Succinct' Sacra Dian'. Ovid I. There The Ragged Sunlight Lay Tawny On Thick Ferns And Gray On Dark Waters: Dimmer, Lone And Deep, The Cypress Grove Bowered Mystery And Wove Braided Lights, Like Those That Love On The Pearl Plumes Of A Dove Faint To Gleam And Glimmer. Ii. There Centennial Pine And Oak Into Stormy Cadence Broke: Hollow Rocks Gloomed, Slanting, Echoing In Dim Arcade, Looming With Long Moss, That Made Twilight Streaks In Tatters Laid: Where The Wild Hart, Hunt-Affrayed, Plunged The Water, Panting. Iii. Poppies Of A Sleepy Gold Mooned The Gray-Green Darkness Rolled Down Its Vistas, Making Wisp-Like Blurs Of Flame. And Pale Stole The Dim Deer Down The Vale: And The Haunting Nightingale Throbbed Unseen The Olden Tale All Its Wild Heart Breaking. Iv. There The Hazy Serpolet, Dewy Cistus, Blooming Wet, Blushed On Bank And Bowlder; There The Cyclamen, As Wan As First Footsteps Of The Dawn, Carpeted The Spotted Lawn: Where The Nude Nymph, Dripping Drawn, Basked A Wildflower Shoulder. V. In The Citrine Shadows There What Tall Presences And Fair, Godlike, Stood! Or, Gracious As The Rock-Rose There That Grew, Delicate And Dim As Dew, Stepped From Boles Of Oaks, And Drew Faunlike Forms To Follow, Who Filled The Forest Spacious! Vi. Guarding That B'Otian Valley So No Foot Of Man Soiled Its Silence Holy With Profaning Tread Save One, The Hyantian: Act'On, Who Beheld, And Might Not Shun Pale Diana'S Wrath; Undone By His Own Mad Folly. Vii. Lost It Lies That Valley: Sleeps In Serene Enchantment; Keeps Beautiful Its Banished Bowers That No Man May See; Fountains That Her Deity Haunts, And Every Rock And Tree Where Her Hunt Goes Swinging Free As In Ages Vanished.