the fane
Of her I served in Paphos, and once more
Danced round the altars of the Queen of Love.
He, scarce escaping, all his substance gone, 90
Joined the sea-robbers; and of late, I heard,
Was banished to this isle, a criminal,
Wasted by slow disease, and soon to die.
My father, I have heard that thou canst call
Spirits from heaven, of such strange potency,
They can awake the dead, restore to life
The dying: oh! restore the youth I loved,
And bring the rose to his pale cheek again!

JOHN.

Unhappy child! the path of pleasure leads
To sorrow in this world, and in the next. 100

GRECIAN GIRL.

The next! the next! My father, I have heard 101
That thou dost worship a new God--a God
Who has no priestess. I can dance and sing
Light as Euphrosyne, and I can weep
For pity, and can sigh, how tenderly!
For love; and if thou wilt restore that youth
To health and love, oh! I will kneel to thee,
And offer sacrifice, morning and eve
To thy great God, and weave a coronal,
When I have culled the choicest flowers of Rhodes,[182] 110
Father, to crown those few white hairs of thine.
John answered, I will pray for him and thee;
But leave me, child, now leave me to those prayers.
The man of loftier wisdom spoke again:
How sing the thoughtless in their songs of joy,
Our days of happiness, at best, are short[183]
And profitless, and in the death of man
There is no remedy, for we are born,
And we shall sleep hereafter in the dust,
As we had never been; so all our days 120
Are vanity, our breath but as a smoke,
A vapour, and we turn again to earth,
And this high spirit vanishes in air--
Into thin air; our very name shall be
Forgotten, and Oblivion on our works
Sit silent, while our days have sped away
As clouds that leave no trace, or as a mist
Dispersed and scattered by the noonday sun!
Time is itself the shadow of a shade,
Hurrying; and when our tale of days is told, 130
The tomb is sealed, and who ever rose, 131
To stand again beneath the light of day!
Then let us crown with rosebuds, ere they fade,
Our brows, and pass no blooming flower of spring!
Such heartless sophistries have still deceived