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021 - Book 3 Chapter IV · Last Days of Pompeii

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Speaker 1: Book three, Chapter four of Last Days of Pompeii. This
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Speaker 1: is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
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Speaker 1: public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit
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Speaker 1: LibriVox dot org. Recording by Anne Boulay. Last Days of
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Speaker 1: Pompeii by Edward G. Bulward Lytten, Book three, chapter four.
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Speaker 1: The stream of love runs on, whither days are like years,
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Speaker 1: and the love of the young, when no bar, no obstacle,
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Speaker 1: is between their hearts, when the sun shines and the
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Speaker 1: course runs smooth, when their love is prosperous and confessed.
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Speaker 1: Ione no longer concealed from Glaucus the attachment she felt
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Speaker 1: for him, and their talk now was only of their
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Speaker 1: love over the rapture of the present. The hopes of
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Speaker 1: the future glowed like the heaven above the gardens of spring.
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Speaker 1: When they went in their trustful thoughts far down the
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Speaker 1: stream of time, they laid out the chart of their
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Speaker 1: destiny to come. They suffer the light of today to
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Speaker 1: suffuse the morrow in the youth of their hearts. It
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Speaker 1: seemed as if care and change and death were as
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Speaker 1: things unknown. Perhaps they loved each other the more because
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Speaker 1: the condition of the world left to Glaucus, no aim
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Speaker 1: and no wish, but love, because the distractions common in
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Speaker 1: free states to men's affections existed, not for the Athenian
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Speaker 1: because his country wooed him, not to the bustle of
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Speaker 1: civil life, because ambition furnished no counterpoise to love, and
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Speaker 1: therefore over their schemes and projects, love only reigned. In
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Speaker 1: the Iron age. They imagine themselves of the golden doomed
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Speaker 1: only to live and to love. To the superficial observer,
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Speaker 1: who interests himself only in characters strongly marked and broadly colored,
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Speaker 1: both the lovers may seem of too slight and commonplace,
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Speaker 1: a mold in the delineation of characters purposely subdued. The
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Speaker 1: reader sometimes imagines that there is a want of character.
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Speaker 1: Perhaps indeed I wrong the real nature of these two
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Speaker 1: lovers by not painting more impressively their stronger individualities, but
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Speaker 1: in dwelling so much on their bright and birdlike existence,
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Speaker 1: I am influenced almost insensibly by the forethought of the
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Speaker 1: changes that await them, and for which they are so
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Speaker 1: ill prepared. It was this very softness and gaiety of
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Speaker 1: life that contrasted most strongly the vicissitudes of their coming fate.
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Speaker 1: For the oak without fruit or blossom, whose hard and
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Speaker 1: rugged heart is fitted for the storm, there is less
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Speaker 1: fear than for the delicate branches of the myrtle and
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Speaker 1: the laughing clusters of the vine. They now advanced far
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Speaker 1: into August. The next month, their marriage was fixed, and
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Speaker 1: the threshold of Glaucus was already wreathed with garlands. And
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Speaker 1: nightly by the door of Ione he poured forth the
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Speaker 1: rich libations. He existed no longer for his gay companions.
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Speaker 1: He was ever with Ione. In the mornings they beguiled
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Speaker 1: the sea with music. In the evenings they forsook the
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Speaker 1: crowded haunts of the gay for excursions on the water,
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Speaker 1: or along the fertile and vine clad plains that lay
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Speaker 1: beneath the fatal mount of Vesuvius. The earth shook no more.
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Speaker 1: The lively Pompeians forgot even that there had gone forth
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Speaker 1: so terrible a warning of their approaching doom. Glaucus imagined
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Speaker 1: that convulsion in the vanity of his heathen religion, and
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Speaker 1: a special interposition of the gods less in behalf of
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Speaker 1: his own safety than that of Ione. He offered up
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Speaker 1: the sacrifices of gratitude at the temples of his faith,
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Speaker 1: and even the altar of Isis was covered with his
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Speaker 1: vote of garlands. As to the prodigy of the animated marble,
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Speaker 1: he blushed at the effect it had produced on him.
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Speaker 1: He believed it, indeed to have been wrought by the
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Speaker 1: magic of men, but the result convinced him that it
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Speaker 1: betokened not the anger of a goddess of our bases.
