The scene is in Sicily.

Thyrsis. Sweet, meseems, is the whispering sound of yonder pine
tree, goatherd, that murmureth by the wells of water; and sweet are
thy pipings. After Pan the second prize shalt thou bear away, and if
he take the horned goat, the she-goat shalt thou win; but if he
choose the she-goat for his meed, the kid falls to thee, and dainty
is the flesh of kids e'er the age when thou milkest them.

The Goatherd. Sweeter, O shepherd, is thy song than the music of
yonder water that is poured from the high face of the rock! Yea, if
the Muses take the young ewe for their gift, a stall-fed lamb shalt
thou receive for thy meed; but if it please them to take the lamb,
thou shalt lead away the ewe for the second prize.

Thyrsis. Wilt thou, goatherd, in the nymphs' name, wilt thou sit
thee down here, among the tamarisks, on this sloping knoll, and pipe
while in this place I watch thy flocks?

Goatherd. Nay, shepherd, it may not be; we may not pipe in the
noontide. 'Tis Pan we dread, who truly at this hour rests weary from
the chase; and bitter of mood is he, the keen wrath sitting ever at
his nostrils. But, Thyrsis, for that thou surely wert wont to sing
The Affliction of Daphnis, and hast most deeply meditated the
pastoral muse, come hither, and beneath yonder elm let us sit down,
in face of Priapus and the fountain fairies, where is that resting-
place of the shepherds, and where the oak trees are. Ah! if thou
wilt but sing as on that day thou sangest in thy match with Chromis
out of Libya, I will let thee milk, ay, three times, a goat that is