His reeds of many a stop, his barbèd spear,
And scrip, wherein he held his hoards of fruit.
III.
Daphnis, thou slumberest on the leaf-strown lea,
Thy frame at rest, thy springes newly spread
O'er the fell-side. But two are hunting thee:
Pan, and Priapus with his fair young head
Hung with wan ivy. See! they come, they leap
Into thy lair—fly, fly,—shake off the coil of sleep!