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Speaker 1: They heard only that he still lived, stretched on the
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Speaker 1: bed of suffering, covered slowly from the effect of the
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Speaker 1: shock he had sustained. He left the lovers unmolested, but
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Speaker 1: it was only to brood over the hour and the
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Speaker 1: method of revenge alike. In their mornings at the House
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Speaker 1: of Ione and in their evening excursions, Nydia was usually
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Speaker 1: their constant and often their sole companion. They did not
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Speaker 1: guess the secret fires which consumed her, the abrupt freedom
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Speaker 1: with which she mingled in their conversation. Her capricious and
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Speaker 1: often her peevish moods, found already indulgence in the recollection
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Speaker 1: of the service they owed her, and their compassion for
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Speaker 1: her affliction. They felt an interest in her, perhaps the
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Speaker 1: greater and more affectionate from the very strangeness and waywardness
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Speaker 1: of her nature, her singular alternations of passion and softness,
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Speaker 1: the mixture of ignorance and genius, of delicacy and rudeness,
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Speaker 1: of the quick humors of the child, and the proud
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Speaker 1: calmness of the woman. Although she refused to accept of freedom,
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Speaker 1: she constantly suffered to be free. She went where she listed.
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Speaker 1: No curb was put either on her words or actions.
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Speaker 1: They felt for one so darkly faded and so susceptible
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Speaker 1: of every wound, the same pitying and compliant indulgence the
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Speaker 1: mother feels for a spoiled and sickly child, dreading to
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Speaker 1: impose authority even where they imagined it for her benefit.
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Speaker 1: She availed herself of this license by refusing the companionship
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Speaker 1: of the slave whom they wished to attend her. With
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Speaker 1: the slender staff by which she guided her steps, she
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Speaker 1: went now, as in her former unprotected state, along the
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Speaker 1: populous streets. It was almost miraculous to perceive how quickly
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Speaker 1: and how dexterously she threaded every crowd, avoiding every danger,
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Speaker 1: and could find her be knighted way through the most
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Speaker 1: intricate whinings of the city. But her chief delight was
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Speaker 1: still in visiting the few feet of ground which made
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Speaker 1: the garden of Glaucus, intending the flowers that at least
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Speaker 1: repaid her love. Sometimes she entered the chamber where he
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Speaker 1: sat and sought a conversation, which she nearly always broke
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Speaker 1: off abruptly, for conversation with Glaucus only tended to one subject, Ione,
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Speaker 1: and that name from his lips inflicted agony upon her.
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Speaker 1: Often she bitterly repented the service she had rendered to Ione.
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Speaker 1: Often she said inly, if she had fallen, Glaucus could
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Speaker 1: have loved her no longer. And then dark and fearful
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Speaker 1: thoughts crept into her breast. She had not experienced fully
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Speaker 1: the trials that were in store for her when she
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Speaker 1: had been thus generous. She had never before been present
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Speaker 1: when Glaucus and Ione were together. She had never heard
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Speaker 1: that voice so kind to her, so much softer to another.
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Speaker 1: The shock that crushed her heart with the tidings that
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Speaker 1: Glaucus loved had at first only saddened and benumbed by degrees,
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Speaker 1: Jealousy took a wilder and fiercer shape. It partook of hatred,
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Speaker 1: It whispered revenge. As you see the wind only agitate
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Speaker 1: the green leaf upon the bough, while the leaf which
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Speaker 1: has lain withered and seared on the ground, bruised and
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Speaker 1: trampled upon till the sap and life are gone, is
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Speaker 1: suddenly whirled aloft now here, now there without stay and
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Speaker 1: without rest. So the love which visits the happy and
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Speaker 1: the hopeful, hath but freshness on its wings. Its violence
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Speaker 1: is but sportive. But the heart that hath fallen from
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Speaker 1: the green things of life, that is without hope, that
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Speaker 1: hath no summer in its fibers, is torn and whirled
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Speaker 1: by the same wind that but caresses its brethren. It
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Speaker 1: hath no bow to cling to. It is dashed from
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Speaker 1: path to path, till the winds fall, and it is
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Speaker 1: crushed into the mire forever. The friendless childhood of Nydia
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Speaker 1: had hardened prematurely her character. Perhaps the heated scenes of profligation,
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Speaker 1: through which she had passed seemingly unscathed, had ripened her passions,
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Speaker 1: though they had not sullied her purity. The orgies of
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Speaker 1: Burbo might only have discuss the banquets of the Egyptian
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Speaker 1: might only have terrified at the moment. But the winds
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Speaker 1: that pass unheeded over the soil leave seeds behind them,
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Speaker 1: as darkness too favors the imagination, so perhaps her very
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Speaker 1: blindness contributed to feed with wild and delirious visions the
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Speaker 1: love of the unfortunate Girl. The voice of Glaucus had
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Speaker 1: been the first that had sounded musically to her ear.
