THE LOVERS.
Fair lovers, ye are fortunately met.
MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM.
On the same night, and almost at the same hour of the night, wherein that
dreadful conclave was assembled at the house of Læca, a small domestic
group, consisting indeed only of three individuals, was gathered in the
tablinum, or saloon, of an elegant though modest villa, situate in the
outskirts of the city, fronting the street that led over the Mulvian
bridge to the Æmilian way, and having a large garden communicating in the
rear with the plebeian cemetery on the Esquiline.
It was a gay and beautiful apartment, of small dimensions, but replete
with all those graceful objects, those manifold appliances of refined
taste and pleasure, for which the Romans, austere and poor no longer, had,
since their late acquaintance with Athenian polish and Oriental luxury,
acquired a predilection—ominous, as their sterner patriots fancied, of
personal degeneracy and national decay.
Divided from the hall of reception by thick soft curtains, woven from the
choice wool of Calabria, and glowing with the richest hues of the Tyrian
crimson; and curtained with hangings of the same costly fabric around the
windows, both of which with the doorway opened upon a peristyle; that
little chamber wore an air of comfort, that charmed the eye more even than
its decorations. Yet these were of no common order; for the floor was
tesselated in rare patterns of mosaic work, showing its exquisite devices
and bright colors, where they were not concealed by a footstool of
embroidered tapestry. The walls were portioned out into compartments, each
framed by a broad border of gilded scroll-work on a crimson ground, and
containing an elaborately finished fresco painting; which, could they have
been seen by any critical eye of modern days, would have set at rest for
ever the question as to the state of this art among the ancients. The
subject was a favorite one with all artists of all ages,—from the
world-famous Iliad: the story of the goddess-born Achilles. Here tutored
by the wise Centaur, Chiron, in horsemanship and archery, and all that
makes a hero; here tearing off the virgin mitre, to don the glittering
casque proffered, with sword and buckler, among effeminate wares, by the
disguised Ulysses; there wandering in the despondent gloom of injured
pride along the stormy sea, meet listener to his haughty sorrows, while in
the distance, turning her tearful eyes back to her lord, Briseis went
unwilling at the behest of the unwilling heralds. Again he was presented,
mourning with frantic grief over the corpse of his beloved Patroclus—grief
that called up his Nereid mother from the blue depths of her native
element; and, in the last, chasing with unexampled speed the flying
Hector, who, stunned and destined by the Gods to ruin, dared not await his
onset, while Priam veiled his face upon the ramparts, and Hecuba already
tore her hair, presaging the destruction of Troy’s invincible unshaken
column.(2)
A small wood fire blazed cheerfully upon the hearth, round which were
clustered, in uncouth attitudes of old Etruscan sculpture, the grim and
grotesque figures of the household Gods. Two lamps of bronze, each with
four burners, placed on tall candelabra exquisitely carved in the same
metal, diffused a soft calm radiance through the room, accompanied by an
aromatic odor from the perfumed vegetable oil which fed their light. Upon
a circular table of dark-grained citrean wood, inlaid with ivory and
silver, were several rolls of parchment and papyrus, the books of the day,
some of them splendidly emblazoned and illuminated; a lyre of
tortoiseshell, and near to it the slender plectrum by which its cords were
wakened to melody. Two or three little flasks of agate and of onyx
containing some choice perfumes, a Tuscan vase full of fresh-gathered
flowers, and several articles yet more decidedly feminine, were scattered
on the board; needles, and thread of various hues, and twine of gold and
silver, and some embroidery, half finished, and as it would seem but that
instant laid aside. Such was the aspect of the saloon wherein three
persons were sitting on that night; who, though they were unconscious,
nay, even unsuspicious of the existence of conspiracy and treason, were
destined, ere many days should elapse, to be involved in its desperate
mazes; to act conspicuous parts and undergo strange perils, in the dread
drama of the times.
