But the marsh water has a property unknown to the Olympian springs. I suspect
it of being poisoned. After standing long in it, I found myself troubled with aching in the shank, from knee to hoof. If this is repeated, my studies of reed-life will be made dolorously difficult.
Phœbus.
It must now be part of your pleasure to husband your enjoyments. You have always rolled in the twinkle of the vine-leaves, hot enough and not too hot, with grapes—immense musky clusters—just within your reach. If you think of it philosophically——
Pan.
How, sire?
Phœbus.
Philosophically.... Well, if you think of it sensibly, you will see that there was a certain dreariness in this uniformity of satisfaction.
Rather amusing, surely, to find the cluster occasionally spring up out of reach, to find the polished waist of the reed slip from your hands? Occasionally, of course; just enough to give a zest to pursuit.
Pan.