Oh, let me stay.

I cannot answer thee. I only know The Gods have sent me hither.

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?

EPIMETHEUS.

I see the wonder in thy tender eyes.

EPIMETHEUS.

Whence knowest thou these stories ?

PANDORA.

Hermes taught me ;

He told me all the history of the Gods.

CHORUS OF REEDS.

Evermore a sound shall be
In the reeds of Arcady,
Evermore a low lament
Of unrest and discontent,
As the story is retold

Of the nymph so coy and cold,
Who with frightened feet outran
The pursuing steps of Pan.

EPIMETHEUS.

The pipe of Pan out of these reeds is

made,

herds

VOICES OF THE FORESTS.

Guarding the mountains around
Majestic the forests are standing,
Bright are their crested helms,
Dark is their armor of leaves;
Filled with the breath of freedom
Each bosom subsiding, expanding,
Now like the ocean sinks,
Now like the ocean upheaves.

Planted firm on the rock,
With foreheads stern and defiant,
Loud they shout to the winds,
Loud to the tempest they call;
Naught but Olympian thunders,
That blasted Titan and Giant,
Them can uproot and o'erthrow,
Shaking the earth with their fall.

So would it be if it were in my keeping. A crowd of shadowy faces from the mirrors

That line these walls are watching me. I dare not

Lift up the lid. A hundred times the act Would be repeated, and the secret seen By twice a hundred incorporeal eyes.

She walks to the other side of the hall. My feet are weary, wandering to and fro, My eyes with seeing and my heart with waiting.

I will lie here and rest till he returns, Who is my dawn, my day, my Helios. Throws herself upon a couch, and falls asleep.