But I to please you will indulge your ear, IDYL VII. ACHILLES AND DEIDAMIA. MYRSON. WILL you, my Lycidas, now sing for me A love-song, such as once the Cyclops young LYCIDAS. I'll pipe or sing for you: what shall it be? MYRSON. The song of Scyros dearly pleases me, His furtive kisses, and the furtive bed. How he, a boy, put on a virgin's dress, Assumed a virgin's mien, and seemed no less ; BB And how Deïdamia, maiden coy, Found her girl bedmate was a wicked boy. LYCIDAS. The herdsman, Paris, on an evil day, Enone grieved; and Lacedemon raged, Hid with the daughters of king Lycomede. No virgin of them all had airs more fine, A rosier cheek, or step more feminine : He veiled his hair; but Mars and fiery Love, That stings young manhood, all his thoughts did move. He lingered by Deïdamia's side, Close as he could, from morn till eventide : Often he kissed her hand, and often raised Her broidered work: her work and fingers praised. Of all the maids his only messmate she; And he would fain his bedmate have her be. And thus he sued with furtive meaning deep : "With one another other sisters sleep; In station, love, and age, we twain are one, Why should we, maidens both, each sleep alone? Since we together are all day, I wonder Why we are made at night to sleep asunder?" IDYL VIII. TO THE EVENING STAR. HESPER! Sweet Aphrodite's golden light! For her new course to-day began the moon, 'Tis not for impious theft abroad I stir, I love; and thou, bright star of love! shouldst lend The lover light-his helper and his friend. |