See, a soft fleece to guard it I put down.

THE MAIDEN.

And you've purloined my sash. What can this mean?

DAPHNIS.

This sash I'll offer to the Paphian queen.

THE MAIDEN.

Stay, miscreant--some one comes--I heard a noise.

DAPHNIS.

'Tis but the green trees whispering of our joys.

THE MAIDEN.

You've torn my plaidie, and I am half unclad.

DAPHNIS.

Anon I'll give thee a yet ampler plaid.

THE MAIDEN.

Generous just now, you'll one day grudge me bread.

DAPHNIS.

Ah! for thy sake my life-blood I could shed.

THE MAIDEN.

Artemis, forgive! Thy eremite breaks her vow.

DAPHNIS.

Love, and Love's mother, claim a calf and cow.

THE MAIDEN.

A woman I depart, my girlhood o'er.

DAPHNIS.

Be wife, be mother; but a girl no more.

Thus interchanging whispered talk the pair, Their faces all aglow, long lingered there.

At length the hour arrived when they must part.

With downcast eyes, but sunshine in her heart, She went to tend her flock; while Daphnis ran Back to his herded bulls, a happy man.

IDYLL XXVIII.

The Distaff.

Distaff, blithely whirling distaff, azure-eyed Athena's gift To the s.e.x the aim and object of whose lives is household thrift, Seek with me the gorgeous city raised by Neilus, where a plain Roof of pale-green rush o'er-arches Aphrodite's hallowed fane.

Thither ask I Zeus to waft me, fain to see my old friend's face, Nicias, o'er whose birth presided every pa.s.sion-breathing Grace; Fain to meet his answering welcome; and anon deposit thee In his lady's hands, thou marvel of laborious ivory.

Many a manly robe ye'll fashion, much translucent maiden's gear; Nay, should e'er the fleecy mothers twice within the selfsame year Yield their wool in yonder pasture, Theugenis of the dainty feet Would perform the double labour: matron's cares to her are sweet.

To an idler or a trifler I had verily been loth To resign thee, O my distaff, for the same land bred us both: In the land Corinthian Archias built aforetime, thou hadst birth, In our island's core and marrow, whence have sprung the kings of earth: To the home I now transfer thee of a man who knows full well Every craft whereby men's bodies dire diseases may repel: There to live in sweet Miletus. Lady of the Distaff she Shall be named, and oft reminded of her poet-friend by thee: Men shall look on thee and murmur to each other, 'Lo! how small Was the gift, and yet how precious! Friendship's gifts are priceless all.'

IDYLL XXIX.

Loves.

'Sincerity comes with the wine-cup,' my dear: Then now o'er our wine-cups let us be sincere.

My soul's treasured secret to you I'll impart; It is this; that I never won fairly your heart.

One half of my life, I am conscious, has flown; The residue lives on your image alone.

You are kind, and I dream I'm in paradise then; You are angry, and lo! all is darkness again.

It is right to torment one who loves you? Obey Your elder; 'twere best; and you'll thank me one day.

Settle down in one nest on one tree (taking care That no cruel reptile can clamber up there); As it is with your lovers you're fairly perplext; One day you choose one bough, another the next.

Whoe'er at all struck by your graces appears, Is more to you straight than the comrade of years; While he's like the friend of a day put aside; For the breath of your nostrils, I think, is your pride.

Form a friendship, for life, with some likely young lad; So doing, in honour your name shall be had.

Nor would Love use you hardly; though lightly can he Bind strong men in chains, and has wrought upon me Till the steel is as wax--but I'm longing to press That exquisite mouth with a clinging caress.

No? Reflect that you're older each year than the last; That we all must grow gray, and the wrinkles come fast.

Reflect, ere you spurn me, that youth at his sides Wears wings; and once gone, all pursuit he derides: Nor are men over keen to catch charms as they fly.

Think of this and be gentle, be loving as I: When your years are maturer, we two shall be then The pair in the Iliad over again.

But if you consign all my words to the wind And say, 'Why annoy me? you're not to my mind,'

I--who lately in quest of the Gold Fruit had sped For your sake, or of Cerberus guard of the dead-- Though you called me, would ne'er stir a foot from my door, For my love and my sorrow thenceforth will be o'er.

IDYLL x.x.x.

The Death of Adonis.

Cythera saw Adonis And knew that he was dead; She marked the brow, all grisly now, The cheek no longer red; And "Bring the boar before me"

Unto her Loves she said.

Forthwith her winged attendants Ranged all the woodland o'er, And found and bound in fetters Threefold the grisly boar: One dragged him at a rope's end E'en as a vanquished foe; One went behind and drave him And smote him with his bow: On paced the creature feebly; He feared Cythera so.

To him said Aphrodite: "So, worst of beasts, 'twas you Who rent that thigh asunder, Who him that loved me slew?"

And thus the beast made answer: "Cythera, hear me swear By thee, by him that loved thee, And by these bonds I wear, And them before whose hounds I ran-- I meant no mischief to the man Who seemed to thee so fair.

"As on a carven statue Men gaze, I gazed on him; I seemed on fire with mad desire To kiss that offered limb: My ruin, Aphrodite, Thus followed from my whim.

"Now therefore take and punish And fairly cut away These all unruly tusks of mine; For to what end serve they?

And if thine indignation Be not content with this, Cut off the mouth that ventured To offer him a kiss"--