As Lamon, a goatherd, was tending his herds upon the estate, he found a child suckled by a she-goat. The place where it was lying was an oak coppice and tangled thicket, with ivy winding about it, and soft grass beneath; thither the goat continually ran and disappeared from sight, leaving her own kid in order to remain near the child. Lamon watched her movements, being grieved to see the kid neglected, and one day when the sun was burning in his meridian heat he follows her steps and sees her standing over the infant with the utmost caution, lest her hoofs might injure it, while the child sucked copious draughts of her milk as if from its mother's breast. Struck with natural astonishment, he advances close to the spot and discovers a lusty and handsome male-child, with far richer swathing clothes than suited its fortune in being thus exposed; for its little mantle was of fine purple, and fastened by a golden clasp, and it had a little sword with a hilt of ivory. At first Lamon resolved to leave the infant to its fate, and to carry off only the tokens; but feeling afterwards ashamed at the reflection, that in doing so, he should be inferior in humanity, even to a goat, he waited for the approach of night, and then carried home the infant with the tokens, and the she-goat herself to Myrtale his wife. Myrtale was astonished, and thought it strange if goats could produce children, upon which her husband recounts every particular; how he found the infant exposed; how it was suckled; and how ashamed he felt at the idea of leaving it to perish. She shared his feelings, so they agreed to conceal the tokens, and adopt the child as their own, committing the rearing of it to the goat; and that the name also might be a pastoral one they determined to call it Daphnis. Two years had now elapsed, when Dryas, a neighbouring shepherd, tending his flock, found an infant under similar circumstances. There was a grotto[1] sacred to the Nymphs; it was a spacious rock, concave within, convex without. The statues of the Nymphs themselves were carved in stone. Their feet were bare, their arms naked to the shoulder, their hair falling dishevelled upon their shoulders, their vests girt about the waist, a smile[2] sat upon their brow; their whole semblance was that of a troop of dancers. The dome[3] of the grotto rose over the middle of the rock. Water, springing from a fountain, formed a running stream, and a trim meadow stretched its soft and abundant herbage before the entrance, fed by the perpetual moisture. Within, milk-pails, transverse-flutes, flageolets and pastoral pipes[4] were suspended--the offerings of many an aged shepherd.