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Speaker 1: His kindness had made an impression upon her mind. When
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Speaker 1: he had left Pompeii in the former year, she had
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Speaker 1: treasured up in her heart every word he had uttered,
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Speaker 1: And when anyone told her that this friend and patron
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Speaker 1: of the poor flower girl was the most brilliant and
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Speaker 1: the most graceful of the young revelers of Pompeii, she
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Speaker 1: had felt a pleasing pride in nursing his recollection. Even
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Speaker 1: the task which she imposed upon herself of tending his
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Speaker 1: flowers served to keep him in her mind. She associated
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Speaker 1: him with all that was most charming to her impressions,
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Speaker 1: and when she had refused to express that image she
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Speaker 1: fancied Ione to resemble. It was partly because that whatever
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Speaker 1: was bright and soft in nature she had already combined
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Speaker 1: with the thought of Glaucus. If any of my readers
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Speaker 1: ever loved at an age which they would smile to remember,
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Speaker 1: an age in which fancy forestalled the reason. Let them
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Speaker 1: say whether that love, among all its strange and complicated delicacies,
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Speaker 1: was not, above all other and later passions, susceptible of jealousy.
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Speaker 1: I seek not hear the cause, I know that it
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Speaker 1: is commonly the fact. When Glaucus returned to POMPEII, Nydia
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Speaker 1: had told another year of life. That year, with its sorrows,
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Speaker 1: its loneliness, its trials, had greatly developed her mind and heart.
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Speaker 1: And when the Athenian drew her unconsciously to his breast,
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Speaker 1: deeming her still in soul as in years a child,
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Speaker 1: when he kissed her smooth cheek and wound his arm
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Speaker 1: round her trembling frame, Nydia felt, suddenly, as by res
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Speaker 1: that those feelings she had long and innocently cherished were
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Speaker 1: of love. Doomed to be rescued from tyranny by Glaucus,
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Speaker 1: doomed to take shelter under his roof, doomed to breathe
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Speaker 1: but for so brief a time the same air, and
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Speaker 1: doomed in the first rush of a thousand, happy, grateful,
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Speaker 1: delicious sentiments of an overflowing heart, to hear that he
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Speaker 1: loved another, to be commissioned to that other. The messenger,
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Speaker 1: the minister to feel all at once that utter nothingness
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Speaker 1: which she was, which she ever must be, but which
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Speaker 1: till then her young mind had not taught her that
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Speaker 1: utter nothingness to him who was all to her? What
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Speaker 1: wonder that in her wild and passionate soul all the
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Speaker 1: elements jarred, discordant that if love reigned over the whole,
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Speaker 1: it was not the love which is born of the
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Speaker 1: more sacred and soft emotions. Sometimes she dreaded only less
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Speaker 1: Glaucus should discover her secret. Sometimes she felt indignant that
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Speaker 1: it was not suspect. It was a sign of contempt.
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Speaker 1: Could he imagine that she presumed so far? Her feelings
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Speaker 1: to Ione ebbed and flowed with every hour. Now she
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Speaker 1: loved her because he did. Now she hated him for
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Speaker 1: the same cause. There were moments when she could have
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Speaker 1: murdered her unconscious mistress, moments when she could have laid
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Speaker 1: down life for her. These fierce and tremulous alternations of
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Speaker 1: passion were too severe to be borne. Long her health
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Speaker 1: gave way, though she felt it not. Her cheek paled,
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Speaker 1: her step grew feebler, Tears came to her eyes more often,
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Speaker 1: and relieved her less. One morning, when she repaired to
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Speaker 1: her usual task. In the garden of the Athenian, she
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Speaker 1: found Glaucus under the columns of the peristyle, with a
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Speaker 1: merchant of the town. He was selecting jewels for his
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Speaker 1: destined bride. He had already fitted up her apartment. The
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Speaker 1: jewels he bought that day were placed also within it.
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Speaker 1: They were never faded to grace the fair form of Ione.
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Speaker 1: They may be seen at this day among the disinterned
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Speaker 1: treasures of Pompeii in the chambers of the studio at Naples.
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Speaker 1: Come hither, Nydia. Put down thy vase, and come hither.
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Speaker 1: Thou must take this chain from me. Stay there, I
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Speaker 1: have put it on there, Servilius, does it not become her?
