Nimrod's bow. She contemplated him in the act of
cutting off the lion's head. She repeated his madrigal. At length, she saw him retiring from the
crowd upon his unicorn. Tears, sighs, and lamentations overwhelmed her at this reflection. At intervals she cried out: "Shall I then never see him
more? Will he never return?"
"He will surely return," replied the bird from the top of the orange tree. "Can one have seen you once, and not desire to see you again?"
"Heavens! eternal powers! my bird speaks the purest Chaldaean." In uttering these words she drew back the curtains, put out her hand to him, and knelt upon her bed, saying:
"Art thou a god descended upon earth? Art thou the great Oromasdes concealed under this beautiful plumage? If thou art, restore me this charming young man."
"I am nothing but a winged animal," replied the bird, "but I was born at the time when all animals still spoke; when birds, serpents, asses, horses, and griffins conversed familiarly with man. I would not speak before company, lest your ladies of honor should have taken me for a sorcerer. I would not discover myself to any but you."
Formosanta was speechless, bewildered, and intoxicated with so many wonders. Desirous of putting a hundred questions to him at once, she at length asked him how old he was.
"Only twenty-seven thousand nine hundred years
