we may not all attain, my tuneful pipehere on this sacred pine shall silent hang.”THYRSIS“Arcadian shepherds, wreathe with ivy-sprayyour budding poet, so that Codrus burstwith envy: if he praise beyond my due,then bind my brow with foxglove, lest his tonguewith evil omen blight the coming bard.”CORYDON“This bristling boar's head, Delian Maid, to thee,with branching antlers of a sprightly stag,young Micon offers: if his luck but hold,full-length in polished marble, ankle-boundwith purple buskin, shall thy statue stand.”THYRSIS“A bowl of milk, Priapus, and these cakes,yearly, it is enough for thee to claim;thou art the guardian of a poor man's plot.Wrought for a while in marble, if the flockat lambing time be filled,stand there in gold.”CORYDON“Daughter of Nereus, Galatea mine,sweeter than Hybla-thyme, more white than swans,fairer than ivy pale, soon as the steers