9
LYCIDAS
down to the brook-side and the broken crests
of yonder veteran beeches, all the land
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was by the songs of your Menalcas saved.
MOERIS
Heard it you had, and so the rumour ran,
but 'mid the clash of arms, my Lycidas,
our songs avail no more than, as 'tis said,
doves of Dodona when an eagle comes.
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Nay, had I not, from hollow ilex-bole
warned by a raven on the left, cut short
the rising feud, nor I, your Moeris here,
no, nor Menalcas, were alive to-day.
LYCIDAS
Alack! could any of so foul a crime
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be guilty? Ah! how nearly, thyself,
reft was the solace that we had in thee,
Menalcas! Who then of the Nymphs had sung,
or who with flowering herbs bestrewn the ground,
and o'er the fountains drawn a leafy veil?—
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who sung the stave I filched from you that day
to Amaryllis wending, our hearts' joy?—
“While I am gone, 'tis but a little way,
