Fringilla

And she lifted her full palm toward her lover,
With her lips preparing the words of doom.
But the warm heart rose, and the cold hand fell,
And the pledge of her faith sprang sweet and clear,
From a holier source than the old Saint's well,
From the depth of a woman's love—a tear.

PAUSIAS AND GLYCERA; OR, THE FIRST FLOWER-PAINTER

A STORY IN THREE SCENES

(Plin. Nat. Hist., xxxv. ii)

Scene I:—Outside the gate of Sicyon—Morning. Glycera

weaving garlands, Pausias stands admiring.

Pausias
"YE Gods, I thought myself the Prince of Art,
By Phoebus, and the Muses set apart,
To smite the critic with his own complaint,
And teach the world the proper way to paint.
But lo, a young maid trips out of a wood,
And what becomes of all I understood?
I Stand and Stare; I Could Not Draw a Line,
if Ninety Muses Came, Instead of Nine.
Thy Name, Fair Maiden, is a Debt to Me;
Teach Him to Speak, Whom Thou Hast Taught To See.
Myself Already Some Repute Have Won,
for I Am Pausias, Brietes' Son.
to Boast Behoves Me Not, Nor Do I Need,
But Often Wish My Friends to Win the Meed.
So Shall They Now; No More Will I Pursue
the Beaten Track, But Try What Thou Hast Shown,
New Forms, New Curves, New Harmonies of Tone,
New Dreams of Heaven, and How to Make Them True."

Glycera
"Fair Sir, 'tis only what I plucked this morn,
Kind nature's gift, ere you and I were born.
Through mossy woods, and watered vales, I roam,
While day is young, and bring my treasure home;
Each lovely bell so tenderly I bear,
It knoweth not my fingers from the air,
Lo now, they scarce acknowledge their surprise,
And how the dewdrops sparkle in their eyes!"

Pausias
"Because the sun shines out of thine.   But hush,
To praise a face praiseworthy, makes it blush.
I am not of the youths who find delight,
In every pretty thing that meets their sight
My father is the sage of Sicyon;
And I—well, he is proud of such a son."

Glycera
"And proud am I, my mother's child to be,
And earn for her the life she gave to me,
Her name is Myrto of the silver hair,
Not famed for wisdom, but loved everywhere."

Pausias
"Then whence thine art?  Hath Phoebus given thee boon
Of wreath and posy, fillet and festoon?
Of tint and grouping, balance, depth, and tone—
Lo, I could cast my palette down, and groan!"

Glycera
"No art, fair sir, hath ever crossed my thought,
The lesson I delight in comes untaught.
The flowers around me take their own sweet way,
They tell me what they wish—and I obey.
Unlike poor us, they feel no spleen or spite
But earn their joy, oy ministering delight.
So loved and cherished, each may well suppose
Itself at home again just where it grows.
No dread have they of what the Fates may bring,
But trust their Gods, and breathe perpetual Spring."

Pausias
"Fair child of Myrto, simple-hearted maid,
Thy innocence doth arrogance upbraid.
Ye Gods, I pray you make a flower of me;
That I may dwell with nature, and with thee."

Glycera
"I see the brave sun leap the city wall!
The gates swing wide; I hear the herald's call.
The Archon ham proclaimed the market-day;
And mother will shed tears at my delay.
The priest of Zeus hath ordered garlands three;
And while I tarry, who will wait for me?"

Pausias
"No picture have I sold for many a moon,
But fortune must improve her habits soon;
Then will I purchase all thy stock-in-trade,
And thou shalt lead me to thy bower of green,
There will I paint the flowers, and thee their Queen—
The Queen of dowers, that nevermore shall fade."