nd sparkles. Come hither,
jolly old god! thou ridest on a goat, eh?--what long silky hair he has!
He is worth all the coursers of Parthia. But a word with thee--this
wine of thine is too strong for us mortals. Oh! beautiful! the boughs
are at rest! the green waves of the forest have caught the Zephyr and
drowned him! Not a breath stirs the leaves--and I view the Dreams
sleeping with folded wings upon the motionless elm; and I look beyond,
and I see a blue stream sparkle in the silent noon; a fountain--a
fountain springing aloft! Ah! my fount, thou wilt not put out rays of
my Grecian sun, though thou triest ever so hard with thy nimble and
silver arms. And now, what form steals yonder through the boughs? she
glides like a moonbeam!--she has a garland of oak-leaves on her head.
In her hand is a vase upturned, from which she pours pink and tiny
shells and sparkling water. Oh! look on yon face! Man never before saw
its like. See! we are alone; only I and she in the wide forest. There
is no smile upon her lips--she moves, grave and sweetly sad. Ha! fly,
it is a nymph!--it is one of the wild Napaeae! Whoever sees her becomes
mad-fly! see, she discovers me!'

'Oh! Glaucus! Glaucus! do you not know me? Rave not so wildly, or thou
wilt kill me with a word!'

A new change seemed now to operate upon the jarring and disordered mind
of the unfortunate Athenian. He put his hand upon Nydia's silken hair;
he smoothed the locks--he looked wistfully upon her face, and then, as
in the broken chain of thought one or two links were yet unsevered, it
seemed that her countenance brought its associations of Ione; and with
that remembrance his madness became yet more powerful, and it swayed and
tinged by passion, as he burst forth:

'I swear by Venus, by Diana, and by Juno, that though I have now the
world on my shoulders, as my countryman Hercules (ah, dull Rome! whoever
was truly great was of Greece; why, you would be godless if it were not
for us!)--I say, as my countryman Hercules had before me, I would let it
fall into chaos for one smile from Ione. Ah, Beautiful,--Adored,' he
added, in a voice inexpressibly fond and plaintive, 'thou lovest me not.
Thou art unkind to me. The Egyptian hath belied me to thee--thou
knowest not what hours I have spent beneath thy casement--thou knowest
not how I have outwatched the stars, thinking thou, my sun, wouldst rise
at last--and thou lovest me not, thou forsakest me! Oh! do not leave