Delicate, so help me Love, are the fosterlings of Tyre; but Myïscus blazes out and quenches them all as the sun the stars.
VII THE LOADSTAR MELEAGER
On thee, Myïscus, the cables of my life are fastened; in thee is the very breath of my soul, what is left of it; for by thine eyes, O boy, that speak even to the deaf, and by thy shining brow, if thou ever dost cast a clouded glance on me, I gaze on winter, and if thou lookest joyously, sweet spring bursts into bloom.
VIII LAUREL AND HYACINTH MELEAGER
O pastoral pipes, no longer sing of Daphnis on the mountains, to pleasure Pan the lord of the goats; neither do you, O lyre interpretess of Phoebus, any more chant Hyacinthus chapleted with maiden laurel; for time was when Daphnis was delightful to the mountain-nymphs, and Hyacinthus to thee; but now let Dion hold the sceptre of Desire.
IX THE QUEST OF PAN GLAUCUS
Nymphs, tell me true when I inquire if Daphnis passing by rested his white kids here.—Yes, yes, piping Pan, and carved in the bark of yonder poplar a letter to say to thee, "Pan, Pan, come to Malea, to the Psophidian mount; I will be there."—Farewell, Nymphs, I go.
X THE AUTUMN BOWER MNASALCAS
Vine, that hastenest so to drop thy leaves to earth, fearest thou then the evening setting of the Pleiad? abide for sweet sleep to fall on Antileon beneath thee, giving all grace to beauty till then.