youth languishes and dies, never 

 dreaming that the unattainable is but 

 his own image. His companions find 

 his body by the pool and go sadly 

 through the wood to gather fagots for 

 his funeral pyre. When they came 

 for the body it was gone, but growing 

 where it lay was a plant with starry 

 blossoms and a golden eye. They 

 name it Narcissus in memory of their 

 friend, and to this day we call it by 

 the same name. 



There is a quaint old poem called 

 "The Cherry and the Slae," written 

 in 1^97. In it the poet Mont- 

 gomery tells his opinion of poor 

 Narcissus : — 



" The painted pawn with Argus eyes 

 Can on his May-cock call ; 

 The turtle wails on withered trees, 

 And Echo answers all, 

 Repeating, with greeting, 

 How fair Narcissus fell, 

 By lying and spying 

 His shadow in the well." 



17 



