University of Virginia Library

Eccho.

The Vocal Nymph the Young Narcissus views,
As he his prey into the toils pursues.
Tho' she her self could not her silence break,
She Answer'd others, when she heard them speak.
Revengeful Juno, Jealous of her Jove,
Might have surpriz'd him oft in Lawless Love,
But still this Nymph with cunning Wiles deferr'd
The Goddess's progress, till her talk she heard.
So that her Rivals by this Crafty slight,
Escap'd her fury in their speedy flight.
Which when she knew, for such a wrong, she said,
Thy Tongue small Pow'r shall boast, deluding Maid,
She threatens high, while she who hears the threats,
The self same things in the same Words repeats.
Now the fair Youth she saw, and strait admires,
She follows silently with fond desires,
Where'er he goes, and still she gathers Fires.
Nearer, and nearer in his steps she moves,
And still pursuing, still the more she Loves.
Her wishes fir'd, when closer now she came,
As Sulph'rous Torches catch approaching Flame.
Often she strove, but strove in vain to tell
The Charming Youth she Lov'd him too, too well.
To her fond mind a Thousands things she brought,
Moving, and melting was her tender Thought,
But all conceal'd; for she could utter nought.
The Pow'r of speaking was deny'd the Maid,
But still, to hear his Speech, she longing stay'd,
That she might Answer to whate'er he said.
His Young Companions gone, the Boy complains,
And calls, and calls them in continu'd strains.
Where do you fly? Fond Eccho hears him cry,
And straits she Answers him, where do you fly?
Around he looks, but he can nothing see,
And much he wonders whence the Voice could be.
Is any near? He crys, she pleas'd to hear
Those Joyful Words, returns, is any near!
Once more the Huntsman hollows o'er the plain,
And utters sounds, which she returns again.
More loud he calls, she of the Office proud,
In hasty Accents, made replies as loud.
Then let us Join, he said, her Thoughts combine,
And all consent, she Answers—let us Join.
Soon as she spoke, strait from the Woods she flew,
And round his Neck her Arms, transported, threw.
With close Embraces fondly lock'd him fast,
Who strugling broke from her weak hold at last.
And proudly crys, rather I'll cease to be,
Than you, loose Nymph, shall have your will on me.
Shall have your will on me? the Nymph returns,
To the ingrateful Boy for whom so much she burns.
Mean-while he flies; disdainful, from her view;
Now, so repuls'd, she will no more pursue.
With all her speed she runs to gloomy Groves,
And grieves to think he should despise her Loves.
Her Flames rejected, she Laments, and Mourns,
And Weeps, and Blushes, with the shame, by turns.
Alone she Pines with her excess of Woe,
But Loves him still, who made her Wretched so.
Her raging Passion, and her fonder grief,
Torment her so, she can have no relief.
Thoughts of her slight the Virgin waking keep,
Restless, and Languishing, for want of sleep.
Now she consumes with her continu'd care,
And all her Moisture is dissolv'd to Air.
Nought of her now remains but empty sound,
Her Voice still heard in Caves, and Hollow ground.
Thus her the Cruel, Young Narcissus's Pride,
Had kill'd, with many other Nymphs beside.
Some born in Rivers, and on Mountains some,
Sure still to ruine, where his Beauties come.
When one who suffer'd by his proud disdain,
Despairing pray'd, when she did long complain,
Thus may he Love himself, and thus in vain.
Her wish was Just, and met with great regard,
She fell reveng'd, for soon Rhamnusia heard.