Invocation to Echo, from Comus
SWEET Echo, sweetest Nymph, that liv’st unseenWithin thine airy shellBy slow Meander’s margent green,And in the violet-embroidered vale,Where the love-lorn nightingaleNightly to thee her sad song mourneth well;Canst thou not tell me of a single pairThat likest thy Narcissus are?O, if thou haveHid them in some flowery cave,Tell me but where,Sweet Queen of Parley, daughter of the Sphere!So mayest thou be translated to the skies,And give resounding grace to all Heaven’s harmonies.