They were of different years and sex—one, a magnificent and stately
matron, such as Rome’s matrons were when Rome was at the proudest, already
well advanced in years, yet still possessing not merely the remains of
former charms, but much of real beauty, and that too of the noblest and
most exalted order. Her hair, which had been black in her youth as the
raven’s wing, was still, though mixed with many a line of silver,
luxuriant and profuse as ever. Simply and closely braided over her broad
and intellectual temples, and gathered into a thick knot behind, it
displayed admirably the contour of her head, and suited the severe and
classic style of her strictly Roman features. The straight-cut eye-brows,
the clear and piercing eye, the aquiline nose, and the firm thin lips,
spoke worlds of character and decision; yet that which might have
otherwise seemed stern and even harsh, was softened by a smile of singular
sweetness, and by a lighting up of the whole countenance, which at times
imparted to those high features an expression of benevolence, gentle and
feminine in the extreme.
Her stature was well suited to the style of her lineaments; majestically
tall and stately, and though attenuated something by the near approach of
old age, preserving still the soft and flowing outlines of a form, which
had in youth been noted for roundness and voluptuous symmetry.
She wore the plain white robes, bordered and zoned with crimson, of a
patrician lady, but save one massive signet on the third finger of her
right hand she had no gem or ornament whatever; and as she sat a little
way aloof from her younger companions, drawing the slender threads with
many a graceful motion from the revolving distaff into the basket by her
side, she might have passed for her, whose proud prayer, that she might be
known not as the daughter of the Scipios but as the mother of the Gracchi,
was but too fatally fulfilled in the death-earned celebrity of those her
boasted jewels.
The other lady was smaller, slighter, fairer, and altogether so different
in mien, complexion, stature, and expression, that it was difficult even
for those who knew them well to believe that they were a mother and her
only child. For even in her flush of beauty, the elder lady, while in the
full splendor of Italian womanhood, must ever have been calculated to
inspire admiration, not all unmixed with awe, rather than tenderness or
love. The daughter, on the other hand, was one whose every gesture, smile,
word, glance, bespoke that passion latent in itself, which it awakened in
the bosom of all beholders.
Slightly above the middle stature, and with a waist of scarce a span’s
circumference, her form was exquisitely full and rounded; the sweeping
outlines of her snow-white and dimpled arms, bare to the shoulders, and
set off by many strings of pearl, which were themselves scarcely whiter
than the skin on which they rested; the swan-like curvature of the
dazzling neck; the wavy and voluptuous development of her bust, shrouded
but not concealed by the plaits of her white linen _stola_, fastened on
either shoulder by a clasp of golden fillagree, and gathered just above
her hips by a gilt zone of the Grecian fashion; the small and shapely
foot, which peered out with its jewelled sandal under her gold-fringed
draperies; combined to present to the eye a very incarnation of that ideal
loveliness, which haunts enamored poets in their dreams, the girl just
bursting out of girlhood, the glowing Hebe of the soft and sunny south.
But if her form was lovely, how shall the pen of mortal describe the wild
romantic beauty of her soul-speaking features. The rich redundancy of her
dark auburn hair, black where the shadows rested on it as the sable locks
of night, but glittering out wherever a wandering ray glanced on its
glossy surface like the bright tresses of Aurora. The broad and marble
forehead, the pencilled brows, and the large liquid eyes fraught with a
mild and lustrous languor; the cheeks, pale in their wonted mood as
alabaster, yet eloquent at times with warm and passionate blushes. The
lips, redder than aught on earth which shares both hue and softness; and,
more than all, the deep and indescribable expression which genius prints
on every lineament of those, who claim that rarest and most godlike of
endowments.
She was a thing to dream of, not describe; to dream of in some faint and
breathless eve of early summer, beside the margin of some haunted
streamlet, beneath the shade of twilight boughs in which the fitful breeze
awakes that whispering melody, believed by the poetic ancients to be the
chorus of the wood-nymph; to dream of and adore—even as she was adored by
him who sat beside her, and watched each varying expression, that swept
across her speaking features; and hung upon each accent of the low silvery
voice, as if he feared it were the last to which his soul should thrill
responsive.
He was a tall and powerful youth of twenty-four or five years; yet, though
his limbs were sinewy and lithe, and though his deep round chest, thin
flanks, and muscular shoulders gave token of much growing strength, it was
still evident that, his stature having been prematurely gained, he lacked
much of that degree of power of which his frame gave promise. For though
his limbs were well formed they were scarcely set, or furnished, as we
should say in speaking of an animal; and the strength, which he in truth
possessed, was that of elasticity and youthful vigor, capable rather of
violent though brief exertion, than that severe and trained robustness,
which can for long continuous periods sustain the strongest and most
trying labor.
