PASTORAL V.[1]
MENALCAS, MOPSUS.
MENALCAS.
Since you with skill can touch the tuneful reed,
Since few my verses or my voice exceed:
In this refreshing shade shall we recline,
Where hazels with the lofty elms combine?
MOPSUS.
Your riper age a due respect requires,
'Tis mine to yield to what my friend desires;
Whether you choose the zephyr's fanning breeze,
That shakes the wavering shadows of the trees;
Or the deep-shaded grotto's cool retreat:—
And see yon cave screen'd from the scorching heat,
Where the wild vine its curling tendrils weaves,
Whose grapes glow ruddy through the quivering leaves.
MENALCAS.
Of all the swains that to our hills belong,
Amyntas only vies with you in song.
MOPSUS.
What, though with me that haughty shepherd vie,
Who proudly dares Apollo's self defy?