XXXIV.

Sometimes when that wild chorus intermits,
The linnet's song was heard amid the trees,
A low sweet voice: and sweeter still, at fits

The ring-dove's wooing came upon the breeze; While with the wind which moved the leaves among, The murmuring waters joined in undersong.

XXXV.

The hare disported here, and fear'd no ill, For never evil thing that glade came nigh; The sheep were free to wander at their will,

As needing there no earthly shepherd's eye; The bird sought no concealment for her nest,

XLII.

There grew a goodly Tree this Well beside,-
Behold a branch from Eden planted here,
Plucked from the Tree of Knowledge, said my guide.
O Child of Adam, put away thy fear,-

In thy first father's grave it hath its root;
Taste thou the bitter, but the wholesome fruit.

XLIII.

In awe I heard, and trembled, and obeyed:
The bitterness was even as of death;

I felt a cold and piercing thrill pervade

My loosened limbs, and losing sight and breath, To earth I should have fallen in my despair,

blest.

XXXVI.

All blending thus with all in one delight,

The soul was soothed and satisfied and fill'd:

This mingled bliss of sense and sound and sight,

The flow of boisterous mirth might there have still'd,

And sinking in the gentle spirit deep,

XLIV.

My heart, I thought, was bursting with the force Of that most fatal fruit; soul-sick I felt,

And tears ran down in such continuous course,

As if the very eyes themselves should melt. But then I heard my heavenly teacher say,