His hair was dark and curling—his eye bright, clear, and penetrating; yet
was its glance at times wavering and undetermined, such as would indicate
perhaps a want of steadiness of purpose, not of corporeal resolution, for
that was disproved by one glance at the decided curve of his bold
clean-cut mouth, and the square outlines of his massive jaw, which seemed
almost to betoken fierceness. There was a quick short flash at times, keen
as the falcon’s, in the unsteady eye, that told of energy enough within
and stirring spirit to prompt daring deeds, the momentary irresolution
conquered. There was a frank and cheery smile that oftentimes belied the
auguries drawn from the other features; and, more than all, there was a
tranquil sweet expression, which now and then pervaded the whole
countenance, altering for the better its entire character, and betokening
more mind and deeper feelings, than would at first have been suspected
from his aspect.
His dress was the ordinary tunic of the day, of plain white woollen stuff,
belted about the middle by a girdle, which contained his ivory tablets,
and the metallic pencil used for writing on their waxed surface, together
with his handkerchief and purse; but nothing bearing the semblance of a
weapon, not so much even as a common knife. His legs and arms were bare,
his feet being protected merely by sandals of fine leather having the
clasps or fibulæ of gold; as was the buckle of his girdle, and one huge
signet ring, which was his only ornament.
His toga, which had been laid aside on entering the saloon, as was the
custom of the Romans in their own families, or among private friends, hung
on the back of an armed chair; of ample size and fine material, but
undistinguished by the marks of senatorial or equestrian rank. Such was
the aspect, such the bearing of the youth, who might be safely deemed the
girl’s permitted suitor, from his whole air and manner, as he listened to
the soft voice of his beautiful mistress. For as they sat there side by
side, perusing from an illuminated scroll the elegies of some
long-perished, long-forgotten poet, now reading audibly the smooth and
honeyed lines, now commenting with playful criticism on the style, or
carrying out with all the fervor and romance of young poetical temperament
the half obscure allusions of the bard, no one could doubt that they were
lovers; especially if he marked the calm and well-pleased smile that stole
from time to time across the proud features of that patrician lady; who,
sitting but a little way apart, watched—while she reeled off skein after
skein of the fine Byssine flax in silence—the quiet happiness of the young
pair.
Thus had the evening passed, not long nor tediously to any of the party;
and midnight was at hand; when there entered from the atrium a grey-headed
slave bearing a tray covered with light refreshments—fresh herbs, endive
and mallows sprinkled with snow, ripe figs, eggs and anchovies, dried
grapes, and cakes of candied honey; while two boys of rare beauty
followed, one carrying a flagon of Chian wine diluted with snow water, the
other a platter richly chased in gold covered with cyathi, or drinking
cups, some of plain chrystal, some of that unknown myrrhine fabric,(3)
which is believed by many scholars to have been highly vitrified and
half-transparent porcelain.
A second slave brought in a folded stand, like a camp stool in shape, on
which the tray was speedily deposited, while on a slab of Parian marble
near which the two boys took their stand, the wine and goblets were
arranged in glittering order.
So silently, however, was all this done, that, their preparations made,
the elder slaves had retired with a deep genuflexion, leaving the boys
only to administer at that unceremonious banquet, ere the young couple,
whose backs were turned towards the table, perceived the interruption.
The brilliant smile, which has been mentioned, beamed from the features of
the elder lady, as she perceived how thoroughly engrossed, even to the
unconsciousness of any passing sound, they were, whom, rising for the
purpose, and laying by her work, she now proceeded to recall to sublunary
matters.
"Paullus," she said, "and you, my Julia, ye are unconscious how the
fleeting hours have slipped away. The night hath far advanced into the
third watch. I would not part ye needlessly, nor over soon, especially
when you must so soon perforce be severed; but we must not forget how long
a homeward walk awaits our dear Arvina. Come, then, and partake some
slight refreshment, before you say farewell.
"How thoughtless in me, to have detained you thus, and with a mile to walk
this murky and unpleasant night. They say, too, that the streets are
dangerous of late, haunted by dissolute night-revellers—that villain
Clodius and his infamous co-mates. I tremble like a leaf if I but meet
them in broad day—and what if you should fall in with them, when flushed
with wine, and ripe for any outrage?"
