“Shrewdly guessed,” quoth she,
    And blushed—­her blushes might have fired a torch. 
    A wolf had charmed her:  Wolf her neighbour’s son,
    Goodly and tall, and fair in divers eyes: 
    For his illustrious sake it was she pined. 
    This had been breathed, just idly, in my ear: 
    Shame on my beard, I ne’er pursued the hint. 
    Well, when we four were deep amid our cups,
    The Knight must sing ‘The Wolf’ (a local song)
    Right through for mischief.  All at once she wept
    Hot tears as girls of six years old might weep,
    Clinging and clamouring round their mother’s lap. 
    And I, (you know my humour, friend of mine,)
    Drove at his face, one, two!  She gathered up
    Her robes and vanished straightway through the door. 
    “And so I fail to please, false lady mine? 
    Another lies more welcome in thy lap? 
    Go warm that other’s heart:  he’ll say thy tears
    Are liquid pearls.”  And as a swallow flies
    Forth in a hurry, here or there to find
    A mouthful for her brood among the eaves: 
    From her soft sofa passing-swift she fled
    Through folding-doors and hall, with random feet: 
    ’The stag had gained his heath’: you know the rest. 
    Three weeks, a month, nine days and ten to that,
    To-day’s the eleventh:  and ’tis just two months
    All but two days, since she and I were two. 
    Hence is my beard of more than Thracian growth. 
    Now Wolf is all to her:  Wolf enters in
    At midnight; I am a cypher in her eyes;
    The poor Megarian, nowhere in the race. 
    All would go right, if I could once unlove: 
    But now, you wot, the rat hath tasted tar. 
    And what may cure a swain at his wit’s end
    I know not:  Simus, (true,) a mate of mine,
    Loved Epichalcus’ daughter, and took ship
    And came home cured.  I too will sail the seas. 
    Worse men, it may be better, are afloat,
    I shall still prove an average man-at-arms.

THYONICHUS. 
Now may thy love run smoothly, AEschines! 
But should’st thou really mean a voyage out,
The freeman’s best paymaster’s Ptolemy.

AESCHINES. 
What is he else?

THYONICHUS. 
A gentleman:  a man
Of wit and taste; the top of company;
Loyal to ladies; one whose eye is keen
For friends, and keener still for enemies. 
Large in his bounties, he, in kingly sort,
Denies a boon to none:  but, AEschines,
One should not ask too often.  This premised,
If thou wilt clasp the military cloak
O’er thy right shoulder, and with legs astride
Await the onward rush of shielded men: 
Hie thee to Egypt.  Age overtakes us all;
Our temples first; then on o’er cheek and chin,
Slowly and surely, creep the frosts of Time. 
Up and do somewhat, ere thy limbs are sere.

IDYLL XV.