But you and I, Charopé!—you and I
Will trust his sight until our own grow clear.)
"Sun, and thou light of day, and heavenly dance
O' the fleet cloud—figure!" (so her passion paused,
While the awe-stricken husband made his moan,
Muttered now this now that ineptitude:
"Sun that sees thee and me, a suffering pair,
Who did the Gods no wrong whence thou shouldst die!")
Then, as if caught up, carried in their course,
Fleeting and free as cloud and sunbeam are,