First to arrive at the clear stream, and first
With ready will to seek my sheep-cote here
At evening; but, thy practice chang'd, thou com'st,
Now last of all. Feel'st thou regret, my ram! 635
Of thy poor master's eye, by a vile wretch
Bored out, who overcame me first with wine,
And by a crew of vagabonds accurs'd,
Followers of Outis, whose escape from death
Shall not be made to-day? Ah! that thy heart 640
Were as my own, and that distinct as I
Thou could'st articulate, so should'st thou tell,
Where hidden, he eludes my furious wrath.
Then, dash'd against the floor his spatter'd brain
Should fly, and I should lighter feel my harm 645
From Outis, wretch base-named and nothing-worth.
So saying, he left him to pursue the flock.
When, thus drawn forth, we had, at length, escaped
Few paces from the cavern and the court,
First, quitting my own ram, I loos'd my friends, 650
Then, turning seaward many a thriven ewe
Sharp-hoof'd, we drove them swiftly to the ship.
Thrice welcome to our faithful friends we came
From death escaped, but much they mourn'd the dead.
I suffer'd not their tears, but silent shook 655
My brows, by signs commanding them to lift
The sheep on board, and instant plow the main.
They, quick embarking, on the benches sat
Well ranged, and thresh'd with oars the foamy flood;
But
