PER. Awhile! dear Mother--what thou say'st is true; I am restor'd to thee, and evermore Shall be restor'd. Yet am I none the less 860 Evermore Queen of Hades: and 'tis meet I wear the crown, the symbol of my reign. DEM. What words are these, my Cora! Evermore Restor'd to me thou say'st ... 'tis well--but then Evermore Queen of Hades ... what is this? I had a dark foreboding till I saw thee: Alas, alas! it lives again: destroy it! Solve me this riddle quickly, if thou mayest. PER. Let Hermes speak, nor fear thou. All is well. HER. Divine Demeter, thou hast won thy will, 870 And the command of Zeus have I obey'd. Thy daughter is restor'd, and evermore Shall be restor'd to thee as on this day. But Hades holding to his bride, the Fates Were kind also to him, that she should be His queen in Hades as thy child on earth. Yearly, as spring-tide cometh, she is thine While flowers bloom and all the land is gay; But when thy corn is gather'd, and the fields Are bare, and earth withdraws her budding life 880 From the sharp bite of winter's angry fang, Yearly will she return and hold her throne With great Aidoneus and the living dead: And she hath eaten with him of such fruit As holds her his true bride for evermore. DEM. Alas! alas! PER. Rejoice, dear Mother. Let not vain lament Trouble our joy this day, nor idle tears. DEM. Alas! from my own deed my trouble comes: He gave thee of the fruit which I had curs'd: 890 I made the poison that enchanted thee. PER. Repent not in thy triumph, but rejoice, Who hast thy will in all, as I have mine. DEM. I have but half my will, how hast thou more? PER. It was my childish fancy (thou rememb'rest), I would be goddess of the flowers: I thought That men should innocently honour me With bloodless sacrifice and spring-tide joy. Now Fate, that look'd contrary, hath fulfill'd My project with mysterious efficacy: 900 And as a plant that yearly dieth down When summer is o'er, and hideth in the earth, Nor showeth promise in its wither'd leaves That it shall reawaken and put forth Its blossoms any more to deck the spring; So I, the mutual symbol of my choice, Shall die with winter, and with spring revive. How without winter coud I have my spring? How come to resurrection without death? Lo thus our joyful meeting of to-day, 910 Born of our separation, shall renew Its annual ecstasy, by grief refresht: And no more pall than doth the joy of spring Yearly returning to the hearts of men. See then the accomplishment of all my hope: Rejoice, and think not to put off my crown.