By pleasure's softening touches thrill'd—
The dainty marvels at his side—
He missed not tasks left unfulfill'd,
Nor heard despisèd honor chide;
And sinking slowly to the watery goal,
His visage shrank to match his ebbing soul.
| · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · | · |
Late in the purple twilight of the day
Alcides came with heavy tread that way,
Crushing the fragile reeds and shrinking ferns,
Searching now here, now there—by doubtful turns—
And calling loudly on the boy,
His dear annoy.
Long, long he stayed, still hoping to rejoice,
While babbling Echo, with her far-off voice,
Railed at his care. Then, sad and slow, he passed—
Reluctant to resign the quest at last,
Nor dreamed, beholding a poor frog emerge
From that enchanted fountain's plashy verge,
That Hylas, once so ready to aspire,
There harshly croaked, contented in the mire!
