Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/161

Book 3. Nor knows he who it is his Arms pursue With eager Clasps, but loves he knows not who. What could, fond Youth, this helpless Passion move? What kindle in thee this unpity'd Love? Thy own warm Blush within the Water glows, With thee the colour'd Shadow comes and goes, Its empty Being on thy self relies; Step thou aside, and the frail Charmer dies. Still o'er the Fountain's watry Gleam he stood, Mindless of Sleep, and negligent of Food, Still view'd his Face, and languish'd as he view'd. At length he rais'd his Head, and thus began To vent his Griefs, and tell the Woods his Pain. "You Trees, says he, and thou surrounding Grove, "Who oft have been the kindly Scenes of Love, "Tell me, if e'er within your Shades did lye "A Youth so tortur'd, so perplex'd as I? "I, who before me see the Charming Fair, "Whilst there he stands, and yet he stands not there: "In such a Maze of Love my Thoughts are lost; "And yet no Bulwark'd Town, nor distant Coast, "Preserves the beauteous Youth from being seen, "No Mountains rise, nor Oceans flow between. "A shallow Water hinders my Embrace; "And yet the lovely Mimick wears a Face "That kindly Smiles, and when I bend to join "My Lips to his, he fondly bends to mine. "Hear, gentle Youth, and pity my Complaint, "Come from thy Well, thou fair Inhabitant. "My Charms an easy Conquest have obtain'd "O'er other Hearts, by Thee alone disdain'd. "But why should I Despair? I'm sure he Burns, "With equal Flames, and languishes by turns. "When e'er I stoop he offers at a Kiss, "And when my Arms I stretch, he stretches his. "His