Oh graceful nymphs, that on the grassy banks Of gentle Thames do make your home, Do not disdain, ye beauteous ones, To try, although in vain, With those white hands of yours To uncover that which in our urn is hid. Who knows? perchance it may be on these shores, Where, with the Nereids, may be seen The rapid torrent from below ascend And wind again Back to its source, That heaven has destined there she shall be found. One of the nymphs took the urn in her hand, and without trying to do more offered it to one at a time, but not one was found who dared to be the first to try (to open it), but all by common consent, after simply looking at it, referred and proposed it with respect and reverence to one alone; who, finally, not so much to exhibit her own glory as to succour those unhappy ones, and while in a sort of doubt, the urn opened as it were spontaneously of itself. But what shall I say to you of the applause of the nymphs? How can you imagine that I can express the extreme joy of the nine blind men, when, hearing that the urn was open, they felt themselves sprinkled with the desired waters, they opened their eyes and saw the two suns, and felt they had gained a double happiness; one, the having recovered the light they had lost, the other that of the newly discovered light which alone could show them the image of the highest good upon earth. How, I say, can you expect me to describe the joy and exulting merriment of voices of spirit and of body which they themselves all together could not express? For a time it was like seeing so many furious bacchanals, inebriated with that which they saw so plainly, until at last, the impetus of their fury being somewhat calmed, they put themselves in a row. 73. _The first played the guitar and sang the following_: Oh cliffs, oh deeps, oh thorns, oh snags, oh stones, Oh mounts, oh plains, oh valleys, rivers, seas, How dear and sweet you show yourselves, For by your aid and favour, To us the sky's unveiled. Oh fortunate and well-directed steps, _The second with the mandoline played and sang_: Oh fortunate and well-directed steps, Oh goddess Circe, oh transcendent woes, With which ye did afflict us months and years; They were the grace of heaven, For such an end as this, After such weariness and such distress.[AH] [AH] For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.--("St. Paul to the Corinthians.") _The third with the lyre played and sang_: After such weariness and such distress; If such a port the tempests have prescribed, Then is there nothing more that we can do, But render thanks to heaven, Who closely veiled our eyes, And pierced anon with such a light as this. _The fourth with the viola sang_: