MEN. 'Ye vales, ye streams, heaven's progeny beloved!

If pleasure e'er Menalcas' carols moved;
Feed-feed my lambs! If hither Daphnis' kine
Repair; O pasture his, no less than mine.'
DAP.Ye herds, ye fountains, that enrich
the dale,

If Daphnis ever match'd the nightingale,
Fatten these herds! If ought Menalcâs lead
To pasturage, his be every fruitful mead.'

MEN. 'Straight if my fair approach, the spring appears,

And all the brightening scene new beauty wears!
The fattening lambs amid luxuriance bleat,
And milk more richly flows from every teat!
But, in her absence, see the pasture scene-
A pining shepherd, and a faded green!'

DAP. There ewes and goats with twins o'erspread the hill,

There bees their hives with fragrant honey fill-
There the tall oaks expand a wider shade
Where Milo treads! But, sudden, from the glade,
Quick as he goes, delight and plenty fly!
The herdsman withers, and his cows are dry!?—
MEN. O goat, the husband of the
snowy flock!
Ye kids, wild hanging from the rifted rock,
Haste, where yon wood its gloom romantic flings,
And with its depth of foliage hides the springs!
There screen'd he lies! go, murmur at his shed,
That Proteus, though a god, his seacalves fed.'

DAP. 'I wish not to outstrip the winds, or hold
Pelops' vast realms, or brood o'er Crœsus' gold!
Be mine to triumph in the Dorian lay;
Beneath that rock to shun the glare of day;

Enjoy, with thee, my girl! the breezy sea,
And view the pastured sheep-yet clasping thee!'
MEN. 'Nets are the terror of the feather'd

brood;

And snares entrap the beasts that range the wood!
The storm uproots the beeches of the hills;
And the red sunbeam dries the shrinking rills!
While man, alas! no direr evil proves

Than frowns, so killing, from the maid he loves!
Indeed-not I alone of love complain;
E'en thou, O father Jove, hast felt the pain!'
Thus then the boys the' alternate ditty play;
And thus Menalcas tunes his closing lay-
MEN. Spare, wolf! O spare me-nor my
kidlings eat-

Because I'm little, and my flocks are great.
Hah, Brightfoot! how, my dog! so fast asleep?
Here trusting to a boy such numerous sheep?
But feed, dear flock, and fearless crop your food:
Feed on 'twill quickly spring, and be renew'd.
Then come with swelling udders from the vales,
Suckle your bleating lambs, and fill the pails.'

Next Daphnis sung

DAP. 'As, yestermorn, I drove My lowing heifers through the tangled grove, (Her arched eyebrows join'd) a lovely maid Stood peeping from a cave, and sportive said"Sure, he's a pretty youth!" With downcast eye I went my way, nor aught could I reply. Sweet is the breath of cows-the breath of steersSweet too the bullock's voice the herdsman hears! And, in the dewy vale, at evening close, Sweet the hill echoes, when the heifer lows! But sweet, at noon, the shade embowering deep, Lull'd by the murmur of a stream, to sleep.

E

Smooth acorns crown their oaks; and fruits of Fair on the branching pippin, we behold! [gold Sleek calves their mothers grace; and udder'd

Cows,

The glory of the watchful neatherd, browse.'

Thus sung the boys: and, eager to decide, With honest energy the Goatherd cried— GOA. How charm'd, the music of thy voice

I hear

That melts, my swain, far sweeter on the ear,
Than honey-drops distil upon the tongue-
Take-take the pipes!-to thee the pipes belong!
O! if thou wilt but teach me such a lay-
While merrily my kidlings round me play;
That goat be thine, with mutilated horn-
She fills a brimming bucket every morn.'
Straight Daphnis danced, with pleasure's heartfelt
glow,

As the light fawn skips nimbly by the doe
Shouting-while nought could sad Menalcas say,
But went, deep-sighing as a bride, his way.
Thus Daphnis shone; and bright in youthful
charms-

Erelong the lovely Naïs bless'd his arms.

IDYLLIUM IX.

The Shepherd.

DAPHNIS AND MENALCAS.

DAPHNIS, begin- begin thy rustic note!
And next, Menalcas, breathe thy Dorian oat!
Though first ye bid, beneath these leafy boughs,
The heifers join their bulls-the calves their cows.

While, midst the herd, along the copse they stray,
Daphnis, begin the blithe bucolic lay;

And, rival shepherd, in responsive strains,
Awake the sleeping echoes of the plains!

DAP. Sweet lows the steer! and sweet the heifer lows!

Sweet is the reed! and sweet the herdsman blows
His vocal pipe! and sweet I sing! My bed
Beside the cooling waters have I spread!
And the smooth skins of milkwhite heifers form
Its soft repose! Alas-the southern storm
Down yonder shrubby steep those heifers flung-
Yon mount where, cropping arbutus, they hung!
There sultry summer I regard no more

Than dreaming lovers heed their father's lore.'
Thus Daphnis sings-Menalcas thus replies-
MEN. Etna's my mother; and my dwelling
lies,

A fair scoop'd grotto, midst her living rocks;
While in the mountain shadow browse my flocks-
Full many a bleating sheep, and many a goat-
Not scenes so rich in airy slumbers float!
To them I owe the softness of my bed!
Skins at my feet, and fleeces at my head.
For freezing winter I have stores of wood-
Dry beech and oak that blaze to dress my food!
Thus I regard, as toothless fellows hold
Hard nuts when pulse is near, the wintry cold.'
I gave them both applause-and both their due:
To Daphnis a strong shapely club, that grew
Amid my father's woods, a single plant-
So fair-e'en artists might its beauty grant.
The shepherd swain a fine-wreath'd conch I gave,
Brought from the murmur of the' Icarian wave-

Whose flesh—(I found it on the rocks alive)———
Luxurious dainty! was a feast for five.
O'erjoy'd he struck the shell.

MEN.

Ye powers of song! Inspire (nor do I fear a blister'd tongue) Inspire me, rural Muses, with the strains I deftly carol'd to the wondering swains : Hawks mix with hawks, and ants with ants agree; Cicadas with their own—the Muse with me. O that she fill'd my soft melodious hours! For neither to the honey-bee the flowers So sweet-or easy sleep, and early spring, That balms so soothing to the labourer bring— Charm like the Muse! and they, on whom she smiles,

May brave e'en Circè's cup-e'en Circè's wiles.'

IDYLLIUM X.

The Reapers.

MILO AND BATTUS.

MILO.

WHAT ails thee, Battus, that thou reap'st awry, And, flinching, letst thy neighbour pass thee by? How through hot noon, till evening wilt thou reap, Thus early lagging like a wounded sheep?

BAT. Thy drudgeries noon and night be thine
to brag :

But tell me, fragment of the flinty crag!
Did never in thy heart a kindness lurk,
That for a moment's pause delay'd thy work?