26
THE TALE OF ARCHIAIS
CHARICLES,
Not a flower of them shall die,
Every one shall blossom newly ;
Stars shall lend them of their beauty,
Rain and sunshine know their duty.
ARCHAIS.
Not a flower of them shall die
That compose our canopy 5
Beech and chestnut, poplar tall,
Birch and elm shall flourish all
Dewed with ever-living spring.
Song and dance shall close the day,
CHORUS,
Close this happy, happy day.
. CHARICLES.
Of your revels I'll -be king,
ARCHAIS.
I the queen of your array.
Both.
Foot it nimbly in the ring !
CHORUS.
Stay, stars, and dance with us! Our songs
compel
The very gods to tremble,
Banish the ill ghosts of hell,
Make fiends their shape dissemble.
Freedom forbids their tyrannous reign here,
Flee to their prison must they, nor deceive ;
Love has a lightning that shall strip them
clear,
Truth through the curtain of the dark shall
reave.
Ye love, O happy ones andl chaste,
Ye love, and light indwells your eyes ;
Truth is the girdle of your waist,
Ye play before the gates of pearl of
Paradise.
Happy lovers, dwell together
In the isles of golden weather,
Free of tyranny and tether,
Roam the world, linked hand in hand,
Moonlight for your sleep, and breezes
Fresh from where the Ocean freezes,
And the cold Aurora stands
With new lilies in her hands.
Ilappy lovers, twilight falls.
Let us leave you for awhile,
Guarding all the golden walls
With the weapon ofa smile.
Silver arrows from the maiden
With new labours laden
Shall be shot at bold intruders who would
violate your peace ;
Lightning shall keep watch and warden
through the sea-born isles of Greece.
Sleep ! Sleep!
Sleep, ye happy lovers, sleep,
Soft and dreamless, sweet and deep,
Sleep! Sleep!
We will steal away
Till the break of day.
ARCIIAIS.
In the arms oflove at last
Love is anchored fast,
Firm beyond the rage of Heaven, safe bhe-
yond the occan blast.
CHARICLES.
In the arms of love close prest !
O thy tender breast
Pillows now my happy head; softly breezes
from the west
Poth.
Stir the ring-dove’s nest.
In the arms of love we lie;
Music from the sky
Tunes the hymeneal lyre that will echo till
we die.
God we feel is very nigh ;
Soft, breeze, sigh
While we kiss at last to slumber,
And the varied number
Of the forest songsters cry:
This is immortality; this is happiness for
aye.