“Yes!  I have found my lover, noble OENE;
And I am happy working by his side. 
See! this sweet spring which we have brimmed with flowers—­
A mirror for thy beautiful face, O Queen! 
In adding my slight labor to his own,
In hopes that thou would’st never banish me,
But leave me by his side to aid his work,
I’ve found a consolation very sweet,
And have been happy.”

                          “But I have not been!”
    Spoke BERTHO with a moody passionateness,
    “And never can be till I am restored
    To the full use of all my natural powers. 
    Happy! when hearing this young creature’s laugh—­
    Seeing the dimples, begging for a kiss,
    Peep from her cheeks, and hide themselves again—­
    Feeling her soft breath warming o’er my brow—­
    Yet be this bodiless ghost of what I was! 
    O, Queen! wilt thou not give me back that shape—­
    Which thou dids’t cruelly bereave me of—­
    That I, again, may feel my bounding heart
    Throbbing against the bosom of my bride? 
    Then thou shalt find what grateful souls can do. 
    For I will court invention, study art,
    To decorate this favorite cave anew;
    And she I love will serve thee patiently
    Unnumbered years, till we our freedom earn.”

The sternness of his tone had melted down
To liquid sweetness, and his fiery eyes
Grown humid, as he fixed them on the Queen
In soft entreaty.

                      From her lofty brow,
    So pale and passive, had the shadow rolled,
    As slightly and unconsciously she bent
    To his quick utterance.  A sudden ray
    Stole from the twilight of her deepening eyes,
    And a warm redness into either cheek,
    Troubling its cold repose, shot quickly up. 
    A moment of suspense, and then she spoke: 

“’Tis true that I thy body might restore,
Since but suspension of its human powers,
And not its loss or injury, I control. 
But what assurance have I that this boon
May not prove dangerous?  Mortals have what we,
With all our vast machinery and weird powers
Moving the earth, the sea and air, have not—­
And that is—­soul.  A soul and body, too,
Might circumvent us—­work us desperate harm;—­
At least ’tis wise to fear the things unknown,
And to be chary how we give them scope. 
As long as thy body’s powers restrain,
Thy spirit to my will in bondage is;
Thou hast no wherewithal to make ado—­
No weapon at thy service—­art a slave,—­
And shall I give to thee a master’s place? 
Yet, thou hast wakened in me a new thought. 
What is this love of which you mortals tell?—­
Which puts such tender sweetness in your tones
Such brightness in your looks, and makes you turn
Upon each other such delighted eyes? 
Your words have stirred strange pleasure in my