"Poet and his artist brother, 

 Sick of ocean's monotone. 

 Will begin to search for other 

 Subjects in the forests lone. 



But of these no trace they'll find — 

 Save the dead roots left behind." 



^„ 



With surprise in growing measure 



Did these words the wood-nymphs hear; 

 Gone, the speaker marked with pleasure, 

 Were repining sigh and tear. 



Then he finished : "Man should weigh 

 'Gainst his gains, the price to pay !" 



XI 



"Now, my nymphs, I'm weary dwelling 

 On man's folly, in good sooth, 

 Gained my object, all-compelling, 

 Which was to convey this truth : 

 That revenge will yet be ours, 

 E'en though dealt by higher Powers.' 



XII 



"Then your counsel is, O brother," 

 Cried a Dryad young and fair, 

 "That we struggle not, but smother 

 Love of life in meek despair. 



This — your pardon, I entreat — 

 This is neither wise nor meet ! 



XIII 



"Now, if we succeed in showing. 

 Poor, dull-witted man that he 

 For his own loved race is sowing 

 Seeds of future misery — 



Haply he will pause — take breath, 

 Think — and stop his work of death." 



XIV 



Such the cordial, hearty greeting, 



Given to this hopeful speech 

 That when dawn broke up the meeting, 

 Each nymph pledged herself to teach 

 Erring man his ways to mend, 

 That he spare his life's true friend! 



-^33 



^i^i'o. 



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