Chapter CLXIII: Book XIV: The Price of Ransom

_The faint grey of dawn was stealing across the lake; and still the spell was upon them.

“There thou art gone, and me thou leavest here
Sole in these fields! yet will I not despair.”

So she whispered; and he answered her--

“He loved his mates; but yet he could not keep,
Here with the shepherds and the silly sheep.
Some life of men unblest
He knew, which made him droop, and filled his head.
He went; his piping took a troubled sound
Of storms that rage outside our happy ground._”