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Still the stream offers, still the waves repel,
The shores off-scouring, scouted of the Sea.
(Libanius enters the Temple right, leaving Theonöe sunk in thought. Flavian enters from left.)
Flavian:
Dreaming your day-dreams yet, Theonöe,
With not one passing thought for Flavian,
Whose long day loiters heavy with dreams of you,
Of you, the Delian's priestess Sibylline!
Yet, sad you seem for one who serves the Sun,
And apter for the pale Moon's ministry;
'Twas she that dower'd you with magian spell,
And kissed to paleness all that perfect face,
Wan as the Moon is on a windless night;
You bear with you a breath from astral space,
As though you fared the wind-swept ways of Heaven,
