilement take.

CORYDON.

No! by the Nymphs! he gave it me the day
When he to glorious Pisa went away.

The songs of Pyrrhus and dear Glauca's lays
I know to sing, and Croton love to praise.
Fair is Zacynthus; lovely ever shone
To the bright east up-heaved Lacinion,
Where the bold boxer Ægon at a meal

Ate eighty cakes; where from the mountain's heel
He seized and dragged a proud bull by the hoof,
And gave it Amaryllis; then aloof

Shouted the women, and the cowherd smiled.

BATTUS.

Sweet Amaryllis! though by death defiled,
Thee shall I ne'er forget: dear to my heart
As are my frisking goats, thou didst depart.
To what a lot was I, unhappy, born!

CORYDON.

Take heart; there will be yet a brighter morn. While there is life there's hope; the dead, I ween, Are hopeless. One while Zeus shines out serene, Another while is hid in mist and shower.

BATTUS.

I do take heart. But see! yon calves devour The olive branches: pelt them off, I pray ; Confound the calves! you white-skin thief, away!

CORYDON.

Hist! to the hill, Cymatha! don't you hear?

If you don't get away, by Pan! I swear

I will so give it you! now only look!

She comes again—I wish I had my crook!

BATTUS.

Here, Corydon! a thorn has wounded me
How long and sharp these distaff-thistles be!
Confound the calf! gaping at her I got
The wound: under the ankle see you not?

CORYDON.

Aye! I have hold of it; see! here it is!

BATTUS.

How small a wound tames man so tall as this!

CORYDON.

Unshod you must not on the mountain go;

For on the mountain thorns and prickles grow.

IDYL V.

COMATAS AND LACON.

ARGUMENT.

A goatherd and a shepherd, both hirelings, assail each other with

vile reproaches. They challenge one another to sing for a wager; and a wood-gatherer is called to decide between them. Comatas obtains the prize.