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III.

THE NAIAD.

1.

DIAN white-arm'd has given me this cool shrine,

Deep in the bosom of a wood of pine :

The silver-sparkling showers

That hive me in, the flowers

That prink my fountain's brim, are hers and mine;

And when the days are mild and fair,

And grass is springing, buds are blowing,
Sweet it is, 'mid waters flowing,

Here to sit, and know no care,

'Mid the waters flowing, flowing, flowing,

Combing my yellow, yellow hair.

2.

The ounce and panther down the mountain-side

Creep thro' green darkness in the eventide ;

And at the fountain's brink

Casting great shades they drink,

Gazing upon me, tame and sapphire-eyed;
For, awed by my pale face, whose light
Gleameth thro' sedge and lilies yellow,

They, lapping at my fountain mellow,

Harm not the lamb that in affright

Throws in the pool so mellow, mellow, mellow,

Its shadow small and dusky-white.

3.

Oft do the fauns and satyrs, flusht with play,

Come to my coolness in the hot noon-day.

Nay, once indeed, I vow

By Dian's truthful brow,

The great god Pan himself did pass this way,

And, all in festal oak-leaves clad,

His limbs among these lilies throwing,
Watch'd the silver waters flowing,

Listen'd to their music glad,

Saw and heard them flowing, flowing, flowing,

And ah! his face was worn and sad!

4.

Mild joys around like silvery waters fall;
But it is sweetest, sweetest far of all,

In the calm summer night,

When the tree-tops look white,

To be exhaled in dew at Dian's call,
Among my sister-clouds to move

Over the darkness earth-bedimming,

Milky-robed thro' heaven swimming,

Floating round the stars above,

Swimming proudly, swimming, proudly swimming,

And waiting on the Moon I love.

5.

So tenderly I keep this cool green shrine,

Deep in the bosom of a wood of pine;

Faithful thro' shade and sun,

That service due and done

May haply earn for me a place divine

Among the white-robed deities

That thread thro' starry paths, attending

My sweet Lady, calmly wending

Thro' the silence of the skies,

Changing in hues of beauty never ending,

Drinking the light of Dian's eyes.

IV.

THE SATYR.

1.

THE trunk of this tree,

Dusky-leaved, shaggy-rooted,

Is a pillow well suited

To a hybrid like me,

Goat-bearded, goat-footed;

For the boughs of the glade

Meet above me, and throw

A cool pleasant shade.

On the greenness below;

And yet, all the while,

Thro' the boughs I can see

A star, with a smile,

Looking at me.

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