Then the sun-god, full of grief, cried aloud in
his anguish: ``O Beloved! thou fallest in thy
early youth, and I alone am the cause of thy
destruction! Oh, that I could give my life for thee
or with thee! but since Fate will not permit this,
thou shalt ever be with me, and thy praise shall
dwell on my lips. My lyre struck with my hand,
my songs, too, shall celebrate thee! And thou,
dear lad, shalt become a new flower, and on thy
leaves will I write my lamentations.''
And even as the sun-god spoke, behold! the
blood that had flowed from Hyacinthus's wound
stained the grass, and a flower, like a lily in shape,
sprang up, more bright than Tyrian purple. On
its leaves did Apollo inscribe the mournful
characters: ``ai, ai,'' which mean ``alas! alas!''
And as oft as the spring drives away the winter,
so oft does Hyacinthus blossom in the fresh,
green grass.
ECHO AND NARCISSUS
BY OVID (ADAPTED)
Long ago, in the ancient world, there was born
to the blue-eyed Nymph Liriope, a beautiful boy,
whom she called Narcissus. An oracle foretold at
his birth that he should be happy and live to a
good old age if he ``never saw himself.'' As this
prophecy seemed ridiculous his mother soon forgot
all about it.
Narcissus grew to be a stately, handsome
youth. His limbs were firm and straight. Curls
clustered about his white brow, and his eyes
shone like two stars.
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