But ah, how sweet The memory of that long untroubled day, To me so joyous, and so free from care, Spent as I love on foot, our first together, When fate and the reluctant sea at last Had given us safely to dry land; the tramp From grey Mycenæ by the pass to Corinth, The smooth white road, the soft caressing air, Full of the scent of blossoms, the clear sky, Strewn lightly with the little tardy clouds, Old Helios' scattered flock, the low-branched oaks And fountained resting-places, the cool nooks, Where eyes less darkened with life's use than mine Perchance had caught the Naiads in their dreams, Or won white glimpses of their flying heels. How light our feet were: with what rhythmic strides We left the long blue gulf behind us, sown Far out with snowy sails; and how our hearts Rose with the growth of morning, till we reached That moss-hung fountain on the hillside near Cleonæ, where the dark anemones Cover the ground, and make it red like fire. Could ever grief, I wonder, or fixed care, Or even the lingering twilight of old age, Divest for me such memories of their sweet? Even Euktemon's obdurate mood broke down. The odorous stillness, the serene bright air, The leafy shadows, the warm blossoming earth, Drew near with their voluptuous eloquence, And melted him. Ah, what a talk we had! How eagerly our nimble tongues ran on, With linkèd wit, in joyous sympathy. Such hours, I think, are better than long years Of brooding loneliness, mind touching mind To leaping life, and thought sustaining thought, Till even the darkest chambers of grey time, His ancient seats, and bolted mysteries, Open their hoary doors, and at a look Lay all their treasures bare. How, when our thought Wheeling on ever bolder wings at last Grew as it seemed too large for utterance, We both fell silent, striving to recall And grasp such things as in our daring mood We had but glimpsed and leaped at; yet how long We studied thus with absent eyes, I know not; Our thought died slowly out; the busy road, The voices of the passers-by, the change Of garb and feature, and the various tongues Absorbed us. Ah, how clearly I recall them! For in these silent wakeful hours the mind Is strangely swift. With what sharp lines The shapes of things that even years have buried Shine out upon the rapid memory, Moving and warm like life. I can see now The form of that tall peddler, whose strange wares, Outlandish dialect and impudent gait Awoke Euktemon's laughter. In mine ear Is echoing still the cracking string of gibes, They flung at one another. I remember too The grey-haired merchant with his bold black eyes And brace of slaves, the old ship captain tanned With sweeping sea-winds and the pitiless sun,