"Priests of a strange creed, handed down from the Syrians of
Palestine, brought me up. These priests were wise and good. They
taught me long lessons of Cronos, who created the world, and of his
son, who, as they told me, made a journey upon earth. Their temples
are thrice as lofty as thine, O Eurhythmia, and dense like forests.
But they are not enduring, and crumble to pieces at the end of five or
six hundred years. They are the fantastic creation of barbarians, who
vainly imagine that they can succeed without observing the rules which
thou hast laid down, O Reason! Yet these temples pleased me, for I
had not then studied thy divine art and God was present to me in them.
Hymns were sung there, and among those which I can remember were:
'Hail, star of the sea.... Queen of those who mourn in this valley of
tears ...' or again, 'Mystical rose, tower of ivory, house of gold,
star of the morning....' Yes, Goddess, when I recall these hymns of
praise my heart melts, and I become almost an apostate. Forgive
me this absurdity; thou canst not imagine the charm which these
barbarians have imparted to verse, and how hard it is to follow the
path of pure reason.
"And if thou knewest how difficult it has become to serve thee. All
nobility has disappeared. The Scythians have conquered the world.
There is no longer a Republic of free citizens; the world is governed
by kings whose blood scarcely courses in their veins, and at whose
majesty thou wouldst smile.
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