He did not stir His eyes from the dead leaves, or one small pulse Of joy he might have felt. The spirit culls Unfaded amaranth, when wild it strays 790 Through the old garden-ground of boyish days. A little onward ran the very stream By which he took his first soft poppy dream; And on the very bark 'gainst which he leant A crescent he had carv'd, and round it spent His skill in little stars. The teeming tree Had swollen and green'd the pious charactery, But not ta'en out. Why, there was not a slope Up which he had not fear'd the antelope; And not a tree, beneath whose rooty shade 800 He had not with his tamed leopards play'd; Nor could an arrow light, or javelin, Fly in the air where his had never been-- And yet he knew it not. O treachery! Why does his lady smile, pleasing her eye With all his sorrowing? He sees her not. But who so stares on him? His sister sure! Peona of the woods!--Can she endure-- Impossible--how dearly they embrace! 810 His lady smiles; delight is in her face; It is no treachery. "Dear brother mine! Endymion, weep not so! Why shouldst thou pine When all great Latmos so exalt will be? Thank the great gods, and look not bitterly; And speak not one pale word, and sigh no more. Sure I will not believe thou hast such store Of grief, to last thee to my kiss again. Thou surely canst not bear a mind in pain, 820 Come hand in hand with one so beautiful. Be happy both of you! for I will pull The flowers of autumn for your coronals. Pan's holy priest for young Endymion calls; And when he is restor'd, thou, fairest dame, Shalt be our queen. Now, is it not a shame To see ye thus,--not very, very sad? Perhaps ye are too happy to be glad: O feel as if it were a common day; Free-voic'd as one who never was away. 830 No tongue shall ask, whence come ye? but ye shall Be gods of your own rest imperial. Not even I, for one whole month, will pry Into the hours that have pass'd us by, Since in my arbour I did sing to thee. O Hermes! on this very night will be A hymning up to Cynthia, queen of light; For the soothsayers old saw yesternight Good visions in the air,--whence will befal, As say these sages, health perpetual 840 To shepherds and their flocks; and furthermore, In Dian's face they read the gentle lore: Therefore for her these vesper-carols are. Our friends will all be there from nigh and far. Many upon thy death have ditties made; And many, even now, their foreheads shade With cypress, on a day of sacrifice. New singing for our maids shalt thou devise, And pluck the sorrow from our huntsmen's brows. Tell me, my lady-queen, how to espouse 850