and fragrant fennel, doth one posy twine—with cassia then, and other scented herbs,blends them, and sets the tender hyacinth offwith yellow marigold. I too will pickquinces all silvered-o'er with hoary down,chestnuts, which Amaryllis wont to love,and waxen plums withal: this fruit no lessshall have its meed of honour; and I will pluckyou too, ye laurels, and you, ye myrtles, near,for so your sweets ye mingle. Corydon,you are a boor, nor heeds a whit your giftsalexis; no, nor would Iollas yield,should gifts decide the day. Alack! alack!What misery have I brought upon my head!—loosed on the flowers Siroces to my bane,and the wild boar upon my crystal springs!Whom do you fly, infatuate? gods ere now,and Dardan Paris, have made the woods their home.Let Pallas keep the towers her hand hath built,us before all things let the woods delight.