And chased his footsteps with consuming joy,
Crying aloud “Narcissus!”
But vain were all her cries and all her wooing;
The youth replied not to the nymph pursuing,
But fled from her desiring gaze,
Filling her heart with anguish;
Then, like a flower scorched by the sun’s hot rays,
Echo began to languish.
Afar, in deepest solitudes reclining,
She hid her from the woodland maids, repining,