Thou hast no skill, my maiden, and no sense

To take such knowledge; sweet is all thy lore,

And all this bitter; yet I charge thee learn

And love and lay this up within thine heart,

Even this my word; less ill it were to die

Than live and look upon thy mother dead,

400

Thy mother-land that bare thee; no man slain

But him who hath seen it shall men count unblest,

None blest as him who hath died and seen it not.

CHTHONIA.

That sight some God keep from me though I die.

[Pg 23]

[Pg 23]

PRAXITHEA.

A God from thee shall keep it; fear not this.

CHTHONIA.

Thanks all my life long shall he gain of mine.

PRAXITHEA.

Short gain of all yet shall he get of thee.

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