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He was out hunting one day, driving deer into the nets, when a nymph named Echo saw him, a nymph whose way of talking was peculiar in that she could not start a conversation nor fail to answer other people talking.
"Let us get together!" And, to help her words, out of the woods she came, with arms all ready to fling around his neck. But he retreated: "Keep your hands off," he cried, "and do not touch me! I would die before I gave you a chance at me."
Narcissus for saw an image in the pool, and fell in love with that unbodied hope, and found a substance in what was only shadow. He looks in wonder, charmed by himself, spell-bound, and no more moving than any marble statue.
"What love, whose love, has ever been more cruel? You woods should know: you have given many lovers places to meet and hide in; has there ever, through the long centuries, been anyone who has pined away as I do?"
"Farewell, dear boy, beloved in vain!" were his last words, and Echo called the same words to him.
But when they sought his body, they found nothing, only a flower with a yellow center surrounded with white petals.
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