Ask Me No More
Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema
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Thisbe and Pyramus
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This story is written by the
Latin writer Ovid
as told by Thomas Bullfinch
Pyramus was the handsomest youth, and Thisbe the fairest maiden,
in all Babylonia, where Semiramis reigned. Their parents
occupied adjoining houses; and neighbourhood brought the young
people together, and acquaintance ripened into love.
They would gladly have married, but their parents forbade. One
thing, however, they could not forbid- that love should glow
with equal ardour in the bosoms of both. They conversed by signs
and glances, and the fire burned more intensely for being
covered up.
In the wall that parted the two houses there was a crack, caused
by some fault in the structure. No one had remarked it before,
but the lovers discovered it. What will not love discover! It
afforded a passage to the voice; and tender messages used to
pass backward and forward through the gap.
As they stood, Pyramus on this side, Thisbe on that, their
breaths would mingle. "Cruel wall," they said, "Why do you keep
two lovers apart? But we will not be ungrateful. We owe you, we
confess, the privilege of transmitting loving words to willing,
ears."
Such words they uttered on different sides of the wall; and when
night came and they must say farewell, they pressed their lips
upon the wall, she on her side, he on his, as they could come no
nearer.
Next morning, when Aurora had put out the stars, and the sun had
melted the frost from the grass, they met at the accustomed
spot.
Then, after lamenting their hard fate, they agreed that
next night, when all was still, they would slip away from the
watchful eyes, leave their dwellings and walk out into the
fields; and to insure a meeting, repair to a well-known edifice
standing without the city’s bounds, called the Tomb of Ninus,
and that the one who came first should await the other at the
foot of a certain tree.
It was a white mulberry tree, and stood near a cool spring. All
was agreed on, and they waited impatiently for the sun to go
down beneath the waters and night to rise up from them.
Then cautiously Thisbe stole forth, unobserved by the family,
her head covered with a veil, made her way to the monument and
sat down under the tree. As she sat alone in the dim light of
the evening she descried a lioness, her jaws reeking with recent
slaughter, approaching the fountain to slake her thirst.
Thisbe fled at the sight, and sought refuge in the hollow of a
rock. As she fled she dropped her veil. The lioness after
drinking at the spring turned to retreat to the woods, and
seeing the veil on the ground, tossed and rent it with her
bloody mouth.
Pyramus & Thisbe concludes on
page two!
Read the tragic ending!
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