Such was Zonoras; and as daylight finds
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hus through his age, dark, cold, and tempest-tossed,Shone truth upon Zonoras; and he filledFrom fountains pure, nigh overgrown and lost, The spirit of Prince Athanase, a child, _170With soul-sustaining songs of ancient loreAnd philosophic wisdom, clear and mild. And sweet and subtle talk they evermore,The pupil and the master, shared; until,Sharing that undiminishable store, _175 The youth, as shadows on a grassy hillOutrun the winds that chase them, soon outranHis teacher, and did teach with native skill Strange truths and new to that experienced man;Still they were friends, as few have ever been _180Who mark the extremes of life’s discordant span. So in the caverns of the forest green,Or on the rocks of echoing ocean hoar,Zonoras and Prince Athanase were seen By summer woodmen; and when winter’s roar _185Sounded o’er earth and sea its blast of war,The Balearic fisher, driven from shore, Hanging upon the peaked wave afar,Then saw their lamp from Laian’s turret gleam,Piercing the stormy darkness, like a star _190 Which pours beyond the sea one steadfast beam,Whilst all the constellations of the skySeemed reeling through the storm...They did but seem— For, lo! the wintry clouds are all gone by,And bright Arcturus through yon pines is glowing, _195And far o’er southern waves, immovably
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