Part 6 (1/2)

Lacon. Nay, nor wild apples to acorns, for acorns are bitter in the oaken rind, but apples are sweet as honey.

Comatas. Soon will I give my maiden a ring-dove for a gift; I will take it from the juniper tree, for there it is brooding.

Lacon. But I will give my darling a soft fleece to make a cloak, a free gift, when I shear the black ewe.

Comatas. Forth from the wild olive, my bleating she-goats, feed here where the hillside slopes, and the tamarisks grove.

Lacon. Conarus there, and Cynaetha, will you never leave the oak?

Graze here, where Phalarus feeds, where the hillside fronts the dawn.

Comatas. Ay, and I have a vessel of cypress wood, and a mixing bowl, the work of Praxiteles, and I h.o.a.rd them for my maiden.

Lacon. I too have a dog that loves the flock, the dog to strangle wolves; him I am giving to my darling to chase all manner of wild beasts.

Comatas. Ye locusts that overleap our fence, see that ye harm not our vines, for our vines are young.

Lacon. Ye cicalas, see how I make the goatherd chafe: even so, methinks, do ye vex the reapers.

Comatas. I hate the foxes, with their bushy brushes, that ever come at evening, and eat the grapes of Micon.

Lacon. And I hate the lady-birds that devour the figs of Philondas, and flit down the wind.

Comatas. Dost thou not remember how I cudgelled thee, and thou didst grin and nimbly writhe, and catch hold of yonder oak?

Lacon. That I have no memory of, but how Eumarides bound thee there, upon a time, and flogged thee through and through, that I do very well remember.

Comatas. Already, Morson, some one is waxing bitter, dust thou see no sign of it? Go, go, and pluck, forthwith, the squills from some old wife's grave.

Lacon. And I too, Morson, I make some one chafe, and thou dost perceive it. Be off now to the Hales stream, and dig cyclamen.

Comatas. Let Himera flow with milk instead of water, and thou, Crathis, run red with wine, and all thy reeds bear apples.

Lacon. Would that the fount of Sybaris may flow with honey, and may the maiden's pail, at dawning, be dipped, not in water, but in the honeycomb.

Comatas. My goats eat cytisus, and goatswort, and tread the lentisk shoots, and lie at ease among the arbutus.

Lacon. But my ewes have honey-wort to feed on, and luxuriant creepers flower around, as fair as roses.

Comatas. I love not Alcippe, for yesterday she did not kiss me, and take my face between her hands, when I gave her the dove.

Lacon. But deeply I love my darling, for a kind kiss once I got, in return for the gift of a shepherd's pipe.

Comatas. Lacon, it never was right that pyes should contend with the nightingale, nor hoopoes with swans, but thou, unhappy swain, art ever for contention.

Morson's Judgement. I bid the shepherd cease. But to thee, Comatas, Morson presents the lamb. And thou, when thou hast sacrificed her to the nymphs, send Morson, anon, a goodly portion of her flesh.

Comatas. I will, by Pan. Now leap, and snort, my he-goats, all the herd of you, and see here how loud I ever will laugh, and exult over Lacon, the shepherd, for that, at last, I have won the lamb. See, I will leap sky high with joy. Take heart, my horned goats, to-morrow I will dip you all in the fountain of Sybaris. Thou white he-goat, I will beat thee if thou dare to touch one of the herd before I sacrifice the lamb to the nymphs. There he is at it again! Call me Melanthius, {34} not Comatas, if I do not cudgel thee.