Hyperion to Diotima
Tomorrow I shall be with Alabanda. It’s a delight for me to ask the way to Coron, and I ask more often than is needed. I wish I could take the wings of the sun and fly to him, and yet I also like to linger so and ask myself: how will he be?
The kingly youth! why was I born later? why did I not spring with him from one cradle? I cannot suffer the difference that’s between us. Oh, why did I live still like an idle shepherd-boy on Tinos and could only dream of the likes of him when already he was putting nature to the test in living labour, already battling sea and wind and all the elements? did I not also feel impelled towards the bliss of action?
But I will catch him up, I will be swift. By heaven! I’m overripe for work. My soul will only rage against itself if I don’t soon free myself through living activity.
Noble maiden! how was I able to stand before you? How did you find it possible to love such a deedless being.