Greek Texts & Translations

LACON
5.98 So soon as e’er my sheep I shear, a rare fine gift I’ll take;
I’ll give yon black ewe’s pretty coat my darling’s cloak to make.

COMATAS
5.100 Hey, bleaters! away from the olive; where would be grazing then?
Your pasture’s where the tamarisk grows and the slope hill drops to the glen.

LACON
5.102 Where are ye browsing, Crumple? and, Browning, where are ye?
Graze up the hill as Piebad will, and let the oak-leaves be.

COMATAS
5.104 I’ve laid up a piggin of cypress-wood and a bowl for mixing wine,
The work of great Praxiteles, ^note both for that lass of mine.

LACON
5.106 And I, I have a flock-dog, a wolver of good fame,
Shall go a gift to my dearest and hunt him all manner of game.

COMATAS
5.108 Avaunt, avaunt, ye locusts o’er master’s fence that spring;
These be none of your common vines; have done your ravaging.

LACON
5.110 See, crickets, see how vexed he be! see master Goatherd boiling!
‘Tis even so you vex, I trow, the reapers at their toiling. ^note

COMATAS
5.112 I hate the brush-tail foxes, that soon as day declines
Come creeping to their vintaging mid goodman Micon’s vines.

LACON
5.114 So too I hate the beetles come riding on the breeze,
Guttle Philondas’ choicest figs, and off as quick as you please.

COMATAS
5.116 Don’t you remember when I poked you, and you
Grinning jerked your tail finely at me, and clung to that oak-tree?

LACON
5.118 That indeed I don’t remember; however, when Eumaras
fastened you up here and cleaned you out – that anyway I know all about.

COMATAS
5.120 Somebody’s waxing wild, Morson; see you not what is plain?
Go pluck him squills from an oldwife’s grave to cool his heated brain.

LACON
5.122 Nay, I be nettling somebody; do you not see it, then?
Be off to Haleis bank, Morson, and dig him some cyclamen.

COMATAS
5.124 Let Himera’s stream run white with cream, and Crathis, as for thine,
Mid apple-bearing beds or reed may it run red with wine.

LACON
5.126 Let Sybaris’ well spring honey for me, and ere the sun is up
May the wench that goes for water draw honeycombs for my cup.

COMATAS
5.128 My goats eat goat-grass, mine, and browze upon the clover,
Tread mastich green and lie between the arbutes waving over.

LACON
5.130 It may be so, but I’ld have ye know these pretty sheep of mine
Browze rock-roses in plenty and sweet as eglantine.

COMATAS
5.132 When I brought the cushat ‘tother night ‘tis true Alcippa kissed me,
But alack! she forgot to kiss by the pot, ^note and since, poor wench, she’s missed me.

LACON
5.134 When fair Eumédes took the pipe that was his lover’s token
He kissed him sweet as sweet could be; his lover’s love unbroken.

COMATAS
5.136 ‘Tis nature’s law that no jackdaw with nightingale shall bicker,
Nor owl ^note with swan, but poor Lacòn was born a quarrel-picker.

MORSON
5.138 I bid the shepherd cease. You, Comatas, may take the lamb; and when you offer her to the Nymphs be sure you presently send poor Morson a well-laden platter.

COMATAS
5.140 That will I, ‘fore Pan. Come, snort ye, my merry buck-goats all. Look you how great a laugh I have of shepherd Lacon for that I have at last achieved the lamb. Troth, I’ll caper you to the welkin. Horned she-goats mine, frisk it and be merry; tomorrow I’ll wash you one and all in Sybaris’ lake. What, Whitecoat, thou butt-head! if thou leave not poke the she’s, before ever I sacrifice the lamb to the Nymphs I’ll break every bone in thy body. Lo there! he’s at it again. If I break thee not, be my last end the end of Melanthius. ^note