Afoot he viewed a silver lake
And took himself to take a drink-
Then beauty moved his thirsting soul,
As there he bent above the brink. No mortal flesh this seemed to he
Who marveled at its dear design-
Behold, a face beheld him back,
Whose symmetry was pure divine! Handsome was the heav’ nly sight
That rip’ ling lay within the clear;
He touched his finger to its cheek
And wavelets had it disappear. When agitation placid came
He dared- from love- new love embrace;
But wading through the wat’ ry void
Disturbed the beauty of its face. Again it came, again he touch’ d;
Again the figure fluctuates.
Lamenting there aside that bank
He cursed himself and all the Fates: “ What awful light is cast below
That tells me what I see is I:
The boy within the shimm’ ring gleam,
‘ Tis me, O wretch’ d me- but why?” Then Nemesis who linger’ d there,
With fatal judgment in her vest,
Remorseless cast the final lot
Which grew despairing in his breast. Bereft of love’ s requited touch
He pounded moans upon his chest,
And stagg’ ring ‘ mongst the wind’ d reeds
There came by Nyx eternal rest. His deathbed there’ s a thing of woe,
A cautionary tale some fear:
The Naiads, Dryads- all the Nymphs,
Warn self-love grows a flower there.