THE GARDEN OF EROS. 
5 
The throb of thy throat to the flit of our feet ! 
Come, I have chosen thee. 
 
DORIS 
 
Follow me then 
Deep in the dance to the heart of the glen ! 
 
MARSYAS 
 
Ho !  you are rich, you are red, you are ripe ! 
Pace me your passions to plaint of my pipe ! 
 
OLYMPAS 
 
Nay, I am with thee, my master, to match 
Every my song to thy lyrical catch. 
 
EROTION 
 
Nay, let us follow you — all in a ring ! 
Wonder of wisdom and wit on the wing ! 
 
ANAXIMANDER 
 
Come, my Giton, of the hyacinth hair ! 
Apollo, Apollo !  indeed they are fair ! 
 
HYLAS 
 
Kiss me again, my Lysander, my love ! 
Listen !  Olympas is singing above.