EPIMETHEUS.

I believe,

And thus believing am most fortunate.

It was not Hermes led thee here, but Eros,
And swifter than his arrows were thine eyes

In wounding me. There was no moment's space
Between my seeing thee and loving thee.
O, what a tell-tale face thou hast! Again
I see the wonder in thy tender eyes.

PANDORA.

They do but answer to the love in thine,
Yet secretly I wonder thou shouldst love me.
Thou knowest me not.

EPIMETHEUS.

Perhaps I know thee better

Than had I known thee longer. Yet it seems That I have always known thee, and but now Have found thee. Ah, I have been waiting long.

PANDORA.

How beautiful is this house! The atmosphere

Breathes rest and comfort, and the many chambers Seem full of welcomes.

EPIMETHEUS.

They not only seem,

But truly are. This dwelling and its master

Belong to thee.

PANDORA.

Here let me stay forever!

There is a spell upon me.

EPIMETHEUS.

Thou thyself

Art the enchantress, and I feel thy power
Envelop me, and wrap my soul and sense
In an Elysian dream.

PANDORA.

O, let me stay.

How beautiful are all things round about me,

Multiplied by the mirrors on the walls!

What treasures hast thou here! Yon oaken chest,
Carven with figures and embossed with gold,

Is wonderful to look upon! What choice
And precious things dost thou keep hidden in it?

Forever sleeps the secret of the Gods.

Seek not to know what they have hidden from thee, Till they themselves reveal it.

PANDORA.

As thou wilt.

EPIMETHEUS.

Let us go forth from this mysterious place.
The garden walks are pleasant at this hour;
The nightingales among the sheltering boughs
Of populous and many-nested trees

Shall teach me how to woo thee, and shall tell me
By what resistless charms or incantations

They won their mates.

PANDORA.

Thou dost not need a teacher.

They go out.

CHORUS OF THE EUMENIDES.

What the Immortals

Confide to thy keeping,
Tell unto no man;
Waking or sleeping,
Closed be thy portals

To friend as to foeman.

Silence conceals it;
The word that is spoken
Betrays and reveals it;
By breath or by token
The charm may be broken.

With shafts of their splendors

The Gods unforgiving

Pursue the offenders,

The dead and the living!
Fortune forsakes them,

Nor earth shall abide them,

Nor Tartarus hide them;

Swift wrath overtakes them!

With useless endeavor,

Forever, forever,

Is Sisyphus rolling

His stone up the mountain!
Immersed in the fountain,
Tantalus tastes not

The water that wastes not!

Through ages increasing

The pangs that afflict him,
With motion unceasing

The wheel of Ixion

Shall torture its victim!

VI.

IN THE GARDEN.

EPIMETHEUS.

YON Snow-white cloud that sails sublime in ether
Is but the sovereign Zeus, who like a swan
Flies to fair-ankled Leda !

PANDORA.

Or perchance

Ixion's cloud, the shadowy shape of Hera,

That bore the Centaurs.

EPIMETHEUS.

The divine and human.

CHORUS OF BIRDS.

Gently swaying to and fro,

Rocked by all the winds that blow,

Bright with sunshine from above

Dark with shadow from below,

Beak to beak and breast to breast

In the cradle of their nest,

Lie the fledglings of our love.