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WHEN lonely on the once-delightful shore Stood Ariadne, and the stern wind blew Steadily seaward, till at last she knew Theseus could come no more:

Behold, a God, a God rush’d to her side!— —Think you she cared? I know which way she turn’d Fain eyes, and longing heart, and lips that burn’d; I know which name she cried!

For now the Godlike let draws near to me; Yea, Love-of-one denied, comes Love-for-all,— But, where art thou? Canst thou not hear me call, O lost, lost Love, to thee?