yet so straight, that perchance even a craftsman could have found no
fault in it. To the other I gave a goodly spiral shell, the meat
that filled it once I had eaten after stalking the fish on the
Icarian rocks (I cut it into five shares for five of us),--and
Menalcas blew a blast on the shell.

Ye pastoral Muses, farewell! Bring ye into the light the song that I
sang there to these shepherds on that day! Never let the pimple grow
on my tongue-tip. {53}

Cicala to cicala is dear, and ant to ant, and hawks to hawks, but to
me the Muse and song. Of song may all my dwelling be full, for sleep
is not more sweet, nor sudden spring, nor flowers are more delicious
to the bees--so dear to me are the Muses. {54} Whom they look on in
happy hour, Circe hath never harmed with her enchanted potion.



IDYL X--THE REAPERS



This is an idyl of the same genre as Idyl IV. The sturdy reaper,
Milon, as he levels the swathes of corn, derides his languid and
love-worn companion, Buttus. The latter defends his gipsy love in
verses which have been the keynote of much later poetry, and which
echo in the fourth book of Lucretius, and in the Misanthrope of
Moliere. Milon replies with the song of Lityerses--a string,
apparently, of popular rural couplets, such as Theocritus may have
heard chanted in the fields.