Yea, we will dance and sing
Thy glory for thy kindness to our king.
Phoebus, unto thee we cry,
Be this pleasing in thine eye!
Who, dear sovereign, gave thee birth, 2
Of the long-lived nymphs of earth?
Say, was she clasped; by mountain-roving Pan?
Or beguiled she one sweet hour
With Apollo in her bower,
Who loves to trace the field untrod by man?
Or was the ruler of Cyllene’s height
The author of thy light?
Or did the Bacchic god,
Who makes the top of Helicon to nod,
Take thee for a foundling care
From his playmates that are there?
The Theban Shepherd is seen approaching, guarded.
Oed. If haply I, who never saw his face,
Thebans, may guess, me thinks I see the hind
Whose coming we have longed for. Both his age,
Agreeing with this other’s wintry locks,
Accords with my conjecture, and the garb
Of his conductors is well-known to me
As that of mine own people. But methinks [to Leader of Chorus]
Thou hast more perfect knowledge in this case,
Having beheld the herdman in the past.
Ch. I know him well, believe me. Laïus
Had no more faithful shepherd than this man.
Oed. Corinthian friend, I first appeal to you:
Was’t he you spake of?
Cor. Sh. ’Twas the man you see.
Oed. Turn thine eyes hither, aged friend, and tell
What I shall ask thee. Wast thou Laius’ slave?
Theb. Sh. I was, not bought, but bred within the house.
Oed. What charge or occupation was thy care?
Theb. Sh Most of my time was spent in shepherding.
