THEOCRITUS I, 98–116
“Thou’rt thrown, methinks, thyself of Love's so grievous guile.”
Country-song, more county-song, ye Muses.
Then out he Spake; “O Cypris cruel, Cypris vengeful yet,
“Cypris hated of all flesh! think’st all my sun be set?
“I tell thee even. ’mong the dead Daplmis shall work thee ill:—
Country-song, more county-song, ye Muses.
“Men. talk of Cypris and the hind; begone to Ida hill,
“Begone to hind Anchises; sure bedstraw there doth thrive
“And fine oak-trees and pretty bees all humming at the hive.
Country-song, more county-song, ye Muses.
“Adonis too is ripe to woo, for a’ tends his sheep o’ the lea
“‘And shoots the hare and a-hunting goes of all the beasts there be.
Country-song, more county-song, ye Muses.
“And then I’ld have thee take thy stand by Diomed, and say
“‘I slew the neatherd Daphnis; fight me thou to-day.’
Country-song, more county-song, ye Muses.
“But ’tis wolf farewell and fox farewell and bear o’ the mountain den,
“Your neatherd fere, your Daphnis dear, ye’ll never see agen,
