His lashes dark, and left her dewy kiss;
But never more upon the Latmos hill
May she descend to kiss that forest boy,
And give—receive, gentle and innocent joy
When clouds are distant far and winds are still:
Her bound is circumscribed, and curbed her will.
Those were immortal stories: are they gone?
The pale queen is dethroned—Endymion
Hath vanished—; and the worship of this earth
Is vowed to golden gods of vulgar birth!"