human
Dear blackbird, said Arasmon, looking up to it,
gpt
I wish your singing could tell me where to find my wife Chrysea; and as he looked up he saw a golden harp hanging upon the branches, and he took it down and ran his fingers over the strings. Never before did harp give forth such music. It was like a woman's voice, and was most beautiful, but so sad that when Arasmon heard it he felt inclined to cry. It seemed to be calling for help, but he could not understand what it said, though each time he touched the strings it cried,
human
Arasmon, Arasmon, I am here! It is I, Chrysea;