...atched the beauteous youth; the mountain lawn Where mourned OEnone. Not a stone but told The story of the past. A little stream Scarce trickling through the arid plain he passed, Nor knew 'twas Xanthus : deep in grass he placed, Careless, his footstep; but the herdsman cried Thou tread'st the dust of Hector.' Stones confused Lay at his feet in sacred shape no more: 'Look on the altar of Jove,' t...