DAMON.
Thou'rt welcome, friend! but suffer me to roam
Where these old beeches hide me from man's view;
Love seeks in solitude a home,
And homage may retreat there, too.
MENALCAS.
Thou seekest here a spurious fame,
And hast a mind to-day to grieve me.
Love as thy portion thou may'st claim.
But homage thou must share with all, believe me!
When their voices thousands raise,
And the dawn of morning praise,
Rapture bringing,
Blithely singing
On before us.
Heart and ear in pleasure vie;
And when thousands join in chorus,
With feelings brightly glowing,
And the wishes overflowing,
Forcibly they'll bear thee high.
[The Chorus gradually approaches from the distance.]
DAMON.
Distant strains are hither wending,
And I'm gladdened by the throng;
Yes, they're coming,—yes, descending
To the valley from the height.
