THE TALE OF ARCHAIS 
65 
Sunnier days and rivers calm and clear, 
And music for four seasons of the year, 
And pleasant people with glad throat and voice 
To wise to grieve, too happy to rejoice. 
So came the dawn on Ida to disclose 
Within her confines a delicious rose 
Lying asleep, a-dreaming, white of brow, 
Stainless and splendid.  Yea, and fair enow 
To tempt the lips of Death to kiss her eyes 
And bid her waken in the sad surprise 
Of seeing round her the iron gates of hell 
In gloomy strength :  so sweet, so terrible, 
So fair, her image in the brook might make 
A passionless old god his hunger slake 
By plunging in the waters, though he knew 
His drowning body drowned her image too. 
Yet she seemed gentle.  Never thorn assailed 
The tender finger that would touch, nor failed 
The strong desire of Zeus, who wisely went, 
As was his wont, with amorous intent 
Among those pastures, and fresh fragrant lawns, 
And dewy wonder of new woods, where dawns 
A new flower every day, a perfect flower, 
Each queenlier than her sister, though the shower 
Of early dew begemmed them all with stars,