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Speaker 1: Wonderfully answered the jeweler, For jewelers were well bred and
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Speaker 1: flattering men even at that day. But when these ear
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Speaker 1: rings glitter in the ears of the noble Ione, then
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Speaker 1: by Bacchus, you will see whether my art adds anything
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Speaker 1: to beauty, Ione, repeated Nydia, who had hitherto acknowledged by
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Speaker 1: smiles and blushes the gift of Glaucus. Yes, replied the Athenian,
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Speaker 1: carelessly toying with the gems, I am choosing a present
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Speaker 1: for Ione. But there are none worthy of her. He
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Speaker 1: was startled as he spoke by an abrupt gesture of Nydia.
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Speaker 1: She tore the chain violently from her neck and dashed
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Speaker 1: it on the ground. How is this what, Nydia, dost
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Speaker 1: thou not like the babble art? Thou offended? You treat
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Speaker 1: me ever as a slave and as a child, replied
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Speaker 1: the Thessalian with ill suppressed sobs, and she turned hastily
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Speaker 1: away to the opposite corner of the garden. Glaucus did
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Speaker 1: not attempt to follow or to soothe. He was offended.
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Speaker 1: He continued to examine the jewels and to comment on
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Speaker 1: their fashion, to object to this and to praise that,
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Speaker 1: and finally to be talked by the merchant into buying
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Speaker 1: all the safest plan for a lover, and a plan
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Speaker 1: that any one will do right to adopt, provided always
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Speaker 1: that he can obtain an Ione. When he had completed
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Speaker 1: his purchase and dismissed the jeweler, he retired into his chamber, dressed,
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Speaker 1: mounted his chariot, and went to Ione. He thought no
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Speaker 1: more of the blind girl or her offense. He had
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Speaker 1: forgotten both the one and the other. He spent the
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Speaker 1: forenoon with his beautiful Neapolitan repaired thence to the baths supped, if,
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Speaker 1: as we have said before, we can justly so translate
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Speaker 1: the three o'clock ConA of the Romans alone and abroad,
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Speaker 1: for Pompeii had its restauranteurs, and returning home to change
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Speaker 1: his dress ere he again repaired to the House of Ione.
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Speaker 1: He passed the peristyle, but with the absorbed revery and
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Speaker 1: absent eyes of a man in love, and did not
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Speaker 1: note the form of the poor blind girl bending exactly
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Speaker 1: in the same place where he had left her. But
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Speaker 1: though he saw her, not her ear recognized at once
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Speaker 1: the sound of his step. She had been counting the
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Speaker 1: moments to his return. He had scarcely entered his favorite chamber,
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Speaker 1: which opened on the peristyle, and seated himself musingly on
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Speaker 1: his couch. When he felt his robe timorously touched, and turning,
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Speaker 1: he beheld Nydia kneeling before him and holding up to
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Speaker 1: him a handful of flowers, a gentle and appropriate peace,
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Speaker 1: offering her eyes darkly upheld to his own, streamed with tears.
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Speaker 1: I have offended thee, she said, sobbing, and for the
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Speaker 1: first time I would die rather than cause thee a
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Speaker 1: moment's pain, Say that thou wilt forgive me. See I
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Speaker 1: have taken up the chain, I have put it on.
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Speaker 1: I will never part from it. It is thy gift,
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Speaker 1: my dear Nitdia returned Glaucus, and raising her he kissed
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Speaker 1: her forehead. Think of it no more? But why my
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Speaker 1: child wert thou so suddenly angry? I could not divine
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Speaker 1: the cause? Do not ask, she said, coloring violently. I
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Speaker 1: am a thing full of faults and humors. You know,
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Speaker 1: I am but a child, You say so often? Is
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Speaker 1: it from a child that you can expect a reason
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Speaker 1: for every folly? But prettiest you will soon be a
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Speaker 1: child no more? And if you would have as treat
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Speaker 1: you as a woman. You must learn to govern these
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Speaker 1: singular impulses and gales of passion. Think not, I chied, No,
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Speaker 1: It is for your happiness only I speak. It is true,
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Speaker 1: said Nydia. I must learn to govern myself. I must bide,
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Speaker 1: I must suppress my heart. This is a woman's task
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Speaker 1: and duty. Methinks her virtue is hypocrisy. Self control is
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Speaker 1: not deceit. My Nydia returned the Athenian, And that is
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Speaker 1: the virtue necessary alike to man and to woman. It
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Speaker 1: is the true senatorial toga, the badge of the dignity.
