Imagining that Ganymede, displeased, Had left the heavens; therefore on him he seized. Leander strived; the waves about him wound, And pulled him to the bottom, where the ground Was strewed with pearl, and in low coral groves Sweet singing mermaids sported with their loves On heaps of heavy gold, and took great pleasure To spurn in careless sort the shipwrack treasure. For here the stately azure palace stood Where kingly Neptune and his train abode. The lusty god embraced him, called him “Love,” And swore he never should return to Jove. But when he knew it was not Ganymede, For under water he was almost dead, He heaved him up and, looking on his face, Beat down the bold waves with his triple mace, Which mounted up, intending to have kissed him, And fell in drops like tears because they missed him. Leander, being up, began to swim And, looking back, saw Neptune follow him, Whereat aghast, the poor soul ’gan to cry “O, let me visit Hero ere I die!” The god put Helle’s bracelet on his arm, And swore the sea should never do him harm. He clapped his plump cheeks, with his tresses played And, smiling wantonly, his love bewrayed. He watched his arms and, as they opened wide At every stroke, betwixt them would he slide And steal a kiss, and then run out and dance, And, as he turned, cast many a lustful glance, And threw him gaudy toys to please his eye, And dive into the water, and there pry Upon his breast, his thighs, and every limb, And up again, and close beside him swim, And talk of love. Leander made reply, “You are deceived; I am no woman, I.” Thereat smiled Neptune, and then told a tale, How that a shepherd, sitting in a vale, Played with a boy so fair and kind, As for his love both earth and heaven pined; That of the cooling river durst not drink, Lest water nymphs should pull him from the brink. And when he sported in the fragrant lawns, Goat footed satyrs and upstaring fauns Would steal him thence. Ere half this tale was done, “Ay me,” Leander cried, “th’ enamoured sun That now should shine on Thetis’ glassy bower, Descends upon my radiant Hero’s tower. O, that these tardy arms of mine were wings!” And, as he spake, upon the waves he springs. Neptune was angry that he gave no ear, And in his heart revenging malice bare. He flung at him his mace but, as it went, He called it in, for love made him repent. The mace, returning back, his own hand hit As meaning to be venged for darting it. When this fresh bleeding wound Leander viewed, His colour went and came, as if he rued The grief which Neptune felt. In gentle breasts Relenting thoughts, remorse, and pity rests. And who have hard hearts and obdurate minds, But vicious, harebrained, and illiterate hinds? The god, seeing him with pity to be moved, Thereon concluded that he was beloved. (Love is too full of faith, too credulous, With folly and false hope deluding us.) Wherefore, Leander’s fancy to surprise, To the rich Ocean for gifts he flies. ’Tis wisdom to give much; a gift prevails