My gifts—so she shall have them for her own.
Come hither boy; look at the Nymph's rich gifts—
The baskets full of lilies, and the pale
Violets that water-nymphs for thee have plucked
With poppy-heads, and scented anise flowers,
Narcissus too; twining them with the blooms
Of Cassia, and fragrant herbs, as well—
Spangling the clustered hyacinths with gold
Of yellow Caltha. While for fruits, myself
Will pluck for thee the downy quince, and too,
The chestnuts which my Amaryllis loved.
These wax-like plums shall also honoured be.
To mingle all the sweets, I'll gather next
The scented laurels, and the myrtles rich.
Corydon, rustic boor, the gentle swain
Alexis scorns thy presents—not to say
That Iolas bears off the palm in gifts.
Alas! alas! what madness seizes me?
How I have wrecked the garden of my soul
And on my fountains clear, loosed savage swine?
From whom dost flee, thou madman, knowst thou not
Gods dwell in woods, and Trojan Paris too.
Pallas may hold the towers herself has built;
For us, the woods shall be our chief delight.
Wolves are pursued by lions, goats by wolves,
Whilst in their turn, the goats devour the thyme.
And so, Alexis, Corydon seeks thee—
To please his fancy. See the evening comes—
The oxen draw the ploughs, hung from the yoke,
11
