From the fountain of youth ere now,[315]
For there must the stream in its freshness burst
Which none may find below!
And we know that they will not be lured to earth
From the land of deathless flowers,
By the feast, or the dance, or the song of mirth,
Though their hearts were once with ours:
Though they sat with us by the night-fire’s blaze,
And bent with us the bow,
And heard the tales of our fathers’ days,