Chapter XVIII: Book II: The Snare

_The streamlet tinkled on. She sat, gazing about her at each familiar tree and rock. And meanwhile he was reading again from the book--

“Here, too, our shepherd-pipes we first assay’d!”

“Is that from ‘Thyrsis’?” she asked. “Read me those lines that we used, to love so much.”

And so he turned the page, and read again--

“A fugitive and gracious light he seeks,
Shy to illumine; and I seek it, too.
This does not come with houses or with gold,
With place, with honor, and a flattering crew:
‘Tis not in the world’s market bought and sold--
But the smooth-slipping weeks
Drop by, and leave its seeker still untired;
Out of the heed of mortals he is gone,
He wends unfollow’d, he must house alone;
Yet on he fares, by his own heart inspired.”_