Did not Adonis rouse to such excess
Of frenzy her whose name is Loveliness,
(He a mere lad whose wethers grazed the hill)
That, dead, he's pillowed on her bosom still?

Endymion sleeps the sleep that changeth not:
And, maiden mine, I envy him his lot!
Envy Iasion's: his it was to gain
Bliss that I dare not breathe in ears profane.

My head aches. What reck'st thou? I sing no more:
E'en where I fell I'll lie, until the wolves
Rend me--may that be honey in thy mouth!




IDYLL IV.


The Herdsmen.

_BATTUS. CORYDON._

BATTUS.
Who owns these cattle, Corydon? Philondas? Prythee say.

CORYDON.
No, Ægon: and he gave them me to tend while he's away.