scrip, to leave him soon
    Stranded and supperless.  He plaits meanwhile
    With ears of corn a right fine cricket-trap,
    And fits it on a rush:  for vines, for scrip,
    Little he cares, enamoured of his toy. 
      The cup is hung all round with lissom briar,
    Triumph of AEolian art, a wondrous sight. 
    It was a ferryman’s of Calydon: 
    A goat it cost me, and a great white cheese. 
    Ne’er yet my lips came near it, virgin still
    It stands.  And welcome to such boon art thou,
    If for my sake thou’lt sing that lay of lays. 
    I jest not:  up, lad, sing:  no songs thou’lt own
    In the dim land where all things are forgot.

    THYSIS [sings].
      Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song. 
    The voice of Thyrsis.  AEtna’s Thyrsis I.
    Where were ye, Nymphs, oh where, while Daphnis pined? 
    In fair Peneus’ or in Pindus’ glens? 
    For great Anapus’ stream was not your haunt,
    Nor AEtna’s cliff, nor Acis’ sacred rill.
      Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song. 
    O’er him the wolves, the jackals howled o’er him;
    The lion in the oak-copse mourned his death.
      Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song. 
    The kine and oxen stood around his feet,
    The heifers and the calves wailed all for him.
      Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song. 
    First from the mountain Hermes came, and said,
    “Daphnis, who frets thee?  Lad, whom lov’st thou so?”
      Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song. 
    Came herdsmen, shepherds came, and goatherds came;
    All asked what ailed the lad.  Priapus came
    And said, “Why pine, poor Daphnis? while the maid
    Foots it round every pool and every grove,
    (Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song)
    “O lack-love and perverse, in quest of thee;
    Herdsman in name, but goatherd rightlier called. 
    With eyes that yearn the goatherd marks his kids
    Run riot, for he fain would frisk as they: 
      (Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song): 
    “With eyes that yearn dost thou too mark the laugh
    Of maidens, for thou may’st not share their glee.” 
    Still naught the herdsman said:  he drained alone
    His bitter portion, till the fatal end.
      Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song. 
    Came Aphrodite, smiles on her sweet face,
    False smiles, for heavy was her heart, and spake: 
    “So, Daphnis, thou must try a fall with Love! 
    But stalwart Love hath won the fall of thee.”
      Begin, sweet Maids, begin the woodland song. 
    Then “Ruthless Aphrodite,” Daphnis said,
    “Accursed Aphrodite, foe to man! 
    Say’st thou mine hour is come, my sun hath set? 
    Dead as alive, shall Daphnis work Love woe.”
      Begin, sweet