XI
The author here of fair Narcisse
Doth tell the tale, who was, ywis,
Drawn on to love his proper shade,
Seen in a well, and thereby made
His life so wretched, that at last
He pined and wasted till he passed
To nothingness. His soul doth sit
Reside the fount and dream of it.1500
Of Narcissus and Echo
Narcissus hight a youth beset
By Love, and snared within his net;
Who thereby so great sufferance felt
As lastly caused his soul to melt
In tears, and render up the ghost;
For him fair Echo’s soul was lost
In love that reason’s voice defied,
And she, o’ercome with passion, cried:
“O shouldest thou disdain to give
To me thy love, I scorn to live.”1510
Then he, (self-loving fool, and vain
Of heart,) regarded nought her pain,
But scoffed at every fond caress,
And spurned her proffered tenderness;
Until, despairing, day by day
She wasted, pined and waned away
For love of him: but as in air
Her spirit passed, she made her prayer
To God, that this Narcissus’ hard
Unpitying heart might e’en be scarred,1520
Like hers, with love unsatisfied,
To recompense his cruel pride,
