Yet fair and smooth with tenderness of beauty.
Now to the river’s sandy marge advancing,
He dropped the robe and raised his head exulting
In the clear sunshine, that with beam embracing
Held him against Apollo’s glowing bosom.
For sacred to Latona’s son is Beauty,
Sacred is Youth, the joy of youthful feeling.
A joy indeed, a living joy was Hylas,
Whence Jove-begotten Hêraclês, the mighty,
That slew the dreaded boar of Erymanthus,