Wholly forget their first sad life, and home,
And all that Theban woe, and stray
Forever through the glens, placid and dumb.
EMPEDOCLES.
That was my harp-player again! Where is he?
Down by the stream?
PAUSANIAS.
Yes, master, in the wood.
EMPEDOCLES.
He ever loved the Theban story well!
But the day wears. Go now, Pausanias,
For I must be alone. Leave me one mule;
Take down with thee the rest to Catana.
And for young Callicles, thank him from me;
Tell him, I never failed to love his lyre;
But he must follow me no more to-night.
PAUSANIAS.
Thou wilt return to-morrow to the city?
EMPEDOCLES.
Either to-morrow or some other day,
In the sure revolutions of the world,
Good friend, I shall revisit Catana.
I have seen many cities in my time,
Till mine eyes ache with the long spectacle,
And I shall doubtless see them all again;
Thou know'st me for a wanderer from of old.
Meanwhile, stay me not now. Farewell, Pausanias!
He departs on his way up the mountain
PAUSANIAS (alone).
I dare not urge him further—he must go;
