The Third Country Singing-Match
Sing a country-song, Daphnis. Be you the first and Menalcas follow when you have let out the calves to run with the cows and the bulls with the barren heifers. As for the cattle, may they feed together and wander together among the leaves and never stray alone, but do you come and sing me your song on this side and Menalcas stand for judgment against you on that.
DAPHNIS ( sings )
O sweet the cry o' the calf, and sweet the cry o' the cow,
And sweet the tune o' the neatherd's pipe, and I sing sweet enow;
And a greenbed's mine by the cool brook-side
Piled thick and thick with many a hide
From the pretty heifers wi' skin so white
Which the storm found browzing on the height
And hurled them all below:
And as much reck I o' the scorching heat
As a love-struck lad of his father's threat.
So sang me Daphnis, and then Menalcas thus: —
Etna, mother o' mine! my shelter it is a grot,
A pretty rift in a hollow clift, and for skins to my bed, God wot,
Head and foot 'tis goats and sheep
As many as be in a vision o' sleep,
And an oaken fire i' the winter days
With chestnuts roasting at the blaze
And puddings in the pot:
And as little care I for the wintry sky
As the toothless for nuts when porridge is by.
Then clapped I the lads both, and then and there gave them each a gift, Daphnis a club which grew upon my father's farm and e'en the same as it grew — albeit an artificer could not make one to match it — , and Menalcas a passing fine conch, of which the fish when I took it among the Icarian rocks furnished five portions for five mouths, — and he blew a blast upon the shell.
All hail, good Muses o' the countryside! and the song I did sing that day before those herdsmen, let it no longer raise pushes on the tip o' my tongue, but show it me you:
( the song )
O cricket is to cricket dear, and ant for ant doth long,
The hawk's the darling of his fere, and o' me the Muse and her song:
Of songs be my house the home alway,
For neither sleep, nor a sudden spring-day,
Nor flowers to the bees, are as sweet as they;
I love the Muse and her song:
For any the Muses be glad to see,
Is proof agen Circe's witcherye.
DAPHNIS ( sings )
O sweet the cry o' the calf, and sweet the cry o' the cow,
And sweet the tune o' the neatherd's pipe, and I sing sweet enow;
And a greenbed's mine by the cool brook-side
Piled thick and thick with many a hide
From the pretty heifers wi' skin so white
Which the storm found browzing on the height
And hurled them all below:
And as much reck I o' the scorching heat
As a love-struck lad of his father's threat.
So sang me Daphnis, and then Menalcas thus: —
Etna, mother o' mine! my shelter it is a grot,
A pretty rift in a hollow clift, and for skins to my bed, God wot,
Head and foot 'tis goats and sheep
As many as be in a vision o' sleep,
And an oaken fire i' the winter days
With chestnuts roasting at the blaze
And puddings in the pot:
And as little care I for the wintry sky
As the toothless for nuts when porridge is by.
Then clapped I the lads both, and then and there gave them each a gift, Daphnis a club which grew upon my father's farm and e'en the same as it grew — albeit an artificer could not make one to match it — , and Menalcas a passing fine conch, of which the fish when I took it among the Icarian rocks furnished five portions for five mouths, — and he blew a blast upon the shell.
All hail, good Muses o' the countryside! and the song I did sing that day before those herdsmen, let it no longer raise pushes on the tip o' my tongue, but show it me you:
( the song )
O cricket is to cricket dear, and ant for ant doth long,
The hawk's the darling of his fere, and o' me the Muse and her song:
Of songs be my house the home alway,
For neither sleep, nor a sudden spring-day,
Nor flowers to the bees, are as sweet as they;
I love the Muse and her song:
For any the Muses be glad to see,
Is proof agen Circe's witcherye.
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