"Fie! dear one, fie!" answered the young man with a smile—"a sorry soldier
wouldst thou make of me, who am within so short a space to meet the
savages of Pontus, under our mighty Pompey! There is no danger, Julia,
here in the heart of Rome; and my stout freedman Thrasea awaits me with
his torch. Nor is it so far either to my house, for those who cross, as I
shall do, the cemetery on the Esquiline. ’Tis but a step across the
sumptuous Carinæ to the Cælian."
"But surely, surely, Paul," exclaimed the lovely girl, laying her hand
upon his arm, "thou wouldst not cross that fearful burying-ground, haunted
by all things awful and obscene, thus at the dead of night. Oh! do not,
dearest," she continued, "thou knowest not what wild terrible tales are
rife, of sounds and sights unnatural and superhuman, encountered in those
loathsome precincts. ’Tis a mere tempting of the Dark Ones, to brave the
horrors of that place!"
"The Gods, my Julia," replied the youth unmoved by her alarm, "the Gods
are never absent from their votaries, so they be innocent and pure of
spirit. For me! I am unconscious of a wilful fault, and fear not
anything."
"Well said, Paullus Arvina," exclaimed the elder lady, "and worthily of
your descent from the Cæcilii"—for from that noble house his family indeed
derived its origin. "But, although I," she added, "counsel you not to heed
our Julia’s girlish terrors, I love you not to walk by night so slenderly
accompanied. Ho! boy, go summon me the steward, and bid him straightway
arm four of the Thracian slaves."
"No! by the Gods, Hortensia!" the young man interrupted her, his whole
face flushing with excitement, "you do shame to my manhood, by your
caution. There is in truth no shadow of danger. Besides," he added,
laughing at his own impetuosity, "I shall be far beyond the Esquiline ere
excellent old Davus could rouse those sturdy knaves of yours, or find the
armory key; for lo! I will but tarry to taste one cup of your choice of
Chian to my Julia’s health, and then straight homeward. Have a care, my
fair boy, that flagon is too heavy to be lifted safely by such small hands
as thine, and its contents too precious to be wasted. Soh! that’s well
done; thou’lt prove a second Ganymede! Health, Julia, and good dreams—may
all fair things attend thee, until we meet again."
"And when shall that be, Paul," whispered his mistress, a momentary flush
shooting across brow, neck, and bosom, as she spoke, and leaving her, a
second afterward, even paler than her wont, between anxiety and fear, and
the pain even of this temporary parting—"when shall that be? to-morrow?"
"Surely, to-morrow! fairest," he replied, clasping her little hand with a
fond pressure, "unless, which may the Gods avert! anything unforeseen
prevent me. Give me my toga, boy," he added, "and see if Thrasea waits,
and if his torch be lighted."
"Bid him come hither, Geta," Hortensia interposed, addressing the boy as
he left the room, "and tell old Davus to accompany him, bringing the keys
of the peristyle and of the garden gate. So shalt thou gain the Esquiline
more easily."
Her orders were obeyed as soon as they were spoken, and but few moments
intervened before the aged steward, and the freedman with his staff and
torch, the latter so prepared by an art common to the ancients as to set
almost any violence of wind or rain at defiance, stood waiting their
commands.
Familiar and kind words were interchanged between those high-born ladies
and the trustworthy follower of young Arvina. For those were days, when no
cold etiquette fettered the freedom of the tongue, and when no rank, how
stately or how proud soever, induced austerity of bearing or haughtiness
toward inferiors; and these concluded, greetings, briefer but far more
warm, followed between the master and his intended bride.
"Sweet slumbers, Julia, and a happy wakening attend you! Farewell,
Hortensia; both of ye farewell!" and passing into the colonnade through
the door which Davus had unlocked, he drew the lappet of his toga over his
head after the fashion of a hood to shield it from the drizzling rain—for,
except on a journey, the hardy Romans never wore any hat or headgear—and
hastened with a firm and regular step along the marble peristyle. This
portico, or rather piazza, enclosed, by a double row of Tuscan columns, a
few small flower beds, and a fountain springing high in the air from the
conch of a Triton, and falling back into a large shell of white marble,
which it was so contrived as to keep ever full without at any time
overflowing.
