What are those pure white needles you drop into the water? How quickly they dissolve. Ah! he lays the mixture to Cydippe's wound. She sighs; her eyelids close; her heart is beating. What is this magic, Aesculapius? AESCULAPIUS. Do not tell your husband, Persephone, or he will complain to Zeus that I am depriving him of his population. But if there is magic in this, there is no miracle. [_To the others._] Take her softly into the house and lay her down. She will take a long sleep, and will wake at the end of it with no trace of the poison or recollection of her suffering. [_They carry_ CYDIPPE _forth_. PERSEPHONE, MAIA, _and_ AESCULAPIUS _remain_.] MAIA. Then--she was not dead? AESCULAPIUS. No; it was but the poison-swoon, which precedes death, if it be not arrested. MAIA. How rejoiced I am! PERSEPHONE. One would say your joy had disappointed you. MAIA. No, indeed, for I am attached to Cydippe, but oh! Persephone, it is strange to be at the very threshold of the mystery---- PERSEPHONE. And to have the opening door shut in our faces? Perhaps ... next time ... they may not be able to find Aesculapius. IX [_The terrace, as in the first scene_; ZEUS _enters from the house, conducted by_ HEBE _and several of the lesser divinities_.] HEBE. Will your Majesty be pleased to descend to the lower boskage? ZEUS. No! Place my throne here, out of the wind, in the sun, which seems to have very little fire left in it, but some pleasant light still. The sea down there is bright again to-day; the carrying of our unfortunate person upon its surface was probably the source of immense alarm to it. It quaked and blackened continuously. Now we are removed, it regains something of its normal quiescence. I trust that the land hereabouts is dowered with a less painful susceptibility. GANYMEDE. A priest, sire, the only one who saved his musical instrument through our calamities, stands within. Is your Majesty disposed to be sung to? ZEUS. No, certainly not. Which is he? [_The_ PRIEST _is pointed out_.] What an odd-looking person! Yes, he may give me a specimen of his art--a short one. [_The_ PRIEST _comes forward; he is dressed in wild Thessalian raiment. He approaches with uncouth gestures, and a mixture of servility and self-consciousness. On receiving a nod from_ ZEUS, _he tunes his instrument and sings as follows_:] _Wild swans winging Through the blue, Spiders springing To a clue, Till the sparkling drops renew All that ever Youth's endeavour Had determined to undo. White and blue are hoards of treasure, For the panting hands of pleasure To go dropping, dropping, dropping, Without measure Through and through._ ZEUS. Very pretty, I must say. Would you repeat it again? [PRIEST _repeats it again_.] ZEUS. What does it ... exactly _mean_? I think it quite pretty, you understand. PRIEST.