Nor with the reed's edge fear you to make roughyour dainty lip; such arts as these to learnwhat did Amyntas do?—what did he not?A pipe have I, of hemlock-stalks compactin lessening lengths, Damoetas' dying-gift:‘Mine once,’ quoth he, ‘now yours, as heir to own.’Foolish Amyntas heard and envied me.Ay, and two fawns, I risked my neck to findin a steep glen, with coats white-dappled still,from a sheep's udders suckled twice a day—these still I keep for you; which Thestilisimplores me oft to let her lead away;and she shall have them, since my gifts you spurn.Come hither, beauteous boy; for you the Nymphsbring baskets, see, with lilies brimmed; for you,plucking pale violets and poppy-heads,now the fair Naiad, of narcissus flowerand fragrant fennel, doth one posy twine—with cassia then, and other scented herbs,blends them, and sets the tender hyacinth off