Note 35 — Chapter VI · THE SIBYL AND THE SHADES.

“Aloud she shrieked! for Hermes reappears; Round the dear shade she would have clung—’tis vain, The hours are past—too brief, had they been years; And him no mortal effort can detain: Swift, toward the realms that know not earthly day, He through the portal takes his silent way, And on the palace-floor a lifeless corse she lay. “By no weak pity might the gods be moved; She who thus perished, not without the crime Of lovers that in Reason’s spite have loved, Was doomed to wear out her appointed time, Apart from happy ghosts that gather flowers Of blissful quiet ’mid unfading bowers.” —Wordsworth’s ‘Laodamia.’