translated by Robert Wells

                                       THYRSIS

That pinetree by the spring and your touch on the pipe:
Both whisper a music to draw the listener in
With its sweetness, goatherd. Only Pan plays sweeter.
If he chooses the horned goat, you shall take the she-goat
For your prize. If he takes the she-goat, the kid shall be yours.
It tastes delicious, the flesh of an unmilked kid.


                                       GOATHERD

Your song is sweeter, shepherd, than the waternoise
Made by the stream tumbling from its rocky spout.
If the Muses claim the ewe as a gift, you shall have
The plump pet lamb. If they want the plump pet lamb
You shall take the sheep, and be second only to them.


                                       THYRSIS

Sit down now, goatherd, (think the Nymphs had asked you)
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