would shun."

"Force!" said the girl, drawing up her form with sudden animation.
"Fear not that. It is not Pausanias I dread, it is--"

"What then?"

"No matter; talk of this no more. Shall I sing to thee?"

"But Pausanias will visit us this very night."

"I know it. Hark!" and with her finger to her lip, her ear bent
downward, her cheek varying from pale to red, from red to pale, the
maiden stole beyond the window to a kind of platform or terrace that
overhung the sea. There, the faint breeze stirring her long hair, and
the moonlight full upon her face, she stood, as stood that immortal
priestess who looked along the starry Hellespont for the young
Leander; and her ear had not deceived her. The oars were dashing in
the wave's below, and dark and rapid the boat bounded on towards the
rocky shore. She gazed long and steadfastly on the dim and shadowy
forms which that slender raft contained, and her eye detected amongst
the three the loftier form of her haughty wooer. Presently the thick
foliage that clothed the descent shut the boat, nearing the strand,
from her view; but she now heard below, mellowed and softened in the
still and fragrant air, the sound of the cithara and the melodious
song of the Mothon, thus imperfectly rendered from the language of
immortal melody.

SONG.