Of friends, of lovers cannot quite supply. Powers, who swathe man's virtue up in weakness, Then plunge his delicate mind in hot desire, Preparing pleasure first and after shame To bandage round his eyes,--these gods are not The friends of men.' The Delphis of old days before me stood, Passionate, stormy, teeming with black thought, His back turned on that sparkling summer sea, His back turned on his love; and wilder words And less coherent thought poured from him now. Hipparchus waking took stock of the scene. I watched him wend down, rubbing sleepy lids, To where the boy was busy throwing stones. He joined the work, but even his stronger arm And heavier flints he hurled would not suffice To drive that floating object nearer shore: And, ere the rebel Delphis had expressed Enough of anger and contempt for gods, (Who, he asserted, were the dreams of men), I saw the stone-throwers both take the water And swimming easily attain their end. The way they held their noses proved the thing A tunny, belly floating upward, dead; Both towed it till the current caught and swept it Out far from that sweet cove; they laughing watched: Then, suddenly, Amyntas screamed and Delphis Turned to see him sink Locked in Hipparchus' arms. The god Apollo never Burst through a cloud with more ease than thy son Poured from his homespun garb The rapid glory of his naked limbs, And like a streak of lightning reached the waves:-- Wherein his thwarted speed appeared more awful As, brought within the scope of comprehension, Its progress and its purpose could be gauged. Spluttering Amyntas rose, Hipparchus near him Who cried 'Why coy of kisses, lovely lad? I ne'er would harm thee; art thou not ashamed To treat thy conquest thus?' He shouted partly to drown the sea's noise, chiefly The nearing Delphis to disarm. His voice lost its assurance while he spoke, And, as he finished, quick to escape he turned; Thy son's eyes and that steady coming on, As he might see them over ruffled crests, Far better helped him swim Than ever in his life he swam before. Delphis passed by Amyntas; Hipparchus was o'ertaken, Cuffed, ducked and shaken; In vain he clung about his angry foe; Held under he perforce let go: I, fearing for his life, set up a whoop To bring cause and effect to thy son's mind, And in dire rage's room his sense returned. He towed Hipparchus back like one he'd saved From drowning, laid him out upon that ledge Where late Amyntas stood, where now he kneeled Shivering, alarmed and mute. Delphis next set the drowned man's mouth to drain; We worked his arms, for I had joined them; soon His breathing recommenced; we laid him higher On sun-warmed turf to come back to himself; Then we climbed to the cart without a word. The sun had dried their limbs; they, putting on Their clothes, sat down; at length, I asked the lad What made him keen to pelt a stinking fish. Blushing he said, 'I wondered what it was. But that man, when he came to help, declared