Classic Poem

THE THIRD PASTORAL

OR, PALÆMON

M ENALCAS , D AMoeTAS , P ALÆMON

M ENALCAS

Ho, swain, what shepherd owns those ragged sheep?

D AMoeTAS

Ægon's they are: he gave 'em me to keep.

M ENALCAS

Unhappy sheep, of an unhappy swain!
While he Neaera courts, but courts in vain,
And fears that I the damsel shall obtain;
Thou, varlet, dost thy master's gains devour;
Thou milk'st his ewes, and often twice an hour;
Of grass and fodder thou defraud'st the dams,
And of their mothers' dugs the starving lambs.

D AMoeTAS

Good words, young catamite, at least to men.
We know who did your business, how, and when;
And in what chapel too you play'd your prize,
And what the goats observ'd with leering eyes:
The nymphs were kind, and laugh'd; and there your safety lies.

M ENALCAS

Yes, when I cropp'd the hedges of the leys,
Cut Micon's tender vines, and stole the stays!

D AMoeTAS

Or rather, when, beneath yon ancient oak,
The bow of Daphnis and the shafts you broke,
When the fair boy receiv'd the gift of right;
And, but for mischief, you had died for spite.

M ENALCAS

What nonsense would the fool thy master prate,
When thou, his knave, canst talk at such a rate!
Did I not see you, rascal, did I not,
When you lay snug to snap young Damon's goat?
His mungril bark'd; I ran to his relief,
And cried: " There, there he goes! stop, stop the thief! "
Discover'd, and defeated of your prey,
You skulk'd behind the fence, and sneak'd away.

D AMoeTAS

An honest man may freely take his own;
The goat was mine, by singing fairly won.
A solemn match was made; he lost the prize.
Ask Damon, ask if he the debt denies.
I think he dares not; if he does, he lies.

M ENALCAS

Thou sing with him, thou booby! Never pipe
Was so profan'd to touch that blubber'd lip.
Dunce at the best! in streets but scarce allow'd
To tickle, on thy straw, the stupid crowd.

D AMoeTAS

To bring it to the trial, will you dare
Our pipes, our skill, our voices, to compare?
My brinded heifer to the stake I lay;
Two thriving calves she suckles twice a day,
And twice besides her beestings never fail
To store the dairy with a brimming pail.
Now back your singing with an equal stake.

M ENALCAS

That should be seen, if I had one to make.
You know too well, I feed my father's flock;
What can I wager from the common stock?
A stepdame too I have, a cursed she,
Who rules my henpeck'd sire, and orders me.
Both number twice a day the milky dams;
And once she takes the tale of all the lambs.
But, since you will be mad, and since you may
Suspect my courage, if I should not lay,
The pawn I proffer shall be full as good:
Two bowls I have, well turn'd, of beechen wood;
Both by divine Alcimedon were made;
To neither of them yet the lip is laid.
The lids are ivy; grapes in clusters lurk
Beneath the carving of the curious work.
Two figures on the sides emboss'd appear —
Conon, and what's his name who made the sphere,
And shew'd the seasons of the sliding year,
Instructed in his trade the lab'ring swain,
And when to reap, and when to sow the grain?

D AMoeTAS

And I have two, to match your pair, at home:
The wood the same; from the same hand they come
(The kimbo handles seem with bear's-foot carv'd),
And never yet to table have been serv'd;
Where Orpheus on his lyre laments his love,
With beasts encompass'd, and a dancing grove.
But these, nor all the proffers you can make,
Are worth the heifer which I set to stake.

M ENALCAS

No more delays, vain boaster, but begin!
I prophesy beforehand I shall win.
Palaemon shall be judge how ill you rhyme;
I 'll teach you how to brag another time.

D AMoeTAS

Rhymer, come on, and do the worst you can!
I fear not you, nor yet a better man.
With silence, neighbor, and attention, wait;
For 't is a business of a high debate.

P ALÆMON

Sing then; the shade affords a proper place:
The trees are cloth'd with leaves, the fields with grass;
The blossoms blow, the birds on bushes sing,
And Nature has accomplish'd all the spring.
The challenge to Damaetas shall belong;
Menalcas shall sustain his undersong.
Each in his turn your tuneful numbers bring;
By turns the tuneful Muses love to sing.

