Dear Mother , leave me not ! I love to rest Under the shadow of that hanging cave And listen to your tales . Your Proserpine Entreats you stay ; sit on this shady bank , And as I twine a wreathe tell once again The combat of the Titans and the Gods ; Or how the Python fell beneath the dart Of dread Apollo ; or of Daphne 's change ,— That coyest Grecian maid , whose pointed leaves Now shade her lover 's brow . And I the while Gathering the starry flowers of this fair plain Will weave a chaplet , Mother , for thy hair . But without thee , the plain I think is vacant , Itsblossoms fade ,— its tall fresh grasses droop , Nodding their heads like dull things half asleep ;— Go not , dear Mother , from your Proserpine . — Mother , farewel ! Climb the bright sky with rapid wings ; and swift As a beam shot from great Apollo 's bow Rebounds from the calm mirror of the sea Back to his quiver in the Sun , do thou Return again to thy loved Proserpine . And now , dear Nymphs , while the hot sun is high Darting his influence right upon the plain , Let us all sit beneath the narrow shade That noontide Etna casts .— And , Ino , sweet , Come hither ; and while idling thus we rest , Repeat in verses sweet the tale which says How great Prometheus from Apollo 's car Stole heaven 's fire — a God-like gift for Man ! Or the more pleasing tale of Aphrodite ; How she arose from the salt Ocean 's foam , And sailing in her pearly shell , arrived On Cyprus sunny shore , where myrtles bloomed And sweetest flowers , to welcome Beauty 's Queen ; And ready harnessed on the golden sands Stood milk-white doves linked to a sea-shell car , With which she scaled the heavens , and took her seat Among the admiring Gods . Ino , you knew erewhile a River-God , Who loved you well and did you oft entice To his transparent waves and flower-strewn banks . He loved high poesy and wove sweet sounds , And would sing to you as you sat reclined On the fresh grass beside his shady cave , From which clear waters bubbled , dancing forth , And spreading freshness in the noontide air . When you returned you would enchant our ears With tales and songs which did entice the fauns , With Pan their King from their green haunts , to hear . Tell me one now , for like the God himself , Tender they were and fanciful , and wrapt The hearer in sweet dreams of shady groves , Blue skies , and clearest , pebble-paved streams . Thanks , Ino dear , you have beguiled an hour With poesy that might make pause to list The nightingale in her sweet evening song . But now no more of ease and idleness , The sun stoops to the west , and Enna 's plain Is overshadowed by the growing form Of giant Etna :— Nymphs , let us arise , And cull the sweetest flowers of the field , And with swift fingers twine a blooming wreathe For my dear Mother 's rich and waving hair . Sweet Ino , well I know the love you bear My dearest Mother prompts your partial voice , And that love makes you doubly dear to me . But you are idling ,— look my lap is full Of sweetest flowers ;— haste to gather more , That before sunset we may make our crown . Last night as we strayed through that glade , methought The wind that swept my cheek bore on its wings The scent of fragrant violets , hid Beneath the straggling underwood ; Haste , sweet , To gather them ; fear not — I will not stray . Then I again behold thee , Mother dear :— Again I tread the flowery plain of Enna , And clasp thee , Arethuse , & you , my nymphs ; I have escaped from hateful Tartarus , The abode of furies and all loathed shapes That thronged around me , making hell more black . Oh ! I could worship thee , light giving Sun , Who spreadest warmth and radiance o'er the world . Look atthe branches of those chesnut trees , That wave to the soft breezes , while their stems Are tinged with red by the sun 's slanting rays .And the soft clouds that float ‘ twixt earth and sky . How sweet are all these sights ! There all is night ! No God like thatsmiles on the Elysian plains , The airwindless , and all shapes are still . No , Iris , no ,— I still am pure as thee : Offspring of light and air , I have no stain Of Hell . I am for ever thine , oh , Mother ! If fate decrees , can we resist ? farewel ! Oh ! Mother , dearer to your child than light , Than all the forms of this sweet earth & sky , Though dear are these , and dear are my poor nymphs , Whom I must leave ;— oh ! can immortals weep ? And can a Goddess die as mortals do , Or live & reign where it is death to be ? Ino , dear Arethuse , again you lose Your hapless Proserpine , lost to herself When she quits you for gloomy Tartarus . Dear Mother , let me kiss that tear which steals Down your pale cheek altered by care and grief . This is not misery ; ‘ tis but a slight change Prom our late happy lot . Six months with thee , Each moment freighted with an age of love : And the six short months in saddest Tartarus Shall pass in dreams of swift returning joy . Six months together we shall dwell on earth , Six months in dreams we shall companions be , Jove 's doom is void ; we are forever joined .