‘For the goatherd, when he marks the young goats at their pastime, looks on with yearning eyes, and fain would be even as they; and thou, when thou beholdest the laughter of maidens, dost gaze with yearning eyes, for that thou dost not join their dances.’
Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song!
Yet these the herdsman answered not again, but he bare his bitter love to the end, yea, to the fated end he bare it.
Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song!
Ay, but she too came, the sweetly smiling Cypris, craftily smiling she came, yet keeping her heavy anger; and she spake, saying: ‘Daphnis, methinks thou didst boast that thou wouldst throw Love a fall, nay, is it not thyself that hast been thrown by grievous Love?’
Begin ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song!
But to her Daphnis answered again: ‘Implacable Cypris, Cypris terrible, Cypris of mortals detested, already dost thou deem that my latest sun has set; nay, Daphnis even in Hades shall prove great sorrow to Love.
Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song!
‘Where it is told how the herdsman with Cypris—Get thee to Ida, get thee to Anchises! There are oak trees—here only galingale blows, here sweetly hum the bees about the hives!
Begin, ye Muses dear, begin the pastoral song!