As Grecian fables say, the shepherd boy
Into a stream, and on its banks would lie,
And utter her laments in such a tone,
As might have moved the rocks, and then would call
Upon the murdered Acis. He the while
Ran to the sea, but oft on summer nights
Noises were heard, and plaintive music like,
The songs you hear in Sicily—shepherd swains
For many an age would lie by that lone stream,
And from its watery melodies catch an air,