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Speaker 1: It covers self control, self control. Well, well, what you
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Speaker 1: say is right. When I listen to you, Glaucus, my
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Speaker 1: wildest thoughts grow calm and sweet, and a delicious serenity
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Speaker 1: falls over me. Advise, Ah, guide me ever, my preserver,
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Speaker 1: thy affectionate heart will be thy best guide, Nydia, when
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Speaker 1: thou hast learned to regulate its feelings. Ah, that will
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Speaker 1: be never sighed. Nydia, wiping away her tears, say, not so.
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Speaker 1: The first effort is the only difficult one. I have
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Speaker 1: made many first efforts, answered Nydia innocently. But you, my mentor,
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Speaker 1: do you find it so easy to control yourself? Can
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Speaker 1: you conceal? Can you even regulate your love for Ione?
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Speaker 1: Love dear Nitia. Ah, that is quite another matter, answered
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Speaker 1: the young perceptor. I thought so, replied Nydia, with a
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Speaker 1: melancholy smile. Glaucus, wilt thou take my poor flowers? Do
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Speaker 1: with them as thou wilt? Thou canst give them to Ione?
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Speaker 1: She added, with a little hesitation. Nay, Nitdia answered Glaucus, kindly,
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Speaker 1: divining something of jealousy in her language, though he imagined
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Speaker 1: it only the jealousy of a vain and susceptible child.
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Speaker 1: I will not give thy pretty flowers to anyone. Sit
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Speaker 1: here and weave them into a garland. I will wear
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Speaker 1: it this night. It is not the first those delicate
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Speaker 1: fingers have woven for me. The poor girl delightedly sat
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Speaker 1: down beside Glaucus. She drew from her girdle a ball
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Speaker 1: of the many colored threads, or rather slender ribbons used
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Speaker 1: in the weaving of garlands, and which, for it was
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Speaker 1: her professional occupation. She carried constantly with her, and began
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Speaker 1: quickly and gracefully to commence her task. Upon her young cheeks,
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Speaker 1: the tears had already dried. A faint but happy smile
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Speaker 1: played round her lips. Childlike. Indeed, she was sensible only
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Speaker 1: of the joy of the present hour. She had reconciled
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Speaker 1: to Glaucus, he had forgiven her. She was beside him.
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Speaker 1: He played caressingly with her silken hair. His breath fanned
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Speaker 1: her cheek. Ione, the cruel Ione was not by none
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Speaker 1: other demanded divided his care. Yes, she was happy and forgetful.
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Speaker 1: It was one of the few moments in her brief
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Speaker 1: and troubled life, that it was sweet to treasure to recall,
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Speaker 1: as the butterfly, allured by the winter sun, basks for
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Speaker 1: a little in the sudden light. Ere Yet the wind
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Speaker 1: awakes and the frost comes, which shall blast it before
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Speaker 1: the eve. She rested beneath a beam which, by contrast
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Speaker 1: with the wonted skies, was not chilling, and the instinct,
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Speaker 1: which should have warned her of its briefness, bade her
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Speaker 1: only gladden in its smile. Thou hast beautiful locks, said Glaucus,
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Speaker 1: they were once I ween well a mother's delight. Nitias sighed.
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Speaker 1: It would seem that she had not been born a slave,
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Speaker 1: but she ever shunned the mention of her parentage, And
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Speaker 1: whether obscure or noble, certain it is that her birth
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Speaker 1: was never known by her benefactors, nor by any one
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Speaker 1: in those distant shores, even to the last. The child
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Speaker 1: of sorrow and of mystery, she came and went as
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Speaker 1: some bird that enters our chamber. For a moment we
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Speaker 1: see it flutter for a while before us. We know
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Speaker 1: not whence it flew, or to what region it escapes.
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Speaker 1: Nitias sighed, and, after a short pause, without answering, the
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Speaker 1: remark said, but do I weave too many roses in
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Speaker 1: my wreath? Glaucus? They tell me it is thy favorite flower,
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Speaker 1: and ever favored, my Nydia, be it by those who
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Speaker 1: have the soul of poetry. It is the flower of love,
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Speaker 1: of festival. It is also the flower we dedicate to
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Speaker 1: silence and to death. It blooms on our brows in life,
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Speaker 1: while life be worth the having. It is scattered above
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Speaker 1: our sepulcher when we are no more. Ah would said Nydia,
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Speaker 1: instead of this perishable wreath, that I could take thy
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Speaker 1: web from the hand of the fates and insert the
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Speaker 1: roses there pretty one. Thy wish is worthy of a
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Speaker 1: voice so attuned to song. It is uttered in the
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Speaker 1: spirit of song. And whatever my doom, I thank THEE.
