NARCISSUS. 
61 
NARCISSUS. 
COWPER. 
I saw the pride of all the meadows 
At morn, a gay Narcissus blow 
Upon a river’s bank, 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. 
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 ! 0 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 waste, that in her 
