That should be seen, if I had one to make. You know too well, I feed my father's flock; What can I wager from the common stock? A stepdame too I have, a cursed she, Who rules my hen-peck'd sire, and orders me. Both number twice a day the milky dams; And once she takes the tale of all the lambs. But, since you will be mad, and since you may Suspect my courage, if I should not lay, The pawn I proffer shall be full as good: Two bowls I have, well turned, of beechen wood; Both by divine Alcimedon were made; To neither of them yet the lip is laid. The lids are ivy; grapes in clusters lurk Beneath the carving of the curious work. Two figures on the sides embossed appear-- } Conon, and what's his name who made the sphere, } And shewed the seasons of the sliding year, } Instructed in his trade the labouring swain, And when to reap, and when to sow the grain? DAMOETAS. And I have two, to match your pair, at home; The wood the same; from the same hand they come, (The kimbo handles seem with bear's foot carved,) And never yet to table have been served; Where Orpheus on his lyre laments his love, With beasts encompassed, and a dancing grove. But these, nor all the proffers you can make, Are worth the heifer which I set to stake. MENALCAS. No more delays, vain boaster, but begin! I prophesy before-hand, I shall win. Palæmon shall be judge how ill you rhyme: I'll teach you how to brag another time. DAMOETAS. Rhymer, come on! and do the worst you can; I fear not you, nor yet a better man. With silence, neighbour, and attention, wait; For 'tis a business of a high debate. PALÆMON. Sing then; the shade affords a proper place, The trees are clothed with leaves, the fields with grass, The blossoms blow, the birds on bushes sing, And Nature has accomplished all the spring. The challenge to Damoetas shall belong; Menalcas shall sustain his under-song; Each in his turn your tuneful numbers bring, By turns the tuneful Muses love to sing. DAMOETAS. From the great father of the gods above My Muse begins; for all is full of Jove: To Jove the care of heaven and earth belongs; My flocks he blesses, and he loves my songs. MENALCAS. Me Phoebus loves; for he my Muse inspires, And in her songs the warmth he gave requires. For him, the god of shepherds and their sheep,[297] My blushing hyacinths and my bays I keep. DAMOETAS.