Nor think, because my limbs and body bear A thick-set underwood of bristling hair, My shape deformed; what fouler sight can be, Than the bald branches of a leafless tree? Foul is the steed without a flowing mane; And birds, without their feathers, and their train: Wool decks the sheep; and man receives a grace From bushy limbs, and from a bearded face. My forehead with a single eye is filled, Round as a ball, and ample as a shield. The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun, Is Nature's eye; and she's content with one. Add, that my father sways your seas, and I, Like you, am of the watry family. I make you his, in making you my own; You I adore, and kneel to you alone; Jove, with his fabled thunder, I despise, And only fear the lightning of your eyes. Frown not, fair nymph! yet I could bear to be Disdained, if others were disdained with me. But to repulse the Cyclops, and prefer The love of Acis,--heavens! I cannot bear. But let the stripling please himself; nay more, Please you, though that's the thing I most abhor; The boy shall find, if e'er we cope in fight, These giant limbs endued with giant might. His living bowels from his belly torn, And scattered limbs, shall on the flood be borne, Thy flood, ungrateful nymph; and fate shall find That way for thee and Acis to be joined. For oh! I burn with love, and thy disdain Augments at once my passion, and my pain. Translated Ætna flames within my heart, And thou, inhuman, wilt not ease my smart.-- Lamenting thus in vain, he rose, and strode With furious paces to the neigbouring wood; Restless his feet, distracted was his walk, Mad were his motions, and confused his talk; Mad as the vanquished bull, when forced to yield His lovely mistress, and forsake the field. Thus far unseen I saw; when, fatal chance His looks directing, with a sudden glance, Acis and I were to his sight betrayed; Where, nought suspecting, we securely played. From his wide mouth a bellowing cry he cast,-- I see, I see, but this shall be your last.-- A roar so loud made Ætna to rebound, And all the Cyclops laboured in the sound. Affrighted with his monstrous voice, I fled, } And in the neighbouring ocean plunged my head. } Poor Acis turned his back, and, Help, he cried, } Help, Galatea! help, my parent Gods, And take me, dying, to your deep abodes!-- The Cyclops followed; but he sent before A rib, which from the living rock he tore; Though but an angle reached him of the stone, The mighty fragment was enough alone, To crush all Acis; 'twas too late to save, But what the fates allowed to give, I gave; That Acis to his lineage should return, And roll among the river Gods his urn. Straight issued from the stone a stream of blood,