Or his thought slipped back to his school-days, and beating the seat in the summer-house with his hand for time, Alere ran on:—
Horum scorum suntivorum,
Harum scarum divo,
Tag-rag, merry derry, perriwig, and a hatband,
Hic hoc horum genitivo—
To be said in one breath.
Oh, my Ella—my blue bella,
A secula seculorum,
If I have luck, sir, she's my uxor,
O dies Benedictorum!
Or something about:
Sweet cowslips grace, the nominative case,
And She's of the feminine gender.
Days of Valpy the Vulture, eating the schoolboy's heart out, Eton Latin grammar, accidence—do not pause, traveller, if you see his tomb!
"Play to me," said Amaryllis, and the Fleet-Street man put away his pipe, and took up his flute; he breathed soft and low—an excellent thing in a musician—delicious airs of Mozart chiefly.
The summer unfolded itself at their knees, the high buttercups of the meadow came to the very door, the apple-bloom poured itself out before them; music all of it, music in colour, in light, in flowers, in song of happy birds. The soothing flute strung together the flow of their thoughts, they were very silent, Amaryllis and Amadis Iden—almost hand in hand—listening to his cunning lips.
He ceased, and they were still silent, listening to their own hearts.