Bearing the burden of a shepherd song;

Each having a white wicker over brimm'd

With April's tender younglings: next, well trimm'd,

A crowd of shepherds with as sunburnt looks

As may be read of in Arcadian books;

Such as sat listening round Apollo's pipe,

When the great deity, for earth too ripe,
Let his divinity o'er-flowing die

In music, through the vales of Thessaly:

Some idly trailed their sheep-hooks on the ground,
And some kept up a shrilly mellow sound
With ebon-tipped flutes: close after these,
Now coming from beneath the forest trees,
A venerable priest full soberly,
Begirt with ministring looks: alway his eye
Stedfast upon the matted turf he kept,

And after him his sacred vestments swept.

From his right hand there swung a vase, milk-white,

Of mingled wine, out-sparkling generous light;

And in his left he held a basket full

Of all sweet herbs that searching eye could cull:
Wild thyme, and valley-lilies whiter still

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Than Leda's love, and cresses from the rill.

His aged head, crowned with beechen wreath,

Seem'd like a poll of ivy in the teeth

Of winter hoar. Then came another crowd
Of shepherds, lifting in due time aloud

Their share of the ditty. After them appear'd,
Up-followed by a multitude that rear'd

Their voices to the clouds, a fair wrought car,
Easily rolling so as scarce to mar

The freedom of three steeds of dapple brown :
Who stood therein did seem of great renown
Among the throng. His youth was fully blown,
Shewing like Ganymede to manhood grown ;
And, for those simple times, his garments were

A chieftain king's beneath his breast, half bare,
Was hung a silver bugle, and between

His nervy knees there lay a boar-spear keen.

A smile was on his countenance; he seem'd,

To common lookers on, like one who dream'd
Of idleness in groves Elysian :

But there were some who feelingly could scan
A lurking trouble in his nether lip,

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And see that oftentimes the reins would slip

Through his forgotten hands: then would they sigh,

And think of yellow leaves, of owlets cry,

Of logs piled solemnly.—Ah, well-a-day,

Why should our young Endymion pine away!

Soon the assembly, in a circle rang'd,

Stood silent round the shrine: each look was chang'd

To sudden veneration : women meek

Beckon❜d their sons to silence; while each cheek

Of virgin bloom paled gently for slight fear.
Endymion too, without a forest peer,

Stood, wan, and pale, and with an awed face,
Among his brothers of the mountain chase.

In midst of all, the venerable priest

Eyed them with joy from greatest to the least,

And, after lifting up his aged hands,

Thus spake he: "Men of Latmos! shepherd bands!
Whose care it is to guard a thousand flocks :
Whether descended from beneath the rocks
That overtop your mountains; whether come
From vallies where the pipe is never dumb;

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Or from your swelling downs, where sweet air stirs

Blue hare-bells lightly, and where prickly furze

Buds lavish gold; or ye, whose precious charge

Nibble their fill at ocean's very marge,

Whose mellow reeds are touch'd with sounds forlorn

By the dim echoes of old Triton's horn:

Mothers and wives! who day by day prepare

The scrip, with needments, for the mountain air;

And all ye gentle girls who foster up
Udderless lambs, and in a little cup

Will put choice honey for a favoured youth :

Yea, every one attend! for in good truth

Our vows are wanting to our great god Pan.

Are not our lowing heifers sleeker than

Night-swollen mushrooms? Are not our wide plains
Speckled with countless fleeces? Have not rains

Green'd over April's lap? No howling sad

Sickens our fearful ewes; and we have had
Great bounty from Endymion our lord.
The earth is glad the merry lark has pour'd
His early song against yon breezy sky,
That spreads so clear o'er our solemnity."

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Thus ending, on the shrine he heap'd a spire

Of teeming sweets, enkindling sacred fire;

Anon he stain'd the thick and spongy sod
With wine, in honour of the shepherd-god.
Now while the earth was drinking it, and while
Bay leaves were crackling in the fragrant pile,
And gummy frankincense was sparkling bright
'Neath smothering parsley, and a hazy light
Spread greyly eastward, thus a chorus sang :

"O THOU, whose mighty palace roof doth hang From jagged trunks, and overshadoweth

Eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death

Of unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness;

Who lov'st to see the hamadryads dress

Their ruffled locks where meeting hazels darken;

And through whole solemn hours dost sit, and hearken

The dreary melody of bedded reeds—

In desolate places, where dank moisture breeds
The pipy hemlock to strange overgrowth;

Bethinking thee, how melancholy loth

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