Oh, let me stay. Ask me not; How beautiful are all things round about EPIMETHEUS. Between my seeing thee and loving thee. 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 Of the nymph so coy and cold, EPIMETHEUS. The pipe of Pan out of these reeds is made, And when he plays upon it to the shep- Whom the Gods would destroy they first herds make mad. |