The light to bring; and Ilia then, from sleep aroused,
With tears and terror tells her wondrous dream:—
“Child of Eurydice, by our sire beloved,
Through all my fibres fail my strength and life.
A goodly man, methought, bore me away
Through pleasant willow-groves and places strange.
Next, all alone I seemed to wander desolate,
And slowly, sister, to retrace my steps,
Thee seeking but not finding; nor did path
Steady my steps. Soon a familiar voice—