The other with a deadly gurgle stuns.
Their stream commingles for all Eva’s sons
And daughters who with mutual passion thrill.
None, none may drink the nectar pure, which shuns
All human lips till with the poison-rill
’Tis mixed, and happiest they whose cups the least may fill!
II.
And Young Love sits upon a flowery knoll
Where those two streamlets mix, his shafts he dips
In their joint flow, and ceaseless twangs at all