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"text": "The town-crier is supposed to speak \nLost ! Love, wild Love ! Even now at dawn he went his way, taking wing from his bed. The boy is thus, — sweetly-tearful ever chattering, quick and impudent, laughing with a sneer, with wings on his back, and a quiver slung on it. As for his father's name I can't give it you ; for neither Sky nor Earth nor Sea confess to the rascal's parentage. For every-where and by all he is hated ; but look to it in case he is setting now new springes for hearts. But wait ! there he is near his nest ! Ah ! little archer, so you thought to hide from me there in Zenophila's eyes ! ",
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