Fragments From Euripides.

Dear is that valley to the murmuring bees. The small birds build there; and, at summer-noon, Oft have I heard a child, gay among flowers, As in the shining grass she sate conceal'd, Sing to herself. *            *            *            *            * There is a streamlet issuing from a rock. The village-girls, singing wild madrigals, Dip their white vestments in its waters clear, And hang them to the sun. There first I saw her. Her dark and eloquent eyes, mild, full of fire, 'Twas heav'n to look upon; and her sweet voice, As tuneable as harp of many strings, At once spoke joy and sadness to my soul!