LACON. 
    My sheep crop honeysuckle bloom, while all around them blows
    In clusters rich the jasmine, as brave as any rose.

    COMETAS. 
    I scorn my maid; for when she took my cushat, she did not
    Draw with both hands my face to hers and kiss me on the spot.

    LACON. 
    I love my love, and hugely:  for, when I gave my flute,
    I was rewarded with a kiss, a loving one to boot.

    COMETAS. 
    Lacon, the nightingale should scarce be challenged by the jay,
    Nor swan by hoopoe:  but, poor boy, thou aye wert for a fray.

    MORSON. 
    I bid the shepherd hold his peace.  Cometas, unto you
    I, Morson, do adjudge the lamb.  You’ll first make offering due
    Unto the nymphs:  then savoury meat you’ll send to Morson too.

    COMETAS. 
    By Pan I will!  Snort, all my herd of he-goats:  I shall now
    O’er Lacon, shepherd as he is, crow ye shall soon see how. 
    I’ve won, and I could leap sky-high!  Ye also dance and skip,
    My horned ewes:  in Sybaris’ fount to-morrow all shall dip. 
    Ho! you, sir, with the glossy coat and dangerous crest; you dare
    Look at a ewe, till I have slain my lamb, and ill you’ll fare. 
    What! is he at his tricks again?  He is, and he will get
    (Or my name’s not Cometas) a proper pounding yet.

IDYLL VI.

The Drawn Battle.

DAPHNIS.  DAMOETAS.

    Daphnis the herdsman and Damoetas once
    Had driven, Aratus, to the selfsame glen. 
    One chin was yellowing, one shewed half a beard. 
    And by a brookside on a summer noon
    The pair sat down and sang; but Daphnis led
    The song, for Daphnis was the challenger.

    DAPHNIS. 
    “See!  Galatea pelts thy flock with fruit,
    And calls their master ‘Lack-love,’ Polypheme. 
    Thou mark’st her not, blind, blind, but pipest aye
    Thy wood-notes.  See again, she smites thy dog: 
    Sea-ward the fleeced flocks’ sentinel peers and barks,
    And, through the clear wave visible to her still,
    Careers along the gently babbling beach. 
    Look that he leap not on the maid new-risen
    From her sea-bath and rend her dainty limbs. 
    She fools thee, near or far, like thistle-waifs
    In hot sweet summer:  flies from thee when wooed,
    Unwooed pursues thee:  risks all moves to win;
    For, Polypheme, things foul seem fair to Love.”

      And then, due prelude made, Damoetas sang.

    DAMOETAS. 
    “I marked her pelt my dog, I was not blind,
    By Pan, by this my one my precious eye
    That bounds my vision now and evermore! 
    But Telemus the Seer, be his the woe,
    His and his children’s, that he promised me! 
    Yet do I too tease her; I pass her by,