A pipe discoursing through nine months I made, and full fair to view; The wax is white thereon, the line of this and that edge true. I’ll risk it: risk my father’s own is more than I dare do. DAPHNIS. A pipe discoursing through nine months, and fair, hath Daphnis too; The wax is white thereon, the line of this and that edge true. But yesterday I made it: this finger feels the pain Still, where indeed the rifted reed hath cut it clean in twain. But who shall be our umpire? who listen to our strain? MENALCAS. Suppose we hail yon goatherd; him at whose horned herd now The dog is barking—yonder dog with white upon his brow. Then out they called: the goatherd marked them, and up came he; Then out they sang; the goatherd their umpire fain would be. To shrill Menalcas’ lot it fell to start the woodland lay: Then Daphnis took it up. And thus Menalcas led the way. MENALCAS. Ye god-created vales and streams! Oh! if Menalcas e’er Piped aught of pleasant music in your ears; Then pasture, nothing loath, his lambs; and let young Daphnis fare No worse, should he stray hither with his steers. DAPHNIS. Ye joy-abounding lawns and springs! If Daphnis sang you e’er Such songs as ne’er from nightingale have flowed; Lend to his herd your fatness; and let Menalcas share Like plenty, should he wend along this road. MENALCAS. ’Tis springtide all and greenness, and all the udders teem With milk, and all things young have life anew, Where my sweet maiden wanders: but parched and withered seem, When she departeth, lawn and shepherd too. DAPHNIS. There shep and goats twin-burdened abound, and honey-bees Peopling the hives, and oaks of statelier growth, Where falls my darling’s footstep: but hungriness shall seize, When she departeth, herd and herdsman both. MENALCAS. Storms are the fruit-tree’s bane; the brook’s, a summer hot and dry! The stag’s, a woven net; a gin, the dove’s; Mankind’s, a soft sweet maiden. Others have pined ere I: Zeus! Father! hast not thou thy lady-loves? Thus far, in alternating strains, the lads their woes rehearsed: Then each one gave a closing stave. Thus sang Menalcas first: MENALCAS. O spare, good wolf, my weanlings! their milky mothers spare! Harm not the little lad who hath so many in his care! What, Firefly, is thy sleep so deep? It ill befits a hound, When ranging with his master, to slumber over-sound. And, wethers, of this tender grass take, nothing coy, your fill: So, when the after-math[37] shall come, will none be weak or ill. So! so! feed on, that ye be full, that not an udder fail: Part of the milk shall rear the lambs, and part shall fill my pail. Then Daphnis flung a carol out, as of a nightingale:— DAPHNIS.