CHAPTER XVIII.
THE PERVIGILIUM.
'Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew! It is Spring, it is chorussing Spring: 'tis the birthday of earth, and for you! It is Spring; and the Loves and the birds wing together, and woo to accord Where the bough to the rain has unbraided her locks as a bride to her lord.
For she walks--She our Lady, our Mistress of Wedlock,--the woodlands atween, And the bride-bed she weaves them, with myrtle enlacing, with curtains of green.
Look, list ye the law of Dione, aloft and enthroned in the blue:-- Now learn ye to love who loved never--now ye who have loved, love anew!' "H'm, h'm--tolerable only! '_Aloft and established in blue_'-- is that better ?" "Uncle Copas, whatever are you doing ?" Corona looked up from her page of irregular verbs, and across to her preceptor as he sat muttering and scribbling.
"The idlest thing in the world, child.

Translating." "But you told me that next week, if I learned these verbs, you would let me begin to translate." "To be sure I did.

You must go on translating and translating until, like me, you ought to know better.

Then you throw it all away." "I suppose I shall understand, one of these fine days," sighed Corona.

"But, uncle, you won't mind my asking a question?
I really do want to find out about these things.