XLIII
TO PAN OF THE SHEPHERDS
AUTHOR UNKNOWN

O Pan, utter thy holy voice to the feeding flocks, running thy curved
lip over the golden reeds, that so they may often bring gifts of white
milk in heavy udders to Clymenus' home, and for thee the lord of the
she-goats, standing fairly by thy altars, may spirt the red blood from
his shaggy breast.


XLIV
TO THE GOD OF ARCADY
AGATHIAS

These unsown domains, O Pan of the hill, Stratonicus the ploughman
dedicated to thee in return of thy good deeds, saying, Feed in joy
thine own flocks and look on thine own land, never more to be shorn
with brass; thou wilt find the resting-place a gracious one; for even
here charmed Echo will fulfil her marriage with thee.



CHAPTER III

EPITAPHS