Explore "The Masque of Pandora" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
EPIMETHEUS. / The storm is past, but it hath left behind it / Ruin and desolation. All the walks / Are strewn with shattered boughs; the birds are silent; / The flowers, downtrodden by the wind, lie dead; / The swollen rivulet sobs with secret pain, / The melancholy reeds whisper together / As if some dreadful deed had been committed / They dare not name, and all the air is heavy / With an unspoken sorrow! Premonitions, / Foreshadowings of some terrible disaster / Oppress my heart. Ye Gods, avert the omen!
PANDORA (coming from the house). / O Epimetheus, I no longer dare / To lift mine eyes to thine, nor hear thy voice, / Being no longer worthy of thy love.