How he watched me near the zenith? Three years back That dream pounced on me and began to soar; Having been sick, my heart had found new lies; The only thoughts I then had ears for were Healthy, virtuous, sweet; Jaded town-wastrel, A country setting was the sole could take me Three years back. Damon might have guessed From such a dizzy height What fall was coming. Cydilla: Ah my boy, my boy! Damon: Sit down, be patient, let us hear and aid;-- Has aught befallen Amyntas? Delphis: Would he were dead! Would that I had been brute enough to slay him!-- Great Zeus, Hipparchus had so turned his head, His every smile and word As we sat by our fire, stung my fool's heart.-- How we laughed to see him curtsey, Fidget strings about his waist,-- Giggle, his beard caught in the chlamys' hem Drawing it tight about his neck, 'just like Our Baucis.' Could not sleep For thinking of the life they lead in towns; He said so: when, at last, He sighed from dreamland, thoughts I had been day-long brooding Broke into vision. A child, a girl, Beautiful, nay more than others beautiful, Not meant for marriage, not for one man meant, You know what she will be; At six years old or seven her life is round her; A company, all ages, old men, young men, Whose vices she must prey on. And the bent crone she will be is there too, Patting her head and chuckling prophecies.-- O cherry lips, O wild bird eyes, O gay invulnerable setter-at-nought Of will, of virtue-- Thou art as constant a cause as is the sea, As is the sun, as are the winds, as night, Of opportunities not only but events;-- The unalterable past Is full of thy contrivance, Aphrodite, Goddess of ruin! No girl; nay, nay, Amyntas is young, Is gay, Has beauty and health--and yet In his sleep I have seen him smile And known that his dream was vile; Those eyes which brimmed over with glee Till my life flowed as fresh as the sea-- Those eyes, gloved each in a warm live lid, May be glad that their visions are hid. I taught myself to rhyme; the trick will cling. Ah, Damon, day-lit vision is more dread Than those which suddenly replace the dark! When the dawn filtered through our tent of boughs I saw him closely wrapped in his grey cloak, His head upon a pile of caked thin leaves Whose life had dried up full two years ago. Their flakes shook in the breath from those moist lips; The vow his kiss would seal must prove, I knew As friable as that pale ashen fritter; It had more body than reason dare expect From that so beautiful creature's best intent. He waking found me no more there; and wanders Through Ætna's woods to-day Calling at times, or questioning charcoal burners, Till he shall strike a road shall lead him home; Yet all his life must be spent as he spends This day in whistling, wondering, singing, chatting, In the great wood, vacant and amiable. Damon: