'Twould prove a dead sea-nymph, and we might see, By swimming out, how finely she was made. I did not half believe, yet when we found That foul stale fish, it made us laugh.' He smiled And watched Hipparchus spit and cough and groan. I moved to the car and unpacked bread and meat, A cheese, some fruit, a skin of wine, two bowls. Amyntas was all joy to see such things; Ran off and pulled acanthus for our plates; Chattering, he helped me set all forth,--was keen To choose rock basin where the wine might cool; Approved, was full as happy as I to praise: And most he pleased me, when he set a place For poor Hipparchus. Thus our eager work, While Delphis, in his thoughts retired, sat frowning, Grew like a home-conspiracy to trap The one who bears the brunt of outside cares Into the glow of cheerfulness that bathes The children and the mother,--happy not To foresee winter, short-commons or long debts, Since they are busied for the present meal,-- Too young, too weak, too kind, to peer ahead, Or probe the dark horizon bleak with storms. Oh! I have sometimes thought there is a god Who helps with lucky accidents when folk Join with the little ones to chase such gloom. That chance which left Hipparchus with no clothes, Surely divinity was ambushed in it? When he must put on Chloe's, Amyntas rocked With laughter, and Hipparchus, quick to use A favourable gust, pretends confusion Such as a farmer's daughter red-faced shows If in the dance her dress has come unpinned. She suddenly grows grave; yet, seeing there Friends only, stoops behind a sister-skirt. Then, having set to rights the small mishap, Holding her screener's elbows, round her shoulder Peeps, to bob back meeting a young man's eye. All, grateful for such laughs, give Hermes thanks. And even Delphis at Hipparchus smiled When, from behind me, he peeped bashful forth; Amyntas called him Baucis every time, Laughing because he was or was not like Some wench ... Why, Delphis, in the name of Zeus How come you here? Cydilla: What can have happened, Delphis? Be brief for pity! Delphis: Nothing, mother, nothing That has not happened time on time before To thee, to Damon, when the life ye thought With pride and pleasure yours, has proved a dream. They strike down on us from the top of heaven, Bear us up in their talons, up and up, Drop us: we fall, are crippled, maimed for life. 'Our dreams'? nay, we are theirs for sport, for prey, And life is the King Eagle, The strongest, highest flyer, from whose clutch The fall is fatal always. Cydilla: Delphis, Delphis, Good Damon had been making me so happy By telling ... Delphis: