Fringilla

But out on words, when time hath come for deed!
Up leaps the sun, to paint thee with his plume,
And every blossom seems to be thy bloom."

Glycera
"Why stand we here, so early of the morn,
In love with things that treat our love with scorn—
Grey crags, where Time with folded pinion broods,
Ana ever young antiquity of woods;
The brooks that babble, and the flowers that blush,
Ere woman was a reed, or man a rush?
And he for ever, as the Gods ordain,
Would fain revive with art what he hath slain;
Shall nature fail to laugh, while man doth yearn
To teach the canvas what he ne'er can learn?"

Pausias
"Sweet Muse, while thus through heaven's too distant vault,
Thy great mind roves—how shall we earn our salt?
Though art is not encouraged as of old,
She is worth a score of nature; I design
To manufacture, from these flowers of thine,
A silver * talent—or perhaps of gold!"
* Lucullus is said to have given two talents for
a mere copy of this picture.

Glycera
"Good heavens, how precious is your Worship's time!
Some minds are lowly, others too sublime.
Before thee all my simple flowers I spread;
Long may they live, when Glycera is dead!"

Pausias
"The Gods forefend!
Fair omen from fair maid—
Bright tongue, recall the dark thing thou hast said!"

Glycera
"Then long live they, with Glycera to aid!"

Pausias
"And Pausias crowned by Critics, to non-plus
Euphranor, Cydias, and Antidotus.
But what are they?   Below my feet they lie;
Poor sons of pelf.    The son of art am I.
Now rest thee, maiden, on this pillowy bed,
With fragrance canopied, with beauty spread;
Above thee hovers eglantine's caress,
Around thee glows entangled loveliness;
Shy primrose smiles, thy gentle smile to woo,
And violets take thy glances for the dew."
&Glycera&
"Then will they pluck themselves, to see me laugh;
Good flowers bring cash; but who will pay for chaff?
But haply thus the true poet intervenes,
To make us wonder what on earth he means."

Pausias
"A poet! We do things in a superior way;
A painter is a poet, who makes it pay.
A poet, though deep and mystic as the Sphinx,
Will ne'er earn half of what he eats and drinks,
He dreams of Gods, but of himself he thinks."

Scene III.—A western slope near Sicyon.    Pausias

has his easel set, Glycera is dressed in white.

Pausias
"Seven times the moon hath filled her silver horn,
And twice a hundred suns awoke the morn,
Since thou and I—for half the praise is thine—
Began this study of the flowers divine."

Glycera
"Alas! how swiftly have the months gone by!"

Pausias
"Not swift alone, but passing sweet for me."

Glycera
"The world, that was so large, is you and I."

Pausias
"And shall be larger still, when it is 'We.'"

Glycera
(Aside)  "Sweet dual!  Alas, that this shall never be!"

Pausias
"A tear, bright Glycera in those eyes of thine,
Those tender eyes, that should with triumph shine!
When I, the owner of that precious heart,
Am shouting Iö Pæan of high art;
The noblest picture underneath the sun—
A few more strokes, and victory is won!"

Glycera
"Nay, heed me not.  True pleasure is not dry;
The sunrise of the heart bedews the eye."