“I wish I knew Greek,” said Maurice, as the Count paused for a moment; “those snatches of song sound so beautiful.”
“They are beautiful,” replied Crispin idly; “I have often thought of translating some of them into English. Listen!”
“I see Dione rising from the waters,
A Venus of the moonlight night.
Why wavest thou thy arms as ivory gleaming?
Why do I see thine eyes flash as the evening star?
Thy voice is as the murmur of breathing waves
In twilight on a sandy beach.
Callest thou me to thy home below?
Ah, I will come, and beneath the placid waters