I'll risk it: risk my father's own is more than I dare do.

DAPHNIS.

A pipe discoursing through nine mouths, and fair, hath Daphnis too: The wax is white thereon, the line of this and that edge true.

But yesterday I made it: this finger feels the pain Still, where indeed the rifted reed hath cut it clean in twain.

But who shall be our umpire? who listen to our strain?

MENALCAS.

Suppose we hail yon goatherd; him at whose horned herd now The dog is barking--yonder dog with white upon his brow.

Then out they called: the goatherd marked them, and up came he; Then out they sang; the goatherd their umpire fain would be.

To shrill Menalcas' lot it fell to start the woodland lay: Then Daphnis took it up. And thus Menalcas led the way.

MENALCAS.

"Rivers and vales, a glorious birth! Oh if Menalcas e'er Piped aught of pleasant music in your ears: Then pasture, nothing loth, his lambs; and let young Daphnis fare No worse, should he stray hither with his steers."

DAPHNIS.

"Pastures and rills, a bounteous race! If Daphnis sang you e'er Such songs as ne'er from nightingale have flowed; Then to his herd your fatness lend; and let Menalcas share Like boon, should e'er he wend along this road."

MENALCAS.

"'Tis spring, 'tis greenness everywhere; with milk the udders teem, And all things that are young have life anew, Where my sweet maiden wanders: but parched and withered seem, When she departeth, lawn and shepherd too."

DAPHNIS.

"Fat are the sheep, the goats bear twins, the hives are thronged with bees, Rises the oak beyond his natural growth, Where falls my darling's footstep: but hungriness shall seize, When she departeth, herd and herdsman both."

MENALCAS.

"Come, ram, with thy blunt-muzzled kids and sleek wives at thy side, Where winds the brook by woodlands myriad-deep: There is _her_ haunt. Go, Stump-horn, tell her how Proteus plied (A G.o.d) the shepherd's trade, with seals for sheep."

DAPHNIS.

"I ask not gold, I ask not the broad lands of a king; I ask not to be fleeter than the breeze; But 'neath this steep to watch my sheep, feeding as one, and fling (Still clasping _her_) my carol o'er the seas."

MENALCAS.

"Storms are the fruit-tree's bane; the brook's, a summer hot and dry; The stag's a woven net, a gin the dove's; Mankind's, a soft sweet maiden. Others have pined ere I: Zeus! Father! hadst not thou thy lady-loves?"

Thus far, in alternating strains, the lads their woes rehearst: Then each one gave a closing stave. Thus sang Menalcas first:--

MENALCAS.

"O spare, good wolf, my weanlings! their milky mothers spare!

Harm not the little lad that hath so many in his care!

What, Firefly, is thy sleep so deep? It ill befits a hound, Tending a boyish master's flock, to slumber over-sound.

And, wethers, of this tender gra.s.s take, nothing coy, your fill: So, when it comes, the after-math shall find you feeding still.

So! so! graze on, that ye be full, that not an udder fail: Part of the milk shall rear the lambs, and part shall fill my pail."

Then Daphnis flung a carol out, as of a nightingale:--

DAPHNIS.

"Me from her grot but yesterday a girl of haughty brow Spied as I pa.s.sed her with my kine, and said, "How fair art thou!"

I vow that not one bitter word in answer did I say, But, looking ever on the ground, went silently my way.

The heifer's voice, the heifer's breath, are pa.s.sing sweet to me; And sweet is sleep by summer-brooks upon the breezy lea: As acorns are the green oak's pride, apples the apple-bough's; So the cow glorieth in her calf, the cowherd in his cows."

Thus the two lads; then spoke the third, sitting his goats among:

GOATHERD.

"O Daphnis, lovely is thy voice, thy music sweetly sung; Such song is pleasanter to me than honey on my tongue.

Accept this pipe, for thou hast won. And should there be some notes That thou couldst teach me, as I plod alongside with my goats, I'll give thee for thy schooling this ewe, that horns hath none: Day after day she'll fill the can, until the milk o'errun."

Then how the one lad laughed and leaped and clapped his hands for glee!

A kid that bounds to meet its dam might dance as merrily.

And how the other inly burned, struck down by his disgrace!

A maid first parting from her home might wear as sad a face.

Thenceforth was Daphnis champion of all the country side: And won, while yet in topmost youth, a Naiad for his bride.

IDYLL IX.

Pastorals.

_DAPHNIS. MENALCAS. A SHEPHERD._

SHEPHERD.

A song from Daphnis! Open he the lay, He open: and Menalcas follow next: While the calves suck, and with the barren kine The young bulls graze, or roam knee-deep in leaves, And ne'er play truant. But a song from thee, Daphnis--anon Menalcas will reply.

DAPHNIS.

Sweet is the chorus of the calves and kine, And sweet the herdsman's pipe. But none may vie With Daphnis; and a rush-strown bed is mine Near a cool rill, where carpeted I lie On fair white goatskins. From a hill-top high The westwind swept me down the herd entire, Cropping the strawberries: whence it comes that I No more heed summer, with his breath of fire, Than lovers heed the words of mother and of sire.

Thus Daphnis: and Menalcas answered thus:--

MENALCAS.

O aetna, mother mine! A grotto fair, Scooped in the rocks, have I: and there I keep All that in dreams men picture! Treasured there Are mult.i.tudes of she-goats and of sheep, Swathed in whose wool from top to toe I sleep.

The fire that boils my pot, with oak or beech Is piled--dry beech-logs when the snow lies deep; And storm and sunshine, I disdain them each As toothless sires a nut, when broth is in their reach.

I clapped applause, and straight produced my gifts: A staff for Daphnis--'twas the handiwork Of nature, in my father's acres grown: Yet might a turner find no fault therewith.

I gave his mate a goodly spiral-sh.e.l.l: We stalked its inmate on the Icarian rocks And ate him, parted fivefold among five.

He blew forthwith the trumpet on his sh.e.l.l.

Tell, woodland Muse--and then farewell--what song I, the chance-comer, sang before those twain.

SHEPHERD.

Ne'er let a falsehood scarify my tongue!

Crickets with crickets, ants with ants agree, And hawks with hawks: and music sweetly sung, Beyond all else, is grateful unto me.

Filled aye with music may my dwelling be!

Not slumber, not the bursting forth of Spring So charms me, nor the flowers that tempt the bee, As those sweet Sisters. He, on whom they fling One gracious glance, is proof to Circe's blandishing.

IDYLL X.