IDYL I. THE DEATH OF DAPHNIS 431
Of Libya, Chromis ; and I '11 give thee, first, 25
To milk, ay thrice, a goat — she suckles twins,
Yet ue'ertheless can fill two milk pails full ; —
Next, a deep drinking-cup, with sweet wax scoured,
Two-handled, newly-carven, smacking yet
O' the chisel. Ivy reaches up and climbs so
About its lip, gilt here and there with sprays
Of woodbine, that enwreathed about it flaunts
Her saffron fruitage. Framed therein appears
A damsel ('t is a miracle of art)
In robe and snood : and suitors at her side 35
With locks fair-flowing, on her right and left.
Battle with words, that fail to reach her heart.
She, laughing, glances now on this, flings now
Her chance regard on that ; they, all for love
Wearied and eye-swoln, find their labor lost. 40
Carven elsewhere an ancient fisher stands
On the rough rocks : thereto the old man with pains
Drags his great casting-net, as one that toils
Full stoutly : every fibre of his frame
Seems fishing : so about the gTay-beard's neck 40
(In might a youngster yet) the sinews swell.
Hard by that wave-beat sire a vineyard bends
Beneath its graceful load of burnished grapes ;
A boy sits on the rude fence watching them.
Near him two foxes ; down the rows of grapes so
One ranging steals its ripest ; one assails
AYith wiles the poor lad's scrip, to leave him soon
Stranded and supperless. He plaits meanwhile
With ears of corn a right fine cricket-trap.
And fits it on a rush : for vines, for scrip, 55
Little he cares, enamored of his toy.
The cup is hung all round with lissom briar, Triumph of Aeolian art, a wondrous sight,
