“Nay, she becomes the bride of Gyges.”
“The young charioteer?” asked Sulpicius.
“Ay, and a handsome man,” replied Elea.
“Dost thou dance also with her, O Merope?” asked Sulpicius.
“Ay, I am Lydia. I die soon in the dance.”
“Dost thou die also, O Elea?” asked Sabinus, laughing.
“Nay, Chloris was the only daughter of Niobe that was saved,” replied Elea.
“But look ye, Narcissus droops under the weight of his poetic mind,” said Sulpicius. “Come! A cup of wine, Narcissus. Words flow more freely from lips wet by the juice of the grape.”
Narcissus eagerly swallowed his wine. He then blew on his reeds plaintive notes like those with which shepherds collect their flocks. The garden was wrapped in silence. The clear air was motionless. The sun was near the western hills, and the light that fell on the happy revellers was such as filters through soft olive-trees. The piping of the reeds seemed to produce a pastoral environment. Narcissus sang: “On the side of Ida’s classic mount a shepherd tends his flock. With graceful form, quick in motion, eyes bright as stars, face like Apollo’s! O happy shepherd!”
Again Narcissus played the shepherds’ call. Suddenly he altered the theme, giving more melody to his song and making it a softer and gentler phrase than the shepherds’ air. He sang: “By the bank of a crystal brook near by, a maiden sang a song. With eyes of blue like bits of sky, with face as fresh as lovely dawn, O happy maid!”