While they their rites fulfil.
Now returns he to the cavern,With him go both king and people.--Neither to the king nor peopleE'er returns that chosen mortal;For the Seven, who for ages--Eight was, with the dog, their number--Had from all the world been sunder'd,Gabriel's mysterious power,To the will of God obedient,Hath to Paradise conducted,--And the cave was closed for ever.
Nought he spoke could make the maid incline.
Trusting in thy spells absurd;Dig no longer fruitlessly.
Reader, and why?--Bethink thee of the sun,How, when he sets, he waiteth for the morrow,
All-beauteous-growing-one, straight know I thee;In the canal's unsullied, living flood,
Yet from you only proceeds, kindly ones, comfort and balm.
E'er cross'd the dear child's thoughts.I see 'tis but the ev'ning breeze
Save a heart whose love ne'er dies,
So he return'd, work'd, strove amain,And found--sweet guerdon for his toil!--
With which she calls: Pipi! Pipi!Would draw Jove's eagle from his throne;Yes, Venus' turtle doves, I wean,And the vain peacock e'en,Would come, I swear,Soon as that tone had reach'd them through the air.
I doubt not, in thy bosom.
Soon the earth will veil my misery."
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