Pharamond, do my bidding, as thy wont was aforetime.

What wilt thou have of me, for I wend away swiftly?

Open thine eyes, and behold where thou liest!

It is little—the old dream, the old lie is about me.

Why faintest thou, Pharamond? is love then unworthy?

Then hath God made no world now, nor shall make hereafter.

Wouldst thou live if thou mightst in this fair world, O Pharamond?

Yea, if she and truth were; nay, if she and truth were not.

O long shalt thou live: thou art here in the body, Where nought but thy spirit I brought in days bygone. Ah, thou hearkenest!—and where then of old hast thou heard it?

O mock me not, Death; or, Life, hold me no longer! For that sweet strain I hear that I heard once a-dreaming:     Is it death coming nigher, or life come back that brings it? Or rather my dream come again as aforetime?

Look up, O Pharamond! canst thou see aught about thee?

Yea, surely: all things as aforetime I saw them:     The mist fading out with the first of the sunlight, And the mountains a-changing as oft in my dreaming, And the thornbrake anigh blossomed thick with the May-tide.

O my heart!—I am hearkening thee whereso thou wanderest!

Put forth thine hand, feel the dew on the daisies!

So their freshness I felt in the days ere hope perished.     —O me, me, my darling! how fair the world groweth! Ah, shall I not find thee, if death yet should linger, Else why grow I so glad now when life seems departing? What pleasure thus pierceth my heart unto fainting?     —O me, into words now thy melody passeth.

MUSIC with singing (from without)

with singing (from without)

What wilt thou say now of the gifts Love hath given?

Stay thy whispering, O wind of the morning—she speaketh.

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