The Brunswick times. [volume] (Brunswick, Ga.) 188?-1900, 1897-12-19
NARCISSUS.


or wsy slopes lie simmering in the heated
air.
Within the shades cool, green light
filters through arching boughs.
The faint wind, heavy with the breath of
flowers, scarce sways the bending reeds or
stirs the pale, sweet water lily as it liea
breathing its fragrance out upon the
breast of the crystal pool that gave it
birth.
Soft on messy couch beside the brink
the boy Narcissus lay, the sunshine feck-
ing through the myriad leaves, touching
his clustering curls with gints OF gold
ana tracing filmy shadows on his graceful
limbs.
The heavy perfumed air, the influence of
the hour, steal on his dreamy soul, and
steep it in trance.
Silent he is, so young, so beautiful and
now from out the glades fit shsdowy
forms and creep with noiseless step to gaze,
on mischief full intent
Slight dark-eyed nymphs, swift-footed
fauns and satyrs crowned with oak leaves
all draw near
He stirs, his heavy violet eyes urclose,
and 10, they vanish, sstyr, nymph and
faun.
Again he sleeps, and from his dreams is
awakened by strains of music, sweet and
low, the cadence long drawn out, so clear
and fine, no earthly harmony could touch
those thrilling tones.
So soft, the melody broods on the warm,
sweet air, and fills his spirit with vague
unrest. Louder it sweDs and rings through
all the arches of the woods, and stirs his
heart to quickening throbs.
Again it dies away into the slow, sweet
strain, so full of subtle longing that his
wild, untutorsd soul is moved to madness.
Upright he springs, and restless, glances
down and sees upon the surface of the
CLASSY pool fair, sweet face, upturned to
meet his gaze, deep violet eyes, alight
with love- questioning his own.
From out the leafy screen the Pan pipes
liLger on the soft refrain, then loud the
nymphs, and fauns and satyrs swell the ris-
ing har mony with chorused voices, clear.
Once more the slow, sweet strain, but he
has gazed and gazsd into the depths of
those sweet eyes too long.
In vain be seeks with outstre:ched arms
to reach the bright, elusive form he sees
beneath the waves.
His glowing fancy welcomes it as the
fair nymph, the guardian of that lonely
spot
The music swells his heart to bursting
strong the sweet allurements of those eyes
again and yet again he seeks with down
ward reach to touch the shadowy shape,
then, desperate, strikes his wood knife to
his heart, and sinks into the pco', within
the grasp OF cold, malicious water sprits
concealed beneath the mirrored picture of
himself to lure him to his doom.
The song that witched Narcissus to his
death, breathed forth it's last, long note.
The ripples closed upon the crystal
pool, where he lay pale and still, and all at
once the leafy shades rang out with wild
the woodland people tiptoed adown the
glade, the noisy Pan pipe leading the
shrill band.
Then once more silence fell upon the
wood, and now, from out the grassy mar
gin of the pool, wherever rested drop of his
warm blood, sprang up with magic growth
the Wind flower, slender stemmed, of roy
al purple hue,
The velvet blooms, born of the current
OF his life, shared it's swift doom, for as the
petals of the fairy buds unfurled, the light
breeze kissed them; at its faintest breath
they fell apart and drifted down to rest
upon the pool.
The day was done, and when the fair and
silvery radiance of the moon shone soft
and touched them where they floated, the
pure and golden-hearted water lilies.
swayed by the evening breeze, shed glitter
ing tears of fragrant dew, and spread the
broad, green shelter of their leaves over
his dreamless sleep.
FRANCES DU BIGNoN.