University of Virginia Library


77

I
BATTUS

O sun-browned shepherd, whose untutored grace
Awoke the singer of that southern isle,
What time he lingered in his father's place,
And bore not yet his music to the Nile:
How soon we make in life a tranquil space
Whenas, our foolish cares forgot the while,
We read the legend of thy classic face,
And catch the lustre of thy lyric smile.
Sing to us still in songs of tourney-type,
As if the jealous Milon loitered near,
Or let thy fingers twinkle o'er the pipe,
And breathe a mellow cadence sweet and clear,
Till all thy browsing lambs forego the ripe
Arbutus buds, and circle round to hear.