Part 1 (2/2)
GOATHERD.
Shepherd, thy lay is as the noise of streams Falling and falling aye from yon tall crag.
If for their meed the Muses claim the ewe, Be thine the stall-fed lamb; or if they choose The lamb, take thou the scarce less-valued ewe.
THYRSIS.
Pray, by the Nymphs, pray, Goatherd, seat thee here Against this hill-slope in the tamarisk shade, And pipe me somewhat, while I guard thy goats.
GOATHERD.
I durst not, Shepherd, O I durst not pipe At noontide; fearing Pan, who at that hour Rests from the toils of hunting. Harsh is he; Wrath at his nostrils aye sits sentinel.
But, Thyrsis, thou canst sing of Daphnis' woes; High is thy name for woodland minstrelsy: Then rest we in the shadow of the elm Fronting Priapus and the Fountain-nymphs.
There, where the oaks are and the Shepherd's seat, Sing as thou sang'st erewhile, when matched with him Of Libya, Chromis; and I'll give thee, first, To milk, ay thrice, a goat--she suckles twins, Yet ne'ertheless can fill two milkpails full;-- Next, a deep drinking-cup, with sweet wax scoured, Two-handled, newly-carven, smacking yet 0' the chisel. Ivy reaches up and climbs About its lip, gilt here and there with sprays Of woodbine, that enwreathed about it flaunts Her saffron fruitage. Framed therein appears A damsel ('tis a miracle of art) In robe and snood: and suitors at her side With locks fair-flowing, on her right and left, Battle with words, that fail to reach her heart.
She, laughing, glances now on this, flings now Her chance regards on that: they, all for love Wearied and eye-swoln, find their labour lost.
Carven elsewhere an ancient fisher stands On the rough rocks: thereto the old man with pains Drags his great casting-net, as one that toils Full stoutly: every fibre of his frame Seems fis.h.i.+ng; so about the gray-beard's neck (In might a youngster yet) the sinews swell.
Hard by that wave-beat sire a vineyard bends Beneath its graceful load of burnished grapes; A boy sits on the rude fence watching them.
Near him two foxes: down the rows of grapes One ranging steals the ripest; one a.s.sails With wiles the poor lad's scrip, to leave him soon Stranded and supperless. He plaits meanwhile With ears of corn a right fine cricket-trap, And fits it on a rush: for vines, for scrip, Little he cares, enamoured of his toy.
The cup is hung all round with lissom briar, Triumph of aeolian art, a wondrous sight.
It was a ferryman's of Calydon: A goat it cost me, and a great white cheese.
Ne'er yet my lips came near it, virgin still It stands. And welcome to such boon art thou, If for my sake thou'lt sing that lay of lays.
I jest not: up, lad, sing: no songs thou'lt own In the dim land where all things are forgot.
THYSIS [_sings_].
_Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song_.
The voice of Thyrsis. aetna's Thyrsis I.
Where were ye, Nymphs, oh where, while Daphnis pined?
In fair Peneus' or in Pindus' glens?
For great Anapus' stream was not your haunt, Nor aetna's cliff, nor Acis' sacred rill.
_Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song_.
O'er him the wolves, the jackals howled o'er him; The lion in the oak-copse mourned his death.
_Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song_.
The kine and oxen stood around his feet, The heifers and the calves wailed all for him.
_Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song_.
First from the mountain Hermes came, and said, ”Daphnis, who frets thee? Lad, whom lov'st thou so?”
_Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song_.
Came herdsmen, shepherds came, and goatherds came; All asked what ailed the lad. Priapus came And said, ”Why pine, poor Daphnis? while the maid Foots it round every pool and every grove, (_Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song_) ”O lack-love and perverse, in quest of thee; Herdsman in name, but goatherd rightlier called.
With eyes that yearn the goatherd marks his kids Run riot, for he fain would frisk as they: (_Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song_): ”With eyes that yearn dost thou too mark the laugh Of maidens, for thou may'st not share their glee.”
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