LXXVI

Ye have heard how Marsyas,

In the folly of his pride,

Boasted of a matchless skill,—

When the great god's back was turned;

How his fond imagining

Fell to ashes cold and grey,

When the flawless player came

In serenity and light.

So it was with those I loved

In the years ere I loved thee.

Many a saying sounds like truth,

Until Truth itself is heard.

Many a beauty only lives

Until Beauty passes by,

And the mortal is forgot

In the shadow of the god.