"WHY dost thou hide from these
Out along the hills halloaing?
Why hast forbade
Thy face, O goddess! to thy votaries?"
"_Unasking and unknowing
Is he whom I make glad,
Like Dian grandly going
To the sleeping shepherd-lad.
Men that pursue learn not
To follow is my lot._"
"Happiness, secret one,
Heartbeat of the April weather,
Where art thou found?
Tell; lest I err too, yonder in the sun."
"_Call in thine eye from ether,
Thy feet from far ground;
Seek Honour in this heather,
With austere purples wound.
Serve her: she will reveal
Me, hound-like at thy heel._"