And let the Syracusan shepherd sleep
Where through cool grots the glancing waters leap!
Now wake the harp that Chios loved to hear
In his lone caves, (no doubtful legend fear)
When Time himself was young—by Meles' stream
An old blind man was sitting; while a gleam
(It was Apollo's) lit his cheek, and young
And old around in mute attention hung;
Ionian girls were with him as he sung,
Each with her lover, and with lips apart
All stood, and breathless, and with beating heart.
Gods! 'twas a witching tale!—of heaven-built Troy
And bright-hair'd Helen, and the shepherd boy
From Ida's shores, and how the billowy tide
For her he crost, and beckoning to the bride,
'Come to green Ida's pines, my couch is there' he cried.
Beautiful Helen! by thy shepherd's cave
Ah! wilt thou dream with me of Simois' fairer wave?
And leaning on thy lover's bosom say,
While round thy feet its sparkling waters play,
"For ever, gentle stream, ah! here for ever stray."
Then did the minstrels of the house lament,
As from her bower the queen of beauty went,
Went, gliding with soft footstep, and unseen,
Fled with her lover o'er the ocean green.
And he who home returning, in his gate
Found sorrow, and a hearth all desolate;
Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Parnell (1833).djvu/32
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xvi
DEDICATORY EPISTLE.
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