5
MENALCAS
as lowly Celtic nard to rose-buds bright,
so, to my mind, Amyntas yields to you.
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But hold awhile, for to the cave we come.
MOPSUS
“For Daphnis cruelly slain wept all the Nymphs—
ye hazels, bear them witness, and ye streams—
when she, his mother, clasping in her arms
the hapless body of the son she bare,
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to gods and stars unpitying, poured her plaint.
Then, Daphnis, to the cooling streams were none
that drove the pastured oxen, then no beast
drank of the river, or would the grass-blade touch.
Nay, the wild rocks and woods then voiced the roar
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of Afric lions mourning for thy death.
Daphnis, 'twas thou bad'st yoke to Bacchus' car
armenian tigresses, lead on the pomp
of revellers, and with tender foliage wreathe
the bending spear-wands. As to trees the vine
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is crown of glory, as to vines the grape,
bulls to the herd, to fruitful fields the corn,
so the one glory of thine own art thou.
