And near that old man with his sea-tanned hue,
With purple grapes a vineyard shines to view.
A little boy sits by the thorn-hedge trim,

To watch the grapes-two foxes watching him:
One thro' the ranges of the vines proceeds,
And on the hanging vintage slyly feeds;
The other plots and vows his scrip to search,
And for his breakfast leave him-in the lurch.
Meanwhile he twines and to a rush fits well
A locust trap with stalks of asphodel;
And twines away with such absorbing glee,
Of scrip or vines he never thinks-not he!
The juicy curled acanthus hovers round
Th' Æolian cup-when seen a marvel found.
Hither a Calydonian skipper brought it,
For a great cheese-cake and a goat I bought it;
Untouched by lip—this cup shall be thy hire,
If thou wilt sing that song of sweet desire.

I envy not begin! the strain outpour;
"Twill not be thine on dim Oblivion's shore.

THYRSIS.

Begin, dear Muses! the bucolic strain :

For Thyrsis sings, your own Ætneän swain.

Where were ye, Nymphs! when Daphnis pined away,
Where thro' his Tempe Peneus loves to stray,
Or Pindus lifts himself? Ye were not here-
Where broad Anapus flows or Acis clear,
Or where tall Ætna looks out on the main.

Begin, dear Muses! the bucolic strain.
From out the mountain-lair the lions growled,
Wailing his death-the wolves and jackals howled.

Begin, dear Muses! the bucolic strain : Around him in a long and mournful train, Sad-faced, a number of the horned kind,

Heifers, bulls, cows, and calves lamenting pined.

First Hermes from the mountain came and said, "Daphnis, by whom art thou disquieted?

For whom dost thou endure so fierce a flame ?"

Then cowherds, goatherds, shepherds thronging came, And asked what ailed him. E'en Priapus went, And said: "Sad Daphnis, why this languishment?

In every grove, by fountains, far and near,

Thee the loved girl is seeking everywhere.

Ah, foolish lover! to thyself unkind,
Miscalled a cowherd, with a goatherd's mind!
The goatherd when he sees his goats at play,
Envies their wanton sport and pines away.
And thou at sight of virgins, when they smile,
Dost look with longing eyes and pine the while,
Because with them the dance thou dost not lead."

No word he answered, but his grief did feed, And brought to end his love, that held him fast, And only ended with his life at last.

Then Cypris came-the queen of soft desire,
Smiling in secret, but pretending ire,

And said: "To conquer love did Daphnis boast,
But, Daphnis! is not love now uppermost?"
Her answered he: "Thou cruel sorrow-feeder!
Curst Cypris! Mankind's hateful mischief-breeder !
'Tis plain my sun is set: but I shall show
The blight of love in Hades' house below.

'Where Cypris kiss'd a cowherd'―men will speak— Hasten to Ida! thine Anchises seek.

Around their hives swarmed bees are humming here, Here the low galingale-thick oaks are there.

Adonis, the fair youth, a shepherd too,

Wounds hares, and doth all savage beasts pursue. Go! challenge Diomede to fight with thee

'I tame the cowherd Daphnis, fight with me.'

"Ye bears, who in the mountain hollows dwell, Ye tawny jackals, bounding wolves, farewell! The cowherd Daphnis never more shall rove

In quest of thro' thicket, wood, and grove.

you

Farewell, ye rivers, that your streams profuse
From Thymbris pour; farewell, sweet Arethuse!
I drove my kine-a cowherd whilom here-
To pleasant pasture, and to water clear.
Pan Pan if seated on a jagged peak

Of tall Lycæus now; or thou dost seek

The heights of Mænalus-leave them awhile,

And hasten to thy own Sicilian isle.

The tomb, which e'en the gods admire, leave now
Lycaon's tomb and Helice's tall brow.

Hasten, my king! and take this pipe that clips,
Uttering its honey breath, the player's lips.
For even now, dragged downward, must I go,
By love dragged down to Hades' house below.

Now violets, ye thorns and brambles bear!
Narcissus now on junipers appear!

And on the pine-tree pears! since Daphnis dies,
To their own use all things be contraries!
The stag trail hounds; in rivalry their song
The mountain owls with nightingales prolong!"

He said and ceased: and Cypris wished, indeed, To raise him up, but she could not succeed; His fate-allotted threads of life were spent,

And Daphnis to the doleful river went.

The whirlpool gorged him-by the Nymphs not scorned, Dear to the Muses, and by them adorned.

Cease! cease, ye Muses! the bucolic strain.

Give me the cup and goat that I may drain
The pure milk from her; and, for duty's sake,

A due libation to the Muses make.

All hail, ye Muses! hail, and favour me,
And my hereafter song shall sweeter be.

GOATHERD.

Honey and honey-combs melt in thy mouth,
And figs from Ægilus! for thou, dear youth,