D AMoeTAS

From the great Father of the Gods above
My Muse begins; for all is full of Jove:
To Jove the care of heav'n and earth belongs;
My flocks he blesses, and he loves my songs.

M ENALCAS

Me Phaebus loves; for he my Muse inspires,
And in her songs the warmth he gave requires.
For him, the god of shepherds and their sheep,
My blushing hyacinths and my bays I keep.

D AMoeTAS

My Phyllis me with pelted apples plies;
Then tripping to the woods the wanton hies,
And wishes to be seen before she flies.

M ENALCAS

But fair Amyntas comes unask'd to me,
And offers love, and sits upon my knee.
Not Delia to my dogs is known so well as he.

D AMoeTAS

To the dear mistress of my lovesick mind,
Her swain a pretty present has design'd:
I saw two stockdoves billing, and ere long
Will take the nest, and hers shall be the young.

M ENALCAS

Ten ruddy wildings in the wood I found,
And stood on tiptoes, reaching from the ground:
I sent Amyntas all my present store;
And will, to-morrow, send as many more.

D AMoeTAS

The lovely maid lay panting in my arms,
And all she said and did was full of charms.
Winds, on your wings to heav'n her accents bear;
Such words as heav'n alone is fit to hear.

M ENALCAS

Ah! what avails it me, my love's delight,
To call you mine, when absent from my sight!
I hold the nets, while you pursue the prey;
And must not share the dangers of the day.

D AMoeTAS

I keep my birthday: send my Phyllis home;
At shearing time, Iolas, you may come.

M ENALCAS

With Phyllis I am more in grace than you;
Her sorrow did my parting steps pursue:
" Adieu, my dear, " she said, " a long adieu! "

D AMoeTAS

The nightly wolf is baneful to the fold,
Storms to the wheat, to buds the bitter cold;
But, from my frowning fair, more ills I find,
Than from the wolves, and storms, and winter wind.

M ENALCAS

The kids with pleasure browse the bushy plain;
The show'rs are grateful to the swelling grain;
To teeming ewes the sallow's tender tree;
But, more than all the world, my love to me.

D AMoeTAS

Pollio my rural verse vouchsafes to read;
A heifer, Muses, for your patron breed.

M ENALCAS

My Pollio writes himself: a bull be bred,
With spurning heels, and with a butting head.

D AMoeTAS

Who Pollio loves, and who his Muse admires,
Let Pollio's fortune crown his full desires.
Let myrrh instead of thorn his fences fill,
And show'rs of honey from his oaks distil.

M ENALCAS

Who hates not living Bavius, let him be,
Dead Maevius, damn'd to love thy works and thee!
The same ill taste of sense would serve to join
Dog-foxes in the yoke, and shear the swine.

D AMoeTAS

Ye boys, who pluck the flow'rs, and spoil the spring,
Beware the secret snake that shoots a sting.

M ENALCAS

Graze not too near the banks, my jolly sheep;
The ground is false, the running streams are deep:
See, they have caught the father of the flock,
Who dries his fleece upon the neighb'ring rock.

D AMoeTAS

From rivers drive the kids, and sling your hook;
Anon I 'll wash 'em in the shallow brook.

M ENALCAS

To fold, my flock! When milk is dried with heat,
In vain the milkmaid tugs an empty teat.
D AMoeTAS

How lank my bulls from plenteous pasture come!
But love, that drains the herd, destroys the groom.

M ENALCAS

My flocks are free from love, yet look so thin,
Their bones are barely cover'd with their skin.
What magic has bewitch'd the woolly dams,
And what ill eyes beheld the tender lambs?

D AMoeTAS

Say, where the round of heav'n, which all contains,
To three short ells on earth our sight restrains:
Tell that, and rise a Phaebus for thy pains.

M ENALCAS

Nay, tell me first, in what new region springs
A flow'r that bears inscrib'd the names of kings;
And thou shalt gain a present as divine
As Phaebus' self; for Phyllis shall be thine.

P ALÆMON

So nice a diff'rence in your singing lies,
That both have won, or both deserv'd the prize.
Rest equal happy both; and all who prove
The bitter sweets, and pleasing pains, of love.
Now dam the ditches, and the floods restrain;
Their moisture has already drench'd the plain.