They leapt ashore, and, keeping rank, prepared
Their evening meal: a grassy meadow spread
Before their eyes, and many a warrior shared
(Thanks to its verdurous stores) one lowly bed.
And while they cut tall marigolds from their stem
And sworded bulrush, Hylas slipt from them.
Water the fair lad wont to seek and bring
To Heracles and stalwart Telamon,
(The comrades aye partook each other's fare,)
Bearing a brazen pitcher. And anon,
Where the ground dipt, a fountain he espied,
And rushes growing green about its side.
There rose the sea-blue swallow-wort, and there
The pale-hued maidenhair, with parsley green
And vagrant marsh-flowers; and a revel rare
In the pool's midst the water-nymphs were seen
To hold, those maidens of unslumbrous eyes
Whom the belated peasant sees and flies.
And fast did Malis and Eunica cling,
And young Nychea with her April face,
To the lad's hand, as stooping o'er the spring
He dipt his pitcher. For the young Greek's grace
Made their soft senses reel; and down he fell,
All of a sudden, into that black well.
So drops a red star suddenly from sky
To sea--and quoth some sailor to his mate:
"Up with the tackle, boy! the breeze is high."
Him the nymphs pillowed, all disconsolate,
On their sweet laps, and with soft words beguiled;
But Heracles was troubled for the child.
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