LACON.

Did Lacon, did Calaethis' son purloin a goatskin? No, By Pan that haunts the sea-beach! Lad, if I served thee so, Crazed may I drop from yon hill-top to Crathis' stream below!

COMETAS.

Nor pipe of thine, good fellow--the Ladies of the Lake So be still kind and good to me--did e'er Cometas take.

LACON.

Be Daphnis' woes my portion, should that my credence win!

Still, if thou list to stake a kid--that surely were no sin-- Come on, I'll sing it out with thee--until thou givest in.

COMETAS.

'_The hog he braved Athene._' As for the kid, 'tis there: You stake a lamb against him--that fat one--if you dare.

LACON.

Fox! were that fair for either? At shearing who'd prefer Horsehair to wool? or when the goat stood handy, suffer her To nurse her firstling, and himself go milk a blatant cur?

COMETAS.

The same who deemed his hornet's-buzz the true cicala's note, And braved--like you--his better. And so forsooth you vote My kid a trifle? Then come on, fellow! I stake the goat.

LACON.

Why be so hot? Art thou on fire? First prythee take thy seat 'Neath this wild woodland olive: thy tones will sound more sweet.

Here falls a cold rill drop by drop, and green gra.s.s-blades uprear Their heads, and fallen leaves are thick, and locusts prattle here.

COMETAS.

Hot I am not; but hurt I am, and sorely, when I think That thou canst look me in the face and never bleach nor blink-- Me, thine own boyhood's tutor! Go, train the she-wolf's brood: Train dogs--that they may rend thee! This, this is grat.i.tude!

LACON.

When learned I from thy practice or thy preaching aught that's right, Thou puppet, thou misshapen lump of ugliness and spite?

COMETAS.

When? When I beat thee, wailing sore: yon goats looked on with glee, And bleated; and were dealt with e'en as I had dealt with thee.

LACON.

Well, hunchback, shallow be thy grave as was thy judgment then!

But hither, hither! Thou'lt not dip in herdsman's lore again.

COMETAS.

Nay, here are oaks and galingale: the hum of housing bees Makes the place pleasant, and the birds are piping in the trees.

And here are two cold streamlets; here deeper shadows fall Than yon place owns, and look what cones drop from the pinetree tall.

LACON.

Come hither, and tread on lambswool that is soft as any dream: Still more unsavoury than thyself to me thy goatskins seem.

Here will I plant a bowl of milk, our ladies' grace to win; And one, as huge, beside it, sweet olive-oil therein.

COMETAS.

Come hither, and trample dainty fern and poppy-blossom: sleep On goatskins that are softer than thy fleeces piled three deep.

Here will I plant eight milkpails, great Pan's regard to gain, Bound them eight cups: full honeycombs shall every cup contain.

LACON.

Well! there essay thy woodcraft: thence fight me, never budge From thine own oak; e'en have thy way. But who shall be our judge?

Oh, if Lycopas with his kine should chance this way to trudge!

COMETAS.

Nay, I want no Lycopas. But hail yon woodsman, do: 'Tis Morson--see! his arms are full of bracken--there, by you.

LACON.

We'll hail him.

COMETAS.

Ay, you hail him.

LACON.

Friend, 'twill not take thee long: We're striving which is master, we twain, in woodland song: And thou, my good friend Morson, ne'er look with favouring eyes On me; nor yet to yonder lad be fain to judge the prize.

COMETAS.

Nay, by the Nymphs, sweet Morson, ne'er for Cometas' sake Stretch thou a point; nor e'er let him undue advantage take.

Sibyrtas owns yon wethers; a Thurian is he: And here, my friend, Eumares' goats, of Sybaris, you may see.

LACON.

And who asked thee, thou naughty knave, to whom belonged these flocks, Sibyrtas, or (it might be) me? Eh, thou'rt a chatter-box!

COMETAS.

The simple truth, most worshipful, is all that I allege: I'm not for boasting. But thy wit hath all too keen an edge.

LACON.

Come sing, if singing's in thee--and may our friend get back To town alive! Heaven help us, lad, how thy tongue doth clack!

COMETAS. [_Sings_]

Daphnis the mighty minstrel was less precious to the Nine Than I. I offered yesterday two kids upon their shrine.

LACON. [_Sings_]

Ay, but Apollo fancies me hugely: for him I rear A lordly ram: and, look you, the Carnival is near.

COMETAS.

Twin kids hath every goat I milk, save two. My maid, my own, Eyes me and asks 'At milking time, rogue, art thou all alone?'

LACON.

Go to! nigh twenty baskets doth Lacon fill with cheese: Hath time to woo a sweetheart too upon the blossomed leas.

COMETAS.

Clarissa pelts her goatherd with apples, should he stray By with his goats; and pouts her lip in a quaint charming way.

LACON.

Me too a darling smooth of face notes as I tend my flocks: How maddeningly o'er that fair neck ripple those shining locks!

COMETAS.

Tho' dogrose and anemone are fair in their degree, The rose that blooms by garden-walls still is the rose for me.

LACON.

Tho' acorns' cups are fair, their taste is bitterness, and still I'll choose, for honeysweet are they, the apples of the hill.