home to the city alive; oh, Paean, what a babbler thou art, Comatas!


THE SINGING MATCH.


Comatas. The Muses love me better far than the minstrel Daphnis; but
a little while ago I sacrificed two young she-goats to the Muses.

Lacon. Yea, and me too Apollo loves very dearly, and a noble ram I
rear for Apollo, for the feast of the Carnea, look you, is drawing
nigh.

Comatas. The she-goats that I milk have all borne twins save two.
The maiden saw me, and 'alas,' she cried, 'dost thou milk alone?'

Lacon. Ah, ah, but Lacon here hath nigh twenty baskets full of
cheese, and Lacon lies with his darling in the flowers!

Comatas. Clearista, too, pelts the goatherd with apples as he drives
past his she-goats, and a sweet word she murmurs.

Lacon. And wild with love am I too, for my fair young darling, that
meets the shepherd, with the bright hair floating round the shapely
neck.

Comatas. Nay, ye may not liken dog-roses to the rose, or wind-
flowers to the roses of the garden; by the garden walls their beds
are blossoming.