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Speaker 1: Whatever thy doom, is it not already destined to all
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Speaker 1: things bright and fair? My wish was vain. The fates
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Speaker 1: will be as tender to THEE as I should. It
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Speaker 1: may not be so, Nydia, were it not for love.
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Speaker 1: While youth lasts, I may forget my country for a while.
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Speaker 1: But what Athenian, in his graver manhood can think of
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Speaker 1: Athens as she was and be contented that he is
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Speaker 1: happy while she is fallen. Fallen and forever, and why forever,
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Speaker 1: as ashes cannot be rekindled, as love once dead can
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Speaker 1: never revive. So freedom departed from a people is never regained.
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Speaker 1: But talk we not of these matters unsuited to THEE.
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Speaker 1: To me, oh, thou heirest, I too have my size
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Speaker 1: for Greece. My cradle was rocked at the foot of Olympus.
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Speaker 1: The gods have left the mountain, but their traces may
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Speaker 1: be seen, seen in the hearts of their worshippers, seen
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Speaker 1: in the beauty of their clime. They tell me it
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Speaker 1: is beautiful, and I have felt its airs, to which
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Speaker 1: even these are harsh, its sun, to which these skies
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Speaker 1: are chill. Oh, talk to me of Greece, poor fool
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Speaker 1: that I am, I can comprehend thee. And methinks had
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Speaker 1: I yet lingered on those shores, had I been a
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Speaker 1: Grecian maid, whose happy fate it was to love and
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Speaker 1: to be loved, I myself could have armed my lover
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Speaker 1: for another marathon. A new Plateaea. Yes, the hand that
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Speaker 1: now weaves the roses should have woven thee the olive crown,
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Speaker 1: if such a day could come, said Glaucus, catching the
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Speaker 1: enthusiasm of the blind Thessalian and half rising. But no,
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Speaker 1: the sun has set, and the night only bids us
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Speaker 1: be forgetful, and in forgetness be gay. Weave still the roses.
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Speaker 1: But it was with a melancholy tone of forced gaiety
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Speaker 1: that the Athenian uttered the last words, and, sinking into
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Speaker 1: a gloomy reverie, he was only awakened from it a
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Speaker 1: few minutes afterwards by the voice of Nydia, as she
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Speaker 1: sang in a low tone, the following words which he
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Speaker 1: had once taught her, the apology for pleasure. One who
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Speaker 1: will assume the bays that the hero wore wreaths on
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Speaker 1: the tomb of days gone? Evermore, who shall disturb the
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Speaker 1: brave or one leaf on their holy grave? The laurel
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Speaker 1: is vowed to them, leave the bay on its sacred stem.
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Speaker 1: But this the rose, the fading rose alike for slave
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Speaker 1: and freemen, grows two. If memories sit beside the dead,
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Speaker 1: with tombs her only treasure. If hope is lost and
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Speaker 1: freedom fled, the more excuse for pleasure. Come weave the
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Speaker 1: wreath the roses. Weave the rose at least is ours
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Speaker 1: to feeble hearts. Our fathers leave in pitying scorn. The
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Speaker 1: flowers three on the summit, worn and hoary of File's
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Speaker 1: solemn hill. The tramp of the brave is still and
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Speaker 1: still in the sadness mart the pulse of the mighty heart,
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Speaker 1: whose very blood was glory. Glaucopus forsakes her own. The
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Speaker 1: angry gods forget us. But yet the blue streams along
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Speaker 1: walk the feet of the silver song, and the night
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Speaker 1: bird wakes. The moon and the bees in the blushing
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Speaker 1: noon haunt the heart of the old Hymatus. We are fallen,
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Speaker 1: but not forlorn. If something is left to cherish. As
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Speaker 1: love was the earliest born, so love is the last
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Speaker 1: to perish. Four reade. Then the roses read, the beautiful
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Speaker 1: still is ours. While the streams still flow, and the
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Speaker 1: sky shall glow. The beautiful still is ours. Whatever is
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Speaker 1: fair or soft or bright in the lap of day
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Speaker 1: or the arms of night, whispers our soul of Greece,
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Speaker 1: of Greece, and hushes our care with a voice of peace. Reathe.
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Speaker 1: Then the roses wreathe. They tell me of earlier hours,
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Speaker 1: and I hear the heart of my country breathe from
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Speaker 1: the lips of the stranger's flowers. End of Book three,
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Speaker 1: Chapter four,