LUI.

    THE silk sail fills, the soft winds wake, Arise and tempt¹ the seas； Our ocean is the Palace lake, Our waves the ripples² that we make Among the mirrored trees.

    ELLE.

    Nay³, sweet the shore, and sweet the song, And dear the languid dream； The music mingled⁴ all day long With paces of the dancing throng⁵, And murmur⁶ of the stream.

    An hour ago, an hour ago, We rested in the shade； And now, why should we seek to know What way the wilful⁷ waters flow？ There is no fairer glade⁸.

    LUI.

    Nay, pleasure flits, and we must sail, And seek him everywhere； Perchance in sunset's golden pale He listens to the nightingale, Amid the perfumed air.

    Come, he has fled； you are not you, And I no more am I； Delight is changeful as the hue⁹ Of heaven, that is no longer blue In yonder sunset sky.

    ELLE.

    Nay, if we seek we shall not find, If we knock none openeth； Nay, see, the sunset fades behind The mountains, and the cold night wind Blows from the house of Death.