FLORA AND THALIA. 83 



TO THE NARCISSUS. 



Arise, and speak thy sorrows, Echo, rise; 

 Here, by this fountain, where thy love did pine, 

 Whose memory lives fresh to vulgar fame, 

 Shrined in this yellow flower, that bears his name. 



Echo. — His name revives, and lifts me up from earth ; 

 See, see, the mourning fount, whose springs weep yet 

 Th' untimely fate of that too beauteous boy, 

 That trophy of self-love, and spoil of nature. 

 Who (now transformed into this drooping flower) 

 Hangs the repentant head back from the stream ; 

 As if it wished, — would I had never looked 

 In such a flattering mirror ! O Narcissus ! 

 Thou that wast once (and yet art) my Narcissus, 

 Had Echo but been private with thy thoughts, 

 She would have dropt away herself in tears, 

 Till she had all turned water, that in her 

 (As in a truer glass) thou might'st have gaz'd. 

 And seen thy beauties by more kind reflection. 

 But self-love never yet could look on truth. 

 But with bleared beams; slick Flattery and she 

 Are twin-born sisters, and do mix their eyes, 

 As, if you sever one, the other dies. 



