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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=528352" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Battle of the Bards</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">COMETAS.<br>Goats, from a shepherd who stands here, from Lacon, keep away:<br>Sibyrtas owns him; and he stole my goatskin yesterday.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Hi! lambs! avoid yon fountain. Have ye not eyes to see<br>Cometas, him who filched a pipe but two days back from me?<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Sibyrtas' bondsman own a pipe? whence gotst thou that, and how?<br>Tootling through straws with Corydon mayhap's beneath thee now?<br> <br>LACON.<br>'Twas Lycon's gift, your highness. But pray, Cometas, say,<br>What is that skin wherewith thou saidst that Lacon walked away?<br>Why, thy lord's self had ne'er a skin whereon his limbs to lay.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>The skin that Crocylus gave me, a dark one streaked with white,<br>The day he slew his she-goat. Why, thou wert ill with spite,<br>Then, my false friend; and thou would'st end by beggaring me quite.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Did Lacon, did Calaethis' son purloin a goatskin? No,<br>By Pan that haunts the sea-beach! Lad, if I served thee so,<br>Crazed may I dropp from yon hill-top to Crathis' stream below!<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Nor pipe of thine, good fellow-the Ladies of the Lake<br>So be still kind and good to me-did e'er Cometas take.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Be Daphnis' woes my portion, should that my credence win!<br>Still, if thou list to stake a kid-that surely were no sin-<br>Come on, I'll sing it out with thee-until thou givest in.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>'The hog he braved Athene.' As for the kid, 'tis there:<br>You stake a lamb against him-that fat one-if you dare.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Fox! were that fair for either? At shearing who'd prefer<br>Horsehair to wool? or when the goat stood handy, suffer her<br>To nurse her firstling, and himself go milk a blatant cur?<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>The same who deemed his hornet's-buzz the true cicala's note,<br>And braved-like you-his better. And so forsooth you vote<br>My kid a trifle? Then come on, fellow! I stake the goat.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Why be so hot? Art thou on fire? First prythee take thy seat<br>'Neath this wild woodland olive: thy tones will sound more sweet.<br>Here falls a cold rill dropp by drop, and green grass-blades uprear<br>Their heads, and fallen leaves are thick, and locusts prattle here.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Hot I am not; but hurt I am, and sorely, when I think<br>That thou canst look me in the face and never bleach nor blink-<br>Me, thine own boyhood's tutor! Go, train the she-wolf's brood:<br>Train dogs-that they may rend thee! This, this is gratitude!<br> <br>LACON.<br>When learned I from thy practice or thy preaching aught that's right,<br>Thou puppet, thou misshapen lump of ugliness and spite?<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>When? When I beat thee, wailing sore: yon goats looked on with glee,<br>And bleated; and were dealt with e'en as I had dealt with thee.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Well, hunchback, shallow be thy grave as was thy judgment then!<br>But hither, hither! Thou'lt not dip in herdsman's lore again.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Nay, here are oaks and galingale: the hum of housing bees<br>Makes the place pleasant, and the birds are piping in the trees.<br>And here are two cold streamlets; here deeper shadows fall<br>Than yon place owns, and look what cones dropp from the pinetree tall.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Come hither, and tread on lambswool that is soft as any dream:<br>Still more unsavoury than thyself to me thy goatskins seem.<br>Here will I plant a bowl of milk, our ladies' grace to win;<br>And one, as huge, beside it, sweet olive-oil therein.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Come hither, and trample dainty fern and poppy-blossom: sleep<br>On goatskins that are softer than thy fleeces piled three deep.<br>Here will I plant eight milkpails, great Pan's regard to gain,<br>Bound them eight cups: full honeycombs shall every cup contain.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Well! there essay thy woodcraft: thence fight me, never budge<br>From thine own oak; e'en have thy way. But who shall be our judge?<br>Oh, if Lycopas with his kine should chance this way to trudge!<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Nay, I want no Lycopas. But hail yon woodsman, do:<br>'Tis Morson-see! his arms are full of bracken-there, by you.<br> <br>LACON.<br>We'll hail him.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Ay, you hail him.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Friend, 'twill not take thee long:<br>We're striving which is master, we twain, in woodland song:<br>And thou, my good friend Morson, ne'er look with favouring eyes<br>On me; nor yet to yonder lad be fain to judge the prize.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Nay, by the Nymphs, sweet Morson, ne'er for Cometas' sake<br>Stretch thou a point; nor e'er let him undue advantage take.<br>Sibyrtas owns yon wethers; a Thurian is he:<br>And here, my friend, Eumares' goats, of Sybaris, you may see.<br> <br>LACON.<br>And who asked thee, thou naughty knave, to whom belonged these flocks,<br>Sibyrtas, or (it might be) me? Eh, thou'rt a chatter-box!<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>The simple truth, most worshipful, is all that I allege:<br>I'm not for boasting. But thy wit hath all too keen an edge.