of a sentence and never reply for herself. So when

she saw Narcissus wandering over the country fields,

she burned with desire and stealthily followed along his tracks.

The closer she followed, the flames of her passion grew nearer and nearer,

as sulphur smeared on the tip of a pine-torch quickly catches

fire when another flame is brought into close proximity.

Oh, how often she longed, poor creature, to say sweet nothings

and beg him softly to stay! But her nature imposed a block

and would not allow her to make a start. She was merely permitted

and ready to wait for the sounds which her voice could return to the speaker.

Narcissus once took a different path from his trusty companions.

‘Is anyone there?’ he said ‘… one there?’ came Echo’s answer.

Startled, he searched with his eyes all round the glade and loudly

shouted, ‘Come here!’ ‘Come here!’ the voice threw back to the caller.

He looks behind him and, once again, when no one emerges,

‘Why are you running away?’ he cries. His words come ringing

back. His body freezes. Deceived by his voice’s reflection,

the youth calls out yet again, ‘This way! We must come together.’

Echo with rapturous joy responds, ‘We must come together!’

To prove her words, she burst in excitement out of the forest,

arms outstretched to fling them around the shoulders she yearned for.

Shrinking in horror, he yelled, ‘Hands off! May I die before

you enjoy my body.’ Her only reply was ‘… enjoy my body,’

Scorned and rejected, with burning cheeks, she fled to the forest

to hide her shame and live thenceforward in lonely caves.

But her love persisted and steadily grew with the pain of rejection.

Wretched and sleepless with anguish, she started to waste away.

Her skin grew dry and shrivelled, the lovely bloom of her flesh

lost all its moisture; nothing remained but voice and bones;

then only voice, for her bones (so they say) were transformed to stone.

Buried away in the forest, seen no more on the mountains,

heard all over the world, she survives in the sound of the echo.

Not only Echo, the other nymphs of the waves and mountains

incurred Narcissus’ mockery; so did his male companions.

Finally one of his scorned admirers lifted his hands

to the heavens: ‘I pray Narcissus may fall in love and never

obtain his desire!’ His prayer was just and Némesis heard it.

Picture a clear, unmuddied pool of silvery, shimmering

water. The shepherds have not been near it; the mountain-goats

and cattle have not come down to drink there; its surface has never

been ruffled by bird or beast or branch from a rotting cypress.

Imagine a ring of grass, well-watered and lush, and a circle

of trees for cooling shade in the burning summer sunshine.

Here Narcissus arrived, all hot and exhausted from hunting,

and sank to the ground. The place looked pleasant, and here was a spring!