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Pausing a space 'ere she take wing for heaven.
Theonöe.(With a little laugh):
Ion hath hid himself so safe away
I cannot find him, he would frighten me
Thinking him lost, but well I know at home
The first return'd he waits to welcome me.
Libanius.(Standing over her):
Lay by your body, like a faltering flute
That marr'd the fuller music of your song.
More fortunate than other mortals, you!
Their voice still breaks upon a soaring note,
Rapture of triumph, passion of despair.
Your sweet life, swooning to a perfect pause
Sweeps on a mode serene and gradual
To the propos'd inevitable chord
Closing the full, completed symphony.
