I saw myself, when winds had stilled the sea,and, if that mirror lie not, would not feardaphnis to challenge, though yourself were judge.Ah! were you but content with me to dwell.Some lowly cot in the rough fields our home,shoot down the stags, or with green osier-wandround up the straggling flock! There you with mein silvan strains will learn to rival Pan.Pan first with wax taught reed with reed to join;for sheep alike and shepherd Pan hath care.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—