Beyond this was a summer triclinium or dining room facing the north, and
provided with the three-sided couch, from which it took its name,
embracing a circular table. Through this they passed into a smaller court
adorned like the other by a jet d’eau, surrounded by several small
boudoirs and bed chambers luxuriously decorated, which were set apart to
the use of the females of the family, and guarded night and day by the
most trusty of the slaves.
Hence a strong door gave access to a walled space, throughout the length
of which on either hand ran a long range of offices, and above them the
dormitories of the slaves, with a small porter’s lodge or guard room by
the gate, opening on the orchard in the rear.
Therein were stationed the four Thracians, mentioned by Hortensia, whose
duty it was to keep watch alternately over the safety of the postern,
although the key was not entrusted to their charge; and he, whose watch it
was, started up from a bench on which he had been stretched, and looked
forth torch in hand at the sound of approaching footsteps. Seeing,
however, who it was, and that the steward attended him, he lent his aid in
opening the postern, and reverently bowed the knee to Arvina, as he
departed from the hospitable villa.
The orchard through which lay his onward progress, occupied a considerable
extent of ground, laid out in terraces adorned with marble urns and
statues, long bowery walks sheltered by vine-clad trellices, and rows of
fruit trees interspersed with many a shadowy clump of the rich evergreen
holm-oak, the tufted stone-pine, the clustering arbutus, and smooth-leaved
laurestinus. This lovely spot was separated from the plebeian cemetery
only—as has been said already—by a low wall; and therefore in those days
of universal superstition of the lower orders and the slaves, and many too
of their employers, would have eschewed it as a place ominous of evil, if
not unsafe and perilous.
The mind of Paul, however, if not entirely free from any touch of
superstitious awe, which at that period of the world would have been a
thing altogether unnatural and impossible, was at least of too firm a
mould to shake at mere imaginary terrors; and he strode on, lighted by his
torch-bearer, through the dark mazes of the orchard, with all his thoughts
engrossed by the pleasant reminiscences of the past evening. Thoughtless,
however, as he was, and bold, he yet recoiled a step, and the blood rushed
tumultuously to his heart, as a loud yelling cry, protracted strangely,
and ending in a sound midway between a groan and a burst of horrid
laughter, rose awfully upon the silent night; and it required an effort to
man his heart against a feeling, which crept through him, nearly akin to
fear.
But with the freedman Thrasea it was a very different matter, for he shook
so much with absolute terror, that he had well nigh dropped the torch;
while, drawing nearer to his master’s side, with teeth that chattered as
if in an ague fit, and a face deserted by every particle of color, he
besought him in faltering accents, "by all the Gods! to turn back
instantly, lest evil might come of it!"
His entreaties were, however, of no avail with the brave youth, who in a
moment had shaken off his transitory terror, and was now resolute, not
only to proceed on his homeward route, but to investigate the cause and
meaning of the outcry.
"Silence!" he said, somewhat sternly, in answer to the reiterated prayers
of the trembling servitor, "Silence! and follow, idiot! That was no
superhuman voice—no yell of nightly lemures, but the death-cry, if I err
not more widely, of some frail mortal like ourselves. There may be time,
however, yet to save him, and I so truly marked the quarter whence it
rose, that I doubt not we may discover him. Advance the light; lo! we are
at the wall. Lower thy torch now, that I may undo the wicket. Give me thy
club and keep close at my heels bearing the flambeau high!"
And with the words he strode out rapidly into the wide desolate expanse of
the plebeian grave yard. It was a broad bleak space, comprising the whole
table land and southern slope of the Esquiline hill, broken with many deep
ravines and gulleys, worn by the wintry rains, covered with deep rank
grass and stunted bushes, with here and there a grove of towering
cypresses, or dark funereal yews, casting a deeper shadow over the gloomy
solitude. So rough and broken was the surface of the ground, so numerous
the low mounds which alone covered the ashes of the humbler dead, that
they were long in reaching the vicinity of the spot where that fell deed
had been done so recently. When they had come, however, to the foot of the
descent, where it swept gently downward to the boundary wall, the young
man took the torch from his attendant, and waving it with a slow movement
to and fro, surveyed the ground with close and narrow scrutiny. He had not
moved in this manner above a dozen paces, before a bright quick flash
seemed to shoot up from the long thick herbage as the glare of the torch
passed over it. Another step revealed the nature and the cause of that
brief gleam; a ray had fallen full on the polished blade of Cataline’s
stiletto, which lay, where it had been cast by the expiring effort of the
victim, hilt downward in the tangled weeds.
