Two shepherds sat a-piping beneath the olives gray, 
What times three Thracian maidens came singing up the way: 
Two shepherds sat a-courting upon the windy lea, 
But two the tale of shepherds: the shepherd-maids were three. 

Oh, Daphnis sang of Lais, and idle Dion told 
How blue were eyes of Thais, how locked her heart and cold: 
And all the while the olives were sighing soft to see 
That none might bring the grace to sing of white Autonoë. 

There was no grace in any feast that Thais lacked for guest, 
Her coming flushed the pallid East, her going dulled the West. 
Oh, pale when Lais' cheek was nigh each wreathed and rosy shell, 
And birds might put their piping by, sweet Lais sang so well. 

Thais would go silk threads to sew upon a warrior's banner, 
Lais would dwell a queen in hell with ghostly maids to fan her. 
And Daphnis would fare fishing with nets upon the sea, 
And each were fain some grace to gain save white Autonoë. 

They saw the brown sails lifting, they heard the sailors cry, 
And Dion dreamed of drifting past shores where mermaids lie: 
And Daphnis took his idle flute, and blew so tenderly, 
That Thais slept, and Lais wept, and smiled Autonoë. 

Now, out, alas! that summers pass and music lasts not long; 
O'er Dion's bed grow lilies red, and bees make droning song: 
The sea-waves cradle Lais, and only seaweeds see 
If hair and lips of Thais still gold and scarlet be. 

But Daphnis blows upon his flute by Hades' shadowy throne; 
And after him with hasty foot, Autonoë alone, 
A living maid, has followed, who, if she would, could tell 
How fair love makes the tangled brakes and fields forlorn of hell. 

Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes,
Not with flatteries, but truths,
Which tarnish not, but purify
To light which dims the morning's eye.
I have come from the spring-woods,
From the fragrant solitudes;—
Listen what the poplar-tree
And murmuring waters counselled me.

If with love thy heart has burned;
If thy love is unreturned;
Hide thy grief within thy breast,
Though it tear thee unexpressed;
For when love has once departed
From the eyes of the false-hearted,
And one by one has torn off quite
The bandages of purple light;
Though thou wert the loveliest
Form the soul had ever dressed,
Thou shalt seem, in each reply,
A vixen to his altered eye;
Thy softest pleadings seem too bold,
Thy praying lute will seem to scold;
Though thou kept the straightest road,
Yet thou errest far and broad.

But thou shalt do as do the gods
In their cloudless periods;
For of this lore be thou sure,—
Though thou forget, the gods, secure,
Forget never their command,
But make the statute of this land.
As they lead, so follow all,
Ever have done, ever shall.
Warning to the blind and deaf,
'T is written on the iron leaf,
Who drinks of Cupid's nectar cup
Loveth downward, and not up;
He who loves, of gods or men,
Shall not by the same be loved again;
His sweetheart's idolatry
Falls, in turn, a new degree.
When a god is once beguiled
By beauty of a mortal child
And by her radiant youth delighted,
He is not fooled, but warily knoweth
His love shall never be requited.
And thus the wise Immortal doeth,—
'T is his study and delight
To bless that creature day and night;
From all evils to defend her;
In her lap to pour all splendor;
To ransack earth for riches rare,
And fetch her stars to deck her hair:
He mixes music with her thoughts,
And saddens her with heavenly doubts:
All grace, all good his great heart knows,
Profuse in love, the king bestows,
Saying, 'Hearken! Earth, Sea, Air!
This monument of my despair
Build I to the All-Good, All-Fair.
Not for a private good,
But I, from my beatitude,
Albeit scorned as none was scorned,
Adorn her as was none adorned.
I make this maiden an ensample
To Nature, through her kingdoms ample,
Whereby to model newer races,
Statelier forms and fairer faces;
To carry man to new degrees
Of power and of comeliness.
These presents be the hostages
Which I pawn for my release.
See to thyself, O Universe!
Thou art better, and not worse.'—
And the god, having given all,
Is freed forever from his thrall.