FRAGMENTS FROM EURIPIDES.Dear is that valley to the murmuring bees;And all, who know it, come and come again.The small birds build there; and, at summer-noon,Oft have I heard a child, gay among flowers,As in the shining grass she sate conceal’d,Sing to herself.There is a streamlet issuing from a rock.The village-girls, singing wild madrigals,Dip their white vestments in its waters clear,And hang them to the sun. There first I saw her.Her dark and eloquent eyes, mild, full of fire,’Twas heav’n to look upon; and her sweet voice,As tuneable as harp of many strings,At once spoke joy and sadness to my soul!
Dear is that valley to the murmuring bees;And all, who know it, come and come again.The small birds build there; and, at summer-noon,Oft have I heard a child, gay among flowers,As in the shining grass she sate conceal’d,Sing to herself.
There is a streamlet issuing from a rock.The village-girls, singing wild madrigals,Dip their white vestments in its waters clear,And hang them to the sun. There first I saw her.Her dark and eloquent eyes, mild, full of fire,’Twas heav’n to look upon; and her sweet voice,As tuneable as harp of many strings,At once spoke joy and sadness to my soul!