- lies, 


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. 
COWPER. 
I saw the pride of all the meadow 
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. 
3 



