And then again A youthful shade I saw, a comely boy, With lip and cheek just touched with manly down, And strong limbs wearing Spring; in mien and garb A youthful chieftain, with a perfect face Of fresh young beauty, clustered curls divine, And chiselled features like a sculptured god, But warm and breathing life; only the eyes, The fair large eyes, were full of dreaming thought, And seemed to gaze beyond the world of sight, On a hid world of beauty. Him I stayed, Accosting with soft words of courtesy; And, on a bank of scentless flowers reclined, He answered thus: "Not for the garish sun I long, nor for the splendours of high noon In this dim land I languish; for of yore Full often, when the swift chase swept along Through the brisk morn, or when my comrades called To wrestling, or the foot-race, or to cleave The sunny stream, I loved to walk apart, Self-centred, sole; and when the laughing girls To some fair stripling's oaten melody Made ready for the dance, I heeded not; Nor when to the loud trumpet's blast and blare My peers rode forth to battle. For, one eve, In Latmos, after a long day in June, I stayed to rest me on a sylvan hill, Where often youth and maid were wont to meet Towards moonrise; and deep slumber fell on me Musing on Love, just as the ruddy orb Rose on the lucid night, set in a frame Of blooming myrtle and sharp tremulous plane; Deep slumber fell, and loosed my limbs in rest.