m is eternal, but our life is short: make the most of it while it
lasts. Surrender thy youth to pleasure, and thy senses to delight. Soon
comes the hour when the wine-cup is shattered, and the garlands shall
cease to bloom. Enjoy while you may. Be still, O Apaecides, my pupil
and my follower! I will teach thee the mechanism of Nature, her darkest
and her wildest secrets--the lore which fools call magic--and the mighty
mysteries of the stars. By this shalt thou discharge thy duty to the
mass; by this shalt thou enlighten thy race. But I will lead thee also
to pleasures of which the vulgar do not dream; and the day which thou
givest to men shall be followed by the sweet night which thou
surrenderest to thyself.'

As the Egyptian ceased there rose about, around, beneath, the softest
music that Lydia ever taught, or Iona ever perfected. It came like a
stream of sound, bathing the senses unawares; enervating, subduing with
delight. It seemed the melodies of invisible spirits, such as the
shepherd might have heard in the golden age, floating through the vales
of Thessaly, or in the noontide glades of Paphos. The words which had
rushed to the lip of Apaecides, in answer to the sophistries of the
Egyptian, died tremblingly away. He felt it as a profanation to break
upon that enchanted strain--the susceptibility of his excited nature,
the Greek softness and ardour of his secret soul, were swayed and
captured by surprise. He sank on the seat with parted lips and
thirsting ear; while in a chorus of voices, bland and melting as those
which waked Psyche in the halls of love, rose the following song:

THE HYMN OF EROS

By the cool banks where soft Cephisus flows,
A voice sail'd trembling down the waves of air;
The leaves blushed brighter in the Teian's rose,
The doves couch'd breathless in their summer lair;

While from their hands the purple flowerets fell,
The laughing Hours stood listening in the sky;--
From Pan's green cave to AEgle's haunted cell,
Heaved the charm'd earth in one delicious sigh.

Love, sons of earth! I am the Power of Love!
Eldest of all the gods, with Chaos born;
My smile sheds light along the courts above,
My kisses wake the eyelids of the Morn.

Mine are the stars--there, ever as ye gaze,
Ye meet the deep spell of my haunting eyes;
Mine is the moon--and, m