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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!