The daughters of the flood have searched the mead For violets pale, and cropp'd the poppy's head, The short narcissus[296] and fair daffodil, Pancies to please the sight, and cassia sweet to smell; And set soft hyacinths with iron blue, To shade marsh marigolds of shining hue; Some bound in order, others loosely strowed, To dress thy bower, and trim thy new abode. Myself will search our planted grounds at home, For downy peaches and the glossy plum; And thrash the chesnuts in the neighbouring grove, Such as my Amaryllis used to love. The laurel and the myrtle sweets agree, And both in nosegays shall be bound for thee. Ah, Corydon! ah, poor unhappy swain! Alexis will thy homely gifts disdain: Nor, should'st thou offer all thy little store, Will rich Iolas yield, but offer more. What have I done, to name that wealthy swain? So powerful are his presents, mine so mean! The boar, amidst my crystal streams, I bring; And southern winds to blast my flowery spring. Ah, cruel creature! whom dost thou despise? The gods, to live in woods, have left the skies; And godlike Paris, in the Idæan grove, To Priam's wealth preferred OEnone's love. In cities, which she built, let Pallas reign; Towers are for gods, but forests for the swain. The greedy lioness the wolf pursues, The wolf the kid, the wanton kid the browze; Alexis, thou art chased by Corydon: All follow several games, and each his own. See, from afar, the fields no longer smoke; The sweating steers, unharnessed from the yoke, Bring, as in triumph, back the crooked plough; The shadows lengthen as the sun goes low; Cool breezes now the raging heats remove: Ah, cruel heaven, that made no cure for love! I wish for balmy sleep, but wish in vain; Love has no bounds in pleasure, or in pain. What frenzy, shepherd, has thy soul possessed? Thy vineyard lies half pruned, and half undressed. Quench, Corydon, thy long unanswered fire! Mind what the common wants of life require; On willow twigs employ thy weaving care, And find an easier love, though not so fair. FOOTNOTES: [296] That is, of short continuance. PASTORAL III. OR, _PALÆMON_. MENALCAS, DAMOETAS, PALÆMON. ARGUMENT. _Damoetas and Menalcas, after some smart strokes of country raillery, resolve to try who has the most skill at song; and accordingly make their neighbour, Palæmon, judge of their performances; who, after a full hearing of both parties, declares himself unfit for the decision of so weighty a controversy, and leaves the victory undetermined._ MENALCAS. Ho, swain! what shepherd owns those ragged sheep? DAMOETAS. Ægon's they are: he gave them me to keep. MENALCAS.