He seized it eagerly, but shuddered, as he beheld the fresh dark gore
curdling on the broad steel, and clotted round the golden guard of the
rich weapon.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, "I am right, Thrasea. Foul murder hath been done here!
Let us look farther."
Several minutes now were spent in searching every foot of ground, and
prying even into the open vaults of several broken graves; for at first
they had taken a wrong direction in the gloom. Quickly, however, seeing
that he was in error, Arvina turned upon his traces, and was almost
immediately successful; for there, scarce twenty feet from the spot where
he had found the dagger, with his grim gory face turned upward as if
reproachfully to the dark quiet skies, the black death-sweat still beaded
on his frowning brow, and a sardonic grin distorting his pale lips, lay
the dead slave. Flat on his back, with his arms stretched out right and
left, his legs extended close together to their full length, he lay even
as he had fallen; for not a struggle had convulsed his limbs after he
struck the earth; life having actually fled while he yet stood erect,
battling with all the energies of soul and body against man’s latest
enemy. The bosom of his gray tunic, rent asunder, displayed the deep gash
which had let out the spirit, whence the last drops of the thick crimson
life-blood were ebbing with a slow half-stagnant motion.
On this dread sight Paul was still gazing in that motionless and painful
silence, with which the boldest cannot fail to look upon the body of a
fellow creature from which the immortal soul has been reluctantly and
forcefully expelled, when a loud cry from Thrasea, who, having lagged a
step or two behind, was later in discovering the corpse, aroused him from
his melancholy stupor.
"Alas! alas! ah me!" cried the half-sobbing freedman, "my friend, my more
than friend, my countryman, my kinsman, Medon!"
"Ha! dost thou recognize the features? didst thou know him who lies so
coldly and inanimately here before us?" cried the excited youth, "whose
slave was he? speak, Thrasea, on thy life! this shall be looked to
straightway; and, by the Gods! avenged."
"As I would recognize mine own in the polished brass, as I do know my
father’s sister’s son! for such was he, who lies thus foully slaughtered.
Alas! alas! my countryman! wo! wo! for thee, my Medon! Many a day, alas!
many a happy day have we two chased the elk and urus by the dark-wooded
Danube; the same roof covered us; the same board fed; the same fire warmed
us; nay! the same fatal battle-field robbed both of liberty and country.
Yet were the great Gods merciful to the poor captives. Thy father did buy
me, Arvina, and a few years of light and pleasant servitude restored the
slave to freedom. Medon was purchased by the wise consul, Cicero, and was
to have received his freedom at the next Saturnalia. Alas! and wo is me,
he is now free forever from any toils on earth, from any mortal master."
"Nay! weep not so, my Thrasea," exclaimed the generous youth, laying his
left hand with a friendly pressure on the freedman’s shoulder, "thou shalt
have all means to do all honor to his name; all that can now be done by
mortals for the revered and sacred dead. Aid me now to remove the body,
lest those who slew him may return, and carry off the evidences of their
crime."
Thus speaking, he thrust the unlighted end of the torch into the ground,
and lifting up the shoulders of the carcase, while Thrasea raised the
feet, bore it away a hundred yards or better, and laying it within the
open arch-way of an old tomb, covered the mouth with several boughs torn
from a neighboring cypress.
Then satisfied that it would thus escape a nearer search than it was
likely would be made by the murderers, when they should find that it had
been removed, he walked away very rapidly toward his home.
Before he left the burial ground, however, he wiped the dagger carefully
in the long grass, and hid it in the bosom of his tunic.
No more words were exchanged—the master buried in deep thought, the
servant stupified with grief and terror—until they reached the house of
Paullus, in a fair quarter of the town, near to the street of Carinæ, the
noblest and most sumptuous in Rome.
A dozen slaves appeared within the hall, awaiting the return of their
young lord, but he dismissed them all; and when they had departed, taking
a small night lamp, and ordering Thrasea to waken him betimes to-morrow,
that he might see the consul, he bade him be of good cheer, for that
Medon’s death should surely be avenged, since the gay dagger would prove a
clue to the detection of his slayer. Then, passing into his own chamber,
he soon lost all recollection of his hopes, joys, cares, in the sound
sleep of innocence and youth.