NARCISSUS. 
49 
To the cold shades his flitting ghost retires. 
And in the Stygian waves itself admires. 
For him the Naiads and the Dryads mourn. 
Whom the sad Echo answers in her turn : 
And now the sister nymphs prepare his urn ; 
When, looking for his corpse, they only found 
A rising stalk, with yellow blossoms crowned. 
NARCISSUS. 
1 saw the pride of all the meadow 
At morn, a gay Narcissus blow 
Upon a river’s hank, whose shadow 
Bloomed in the silver waves below. 
By noontide’s heat its youth was wasted, 
The waters as they passed complained; 
At eve its glories all were blasted, 
And. not one former grace remained. 
TO THE NARCISSUS. 
BEN JONSON. 
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. 
