This do I see, and more: Behold, with fear!
I see her 'mid the lonely groves of Crete,
Frighten the dun deer from th' o'ervaulted green
Of thickest boscage, searching every covert
With terror of her torches and her wail,
"Persephone! Persephone!" till the pines
Of mist-swathed Dicte shuddered through their miles,
The panther roared down in the stream-mad gorge,
And Echo shrieked from chasm to answering chasm,
"Persephone!" bewildered with her woe: