Forth went he; Scythian-wise his bow he bore
And the great club that never quits his side;
And thrice called 'Hylas'--ne'er came lustier roar
From that deep chest. Thrice Hylas heard and tried
To answer, but in tones you scarce might hear;
The water made them distant though so near.
And as a lion, when he hears the bleat
Of fawns among the mountains far away,
A murderous lion, and with hurrying feet
Bounds from his lair to his predestined prey:
So plunged the strong man in the untrodden brake--
(Lovers are maniacs)--for his darling's sake.
He scoured far fields--what hill or oaken glen
Remembers not that pilgrimage of pain?
His troth to Jason was forgotten then.
Long time the good ship tarried for those twain
With hoisted sails; night came and still they cleared
The hatches, but no Heracles appeared.
On he was wandering, reckless where he trod,
So mad a passion on his vitals preyed:
While Hylas had become a blessed god.
But the crew cursed the runaway who had stayed
Sixty good oars, and left him there to reach
Afoot bleak Phasis and the Colchian beach.
IDYLL XIV.
The Love of AEschines.
_THYONICHUS. AESCHINES._
AESCHINES.
Hail, sir Thyonichus.
THYONICHUS.
AEschines, to you.
AESCHINES.
I have missed thee.
THYONICHUS.
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