The Squabble (Third Edition) - 3
SQUABBLE.
CORIN and THYRSIS.
BY chance directed late two neighb’ring Swains
Pour’d forth their flocks across the fertile plains,
With thought o’ercharg’d, and stiff-contracted brow
The Rustics met, and feign’d a friendly bow;
And silence soon the hasty Thyrsis broke,
And frowning thus to list’ning Gorin spoke:
THYRSIS.
Corin, of ev’ry Shepherd on the plain
Thou art the silliest most determin’d Swain.
In what-e’er clime by mortals was it told
That rugged Wolves are as the harmless Fold?
Then cherish not those fatal enemies.
That view our Flock with ever hateful eyes.
CORIN.
Hold, angry Swain, nor charge me with thy tongue,
Whom thou call’st Wolves I took when they were young
The shatter’d Remnant of our Forest’s breed,
To whom these Pastures were by Pan decreed.
