Daphnis beneath a rustling ilex-tree Had sat him down; Thyrsis and Corydon Had gathered in the flock, Thyrsis the sheep, And Corydon the she-goats swollen with milk- Both in the flower of age, Arcadians both, Ready to sing, and in like strain reply. Hither had strayed, while from the frost I fend My tender myrtles, the he-goat himself, Lord of the flock; when Daphnis I espy! Soon as he saw me, "Hither haste," he cried, "O Meliboeus! goat and kids are safe; And, if you have an idle hour to spare, Rest here beneath the shade. Hither the steers Will through the meadows, of their own free will, Untended come to drink. Here Mincius hath With tender rushes rimmed his verdant banks, And from yon sacred oak with busy hum The bees are swarming." What was I to do? No Phyllis or Alcippe left at home Had I, to shelter my new-weaned lambs, And no slight matter was a singing-bout 'Twixt Corydon and Thyrsis. Howsoe'er, I let my business wait upon their sport. So they began to sing, voice answering voice In strains alternate- for alternate strains The Muses then were minded to recall- First Corydon, then Thyrsis in reply. CORYDON "Libethrian Nymphs, who are my heart's delight, Grant me, as doth my Codrus, so to sing- Next to Apollo he- or if to this We may not all attain, my tuneful pipe Here on this sacred pine shall silent hang." THYRSIS "Arcadian shepherds, wreathe with ivy-spray Your budding poet, so that Codrus burst With envy: if he praise beyond my due, Then bind my brow with foxglove, lest his tongue With evil omen blight the coming bard." CORYDON "This bristling boar's head, Delian Maid, to thee, With branching antlers of a sprightly stag, Young Micon offers: if his luck but hold, Full-length in polished marble, ankle-bound With purple buskin, shall thy statue stand." THYRSIS "A bowl of milk, Priapus, and these cakes, Yearly, it is enough for thee to claim; Thou art the guardian of a poor man's plot. Wrought for a while in marble, if the flock At lambing time be filled,stand there in gold." CORYDON "Daughter of Nereus, Galatea mine, Sweeter than Hybla-thyme, more white than swans, Fairer than ivy pale, soon as the steers Shall from their pasture to the stalls repair, If aught for Corydon thou carest, come." THYRSIS "Now may I seem more bitter to your taste Than herb Sardinian, rougher than the broom, More worthless than strewn sea-weed, if to-day Hath not a year out-lasted! Fie for shame! Go home, my cattle, from your grazing go!" CORYDON "Ye mossy springs, and grass more soft than sleep, And arbute green with thin shade sheltering you, Ward off the solstice from my flock, for now Comes on the burning summer, now the buds Upon the limber vine-shoot 'gin to swell." THYRSIS "Here is a hearth, and resinous logs, here fire Unstinted, and doors black with ceaseless smoke. Here heed we Boreas' icy breath as much As the wolf heeds the number of the flock, Or furious rivers their restraining banks."