As the singer ceased, there came a sound in the wind blowing from far

Egypt, where at night Aurora mourns by the Nile for her slain Memnon. To

the feet of the Thunderer flew the rosy-fingered Goddess and, kneeling,

cried, "Master, it is time I unlocked the Gates of the East." And Phoebus,

handing his lyre to Calliope, his bride among the Muses, prepared to

depart for the jewelled and column-raised Palace of the Sun, where fretted

the steeds already harnessed to the golden car of Day. So Zeus descended

from his caryen throne and placed his hand upon the head of Marcia,

saying:

"Daughter, the dawn is nigh, and it is well that thou shouldst return

before the awakening of mortals to thy home. Weep not at the bleakness of

thy life, for the shadow of false faiths will soon be gone and the Gods

shall once more walk among men. Search thou unceasingly for our messenger,

for in him wilt thou find peace and comfort. By his word shall thy steps

be guided to happiness, and in his dreams of beauty shall thy spirit find

that which it craveth." As Zeus ceased, the young Hermes gently seized the

maiden and bore her up toward the fading stars, up and westward over

unseen seas.

* * *

Many years have passed since Marcia dreamt of the Gods and of their

Parnassus conclave. Tonight she sits in the same spacious drawing-room,

but she is not alone. Gone is the old spirit of unrest, for beside her is

one whose name is luminous with celebrity: the young poet of poets at

whose feet sits all the world. He is reading from a manuscript words which