"Why, hapless mother! with this train of thought For thee I wail, why wert thou doomed, oh why, I mourn that fate with ours thy fortune blends Ye! by whose names unpunished none forswear, Not less on thee has my true love reposed, I love thee, sweetest! as an old-age child, Or in my grief I careless am of thee, Though I weep more than e'er wept Niobe. Scaring my sleep, hath filled me with affright, Sudden above the bank a fire burst out, Whose greedy flames enclosed him round about: He to the flames with rapid flight did yield, As it me-seemed, rushing to help him, fell; Stretched on the ground he was, and seeming still In pity raised the hoar infirmity. Thus helpless lay the warrior brave in fight; This son stretched feeble, that engirt with flame, Ye gods! on curst Eurystheus turn them all! And may no god ordain it otherwise!" IDYL V. THE CHOICE. WHEN on the wave the breeze soft kisses flings, Hard is his life whose nets the ocean sweep, A bark his house-shy fish his slippery prey; But sweet to me the unsuspicious sleep Beneath a leafy plane—the fountain's play, That babbles idly, or whose tones if deep Delight the rural ear and not affray. IDYL VI. LOVE THOSE WHO LOVE YOU. PAN Echo loved; she loved the frisky Faun; |