Did you behold?--Did he take off his crown?--

_Lacon._ No:--It was strange to see him as he plunged
Hold tight his crown with his left hand the while.

_Zopyr._ (_aside_) Alas, my fate! I thought they had been seen.

_Lac._ He ordered garments to the river side
Of coarsest texture;--those that erst he wore
He would not touch, for they were trimmed with gold.

_Zopyr._ And yet he did not throw away his crown?

_Lac._ He ever held it tight as if he thought
Some charm attached to its remaining there.
Perhaps he is right;--know you, Zopyrion,
If that strange voice this morning spoke the truth?

_Zopyr._ Nay guess;--think of what passed & you can judge.
I dare not--I know nothing of his ears.

_Lac._ I am resolved some night when he sleeps sound
To get a peep.--No more,'tis he that comes.
He has now lost the boon that Bacchus gave,
Having bestowed it on the limpid waves.
Now over golden sands Pactolus runs, [63]
And as it flows creates a mine of wealth.

_Enter Midas, (with grapes in his hand)._