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Come sing, if singing's in thee-and may our friend get back<br>To town alive! Heaven help us, lad, how thy tongue doth clack!<br> <br>COMETAS. [Sings]<br>Daphnis the mighty minstrel was less precious to the Nine<br>Than I. I offered yesterday two kids upon their shrine.<br> <br>LACON. [Sings]<br>Ay, but Apollo fancies me hugely: for him I rear<br>A lordly ram: and, look you, the Carnival is near.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Twin kids hath every goat I milk, save two. My maid, my own,<br>Eyes me and asks 'At milking time, rogue, art thou all alone?'<br> <br>LACON.<br>Go to! nigh twenty baskets doth Lacon fill with cheese:<br>Hath time to woo a sweetheart too upon the blossomed leas.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Clarissa pelts her goatherd with apples, should he stray<br>By with his goats; and pouts her lip in a quaint charming way.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Me too a darling smooth of face notes as I tend my flocks:<br>How maddeningly o'er that fair neck ripple those shining locks!<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Tho' dogrose and anemone are fair in their degree,<br>The rose that blooms by garden-walls still is the rose for me.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Tho' acorns' cups are fair, their taste is bitterness, and still<br>I'll choose, for honeysweet are they, the apples of the hill.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>A cushat I will presently procure and give to her<br>Who loves me: I know where it sits; up in the juniper.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Pooh! a soft fleece, to make a coat, I'll give the day I shear<br>My brindled ewe-(no hand but mine shall touch it)-to my dear.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Back, lambs, from that wild-olive: and be content to browse<br>Here on the shoulder of the hill, beneath the myrtle boughs.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Run, (will ye?) Ball and Dogstar, down from that oak tree, run:<br>And feed where Spot is feeding, and catch the morning sun.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>I have a bowl of cypress-wood: I have besides a cup:<br>Praxiteles designed them: for her they're treasured up.<br> <br>LACON.<br>I have a dog who throttles wolves: he loves the sheep, and they<br>Love him: I'll give him to my dear, to keep wild beasts at bay.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Ye locusts that o'erleap my fence, oh let my vines escape<br>Your clutches, I beseech you: the bloom is on the grape.<br> <br>LACON.<br>Ye crickets, mark how nettled our friend the goatherd is!<br>I ween, ye cost the reapers pangs as acute as his.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Those foxes with their bushy tails, I hate to see them crawl<br>Round Micon's homestead and purloin his grapes at evenfall.<br> <br>LACON.<br>I hate to see the beetles that come warping on the wind.<br>And climb Philondas' trees, and leave never a fig behind.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Have you forgot that cudgelling I gave you? At each stroke<br>You grinned and twisted with a grace, and clung to yonder oak.<br> <br>LACON.<br>That I've forgot-but I have not, how once Eumares tied<br>You to that selfsame oak-trunk, and tanned your unclean hide.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>There's some one ill-of heartburn. You note it, I presume,<br>Morson? Go quick, and fetch a squill from some old beldam's tomb.<br> <br>LACON.<br>I think I'm stinging somebody, as Morson too perceives-<br>Go to the river and dig up a clump of sowbread-leaves.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>May Himera flow, not water, but milk: and may'st thou blush,<br>Crathis, with wine; and fruitage grow upon every rush.<br> <br>LACON.<br>For me may Sybaris' fountain flow, pure honey: so that you,<br>My fair, may dip your pitcher each morn in honey-dew.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>My goats are fed on clover and goat's-delight: they tread<br>On lentisk leaves; or lie them down, ripe strawberries o'er their head.<br> <br>LACON.<br>My sheep crop honeysuckle bloom, while all around them blows<br>In clusters rich the jasmine, as brave as any rose.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>I scorn my maid; for when she took my cushat, she did not<br>Draw with both hands my face to hers and kiss me on the spot.<br> <br>LACON.<br>I love my love, and hugely: for, when I gave my flute,<br>I was rewarded with a kiss, a loving one to boot.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>Lacon, the nightingale should scarce be challenged by the jay,<br>Nor swan by hoopoe: but, poor boy, thou aye wert for a fray.<br> <br>MORSON.<br>I bid the shepherd hold his peace. Cometas, unto you<br>I, Morson, do adjudge the lamb. You'll first make offering due<br>Unto the nymphs: then savoury meat you'll send to Morson too.<br> <br>COMETAS.<br>By Pan I will! Snort, all my herd of he-goats: I shall now<br>O'er Lacon, shepherd as he is, crow ye shall soon see how.<br>I've won, and I could leap sky-high! Ye also dance and skip,<br>My horned ewes: in Sybaris' fount to-morrow all shall dip.<br>Ho! you, sir, with the glossy coat and dangerous crest; you dare<br>Look at a ewe, till I have slain my lamb, and ill you'll fare.<br>What! is he at his tricks again? He is, and he will get<br>(Or my name's not Cometas) a proper pounding yet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Theocritus">Theocritus</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=528352" data-title="The Battle of the Bards de Theocritus" data-description="COMETAS.
Goats, from a shepherd who stands here, from Lacon, keep away:
Sibyrtas owns him; and he stole my goatskin yesterday.
 
LACON.
Hi! lambs! avoid yon fountain. Have ye not eyes to see
Cometas, him who filched a pipe but two days back from m..."></div>
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